"I'm going to personally download 500 megabytes of my fist up your ass."
"Uhh… technically you'd be uploading that."
- Corky Romano
"Alternate interpretation: Woman heroically defeats mechanical invader by shattering his mindless shell and victoriously reclaiming her own body."
- A stupid YouTube comment where I was describing the Super Metroid Game Over scene
The operation to transfer the three most powerful Trojan viruses ever created into a trio of dazzling organic bodies was a success. The massive Compilation Norns shut down as their stage lights drained and they put the finishing touches on overwriting their logic centers onto much smaller neural pathways. The Norns were imposing and bulbous constructs, like ancient Colossus statues built by a mad theater manager with an obsession for neon, and crafted with a slightly Vocaloid appearance. Each structure weighed several dozen tons in virtual weight, and as high-security data containers, they were considered nigh-inescapable until all their critical processes were complete.
The three "people" (if that term even still applied) who'd been snatched up and imprisoned inside the Norns were now nothing more than viral codebanks reskinned in human form. They had become the harbingers of the final malevolent legacy of Khan Digifluffer. Certain dimensions in their physical parameters underwent improvements and enhancements from the infamous Alexa Karbs. Everything they used to be was completely deleted so they would only function as soulless imps possessed by the will of Electrabeth Binory. And also, Tim Curry's character from the American version was probably involved somehow.
The completely depowered hulls of the kaiju-scaled iron maidens opened together so their terrible child-nodes could be unleashed on the world. The forces of evil could rest easy knowing no half-witted would-be guardian of the system would ever stand a chance against three well-installed brains and six well-grown thighs.
The first pear-shaped waistline to emerge from the darkness belonged to a sinister-looking woman accessorized with a black ponytail and a metallic blue jacket over a black vinyl tube-top-and-pencil-skirt combo. Her new name was Registrika.
The second hamstring hippopotamus shifted higher on the RGB scale with bright magenta shoulder-length hair and turquoise hotpants hugging a set of gunmetal leggings. From this point on, she would be known as Akaneuro.
The final member to join the bottom-heavy bandstand was a rowdy-looking green-eyed pixie with a clashing green-pink jacket and tan leggings. This synaptic siren went by the name Monomi.
The three reformatted humans standing in front of the abandoned shells of what they used to be created a powerful contrast. The Compilation Norns had the biggest central processors in the entire system. The biggest energy bases. The biggest memory capacity. The biggest cybernetic wombs specialized for isolating and converting host modules. The only things their new puppet forms arguably had in bigger quantity were their thighs, and that was a trait they were very proud to show.
When they were fully assembled, they gave the impression of a team highly advanced techno-succubi with their alluring properties wrapped up in electrostatic mesh and twinkling with a light misting of performance sweat. The Norns had swapped themselves into more portable forms that were compact while also being charmingly wide.
These were the three Cyberbarons destined to take over the local system and the world beyond, delegated by the barcodes branded on their thighs. Zippers, midriffs, synthetic leather, and dangerously snug hemlines were the new trends in this important software update. They were fully configured, they were loaded for destruction, and they now preparing to launch to their DDOS (which definitely meant something like "Diabolical Diva Obliteration Strategy" in this context).
"How are those bitmaps holding up, Mo?" Black Ponytail smirked toward Emerald Eyes.
"Stable and rear-balanced, just the way I like 'em." Emerald Eyes snickered devilishly toward her sister-unit. "How's your hex buffer, Re?"
"Everything's fine for me. This set-up came with a great dual core." Black Ponytail's frontal features came thrusting out her jacket when she quickly stretched her arms behind her back. Her fingertips tiptoed across her tailbone as she playfully swayed her thigh toward Magenta Head. "How's it going for you over there, Ack?"
"I can't wait to try out my new interface, Re. Wanna help me make some more monsters?" Magenta asked with her bangs casting an ominous violet shadow over her eyes.
"Don't worry about that, Ack. Save your resources for the dance routine." Black Ponytail chuckled assertively. "We're the monsters now."
Author's note: This was an idea I had a few months ago for another Casshan Luna "Cyberpunk gone awry" story. I didn't go anywhere with it because I already have plenty of Casshan Luna "Cyberpunk gone awry" stories, and it was like "Oh. So the Bad Bots take over her meat body as a way to infiltrate human society. Again." There was also a brief stint where I considered turning this idea into an FFX-2 story, but that likewise ended up going nowhere. The only things from that version that made it to this final draft were the basic three-girl team structure and some of the sketchy clothing choices. Then I saw a bunch of anons on /m/ hyping up some new Gridman Diva thing, so I spun my original Luna idea off of that. (The characters are supposed to be evil schlocky re-computed versions of Rikka Takarada, Akane Shinjo, and Yume Minami, in case you couldn't tell.) (btw did the official writers ever establish what the heck is going on with the Dynazenon setting? Is Yume another artificial construct gril like Rikka? Or is she a real gril who fell into a Matrix coma so she thinks she's an artificial construct gril, like Akane? Or does her anime take place in the real world like the original show? There's a high possibility multiple levels of body-hijacking occurred in this fanfic.)
Author's note 2: Ahh this makes me think back to those good ol' Star Ocean fanfics. I haven't written one of those in a while.
Author's note 3: Maybe this is a metaphor for internet-based AI being the unstoppable wave of the future that corrupts individual artistic value. Idk.