GATE: Artificial Archive

by B-Code2016J4

Side stories with different franchises that could or could not be connected to the main story of GATE: Artificial Disruption. (Open to editing)

4. Halo, Firefly, Overwatch, & Killzone mix

Review Commentary —

To last admiral: Not sure of seeing myself writing W40K/GATE: JSDF crossovers with the styles expressed by your fanfiction concepts. Nonetheless, I wish you the best of luck of developing those imaginations into good stories to read... if viable, of course.

For the sake of reminders, I don't have true ownership of the following franchises: GATE: Jieitai Kanochi nite, Kaku Tatakaeri; Halo; Borderlands; Destiny; Firefly; Overwatch; Command & Conquer; Killzone; Warhammer 40000; Starcraft; and Kill La Kill. Additionally, the first section of this story was influenced by the descriptions of how the Warrior-Bunny/Saderan war unfolded in "The Janus Campaign" fanfic by kiyone4ever; while a number of aspects for the Arrun Labyrinth adventure came from Fanfiction Author BlueWay's "Manifest Destiny." They belonged to their legitimate owners.

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Year 683 of the Imperial Calendar.

On a particular day of this planet's orbital period, the male heir to the Saderan throne (Prince Zolzar Em Caesar) hears the loud roars and cheers expressed by the soldiers and auxiliaries of the Imperial Army; after completing his speech of conquest that was then followed by a ceremonial spear being thrown… towards the northeastern plains belonging to the all female, rabbit-eared 'barbarians.' The prominent 'Warrior Bunnies' were becoming a major nuisance in their repeated raids on the Empire's borders and trade routes. The prime commodity that the feminine humanoids constantly sought after were the men viable for their species' propagation… human males to be more precise. Consequently, the local authorities and influential trade companies of the dominant hominids became quite weary of these tribal beings plundering their masculine population. Which led to important requests reaching into the hands of the Imperial leadership, with demands on putting an end to the anthropomorphic ransacking. Coincidentally, the Roman-style imperium were once again in 'yearning' for additional slaves. Therefore, the appeals represented opportunities in 'progressing' their continental-wide system of order.

An 'adequate' explanation for the large Saderan legions in position and facing en route to the Vieran homelands; as well as satisfying the royal man's chance to acquire a beautiful prize for his… 'intimate' enjoyment. Of course, Zolzar was well aware of the Warrior Bunnies' superhuman strength and flexibility on the battlefield. Nonetheless, the body shapes of these barbaric lasses often elicit the manly urges inside most men to… 'mate' with reckless abandonments. Meaning that the prince and his military commanders must make sure that the rabbit-eared race are to be completely subjugated as 'properties' for the Empire's delight with the Vierans' good looks.

And now… Caesar just can't wait anymore to start the slave-hunting campaign. "Fellow legionaries of our glorious Empire! Let us commence the taming of these beautiful savages to be in our civilized beds!"

Soon, the entire armed forces march into the tribal plains of beast-women. As obviously stated, the dedicated discipline, numbers, and combat equipment of the imperial legions are second to none in comparison to the Warrior Bunnies' powerful physiology and previous foes that failed to defeat Saderan might (Not to mention the air superiority of many trained wyverns, mages specialized in war, and bestial mercenaries at the Empire's disposal). Under that assumption, nothing can stop this juggernaut from getting whatever goals they craved for.

Not even a outdooring 'jester' being said to taken down vicious monsters with unknown magic coming out of a bizarre 'crossbow' in his possessions. In fact... this wisecracking outdoorsman is nowhere in close proximity to the vast, marching army on the offensive.

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With all things being equal, the field agent's current location is about three miles away from a large medieval 'facility' called the Arunn Labyrinth. The ancient complex used to be the property of the Arunn Kingdom, now completely defunct as a working society and part of the Saderan Empire for almost two hundred years. The derelict site contained a dozen botanical gardens and laboratories that were created in the stubborn pursuit of longevity... and even immortality. It's also surrounded by extensive mazes to prevent anyone from coming out of the place; and forested areas to 'hide' the Labyrinth's presence.

Having said that, such revelations did not matter to the advanced extraterrestrials that kept their undercover surveillance on this old research facility (thru stealth drones that had observed the former activities of the lab complex since its structural completion). The data gathered there from the covert UAVs included experiments on dark elves, wild-growth patterns of medicinal plants, and notable 'failures' that dissatisfied the long-gone researchers/mages/doctors in their efforts to become immortal. Around five hundred years ago, the Arunn Labyrinth turn itself into an abandoned place when the governing host collapsed due to the sovereign state's great obsession with achieving eternal youth, mismanagement of their economy and military might, and... grave miscalculations on testing particular 'specimens' that shouldn't be made. Nevertheless, the otherworldly visitors sent recon drones at sporadic intervals (anything ranging from months to centuries) to check up the slow decay of the grand compound and the trapped creatures living there; like the surviving cockatrices and minotaurs placed in certain locations to deal with unauthorized trespassers and escapees. Unfriendly organisms that surprisingly had given the alien visitors pauses on further reconnaissances on foot without additional hindrances from those wild threats; while also dealing with treaties that discouraged abductions of 'native' beings for scientific analyses.

On this year however, aerial constructs from their recent secretive survey had retrieved information concerning the biggest tree in the middle of the ancient laboratory. The huge woody plant had several of its roots attached to a deceased corpse that has the large shape of a minotaur-like female. Moreover, the subsurface stem branches were ostensibly absorbing nutrients from the neglected remains into the colossal phototroph itself. Kinda think about it, that observation doesn't sounded quite problematic for the tree to influence the exterior environment... if it wasn't for the recorded knowledge that such type of situation has very often led to epidemics capable of turning specific portions within a sapient population into the 'walking dead' (after the paranormal diseases kill them anyway on the Falmarian landmass).

As a result, the space-faring Terrans in the military services decided to 'disintegrate' the static target with one of their weapons of mass destruction… in orbit and above the atmosphere. Which means that any items within the enormous blast radius, including the abandoned research paperwork and living specimens, will be gone forever. With that in mind notwithstanding, the higher echelons had selected some distinct fighting units to retrieve as much 'scientific' articles as they can accumulate before the total bombardment could start. The chosen armed forces for this 'recovery' mission were a company from the Maliwan Division, a battalion of battle-droids from the modified Omnic Corps, and the newly-instated Alpha 19 fireteam... with 2nd Lieutenant Kaydin Buck himself as squad leader of this small group (of which all of them are now wearing fully sealed suits of body armor for 'toxic' environments).

Personally though, the 'ranger' has little interest on the full details of the collected knowledge left behind or the enormous scenery regarding the entire complex itself (with probable exceptions to the existing cockatrices and minotaur-like beasts that the Terran commanders wanted to capture… preferably alive). Furthermore, he already did a number of explorations on the derelict labyrinth decades ago that regularly made him bored; while not getting himself lost in the complicated mazes, steering clear of lethal traps, and circumnavigating certain places from being eaten up. His main concern for today is to achieve the assigned objectives, given to Kaydin's team by the top brass, without somehow accidentally erasing a significant portion of archived items inside the Arunn laboratories.

Why is that thought important to the group's leader?

"Okay... so let me recall the basic blueprint for this scavenger hunt as I understood, Captain Zavarro."

"I would prefer you to officially recognize it as an intel-gathering operation, Second Lieutenant." A synthesized male voice spoken from the wireless communication device (shaped as an earpiece) stuck in Buck's left ear.

"Yeah... whatever makes you feel better, sir. Anyway basically, the plan is to move through the confusing mazes; avoid or deactivate the installed traps in the laboratories; and then steal as many research-based valuables as we can accumulate before demolishing the entire ruins to kingdom come. Which includes taking away the chicken giants and bull-headed beastmen alive; and with the help of our backup that seems to let us four guys to do the hard work of securing a safer passage for their professional asses to go through. Ain't that right, Zavarro?"

"Obviously it does, although you need to keep in mind that any major blunder being made on this mission will warrant yourselves a permanent transfer to Bad Company."

"Uh… sure. Assuming the stated punishment does apply to everyone involved in this looting quest, that is. Yes?"

"No, 2nd Lieutenant Buck. The relocation penalty only affects you and possibly every soldier of Alpha-19."

"Wait... you can't be serious, Captain!" The operative with a sniper rifle exclaimed through the same communication frequency at the unfair condition. "We recent 'underlings' of this leading comedian aren't known to cause as much ruckus as yours truly."

"Sorry Corporal Agu, but those are the terms for anticipating chances of noteworthy defeats in this mission. Also... High Command do not make jokes when attempts to reintroduce discipline into a 'fallen' asset do matter. Which means that your squad leader had to prove himself to be either a beneficial character for warfare or a reckless liability for subordinates like you to pin your future misfortunes on."

Second Lieutenant Buck sarcastically remarked, "Oh really... putting all the blame on me when something does go wrong during this educational ransacking. Considering that I was not involved in making the recent, or should I say 'final', verdict to have you comrades being assigned to my supervision as the prime honcho of this small bunch."

"Deal with it, Kaydin. At any rate, your team needs to commence the operation right now. The senior tier commanders and I will await the results. Captain Zavarro, out."

After the dialogue, the outdoor leader take a visual scan on all four squad-mates… and the heavy crates of 'small-arms' that were just dropped off by a cargo VTOL a minute ago. "Alright ladies, let's open up the contents like the wind from those boxes that Command sent down here."

"Affirmative, sir." A Corporal Taylor Cobb says in return.

"Sure thing, LT. I'd be surprised if we got handheld cameras inside there to take long lasting pictures of the dying place," commented the designated marksman.

A somewhat confused Kaydin stated, "Right... quite anachronistic to imagine how to use them."

Once they finally processed the given armaments from the big containers to be used, Alpha 19 head directly for the Arunn Labyrinth... by walking the 3-mile pathway without a vehicle to ride on (Which took at least an hour to arrive in front of a decrepit masonry entrance that led to the difficult mazes).

The slightly panting Corporal with his long-range tranquilizer gun looks at the decaying frontal structure. "Damn... must've seen better days for this giant greeting of brick and mortar. Especially for the realistic statues with no nipples to stare."

The rest of the fireteam definitely took eyes on the feminine objects of crumbling rock. Second Lieutenant Buck interposed, "Uh-huh... as if these marbled figurines could mutate themselves into conglomerates of tendrils that horrendously transformed bipedal virgins into virulent doomsday vectors."

"With all due respect sir, I don't think we need to worry so much at anytime about the bio-hazardous manifestations of a Deadly Sin... or two. What's more, we definitely know that those lewd blobs of horror were absolutely annihilated by some of the facility's built-in laser cannons designed with a wider blast radius for such outbreak emergencies." Private Washburn notified his squad leader.

"An over-killing countermeasure from below that I personally witnessed with my own eyes, relatively speaking. Not to mention the searing destruction that had occurred to basically half of the gigantic laboratory. Still... can't be too sure if a similar abomination may appear out of the blue over here. Anywho, I believed it's time to tear this neglected maze ahead a new one."

"How so, 2nd Lieutenant?" Taylor asked.

Kaydin raises an eyebrow behind his HUD visor at the Corporal carrying the 'obvious' solution (in the form of a shoulder-mounted armament that shoots out a sonic energy beam onto a target... and vibrates it to a level beyond breaking point). "Well... the answer to that my friend is clearly involving your acoustic tool of death firing at the landscape puzzle to make newer shortcuts towards the primary facilities; courtesy to the top-level echelons that wanted less valuables going kaboom. Now then, I shall leave you do the restructuring honor on point. Got it, Mr. Cobb?"

"Affirmative, sir." Not long afterwards, Alpha-19 stroll forward with Cobbs in the leading position. Soon enough, they face a T-shaped split that only allows a left and/or right turns. Upon which the Corporal at the front evidently ignores and grab out the sound-based weapon for this physical mind game. "Cover your ears, everyone." Several seconds following the warning, Taylor presses and holds on to the trigger of the sonic emitter. No solid shell or visible laser beam materialized today, just the swirling noise of electricity inside the destructive device that gradually grew louder in potency. Within a quarter of a minute later, the shoulder-mounted firearm has reached enough critical mass to unleash a continuous ray of vibrations at the forked wall. Soon, the concentrated sound-waves match the necessary frequency to create numerable cracks within the brick-made structure. Henceforth the inevitable downfall of the already decaying obstacle into many pieces, all thanks to the loudly powerful beam. The other members of the venturing unit look at the Corporal's handiwork... without any explosive used.

"Out of curiosity, Alpha 19 Actual." Michael holding the identical type of acoustic cannon and carrying several demolition charges has inquired, "How are these sonic ray guns supposedly helpful; when they're producing as much noises as the explosive materials that I previously handled?"

"Duh... probably have to do with less collateral damages on our own allies, from my observations though."

"Does our affected ears count as friendly fire, sir?"

"Perhaps... but only a damn fool would try to fire the loud emitters while having all ears exposed. Oh, and another thing for you buddies to listen: you're all at liberty to call me Kaydin and/or Mister Buck as much as you wish."

The designated sniper complies, "Whatever you say... Sir Bucky."

"Uh… Kojo, I don't remember myself being born into a life of nobility. Nor do I ever think that nickname is... appropriate..." The fireteam leader non-verbally frown at the sharpshooter for a while. "Anyhow, let us put aside the call-sign brainstorming for the time being and get back to business."

As expected, the intruding wrecking crew resume their wall-breaking creations of shortcuts through the large aging puzzle. Corporal Cobb and Private Washburn reciprocally take turns for every three shots that were unleashed from each acoustic beam launcher. On occasion, the somewhat comedic officer put writings in permanent ink saying "Kaydin Buck was here, Imperial Year 683" on the decrepit masonry. Their sound-based demolitions goes on and on, until the last wall gets obliterated (opening a view of a vertical structure that was not part of the cheated maze).

"Hold your fire, lads. Stand by," commanded the Alpha 19 leader while analyzing the outdoor conditions in front of the fireteam. Based upon the lack of plant life running along the next wall, they are now near one of the shipping plazas being inhabited by the existing cockatrices. "Okay Private Washburn, arm a demo charge over there." Buck signals at one section of the upright barrier that is superlatively aligned to the shortcuts already created.

"Got it, 2nd Lieutenant." The explosive expert understood and soon starts the setup for the detonation device.

"Corporal Agu, get your firing position ready."

"Yeah, I hear you," the tranquilizing shooter prepares his post within the newly-made pathway and far away from the designated blast site.

A minute later, Michael finished planting the explosive and have its remote detonation on stand-by. He then travels a safer distance apart from the demo-charge and advises his allies to do the same precautions.

With everything in place, Buck gives out the green-light. "Light it up, private."

The lower-ranked soldier activates the handheld detonator and immediately sees the explosion on the 'solid' wall.

On the other side of the compromised circular barrier at the same time, the feathered prize of a 'monster' gets unexpectedly jumpy and jittery by the sudden destruction and loudness (despite hearing the subsequent noises that were coming closer and closer to the avian giant). It stands back several yards from the explosive event and awaits the interlopers responsible for that devastation. Instantaneously however, four high-speed projectiles emerge out of the obscuring dust cloud and hit onto the cockatrice's main body. On impact, the liquid sedatives within the rounds are injected into the beast's anatomy. The large animal recoils by the piercings of its skin and the amount of pressed force from the small objects. In response, that creature return to its stance and charge at the source of the long-range incursion…

Only to have the rushing beast's head stuck within the newly-made hole on the wall.

"Enjoy your sleepy time, chicken!" remarked the wisecracker who instantly drop a handheld canister; that soon disperses gases for incapacitating the cockatrice's consciousness further.

The oversized 'bird' inadvertently breathes in the sleeping vapor as it tries to unclog itself from the tight opening. Seconds goes by and the big organism gradually became really drowsy. Finally, the cockatrice collapses into deep hibernation.

All four operatives look at the now dormant monster, as a consequence of their actions... with little to no difficulties, whatsoever.

"Well, that easily goes according to plan. Agree?" Buck's team members take glances at their commanding officer.

Corporal Agu stated an answer, "Right... probably have to do with the realization of how easy it was to tackle down this huge life-hating poultry. Too easy if you ask me."

"Yeah... you do have a good point about that. Still, we now in an issue on who's gonna take away 'Sleeping Beauty' here and how. Suggestions, anyone?" What Kaydin gets instead are silent stares from all three subordinates.

"Uh... I highly doubt that all four of us could carry this giant bird-brain around; and simultaneously giving the rest of the mythical freaks a very long nap." Taylor expresses his little concern on target retrieval. "Also, shouldn't this be the right time to call in the heavy lifters sir?"

The leader of Alpha 19 pauses in thought on that question. A chance to answer the recommendation was quickly diverted however, by humming noises above and encroaching to their current location. They instinctively look up to the open sky and soon spot a sizable transport with 4 hover engines attached (the sleek exterior design of blueish color was based upon vehicular specimens 'obtained' from a powerful transhuman movement... that worshipped green minerals of apocalyptic proportions; although the aircraft has its bottom-most fuselage modified for repetitive landings and interior space) decloaking its optical camouflage. The sky-blue VTOL immediately descends for a landing near the open center of the circular plaza. Once the NLV-47B Carryall safely made landfall next to the subjugated cockatrice, the cargo aircraft opens its side doors for human-shaped passengers (organic, robotic, or cybernetic) to exit out. The recently arrived crew wore sets of personal armor in blue-grey-white compositions and are armed with Maliwan-derived firearms. Nonetheless, their primary objective today is to further secure the feathery specimen with metal ropes and locking devices.

While they strap in the 'hi-tech' restraints over the knocked-out giant, one operator of the capturing party wirelessly addresses Alpha 19 on the other side of the penetrated wall. "This is Hashish-54 to Alpha-19. Would you kindly push the cockatrice's trapped head towards our current location on the other side?" The communicator expects a quick affirmation from the recipients behind the stony barrier… only to get a period of silence for god-knows how long. Impatiently, he call out again on the fireteam led by Kaydin. "Alpha 19 Actual, Second Lieutenant Buck! Can you please get the poor thing unstuck?"

Frankly enough, Kaydin answers the 'plea.' "You got one part of my magic word right, but I really like to hear the whole appeal. In full sentence, please."

Regardless of how annoyed the Maliwan-cladded soldier feels about that reply. "Ugh... pretty please with billions of sugar grains on top. Happy?"

"Hmm... yep, that's favorably sufficient! My minions and I will immediately give you the necessary assistance."

Less than half a minute, and with coordination between both combat groups (including the Carryall aircraft going airborne and having its secured cables to lift the semi-comatose chicken several inches above the ground), the monster's head is now 'freed' from its glued circumstances. The personnel using Maliwan weapons instantly put a restraining mask onto the cockatrice's beak for preventing toxic breath attempts. By the time the feathered prize slowly began to regain consciousness, the VTOL transport is already in the sky with its strapped up cargo towards a classified location.

Back on solid pavement anyhow...

"Soooo... any updates from a Captain Zavarro on getting some nice respites from this scientific house-cleaning for us Clandestine Shock Troopers?" The bantering second Lieutenant queries at the crewmembers left behind for the moment.

A Maliwan-derived officer replies, "Negative, sir. There are no further orders from him or other higher-ups to relax until this dilapidated facility is completely gutted of all achievable artifacts and bio-samples for repeatable studies. Also to keep in mind are the rest of your objectives yet to be fulfilled."

"Jeez... aren't you such a highly committed exemplar of military discipline? Perhaps you gents should be the ones to take extra time for your own relaxation. Heh?"

The unimpressed squad from the quad-rotored delivery aircraft stare at the leader of Alpha-19 with minimal irritation.

Kojo noted, "He does have a point, fellas. Considering that our first success felt like one boring walk in the park, you can apparently go back to base and leave the rest of our current goals to us spooks here." In turn, the corporal earns confused faces from everyone at present...

Such as his contemporary superior, "Are you sure about that, Agu? Having all four of us towing out heavy bundles of loot and test subjects from the rotting lab site, just by ourselves?"

"Well… we can't always carry everything of 'great' value that the top brass craved for. Yes?"

Audible distractions get into the minds of the Terran troops, as two more NLV-47B flies closer to the identified open-space. The first Carryall eventually touches down and the Maliwan-equipped crew walked towards the VTOL to open the doors and unload supply boxes for Kaydin's fireteam. The other hovercraft makes a landing next to the decorative passage/building of the circular 'arena' (where a separate group of soldiers investigate inside for any cockatrice egg to capture). The high-ranking Maliwan combatant states, "Regardless of your personal opinions today, you boys will have further support from the Omnic Corps for subjugating the live targets soon. Take care, Alpha-19." After all the military caches are outdoors, the group holding the element-based weapons go onboard the transport vehicle and then closes the vehicular entry barriers from the inside.

The four-manned unit under Second Lieutenant Buck look at the Carryall taking off to the air and soar into the calm blue yonder. Shortly afterwards, they process the contents within the crates: demo-charges, tranquilizing bullets, sedative gas grenades, interior trap detectors, et cetera. Once Alpha 19 were systematically done with understanding the items and which one to grab for the next priorities, the four troopers then stroll towards the entryway structure for the exit. As the fireteam are within close proximity to the 'avian' nest, they evidently witness the feathered beast's eggs being taken into containers with foam-like cushions inside (in order for those cocooned specimens to eventually be moved within the second VTOL's cargo bay).

"Hi there, boys!" Kaydin greets the group 'confiscating' those calcium-encased embryos. "Got any plans to create edible dishes out of these yolk-filled packages?" What he got instead are annoyed looks towards the witty shock trooper. "Uh... does the options of eggs being scrambled, hard-boiled, or staying raw ever comes to mind? Anyone?"

The leader of the embryo 'extractions' countered, "2nd Lieutenant, poaching the developing offsprings into oblivion is not the real intent in capturing them for future research."

"Yeah, sure... not fond of a word that has two different definitions. Where one involves cooking eggs for lunch; while another is about nabbing endangered organisms for... uh, ambiguous values."

"Respectfully sir, please just focus your team's attention on the next cockatrice to be seized. Alright?"

"Hmm... okay, I'm leaving you laddies alone for today. Anyhow, have fun with those young chicks when they finally hatch!" Buck's unit move on thru the architectural passageway, while bequeathing behind a carefree impression upon the slightly disgruntled operatives still working with the calcium-coated younglings.

After exiting the circular plaza, Private Washburn speaks out. "2nd Lieutenant Buck, you might need to reconsider your nonchalant behaviors upon our collaborative comrades in the future. We certainly don't want to get trapped inside a near-suicidal situation; where our upcoming support somehow cast us aside out of spite on your nonsensical mannerisms all the time."

"I appreciate the reminder on the virtues of military routines, Mickey. That being said, it wouldn't hurt so much to loosen up the strict professional attitudes in particular occasions."

"...Come again, sir? Mickey?"

"That's right. Your new nickname in this fireteam, Private."

"Right... let us hope that you understood the limits of social tolerance for our sake, sir."

"Duly noted, Washburn. Duly noted."

Anyway, Kaydin's search party move in a counter-clockwise direction on the enormous circular corridor for their next chicken-like 'prey.' When Alpha 19 is several feet away from the subsequent passageway that leads to the second target, a number of unarmed aircraft hovers to the circle-shaped plaza. Those airborne vehicles are derived from a heavy VTOL dropship belonging to an interstellar military organization centuries ago; called the Interplanetary Strategic Alliance — or ISA for short. Once they arrived, four of those aerial machines slowly descend to around a few yards above the open space… which is essentially within 'pecking' reach for the feathered giant to immediately attack one of these intruders. As a result, the cockatrice slightly dents the front metal fuselage but also pushes the alien vehicle towards the stone-made wall with its momentum (damaging the rear engines of the heavy VTOL and causing the hovercraft to crash-land respectively intact). Shortly later, the mythical beast repeatedly strike the downed aircraft with its beak... regardless of how little damage the avian organism is actually inflicting on the non-organic transport.

Nor how close-minded the cockatrice is to not spot the armed passengers coming out of that vehicle: in the form of 6RUN-TPs equipped with shock-based energy pistols and 'sticky' grenades (all set for stun by the way).

"Here comes the grunty punishment!" One of the mono-wheeled droid throws an electrified grenade at the monster's main body. The electricity-filled device adheres itself on the creature's plumage, and then unleashes a power surge of shock jolting throughout the assaulted giant.

After experiencing such unpleasantry, the chicken-like being moves its head around to understand what just happened. Only to see that it's being surrounded by dozens of... boxy things coming out of the bigger trespassers. That realization is immediately followed by volleys of electric bolts coming out of the gruntraps' 'stun-guns' and giving the large avian little electrocutions in great numbers. In spite of that alien pressure, the cockatrice remains bodily functional to breath out toxic smogs at the small attackers. Although the fumes are not dangerous to the non-breathable robots, the cloudy mass at least leaves them rather blind to their feather-covered target. Of course... the myth-based lifeform doesn't wait for long to charge thru the smoke and ram into a group of the metal grunts. The affected 6RUN-TPs are forced away in several direction by that primal assault. One knocked droid instantly became a pecking chew-toy for the hostile bird-thing, further decimating the paint-job of red and orange patterns.

"Shock flare's away!" A separate gruntrap covered in the same color scheme throws the same type of grenade at the extraordinarily focused cockatrice; so does multiple electro-stun bombs from other boxy droids heading their way to the single-minded giant. Unsurprisingly, the tossed weapons attach themselves all over the beast's body and discharge the high-voltage contents.

The now paralyzed 'chicken' undergoes continual convulsions caused by these foreign electro-shocks. After the stuck grenades depleted their stored energy, the feathered organism lamely collapses on the plaza surface. Although it's alive from the shocking event, the cockatrice's condition is rather close to being comatose.

Many of the 6RUN-TPs surrounding the KO'd behemoth take a curious look at it. A minute forward, those dwarvish bots are yet to be attacked by the toppled bird-thing. "Boy... seems like it's game over for this furry meatbag."

"If my memory components serve me right, we're supposed to take the feathered organic alive. Not dead, essentially."

All of a sudden, a small object is thrown onto the incapacitated beast's head and quickly lands on the artificial floor nearby. The gadget next to the cockatrice's cranium then disperses a gas cloud that further tranquilizes the fallen giant into a 'vegetative' state.

"Ahem... please excuse me and my buddies for this interruption, fellow short-statured grunts." Buck's acknowledgement gets the awareness of many CL4P-TP-derived battlebots (more related to the Security Bots protecting the Claptrap cyberspace systems — to be exact) on the large circular area. "We're fairly inquisitive about your current standpoints relating to the 'disablement' of this feathery specimen. Anyone?"

One gruntrap speaks out to Alpha-19's recent spot near the big, immobilized 'bird.' "Well... it's expected to be scary for us to put down, or so we're told."

Another of those droids comments, "By the looks of it now, the fluffy germ-sac is not as tough as us gruntraps anticipated before."

A third one says, "Uh... what about our poor comrade, Jub-Jub? He suffered terribly from the beak assaults of that oversized fowl."

"Not to mention the same thing already happened to the first dropship to take damage from the cockatrice."

"Yeah… I can see that, robo-buddies. Respectfully though, our casualties are quite extraordinarily light from stunning the chicken-like organic to a loss of consciousness."

"Would that perspective remain relevant if we did have heavy losses from this subjugating mission?"

"Speaking of which, how would mortality rates look like if given the alternative to outright destroy the mythical lifeform?"

"Hmm... I got a numerical answer. Zero, obviously enough! But that shouldn't matter anymore, since the avian monster is all paralyzed at this moment."

"Umm... sure, I'll take your words about the rather cute cockatrice being stuck within a coma."

"...Wait, cute you say?"

"You're kidding us, right? I mean, how is that feathery amalgamation of hostility alleged to be adorable?"

"Eh… I'm not really certain. Maybe you all have to imagine the big thing as an oversized chicken with one reptilian tail."

The 'helpful' conversations between the 6RUN-TPs more or less then change into a bunch of trivial shouting matches. The squad of Alpha-19 watch the developing squabbles with… eh, you get the gist of this embarrassing situation.

"Oookaayy... it appears that initiating talks with these low-ranked bots was a bad move, 2nd Lieutenant." Kojo noted.

Michael agrees with that assessment, "That's what I certainly am thinking on your dumb idea, Buck."

A high-pitched voice of a gruntrap speaks behind Washburn. "So... what does 'dumb' means, in essence?"

The confounded private turns around and notices a group of those combat droids (guns still being held) accompanying their questioning pal. "Well, uuhh... there is a peculiar definition for the word 'dumb' — as an adjective anyways."

"I see... then what does this adjective you speak of indicates?"

"Yeah... about that meaning. Eh..."

"Come on. Why is it rather difficult for you techno-organics to spill out this definition of 'dumb'?"

Corporal Agu pressures on, "Just go ahead and say it, Mickey. I doubt that they'd honestly hurt us for describing a term that these circling trash cans will be very sluggish to compute."

"...What did you just say, fleshy jerk-hat?" announces the rather insulted gruntrap who immediately directs its shock pistol at Kojo's position. Simultaneously followed by a few dozens of the homogeneous combat models aiming their weapons in the same direction.

"Uh... a little help here, private?"

Washburn is as equally fearful as his nearby compatriot, considering that he's also within the firing lines. "Which kind of help to recommend?"

"Anything that does not result in both of us being full of bullet holes!"

A 6RUN-TP unit makes a correction, "Actually, us combat droids here are basically armed with less-lethal implementations for live captures. Even so, we no doubt that the electric shots will hurt you a lot."

The private reluctantly but gradually comments, "Yeah... that one sounded like the opposite of 'dumb' in this situation!"

"Eh... as in the unlikely chance to still breath without being harmed?"

Kaydin unenthusiastically intervenes, "What my human associate's trying to say here... is that all you 'Grunty' minions are smarter and further organized than your 'supervisors' have anticipated upon you guys. Therefore... in hindsight, the word 'dumb' or 'stupid' does not match your current competency to accomplish the given jobs. Hell, you combat constructs may also be shrewder than the regular Claptrap units! Feel better, now?"

After hearing that complimentary statement, the recently relaxed gruntraps lower their weapons for less hostilities toward the human allies. "Could have been a lot nicer if that scornful subordinate of yours makes an apology at this instance. Will he?"

"Um… Corporal Agu?"

The unamused sharpshooter stated back, "Ugh… alright, I'm sorry for looking down upon you lot in the manner that only the most annoying custodian robots in galactic existence would ever deserved. Is this acknowledgement okay for your forgiveness?"

The audience of 6RUN-TPs process the validity of Kojo's apology to them, before finalizing an appropriate feedback. That verbal opportunity is quickly disrupted however, when everyone in the circle-shaped plaza (excluding the disabled cockatrice) heard an explosive sound coming from the opposite direction of the arena's only passageway for entry or exit.

Second Lieutenant Buck confoundedly wonders, "Duuuh… what was that?"

XXXXXXXX

Indeed, who the heck made that noise of an explosion?

Well… at the other side of this ancient research complex where the loud sound originated, ten stone walls of one complex maze had new massive holes that are 'perfectly' aligned to each other.

The cause: a substantial beam of heavily-condensed particles unleashed… by a modified, and somewhat irresponsible, Claptrap droid installed with unpredictable combat protocols (otherwise known as Fragtrap/FR4G-TP who randomly chosen the One-Shot Wonder action package from the SoulFighter software executive). Thanks to the previous 'upgrades' of a stair-climbing wheel and jump-pack on its back, the wandering machine effortlessly traverse the recently created pathway. After a fairly fast recharge and cooldown, the squarish robot again pulls the trigger of the handheld beam cannon — while expressing a synthesized, maniacal laughter at the upfront enclosure of rocky materials. The resulting energy blast effectively destroys another ten obstacles that were part of the olden physical puzzle, yet it also pushed back the robotic vandal by a few yards in reverse. "A-hahahahahahahaha! How do all of you crumbling, frustrating brick panels like this style of home improvements?!" The one-wheeled construct resumes its stroll along the newly extended pathway, whereas the destructive particle weapon takes the time to dissipate the heat buildup and refill the electromagnetic power unit for the gun. Once again, the experimented Claptrap is confronted by an intact maze wall and simply aim the powerful firearm at the solid barrier. As a repeat, Fragtrap fires and demolishes the stone-related panel — along with eight other walls behind it. Nonetheless, there are minor damages on the thick section of the circular enclosure containing a cockatrice.

The feathered beast notices that occurrence on the wall and walk towards it for a closer look. Such curiosity unfortunately proves to be the giant's undoing… when the last thing it saw immediately engulfs the head and spinal structure of the avian monster in a bright light.

In contrast, the Hyperion-derived droid easily navigates through the big gap within the plaza's masonry border. Once inside though, it gets a good eyeful of a bird-like body — that was missing a head, horizontal spine, and reptilian tail. "Oh… didn't expect that to be a result of my 'wall-breaking' decision," the FR4G-TP unit dumbfoundedly noted while scanning the smoldered cavity in place of the cockatrice's vaporized anatomy. In a very short period, the handheld particle cannon dissolves into nothingness (considering that the duration time for this action package expired and the automatically requires a full replenishment to be usable). "So… yeah, I guess I owe you an apology for pulverizing your head and back." The box-shaped maverick takes another look at the existing corpse of feathers. "Right… can't hear a response from you when everything you creatures need to see, hear, taste, and smell were packaged within one centralized space; the meat-covered skull for example. Without that brain-box therefore, nobody will ever get see wonderful jokes, insightful conversations, disrespectful spitting, animal roars, toxic gas attacks, fire-spewing inflictions, battlecries, and so on. Which essentially means that having no head intact equals to being as good as dead… like forever. Anyhow, I'll be on my way exploring this place." The modified CL4P-TP bot then moves for the stone-built entryway, though it suddenly stops and stare back at the fresh cadaver midway. "Hey, I just thought of something. If you were formerly a terrifying monster having no regards to the welfare of many innocent lifeforms, then hear this old-timed hint: SUCK IT!" The obnoxious construct resumes its travel for several feet — before the automaton again stops and got another idea to say. "Oh, wait. I have a different quote for dishonoring your ambiguous nature: EAT MY IMAGINARY SHORTS! And that should be done for today… for real this time." As promised, Fragtrap finally goes inside the abandoned hallway that became the nesting ground for the late chicken-like behemoth and its eggs.

Unsurprisingly at any rate, the yellowish combat bot again became very curious about those shelled objects of life. "Oooooh, what could these oval shapes be? Monster eggs? Hmm…" As the period of observations goes by, Fragtrap suddenly has an idea to 'test out.' "Hey, perhaps a thorough x-ray scan on one of them should work!" Immediately, it activates a programming to see the inside of a cockatrice-related zygote.

The wrong type of software activation, that is.

"Oopsy… I must have mistakenly started up the magic-imbued application instead. Wonder which superpower will materialized this time?"

It didn't take long for the unpredictable sequences to pick an action package. The final selection manifests itself in the form of a small, digi-structed… claptrap with a few pigtails floating around. "HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY!"

"Huh... my Mechro-magical Punkbot shows up. Still awesome to have two robot arms, though!"

Without a clear enemy in sight however, the summoned 'mini-trap' proceeds to begin... dancing. "Unce! Unce! Unce! ...I think I lost the beat but, Unce! Unce! Wub! Wub! Wub!"

The bigger, unorthodox droid in charge is also feeling this idleness of no opponents within its sensors. Therefore, it takes the available time to say something... lighthearted. "Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?" The robotic minion responded.

"Tat."

"Tat who?"

"Not until you're older."

"...okay. Might need more flavors to that joking style. But who cares?! I'm dancing, I'm dancing!" The last exclamation to speak, before the little Punkbot instantly poof out of existence by the end of the activity.

"Oh well. I may walk back here whenever I'm ready with how to manage my installed scanning tool, along with sightseeing the entire place." In a rather uncommon behavior, the militarized CL4P-TP construct decided to exit the egg-filled hallway and come face-to-face to a different entry gate. "Hmm... where does this poor entry leads to?" After passing through that structure, curious droid stops to see the extent of a corridor leading to the central tree and nearby architectures. The pathway is obviously long, has two elongated walls along the open space, and a pavement consisted of many stone slabs... although there are some big gaps that dotted the surface of this road. "Huh, this rock-paved trail looked awfully... nah, never mind! I doubt that anybody who built this place would booby-trapped these roads like semi-conscious idiots!" Before getting its one wheel going however, the 'permanently' tampered robot suddenly spots two of those ISA VTOL copycats making a stop at the other end of this lengthy pavement — landing requirements not needed here. While the airborne vehicles stay hovering above the endpoint, cargo doors shortly open and out come mechanical passengers from them.

Four of those armed commuters are bipedal combat droids known as Omnic Eradicators; each equipped with two electro-laser cannons (cabled with a backpack generator) for replacing one entire arm and an energy shield device to accommodate the intact hand of the other limb. The remaining two are OR-15C Nubian units armed with a solid defense shield in a stretched hexagonal shape for one arm and an electroshock baton within the grip of another. All of them now blocking the exit far from Fragtrap's location on the corridor, whereas the unarmed dropships fly away. Such presence would surely give an intruder some second thoughts on further pursuits.

Not this lab-tampered Hyperion derivative, however. "Well hi there, my fellow omnic dudes! Y'all as curious about this decrepit facility and its hidden loot as I am?"

One of the four-legged OR-15C answers with a womanly, yet stern, voice preset. "Anti-deity prototype FR4G-TP, you are not allowed to bypass Terran guard assets in front and back. Ignoring us omnic combatants will immediately lead to a full restraint on your freedom of movement!"

Despite the serious warning, the yellowish robot proceeds with rolling its locomotive wheel to move towards the more-disciplined military units at the exit. Oddly enough, this surface infrastructure was supposed to be a primitive form of a minefield like the rest of its kinds that led straight to the primary research complexes (where a misstep on a trigger block will cause a section to collapse and the unsuspecting trespasser to be dropped towards the bottom of an underground hallway) — but it seems that our box-shaped character has yet to fall victim to such trickery. The experimental claptrap 'gratefully' later halt its advance a couple yards facing the blocking team taking aim at the mouthy interloper. "Yeah... does that cautionary message means that I could go around you guys for further sightseeing?"

"No!" All the Eradicators and Nubians bluntly exclaim their objections.

"Okay." Without leaving its latest spot, Fragtrap scans the corridor in all direction. The mono-wheeled droid quickly take note of the gaps in the stone-composed pathway; along with a crowd of gruntraps moving out of the same exit that the tinkered CL4P-TP had went through. "Kinda think about it, you A.I.s must have realized the sizable holes nearby; where I could've fallen into the subterranean unknown by some unlikely mistakes. Correct?"

An OR-15C decides to give a question instead. "Are you actually going to attempt an evasion from our watch, FR4G-TP?"

For once did the claptrap unit process the inquiry. "Eh... nah! Probably not a good idea in this blockading situation. Besides, I'm not a big fan of falling into depths where I don't have any clue of how hard the crash-landings are going to be." It soon receives mechanical 'glares' from the whole detaining party. "Hey, would a nice conversation with me change your protocol adherence of not letting me pass?"

"Impossible," said one of the centaur-like combat machine. "We will not deviate our orders by your persuasion tactics."

"Right... should've known about that dedicating level of military subroutines. Still, I can't let it be stuck on pause indefinitely for my own detriment. So I'll start this verbal exchange with a joke that involved an elf, a dwarf, and a cat-eared humanoid inside a tavern and... wait, what else would they do besides drinking?"

XXXXXXXX

In the meantime, Alpha 19 had just arrived at the front part of another passageway that obviously leads to the last cockatrice intact. They didn't immediately go in, however.

The fireteam's lieutenant looks at the holographic screen displayed by the armored 'TACPAD' being attached on his left forearm. "Okay, our Null-Trooper buddies shall introduce themselves to this feathery specimen in about... now."

In just that instant, four explosions created their respective holes out of the circular wall containing the avian monster. The legendary beast became quite conscious of the four masses consistent of fire and smoke. When those obscurities were subsided, four bipedal droids are seen (each has an arm-integrated gun holding in a shock bolt in overcharge mode, backpack power equipment for the melded firearm, and a defense gauntlet that emits a circular plasma shield). Simultaneously, those two-legged war machines unleash their large masses of energy at the cockatrice from the bots' medium-barreled weapons. Considering that these highly-energized projectiles travel a bit slower however, the giant target unexpectedly avoids them through an angled dash for the intact section of the solid enclosure. While it occurs, dozens of those combat models adequately pour out of the newly-made gaps and start shooting at the avian organism as soon as the opportunities present themselves. Despite the multiple 'stinging' sensations it received, the feather-covered lifeform turns around and exhales a stream of sizable toxic clouds to 'hopefully' obscure the robotic trespassers' line-of-sights. Nevertheless, those shield-wielding Null-Troopers conveniently switch to thermal visions for detecting the chicken-like behemoth in its heat signature.

Just as the mechanical troops in the vicinity of this feathery giant are swatted back by the reptilian tail attack of the angry inhabitant. The unaffected rest of them continue their barrage of 'plasma' bullets set to stun. Irritated yet undeterred, the cockatrice soon charges at one of these 'humanoid things' with its mouth open for a bite. Likewise... the picked Null-Trooper didn't move and simply points its gun-barreled arm at the big creature's beak. As a result, the large animal's mouth catches this exotic weaponry riveted as the forearm of the bipedal robot and instantly shakes it around to tear the military unit apart. In contrast... the combat omnic's upper limb stays inseparable from the main platform and the firearm powers up a projectile (in overcharge mode). Once critical mass has been reached, the imprisoned energy concentration then discharges inside the oral cavity — giving the chicken-like predator a very shocking taste of convulsion. The downside for that electrocuting reaction is the resulted destruction of the robot's gun-arm inside the big beaks, which soon causes the combatant to fall down without that upper limb... although it doesn't seemed to elicit concerns from the other Null-Troopers that were concentrating their withheld and amplified bolts on the wobbly cockatrice. The opportunity for the incapacitated beast to be moving again has failed to materialize, when the unleashed volley of disabling projectiles made impact and immediately stun the large specimen into a state of frequent spasms. After a period of militarized electricity, it expectedly sags onto the paved surface. In comparison, the bipedal constructs just standby and stare at the monster like cold-hearted... uh, golems.

Rasping sounds came from the inflicted, yet breathing cockatrice. That aspect is then resolved by a hand-sized grenade that disperses sleeping gases (the same kind thrown by the shock-troopers under Kaydin's leadership). A majority of Null-Troopers take note of Alpha-19's recent appearance and say nothing about them or anything else.

"So... what do you omnics think about your brawl with the dumb-ass chicken?"

Not a single vocal response to Buck's 'curiosity'... as if providing any answers to him was considered irrelevant to comprehend.

"They're definitely not like those gruntraps we met before; that for sure," commented Corporal Taylor.

The fireteam leader was about to make a sarcastic retort, when a familiar commanding voice runs through the wireless-comm devices. "Lieutenant Buck, status report!"

"Captain Zavarro, nice to hear that serious tone of yours! Not sure if your own eyes can see me and my victorious team standing in front of a comatose rooster from where you are right now?"

"...Shouldn't you include the Omnic Null-troopers near your unit and inside the plaza where they did most of the work in stunning the cockatrice? Considering that I am observing them through satellite feeds."

"Yeah... that would be like 'cheating' from a certain point of view, sir."

"Enough chatter, Second Lieutenant. Listen to this urgent update then: Immediately reach into the center of the Arrun Labyrinth and recover all valuable specimens in collaboration with Maliwan-derived support. Your team may need to stun a minotaur on the way, but the rest will be under the responsibilities of your Omnic associates!"

"Right, got the message. But... what about the last feather-brain that you expected us to capture?"

"Ah, yes... the final mythical beast that has its body destroyed." A tone of disappointment came out of Zavarro.

Kaydin curiously replies, "So, wait? Did I heard correctly: destroyed? As in being dead before Alpha-19 got there?"

"Correct... which the credit for that feat goes to an experimental CL4P-TP construct called the FR4G-TP unit."

"Oh..." An uncomfortable mood overtakes the fireteam leader. "Well, at least I'm no longer ignorant of where those boom-like sounds came from."

"Indeed so, reluctantly. Just finish your given jobs here ASAP, before that uninvited guest gets the chance to ruin the entire lab facility. There's no telling of when it'll somehow ceased its babbling with the Omnic blockade!"

"Ouch. Sucks to be them in keeping eyes on the one-wheeled disaster zone. By the way, where actually is the unpredictable prototype?"

"It has stop within a booby-trapped corridor that failed to self-trigger for God knows what; in addition to several Omnic combatants... acting as 'audiences' to the robot's ill-choreographed displays of humor. Zavarro out."

Worrisome feelings now dwell within the shock-troopers.

"So, Boss... any clue on where the Claptrap anarchist had gotten an 'invitation' to this scientific ruin?" asked Corporal Agu.

"I don't conclude Fragtrap receiving such a request from our top friends, Kojo. Also, I really don't want to go into the how part."

XXXXXXXX

Returning to the lab-tinkered droid's present location a few minutes later... uh...

"Man, I couldn't figure out whether those mix-blooded pals from this Hal-yo tribe really deserved to go to Hell or not. Sure, I kinda get their desire for revenge on the overall majority of this continent that didn't treat them very well; as compared to those not tainted in genetic combinations between two or more different humanoid species. On the other hand though, their grand plans for social domination can be quite... weird. Is that the right word? I mean, honestly — the willingness to act as debaucherous and deceitful as the Imperial humans in complete power? To pick such ambitious goals of being medieval kings on top of stagnant castles, instead of further development of friendship and other benevolent qualities towards everyone around? Well... I don't have in mind a concrete answer for their conditions today. What are your opinions of those hybrid sapients, anyway?"

Not one reply came out of the existing Nubians and Eradicators. In fact, those well-equipped robotic guards had no desire to reciprocally join the foolish talks as they maintained their obstructing tasks. Previous topics being babbled by the box-shaped character includes alcohols in taverns, goblins and orcs raping their feminine 'merchandises' from raided villages, poor conditions within Sadera's most crime-ridden district to exist, and the fairly naive teenagers practicing/training as knights of Pinae's Rose Order.

The big crowd of 6RUN-TPs behind Fragtrap beg to differ, however.

"I only think of those bio-abominations as not human," One of them stated.

"Yet those Hal-yo folks occasionally made similar acts of Humanity, depending on how kind or sinister they came to fruition." Another gruntrap said.

A third added, "Does any of us know how the hybrid-making process functions between two distinct species of humanoids?"

Here comes a fourth sentence from a mechanized grunt. "My critical thinking circuitry ends up with two diverse aliens mating together and chromosome combinations being successful in a strange way. Which one should be emphasized for that reproductive mystery?"

"Possibly a mix of both or more, I would hypothesized."

The set of small chats among many 6RUN-TPs changes to big commotions concerning the nature of bipedal crossbreeds — despite standing on top of the pavement designed long ago as a booby trap. This yammering progression evidently confounded the more professional military hardware on guard... and so does the SoulFighter-installed Claptrap.

"Damn... was this how a lot of folks found my CL4P-TP product lines to be confusingly talkative?"

"Yes!" All the available OR-15Cs and their Omnic Eradicator associates emphasized, causing the mono-wheeled experiment to look at them.

"Yeah... pretty wish that you synthetic ramrods didn't answer it so soon." Still, Fragtrap then fiddles its hands within the inner space of the robots' recently opened tray for an unexpressed 'reason.' The agenda doesn't stay hidden for long. "Hmm... so where did that confetti-filled package ended up inside my quantum-mechanical storage equipment?"

A few of those lower-ranked troops strangely spotted the prototype's actions. One wondered, "Uh... was there an order for us to get this maverick desist its activi-?"

The distinct digital sound of that unorthodox combat software from the FR4G-TP unit interferes the inquisitive ruckus. "Oh dear... my magic Vault-Hunter imitation programming is at it again." Soon enough, a large amount of hand-sized items come out of the modified Claptrap and randomly landed on any surface or anyone inside the roofless corridor — where they instantly detonate themselves into fiery blasts. "Oh shit, it's a firework party of grenades for all to see!" Half a minute later, the casualties of the cornering Omnics from this careless activation are estimated to be... zero; unexpectedly enough. Although a handful of 6RUN-TPs did fell into the existing holes of the elongated road, their descent towards the bottom of the subterranean hallways is survivable. Nevertheless, the explosion-inflicted synthetics are rather stuck in a daze-like condition. Excluding the lab-tinkered droid taking an overall look at the 'less-lethal' aftermath; with embarrassment transparently. "Heh, heh, heh, heh, ho... so um... My bad!"

His apology is immediately followed by a progression of cracks within the passage's stone pavement that everyone was standing on top of. The ominous deterioration ultimately gave way to the complete collapse of the man-made surface; in which all the combat bots (including the Fragtrap) are dropped to the hidden underground. The entire military crowd crashes on the solid floor and right themselves up with little to no damage from the impacts afterwards.

Same goes for our trouble-making 'automaton.' "Ow... perhaps I should change my opinions on the architectural meat-bags that created that crumbling infrastructure." Instantly, the Claptrap character notices the omnics giving it the equivalents of unhappy glares. "Jeez... uh... would another sorry help?"

"NO!"

"...Okay."

All of a sudden, robotic trespassers feel and hear rumbles from the direction leading to the laboratory's central coordinates. The vibrations and sounds of that unknown grew louder and increasingly getting closer to the combatants' latest predicament; as the omnics themselves cautiously retreat the other way — minus the FR4G-TP remain unmoved and curious. Under the exposure of sunlight now shining on the lower hallway, the source reveals itself as a large bipedal figure whose head and lower half of its body were that of a horned bull: a Minotaur to be exact. The legendary beast put out an aggressive bellow at its first 'victims' for the last, many years.

"Wow, he's big... REALLY big!" remarks the untied lab-experiment looking at the big creature in questionable awe. Then... it greets the half-man, half-beast entity. "Greetings! I'm a CL4P-TP-derived FR4G-TP anti-divine test-model, though my associates sometimes called me Claptrap Clappingtrapo the Fragtrap! So, do you have a name as you're walking around this ill-designed junk-pile for God knows how long? And why a badass like yourself is uh... staring at me right this instance?" In one fast swoop, the mono-wheeled target is suddenly in the tightening right hand of the minotaur. Follow by being dropped on top of the rather nosy lifeform's left hand palm and then getting its metal body pinched by two fingers from the other beastly manus. "Hey! That's simply damn impolite for what you've done there! Did your carbon-based mother ever taught you decent etiquette while growing around a feral lifestyle?! You know like saying hello with great cheers, conducting peaceful negotiations in sharing resources, or eating meals with good table manners instead of playing around your food like a child putting an indigestible... object..." Fragtrap finally realizes the monstrous 'humanoid' attempting to sink its bovine teeth into. "...right inside his or her mouth. Which is what YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" A bit too late for that plea to take effect; as the bull-headed carnivore simply makes a chomp on the combat prototype aligned with its set of teeth...

Although the minotaur surprisingly froze itself from feeling the hardness between its dental components. The bipedal monster takes the boxy victim out of its mandibles and see that the prey... remains extremely intact! Still, that revelation does not stop this aggressive organism from repeating its bite force upon the stubborn hull of an experimental claptrap unit.

The FR4G-TP robot complains, "Agh! Hey, do I look like an equivalent to a doggy chew toy or what? My scientifically tampered armor has the extraordinary strength similar to a nano-treated titanium alloy! You better stop biting me before one of your tee-...!" Two loud cracks from the broken teeth are clearly heard; superseded later by the yell of the animalistic devourer in great pain. "Ugh! That must've been really hurtfu—aaaaAAAAHHHH! Hey, watch it! You can't just wave around your savage forelimbs haphaza-aaaaAAAAHHHH!" In blind reaction, the bovine-headed creature unintentionally throws its 'tough' quarry through the empty spaces of the subterranean corridor. A structural crashing noise resonates across the dilapidated hallway, despite no visual signs of Claptrap at the far end under the blackish shadows.

Matters little to the angry minotaur that refocus its sight and roar at the omnic crowd; and the same goes for the mechanical 'abductors' who immediately shoot it with their shock-based weaponry. The electric stings by the hundreds put the mythic beast in a semi-state of paralysis (it continues to move for the synthetic offenders, although at a very sluggish pace due to the stunning effects of the accumulative electrocution). Given these circumstances they're stuck in, the gruntraps proceed to toss out their electrostatic grenades at the lumbering giant. Those straight-forward exploits should've firmly disabled the persistent minotaur... if it wasn't for the entirety of the spherical shock grenades to remain so adhesive onto the omnic throwers' hands for unknown reasons.

Which unfortunately led to a hysterical panic spree that affects all the 6RUN-TPs. "Iiiiiit's stuck to me! WAAAH!" "Get it off of ME!" "It's STUCK! NO! NO!" "GaaAAAH! NOT ME!" "Get it off! Get it off!" "Ah-oh-oh! How ironic!" "Help! Help! HELP!" "Ga-ah! Wa-ah! AAHH! IT'S STUCK!" "Agh, not AGAIN!" "Ah, waah, AH! Oh the irony!" "Pull it off! PULL IT OFF! NOOOOOOOO!" Several seconds later, the fixed handheld devices discharge into a lengthy field of intense electricity. The unleashed storm zaps intensely across the unlucky grunts and nearby associates. The 'friendly-fire' electrocution goes on for the duration of nine seconds until the arcing rebound ultimately stops — and left the combat bots seriously incapacitated. The mythical behemoth was fairly confused at the devastation and slowly regains some speed for a few of those 'petrified' intruders on the floor. When in closer range, the minotaur grabs a 6RUN-TP chassis with its fingers... only to get a static shock through touching. The bull-faced organism yells in rage and makes a big stomp on the poor droid with one hoof. Shortly afterwards, the lifeform just abuses several of the disabled robots in its way through kicks, stomps, punches, tosses, and other hostile acts. Didn't take long for this bipedal creature to then notice a familiar entity standing in the solar limelight and among its knocked out 'companions.'

"Good God... it's possible that my Torgue Fiesta package must have unintentionally disturbed the plasma-properties within your zapping bombs. Henceforth on my part, uh... Whoopsie!" The distinct claptrap then hears a very audible bellow from the irate monster; which in turn gets the robot's attention for it to subsequently see the minotaur groans by its new toothaches that has one hairy humanoid hand pressed upon. "Oh, you poor thing. Better to have an dental appointment with advanced teeth experts very soon for repairing those internal cavities." An idea simply came up from its technical thinking. "Hey, I got an interesting task for your organic pain. A high-five for easing your self-inflicted suffering!"

With all due respect in contrast, the yelling bull-headed creature does not understand Fragtrap's sentences — nor does it care of others' well-beings. Under aggressive instinct, the two-legged legendary organism unleashes an uppercut punch towards the boxy droid that has yet to put away its hand gesture in waiting. By coincidence, the beastly attack hits the palm of the construct's hand and sends the otherworldly prototype flying to the same direction again.

After experiencing another impact with the dark shadows, Claptrap 'nonchalantly' comments, "Eh... well, it's better than nothing I guess. Yet here I am back in the blackness of no visual references. Man... how were the previous owners able to see and move around this hidden basement without electric lighting?!" Nevertheless, it chooses to do something about that awkward status. "Okay, let's see if I get a flashlight or sort as intended." Once again... the FR4G-TP automaton mistakenly bring out the dialing progress sound of its paranormal test project. "Uh... maybe not. Whatever! It's a round and around and around she goes, as an anachronistic person would say!" When the digital processing is done, a small entity with similar CL4P-TP schematics appears out of thin air — albeit with two wing-shaped flames at the back and emitting corrosive gas that encircles the mini-drone. "Aww... I should've drawn tattoos on ya, my blighting Siren-trap!"

The little construct proclaimed, "Have no fear, Mini-trap is here!" In an odd way, this action package does illuminate the shadow-concealed hallway and some smaller passages that the Hyperion-derived AI didn't notice previously. However... the floating buddy remains on the spot and doing relatively nothing. "Uh... is this place supposed to be creepy, or what?" Before the trivia could be answered, the approaching minotaur arrives and being bathed in the strange luminescence. "Hi there, you bizarre human-beast mix-up! Wanna hear this aeroba-?" A big roar from the angry giant halts the robo-minion's question. "Hey! You can't just yell at me in wrath and disrupt my appeal about listeni-!" A large hand from the wild two-legged lifeform grabs and firmly traps the Siren-trap ally.

A bad move to initiate against the tiny trespasser it turns out; when the minotaur soon feels a nasty sensation within its physical grip. Like last time involving the biting on Claptrap, the mythic animal screams in agony and let go of the encased midget thing. A combination of acidic and heat-scorching disruptions has left an ugly mark on the bull-headed local's fingers and palm.

The boxy 'master' apologizes, "Yeah... I forgot to warn you in advance about this minion-trap's caustic and burning capabilities."

"We're also hopeful that bullying is not going to happen again!" adds the small buddy drone. Who, in turn, immediately receives a slamming fist towards the ground from the legendary beast's left hand. Once again, the beastly inhabitant earns a tremendous suffering upon its clenched end part. The same bloody injuries done by acids and fire released from the Siren-trap.

"Okay... that's actually a dumb idea you did there, fellow resident." Fragtrap remarks.

"Very stupid, indeed! We did try to warn ya and now look at your hands!" Which was the last statement made by the claptrap-looking drone... until the SoulFighter time limit has been reached and it being completely de-materialized to nothing. Therefore, the minotaur's main focus is that circular azure light belonging to the FR4G-TP's sole optic in the resumed darkness.

The semi-nocturnal monster initiates an physical assault; when it unexpectedly gets electrocuted in heavy voltages by dozens of airborne Bug drones discharging their electro-lasers at the bipedal lifeform's rear (and in very close range). The electrical surprise evidently immobilized the bull-headed specimen on the spot for a minute... long enough for some parachute-dropped payloads to be within the exposed hallway below and explosively disperse their sleeping gas contents.

XXXXXXXX

High above the Arrun Labyrinth, a large bomber aircraft flies far from the target where it let go of those tranquilizing bombs. As this NB-46C Armageddon closes its bomb-bay doors and returns home, another airborne vehicle of the same NOD-based schematic is coming in for a similar objective: delivering an array of sedative vapor ordnance to a bull-faced prize of identical species. Earlier, the arriving bombardment unit opened its underbelly compartment in preparation for the attack. Once the two-legged beast is under its downward cross-hairs, the heavy manta ray-like aeroplane disengages its sleep-inducing payloads that immediately descend towards their quarry.

Speaking of which, that particular minotaur is electrically frozen by numerable hits of stun blasts from a few Omnic Super-Eradicators — who were previously dropped from atmospheric altitudes, crashed through the 'devious' pavements, and instantly arrived on this underground corridor for their mythic 'prey' to find them. Info-wise, these warfare bots are slightly bigger; each armed with two arc-cannons on the shoulders and two arms holding one automatic energy-stun rifle per limb; and protected by tougher armor components plus enhanced electromagnetic shielding. Obviously, the 'guarding wildlife' found them and got greeted with volleys of those energy projectiles. Its savage freedom of movement was constricted enough for the falling bombs to expel their tranquilizing vapor materials in proximity to their 'bullish' target. Over a minute later of feeling increasingly drowsy, the minotaur inevitably collapses on the ancient floor in an unconscious state. Vocal fanfare is not being heard from the stoic entities of high-tech conflicts.

Even the approaching Alpha-19 group abstain themselves of giving out a celebratory sound of this successful sedation. Other remarks on the other hand...

"Does anyone here getting some weird feelings that this adventurous robbery is becoming more... uh, spoiled?" Kaydin says confusingly.

"Should that really mattered to us at this point, sir?" Corporal Cobb mentions.

"...eh, I guess nobody's not bothered by this cheating act then."

"Not from us, 2nd Lieutenant." The sharpshooter said nonchalantly. "On the bright side though, it's kinda nice that we're not as disposable as those poor troublemakers assigned to Bad Company right now."

"Sure... can't disagree with the changing environment that favors more on us than the feral specimens living in this decrepit institution. Anywho, let's keep going for those ancient laboratories surrounding the giant tree in the center!"

"Fine by us, Buck," Private Washburn replies in agreement. As the shock-troopers resume their strolls for the most significant collections located within the middle, the Maliwan-equipped captors slide down by rope from their dropships and begin their advanced entrapment upon the animalistic target— with further support from the Bug drones though.

Many yards of walking goes by and Alpha-19 again makes a few comments about the natural intrusion towards the man-made underground they're going thru. It helps that they're using active low-light vision inside each helmet and navigational instruments that showed the map of the hidden infrastructure.

"So... Second Lieutenant. Do these freaky tree roots remind you of something familiar in your previous deployment?" Kojo inquired.

"Well... it's complicated. Then again, these branching organs of the phototrophs above us don't exhibit the same insidious ambience that I remembered from my laboratory infiltration into a black-site full of cancerous madness. Which was probably overshadowed by a divine freak using darker power that reduced my chance of a 'normal' lifestyle; who was later gotten obliterated by a savior that unleashed an even more demonic ability."

"Someone much nastier than the notorious amazon zerg who once roamed this pre-industrial landscape?" Taylor quizzed.

"Which zerg-spliced lady you're talking about, Corporal?"

"Miss Matoi, sir. The one whom our eggheads and their Eldar acquaintances had grown in a secret facility together; only to mysteriously disappeared as a baby and later found to be raised by Elvish inhabitants on Zerus decades ago."

"Oh, that infamous Force-wielder with potent 'Vault-Hunting' qualifications. Rather than the blond gal that unknowingly got superhuman capacities from the same zerg-chimera chick."

"I'm still surprised that she was allowed to live on despite the impossibility of her escaping from Ryona's internal stranglehold... as a giant Zerg. I mean really, the details of Subject-Z3312817-SKM in beast mode were like scary boogeymen told in bedtime stories... eating people whole and ALIVE?! How's that supposed to be fun?"

"Yeah... I hear ya. Perhaps we should start writing down a manual specified to cooperate with an extremely dangerous woman who had digested almost two dozen 'immortals' from the female High Elves; although those nude victims were conscientiously too defunct and really, really old to ever give a tiny reaction as Matoi the zerg monster swallowed them completely intact."

Michael 'slightly' squirms at the revelation. "Ewww... maybe it's a good moment to focus more on our ETA for the photosynthetic titan; instead of chattering all day about sexy bodies disappearing in stomach acids or macro-scale cellular absorption for some perverse type of pornography. Please, sir?"

"Sure thing, Mickey. I'd say we'll be there in... no more than 10 minutes. Now let's keep pumping those legs, fellas!"

Eventually, the 'clandestine' fireteam made it to the open circle with the huge woody plant in the core; alongside thirty seconds to spare.

"Okay, boys. Split and search thoroughly for traps to disarm and relevant valuables for science!" Kaydin commanded. Accordingly, the shock-troopers separate and individually explore the big circular area (one lab room at a time). It's a good thing that their equipped scanners are able to see secret denial mechanisms thru solid walls; which are evidently answered with either clever skills to exhaust the stored 'ammo'... or explosive blasts from guns and/or smaller bombs. Once those defenses of the ancient complex were made inert per room, the four soldiers could then meticulously look high and low for any worthy items to be subjected under scientific analyses. Of course... there are also over a hundred delivery-oriented Bug drones just arriving above the open sanctum and soon descending for those 'precious' possessions on a larger scale; though they proceed to do so only after the traps are silenced by Alpha-19 in each storage place.

"You know what? I may later file forward a complaint concerning the actions directing us that were similar to those in Bad Company." The sniper laments slightly as he notices the airborne bots following his lead inside one chamber.

Washburn counters through wireless communication, "On the other hand, we don't need to be all worrisome over so many stuff abandoned here. Like these Rokude Pear specimens and other medicinal plants that the natives were metaphorically dying to have."

"I could accept that, Private." Cobb joins the verbal conversation. "The current question in my mind is how picky these floating errand boys are gonna be, when encountering a large bunch of corpses inside metal cages that I'm seeing right now." At the present location, the Corporal is adjacent to the rows of desiccated cadavers on both side of this elongated room. His loneliness became short lived however, once those high-tech drones hover in and use their tractor beams to carry away... well, everything. "Uh... status update, guys. These Bugs aren't as selective as suspected of them, in consideration of our drones taking a notable interest in retrieving the rather dried-up bodies."

2nd Lieutenant Buck answers in an archive for rolled scrolls, "Don't worry about our insectoid allies, everyone. Just let them do their things and continue paying attention for more valid trinkets that may require additional evaluations." By curiosity alone, he picks an enclosed parchment and opens for a look at its readability. "Gotta say, this written papyrus seems unexpectedly preserved and intact for the last few centuries in the middle of this peculiar oasis." The team leader remarks without any comm devices remaining on by accident. Very shortly, he detects one of those Bugs looking at the open scroll Kaydin is holding. In response, the lead 'ranger' plainly rolls back the document and gives it to the drone's tractor beam. "That said, I can't help but wonder how much fuss the 'almighty' deities are going to express upon this free-for-all clearance sale."

As time goes on by each passing hour, more and more of the antiquated laboratories in every floor became entirely empty of knowledge gained by their long-gone tenants. The expropriated 'materials' are basically shipped into several inbound cargo-VTOL's floating near the enormous tree and above the research facilities of the Labyrinth's Inner Sanctum. Ultimately, just one room remains unspoiled from the extraterrestrial confiscations... but not forever; as Alpha-19 converge together at the front door and proceed to dismantle the awaiting traps in store.

...Though not in a subtle method at this point. "Explosives are fully armed, sir." Michael notifies his commander of the now-prepared door breach, along with putting himself several yards safer from the destructive emplacements and giving the detonator to Buck. "How about you do the honor, boss?"

The Second Lieutenant smirks at the trigger device on his palm. "Alright boys, fire in the hole!" Seconds after pressing the thumb-size button, the demolition charges blow up simultaneously and cause significant damage to both the mechanical trickery against 'normal' trespassers and the physical hinged barrier. Even so... the resulting blasts are not as spectacular as the previous explosions upon the mazes and the cockatrice 'holding pens' outside.

Anyway, the fireteam goes through the unlocked entryway and apparently 'confirms' the age-old priority of this chamber: a type of iron-maiden sarcophagus in the middle of the fairly sizable area that had its inner metal layer dented and marred by someone powerful beyond belief. Plus, there were broken chains and cuffs inside the iron cabinet that indicated the failed efforts to constrain this specimen for intensive studies of prohibited promises.

"Hot damn... is this where that gothic demigod of warfare and insanity was once locked up for the Arrun Kingdom's stubborn quest for immortality?" The marksman said in perplexity.

"Looks like it, Corporal Agu." Kaydin presumably agrees. "Notwithstanding the recorded observations showing her aging process being 'slightly' altered by that very anguish user of the Force's darker side."

"Yeah... which continues for about five or six years before the apostle's divine power ultimately stopped her growing 'older' and had the hag's current form stayed there decades ago."

"Oh, so you did read some extracurricular history that involved this trimmed continent in medieval stasis? Am I correct with that guess, Kojo?"

"Well... there wasn't a lot of educational options in military training to attend otherwise, commander."

Coincidentally all of a sudden, Alpha 19 hear a muffled noise of an allegedly large explosion.

Taylor wonders, "So... any ideas on what in God's grace has triggered that eruption?"

XXXXXXXX

Ah, ah, ha-ahem... Yeah... the culprit to that big blast is now buried under a couple yards deep of stone rubble. To be bluntly clear, the inquisitive Fragtrap activated its SoulFighter programming again and randomly ended up with the Clap-in-a-Box action package: in the manifestation of an oversized round bomb and a lightened fuse on top. Eventually, the digi-structed device burst itself into oblivion and inflicted heavy damage to the surrounding infrastructure underground. Which obviously led to a subterranean collapse and kinda entombed the unpredictable prototype. Presumably the only victim of its own action, considering that the air worthy Bugs tracking Claptrap flew away when they recognized the explosive device that the FR4G-TP was holding; before the timed detonation. After the ill-choreographed demolition, those hovering drones return to pay attention on the site of structural rubbish made by the experimental CL4P-TP construct. Half a minute later, a peculiar object jumps out of the sizable debris pile and then makes a landing on the more solidified part of the stony wreckage. The Bug flocks at present can see the yellow-colored box with one... wheel.

Oh wait, it's the somewhat 'dreadful' Claptrap droid in one piece. "Wow... I unintentionally did a lot of destruction to this corridor below the surface, now haven't I? But at least some sunlight are able to brighten up this sub-terrestrial portion of the whole decaying research complex; that I'm increasingly getting myself lost at this point. Right, guys?" All it received is absolute muteness from the contemporary group of autonomous aircraft. "Right... the silent treatment that I'm now seeing here. Any ongoing thoughts of having vocal implants bolted down, henceforth?" The same quietude from the Bug drones applies.

Abruptly though, they sorta twitch their floating mainframes in synchronization — as if something or someone else has caught the electronic collectives' attention.

"...Is there a problem that I'm not aware of?"

XXXXXXXX

That's an extraordinary yes, Clappy. This potentially problematic factor came in the shape of a human woman with short blue hair and red eyes. Additionally, she wore an outdoor hooded cloak that covered her main body but didn't hid the knight-related boots of armor. The lady's exterior appearance does not initially elicited concerns from the confronting OR-15C trio on guard duties at the edge of the forest; supported by a few Omnic Null-troopers, nine 6RUN-TPs, and a dozen Bug drones. Immediately however, the military grouping recognized a reddish blade being held by her right hand that fits the previous descriptions of the Blood Sword Diva... which included the summoning process when the blue-haired dame 'passively' ripped her own heart full of blood and magically forged the rather dangerous instrument around her detached organ.

Quite truthfully, the red-eyed woman's weapon is the renowned Blood Sword Diva of mind-control. Since this 'unorthodox' blade required a sacrificial daughter of the human Forn family to materialize for a limited usage (along with that user not ended up dead by the bloody move), the robotic guards deduced straight away that she none other than the newest demigoddess associated with the God of Light and Order: Mabel Forn. On that account thru their programming, the Nubian Omnics warned her a couple times to not enter the Arrun Labyrinth and its surrounding woodlands for today — or else suffer the consequences of fully committing such transgression. The female apostle unquestionably shrugged off the cautionary statements and activated her 'blessed' artifact for an attempt in making them obey her completely.

Three tries forward though, the brainwashing enchantment undeniably failed to affect the autonomous machines: to Mabel's shock.

One of the centaur-like omnics declares, "This is your last warning, Miss Forn! Turn away or we'll defeat you!"

She procrastinates for many seconds to either listen this time or push through these... metal creatures. In the end nonetheless, she stays firm with an investigation.

Regardless of her opponents who dare stand against Zumfuut's 'chosen one' and her obligations — as she thrusts her sword towards a four-legged target. It pierces through the omnic's raised hexagonal shield, yet run short of actually touching the synthetic's torso-frame while relatively stuck inside the mechanical arm. Quite amazing for the apostle to see her sword lodged within the metallic being's forelimb, until she notices too late an incoming electro-baton smacking on Mabel's abdomen and gets electrified at the same time. The blue-haired demigoddess is flown back a few yards away and impacted on the arid terrain.

While she arduously erects herself in a combat stance, the combat droids on sentry protocols are soon reinforced with more Gruntraps, Null-troopers, Eradicators, and Bugs that come from both VTOL transports and the flying drones themselves. From there, both sides are in a standstill (although the Forn lady now has to consider retrieving her embedded weapon back into her possession). The damaged OR-15C notices, "What are you subordinates waiting for? Fire at will!"

"Right away, leader!" obeyed a mono-wheeled underling as everyone began their retaliation with barrages of energy bolts and shock grenades.

XXXXXXXX

In the meantime, a top section of one research facility exploded outward by a powerful sonic blast. Consequently, the structural violation has obviously left a big hole inside the upper covering (large enough for Fireteam Alpha-19 to be levitated or climb by rope for their designated pick-up vehicle).

"Evac route has been created, 2nd Lieutenant." Corporal Cobb informs his team leader of the open-air gap that he made.

"Good work, pal. Now we just have to wait for our getaway aircraft to ride in."

Kojo agrees, "Yep... better take this option than the ordeal of climbing the big, fat tree to its crown canopy for extraction. Then again, who the hell gave that 'upward' idea for Captain Zavarro to suggest our next course of action?"

"Must be someone who still maintains a resentment to Buck's persistent witticism. Any thoughts, boss?" Private Washburn stated.

"I may have a few guesses, but it might be much more considerate to ask the Exo-captain in person about that."

"Kinda wish that we had some portable grappling hooks or hover-packs in the first place, anyhow. Don't you think, team leader?" Agu remarked.

"Sure, trading in our heavy firepower over all-terrain versatility seems like a nice idea. Oh wait... how about wearing very shiny power-armors to do both of those things?"

"Which 'very shiny power-armors' do you have mind, Second Lieutenant?" Michael inquired.

"Eh... perhaps the most state-of-the-art ones without undergoing heavy surgeries and genetic rewrites. Yes?"

"Right... that sounded like you need more professional patience, competencies, and further promotions on the military ladder to achieve such high-quality equipment." Taylor commented.

"Uh-huh... I'll contemplate those disciplinary requirements for becoming a symbol of lethal obedience at a later time. And let's hope our blabbering moron on one motorized wheel doesn't ruin this limited period of peacefulness prematurely."

A clear statement indeed...

XXXXXXXX

It just so happens that the 'disaster-prone' Fragtrap has began its super-magical roulette again, while the independent bot was thinking of how to circumnavigate around its omnic 'friends' and the structural pile of rubble. When the notorious randomness is completed, a coaxial gizmo of rotor blades materializes on top of the lab-tinkered prototype. As the two rotors gradually spin in opposite directions like a helicopter, a rather strange music starts to play from some audio speakers digi-structed on the claptrap unit's chassis.

"Wowzers! This is similar to that cartoon show about a bionic inspector doing his wacky business to save the day! Nice theme song for this flying package, by the way." The FR4G-TP unit remarked.

In short order, the rotational propulsion is in full swing and lifts the yellow box-shaped construct up towards the open sky. Which is instantly followed by the moderately numbered swarm of Bugs going upwards as well.

"Hi there, guys! What do you all think about this crazy gadget from my anti-god programming? Pretty useful and awesome to have such airborne mobility from my personal view... Although, I still feel a bit unease with myself at this elevation."

Like last time, the drones very much stayed silent on Claptrap's audible expressions. Sort of perturbing to the modified robotic fellow; now hovering at a particular altitude.

"Boy... what a bunch of floating sour-pusses I'm confronted with. Whatever, it's time to continue my exploration from a bird's eye view! Probably that gigantic photo-synthesizing lifeform in the center for starters." About that, relatively speaking... the airborne automatons finally respond to Fragtrap with their mounted guns warming up and pointing at it. "Uh... what did I said wrong to get you fellas all suddenly hostile? It's not as if I'm going to accidentally unleash a pervasive plague that could affects either the sexy men or women to die and turn them into flesh-eating zombies with no cure. I assume it's all propaga-ow! Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Anyway, the Bugs discharge their energy bolts countless times to immobilize the annoying droid. However... the weaponized electricity on impact unexpectedly gets sucked into the coaxial rotor set crowning the tampered CL4P-TP. A few minutes goes by and the robotic swarm recognize how ineffective their energy barrages were (for the purpose of absolute disablement upon Fragtrap); hence the immediate ceasefire of the drones' attacks.

On the contrary... the big energy surge inside the helicopter contraption apparently amplifies its rotational speed at extraordinary levels; in addition to decrease controllability for Claptrap. As a result, the digi-structed gear package quickly sends the FR4G-TP droid flying in the air very erratically and with no signs of stopping (Oddly enough, the theme song is switched for a background music of sort with similar rhymes and tones). Many Bugs do evade the fast, disorderly flight path — but some unluckily get hit and spiral towards either the ground or open airspace. A short time later, the yellowish prototype in horror chaotically heads for the notable enormous tree in the middle. It didn't crash the main trunk or crown in Fragtrap's haphazard flying; except for a few dozens of branches being snapped away by this uncontrollable aviation for less than a minute. After that circular trimming, the runaway coaxial rotors change directions for an aero-spheric region above the skirmish between Mabel and Omnic lookouts.

Prior to our soaring party-crasher's arrival, the blue-haired demigoddess at last pulled out her divine sword from the Nubian's shield arm and dished out a few swings towards the tougher combat bot since her evasive maneuvers began (besides a few Null-troopers and Gruntraps getting kicked and punched tremendously hard by Mabel during such Herculean sidestepping). Even so... the OR-15C's composite armor plating and concussion gel layer were proven durable to tolerate those powerful slashes from its supernatural opponent a number of times over; before the protective covering eventually gave way and the shield-mounted limb got cut away. Doesn't mean that the apostle done it unscathed, when the centaur-esque machine counter-stroke again with its shock-baton — which obviously pushed her backwards like last time and left Miss Forn rather vulnerable for a follow-up attack. Alas... the focus of the robotic force is shifted towards the screaming source above them (Claptrap, needless to say).

Anyway, the panicking CL4P-TP construct ultimately dives downward and crashes in between the divine being and the Omnic guards. Several seconds of staring by both sides forward, the magic-experimental unit organizes itself to stand upright in relation to the impacted surface. "Ugh... that collision by the head was quite a damn pain in the arse." By the way, there something apparently uncomfortable of seeing that propulsion engine on Claptrap's head undergoing a sort of... electrical increase in voltage. Immediately afterwards, the helicopter gadget explodes and emits a very big pulse of electromagnetism. Inside the large EMP bubble anyhow, practically everyone experiences intense spikes of electrocuting energy within their bodies. Once the electric field dissipated half a minute later, all the disabled combatants collapse on the earthly surface — other than Fragtrap, undoubtedly. "Ouch... that's quite a shock of getting electrified here. Get it? Shock? Electrified? Ha, ha, ha... uh..." Yeah... the 'audience' nearby are too paralyzed/unconscious to vocalize either a laughter or disapproval. "I guess this is just bad timing for a few jokes at this point. So, um... sorry about that!"

Out of the blue afterwards, the experimental FR4G-TP construct detects a few Carry-all VTOLs coming in its direction. Those airborne transports transparently made their landings rather close to the frozen/KO'd apostle and immediately let their Maliwan-equipped passengers out for the opportunistic sake of apprehending Mabel Forn in her comatose state. Therefore, the soldiers utilize the most effective techno-restraints to further restrict the lady's body movement whenever she eventually wakes up.

Even as Claptrap witnesses the imprisonment of a demigoddess. "...Hey there, you clandestine ninja-slash-kidnappers! Is the young lady holding the somewhat grotesque pointy stick still biologically active, even with the medieval gossips of her being given paranormal powers from her patron god of order?" asked the robot in a 'cheerful' voice.

"We're not at liberty to inform a malfunctioning unicycle like you," said an armed operative standing between Fragtrap and the unconscious quarry.

"Ohhh... so it's indisputably under the veil of secrecy, I see. Which means that I could postulate on how many dissections or testings are going to be approved for this godly-gifted gal you're taking away! In the name of the Almighty Lord, I can conceptualize the fact-finding nightmares that our captured semi-deity is going to be so freaked out of! Things like getting cut repeatedly by scalpels without consent; having needle syringes inject their liquid drugs inside her regenerative body; getting the lady's anatomy scanned countless time while trapped within an MRI equipment; receiving painful infliction from the latest tools of destruction for counteracting your divine kind; and seeing scores of other biological specimens in chemical preservative tanks or bone-breaking displays that had shown scientific injuries by either accidents or deliberations — such as all the embalmed humans or humanoids being completely naked and dead, entire skeletons of former animals assembled as exhibits for physical inspections, test-tube babies who were genetically spliced together with alien DNA of different species or for cybernetic synchronization, and a whole lot of amputated organs in embalming chemicals that were taken from their imprisoned donors. Speaking of which, how many top-secret facilities across the entire planet are operational at this time? I curiously said that because your Eldar comrades in the Social Justice department can be very tenacious in scrutinizing and remaking the guidelines concerning your controversial experiments on countless test subjects. Let's hope those duty-bound exemplars of sapient dignity are in a permissible mood to ignore your upcoming analyses upon the supposedly ethereal germ-bag that you guys have recently delivered inside the pirated Nod aircraft."

The vehicle being mentioned (along with carrying the Maliwan-armed personnel and their captured apostle in its cabin) quickly levitates vertically and reorients itself for its flight path away from the Arrun Labyrinth.

"...Which has now taken off the ground and begins its airborne trajectory to somewhere." Before long, the Hyperion-derived robot sees more VTOL aircraft and Bug swarms in the sky. Apparently, those flying units are moving further and further away from the ancient laboratories of the Arrun Kingdom. "Uh... what's up with the sudden rush, people? It's not as if an incoming WMD is on its way to obliterate the ancient research settlement behind me." Ten seconds forward, the FR4G-TP construct turns around and spots a bright beam of light pointing downwards instantaneously.

Further analysis from Claptrap's visual scanning reveals that the ray of heat-searing particles is targeting the biggest tree in the center and wide enough in circumference to envelope the whole phototroph. Effectively, the astronomically high temperature emitted by the directed subatomic matter has begun scorching every living tissue of the larger plant and the adjacent environment to a crisp (or more likely get melted into glass-like substances). A couple minutes and a half afterward, the lethal beam by thousands of degrees gradually dissipates itself and leaves out a fairly sizable smoke cloud where the giant photosynthetic organism used to be.

Regardless of what the short, independent CL4P-TP model cannot see below the obscuring treeline of the encircling forest. "Gosh... I was expecting an awesome aftermath from that bombarding death ray; Not a rather dull pile of bellowing ashes being observed from a great distance. Speaking of being far away, how about little o' me refocus my curiosity about what's left of that labyrinth place?" And just like that, Fragtrap proceeds its ground-level travel towards the decimated center of that bygone laboratory complex. It comments again, after almost a dozen yards of rolling through the forested perimeter. "On the bright side thoughtfully, perhaps that last orbital strike of that Jan Templar-class heavy bombardment warship has left more stuff intact than a high-yield thermonuclear warhead."

Immediately however, something flashes very brilliantly in front of Claptrap's eye component. The blinding light lasted for many seconds, before it gives way to a spherical giant of yellow fire in greater clarity above the edge of tree canopies. The sight of that fireball is soon followed by a big shock-wave breaking apart multitudes of tall, numerable plants that encircled the Arrun facilities for countless generations. The FR4G-TP automaton gets propelled and tumbled very far to the rear by this artificial wind; on the contrary. Once that pressure outburst is over, our boxy prototype resumes its undertaking to sight-see the damages implemented today on this particular ruin (aside from taking a long glimpse at the upward mushroom cloud). After half a mile of traveling, it encounters carbonized trunks and other remains caught in a large zone of inhumane temperatures. As Claptrap passes through that burnt ring layer, it eventually notices the outer walls of the mazes... in pieces and their exterior surfaces vitrified to alien glass.

To be frank upon additional inspections thru wandering, all of the mazy edifices have suffered extreme devastation by that nuclear detonation in the Arrun Labyrinth's focal point. Likewise, Fragtrap gradually recognizes the terrible crater where the entire Inner Sanctum and the 'booby-trapped' corridors used to exist.

"Yeah... I guess the deployment of a small-scale tactical, fusion nuke was close enough."

---

At an unknown time period inside a classified location...

Both eyelids of Mabel Forn slowly open in sync with her consciousness being regained. When the demigoddess's visual sight becomes very clear as daylight, she punctually pays heed to the confusing and shocking collection in front of her: squishy artifacts inside containers of transparent glass, human skeletons being displayed in the open, and... amputated/dissected pieces of naked women and girls whose red eyes and blue hairs were eerily similar to the apostle's physical traits. "What in Zumfuut's realm is this unholy place?"

The blue-haired immortal jerks her whole anatomy to get herself standing, but that outcome did not happen. Immediately, Mabel realizes the metallic shackles that unbelievably pinned her to a solid board in the shape and size of her limb-stretched figure. The semi-deity's wrists, elbows, neck, ankles, knees, and waist-line are completely fixed by these incredibly firm bindings. Speaking of which, her arms and legs were diagonally straighten out downwards in reversed-V patterns. Strangely on the decency aspect, her attire is still worn by Forn while being restrained. The apostle again tries a few times to force her way out — yet the payoff remains unfavorable when dealing with the seemingly demigod-defying restraints. Stubbornly though, she repeats her attempts for a short while. Until...

"# Take it easy, Miss Forn. Those composite harnesses are made of iron, carbon, titanium, and other elements that strengthens your current bondage as precautions for supernatural studies. #"

Hearing a female voice put a pause on Mabel's efforts to break free. She moves around her head to find the source of that feminal sound.

"# I shall give you a nice hint, my distant cousin. A specimen that stays fully intact. #"

There it is again that voice of the fairer gender. A short while of thought processing later, the trapped demigoddess realizes that the previous speeches were heard directly inside her head (and not through her two ears she presumed earlier). The wonder of how this 'magical' communication worked undergoes a pause; when Forn spots a transparent container of glass filled with clear liquids that held a lady with the same blue hair and no clothes on — showing the fairly modest size of the person's breast pair, albeit her long hairs oddly covers the teats. However... the skin-bared physique of this 'sleeping' beauty is neither fat or skinny; not to mentioned the muscles beneath the exterior layer being a bit athletic. Additionally, the woman's eyelids remain closed and her lips were aligned straight with no signs of horror or positive emo-...

'Wait... did I saw a corpse smile just now?' The imprisoned apostle noticed.

"# Yes, you actually did. #" The telepathic voice replied. Soon, the eyes of the submerged 'human' open up and reveals the red color of her irises — as well as the luminous cybernetics inside them (not revealed to the imprisoned demigoddess are the aligned bundles of cables that were attached to the live specimen's back spine). "# Notwithstanding the fact that I'm still alive under... man-made circumstances. #"

---

More than two months from the Imperial war victory over the Vieran tribeswomen...

"Do we really need to take the hiking option for this scenic route, Second Lieutenant?" asked the sniper of Alpha-19 now wearing the outfits of medieval rangers; as they travel by foot along a fairly big river in the direction against the flowing gradient, nearing the morning sunrise. "The riparian trees and shrubs near this waterway are all nice to look at as potential tourist attractions, but we may end up losing the trails of our hot babes taken by those Imperial sex-maniacs."

His team leader nonchalantly answers, "Yeah... quite tempting to use other forms of transportation to improve our tracking efforts upon those Trojan Mares being carried away, Romeo. Still, Captain Zavarro did made a point of not displaying high-tech vehicles for the superstitious locals to go ballistic. Also, that would be cheating and ruining the nasty surprise of what those greedy Saderans actually brought into their homes after a certain amount of time in the long run."

"Eh, whatever you say Buck. Even so... the missions given to those gals were somewhat, um... degrading in my mind."

"Wow... isn't that amazing for a responsible womanizer to say? Like I said, our lab-grown dolls certainly must've known the nightmarish situations they're being deployed into and hence the arduous training the girls had to go through."

Private Washburn cautiously adds, "We'll take that in mind, Second Lieutenant. At least those dames aroused less hesitations than the canceled proposal of growing superhuman guys for espionage, in a twisted kind of military perspective. No offense, though."

"Right..." Corporal Cobb comments, "If the unlucky bunch were lads instead, then they would be enslaved for hard labor in the mines and similar stuff. Like forever, practically speaking."

Kaydin acknowledges, "Yeesh... definitely a very sad fate to have; where you cannot make consensual love with the opposite sexes and get rewarding gratifications from your self-centered bosses for all the physical investment being put into."

"A living hell indeed, sir." Michael agrees, "And I think we had enough stories to gossip for today here."

"Hmm... on the contrary, I have a surreal story that I want to tell in consideration of this topic about nightmares."

"Uh... is that wise, 2nd Lieutenant?"

"That's up to debate afterwards. Anyway, let's take a break and listen to my most recent bad dream to have." As ordered, the undercover fire-team stop where they are. "Okay, now this bizarre nightmare begun with me appearing inside a blackish... dimension or whatnot. Nothing special to recognize as I stroll a bit, until I noticed an electronic device of some kind in a rectangular mold. I used both hands to hold it like an opened book to read, but its fixed touchscreen displayed several... peculiar statements in two different languages."

"I assume they're in either Saderan or Elvish alphabets, yes?" Corporal Agu guessed.

"Actually, no. The sentences are in both English and Japanese, oddly enough. Additionally, the typed messages are arranged in four quadrants: the top two showing the ongoing writings that are in either English or Japanese... and apparently made by different authors. The other bottom half seems to translate the contents of what the upper quadrants are actually saying."

"Do you know what were being said in this... dream of yours, then?" Taylor questioned.

"Not everything, I'm afraid. What I could sum up is that these 'visionary' statements were all about the... ugh, greatness declared by the two disparate sources. Something like "Oh! My country Japan is the best out of the entire world! We got mountainous countryside, rice fields, ancient traditions, excellent talents for science and technology, organized cities, best crime-prevention procedures, honorable defenders in their military, and so on." On the... American side though, it reads-"

"Hang on, Buck. What's the word 'American' supposed to be?" Romeo stated.

"Yeah... that can be explained in this dream of mine; where this 'American' person maintained that his nation is the best one on... Earth. Now that's rather funny since we don't recall a sovereign state in our extra-dimensional history that goes by such a title. Alternate history, perhaps? Still... let's keep going with how this unknown typewriter says many claims in English of his 'America' got God-given liberties, gun rights, capitalism, best military force in the world, automotive freedom, can-do attitudes of what's better for the whole planet, et cetera et cetera. After reading these rants repeatedly for an undesirable period of time however, I had enough of such self-obsessed conversations and decided to play around the gizmo for finding out who are these two wordsmiths. Eventually, I succeeded and saw two men typing their messages in each room. One guy having the facial look of an East-Asian in some sort of military uniform; the other seemed to be European of light skin and wearing... honestly, I'm rather confused with what his clothes supposed to be."

"So... these so-called ranters, were they self-aware?" Washburn wondered.

"Initially, the separate duo were more focused on using their computer systems to send out their prideful statements. Until both of them simultaneously spout out nationalistic declarations and hear their voices. Somewhat hilarious to observe their confusions of why they're here and what each author were doing with their dialogues... at first."

"I have a feeling these two fellas evidently don't like each other, sir."

"Don't like each other? Those guys quickly hate each other off the chart! The two ranters in my nightmare criticized nonstop about their countries' imperfections. Their tirades included this Japan having suicide rates, xenophobic behaviors, strict expectations for excellencies, and stubborn denial of war crimes against prisoners and civilians in their imperial past. Then again, the American shortcomings of dealing with high crime rates, firearm obsessions, environmental pollution, poverty, economic inequities, racist acts, and so forth were ironically in equal value as their Japanese counterparts. In my observation, anyhow."

"Followed by finding yourself an exit from the ugly criticism, right?" The sharpshooter supposed.

"Wrong answer; I got instead the inconvenience of bumping at some invisible walls that enclosed a very large area of where I was inside. Which means my escape from the persistent motormouths of hatred was denied for some reasons and my patience for their ethnocentric bickering became increasingly ran dry. So a number of irritating hours later, my psychopathic side apparently won out and causes me to bring the pistols for the sake of shutting them up permanently."

"Are we nearing the end of this particular bedtime story?"

"...Actually no, because my handguns unexpectedly disintegrated before I even pulled the triggers. Regardless of that dreamlike confusion, I proceeded with my combat knifes to do the next attempt at silencing the uncontrollable jackasses... only for those blades to also dissolve into dust. Almost the same thing happening to every killing instrument that I tried to use. Everything except for... a utensil to scoop up food to your mouths."

"Wait... something like a spoon, 2nd LT?"

"It's not something: more akin to exactly like a spoon! I mean, seriously... a spoon. A single Frickin' Goddamn eating tool described as a spoon! And since I was getting very sick of those fanatically passionate assholes and had only that metal utensil available in that so-called nightmare, I simply deci-" [An audible splash of water] "Uh... what was that?"

Quite frankly, all four of Alpha-19 heard the sudden aqueous noise. In addition, the watery sound repeats itself in an increasingly approaching manner. Didn't take long to figure that the nearby river is the source of the recurring splashing; not the exact location of the water flow in this case. That part soon becomes irrelevant when a large, elongated thing burst out of the aqueous surface layer — and lands on the adjacent bank. At the same time conveniently, the morning sunrise manifests itself and shine its light upon the silver-esque scales belonging to this now revealed entity: an aquatic giant of a river serpent. By the looks of it as the shock troopers observed from a safe distance, this self-beached organism is thrashing often and in great pain.

"Does... anyone here have some ideas of what's wrong with this massive freshwater creature?" The team commander inquires.

Corporal Cobb informs, "Not a certain clue, Buck. But something inside that overgrown eel is clearing giving it a bad tummy-ache or whatever is happening in there."

Very shortly though, a hand-sized puncture occurs at the lengthy beast's middle body. Bloody pieces of flesh were expelled outwardly; quickly accompanied by a widen tear horizontally from that gory point of origin. On the 'bright' side, Alpha-19 are given a clear sight as to what (more appropriately who) has caused the eel-like behemoth to become... welp, dead dead:

A female human of a slight muscular build-up across her body — apart from the fact that plenty of her green hair and skin tissues were missing due to the effects of being inside the deceased monster's digestive system; henceforth the lustrous bundles of textile-resembling, nano-enhanced fibers now exposed to the outside environment for the uneasy operatives to witness. Including around the absent areas of her acid-violated bosoms. After emerging from the recent 'river-kill', she just stands upright and slowly rotates her head left and right while catching the freed woman's breath.

"Ahem... I don't want to be like a rude moron at this moment, but..." Kaydin Buck speaks. "Do you have a given name other than your alphanumerical identification tag? Seeing as you're very likely a Trojan Mare that somehow got swallowed by a snake-like giant and destroyed it from the inside to freedom, your answer about yourself may persuade us on how to react to your... dissolved injuries." Several seconds later of staring at the lead officer, the naked beauty unexpectedly faints and collapses onto the solid ground. His subordinates turn their eyes on him for possible explanations, commands, or something else. "Yeah... okay, let's postpone the developing hypotheses for the time being and start assessing the undressed gal on whether it's necessary to help her or not."

The marksman whistles at the caring idea before speaking, "Alright, Alpha-19 Lead. We'll check on how bad her boobs took the acidic torture test implemented by the mighty lifeless serpent next to us."

"While respecting the dignity of not vandalizing the unconscious dame in any other way, I should add. Meanwhile... I got a nightmare to swiftly wrap it up if my medical assistance is potentially necessary for her sake."

"You're really going to manage the fresh seafood that our superhuman spy has broke out of today?" puzzled the private-ranked trooper.

"Uh... no, not that body horror of spilled guts. It's the overall conclusion of my subconscious dream where I scooped out all of their eyes; and me laughing at the chauvinists' suffering."

"...sir, that sounded much like a fantasy of you being a sadistic hitman to everyone's horror."

"Oh sure. I could've wake up all happy with that impulsive act... instead of the nightmare to continue itself with two infuriating mobs appearing out of nowhere and pointing their weapons at me being armed only with the bloodstained spoon available."

"What kinds of weapons, by the way?"

"Well... one horde of ultra-nationalists with Oriental faces got a whole bunch of katana blades ready to slice me open. The other large group of xenophobic fascists with Caucasian features had lots of guns putting me in their cross-hairs — like several hundreds of those ballistic armaments with safeties off and my name on their bullets."

"Gosh... isn't that a terrible way for someone to die like that, huh?"

"Honestly, those attacks didn't happened. The bad vision ended with an alleged nuclear bomb exploding on top of all participants... and feeling the unbelievable burns together."

Taylor mindfully took note of the ending. "Right... does that mean we're overdue for our own psychology appointments or what?"

---

I imagined the Jan Templar-class orbital starship to be an enlarged version of the ISA cruisers in the Killzone universe; ship length altered to be around 625 meters, a bigger and powerful beam cannon, and modified with more armor and defense armaments installed — alongside additional space for vehicle storage.

Edit: Chapter title changed in response to OnePunchPlayer's observation of little to no Destiny exports.