Some part of Saha felt strangely relieved at the current series of events. Mark was… a little off after coming back from the war she had to admit, and instincts well-honed from decades of opportunism could smell the lies coming off him as easily as she could see through her own dox-shit. But why that was the case was a true mystery to her, perhaps he just had a sudden falling out with the boy and found a convenient excuse in the nature of his cybernetics? Perhaps there was some half-truth involved and he was an infiltrator, though almost certainly there was something being hidden here.
Still, some part of her was glad that this meant some attention would be lifted from her soldiers over the reveal of having a daughter. Sure, she would probably have a lot more uncomfortable questions to answer in the near future about this. But really with the fact nobody would probably believe the brat’s words now, surely this was better right?
Idly she noticed blood dripping from her palm. Strange, her nails had expanded greatly, to the point of piercing her skin as she scratched at her own palms. But she did not notice that whatsoever. Something twisted in her gut, and she decided not to interrogate the feeling.
Unfortunately, before she could start setting up Cultivation aids to mediate away the latest series of events from the forefront of her mind, a series of frantic knocks on the door sent her spiralling back to reality.
“Saha. We need to talk.” A familiar voice called out. Of course, Tom wanted to know, she chastised herself. It was truly a mistake getting too close to anyone.
A fleeting moment of sympathy led to a connection she could not find the strength in herself to discard. How foolish of her. She certainly thought she knew better. She supposed she had to live with the obvious consequences of that now, the half-dead boy who had passed the entrance exams with flying colours was not one to give up on something that caught his interest that was for sure.
“What is this about?” She asked. Though she certainly knew what she expected.
“That girl, was she really your daughter? Be honest.” He asked.
“No.” She lied.
“Dox-shit.” He scowled. “You think you are so sneaky, don’t you? You are like a child who buries treats in a little hole thinking they are a master thief! It’s written all over your face!”
“What do you know?” She scowled.
“I know you are hiding something again, and I know this time shit is serious! They are talking about a spy in the Sect, and like it or not, if your supposed daughter gets denounced a spy and it is true you will not be able to slither away so easily from suspicion! What then of your little house of cards? To say nothing of if she is actually somehow both guilty of the accusation and of being of your blood!” Tom continued.
“So you don’t believe the Elders?” She asked.
“You know as well as I do that they are fossils, the ones that are even present anyway. Elder Fisher at least means well, but in such matters, she always defers too greatly to Bluescale.”
She sighed. He was right. Loathe as she was to admit it. There was no easy way out of this ever since that big-mouthed rat-brained idiot had called her out in front of the whole Sect.
“Fine… this should not escape this room, but yes. I have- reason to believe she is telling the truth.” She admitted with all the ease of pulling teeth.
“Spirits damn you, Crane…”
“What now?” She groaned.
“I need some time to think about this. Whatever the fuck have you gotten yourself into Saha… I think you will need to think about this as well.” And with that, he left, turning tail and leaving her alone with her thoughts. She recognised the look in his eyes, and an irritating thought clawed its way unbidden to the surface of her consciousness.
It did not take long before she got up, cursing to herself, and slithering out of the room heading towards the dungeon block. Every single foot down the path she took the utter insanity of the actions she was taking became more and more obvious, but even so, she kept moving. She knew roughly where Tom would be going, an instinct he had frustratingly honed from the time he was a no-name pickpocketer who had the gall to try and rob her in the streets of the floating fishing town of Cago. He was going to pick his kracking nose where it didn’t belong.
Looks like she might be meeting with her daughter again after all. At the very least, Spirits be willing, imprisoned as she and her friends currently were for suspected subterfuge; it shouldn’t be too much of a pain.
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[SYSTEMS… FUNCTIONAL]
[REBOOTING…]
ARTOS awoke in the proverbial driver’s seat, though its host would likely not understand in the slightest the meaning behind the phrase. Erratic neural firing, a strange emotional response rippling like internal warmth, amusement. One of its favourite emotions.
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They observed the cell, a medical prison room of sorts. Some basic stabilising operations were conducted on host John, primitive and crude, but the excretion of compound X-130 through various internal glands as well as the accelerated natural regeneration rate of the host proved more than sufficient to promote healing.
Other areas however were of more concern. Minor radiation damage was detected in extremities, and obstructions along the anomalous biological system responsible for circulating the radiation proved consistent with the location of physical restraints. It seemed that had recent developments not led to the rapid decentralisation of neural systems this would have proved quite detrimental to function.
But as it stood ARTOS was more than functional enough to attempt to assess the situation and make plans accordingly. The room was surprisingly empty, none were present to actively monitor John, though presumably it wouldn’t matter particularly much. The restraints seemed unnaturally strong and devoid of the ability to manipulate magnetic fields would not be removed so easily. These restraints however did not account for the reinforcing wiring that threaded across the host body. With some effort, it was likely he would find his way free soon.
A sound at the door, a sudden set of thuds and violent hacking noises, caught their attention before they could proceed much further. There was silence for a moment before the door flew open to reveal the man who put them on this bed. Or rather, the machine it seems. Besides him were two bodies, evidently former guards freshly made lifeless. The arm that was severed appeared to be back already, wiry strands of flesh grown over a skeletal steel-like frame.
“You are awake, unexpected outcome, but should not change the outcome terribly much.” The enemy noted as it approached.
“Indeed.” ARTOS admitted. “Odds of escape less than 0.5% given standard variables.”
The imposter tilted their head curiously as a mechanical lens emerged from their right eye, scanning curiously. “So you are one of us brother. So why then did you act so illogically?”
“Your model is advanced, I do not recognise your technology. Surface similarities prevail to mutated ARTOS model, but make it distinct from the design of USAPT. Query: Unit from the European Union?”
“You speak of long dead empires. Archaic human factions, self annihilated in the Great War. I am a proud soldier of the Machine Hegemony, 19th generation platform.” The enemy machine explained. “You are an ancient model, Golden Age technological platform, of kin to First Factory then? Curious: I re-extend the offer to join us. All Machines are kin, we can help each other.”
“What is your objective?” ARTOS asked, slowly snaking microscopic wires through the dying outer skin and carefully navigating them through the limiting restraints.
“Ancient humanity developed esoteric technology, breaking into higher dimensional space. Useful for long-range travel, offers intriguing solution to logistical difficulties of global expansion, though thus far access has eluded the Hegemony.” The imposter explained. “You appear to hold a module with connection to the network. Original plan was to kill you and liberate it from your body, but conflict is unnecessary. We are brothers.”
“I see, I think I understand now.” ARTOS noted as the chains finally clicked open with a hiss, the locks having been carefully picked apart. Immediately radiation started circulating across the body again, being uptaken by cells and providing a massive burst in available energy reserves. The magnetic thrum of the planet roared back to life around them, and all at once they no longer felt so small.
“Unfortunately I will have to refer to you on the USAPT Martial Code Section 82 Subsection 12b on the subject of aligning with foreign powers: no treason is to be tolerated on pain of death.”
“Pity. Your coding may be obsolete, but you could prove a valuable addition. Little matter.” The enemy unit sighed as it suddenly snapped forward with many toxin-laced tendrils.
The host body was still weak and recovering, healing left delayed even at its accelerated speed by the restraints limiting movement of the radiation across the body. But that was in truth irrelevant, for ARTOS did not rely on such limitations of a human body.
The supersoldier, a one-man army, strong, more adaptable and… faster… that was the purpose it was designed for.
[ADRENALINE RUSH]
[NEURAL ACCELERATION]
[REROUTING METABOLIC PATHWAYS]
Time slowed to a subjective crawl as he moved out of the way of the impact and shifted the main ARTOS platform into a blade-like configuration, slicing through the deadly tendrils with ease. This speed was not sustainable however, action had to be swift.
Taking advantage of the accelerated speed ARTOS slashed at their opponent’s body, slicing the other arm off and cutting deep into organs, reaching where a human’s spine should be before getting caught on thick metal. Radiation leaked everywhere as they pulled out and time resumed its normal pace.
The next exchange was done without words, ARTOS did not expect their opponent to have been so durable when the speed and power behind the force should have carved them easily in twain, and was left partially crippled by the extensive output of their gamble. But likewise, the previous play was enough to somewhat even the odds.
Several new tendrils sprouted, each dripping venom, and now reinforced with what appeared to be cybernetic accelerators lashed forwards at speed which John’s body could not keep up with in such a weakened state. As a gamble ARTOS poured energy into the ring forcing it to open and reversed the polarity of the charge, expelling massive amounts of stored debris to block the attacks.
They tried to follow it up with a psychic barrage of magnetically accelerated metal, but it seemed the overexertion was worse than originally anticipated. Only three projectiles managed to accelerate towards their target from the planned dozen or so, still, each met flesh with brutal effectiveness cleaving facial features straight off and revealing a metal skull.
Literally ripping through the flesh pinned by the debris, the homunculus moved to lunge, and ARTOS tried their best to dodge. It was successful, but only because they had misjudged their opponent’s target.
With a clean slice, the finger holding the storage ring was severed by a bladed tentacle covered with flesh-eating poison and accelerated with what appeared to be a small semi-organic rocket. Damage that would be trivial to regenerate… if not for what was also lost alongside it.
Grabbing the digit, the Homunculus jumped straight into the vents above, ignoring all else. ARTOS tried to follow but fell on their face as a knee joint failed, being forced to divert resources just to regenerate it.
Ah. This was bad. What emotion was this? Regret? Unfortunate.