Starburst: Beta Test One-Shot
The rain fell in an unrelenting cascade, transforming the neon-lit streets into a shifting tapestry of light and shadow. Every puddle shimmered with refracted colour, distorted reflections of advertisements flashing across the towering spires above. Pippa stood at the curb, her coat drawn tightly against the chill as the glow from her wrist console flickered across her focused expression. The downpour did little to deter her; her fingers worked swiftly over the public terminal, navigating the holographic interface with expert precision.
“Got it,” she murmured, eyes narrowing as an aged yet functional blueprint materialized in ghostly blue luminescence. It highlighted two potential ingress points: a subterranean sewer tunnel and a back entrance leading into the compound’s service corridor.
Dollar scoffed, flipping his hair dramatically. “A sewer? Do you know how much I just spent on this? 500 Monies.” He adjusted the collar of his impeccably tailored Space-Armani boilersuit and smirked. “We take the front.”
Pippa sighed but deferred, watching as Dollar confidently strode toward the guards stationed at the main entrance. He exuded an effortless bravado, the neon lights catching on his outfit just enough to make him seem important.
“Can we help you?” one of them asked, standing straighter.
“Yes,” Dollar said smoothly, flashing an insincere grin. “We have a scheduled meeting with Dave.”
The guards exchanged uncertain glances. “I’ll need to check with him.”
Dollar sighed, shaking his head with exaggerated impatience. “Look, we’re here for business, not bureaucracy. If you want to delay us, fine—but when Dave asks why he just lost a lucrative deal, make sure he knows it was because you wanted to waste time.”
The guards hesitated, then one finally relented. “Fine. Follow me.”
The interior was a maze of cluttered corridors, tangled wiring running along the walls and ceilings like veins feeding the complex. An unconscious figure lay slumped in a hallway, their breathing slow and shallow, evidence of some narcotic haze. Pippa’s sharp gaze scanned the space, quickly locking onto a particular door—one reinforced with thick metal plating and boasting an excessive number of cables feeding into it. Additional air conditioning tubes snaked into the room, clearly designed to keep something inside at a controlled temperature. The unusual reinforcement, heavy wiring, and cooling system suggested it housed something critical, perhaps a secure server or a high-priority control hub. Her instincts told her this was the place they needed to breach.
CB-5, the team’s cybernetic operative, moved like a shadow, maneuvering behind the escort with practiced precision. Without hesitation, they activated their internal taser, delivering a precise jolt to the guard’s nervous system. The man crumpled soundlessly, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Pippa stepped up to the door, rapping her fist against the metal. “Something’s wrong! Help!”
A mechanical viewport slid open, revealing wary eyes. “What’s the problem?”
Dollar smoothly lifted his plasma scatter gun, aiming directly through the slot. “Unlock the door. Now.”
A tense pause. Then, with evident reluctance, the locks disengaged. The door slid open, revealing a chaotic workspace—a cluster of holographic monitors flickering with erratic data streams, wires coiling around tables and chairs like artificial vines. A lone teenager stood frozen in the doorway, his hands raised, eyes darting between the intruders and the massive combat droid standing inert in the center of the room.
Pippa’s gaze quickly found their objective: a high-powered processor unit embedded in the droid’s core. On one of the monitors, a notification pulsed ominously: UPLOAD COMPLETE.
The droid’s eyes flickered to life. HOSTILE PRESENCE DETECTED.
“Shut it down!” Dollar barked, eyes locked on the teen.
The boy shook his head frantically. “I can’t! It’s already active!”
Dollar, recalling an old Holovision show where a hero disabled a rogue AI by shooting the main console, figured it was worth a shot. With unwavering confidence, he fired at the nearest bank of monitors, fully expecting the droid to shut down instantly. Sparks erupted, screens shattered, and acrid smoke filled the air—but the droid remained standing. The teenager winced, but his expression quickly turned to exasperation. “That’s not how it works!”
The droid took its first deliberate step, servos whirring. Pippa lunged at a power conduit, tearing it free. Electricity arced through the room, sending her reeling backward in a violent convulsion. She hit the ground hard, unconscious—but not before severing one of the droid’s arms in the process.
CB-5 raised their weapon and fired, but the droid was unfazed. The pounding bass of distant music, likely coming from a club or party elsewhere in the building, provided an unintended benefit, drowning out the escalating commotion. Then, the remaining arm flickered ominously—a pilot light igniting.
“Flamethrower!” Dollar shouted as the chamber erupted in an inferno. His personal shield activated just in time to deflect the worst of the flames, but Pippa and CB-5 weren’t as lucky.
Thinking quickly, Dollar recalibrated his aim and fired at the droid’s remaining limb. The resulting explosion triggered the facility’s fire suppression system, unleashing a torrential downpour. Steam billowed in thick clouds as the blaze was extinguished, leaving the room in soaked disarray.
CB-5, now drenched, lunged at the droid’s core, gripping the exposed processor. The moment their fingers made contact, a powerful surge of electricity coursed through their frame, causing their servos to seize up momentarily. The droid, sensing resistance, swung its flamethrower-equipped arm, striking CB-5 and sending them skidding across the floor. Smoke rose from the scorched plating on their chassis.
Gritting their artificial teeth, CB-5 forced themselves up and, without hesitation, activated their internal taser. They lunged forward once more, jamming their electrified fingers against the droid’s central system. A violent jolt coursed through the droid’s circuits, its mechanical body spasming uncontrollably before collapsing in a heap of inert metal and flickering lights.
The processor’s clasps disengaged. Dollar wasted no time securing the unit while CB-5 staggered toward Pippa, initiating emergency medical protocols. A faint groan escaped her lips as the nanites in the medkit began their work.
The mission was complete. But as Dollar surveyed the ruined room, drenched in a mixture of water and smoke, he knew this night wasn’t over yet.
