Chapter 105: Cyborg vs Robots

Chapter 105: Cyborg vs Robots

The air in the Big Empty was crisp, cool, and clear. It smelled like the rain had stopped only recently - possibly within the last hour or two - and it looked like it was actually going to be a nice day for a place with a sky entirely the wrong color. From my vantage point, everything was quiet and still...

That is, until I pulled the trigger.

The muzzle blast from the anti-materiel rifle in my hands boomed a thunderclap loosed by an angry god. It was a solid six seconds before the echo finally ended. I leaned back in the chair I'd brought out onto the balcony of The Sink, and pulled back on the heavy bolt; the spent and smoking .50 cal casing was spat out of the side and fell clattering to the ground.

"Hello, sir. If sir will permit the question, may I ask what sir is currently doing?" Jeeves' voice burst out of an unseen speaker, somewhere above my head.

"Just taking a few pot-shots at the locals, Jeeves. Thanks for the ammo, by the way, it's a great help." I said, shoving the bolt forward, and taking aim once again. "I think I bagged that cazador that was chasing Roxie and me the other day. Blew the fucker clean in half, didn't know what hit him."

"If sir will permit me a moments unseemliness, may I inquire as to the whyness of sirs current course of action?" Jeeves asked as I pressed my eye against the scope. "I was given to understand that the Securitron De-Construction plant would be sirs next destination, once sir had acquired the necessary supplies, of course. I do not quite understand how, to use sirs vernacular, 'taking pot-shot at the locals,' is further in aid of sirs goals."

"You're absolutely right, Jeeves. That is where I was planning on going..." I paused, breaking the stillness of the air with another blast from the massive rifle. "Eventually. I just wanted to get some practice in before heading out. Make sure this arm is up to scratch, you know? I mean, hell, I do most of my fighting with my right hand. Just about all my shooting, certainly. No sense heading out without a bit of practice."

"I see," Jeeves said calmly; the next spent casing clattered to the ground. "And does the work of m'colleague meet with sirs approval?"

"Absolutely!" I said, holding up the rifle with only my right hand for the moment. "I mean, I know how heavy this rifle is. Roughly 30 pounds, there-or-therabouts. But it feels light as a feather!" I held out my arm as far as it would go, and kept hold of the grip; despite the weight and how unbalanced it should've been with me only holding onto the pistol grip, it stayed flat, level, and steady as a rock. "I bet I could probably fire this thing one handed, if I had to."

"Indeed, sir?" Jeeves asked with an obviously incredulous tone. I shrugged.

"Well... okay, I doubt it'd be accurate. At all. But I'll bet you any money I could fire it one handed, and still keep hold even with the massive recoil."

"Most certainly, sir. Should I inform m'colleague that sir will be wanting a full set of replacement cybernetic extremities now?" I blanched, almost dropping the rifle.

"Uhhh... let's... let's hold off on that for a while. At least until... I think I'll wait and see if any more of my limbs get cut off, how's that?" I would give anything for a decent distraction right now...

Squeak!

I looked around, trying to pinpoint the noise, and saw Stripe perched on the balcony railing, looking up at me with a crooked smile full of surprisingly sharp teeth. It was actually kind of cute... you know, if you were to ignore the fact that it was holding the shredded and gnawed remains of somebody's foot in its paws.

"Hey, little guy!" I set the anti-materiel rifle against the wall, and hit one of the buttons near the door; there was a fizzle, a hum, and suddenly the balcony was surrounded by a ring of blue forcefields once again. I walked over to Stripe and gently petted his mohawk. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. Been out hunting, huh?"

Stripe let out a strange sort of pulsating purr, nuzzling into my hand (and scratching my palm with his horns)... right before tearing another giant bite out of the foot. I paused, looking down at the tiny deathclaw. I couldn't tell for certain, but it looked like he had considerably more teeth than he had the other day... and he was perhaps a little bit bigger than I remembered...

Stripe took one last bite out of the foot, dropped the hunk of meat to the ground, and scurried up my arm. He scampered around my neck, flopped himself down on top of my right shoulder... and then he promptly started snoring loudly.

When the Securitron De-Construction Plant came into view, it put me in mind of an old factory. It was a collection of three, relatively large, squat brick buildings that looked like they'd been wedged together at the corners. I could see several enormous pipes snaking their way out of, over, beside and around all the cubes. A large portion of the grounds surrounding the building was fenced off, further adding to the factory image.

"Well, this certainly looks like the place..." I said to myself as I calmly walked over a section of knocked-over fence. I was all by myself, because the last I'd seen of Roxie and Stripe, they were curled up asleep next to each other on my bed in The Sink. Didn't really want to wake them (I'll be honest, I thought the image was pretty cute), so I set out on my own. "I wonder where they keep all the trucks?"

It wasn't long before I got my answer. I rounded one of the outer corners of the factory and came across what had probably been a parking lot. There were several centuries old car wrecks that seemed to support this theory - including a two and a half ton army truck that towered over every other car. To be fair, there was more than one deuce-and-a-half in the parking lot... but of the three I could see, there was only one that didn't look split in half.

"Well, lookit that!" I said with a grin, hopping onto the hoods of several wrecks to get closer as quickly as possible. "Looks like I've hit the jackpot straightaway!" The old 2 ton truck was in relatively decent shape, considering that it had been parked out here, exposed to the elements. for what I can only assume was over 200 years. The bodywork of the cab was covered in more rust than paint, all the windows were completely broken, and when I walked around to inspect the wheels, I noticed that one of the six tires was missing... and there didn't appear to be a usable spare on any of the other deuce-and-a-half wrecks.

And yet...

"You are gorgeous!" I patted the passenger door with a grin; the metal echoed loudly. "I am gonna have so much fun, fixing you up! Now, maybe there's a spare in the back..." I hopped quickly onto the tailgate to get a better look. The back of the truck's cargo bed was full of clutter. A few filing cabinets. Some discarded and broken coffee mugs, A few destroyed chairs... but no spare tires.

"Ah well," I shrugged. "It was a long shot... any... hang on." Something shiny caught my eye at the other end of the cargo bed. A few seconds later, it was in my hand: a very familiar metal box with a white hexagon painted on top. "Well, I'll be damned! Another one! Fuck, should've just followed the signal for this, would've led me right-"

#^& = [.([{}]).] = #^& ?

A burst of barely legible static echoing across the parking lot from somewhere let me know immediately that I was no longer alone. In a flash, I'd shoved the box with the personality chip into one of my pockets and I leapt off the deuce-and-a-half; I rolled when I hit the ground, and came to a kneeling crouch when I was back on my feet. I kept low to the ground and carefully shrugged the LAER into my hands as I stayed in cover behind a nearby wreck.

If the sound was anything to go by, then robots were definitely on the way. And that meant lasers, certainly. Rockets and other explosives, possibly. Definitely some kind of dangerous, destructive artillery that would potentially be lobbed in my direction very soon, and if I was anywhere near the deuce-and-a-half, it would run the risk of damaging my find beyond repair before I've even started.

So, first order of business: get away from the truck.

%* = ()[]$$[]() = %* ?!

Another burst of static. I couldn't exactly translate, but it sounded... confused? That was probably a good sign. I kept my head low, ducking between the broken down wrecks until I was sure that I was far enough away from my prize... and very carefully peeked over the hood of the car I was using as cover to see what I was up against.

#^% = [[..{{}}..]] = #^% ?

A pair of securitrons were rolling along between the parked wrecks, searching for something. Me, probably. Except... they didn't quite look like securitrons. They were the same shape, but they had a completely different color scheme - a teal green chassis, rather than blue - and a pair of interlocking white hexagons were painted on the shoulder mounted missile pods. What really made them look strange, however, were the distorted face screens. One was a mass of static, occasionally thinning out enough to reveal a warped, angry face. The other didn't have as much digital snow, but it didn't really have a face. Just a great big black and white "NO" symbol where its face should've been.

These bots had certainly seen better days. And I was determined to make this day even worse for them.

"Stupidexplodingrobotsayswhat?" I shouted, popping out from behind the wreck, my LAER at the ready and slipping into VATS. The air crackled, and a pair of bright blue lasers burst from the LAER and struck the front of the robot square in the chassis... seemingly to no effect. It didn't cause any damage, at least. The effect was that it just caught the attention of both.

{#} = [({{}})] = {#} !

"Uh..." I felt liked I'd been caught with my pants down. Hadn't I seen this gun explode a sentry bot the other day? It -

"Whoops! Time to go!" I turned tail and ran in the other direction as soon as I saw the securitron I'd hit open up the shoulder pods, readying a missile salvo. I leapt over the hood of a nearby two-seater and ducked around the corner edge of the building, just as the unmistakable sound of several missiles screaming through the air. I practically welded by back to the heavy concrete wall and covered my-

BOOM!

The wall and the ground shook violently. A not inconsiderable amount of shrapnel peppered the ground unprotected by solid concrete. The Geiger counter on my Pip Boy spiked slightly, which meant one of those wrecks they hit still had the engine. I set off again before the ground stopped shaking. It was too much to hope for that the berserk securitrons had been caught in their own explosion, so I had to get clever. Or find a gun with a bigger bang.

Let's be completely honest here: the gun was far more likely.

If I was lucky, I might be able to find one in the factory... or maybe I could try and lose them inside. If it was like any of the other factories I'd been to in the past, it'd be a maze of narrow, twisting corridors, dangerous conveyor belts, and even more dangerous machinery.

"OH GOD!" I heard a robotic screech echo off the walls from somewhere in the bedroom... followed by a bark and a loud squeak. I sauntered into the bedroom casually, more curious and perplexed than anything else, and was almost run over by Roxie bounding out of the room with Stripe riding on her back.

"YOU!" I heard a voice from... somewhere. I looked around, but didn't see anything. "Hey, you!" Wait, it's coming from... that was a tiny securitron at my feet looking up at me. A tiny securitron with a smiling cartoon coffee cup for a face. What. "YEAH! YOU! Got any mugs?"

"Uh..." I wasn't quite sure what to say. "Mugs? Why do you want mugs?" The tiny securitron shook his tiny, tiny arms.

"Why do YOU want mugs? HUH? You some kind of sick mug hoarder? OH GOD! Give me the coffee cup, PLEASE! I know you have some! I can tell it's sitting there in your pack, TAUNTING ME!" The tiny robot started panting heavily. "Sorry... I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. It's... just... all those GODDAMN dirty dishes out there! With no one to CLEAN them! It breaks my tiny metal heart!"

"Wait, let's back up," I couldn't bring myself to tell the tiny securitron that I didn't actually have a pack. I just knelt down to get a bit closer. "Who are you?" He looked up at me, still as a stone.

"You..." It sounded like he was about to cry. How a robot was going to cry is beyond me, but anyway. "You really want to know about... me? Nobody ever asks about Muggy! Oh, you've made me so happy!" The tiny robot spun around in circles on his one tiny wheel. "Okay, maybe you've seen some of those big, imposing securitrons with their lovely laser guns and rocket launchers and scary faces?" I nodded.

"Yeah, I blew up a few earlier," I smirked. Muggy nodded.

"I'm not one of those." I tried very hard not to laugh. "Dr. O was always jealous of House Industries, and he thought it would be FUCKING HILARIOUS to build a tiny neurotic securitron. BIG. FUCKING. LAUGH."

"So, is that why you're so obsessed with mugs?" I asked. The tiny robot twitched.

"I'm obsessed because they MADE me this way! You think I don't know how crazy I sound? OF COURSE I DO! They programmed me to know that, too! They made me just to torture me. But you know? It's the neglect that hurts the most." The tiny robot coughed, like he was clearing his throat, and then it sounded like he was trying to do an impression of Dr. Klein. "Hey everybody, let's turn ourselves into robot brains in jars!" Muggy wailed in agony again. "Do you know how many coffee cups giant robot brains in jars use on a daily basis? NOT FUCKING MANY!"

"But... what do you do with the mugs?" I asked, feeling a bit sorry for him now.

"I'm supposed to keep them clean," Muggy said, almost calm for once. And then the calm evaporated. "OH, GOD! The thought of all those dirty dishes out there makes me CRAZY!" He started huffing and puffing and panting. "Most of them are probably beyond saving now... Do you have any? Please, please, PLEASE tell me you brought me some?!"

"Tell you what," I said, standing up straight once again. "I saw some coffee cups in a truck I fixed up earlier. When I bring it back here, I'll bring you the mugs, and any more I find. Deal?"

"OH, SWEET, SWEET FULFILLMENT!"

My plan worked wonderfully. Jeeves was able to scan the tire, and (after a few botched attempts) made a replica of the tire I'd brought up. But instead of immediately heading back out to replace the tires and bring the truck back to the relative safety of the front doors to the Think Tank dome... I decided to take the elevator deeper into the facility to visit the brains once again.

"A LOBOTOMITE animal before me!" Borous floated over to me and started overacting as soon as I stepped into the Think Tank. "What other terrifying terrors will plague us in our quest for knowledge? Communists? Communist ANIMALS, perhaps? Be warned, attempt to propaganda ME, I will shriek as a frightened babe, calling loyal Cyberdogs to my aid. Do you comprehend, Commie animal?"

"Hey, Borous," I said with a smirk and a laugh. "I'm not just any lobotomite, you don't have to worry about propaganda. Don't you remember me? I'm the one collecting all the technologies. And I brought you Gabe's bowl, remember?" Borous paused, hovering around me and staring for a few seconds.

"Oh, yes!" Borous started nodding his tank. "I remember now. Gabe... what a rascal. But there are MANY animals I shaped HERE in BIG MOUNTAIN! Industrious cazadores, the happy-go-lucky nightstalkers... they are my living, breathing DNA test tubes!"

And then the other shoe dropped.

"Wait, wait, hang on. YOU are responsible for cazadores and nightstalkers?" I asked. I was so surprised that I'd forgotten why I came down here in the first place. "I mean, that explains why I've seen both of them here, but..."

"Indeed!" Borous proclaimed proudly, completely ignoring my brief moment of clarity. "Docile! Curious! Safe! Sterile! They are all contained here at Big Mountain to preserve DNA for observation! I created them... in..." He paused clearly thinking. "Two thousand... let's see, carry the three... then count backwards from the Great Static... or beyond? There were the tarantula debates... and something about hawks, which made it around... eh, it was probably one of the days in... 2003? I can't recall which one, there were so many days that year. In particular, there were quite a lot of Tuesdays, so I have a feeling it may have been one of those. Perhaps it was one of those fresh June mornings in early May..."

"Nevermind that," I tried to shake off the nonsense he was spewing. "What makes you think they haven't escaped the Big Empty?" Borous stared at me curiously, as if he didn't understand the question.

"Because Big Mountain's safety measures are far more sophisticated than their primitive animal instincts! WE are their lords and masters!" I didn't even bother stifling the laugh.

"Sophisticated my toned, muscular buttocks, those assholes all over the Mojave!" Borous shook his tank and hovered to my other side.

"No, no, no. Such creatures are found only HERE, for RESEARCH purposes! They would no more be capable of ESCAPE than BREEDING!"

I couldn't tell... was he fucking with me, or was his legitimately this stupid?

"No, they breed all right. They nest and breed and lay eggs and everything." Borous started shaking his tank more violently.

"I cannot expect a LOBOTOMITE to understand the careful surgical castrating procedures used in their creation! Perhaps a demonstration of my castrating POWER would settle your doubts?" I blanched and subtly reached down to cover my crotch. It was kind of a reflex, really. Any mention of castration is bound to make me involuntarily protect my gentlemen sausage.

"Uh..." I coughed nervously. "No, that's all right. I'm good."

"Oh, that's too bad," Borous seemed disappointed. "Perhaps we can perform a sterility castration some other time, then." I thought about that, thought about the cazadores, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Eh, fuck. Go ahead! You might make me more fertile!" I said with a laugh, shaking my head. "Actually, nevermind, that reminds me of why I came down here in the first place. See you around, Borous," I gave the green-tanked brain a wave, and started walking away.

"Until NEXT time then!" He shouted at me while my back was turned. "Provided there IS a next time! For ANY of us!" I just shook my head, and kept walking towards the real reason I was here.

"Dala!" I said with a smile. "There you are!" The purple-tanked brain jumped (wait, what?) at my voice, and very suddenly turned around, her tank glowing slightly as I approached.

"Oh! Sheason! He-hello!" Dala's voice was almost... she seemed happy to see me, let's put it like that.

"Hey, Dala. You miss me?" I smirked, walking over to her tank with a barely contained swagger. Her tank bubbled slightly.

"Oh, I... yes. Yes, very much so. I didn't think you'd come back. I mean, when you left... and then I... but you..." She coughed, trying to hide how she was stumbling over her words; her tank glowed brighter and bubbled a bit more. "Yes, it's very good to see you again, my little teddy bear."

"Yeeeeah..." I stretched languidly and sighed for her; the way her tank bubbled, she seemed pleased with that.. "Sorry I didn't swing by earlier. I had a lot of fun the other night." I know you're expecting me to say something like 'No I didn't,' but I actually meant what I said. Maybe I'm just odd.

"Yes... s-so did I. So, what happened? Why are you only returning now?" I shrugged, and sniffed loudly, scratching my cheek; the light in her tank flickered.

"Mostly because I've been out cold last few days. Got my arm chopped off, and had to get it replaced." To illustrate the point, I flexed my cybernetic arm. She didn't seem as impressed or intrigued with it as I thought she might - and then I remembered. It was organic nonsense that got her motor running, wasn't it?

"Oh, you poor little fragile skinvelope with all your easily breakable organs..." Dala hovered around me, and I could almost feel her sensors scanning me - discreetly, of course, so as not to alert the other members of the Think Tank. "Are you alright? Are there any other... I mean... you weren't... damaged in any other way?" Subtle as a freight train, Dala.

"Don't you worry your tank about that," I said, placing a hand on the glass dome to halt her in the middle of one of her orbits around me. I leaned in, whispering to her huskily. "That's actually why I came down here. It's been a hectic, stressful couple of days, and I was wondering..." I smirked, running a finger along one of her monitors. "... if maybe you want to help take the edge off with a bit of science?" Her tank glowed brightly and bubbled again.

"Y-yes," Dala stammered out, barely holding back a few girlish giggles. "Science. Yes. I would like to be doing The Science again very much so, yes."