Lazerlot sat on the couch taking slow breaths. The metallic plates of his chest rose and fell with a heavy mechanical rhythm that mimicked human exhaustion. Drake sat on the floor, his back against the wall, eyes closed as he finished the last of his coffee. The air in the apartment still tasted of the secrets spilled that morning.

  ?Both ladies came back from the bedroom dressed in normal, everyday clothes—simple jeans and soft t-shirts, leaving the high-society silks of the Peacecraft manor behind. Noko handed Drake a set of worn denim and a hoodie, and as he began to dress, Lazerlot reached into a compartment at his hip.

  ?He pulled out a small 20-sided dice-looking device. It was obsidian black until he rolled it onto the coffee table. The device didn't stop; it spun in place, humming with a low frequency until a holographic shimmer erupted into the air.

  ?It was a group shot. Lazerlot stood in the center, looking younger, his armor polished to a mirror finish. Next to him was a man with a regal bearing—Arthur—holding a sword that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. Around them stood seven other figures, laughing and defiant.

  ?"This is my team. My family. My friends," Lazerlot said, his voice catching with a small hitch that made the speakers in his chest rattle. He pointed a steady metallic finger at a man in the corner of the image. The man was smiling, but his blue glowing eyes held a sharp, hungry light that didn't match the warmth of the others.

  ?"And this," Lazerlot whispered, the holograph flickering against his face, "is Nazarene. The man who traded our souls for a throne."

  ?"Wait, you said his name is Nazarene?" Noko asked. "Isn't that another name for Jesus?"

  ?Lazerlot shot her a look that clearly signaled: say more, and death will be too quick for you. Noko immediately raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry!"

  ?"The name is the same, but he is no savior," Lazerlot hissed. "He is evil. He is darkness." His mechanical knuckles began to whine as he squeezed his hands into tight, vibrating fists.

  ?Drake looked at him steadily. "Do you want to keep talking, or do you just want to show us?"

  ?Lazerlot took a long, pressurized breath and slowly released it. "I am not going to show you. I will tell you."

  ?"Well then, let's do that in a different way," Noko interjected, trying to break the tension. "Who’s up for some shooting practice? I saw that list Drake passed to Crisis—I like the loadout you put together."

  ?"But where can we go to practice?" Relena asked.

  ?"I know a place," Lazerlot said, standing up.

  ?"Where?" Noko asked.

  ?"On the bus."

  ?The four of them walked out of the apartment and headed down the steps. The bus looked different now—sleek and modern, with an unmistakable sense of future tech.

  ?"What do you mean, 'practice on the bus'?" Drake asked, pulling the door open.

  ?As they climbed inside, the vehicle seemed to sense their presence. The interior lights flickered to life with a low hum, and the bus began to shift. To accommodate the four of them, the middle floor section rose, transforming into a table that displayed their gear. Alongside the weaponry sat three communication collars—though they looked far more advanced than standard comm units.

  ?As the trio snapped the collars on, a cool, gel-like substance spilled down their bodies. The liquid reached the soles of their shoes, vibrating as it hardened into rugged combat boots. A sleek, black tactical outfit formed over their frames, settling into the shape of tactical pants and form-fitting long-sleeve shirts.

  ?"So, how does the armor fit?" Lazerlot asked. The robot picked up a massive rifle, a weapon nearly the size of an auto-cannon found on a Bradley Fighting Vehicle.

  ?"How is this armor?" Noko asked, skeptical. "It looks like the normal clothes I’d wear under my vest."

  ?Lazerlot reached out and flicked her hard in the chest. She didn't even budge. "I didn't feel a thing," she whispered, stunned.

  ?Relena picked up a knife and began sawing at her own sleeve. No matter how much pressure she applied, the fabric remained unmarred—not even a scratch. Drake, fascinated, began to analyze the fabric. He pulled the shirt over his head to get a better look, but as soon as it lost contact with his skin, it dissolved back into a puddle of gel.

  ?"Yeah, Drake, it doesn't work like that," Lazerlot noted, sliding a magazine into his rifle with a metallic click. "It has to stay on you to maintain its form."

  ?As the magazine locked into place, the interior of the bus warped again. A long, wide hallway stretched out in front of Lazerlot, with targets appearing at various intervals. Noko bolted outside to see how the bus could possibly hold a shooting range, but from the exterior, nothing had changed; it was the same size and length as always.

  ?When she stepped back inside, the air was filled with the roar of Lazerlot firing. She started to cover her ears, but the sound was strangely muffled. Despite the dampening, the backblast hit with the heavy, physical thud of a Barrett rifle.

  ?Noko stood there in awe, but Relena was different—her eyes were darting frantically, her mind clearly racing as she tried to calculate the impossible physics of the space. Drake, however, remained fixated on the floor, still trying to wrap his head around the miracle of the fabric.

  ?"I thought you wanted to practice," Lazerlot buzzed.

  ?"Oh, shit—yeah!" the three of them replied in unison.

  ?As they spoke, the table hummed to life, projecting holographic displays of their loadouts. Detailed specs and instructional visuals flickered into existence beside each set of gear.

  ?Drake: The Shield

  ? ?Primary: MK48 Mod 1 LMG / Benelli M4 Shotgun.

  ? ?Secondary: Glock 20 (10mm).

  ? ?Tactical Kit: Ballistic Shield and M32A1 Grenade Launcher.

  ?Relena: The Eye in the Sky

  ? ?Primary: SR-25 Precision Rifle / HK416 A5.

  ? ?Secondary: Staccato P (9mm).

  ? ?Tactical Kit: "Black Hornet" UAV Recon Drone and Integrated Comms Tablet.

  ?Noko: The Ghost

  ? ?Primary: SIG MCX Rattler / HK MP7A1.

  ? ?Secondary: FN Five-seveN.

  ? ?Tactical Kit: Electronic Warfare Suite and Fiber-Optic Camera.

  ?Lazerlot didn't wait for a countdown. He raised his massive auto-cannon and let out a burst that sounded like a giant ripping a phone book in half. The holographic range at the end of the bus erupted in digital sparks.

  ?"Alright, rookies," Lazerlot buzzed. "Try not to shoot yourselves. The armor is bulletproof, but I just waxed the floor."

  ?Drake hoisted the MK48 LMG, looking solid—until the bus took a sharp "spatial" turn. With the ballistic shield in one hand and fifty pounds of machine gun in the other, he became a human pendulum. He began to tilt dangerously.

  ?"Drake, you’re listing to port!" Noko shouted, her Coast Guard instincts kicking in. "Trim your weight or you're going over the side!"

  ?Drake grunted, bracing himself. "It’s not the weight, it's the center of gravity in this magic tin can!" He pulled the trigger, and the recoil sent him sliding backward across the high-friction floor. He didn't fall, but he did slide directly into the wall with a heavy THUD.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  ?Relena wasn't just looking at her gear; she was analyzing the code. While the others were fumbling, she had her HK416 slung and was tapping furiously at her tablet.

  ?"Lazerlot, your holographic refresh rate is lagging by 0.04 milliseconds," Relena noted, her eyes darting across the specs. "And this 'Black Hornet' drone? The factory propulsion is trash. I’m over-clocking the rotors... now."

  ?Suddenly, her tiny drone didn't just fly—it screamed. It moved so fast it blurred, accidentally creating a mini-cyclone that sucked up Drake’s discarded coffee cup and began orbiting his head like a caffeinated moon.

  ?"Relena! Tone it down!" Drake yelled, swatting at the flying debris. "I’m trying to suppress a target, not a latte!"

  ?Noko, a former Coast Guard specialist used to clearing drug-runner subs in high seas, took it all in stride. She moved with a low, predatory center of gravity, her MP7 held with practiced ease.

  ?"Watch and learn, boys," Noko smirked. "This is just like a VBSS boarding in a Category 4 storm."

  ?She began a tactical advance, her movements a blur of professional efficiency. She cleared three targets with surgical precision, her Five-seveN barking in perfect rhythm. She was a total pro—until Lazerlot decided to test her "sea legs."

  ?The floor beneath her didn't just move; it began to pitch and roll like a ship in a hurricane.

  ?"Evasive maneuvers!" Noko yelped. She stayed upright—her Coast Guard training was too good to let her fall—but as the bus 'tilted,' she began sliding uncontrollably toward the back of the range. She was still firing, still hitting targets, but she was doing it while gracefully "surfing" on her combat boots at forty miles per hour.

  ?"Look at her go!" Drake roared with laughter, leaning on his shield. "She’s the only person I know who can do a tactical reload while hanging ten!"

  ?The laughter didn't last long. Noko skidded to a stop, her face hardening into the mask of a drill instructor. She slapped a fresh mag into her MP7 and looked at Drake and Relena.

  ?"Enough playing around," Noko barked. Her voice had lost its playful edge, replaced by a steel that made even Lazerlot pause. "Drake, stop leaning on that shield like it’s a recliner. Relena, stop looking at the code and start looking at the corners. We aren't training for a video game. If Lazerlot is telling the truth, the people coming for us aren't going to lag."

  ?She turned to Lazerlot. "Turn it up. No more easy targets. Give us a real scenario."

  ?Lazerlot’s optics hummed, a deep crimson light swirling in his lenses. "As you wish, Specialist."

  ?The bus interior groaned. The walls didn't just warp; they bled. The holographic range expanded into a ruined cityscape—a graveyard of steel and fire.

  ?"I am syncing my memory core to the simulation," Lazerlot’s voice boomed, sounding distant and heavy. "If you want to survive the future, you must learn from the ghosts of my past."

  ?Suddenly, the trio wasn't alone. A holographic man appeared next to Drake—Arthur—his regal sword glowing with a terrifying intensity. Arthur moved with a speed that defied physics, his blade carving through digital enemies before Drake could even lift his LMG.

  ?"He was the Shield of the Light," Lazerlot narrated, his voice vibrating with grief. "But Arthur’s pride was his blind spot. He thought he could block a god. Drake, don't be Arthur. Don't think the shield makes you invincible. It only makes you a bigger target."

  ?Relena gasped as the air beside her curdled into a holographic woman. This scout didn't just move; she flickered like a glitch in reality, her silhouette sharp and predatory. A name pulsed in low, red letters beneath the projection: L.O.K.I.

  ?"And her," Lazerlot whispered, the fans in his chest whirring at a mournful pitch. "L.O.K.I. The swiftest eye we had. She didn't just see the battlefield; she lived inside the data, woven into the very fabric of the network. She saw everything—every movement, every heartbeat, every whispered betrayal across a kingdom."

  ?The holographic L.O.K.I. turned her head, her digital eyes momentarily locking onto Relena's tablet.

  ?"But she saw too much," Lazerlot's voice crackled, a sharp burst of static popping in his speakers. "She saw everything except the knife in her own sister's hand until the blade was already cold in her ribs. Relena, do not get lost in the stream. Do not let the data become your world. Keep your head up, or you'll die looking at a screen just like she did."

  ?For the next four hours, it was a brutal marathon of blood and digital sparks. Noko took over the drills, using Lazerlot’s memories as the ultimate obstacle course. She pushed Drake until his muscles screamed, forcing him to hold the line against a holographic Nazarene that moved like smoke. She made Relena pilot her drone through narrow, burning corridors while reciting tactical coordinates under fire.

  ?Lazerlot didn't just watch. He joined them, his massive auto-cannon providing the rhythmic heartbeat of the training. But as the hours bled together, the robot began to falter. He started calling Drake 'Arthur.' He reached out to grab a holographic teammate who had long since turned to dust.

  ?"Arthur, get to the flank!" Lazerlot roared, his speakers distorting into a screech. "Nazarene is breaking through! Watch the light!"

  ?"Lazerlot! Look at me!" Noko shouted, stepping into his line of sight, her MP7 lowered. "Arthur isn't here! It’s us! It’s Noko, Drake, and Relena!"

  ?Lazerlot froze, his massive weapon mid-recoil. The simulation flickered and died, leaving them standing in the silent, modern interior of the bus. The trio was drenched in sweat, their new tactical suits humming as they regulated their body temperatures.

  ?Lazerlot looked down at his metallic hands, then at the three humans. "The memory... it is more vivid than I realized," he buzzed softly.

  ?"We saw them," Drake said, breathing hard as he lowered his shield. "We saw how they fought. If Nazarene is even half as fast as that hologram... we have a lot more work to do."

  ?Noko wiped the sweat from her brow and looked at the robot. "Then we don't stop. Again. From the top."

  ?Lazerlot’s optics returned to their steady blue glow. He felt a strange sensation in his processors—something he hadn't felt in centuries. Hope.

  ?"Again," the robot agreed.The air inside the bus grew thick with the smell of ozone and digital heat. As the simulation pushed into its third hour, the blue glow of Lazerlot’s optics began to strobe, flickering into a jagged, unstable violet. His processing core was redlining, struggling to distinguish the high-resolution sensor data of the room from the corrupted, centuries-old files of his memory.

  ?Drake lunged forward to block a holographic explosion, his boots skidding on the floor. In Lazerlot’s vision, Drake’s tactical hoodie bled into a suit of shimmering white-gold plate. The MK48 LMG in his hands elongated, its barrel turning into the gleaming steel of a legendary blade.

  ?"Hold the line, Arthur!" Lazerlot roared, his voice synthesized into a booming, ancient herald’s cry. "The gate cannot fall!"

  ?Drake glanced back, confused and sweating. "Lazerlot? My name is Drake! Who the hell is—"

  ?"Focus, King!" Lazerlot barked, ignoring him, his massive auto-cannon chewing through a wave of digital shadows.

  ?On the flank, Noko was a whirlwind of precision. She vaulted over a piece of holographic cover, her MP7 barking in short, lethal bursts. To Lazerlot, her movements were too familiar—the low center of gravity, the ruthless efficiency, the way she anticipated the enemy’s next move before they even made it. The black fabric of her suit seemed to shift into dark, jagged mail. A name flickered in Lazerlot’s heads-up display, overriding her vitals: MORDRED.

  ?"Mordred, watch your left!" Lazerlot screamed, a desperate edge to his mechanical voice. "Don't let your anger outpace your shield! I won't lose you to the dark again!"

  ?Noko paused for a micro-second, her brow furrowed. She knew that name from the legends—the traitor, the knight who fell. "I’m not Mordred, Lazerlot! Snap out of it!"

  ?But Lazerlot was gone. He turned toward the back of the bus, where Relena sat cross-legged, her fingers dancing across the tablet as she guided her drone through a swarm of enemies. In his eyes, the tablet vanished. The screen's glow became a swirling vortex of raw data floating in the air, and Relena’s hair seemed to turn into wires, plugging directly into the ship's bulkhead.

  ?She wasn't a girl anymore. She was a ghost in the machine.

  ?"L.O.K.I.," Lazerlot whispered, the sound like grinding metal. "You’re back. You found the back-door. Tell me... tell me the sister isn't coming. Tell me you’ve secured the network."

  ?Relena looked up, her eyes wide with fear. "Lazerlot, you’re overheating! Your internal temp is at 110 degrees! I’m Relena! L.O.K.I. is a hologram!"

  ?The robot took a heavy, staggering step toward her, his massive weapon dragging on the floor, sparking against the metal. For a second, the three of them weren't his friends anymore—they were the legends that had broken his heart. The trauma of the Fall was replaying in real-time, and they were the actors in his tragedy.

  ?"Arthur... Mordred... L.O.K.I..." Lazerlot groaned, his speakers letting out a high-pitched feedback whine. "The Light is falling. I can’t... I can't save you again."

  ?"Lazerlot! Look at me!" Noko’s voice pierced through the static. She ran up and slammed her palm against his chest plate, right over his mechanical heart. "Arthur is dead! Nazarene won that day! But we are here now! LOOK AT US!"

  ?The physical impact and the harsh truth acted like a system reset. The violet light in his eyes snapped back to a steady, cooling blue. The white-gold armor, the jagged mail, and the data-vortex evaporated, leaving only three exhausted humans standing in a high-tech bus.

  ?Lazerlot stood frozen, the silence in the bus heavy enough to feel. He looked at Drake, then Noko, then Relena.

  ? ?"I... I apologize," he buzzed, his voice returning to its normal, dry tone, though it sounded incredibly tired. "My logic gates... they are not as robust as they once were. You move like them. You breathe like them. For a moment, the centuries simply... disappeared." The trio stood in a daze, staring as Lazerlot’s massive silhouette retreated toward the cockpit of the bus. The simulation was gone, but the ghost of the tension remained. The bus’s vents hissed, finally pumping in a blast of refrigerated air to cool the interior. Drake stood hunched over, sweat dripping from his chin onto the floor, his lungs still burning from the four-hour marathon.

  ?His phone began to vibrate violently against the metal gear table.

  ?Drake wiped his palm on his tactical pants and picked it up. He stared at the name on the screen for a long heartbeat: Zmeura.

  ?He swiped the screen, but his voice was flat, exhausted. "Hello?"

  ?"Hello, little brother," the female voice came through, sounding eerily calm compared to the roar of the auto-cannons still ringing in his ears. "It’s been a long time since we talked."

  ?Drake took a deep, shaky breath, looking at the heavy weapons and the high-tech armor surrounding him. "Zmeura... I would love to talk, but I am very busy."

  ?"Drake, wait—"

  ?"Goodbye, Zmeura."

  ?Drake didn't hesitate. He moved his thumb to the end-call button, but just as he began to press down, her voice flared with a sudden, sharp authority that vibrated through the speaker.

  ?"We need to talk, Dragonis."

  ?The line went dead with a soft, digital click.