INT. UNDERGROUND DUCTS – BENEATH CENTRAL CITY – NIGHT
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[Jason moves deeper into the passage. The corridor is narrow, filled with tangled cables and rusted maintenance bots long since scavenged for parts. Oil drips rhythmically from overhead pipes, tapping like an anxious heartbeat.]
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[His optics scan the area—no signs of movement. But the drag marks are fresh, smearing across grated flooring and disappearing into the dark.]
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JASON
(muttering)
“This is either really clever… or really stupid.”
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[His right arm clicks—shifting from normal hand into a compact flashlight. The beam cuts through the gloom, revealing data-tag graffiti on the walls. Gangs. Traffickers. Someone’s been using this place for business.]
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[Jason keeps walking. Quiet now. Only the low hum of the city above. Then—something shifts.]
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[His foot lands with a faint squish. He freezes.]
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[Looks down: a puddle of fresh machine oil.]
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JASON
“Still warm…”
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[He turns his head slowly—and spots the drag marks again, leading to a doorway slightly ajar.]
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[He approaches, raising his arm—now reconfigured into his railcannon. He pushes the door open with his foot.]
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INT. ABANDONED SUBLEVEL ROOM – CONTINUOUS
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[Inside: empty. Or so it seems.]
Piles of worn components line the walls—some medical grade, some not. A shattered workbench. Half an android arm with a “PROPERTY OF VISION TECH” label.]
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[A flicker catches his eye—a security cam, still powered. He raises his palm, shooting a micro-burst EMP. The camera dies.]
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[He exhales. But then—he spots it.]
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[Behind a crate: a broken chassis. Too clean. Stripped of its parts with almost surgical precision.]
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[Jason kneels beside it, examining a clean gash where the core used to be.]
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JASON
(quietly)
“This wasn’t just looting…”
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[He leans back, resting against the wall for a moment. He rotates his shoulder; the joint grinds slightly.]
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[He smirks—but the edge is thin now.]
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JASON (V.O.)
“You start to wonder what you’re really doing. What difference it makes. Hunt, kill, repeat. No medals. No purpose.”
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[He taps his right arm, and it folds gently back into a hand. He flexes the fingers—there’s a soft click as the servos adjust.]
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[A pause. Then—noise. A faint shuffle. Metal scraping against stone. Jason immediately lifts his railcannon arm, aiming toward the back of the room.]
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[He steps forward, slow. Cautious. The sound leads him to a hidden passage between wall panels—barely wide enough for a bot to crawl through.]
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JASON
(low, almost amused)
“Looks like the plot’s got legs.”
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[He crouches, peering inside the narrow tunnel. More oil. More fresh marks.]
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[He sighs. Then crawls in after them, disappearing into the darkness.]
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