BREAKING: Civilian Shelter Failure in Astoria Sub-Basement – Officials confirm that a registered emergency shelter failed to meet minimum safety standards during yesterday’s Antithesis incursion. All occupants survived, but inspections revealed structural weaknesses, inadequate exits, and systems designed for environmental hazards rather than hostile entities. The shelter had been installed by a nonprofit infrastructure group using multiple subsidiaries, several of which are now defunct. Financial accounts tied to the organization have been frozen, and city leadership has pledged a full audit. Advocacy groups demand immediate accountability.

  ~ ANN (Astoria News Now) report, Sept 2056

  As I followed Adams out of the makeshift field hospital, the squad filled me in on what actually happened. An M-9 was disguised as the emergency exit sign and lights. I hadn’t even considered looking up behind me.

  That fucker took my arm before it got got. While Morgan was busy preventing me from bleeding out, the rest of the squad cleared the floor in a hurry. Thankfully, there were only a few of the plant fuckers.

  As we moved to the next floor, Wing highlighted the E.L.F. Ears as active in my augs.

  Audio enhancement protocols are stable, he said. I can reduce sensitivity if you experience…

  “No,” I said immediately.

  A pause. Not hesitation. I wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.

  Understood, Wing replied. However, leaving them on for extended periods will increase your cognitive load.

  “I know.” I adjusted the strap on my weapon, the new weight of my left arm still felt wrong, like it was lagging ever so slightly. “Leave them on.”

  The world was already too loud. Turning them down wouldn’t make it safer. Just quieter. And quiet was how… I shook my head to clear the morbid thoughts.

  Moving carefully, we cleared the apartments, one by one. This time there was no bravado. No heroics. Just focus.

  Before we reached the last apartment, I… sensed… something. It was barely a sound.

  The others shifted behind me, adjusting grips, breathing slow. “Something in here,” I relayed.

  Adams took a moment and listened before he shook his head, a signal that he couldn’t hear anything.

  I heard it anyway.

  Soft movement. Not the shuffling of life moving around, but rather the small movements of something waiting in ambush.

  My pulse spiked as I raised my weapon.

  The heavy shotgun, er… Sprinkle Cannon, came to bear without hesitation. I was beyond ready for payback. What I didn’t expect was the blast.

  The recoil slammed into my shoulder and threatened to knock me on my ass.

  The slug raced forward, trailing a fucking rainbow. It punched through the flimsy wall above the apartment’s door, slamming into the waiting monster. No hentacle bastard was getting a chance to punch anymore holes in me.

  Another blast, but this time rainbow sprinkles erupted in a chaotic arc, coating the floor, walls, and what remained of the xeno. The gun jumped in my hands. I almost laughed – but the laugh died in my throat.

  Another shot went off, spraying chaos and glitter, and I was aware of the absurdity of what looked like sugar-colored carnage.

  Under it all I felt was the strain of trust: could I rely on this arm? Could I rely on myself? Somewhere beneath it all, under the pounding adrenaline, a tiny, ironic voice whispered: well, at least it’s pretty.

  I didn’t know if it was talking about the gun or the arm.

  That voice did nothing to cool the sudden rage at the thought of another xeno fuck trying to get the drop on me.

  At that point, I realized that the squad was just staring at me, concern evident on their faces.

  “M-4 was playing ‘hide and seek’. I just found it first.” My voice was flat. “The rest of the apartment should be clear.”

  Morgan opened his mouth to say something before Adams said “Understood. We’ll still go through and fully clear it. Just to be safe.”

  He turned and motioned for the squad to continue with the clearing procedures. As I knew they would, they found no other Antithesis in the apartment. The rest of the floor was pretty sparse as well.

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  We managed to clear the last few floors in record time. The worst thing we encountered were some M-1s, or demon pigeons as I thought of them, on the roof. With Adams declaring the building clear, it was time to check on the shelter.

  Wing over-rode the elevator, garnering looks from everyone else. “Are you sure this is a smart decision?” Adams asked.

  “Wing has full control of the system. We’ll be fine.” I pretended not to notice the looks of concern that danced across their faces.

  Hesitantly, everyone else squeezed in, and we rode the elevator down to the floor labeled “Shelter / SB1.” The irritating chime announced our presence as the doors slid open.

  The shelter door at the other end caught my eye. It was heavy-looking, striped with black and hazard yellow paint. I crossed the room, ignoring the way my left arm still felt a half-beat behind me. I pressed my palm to the blast door.

  It flexed.

  Not much. Just enough.

  My stomach dropped.

  Wing didn’t soften it this time. The door is rated for civil unrest and weather events. It would not have contained auy Antithesis pressure.

  “Fuck,” I swore loud enough for my voice to echo around the small space. Fucking corporate bullshit.

  The major problem that greeted us was exactly what we were briefed on. No power.

  “Wing, I need you to reroute power to the shelter. We need to get the door open and check for survivors.”

  Understood. However, the entire shelter is on a separate system that is currently powered by generators. Have you tried knocking?

  “...”

  I took that opportunity to move to the screen on the outside of the shelter and watched as it flickered to life. Wing linked my augs to the internal cameras. This time… this time there were no aliens inside. Relief flooded through me.

  “Get it open,” I said, voice still flat.

  The door swung open on silent hinges.

  It smelled like what I expected a large group of people pressed into a small space would offer.

  Stale recycled air, lingering body order, and what might have been a bit of liquid fear mixed in.

  The civilians were huddled together, sitting on benches and bare concrete, wrapped in coats and borrowed blankets. The murmurs and notes of fear trailed off as they saw me. I could feel the relief and what felt like permission to exhale.

  I scanned automatically. My augs didn’t flag any injuries. No obvious shock. Kids clinging to parents. A couple of people holding hands like they’d decided not to let go again.

  “Everyone accounted for?” I asked.

  A woman near the wall nodded. “They told us this place was safe.”

  Something in my chest tightened.

  Wing’s diagnostics finished scrolling across my vision, and then hesitated. That alone set my teeth on edge.

  Structural integrity: nominal, he said carefully. However…

  “This shelter was never sealed,” I said quietly.

  I turned slowly, taking the whole room in again. The vents. The thin cabling. The lack of secondary exits. The missing emergency supplies that should have stacked neatly in plastic bins.

  “This isn’t a shelter,” I said. The words tasted bitter. “It’s a basement with branding.”

  One of the men nearby swallowed. “But there was a plaque upstairs. Said it was installed last year. Funded by…”

  “I know,” I said, sharper than I meant. I forced my voice back down. “I know.”

  Wing pulled the data without being asked.

  Contractor names.

  Permits.

  Compliance stamps.

  Logos that meant trust us.

  It was all just a shell game of corporate entities layered so thick it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

  My jaw tightened. I hadn’t realized I was grinding my teeth until I felt pain.

  The entity responsible for installation no longer appears to exist in any meaningful sense, Wing said. Several affiliated organizations are also registered as nonprofit-adjacent.

  Of-fucking-course they were.I closed my eyes for half a second before a heavy sigh managed to escape.

  Hundreds of people were down here, breathing bad air. Sitting behind a door that would’ve folded like cardboard if the Antithesis had pushed at all.

  My stomach twisted in rage. Hot, immediate, and blinding.

  They hadn’t died because they were lucky. Because Granny Smith and Broseidon and people like them had held the line, not because this place worked.

  Rage came easier than fear. It always did.

  Fear froze you. Rage gave you something to do.

  My fists clenched before I even realized it.

  “Wing,” I said, voice steady now. Cold. “I want the accounts of everyone that’s tied to this drained. Contractors, shells, charities, I don’t care.”

  Wing paused. Something that was purposeful. He sounded concerned.

  Understood, Wing replied. Redirecting funds will destabilize several organizations.

  “Good,” I said. “Maybe someone will actually notice.”

  I turned back to the civilians. “You’re safe now. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  They didn’t need to know how close it had been. But the people who’d built this place?They were about to learn what it felt like to have the ground pulled out from under them.

  I walked back out and motioned for the squad to join me. I gave them the run down on what was going on. Wing passed along that there were 300 people stuffed into a shelter meant for a third of that number.

  Adams took this all in before speaking. “I’ll let base know. We’ll get some transport vehicles over here. We’ll get everyone to safety.”

  I just nodded and moved off to be alone for a moment. An alert popped up in my augs that let me know numerous accounts had been drained and several corporations were no longer in business. A grim satisfaction spread through me at seeing this.

  As much as I wished it would, this wouldn’t change things. But damn if it didn’t make me feel better.

  Discord for that!