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Orchid Helix: Feeder
Interl. -- Somewhere in Delaware

Interl. -- Somewhere in Delaware

Somewhere in what used to be Delaware.

“The grenades worked a little too well. We almost lost all the specimens.” The speaker burst into the lab as if it were her own domain, uncaring of the “keep out” signs or the level of delicacy involved in the ongoing work.

“What about the guns?”

“She’s cautious. She didn't take them on that hunt.” She stalked around the table, observing the movements of robotic frame on the workbench.

“Hmm. Maybe the next one? How many jobs do we have for her?”

“Only three more. Spain, Vienna and Romania, I think.”

“I may have spread it around that a top ranked Feeder would be passing through. I have about eight requests for help.”

“All so you can test your weapons?”

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“No. Not really. Lets call it a Good Will Tour.”

“Hmph. Send your list to the Creaux and Panthera so they can coordinate oversight at each location.”

“Got it.”

“What are you working on?”

“The Reavers reached out. They need more exo-gear.”

“Why are we supporting them in their guerrilla campaigns?”

“It inconveniences the corporations?”

“Or it fuels your need to make bigger and better guns?”

“That too. I wonder where I got this Mad Scientist vibe from?”

“No clue. No child of mine would be so bloodthirsty.”

“Okay, Madame Phosphorus.”

“Are you ladies quite finished? I need someone to model this new suit for me.” The newcomer spoke from the doorway, knowing better than to interrupt the other two at their work… or their bickering.

“By ‘someone’, you mean Mother Dear.”

“Don’t be jealous, daughter.”

“Go away, Old Lady. Your husband wants you to strip.”

“Mannerless child. By the way,” She gestured to the frame on the bench still going through its automated motions. “The hip and knee servos need adjusting. Bending is jerky and repositioning takes too long.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

The Alchemist followed The Tailor out of the lab as The Blacksmith turned back to the workbench behind her. She switched off the tester and waited as the frame returned to its humanoid shape, before reaching for a screwdriver.

“Okay, K9-187. Let's fix your arthritis.”