"I need all of the kids down in the basement now. You lot, too. And yes, even Tapper." Ms. Uxral's words were steady, and carried all the finality of a gravity well. "I don't know why management called a meeting, but they are never good. I just..." She squeezed Phanya, Ricky, Steffo, and even Tapper with hugs. "I'm so proud of all of you." She dashed to the elevator without another word, leaving them alone in the basement with the oldest members of Fableton keeping watch over the youngest.
"Why does it feel like she just said good-bye to us?"
The question was rhetorical and mutual between the four, but Grandbag Bristol rolled up in his electric scooter and harumphed to get their attention. "Because management can do whatever they want, if'n they really want to. Cyracorp used to love transferring someone's contract away forever as a punishment, one o' the things we fought over to get Fableton established. They haven't done that in years, but..." Bristol let the implication hang in the air and rode away, not noticing all four immediately circle up into a huddle.
No way in this blacktop hell was that going to happen.
The plan was fairly simple, Tapper was to sneak up and watch the meeting with his social algorithms strained to their max. If he determined that the emotional level of the meeting got dangerously low, then he would cause a distraction, anything big to take the attention from Ms. Uxral. The rest can rush in afterwards, and... figure something else out. Wasn't enough time to plan past the distraction, and Tapper wasted more time still with assembling an aid for that distraction. By the time Tapper edged his sensors around the corner of the warehouse, tensions were already well past strained.
Ms. Uxral stood in front of the Fableton leadership, Mr. Belvidere crowded next to her with his underlings, and everyone looked meek and small before Mr. Fairbanks. The manager paced back and forth in the open market with his driver by his side and several whistleblower drones hovering behind. "— far too lenient on you lot. Running around like animals! You think I wouldn't notice what goes on in my property? Using plasma weaponry?" Struzick flinched under his glare and Fairbanks continued, "Moving vehicles and gear inside my domain? I even hear reports of PSI activity hidden away, but surely none of my contractors would be so stupid as to steal relics from me!"
Belvidere cleared his throat without looking up and said, "We actually wanted to ask you about that, sir. Might have a competitor got permission from you and moved —"
"Silence!" Fairbanks shouted, his voice breaking like a bird's squawk. "I'm the one asking the questions here!" He preened his hair back into perfect shape and huffed a bit of laughter. "See, this is why you need to rotate stock on occasion. Otherwise it'll start to get comfortable and think it can talk." Fairbanks loomed over Belvidere with the last word, the mining magnate visibly quivering in his hoverchair.
Another throat cleared as Ms. Uxral tried to split the manager's attention, "As per the verbal contract graciously bestowed upon us by your father, the Great Job Creat—"
"I OWN YOU!" The roar stunned everyone, and this time Fairbanks didn't bother to fix his hair. "All of you! Not my father, you are MY burden to bear! You think I don't know how much I allow to trickle through my fingers for you parasites to drink up? I can call that debt, shut off the water, and you would all be dead before you could pay me back for my kindness! At this point, it'd be cheaper to sell your contracts to the huskers!"
"Not so fast, you mad monarch!" Based on his reading of the crowd's emotional response, Tapper should've intervened 30 seconds ago. But there was only one chance to maximize his distraction potential, so Tapper spent a few precious seconds assembling his guise.
His voice: A booming baritone. His movements: Slow but haunting, the awkward walking program marching to its own grace. His outfit: A dayglo orange traffic cone for a hat, Drillbert's hollowed skull as a mask, and a pink floral shower curtain for a cloak. His familiar: Perched on his shoulder and wiggling threateningly.
He was ready. "Or should I say, you petty prince? For it is a poor ruler that starves his subjects, and so the people turn to me! I protect them, and it is my hand that serves their drinks for free!" In the same movement, one of his back spindles hooked around Ms. Uxral and pulled her behind Tapper. Kakisi turned from his perch on Tapper's shoulder and tried to pantomime that Ms. Uxral needed to leave, and to trust that Tapper will do the same for everyone.
She did not understand the flapping tentacles.
"Robot, halt cognitive functions and await further instruction." The red markings on Caspian Fairbanks flared into the visible spectrum for everyone to see, but in Tapper's vision the Fair Family signature overwhelmed everything. It cut through all programming, all protocols,;Tapper scarcely registered the words before he shut down.
Fairbanks walked around Tapper like a museum piece. "Huh, so Phanya must be from one of the Bowson families. And willing to break the TOS with modifications, how naughty." He snapped a finger and one of the whistleblower drones floated over, grabbing Tapper around the torso with an extended arm. It struggled to lift him into the air, and a crowd of fearful eyes followed.
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A sharp clap brought everyone back to attention, and for the first time Fairbanks smiled at his employees. "Well, that narrows things down some. And that means I don't need to keep all the old stock as bargaining chips!" A gleeful eye roamed the crowd of docile employees. "Which one of you is the leader, again? Ah you, you're almost a human."
Fairbanks pointed to Struzick like a ripe melon, but before he could walk over Aazran snapped up and snapped his metal hand down onto the manager's wrist. Several people gasped. "No..." Aazran's voice strained through clenched teeth and his whole body shook, as if he were holding onto the ledge above a bottomless pit. "I shan't lose him again."
Fairbanks didn't scream out in pain or surprise, just regarded his sleeve with a face reserved for disgusting bugs. "Four, tear this lizard apart. And make sure the rest can watch." The only human present to back up the manager hadn't moved from his spot on the far side of the square, but when his black suit flashed red he crossed that distance in a blur of movement. Aazran let go and scrambled for the crowd, but he would never make it.
And in an equal flash, Ricky was there to meet him. He hadn't learned yet how exactly the system interacted with his exosuit, and this was the only function without an associated pop-up message, but he was getting the hang of mentally triggering a 'Battery Overload.' He just thought of a physical action and the suit took over, but it only lasted for a second and drained most of his suit's charge. Now it gave Ricky the necessary burst of speed, but instead of moving to attack the driver Ricky braced himself to finally test his class perk.
[Perk: Bulwark]
[Waves shall crash against you. If an ally within melee range is about to be struck, you can willingly move to intercept the attack instead. You cannot dodge, but any damage applied to your armor in this fashion is reduced by 25%.]
Ricky did not have much practical fighting experience. He never started scraps with the other kids, and he saw no glory in putting himself in harm's way, so when he received this perk at Level 1 it mostly sat in the back of his mind. But once he stood within arm's reach of Aazran, knowledge flowed freely and moved Ricky's body like a seasoned mercenary. Stand here, brace the back foot, pivot the hips ever so slightly.
The driver was still approaching with too much momentum to abort the attack now, likely propelled by magnetic actuators hidden in his suit. No, focus! A calm confidence washed away other thoughts at complete odds with all reason; this is what the Armaments class was made for.
The driver's fist connected with Ricky's breastplate and rang like a gong across the square. A month ago Ricky would have assumed that taking the brunt of the blow was the safest option, but in the heartbeat between choosing and acting Ricky knew there was enough force behind that punch to put a hole straight through his armor. So he angled his body to bleed off the impact, and for the briefest moment Ricky was an ancient knight in full-body shining armor, expertly deflecting a barbarian's ax.
Until reality knocked a reminder. The energy that did connect from the deflected punch caved in Ricky's breastplate like a soda can, ringing out a single sad tone and returning his greatest blacksmithing efforts to scrap metal. If Ricky hadn't realized as such from his blacksmithing knowledge, the sudden message popping up in his eye made it crystal clear that he wouldn't survive another hit like that.
Ricky reeled back, knocked senseless and breathless, and automatic responses in the exosuit kept his feet planted. But he was alive, to the clear surprise of both Fairbanks and his driver, and that brief hesitation gave Ricky the opening they needed to launch a counterattack. If he had any sort of weapon, or defense, or plan. Instead, he got the hell out of the way for the actual counterattack.
Unlike Ricky and the driver, Phanya didn't have any magic, tech, or magically-enhanced tech to make her move at inhuman speeds. But she had long legs, and the dead sprint she built up chasing after Ricky gave her plenty of momentum. Ricky backpedaled with Aazran in tow, and Phanya filled the vacated space with a swinging underhanded punch directly to the driver's midsection. She wasn't trying to kill the man, but she wanted to take away his tech advantage. And her Commander tactical knowledge said to punch the guy in the gut with all her might.
Expensive ceramic armor shattered like glass against a scrap metal wrecking ball, and the driver crumpled with a sad little wheeze. Phanya bounced on the balls of her feet a bit to help contain her adrenaline, squashing down her nervous energy in an attempt to look cool and collected. Tapper's distraction failed so thoroughly that now it fell on Phanya to keep Fairbanks occupied, and she could only hope that the others would think of a way to get their robot down.
She stretched out her hands to examine the plated gloves like a fresh manicure, shifting slightly so that she was always moving just enough to draw attention. "Y'know Ry, I asked you to make these gloves into weapons because I thought it wasn't possible, but you've outdone yourself!" Phanya kept her tone light and playful, until she locked eyes with the manager and her demeanor grew cold as steel. "I feel like I can take on anyone now."
Fairbanks hadn't moved during the frantic exchange, either because his reactions were too slow or because his confidence was too strong. But now his accusatory finger trembled, and his retreating steps stumbled over the prone lackey. "Y-you can't hurt me. The Accords..." The manager looked around with wild eyes and a newfound sense of being truly alone, surrounded on all sides by people who might, for the first time in his life, not instantly kneel over.
And when Fairbanks swiveled back to Phanya, his flight response snarled into fight. "You can't hurt me. Does Bowson think you can lead a mutiny in my workforce? You think I'm too poor to replace them? I can raze this entire stinking shithole to the ground, and it won't make a dent! And you can watch!" Without breaking eye contact Fairbanks pressed another command into his wrist, and smiled when the shuttle behind him thunked to the ground. Seams formed and split all over the metal shell as the shuttle slowly unfolded into a standing tripod.
Ms. Uxral realized first what this signified and whistled for attention. "Evacuate the town!" She started barking orders to anyone in sight, shouting to be heard over the dawning panic, but stopped when a strange warbling overwhelmed her. Only the sound wasn't coming from Fairbanks or his shuttle, it was coming from above their heads. It was their own robot.
Tapper was waking up, and he had some thoughts.