Kael's hideout was as much a testament to ingenuity as it was to desperation. Nestled within the crumbling remains of an old manufacturing plant, the shed was barely large enough to fit his cot, workbench, and a few crates of supplies. Sheets of corrugated metal formed its makeshift walls, reinforced with scavenged steel beams to keep the worst of the elements out.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kael pushed the door shut with a grunt, sliding a reinforced bar into place. The familiar smell of grease and ozone greeted him, mingling with the faint metallic tang of his filtration mask. He peeled it off, letting it hang from his neck, and took a deep breath of the slightly cleaner air inside.
His body ached from the day's exertion, but he ignored the protests of his muscles. Instead, he moved to the small sink in the corner, splashing water on his face to wash away the grime. The cold sting jolted him back to focus. Rest could wait; the haul couldn't.
Kael dragged his satchel onto the workbench and dumped its contents with a clatter.
The first thing he picked up was the drone's power cell. It was heavier than it looked, its smooth casing unblemished. Kael held it up to the dim light of the single bulb overhead, checking for any hairline cracks or signs of corrosion. Consortium engineering, as always, didn't disappoint.
"Still good," he muttered, placing it carefully in a padded crate. A working power cell like this could power his tools for months—or fetch a hefty price in the black market.
Next was the drone's central processor. Kael popped the panel open with his multitool, exposing its delicate circuits. A cursory inspection revealed minimal damage, though he'd need to run a diagnostic to confirm its functionality.
He set it aside and moved on to the smaller components—motors, gyroscopes, and sensor arrays. Each piece was cataloged in his mind, its potential uses ticking through like an inventory list. The gyroscope alone could stabilize one of his more precarious experiments, and the sensor array might help detect movement outside his shed—a luxury he couldn't afford to ignore.
Kael's fingers paused as they brushed against a cylindrical object at the bottom of the pile. He pulled it out, frowning. It wasn't part of the drone.
The cylinder was sleek, almost pristine, with no visible markings to indicate its origin. A faint seam ran along its center, but the material was unfamiliar—neither metal nor polymer. Kael's brow furrowed as he turned it over in his hands.
"What are you?"
He set it on the bench, wary of tampering with it too hastily.
Kael leaned back, exhaustion finally catching up with him. The dull ache in his legs and back had graduated to a persistent throb, and his stomach growled in protest. He rummaged through a crate near his cot, pulling out a packet of nutrient paste.
The meal was bland, as always, but Kael barely noticed. His mind was on the cylinder, replaying the day's events. He hadn't noticed it when scavenging the drone—had someone else hidden it there? Or had it simply been overlooked?
He glanced at the reinforced door. No signs of movement outside. Yet.
Kael finished his meal quickly, wiping his hands on a rag. Sleep was tempting, but his curiosity was stronger. He returned to the workbench, grabbing a set of diagnostic tools.
Kael started with the basics. A spectrometer reading revealed the cylinder's outer layer was made of an alloy he couldn't identify—a mix of titanium and something more exotic. His attempts to scan the interior yielded nothing; the material was impervious to his low-grade equipment.
Frustrated but intrigued, Kael reached for his notebook, jotting down observations. Whatever this thing was, it didn't belong in the waste zone. It was too clean, too advanced.
"Consortium tech, maybe?" he murmured, though he doubted it. Even the Consortium had limits, and this seemed... beyond them.
A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. Kael's motion sensor—a crude but reliable rig he'd pieced together from scavenged parts—had detected something outside. He stiffened, his hand instinctively going to the revolver on the edge of the workbench.
The shed fell silent, save for the faint hum of his equipment. Kael's ears strained to pick up anything—a footstep, a breath, anything to confirm the sensor wasn't just reacting to a stray animal.
After a moment, the chime reset, the light on the sensor blinking green. False alarm.
Kael exhaled slowly, lowering the gun but keeping it within reach. His gaze drifted back to the cylinder, its polished surface gleaming under the dim light.
Whatever it was, Kael had a feeling it wasn't going to bring him peace.