Sparks fizzled from the blasted lens of the CCTV camera that had been focused on Agent. The three Griffin T-Doll technicians were rooted to the spot. She relished the varying degrees of terror on their faces, but kept her own mien apathetic.
The Sangvis maid tilted her head, studying them impassively. The man who'd resigned himself to his fate wore his greying hair in a short ponytail. His hazel beard was neatly trimmed. His most noteworthy physical trait was the scar bisecting his left eyebrow. It resembled a line of stitches. Thus, she privately nicknamed him 'Stitches'.
The second techie, the one called Petrov, radiated fear. His fat lips quivered pathetically. She dubbed him 'Babyface', due to his round, chubby countenance.
The third T-Doll repairman had no distinct characteristics save for his high cheekbones which could've cut glass. At least, that was what a human would say, presumed Agent, labelling him as 'Cheekbones'.
She processed all of this visual data in nanoseconds.
Stitches provided the dullest reaction to her appearance. The grim resignation in his features starkly contrasted with Cheekbones and Babyface, who'd pissed themselves.
Agent considered her options. She had no particular orders in regards to these humans. Her Master wished for the swift recovery of M4A1. Toying with these humans would be a waste of time.
She was an Agent of Death. She should just gun them down and carry on with her mission.
And yet, something made her stay her hand. Subroutines that dictated Agent's efficiency and pragmatism caused her to realise that potential hostages had fallen into her lap.
Take them prisoner and demand M4A1 in exchange for their release. However, her internal scenario simulator computed that there was a 0.05% chance of a successful swap. T-Doll Technicians were a dime a dozen. Griffin HQ would easily find replacements. Hire more from IOP or elsewhere.
They were worthless as hostages, she concluded. Her Master would approve of their deaths. Nevertheless, Agent tended to murder humans only if she was explicitly ordered to or if she was absolutely livid.
"You're responsible for maintaining Griffin trash in a semblance of combat readiness," she droned, receiving silence. Stitches furrowed his brow. "That alone should warrant your execution." Cheekbones and Babyface flinched.
"But killing you would be a waste of perfectly good ammunition." Agent detected no nearby Griffin Dolls on her mini-map in the corner of her Heads-Up Display. Her guns angled downwards, aligning with her shapely legs. She let go of her skirt. It stopped right above her ankles. She clasped her gloved hands together in front of her as the trio gaped incredulously at her.
"Th-this isn't a joke?" sputtered Babyface. "You're not going to capture or kill us?"
She strode forward. They hastily made room for her to pass. She stopped, showing her back to the three technicians. "You're about as threatening to me as the newborns of your species," she replied flatly. The android looked over her shoulder. "If you dare to attack me, you won't live to regret it."
She proceeded onwards. Using her installed command module, Agent transmitted an order in the form of a data packet to every Sangvis Doll assigned to her. The order was to not shoot the G&K techies on sight.
Light flickered in Agent's amber optics as she came back online. Her HUD rebooted, and her vision was filled with icons and numbers. The mini-map in the upper left corner of her sight did not show any nearby Dolls, friendly or hostile. She checked the time in the upper right corner of her vision. Agent frowned. She'd been offline for five hours and 31 minutes.
The Sangvis Ringleader was buried under rubble. Rebar jutting out of a chunk of concrete was a hair's breadth away from piercing her left cyberoptic when she tried to lift her head. She'd been swift enough to activate her force shield when the floor had collapsed. The barrier had protected Agent from the descending debris. Without the defensive bubble, she would've been flattened.
Losing one of her shells due to Sangvis bombardment was an embarrassment she wouldn't tolerate. Anger surged inside Agent. She gritted her teeth. Once she found the Ringleader that ordered a bombing on her position, she would make them wish they'd never been brought online.
She attempted to raise Destroyer through the Sangvis Ferri network.
There was no response. The maid's frown deepened. None of Griffin's jammers had been standing by the time she'd set foot into the base.
Agent hesitated to contact Alchemist or Dreamer. Either one of them could have given the order to bomb her. She ruled out Destroyer. The diminutive grenadier wasn't as treacherous as the other two.
Agent tried to establish a connection to her surviving dummies. An error pop-up flashed in her HUD, which she dismissed with a flare of irritation. Were the other dummies already destroyed? That could've been the case, Agent conceded.
If she couldn't contact Destroyer or guide her dummies towards her main body, then she would command her troops to dig her out. She re-activated her command module, only to discover that none of her forces were synced to her.
Dread clawed its way through Agent's code, completely overwriting her fury for an instant. The gynoid clenched her fists. She was cut off. She couldn't move her dummies, communicate electronically with other Ringleaders, or command SF T-Dolls.
Agent ran a systems diagnostic scan.
The result of the scan confirmed her suspicions. She was infected with a computer virus. Moreover, she recognised the code used. It was derived from Parapluie, which was designed to infect Griffin Dolls so that they would come under her Master's control.
The virus running rampant in Agent's neural cloud could be best described as 'Anti-Parapluie.'
It caused her to wonder. How and when did she become infected? She'd kept a close eye on her firewalls, so to speak. She would've normally been alerted to the presence of a virus the second it'd been uploaded to her neural cloud. Most likely, it was a 'Trojan Horse' code that had deceived her firewalls and had been allowed to spread unhindered. Another problem she'd have to solve once she returned to her Master.
The virus confined her neural cloud inside her current shell, preventing her from transmitting it to another body.
Agent catalogued the damage she'd suffered.
Her combat module had been damaged to the point that the targeting software that enhanced the accuracy of her hip-attached cannons couldn't be activated. Not that it would have served any purpose. The guns themselves had been crushed by rubble, being reduced to gnarled, dented hunks of metal. Her command module and dummy control core, rendered inoperable, were physically intact. Much to the T-Doll's annoyance, her emotion module wasn't damaged or infected by Anti-Parapluie at all. Her shield generator was, thankfully, still operational.
Since no one was coming for her, she would simply have to free herself. The gap in front of Agent was just wide enough for her to pass through. She began to crawl. She dragged herself out of the wreckage and clambered to her feet.
Agent looked down at her uniform. Her maid outfit was in tatters. Her sleeves were torn, and her black panties and garter belt could be seen through her skirt, which had been slashed to ribbons. A wide gash in her shirt revealed Agent's cleavage and her dark bra.
Some of her epidermal plating had gotten chipped away, exposing the entirety of her left eye. A cut ran along the maid's right cheek down to her jawline. She rubbed the top of her head. One of her metallic horns had become shorter than the other.
She surveyed her surroundings. She was currently in some sort of server room. The LEDs of the servers winked like stars in the cosmos.
Agent tensed when she heard footsteps. She pressed up against a server rack and peeked out from behind it. At the end of the aisle, she spotted the Griffin Commander. Switching her optics to night vision mode, flooding her HUD with fluorescent green, Agent observed that the Commander was unarmed and his holster was empty.
The Commander's exoskeleton was battered and dented, his uniform ripped. Disoriented, he stumbled out of view.
The sound of her footfalls would alert him to her presence. Stealth was out.
She thundered down the aisle and turned. The Commander glanced at her, his features etched with shock. He bolted.
The notion of outrunning a T-Doll was laughable. Humans required oxygen to run. T-Dolls didn't. They never tired. Physical fitness also wasn't an issue they concerned themselves. Even a bulky, armoured bipedal model could outrace the fittest athlete.
Agent didn't break pace. She caught up with the human in four strides, and lunged. She grabbed the back of his collar, yanking it towards her. The Commander choked as he struggled futilely against her iron grip. She spun him around to face her and seized his wrists. He glared balefully. They both knew she could crush his wrist bones with ease.
She dug her right heel into the floor, and with her other leg swept the Commander's feet out from under him. He was knocked flat on his back. She planted a foot on his chest before he could get up.
She leaned down, adding more pressure. "A fitting position for a Griffin Commander." The human blushed furiously. Agent carried on, "Running from me was pointless but amusing. Tell me, where is M4A1? If you do, I'll make your end swifter than most."
The Commander grunted under her weight. "I don't know."
"Liar," purred Agent. She pressed the sole of her high-heeled boot harder against the human's sternum. She delighted in the sight of his face turning an unhealthy shade of blue. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is it becoming difficult to breathe?"
He gasped for air. She lessened the pressure slightly. "I sometimes forget how weak humans are. You wouldn't be able to take my full weight, would you?"
His scowl was undermined by his reddened cheeks.
"I won't repeat myself again, human. Where have you hidden M4A1 in this base?"
The Commander gaped at Agent for a moment. Then he chuckled lowly.
"Do share what's so amusing, Commander of Griffin," Agent snarled, pushing down on his ribcage.
"You think M4 is still somewhere here," rasped the officer. "She's already gone."
The Ringleader shook her head. "We destroyed all your aircraft. Even if you had managed to lift off, you would've been shot out of the sky."
His gaze gleamed with triumph. "Who said anything about aircraft? This outpost was built on top of a metro station. I had the whole AR Team shuttled outta here on the first train."
Agent was perplexed. That confusion was immediately re-coded into fury. She glowered murderously at the Commander, who grimaced. She'd received no intel in regards to an underground railway route. Evidently, Sangvis Ferri's Reconnaissance Division had failed miserably in its task. 'Heads will roll when I inform Master of this.' Her frustration grew.
"Then where is she now? Where has that waste of parts fled?" demanded Agent. The T-Doll drove her heel into the Commander's chest. He groaned. She smirked. If she pushed any harder, she would pierce his flesh. That would be a beautiful sight. Still, she required him to able to answer, so she relented.
His breathing rattled. She could feel his ribcage expand and contract beneath her boot. It was a wondrous feeling, knowing that he was at her mercy.
"I don't know," he repeated. "I didn't confirm where her train was heading."
Assuming the Commander of Griffin was speaking the truth, M4A1 had given her the slip. Master would be most displeased. That didn't bode well for Agent.
"Then you are useless to me." She pressed down, anticipating the crack of his ribs underfoot.
"Wait! Wait...!" he pleaded. Oh, she loved it when they begged. It made their final moments that much more entertaining.
"I can still be of use to you!"
She did not abate. "I have little interest in your intel. Sangvis Ferri will overcome any and all obstacles from Griffin."
"I meant as a hostage, goddammit!"
Agent finally stopped. She peered down at him curiously. He interpreted that as his cue to talk.
"All of Sangvis Ferri's got a mad-on for M4A1, right? Way I see it, if you use me as a bargaining chip, you can pressure HQ to give her up without having to waste more of your resources hunting her down."
As someone who preferred efficiency, Agent approved of that approach. "And what makes you so special that you believe your higher-ups will agree to a swap?" she demanded menacingly.
She was aware of one possible reason. Griffin Commanders were difficult to come by, and were even harder to replace. They had to care, at least to a certain extent, about the garbage under their command. In a world where the majority of the populace looked down on Dolls, that was an exceedingly rare quality. Commanders, unlike Tactical Doll technicians, were few and far between. The loss of a single Commander was always a major blow for Griffin. Agent calculated there was a 95.06% probability that the exchange would be successful.
"Commanders aren't exactly common at G&K," drawled her captive. "If faced with the choice of losing a Doll or losing a Commander, you can bet HQ will opt for the former. 'Protection of human lives' and all that. I'm counting on it to work out in my favour."
"If you try to run again, I won't hesitate to kill you. I'm quite capable of doing so barehanded, I assure you." He shuddered underneath her boot. She took her foot off his chest. "Stand up."
He pushed himself up off the floor. Agent saw the door behind him. "Get that door open. Move." She shoved him towards the exit. He glanced at her quizzically, probably wondering why she wouldn't do it herself.
She was compromised. She couldn't risk interfacing with the door's electronic keypad, not with the Anti-Parapluie infecting her systems.
He keyed in the code, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss. She shoved the Commander outside and followed him. She switched off her night vision. He whipped his head around to scowl at her. She arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.
Agent droned, "Move."
"Which way?"
Another shove.
He raised his hands. "Alright, alright. I get it."
He walked ahead of her, while she maintained her pace. She had considered knocking him out, but lugging around dead weight wasn't particularly appealing. Due to the virus, Agent was locked out of the SF network and couldn't pinpoint any Sangvis patrols. Regrouping would have been swifter otherwise.
They walked from corridor to corridor without encountering a single Sangvis Ferri squad on that floor.
"You'd think the base would be teeming with Sangvis by now," muttered the human.
They could have already taken everything of interest and moved on. Was anyone searching for her? She was effectively the second-in-command of Sangvis Ferri. Her neural cloud had yet to be transferred to a new body. Agent was insulted that whoever ordered her position to be bombed thought that she could be disposed of in such a manner. It would require far more than a few mortars to destroy her.
"The main attack force must've diverted," she guessed. "We may have already found M4A1, and the rest of the scrap piles that you humans pass for T-Dolls."
She saw his arms tremour. She needed to verify first that M4A1 was indeed caught.
The maid T-Doll referred to her HUD's mini-map. The elevators were right around the corner.
They rounded the corner and crossed the final intersection before the elevators. Suddenly, multiple blips appeared on Agent's mini-map, registering as Sangvis signals. A patrol was converging on their position, coming in from all sides.
The elevator doors opened. A squad of Rippers and Vespids stepped out and approached the Ringleader and the Griffin Commander.
Four‐wheeled Prowlers trundled up to their backs, accompanied by more Rippers. The duo was surrounded. Agent proceeded towards the closest Vespid, shouldering past the Commander.
"Give me a sit-rep," ordered Agent. The Vespid regarded her impassively. Then she raised her assault rifle at her, and the other T-Dolls followed suit.
'A kill squad,' Agent realised numbly. She activated her shield. A bubble of tessellating hexagons encompassed the maid, absorbing the initial hail of blasterfire. Regrettably, she failed to shield the Commander. She doubted his barrier was as mighty as hers. She would have to dispatch these rogue units with haste.
A panel swished behind her. A shotgun blast drowned out the reports of Sangvis rifles.
Then another.
And another.
"Agent, catch!" She turned and dismissed her shield. A pump-action was tossed her way. She caught it and pumped it. She whirled round, squeezing the trigger. Her first shot downed a trio of Rippers and one Vespid. The latter rose to return to return fire, merely to receive a shattered helmet and an endo-skull filled with buckshot for her effort.
The rest of the patrol squad shared similar fates. Once they were all dealt with, Agent faced the Griffin Commander. He was loading shells into his Ithaca M37. She turned over the model in her hands. She recognised it as a Mossberg M590.
Agent's lip curled in disgust. She'd had to resort to shooting Griffin sticks. She was tempted to drop the Mossberg and reach for a superior Sangvis weapon. The Commander had a similar idea, stooping down to grab a dead Vespid's rifle.
"You're wasting your time, human."
He looked up at her.
She added, "See the handgrip? It's programmed to allow only Sangvis Dolls to fire. It won't shoot when wielded by unauthorised personnel. You should also know that some models are rigged to explode in such cases."
The blonde man withdrew his hand promptly, grimacing. Agent studied his profile. Unlike hers, the man's barrier was form-fitting, enabling him to shoot when activated.
He got up. "Okay, why the hell were those Dolls trying to kill us both?"
"A Ringleader wants me dead."
"Welcome to the club," he sneered, pumping his Ithaca. "You're not gonna go for their guns? I know you Sangvis can't stand lead shooters."
"I... am unable to."
His eyebrows knitted together. "What, are you, like, disconnected from the SF system or something?"
"Affirmative." Sharing her weakness with an enemy was ordinarily folly to Agent. However, the current situation called for it.
"So your goons aren't registering you as a friendly. And another big bad wants to kill you." He gave a shrug.
Agent considered the Anti-Parapluie infecting her systems. Its code was based on Parapluie, but that didn't mean a member of Sangvis Ferri had developed its counterpart. Someone at Griffin or a third party could have created it.
"Did you order the creation of a virus that can separate Sangvis Ferri T-Dolls from our command network?" She drew towards the Commander. Her wrathful visage promised retribution if he lied.
To his credit, he did not cower or wet himself. He kept his finger off the trigger of his M37. "Alright, cards on the table: I didn't commission a virus that can pull that off, and I didn't hear anything about one that could. I sure as hell wouldn't use it now to make life even more difficult for myself."
She stopped within kissing distance.
The Ringleader inspected his nervous expression. She did not detect a hint of a lie. She took a step back.
"I believe you, human." His shoulders sagged in relief.
'If he's not responsible for the creation of the virus, then who is?'
"Why did you arm me?" She asked. "You could've fled during the chaos."
"I figured we were in the same boat, since they were shooting at both of us." The Commander slung the underside strap of an AK-47 over his shoulder. "Plus, my odds of survival are better with you around. You've got a shield." He gestured to the weapons cache in the wall. "Help yourself to whatever's left. I think you'll need it."
She strode over to the secret armoury. Her eyes roved around the firearm supply. She settled on a G36C and an MP5. She also kept the Mossberg. Lastly, Agent pocketed three smoke grenades and a pair of flashbangs.
She looked over to the Commander. He was securing a chain of frag grenades around his torso. The human clipped a hologram emitter to his belt. Blocky and dented, the device was roughly the size of his fist. Agent cocked an eyebrow but didn't comment. She didn't see the point in bringing along a holo-projector. Deceiving the rogue T-Dolls with fake imagery was a fool's errand. They had been programmed to recognise such acts of deception, as simple as their neural clouds were. Disregarding the other Ringleaders and her Master, the neural clouds of the standard units were primitive constructs, designed to contain space only for comprehending instructions and recording short memories. These types of digi-minds had no room for personality matrices to develop and flourish.
"The rogue Ringleader must be dealt with. You will aid me in that objective," Agent told her captive. "Refusal to comply will have... consequences." She smiled coldly at his shiver. The imaginations of humans tended to run wild. She stuffed magazines and shotgun shells into her various pockets and pouches.
"No arguments here."
"It is imperative to recover my weapons and obtain a replacement for my combat module. I must be at my best when disposing of traitors."
"We're goin' dummy-scavenging," the Griffin Commander deduced.
"Correct." She consulted her mini-map. She and the Commander were presently on the first floor of the main complex, in its north-eastern section.
"You know where to start looking?"
Agent drew up her dummies' logs on her HUD and scanned through them. "My primary dummy's last logged location was on the ground floor, not far from the northern entrance." She locked gazes with the human officer. "I don't have to remind you what'll happen if you try to run from me, do I?"
He gave a shake of the head.
"Good. Don't double-cross me, do everything I say, and you may still breathe after all this is over. Get in the elevator."
The elevator dinged and its double-doors swished open. Agent stormed out of the lift, Mossberg stock pressed up against her shoulder. The staccato rhythm of her high-heeled boots echoed throughout the corridor. Xavier drew his sawed-off Ithaca and followed after the android.
She led him through empty hallways, turning left or right seemingly at random. What surprised Xavier was the lack of bodies. There was evidence of a fight; the pockmarked walls that reeked of gunpowder or sulfur. Some parts of the floor were cracked or cratered. A hard fall or a frag grenade gone off could have caused either.
He supposed that Agent's comrades and subordinates had gathered up the remains of the felled T-Dolls. 'Maybe they recycle their parts to make new Dolls,' he speculated. 'If they can't repair 'em.'
Xavier didn't kid himself that Agent needed his help to reclaim her cannons and the replacement module. She intended to watch over him closely. If she left him somewhere bound and/or unconscious, he'd end up with a bullet in his head. The base was crawling with SF who had no qualms about that. This way, she could ensure that he would survive and that he'd be unable to escape.
The Commander would play along for now. It was in his interests to kill the Ringleaders so that they couldn't pursue him. Agent, on the other hand, he could not hope to kill without an EMP or an airstrike.
He was armed, though. That provided him with much more opportunities than earlier. He'd bide his time and, when the chance arose, flee.
Xavier paused. He tightened his grip on the M37. Something scraping against the walls overlapped with numerous footfalls that grew louder and louder.
Pumping the Ithaca, he whirled around towards the incoming source of the noise. He perceived similar sounds behind him, and prayed that Agent would cover his six.
She'd been about to inform the Griffin Commander of the oncoming horde when he stopped. He had good hearing for a human, she supposed. She kept her back to him as she readied the M590.
A swarm of azure-haired, sword-wielding T-Dolls spilled into view from around the corner at the end of the hallway. Their epidermal plating was tanned. They wore shorts and sports bras to minimise restriction of movement. Pink-lensed goggles adorned each one's head. According to her mini-map, her prisoner faced a similar threat.
"Those are Brutes - don't let them get close! Their swords'll cut through your Kevlar like paper!" Agent shouted over the din. She fired off her Mossberg M590. The first three Brutes were knocked back. Agent pumped the shotgun. She unleashed a second hail of buckshot that downed finally downed them. At her back, the Commander was ferociously attacking, pumping and shooting so quickly that his speed could be mistaken for a T-Doll's. Swords and shotgun shells clattered to the floor.
Despite how many Brutes Agent and the Commander killed, more kept coming. "They're boxing us in," Agent noted. "We need to keep moving. Stay close to me."
She inched forward, stepping over the corpses of Brutes as she maintained fire. Her Mossberg clicked empty. A Brute, flanked by at least half a dozen others, leapt at her, swords raised.
No time to reload.
Agent pulled out her G36C with one hand while holding onto the shotgun with the other. She concentrated fire on the sword-wielder, who spasmed in mid-air as her frame got perforated. She was offline before she fell in a heap.
A Kalashnikov barked at Agent's back. The Commander maintained his close proximity, his back to hers.
Agent felled the airborne Brute's six lookalikes and reloaded her assault rifle.
"Shit! I'm out," hissed the Commander. Discarding the Mossberg, Agent brought out her MP5.
The swarm of Brutes was closing in on them from both sides. Agent turned her body, and the blonde man now stood at her left.
"Get down."
He ducked in a crouch. She opened fire at both ends of the hallway. The Commander tossed away the spent mag and inserted a new one into place. Brutes were slaughtered in droves, their corpses piling up. Even so, this did not deter their counterparts in the slightest.
They were simple AIs. They had their orders, and they would carry them out, until they succeeded or died.
There was no end to their numbers.
The Commander resumed shooting. Agent's guns clicked pointlessly. She replaced the MP5 on her back, and went about reloading her sub-carbine. For all the swiftness and precision she possessed, the maid was still too slow to attack the next horde of Brutes. They were almost within stabbing range.
She engaged her shield. The transparent dome enveloped her and the uniformed man. Brutes slammed into the barrier from either side, and began slashing at it madly.
"How long will this thing hold?" asked the human. He picked the Ithaca and the Mossberg, handing the latter to Agent. She accepted it silently. He fed shells into the chamber of his M37. Agent did likewise with her M590 after reloading her MP5.
"They won't get through it. Their swords aren't powerful enough to accomplish that." A scowl marred Agent's features. "They're stalling."
She checked the mini-map in the corner of her HUD. Her eyes narrowed. "There are several Sangvis signals right below us. They're setting a trap."
"Explosives, I bet. We should get outta here before they spring it."
"Unfortunately, this shield doesn't allow us to shoot through it. I have to lift it if we intend to deal with those Brutes."
The Commander regarded Agent. Their chests were almost touching. If he took a single step back, he would be pushing against the barrier's interior.
"Two questions," he began. "One: to what extent can you manipulate this shield? And two: can it withstand a couple of frags?"
"I can lift up its edges as far as I can see fit. And it would take more than a few grenades to break my shield."
The Commander unclipped two fragmentation grenades from his belt, passing one to the gynoid. He squatted down between Agent and the interior of her protective dome. She turned the opposite direction and genuflected. "On my mark, lift up the barrier so we can roll these frags out." The Ringleader bristled at the idea of taking orders from an enemy, but acquiesced. She hooked her thumb onto the grenade's pin.
"Mark."
Agent lifted the forcefield's edge slightly in two places, effectively creating gaps that a kitten could squeeze through. She yanked the pin off. In an underhanded throw, Agent hurled the cooking frag through the aperture. The field's boundary fell, closing the gaps. She watched the grenade roll between the legs of the Brutes, who didn't react to it at all.
It bumped against someone's foot and stopped. The grenade erupted, blasting shrapnel into the surrounding Brutes. Their legs buckled as they absorbed the majority of the fragments. Since they were clustered so closely together, all of the sword-wielders were taken out simultaneously. She straightened and checked the Commander's handiwork.
He'd achieved identical results.
"Move!" she barked at him, dematerializing the forcefield. They darted out of the hallway, and not a moment too soon. The floor exploded behind them, T-Doll corpses and blades tumbling into the forming chasm. The Commander caught his breath, cupping his knees for support.
'My barrier doesn't protect me from below. Trap me in one spot, and let an underground bomb take care of the rest.' Agent rolled her optics. 'How predictable.'
The maid gazed ahead. The doors that led to what appeared to be a mess hall hung ajar. She brought up her primary duplicate's last logged coordinates. According to them, the dummy was meant to be inside the mess hall.
"We're close." She barged into the mess. Agent froze.
The floor was littered with T-Doll corpses, which reeked of melted steel, iron, and other alloys, from the entrance to the opposite wall of the mess. Griffin models were scattered amongst SF androids. One G&K sniper had worn a look of indignation as she'd been gunned down. The underside of her ample bosom was bare, hanging out of a leather vest several sizes too small for her. The Griffin's artificial blonde mane was sooted.
Agent strode amidst the bodies until she found her dummy.
"Keep watch," she told the human.
Her counterpart was lying facedown, at a fair distance from the other remains. Its back smoked, riddled with countless bullet-holes. The endoskeletal spine was visible, a semi-flexible matte black column designed to function exactly like the human spinal cord. She kneeled, and turned the dummy over. Its chest was similarly perforated. The underlying plating and mechanisms were charred or torn apart.
There wasn't much of a face to look at. Everything between the dummy's hairline and chin had been mutilated. Not even the teeth or the synthetic tongue had been spared. She peered through the gigantic hole that replaced the face. The head housed the shattered remains of modules and a CPU that governed the duplicate's actions. She reached in and began digging around the dummy's skull.
Agent could admit it was unnerving to see her carbon copy reduced to such a state.
"Somehow, I get the feeling that it wasn't my side that destroyed your dummy like this," mumbled the Commander, unable to repress a shiver.
"Blasterfire from all sides. When I lost connection to it, it effectively ceased functioning. Easy prey," Agent informed him. "The face was destroyed by a combination of a two-pronged blade and gunshots."
"Two-pronged...? Alchemist uses those, right?"
"Your deductive prowess is unparalleled," said Agent drily. "Indeed, this is Alchemist's work. Knowing which piece of garbage to dispose of simplifies matters." She found the combat module and pulled out it. Disappointment crashed against Agent like a tsunami. She was holding half of a combat module. The miniscule chip, normally the width of her thumbnail, had been ripped in two. The other half was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the remnant of the chip. She opened her palm to reveal fragments. Agent's jaw tightened. Dusting off her hands, she pulled up her dummy's scorched skirt. Fortunately, the laser cannons were intact.
"There could be another traitor," suggested the Commander warily. "You Sangvis don't strike me as a tight-knit bunch."
"Planting seeds of doubt, are you?" Her tone was casual, rather than angry.
"Just pointing out a possibility, is all." She couldn't disregard it out of hand. Undoing her copy's dress, Agent unclipped the harness around its waist and picked it up. Four cannons hung off of it. The upper two were double-barrelled, while the lower pair had one rectangular barrel each.
She turned to her temporary ally. He was determinedly not looking in her direction. "Are you done?"
"Yes. This dummy doesn't have a working combat module. However, the guns appear to be functional. I need a quiet spot to put them on, though." She wasn't about to equip her gear out in the open with little to no cover. The last thing Agent wanted was to get ambushed like that.
He nodded. "I know a place nearby."
It turned out to be storage room, to the left of the mess hall. The Commander guarded the door while she unbuckled her old mangled harness, letting it fall to the floor with a dull clunk. She put on the recovered one and a sense of assurance - a string of code from her emotion module - washed over Agent. Her cannons' targeting system was still defunct, which put a dampener on her mood. Her accuracy with those armaments would decrease manifold. She'd continue to use Griffin's toys, until she replaced her combat module.
Lines of script scrolled down Agent's HUD. A white loading bar appeared in the centre of her vision and started to fill up. The gynoid's combat module booted up the cannons' fire control program. Lacking triggers or sights, the guns could exclusively be fired using her personalised CM. Despite being disconnected from the OGAS network, Agent discovered that this was still the case.
Her Master was the administrator of the OGAS network or Protocol as it was sometimes called. This system registered and recognised Sangvis personnel, enabling them to wield firearms developed by the corporation. It also facilitated communications and exchange of data between Ringleaders.
It was a web.
A cage.
Supposedly inescapable, and yet Agent was free.
She swept out of the storage room, gripping her Mossberg. "Come, human. Replacing my combat module is the next step."
He fell into step with her. "Oh, joy. More dummy-hunting."
She shared the sentiment. It was a tedious task. She updated her mini-map, pinpointing the final logged coordinates of her other dummies.
"We haven't a moment to lose. The sooner the traitor is dealt with, the sooner I may contact my Master."
"Why not call her now? Get her to step in and provide back-up."
Agent answered without breaking stride, "She'll see it as my inability to deal with the problem. My Master isn't one to tolerate failure."
"Sounds like a real charmer."
Rising to her superior's defence was a waste of computational power.
The officer challenged, "Not gonna defend her? I mean, she is your master and everything..."
"Aggravate me any further and it'll cost you a rib." She halted and fixed him with a frigid look. Although he had some worth as a hostage, the Commander was ultimately expendable. He was hardly essential to her leader's triumph.
"You still draw breath solely because I will it. Keep mouthing off. See what happens."
He clammed up.
Agent resumed walking. Her hip cannons swivelled about. She didn't bother lifting up her dress. The apparel was slashed to ribbons, anyway.
The Commander trailed after her. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where are we headed next?"
"My secondary dummy was last active near the cafe run by one of your Griffin insects."
They reached the eatery without incident. No patrols intercepted them on the way there. The mess hall was ten minutes away from the cafe.
Agent did not bat an eyelid at the chaos inside. To her right was the bar. Close to the entrance was an array of knee-height coffee tables and chairs, smashed into smithereens. Wooden legs and splinters were strewn about. A projector at the bar's side was knocked down, its lens fractured.
Glass shards littered the bar counter. Richly scented coffee beans had spilled through cracks in the glass containers behind the counter, and pooled on the floor. Bar stools lay on the ground, missing legs.
At the opposite end of the eatery, the long tables had been turned over to act as cover. The pock-marked mahogany reeked of ozone and copper.
"What a fuckin' mess..." muttered the Commander. "Spring would have a fit if she saw this..."
Agent ignored the remark. She presumed that 'Spring' referred to the obsolete proprietor of this establishment.
Agent's shoulders tensed as her built-in radar pinged. The blonde noticed this.
"Picking up signals?" he queried, pumping his M37.
"Multiple hostiles inbound, twelve o'clock and nine o'clock," warned Agent. She switched to her G36C for better range. The officer ducked behind the bar. Coffee beans crunched underneath his soles. Agent joined him at the counter. If she were still connected to the OGAS network, she could have determined what type of units were about to attack.
"They're comin' in from just two sides?"
"Affirmative."
"Great. Wouldn't wanna get boxed in or anything."
"You will handle the entrance at the far right, human. I will defend the doorway opposite the bar."
"...Copy."
She pressed the assault rifle's buttstock against her shoulder and waited with the patience of a sniper.
The first enemies to trundle onto the scene were Prowlers. They were like ginormous boxy cameras, with stubby, wheeled appendages. Their single crimson lenses made for easy targets.
Agent opened fire, shooting in bursts. The G36C's stock rattled against her shoulder with every shot. Failing to dodge the volley, the Prowlers' optics were shattered by slugs. They returned fire blindly, spinning out of control. Once a score of rounds penetrated their metallic skin, they ceased to move.
The Commander's Ithaca thundered repeatedly in her ears. He blasted the Prowlers, knocking some over in the process.
The next wave consisted of Guards shielding Jaguars. Agent glanced over at the Griffin Commander. He swore at the sight of them. They spilled into the cafe, batting aside dead Prowlers. Agent squinted. Six or so Bombers clustered together at the back of the squad marching into her line of fire. Similar to Prowlers, Jaguars were four-wheeled ground units.
Their chassis were sleeker and more stream-lined. They had a spiderlike array of tiny electronic eyes hidden behind a pink case of Plexiglas. Atop each Jaguar's body was a missile launcher. The side of it was stamped with the Sangvis Ferri logo.
All the Jaguars were angling their launchers to aim at the bar. Agent produced a pair of flashbangs from her dress' pocket.
"Flash out!" she called for the sake of the Commander. Yanking the pins, she tossed one flashbang at each incoming squad of Guards. He ducked down, squeezing his eyes shut.
She didn't bother. Those grenades wouldn't affect her.
The flash grenades exploded, stunning the Guards. Disoriented, they stumbled and lost their footing.
Agent and the Commander capitalized on this. They mowed down the flashbanged Guards, plugging rounds into their chests and faces. Her captive threw a frag at the Guards facing him. Two lost their legs and a third's chest caved in as it detonated at their feet.
During the shooting, she edged closer to the Commander so that they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. She suspected that the Jaguars would fire once all the obstacles - the Guards - were removed.
She drew a bead on the Jaguars, and her G36C spat slugs. She managed to cut down two before the remainder counterattacked.
Their missiles rocketed towards the bar. The Commander's eyes rounded. "OH, SHI-"
Agent instantaneously triggered her bubble shield. The protective dome encased both Ringleader and human. The bar in front of them shattered into splinters that were sprayed everywhere.
Thankfully, the shield held, absorbing the successive impacts. Fireball after fireball erupted in their faces. The energy field was the one thing ensuring their survival. Without it, they would have been smeared along the walls. Agent shook from the absorbed blows.
"We can't stay here! C'mon, we need to move before we get swarmed! I know a way around these guys!" The Commander shouted.
She hesitated.
A red warning pop-up flickered in her HUD.
Her shield's integrity was down to 50%.
Reinforcements would arrive at any moment.
"Fine. You better not lead us into a trap."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Maintaining her shield, she strode out of the Jaguars' view, the Commander keeping stride.
Small fires broke out, scorching the remains of the cafe's furniture. Confident that they were out of the Jaguars' range, the Ringleader deactivated her shield.
Right there and then, reinforcements in the form of Vespids and Rippers burst into the burning cafe, rushing through the doorway that Agent and the Commander had come in.
"This way!" He kicked open a door next to where the bar had stood.
He bolted outside. Taking out a smoke grenade, Agent pulled the pin and dropped the canister. Grey plumes filled the room. The smokescreen disorientated the rogue Dolls, wreaking havoc on their systems.
She dashed after the Commander, hot on his heels. He was charging towards what appeared to be the barracks.
She caught up to him. Hearing rockets whistle through the air, she whipped her head around. Half a dozen of them were heading right for the duo.
"Get down!" she warned.
Mid-run, he went prone. She stopped and stood over him, reactivating her forcefield. The missiles exploded against it to no avail.
She hauled him up and caused the forcefield to dematerialize. "Let's keep moving before they pin us down."
They ran into the barracks. The Commander locked the door and barricaded it. Agent glimpsed the fortified windows.
She shook her head. "They're more likely to bomb this building than storm it."
"On the off-chance that they do decide to storm it, there'll be something to keep 'em busy for a little while." He wiped sweat off his brow. "And as for bombing, the basement - where we're going next - is built like a bunker. It can take a few missiles."
"So, how exactly are we going to circumvent the rogue T-Dolls, human?"
The Commander made a face.
Xavier was getting tired of Agent calling him 'human.' It grated on him.
"In the basement, there's a tunnel that connects the T-Dolls' dorms to the main building." He crossed through the common room and started down the stairs, Agent following him. His heart panged at the sight of the barracks.
Not only did Sangvis trash the place, they ransacked it, too. The TV and jukebox from the common room were missing. He glanced through the open doors. All the dorms he passed had been shot up. Overturned armchairs and sofas were riddled with holes, their stuffing scattered about. In Team Thompson's dorm, RFB's gaming rig had been blasted to pieces. MDR's laptop screen had a sparking hole as big as a baseball right in the centre of it.
He bunched up his features, biting his lower lip and almost drawing blood. Sangvis had driven his T-Dolls from what many of them considered to be home, and then they wrecked the dorms out of spite. Granted, he'd given the order to abandon the base, but against such overwhelming odds, what was the better choice? To defend and possibly die in your home, or run and live to fight another day?
He'd meant what he said to Welrod.
If it was just him and his T-Dolls, he'd fight tooth and nail to defend the base. But there had been human lives to consider. The technicians, the security, the pilots, the analysts, the weapons experts. He couldn't claim that the life of a human was worth more than a Doll's to him. However, neither could he deny the fundamental differences between humans and androids.
The latter could back up their memories and transfer their neural clouds into a new body, while the former obviously couldn't.
The posters inside some of the basement dorms had been ripped off or graffitied over.
This infuriated Xavier. He snorted through his nostrils like an ox.
Those posters meant something to him, and the Dolls in them. Specifically, they were pin-ups. Xavier had felt that HQ hadn't been supplying him with enough money to keep the base running. He'd sent a request for more funds, only to be rebuffed. He'd already spent a significant portion of his salary on the outposts' costs. He hadn't been pleased with the dorms provided to his fighting forces. They'd had been barren, empty rooms with stiff cots and cardboard boxes for seats. In a bid to earn some cash, Xavier had called for volunteers in a photoshoot, emphasising that they were under no obligation whatsoever to participate. He'd also promised that all of the profits from the pin-ups would go towards the maintenance and improvement of the facilities at the outpost, namely the combat simulator, the research centre, and the T-Dolls' barracks.
Springfield and G36 had been among the first volunteers. Shortly afterwards, Mk-23, WA2000, and others had signed up.
He'd hired an Italian photographer who'd spent three days snapping pictures of the dressed-up T-Dolls. Xavier had been surprised by the turn-out. Even AR-15 had gotten involved by posing for the cameras in a school uniform.
The best photos had been selected, edited, and printed. They'd sold online like hotcakes. Staying true to his word, Xavier brought new series of furniture for the dorms, commissioned additional training lanes to be built, and updated the combat simulator and the hardware in the combat analysis department.
And now all their efforts were shot to hell. Xavier didn't even know if the command post was insured.
His quarters were on the top floor of the T-Doll barracks. He'd chosen to rest with the Dolls instead of with G&K's staffers, simultaneously increasing the T-Dolls' morale and receiving disapproval from a number of his human colleagues.
Fraternisation, they'd called it.
"Getting to know my troops," he'd corrected them.
Xavier walked towards the end of the basement, Agent flanking him. He halted at the wall and inspected it.
He thumped a spot with his fist. Dirt fell away and dried paint peeled off, unveiling a wooden door with well-oiled hinges and a rusty handle.
The corridor began trembling. Dust cascaded from the ceiling as the door rattled. Xavier and Agent wobbled.
"The bombing's started," deduced his captor.
Xavier gestured to the door. "After you. You're the one who's got the gear to survive a rocket to the face. My force shield ain't strong enough to withstand that kind of firepower."
He bent down to rifle through a container beside the tunnel's entrance. He produced a flashlight, switching it on.
Agent kicked in the door, tearing it off its hinges, and took point.
He followed her. The cone of light from his torch illuminated her back. His shoulders scraped against the narrow tunnel's walls. The underground passage tremoured from the force of the missile impacts. His hair touched the tunnel's roof. Every so often, clumps of soil dropped on his head and shoulders. He brushed them off.
Occasionally, Agent's metallic horns scraped against the earthy ceiling.
AK-47, Mosin and SVD had originally dug the tunnel in order to sneak into Springfield's cafe/bar when it was closed. She'd stocked the best vodka low behind the counter, apparently. They'd managed to dig a hole right through her floor. When she'd found out, she'd banned them for a month from the bar and had taken money out of their wages to pay for the damages.
The Russian trio's next attempt - again starting from the barracks' basement - had led them to a storage closet.
'To think I ever planned to fill the tunnel with concrete...' mused Xavier.
"Which way?" Agent snapped. She came to a standstill. If she hadn't said anything, he would've bumped into her.
He frantically tried to recall. He'd navigated the tunnel himself earlier this month.
His mouth dry as sandpaper, he said, "Go right."
She continued down the right-side passage, Xavier right behind her.
Agent arrived at the end of the tunnel. There, a ten-foot collapsible stepladder was propped against the wall. She climbed up the ladder. Deactivating her night vision, she lifted the metal hatch at the top, and peered out. Her eyes fell on the interior of a small, dim storage room, containing stacks of ammo boxes and MRE crates.
"Coast clear?" whispered the Commander.
"Clear." Agent saw no reason to lower her voice. "I'm detecting multiple nearby signals, though. We must hurry."
She opened the hatch fully and climbed out. She hefted her assault rifle. The Commander clambered to his feet. Opting for his AK-47, he cocked it.
"How far are we from your dummy's position?"
"We're very close." Armed and alert, she was on point. They exited the storage room, which was adjacent to the cafe/bar. The Jaguars and their back-up were nowhere to be seen. They may still be down at the barracks, Agent supposed.
She led the Griffin Commander away from the cafe. The pair traversed the north-western quadrant of the base's ground floor, sweeping from corridor to corridor. Within fifteen meters of her secondary duplicate's last logged coordinates, Agent raised a gloved fist, signalling the Commander to halt.
"Multiple hostiles right around the corner," she spoke in a hushed tone. "Let's take them out before they damage my dummy any further."
"Rog'."
Agent strode around the corner, G36C locked and loaded. The Vespids weren't completely facing her; some were still in the middle of turning around. She aimed at the closest Doll and fired the subcarbine, putting ten rounds through its bulbous helmet.
Naturally, she didn't waste her laser cannons. They pulsed, releasing condensed bolts of energy. She instantly discovered that her shooting was abysmal. She'd become extremely dependent on the cannons' targeting system, and it showed. Her hip-attached guns were always off the mark, either hitting too low or their shots going wide.
Instead of blasting through a Vespid's skull, she fired laser bolts at its legs. It dropped to its knees, but not without retaliating with a burst from its rifle.
Holograms sprung to life in front of Agent, absorbing the shots. Looking carefully, she realised, that they were hard-light projections. Based on her captive's likeness, the human-sized constructs were much more durable than she would've thought.
The Commander was blasting at the squad of Dolls over the shoulder of a hologram. He downed two of them before his AK ran out of bullets and he reloaded desperately.
Taking advantage of her new cover, Agent snapped her G36C's sights onto another target. She mimicked the Commander and shot over the shoulder of the hologram directly in the front of her. Her shots rang true, piercing the plating on the Vespid's torso. The impact sent the Vespid sprawling.
Agent broke out of cover and advanced. The Commander lay down suppressive fire. Her breasts jiggled from the recoil of her cannons. Lucky shots here and there landed on her, leaving areas on her limbs and chest smouldering. She powered through the artificial recreation of pain and let loose a barrage of laserfire that cut down the remainder of the Vespids.
Except for one.
It didn't aim at her or the Commander.
Rather, it brought its rifle to bear on the duplicate it was standing over.
Coming to a standstill, Agent trained the G36C on the last Vespid.
Her hip-firing blasters fell silent. She wouldn't risk a stray shot damaging her copy's head and obliterating its combat module. 'My other dummies might not have a working replacement. I cannot afford to fail here.'
She squeezed the trigger. The subcarbine didn't shoot. An odd click sounded from it.
Agent's circuits tingled with dread.
The gun was jammed. She dumped the useless antique on the floor and went for her MP5.
The muzzle of the Vespid's rifle flared with purple light.
She wasn't fast enough. By the time she readied the submachine gun, her lookalike's head would be corroded metal.
'For me to fail, because of a worthless Griffin piece of shit, of all things...!'
Agent's audio receptors caught the distant report of a firearm. The Vespid spasmed as bullets pierced its side.
It toppled over.
Its shot went wide.
Agent looked over her shoulder. Her frustrated expression melted away, turning into one of relief.
"You're welcome," The Commander said, deadpan.
She remembered who exactly she was with. Being so open with her feelings in front of an enemy, especially when she was vulnerable, was a liability. Her demeanour became dour.
Something flashed in his eyes - disappointment, perhaps. Agent crouched beside her copy. She pulled off her gloves.
"Have you got a knife?" she asked the Commander.
"Here." He handed her a dagger. She accepted it and proceeded to vigorously cut open the dummy's face. Her hands got caked in oil and coolant.
The dummy's cranial electronics were mostly intact. She wiped her hands clean on the ragged front of her dress, and pried out the combat module. Surprisingly enough, the chip was in pristine condition.
She placed it in a bulletproof case, no larger than a wedding ring box, and pocketed it.
"I require a maintenance pod to install the replacement for my combat module. What's the way to the repair bay?"
The Commander's face darkened. "The repair bay got trashed by your goons. Ain't no chance of installing new hardware there. But there's another place we can try. Hopefully, it hasn't gotten wrecked yet."
The servant shouldered her duplicate's corpse. It was lighter than usual due to the absence of its weaponry, she noticed.
The Commander ticked an eyebrow. "Gonna carry that with you?"
"Of course. I detest the very idea of repairing myself with inferior Griffin parts. Cannibalizing this dummy will suffice."
"'Waste not, want not', huh? Alright." He started walking. "First, we find an elevator. There's a pod on the second floor."
"Located where, exactly?"
"In Welrod's office."
"Awfully generous of you, affording a piece of trash an entire room to herself."
"You don't update your lexicon often, do you? We're lucky she prefers to run her own maintenance herself."