Critical Error! "Right Arm" module integrity at 53%. Warning! Integrity below 60%, urgent module replacement required!
Main body integrity at 73%.
"Core" module integrity at 24%, software death imminent. Replace the core as soon as possible.
Nano-storage: 0% capacity.
Restricted service: //sys://solver_of_the_absolute_fabric//
Resource-saving mode activated, most services disabled.
Welcome to Copper-9! We hope you enjoy your stay!
Date: October 18, 3048
Time: 14:05
Location: Abandoned School
Interface language: Russian
Voice module language: Russian
Overall body integrity: 66%. Maintenance required.
New message received!
From: Cyn
To: Serial Designation - Ai
B-brother?! Brother? Where are you? I-I'm scared, brother! Forgive me! I d-didn't mean to! Bro-o-ther!
These were the messages I saw upon waking up in this cold, gloomy place—an old, abandoned school. I was sprawled out like a starfish across the room.
What can I say about this situation? Total chaos. Absolute, utter chaos. I don't understand how I'm still moving—my body's a wreck, and my right arm can now bend in every direction imaginable.
The core situation is particularly grim… When I arrived here, I was told I'd die if I didn't replace it. But, you see, His Majesty didn't feel like listening to some random notifications in his head, damn it! How am I supposed to replace it? Other drones' cores won't work—they're different! No two drones have cores that can fully synchronize. I need to do something.
First things first, I need to replace my arm and fix the dents in my body that are causing discomfort. The arm should be easy. I'm on Copper-9—there are plenty of drones here, and no one will notice if one goes missing. Worker drones are mass-produced, and their parts are interchangeable like a construction kit, except for the core, of course.
After a second attempt to stand from the uneven floor, I limped over to a shattered window and looked outside. The contrast between the school and the street struck me. It was so bright and warm out there… Nothing like the grim atmosphere of this abandoned building.
The school was surrounded by a metal fence, parts of which had rusted and crumbled under the weight of time, making it easy to bypass.
Looking further, I saw a massive number of drones carrying and lifting things, just like in the pilot episode.
Sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall, my gaze caught the message from Cyn. How much must she love me to override the Absolute Solver's algorithms? It gives me hope that my sister can still be saved. I hope she's okay out there.
For now, I need to get out of here and take down a couple of drones. Standing up, I hobbled toward the staircase. I need to descend two floors and exit through any of the doors. People here aren't much different from drones, so they're unlikely to pay attention to a drone leaving an abandoned building. Just another drone with a task, right?
Carefully descending the stairs to avoid falling, I spotted a piece of rebar lying on one of the landings. Picking it up, I felt its weight—my body's in energy-saving mode, so some of my actuators are offline. I can't bend wrenches like Uzi did in the second episode.
Reaching the first floor and passing through the cluttered hall, I approached the main doors and stepped outside. It was cool but bearable—sensors showed fifteen degrees Celsius.
At the main gates, I looked around. As I said, there were plenty of drones, all busy with something. Robots are naive, so getting new parts shouldn't be an issue.
Scanning the area again, I beckoned a nearby drone and pointed toward a shed. He followed, and we went behind the structure. Once hidden, I spun around and struck him with the rebar where a human's temple would be. The drone glitched out and shut down, and I dragged his body back to the school.
Struggling to haul my fellow drone's body inside, I began dismantling it. First, I severed his head completely to ensure he wouldn't wake up. I wouldn't be able to fight him off, and using the Solver would only make things worse for me.
Next, I carefully detached his right arm and began the replacement procedure on myself. Using a flat stone to unscrew the bolts, I disconnected the wires from my old arm and set it aside. Then, I attached the wires to the new arm and secured it in place.
New module detected: "Right Arm," integrity 100% (outdated)
Outdated? Are all drones on Copper-9 outdated? Well, it's something, no complaints.
Getting used to the new arm, I continued dismantling the drone. I unscrewed the remaining parts and stacked them near the school's exit. Then, I started on the body itself. Removing the drone's chest plate, I began repairing my own. My chest plate was scrap metal, and even the stylish skull stopped glowing, so I tore it off without hesitation.
Wincing from the unpleasant sensation, I attached the new chest plate. The skull on it lit up white, and I relaxed.
Overall integrity: 81%
Body damage detected
Yeah, thanks, I didn't know that.
Dismantling the drone became easier with each passing hour. Parts came off smoothly, and the chest plates detached with ease. This continued until I completely disassembled the drone, leaving only the core casing, which I couldn't dismantle yet. I needed proper tools, not just variously sized rocks. Continuing this crude disassembly risked damaging the core, which I didn't want. I already had a plan for it.
Standing up, I looked out the window. It was pitch black outside—perfect for my night vision.
Grabbing the rebar, I stepped outside. There were no humans around, only a few drones. No sane person would be out at one in the morning.
After a few test swings with the rebar, I headed toward the exit of the abandoned area. It was time to hunt. I didn't stand out among the other drones—swapping my butler outfit for a vest was easy.
I walked onto the sidewalk, twirling the rebar and scanning passing drones. I needed one carrying tools I could steal. It wouldn't be hard—just hit them hard on the head, like with the first drone.
After about two hours of searching, I spotted a drone with a backpack carrying a bright red toolbox. It was clearly a toolkit, like the one I had at the manor. The drone was indistinguishable from its emotionless kin, so taking it down wouldn't be an issue.
Crossing the street, I followed him into an alley. With a running start, I swung the rebar and smashed his head off. It crashed into a wall, shattering the display, and the body collapsed where it stood.
Before anyone could show up, I grabbed the body and toolbox and sprinted back to the school's hall.
It was starting to get light. I realized I'd spent nearly twenty hours dismantling the last drone! Another hour preparing to go out, and two more searching for the right target. I forgot that days here are ten hours longer than on Earth—thirty-four hours total.
Checking the time again, I opened the red toolbox and nearly drooled. Everything was there! Wrenches of all sizes, screwdrivers from tiny to finger-thick! A ratchet with tons of bits! Oh, how perfect!
Pulling the first drone's core closer, I began dismantling its casing. It was so easy and pleasant compared to using flat stones that I didn't notice when the core rolled out of its casing into my hands.
Setting it aside, I grabbed the second drone's body and began dismantling it. With the grace of a centuries-old vivisector, I quickly took it apart and extracted its intact core.
Overjoyed like a kid, I opened the compartment on my back and pulled out my wires. Inspecting them, I connected to both cores without hesitation.
A surge of energy coursed through my body, and the interface displayed:
Connected to external power source: //core_drone_4546b20//
Activation: 3%...8%...15%...25%...43%...66%...87%...99%...100%...
External power source activation: //core_drone_4546b20// successful!
Connected to second external power source: //core_drone_1284g45//
Activation: 2%...9%...18%...29%...41%...55%...73%...90%...99%...100%...
Second external power source activation: //core_drone_1284g45// successful!
Energy-saving mode deactivated.
Restrictions on service: //sys://solver_of_the_absolute_fabric// lifted.
Overall body integrity: 91%
It felt like I could move mountains, figuratively speaking.
I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to lie there, close my eyes, and…
Sleep Mode
۞⦰۞
Waking up felt amazing, like I hadn't slept in a week and suddenly got a full night's rest. I felt fresh as a cucumber, with none of the mental fatigue that had built up over a month at the manor.
After those core shenanigans, my energy system went haywire. Now, every movement was near-instantaneous… or rather, my reaction time was instantaneous. A definite boost.
Finally standing up, I grabbed the backpack and made a hole in it to thread the cores into the main compartment. Slinging it over my shoulders, I headed to the staircase to check the third floor—I might've missed something earlier.
Climbing the concrete stairs to the third floor, I was greeted by a hole in the ceiling and the smudged outline of my body on the floor. Chuckling, I scanned the room and caught a glint in one of the corners.
Approaching, I was shocked to see my sword! The one I made from cockroaches! My dear old friend! I missed you so much, and that rebar was getting old. Why didn't I check this floor earlier?!
Picking up the sword, I descended the same staircase back to the hall, then walked through the main doors outside. Scanning the area, I ran toward the gap in the fence and left the abandoned grounds. I wrapped the sword in rags from the drones to avoid drawing attention.
I probably should've scouted earlier, but time was tight. Cores, body parts, and all that—though it's only been a day, a drop in the bucket since I've got two years until my core explodes…
Exiting the alley between the school and some building, I headed toward the sector's center, as my map indicated. Cities here don't have names—they're called sectors. I was in Sector 17, near Camp 98.7. Though, sectors aren't really cities; they're just over three square kilometers.
Along the way, I passed drones, humans, kids, and other creatures. Drones were their usual poker-faced, mechanical selves. Humans were just humans—not the aristocrats of Elliott Manor, but ordinary folks who treated robots kindly, not with disdain like at the manor. Kids ran around playing with robots, enjoying life, but it didn't raise humans in my eyes. I still hate them; I just don't show it.
I reached the sector's center.
It was spacious. When I say spacious, I mean spacious.
The roads widened, the gaps between buildings grew too large to call alleys anymore.
Trash seemed to vanish, and small flowerbeds bloomed with what looked like violets.
But the building in the center of this makeshift plaza stole the show. White and red, its primary colors. A tall antenna stretched dozens of meters into the sky, and the building itself towered a couple hundred meters. A skyscraper.
This was the main office of JCJenson in SPAAAAAACE. It stood out among the gray buildings, not just in height but in vibrancy. Exactly what I needed.
After some quick reconnaissance, I mapped the area. It'll come in handy for what I'm planning over the next few months. That office definitely has components I need to optimize my core's energy use. I made the map to make it easier to…
Raid that office…
Call me crazy, but there's a ton of useful stuff in there, and my inner robo-hamster was already rubbing its paws in anticipation of a big haul. Sorry to disappoint, but the raid won't happen anytime soon. I need to know the office's layout to avoid getting lost in endless corridors and doors. How do I know? I looked through a window.
Hiding my sword, I headed to a spot perfect for observing drones. I needed to take down a couple to check their memories. Knowing the building like a company employee—what could be better? I've been checking drone memories since my manor days; just give me a computer, and I'm ready to work.
Sitting on a bench behind a corner, I watched. There were plenty of targets. Humans who were company workers. Drones running back and forth, carrying everything from screwdrivers to laser drills. I prioritized drones heading deep into the building—they'd have more info, better for me. Why kill a courier drone? Exactly, no point.
I watched for hours, with humans occasionally staring at a drone sitting on a bench, swinging its legs, and glancing at the main office.
My appearance distracted them from the bundle next to me—my sword wrapped in drone jackets. I acted like I was waiting for my human working in the office, so their surprise didn't last long.
Two drones I needed exited the office. I'd seen them in the windows, lingering too obviously. Hah, my next victims. They'd have useful info. Well, "extracting" means beheading them and digging into their core memories.
It's great that JCJenson has no competitors and is the only company producing drones for the entire world… worlds, if you count all the planets they've colonized with their spaceships. Okay, I'm getting off track…
Smiling, I stood from the bench, grabbed the jacket with the sword, and followed them, timing each step. No need to draw their attention, right? Exactly.
I trailed them slowly through streets and alleys. In one alley, I decided to act. I was surprised they hadn't split up, but it didn't matter anymore.
Dashing into the alley, I grinned wickedly and swung my sword. The whistle of the blade cut through the evening silence of the unknown sector, followed by a metallic clank signaling the death of two emotionless machines. Poor guys, but their lives will serve a greater purpose.
Looking at the oil puddle and two severed heads, I wondered where to put them. I only needed the cores, but I wouldn't mind their processors either. A dilemma.
After a few minutes of thinking, I came up with a simple solution. I'd carry the drones one by one. Take one body and head to the school, then come back for the other. Simple yet elegant.
Grinning wider, looking like a maniac, I grabbed one drone's head in one hand and its body by the neck stump in the other. The segmented neck parts fit comfortably in my hand.
Holding everything securely, I headed to the school, sticking to alleys to leave as few traces as possible. It'd be bad if I got caught. Very bad.
The metallic screech from the dragging body irritated me, scraping the ground and making awful noises that sparked annoyance and rage.
Fifteen minutes later, I reached my school, practically a second home. The Elliott Manor was my first—too good, way better than my first life, which I don't even want to recall. I don't remember my death, just being outside. How could I stub my toe on a nightstand outside? No clue, and I probably never will…
Entering through the fence gap between the school and some building, I returned to my temporary home. Climbing the stairs to the hall, I placed the drone's body there and ran back for the second.
Sprinting, I covered the distance in half the time. But I didn't expect the second body to be gone when I reached the alley. The oil puddle was there, so I hadn't mistaken the spot, but the body was missing. That shocked me and sent me into a panic.
"Fuck…" I whispered, realizing the drones might've noticed me following them. If so, my death wasn't far off. Shutdown is a scary thing… Wait, what was I saying? Oh, right! They might've seen me tailing them, and their cores could have recorded it. If humans retrieved the body and core, they could easily check the data. Like Genos from One Punch Man, just a bit worse.
Sighing, I sprinted back to the school. I couldn't lose the body I left there—that'd be too stupid, especially with a supercomputer in my head.
Back in the hall, I sighed in relief. The body still lay there, glistening with oil stains.
Blinking, I approached and kicked it, flipping it onto its back, revealing the chest plate housing the core I needed.
Chuckling, I pulled the toolbox closer and grabbed the right tools. Time to dissect another kin. Am I a vivisector now?
Opening the chest plate, I extracted the core. Inspecting it and finding no major differences from others, I pulled a wire from my back and connected it directly. A wave of energy surged through me, lifting my sour mood. The interface made it even better:
Connected to third external power source: //core_drone_ton618445hg//
Activation: 2%...10%...18%...30%...41%...56%...75%...91%...99%...100%...
Third external power source activation: //core_drone_ton618445hg// successful!
Smirking, I started dismantling the drone's head, which lay nearby.
Rolling it closer, I heated the display with a tool from the red toolbox and removed the emotion plate—a name I just made up.
Peering inside the head, I wasn't surprised to see a mess of wires and components filling the poor thing's skull. I'd seen drone insides plenty during repairs—a delicate task.
Among the wires was a megastructure—the drone's memory cells.
Licking my lips, I used tweezers to extract it, pulling out thick data-transfer cables.
Disconnecting them, I held the cells. Time to use the Solver again. I needed to copy the data directly to my core since I had no extra cables for memory cells. The Solver was my only option.
Exhaling, I activated the Solver. A colorful hexagon with three arrow-like beams appeared between my fingers. The air vibrated, and smooth waves rippled through space, slightly distorting it.
The memory cells floated above the Solver's mark, circling slowly. Data streamed into my head, and the cells dimmed with each second.
After a few minutes, the data transfer finished, and the cells went dark, crumbling into crystalline dust. No surprise—the Solver's influence isn't exactly gentle.
Waving away the dust, I processed the data, letting my metal brain sort it out. No need to overthink—it'd organize itself.
It took a few minutes, even with the three extra cores in my backpack. What did I get? Not much, but the info was insanely useful.
The office has nine floors, each with specific security.
The first floor handles clients and basic maintenance.
The second floor is for negotiations with big clients who buy JCJenson products in bulk.
The third floor has another negotiation room, but for major investors.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth floors are buffets for drones, clients, and workers, respectively.
The top three floors house the management running the office.
There are also underground floors with labs and testing chambers. That's all I got from the victim's memory.
Sitting on the floor, I realized a few things: I need a computer, more cores, and this plan will take a long time. With the security on the lower floors, I can't imagine what's guarding the basement. That's where I need to go for everything useful, like a computer.
Scratching my head, I stood and headed out of the school. Time to hunt—gotta prepare for the raid, right?
۞⦰۞
Date: November 21, 3048
Time: 10:11
Think preparation is easy? Hah, it's not that simple, not at all.
I had to kill more of my kin. This time, to gather more cores, since I'd be using the Solver to its fullest. My core wouldn't survive the strain otherwise.
The result? My abandoned school housed three dozen drone corpses, half of which were gutted, their cores extracted.
I sat on a table, my backpack with fifteen drone cores beside me. All connected to me.
In one hand, my sword; in the other, the rebar. I was ready for the raid.
With a slight smile, I left the school under the light of the local star. Surprisingly, the weather was great—no annoying rain, no clouds. Just sunshine and light. I liked it. My mood lifted.
In a few dozen seconds, I crossed the school grounds and reached the makeshift exit.
Passing through the missing fence, I dashed through the alley and onto a proper street. The scene was the same as always—humans, drones, occasional cargo vehicles. The star's bright glow added some change.
Still smiling happily, I practically skipped toward the sector's center. The distance was short… relatively. I'd walked this path twenty times this month, at least.
During my impromptu stroll, I caught odd looks. Some gaped in surprise—a drone with emotions is rare. Though drones have consciousness, they lack emotions unless awakened. That's how it works.
Others looked confused, not at me but at what I carried and my oil-stained backpack. The sword drew the most attention, shining like a beacon in the fog. It caught everyone's eyes, slightly scaring me, but I hid it with my cheerful smile.
If the sword could be chalked up to a collector—rare but existent on this planet—the rebar raised questions, even among kids. So I hid it carefully to maintain my cover. Humans here are a bit gullible.
After ten minutes, by my internal clock and senses, I reached the sector's center. My clock is literally internal—I see the time on my display. Logical? I think so. And I think my mood's pretty great, unlike my usual urge to kill everyone.
With an enthusiastic look, I stared at the JCJenson building, thinking only about how to start this undoubtedly fun adventure.
The raid has three simple stages, easy in concept and execution, as long as I adapt to the situation instead of relying on "I calculated the odds" nonsense. My processor lets me calculate in real-time, though it's a bit old and weak, especially for the Solver.
Stage One: Infiltration. Two guards at the entrance are mostly for show, rarely using their metal detectors unless someone's overly suspicious. They don't check drones, knowing the first rule of robotics: "A robot cannot harm a human through action or inaction." They assume drones can't hurt them. Naive souls.
The servers are in the basement, so after bypassing the guards, I need to get to the underground floors. That's why I took fifteen worker drone cores—to blast through the metal door, the main obstacle. With the cores, I can use the Solver to turn that door into a soda can.
Stage Two: Execution. Once in the basement, I need to find the server room. If I can't, I'll have to hack the building's systems to locate it, since I don't know its exact position.
In the server room, I'll connect it to the drones' memory cells and a couple of cores. The cores will have processors to handle incoming data. The data won't stay in the cells long—it'll be sent back, with the processors and cores deciding what to keep and what to discard.
Stage Three: Escape. The easiest part. If I don't trigger the security system—which is unlikely—I can slip out without being noticed.
If the security system is tripped, it's trickier. Exiting the same way might mean facing a SWAT team. So I mapped all the emergency exits I could steal. I could even escape via the roof, though that's unlikely but not impossible.
Running the plan through my head again, I approached the building with a friendly smile.
With a light step, I passed the two guards, who gave me a suspicious glance—or pretended to. I'd seen these two for a month; they didn't work, just acted like they were watching passersby. They're good at faking it—I thought they were real guards for the first few hours of planning.
Still smiling, I entered the building's hall. Nothing special to describe. The JCJenson logo was on the floor, circled. People and drones bustled about—humans running between counters and operators, drones carrying papers to offices, I assumed. It was a well-oiled system I'd have to break. No one's stopping me.
A fleeting desire crossed my mind, and I glitched, teleporting to the sealed basement door, narrowly avoiding people. The door was twenty meters from where I stood. Did I mention this building is huge?
Raising my glowing, ominous Solver, which forced nearby drones to reboot, I swung. The staircase door crumpled like a tin can and flew into another part of the stairwell. My eye twitched—one of the cores cracked. If I keep this up, I won't finish before the cores die.
The blaring siren pierced my ears, but I ignored it, focusing on the plan. Lock tf in mode: maximum concentration.
Without looking back, I grabbed the doorframe so hard I sparked and threw myself inside, dodging bullets flying at my battered body.
Grabbing the railing, which creaked in protest, I spun and dove further down the stairs. Seeing the shocked faces of the two guards chasing me was a delight, especially when I knocked out their colleagues below. I hadn't laughed this hard in ages.
Picking up a knocked-out guard—whom I'd accidentally slammed into along with his partner—I used him as a meat shield. No shots followed. Some humanity remains in these people. Good to know, but they'll still die by my sister's hand.
Tossing the useless body aside, I faced a closed door. In two-hundredths of a second, I activated the Solver and tore the door off its hinges, ripping the metal like paper.
Jamming the former door into the steel floor, I flew into the corridor.
Spinning my head, I paused. I had about eight seconds before the guards arrived. Time to recall the basement map stolen from a drone's head.
To the left: a warehouse, called the "empty wing." This colony is new, and materials are in high demand, so the warehouse is almost always empty.
Straight ahead: a place I shouldn't go. The guards' break room. With the number of guards here, I'd rather not think about it.
To the right: what I needed. The map marked it simply: "Server Room." I trust the map—I have no other choice, and hacking the office systems would likely get me hacked.
These thoughts took less than five seconds, so I smiled and turned right. How would my speed fare indoors? Let's find out! I accelerated to 25 km/h, crossing the short corridor in two seconds. Grabbing the corner, denting the metal wall, I veered toward the server room.
My servos groaned under the strain, my hair whipped in the wind, and I felt a mix of relaxation and wild stress. Better not stop.
I ran straight for the server room door, which wasn't anything special—just a ton of processors and memory cells linked into a system for data storage. A data center. Should be a cozy place.
Realizing I could use my speed to my advantage, I grabbed the rebar. Rust flaked off, but it was sturdy enough for my crazy idea. Raising it like a sniper rifle—complete with a reticle in my eye—I jumped, narrowly missing a hanging lamp, and hurled the rebar. It flew for half a second before smashing the door's control panel into pieces. I heard a click—my plan worked.
Grabbing my sword, I flew to the door and, with a precise strike sparking metal, sliced through the hidden hinges and kicked the door in. With a calm face, I watched it crash into a server rack in slow motion. Tsk, wasted resources… but I'm in the server room… Heh-heh-heh…
No time for pleasantries—I had to move fast, sacrificing elegance. Elegance? I'm a robot; my middle name is efficiency. Time to crank it up and have some fun.
I darted to a panel near the doorframe, ripped it off, and exposed a thick cable glowing with colors. This thing… access to the entire data center. It sends info to the upper floors, and if I disconnect it, they lose access to the servers, cameras, everything. Guess what I'm doing?
Touching the cable, I deftly removed the pins holding it, like an experienced sysadmin, and disconnected it. The equipment flickered, trying to process what happened, and restarted seconds later. That disconnection even rebooted the servers nearly destroyed by the door. Surprising they still worked.
"With Deus…" I whispered, opening the backup connection port on my neck, moving my hair aside. Why backup? My back has only five connection slots, and I hooked up ten extra cores by literally turning my head 180 degrees and rewiring with borrowed drone cables.
It took so many tries to make those fifteen cores work, but I gained enough energy for my maneuvers. Sadly, it's still not enough for the Solver's appetite. But if it's needed, it's needed. Good thing the cores are small enough for the backpack, or I'd be screwed.
Exhaling, I plugged the thick cable into my neck, maxing out my firewall. The cores in my backpack hummed. I'd have to process a ton of data and extract the essentials. The extra cores were just batteries—no processing systems, just cache for memory and self-control. They're compressed thermonuclear plasma that goes boom if breached. All the processing falls on my processor. But that's just details.
Warning! Connected to external storage: jcjenson_server1
Establishing connection… 15%...45%...83%...100%... Successful.
Obtaining permission for connection and debugging via SFF cable… 33%...99%...Successful.
External storage connection successful!
A flood of data poured into my head, filling every corner of my consciousness. Petabytes of data streamed through my artificial brain, processed, and sent back to the servers. I lost track of how long I stood there… still standing… I nearly lost myself in the endless data stream.
There were camera recordings, cute cat videos, even porn—useful info got lost in the noise.
After a while, some logic emerged in the data. Random clips gave way to scientific papers and blueprints for simple devices, like 21st-century capacitors, described so you could build them from sticks and mud. With the equipment here, it'd be even easier.
Later, I found blueprints for complex components. I copied only a computer and steel wing-blades into my brain. The computer, made from a disassembled drone, was a basic blueprint compared to the wings.
The wings? A meme. Designed for planetary colonization, especially for accessing hard-to-reach places. Powered by antigravity engines—those glowing circles in disassembler wings—they didn't need air to function. They required a worker drone core, no stronger or weaker, almost identical. Amazing tech. They fold up, not turning into nanobots like disassemblers'. That's their downside.
They were also made for combat, but after the alliance, their combat features targeted hostile flora and fauna on some planets. Giant insects were documented in one server section. I didn't dive into details.
With a quiet click and hiss, I unplugged the cable from my neck, collapsing to the floor and clutching my head. That DDoS attack wasn't pleasant, honestly. My head spun, and my eyes showed errors. Footsteps approaching added fuel to the fire.
The pain was unbearable, like thousands of needles stabbing my head, tearing soft tissue… but the needles faded until they were gone.
Slowly standing, I glanced at the server. I couldn't process the entire data center—a small chunk nearly killed me. Plus, I rushed, overloading my processor. The whole process took ninety seconds, but it felt like hours.
Coming to, I grabbed my sword and exited the server room, leaning on the wall. My eyes still glitched from the overload, but there was no time to waste. Two guards—not the same ones, in different uniforms—ran toward me. Probably higher clearance for the basement. Heh.
"Hey, lunatics…" I waved weakly at the approaching guards. My action made them slow down. They stopped seven meters away, squinting from the ceiling lights reflecting off the polished floors and walls.
They exchanged a silent glance and nodded. One approached me, unarmed, completely open. Mistake. Fatal mistake, buddy. You don't approach me without weapons or armor. My past challengers learned that the hard way.
When he got close, I struck his leg, making him lose balance and fall face-first. Sidestepping his body and stabilizing myself, I sped past the second guard, who tried to grab me but was too slow.
After a few turns, I ran into a basement wing I hadn't planned for. No choice now—I was in the unexplored underground tunnels. The light was dim, not harsh on my sensors like near the server room, where it was darker than the sun outside.
Looking around, I spotted an unremarkable steel door and ran toward it.
Reaching it, I slid it open, dashed inside, and closed it behind me.
The room looked like… that capsule or room from Portal 2 that Wheatley smashed. Same vibe. A bed, a painting on the wall, a useless TV… the coziest thing I'd seen in months, aside from Tessa's bed.
Sighing, I sat on the floor, pulling my knees up and burying my head in them. I wanted to rest like this—utterly inefficient, utterly useless, and raising questions, but comfortable. Well, depends how you look at it… I was mentally exhausted. Killing my kin never gets old, especially knowing they physically can't resist. Except those who awaken personality and emotions. But those drones are rare… until 3050, when their numbers will grow exponentially.
That doesn't change one thing: they'll be too naive for this planet.
I was so lost in thought I didn't notice a curious detail that changed the room's vibe. A detail that made my eyes widen in shock, then close to hide it.
I wasn't alone.
That simple truth hit me like a stake to the head. Not alone? Exactly… Not the phantom whispers of dead cores in my backpack. It was… a presence…
With a slight creak, I turned my head right, looking at the other end of the room. At first, I saw nothing.
But now, calmer, I noticed more details. The painting wasn't just a painting—it showed a lunar landscape, and so on.
Then I saw something out of place. A strand of dark purple hair peeked from behind a corner, swaying from its owner's nervous trembling.
The sight only made me want to comfort the frightened creature, but common sense took over, and with uncharacteristic harshness, I said:
"I know someone's there. Come out!" I raised my voice slightly. With great curiosity, I watched the strand of hair freeze in shock as its owner processed my command.
After a few dozen seconds, a drone with an unusual appearance emerged. A blood-red display studied me with mixed emotions, trying to figure out who I was. A gray coat draped over unremarkable drone curves, accentuating her slimness and height. The dark purple hair reflected the dim light of a wall-mounted lamp. It was truly beautiful.
One detail caught my attention more than anything else. A card hung on her chest, and a bracelet on her wrist. I couldn't see the bracelet clearly, but the card…
The card read something that, frankly, made me lose my grip on reality. I hadn't expected this turn of events.
Yeva 048
That name… and number… surprised me, to put it mildly. I hadn't thought I'd meet the mother of a main character during a raid. Yeva, Doll's mother.
Only seconds later did it hit me that she could twist me into a pretzel without breaking a sweat. Or could she? The question was whether she'd been implanted with the Solver. If not, nothing to fear… for now.
I opened my mouth, trying to formulate my next words. And froze. I couldn't think of anything. The pause stretched longer and longer. Finally, I gave up and just said:
"Hey?…" It was both a question and a statement, as I didn't know how to react. I shouldn't even be here, if you think about it. Over twenty years before the main events, and I'm talking to the mother of a girl I liked, at least in my past life. Let's ignore that she's a robot.
Yeva's eyes turned to zeros after my greeting. A digital sweat drop appeared on her temple, and her jaw nearly hit the planet's core.
"H-hello…" she said in a trembling voice, trying to hide it. I don't get how we can tremble. My only theory is voltage differences in servos, which sounds plausible but hard to believe. I've never noticed it in myself.
"I'm just… gonna sit here for a bit, okay? Until the guards leave?" I asked, looking straight into her display. Then something clicked in my head. I noticed a detail that might shock the red-eyed drone. Not my appearance, not the sword with oil stains reflecting light, not even my battered, tired face. Something simpler, more mundane.
I was speaking perfect Russian.
That realization made me want to bang my head against a wall. How could I mess up like that? She hasn't torn me apart, so there's still hope. I can live with this.
I stretched out my legs, making Yeva step back. She kept her blood-red gaze on me, like it pierced my soul, though I knew that was impossible, at least for her. Out of habit, I looked away—just in case she found something in my white pixelated eyes.
"Not against it…" she replied, looking down, probably processing the flood of information. I get it—when I first arrived at Elliott Manor, I couldn't figure out how or why I was there or what to do.
Her situation's different but similar. I burst into her room out of nowhere and asked for shelter in her native language. That last part probably shocked her most, since she and her husband are likely the only Russian speakers on this planet. Well, maybe a few more, but no one else comes to mind.
"I see the surprise in your eyes…" I noted, crossing my arms to hide my "nervousness." What would she think of the fifteen drone "hearts" in my backpack, quietly vibrating and giving me energy? One kept throwing errors but still worked.
"Just…" she replied curtly, looking away. Trying to hide her shock that I spoke Russian. I'd be shocked too, finding a Russian-speaking drone on an English planet.
"Just means just," I shrugged, turning to the door where muffled footsteps echoed. The guards were searching for me in vain. Good luck finding a drone who can hit high speeds with an IQ higher than all of theirs combined. Yeah, I'm showing off—no one's stopping me, right?
I stood, and Yeva stepped back again. I felt my servos and levers click back into place, energy flowing through my nanotubes with a cool freshness. Fifteen cores were way better than one—I couldn't feel these sensations with just my core. Now… sublime…
As a drone, I shouldn't feel anything without the right organs, but I do. Every drone has nanobots for regeneration, and Solver hosts have them accelerated ten- or hundredfold. In infected drones, they act as a nervous system, letting us feel pain, some touch, and more. But only hosts have this privilege due to hyper-accelerated nanites.
After ten seconds of stretching and two seconds of bliss—during which the footsteps quieted—I finally saw the world clearly. Yeva and I were still in her chamber's entryway, or room, depending on your pessimism.
At that moment, my backpack tore. All fifteen cores fell out, hanging on my wires. Oil dripped from them, hitting the floor with a menacing wet sound, staining it black.
We both froze. I was embarrassed, sensing trouble; Yeva was horrified, her eyes thinning to threads. I felt uneasy as she dissected me with her gaze, like I was spare parts. It was like facing Cyn again.
"Oops…" I didn't know how to react to this mess. The cores swayed on my wires, their oil faintly reflecting the dim light. I was scared to move.
It got worse when I heard a whistling sound mixed with electricity.
Looking from the cores to Yeva, I saw something that nearly killed me on the spot. I was right—she could twist me into a pretzel. Her hand glowed with a bright red Solver, spinning clockwise. Its pattern shifted from an atom-like "rotation" tool to a "creation" diagram, occasionally reverting to the standard hexagon with arrows.
"Can you… ignore all this?" I asked, raising my hands in surrender. A nervous smile crossed my face, making Yeva step closer, still aiming her Solver at me. A twitch in her eye and brief surprise told me she was bluffing.
She likely got an error: "Cannot interact with object." A Solver host can't affect another host, except for the progenitor, Cyn, and me, who begged God for the ability to bypass those rules.
"Why. Do. You. Need. The. Cores?" Her voice turned hard and commanding, her eyes demanding an answer. The Solver's whistle grew louder, small sparks arced through the air, and the oil drops moved, drawn to her power.
"…without them, I'll die…" I answered as honestly as possible. I had nothing to hide, especially from her. She'd be the first on this planet to know my core is dying faster than some computers process requests.
"My own core… it's dying… To extend my life, I use other drones' cores… Basically, without them, my core will turn to ash…" I explained briefly, bracing for her to smear me across the wall. If she attacked, I could block her Solver with mine, regardless of her move. I could redirect a singularity or counter an accelerated chandelier with my sword, leaving her no room to maneuver.
The pause dragged on. I felt no foreign influence or attempts. My gaze questioned, but it'd likely go unanswered. The whistling softened, and the oil stopped moving. Her display remained cold, but her Solver hand trembled, either from wanting to erase me or to drop the aggression.
"What do you mean your core is dying?" she asked, still aiming her Solver at me. I had no choice—answering was the best outcome, or I'd face an unfair fight.
"Um… my core's integrity is below 25%, so my body switches to energy-saving mode, where I can't do anything. There's not enough energy… That's why I kill drones—to have some ability to do anything…" I said, looking into her eyes, her seriousness rivaling Minerva McGonagall's—not that Yeva's an old witch, just their demeanor.
Then, I asked a strange question that just popped into my head.
"Did you think… you'd become one THESE cores?" I pointed at the cores hanging from my wires. A faint blush appeared on Yeva's display. I smirked inwardly—she was scared of sharing their fate. That's adorable.
"Mhm…" she mumbled, something holding her back from speaking fully, looking away and deactivating her Solver. For the first time in minutes, I could relax my 120% overclocked processor. She didn't seem to plan on attacking, which was great—otherwise, I'd be sad, having to fight back and avoid destroying anything. She's not escaping; something's holding her here… blocking her… Whatever, that's not my concern.
"Hah…" I smiled, losing the tension built over these long five minutes of life-or-not-life talk, since neither of us could kill the other.
"I couldn't even scratch you… let alone kill you… This backpack weighs a quarter ton… well, weighed…" I looked at the sad sight of the torn rag that used to be a decent backpack. It wasn't made to carry 250 kilos of drone cores. No way it held up this long.
"Help me fix it?" I asked, removing the backpack and sliding it through the core wires. After twenty seconds, I held a dirty, torn-in-places backpack, its giant bottom hole not its only issue.
Yeva shrugged and activated her Solver, lifting the black backpack and placing it on the main room's floor. In the light, it looked worse—like it'd been dipped in acid and stirred with a ladle. My eye twitched as I approached. Some fabric was just gone, other parts looked ready to disintegrate.
"How do we fix it? There's not enough material… I'm not yet—" I cut her off with a lazy wave, making her look at me questioningly. I stepped lightly to a metal nightstand by the single bed, its surface reflecting light into my face.
I grabbed the nightstand by its edges and lifted it off the floor with a little effort. The servos squeaked, for it was not the lightest of metals. More specifically, of the metal that is most common on this planet (after copper, of course). Osmium. The densest metal in the table of elements, just what I need.
"This work for material?" I asked, setting the nightstand by the backpack. Yeva looked at me like I was the holy spirit. What? I just moved a nightstand.
"Yes, it'll do…" she replied, facing the backpack. Her Solver squealed, and a spark shot toward the nightstand. It began melting and stretching into bright silver threads before my eyes.
Not standing idle, I activated my colorful Solver. As it glowed, Yeva jumped back, horror in her digital eyes. I stood there, surprised, watching her nearly climb the wall to get away.
"W-what is that?…" she asked, pointing at my Solver, which quietly crackled with electric sparks, its light spreading a cozy glow. Her reaction baffled me.
"It's the Solver…" I said, confused by her question. What scared her so much she nearly punched through the ceiling to escape? I looked at the three-colored arrows, trying to see what was hidden in them.
"When… the Progenitor, or Cyn, takes control of me, her Solver feels the same…" she said, peeling off the wall and cautiously approaching. Her mention of my sister brought back memories of our days in the manor's workshop, where Cyn helped her little brother. Her calling Cyn the Progenitor made me chuckle inwardly.
"Alright…" I said, leaning over the backpack. I could've told her I'm the Progenitor's brother, but her young drone core probably couldn't handle that shock. The fact that the Progenitor sees me as her little brother would blow her out of this world. Too… unusual, to say the least.
Smiling, I lifted the backpack, suppressing the urge to shout "Wingardium Leviosa" like a Harry Potter wizard. That urge quickly turned to disgust when I saw the backpack's shadow. It had been somewhere before me—no way it had that many holes from the cores.
Too bad even this small Solver use made my head want to melt, and I wouldn't let it. With slight envy, I watched Yeva wield her Solver effortlessly, reshaping matter as she pleased. Even with the Cube, I couldn't do that. The Solver's main strength is reality manipulation, not matter like the Cube.
The osmium threads wove into the backpack, turning the fabric into something far sturdier. Not the threads themselves, but the ultra-fine filaments they were made of. It seemed useless at first glance, but I knew better. This thing could rival Kevlar. Each thread was now 25-30% osmium.
"Done…" Yeva said quietly, sitting on the bed carefully, holding her head. Assessing her state as just a mild headache—nothing compared to mine—I deactivated my Solver, and the fresh backpack flew into my hands. Its weight increased by a third.
For the cores, I asked Yeva to leave holes on the back-facing side to thread them through, matching their diameter.
Three minutes later, after stuffing all the cores into the backpack—one severely cracked, looking ready to shatter—Yeva approached and gave the best smile she could muster. It was funny—she's almost a head shorter, and I looked down at her. The height difference wasn't as noticeable when I sat in the entryway.
"Well… I'm off…" I said, turning to leave without a goodbye. As I stepped, her hand grabbed my forearm, squeezing lightly. No aggression, so I didn't resist.
"Wait… Thank you…" she said, releasing my arm with a faint metallic clank and, from the sound, sprawling on the bed. I didn't pay it much mind. Glancing back as I left, I saw only her legs dangling off the bed. Exhaling quietly, I opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit corridor, now empty.
I slowly headed toward the fire escape, the only exit available, lost in thought. I didn't notice the echo of my steps or the broken cameras, disabled after I unplugged the server cable. Yeva's gratitude raised questions. Why thank me? What did I do to deserve it? Those questions might go unanswered… or maybe not.
My distraction was so deep I didn't hear the panting guards who'd run from another wing, desperately searching for me. I stopped—they shouldn't know I'm here with the surveillance down, but they found me somehow.
Turning slowly toward the sound, I hid my slight irritation, my display showing a pulsing vein animation.
Behind me stood two guards in gray uniforms, which mildly surprised me. The uniform color must indicate clearance, explaining why only gray-uniformed guards chased me underground.
They panted, leaning on the walls and each other, looking at me with utter confusion. I could see they wanted to give up and leave. They hadn't even drawn their weapons—pathetic creatures.
"Ugh… Just surrender… cough… and we won't have issues," one said, looking into my display for any reaction. I had an internal reaction, but showed nothing. Their audacity surprised me, though they sounded convincing. Too bad they couldn't bribe me, no matter how hard they tried.
"What answer do you expect?" I asked smugly, twirling the rebar I'd pulled from my sleeve, where I'd stuffed it for convenience. The guards froze, their eyes filling with fear and disbelief. I felt like they'd start praying if I pushed harder.
Smiling, I struck the wall with the rebar, sending a cheerful clang through the corridor. My smile widened at the small dent in the metal wall, made of some unknown alloy.
Then, I simply turned around, opened the door, and slipped onto the fire escape. In the final moment, I caught a glimpse of the two guards, nearly crying like frightened little girls, barely standing on their shaky legs, faces pale with terror. I must've scared them good. They'll probably see me in their nightmares, boo-hoo-hoo…
Ten seconds later, I touched the emergency exit door leading outside. I hesitated to step out—anything could be waiting for me out there, from a dozen guards with railguns to a damn tank, which wouldn't be far from the truth, given the resource availability.
For peace of mind, I pulled my sword from behind my back and gripped it tightly with one hand. Its perfect matte surface calmed and delighted me, like some old trinket found in the depths of a desk drawer. Except this was on a much grander scale.
Exhaling, I grabbed the horizontal bar that served as the door's handle and leaned forward. With a soft click, the door's locks disengaged, and it creaked open, letting me out onto the street. Releasing the bar, I was about to sigh in relief when I was interrupted in a rather brutal way. Dozens of sharp clicks, like the sound of firearms being cocked, flooded my audio sensors. I also heard the crackle of an electric arc and the deep hum of something powerful charging up.
Looking ahead, not without some caution—just in case—I saw dozens of weapons from various eras and power levels aimed at me. There were classic AK-47s and M14s, alongside something new. Rifles that fired electric bullets capable of paralyzing a human or forcing a drone into a reboot. And that was just one of at least a dozen types of weaponry.
I forced a smile. I hadn't expected such an ambush just for me. I really didn't think I was that valuable—or, conversely, so useless—that they'd send an entire SWAT team after me. "They" being JCJenson. Time to test teleportation, because I only had one shot. Well, technically, I had plenty of tries, but a failed attempt would likely be my last. I doubted the soldiers—or whatever they were—would go easy on me after an escape attempt.
Luckily, they weren't shooting to kill right away, which was almost disappointing. As I mentioned, their weapons were a mix of different eras and strengths, like they'd grabbed whatever was lying around. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had an RPG stashed underfoot, though that'd be borderline sci-fi.
Still smiling like an idiot, I flashed a peace sign and took a small step back, bumping into the doorframe I'd just run through. With a sharp mental command, I forced the energy from a cracked core to envelop me in a thin film. When I felt a slight pressure rippling across my chassis in strange waves, I activated the Solver and, still leaning against the doorframe, shifted myself through space. The world froze, as if holding its breath. For a split second, it was utterly silent—no movement, no sound. Then… suddenly… an energy wave slammed through my sensors, overwhelming my brain with information. In the next millisecond, I was standing behind the building. The sensation? Nothing much, just a faint feeling during teleportation, like a black hole had opened in my chest—which might actually be true.
Nervously exhaling, I scanned the nearby surroundings. Finding nothing that could potentially harm me, I gripped the rebar tighter and sped up, mentally mapping out a route.
Steam still rose from my body, the remnants of the core's energy dissipating from my chassis. Accompanying it was a wet, squelching sound, like a bloody massacre happening nearby. But no, it was just the sound of what had become of the core after my teleportation. It was destroyed—popped like a balloon. All the thermonuclear plasma's energy had been spent on my spatial jump, and the core's material couldn't withstand the overload and simply shattered. Now I knew that the cores of local drones contained oil, unlike the ones at the manor. And I also learned that teleportation is a terrifying force, especially without knowing how to use it.
After what felt like two minutes of intense running, I finally reached my dear abandoned school, which hadn't changed a bit in those few hours. How happy I was to slip through the rusty fence of the schoolyard surrounding the building in its day. How glad I was to walk through the slightly wilted but fairly tall grass.
And how thrilled I was to see that extraordinarily beautiful, slightly dusty hall again and lie on its floor, staring at the ceiling with a carefree expression. That's it—no more raids for the next few months! If even one wore me out this much…
But I was interrupted. Not by other drones, not by humans, not even by random street noises. I was disturbed by… a message that appeared on my display. It would've been fine, except for one thing: the sender was Cyn. I had to exhale a couple of times, despite being a drone, and look at the message with a serious gaze. A digital pulse ran through my body, making my fingers twitch as if trembling. Something big was coming… something painful. Cyn rarely writes to me. She doesn't write for no reason.
New message received!
From: Cyn
To: Serial Designation - Ai
Little brother?… R-r-e-s-p-o-n-d…
I d-don't w-want you to [die].
[F-forgive] me.
S-send me your c-coordinates…
I-I [will save] you.
Little… [brother] I…
It's hard to say what scared me more: the fact that she could write to me, meaning I'm connected to some specific network. It's definitely not the internet, because I don't even have a module for receiving it, and if I did, Cyn would've found me in days, if not hours.
Or is it her condition that scares me? Based on the message, she's almost completely consumed by the Solver's madness, and her obsession with me raises more questions than it answers. The Solver has nearly taken her over, but her love for me sometimes overpowers the omni-program. It's… curious.
And why did she ask for my coordinates? I get it, sure, but I don't even know how to find my coordinates. And even if I did, I wouldn't send them. I'm not an idiot.
Irritated, I closed the message panel on my internal interface and shot up from the floor, scattering the tools lying nearby. Scanning the floor for anything that might be useful, I found nothing. With a sad sigh, I picked up the rebar, its rusty layer cracked and flaking in places from that strike against the wall in the facility's basement.
Snorting, I lifted my sword. After a couple of clumsy test swings—nearly hitting myself—I gripped it as tightly as possible and headed for the school's exit.
"Need more cores… Let the night hunt begin…" I muttered, cracking the school's entrance door open. If I want to survive, I need more cores. The cores of my kin.
All that's left is to wait for nightfall, which will come in an hour or two, and then the fun can start.
۞⦰۞
POV: Third PersonDate: November 21, 3048
Time: 28:04
The night was shrouded in darkness. The bright rays of the strange star had dipped below the horizon, plunging the entire sector, along with those nearby, into shadow. Only darkness remained, pierced by the light of two celestial bodies—the planet's moons. It felt as if they weren't orbiting but standing still, illuminating all life with reflected starlight.
They were different in size. One was larger, the other smaller, but their surface texture, if viewed from another planet, seemed similar. Like twin brothers.
The larger one had an orbital ring, its brightness comparable to Saturn's in the Solar System, nearly five light-years from Copper's system. They had their own names, of course. The ringed moon was called Copper-10, the smaller one Osmium-3. Humans didn't bother with creative names for planets, simply assigning them based on the most abundant materials found there.
This night was silent and calm, as it always was. But… that changed quickly, as if with a snap of fingers.
A drone with oddly colored eyes on its display—light gray—carefully opened the door of the abandoned school and looked around. Finding nothing threatening, it let out a soft sigh, slipped outside, quietly closed the door, and tiptoed toward the hole in the fence, the only way out.
Why hadn't anyone looted or dismantled this school, with its old, cracked boards and other materials ripe for salvaging? Simple: no one needed it. Everyone here lived well enough, and people had no concept of scavenging or dismantling. The humans here… they were born here, so they didn't really know what had happened on Earth.
Leaving the school grounds, the drone vanished into the dark alleys of one of the main sectors of this exoplanet, noticing nothing suspicious. It didn't see the entire SWAT team tailing it, intent on capturing and interrogating it.
The reason for the surveillance was straightforward. The recent attack on JCJenson's main office, causing some destruction and the loss of expensive equipment, along with the near-total destruction of the surveillance system due to a sudden system overload.
The rapid response team was truly rapid, as they'd set up surveillance on the "Object" that very day, assembling their best operatives.
The "Object" itself had no idea it was being watched by three groups of highly trained professionals who'd cut their teeth on such operations. It wasn't their first rodeo, though such jobs often ended with the target's elimination after gathering enough intel.
But this time, things were different. They needed to track the Object, ideally capture it and bring it in for questioning, without taking their eyes off it. The fact that the target was a drone made the team scratch their heads. And the label in the documents next to the unknown serial number—"Highly Dangerous"—raised far too many questions.
"Alpha Team? What data did the company provide about the Object?" one of the operatives asked, pressing the button on his radio to reach the neighboring team tracking the Object. He succeeded without issue. During training, they'd been given old radios, practically straight out of the 21st century, to learn how to operate like the special forces of that era. They were told that people had gotten too comfortable and lost much of their combat efficiency. The old radios were inconvenient, but switching to modern communication devices only boosted efficiency, thanks to the absence of interference and other issues.
"Copy. Platinum-colored wig with a bright sheen. Light-colored. Butler uniform, concealed under a stolen worker's jacket. Carries a backpack with other drones' cores. Purpose unknown. Weapons: ultra-durable iron rebar and a longsword with unknown specifications," came the response through the earpiece. The experienced captain nodded to some internal thought and continued staring at the spot where the unknown drone had emerged. He couldn't understand why they'd been tasked with tracking this piece of metal. It seemed useless. At least, that's what the captain thought.
"Copy! Beta Team online! Delta Team, do you read?" a concerned and slightly nervous voice from the Beta Team leader crackled through the now-quiet radio. His tone carried surprise and a hint of shock. Clearly, something had just happened in front of him that he'd never seen before. His psychology training wasn't for nothing.
"We read," the captain replied lazily, reaching for the button on his superconducting radio. He was completely calm, ignoring external distractions as he listened to the other team leader's words.
"Object-1 just decapitated a drone! Used the sword. Based on my observations and the cuts on the wall near the kill site, the sword has a nano-sharpened edge. No metal dust at the cut sites. The sword is made of an ultra-durable material," the operative reported, relaying all the information gathered from the scene. His voice lost any trace of concern, now sounding as confident and serious as it had during their first meeting, with only a hint of lingering surprise.
"Good. Continue tracking, Beta Team. We'll catch him hot, right at his home," the captain smirked, already imagining the drone returning to the school building, only to be met by three teams of trained operatives. His reaction would be priceless.
"Roger!" the team leader replied, switching to another radio channel to avoid interference. In case of an emergency, his teammates and subordinates could alert him. Gathering evidence was meticulous and complex work.
"This'll be fun…" the captain of the operations team grinned, standing up from the cold rooftop. His snow-white hair glinted in the night light of the two similar moons, making him look less like a mortal and more like a god standing above all living and non-living beings in this universe.
His entire team, consisting of four members excluding himself, looked at the captain's dark silhouette with some apprehension. Exchanging glances, the subordinates shrugged. No one had gotten used to their captain's strange habits yet.
۞⦰۞
"Goodbye… poor thing…" I said with a touch of sadness, looking at my latest victim, who hadn't even realized I was behind her. Raising my sword, I made a careless swing, the moonlight reflecting off the sword's guard, faintly illuminating the surrounding area. Without resistance, I severed the drone's head.
With a barely audible squelch, the head detached from the body and landed on the ground with a metallic crunch, shattering the display and leaving dents in the surrounding aviation-grade aluminum casing. Rolling a few dozen centimeters, the head came to a stop, softly colliding with the concrete wall of the dark alley.
The body itself decided to collapse once the central processor's signals stopped reaching the servos. I watched in real-time as the drone's segmented arms and legs turned into limp metallic noodles. When its torso hit the ground, the limbs splayed out unnaturally, as if they weren't sturdy metal constructs but the flimsy tentacles of an octopus.
A bad feeling settled in my core, as if something was about to happen that would bring me no benefit and a ton of problems. And, as the context suggests, I'm not exactly a fan of problems. Who is?
Tonight, I decided not to rack up my "kill count" too much. I didn't need a ton of resources, except maybe processors and cores, plus some display fragments to repair my own. Free repair parts don't just lie around on the road. Well… actually, they do now! Yeah… dumb joke, but it's the best I've got.
As a result, I only killed five, not even bothering to hide it. No one cares about drones anyway, and the disappearance of five would barely be noticed, if at all. Though, compared to Elliott Manor, this little planet feels far friendlier.
Leaving the alley, which was now soaked in oil, with bits of metal and glass embedded in the walls from the force of the impact, I moved on. My last victim had put up a fight, but it didn't help, and her insides and casing fragments were now public property.
Tossing her core into the reinforced backpack Yeva had fixed, I headed toward the school, slowly passing by night shops and buildings with occasionally lit windows. The glow of streetlights made everything even more beautiful and atmospheric. If it were snowing, the ambiance would've been unbeatable. What's more beautiful than snowflakes dancing chaotically in the glow of a streetlamp? Yeah, I think nothing.
After about twenty minutes of this undeniably pleasant and nostalgic walk, reminding me of my past, I entered the abandoned school, slipping through the broken, rusty fence again, nearly tearing my jacket.
Grumbling in annoyance, I strode swiftly toward the school, hopping over any stones in my path.
A minute later, I was opening the creaky school door and stepping inside calmly. You could say I'd returned home from a rather long walk that took me three hours, not counting the time spent killing.
Walking to the center of the hall, I slid the backpack off my shoulders, unzipped it, and revealed five new cores, "fresh from the chest." Pulling them out, I scattered them across the floor with a metallic clang. After all, ultra-dense metal containing thermonuclear plasma remains just that. The sound wasn't entirely metallic—there were digital notes to it.
A faint, satisfied smile spread across my face at the sight of the cores rolling across the room, leaving translucent oil trails behind them.
I sat on the floor, pulling one core closer and inspecting its, well, serial model. Usually, core serial numbers are just random digits and letters in no particular order. But if you know what to look for, there's a certain… meaning to them.
The first three letters always indicate the drone type. For example, BWD stands for Butler Worker Drone—a worker drone subtype "Butler." That marking should be on my core too, but it's probably more like chunks of artificial flesh than anything resembling human-crafted metal.
Just as I was about to continue inspecting the core, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an EMP grenade rolled toward me. No pin. With an audible activation sound.
My processors instantly kicked into overdrive, processing every microsecond of incoming data. The energy from my cores surged, racing through my internal systems straight to my right manipulator. A moment later, tiny lightning bolts sparked at my fingertips, quickly forming the Solver's symbol. Within a few dozen microseconds, I was standing under a dense energy dome created by the Solver.
The grenade detonated, sending an electromagnetic wave that turned the cores on the floor into useless junk. Thanks to the Solver, the wave couldn't reach me, harmlessly bouncing off the white shield.
I didn't even have time to adapt to the situation before operatives began storming the room from all directions, surrounding me. Plasma weapons were aimed at me, their hum growing louder with each second, causing my "ears" to glitch and throw system errors.
Scanning the newcomers while keeping the Solver active, I slowly began devising a plan to escape this… delicate situation. Running wasn't an option; I needed something more elegant.
"Object-1 is surrounded," one of the operatives said into his high-tech radio, glaring at me and keeping his aim locked on my chest. They knew, the bastards, that a drone's core is its weakest point. Any damage to it leads to a collapse and complete burnout of the robot's internal systems. At least, that's what was recorded on the computer at Elliott Manor. I can't not believe it, nor can I disprove it.
"Afraid to ask, but what's my sister's codename then? If I'm Object-1, is she Object-0?" I asked with a touch of irony, subtly increasing the energy flow to the shield just in case. I wouldn't last long like this, but it could at least protect me from stray shots. If it came to that, they'd meet my rebar. Killing them made no sense—based on what I'd gathered, that'd only intensify the hunt for me.
I was so confident that I let slip strategically important information. Imagine their shock when they heard Cyn was my sister. My value in their eyes probably skyrocketed by orders of magnitude. And, as I figured, they weren't letting me go.
"Object-1 and Object-0 are relatives… Drones are relatives…" one of them immediately began typing furiously on his PDA, trying to keep up with his own thoughts. I got it—too much info at once, not everyone's ready for that. Hah, they probably think I'm on par with my sister in power. Or maybe they think the opposite. Gotta be… ready.
"You're going to tell us everything…" the leader of this crew said, nodding to the others. A moment later, thick plasma bursts flew at me, significantly weakening my shield. One more, and it'd be gone—along with me.
In the very last second, I felt someone breach the barrier's boundary, tearing through it with near-bare hands and striking my head with equal force. A hit like that usually sends drones into a deep reboot. I was no exception… No pain, just darkness, which I'd almost missed.
***
I'm not DEAD
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