The Prototek facility had definitely seen better days. Creeping vines hanging from the ceiling and the gnarled roots overtaking the floor made for a sorry sight. Just another example of nature reclaiming its lost ground.

Cyne could hardly see his own feet in the darkness, the glow stick tied to his belt wasn't much help. "Old tech centers like these got to have a backup generator somewhere," he thought, pulling the folded map out of his back pocket.

He was right, the map listed a spare generator in the electrical room. He wasn't too keen on the idea of turning the building back on, but he could use the light. The darkness only increased the chances of a screw-up. With the lights on, finding enough scrap to tide him over would go twice as fast.

"The electrical room isn't far. I can slip in, get the lights on, slip out, and then comb through the tech vault in thirty minutes top," he thought, coming up on a way that slanted down. "And hopefully, I won't run into any bots today.��

Old Prototek facilities usually stationed security bots near vaults and supply rooms. Thankfully, most of the bots he had come across in the past were either deactivated or simply too ancient to function, but every now and then an active bot would get the jump on him.

The electrical room was just around the corner. Cyne could see the faint outline of a person, no, a bot standing adjacent to the door. Its back was turned, good if he got close enough-

The bots head swiveled back 180 degrees, its eerie, green eyes sending shivers down Cyne's spine. He ducked behind the corner, pressing his back firmly against the wall as the thud of the bots gait drew closer. "Focus, it's just an old bot, you can do this," he muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

Flying out of the corner, he met the bot head-on, giving it a solid kick to the chest. The bot powered through his kick, sending Cyne staggering back. The bot whipped its arm out, Cyne ducked underneaths its blow and leaped back, his pistol already drawn. The bot was mere meters away when he opened fire.

He watched with horror as the blasts were absorbed by its armor. Letting loose a string of oaths, he leaped back, unloading another series of blasts directed at the bot. Not good. After years of no maintenance, it shouldn't be possible for its shields to continue working. But here it was, shrugging off fully powered blasts.

The bot dropped to a fighting crouch, drawing an electro-sword from its back. The bot rushed forward, swinging the blade in a wide arc. Cyne circled the bot warily, a single slip up could result in death. An electro-sword could cut through steel with ease, it went without saying his flesh was akin to jello.

"Trespassing-On-On-O-Pro-Protek-Fac-"

Not giving the bot time to finish its statement, Cyne fired one last blast in an attempt to slow it and bolted the opposite direction. He could hear the bot follow close behind.

His mind raced furiously, his pistol was less than effective, and there was no way to best it in single combat. If he only had a-

Cyne tumbled to the floor, twisting 180 degrees, he landed on his rear. The bot drew nearer, holding the electro-sword high above his head with both hands. Noticing an exposed point underneath its head, Cyne took careful aim and fired, this time blowing the bots head off its neck.

The bot crumpled to the floor, its mechanical legs collapsing under the weight of the now-unsupported body. Cyne sighed, relief washing over his body, sending him kneeling to the floor.

With the adrenaline wearing off, he realized just how close to death he had been. He was lucky to cheat it this time, but could the same be said for the next expedition or the expedition after that?

"It's high time for a career re-evaluation," he muttered. "I can't keep doing this."

Cyne scooped the electro-sword off the ground and studied it. The blade emitted a faint, high-pitched hum, no doubt from the electric currents that ran through the edge of the blade.

It was a fine sword, finer than whatever he could buy in the city. Cyne was averse to the idea of pawning it, but if he couldn't find any loot worth salvaging, then the sword would have to go. Picking up the swords' sleek, plastek sheath off the bot, he retraced his steps back to the electrical room.

The door was sealed shut from the inside. With an energetic jerk of his hand, he thrust the sword through the lock. Cyne slowly slid the door open, his sword propped against his shoulder.

Cyne could make out faint outlines of a body in the darkness, as he drew nearer, he realized there were two bodies. A middle-aged man dressed in snow crawler attire was clutching a young girl in his arms. He knelt over her body and checked her temperature. Alive. She was still alive. But she wouldn't be for long if he didn't find her help.

He sheathed his sword and turned away. "Not my problem, not my problem, It's not my problem," he repeated ceaselessly. "Damn it!"

Cyne turned right back around and marched back to the girl.

Gingerly pulling her away from the mans' embrace, he hoisted her up and laid her onto the floor. She was skinny. Pitifully skinny, even by sand crawler standards. "The wounds, I need to see the wounds," he muttered.

He peeled off her jacket and was relieved to see that most of the blood had come from the man. He brought his fingers to her forehead. "She's burning up if the cold doesn't take her, the fever will."

"Infirmary, there has to be an infirmary here somewhere." He checked the map, luck seemed to be on his side, the infirmary was only a single hall away. With the girl in his arms, he was defenseless, hopefully, he didn't meet another bot on the way.