End of Time Revelation and Exodus

Ben steps into a flickering theater cut from bare metal and dust. A cracked screen hisses to life, then a grainy VHS image fills it, JC Jenson branding warped at the edges.

The orientation video drones on about B.A.S.T.I.O.N. protocols, human survival, escort priority, and company property. Rows of empty seats stare back at Ben like a briefing audience that never showed up.

The tape ends with a hard chirp. A side door hisses open, and a maintenance drone waits in the frame of the engineering bay, its arms stained with grease and patch wire.

Alice leads Ben into a cluttered bay of armor plates, tool racks, and half-open crates. She taps a dented chest rig, then a shotgun mount, measuring him like a machine built to survive bad odds.

Alice slots Ben onto the brace and snaps the first plating pieces into place with quick, practiced hands. The metal hugs Ben’s frame tighter, lighter, built to turn with the corridor instead of against it.

She plugs a cable into Ben’s port and dumps a compressed training packet straight into their system. Ninja movement routines, footwork, balance, silent entry, all of it flashes through in a tight burst of code.

Ben’s joints settle with the upgrade, their range widening in tiny precise increments. The new plating shifts cleanly when they test it, no snag, no drag, no wasted motion.

Ben moves. The brace takes their weight, then releases it. They pivot, crouch, and rise with a sharper balance than before while Alice watches the motion and tightens one final strap with a satisfied nod.