The rain hasn’t stopped since the machines took over. It falls in thick, gray sheets, drumming against the shattered remains of buildings and pooling in streets littered with twisted metal. The sky is a bruise, flickering with the distant glow of energy pulse, signs of battles fought in places I no longer dare to go.


I press myself against the cold brick of a crumbling storefront, listening. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my ribs aching from days without proper food. Somewhere behind me, the whirring sound of a drone cuts through the rain. I stay still, hoping it won’t sense my heat signature, but I know better. They always do.


A flash of red light skims over the ground ahead, the machine scanning for movement. I grip the handle of my rusted knife, though I know it’s useless against reinforced plating. My only chance is to run. I bolt.


Water splashes beneath my boots as I sprint down the alley, twisting and turning, trying to break line of sight. The drone hums louder, the sound of its propulsion system rising in pitch. A warning shot blasts past me, the heat of the plasma grazing my shoulder. I stumble but don’t fall.


I see the opening ahead, an old sewer grate, half-submerged in floodwater. I throw myself forward, slamming my body into the rusted metal, forcing it open just as another shot scorches the air where I stood. I drop, the stench of decay and stagnant water wrapping around me as I splash into darkness.


The grate clangs shut above. The drone lingers, scanning, but after a few seconds, it moves on. I wait, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I’m not safe, but I’ve bought time. Dragging myself through the tunnel, I move by memory. The sewers aren’t what they used to be, most of the tunnels collapsed when the war started, and the ones that remain are infested with worse things than machines. But down here, I have a chance.


The resistance is supposed to be close. Or at least, what’s left of it. I wade through the filth, my fingers brushing the damp walls as I navigate. Rats scurry in the dark, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of my cracked wrist-lamp. Then I hear it; a different hum. Low, steady, pulsing. A sentry.


I flatten myself against the wall, barely breathing. The thing is humanoid, its skeletal frame covered in wet, glistening cables that pulse with sickly blue light. It moves slowly, scanning, the glow of its sensors casting long, jagged shadows. I clench my knife. Useless, but comforting. The sentry stops. The blue glow intensifies. It knows I’m here.


I lunge before it can react, shoving my knife into the cluster of exposed wires at its neck. Sparks fly, the machine convulsing as I twist the blade. Its metal fingers clamp onto my arm, crushing, and I scream as bones grind. Then the sentry goes still.


I pull my arm free, gasping through the pain. The fingers have left deep bruises, but nothing’s broken. I strip the sentry of anything useful; power cells, a small plasma cutter, an old data chip that might still hold maps of the underground, then I move.


I find the entrance to the resistance’s hideout an hour later. A rusted bulkhead, half-hidden behind debris. I knock twice, then once more after a pause. A pattern I hope they still use.


Silence... Then a scrape of metal, a faint hiss of pressurized air. The door slides open, a man stands in the entryway, rifle raised. His face is gaunt, streaked with grime, eyes hollowed by exhaustion. Recognition flickers across his face.


“Dani,” he breathes.


I nod. “Cade.”


He lowers the gun and pulls me inside, sealing the door behind us. The space is cramped, filled with makeshift bunks and the faint hum of machinery patched together from salvaged parts. There aren’t many of them left. Maybe a dozen.


“Where’s Lena?” I ask.


Cade looks away.


I don’t need him to say it. I already know. Lena was our leader, the one who kept us from falling apart when the machines wiped out the last real city. If she’s gone, the resistance is barely holding on.


“We’re running out of time,” Cade says. “The rain’s getting worse. It’s not just water anymore.”


I frown. “What do you mean?”


He gestures toward a collection of glass containers, each holding samples of the rainwater. Some are clear, others murky, but one glows faintly, pulsing with a strange, almost organic light.


“It’s spreading,” he says. “Some kind of nanite contamination. The machines are seeding it into the atmosphere. People exposed for too long…” He trails off. I swallow hard.


“We need to stop it,” I say.


Cade laughs, bitter. “With what? We don’t have weapons strong enough to take down their towers. We barely have food.”


I pull the data chip from my pocket and hold it up. “Maybe we don’t need weapons. Maybe we just need a way inside.” He takes the chip, turning it over in his hand.


“If this has a way past their security, we might have a shot,” he admits. “But it’s a long one.”


I meet his gaze. “What else do we have?”


The room is silent, then Cade nods. We spend hours decrypting the chip. The data is old, fragmented, but useful. It shows an access point—an underground maintenance tunnel leading straight into one of the main towers. If we can get inside, we might be able to shut down the rain system, disrupt their control.


Or die trying.


We left before dawn. The city is worse than I remember. Buildings half-melted by energy weapons, streets flooded with the tainted rain, machine patrols gliding through the wreckage like silent predators. We move carefully, staying in the shadows, avoiding the drone clusters. Every step feels like a countdown. The tunnel entrance is buried beneath debris, but we dig, pulling away chunks of concrete and rusted steel until we find the hatch, it opens with a groan.


The passage is tight, dark, the air thick with the scent of corrosion and stagnant water. We crawl through, pulse rifles strapped to our backs, the sound of distant machinery vibrating through the walls. Then we reach it, A massive underground chamber, filled with pipes and conduits, all leading to a central control unit pulsing with artificial light. The core of the rain system.


Cade moves to the terminal, typing furiously. “Almost there.”


A noise behind us, I turn, heart hammering. The sentries move in unison, emerging from the shadows. Dozens of them.


“No..”


Gunfire erupts. Plasma pulses flash in the dark. I lunge forward, slamming my knife into a sentry’s neck as Cade works, his fingers flying across the interface.


“Just a little longer!” he shouts.


I fight. We all do. Bodies fall, metal and flesh alike, then the chamber shudders and the rain stops.


The sentries falter, their movements stuttering. Some collapse, others flicker, their blue light fading. Cade gasps, blood staining his hands. He smiles, just slightly.


“We did it,”

he whispers.


I catch him before he falls. Outside, the sky begins to clear.