Sparks showered his visor as the drone screeched past, its speed an amazing, terrifying testament to Sol-Defense engineering.
Jax threw himself sideways onto the damp iron grating as a skittering, multi-limbed drone—the corporate designers' sick imitation of an alien apex predator—barreled through the fog to initiate his first live-fire test.
The twin red lights lunged through the steam, eager to cut his corporate survival story short before it even began.
The wireframes thickened, bleeding color and texture as the simulation rendered the decaying hull of the *USC Geryon*. Rust-colored iron and peeling hazard tape rapidly replaced the glowing green lines, and a low, synthetic rumble vibrated through the soles of Jax’s haptic boots. He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing against a bulkhead that felt cold, damp, and chillingly real. The corporate logo of Sol-Defense Corp flickered in the upper-right corner of his HUD, a stark reminder of who owned his life for the next two weeks. A synthetic voice chimed in his earpiece, cold and devoid of empathy. "Welcome to the gauntlet, Contractor 404." Jax watched as a holographic scroll of terms and conditions floated before his eyes. He didn't bother reading them; all the legal disclaimers and lethal liability waivers are included in the contract he had signed back at the transit hub. Those words, written in microscopic font, had essentially added his soul to the company's asset ledger. The countdown hit ten seconds. The air around him grew heavy with simulated humidity, carrying the metallic tang of old blood and copper. Jax gripped the handle of his standard-issue plasma cutter, his knuckles whitening. Across the corridor, a heavy pneumatic door hissed, its rusted gears groaning as it partially retracted. A pair of crimson optical sensors flared to life in the darkness beyond, locking onto him. The game was beginning, and the first trap was already waiting.
He blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust as the wireframe of a derelict spaceship materialized around him.
Jax swallowed against a throat suddenly as dry as peanut dust as the digital countdown began to tick.
Neon light bled through Jax’s visor as the virtual arena materialized, flashing the lethal terms of the corporate bonus.