06:30 April 6, 2105
Thanatos Initiative bunker, Los Angeles, United Americas
There existed a room full of sleeping dolls. They were all tall and beautiful and fleshly. They slept in glass pods with identification labels, lined in neat rows and columns. The names of their owners were printed straight onto the glass, and they slept under the protection of those letters.
He wanted to burn them all.
'The Thanatos Initiative': that's what they called the sleeping dolls. And he held their secrets, their blueprints, in his chest.
"Boy, get out of the surveillance system."
The Faustus Interface tugged at his limbs, but he brushed them off and disconnected from the sticky strands. Pulling out of its grasp, he sat up and waited as the world of numbers melted back into the world of concrete and glass and polyurethane skin and Grey Metal bones.
In the depths of his mind he could see the swirl of decaying memories and numbers and sticky strands of spider webs. Alois curled on his side and swirled his fingers in his hair. If he closed his eyes it felt the same; the Faustus Interface was indulgent and comforting and offered an escape from the unfeeling puppeteer.
"Upload these files to the secure server. The password is embedded in the third layer of coding."
The numbers broke apart behind his eyes, tumbling into words and pictures as they reassembled into a legible form.
"Why are you giving this to them? This is highly classified material."
"Because it's time to give the Arks back to the people- real people, of flesh and blood and bone."
"Uncle Aleister is made of flesh and blood and bone." Alois sat up, dangling his legs off the edge of the cold examining table they called a 'bed'. "These are his blueprints. You just follow them. They aren't yours to give."
"Your Uncle is a copy of a man once made of flesh and blood and bone. He's had his time once and that's all anyone should be allowed; one life."
"You're selling the Arachnoid blueprints to the highest bidder." The boy frowned, reaching out to the familiar web. A sharp sting burst in his head and he recoiled.
"Yes. And you're going to keep quiet about it, because I've programmed you to."
Chambers Cybernetic Armoured Division hangar, Weyland-Yutani Corporation, Londinium Ark
She had always had two legs, even before she awakened in a cybernetic body; two legs and two arms and two eyes. Now she had eight legs and eight eyes.
Grell hesitantly leaned forward, urging her front left leg to take a step. All four legs on the left took a step forward, and it sent the Arachnoid crashing down. Oops. Alright. Regroup. Try again.
The metal spider shakily got up on all legs and Grell focused on the vast network of hydraulics needed to move the machine.
Front right leg. One step. Just one.
"No no no! You're scratching her all up!" Aleister cried, throwing his hands up in frustration as the Arachnoid skittered to the side like a drunkard before shouldering a wall and falling into a heap. "One leg at a time!"
"I'll bloody well pry off your legs one at a time!" Grell shouted, narrowly avoiding swiping a floor technician. "I've only ever had four limbs, I've never had to control eight!"
"What do you tell your legs when you want to walk?" The blond demanded, his voice feeding directly into the cockpit via a mic pinned to his lapel. "What do you have to say to them to get them to move?"
"Nothing!" She screeched, her mind spinning as she tried to tame a flurry of coding into commands to get the spider back upright. "I just walk! Why would I have to tell my legs something?!"
Aleister smiled triumphantly, saying nothing in return in order to let her contemplate her own answer.
"Nothing." Grell echoed, eyes widening. Shutting off the pool of numbers pouring behind her eyes, Grell pulled her thinking back to that of a Reaper rather than a machine. "I don't tell my legs anything. I just…"
Walk.
The towering spider stood firmly upright before it took a step forward. Then another. And another. And another.
"Brava!" Aleister cried, clapping enthusiastically. "Bravissima!" The black spider came to a stop and looked up at him. "Now, directly north of the Weyland building, what lies outside of the Ark?"
Grell brought up her satellite imaging feed and gave it coordinates.
"The combat training grounds for the Chambers Cybernetic Armoured Division."
"Leave the Trooper activated and come back into your body: I have a playmate for you. I want to see the both of you level those training grounds. Show me what you can do with my beautiful instruments of Death."
The door at the end of the bridge opened and Grell leaned against the doorway.
"With pleasure, my dear."
Three metal spiders looked up at him from the hangar, and Eric wondered if those cold tinted eyes could see his discomfort from where he stood on the observation bridge. They were lined up in ascending height order, and the tallest would have easily reached 50ft. Technicians buzzed around them like ants, poking and prodding and programming the metal creatures with eight metal legs and an armoured metal hide.
"It seems neither of us cares for staying dead, Eric Slingby." A bemused voice purred behind him, and he spun to face the owner.
"Aleister Chambers." He gave a curt nod. "Last I heard, you'd been found on the floor of a cultist's basement, strangled with your own innards."
"Along with forty-three others; I'll have you know trying to find Devilish playmates is tricky business." The blond smiled as he took a stand beside the Reaper.
"Didn't pay off well in the end, did it?" Eric snorted.
"No, but ah it was beautiful, chaotic fun whilst it lasted- much like our little arrangement with the pretty birds at the opera." He took great pleasure in the stiffening of the Reaper's posture. "Did your dear friend make use of the thousand souls you worked so hard to provide him?"
"Why did you bring me here?" The Scotsman growled, shooting the man a seething glare.
"Because one of my pet scientists thinks he's cleverer than I, and we all know that isn't true." Aleister turned his gaze back at the gleaming Arachnoids below. "My sources tell me there are crude copies of my spiders being built, and their blueprints are fetching a pretty penny on the illegal arms trade."
"The Outlanders are using your own weapons against you?" Eric cocked a brow.
"They're trying to, and it's an ugly sight. I absolutely abhor ugliness, do you understand? I won't stand for it." He wrinkled his nose, and Eric shrugged.
"What's any of that got to do with me? Outlanders. Arkists. They're all mortal; if they die, I'll reap them. That's all there is to it."
"The mortals are too frightened to pilot my machines against the rebels." Aleister sighed, leaning against the barrier. Once, a lifetime ago, he had stood beside this man and overlooked a massacre about to take place. He wondered if another were about to take place. "They want something to be done about the rebels, but they don't want to be the ones doing that 'something'."
"All mortals fear Death." Eric reminded him. "Soldiers are no different, even if they believe in their cause. There is always a split second moment of all-consuming fear when presented with the possibility of Death."
"They fear my machines because they can play gods with them. They fear the big bad monsters outside of their safe glass domes. Years in the Arks have made them soft." The Replicant chuckled with a shake of his head. "They don't remember what it's like to kill another man, yet the Outlanders don't remember what it's like not to have to kill to survive. The Outlanders plan to overthrow both Weyland-Yutani and Chambers Corporation, in order to take control of the cybernetics market."
"Why did you bring me here, Chambers?" Eric repeated his earlier question.
"These are yours now." He made a sweeping gesture at the three machines below. "I am gifting your kind with three of the most sought after machines in the world. You're going to need heavy artillery if you have to go out there amidst a revolutionary bloodbath. But first, you're going to need to learn pilot them- and I have the perfect pilot."
Eric opened his mouth to reply, but only a strangled yelp escaped as a pinch on his backside startled him. Arms snaked around him from behind and someone rested their cheek on his shoulder.
"Come on you big lumberjack." Red hair, mischievous eyes and a sharp grin. "Let's go play."
The Arachnoid 'Trooper' model: 20ft tall, armed for light to medium combat and medium defence. Though not as swift as the 'Scout', it is faster than the 'Destroyer', and serves as the crucial role of an all-rounder able to both infiltrate and defend itself.
Eric read the information displayed on the screen and stored it in his memory. Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to forget he was sitting in the belly of a metal spider being controlled by a colleague he'd hoped only the best for, but had made peace with losing.
"Grell, how are you moving this thing? If I'm in the cockpit, where did you go?" The Reaper looked around but could only discern enough space for only one pilot. "You were just with me on the deck but I entered this alone."
"My consciousness has been uploaded into the VIOLA interface." She stated matter of factly. "My body's back at the base and my mind is in this machine making it move. More importantly, aren't you going to ask me how I am? Eighty-five years of nothing, Slingby- doesn't a lady deserve a proper greeting?"
"This wasn't what I had in mind." He grumbled, slumping in the chair. "Spears kept us in the dark all these years and all we could learn about you we got out of Poppet rather than him."
"Little Lotte logged an inquiry about me every single day since I went into cryosleep." Her voice softened and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Dear thing. Ronnie-pup asked System about me too."
"Yeah well," Eric closed his eyes and sighed heavily, "it'd be nice if you could use your newfangled brain to locate the Pup. It's been over a year since we've seen him."
"Sorry what?" The spider came to a jarring halt, and Eric was jerked forward.
"Ron went missing after a scouting mission in December 2104." The words tasted foul on his tongue. "There was a storm that caused havoc on our gear. His coordinates were only recovered once the storm had passed and when we went there he was gone."
"A whole year and you couldn't find him?!" She has no face but he pictured her snarl and blazing gaze. "How big is the Reaper network? We are literally stationed all over the bloody world and no one's seen him?!"
"Do you think we're not trying hard enough to find him?!" Eric roared. "We've already sent three of the Pack to find out what the hell's going on over there in America!"
"And?" Grell demanded, getting her bearings back and continuing the hazardous trek to the training grounds. "And what did they find?"
"Nothing. They stayed over there to help Chambers with your programming." Eric scowled in frustration before heaving a sigh. "I guess they'll be flying back soon now that you're up and running again. Ah, there it is."
The cluttered training grounds came into view and Eric whistled in admiration. What had once been a military training base and hangar, the grounds were now littered with antiquated tanks and armoured vehicles. The now privatised cybernetic military used it as training grounds for the hulking Arachnoids Chambers supplied Weyland-Yutani.
"Now Eric, I need you to put your hands all over me and push my buttons." Grell purred, and there was the Red he was so used to, the Red he had missed over the decades despite his loud proclamations of irritation in the past.
"Nice to hear you're still the same, Red." He tried to scold but his mouth was curved in a grin. "So the user interface is all touch sensitive? No physical controls?"
"No need to manhandle me, darling. Sensual touches are what do it for women."
The interface lit up and an array of artillery icons appeared on the left side.
"Choose your weapon, soldier, and let's have at you."
"You…broke it?" Aleister alternated his gaze between the two Reapers standing before his desk. Both looked equally guilty and smug at the same time.
"Overestimated-"
"Overheated-"
"-incredibly difficult to manoeuvre when I have to work the weaponry at the same time-"
"-hard to control when Red's screeching at me to-"
"Screeching?!"
"You were like a bloody banshee in there! I can't concentrate when you're shrieking at me!"
"I should have fried you in that cockpit you insufferable git! You're lucky I could get us back to base!"
"The Trooper's being repaired now." Aleister interjected. "Grell since you were disconnected abruptly from the mainframe, David wants you to undergo a full diagnostic. Agent Slingby we're going to have you train with simulators before we allow you to pair up with Grell again."
Both opened their mouths to protest, but Aleister shot them a glare.
"Out." Aleister pointed at his office door. They bowed reluctantly and took their leave.
"Banshee." Eric muttered, and earned an elbow in the side.
"Insufferable git." Grell hissed, but dropped her expression once she saw his grin.
"Welcome back, Red."
"Good to be back, rascal."