Chapter 2: The Shredders
The Scrapyard wasn’t just a pile of trash. It was an entire world, a landscape formed from the remnants of civilization. The colossal hulls of crashed starships jutted from the earth like the spines of dead leviathans. Between them flowed rivers of oil and chemicals, shimmering with a poisonous rainbow sheen.
The air—Marcus’s analyzers broke it down into components—was saturated with iron oxide, sulfur, and the scent of burnt plastic.
Marcus took his first uncertain step. The gyroscope in his chest calibrated frantically, trying to maintain the balance of the bipedal construct on the shifting surface. Every step was accompanied by a creak.
> MISSION: Search for resources.
He wandered among the debris, scanning everything indiscriminately. Most parts were marked as "Junk" (gray color in the interface). Too rusty, too broken.
Suddenly, something glinted underfoot near the crushed cabin of a truck.
Marcus leaned down. His sensors highlighted the object with a white outline. It was an old mechanical tool kit. The canvas case had rotted away, but inside lay an adjustable wrench. Heavy, made of high-quality chrome-vanadium steel that had not yielded to time.
He picked up the wrench. The cold touch of metal against the pressure sensors in his palm felt pleasant. It was something familiar. Something native.
> ITEM RECEIVED: [Quality Adjustable Wrench]
> Class: Tool / Blunt Weapon
> Durability: 85/100
> Note: An argument in any dispute.
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A technician without tools is just a pile of scrap. With the wrench, he felt like a master again. It gave him a crumb of hope.
And then the ground vibrated.
At first, it was barely perceptible, then stronger. Piles of metal began to crumble. The system issued a warning about seismic activity, but Marcus realized the source of the vibration was moving.
A sound. Low, grinding, terrifying. Like giant millstones crushing rock.
Shredders.
He saw them when he climbed a hill made of washing machines. They were the horrific creations of the scrapyard's evolution. Multi-legged, squat constructs resembling crabs the size of a car. But instead of maws, they had rotating drums with spikes, and instead of claws—hydraulic shears.
They didn't just walk. They "ate" the path before them, grinding debris, consuming metal for self-repair.
The interface flashed red, analyzing the enemy profile:
> ENTITY: Autonomous Recycler Mk-II ("Crab")
> GOAL: Recycling of any active electronics.
> THREAT LEVEL: DEADLY
> CHANCE OF VICTORY: 0.0%
Run. The instinct remaining from his human side screamed in unison with the digital algorithm.
Marcus turned and ran. His old chassis was not built for sprinting. The servos whined from overload, and his core temperature began to rise. The battery melted before his eyes: 7%... 6.8%...
One of the "Crabs" spotted movement. Its faceted sensors switched to combat mode, and the machine lunged forward with frightening speed, scrambling over the junk on steel legs.
Marcus saw a saving gap between two containers ahead. Narrow, too tight for the monster to fit.
He jumped.
But he hadn't calculated the latency of the old hydraulics. He was too slow.
The Shredder's rotating blade sliced the air with a whistle. Marcus felt a powerful blow to his left shoulder—not pain, but a terrible physical impact that spun him in the air and threw him against the container wall.
He fell, and the world spun. Error messages cascaded before his eyes:
> CRITICAL HULL DAMAGE
> CONNECTION LOST: LEFT MANIPULATOR
> MASSIVE HYDRAULIC LEAK
He lifted his head and saw his arm. It lay two meters away from him. The "Crab" indifferently grabbed it, tossed it into its intake chute, and the sickening crunch of breaking metal followed.
This sight gave Marcus the necessary jolt of adrenaline. While the monster chewed on his limb, Marcus crawled into the gap, dragging a trail of oily fluid behind him.
He had survived. But at what cost?
