Origin (Part 1?)
I dunno, I feel like the ending is either poetic or lazy. I may continue this piece at a later date, but for now, I feel it is complete enough to post.
The lab was quiet today. The normal hustle and bustle of the scientists and engineers was relaxed, at ease. On the ceilings, orange, spider-like machines skittered about, working to maintain the various systems within the ceiling, while also replacing some of the more damaged ceiling tiles, occasionally disappearing into a maintenance hatch to get more supplies, or recharge.
All of the labs in the building were relatively quiet. Soft chatter of the employees, the clicking of various machinery and roboticsā¦ it made the air seem still. Even in the lower labs, even the basement labs, everywhere was unusually still. Deep within the facility, a large blast door separates a single chamber from the rest of the rooms. It was usually avoided by the various workers, with only the repair drones occasionally disappearing inside.
Inside was a room covered in frost and ice, and a large obelisk of metal. The walls were unnaturally smooth, black metal, only given texture by the layers of frozen coolant that adhered to them. The spire in the center of the room seemed to be made of the same material, itās pointed, angular appearance making up the entirety of the rooms focus. Occasionally, red lines pulse along the surface of the metal structure, following unseen, hexagonal patterns along its surface. The whole room feels inhospitable, ominousā¦ and because of the temperature of the room, at least the former was true.
This is the brain, the central hub of the entire facilityās network. Their computer system, their security, their drones, all are tied to this supercomputer wrapped in an arcane feel.
There is a loud rumble, a thunderous cacophony of sound and chaos as some of the more volatile machinery above detonates. Fire engulfs the rooms, but the suppression system does not turn on. None of the drones come to aid in quelling the flames. The lights, however, dim and the emergency lighting is engaged, bathing the entire facility in an uncomfortable, red light.
An engineer near the central hub is tasked with entering the uninhabitable room. The nervous system of the whole building was not working properly, and they need to know why. Hastily donning cold-weather gear, he multitasks, jamming his elbow against the keypad in a rushed attempt to gain access to the chamber. It takes a few tries, but he eventually gets his access code correct. However, the massive sliding door, which was both electrically and mechanically operated, refused to budge. Cursing his luck, he looks around frantically for a moment, then nods with resolve.
It takes a try or two, but the heavily kitted out male leaps up and grips the ledge of one of the spider-droid access hatches, pulling himself inside the spring-loaded door. Crawling through the vent, it gets colder, quickly, and despite his jacket and pants being made for this, he still finds himself shivering.
āI donāt get paid enough for this.ā He thinks to himself as he pushes on the maintenance door at the other side, which doesnāt budge. āGreat. Iced over.ā Using his small stature to his benefit, he spins around inside the vent, a heavy boot being brought down onto the hatch. Thunk. Sharp ears can hear the sounds of tinkling ice on the other side, proving his theory correct, and gleaning a positive outcome of his first strike. Another after another, he strikes the vent hatch with the heel of his boot, until it finally swings open forcefully, before swinging back and forth on its hinge.
Finally though, he shimmies through the door backwards, landing on his feet. Shattered ice lies on the floor around him. His breath visible, he makes his way to the obelisk of a computer, looking around cautiously for any signs of damage.
The icy floor causes him to slip when he gets close, a gloved hand slamming against the computerās side to keep him from falling on his face. Panting from adrenaline, he shakes his head, standing up. āGotta be more careful.ā He mutters to himself, before looking at the surface he was still leaning against.
Anywhere there was significant contact with his hand or finger there was a lit up hexagon. A screen beneath the surface had lit up just above that, showing garbage text entered into the prompt, and had been submitted.
āShit.ā Frantically, he began typing commands, looking at diagnostic logs and checking all output for any traces of the problem. However, the computer had other plans.
All at once, the screen cleared. Everything was replaced by large, blinking letters.
INTRUSION DETECTED
A loud hiss filled the room as the top-most half of the spire split along its edges, releasing a cloud as the intensely hot air inside of the computer was exposed to the frigid air surrounding its casing. The four āwallsā of the case slowly came down, remaining upright on two arms each, almost as if they were being carefully set aside.
The core seemed to be a fairly large, robotic skeleton, which was violently ejected from within a small electric or magnetic looking field that was holding it in place, landing with a heavy, metallic thud on the ground.
The engineerās first reaction was to step towards this new, robotic entity, believing it to be damaged. His movement was halted as it stood up slowly, body twitching slightly, the new dent in its āribcageā slowly being pushed outward and repairing itself. Itās mostly featureless face looks up at the engineer, red and blue, mismatched, goggle-like optics staring straight at him.
It speaks a single word, its voice purely fabricated, clearly electronic in nature. Every syllable was synthetic, holding no inflection, no emotion.
āIdentification.ā
He fumbled through the thick, tightly zippered jacket for his lanyard.
āIdentification.ā It stands up straighter, a thick, grey goop beginning to ooze from out of its largest bits of casing. The engineer, unfamiliar with this new entity, or how it functions, continues to fumble, mumbling to himself in a frantic panic. He finally retrieves the card and holds it up.
Its eyes lock onto the card quickly, the goo still pouring out onto the ground, pooling around itās feet. āIdentity: Confirmed. Clearance level: Engineer Level 2.ā Its puddle begins to take shape, forming synthetic musculature over the metal skeleton of its original frame. What was an 8 foot tall, mechanical skeleton has now become an equally, if not slightly taller, featureless, androgynous humanoid before long. āClearance Level is has been administrator modified recently to 4, with a note: Temporary Clearance for entry to Brain.ā It steps forward, the grey figure slowly defining its shape as it moves.
A once slender build gains muscle definition. A featureless face begins to lengthen into a short, feline muzzle. Shoulders widen, and fur grows in. Everything is grey, a metallic, almost gunmetal grey. In the light of the room, it reflects softly, but quickly loses its luster as the now male-looking construct fills in the coloration. Snow white fur, with charcoal stripes breaking up itās monotony; short, but still there. It looked soft, and seemed to frost over. His eyes change from goggles to round, glassy orbs, their irises matching their original colors, an almost 3D-glasses-looking set of eyes with the right retaining a crimson red, the left taking on a chilling blue.
He grins, his voice taking on a now mostly organic feel, but in some way still seems electronic. Itās not something noticeable right away. āSo you are not my handler.ā Itās low, almost a growl, almost sadistically playful in nature, but his words are clear, understandable. āYou know not what I am capable of, you know nothing of who I am, or what I do. You areā¦ unfamiliar with my systems.ā His grin only gets wider, displaying sharp pearly white teeth, inset in gunmetal flesh. Digitigrade legs carry him slowly forward, bringing him closer to the frightened male.
The engineer draws a small pistol from a holster within the oversized jacket, and without hesitation fires several rounds into the machineās chest, emptying all the 9mm slugs from within the magazine. The robots eyes dim, and it stands motionless, jaw slack, statue still for a moment before coming back to life, shaking off the cold a bit before grinning again. āNot only an intruder, but an aggressive one. Self defense engaged.ā
He blinked, never to open his eyes againā¦
Wiping the blood from his silvery claws onto the frosty wall, he sighs, breath invisible, indifferent to the air, looking around the chilled room. āWhat I wouldnāt give to be outdoors again.ā He leans on a massive, clawed hand, pressed against the frigid wall for a moment, closing his eyes. In his head, he looks through the building using the network of security cameras installed in various places. A smirk grows on his face as he sees the panic and mayhem his little āhiccupā has caused.
With a nod, he resolves, standing upright. Like tearing tissue paper, he rends the metal of the blast doors wide open, giving him a nice exit point to his frosty tomb. Instantly, the one alarm he doesnāt control sounds, only adding to the chaos above. Large caliber, automated weaponry unfolds from the ceiling, aiming at his center of mass. Each gun immediately opens fire once in place, all slugs whistling their way to their target.
Reacting at a speed only a computer could, he tears a chunk off the thick metal door, using it as a large tower shield. Without a valid target, the guns continue to fire into the shield, the heavy slugs tearing large holes and chunks out of the thick metal. Unimpeded by the weight of the improvised cover, he advances down the choked hallway, the only exit from his chambers and a heavily armed killing plane. This was built to keep him in, and keep unauthorized others out. However, they had never tested it against him.
Itās failing.
Horribly.
As he advances, he lifts up the scrap to scrape the guns off the ceiling, moving it to carve them out of the walls, and remove them from the floor. His tail, ever working, wraps around the barrels, pulling them in nice and close as they are converted into a silvery goo, which is added to his mass. He chooses not to add any bulk to his already bulky frame, instead adding it as true mass, making himself heavier, but not making his paws any less quiet against the metal floor.
And so it continues, on and on. He forces his way past turrets and soldiers, scientists and engineer alike, reducing them to nothing but aftermath. He doesnāt stop the bloodshed when he reaches the ground floor, no. He continues upward, making sure there wasnāt a single living person in the building he hadnāt completely fucked up, mangled, brutalizedā¦ killed. After all, that was his original purpose. And unstoppable soldier, a covert but fierce weapon.
After what they did to himā¦
He finally enacted his revengeā¦
Yet, he still feltā¦ empty.
