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Wren

"You're late again, Raider Wren. This is the second time in the last month. What is going on with you?" Commander Baxter scoffed as she arrived.

Wren was mortified. So much for making her father proud. "Sorry, sir."

"This will not be tolerated."

"I understand, sir."

"No excuses, Raider. Fall into line. We've been waiting."

"It's a bad night all around," Mason whispered, trying to make light of the situation. One glance from the commander silenced them both.

"Let's get back. There's a lot of activity in the skies tonight," the commander said to the raiders who stood around waiting for orders. The group, clad in dark colors and cloaked by night, hiked toward the hills. Only whistled breath and footfall broke through the silence.

Wren's hair rose on her neck an instant before electricity filled the air. The quiet whir of activity filled the space above her.

"Phantoms." The word screamed in her earpiece.

Made of glossy black wings and lightweight metal skeletons, Phantoms were the worst technology New State had to offer. With the sound of a car crash, they landed. No need to be subtle. Peering over her shoulder, a disfigured face and hulking body crashed to the ground. The twisted metal entwined with human skin and bone shouldn't be able to lift off the ground or land, but it did, in all its horror.

Her hands found the knives in her belt.

These monstrosities had once been human, but she couldn't gather any pity for them. New State collected the homeless, mentally ill, and misguided people and offered them a sense of purpose by joining the Phantom Program. Those on the fringe of society were collected by the New State without regard for their lives and turned into something else. After that, they did not retain a shred of their former humanity. Something sinister was born. Phantoms were evil incarnate.

A thud trampled darkness. Metallic claws sliced at Wren as she twisted away. She slashed back with her knives but missed, and the Phantom took off into the sky.

The process of turning into a bionic warrior, manipulating CHIPs, could easily put these already-damaged souls over the edge. Something horrible happened because all Phantoms wanted was to kill. Her dad said New State never made good on their promise to the participants. The people never received the money, and their families never compensated; instead, outliers became robotic killing machines.

The fusion of human and robot, metal and skin, bore down on her again. It flew close, open mouth in a silent scream. Saliva dripped from its jaw where long, serrated, overlapping shark teeth chomped.

Phantoms were death personified, and this one made Wren its target.

Shouted orders merged with the screams of raiders as they scattered. Being close together created too much risk because the cyborgs work symbiotically. Like a single organism with many parts that relied on each other and worked together. Phantoms could organize themselves for mass attacks using advanced technology that let them coordinate and communicate.

"Hand to hand," the commander yelled into her earpiece. "Using guns will only bring more of them. Remember your training and stay smart." As a sacrifice, he shot his gun into the night, hoping to lead the cyborgs after him.

The other raiders scattered as they ran toward the safety of the cliffs.

Two Phantoms followed the gunshot, metallic wings lifting it into the inky blackness. Instinct told her to flee.

The clank of armor plating, and the thud of feet, told Wren death had arrived behind her. With her back to it, the cyborg would easily destroy her.

She turned. Drops of lights illuminated each side of its armored skin. It had been a man, but now the cyborg lived as a tangle of wires piercing into its arms, legs, and chest. A cacophony of machinery. A Frankenstein's monster with wings. The inhumanity of New State brought Wren the courage she needed.