"So, how is your inspection so far doctor?"

Ivan Decanov had been walking through what he had been informed was a haunted orphanage for hours now, exploring every nook and cranny aside from the barracks where the still living and fleshy guards were currently resting, leaving the security to the restless specters floating through the halls. The ethereal undead had been pleasantly behaved, with only the small ones approaching him enough to be within arm's reach, and even then they had made sure not to get too close or surprise him. They simply looked from around corners or over his shoulder, watching his every move with wonder. Knowing the age and location of the place, he likely was the first true robot they ever saw.

Considering the size difference between the souls and what sort of establishment this used to be, he couldn't bring himself to be too mad about their curiosity.

"My part is going wonderfully, but whoever you had play with the electrical installations here was much less impressive. It's functional, but it's clear this is less an electrician's work and closer to a carjacker crossing some wires. If you want me to install a new generator here and a security system, we'll have to start over, perhaps even tear down some walls."

"Couldn't the spirits operate instead, with only a small opening for cables and wires to pass through?"

"Perhaps. I'm unsure as to their competency, but I suppose I could keep an eye on them. Running a few tests beforehand with a training wall would be safer."

"I'm sure we can do something about that. You must admit, having ghosts to help you would hasten things tremendously."

"Phasing through walls is a useful ability, one we could work to replicate. I am aware of some Supers with such equipment, but rather than use full suits for thievery, simple gloves for directly accessing internals without a need for openings would be quite remarkable, not only would it save time but it would also be safer. My father had some of my most fragile parts welded shut, for instance."

"I'll see if my inventor can investigate further. Perchance he might even figure something out with our alien friend's body."

"Ah yes, my scientific predecessor under your employ. I suppose you will invite him to take a look at the creature too?"

"I sent him a message. Knowing him, if he isn't too busy preparing products-"

From the office they were in they could hear the front door opening and the rapid footsteps of someone who wasn't exactly pleased. The newcomer's rant began before he even reached the stairs, and the youthful voice and lack of reaction of Silhouette let Decanov realize this was likely the man they were waiting for.

"I AM ALREADY OVERWORKED AS IS, WHAT NEW MADNESS DO YOU WANT TO DROP ON MY LAP-"

Techlord turned around the corner, and his eyes widened as he met the doctor's optics who was equally surprised. He knew the tinkerer was young, but not quite to this point. He was more of a boy than a man, possibly sixteen, though he had clearly experienced more things than many adults did. The strange black bodysuit covered in bizarre gadgets and protrusions he wore left only his head exposed, but that was more than enough to reveal terrible scars: marks of burns that had devoured the flesh, robbing the body of all hair and nearly melting off the nose and ears, as well as of cuts and grafts from the procedures that had saved his life. Had it not been for the shape of the skull covered by this healed charred flesh, the doctor wouldn't have been sure of his estimate.

The reddened skin covered in what could best be described as craters of even gorier scarring showed this was the work of flames and not acid, and it appeared to have healed sufficiently well. The boy was screaming merely seconds ago, after all. Still, the scientist was left to wonder: what happened to him?

"Boss, who is that robot, and what the hell is that thing on your desk?"

"Greetings, Techlord. It's been far too long since we last saw each other. Allow me to introduce Doctor Ivan Decanov, the engineer currently working on the machinery to mass-produce your designs. Doctor, this is the brilliant mind I told you about."

The robot took a closer look at the suit the boy was wearing and noticed there was more thought put behind its design than he first assumed. It was botched work without a doubt, but there was potential beneath the crude craftsmanship and poor choice of materials. He'd seen less intelligent designs used by Mecha Man, not that the technology-oriented Hero was held in high esteem in the Draskian's metaphorical heart. Still, judging by his scarring, he doubted the so-called inventor was as remarkable as he once thought, especially since he appeared to be a local to these ruins. What could he know of modern science?

The analysis didn't only go one way, the native to the slums was just as curious about his counterpart. The pristine cut of his parts and the cleanliness of his metal didn't seem to align with manual work, as unblemished as the scientist and his clothes were. His serious air and naturally hostile expression didn't help make the orphan see him in a better light, being far too reminded of the pompous supposedly educated people who let this part of the city fall to ruin and put no effort into fixing it, far too happy with having a place to dump their dangerous and faulty work. Techlord would know; he grew up in the Junkland, the graveyard of advanced unstable technology people like him had no choice but to risk their lives to make enough money to guarantee themselves another day of living, only for the cycle to begin anew.

"Really, boss? You got yourself a fancy city-dweller? He doesn't seem like the type to get his hands dirty."

The robot scoffed as he approached the boy, his mechanical frame towering above the malnourished youth.

"Let me return the disdain: I am incredibly disappointed to see what I hoped to be an intellectual equal is naught but a child playing in the mud."

"Fancy way of saying you don't how to hit a nail, buddy."

"If hitting nails is the pinnacle of your technological knowledge, I have a revolutionary idea to introduce: have you heard of fire, little caveman?"

"Sure. I can show you, if you want, I have this neat little thing I can shove right up your-"

"Enough."

The two tinkerers turned in synch toward their employer, and both knew better than to let their temper win when faced with a whole wall of shadows curling and unfurling madly, putting no effort in hiding the annoyance of Silhouette.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Gentlemen, I expected better from you. In any case, to answer your question, the creature here is the reason I called you: this alien showcased a remarkable ability, and I wanted to see if you perhaps could make use of its body."

"Boss, I am drowning in requests and repairs. And, a friendly reminder, my shtick is making miracles with metal, not butchering weird animals. If you want meat stuff, call the Patcher."

"Techlord."

"Sorry. I'm just on edge. But still, can't ya call one of those weirdos?"

"Luckily, I already did. They should be arriving any minute now."

"Should I expect them to kick down the door as your intern did?"

"Who are you calling an intern?!"

"Hush. And no, though I have no doubt they will come, they are not part of this group. They have business to attend to. Also, the staff would stop them at the entrance and not simply let them in. In the meantime, I believe it is time for you to meet our intelligence branch. Mischief, take it from here."

From dark corners of the room emerged furry shapes, black rats the size of cats with a far sharper look in their eyes than any vermin should have. One of them stood out from the rest, one of his front limbs not being made of flesh and bone but rather solid shadows not unlike Silhouette's body, though the rodent's appendage was more translucent.

Decanov knew he was now facing the creatures that had been keeping an eye on him - or at the very, those that represented them as a whole.

"Mischief, is it?"

He wasn't overly surprised to see the leading mammal step forward and speak, though the clarity of his words and the audible age in his voice did catch him off-guard.

"In a way. We are a family, a mischief. I am their elder, Polisson. It is reassuring to see you are now trusted, doctor. It will make our work easier."

"Oh? How so?"

"That's for us to know, doctor."

"Mischief might as well be independent. Polisson does a wonderful job keeping track of everything, as well as selecting what information is worth sharing."

"I am honored, master."

"I can always respect a talented manager. May I ask, is the ethereal limb your work?"

"Yes, and no. Polisson was already missing the limb when we met, and this elemental prosthetic came to be when he willingly embraced my shadows."

"I see. May I ask the exact extent of your tests concerning living organisms?"

"What for, doctor?"

"Knowing exactly what I'm working with is essential. There is also much that could be done with your powers, depending on your exact reach."

"You signed a contract, and you have proven to be brutally honest and true to your word so far. Fine. The rats of Mischief are the only willing subjects I've had, though I've also infused people. You should remember the guards at the Penumbral Palace."

"The silent and efficient ones, yes. Could you elaborate?"

"Their bodies are tweaked, improved without modifying them past their initial species. Their coloration darkens to be as close to black as possible. Their minds are the most mystifying aspect so far. They retain their memories and intelligence, but their personalities are purged. They also share a mental connection, not enough to be a true hivemind, but more than capable of helping them coordinate and communicate between short distances."

"Tell me, what is your definition of a hivemind?"

"A single will directing multiple bodies."

"Somewhat accurate vernacularly, but not perfect. A hivemind isn't quite a will, more so a shared instinct of sorts, though it can be somewhat detected by psychic means. Simply think of the first hive that comes to mind: bees. They are individuals all working for a greater goal by instinct, yet they remain different entities. What you describe here fits the scientific definition of a hivemind, though the people have gotten used to using it to describe a different phenomenon."

"Fascinating. What is the proper name of a single mind directing multiple bodies, then?"

"A gestalt. Even then your definition isn't perfect here either. There is no need to have multiple bodies for a gestalt to manifest, simply for different minds to work alongside one another to become a single individual. Even in this scenario, there are different levels. To put it in blunt metaphors, you wouldn't put two children in a trenchcoat at the same level as a siphonophore. The rogue ancient AI you gave me, for instance, somewhat fits this category: G433 is an amalgamation of multiple simpler AIs fused in a brutish way, and though he manages to act as a single mind most of the time, his components do have varying opinions and sometimes clash."

"This is all very interesting, doctor, though I can't help but notice you used the present tense here. Are you keeping up with the latest ongoing of my would-be killer?"

"You never told me not to. My friend is overseeing his internment and therapy, and as I am the one who brought her the little maniac, she keeps me updated. Not that I believe for one second the psychotic piece of software is improving as fast as she says, not genuinely at the very least. I've seen its code, I know what it is made of, and there is no possible way for it to develop a socially acceptable mind without years of intense treatment and sessions of reprogramming."

"I wouldn't resent you for your handling of the problem, considering I'm the one who told you to do as you wished. If anything, I'm happy you keep track of him since he's alive. I have a feeling if he is as unrepentant as you claim, he might try something stupid when he gets out."

"I'll keep it in mind."

A knock came at the door and a tentacle opened it, revealing an armed guard wearing somewhat different gear from the ones on the surface.

"Uh, boss? The usual trio is at the gate. Also, George wanted to know if you could drop by the stables later, to show you the progress on the spiders and thank you personally."

"Thank you. Doctor, allow me to introduce you to one of the members of the Shadow Commando. They are the non-infused agents that keep things running down here in my absence, under Techlord and Polisson's shared supervision."

"Ouh, a shiny bot!"

"I think I preferred the specters."

"The kids or the nuns? The younglings are great, just a little mischievous, but the ladies... Brrh. Worse than my aunt Velma."

"I confirm my preference for the paranormal."

"Uh, what's that mean boss?"

"Don't worry, just head back out and let them in. Also, let George know the doctor and I will take a look at this work. Techlord, what about you?"

"What?"

"Did you take a look at our eight-legged cattle yet? Have you pondered how to best use the resources they produce?"

"Boss, I have dozens of things to oversee. You think I have the time to watch over bugs?"

"Arachnids, you little barbarian. Spiders are arachnids, not bugs. And if I recall correctly, they are the pillar of the new textile industry your employer wishes to expand into. They are more important than your little party costume."

"Oh, sorry, mister metal face. Sorry that I value my life more than a quick buck. I beat down supers with this suit, and even put together a mech that let me survive Sunburn. What did you do I should know about, uh?"

The metal man scoffed. Big words from a clumsy youth trying to cover his mistakes with

"I did as I was asked by Silhouette. I created a reliable energy source for a facility larger than this one, and am on the path to updating and upgrading every speck of technology he may ever need. I have obtained several doctorates and studied for longer than you have been alive. I have fashioned designs that would have sent this city to the highs of fame and development if it weren't for the traitorous incompetence of the local populace. More importantly, I was not stupid enough to get into a fight with the most powerful man in this city, nor so much of a cretin I would pride myself on surviving a burning incident through sheer luck. If you could have dealt with the flames alone, they wouldn't have marked you so."

Decanov expected rage. All he got from the petulant child was mere anger, and even that was overwhelmed by disdain.

"I survived in the deadliest parts of Zalcien. What did you live through?"

The robot was ready to continue, but shadows grasped him and the boy and dragged them out of the room, though they made sure to keep them in the air and away from the walls they might bump into.

"I thought geniuses were supposed to be above the level of toddlers. Behave. We have a mage and his friends to see."