Chapter 3: The B.O.T.S.

Adrian approached the door of the office and knocked three times.

"Come on in," A deep, hoarse voice came from inside. As Adrian opened the door, thick black smoke seeped out into the hallway.

Primera coughed a bit. "Damn, I think the old man's trying to recreate hell inside."

The fifteen square-meter room was quite a mess; with paperwork scattered everywhere and the window blinds partially blocking the morning sun, the place was a infernal dance floor of smoke and light.

"You know, that sort of smoking puts forests fires to shame," Adrian said as he went in. Primera followed shortly, covering her nose and mouth with a white handkerchief.

A burly priest with a crescent white crown of hair appeared sitting behind a mahogany table amidst the gray haze. On his roughly-shaven mouth was a lighted cigar while butts of several others littered a large ash tray directly in front of him.

"Ah, Adrian and Prim, what can I do you for?" greeted the old man, paying no attention to the snide remarks.

"We need to ask if the Foundation has ID'ed a new model set of bots in the Chrimville area. Our last assignment looked like a new model. We're starting to have a hard time bringing them down," reported the huntress as she placed her weapon beside the visitor's couch.

Ayn inhaled deeply and extinguished his half-finished cigar in the ashtray. His face didn't show any sign of distraught.

"No. The chips that have come from that hotspot show the same K.O.R.E. build. Maybe you just slipped a little during your last sortie," replied the priest with smoke coming out of his nostrils.

Adrian stepped forward. "I saw what I saw. The reflex of the last one was too sharp to be a glitch."

Tension built up along with the thick smoke.

"The bots that you're hunting right now are supposed to be remnants of the technomancers' division after their creator, Frederich Nanorov died during the siege of the Autovmat College of Geffen during the war. Since nobody's making them anymore, you shouldn't be encountering newer models like when the war was still on."

Adrian was silent. The old man was right. The bots that they hunted for a living were the ones left wandering in the wilds when their masters relinquished their dependency codes in an attempt to wreak chaos in the lands shortly after the war ended.

Biomechanical Organoid Tactical Slaves were developed during the reunification war in an attempt to replenish diminishing forces in the frontlines. While most attempts to build such bots ended up making very expensive marionettes that easily broke down, some of them eventually succeeded. But it was all too late. The Geffen surrendered and the war was ended shortly after bots were reported to have been sighted in the frontlines.

The moral aspect of B.O.T.S. proved too strong for any government. They were eventually outlawed by the Rune Midgard Council and strong sanctions were placed against their use. Most Creators who couldnt take the destruction of their art set loose the last of their creations before turning themselves in or killing themselves. And now, they, BOTS hunters are tasked with cleaning up the mess.

"But that doesn't explain why we keep on seeing improvements not only in their behavioural characteristics but also in their physical make-up. Adrian's right. These things have been getting better lately," added the huntress, "the new model took in an emperium slug and almost didn't die from it.

"Well, since you're the one that's telling me. I'll just have to take your word for it," replied the priest. He opened up a few folders from the shelf and started browsing through the pages." I'll let you know when I hear anything from the OVERSEER division."

"Thanks, old man," replied the Primera.

"I heard that, Ayn!" blurted Adrian, "Why can't you just for once take my word and believe it?"

The huntress and the priest laughed in harmony, almost to an insulting degree.

"Anyway, I've arranged a new job for you two tomorrow night in the Western Payon village of Rimuri. Until then, you should get yourselves rested. You should know the place quite well, Primera."

A bit disappointed, Primera picked up her weapon and opened the door. Knew the place? She's memorised it, "Thanks for the job, old priest."

"Adrian and Primera," Ayn said as the two were leaving, "you be careful out there. Nobody's sure of anything anymore nowadays."

The young assassin and the huntress nodded and took their leave.

End of Chapter.