“Thanks sweetheart, what’s your name anyway? King said something about a Ms. Wren? Not Mrs. huh?” Kirche leaned over the counter, quite happy with the faint blush building on the woman's dark cheeks. She slid the contract across to Soune, who picked it up to start skimming the contents. It all seemed standard.
“Cassie, and yep, just Ms. For now.” Soune groaned, moving away from the scene, she looked over at the lobby to see the few stragglers waiting for a meeting staring daggers at the pair. They’d been waiting for hours for acknowledgement only for Soune and Kirche to stroll right in, and walk out not only with contracts for work they desperately sought, but for one of them to start flirting with the clerk that’d been ignoring them.
It’s not like she could help them even if she wanted to, the work they received from King was exclusive for a reason. He’d tried to throw these gaunt stragglers a bone as tag-alongs before, they simply got in the way, got themselves killed, more often than not doing both. Soune tore her gaze away, stifling the pity she felt for them, and leaned against a wall to read. It took a moment for her to blank out Wren’s chuckling to focus.
By the decree of King.
This contract agreement is valid only to the following individuals. Information given to confirm these individuals match should their identity be questioned.
* * * Kirche Kuvie, 29, 180cm, Red hair.
* * * Razgrith Baster, 22, 168cm, Blond hair.
* * * Antonio Baster, 26, 188cm, Brown hair.
* * * Soune Argent, 24, 173cm, White hair.
Should any doubt remain that these are the individuals bearing this contract. Contact King’s office immediately.
Suddenly, Soune remembered Simon’s passing remark about an exiled lawyer, and wondered if he regretted that decision. Since he disappeared, these contracts had slowly become more and more disconnected from what she expected from a legal document. She assumed he was writing them up himself, and that age was catching up to the bastard.
These individuals for the following period have open permission to travel between King’s territories. 35th Duous to 45th Duous. This does NOT permit them to leave the territories.
Soune looked over to the clock on the wall, the date displayed below read the 30th. A week to prepare, two weeks to perform. So much for the schedule Kirche gave. Simon must’ve felt a bit wounded by her demanding the days. They still matched close enough for Soune to not care too much, she had a plan for that week.
The contract demands the following tasks be completed to be deemed completed.
Even repeating himself, maybe he’d go senile and forget about her last year.
* The source of disturbance in the town of Ingram is identified.
* If this disturbance poses a threat to the contractors (Or upon decision by King.) it is to be removed.
* Contractors will not interact with the operations of the following organisations if possible. Additionally, if the disturbance would pose a threat to these organisations, permission to remove it is granted and expected.
* The Federation of Prima Locas
* Seere Development
* Am-Ray Holdings
* A list of additional organisations, though not expected to be involved, are available upon request at King’s office.
Soune huffed a laugh, despite all his claims of independence and rebellion against control, Simon was still sure to cover his bases to avoid trouble from Priloca, even using the proper title.
Upon validated completion of these tasks. Each individual listed as a contractor will receive the same compensation.
* Three-Hundred and fifty Regents
* Fifty Aurum Standard Credits
* A four-week rest period without further requested contracts or utility costs
That definitely gave Soune pause, for King to offer Oz to begin with was extremely odd, he occasionally rewarded them with ten here or twenty there but never fifty. It still wasn’t a lot, two or three meals worth on the outside going by her memory. Though it’d been a while since she’d been out. Soune cocked her head, making a mental note to request a day pass out at some point, get some fresh air and fresh food with an old friend.
Additionally, Scirocco Reyar will accompany these individuals to provide a liaison between them and King’s office and, due to his encounter with it, first hand assistance with identifying the disturbance. He is not a valid contractor on this job and will NOT receive the benefits or reward given to the previous individuals.
He will be provided a provisional and limited pass to accompany them between the 35th and 45th ONLY to the town of Ingram.
So sayeth King.
Another huffed laugh, Soune could clearly imagine the desperation from Simon to add this messy clause, any reason to get the Scirocco away from him for a while. A tiresome, ratty man that attached like a leech to whoever he thought he could benefit from. Despite his awful presence, King kept him around as an obedient lackey with a talent for communicating with the corporations. A greedy, money focused man.
Below his sendoff was a stamped seal, the silhouette of a gear with curling, regal filigree along its body. A remnant from the early days Simon demanded to be called The Scrap King, quickly growing bored of that and reducing it to solely King.
Skimming over it once more to make sure she didn’t miss anything, Soune shrugged, it all seemed simple enough. She returned to the counter where Kirche and Cassie were exchanging double entendres.
“Cutie Kuvie, that’s a nice rhyme.”
“I could come up with a rhyme for Cassie but I’d get in even more trouble, not that I'd mind with you-well excuse me!”
Kirche barked with a smirk as Soune interrupted them by leaning over between them to find a pen.
“Shut up, the contract looks fine, I've still got shit to do in town so you can finish the rest and take it to the others.” Soune rifled through a cup full of stationary on the aghast Cassie’s desk.
“Ignore her, she’s a bit of a hellcat when she sees others having fun.” Kirche offered by means of explanation. “Lost her sense of it a bit ago, shame.” Soune gritted her teeth, stopping herself from biting at the woman's provocations. Picking out a black pen she pulled back, quickly scribbling a signature onto the line at the bottom of the page with her name listed in bold, blocky letters.
She shoved the paper and pen into Kirche’s chest, not showing any other sign of annoyance, not feeding into the smug grin on her face.
“See you next week then, tell Raz and Tonio I said hi.”
Kirche turned back to Cassie with a shrug.
“What can I say, she’s all business.” She turned back to see Soune already halfway across the lobby. “Well bah humbug and goodbye to you too, Silver!” Soune simply waved her hand up. Turned away from Cassie, Kirche quickly unbuttoned the top part of her short, leather jacket.
“Anyway-” She leaned forward over the counter, getting face to face with Cassie’s flicking eyes. “-Where are you posted tonight?”
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Outside, Soune dug out the Regents from her coat. Fifty from the half-pay, ten as a so-called bonus, seventeen in general change.
“One week, huh.” She mused, gently tossing the small pile of coins in her hand. “Probably a day or two to find the entrance, another to explore, two or three days to work on him then.” Her hand snapped close. “Not the worst deadline I've worked on.”
Pocketing the coins, she started walking towards the more market heavy part of the khaki sea.
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“I’m home!” Soune called out, moving a hunk of metal with her foot to keep the door open, arms busy carrying sealed jugs of water. “Rhap?” Placing the jugs down, she poked her head into the workshop, it was pitch dark, the only sign of life being the various standby lights on him.
She huffed, the setup she had for him was many things. Scrappy, hazardous, functional, but power efficient was not one of them. The main problem came from the longer Rhapsody was active, the more power he drew, each part of his complex matrix slowly coming to life and demanding more. Over the few years Soune had spliced and plugged more power into the setup where she could, each time causing a jump in Rhapsody’s functionality, and each time shortening the amount of time he was able to stay on. There was only so much power she could draw from the grid, only so much she could afford as well.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The thought terrified her when she tried to relate to it. The feeling of your mind and faculties slowly, slowly coming to life, only for it to blink out in an instant from a power short, then waking up only for it to happen all over again. Then sometimes, it goes a little further, one day you can speak sentences instead of slow, singular words, then darkness again. One day you can see, a rudimentary camera focusing to see your life giver and taker, the only companion you have smile as she sees her success. Then it cuts out again. Waking up again somewhere new, the inside of a vehicle, engine roaring to try and pump as much power through the sparking electronics as it could, then you can feel. Feel the electricity communing with boards and devices, being able to grab and influence them, and then nothing again.
And each time, each advancement, makes you more and more aware of just how short these glimpses had become.
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Soune whispered, hand atop the still warm black box. She breathed deep and forced a smile, wondering if he could even hear her. “We’re going for a trip tomorrow, we’re gonna find that quarry, find you a body, a generator in it if we’re lucky. Maybe it still has power too, give you a big dose and see how much more that brain of yours can do.” Lights steadily blinked at her in blank response. She sank to the ground, pulling her legs to her chest.
“...I’m sorry. Sorry I can’t do better. Sorry that I’m not Ariel, she’d have fixed you up in weeks. She knew people that could’ve given you a body, given you whatever you’d have wanted.” Tears welled in her eyes, the pain from the day catching up; from her failure, from Kirche intruding, from Marley forcing her to do something she promised not to, relying on someone else, even as a threat.
The tears fell freely now, silently. The entire room was dead silent, no hum of electricity, no clinking of machines or tools, no wind blowing sand against the walls. It made her thoughts that much louder.
From King openly saying it, saying that she could never be Ariel, that she didn’t deserve the name Argent. From seeing just how freely Kirche snaked up to people to get what she wanted, seeing how unspecial she was. From acknowledging that invisible pain she so desperately tried to ignore.
She wasn’t special.
Rubbish. A worthless, tarnished scrap.
She meant nothing.
She was nothing.
Like Scirocco said, a mangy stray- a mangy fucking stray that killed its beautiful, perfect owner that debased themselves to save it.
She was sobbing now.
And hated herself that much more for being weak enough to do so.
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The same feeling as when she woke up, that lack of awareness about when she moved or acted. Only the now, sprawled out on a couch, glassy eyes mindlessly watching a tape. Some ancient thing, fantastical giant robots in grainy animation engaged in space battles, dialogue in some long-forgotten language. Broken subtitles attempted to relay the story, she didn’t need to read them, she’d watched the tapes dozens of times at this point and knew what story there was by heart, filling the gaps of episodes without any subtitles or missing ones entirely with her own explanations.
She raised herself, sore and drowsy, to look around. Dusky, orange halflight peeked through the curtains and gaps in the doorframe, her purchases from the afternoon in an unorganised pile by the workshop door. Yellow light from dying bulbs illuminated them, at some point she must’ve reset the breaker. Sitting up she realised the softness around her neck was missing, she manically snapped around to find her scarf, breathing out a panic attack before it started. Simply taken off, sitting in a red pile atop her coat on the partition between kitchen and living space.
“I’m awake.” Speakers crackled from the workshop, Soune rubbed the sleep from her eyes while she stood. She quickly parted the curtains to check she’d closed the gate to her yard, good, sealed away and secure. A haphazardly wired light in the dusk confirming so. A weight she wasn’t aware of lifted from her shoulders, she wasn’t that out of it to forget safe habits.
“How you feeling?” She drawled, nearly tripping over the supplies on her way into the space.
“A redundant question. The same as always. I am a machine. Identical performance until improved or decayed.” Sensors whirred and clicked.
“You and I both know you’ve got enough glitches and quirks that it’s a valid question, you’ve had launches where for no reason at all you just can’t access a random function or two.”
“Margins of error.”
Soune huffed a laugh, appreciating the normality returned to the day. Rhapsody went silent, but lights and lines running across screens told her he was doing a bit more than simply standing by.
“What’s going on?” She asked.
“Nothing.” The speakers croaked.
“I’m sorry Mr. ‘I can’t lie’. But all that activity spiking tells me otherwise.”
“...Omitting the truth is not lying.” He tried to argue after a pause, and was met with a knuckle rapping.
“Don’t make me bring up handler privileges.” Soune warned she'd found out early on that Rhapsody, in some unknown process, had assigned her as his ‘Handler’, and given her the right to override any of his decisions or processes should she invoke that status. Something she absolutely despised the thought of doing, and only brought up as a half-joking threat. She could never bring herself to even experiment with it, everything and everything else but taking away his autonomy.
“I went over my cache and logs upon startup.” Soune stiffened, hoping she was wrong in her guess of what came next.
“And?”
“That included verbal input, buffered to deliver.” She wasn’t. And to prove his point, the active light on the small microphone blinked actively.
Soune sighed, turning around and leaning on her hands against his bench.
“Sorry you had to hear that then, it was just a bad day.”
“Of course.”
Stark silence, a few painful blank moments.
“I meant what I said first though, tomorrow we’re going to go find that quarry, so cross your… fingers.” She rolled her eyes at the slip, a bad habit of equating human analogies to a bunch of ones and zeros.
“...Human emotional depth and issues are beyond my ability to process.” Rhapsody crackled, not letting Soune change the subject that easily.
“Then don’t try, you’ll hurt that head of yours.” Another light tap on his core.
A long pause between them. Neither opting to break the silence, Soune not wanting to leave the workshop and warped sense of companionship, Rhapsody not wanting to rush towards his next shutdown.
The speakers croaked, shifted their tuning. Soune’s voice, warped and garbled, corrupted by the half-powered input came out.
“How you feeling?”
She laughed, openly and light, patting the box again.
“Don’t do that, it’s creepy!” She said, chuckling, warping the words. Settling after a few seconds, she continued. “I’m fine Rhap, just needed to release the pressure a bit, vent you know? Lot’s of work recently. Lot’s of things to consider, like what we do first when we get out of here. Before that though, can’t leave until you’re moving so get some rest, big day tomorrow.”
The speakers screeched and warbled back into Rhapsody’s monotone.
“I have a realisation.”
“Oh? Those are good, most of the time.”
“Choosing when to shut down or enter standby, I prefer it over the power shorts. This makes no sense, I should seek to stay active for as long as possible. Explain.”
Soune frowned, relating far too much to the broken machine in that moment.
“Choosing when to rest is generally a good idea, makes it less disorienting when you wake up. Can’t choose it always though, if we work too hard, get hit the wrong way. Have a bit too many emotions” She stared a hole into the back of her hand. “That’s when we black out, or just lose track of ourselves, all humans that is.” She made sure to add in a hurry. “You’ve got it backwards though, the more active and awake you get the more likely you are to black out.”
“Correct.”
“Can you feel when the shutoff is coming? Like if you start to heat up a bit much, or the power starts to get weird.”
“Sometimes, power input fluctuates before it shorts. The feeling is…”
He paused, parts whirring as he calculated the right word.
“...harrowing.”
“Staring into the abyss huh?”
“What abyss?”
“Nevermind, but for you, you should start to recognise that feeling, maybe see if it comes earlier too. Consider it your version of being tired, mind telling you to rest.”
“I see…Based on recordings, and the increased draw from this conversation, It won’t be long now.” The speakers seemed to drop, Soune felt a chill as she realised the machine felt worry- worse than that. He felt Dread.
“Time to go to sleep then, don’t let it sneak up on you. Same for me.” Soune moved away from the bench, stroking the top of his housing again. It was scalding hot, she had to stop herself from pulling her hand away, for his sake. “Time for a new human term, Goodnight, Rhap.”
“Goodnight, Soune.”
Lights and screens began to shut off with hisses and hums. The speakers cut in a static blip, the light in the camera sensor dimmer, it seemed so much more peaceful than the sharp, short shock of them all ceasing at once. Soune didn’t remove her hand until the cooling fans had all ceased, standby lights stabilised and blinked low.
His handler walked away, rubbing her red fingers. With the flick of a heavy switch, the shutter doors to the workshop rolled up and open.
Need to teach him ‘do as I say, not as I do.’ , maybe not, don’t need that turned on me.
Soune thought, not opting to speak out loud as she normally would, knowing he could still be listening. Then went to work packing Trudge with supplies for the day after.
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* C2 - Crisis Control
The largest neutral organisation operating on the planet. Beginning as a PMC, they now take the place of emergency services outside of the Oases, with the caveat of requiring various paid plans to provide these services. On top of emergency services plans, they offer healthcare, legal and security services. To people outside their coverage, they are viewed as a highly organised group of mercenaries working for the highest bidder.