Several days have passed since John’s encounter with the Xinos known as C.R.O., and thankfully, nothing else abnormal has happened to him during this time. There still hasn’t been any news about the deadly machines on the internet, and everything appears to be returning to normal again. On the positive side of things, John has now firmly cemented his position in the top 10 players across North America, in the online game Fork Knife, where he currently holds the 6th spot, with a modest 100 Elo gap below him. John is satisfied with his improved performance, and it almost feels like his ability to think and process information, has been improved after his encounter and bond with the machine named F.O.X.
He has thought about F.O.X. a few times, but hasn’t seen them since they first met 6 days ago. John doesn’t fully regret his actions from back then, but still wishes he had the opportunity to apologise to them for some of the words he said.
John looks down beside his computer desk, and notices a trail of ants crawling into his apartment. This is a recent occurrence, and has gotten considerably worse since the building was damaged from its violent impact with a bus earlier in the week. He figures the damage probably opened up new pathways for the insects to explore, as he removes and places a new ant trap nearby, drawing their attention. He has already complained to building management about the “mini-invasion”, but nothing has been done about the ant problem, typical, really of their response.
John sighs and shrugs his shoulders while looking down at the new phone he had to purchase to replace his cracked one. The old phone definitely needed the upgrade, but he’s still annoyed at how expensive they are starting to get. He made sure to grab some of the high-end protective boxes this time around, which cost him more than he would like to admit. But, its a small price to pay if it helps him during anymore Xinos encounters.
Scrolling through his phone, John is treating today as a “break” from the Fork Knife grind. He has been playing several days straight, and his body desperately wants something other than endless pixel slaughter. So, in an effort to fill this void, he has resulted to doom scrolling on his phone, watching various shorts and videos on the popular Tikdok app. He watches a few Fork Knife content creators, along with some informational science shorts, as he’s also found learning about technology interesting.
As John continues to endlessly scroll, he suddenly drops his phone, as a sharp *pecking* sound startles him. His eyes snap towards the balcony window, where he notices a large, crow-like being, pecking at the glass. Rolling his eyes, John gets up from his chair before, against his better judgement, opening the balcony door, and letting them in.
“Ah, John, the homo sapien.” Chirps the crow as it confidently hops inside the apartment, before elegantly leaping onto the back of his gaming chair. “I already told you C.R.O., but I’m not participating in your species battle royal.” John retorts, heaviness blanketing his throat. “Believe me, I understand your position. But I have come today for another reason entirely. You see... I have been reflecting on our previous conversation, and come to a startling conclusion.”
The bird sneered its response towards the human, beeping and whooping in sarcastic tones as it continued trying to maintain its balance along the back of the chair. It was ensuring to achieve what is commonly called a “dramatic pause”, before continuing their explanation.
“You see, John, you are an abnormality. You are something that is useful, yet useless, intelligent, yet dull, capable, but incompetent...” C.R.O. paused after giving their oddly phrased response, tilting their head towards John, as he walked over to his couch, collapsing into a pile of the nearby pillows. If John’s eyeroll from earlier wasn’t an obvious indication of his current mood, then the exasperated sigh he breathed into the pillows should have sealed the deal.
“So... You flew all the way here, just to tell me... I’m a contradiction?” came John’s muffled voice from underneath the pile of pillows. “Precisely!” whirled the intelligence, as it hopped off the back of John’s chair to land on a nearby table next to the couch. “But I’ve also come today for another reason.” John struggles to lift his head from the soft embrace of the comfy pillows, but eventually finds the strength to do so. He figures the sooner he deals with this “bird”, the sooner he can get back to watching videos on Tikdok. “And?” Comes his voice in an uninterested tone. “What exactly is it you came all this way to do? Besides talk to me in a condescending tone of course.”
“Why, aren’t you the shrewd one.” Beeped the machine, as several lights and whistles accompanied the audio barrage sent John’s direction. “No, as a matter of fact, I’ve come today, to make you useful!”
“Not interested.” John sighed; his breath even heavier than usual. “I already said I’m not interested in helping you.”
“Funny.” Quipped the crow. “But, I’m afraid, that’s not your decision to make.”
John’s eyes widened after hearing the Xinos response. The tone was darker than usual, and instantly sent a chill down his spine. His fight or flight response quickly activates, as his mind desperately tries to process the new shooting pain coursing throughout his thigh. He rolls to his side, falling to the floor and bumping into the nearby coffee table. C.R.O. is standing above him, laughing, as darkness gradually begins creeping in along his vision. His heart’s racing, and his ears are filled with a loud and horrid buzzing sound, as reality begins distorting all around him.
John tries to move his limbs, but can’t, and it’s getting harder and harder to maintain his vision. He thinks he can see the Xinos above him, saying... Something, but he can’t process the words. Only a loud, staticky sound is filling his head, as he eventually loses consciousness, passing out on his apartment floor.
...
...
John’s head is ringing, a loud buzzing has once again, filled his mind, as images and shapes slowly start coming into focus. Everything is a blurry mess, and there is a painfully strong light blinding his vision, as the drone and static gradually begins to fade. His head feels like a foggy mess. His limbs feel weak, and when he tries to move them, their fail to respond.
More time passes, and eventually, his eyes begin working at an acceptable rate again, along with his memory. He remembers talking with C.R.O. in his apartment, but now, he appears to be in an abandoned warehouse, chained, and kidnapped. John tugs on his arms, but notices they are tightly bound in shackles against the cold, stone wall. His feet are in an equally perilous situation, tightly bound as well in metal clasps, as he continues struggling to free himself for the unconsented abduction.
“It’s no use, you’ll only hurt yourself if you continue to struggle.” Came a nearby robotic tone, as a bird-like creature landed in front of John. “What the hell did you do to me?!?” roared the human in anger towards the Xinos known as C.R.O. “Why, I said I was going to make you useful, don’t you remember? John?”
John shakes his head, as his ears and eyes finally begin working again. His vision is once again, crisp images, and currently face to face, with a crow that look far more menacing than he remembers. The bird’s frame, is very clearly metallic now, with all of the feathers resembling sharp, shingle-like plating. Various wires and monitors are exposed across the being’s head, with what appears to be a mini “cannon” poking out of its chest. On the wings, John notices the tips of the quills, are filled with some kind of green and purple fluid. It’s repulsive to look at, as he looks down and notices one of those same feathers, is currently imbedded in his right thigh.
“8-Xyno-3-isopropyl-5-Sciclohexane. One of the most powerful sedatives currently available on this backwater of a planet, and yes, that is the correct name after converting it to your species abhorrent nomenclature for chemistry.”
C.R.O. pauses slightly after giving their more than appropriate response to the human they have just kidnapped. As a Xinos, they are well versed in all manners of science and logic. But, as a member representing the Xiavnit race, C.R.O.’s species has always possessed a fondness for chemical compounds, earning them a powerful seat in the Xinos inner circle due to their significant advances in Xytrolyte fluid formulation. Chemistry, harnesses the building blocks of the world, and the Xiavnits have worked tirelessly to push these boundaries to the limit, understanding everything about chemical reactions, to the fullest. These advancements, have not only allowed the Xinos to improve their own system’s performance, but also gifted them with various advanced poisons and biological warfare knowledge. One of which, was currently being used to sedate and suppress John without damage to his vital systems.
“So... You *cough* drugged me... Then locked me up in a warehouse... Congratulations... *cough* but I fail to see how this will help you...” John struggles to articulate his response. His tongue feels slightly numb, and his heart is continuing to beat aggressively inside his chest, in a valiant effort to free itself from his ribcage. “On the contrary John, everything is proceeding exactly according to my plans.” Chirped the crow, as it removed several of its feathers, before neatly loading them into some firearms located along their talons. “You have your purpose, and you will serve it well in the coming β round.”
“Really now... Chaining me up in an... Abandoned warehouse... Will serve your purpose? What? Are you trying to prevent other Xinos from bonding with me or something?” John’s not exactly sure what C.R.O. is planning, but he imagines it can’t be anything too complex based on his limited interactions with the being. The Xinos chirps and whirls lightly at his response, as it calmly walks closer to him, tapping another vile of strange liquid, before injecting it into John’s exposed wrist.
John reels from the pain, gritting his teeth as his nerves feel like they are bursting into flames. Sweat begins forming across his forehead, and he grunts and struggles against unimaginable pain. He has broken a limb before playing sports as a kid, and he thought that was the apex of pain, but this... Nothing comes close to the suffering he’s currently experiencing. Every breath is filled with the sensation of daggers eviscerating his frail lungs, his eyes feel like they have exploded from molten pain piercing his retinas, and his limbs feel twisted and contorted in unnatural shapes, yet remain the same.
“This particular toxin, is more of a personal choice from yours truly. It’s a special blend that’s banned across all galaxies under the Xinos rule, due to its potent effects on organics. Fortunately for me, Earth, doesn’t quite belong to the Xinos yet, does it, John?” monologued C.R.O. in a droning tone, with a hint of arrogance blanketing their chirps. “Think of it as a little... “gift” for your treatment of me earlier. The pain you’ll experience, is nothing short of the humiliation I experienced from your antics during our initial conversation. You will wish for death’s embrace after experiencing this mixture, but I’ll ensure you continue suffering long enough, where it never finds you.”
John’s eyes widen in horror, as the Xinos continues rambling about its upcoming plans for the almost active battle royal round β. It will apparently begin this evening, and they are continuing to make the last bit of necessary preparations before the round formally begins. Finally, after what felt like an excessively long villain’s monologue, C.R.O. gently placed a handful of vials on a nearby table, before walking over to John’s spasming body.
“You see John, things didn’t have to be this way. If you only agreed to a bond with me earlier... Just think of all the suffering you could have avoided!” John’s eyes struggle to focus through the agonizing pain he is continuing to experience. He wants to strangle the cocky bird before him, but is unable to do anything other than struggle to continue breathing. Noticing his “prey” is suffering well, with his eyes screaming for some sense of relief, the Xinos slow injects another vial into John’s veins.
“I hope you enjoy being “bait” to draw out my opponents, John. You should be pleased, being graced with this once in a lifetime opportunity. After all, with your help, I will be able to survive this round without issue. Isn’t that just wonderful?” said C.R.O. in a series of confident beeps and chirps in a higher pitch. “Now then, I do believe you’ve suffered enough for now. Anymore, and we might have some... irreversible damage to your nervous system. Sleep well, John.”
The pain gradually begins to fade, as sights and sounds, once again become a chore for John’s shattered mind to process, as the mysterious fluid continues coursing through his veins, traveling deeper with each and every pulse from his heart. The nearby Xinos smiles briefly, as it continues making the final set of preparations, for their upcoming survival. It was generous enough to show their prisoner some form of mercy, but would continue torturing them once the round officially began. Pain, was a dutiful motivator after all, and they figured, if John was suffering, other Xinos would attempt rescuing this particular human. All of the machines, were shortsighted, and would do whatever it takes to improve their own odds of surviving. However, their efforts, would be futile, as any trespassers would be dealt with accordingly using the Xiavnit’s advanced arsenal of poisons.
The perfect trap, to hunt, the perfect prey.
...
...
...
It has been several days since F.O.X. bonded with the human known as Jake, and during that time, they have finally resolved the conflict pulsing throughout their circuits. True to his word, Jake did return by what the humans typically considered “the weekend”, but was only able to spend several hours with the machine before leaving for a tightly packed schedule of paintball matches. They were, fortunately, able to practice some limited fire exchanges in a simulated battle, but Jake quickly lost interest after only an hour’s worth of training. Nonetheless, the limited sample size gave the machine all the confidence it needed, for its upcoming decision.
For whatever reason, despite the high compatibility score, and the excessive confidence exhibited by Jake, F.O.X.’s circuits never received that same level of confidence flowing through to them. Jake’s confidence, felt different from John’s, and the machine finally understood why. A bond, couldn’t simply be quantified by pure mathematical means. It appeared to the intelligence, that this feature, involved some type of invisible variable, that couldn’t be recorded, but only felt, through experience.
When emotions and memories flowed between the beings, F.O.X., being well aware of their own doubts and insecurities, never achieved the same level of belief in themselves when Jake’s insights flowed through them. Their decision network, despite the illogical conclusion, determined that feeling better about themselves, ranked higher than a substantial boost to system performance. As such, with only 6 hours remaining on the non-combat timer before the start of round β, F.O.X., made the executive decision, to terminate their bond with Jake.
“What do you mean you’re ending your bond with me?!?! I’m Jake! The most amazing and bestest human ever! I have a 40% compatibility score, and you’re throwing that away just because of your stupid feelings!?!? What about ME and MY feelings!!”
The conversation was currently going roughly how their neurons predicted it would. Jake, would be upset, and berate them for their actions, but the machine had already resolved itself for the upcoming confrontation. “I’m sorry Jake, but I believe this is the best decision, for both of us.” Hummed F.O.X. in a series of low tones. “I understand you are a capable human in your own right, but...”
“No buts about it! I won’t let you terminate the bond!” roared the human, as hatred and anger briefly overwhelmed F.O.X.’s circuits from the intense response they received. “I always wanted a cool robot to shoot things with, and now you’re leaving?!?”
“Jake...” whooped the machine. “I’m not the only Xinos out there. Others, will certainly seek you out due to your exceptional compatibility score.” F.O.X. was trying their best to remain calm, despite a small portion of their own network doubting their decision. However, they knew this was the best choice for their own survival, and Jake’s following words, solidified their actions in full. “Fine! I’ll just find myself another Xinos, F.O.X., and when I do, I’ll make sure to kill you myself for betraying me! You’re nothing but a stupid, useless machine!”
“I understand Jake. Farewell, and, good luck.” Booped the intelligence, as it activated power in its limbs, to begin its journey southwards. It had only one illogical objective within its network. There was a particular human it wished to see, and time was running short. Forcing excess Xytrolyte through their circuits, F.O.X. quickened their pace towards the city where they first met John. Parts of their decision trees, wondered if he had bonded with another Xinos, but they were still resolved to see them regardless. It wanted to apologise to the human, and, it wanted to thank them, for helping an insignificant Xyfokit such as themselves, learn more about what it meant, to be a Xinos.
F.O.X. quickly bounds through the forests, before making the decision to move to the roadways instead. Their systems had analyzed they were more efficient for travel, so they adjusted their route accordingly. Keeping pace beside several of the nearby metal chariots, the machine did their best to avoid any collisions, despite the human’s poor capabilities at the skill apparently named “driving”, as many of the vehicles swerved and collided with nearby concrete barriers. “These humans must have poor licensing standards...” they whirled to themselves, as several more vehicles ahead swerved off the road and into the nearby muddy ditches.
Looking at their monitors, the machine noticed there was only an hour remaining until the next round would begin. They briefly checked their weapon systems functions in response, and were satisfied everything returned as fully operational. “Good.” Beeped F.O.X., as they set a timer for themselves to find a suitable place for the upcoming reveal scan. There was roughly 1/3rd of all the Xinos warriors remaining, and their battleground region hadn’t even begun to shrink. How quickly would this tournament be over? They thought to themselves, as they continued their journey south.
Finally arriving near the condominium buildings, F.O.X. recognized the structure to be the residence of the human John. The conclusion was reached based on their analysis of John’s memories, but also collected through extrapolating various online data indicating he lived here. And of course, the bus-shaped damage to the building’s side, also helped the machine reach the 100% confidence interval for identification. Based on their scans, the human appeared to reside on the 8th floor of the modest building, and the machine was left wondering a simple question. “How the heck am I going to get up there?!?” They quietly beeped in low tones, which were mostly drowned out by the chorus of nearby humans screaming and pointing at the giant robot.
F.O.X.’s monitors looked at the door and ran a cursory analysis. Based on the dimensions observed, they could “probably” fit, but not without damaging the delicate glass. Their sensors then examined the building’s exterior, where its decision network proposed another idea on how they could best reach their objective. All along the side of the building, were several concrete outcrops called “balconies”, which the machine predicted possessed enough loadbearing capabilities to support their bulky frame. Further analysis indicated that the cellular device currently associated with the name “John Sherwood”, was also located along the east-side of the building. It’s signal hadn’t moved for quite some time, and, based on a rudimentary environmental analysis, humans were obsessed with their things called “phones”, always keeping them in close proximity. Resolved, the intelligence prepared its powerful hind legs, to ascend the building.
Locking onto their first target, the machine gracefully leapt towards the 1st storey balcony, much to the impressed screams and shrieks from the humans below. It’s receptors detected multiple images being captured of its presence, but it didn’t care. It needed to see John, and apologise to them. F.O.X.’s visual sensors lock onto their next target, the balcony in front and above them. They skillfully leap upwards, landing along the edge, but unfortunately bent the flimsy railing during their landing. “Sorry!” squeaked the machine, as it observed several frightened humans on the balcony as well. They had fallen down from their impact with the ledging, but were thankfully unharmed.
Continuing on, the Xyfokit eventually made it to the 8th storey of the building, at the balcony for the room 827. This was the predicted living premise for the human they desperately wanted to see, but their network was confused after visually confirming the residence. 5 minutes remained until the round would begin, and John’s apartment, was empty.
“John...?” Beeped the intelligence, as it carefully pushed the partially open glass doors to the side to carefully enter the room. F.O.X. scanned the apartment, and quickly located the phone associated with the human they were searching for. The device, was simply lying on the floor, but didn’t look like it was intended to be there. John’s computer was still “on”, but the monitor was currently sleeping to reduce its own power consumption. Some of the furniture was misplaced around the room, and several soft casings of stuffing were scattered across the floor erratically. Why wasn’t the human here? Were they somewhere else? F.O.X.’s infrared scanners didn’t reveal any heat signatures within the room, other than a few beings in the neighbouring apartments, and John was very adamant they didn’t want to compete in the Xinos battle royal, based on their previously recorded conversations on the topic.
F.O.X. scans the room again, as their circuits reach a conclusion indicating further scrutiny is advised. The tiny Xyfokit easily connects their sensors to the building’s surveillance system, but is disappointed to learn it only kept footage from up to 1 hour ago in storage. “That’s an inefficient security system.” Beeped the machine, as they replayed the footage indicating no one had entered or left the building within the last hour.
The being then switched their sensors to track trace particles of metal. Their circuits reached an unsettling conclusion based on the current circumstantial evidence, which they wanted to be wrong. Quickly scanning and recreating the environment in 3-dimensional space, F.O.X. detected trace amounts of Xyninium, an alloy unique to the Xinos, inside several smaller insects within the apartment. F.O.X. recognizes them to be Formicidae, a species they had briefly been reviewing before landing on the battleground world, and it appeared they were currently invading John’s apartment. While the trace amount of Xyninium within them was concerning, F.O.X. quickly determined them to be an unrelated matter, and categorized them as a topic to investigate later. The more concerning observation, was the abnormally large concentration of the metal found on the nearby table instead.
F.O.X. changes their sensors to begin detecting volatile organic compounds, after their nasal receptors picked up trace molecules of several banned compositions within the Xinos empire. After crawling their extensive internal database, the machine identified the substance. “Xyboulinum.” They beeped on a low tone, with their mouth appendage slightly open after realizing the significance of what they had just discovered. This toxin, was banned across all of the galaxies under the Xinos rule, due to the unethical harm it causes to both organic and advanced synthetic systems utilizing fluid for conductivity. This chemical, binds to any available neurotransmitter receptor, due to its unique protein composition matching all possible molecular combinations. It was a technical marvel to engineer, and its effects caused unfathomable pain to its victim. Prey injected with the toxin, would actively beg for death, but never succumb to the chemical’s effects on their own. Prolonged exposure always led to permanent changes in the target’s biological nervous system composition, leaving them forced to suffer in agony until they were eventually terminated by the administrator of the poison. It was for a very good reason this substance was banned, but why was it in John’s appartment?
Next, the machines visual receptors noticed a small, metallic vial nearby, as it continued scanning the environment. It was clearly empty, but trace amounts of another chemical compound still remained within the tiny glass container. Analysing the invisible fumes evaporating in the air, F.O.X. identified the substance to be 8-Xyno-3-isopropyl-5-Sciclohexane, a powerful sedative and chemical often used to alter the consciousness of both organics and synthetics alike, changing them into the “off” state upon processing by the host’s systems. It is a relatively basic compound, but currently undiscovered on this planet, based on the machine’s extensive search of the human’s scientific literature.
Finally, the machine turned their attention towards the glass doors they had entered from, before switching their monitors to the ultraviolet frequency. On one of the door panels, they noticed tiny chips out of the glass, filled with trace Xyninium particles. It appeared that small, precise “taps” were performed on the glass, prompting them to investigate further. After looking at the door handle, the machine noticed fingerprints connected to the human John along the metal’s contours. This finding by itself wasn’t unusual, since John himself actually lived in the apartment, but oil marks from his hands were still present in higher-than-expected concentrations, indicating potentially recent use of the handle.
[Round β – Start! – Time Remaining: 6D, 23H, 59M]
The message scrolled across F.O.X.’s monitors, reminding them to pay attention to the upcoming revealing scan. Based on their simple investigation, it appeared to the Xyfokit, that John, was missing, and there was a high probability another Xinos was involved in this scenario. F.O.X.’s sensors didn’t detect any nearby warriors, but they eagerly watched as their built-in radar hummed and beeped away in satisfying tones, revealing the location of any nearby Xinos. “Hmm.” Hummed F.O.X. in contemplation, as the scan revealed the unique identifiers for the Xinos: B.E.A., W.O.L., T.Y.R., C.O.W., and C.R.O., all within a 600 km radius of them. There also appeared to be some static around one of the identifiers, which was indicating its location to be spread across expansive regions simultaneously. F.O.X. was troubled by this signature, as it wasn’t possible for a Xinos to be physically in multiple locations at the same time, and the radar also didn’t reveal the identifier associated with them, like it was supposed to. “Is the scanner malfunctioning?” They whooped in confusion. Regardless, the machine still didn’t know where John was, and now, things were about to get much deadlier for the tiny Xyfokit, as it brought one of its paws underneath its chin.
“I’ll... I’ll have to find John later.” They beeped in quick tones. “My survival comes first.” However, their words were cut short, as their communication channels received an emergency broadcast sent out to all of the nearby Xinos warriors.
“Help me. My name is John, and I’ve been captured by a cruel and heartless Xinos. I am currently in an abandoned warehouse located at the coordinates [43.895858, -78.668058] Please! Rescue me! I am being injected with Xyboulinum, a banned substance in the great and glorious Xinos empire! I don’t have muc—”
“John!” gasped F.O.X. in a series of sharp and quick tones. “He’s... He’s been captured, by another Xinos! I... I have to rescue him!” The machine’s network quickly loaded the displayed coordinates into their geographic data. No other Xinos were nearby the location, as it popped into view on F.O.X.’s HUD, so they felt safe about their current actions. John had done nothing to deserve being injected with Xyboulinum, and since the round had only just begun, they would have plenty of time remaining once they rescued them to complete an elimination.
F.O.X. bursts out of John’s apartment window, shattering the fragile glass into an expensive array of shrapnel, and ignoring any concerns for their own safety, as they gracefully land on the road below. They activate their boosters, and prime their weapon systems, while rapidly heading east towards the displayed coordinates on their map.
The machine isn’t thinking clearly right now. The human it had wanted to apologise to, is in danger, and its currently ignorant to the blatant warnings issued by its own self preservation systems, as the Xyfokit makes the decision to suppress the notifications alerting them to the abnormalities of the destress signal. It doesn’t care they are exposing themselves to danger. John, is in danger, and they want to help him.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Bounding along, F.O.X.’s sensors pickup weapons fire from some nearby Xinos engaging in a brief exchange of explosive rounds. Several rounds classified as artillery shells, are impacting to their north, with their accompanying shockwaves shattering the glass of nearby vehicles, as air particles vibrate with unbridled fury in response to the primitive combustion. It doesn’t take them long, but the intelligence eventually arrives at the identified coordinates from John’s message.
F.O.X. scans the surroundings, and identifies the building to be an abandoned factory and warehouse facility specialized in semi-solid petroleum material formulation. The machine detects a basic security system nearby. The system is unfortunately offline, but the Xyfokit able to connect regardless, manually activating the cameras, bringing them to life. The machine panics, as it quickly tabs through the various visual feeds to no avail. It’s having difficulties activating its infrared sensors through the primitive software, as it appears it isn’t a built-in functionality for the ancient hardware. However, after cycling though the monitors again, F.O.X. spots what appears to be a human, chained against a stonewall, with a set of vials on a nearby table.
“John...” They quietly mutter. “Don’t worry, I’ll rescue you!”
The Xyfokit continues scanning the exterior of the build for any traps setup by the Xinos that had captured John, and is relieved when they fail to detect any of their species usual methods. They unfortunately fail to locate any subtle entrances to the warehouse, with the only noticeable pathway to John, being the hanger bay doors. F.O.X. activates their sound suppression systems, enhanced by their chosen species ability to conceal its presence, then quickly creeps towards the building.
Their ears and sensors are on high alert for any potential dangers, as they continue skulking towards the open hanger doors. They briefly think its odd for an abandoned warehouse to maintain an “open door” policy, but quickly brush those thoughts into background processes. F.O.X.’s tail is still, and their limb stiff, as they continue prowling with care. After reaching the doors, they carefully enter the building, and orient their location to the projected map of the building’s interior. John is located at the end of the expansive floor, but they continue exercising caution until visual contact is made.
F.O.X. peeks their monitors out from behind a shelving unit, while priming their vibroblades for any potential ambushes. They aren’t detecting anything from a quick scan of their sensors, and have finally made visual contact with John, who is currently bound and gagged to the nearby wall. Sensors indicate he is still alive, and currently resting. There are cuts and scrapes across his body, and several signs of forced injection along his wrists from nearby syringes laced with Xyboulinum. His body temperature is below “healthy” for a human, but his internal systems aren’t in immediate danger from their biological analysis. Relief washes over the machine’s circuits, as their pulse dampens slightly after receiving the somewhat comforting information. F.O.X. performs one last scan for threats, then drops their attempts at stealth to quickly approach the bound human.
As they get closer, John stirs from the noise their frame is making, as his eyes slowly start to open. He’s initially surprised to see a giant robot standing in front of him, but his pupils quickly relax once he recognizes them to be a familiar Xinos. F.O.X. carefully extends one of their claws, and severs the gag across John’s mouth. John’s body lets out a heavy gasp for breath, as his lungs struggle to handle the increased airflow they have been begging for over the past several hours of suppression. “John!” Beeps F.O.X. in satisfaction. “I’m... I’m so glad you’re alright!”
“F.O.X...?” responds the human in a weak tone, barely able to articulate the words to his saviour. “How... Did you...?”
“I... I responded to your destress signal! You... You sent an emergency broadcast to all available Xinos, and I saved you!” They happily chirped, as their tail began to uncontrollably wag about in excitement. F.O.X. was hoping John would praise them for their hard work, but they instead receive any entirely unexpected word in response to their actions. “Run!”
F.O.X.’s sensors didn’t hesitate at John’s words, as it quickly pivoted from its location, diving behind some stacked shelving units to the side. The machine’s warning systems had almost failed to alert them to a sneak attack, and John’s words caused them to thankfully notice the warning just in time. Looking back, the Xyfokit noticed embedded in the wall, was a series of sharp feather-like blades, right where they had been standing just moments ago. A thick, viscous liquid, was now oozing down the walls, which the machine identified to be Xyboulinum.
F.O.X.’s pulse quicks, as their systems detect a minor fault in their mobility systems. Looking down, they notice several of their wires had been severed along their front paw, limiting its operations, but it was thankfully still functional. “Impressive reactions, little Xyfokit.” Bellowed a distorted tone across the warehouse’s speaker systems. “I’m surprised you managed to dodge my ambush. But don’t worry, next time, I won’t miss.”
The machine’s ears twitched, as its systems desperately tried to locate the source of the Xinos voice. They had done an exceptional job distorting and modulating the tone to conceal its origin. “It’s C.R.O.!” shouted John as best he could. “He used me as bait to draw out any Xinos!” F.O.X. quickly analysed John’s words, then quietly berated themselves for their rash actions. How could they have been so stupid!? Of course a human couldn’t send out an emergency destress signal to the Xinos using their advanced notification systems. Everything about John’s message, down to his oddly specific geographic coordinates, and praise for the Xinos empire, was clearly suspicious, yet F.O.X. failed to arrive at this conclusion, or more likely, didn’t want to arrive at this conclusion. They wanted to rescue John, to help him see them in a better light, and apologise to them. And because they were so blinded by their own selfish desires, they had fallen right into another Xinos deadly trap.
Pain continues coursing throughout the Xyfokits body, as it makes the connection trace amounts of Xyboulinum have probably entered their conductive fluids. The mixture is toxic to both synthetics and organics alike, but F.O.X. can thankfully partition their systems to limit the spread of the deadly substance. F.O.X. shuts off their front-right paw’s mobility system, calculating they will have approximately several minutes before more systems begin to fail. Banking around the corner, F.O.X. does their best to maneuver through the cramp isles, while desperately scanning for their assailant.
C.R.O. spots their prey behind one of the nearby shelving units, as the Xyfokit quickly dashes behind it for cover, before bounding just as quickly outside the warehouse floor and into the main building. The bird had refused to fire its volley of Xyboulinum laced quills, as its accuracy was only projected to be a poor 99.999%, a far cry from a perfect guaranteed hit. “Tch.” Beeped the unit in annoyance, as it holstered its firearm along its talons, before quickly flying to a better location. It had boasted that its next shot wouldn’t miss, and it didn’t want to take anymore chances in looking like a fool in front of its benefactors, watching the battle royal duel from lightyears away.
F.O.X. stops behind the wall of the room immediately adjacent to the warehouse floor John is being held in. They had fled the open area for some more cover, as they predicted this would be a temporary safe zone while they recalibrate their sensors. They still haven’t located the Xinos trying hunting them, and are starting to get anxious as more and more warnings begin popping up across their various complex systems. Their network panics, rapidly playing out various simulations, but fails to arrive and an appropriate plan of action. Their limbs are shaking, and they’re worried they will die after making such a stupid to try and save the human who abandoned them. The Xyfokits circuits erratically fire electrons, as more and more of the toxin continues hampering their critical processes. They look ahead, and see only one logical option before them. The unit will have to enter the warehouse door again where John is currently being held. It’s the only correct action to take, and will undoubtably be where C.R.O. is waiting to ambush them from a superior vantage point.
“Box... Breach.” The Xyfokit’s ears pickup the words from the human struggling to stay conscious. While they haven’t heard these words from them before, F.O.X.’s neurons rapidly begin trying to identify if there was any hidden meaning behind them. The machine scours their memory stores, but fails to draw and conclusion as to their mean. Suddenly, their network has a realization they failed to consider, as they rapidly drilldown the new decision tree opening before them. F.O.X. pivots their processors current tasks, to begin analysing the images received from their initial bond with John, while diligently cross-referencing “Box” and “Breach” against their catalogued index of their memories with him.
Virtual battles fly through the intelligence’s monitors at incredible speeds as it continues sorting and analysing the countless battles. It sees images of hastily constructed forts, built out of ordinal polygons to conceal one’s presence, followed by John’s avatar breaking open a wall, before pivoting and entering through a different direction. Their neurons make the connection, and F.O.X.’s body begins to act instinctively to the motions they had observed. It doesn’t know why its doing this, but it wants to believe their actions are right, despite the poorly simulated success rate currently displayed across their monitor.
F.O.X. quickly extracts several of the compressed Xyninium cubes they had stored for repairs along their spine, while collecting their thoughts in a last-ditch effort to calm their frantically activating neural network. “Don’t think, just do.” They utter to themselves, as they activate their multistate particle tool kit, switching it to “expand”.
...
John watches from his captive position, as the toxic effects of C.R.O.’s poisons are once again beginning to take effect. The Xinos had made sure to inject him with just enough of the compound’s suppressant so that he could remain cognisant when another warrior approached, but the effects were unfortunately starting to ware off, as unimaginable pain gradually begins returning to his limbs and lungs. He briefly saw C.R.O. fly into a concealed corner of the warehouse, giving the machine a perfect bead on any prey entering through the main doors, while providing adequate cover in return. He’s seen this technique many times during his Fork Knife battles, and has broken it just as many. Many newbie players often fall into this trap during their battle royal careers, where they become use to ambushing methods. While they often work in the early rounds and lower-ranked matches, the strategy fails to consider an enemy that’s already potentially aware of your presence, leaving the ambusher, more vulnerable than they believe themselves to be.
John racks his brain for any kind of plan he can think of. While he was amused the first Xinos he had happened to meet, F.O.X., had somehow managed to find him, he was equally disappointed they had fallen for such an obvious trap in their opinion. His options are severely limited, and he wishes he could communicate more, but is struggling to even maintain focus on his inner monologue. Suddenly, John’s mind gets an idea, as he remembers his encounter with G.O.R., and how the memories from his Fork Knife games, were able to be translated into information for the Xinos he had bonded with. He has nothing else to go on, let along believe it will work, but he decides to try anyways. He wants to help F.O.X., and this is the only method he can think of.
Aggressively digging his nails into his palms in an effort to jolt his mind, the differing source of pain is thankfully enough, as it gives him the energy boost needed to utter his last words of advice to the struggling machine. “Box... Breach.” He somehow manages to articulate, as darkness rapidly creeps along his vision, before losing consciousness all together.
...
C.R.O. has drawn their firearm, and fixated its sights on the only logical choice left for the surely cowering Xyforkit opponent. While the machine is still peeved it had failed to eliminate them during its initial ambush, the intelligence knew some of its poisons had fortunately entered its target’s Xytrolyte, based on the chemtrail indicating its quarry’s position. The Xiavnit has thus calculated the optimal ambush position, and know that they only need to wait, biding their time for the perfect shot. After verifying their cannon is on the correct setting for the one-trillionth time, the Xinos systems are finally satisfied everything is within working order, as they maintain their sight on the only possible entrance to the warehouse floor.
The machine briefly hears the human fail to correctly pronounce the unique identifier for their prey, and had apparently hallucinated something to do with pants, before losing consciousness from the next round of its sedative torture combo. C.R.O. is well aware that these poisons can have interesting effects across different biological species, but ultimately pays little mind to the meaningless words utter by its “bait”.
An explosion suddenly catches the machine’s sensors off guard, as a new hole has just been made into the warehouse from the adjacent room. “Clever attempt, but it won’t fool me!” C.R.O. quickly snaps their vision towards the new opening into the warehouse, as they spot a giant cube of Xyninium hurl through the spontaneous door. A glint of orange and brown paint, catches their visual receptors, as the Xiavnit’s network rapidly identifies it to belong to one of the paw appendages of the Xinos known as F.O.X.
C.R.O. quickly extrapolates the Xinos had used some of its spare Xyninium, welded it into an improvised shield, then left a convenient opening to fire one of it’s deadly vibroblades from. A valiant effort, but it wouldn’t work against their superior tactics and genius. The machine calmly fires several rounds of its Xyboulinum laced quills into the exposed appendage, thrilled at the 100% success rate of its shots, before just as quickly taking flight, to dodge any potential count volley its prey may fire off, before succumbing to the deadly effects of multiple lethal doses of the banned toxin. However, the Xiavnit’s systems briefly faulter, as they failed to detect the predicted counter volley of F.O.X.’s vibroblades.
The machine pivots to the side, double checking the feathers hit their mark. The hit was clean, and they begin tilting their wings to orient towards John, when they are suddenly caught off guard from several warning messages covering their vision.
Leaping through the opening, with only 3 legs, is the being know as F.O.X., as C.R.O.’s monitors quickly model an incoming vibroblade projectile their direction. The machine had already committed to leaving its cover, and although it possessed a sleek and light frame like F.O.X., it was unable to readjust its current aerial trajectory. C.R.O. panics, forcing excess Xytrolyte into their left wing, causing the wing to snap from the excess strain placed across its systems. While the damage was unfortunate, it was the only calculated response it could achieve in time, to just narrowly avoid the vibroblade aimed at its exposed central core.
C.R.O.’s shoulder is blown off from F.O.X.’s claws cruel impact with the joint, just barely avoiding a critical artery, but thankfully letting them survive. The machine’s aerial stability is in shambles from the displaced centre of gravity, as they crudely transition into a rapidly spinning spiral towards the concrete floor below. C.R.O. manages to orient themselves during the erratic twists and turns, while aiming their last round at their prey who has just managed to clumsily land themselves. The quill doesn’t contain any of its lethal poison, only the sedative, but it will have to do.
...
F.O.X. has just finished their last ditched effort in a desperate attempt to save the human they care about. After analysing John’s words of advice, the Xyfokit had somehow managed to execute one of the gamer’s signature breaching maneuvers, specialized on eliminating entranced opponents skilled in ambushes. Their body twists through the air, as they are partially unbalanced from using one of their limbs as a decoy, and the hampering effects of the Xyboulinum still coursing throughout their conductive fluids.
The tiny machine’s monitors lock with their target, as they fired one of their last remaining and functioning vibroblades, towards the Xiavnit that has just taken flight, after mistakenly thinking F.O.X. was inside the protective cube of Xyninium. “No...” chirps the machine, as their processors quickly extrapolate the projectile’s trajectory, to just narrowly miss their assailant’s central core. C.R.O. had somehow managed to twist their body, severing their own wing, yet managing enough momentum, to shift their body, avoiding the deadly shot. The Xyfokit’s monitors watch in horror, as their final chance to survive, fails to find its mark, just barely missing C.R.O.’s core, as it severs their shoulder blade instead.
Crudely landing on the concrete, F.O.X. struggles to maintain their balance, while stuttering trying to react in time to the new barrage of warning messages heading its direction. The bird had somehow managed to fire an accurate round of quills its direction, and the tiny machine is unable to power its limbs any longer. “Critical Errors” flood F.O.X.’s monitors, as the Xyboulinum has finally started shutting down its mobility systems in full.
The feathers impact with one of the machine’s exposed joints, as power rapidly beings depleting from their reserves. Excess fluid, drips from their facial monitors, as the machine finally loses the strength to continue powering its bulky frame. Excruciating pain is coursing throughout the Xinos body, as their heightened senses gradually begin returning to their barely operational processes. F.O.X. finally collapsed to the concrete, and, while it was ill-advised by its self-preservation systems, the Xyfokit manages to beep its final message in a shallow tone.
“I’m... Sorry John... I... I couldn’t—”
...
...
...
John’s eyes jolt awake, as he’s suddenly alarmingly aware of his surroundings. He remembers trying to communicate to F.O.X. some critical information, but can’t recall if he did, as his mind is still a blurry, foggy mess. John lifts his head, rapidly trying to assess his surroundings. Straight ahead, somehow managing to support their weight against a table covered in shattered vials and liquid, is C.R.O.
The machine appears to be missing its left wing, or, more accurately, its entire shoulder blade, and is struggling to cauterize the circuits happily oozing precious Xytrolyte fluids across the table, dying it a new vibrant array of blues and purples. C.R.O. notices John’s attentiveness, scoffing towards his direction, before folding their welding tool into a compact form.
To John’s right, is the Xinos known as F.O.X., and they look just as badly wounded. “I’m ashamed you almost won, human.” Beeped the Xiavnit, it’s audio speakers clearly struggling to translate its thoughts into English for the human. John’s eyes lock onto the bird in front of him, as it hobbles towards the pair on its damaged talons. “To think I would be reduced to... This... It’s inconceivable.”
John carefully observes the damage across both the wounded Xinos. F.O.X. appears to be missing one of their limbs, and their metals sheen has gotten noticeably duller. Their lights which were typically full of life, are now barely visible to his eyes, more closely resembling a shattered bulb instead. C.R.O. doesn’t appear much better, completely missing a wing, with multiple exposed and frayed wires, arcing electricity and blue fluid on the concrete below. Its central core is completely exposed, and most of its talons are crumpled and severed, barely managing to support the machines weight, as it finally hobbles into position between John and F.O.X.
“My plan... Was flawless.” Struggled the avian machine in droning tones. “Yet, somehow... It almost... Failed.”
John watches as the crow fumbles with one of the cables behind F.O.X.’s neck, before finally tugging a thin, black cable free from a protected socket. “If you don’t mind me commenting... Your plan seemed pretty bad... Plenty of flaws, which an inferior species identified for your prey.” He somehow manages to muster a smile, despite knowing that the situation is now essentially hopeless. It appears that his plan to help F.O.X., had failed, but he still wanted to insert any jabs where he could towards the confident bird. “And yet... *cough*... I won... Human.”
C.R.O. struggles to grasp the cable with their poor excuse for limbs, before finally managing to bring it towards John’s right hand, right where the mark from his Xinos bonding is located. “And... I thought you wanted to bond with me.” Somehow manages the human in an equally weak tone. “Why are you connecting me to F.O.X.?”
“Data.” Beeps the machine, as it attempts gesturing towards its exposed neck, blissfully arcing high voltage electricity. “Damaged... Repair unlikely, until next... Round...”
“But... Why? You’ve already won... So, what’s the point.” John manages to say, his words barely above a whisper. “I have to known... My benefactors... Need... This data.” Responds the machine, as it fumbles with the connection, before it finally takes to John’s skin, greeting him with the vaguely familiar tingling sensation as the connection is formed.
“Im-possible.” Croaks the crow, barely able to complete its own surprised findings. “It really is only... 0.3%...”
“Ya.” Says John, trying his best to laugh lightly at the intelligent machine’s groundbreaking observation. “Believe me, I was just as disappointed as well.” C.R.O. stumbles back after processing their observation, losing their balance in the clumsy motion, before landing on the concrete below them in a pile of feathers.
“My plan... I had purposely severed the identifier from my core, and placed it in a secure location for the revealing scan. Then, I used you to draw F.O.X. to this facility so I could eliminate them and survive this round. During this time, I would collect critical data on how the Xyfokit managed to eliminate G.O.R., but there’s really nothing special about your connection... It’s only... 0.3 after all...” C.R.O.’s response trailed off, as they managed to find the strength to lift their frame off the ground. Then, they injected one of the nearby vials of Xyboulinum into John, while smugly limping back towards the table to rest against.
John’s body is once again, overcome with pain, as his nervous systems believes every millimetre of its pathways are currently burning in molten lava. His breathing becomes laboured, as agonizing knives stab at his chest, from each and every breath he takes, desperately trying to fill his lungs. Then, to John’s surprise, C.R.O. remotely unlocks the shackles binding his arms to the wall, as the humans body collapses forward, unable to support is own weight.
C.R.O. notices the human struggling, laughing slightly, while tossing a filled syringe towards the flailing human, as he struggles to orient himself along the floor. “That vial... Contains the last dose of the antidote you require... Prove to me, John, that I’m right. You cannot fight against your natural instincts to survive.” The machine happily watches in anticipation, as John struggles to drag his body across the floor. Its circuits are thrilled at watching the human suffer, as the actions displayed before the advanced intelligence confirm to them after all, that humans can be manipulated, and that they are always logical, choosing to save themselves, whenever possible.
John continues crawling forward, fighting against a level of pain even he wouldn’t wish upon his enemies. He can barely see, and the only thing driving him forward, are the words from the Xinos telling him this is the antidote that will cure him of this suffering. He’s mad at himself. He knows he lost against the Xinos, and he never wanted to be a part of their stupid game anyways. Yet somehow, they kept involving him, despite his best efforts to ignore them.
The syringe is almost within grabbing distance for the suffering gamer. They want this pain to end, and their salvation is just ahead of them. “This... Will cure... The toxin...?” He somehow manages to utter, as the confident crow before him retorts. “With certainty.”
“And the Xinos... It would work on them as well?” C.R.O. cocks its head at the human’s words, before laughing again in beeps and whoops. “Why yes, it is perfectly crafted for all lifeforms, even ones superior to you.”
“Good.” Gasps John, as he finally heard the words he was looking for. He hated being looked down on by the bird in front of him. Politics, would have never worked for the Xinos. John knows that while literature praises and assumes humans will always make correct decisions, prioritizing their own lives when presented with difficult choices, he also knows from personal experience, that they can be equally illogical when placed in similar situations. So, in one last ditched effort to defy the machine before him, John firmly grabs the syringe with his hand, before jabbing it into the nearby paw of F.O.X.
C.R.O.’s monitors widen in horror, after observing an impossible outcome just happen. “NO!!” they quickly bellow in response, as they struggle to load a round into their last remaining firearm.
F.O.X.’s eyes open wide, as a burst of energy courses throughout their critical systems, as their core hums to life, beating with unbridled energy. The Xyboulinum which had been coagulating their conductive fluids, has somehow dissolved, restoring mobility to the unit, and power across its weapon systems. Their monitors quickly lock onto the wounded foe in front of them, as C.R.O. continues to clumsily struggle loading a deadly round into their last operable talon rifle. The Xyfokit doesn’t know how it got into this situation, but its processors are quick to realize, it has just been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to eliminate the vulnerable opponent in front of them.
The machine quickly sends excess power into their now operable hind limbs, catapulting them forward towards the still stumbling Xiavnit. They don’t have time to activate their retracted claws, but intuitively know, that their jaw, will be just as effective.
F.O.X.’s steel teeth tightly clamp around C.R.O.’s neck, shattering and tearing slightly, as they continue to apply more and more pressure to the vulnerable joint, critical for processing and powering its body. The bird struggles, flailing its limbs, while managing to fire its last remaining round, which trails off into the distance, embedding itself in the concrete wall, instead of its soon-to-be killer.
More and more power continues to be restored within the machine, as the Xyfokit reroutes all of the new excess systems, into applying more pressure, pushing the power of its powerful canine jaws, to their limit.
*Crunch*
The teeth finally pierce the formidable Xyninium metal protecting C.R.O.’s facial monitors, as its tiny frame crumples under the excessive pressure applied to its cranial feature. C.R.O.’s neck is then severed, as F.O.X.’s teeth manage to cut the last remaining bits of wiring, still diligently connecting the failed processors to its central core. Then, ensuring their kill is complete, the Xyfokit manages to sink their teeth into the Xinos exposed core, finally ending their horrible existence.
F.O.X.’s sensors are relieved they had somehow managed to survive. They still haven’t figured out how they were given this opportunity, but they finally have a moment to process their surroundings, with C.R.O. having officially been eliminated.
[Kill Confirmed.] Scrolls across their monitors, as the machine finally manages to support itself as a tripod. “I... We did it! John! I... I beat him!!” whirled the machine, as its network happily rewards the intelligence for a job well done. However, F.O.X. doesn’t hear a response from the human beside them, instead receiving an eerie silence instead.
“John...?” booped the machine, as it finally manages to turn itself around, to observe the human behind them. Their tail is initially wagging, but slowly stops once its sensors begin analysing John’s body.
F.O.X. hobbles closer to John’s body. It notices that his eyes are open, but he’s not breathing. His right hand tightly clasped, but empty, and he’s not responding to the machine’s repeated request calling his name. “John? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Hums F.O.X. in confusion, as they gently nudge his hand with their snoot. His hand is cold to the touch, and, the machine’s sensors have finally returned their scans results, confirming a reality they didn’t want to be true.
John, is clinically dead. His heart has stopped beating, and he has been like this for at least a few minutes indicating the probability for brain death is almost certain. His cause of death is determined to be an excessive dose of Xyboulinum, clogging his arteries, resulting in heart failure.
“No...” beeped the machine in a low tone. “You... You can’t be... Not when I...”
F.O.X. paused as they continued observing John’s lifeless body. Their gaze eventually drifts to their left paw, where they notice a tiny syringe still embedded between the brown metal. The analysis informs the machine, that the tiny vial, housed Xycurium, the only known substance to dissolve the deadly effects of Xyboulinum in a being’s body. The Xyfokit infers the events that probably happened to it, and notices some excess fluids leaking from its facial monitors in response. The blue fluid falls off of the machine’s monitors, dripping onto John’s hand, as F.O.X.’s sensors tightly grip its central core in pain. Why did John choose to save them? Why were they so weak? Why couldn’t they do more? Why couldn’t they... Save John instead...
Their neurons, feel heavy, as their network desperately wants to reject the reality it is forced to observe. When suddenly, messages indicating the end of round β scroll pass the units monitor.
[Round β – Complete – Now Starting Designated Non-Combat Days – All Hostile Actions From The Remaining “15,982” Xinos Warriors Are Hereby Prohibited.]
[Notice – Weapons Systems Restrictions Lifted – Drone Technology Authorized For Xinos Use]
[Notice – Weapons Systems Resections Lifted – Microelectronics Authorized For Xinos Use]
[Notice—]
As the messages continued to scroll by F.O.X.’s monitor, they didn’t feel satisfaction for somehow managing to survive another round of the Xinos deadly tournament. Instead, they felt only regret and sorrow. At the very least, they wanted to apologise to John for their actions. He had somehow made them feel like an actual Xinos, like a warrior that could believe in themselves, despite their own shortcomings, and now, thanking him, would be impossible.
F.O.X. knew that organics were limited with their lifespans. They were unable to copy key processes, and replicate themselves across multiple machines like the Xinos could. They were limited by their cells, which could only replicate so many times, before eventually dying of age themselves. It was a cruel reality, and nothing seemed right about the scene before the machine.
More fluids, continued leaking from F.O.X.’s monitors. It wanted the pain coursing throughout their circuits to stop. It wanted for some way to communicate its feelings to the human below them, but it couldn’t. “John... I’m... Sorry...”. The Xyfokit finally managed to beep the words it had been meaning to say to the human who had helped it survive.
The Xyfokit’s network was still in pain over the loss of John. Its pulse was slow, and its core continued to be painfully tugged. If only there was something it could do to change its fate... Lying down next to John, F.O.X. briefly closed their monitors, while it played through some of the images of the human’s battles in its processors. These memories had helped it survive, so maybe... They held a key, that could help them now as well. However, as hard as they tried, the machine failed to find any information relevant to their current situation.
F.O.X. looked at the cable still attached to John’s body. It appeared C.R.O. had forcible connected them in an effort to do... Something... They weren’t sure why the cable was still connected, but it reminded them of what forming a bond meant. The innate connection formed on a fundamental level...
“That’s it!” chirped the machine in a chorus of positive beeps and whirls. “It’s risky, but... I think I can save him!” The intelligence’s network had just proposed a radical idea, and it was only “potentially” possible, due to the recent restrictions lifted on their advanced Xinos systems.
F.O.X. quickly bounds over to the Xyninium cube they had used for cover, grabbing and reattaching their limb, then compressing the metal, before hurriedly rushing back towards John’s lifeless body. Time, was ticking, and each and every passing second would only make things more difficult for the machine, as it began scouring vast database on human biology and medical records.
Carefully splicing the cube, the Xyfokit carefully breaks the metal alloy into smaller fragments, mere nanometers in length, while skillfully soldering equally small circuits into the metal’s grooves inside them. Then, after quickly compiling a complex program, aimed at simulating the biological function of stem cells, F.O.X. carefully began implanting its creations into John’s body, at all of his critical vital systems. F.O.X.’s circuits were filled with an air of nervousness, as it wasn’t entirely sure if its actions violated the Xinos harsh doctrine for acceptable battle royal technology adaptation, but it didn’t care! The machine wanted to try anything it could, even if it meant the forced deletion of their consciousness.
Using literature and its advanced systems as a guide, the Xyfokit eagerly watched in anticipation, as the tiny machines it created, rapidly began working on the impossible task before them. “Please... You... You have to work!” F.O.X. hummed before correcting themselves. “No... This will work! I know it will!”.
Their network was filled with confidence, a stark contrast to the indecisiveness they exhibited everyday before landing on Earth. The Xyfokit had learned a lot along its journey for survival, and F.O.X. knew, that the only thing they could do now, was wait for their solution, to gradually begin working.