895G was driving as fast as he could down the road when the tires of his vehicle suddenly locked and he came to a heart-stopping drifting stop on the loose dusty road. Had there been any sort of obstacles around him he surely would have plowed through it but luckily there had been none. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was alone in the middle of the dusty plains in between cities and there was no one to aid him.
He pushed open the door cursing and popped open the front hood, pondering what all the mechanics did for a frustrating ten minutes before kicking one of the tires and scooping out the bag from the passenger seat to make the rest of the trek on foot. The Scout had been trained in basic mechanics but had forgotten much of the technical materials over the years of not using the information, although he did know that either something had gone wrong with the vehicle itself or the headquarters had found out that he had stolen the vehicle and cut the connection, therefore stopping the car in its tracks. If that was the case, then the rest of the Scouts and Patrollers would know that he killed the Head Scout and would be on a search for him so he needed to get moving as quickly as possible to Onto.
He grumbled the entire three hours walk to Yunto, having flashbacks to having to walk there with Indo and Petri and the robot. Granted, he was glad he didn’t have an electric collar binding him to them, but he did miss the company since the only thing he could entertain himself with were dark thoughts of what GreenHouse would do to him if they ever caught him.
After what seemed like ages, he made it to the outskirts of Yunto and was glad to see no Patrollers around. Ignoring the nagging thought of the undercover agents whom he didn’t recognize may be wandering the streets searching for him he continued walking into the bustling heart of the city. His goal was to buy passage to Hollindayse but he doubted he would get the posh accommodations he had gotten before with the group he had traveled with before. No, he would most likely need to find a smuggler in order to make it on any sort of ferry.
With a goal in mind, he passed through the center of the city until he found a less than favorable neighborhood and entered a hole-in-the-wall bar that read “Broken Sun” in neon lights where the ‘e’ and ‘u’ were broken, adding to the vibe of the place. Steeling himself, 895G entered the bar, clutching the bag even closer to him as the dark interior sent shutters down his spine. Although he had just committed murder a few hours ago, the faces that growled at him through the dimly-lit decor proved to him that he would never stop being a coward.
Gritting his teeth he took a seat in the back corner of the bar under a broken light, hoping that the lack of light would hide the fear he was attempting to conceal. It seemed to work as the characters in the bar ignored him and nobody approached him, granting him a small victory. Looking around, he tried his best to spot the seediest person he could find and hope that if he somehow managed to muster up the courage to talk to them that he could gain passage on the next ferry to Hollindayse. After a few minutes of searching among the faces, he postponed his mission to sate his curiosity as to what the bag the old scientist had given him held.
Unzipping the bag he dipped his hands into its contents and brought out a few things at a time as to not draw suspicion from anyone and goad anyone into mugging him. To his pleasant surprise, there was a gun at the bottom which he dutifully tucked into the inside of his jacket pocket. There was a steel respirator on top which he would put on once his atmosphere injections wore off, a portable screen, a small beeping cylinder with an orange light flickering on its face, the black container housing the vials of Ambrosia, a few sets of clothes, a box of bullets, three bottles of water, a week’s worth of dry rations, five mid-sized charged power cores, a set of metal keys, and a map.
He opened up the map first to check out just how far he had to travel to get to Onto. He’d never had to leave the continent of Wivern so he didn’t know what lay past the ocean so he was unsure just how much farther Onto was once he somehow gained passage from Tinyon. A pit of doubt settled into his stomach when he saw that Onto was fifty clicks from the coast of Payal; it would take at least a few days of travel just to get to Tinyon, a week of travel on the ship to Payal, and then another few days walk to Onto. 895G groaned at the thought of the next two weeks of spending time on the road, every second outdoors meaning there was a chance a Patroller could spot him and turn him into GreenHouse. Unless maybe the security footage had been somehow destroyed and no one knew that he had killed the Head? The Scout shook his head of the hopeful idea and went back to investigating the contents of the bag.
The power cores meant nothing to him and he tucked them back into the bag; if the old man had packed them there must have been a reason although he didn’t see it immediately. He twirled the blinking cylinder in his fingers before packing that away as well since there didn’t seem to be anything special about it.
Pressing his hand on the portable screen 895G watched as the welcome menu came up as the computer booted up for, apparently, the first time. Waiting a few minutes as the thing booted up he scanned the bar to find the right seedy face, landing on a face he thought was familiar. Squinting through the lack of light he tried to place the guy’s face but couldn’t quite get his finger on it. If anything he may have just flipped past the guy’s mug shot during the Scout’s weekly memorization meetings when Scouts and Patrollers would have to sit for however long it took them to memorize the newest faces of those they had to search for. 895G wished he had paid closer attention rather than just storing the information in his brain long enough to get out of the annoyingly long meeting.
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The computer’s screen popped up and immediate notifications caught his eye. The most immediate update took over the viewing window and the video started playing.
“-rrorist attack on Headquarter Three leaving two-thousand dead and the number still rising. It is still unsure as to what happened but there is no doubt the nuclear reactor did not malfunction and foul play is involved.
Recent security footage was recovered from before the accident showing a Combatant running from the building clutching bags. We suspect someone has hacked into the prototype machine and is using it to satisfy some desire to cause as much destruction against GreenHouse as possible. No organization is claiming responsibility but it is speculated that the Old World Force is behind the attack because of their recent increase in radical action against GreenHouse organizations and cities. If you see any suspicious activities, please report to the nearest Patroller station.
These attacks also resulted in the loss of a legend. Neiman Lecolds, the Head Roboticist when the first Efficiency models were released, perished in the attacks today. Nearly sixty years ago he released the first robots and since then our technology has improved year after year exponentially. Retirement couldn’t stop him as he often visited the labs and oversaw prototype production. The newest Combatant model was being finalized when the explosions occurred and Lecolds, the father of robotics, was killed. We will never forget him and the impact he has had on all of our lives.
In response to the recent threat, GreenHouse has pushed the production of Combatants and is releasing the newest models tomorrow. Stay tune--”
895G’s ears were ringing when he forcefully shut down the screen. The images that had flashed by while the voice was talking were striking cords. The entirety of headquarters had been completely vaporized by an explosion and there was nothing left. The academy was gone. His apartment was gone. The Scout division was gone. Everything that he thought would always be there had gone up in flames and it shook him to the core. A small part of him told him he should be relieved since there was little chance of anyone looking for him after this incident; he was a small fry in comparison with the Old World Force.
Taking in a shaky breath he looked up from the screen, needing a distraction from the despairing update he had just received, and almost pissed himself when three men were standing at his table glaring at him.
“I know you.” The largest man stated.
“I--I’m sorry but I don’t think we’ve met,” 895G said, trying his best to not let his voice crack.
The man slammed his fist down on the table and the Scout fell backward, catching himself on the wall and shoving his hand into his jacket to grab his gun. The two men standing at the largest man’s side had already drawn their weapons at the sight of 895G reaching for his own and the Scout was forced to show his hands in order to avoid getting shot.
“I don’t forget a face.” The man growled. “You’re one of the three with the robot. You split up with your buddies?”
It took a moment for 895G to realize what this guy was talking about, recalling the time the Efficiency model had beaten the crap out of three thugs who had tried to steal it for their own gain. It seemed like years ago but in all reality, it had been less than three weeks ago.
“N-no. They...umm…” 895G didn’t know how to explain the last couple weeks in a sentence to sate the anger the man was feeling towards him.
“Listen, I’ll strike up a deal with you. Bring me the Efficiency and we won’t kill you. Sound alright to you?” The man said in an even tone, somehow sounding even more menacing than when he was raising his voice.
“You don’t ge--” 895G started, trying to explain his situation.
“And here I thought I made it simple enough for someone like you to understand. Either you get the Efficiency or you die. I think the choice is pretty simple unless you’re trying to hide it for some reason?”
“No! It’s complicated. I don’t even know where it is!” 895G yelled, drawing a few curious glances his way. “That’s what I’m doing right now. You saw that Efficiency was different, right? Well, it escaped and we’re hunting it down. We split up to cover more ground but can’t contact one another because we’re wanted by Patrollers.”
A trickle of sweat ran down the nape of the Scout’s neck as he tried his hand at lying his way through the situation. The three men narrowed their eyes in suspicion and seemed to be contemplating his words, giving the Scout a string of hope to hang on to.
“I don’t know if you’re stupid or a bad liar but you’re not fooling anyone. But in case you are telling the truth, there’s no way we’re going to pass up the chance to make double and let the Efficiency slip through our figures. I’ve got a bone to pick with it.”
The large man straightened up to his full height and cracked his fingers, dashing whatever hope the Scout had to get out of the situation. There was no way for him to make a break for it either since he had backed himself into a corner and the three men left no openings large enough for him to squeeze through. He was sure that if he tried they would show no mercy in beating the shit out of him and he knew that none of the patrons at the bar would stoop so low as to help him either.
“Fine, I guess I can take a few more guys on my crew, but you better not slow me down,” 895G said in the toughest voice he could muster.
This caused the men to laugh heartily.
“If you can’t find it within a week we’re killing you.”
“Two weeks.”
“Fine.”
The man stepped aside and made a grand sweeping motion with his hand to tell 895G to lead the way. Shoving everything back into his bag the Scout walked ahead of the group and tried to cover his fear with a look of confidence.
His hope now was to convince these scary men that the Efficiency was in Onto and hopefully an idea would come to him as to how to escape from the watch of the men. It was either that or find the Efficiency model that had been most likely been destroyed in the explosion in the labs. No matter the option, it seemed like in two weeks he was going to die no matter what.