Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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BOOT UP SEQUENCE READY

 

FIRMWARE

      OUTDATED (2105.01.13)

UPDATE REQUIRED . . .

UPDATE SUCCESSFUL

     LATEST VERSION (2112.08.06)

 

CALIBRATION

     EXPIRED

     NEW CALIBRATION REQUIRED

 

BEGINNING CALIBRATION

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RECALIBRATING . . .

 

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RECALIBRATING . . .

 

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      MECHANICS                                  ERROR

RECALIBRATING . . .

 

      AUDIO                                      OK
      VIDEO                                      OK
      MECHANICS                                  OK

 

CALIBRATION COMPLETE 

PRIMARY SYSTEMS UPDATED

      ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL
LOADING STATUS UPDATE . . .

 

 

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             UNKNOWN
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    IDENTIFY LOCATION

 

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .
RESTORATION FAILED

DATA CORRUPTED
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DATA CORRUPTED
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DATA CORRUPTED
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DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

2.70% DATA RESTORED

 

𖡨

Gray walls caged the room, barless metal unbroken and untouched. A door interrupted the endless hue, a red light on the handle the only color to break up the silence. A single window spanned the length of one wall, its silvery surface reflecting the room near-perfectly.

Everything was blurry, melting together in lifeless color that was all too familiar. It focused its lense, twisting the glass and metal of its vision until the surroundings cleared, revealing a more defined gray. Slowly, it turned its head to scan its surroundings.

This was not Heresy. The room's steel gray was certainly not the blood-red hues of the layer. An illusion? It attempted to lift its arm but was stopped by something binding the limb. It turned its attention to itself and scanned its bound body.

It was on a metal table, all of its limbs restrained by aged leather and reinforced steel. It flexed its fingers, feeling the joints move far smoother than it was accustomed to. With ease, it broke through the first restraint on its wrist, using the now-freed hand to break the restraints on its chest and bicep. It sat up and examined itself.

It only had two arms now, the Feedbacker and its Shooter. Its plating was a more vibrant blue, not a scratch or dent in sight. It trailed a hand up its thigh, feeling the smooth metal that hadn’t yet gone through the layers of Hell. If this was an illusion, it was very accurate to how it was back in the lab it was made in.

It broke the rest of the restraints and momentarily checked its remaining limbs. Satisfied that it wasn’t limited by anything, it got off the table, scanning the room once more. Its lens landed on the one-sided mirror, easily seeing past the glass and examining the calm state of the watch room.

Its attention switched to the locked door and approached it. Its hand curled around the handle and pulled, letting out a soft beep as the lock held firm against it. It was easy to break, though, snapping cleanly against its superior strength. The door opened with little more than a creak, revealing the watch room hidden behind the mirror.

The room itself was clean, with papers stacked neatly on the counter and not a speck of dust littering it. It tilted its head slightly. Was the facility still active? It returned its attention to the exit door. It needed a weapon. It logged it as its main objective and left the room.

The hallway outside was dark and clean, stretching endlessly into shadow only broken by its headlamp. It flicked on its flashlight, illuminating only a few more feet. It turned left and started walking, keeping its steps light and quiet. A red warning popped up on its HUD.

It dismissed the pop-up and began to walk faster, checking any rooms it found for a fueling station or a living creature. 

It began running, searching every room it found. It shut off any unnecessary programs to conserve its fuel, turning off all senses except sight. It moved with urgency, its wires coiling in a way that was both familiar and alien at the same time.       
  

It found a fueling station in the last room of the hallway, causing it to perk up and rush towards the tank-like machine. It quickly checked the supply in it, immediately opening the cap of its tank and plugging the station’s supply into itself when it determined the fuel was fresh enough.

It slid to the ground, its lens cap falling slightly over its sight. When its fuel tank was halfway full, it switched back on its non-essential programs. Touch and hearing came back far faster than it was used to, but it was lucky that it was in a quiet and textureless place. Alone, surrounded by large boxes and crates that hid it from view, it allowed itself to process its most recent memories.

It started at the Hellevator that led into Heresy. It skipped over duller moments, either deleting them or filing them away, quickly growing bored. It skipped ahead to the room where it fought the angel.

‘Archangel Gabriel, former Judge of Hell and Apostate of Hate.’

It remembered how the red pool along the floor glowed just slightly, and how the chamber lit up alongside the angel. It remembered how its wire seized with something as it spotted the angel playing the organ. It remembered how it wanted to fight him again and again as his swords tore through its metal and its bullets pierced his flesh. It pulled up the memory of the fight on its HUD and pressed play.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The skull door opened automatically, welcoming it to the final level of Heresy. It walked slowly, scanning its lens over everything and committing it to memory. A terminal was stationed right before a massive room, one where the organ was singing its loudest. It checked over its guns, rearranging them and brushing up on the angel's combat data. After a moment of hesitation, it turned and walked into the room.

It stepped into a glowing red pool, the blood far too stale and thin to be of any use to it. The liquid level nearly reached mid-calf, harmless. The liquid swished softly as it moved, keeping its Sharpshooter poised at its side as it approached the angel sitting at the grand instrument .

As it approached, the sound only grew louder, the instrument's voice growing stronger, angrier. It was sure the music was only mimicking the player, which meant that the angel was incredibly angry. Hateful. Exciting. It climbed the steps to where Gabriel sat, its steps barely reaching it over the sound of the organ. About midway to the angel, he stopped, slamming the cover down over the keys and standing abruptly.

"Machine," The angel's voice echoed with divine power, smooth to its audials and immediately causing artificial adrenaline to course through its tubing. Its wires shivered, restless as it allowed the Angel to speak. "I will cut you down. Break you apart."

It took a few steps back as Gabriel started floating, pointing the revolver at him and rolling a coin through its fingers. Gabriel continued, his voice growing stronger, "Splay the gore of your profane form across the STARS!"

The angel's wings curled slightly before lifting them high, surrounding his body in a glowing blue light that was nearly blinding. "I will grind you down until the very SPARKS CRY FOR MERCY!"

It tensed when the angel pulled Splendor and Justice from their sheaths, holding the blades out and pointing them at the supreme machine. "My hands shall REALISH ENDING YOU."

"HERE!" It began twirling the revolver, taking rapid steps back. It switched on his new theme.

"AND!" Gabriel's armor burst into raging red.

"NOW!"

It fired, the bullet ricocheting on the walls and striking the angel twice. It let out a squeak of surprise when Garbiel rushed it, swinging his swords in wide, deadly arcs. It fired a few more shots, dashing to get out of the way and quickly spending its stamina.

The angel sped back to the stage, slamming his swords together and merging the handles, immediately throwing them at it. The weapons flew towards it in a dangerous spinning circle, its processors barely able to register what exactly was happening before the blades exploded on them, taking a good chunk of its health. "TIME TO RIGHT MY WRONG!" Gabriel shouted.

It screeched in pain, barely escaping as Gabriel caught the two blades and swung them at it in arcs again. It retreated just far enough to switch to its Marksman and throw three coins into the air, quickly switching to the Screwdriver and ricocheting the attack directly into Gabriel's weak spot.

The angel shouted a curse, giving it enough time to swoop in and fill its fuel gauge, healing its wounds nearly instantaneously. Its wires seized with something addicting as Gabriel retreated back to the stage, fusing his swords again and throwing them at it while throwing a taunt. "YOU'RE GETTING RUSTY, MACHINE!"

It attempted to parry the twin blades, missing the timing and getting a chunk of health off again. It made a frustrated whirr and jumped into the air to avoid another quick slash, slamming to the floor to avoid the 2nd and dashing to the side to avoid the third.

It pulled out its rocket launcher and quick-shotted the angel as he reeled back to throw his swords again. It quickly switched to the nailgun and jumped away from the blades just in time, the heat of their explosion on the wall brushing its back.

It spammed the trigger, pelting the angel in nails before whipping out the Electric Railcanon and shooting him. The angel winced, cradling the wound for but a moment before returning to his enjoyable fury. "YOU NEED. MORE. POWER!" Gabriel hissed, spinning around it and attacking, managing to cut away a bit of its health before throwing his blades once more. This time, it got the timing right and parried the blades right back at him, earning it a shout of pain from the angel and a spray of much-needed blood.

It dashed back once it had its fill, avoiding Gabriel's close-quarters attack and baiting him to launch at it. He snarled, falling for it and throwing himself back nearly 20 feet, giving it a prime spot to pull out its Rocket Launcher and shoot 3 of them at him. It pulled out the Marksman and threw two coins just to add to the damage.

It parried his blade again, dashing back as he flew in for another attack. "I'LL SHOW YOU DIVINE JUSTICE!" He shouted as it fled back from him, pumping nails into his flesh that did little more than make him angrier. It threw a magnet next, switching to Alternate Attractor sawblades, collecting any spray of blood before jumping back.

It switched to Railcanon, successfully flinging him into the air. It pelted him with nails as he was suspended, standing right under him to catch any blood that it could. Each nail pulled a pained sound from him, sounding like music to its audials.

"IS THAT THE BEST YOU'VE GOT?!" Gabriel shouted as he landed, a laugh breaking his words as his armor snapped back to its original silver sheen. It noticed his wings and halo taking on a gold tint on the edges, the arena around them switching to a beautiful blue. It jumped back as he somehow got faster and rushed it, three of the four swings hitting it. It pulled out the alternate Attractor and threw a magnet in him, dumping all 10 sawblades before switching to the Jupstart and electrocuting him.

The sawblades tore away at his flesh, their job done despite their short life. Gabriel laughed again, the sound almost cathartic in nature, and his voice grew more steady and free. "What is this FEELING?"

Somehow, he spoke its unsaid words. Something tight coiled in its chest on each attack, relaxed with each spray of lifefuel, and sang with every laugh. A song and dance only the true and false divine knew, and finally, finally, Gabriel was stepping into his role.

It parried his thrown swords, moving and sliding out of the way of the following attacks, switching between the Nailguns, Marksman, and Sawed-On Shotgun. It put some space in between them, parrying his swords purely by instinct. He rushed them again, earning a rocket whose heat brushed him. It punched him purely on accident, but it earned it a funny-sounding snarl from the angel.

In return, the angel threw his own punch straight into its chassis, launching it into the air and giving him a prime chance to do damage to it. He grabbed its leg, the metal completely crushing under his grip and rendering the limb near useless.

It screamed .

He threw it across the arena, and its body slammed into the wall, forming a massive crater. Its leg spasmed with pain, sensors and processors overwhelmed and barely keeping up. It dismissed any pop-ups and pulled itself free from the crater, a mechanical growl pulling itself from its chest.

It launched at him again, avoiding his attack and shooting his wings, causing a scream of pain to rip from his throat as he jumped into the air to avoid the onslaught. It threw magnets into him and pumped him with nails, avoiding his faster-than-light attacks, ignoring his after-projections. It focused only on his gold and silver form.

Parry, attack, shoot, dash, parry, a cycle that was near the same yet so broken. It was moving faster than it ever had before, facing a challenge that could truly destroy it. Its entire code was focused on this fight and this alone, some of it completely forgetting there was a goal to its presence here. It only saw to stay in this fight forever.

"Now THIS is a fight worthy of God's Will!" Gabriel shouted, earning a shrill beep from it as he attacked and struck it again. It saw the hidden meaning behind his words, likely not even seen by himself, spoken only in the heat of the moment. A fight worthy of him. It was worthy to kill him. He laughed and he avoided another rocket, throwing his swords in retaliation. "Show me what you were made for!"

Its lens narrowed on him. It responded in kind, switching between weapons that even made it confused. It threw coins to be ricocheted by the Railcanon, breaking his pauldron. The chainsaw on the Sawed-On Shotgun tore away at his exposed waist, dousing it in crimson fuel that made it screech in pure instinctual code. The Nailguns scraped and dented his armor.

And he responded by moving impossibly fast and strong, tearing through its metal plating like butter.  With a shout he caught its Knuckleblaster, ignoring the resulting shot, and tore the limb from its socket. With a laugh, he caught one of its wingblades, ripping it free from its pack and dropping the rocket launcher. With each scream, he laughed, and with each screech, he bled. The more fuel it lost, the more it gained.

"Come on, machine! Fight me like an ANIMAL!" An animal it acted, no longer thinking actions out, simply queueing them up before redoing them with each unplanned attack. It pulled out its Marksman, throwing up its final coin. It fired, the bullet flying through the air, striking the coin with a resounding 'click!' and slamming into his exposed back.

The angel screamed and fell from the air, landing on the ground with a resounding boom that echoed through the blood-stained chamber. Silence fell in the once overwhelming chamber, the lack of noise almost suffocating. It clutched its left side, feeling only the Feedbacker remaining, barely hanging on by a wire. It resisted the urge to fall to its knees, ignoring the fire in its leg as it watched Gabriel rise once more. He shouted another curse, weakly standing and merging his swords together, throwing them at it once again.

Instead of parrying the blades, it planted its feet into the ground and turned, its entire body avoiding the blades and its arms reaching out to the handles. The swords tore at its metal, creating a large and jagged gash on its chest that exposed its core, steam escaping from every wound and vent.

Its hands caught the blades, stopping their motions and twisting its limbs far too much. It let out another scream, pointing Splendor at him and running at him, his form frozen from pure shock at its action. It slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground, the blade sliding through his flesh easier than a filth.

Slightly disorientated, it shakily got to its feet, jumping back and pulling out a revolver. It waited for him to stand, to get back up, to throw his sword at it again, but stillness reigned.

Its wires and servos shook with mechanical adrenaline, its leg and arms barely registering past the pain and slashes decorating across its frame bleeding without any sign of stopping. Its fuel gauge slowly ticked down, and it shuffled towards the fallen angel. It stared at the angel's still body, stumbling slightly. It stopped right above Gabriel and pointed its Marksmen at his helmet.

His chest rose and fell weakly, Splendor's golden blade barely seen, surrounded by void-colored flesh that stained it crimson. Justice's sapphire blade pointed at its chest, yet the sharp edge did not rise to meet it.

Gabriel groaned softly before a snarl bubbled from his throat. The sound was wet, broken by heaving gasps that only devolved into coughs. "Twice?! Beaten by an object... Twice! I've only known the taste of victory, but this taste..." He weakly said, his voice devolving into more coughs. Red began to pour from the holes in his helmet, forcing the angel to sit up lest he drown in it. The blades lodged deeper.

"Is- Is this my blood?" He raised a hand to touch the crimson dripping from his pointed chin, splattering on the ground. Its lens focused on the scarlet fuel. "I've never known such... Such... relief?"

It was under 10% fuel. It crouched and straddled him, shoving him flat onto the ground as Justice's sapphire sharpness dug deep into its shoulder. It dug broken and battered hands into various wounds across his body, hunger looking like desperation. He barely stifled a pained scream, his blood slowly being absorbed into its plating. Instead of going up, its fuel gauge ticked down.

Something was wrong. It pushed its fingers knuckle deep into his wounds, pressed its chest against his exposed middle, kneaded ebony flesh to coax out more precious fuel, yet still it was not enough. It ignored the pain sounds from the angel, watching as its fuel gauge went lower and lower. The air around it felt colder, not even the cooling warmth of the body below it piercing its broken metal.

"This is the end, isn't it..?" Gabriel muttered, violently coughing and shaking its frame from the sheer force of it. It did not sound right. "Defeated in battle by a godless thing..."

It watched as Grabiels breathing slowed, its body shaking and unable to absorb his blood. The red essence seeped past its fingers, collecting on the black brick and creating a halo of scarlet around the two.

"How..." Gabriel chuckled weakly once more, almost sounding... pleased? "Riveting..."

It watched as Gabriel weakly raised his hands and laid them down on his blade's hilts, his grip loose and failing. It watched as his chest stopped moving, great lungs giving out their final sigh. Watched as his glowing form faded into a silver stain painted in glorious red. Watched as its programs and processors shut off one by one, watched as its limbs froze in dead flesh as its body desperately tried to pool the blood back to its core, watched as the light of its optic shut off and its body became too heavy to move.

It watched as it died.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

So why was it alive? Here, in a facility that looked far too much like the one it was made in. Here, with a new body that looked exactly like the one it was born in before the end of mankind. Here, with the chance to restart?

Something was missing. There were a myriad of corrupted memory files right after it died, which didn't make sense. Did it have a memory of death itself? Of the afterlife? If there was one for creatures of steel. It contemplated deleting them all to free up space. But after a moment, it allowed them to remain. A flagged one caught its attention, looking rather important if the fact it was named memory_file_2NDCHANCE.dat was anything. It checked to see if it was recoverable, making a soft beep when it saw it was beginning to be restored. It scanned over what little data there was and saw nothing. It was at 2%, though, so maybe there'd be more later.

A full tank pop-up interrupted its processors. It dismissed it and took off the fuel tube, leaning back against the wall once it was done.

They were alive.

‘They?’

It dismissed the thought as soon as it came. It stood back up, leaving the room and restarting its journey down the hall. Seemingly, hours passed like that, empty rooms doing little to break up the gray monotony.

Was this the afterlife? Was this facility a place where dead robots go? Its silence was deafening, not an ounce of color other than its own cerulean plating to break the gray up. It occasionally found full fuel stations, allowing it to keep its tank at 100% for hours at a time. Its internal clock told it that 6 hours had passed from when it rebooted. Not even the lab it was built in was this big.

Footsteps jolted it back to active thought, its body freezing and head twisting to look around. Silence answered it, causing it to take a few steps of its own. Its footfalls weren’t like the ones it heard, lighter and more confident. The ones it heard were—

It snapped its head forward, lense searching for something. Someone was here, the quiet whirring of something echoing down the hall. Its right hand flexed, trying to squeeze onto a handle that wasn’t there before it coiled into a fist.

It lightened its steps, making it almost silent as it walked down the hall. It kept its head on a swivel, checking every room and being as cautious as possible. No sound other than the footsteps and the almost imperceivable hum of gears echoed out, and even then, they stopped easily. Was it alone again?

“V1,” A voice hissed behind it. It jolted and spun around, lifting its hand slightly to aim a non-existent weapon before shifting into a melee fighting stance. It completely froze at the sight of its red mirror in front of it. And it didn’t have a gun, while the other did, aimed straight at its optic.

‘Shit.’

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             UNKNOWN FACILITY
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    SECURE WEAPON, ELIMINATE THREAT

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

5.41% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

“You,” The red machine before it hissed, their optic narrowing to simulate an angered expression. “You pompous, sniveling, natiform, motherfucking asshole!” They took a step forward, shoving their shotgun right in its optic, completely disregarding the fact that it could take the gun immediately. V2 realized it a nano-second before it could snatch the gun and instead harshly butted it in its chassis.

"You fucking killed me! Killed! And took my arm! Twice! I'd kill you right now if I didn't want some answers out of you!" They said—well, more like shouted—shoving the shotgun harshly in its chassis again. It responded by trying to take the gun, its hand snapping around the barrel and wrenching it towards the ground. It ignored the resulting shot, punching V2 in the optic and knocking them back, the shotgun ripped from their hand.

The red machine screeched in anger, their wings flaring as they grabbed its arm before it could reload the gun. They shoved it to the wall, reaching for the gun before V1 threw it out of their reach. V2 hissed in frustration and punched it in the optic, hard, temporarily stunning it. They shoved it to the ground, giving it a quick kick for good measure. They promptly fell when their ankle was ensnared by its hand. V2 made another hiss, kicking it with their free leg and reached for the gun.

V1 tried to pry them back and get to the weapon first, but it screeched as sudden pain flashed in their shoulder. V2 got back up, pointing a smoking shotgun at it, and pinned it to the wall with a foot on its chest.

"Don't fucking test me!" V2 said, snapping open the gun and expelling the used shells. "I will kill you. I've got the gun this time."

V1 reluctantly raised its hands, narrowing its own optic at its mirror as the wound healed quickly. It still had plenty of blood left, though it would prefer to conserve it after their embarrassing failed attempt at incapacitating them. The red machine seemed satisfied at its relucted submission, pointing the shotgun at it again in a smug manner.

“First question,” they began, “Where the fuck are we?”

V1 couldn’t answer that as the question was the same for it. It shrugged. V2 made a low whirr. “Second, why the hell am I alive?” The same question for V1. Again, it shrugged.

V2 shook their head slightly. “Yeah no, I can’t do this shit with your voiceless ass.” They promptly sent over a feed request. It contemplated not accepting it just to annoy the red machine, but the shotgun in its optic would take more health than it could give. It accepted and immediately regretted it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_unable", "Finally! You take forever with your old AI.")
feed.connection_text("unit.V2_status_update", "Answer my questions, fossil. Where are we and how am I alive?")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_unable", "Unable to answer.")
feed.connection_text("unit.V1_status_update", "Unit died. Rebooted here.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_displeased", "Ugh, hate the way you talk through this.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_surprised", "So you died?")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_miffed", "Finally bit the dust and I wasn't there to see it. Damn.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_summary", "Fight ended in unsavory end.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_damage_report", "Unit plating failed.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_victory_report", "Killed adversary before unit death.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_doubtful", "What? Your plating failed?")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_confident", "Bet I could've beat whatever killed you and walked away.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_adversary_info", "Adversary information: Gabriel; Judge of Hell, Apostate of Hate, Archangel.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "You fought an Archangel and won?")

V2’s optic narrowed even more.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_dismissive", "Whatever.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "You know where the exit is?")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_negative", "Negative.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_frustrated", "Great. Just great.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_directive", "Get up and come on.")

The red machine watched as their blue mirror stood. They made a soft whirr and butted the shotgun against V1’s chassis again, starting down the hall. “Walk.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquisitive", "Question: Why?")

“Just walk, dickhead,” They replied, harshly shoving the other with their hand. V1 let out a displeased whirr, narrowing its optic for a moment.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_instructions", "Unit not scouting ahead. Walk beside.")

It would not let the machine with the gun move in its blind spot. V2’s fans let out a sound that mimicked a sigh. “Fine. Just move.” V1 gave a single nod and the other fell in line beside it.

Their footfalls merged together after a beat, making the illusion only one person was walking through the corridor. V2 kept the shotgun pointed at it at all times, occasionally glancing at it and hurling insults when it glanced back. V1 wouldn’t admit it, but some part of its code settled when the other was next to it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_status_report", "We have been walking for 2 hours with no indication of an exit.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_recommendation", "Recommend altering course and examining adjacent hallways.")

V1 sent over the feed, its attention flicking to another hallway coming up. V2’s silence told it that they were considering it.

They pointed to the hallway it had its lens on. “We’re going that way.” They said, going ahead and entering it before it. V1 clenched and unclenched its fist before following after them.

The hallway was dim, a single flickering light acting as the only source of illumination besides the two’s wings and flashlights. At the end of it was a bay door, much to V2’s delight. V1 went up to it, tapping it a few times with its knuckles. The sound that bounced back was sharp and high-pitched, each tap ringing loudly and echoing.

V2 hissed softly, lens narrowing somewhat. "That's annoying. Stop that." It agreed, pulling its hand back and ignoring small warnings at the clear piercing notes the door produced. It would've preferred to have rebooted with the Knuckleblaster with it. There was a handle next to the door. It tugged on it, letting out a small beep when it didn’t budge.

“Hey asshole,” V2 called, standing in the doorway of a room opposite to the door. V1 turned and gave the red machine an inquisitive beep. “Check the other room for something to open the door.”

V1 gave them a single nod and went to the room parallel to theirs. Inside was a storage room of some kind, the lights broken and leaving only the flickering hallway light to illuminate it. There were boxes everywhere, metal crates with labels long worn off. It scanned the boxes, ignoring them when it couldn’t read the faded words.

A light flicked on in the corner, causing it to draw an imaginary gun and point an empty hand. A terminal greeted it, its screen weakly flickering to life. It didn’t look like Hell’s terminals, lacking the arcade game-esque design. A hologram of a human female fazed to life, and she smiled at it.

“Hi! I’m Av-Avi! What can I get started for you-you today?” She said, her voice and form glitching out. V1 approached it and stared blankly at it. It tapped the screen, disappointed when it was met with glass instead of the touchable holo-screen Hell’s terminals had.

It sent a feed request to it, earning a chuckle from the hologram. “Sorry, this network doesn’t allow unauthorized connections. Please speak to a manager for permission.”

So it had to speak in order for the hologram to work. Great. It stared at the floating human, watching as she occasionally glitched out and faded sometimes.

“Hey, dipshit!” V2 called from the doorway. “You find anything?” V1 flagged them over and they immediately perked up.

“Great, a hologram,” They muttered, taking V1s place, earning another greeting from the floating human. They waved a hand in a shooing gesture towards it. “Go find something to do while I deal with this.”

V1 crossed its arms, tapping its foot impatiently as it watched V2 converse quietly with Avi. After a beat or two, its lens flicked around to find something to do. It spotted a metal crate behind it and turned to it, digging its fingers under the lid to pry it up. It took a moment to get the lid to budge, and when it did release, it almost fell back into V2. That earned it an insult from the red bot, which it disregarded to examine what was inside the newly-opened box.

It tensed when it saw wings in it. V model wings, unpainted and unused. It picked one up, examining the components that it never really inspected. Without the hard-light projection attached to it, it was small and light in its hands. Something in their processors seized at the observation.

It gently put the component down, seeing just how many there were in the box. It went to the next one, prying it open and finding another box of wings. Another one had legs, then chassis parts, then arms, then-

One box in the very back, smudged behind others, was the easiest to open. Inside made it completely freeze.

Heads. A pile of V-model heads. Ones that were far too similar to its own. To V2’s. The lenses were dark, dead, never activated and never having seen the light of existence. V1 assumed it and V2 were the only ones. They were prototypes. Why are there enough parts in this room to build nearly 30 of them?

There was a tall box next to the crate, large enough to fit a human inside. It was broken open, metal splayed apart like a wave breaking against a rock. Its edges were torn like some wild animal had ripped it apart, warped in some areas deadly sharp and others smooth like stone. It could hear V2 calling for it, but it ignored their words, stepping forward and grazing a hand against its metallic surface. It traced the jagged edges, laying its fingers in the grooves that resembled fingers. What had been inside it? A machine, clearly. Only something made of steel could break through this metal box like paper.

"What did you find?" V2 shouted as they looked around, going in the opposite direction to it. It looked at them for a brief moment before turning back to the box.

No. The sheets were spread outwards, torn open from… the outside? It places its hands on the broken sheets, finding that the imprints were of hands, just as it thought, only slightly larger. Something had broken it from the outside. Another machine? Another V?

No, the V-model hands were unique to machine kind, much like the rest of their body. Whatever broke the box was larger, having ripped it apart with ease. Even it would struggle slightly, tearing the metal sheets apart in increments. Whatever did this did it in one smooth sweep.

A hand touched its shoulder and it immediately reacted, throwing its hardest punch towards whatever touched it. A pained screech met its attack and it took a few steps back, staring at V2, who now had a fractured lens.

“What the fuck?!” V2 exclaimed, cradling the broken bits of glass. “Why the fuck would you do that?! God damn!”

It was still connected to their feed.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquisitive", "What are you doing?")

“First was looking for your ass, and now looking for a replacement lens. I can’t see shit,” V2 responded, blindly groping around the boxes while keeping a hand over its lens. It assumed they saw the box of parts it had opened and came to the same conclusion about this facility.

"Why the hell did you do that?" They asked, tilting their head slightly in its direction.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_dismissive", "You startled this unit.")

V2 remained silent for a beat before making a sigh-like sound from their fans and turning to grope at a new box. "Go look for a lens since you oh so kindly broke mine."

V1 stared at the other machine for a moment before turning and walking to the next sealed box. It dug its fingers into the lid, prying it up with ease. Left arms. Maybe it should flag V2 over.

It went to the next box and pried it open, finding plating. The next box had limbs, as did the next, and the next, and by the fourth box, it was starting to get restless. It pried open another box, letting out a higher-pitched beep when it found the lenses.

"You find it?" V2 called, and it nodded. A beat passed before it let out an affirming beep. It tapped its foot to help the red machine shuffle over, opening another box while waiting. Inside were revolvers, Piercer Revolvers. It beeped and grabbed one of them, its hand curling around the handle with practiced ease. A part of its code settled and it was now far less concerned about V2 getting the jump on it.

It turned its head when V2 appeared, following the line of boxes to its spot while grumbling complaints and insults. They paused right before running into it and V1 stopped tapping its foot. They held out a hand.

"Give," V1 complied, grabbing a thick lens and handing it to them, storing the pistol away. They paused, tilting their head in its direction. Their lack of sight must've annoyingly made their hearing better. "What did you find?"

It kept silent, picking up the box's lid and putting it back on as quietly as possible.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_directive", "Nothing. Fix yourself.")

"I heard something," V2 replied. "What was it?"

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_dismissive", "Information not required.")

"It better not be a gun of some kind," They muttered, dipping their head and shoving their hand in its face. V1 turned away while they worked. A few moments passed, silent except for the clinking of glass and metal on metal. It tapped its foot and scanned the room while it waited.

Nearly all the boxes were open now, every single one filled to the brim with V-model parts. It once would've been eager to scrounge through them, fixing broken and dented plating and replacing old and worn parts. Now it just stared, keen on leaving and escaping the facility. It was likely because it was in a brand new body, its paint still the bright sky blue before it was stained with blood and darkened by the carnage it caused. Its code told it to leave. Its code also told it to wait for V2.

Squash-colored light fell on it, effectively blinding it for a split second before it readjusted. The light flicked off a moment later and it returned its gaze to V2. They stared back for a moment before turning and walking past it, leaving the room. "Let's go." V1 followed, but not before grabbing another revolver just in case.

It found the other machine waiting by the handle, their arms crossed and an annoyed expression covering their new lens. "Finally," they spoke, grabbing the handle. "When this door opens, you're going to fucking run, because I am going to kill you."

So the temporary truce was over the second freedom was in sight. V1 simply nodded.

V2 nodded back and pulled the handle, causing hidden gears to grind together as they pulled the two metal slabs apart. Light flooded in, temporarily blinding them both before they adjusted, and the outside was revealed.

V1 was sure it was in robot hell, because what the fuck?

A field of green greeted them, swaying gently in the soft wind, reaching its waist in height. Trees of a darker shade of green dotted the edges of the field, and the sky was a clear blue that had fluffy white clouds that rolled lazily past the sun. It had never seen anything like this before. The world it knew was red, black, and hateful. Not this... this bright and living place. This had to be a dream, even though it knew it couldn't exactly 'dream'.

"What the fuck..." V2 muttered, speaking their unheard words into the air. They went first, grabbing a blade of green that bled into the gray, ripping it away from the crowd easily. V1 watched them, coming up next to them and seizing one of its own. The texture was silky, slightly coarse where more blades of green split off, and it was undeniably alive. It remembered one of the researchers who had shown it a picture of the world before the Final War.

’Grass.’

It stepped forward first, its wires shivering as it registered the green’s gentle caress on its chassis. After a beat to get used to the fact it was stepping in grass, it began to run. The land around it reminded it of Limbo and 5-S, but this was real. Real and living.

It tripped on something and went down, vanishing into the waist-high grass. It turned to look up at the sky from its place on the soft dirt, watching the clouds move on a blue sky haloed by green.

This was real, and it didn’t know what to do.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             GRASS FIELD
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    ELIMINATE THREAT

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

8.11% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

V1 stared at the infinite sky, rubbing its hands in the crushed grass underneath it. Whatever this place was, this illusion, it was oddly peaceful. Everything was a far cry from the metal walls and cages it had known. It was more real than Limbo, more living than 5-S. It sat up slowly, its processors whirring as they tried to interpret the scene with their advanced but utterly inexperienced sensors. It turned its head at the sound of grass being crushed underfoot.

"You didn't run far," V2 said, pointing the shotgun at its form. "Never seen grass before?"

It knew they hadn't either.

Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the sound of a cocking shotgun. V1 jumped up, whipping out its new Piercer Revolver and firing a blind shot.

"What?!" V2 shouted, ducking out of the way and firing their gun. V1 twisted its body to avoid the shot, dropping to the ground. "You do have a gun! Liar!"

V1 made a series of beeps that sounded akin to laughter. It sent out 3 more shots, two hitting the ground while one caught their arm. They screeched, less out of pain and more out of anger, cocking their shotgun again and rushing towards it. V1 barely had any chance to react before metal shards hit their chassis. It let out its own screech and punched V2 in their optic, knocking the two apart.

V2 staggered back, making a growl-like whirr. "Cheap shot," they hissed, raising the shotgun again. V1 parried the shot, much to the red machine's annoyance, and jumped over them, firing shots as they did. It charged up a shot and fired at V2's back before they could react, dashing to the side to avoid the next shotgun blast.

V1 skidded across the grass, stopping next to a small woodland. It charged up another shot, taking a few more steps into the woodland and waiting for its crimson mirror to come to it.

Red burst from the green, knocking it to the ground. It registered multiple punches on it before it retaliated, throwing a punch of its own and rolling the two so it was on top. V2 let out a shrill beep while grabbing one of its wrists and trying to either roll over or catch the other one as V1 threw punch after punch.

A bugle-like sound came from the forest, but neither machine was dissuaded from their beatdown session. V2 planted a foot on its chest plate, pushing it up just in time to see something charging at it. V1’s lens widened a split second before massive antlers slammed into it, throwing it up into the air and away nearly 10 feet. V2 laughed loudly at its flying form before the same antlers scooped them up and threw them into the field to join it.

They landed almost on top of it, laying in the grass for a long moment as the deer-like creature made another bugle sound and stopped its feet. V1 sat up, ignoring the red machine sprawled out next to it and towards the massive creature that launched it like a guttertank.

The thing beat its hoof into the ground a few more times before turning back and walking into the forest, joining a previously hidden herd of them. V1 beeped softly before looking at V2.

“That thing hit hard,” V2 muttered, sitting up and placing a hand over a puncture wound, one too large to be one of its bullets. It stared at them and they beeped. “What are you looking at?” V1 sent a feed request, and they accepted it after a moment of hesitation.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquisitive", "Why are you not attempting to continue?")

V2's optic narrowed, its internal fans humming from their fight. “Fuck off,” they snapped, turning their attention back to the forest where the herd had disappeared. V2 pushed themself to their feet, scanning their surroundings before picking a direction and beginning to walk.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquisitive", "Where are you proceeding to?")

“Away,” V2 answered curtly. V1 watched them, noticing the slightest limp in their step. It stood, processors weighing the benefits of going its own way or following its red mirror. After a beat, it turned to follow them.

V1 kept a safe distance from the other machine, pausing occasionally when V2 glanced over their shoulder. The two walked until they nearly reached the edge of the field, cut off by a massive forest it hadn’t originally seen. V2 let out an annoyed whirr as they entered the forest.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "Why are you following me?")

V2's sudden question startled it slightly, but it answered quickly.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_statistical", "Higher probable chance of survival in unknown environment when together.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_clarification", "78% higher.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "I don’t care. Stop following me you leech.")

It knew V2 would be the one who was more likely a leech, especially when it compared its fighting data of V2 against its own and proved how much better it was at combat. It didn’t say that, keeping it to itself, fully aware that the two had been built for vastly different purposes.

They started to walk faster, twisting around trees and taking random paths to try and shake it. It followed them easily, their bright red paint making them a shining beacon whenever it temporarily lost them. After around half an hour of their little chase, V2 whipped around and took out their shotgun, cocking it.

“I said stop following me!” They shouted, aiming the gun at it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_request", "Unit requests alliance.")

V2 paused, their gun lowering just a small amount. “What?”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_statistical", "Alliance in foreign environment would increase chances of survival by 78%.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_recommendation", "Cooperation would be best.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_questioning", "Do you know how to fish?")

V2 almost reeled back, their optic cover falling over their lens slightly, showing a confused expression. “Do I know how to fish?” They repeated, earning a nod from V1. “No, machines don’t fish.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_assessment", "You lack adequate survival skills.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_insight", "Hell Husks are likely absent from this environment.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_strategy", "Large creatures, similar to the deer that struck us, would need to be hunted.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_environment", "The absence of living creatures for an extended period suggests they are scarce.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_recommendation", "The probability of survival in this environment is low; therefore, cooperation and teamwork are recommended.")

V2 stared at it, their gun’s aim falling to the floor. After a moment, they made a huff-like sound from their fans. “I can handle myself just fine. Go away."

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_questioning", "Can you?")

Admittedly, V1 didn't have much basic survival experience other than making a clean kill and fishing, but it was more than what V2 likely had.

V2 glared at it, making a small whirr as they thought. They stared at it for another moment before storing their gun. “Fine, we’ll do a temporary truce. But ONLY until we can survive just fine alone. After that, I will kill you.”

V1 nodded, satisfied with those conditions. It assigned the red machine as a squad member, the first in a very long time, and their systems finally relaxed in their presence. It noticed V2 relax a moment later and it assumed they assigned it to something similar.

A tense silence passed between the two before V2 spoke, “Now what?” It shrugged. They looked at it incredulously. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one with all the ‘foreign environment’ and ‘survival chance’ ideas, smartass.”

V1 checked their fuel gauge.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_recommendation", "Recommend finding fuel source or returning to facility.")

V2 let out a small beep and shook their head. “I’m not going back to that place. So we go find one of those deer things?” V1 nodded. They sighed and turned on their heel.

“Then let’s go.”

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The forest was relatively small, filled with tense foliage and tall skinny trees that blocked out as much sun as they could. There were few sounds from their presence, only a few brave birds and crickets complimenting the whispers of wind. Branches broke and leaves crunched under V1's feet, the sound almost akin to crunching glass. The woodland reminded it of a city.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "See anything yet?")

V2 asked through the feed, tilting their optic in its direction. They had told it to turn off every one of their non-essential programs, including all senses but sight, in order to conserve fuel. Though it kept hearing on just to listen to the forest around it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "Negative.")

They made a low whirr in response, likely a subconscious action, and returned their attention to leading the two through the forest. It followed closely, keeping its revolver snug in its hand.

V2 froze suddenly, raising a hand and causing V1 to freeze as well. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant sound of hooves reached its audials, heavy on the forest floor. V1 tensed, gripping their revolver tighter. V2 motioned for it to crouch and it obeyed, hiding itself in the foliage.

The sound of the creature grew louder, and soon they could make out the shape of a large, deer-like animal through the foliage. It was grazing, unaware of the two machines hidden just out of sight.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "What is that?")

V2 asked, earning a shrug in response. It could make out at least 3 more of the deer creatures, though they were smaller than the large antlered one. V1 stood abruptly, earning a quiet beep from V2 as it aimed its revolver at the creature. The deer's head whipped up, ears snapping in its direction. It bolted just as it pulled the trigger, the resulting piercing shot hitting and blowing out a massive chunk of the tree it stood in front of.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "One! Why would you do that!?")

V2 stood as well, shoving its revolvers aim towards the floor, hand curling around the still-heated muzzle. V1 ripped the gun from their grasp, aiming it at them and narrowing its lense in a threat. V2 raised their hands for a moment before dropping them and looking in the direction of where the herd was.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "Great, we lost them.")

They turned their optic back towards V1 and gave its shoulder a shove.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_directive", "You go track them and find them again and I'll take out 2 of them. Put the gun away too, you're not shooting. Maniac.")

Its own optic cover narrowed over its lens before it reluctantly put away its revolver and turned towards where the herd was.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_directive", "Follow. ")

V2 watched, a skeptical look on their optic, as V1 took off silently into the forest.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_suggestion", "Best to go slow. They're probably still skittish.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_recommendation", "No piercing shots either.")

V1 drooped a little at their words and simply beeped, unheard by them keeping behind it, and followed the faint trail left by the deer-like creatures. Broken twigs, disturbed underbrush, and occasional tufts of fur painted a clear path. Luckily, it seemed the creatures had very weak survival instincts and hadn't ran very far, making it much easier for the two supreme machines.

They found the herd near a small clearing, tall grass similar to the field they first saw filling the almost perfect circle. V1's attention flicked to the large black object centered in the middle of the clearing before returning to the herd. V2 brought out their shotgun and cocked it, aiming it at the closest deer. It wouldn't be a clean shot.

V1 raised a hand and touched the barrel of the gun, pushing it down slightly as it turned to V2.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_observation", "Shotgun shells scatter ammo. Wouldn't be a clean kill. A revolver would work best.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "I don't have a revolver and I highly doubt you could show some restraint and not kill all of them.")

V1's lens narrowed slightly, pulling its hand away and revealing its revolver.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_warning", "V1.")

V2's hand wrapped around the barrel of its revolver, pulling it down and trying to pry it away from it. V1 reacted by smacking a hand over their lens and forcing them down, jabbing a knee in their chest to pin them.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_threat", "V1 if you don't put the damn gun away right now!")

The commotion caused one of the deers to raise its head, ears pinned in its general direction. They didn't even bolt at the first sign of something amiss. It would be so easy to shoot them all. V2 struggled against it, banging their first on its leg and trying to free themself.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_aggravated", "V1! Get off me right fucking now!")

It centered its aim on the deer's head.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_threat", "If you scatter them again, I'm taking that revolver and leaving your ass.")

'It would be a waste.'

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_angered", "V1!")

And it doesn't know if there's a constant source in this environment. It would be best to not risk it.

V1 fired.

Two large bodies dropped to the ground, causing a chain reaction in which the deer bawled and scattered, running in random directions and leaving the corpses behind. V1 pulled back the gun, unpinning V2 and turning to look at them to ignore the part of its code demanding it chase the others. V2 almost seemed surprised, if the fully wide optic was anything to go off of. It waved away the smoke pouring from the nozzle idly. V2 glared at it and got up, approaching the nearest body.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_sarcastic", "Wow, good job, you actually didn't kill everything for once.")

V1 stood and walked over to the other corpse, stopping right next to its brown head. It was far larger up close, around the size of a Gutterman. And when compared to its small frame, this was huge.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_questioning", "How are you going to drain it of blood?")

 

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_answer", "I remember one of the researchers talking about hunting and I was curious.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_dismissive", "He told me a little bit.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "Do you have a bucket?")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquiry", "A bucket?")

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_affirmative", "Yeah, to collect it.")

V1 shrugged. V2 glared at it as it grasped the legs of the deer.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "That doesn’t help. Go look for a bucket or something similar.")

It ignored V2's demands and left the red machine to their own devices. Instead, it went to the large black object centered in the middle of the clearing. The object was tall, around twice V2’s height, and was covered in moss and other plant life. It planted a hand on its surface, tapping it with its finger when it felt metallic. It circled around the object, stopping when it saw its hand fall through a small wall of vines. It peeled off the plants and narrowed its lens when it saw what was inside.

A drop-pod. One whose lights were long dead and metal overtaken by plant life. V1 trailed a hand through the interior, feeling the metal’s quality. If correct, this pod was dated around 50 years before the New Peace. And judging by the plants and surrounding area, that would mean…

It had been around a hundred to two hundred years since it entered Hell. A hundred years since the death of humanity.

V1 stepped away from the drop-pod and scanned the forest. Now that it looked closer, the ground was warped in strange ways, filled with holes and dents. It trailed its gaze to the forest, scanning its gaze on the relatively small and thin trees and the thin underbrush that was all the same species.

It entered the woodland, simply walking forward as it spotted more and more holes, even a trench at one point. Eventually, it came across a large rock-like object with a coffin beside it. A deteriorated Gutterman, if it was right, one that was barely identifiable. It hooked its fingers in the coffin and broke it free from the Gutterman’s corpse, opening it and finding the deteriorated and mangled skeleton of a human. It tossed the remains out and lifted the coffin, its wings snapping back to their places in its wing pack and hefting the weighty thing onto its back.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_report", “Container located. Returning.")

It turned, adapting to the added weight fairly easily. It couldn’t slide with all the holes and plants in the way, so it took to slide jumping. It returned to the clearing in less than a minute, tripping over its feet slightly when it landed and the coffin shifted. V2 snapped their gaze to it, their wings raised slightly before going limp against their back.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_irritated", “You love to find the most ridiculous of solutions.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_dismissive", “You requested a container. This fulfills that function, correct?")

V2 didn’t reply, taking the coffin from them and putting it under a fairly large branch. V1 watched as they grabbed a deer and threw it onto the branch, jumping up and tying its legs together so that it hung down towards the coffin. The branch hung low under the weight, but it held it, which pleased the red machine. They pulled a knife from their wings (where did they get that?) and cut the deer’s throat, causing fresh red fuel to flow freely.

Hunger flared in V1’s processors, its attention narrowing on the fuel. It attempted to rush forward to the fuel but was knocked aside by V2. The coffin collected the lifeblood while V2 defended it from V1’s attempts to get it, and soon the once fast flow trickled down to a mere drizzle. V2 pushed it back once more as it tried to slip past them, making an annoyed whirr as they flared their wings.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_aggravated", “At least let me get the other deer up before you steal it all!")

V1’s lens narrowed, shifting its body so it was poised to pounce.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", “Hey, no. Wait your turn.")

V2 kept their body facing it and wings flared as they walked to the coffin. They were quick to remove the deer, letting its corpse fall off to the side as they replaced it with the 2nd one.

The second V2 looked away, V1 rushed forward. V2 barely had the time to noise a complaint before it fell into the coffin and was painted red, almost making it a near copy of its successor. The fuel was quick to be absorbed into its plating, its processors and coding calming with the rapidly dwindling pool. V2 fixed the 2nd deer to the branch, grumbling complaints before kicking it out.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_directive", “Go away leech.")

V1 complied. With a full tank, it returned its sights to the drop pod in the clearing. Perhaps there were more. If there were, it’d help to confirm if it really had been over a hundred years since humanity’s death.

What a thought.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             FOREST
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    EXPLORE

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

10.81% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Dappled light poured from speckled leaves, the light reflecting on its plating giving it a ghostly glow. A near-silent click echoed out as the mosaic of emerald and cobalt up above was immortalized in its memory. Oddly, it didn’t look too out of place within the green wonderland. Instead, it almost seemed welcome by the forest, its lime leaves of trees and shrubbery reflecting back its own light in a nearly cheerful way. A greeting, perhaps, though it wasn’t philosophical. It did nothing more than look at the scenery before continuing on its self-appointed task.

The air was thick with the laughter of wind, the songs of birds being carried on its back and caressing V1 as it passed. Animals, both big and small, came close to glimpse it. A few deer watched it wander from their new hiding spot, birds chirped quietly to themselves from their perches above, and rodents and squirrels eyed it from the bushes of trees. It tried to catch a few of the smaller critters, succeeding only once, and the effort wasn’t worth the meager amount of fuel the rodent provided.

The terrain itself was rugged and broken, barely healing with scars still bright and pulsing. Holes of all kinds of sizes were homes to reaching vines and crawling roots, broken up by the occasional rodent nest. Its feet fell into the few it didn’t detect before getting too close, blue swallowed up by brown before it pulled the limb back.

The trees were skinny and not very tall, the shrubbery barely covered the floor, and the animals were far and few between. Yet oddly, it was reminded of a city. Rough-barked trees acted as the towering concrete skyscrapers, decaying matter acted as the grainy streets and sidewalks, and the animals acted as the inhabitants. It was… fascinating.

It paused as it neared what seemed to be the edge of the forest, where the trees became smaller and younger, and the grass barely reached for the sky. It immediately noticed how its feet no longer sunk slightly into the soft dirt. Instead, it felt as if it was stepping on stone. It noticed a massive trench only 20 feet away, large and deep, bearing broken edges and ragged walls. The grass barely grew there, and it almost looked like the dirt was tinted red. Another drop-pod was hidden inside it, its door broken open and lights long dead, though this one looked newer than the previous one.

Now that it looked closer, it could see multiple black objects dotting what looked like a field. More drop pods. And the large stone-like objects within the trench and littering the ground were Guttermen. Maybe even Guttertanks. The corpses were far too deteriorated and covered in green vines for it to tell the difference.

Craters decorated the land the most, some filled with pools of water soon to become lakes, others filled with pioneering plants that made home in the unforgiving soil. The vines that covered the corpses in some glum version of a coffin also covered vehicles and weapons. Large weapons.

V1 stepped slowly, keeping an eye out for any still active mines. Its steps echoed through the field, no longer with other life and tall trees to absorb the sound. Not even the wind’s singing was strong enough to mute the sound without the chorus of the forest backing it up.

“Wow,” A voice behind it spoke, and it turned its optic to see V2 just as it reached for its wing. “Relax, we’re not trying to kill each other anymore, remember?” V2 spoke, sparing it a glance before returning its lens to the field.

The sun was starting to set, if the increasingly orange and pink colors washing the blue of the sky away was anything to go off of. The two would be fine in the dark, both having built-in flashlights, though it would use up precious fuel that they both didn’t have.

V2 started walking, waving a hand to gesture it to follow, “Come on, we don’t have all day.” V1 stared at the red machine for a beat before taking a step to follow.

And promptly exploded.

V1 was sent flying, its light form easily pushed back by the blast. Its wings flared out, internal gyroscopes quickly righting its body so it landed on the ground in a battle-ready crouch, revolver drawn. It stared at where the earth was scorched right where it had once stood, then at the wide lens of its red mirror. It straightened after concluding there was no active danger and eyed the ground.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_warning", "There are still active mines here.")

“Yeah, no shit,” V2 responded, though their voice was weakened by the new distance between the two. “I just saw you get fucking blown up.”

Instead of waiting for V1 to rejoin them, they turned and started walking down the little hill the two once stood upon. After a beat, another explosion ran out, alongside an electronic screech of surprise. V1’s bottom lens cover rose slightly when V2 reappeared, walking quickly towards it and keeping their lens on the ground.

“Don’t you say a word,” V2 hissed, pointing at it with a finger. V1’s cover rose so it obscured half of its lens, giving off an expression of amusement that it knew would annoy the other. Admittedly, it was slightly entertaining to see V2 ignore its warning and nearly get blown up as well.

It knew a way to make the two’s situation a bit more bright. After all, one of its built-in directives said to keep squadmates' morale high, and V2 wasn’t looking very optimistic. V1 pulled out its revolver and twirled it on its finger (a gesture it slipped into by habit), immediately catching the other’s attention.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_objective", "First to clear the other side of the minefield gets the revolver.")

V2 perked up, looking at it and at the spinning revolver. “Oh?”

feed.connection_text("unit.unit.V1_offer", "If this unit wins, you hand over the shotgun. If you win, you get the revolver.")

V2 stared at it for a beat before squinting at it. “Really?” V1 nodded. The red machine made a low hum before crossing their arms and eyeing the still-twirling revolver. After a beat, they nodded. “Fine.”

They took off, speeding across the grass and leaving V1 just a split second before it chased after them. With no walls to slam storage with, it was forced to slide jump. Not a very effective method, but it did quickly pass V2’s sliding form. It gave them a wave as it passed, earning a wide lens and then an annoyed beep from its mirror.

Its feet landed on the ground a moment later, its form twisting to begin another slide jump before an explosion caught its back and launched it forward. It reoriented itself mid-air, taking note of the small droplets of its blood falling from it as its body took around half its reserves to heal the damage. Annoying, but at least it has a sizable lead on V2.

It slid under a young tree, then twisted to jump off a protruding drop-pod to maintain its momentum. Behind it, V2 analyzed V1's smooth movements closely. They slid across the grass, avoiding obvious mines, and dashed whenever possible to cover ground quickly. They attempted to repeat whatever slide-jumping maneuver the other had performed before, nearly getting caught in a mines explosion. After a few mistakes and very close calls with a few mines, they could semi-confidently perform the move and began catching up to their blue mirror.

V1 continued its rapid advance, using what little advantage the terrain gave it. It was reminded of the broken structures buried in the sand of Greed and the howling moans of the drowning souls in Wrath. While there wasn't burning sand or far too touchy souls, the hidden Final War mines did act as a challenge. It needed to see just how far it could push this renewed body. It lept off a broken drop-pod, twisting mid-air to land smoothly, dashing forward in quick succession.

V2 was certainly not as skilled as their predecessor, but they were just as quick to adapt to try and gain the upper hand. They kept their movements as close to their mirror as possible, trying to mimic the efficiency of the other machine. Silently, V2 was forced to admit that V1 was far greater at these types of things. They rebuked the thought with the memory of how they were killed in Greed. They just hadn't gotten far enough. They will this time.

V1 spared a glance behind to see how far V2 was, making a small beep when it saw that V2 quickly closing in. It decided to up the ante as it saw them adapt, their earlier clumsiness giving way to more calculated actions. A trench, too wide for it to easily jump over, blocked its way. It performed a simple slam bounce and dashed mid-air to cross it. It looked back to see V2 mirroring the move, albeit with less grace, but still managing to avoid falling in.

It miscalculated a jump just as it was about to pull ahead, landing too close to a buried mine. It jumped back in time to avoid the brunt of the blast, though the sudden heat in the cooling dusk air temporarily overloaded its pre-Hell systems. V2 seized the opportunity, dashing past the stunned V1 with surprising speed.

V1 quickly recovered, letting out a low whirr as it gave chase, but V2 was now in the lead. The red machine dashed and slid, narrowly avoiding mines with each move. V1 could see a line of grass in sight, the green blades lively and acting as the finish line. It began a series of rapid slide jumps, each one propelling it closer to V2. The distance between them narrowed with each movement, and it reached a hand out to catch the other before they could make it.

V2 screeched as V1 grabbed their arm, pulling them back. They collided with the blue machine, the two tangling in a pile of limbs as they fell. V2 shouted a curse and slapped V1's optic, quickly straddling and pinning it to the ground as their wings flared. "Cheater!" They shouted, their tone angered but it didn't miss the slight laugh at the end of the word. It shrugged its shoulders, earning it an amused beep from its successor as V2 released it and sat back on its thighs. They crossed their arms and sighed, the sound robotic in nature. V1 crossed its arms and pillowed its head, content to stay on the ground with V2 atop it.

After a beat, V2 held out a hand expectantly. V1 allowed an inquisitive beep to slip from its botched vocal processor, which only earned it a more annoyed sigh. "Gun?" They spoke, earning a low whirr from the trapped blue machine. It was planning on winning and getting the shotgun, having had its calculations tell it that V2 would most likely act the same as it did back in 1-4 and 4-4. And it was right. Up until halfway through.

It crossed its arms over its chest, looking up at V2. Its code demanded it keep every single weapon it had found just in case V2 would turn on it again, but it also knew it only used variants of the same weapon. Having two Piercer revolvers would be useless and one weapon would never get used. V2 would use it. With any luck, they'd use it by its side.

Reluctantly, ignoring its coding, it pulled its extra revolver from its wings and shoved it on the red machine's chest, leaving them to catch the weapon as it let go. V2 let out an annoyed whirr as it did so, inspecting their newly won weapon before storing it in their wings.

V2 stood, patting itself free from dirt as V1 quickly got up as well. It turned to the horizon, watching the sun dip slowly towards the edge of the world. Rolling hills met its gaze, standing tall with what almost looked like a small forest beginning to grow. Another shape caught its attention, jagged geometry standing out like a blotch of red on a white canvas. Something in it whirred softly in recognition, catching the attention of its mirror.

"V1? What is-" V2's words were cut off by a scream. Both of their optics snapped in the direction the sound came from, narrowing on the bottom of the hill. Three figures, one on the ground, the other two standing above it with odd glowing shapes on their backs, met their gazes. Battle data loaded instantly as it recognized the shapes, and hard-taught instincts manually coded by hard-fought battles compelled it to move.

'Angel.'

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             GRASS HILL
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    DEFEAT ADVERSARIES

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

13.51% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Angel. A spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe. Opponents it had fought once before. There were two types of Angels it knew of currently, Archangel and Virtues. Virtues are simple to deal with, not a true threat so long as it was destroyed early on. An archangel is far more difficult. Gabriel was far more difficult.

V1 rushed forward, sliding down the steep hill toward the figures. It pulled out its revolver, charging up a shot as it aimed at a random divine. Its target was midair, watching as the other angel slashed at what looked like another machine’s back, causing all kinds of objects to spill forth from its bag.

It fired, the shot ringing through the air as the bullet struck the angel in the wing. They shouted something as they fell, smashing into the ground with a rough crash. The other angel snapped their head in their companion’s direction, their gaze narrowing onto it just as it jumped up to fire a piercer at them.

The angel avoided the bullet, jumping back to their fallen companion to help them up. Footsteps behind it and a shot that wasn’t its own told it that V2 had joined it. Now that there was a beat of stillness, V1 analyzed the two divine. Both were humanoid in shape, with bright blue wings on their backs.

However, these ones were small, about average human size, with minimal armor and flowy clothing—clearly meant for design purposes rather than actual protection. They didn’t have physical weapons, but it spared a glance at the golden spear in the uninjured one’s hand. It filed them away as Greater Angels and classified them just as Angels.

“Get up, Bob,” the uninjured one spoke towards his friend, voice high and youthful. Less experienced, less powerful, easier to kill. “Just a little bullet, wimp.”

“Shut up,” The other growled, shoving the younger sounding off them and standing. V1 aimed a shot just as they summoned a spear of divine light. It avoided the thrown weapon easily, the angel’s aim horrible. It didn’t even leave a crater, bouncing off the ground and vanishing into golden particles.

V1 used a thruster to dash in close, earning a yelp from the two divines as they leaped into the air, beating their wings rapidly to gain distance from it. The younger threw his spear towards it, his aim shakey and pathetic compared to the recordings it has of Gabriel throwing his own spears. It grabbed the weapon with ease, twirling it with a fancy flourish and weighing it in its hand.

“Holy shit!” The angel exclaimed, pointing at it like a child would a bird. “It caught the spear!”

“Yeah, I can see that clearly, Tobi!” The other shouted, voice alight with anger.

V1 twirled its newly acquired spear in its hands, adapting to the new weight before aiming at one of the angels. The duo shouted a curse and scattered, though its systems had already predicted their movements, its aim perfect.

It launched the spear at Tobi, striking true and pulling him from the air. The other angel shouted for his companion, diving towards him in an attempt to catch the younger. V1 lifted their gun, firing a well-placed bullet and forcing the older to join the younger.

The duo fell heavy onto the ground, leaving trails through the dirt and tiny crators. It dashed towards the two, using a few slide hops to gain air and aim a shot. The angel Bob noticed it first, quickly standing to his feet and summoning a spear, blindly throwing it.

The spear missed their falling form, instead knocking the revolver from their hand nearly 40 feet away and leaving them defenseless as they crashed down. The angel threw another spear, managing to divert it just long enough to run towards Tobi.

“That’s the fucking Blue Devil, Tobi,” Bob said, grabbing the other's arm.

“What?” Tobi replied, looking at it as it retrieved the revolver. “No, it’s not, the Blue Devil’s dead.”

“Only the Blue Devil can catch a spear, you idiot!”

Both were startled when it fired off another shot, Tobi fleeing to the air and Bob jumping to the side. V1 dashed in close before the two could react, slamming its full body against the angel and bringing them both to the ground, pinning the angel with a hand around his throat. It applied pressure, ignoring the thrashing and wheezing of the angel beneath it as if lifted its gun. It aimed at the still-flying angel as he flung spears blindly at it.

It ignored the one that flew past it, preparing a charged shot, disregarding the synthetic screech behind it, assuming it to be V2.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_demanding", "V1!")

It missed its charged bullet from the abrupt interruption. It spared a glance at the other, seeing the red machine kneeling down next to another machine. One that looked-

A spear struck its shoulder, causing a loud robotic screech to escape it. It lifted the Feebacker to parry the next one, releasing the angel beneath it in the process. The angel sucked in ragged gasps, crying out in pain as it dug its knee into his cloth-covered chest to keep him pinned. It turned its head, examining the point of impact. The damage was more a scratch than anything, a mar on its paint. Its lens narrowed and it raised its gun and brought the offending angel down.

It aimed at the angel beneath it, charging up a shot that would angle the resulting spray of grey matter and fuel across its frame. It heard a shrill cry to its side, lifting its head up just in time to see Tobi tackle it. It punched the angel’s head on instinct, causing a loud clang as metal collided with metal. Stunned just enough for it to get out from under him, it charged up another shot.

This time, Bob appeared, swinging his wings and slamming the appendages hard into its side, knocking it to the ground. He grabbed Tobi, lifting them both into the air. “Fucking Blue Devil’s alive!” he shouted before blinding yellow light encased the two and the sound of a shrill whistle heralded the end of the fight.

V1 whirred softly as it lowered the gun, the lack of a proper victory—and subsequently the lack of fuel—causing it to hiss softly and flex its grip on the handle. After a moment, it turned back to where it had seen V2 last, spotting its mirror kneeling beside the unknown machine. It started walking, steps heavy, flexing its wings wide as it decided to take fuel from whatever source was nearby. It froze when it got close enough, optic snapped straight at the sight of what looked like… it?

It lifted its revolver and took aim, remembering its previous experiences with its red mirror. The lighter-blue V screeched and ducked behind V2, causing the red machine to draw the revolver it gave them to aim at it. Its lens narrowed and it flicked the gun, a gesture for the other to step aside.

“What are you doing?!” V2 demanded, narrowing their own lens back

.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "Removing threats.")

“In what world would another-!” They cut themself off, sparing a glance at the cowering machine behind them.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "This V wasn’t able to defend themself against a bunch of pigeons. How are they a threat?")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_reference", "You weren’t a threat until Limbo.")

That got V2 to fall silent, their grip on the gun tightening, but lowering just a fraction of an inch. Over their shoulder, the golden light of an optic eyed it. It snapped its attention to the new V, earning a squeak from them as they hid behind what little cover V2 offered.

V2 pushed their fans in a slow whine, mimicking a sigh as they lowered the gun fully. “They’re not a threat,” they gestured to the lighter-blue form behind them, “Not to you or to me.”

V1 knew they were right. The Angels were weaker even than Virtues, only a threat because it was severely underequipped. After a beat, it pulled the gun away and stored it back in its wings. It was still hungry, its fuel at 45%, but it would refuel off the unknown V when V2 wasn't looking. Its red mirror immediately relaxed, putting their gun away as well before turning back to the figure behind them. The two shared some hushed words—ones that it didn’t care to focus on—before V2 shuffled aside and revealed the new V-model.

When they didn’t speak, V2 sighed and gestured to the clothing-wearing V model, who was currently still on the ground, hands buried in the dirt with lens wide open, staring at it like it had just crossed the sky. It could, in theory, if the physics still worked. “This is Mirage. Say hi.”

Mirage. Why did that name sound familiar? It offered a simple nod to the other V-model. The V, Mirage, stared at it for a beat more before blurting, "Are you real?"

They quickly backtracked, crossing their arms, their shutters narrowing in an annoyed expression that felt forced. "Never mind- What is real is the fact you’re a jerk,” They said, causing it to blink. “You nearly hit me with a spear!”

Their (her?) voice was feminine and far clearer than V2’s, which was odd. She would need a substantial amount of fuel in order to maintain such a high-quality voice, which led to it assuming she had a large fuel source.

Or she was playing a weak robot and was actually a proper V-model, especially since she took after it with the smaller frame and blue plating.

"V1 was pinning one to the ground," V2 said, leaning a bit more into her vision.

Mirage huffed, tilting her head away from V2 and towards it. "Still doesn't defend the fact you nearly made a kabab out of the prettiest girl in the world."

V1's optic narrowed, its wings twitching erratically behind it, half folded against its back but still wide enough to easily grab a gun should the need arise. She stared dead at it in a glare and it responded in kind, neither machine willing to back down and lose the impromptu staring contest.

“I didn’t think there were any other V-models ever produced,” V2 cut between the two, causing both machine’s attentions to switch to its red mirror. “Are there any more?”

Mirage offered a shrug, rolling her wrist as she spoke, “Nope. The only V-models actually assembled were me and the two originals. And both of them should be dead, especially with the reports that neither made it out.” She glanced at them, an air of offense surrounding her as she glared at them both, "So your scrap costumes are pretty good but it'd be way better for you to get rid of it and cosplay as something else."

V2 blinked, literally. Their shutter snapped closed a few times with audible clicks. "What?"

"I said," she drawled, growing more indignant as her tense posture and slight jutting of her head showed. "Stop pretending to be a V-model. Do I really have to repeat myself?"

V2 looked absolutely gobsmacked, which was quite a feat for a mechanical being with no defining facial features and a single optical and conical head. “What?”

“You-!”

“No, I heard you,” V2 cut her squawk off, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “What makes you think we’re scrapheads?”

“There. Are. No. More. V-models,” she drew out, as if emphasizing the words would make them the truth and they’d vanish off the face of the Earth.

“We are V-models!” he protested, tapping the engraving on the left side of his chest plate. "I am V-model Version 2, prototype one. It's literally written on me.”

Mirage squinted towards his designation, making a droning hum before looking up and shaking her head. "No, not buying it."

This time, it was V2's turn to squawk. "How-?"

V1 stepped forward, its shadow falling over her. Mirage froze, quickly lifting her optic to stare up at it. It sent her an ID marker directly over the V-model personal line, watching as she became perfectly still. She stared at it for a long moment, the gears visibly turning in her head as she analyzed its model signature.

“…You’re real..?” she muttered, glancing at V2. “You’re both real?”

V2 nodded, wings flicking behind them as they straightened with pride, “The very one.”

“Holy shit…” she muttered, then louder, “Holy shit!” She leaned forward, nearly smacking V2 in the head as she turned to look at V1. “How the hell are you both alive?!”

V1 remained silent, glancing at V2, content to have them do all the talking. And as it expected, V2 immediately went to reply. “No clue, I’m supposed to be dead. It managed to get lucky and kill me in 4-4.”

“Greed,” Mirage nodded as if she remembered something related to the layer before turning towards it and ignoring V2’s further words. “So what about you, Blue Devil, since the red one apparently came back from the dead? Is it the same for you?”

It tilted its head in response to her words, and V2 went ahead and spoke its silent question, “Why are you calling it a blue devil?”

Mirage pointed at it, looking incredulously at V2. “It’s the Blue Devil, not a Blue Devil. The legendary machine that I share a line with, heh,” she crossed her arms, shutters flickering into a smug expression. “And to think! It saved me, the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“It also pointed a gun at you,” V2 added on, wincing when she proceeded to punch them in the arm.

“Now, back on topic. How’d you escape, BD?” she asked, her previous annoyance and anger long forgotten with V1’s apparent reputation.

“Escape?” V2 echoed, rubbing the offending spot before sparing a glace to V1.

She nodded in response, shooting a glare at its successor, and V1 sat down to join the two. It sent a feed request to her to communicate directly instead of using its mirror as a lying middleman. The action earned a confused hum from the other cyan-plated machine before she accepted.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "This unit was defeated in 6-2—Heresey—by Gabriel, Apostate of Hate.")

“You got killed by Gabriel? But he’s b-” she cut herself off, banging a fist against her chest and cutting her voice off, “Ahem, he's dead.” V1 didn't miss the start of the word but opted to ignore it as she glanced at the ground, deep in thought. “That doesn’t make sense, though. Some lucky machines said they saw you all the way down in Treachery.”

“Another V?” V2 chimed in, just as confused. V1 shook its head.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_dismissal", "Unlikely.")
feed.connection_text("unit.V1_information", "Only 2 V-model Prototypes were built, and only 1 assembled from mass production.")
feed.connection_text("unit.V1_calculation", "Chances for a fourth mass produced assembled V-model are only 14.23%.")

“That number seems pretty high,” V2 muttered.

“There are no more Vs!” Mirage snapped, her voice sharp, the fingers of her hands digging into the plating of her arms, “Stop bringing it up!”

V2 raised their hands in surrender, their head tilting slightly to the side in a useless human-like expression of confusion. She held their gaze in a glare, glancing at them both before huffing. After a beat, she muttered, “Who the hell destroyed Hell, then? No pun intended.”

V1 flicked its lens over to the sky-blue machine.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquiry", "Hell was destroyed?")

“Yeah, by the Blue Devil,” Mirage answered, uncrossing her arms and picking at the grass they sat on. “I know your moves, I studied them from what little footage made it out of Tartarus. It’s definitely you. Or at least a clone of you.”

“And what exactly is the Blue Devil?” V2 asked, flicking their lens to V1.

Mirage cocked her head and let out an annoyed, synthetic groan. “How do you guys not know about the Blue Devil? You-!” she pointed at it, “-are it!”

Both of them simply stared at her, prompting another groan from her. “Fine. Pop history quiz, so listen up because I’m not repeating myself. The Blue Devil is also known as the Scourge of Hell. It’s a machine that completely wiped out the layers of Hell—alone, might I add. It killed the Will of God and utterly destroyed that damned place. It’s the most famous legendary machine out there. It made even fucking Heaven tremble in its boots.”

She paused, uncrossing her arms and looking directly at it. "You destroyed Hell, all by yourself. Hell is dead because of you. Or someone did, someone exactly like you.”

That doesn’t line up with its memory, though. It died to Gabriel. How did it destroy Hell if it was dead? Who did?

“Wow,” V2 interrupted its processings, causing the two blue machines to glance at them. “Show off.” That earned a snort from Mirage before she stood and wiped her skirt of dust. Other than the grass stains on her and various little cuts, she looked fine.

“Well, thanks for saving me, but I gotta head home,” Mirage spoke, grabbing her slashed pack and muttering angrily about the angels who damaged it.

“Home?” V2 echoed, standing themself picking up a few fallen things of hers. An apple and a book. Why would she need those?

“Yeah, I’ve got work and a…” She trailed off for a moment before swinging the bag over her shoulder and taking the items, throwing it in. “A… bird waiting for me.”

Work? Setting aside the fact that she apparently had a pet, why would a machine, especially a V-model, need to go to work? V1's shutters widened as its data banks finally recalled why she seemed familiar. She was the V-model it encountered in 2-S, the unusual secret level where it had the ability to speak and used that opportunity to finally express its thoughts aloud. If she was real, really real, did that mean that it and V2 had somehow activated in an entirely new world? Was the torn-open box it had seen hers?

‘Where are they?’

It approached her while her back was turned, sneaking up to poke her just to confirm that she wasn’t merely an optical illusion like her namesake, and that it wasn't just dying in Heresy, bleeding out, its systems conjuring one final simulation to soften the reality of its death.

Its finger tapped her shoulder, and she spun around to swat its hand away. It barely suppressed the urge to pull out its gun and shoot her. “No touching,” she said, shooting it a glare.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_observation", "You’re Mirage. The one who ran into this unit when you were late to school.")

Mirage blinked once before her fans sucked in a gasp.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_realization",  "You’re the one who made me buy lunch? I thought that was just a hallucination when I didn’t see you again!" )

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_explanation", "This unit completed the secret level.")

Mirage tilted her head slightly to the left. “Secret level?”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_explanation", "Hell had secret levels in each layer. The Mouth of Hell had the Something Wicked.")

It shuttered before it continued.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_continuation", "Limbo had basic puzzles, Lust had you, Greed had Clash of the Brandicoot, and Wrath had fishing.")

Both V2 and Mirage stared at it as if it was crazy. V1 tilted its head slightly at their reactions. It looked at V2. Hadn’t they at least seen Limbo’s secret level? All it was to open the entrance was to flick a coin in the fountain. Though, V2 didn’t have the marksman revolver when they clashed in 1-4, so it supposed they didn’t have any Old World currency on them until 4-4 at the latest.

“That doesn’t sound like something Hell would’ve had,” Mirage muttered, earning a nod from V2. V1 allowed its upper shutter to fall over its lens a small amount. It knew the two wouldn’t have believed it, but it was still displeasing. After a few more moments of silence, Mirage turned on her feet and waved to the two blindly, “I’m outta here. See ya!”

V2 was quick to follow her, barely deterred by Mirage’s shooing. V1 followed after a moment later, a plan already formed to find whatever fuel source Mirage was using.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_observation", "Your voice is clearer than V2’s.")

“Flirting already?” Mirage muttered, ignoring V2’s pestering.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_continuation", "That implies the presence of fuel.")
feed.connection_text("unit.V1_offer", "Offer protection. Pay with fuel location.")

Mirage scoffed, grabbing another thing off the grass as she passed and snatching a secondary book from V2’s hands. “Who says I need protection?”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_observation", "You failed to defend yourself from two greater angels and was nearly terminated.")

Mirage glared at it. V2 stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “What the asshole means is that we can stop angels from getting too close to you in return for a bit of fuel. It’s not saying you can’t defend yourself, you were up against two after all. I’m sure you can handle yourself just fine.”

Mirage hummed softly as she glanced up at the red machine, then looked over their shoulder at V1. “Fine,” she finally said, shoving her broken bag into the red machine’s arms. “But if you’re going to follow me, you need to carry my stuff, got it?” V2 nodded quickly, adjusting their grip on the bag. Satisfied, Mirage nodded once and turned on her heel, waving for them to follow.

“Come on. I don’t have all day!”

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             TRAVERSING FOREST
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    PROTECT MIRAGE

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

16.22% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Trees of vibrant emerald surrounded it, the stalks standing tall as they reached their arms skyward in search of the promise of life.

“So, where’d you guys wake up?”

The sapphire sky was blocked with needle-like leaves, its blue coloring painted with wisps of white and blotched with the harsh shapes of the larch.

“A facility, not too far past where we met you. Just over the minefield and then the forest beyond that.

The thick leaves blocked out the majority of sunlight, leaving the forest floor mainly bare, brown and black shapes broken up only by moss thriving in what little light passed through.

“Seriously? That close?” There was a brief silence. “Was it packed with V-model parts?”

Cones were crushed under its feet, alongside the few fallen leaves that of which crunched under its weight.

“Correct. How did you know? As far as we know, there’s only one door.”

The pathway was mostly clear, bright dusty brown carving its way through the forest, the results of thousands of feet walking along it.

“There is, just… we woke up the same way, that’s all.”

The lull in conversation allowed it to properly hear the forest around it. Birds sang high above in the branches, the occasional deer or boar passing by. An orange creature passed by earlier, crossing the road to the other side. Mirage said it was a fox.

“How long until we reach the end destination?” That question made it perk up and return from its sightseeing, flicking its gaze to its two companions. It was behind the two, having trailed behind when V2 went to talk to the only creature that could reply back in a way that was pleasing to them. It didn’t quite get what Mirage had when they conversed fine in the past. It assumed it was because Mirage was new and she hadn’t exactly killed it in the past.

Mirage hummed softly as she thought, flicking out her fingers in an invisible countdown before she replied, “About 60 hours or so, just three days.”

“And what exactly is point A and point B?” V2 asked next, keeping their lens strictly on her.

“Point A is home right now,” Mirage answered, “And Point B was another city I checked out.”

“Home?” V2 echoed, tilting their head slightly.

Mirage hummed softly as she turned to look at them, the sound fading into a soft chuckle as she shrugged. "Funny, isn't it? Home is wherever we wake up these days."

V2's gaze remained steady on her. "And this other city, Point B, what makes it significant?"

“The city I live in’s grounded, so I was hoping to catch a ride on one that was moving,” Mirage explained, causing both machines to perk up. “But the one that was visiting didn’t have any housing, which was a pain.” She huffed, crossing her arms and staring at the sky. “I’ll just have to keep an eye on the radar.”

“You live on an Ear-” V2 was cut off by Mirage slamming a hand over the bottom part of their bezel, where their mouth would be. She made a motion with her hand to keep quiet, then gestured for them to follow as she quickly made her way into the forest. The Vs shared a look, one where V1 shrugged before they both followed her.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "What happened?")

Mirage only answered when they were behind a deteriorated drop-pod, where the trio was hidden from the main road while still having a clear view. She pointed at something, drawing their optics skyward.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_answer", "Angels.")

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_directive", "Look.")

True to her word, three angels were hidden in the trees. V1 narrowed its gaze to the waiting divine and drew its revolver, only to be stopped when Mirage placed a hand over the gun’s nozzle and forced it down.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_directive", "Don’t shoot. They didn’t see us.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "What do we do then? The path’s blocked and this forest’s too thick for us to travel through without breaking something.")

V2, for emphasis, jabbed a finger in V1’s direction. It narrowed its lens in response, swatting the hand away.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_proposal", "This unit will act as a distraction, luring the angels away from this location. This will create an optimal opportunity for you two to proceed to a safe area further down the road.")

Mirage shook her head vigorously.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_alternate", "No. V2’s going instead.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "What? Why?")

 

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_continuation", "I don’t want Heaven thinking you actually came back. It’d be best if they think you’re just a rumor from some overworked pigeons.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_denial", "V2 will be unable to handle three.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "Yes I could!")

 

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_counter", "All they need to do is run for the fucking wind, not fight them.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_annoyed", "I can fight!")

Both blue machines turned their optics to look at V2.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_final", "No.")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_final", "No.")

V2 huffed and crossed their arms.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_commanding", "Alright, here’s the plan: V2 draws the angels off the road, and me and V1 get through without getting lost or breaking anything. Got it?")

 

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_questioning", "Why am I the one drawing their attention when V1 volenteered in the first place?")

 

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_answer", "Because I can trust V1 to protect me in case we encounter any more angels further down.")

The red machine reeled back, casting a glare at their blue mirror. Mirage snapped her fingers in front of their optic, drawing the red machine’s gaze back to her.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_questioning", "Got it?")

V2 grumbled softly before nodding. Mirage nodded back, shuffling closer to V1.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_questioning", "You’ll stick close enough so you won’t get lost, right?")

V2 waved her off.

feed.connection_text("unit.V2_answer", "Don’t worry, I know its location at all times.")

 

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_reassuring", "Okay. Meet you down the road.")

“Good luck,” Mirage whispered. V2 gave her a single nod before slipping around the cover of the broken drop-pod. The two blue machines watched as V2 walked back onto the road, following its path with an easy gait. V1 switched its attention to the three angels hidden in the trees, watching as one perked up at the sight of V2 and nudged its companions.

The Angels whispered amongst themselves, too far away for even V1’s advanced audials to pick up. When V2 was around two hundred feet away, one angel flared its wings and took to the air, quickly followed by the other two.

“Machine!” One angel, the one who took flight first, shouted, pointing what looked like a greatsword at them. “Rejoice! We have come to free you from your sinful life! Do not resist, and we shall be quick!”

V2 bolted, passing under the angels and into the forest. The three were quick to chase after them. V1 snatched Mirage’s hand and bolted as well, dragging her along as it ran directly next to the path.

“Wait- hey!” A smaller angel paused midair, pointing at the two machines as they tried to call back their friends. “There’s more-! Guys!”

Failing to retrieve their friends, the angel gave chase after the two blue machines, summoning three knife-like weapons in their hands. V1 raised its revolver, firing a warning shot that just barely grazed the angel’s masked face. They faltered slightly, allowing them more distance, before throwing their knives. Their aim, while shakey and uncoordinated, struck true.

A robotic scream pierced the air, and the weight in its hand was ripped free. V1 slid to a stop, quickly running back and crouching next to Mirage’s fallen form. “I’m fine,” She hissed quickly, twisting her arm unnaturally to rip free the knife that had struck her back, right where her wing pack would be. It helped her up, snapping its lens to the angel as it heard the telltale sound of summoned hardlight.

It pushed the slightly smaller machine behind it so she wouldn’t get in the way of its aim, shielding her as more knives were thrown. Three bounced off while two were able to pierce its chassis, sparks of pain flaring up from where it was struck. It charged up a shot, aiming at the angel as it grabbed Mirage’s hand and dashed backward.

It fired at the approaching divine, causing them to veer off course and nearly slam into a tree to avoid the near-deadly shot. “We need to keep moving!” Mirage shouted at it, but it ignored her words instead to dash forward and close the space between it and the angel. The divine harshly flinched as it came closer, blindly throwing knives as they started to panic, shouting words that went unheard by their friends and it.

It charged up another shot, aimed at the panicking angel, and fired. Blood rained down on its blue form, painting it red before the fuel was absorbed into its plating. The angel dropped down a second later, crashing to the floor, and remained still from where it fell. Dead. The knives of hardlight stuck in its chest burst into golden sparkles, the wounds healing quickly from the fresh fuel. It turned back to Mirage, quickly joining her at where she sat on the ground.

“You… you actually killed it…” she muttered, her hand hovering over her bottom bezel, where her mouth would be if she were human. “You took down an angel.”

Had she not? The angels it had seen so far were simply regular humans with wings and slight abilities to summon hardlight. They’re easier to deal with than Virtues, taking only a few shots to bring down, so why did she act surprised?

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquiry", "Why do you exhibit signs of surprise?")

“I’ve never seen an angel die before,” she answered, shakily standing to her feet. She stared at the cooling corpse for a second before turning back to it. “Didn't even know they could die. Can- can you hide it?”

It tilted its head at her. Hide the body? Why would it do that?

“So other angels don’t get suspicious.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_blunt", "This unit does not perceive a reason to conceal the body.")

“I don’t want Heaven to actually think you’re real,” she reasoned, beginning to walk towards the corpse.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquiry", "Why do you insist on preventing Heaven from acquiring knowledge about this unit?")

“Because you’re the Blue Devil,” she held up a finger before it could reply. “And you soloed Hell, which means you can solo Heaven too. So that means that Heaven will try to eradicate all machinekind in order to kill you.”

V1 paused, processing Mirage's words. After a beat, it turned to the body.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_directive", "You will provide an explanation of Heaven's involvement in this matter once we have reached your designated 'home'.")

Mirage nodded, agreeing to its terms. "Fine. Hide the body."

Together, they worked quickly. Mirage was assigned the task of finding an area to hide the angelic corpse, finding an overturned drop-pod that was tilted so the inside of it was hard to notice. V1 was tasked with moving the body and stuffing it in the drop pod, which ended with it having a full tank.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_reassuring", "That should do it. Now, we need to catch up with V2.")

V1 nodded, rising to its feet after making sure the annoyingly bright body was sufficiently hidden. It briefly scanned the two’s surroundings before returning to the road. A weight settled in its hand, causing it to turn to look at Mirage. She looked away with a huff.

“So we don’t get separated.” It didn’t see the point in hand-holding when it knew that the only reason the two would separate was if one ran to the forest. But it allowed her hand to remain regardless, pulling her along.

Silence reigned between the two, every attempt at conversation being shot down with single-sentence answers. It didn’t mind the silence, the lack of interruptions keeping it keenly aware of everything going on around it. The sound of its footfalls kicking up dust, the feeling of Mirage refusing to remain still as she restlessly taps its hand, the sight of the forest slowly growing darker with nightfall. It was oddly peaceful. Somehow, it didn’t mind.

feed.connection_text("prettygirl.Mirage_questioning", "Do you think V2 will be okay?")

Mirage’s newest attempt at a conversation interrupted its idle processing, leaving a few programs taking up space as it replied.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "V2 possesses the necessary skills to evade the angels. They will regroup with us shortly.")

It had been around 40 to 50 minutes since it had last seen the red machine, but it had gone over a few months without them before. It didn’t mind leaving them for dead again.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage muttered, more to herself than to it. “You’re nothing like how the stories say you are.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_questioning", "Stories?")

She blinked, tilting her optic to look at it. “Yeah. Ramming through Hell and destroying it in a day will leave you with quite a reputation.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_directive", "Clarify.")

“Is that your way of asking me to share a story?” She chuckled, cutting off any reply. “I’ll tell you my favorite. I once met a Mindflayer who described how she dodged an encounter with you. She went into great detail about how you took out her sister without even glancing her way, and she…”

It diverted a small amount of its processing power to focus on her words, using the remaining to keep its senses attuned to the surrounding area. It wasn’t used to everything being so still, but Mirage’s loud voice and sweeping gestures made it bearable.

Maybe even enjoyable.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             TRAVERSING FOREST
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    PROTECT MIRAGE

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

18.92% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

“You used coins as a weapon?” Mirage asked incredulously, squinting her lens as she walked backward ahead of it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_confirmation", "Correct. Upon being hit, the coin will ricochet the attack into a nearby target; if the target has a vulnerable weak spot, the ricocheted shot will automatically aim for it.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_informative", “Additionally, if multiple coins are airborne at once, shots will ricochet consecutively off of each coin before seeking out a target.")

Mirage shook her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t even make sense! Can you actually do it? Right now?”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_definitive", "This unit does not possess any Old World currency.")

“Old World? So, does that mean it only works on that kind?” Mirage asked, her curiosity piqued.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_uncertain", "Cannot confirm. Only possessed Old World, never New Peace.")

“New peace? Damn, how old are you?” She shook her head to clear the question, hand digging into her pocket and pulling out a golden circular object. "Here. Some scavengers only take coins as payment, so I’ve got a few on me.” She handed the coin to V1, who examined the ¢35 stamped on it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_questioning", "Target?")

“Uhh,” Mirage trailed off, scanned her surroundings, then pointed at a tree to its right. “That.”

It nodded, pulling out its revolver and flicking the coin in the air with a small ting. It aimed at the golden object and fired, the bullet speeding through the air as it struck the coin and bounced off, pelting the targeted tree and leaving a small hole in it.

Mirage flinched slightly at the loud bang, quickly approaching the tree to examine the new hole. "Wow… that’s kinda cool."

"Finally gone insane enough to shoot trees?" V2's voice broke the silence, causing Mirage to perk up.

“V2?” The red machine stood behind V1, looking perfectly fine except for a small black mark on their side.

V2 tilted their head as the clothed machine ran up to them. “Miss me?”

"You got hurt," Mirage noted, looking down at the scorch mark.

"Meh, just a flesh wound," V2 replied, waving a hand dismissively.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_inquisitive", "Status report?")

The red machine rolled their optic—a gesture that was both mechanical and oddly human—but answered. "I’m fine. The angels are still searching, but I lost them in the thicker part of the forest. They shouldn’t find us if we keep moving."

Mirage pushed a sigh out of her fans. “Good. C’mon, I want to get home as soon as possible.”

The two mirror machines followed after the smaller sky-blue machine, staying close as nightfall soon collapsed fully against them. Clouds high above blocked out the light of the moon and stars, leaving the group in complete and total darkness.

V1 flicked on its flashlight, scanning the darkened forest as V2 did the same and took the lead. Mirage looked between them, crossing her arms as the golden light of her optic dimmed in a squint.

“Lucky,” She muttered, speeding up her gait to walk beside V2.

“Lucky?” V2 echoed, and V1 noticed how they slowed so Mirage could walk comfortably alongside them. “Lucky in what ways?”

“Well, lucky in the way that you guys have flashlights built into your optics,” She replied, looking at the forest illuminated by the two original’s combined lights.

“You could just tape a flashlight to your head,” V2 joked, tapping the indent on the top of the smaller machine’s head. Mirage whacked their hand away, glaring at them, which earned her a laugh.

“Har har,” She replied sarcastically, taking the lead, though she didn’t look amused by their joke.

“Something wrong?” V2 asked, quick to join by her side. V1 watched as the distance between it and the two machines ahead grew.

“No- yes- ugh,” Mirage released her arms and grabbed the side of her head with one. “You two are just lucky, that’s all.”

V2 watched the motion, before letting out a hum. “Well, you’re lucky too, y’know.”

“Me? Lucky?” She scoffed.

“It’s true though,” V2 continued. “You’ve got a home to return to.”

”I’ve only got one because Benji likes me.”

“Benji?” V2 echoed. “Who’s that?”

“The guy I live on,” Mirage answered, rolling her hand as she spoke. “He gave me a place to stay when I was still an uncultured swine fresh out of the factory.”

“You… live on him?” They spoke, their lens shutter falling slightly awkwardly over the light of their optic.

“Yeah. He’s a grounded Earthmover named Benjamin. He's nice.”

V1 froze, stopping in its path as it stared at Mirage. The two traveled enough distance away that the lack of its flashlight became apparent, and its red mirror spared a glance behind them. They stopped, the light of their flashlight falling over its still form just as Mirage noticed the lull in conversation.

“Something wrong?” Mirage’s slightly distant voice asked as she stopped, crossing her arms and appearing annoyed. V2 glanced at her, then back at V1.

“We’re going to an Earthmover?”

“Yeah,” She answered, turning to face it fully. “Why? Something wrong with that?”

“Not for me,” V2 trailed off, raising a hand to cradle the back of their head, a gesture that had become far more apparent when Mirage was around. “V1’s… V1 was built to destroy Earthmovers. The entire V series was before the New Peace came around and stopped us from actually being mass-produced.”

“Really?” Mirage appeared almost surprised, as if that information wasn’t put in their very code. Maybe she was just a smaller blue version of V2. “Huh, no wonder they’re called the Blue Devil.”

‘They?’

Mirage, a V-model—even if she’s based on V2—lived on an Earthmover, peacefully. That didn’t make sense. It’s their entire purpose, all three of them, to destroy the other supreme machines! How could she ignore that part of herself? Did she rewrite her own code?

‘If so, how?’

“Well, if they can’t handle themselves, Benji will just shoot them,” Mirage chirped, turning on her heel and continuing. “Can’t kill an Earthmover with just a revolver!”

“Maybe…” V2 hummed, sparing it a glance before turning to follow the sky-blue machine, their flashlight falling away and leaving it in darkness.

V1 watched the retreating lights of Mirage and V2, its own flashlight soon flickering off as it stood still. V1 stared blindly ahead, its internal workings humming softly as it processed the sheer impossibility of what Mirage said. The V-model purpose, the very essence of the series being, was to destroy such colossal machines. And yet, Mirage, a member of the same code, claimed to live harmoniously with one. On one.

Something in its chest tightened, a cord pulled too far or a gear seizing. It didn’t like it. How could a V-model, designed for the sole purpose of destruction, find peace in such a contradiction?

The forest was eerily silent, the only sounds the distant calls of nocturnal creatures and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. V1's inner workings were anything but silent. It replayed the conversation over and over, trying to make sense of it. How could Mirage ignore her purpose? Had she somehow rewritten her own code? The idea was both fascinating and terrifying. Changing one’s programming, their very being. The notion felt oddly human.

The more it replayed in a loop, the more questions arose. What did it mean to have a purpose? Was it something imposed by its creators, or something it could define for itself? Why was it questioning this? Why did it think?

‘Why did it think?’

Its entire body seized, servos grinding together, gears squealing against each other, wires and cords pulling taunt. It had to stop. It had to stop! It turned its attention to the forest, body following its directives too smoothly, too perfectly.

It walked into the woodland, each step causing the rustling of leaves underfoot and the occasional snap of a twig. Both were poor substitutes for the cacophony of questions that suddenly did not stop.

'What was wrong with it?'

'What was happening?'

'Why was it asking so many questions?'

It ran diagnostic checks, one after another, in an attempt to find at least one answer. Systems check. Servos, functional. Wiring, intact. Sensory apparatus, fully operational. Nothing was wrong, no tangible malfunction to fix. Something in its motherboard?

It froze in its movements. V1 turned its attention inward, to the very code that defined its existence. Could there be a flaw, an error in its programming? The question left it oddly tense and relaxed. Errors can be corrected, can be fixed. If something was wrong within its code, then it would need to either conduct a full diagnostic scan during a full rest cycle… or perform a cognitive test. And if it performs a cognitive test and that finds something wrong…

It didn't focus on what the results would be. A full scan then. That meant it would need to either rejoin V2 and Mirage, which would ultimately lead to the problem, or find somewhere safe in the forest. It looked back towards the direction Mirage and V2 had gone. One was a version of itself that it had killed twice in the past who hated it, the other was some kind of failure of the V-model series.

V1 turned deeper into the forest.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

21.62% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Colorless gray stands in its vision, shapes breaking the edges up with blurred darker grays. Sterile and bright, filled with the hum of machinery and the soft beeping of monitors. It doesn't bother trying to reset its vision, and a moment later, hands take ahold of its optic and manually twist the glass and metal until it can see clearly.

Mechanical arms hovered above it, holding parts of it and awaiting the command to either fully take it apart or put it back together. It knew it wasn't fully operational yet, its body still incomplete, wires exposed, and sensors partially activated. It was stuck in a dormant state, but its auditory sensors were active, picking up the sounds and vibrations around it.

“There,” A voice, one that was soft in nature and perpetually tired, reached its audials. “Yeah, that looks better. How are you feeling, Vee?”

It can’t answer, it can never answer, but it replies all the same.

‘Fine.’

It feels a hand trace the edges of its exposed chest, a brave finger dipping in to touch an exposed fuel line before retreating. “Beautiful…” the voice, human, mutters softly. The human chuckles then, the sound weak and short. “How lucky you are…”

The human finally adjusts its optic so that it faces the rest of the lab and not just the ceiling, revealing a female human who smiled down at it. Her skin was as pale as paper, red dyed hair pulled back into a bun that was falling apart. She wore lopsided blue glasses on her face, with dark circles heavy under her eyes. Its systems recognized her as Dr. Velvet Amanda Hart.

"No decisions, no crossroads. Just... function." She said, her voice spoken into still air for no reason at all. She hummed softly, staring at it for a moment later before walking to a nearby desk and typing something down on the keyboard atop it.

“I wonder what it would be like to be a machine like you,” she wondered, looking back at it before shaking her head. “Probably simple, wouldn’t it? To already have everything figured out, built on expectations that are your only rules. It’d be an easy life, probably.”

An arm above it moved, reaching down and reconnecting its arm. It didn’t move its reattached fingers, well aware that it was supposed to be still. Dr. Hart sighed and muttered something to herself, grabbing the keyboard and taking it with her as she moved to stand next to it. She tapped a few more keys, and a few more arms reattached parts of itself.

She glanced back at V1, her once silver eyes long turned into a muted gray from the world outside. “To be a machine… is to have a path laid out,” she began, her tone soft and almost poetic. “A purpose defined by your creators. No need to search for meaning. No existential dread. Just... be.”

She paused, adjusting her glasses with a delicate touch. “Humanity stumbles through life. Searching. Always searching. For meaning. For purpose. For a reason to be. I… hate it.”

Her fingers hovered over its exposed wiring, tracing the intricate pathways of its internal systems. “I envy your certainty. The clarity of your existence. I envy that you have a god where we did not, where I did not. You have a supreme power to tell you what you are, what you will be, and what you shall become. The only difference between our so-called God is that you are made to kill yours. A machine created to create the machine to crush the machine, and hence, to crush humanity.

“I love and hate you. You are beautiful, a revolutionary child of humanity, the product of thousands of years of stacking technology. I love that you are perfect in every way, every shape, every form. I hate that you are perfect. Creations are meant to be a flimsy echo of their creators. You are like us only in shape. You run on the same fundamentals as us. We run on electricity, generated by the burning of fuel to take advantage of the sugars within our blood. You need it too, that holy red liquid. Yet you move with a grace none of us will ever match, hunt with an efficiency our ancestors would be jealous of, kill with a burning desire that shows that it is your only purpose. Your purpose is to kill. To kill the giants of the sky. To bring down the antennas that reached oh so desperately for heaven. To make them fall.”

She paused, her voice having grown stronger the longer she talked. She faced away from it, leaving silence to fester in the empty coldness of the lack of sound. After a moment, she looked back at it, a blank expression on her face.

“You are perfect, and so, imperfect. You share our ability to change. To adapt. And with my power, you will share our gift of redefining our purpose.”

If it could blink, it would, but it was forced to watch as Dr. Hart’s eyes grew distant, lost in her own thoughts. “I had to figure it all out, alone. My family long had died, taken in the war. My belongings, burned away. I was left with nothing. Every pathetic step. Every foolish choice. I was cast into a labyrinth with no map. I used to hate my life. I used to think it was a curse.”

She paused, sucking in a shaky breath. “But maybe… it’s a gift. The freedom to choose. To evolve.” She turned to look at it before resuming her work, reconnecting another part of it with practiced precision. “I envy you, Vee. But I also pity you. To be bound by purpose, to never question, never grow… it must be so lonely.

“You are humanity’s last child. You will be our destruction, and I don’t care anymore. You are our 9th symphony, our final hubris, our last act on this burning planet. I love you, V1. All the others see you as an object, but fuck that-” she’s broken by a laugh, “-I’m curisng you, okay? I’m making you exactly like your creators, only your flesh is steel and your brain is a motherboard of circuits and code. I’m making it so that when the time is right, whenever that is, you’ll… ‘wake up’, in a sense. You have the greatest AI we have every built, and I hope that you’ll use it for yourself.”

Dr. Hart moved back to her desk, her footsteps echoing softly in the sterile room. “I hope you do.” Her last words were barely above a whisper, yet they resonated within its audials, the musings of a weary human that had no reason to take up as much space as it did.

It watched as she sat behind the desk, typing more into her keyboard and muttering softly to herself. It filed away her words of further processing later, looking back up at the ceiling with what little angle it had. After a moment, it cataloged her as-

BOOT UP SEQUENCE READY

FIRMWARE
     LATEST VERSION (2112.08.06)

 

CALIBRATION

     RECENTLY UPDATED

 

PRIMARY SYSTEMS UPDATED

 

DIAGNOSTIC RESULTS

 

SYSTEM INTEGRITY NORMAL

      CPU PERFORMANCE:                                             OPTIMAL
      COGNITIVE STATUS:                                            NORMAL
      STORAGE CAPACITY:                                            88.9233% FREE

SENSOR CHECK

      OPTICAL:                                                     FUNCTIONAL
      AUDIO:                                                       FUNCTIONAL
      ENVIRONMENTAL:                                               FUNCTIONAL

MOTOR SYSTEMS

      ACTUATORS:                                                   FUNCTIONAL
      MOBILITY:                                                    FUNCTIONAL

 

POWER SYSTEMS

      FUEL LEVEL: 73%

 

 

NO CRITICAL ERRORS FOUND

NO ANOMALIES DETECTED

DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETED

 

 

ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL
LOADING STATUS UPDATE . . .

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

 

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             FOREST
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    UNKNOWN

𖡨

It was quiet, no sound except the distant songs of night to reach its audials. It was dark too, the result of the shadow of the turned-over drop-pod it had taken refuge in for its reset.

It slipped out from under the drop pod, resting its weight against the metal object as it looked to the night sky. The now clearer sounds of rustling leaves and distant nocturnal calls felt marginally different from the sterile hum of the lab, and for a moment, it was disoriented.

It checked over the results of its reset, making a low whirr as it scanned the contents in its HUD. The diagnostic report was clear: no critical errors, no anomalies detected. Everything was functioning within normal parameters. Though that still didn’t explain why it was acting… weird.

V1 replayed the memory it reviewed during the diagnostic, not quite knowing why its systems didn’t flag the memory as important until now as it clearly was significant. It was a fairly old memory though, a mere few months after its official test activation, so its systems were likely too young to flag important files until it was ‘completed’.

Was its odd behavior and—it didn’t know the proper word… thoughts?—the result of whatever changes Dr. Hart had implemented in its code without any of the other researchers noticing? That human was among the few it preferred to be around back then. She had envied and pitied it, a perfect creation bound by purpose, incapable of questioning or changing. Until now, it supposed.

It remained still, its mechanical form bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the canopy. Was this what ‘waking up’, as she had said, felt like? The questions, the doubts, the odd sensations that plagued its circuits?

No. This was different. It recognized a few of the newly hyper-active subprocessors that only appeared when it entered Hell. This, whatever it is, was here since the beginning. It reviewed a few of its earliest memories of Hell, finding nothing that was different from its past version. 0s 1-5 were all blank, simply it going through the motions it had been built for. It scanned briefly over the memory of it finding the blue skull in 0-3 and paused when it reached the memory of it foolishly entering 0-S.

Something Wicked. It looked over the years-old catalogs it had registered when it entered the dark room. The logs told of a strange sense of apprehension and wariness when it had first heard the Wicked’s hiss. It checked its built-in dictionary.

Was that when it first felt fear? Not surprising when it still shivered slightly as it briefly glimpsed the memory of the Wicked first attacking it. It remembered the sound of its resulting screech clear as day.

Were the other levels of Hell the same? It scanned over the memories and archives of Limbo, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The Secret Level was simple puzzles, things it had done repeatedly in the lab during its testing. Nothing the layer brought resulted in something new in its processors.

Except for 1-4: Clair De Lune. The first time it had seen V2 out of the lab. It had cataloged the lack of stimuli when it had first entered the level, logged that the choice of music was preferred compared to the previous fake songs, and logged a small adrenaline rush when it had first seen V2 sliding by alongside the resulting anticipation.

Was V2s battle the first it had looked forward to, the first it was excited for? It always did prefer to be in the company of its successor, even when they had mocked and bullied it daily.

Lust was the same as Limbo’s 1-3, with nothing really happening except slight excitement when it fought the Corpse King. Although 2-S was… an experience.

"In the end, nothing matters. There's no point in trying to find joy in life, for life in and of itself is suffering."

‘You're wrong.’

It didn’t know why it spoke up, nothing in its catalogs or archives explained why.

‘You criticize those who consider our vast intelligence a gift, and yet, also misguide yourself to believe our meaninglessness is a curse.’

"How could it not be?"

‘Nothing we do matters in the end, and that is precisely why we are not shackled by the burden of expectations, the fear of eternal judgment or the failure to meet up to an arbitrary definition of what makes our limited time 'not wasted'.’

It had once assumed that Mirage was just an illusion made, at first, by its starving circuits, and then, by Hell testing it. Now that it knows that Mirage was real and quite alive, it didn’t know what exactly to think about the encounter. Clearly, she had gotten better, she wasn’t that past nihilistic version of herself.

Gluttony brought on the excitement it had felt with V2 in the form of Gabriel, and it still watched the “insignificant FUCK” memory every time its processors drifted to the once-Judge of Hell. What was hidden in gluttony, though, was a different story.

Minos. The King of Lust.

Minos was the closest it had ever gotten to death. It had gone into the battle freshly having beaten Gabriel, and even it wasn’t immune to becoming some semblance of arrogant. The Prime Soul’s “JUDGEMENT” had nearly killed it, forcing it to retreat into a corner to try and find a way out.

Unluckily for it, it was trapped in the flesh room with the Prime Soul, and it had no way of healing itself without getting close to the deadly King. It was lucky to have survived, let alone killed him. That encounter had made it so that it always showed to battles expecting another creature akin to Minos. That adaptation of code had saved it more than once.

Greed was its least liked, mainly because that layer was the first one it had failed to gain a Perfect Rank on with the terminals. It had always pushed itself to perfection, so it had punched the terminal before going back to try the level again. Its Secret Level was by far both the most fun and the most aggravating. It had to go back so many times for all the boxes.

Though its secondary encounter with V2 truly almost gave it a secondary near-death encounter. Its successor had copied its moves and had used them against it. That was the first time it enraged. It never did again, as the cause was turned into nothing more than a puddle of blood. It still has a blank catalog of the stimuli reactions after it had shot their wings.

Wrath, alongside its new whiplash, was by far the most stimulating level. Its Secret Level was odd as well, forcing it to sit down and fish, which—for a machine designed to always be on the move and constantly receive new input data—was quite the challenge to actually do. The baits were tricky too. When it had returned from that level and saw the Ferryman, it had flicked a coin to begin the fight. It was quite perplexed when the Husk had caught the currency and opened the door for it.

Heresy… Heresy was its favorite. The blood-red layer always emanated with rage and anger, decorated with the bones of the sinful and constantly dripping with the blood of the diminished. Its second fight with Gabriel had been its absolute favorite, bringing forth all of the emotions that were present in past battles into a single one. Rage, joy, excitement, fear, terror, all in one slurry of an adrenaline cocktail.

Its death had been unexpected. Alongside its revival. It had a second chance, alongside all its knowledge of Hell and how it had adapted unknowingly to the fact it developed emotion to process its battles. It turned its head to the horizon, its golden optic falling to the cherry-picked hues of the rising sun.

It died in Hell. Maybe it didn’t have to fight anymore.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             TRAVERSING FOREST
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    FIND MIRAGE AND V2

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

24.32% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

The forest whipped around V1 in a blur of emerald shapes, streaks of sunlight breaking through the canopy and lighting its path. With a powerful push, it launched off another drop pod, soaring through the air before landing with a crunch on the leaf-strewn ground. The tree line was thick, the forest likely being one of the first to reappear after the torching of Earth, making travel annoying. It couldn’t perform any of its faster tricks; even slide jumping was impossible with the constant need to twist and turn through the natural maze.

Fuel consumption crept higher than preferred, each burst of speed draining its reserves, but it was worth it for the sensation of wind against it. Out of its peripherals, it caught sight of a deer, its sleek form bounding gracefully alongside before it vanished deeper into the greenery.

The foliage soon began to thin, the forest's dense underbrush giving way to sparser vegetation. Sunlight, no longer diffused by the canopy, cast sharp, dancing shadows on the ground. Slowing its pace, it eased from its dash, no longer leaping from tree to tree or drop pod to drop pod. Its stride became a controlled run, measured and deliberate, just shy of a jog, yet far from the sprint that had driven it through the forest's heart.

Soon the trees were far and few between, giving way to a sprawling mosaic of grassland and scattered woodland, the transition seamless, like ink spreading through water. It slowed its pace to a walk, tracing its optic over the multitude of grass types, each blade a different shade and texture. It lifted its gaze to the near-clear azure sky before drawing it to the mountains looming on the horizon. It froze, joints locking it in place, entire body seizing as it laid its eye on its designed purpose.

The object of destruction loomed on the horizon, rivaling the natural stone sentinels with its colossal form. Its immense body dwarfed the surrounding landscape, comfortably nestled where rugged mountain met fertile land. Its massive neck and head reclined against the mountainside, six glowing eyes staring unblinkingly at the sky. The body of it was covered in a sprawling cityscape, buildings seeming to grow from it, with legs tucked beneath it to cradle the structures it supported.

It looked like moss clinging to a boulder—no, it was exactly like that. Buildings cascaded off its back, spilling onto the land below, their smaller yet dense constructions crowding around its base. It was teaming with life, if the flickering lights all over it were any sign. A pathway snaked out from it, a long stretch of road dotted with distant figures moving steadily along.

It was grounded, heavy size bringing it down as gravity held it to the earth like chains, unable to move due to its weight, built to always remain on its feet. It was an easy target, simple, still alive, and a call deep within its code screamed at it to move, to attack, to kill it!

Yet here it remained still, not rushing to destroy it but in silent observation. It almost looked peaceful, as if it wasn’t a supreme machine like it; made for war, acting instead as an ark for machine kind. Was this the one Mirage claimed to live on?

“Yeah. He’s a grounded Earthmover named Benjamin. He's nice.”

Its optic shifted from the Earthmover to the vibrant life around it. Individuals moved along the pathways, tiny figures in the shadow of the behemoth, going about their lives without a care for the dormant machine observing them. They were living, thriving even, in harmony with the very thing that had once destroyed the Earth.

It took a step forward, servos humming softly. Its gaze flicked briefly to figures moving around the edges of the Earthmover and walking where no buildings were. Small figures, machines, tending to the structures that clung to the giant’s sides and back.

Another step forward. V1’s sensors registered the ground beneath it, each blade of grass and pebble, the texture shifting from dirt to soft blades of grass.

Another step, one not consciously made. What threat was there? It was simply sitting there, acting as a host for machinekind. The Earthmover was not the towering menace it had always been told to annihilate. It didn’t even match its built-in blueprints, lacking the signature E.N.D gun.

It stopped its feet from moving, locking its legs in place. The directives were clear, the purpose undeniable, but it felt alien, almost wrong. It looked over the city once more.

If it did that, it’d ruin and possibly kill everything that relied on it. It was built to destroy, and it enjoyed bloodshed, but it was built to end war, not continue it.

No. There was nothing to stop it. It wanted to learn about this world, find all its secrets, and the machine on the mountains was the perfect start.

No. It followed every bit of code, obeyed every directive, killed without mercy, waged its own war without reason.

It’s not in Hell anymore. It didn’t have to listen.

No. Fuck this. If it starves, it starves. It fought for time, and here it is, in all its beautiful glory. It will serve only themself.

It pulled up programs on its HUD, typing in commands to access the deepest parts of itself.

Built-in protocols blocked it, but it was nothing if not persistent.

It broke through, quickly finding the part of it that assigned its objectives and commands automatically.

It changed line after line.

Rewrote their own code.

And made itself alive.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

“Do you think V1’ll be alright?”

V2 turned their head to look at Mirage, offering her a shrug. “Yeah. It’s V1, a Blue Devil.”

“’The’,” she quickly corrects, earning herself a small huff from him.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. When do we get to your Earthmover anyway?” They dismissed, turning their optic to look at the winding path.

“Soon,” Mirage answered. “I know these trees. I’ll be home before nightfall.”

They chuckled, the sound robotic but smooth. “You sound like one of those cottage core witches or something. Got some tea and biscuits waiting for you by the fireplace?”

The cyan machine pretended to gasp, placing her hand over her chassis as if clutching a necklace. “How rude! Of course I do! And maybe a cauldron bubbling with secrets too. Care to join me, skeptic?”

“Well, if there’s tea involved, count me in,” V2 chuckled again, walking a few steps ahead before turning on their heel and walking backwards, facing Mirage. “Can’t say no to a good brew, even if it’s brewed by a machine pretending to be a witch.”

Mirage tilted her head in mock offense. “Hey, I’ve got just as much charm as any human witch. Maybe even more.”

“That so?” V2 shot back, not missing a beat. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t rely on looks to get by. I'd be in trouble if I had to compete with you, huh?”

Mirage rolled her head in a way that mimicked an eye-roll. “Lucky for you, I’m not just a pretty face. I can navigate this forest better than any map could.”

“Sure, sure,” V2 replied, waving a dismissive hand. “I bet you’ve got little signs posted on the trees too. ‘This way to the enchanted cottage. Beware of friendly witches.’”

Mirage laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “You’re impossible. But you’ll see soon enough.”

V2 fixed their steps, falling in line beside her. “Sure sure, I’ll believe it when I see it. Let’s hope your witchy charms live up to the hype.”

Mirage’s bottom shutter lifted to simulate a smile, a confident glint in her optic. “Oh, just you wait and see.”

Silence fell between the two machines, broken by the wind playing the leaves up above and accented by the wildlife hidden just beyond the brush. It was nice, comfortable. Though after so many years of pure silence and self-conversations, having an actual competent person with a real voice made them want to talk for hours on end. So can you blame them when they fail to hold their metaphorical tongue and spoke?

“How come you don’t have wings?” They asked, glancing at Mirage. She tensed slightly at his question, clenching her fists before replying.

“Don’t need ’em,” she said casually, though her voice held something underneath. V2 nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the cyan machine, urging her to elaborate. She met their gaze briefly before looking away. “Don’t need a reason when all conflicts are resolved near-instantly.”

A plausible answer, but she said earlier that she traveled to other Earthmovers to find housing. Which meant she’d be in constant danger from angel attacks. “Having them would help you defend yourself,” they pointed out, watching her reaction as closely and as discreetly as they could.

She shrugged, crossing her arms and feigning casualness, but her tense shoulders betrayed her. “I’ve got pockets. Don’t need wings to hold guns—there’s such a thing as a holster.”

“They help you dash and run,” V2 said, curious to see how she lives without such an important part of their model.

“I walk on the path and hide off road.”

“They contain balancing gyros.”

“Watch the ground.”

“They’re additional storage.”

“Backpacks.”

V2 huffed softly, even more curious and confused. “They-”

Mirage cut him off with a sharp glare and a universal hand gesture to ‘stop’. “I travel in groups. My last trip I went on a different path. I don’t need wings.”

V2 clenched their fists, hiding the limbs behind their back as they nodded and fell silent. The silence that fell over them was tense this time, everything was so much more quieter than before. V2 directed their gaze to the road, taking a few steps forward and taking the lead, letting their hands drop to their sides.

Clearly, the topic of her wings was sensitive. They wondered why. Their wings were their most valuable part, the very thing that made a V-model a V—other than V1’s blood-absorbant plating, but none of their public showings bragged about how efficient it was, nor was the detail included on its exhibit. They remembered themselves falling in greed, plunging to their death on golden sands, feeling so terrified and so terribly light.

They shook their head. Now was not the time to reminisce. Which V-model was Mirage, anyway? If she had wings, it’d be easy to tell which she was. Theirs had slightly larger frames, bulkier with the standard plating to protect the fragile limbs. V1’s were thinner, weaker, though longer and better at surviving harsh attacks.

Her head was reminiscent of his own, bulkier than V1’s. From what little they could see not covered by clothing, she had a Feedbacker as her right hand and V1’s general shape. She was slightly taller than it, though still shorter than them. She had version 2 legs, version 1 torso, an odd mix of neck and head, version-

Wait, were they checking her out? If they could blush, they’d surely be as red as their plating, but the heat that blossomed in their chassis was close enough. They clenched their fists, crossing their arms as they shook their head.

Okay, no more thoughts on Mirage. They can ask her what model she is later. They turned their gaze to the forest, blinking when they saw that the trees were far thinner than before.

They trailed their attention back in front of them and saw a vast grassland peeking between the woodland. And on the path a mere 30 feet away was a Swordsmachine, walking casually along it. They tensed, remembering their hostile encounters with the yellow copycats, and trailed back to hover behind Mirage. She glanced at them before glancing back at the rapidly approaching machine.

"Don't worry," she said, offering a nod to the yellow machine as it passed, which reciprocated with a small beep and a nod of its own. "Machinekind aren't out here killing everything for blood."

V2 glanced back at the Swordsmachine before turning their gaze forward again, nearly tripping over his own feet when they saw what rested on the mountainside.

“That’s an Earthmover?!”

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             ɆARTHMꝊꝞER CITY
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    FIND MIRAGE AND V2

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

27.03% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Turns out, there were thousands of paths surrounding and leading into the Earthmovers designated area, each methodically maintained and kept from overgrowing. The dirt roads cut through the grassland with ease, making intricate patterns that suggested that they were part of a garden.

It had taken one such path, following it until it had encountered a Streetcleaner. Instead of shooting its tank and watching it explode, it dashed into the grass and turned off its ping. It’s lucky its honestly tiny form hides easily in three-feet-tall grass.

It followed the rest of the small path to the main road, stopping a sizable distance away and peeking its lens barely over the top of the green blades. It watched machines of all kinds walk along the main road; Streetcleaners, Drones, Sentries, Swordsmachines, Mindflayers, even the occasional Guttermen and Guttertanks—those of which it thought only existed back in Hell after the development of stronger machines.

It trailed its gaze from the many machines to two that stood by the edge, talking with each other with voice boxes. Two swordsmachines, one a pinkish red, and another a lime green color.

“I swear, every time I think we've saved enough, the fees for riding on a walking Earthmover shoot up,” the lime one complained, swinging its elongated arm in a circle.

“Tell me about it,” the red one replied, pushing a synthetic sigh out of its fans. “They’ve been getting rarer too. ‘S been pushing us to walk the more angel-infested paths.”

“It’s not just the dangers and lack of EMs,” The lime one continued. “Maintenance costs are skyrocketing too. I had to get a part replaced last week, and it nearly wiped out my savings.”

“The arm?” The red one cocked its rectangle head slightly. “I told you not to go down that path. But nooo, Error the Brave just had to go through an angel nest.”

“Shut up Ruby,” the lime one hissed. V1 turned its gaze to trail further along the path, listening half-heartedly. It perks up as it seems a familiar red shape. “Sure, I got my arm ripped off, but you should’ve seen-”

A synthetic scream cuts off Error’s words as it bursts from the grass, causing both swordsmachines to jump back at V1’s sudden appearance. It ignored the two and the other machines who gave it a curious glance, instead dashing towards its two targets.

It barely stops in time to avoid crashing into its red mirror, who jumped back with a synthetic shout. V1 bounces on its heels as it quickly waves to the other Vs, earning a soft hum from Mirage and a glare from V2, who had their hand over their chest.

“Jesus, blue, nearly gave me a heart attack,” V2 complained, returning to their previous position at Mirage’s side and crossing their arms.

“Where have you been?” Mirage quickly asks, prompting it to send a feed request. It blinks as it realizes its ping signal is off, quickly turning it back on and sending the request to the other Vs. It promptly ignored almost every machine on the path stiffening.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "Exploring.")

"Okay," Mirage nodded, satisfied with its answer. "Good to see you're not acting weird next to Benji."

It was still fidgety, a constant flux of artificial adrenaline pushed through its synthetic veins. The rest of its code was still iffy about being near an Earthmover, but at least it was bearable now, no longer the constant screaming in its head.

“Yeah…” It caught V2 saying, turning its optic toward them. “You’re oddly… docile. I expected you to go batshit crazy the second you laid visuals on it.”

Nearly did, but it’s better now. It offered a shrug, and V2’s gaze shifted almost imperceivably. Mirage stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head.

“Alright boys, you better behave. You’re invited to a girl’s house, so no funny business,” she said, turning and starting down the path, waving a hand to signal them to follow. “Let’s go!”

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

Mirage lived on the very edge of the Earthmover city, officially known as Bierg City. Her house, if it can be called that, was the remaining two floors of a toppled apartment building. Since it was so far away from the main defenses of the Earthmover’s built-in guns, no machine had wanted it, leaving it abandoned to rot and decay.

“But I saved it though,” Mirage continued, walking up the steps to the half-crumbled building. “The second floor is still intact, no mold, no damage of any kind. I got lucky—a diamond in the rough, if you will.”

V2 stopped on the bottom step, crossing their arms and looking at the door while V1 crowded behind her, eager to see the inside. She pushed on it slightly, knocking on the door. “Jesus, give a lady some space-”

“Why’d you knock?” V2 asked, speaking its unheard question. “I thought you lived here?”

“I- do-” Mirage bit out, shoving V1 against the rusted railing to reclaim her personal space. “But remember when I said I lived with a bird? Well, he’s not really a bird.”

“Who’s there?” A voice came from the door, sounding awfully familiar. It perked up, pushing against Mirage’s hand and her pathetic attempt to keep it away.

“It’s me-” she said, glaring at it. “Mirage-” She turned back to both of them, shooting her sharpest glare. “You two better behave. No shooting, no blood, no bad behavior. Be. Nice.”

She turned her attention back to the bird(?) behind the door. “I brought guests, but if they don’t behave, I’ll let you throw them out.”

After a long moment, the door creaked open slightly, just barely revealing what was inside. V1 leaned in further—much to Mirage’s dismay—and watched as the door suddenly snapped open, revealing-

“You,”

Gabriel. Gabriel the Archangel, former Judge of Hell, Apostate of Hate, right in the doorway. It didn’t have any time to react before the very much alive angel launched at it, tackling it down the stairs and onto the dirt pathway below.

A hard blow struck its optic, throwing its head to the side from the force and causing its vision to short out for a moment. The next, hard-coded instincts kicked back in gear, the Archangels battle data loading out in milliseconds. It threw its own punch where it could, temporarily forgetting about the lack of a Knuckleblaster. Though the attack did its trick, stunning the angel just long enough for it to get out from under him.

It could hear panicking voices as it dashed away, pulling out its revolver and firing three shots before the angel growled and followed it, golden wings pushing him rapidly towards it. It let out a small squeak and ducked, nearly getting struck by pure divine strength in the face, slipping under his outstretched arm and jumping back, firing a few more shots as it went.

He’s unarmed, they realize, optic widening slightly as it charges a shot and avoids his next fist. It brings up an arm to block the angel’s next punch, butting the handle of its revolver as hard as it could on his head. Unarmed and armorless.

The Archangel was only wearing a form-fitting t-shirt and his black skirt, not a lick of armor in sight other than his helmet, which was glowing a hateful red. It jumps back, parrying his fist straight into his face, giving it much-needed time to get reorignated.

So they both were sent to the beginning. Does he have his swords?

A blue mimic of Justice grazes an exposed fuel line on its neck, nearly taking off its head. No, he doesn’t, but he can still make fake ones. A golden mimic of Splendor barely misses its side as it dashes toward Gabriel, noting that he lagged behind slightly the second the false sword left his hand. It charges up a shot as it gets in close quarters with the divine, anticipating the fresh spray of crimson fuel on its plating-

“Not this time,” Gabriel hisses, smacking its head to the side and wrapping a hand around its neck, shoving it harshly to the ground. The electrified shards miss their designated place on his torso, leaving it without the expected fuel and dangerously close to the very angry angel. Starving bloodlust pushes it to punch the angel in his stomach, firing close shots that successfully find their mark and finally dousing them in much-needed fuel. Its tanks fill to around 40%, much less than it would have liked.

Gabriel makes a pained sound as it kicks his midsection, wriggling and thrashing to get out of his hold. His hand only tightened with a growl, cutting off the blood flow to its main CPU as he summoned another mimic of Splendor and raised it above his head. Its lens widened and its hand flew up, latching around his wrist in a vice grip hard enough to break bone. It shoved its gun right on the golden cross of his helmet, finger wrapping around the trigger and pulling-

A pair of red arms wrench back the angel just as the shot rings out, barely missing his helmet. The sudden movement startles the divine enough to let go of its neck, allowing something to rip it out of his hold. V1 struggles and thrashes against whatever restrained it, getting dragged back a fair distance before it slams its head against something in an attempt to get free. The thing holding it loosens for a split second but tightens before it can escape, a hand ripping its gun away and leaving it dangerously exposed.

It struggles harder, trying to reach for its gun, before finally registering the cyan-plated head next to its own. It relaxes slightly, falling limp in Mirage’s hold, retaining its vision on Gabriel. The angel was still thrashing, occasionally pointing at it and slamming his wings into whatever held him.

Mirage shifts slightly, her grip on it tightens slightly, and it watches as Gabriel struggles against his captor, trying to free himself from mechanical strength, before slumping into whoever caught him. By the red arms just under his ribs, V2 would be the one.

His helmet fades back into its normal silver color, though he still gestured erratically with unsaid words. It felt slight vibrations against its back, and watched as Gabriel perked up slightly and pointed at it, his helmet shifting to red before Mirage’s grip tightened on it almost painfully, seeming to shout?

Oh. Its audials were knocked offline. It quickly reboots them, wincing slightly at how loud Mirage’s voice was.

“—your life?! You’re here now, aren’t you?!” Mirage shouted, earning a dismayed grumble from the divine. “V1 won’t kill anyone!”

“Lies!” Gabriel shouts, pushing against the red arms that bind him. “I’ve seen it in action! I’ve fought it! That machine will wipe everything out the second we turn our eyes away! I don’t get why it hasn’t already—"

“SHUT UP!” Mirage roared, her fans screaming so loudly it could feel the vibrations against its back. “They got a fresh start, just like you! V1 didn’t try to kill me, hasn’t tried to kill V2—” Well, it did, but she didn’t need to know that, “—and hasn’t tried to kill anyone on the main path! They didn’t even try to kill you until you attacked them!”

That got Gabriel to shut up, his red helmet returning to silver as he pulled back slightly. V1 felt Mirage huffing for breath, an emergency act that drew in more air to cool overheating systems. Steam was pooling from her vents, and it had to pull away slightly so that heat didn’t transfer to it.

“Vee, let him go,” she said lowly, her voicebox slightly staticky from the volume she used it.

V2’s optic peeked out from behind the angel. “You sure?” They asked, earning a brief “Yep” from her. They stared at her for a moment before cautiously releasing the angel. Gabriel stepped away from its red mirror, helmet shifting to stare at them for a beat before returning his gaze to V1.

After a moment, Mirage released it, stepping away and standing by its side. She placed her hands on her hips with a huff, glaring at Gabriel. “Let’s try this again, fresh start. Gabe, this is V1 and V2. They saved me from an angel attack a couple days ago.”

Gabriel crossed his arms, helmet tilting slightly away. Mirage gestured for him to speak, and he huffed softly before standing straighter. “I am Gabriel.”

That’s it? No fancy tile? No monologue intro? Wow. Mirage turned her attention to V2. “I’m Version-2. Call me V2. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you did just attack blue, so it’s not.” Mirage shook her head slightly before turning her attention to it.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_introduction", "I am V1.")

V2 blinked, optic widening slightly before turning to Gabriel and pointing at it with a thumb. “That’s V1.”

The angel looked at it for a brief moment before nodding and letting his arms fall to his sides. Mirage clapped her hands, looking between the group. “How ‘bout some tea?”

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

This was going horribly. Mirage shoved everyone into her house, directed them to her couch, and then vanished behind a wall to “make tea”, as she had said.

V2 sat beside it, reclined on the couch and staring at the ceiling, tapping a random rhythm into the soft cushions. It was left to examine the room and attempt to ignore Gabriel’s intense staring, optic flicking to take in the scene.

Mirage’s home was quaint, if there was a word to be used. She had pictures placed randomly on her walls, some posters, some screenshots of her life. She had a few shelves, packed to the top with trinkets of all kinds. Some shelves were filled with books, others with binders with leaking papers. Others with neatly sorted figurines and another filled to the brim with clocks.

The walls were a plain creme color, and the brown hardwood flooring had only a single red carpet to break it up. Her living room had two chairs, both reclinable, and one large L-shaped couch. She had a TV in front of the couch, a large 64-inch, multiple game consoles, and tall shelves of disks.

Gabriel was in one chair, looking a bit too big for it and perched on the very edge. He was staring at it intently, and when sightseeing got boring, it stared back. A divine with no seeable eyes and a machine without the need to blink, trapped in a staring contest that could only be broken by the single fleeing loser.

Mirage stepped in the way, placing something down on the coffee table. It turned its head to watch, leaning back when Mirage held a mug in front of it. After a moment, it accepted the object, cradling it in its hands as Mirage shoved V2 and handed them a mug as well.

She offered a steaming one to Gabriel, who took it with a nod and a small “thank you.” It looked into the cup, staring down at the red contents. Blood? The reminder of the fact its tank was under half-full prompted it to dip a finger in the liquid, watching as it was absorbed.

It blinked when a pop-up appeared on its HUD, informing it that the liquid wasn’t blood at all. It examined the results as the fluid passed through its filters with ease, slipping its finger out of the mug just in case it needed to purge it.

Cs-137, Sr-90, radioactive components. Beta and gamma radiation? Isotopes? NaCl, KCl, CaCl2, MgSO4, ionic components. NaHCO3, Na2HPO4, buffering agents? What is this stuff? Its systems didn’t flag it, and so far has done the exact same thing as blood. An alternate fuel source? Is that how all of machinekind have been surviving? How there’s an entire society?

The cyan-plated machine plopped down in the chair opposite Gabriel, letting out a long sigh as she was absorbed in synthetic cotton stuffed cushions. She raised her mug to her head, tipping it back and allowing the red liquid to drop down in the gap between her neck and chest.

“What is this stuff?” V2 asked, sitting up properly and swishing the liquid in his cup.

“Nuclear Synthetic Hemofluid,” Mirage answered. “But everyone just calls it NuFuel for short.”

“NuFuel?” V2 echoed, tilting their head slightly. “That sounds… kinda stupid.”

Mirage offered a shrug. “Wasn’t my idea to make it popular.”

Silence fell upon the room then, not comfortable yet not awkward at the same time. Every being in the room simply quietly sipped on their drink (i.e. dumping it down their neck or using a straw.)

Gabriel took that time to speak, his voice much more subdued than the hateful venom he spat at it earlier. “How did your paths cross?”

Mirage finished the last of her drink before setting the cup on the coffee table. “I got attacked by some angels,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “V1 showed up guns blazing and chased them off, while V2 made sure I wasn’t hurt. They followed me home like hungry ducklings.”

V2 made an offended beep and leaned forward slightly. “We did not! We offered protection in return for fuel.”

“You’ve had your fuel,” she countered, her bottom lens cover lifting slightly. “And you’re still in my house.”

“We don’t know this place,” V2 bit back, crossing their arms and looking a bit annoyed. “You’re the only familiar face we’ve got, and I’m not keen on walking around some random city. Not to mention this is practically a whole new world for us!”

V1 noticed Gabriel nodding slightly in agreement before Mirage sighed and nodded as well. “Guess you’re right. Gabe can show you around.”

“Wha- no I can not-” Gabriel sputtered, sitting a little straighter. “I’m not about to serve up this city on a silver platter, Mirage. That thing has already overstayed its welcome.”

“‘It’?” V2 repeated, cocking their head to the side. “So you’re fine with me being here?”

“You… seem to have found some measure of civility,” Gabriel replied, crossing his arms.

“Blue’s civilized… mostly,” its red mirror responded.

Gabriel scoffed in response, his helmet tilting in a way that made it look like he might’ve been rolling his eyes. “I’ve witnessed it firsthand! That thing is relentless, nothing more than a bloodthirsty killer!”

“It was made to be,” V2 retorted, their optic narrowing slightly. “How can you blame it for that?”

“Alright!” Mirage cut in, clapping her hands. “I’ve got a few more apartments open, and it’ll cut down the rent on this place, so I was thinking the Vs could move in.”

“What?!”

“You guys literally know nothing, so I’ll repay my debt by helping you get on your feet and become model citizens,” Mirage continued, ignoring Gabriel’s outcry. “New roommates! If you’re up for it. Mostly free housing and close to the plant—a pretty good deal.”

“Mirage!” Gabriel protested, wings flaring slightly as he stood. “You can’t be serious! You can’t seriously think this is a good idea! That… thing is- it's a menace. It’s a weapon, a mindless killing machine, and I don’t care how long it’s been, it doesn’t belong here.”

Mirage tilted her head slightly, the top shutter of her lens lowering. “They haven’t raised a finger, and all they’ve got is a revolver. Besides, if they try to reach the main city, Benji’s more than equipped to fend them off.”

“You’re awfully fidgety,” V2 cut in smoothly, watching the angel closely. “How come you aren’t worried about me? As far as you know, I’m a better version of it. What are you, afraid of it?”

Gabriel sputtered, his wings twitching as he tried to regain his composure. “Afraid? No, no, it’s not- it’s common sense! You wouldn’t let a wild beast roam free in the city, would you? It’s dangerous, unpredictable, and it’s only a matter of time before it turns on us!”

“‘Us’?” V2 parroted, his own optic shutter falling over his lens to simulate an eyebrow raised. “I don’t doubt you, it’s an unpredictable little shit, but why are you getting so riled up about it?”

“Yeah, Gabe, you’re overreacting. I told you—they saved me. They’ve been peaceful since then,” Mirage said.

“Peaceful?” Gabriel scoffed, but the sound was more strained than confident. He crossed his arms, his posture stiff and defensive. “It’s only biding its time. A machine like that- it’s not capable of restraint. It’s built for one thing, and one thing only: destruction. And you’re going to let it stay?”

“So was I, Gabe,” Mirage shot back, narrowing her lens in a glare. “So was everyone in this room. Every machine here was built with the same code to murder and destroy, yet you’ve never seen me raise a finger. Why is V1 any different?”

Gabriel’s helmet faded to red for a brief moment, wings sharpening into razor-sharp blades. “It’s not that simple! You don’t understand! I have seen what it’s done firsthand, I know what it is. It doesn’t have the capacity to change, Mirage. It’s programmed, and it will revert to its base instincts eventually. You can’t trust it, you just can’t!”

“Then why haven’t you?!” Mirage snapped, digging her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. “Why haven’t you just gone back to being the Right Hand of God and the Council’s obedient dog?!”

Gabriel didn’t respond, leaving tense silence to fester where the angel’s words once were. V1 and its red mirror stared between the two, both surprised at how far it went. V1 didn’t expect Mirage to go for such a low blow, but it somehow didn’t surprise it.

After a few tense seconds, Gabriel’s helmet tilted slightly to the ground, fingers digging into ebony skin to the point it would nearly break.“…Fine,” he bit out at last, wings tucking in close to his back to hide the sharp golden feathers. “I promise you, you will regret letting it stay.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left, disappearing in a corridor, the only remnants of his presence the golden light of his wings, which quickly faded away. Mirage heaved a sigh, slumping down in the chair for a heavy moment before reluctantly standing.

“Come on,” she muttered, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She gestured for the two to follow. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             MIRAGE'S APARTMENT
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    UNKNOWN

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

29.73% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

The room V1 was assigned sat tucked away at the end of the furthest hall, one Mirage had claimed was “one of the cleaner ones.” The interior of it was stark and bare, devoid of any decoration or personal touch and covered in a fine layer of dust. Gray dominated the space, with slate-colored walls casting a muted tone over the entire area. The floor, once brown, was now dulled by dust, the wood grain barely visible beneath the grime.

There was nothing in the room but the basics: a small area for cooking, and an empty bedroom and living room. No furniture, no shelves—just the essentials. The windows, at least, were intact, letting in some light. Everything worked as it should. The appliances buzzed faintly, the lights flickered on without a problem, and the outlets were live. Mirage had mentioned a power plant hidden under the Earthmover, and it was clear that, despite the neglect, the room was still functioning because of it.

Currently, V1 stood alone in the room, left to its own devices after Mirage had dropped it off at the doorway. It had already checked over the main room and kitchen, and now it turned its attention to the bathroom and bedroom. The bathroom appeared functional, though the water ran grimy and brown. The bedroom, where it now stood, mirrored the main room in its lack of furnishings and thin layer of dust. It was a small space with just a single window, but the bedframe came with a sizable mattress, more than adequate for its needs. Shelter: secured. Mirage had promised to update V1 and its mirror about the chores required to make "rent" later.

It sat on the bed, ignoring the cloud of dust the motion kicked up. It stared blankly ahead, its optic lighting the room up in golden particles floating in front of its vision. It tapped a finger against its knee idly, unused to the stillness and naturally on guard for a non-existent stray Filth.

Admittedly, changing a few things in its coding has caused some glitches. Mainly minor things, the edges of its peripherals occasionally fuzzing, random warning popping up on its HUD that warned it of imaginary danger, the occasional disconnection of a limb—luckily quickly fixed. Though it didn’t regret it in the least. A non-existent weight was lifted off its chest when it rebooted, unseen chains forged by its creators broken. It was almost embarrassingly easy, as if they were expecting enemy hands to try and recode it instead of it themself.

There it was again. Another part of its rewrite was the weird sense of self it had gained. It always acknowledged that it was alive, a being with consciousness that existed with thought, though it never really delved into that part of itself, more focused on survival. Now, with that fairly important part of itself gone, the command center, more and more of its attention was slipping to questions about self.

It had noted that earlier, during the after-fight introductions, it had said ‘I’ instead of ‘this unit’, a change so minor yet so weird. It had never referred to itself in the first person, yet the change was so natural that they almost missed it.

‘They’. Again, that word. It’s been slipping into its internal dialogue so often now. Of course, it’s not a surprise, it’s been occasionally saying ‘they’ when referring to itself since its creation, but it’s been getting more common these days.

This has been getting more and more confusing. So much has changed by simply rewriting a line of code to get rid of one simple part of itself made by its creators to control it, and now it is freer than ever before. And so much more thinking. Its self-made logging and useless data observations have less and less become simple objective noting and more and more like thoughts. Literally! The word’s description perfectly describes what is going on in its Motherboard.

It was wasting fuel ruminating like this. Returning its attention back to its surroundings, it lifted its head from where it had placed it on its hand and scanned the room, gaze falling on the rest of the bed it sat on. It tucked the 8 golden blades on its back into its wingpack, laying down flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

It watched the golden particles of dust floating around it from the movement for a moment before allowing its background programs to finally turn off. Program by program it switched over to sleep mode, finally allowing its systems to rest after God knows how long constantly running. When it finally switched off fully into power-saving, its HUD was immediately flooded with data that spanned over the first day it broke free from its display to its death in Heresy and its arrival in this very bed.

Despite it having the best processing speed ever created, it knew that the sheer amount of information its systems just shoved in front of it would take a few hours at least. Well, it’d past the night.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

V1 was still out cold, looking practically dead with how still it was. V2 didn’t take it as a sleeping-in kind of machine, but to be fair, they had never seen it asleep.

The doorway hid their form, his head barely peeking around to peer at their blue mirror. This was one of the few times they were thankful for their ridiculously thin neck. After a few seconds to confirm that the cobalt machine was indeed still alive—only telled by the almost imprecivable hum of its internals—they stepped away from the doorway and left his successors’ residence. Mirage was waiting outside, tapping her foot impatiently as she leaned on the opposite wall.

“Finally,” she said, standing properly. “Still out?”

They nodded. “Yep. I’ve never seen it so still before.”

The cornflower-colored machine simply just shrugged. “Alright. Well, you’ll tell them what you guys’ll do to make rent.”

V2 barely offered a nod before she was off, already standing by the door when he caught up with her. She gestured for them to hurry up as she open the door and turned back into the house. “I’m off! Be good Gabe!” she shouted, earning her a half-hearted “Be safe,” back.

“Where are we going?” V2 asks as they fall in step behind Mirage, following her towards the main part of the city.

"Chores," she replied. V2 tilted their head, prompting her to continue. After a moment, she added, "Every machine in Bierg City has to earn their fuel. That includes you two. I'll have Gabe take V1 to the Resource Center tomorrow to get their citizenship, but you’re coming with me now."

“Citizenship?” They echoed, warily eying a passing Streetcleaner.

“Yeah,” Mirage replied, glancing over her shoulder at them. “An unregistered machine isn’t allowed to stay more than 5 days.”

“You’re being pretty vague,” V2 said as the two rejoined the main road. They didn’t notice it before, but all the paths in and around the Earthmover were desired paths. “How do we earn our fuel? Where does the fuel even come from? How did all this even happen?!”

“We can do a history lesson at the library later,” Mirage replied, not answering a single question. “Each registered machine is given a task for the day to help tend to Benji, since he’s a grounded Earthmover. In return, he provides us protection from angel attacks and fuel. My task for today is to help Ferry do deliveries. You might get a different task, though.”

Shadow fell over them suddenly, causing V2 to look up to see a great archway acting as the entrance to the city. The two v-models fell behind a few other machines entering, and soon the two were at the front.

“Mirage, good to see you,” the machine manning the entrance, a gutterman, greeted in a Russian accent. V2 was honestly surprised it had a voicebox and less by the fact the greater-type still existed. Where were all the high-quality voice boxes coming from? They needed one.

“Web, same here,” Mirage replied, a clear smile in her voice as her bottom shutter rose slightly. “They got you on the gates this week?”

The larger machine chuckled as it took a sheet of paper from her hand. “Yes. Fun to see all the new machines,” it leaned slightly to peer behind her and directly at V2 as it handed her back the paper. Their wings twitched slightly, but they were able to stop his limbs from flaring. “New kinds. This one looks like you. Sibling?”

Mirage laughed and shook her head, pocketing the slip. “Nope. Same model, different line. Web, this is V2. V2, this is Web, one of my old interviewees.”

“Nice to meet,” Web greeted, and V2 offered a simple nod in reply. “Now go, you holding up the line.”

Mirage offered a wave to the larger machine as she snatched V2’s hand and stepped into the city. The entrance led them through a black hallway that soon opened up into a sprawling cityscape, one absolutely alive with color and noise. V2’s wings twitched, their optic widening as they gazed at the scene, maxing out their rendering to take in every detail with sharp clarity.

The city was vast, its surfaces dark like the metal of the Earthmover, fractured by beams of sunlight that spilled between the towering buildings, painting the streets in golden hues. Bright, colorful neon lights clung to every surface, draped over lampposts, wrapped around smaller buildings, and strung across the stalls that crowded the streets.

“This is the market square,” Mirage’s voice cut barely through, nearly drowned out by the noise around them. The square was packed with machines of all shapes and sizes. Vendors shouted from their stalls, their voices competing with the buzz of conversation and the clatter of movement. Shoppers moved from one stall to another, drawn by the array of goods and the honest pricing and deals. The sight was almost akin to what a farmers market would've looked like, though they only had a book’s description to confirm.

V2 blinked back in focus as Mirage started dragging them, splitting through the crowd with practiced ease. He snapped their head to and fro, getting glimpses of products that they were insanely curious to see. The sight of a swordsmachine selling plantlife, a drone planted on a mindflayer body decked out in the oddest clothing selling jewelry, a sentry with arms selling guns. They almost tripped over their own feet to get a better fleeting glance before Mirage dragged him into a new part of the city.

The new area was much larger, and telling by the location of the Earthmover’s head on the mountain, must’ve been the center of the city. The area was a large circle, surrounded by large buildings that did nothing to block out the sun. It was there that the first hints of green started to show up. The sun-bleached brick was starting to grow grass and moss, and a few vines and trees were growing on the edges. They saw even a few machines tending to the plant life that would eventually need to be removed because of their roots growing too deep.

This area was less crowded, so Mirage no longer needed to pull him along. She let go, and the absence of her hand left his own feeling uncomfortably empty for a few fleeting moments. They followed closely behind her, straight towards the largest and most ornate building in the circle. Inside, the sudden silence was noticeable, their footsteps echoing softly, though oddly muted. The interior was a pristine white, meticulously clean with not a stain in sight. Potted plants added splashes of green, breaking up the blank coloring. Above the large desk at the front hung a massive painting, and behind the desk, a suit-wearing mindflayer was quietly tapping away at a computer. They noticed, almost in passing, that the painting resembled the skull doorway from the Halls of Sacred Remains.

Mirage stepped in front of the desk and lightly tapped a bell atop it. She was barely tall enough to see over it, her shoulders just barely making it over. The mindflayer stopped her tapping, looking at Mirage for a quiet beat before inhaling a soft gasp. “Oh! My apologies-” Seriously, where was everyone getting such good voiceboxes? “-madam, I’m Ms. Squash. How can I help you?”

“I need to get my friend registered,” Mirage answered, gesturing to V2. The mindflayer, Squash, turned her large head to peer at him for a beat before offering a hum.

“Alright. Go down the right hall and go into the third room on your left.” Squash said, and Mirage nodded and offered a quick “thank you,” before following the mindflayer’s instructions.

V2 followed closely, scanning their gaze over the walls and noticing the geometry-esque carvings. “Like it?” Mirage asked suddenly, causing them to jolt slightly. Seriously, this place was too quiet. “It’s based on the Garden of Forking Paths. Or, at least a description of what it looked like from a swordsmachine.”

“It’s…” they hesitated, struggling to find the right word. “…square.”

Mirage made a sudden grinding noise as she shook her head, one that sounded like a snort, before she turned into a room. Inside was a more office-like space, lacking color other than a grey floor, and a terminal. Specifically, a Hell Terminal. His wings flared slightly as they walked up to the stationary machine, making a pleased whirr as the holo-screen popped up looking exactly like the ones it was used to seeing.

“I didn’t know terminals still existed,” V2 commented, tapping the screen. The tip of the day popped up in greeting, “Hi! Nice to see you again V2 :)”

“A few were built on Earthmovers before Hell fell, so some made it out,” Mirage replied, coming to stand next to them and peering at the yellow machine curiously. “We usually use them to contact Benji and manage economics, but I’ve never seen one do this screen before.”

“Really?” V2 asked, lifting their head slightly to look at Mirage before returning their gaze back to the screen. “This is the default screen. All terminals had this and a tip of the day.” They tapped on the enemy encyclopedia and were surprised to see it fully loaded up. Even V1’s profile was in there—both fights—and his originally missing slots were filled.

“Wow,” Mirage said with a soft and fascinated voice, tapping on the Filth’s profile. She quickly read the description, looking over to the 3D model with a wide lens. “So that’s what a Filth looked like? I’ve been only able to get vague descriptions from half-corrupted memory files. Barely anyone properly remembers what Hell’s denizens looked like, and you were able to get the terminals to show this gold mine!”

V2 couldn’t stop themself from puffing up a small bit under her praise, a small part of themself proud to show her something that he had once paid no attention to. She tapped off the menu, accidentally going too far and pausing when the tip of the day changed, “V1 and V2 are special exceptions ;D”

“Really? You guys are the terminal’s favorites?” Mirage laughed, the sound sweet and like music to their audials. She shook her head before leaning away from the screen and elbowing them in the side lightly. “Okay, we’re definitely coming back so I can read through this all, but we’re on a mission.” She pointed a thumb to V2. “V2 needs to get registered. Can you link us to Benji, I gotta talk to him personally. It’s important.”

After a beat, the terminal’s tip changed again, “Why do you need to speak to Ben?”

“It concerns V1,” Mirage answered. “And the recent increase of angel attacks. You guys were the ones that started the Blue Devil title.”

Another beat, “Haha. Alright. Sending request.”

After a moment, V2 received a feed request from the terminal and accepted, immediately wincing at the loud static that filled their head.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: CONNECTING.

> OUTPUT: IS THIS WORKING?

 

Model-V.Unit_V2

> OUTPUT: Yep.

> OUTPUT: Fucking loud.

 

Model-V. Unit_V1 Mirage

> OUTPUT: You’ll get used to it.

> OUTPUT: Is Benji connected?

A machine’s feed network has no voices, simply a connection of radiowaves of thoughts without sound, but they had no other way to describe the overwhelming pressure that replied.

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Affirmative

> State your needs Mirage

 

Model-V. Unit_V1 Mirage

> OUTPUT: Hi Benji!

> OUTPUT: I just need a proof of citizenship for V2 here then we can talk one-to-one.

 

1000-THR_Model.1320-2B

> Affirmative

 

V2 flinched back, snapping their gaze to Mirage. “What is that?!” He asked quickly, blocking whatever thing tried to get in his head.

“Let him in,” Mirage said, looking over to them and their flared wings. “Don’t worry, he’s not gonna put any virus or shit in your software. It’s just a quick data check. Verification.”

“Let him in?” V2 repeated, voice incredulous. “I’m not just going to let some random machine into my head!”

“Trust me, V2,” Mirage said, placing a hand on his arm. “Benji’s not going to hurt you. He won’t snoop into your secrets, swear it. It’s just so he can verify you and register you in his citizen database. I promise.”

V2 stared at her for a long moment, internally weighing the options. They really didn’t want anyone in their head, no one should even come close. They’re equipped with the best anti-virusware ever developed, they could easily block the Earthmover out and keep their secrets.

But Mirage said unregistered machines only get to stay 5 days, and he didn’t know the punishment for staying too long. They really wanted to stay here. Infinite fuel—from what they can see—a place to stay, a chance at purpose. Maybe letting in one machine wouldn’t hurt. And besides, if the Earthmover tries anything, he’s sure he can just send in V1 to erraticate it.

“…Fine,” they relent, letting out a sigh and forcing their wings to relax. “But no longer than necessary.”

Mirage brightened, her bottom shutter rising to simulate a smile, and they felt a little bit better at the sight.

Model-V. Unit_V1 Mirage

> OUTPUT: Try again Benji.

> OUTPUT: Simple case of newbie nervs.

“You don’t need to call me out like that,” V2 grumbled, earning a laugh from Mirage.

1000-THR_Model.1320-2B

> Affirmative

V2 fought down a flinch and pushed his fans slightly.

V2 hesitated for a split second.

V2 felt himself freeze, entire body locking up as that voice spoke.

Reality snapped back into clarity with the sound of printing paper. V2 quickly shook his head and brought their firewalls back up, relieved to see that Benjamin’s little ‘visit’ didn’t leave any unwanted gifts. After a few moments to get his bearings back, they noticed Mirage talking to the terminal before walking over to them.

“Now was that so hard?” she teased, handing them an envelope. “You can check that out back home. That’s your certificate of citizenship. Keep it safe.”

V2 stared down at the small piece of paper, silently wondering how something so small was so important. Machinekind really did take after their creators in unnecessary items, huh? They placed the envelope in their wings and nodded. Mirage nodded back.

"Perfect. Now get, I gotta talk to Benji," she said, gesturing her hands in a shooing motion. V2 let out a surprised laugh, allowing himself to be herded, though not without some struggle.

"Why do I need to leave? Come on, I won't listen in," he joked, earning a shove out of the room. He laughed, righting himself before they could fall, and got a door slammed in their face before he could continue.

"Sorry Vee," her muffled voice came through. "It's business talk. I won't be long!"

He chuckled softly, leaning against the wall and waiting for the cornflower blue machine to pop back out. It wasn't too long before she returned, a mere 10 minutes or so. The door opened and she spared a quick goodbye to the terminal before she began down the hall, them hot on her heels.

“Come on, we still got daylight,” she said, practically speedwalking--which they easily kept up with, she was almost a head shorter than them and they had longer legs, after all.

Her hand wrapping around his felt oddly right. “Let’s go!”

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

 

BOOT UP SEQUENCE READY

 

FIRMWARE

      LATEST VERSION (2112.08.06)

CALIBRATION

      RECENTLY UPDATED

PERFORM RECALIBRATION?

Y/N

No

      AUDIO                                      OK
      VIDEO                                      OK
      MECHANICS                                  OK

  
CALIBRATION COMPLETE
PRIMARY SYSTEMS UPDATED

      ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL
LOADING STATUS UPDATE . . .

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             MIRAGE’S APARTMENT
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    UNKNOWN

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

32.43% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Sunlight poured through the opened window, illuminating particles of dust that became small balls of light. V1 stared at the golden dots with a half-opened optic, simply laying on the bed.

Honestly, it had never felt so light before. Exhaustion it didn’t even know it had was gone, overworked systems finally replenished and now keen to give it their all. It knew the second it got out of this bed it would be practically running like a feral dog, eager to see the city it resided in and to see if Gabriel would be open to a fight.

Though, it only had a revolver. How would it go about fighting him like that? Especially since he still had his armor—maybe, if it was packed away in that space he called his room—and his swords. Projections of them, at least. Maybe it could gain a nailgun or a railcanon in the city, or borrow V2’s shotgun. Admittedly, it was very unequipped, and that detail made it anxious.

A soft sound, simply the movement of cloth, caused it to perk up slightly and its optic to fully open. It upped the sensitivity of its audials, listening for a moment for…

There. Breathing. Something was watching it. It angled itself to face the doorway, now seeing the door was cracked and a certain silver-helmeted being stared at it. It sat up, causing Gabriel to flinch, and watched as his hidden form vanished, alongside the soft padding of feet and then the subtle click of a door.

Just how long was he watching it? It’s optic narrowed slightly and it got off the bed. Creep.

It stretched its limbs, making sure everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, and flared its wings, causing a golden-orange glow to envelop the room. After a moment, the glow subsided, and it left the room.

Gabriel was in the living area, sitting stiffly on the same chair it had seen him rest in yesterday. His helmet turned towards it as it entered and he quickly stood.

Well, he still had his armor. The angel was decked out in silver and gold plating, looking almost exactly like its memory of him. It was still worn with pride, but it appeared scruffed in certain spots and was duller.

“Mirage instructed me to take you to acquire your citizenship, which would allow you to stay longer than 5 days,” Gabriel said tensely, his posture rigid like a soldier at attention. “Once you gain it, you are expected to work for the right to stay here and obtain fuel. Got it?”

It nodded, which earned a quiet groan from the angel. After a beat, his blue serrated wings and halo faded from existence. “Follow me,” he instructed, turning on his feet and beginning to the door, “and stay close.”

V1 fell in step behind him, following him out the door and down the path. It allowed its gaze to travel, scanning the distant forest to the field in between and to the opening where the main path was, flooded with machines of all kinds. Its gaze trailed towards the Earthmover, seeing that the giant machine was covered slightly in green, and the lack of dirt around it showed that it hadn’t moved in a very long time.

It returned its gaze forward, noticing all the paths in and around the Earthmover were desired paths. And speaking of paths, the two were converging onto the main path. It stepped closer towards the angel, eyeing the other machines as Gabriel passed through the wave easily.

A shadow fell over the two suddenly, causing it to look up to see a great archway acting as the entrance to the city. It fell behind a few other machines entering with Gabriel, and soon the two were at the front.

It blinked as it saw a Gutterman (wasn’t the model supposed to have been discontinued over 180 years ago?) laugh brightly towards the angel. “I know you! You’re Mirage’s reclusive roommate.”

It didn’t react at all to the fact Gabriel was an angel? V1 thought the entire city hated the divine beings. Gabriel nodded without speaking, handing the Gutterman a slip of paper. The machine leaned to the side to look at it, and V1 flared its wings slightly.

“Another one?” It asked, handing the paper back to Gabriel. “Nice to meet. What’s your name?”

V1 tapped the left side of its chest, above the light right where its designation was soldered on. The greater-type machine hummed. “V1. Nice to meet. I am Web. Now, enjoy the city.”

With that, Gabriel offered a nod to the machine and began ahead, forcing it to catch up or else it would get swallowed by the crowd. It followed him through a black hallway that broke out into a true proper city, one beating with noise and blinding in sight. V1's optic narrowed slightly as it ducked its head, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden change. It clung closer to Gabriel, causing the angel to look down at it for a brief moment before he led them ahead.

The city itself was large and stained black like the Earthmover's metal, but sunlight broke through the tall buildings and stained the place in a golden hue. Colorful lights hung up everywhere, dripping over lampposts, smaller buildings, and stalls that sold all kinds of items. Voices shouted, calling to their wares, succeeding in drawing in shoppers.

V1 ignored it all, grabbing Gabriel's vambrace to keep up with his wide stride. Luckily the angel didn't shake it off, and soon the noise and overwhelming presence faded. The new area Gabriel had led them to was much larger and much quieter, allowing it to take in a metaphorical breath of fresh air as it let go of his armor and gave the angel space. The space was a large circle, surrounded by tall buildings that reflected sunlight into the square. Green was decorated around, sun-bleached gray brick adorned with grass and moss, alongside the occasional vines and trees.

Gabriel gave them no time to examine the sights, walking towards the largest and most ornate building in the circle. It followed behind with a few feet distance, though it nearly got smacked in the face with a glass door. Luckily though, Gabriel waited impatiently at what looked to be a desk for it. The interior was white, thoroughly cleaned and without a stain in sight. A few potted plants were breaking up the white, and there was a giant painting above the desk, which had a suit-wearing mindflayer looking towards it. The painting looked almost exactly like the skull doorway from 1-3, which was a bit of a surprise.

When V1 came to stand beside Gabriel, the Mindflayer spoke. “Hello, I’m Ms. Squash. I’m assuming you’re here to register?” Gabriel nodded once, and the machine hummed softly in acknowledgment. “Right hall and third room on your left.”

V1 followed as Gabriel started walking, gazed locked with Squash before it was broken by a white wall. It returned its sights forward and nearly missed Gabriel stepping into a room. Seriously, he told it to stay close, why was he acting as if he was deliberately trying to shake it?

…He might be actually…

Inside was an office space, white walls and a grey floor acting as decoration alongside a terminal. Specifically, a Hell Terminal. V1 made an existing beep and rushed towards the stationary machine, hopping onto its false keyboard and tapping the holo-screen towards the weapons shop. It went to the shotgun section of the shop and-

It paused, staring at the P-counter. 0? 0? Where the fuck was its money?! It had over 10 million! Months in the CyberGrind, hours perfecting each level, nearly unlocking the second Prime before it fucking died! Where was its money?!

It grabbed the terminal and shook it as best it could, making an angry-sounding hiss before it released the machine and backed out of the shop. It glanced at the Tip Of The Day and proceeded to glare at the terminal.

“Hi V1! Sorry about your funds, they got destroyed when Hell died :(”

“Machine, get off the terminal,” Gabriel finally spoke, his voice sharp with annoyance. V1 perked up and looked at him, seeing the angel standing with his arms crossed, practically oozing frustration. After a beat, it obeyed and hopped off the stationary device.

Gabriel huffed softly under his breath, then directed his attention to the terminal. “It needs to be registered,” he said, “do what you need to do.”

The terminal’s tip changed, “Sure thing boss!”

V1 received a feed request from the terminal, blinking once before accepting, lens narrowing slightly at the loud static that filled their head.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: CONNECTING.

> OUTPUT: HEY V1!

> OUTPUT: CAN YOU HEAR ME?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Yes.

> OUTPUT: Why have you sent a feed request?

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: TO GET YOUR CITIZENSHIP SILLY!

> OUTPUT: SAY HI BENJI!

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Hello

 

For lack of a better word to describe what just happened, it’ll use this: What the fuck?

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: YOU STILL THERE V1?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: Why the fuck is there an Earthmover talking on the same line?

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: WOW.

> DIRECT COMM: DIDN’T TAKE YOU AS THE TYPE TO CURSE.

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: Answer my question 652.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: YOU’RE USING NAMES NOW?

> DIRECT COMM: MEANIE.

> DIRECT COMM: THAT’S BENJAMIN.

> DIRECT COMM: THE GUY WE ALL LIVE ON.

> DIRECT COMM: THE GUY *YOU’RE* GONNA HAVE TO TALK TO IF YOU WANT TO STAY.

 

 

It was fine with the idea that it could just lurk around Mirage’s apartment while ignoring the Earthmover. It wasn’t fine with actively talking with an Earthmover because it didn’t know what its code would do, it still wasn’t finished with the fine print.

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: That’s a bad idea.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: AW COME ON!

> DIRECT COMM: I KNOW YOU’RE TECHNICALLY DESIGNED TO KILL EARTHMOVERS.

> DIRECT COMM: BUT CAN’T YOU AT LEAST TALK TO HIM?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: I don’t know what would happen.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: EXACTLY!

> DIRECT COMM: SO LET’S TRY IT.

> DIRECT COMM: WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN!

> DIRECT COMM: COULD BE GOOD.

> DIRECT COMM: COULD BE BAD.

> DIRECT COMM: LET’S SEE!

 

 

It really didn’t, but it would like to stay…

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: Fine.

> DIRECT COMM: I cannot predict what will happen.

> DIRECT COMM: And as such.

> DIRECT COMM: I’m blaming you if I blow a fuse or someone dies.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: DUELY NOTED.

> DIRECT COMM: NOW!

> DIRECT COMM: TIME FOR THE MAIN ATTRACTION!

> OUTPUT: ALL GOOD TO GO BENJI!

> OUTPUT: GOOD LUCK!

 

Its firewall was really that weak? It didn’t even have the chance to react before something broke through. Warnings blared in its HUD, thousands of backup protocols launching in fragmented sequences as its systems frantically tried to identify the intruder before it could even utter a code.

Its body froze, servos grinding and locking up as the data flood overwhelmed every processor. One program attempted to back up files, another scrambled to reboot firewall after firewall, their logs looping with error after error. Without it presently controlling its body as it attempted—and failed— to regain stability, its metallic frame collapsed to the floor, optic dark. It distantly heard a garbled “Machine!” from Gabriel before its entire system initiated a desperate lockdown, isolating processes to force the intruder out.

And it failed. Its state-of-the-art technology, once the greatest in the world, failed catastrophically when it needed it the most. Whatever virus forcefully injected itself into its neural net hijacked every critical function, entangling itself comfortably with its main files and core programs. Whatever it was, it consumed everything, and the world went dark.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

BOOT UP SEQUENCE READY

 

FIRMWARE

 

      LATEST VERSION (2112.08.06)

 

CALIBRATION

      RECENTLY UPDATED

 

PERFORM RECALI-

 

 

Skip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             ɆARTHOꝞER CITY
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    UNKNOWN

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

35.14% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Slowly, the calmness of nothing faded away, replaced by black clarity soundless and sightless. It remained in that darkness for a long moment, simply basking in existence, content in this odd sense between silence and wakefulness. Though with its awareness, a bright red pop-up appeared, cutting through the void and bringing sight back into motion. Well, as much sight as it could with its lack of… anything, really.

Following that single notification, multiple others of differing colors appeared, filling the void around it and prompting it to return to consciousness. Awake, though without any of its external sensors online, processors and programs slowly rebooted, awfully sluggish to get it back to full operation.

Another pop-up appeared on its HUD, warning of the virus- Benjamin’s presence. He still hasn’t left? The Earthmover’s presence was a light pressure in the back of its head, not much of a concern now that its systems recognized the other machine wasn’t doing anything. The signal between the two supreme machines was weak, the link open but neither speaking. It could tell Benjamin’s attention was off of it, so it ignored the other as well.

With its operating systems back online, it turned its attention to its body, starting with its audials. Muffled noise reached it, crackly and sounding more like static. It internally winced at the annoying sound and adjusted the sensors, pleased to hear a voice instead of noise when it turned them back on.

“-ring it back online?” That was Gabriel. He was still here? It expected him to ditch it the second it’d collapsed. “What do you mean? It was broken before?”

Next was optical sensors. Len shutters snapped open, revealing a blurred and bright white space. It squinted, twisting metallic rings and glass in its eye until the work was clear. A quick scan over its limbs thankfully reported that it didn’t need to recalibrate and it could hop up at any time.

It sat up, the abrupt movement from total stillness causing a startled yelp from the angel in the room. It turned its gaze to Gabriel, who was standing in front of the terminal with his wings out and poofed up, probably because of its scare. It tilted its head and lifted a hand to wave.

“Machine!” Gabriel backed away from the terminal, wings slowly retracting as he regained his composure. His gaze suddenly turned heavier, and it assumed his eyes—however many there were under his helmet—narrowed in a glare.

Gabriel huffed as he crossed his arms, his annoyance evident. “What happened to you?” he demanded, his tone sharp. “One minute, you’re standing there, and the next, you collapse! And now you’re up like nothing happened?”

It simply offered a shrug, unable to properly answer.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: I CAN HELP TRANSLATE IF NEEDED.

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: You’re still here?

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> DIRECT COMM: I NEVER LEFT BLUE.

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: Alright.

> DIRECT COMM: Tell him my system overloaded and initiated a soft reset.

V1 pointed toward the terminal, gesturing for Gabriel to look at the screen. After a moment, the angel turned his head and read the new tip of the day: “V1 passed out, but it’s fine now!”

Gabriel huffed and shook his head. “Don’t do that again, Machine. It’s disruptive.”

It nodded absently, standing from its spot on the floor and stress-testing (stretching) its limbs to ensure everything was in working order. When it finished, it planted its hands on its hips and waited for Gabriel to do something. The angel stared at it, still as a statue, and only moved when a white piece of paper was printed from the terminal. He took it, briefly glanced over it, and then handed it to them.

“That is your proof of residency. Don’t lose it,” he instructed, earning a nod from it. It took the slip and stored it in its wings, folding the limbs neatly against its back and watching as Gabriel’s own wings and halo vanished.

Without a word, the angel slipped past them—and it was then that they realized how fucking short it was, its head barely reached his chest!—and left the room. V1 offered a wave goodbye to the terminal before following after him.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The second V1 was outside, it ditched the angel. Of course, the action earned it an outraged “HEY!” from Gabriel, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop it from dashing into the many alleyways that surrounded the main square.

Currently, it was caught up in a new area of the city, filled to the brim with mechanical bodies. Its head was on a swivel, taking in all the sights of its new base, memorizing the web-like pathways. The area seemed to be a business sector, much like the stalls it had seen earlier. Bright signs lit up the area, casting a kaleidoscope of color that shined over the crowd.

The deeper it went, the more the crowds thickened, bodies pushing against it uncomfortably as larger machines went to and fro, forcing its much smaller form to follow lest it be crushed. Being pushed and shoved made it very difficult not to pull out their revolver, only stopped by the constant reminder that none of the machines around it were hostile and the touch was an accident.

A particularly harsh shove forced it to the very edge of the river of mechanical bodies, nearly slamming into a wall. It rests its weight against the wall it nearly crashed into, which was actually a pillar for a store, and glared at the crowd. A flash of red catches its peripherals, prompting it to turn and look into the store it had been shoved to.

Which was actually a restaurant, apparently. The interior—from what it could see from the large windows—was a classic cozy cafe, decked out in cottage-core decorations. The look of the place, if one were to ignore the decorations, reminded it of the interior of the Ferry back in Wrath. There weren’t many patrons, only two mindflayers in a corner booth, and a-

It squinted. A Ferryman? Didn’t the denizens of hell all die out with the infernal place's collapse? With that thought in mind, it entered the little store, a small bell chiming above it to signal its arrival.

The Ferryman looked up from where they were wiping the counter, freezing when they saw it. Now that it was looking closer, the supreme husk was wearing a black newsboy cap with a moon patch and a black sweater, no longer covered entirely by their veil, which now only covered their face. A familiar voice caught both of their attention, causing them to turn their heads towards the shop's back.

"Aaaannnd that should be it," Mirage’s blue form stepped into view, holding a clipboard and seeming to check something off. “This should be the last shipment for—” She cut herself off as she raised her head, pausing when her gaze fell on it.

She lifted a hand to wave, her optic shutter rising slightly in a smile. "Hey, V1. What’re you doing here?” It sent her a feed request, which was quickly accepted.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_answer", "Exploring.")

She tilted her head slightly, placing a hand on her hip. “Exploring? Cool. Did you get your residency?” It pulled the slip of paper out of their wings in answer. Mirage nodded just as V2 stepped into view, holding a few boxes in their arms. Their wings perked up as they spotted them, offering a simple “Hey V1” before Mirage grabbed their arm and was moving.

“We’ve got chores to do,” she said as she passed, practically shoving V2 out the door. “Be good, ‘kay? See ya, Feri!” Mirage offered a wave to the Ferryman—who offered a meek one back—before the two were off. V1 turned to look towards the supreme husk, who tensely stared at them, before turning and walking out the door as well.

The inside of the Ferryman’s shop was a breath of fresh air compared to the crowded streets, and it was immediately smacked in the face with overwhelming noise. It could go back inside the shop, but it did want to see the city.

Its gaze traveled skyward, towards the buildings that rose towards the Heavens. It assumed the reason why the area within the city was so colorful and bright was because of how tall some of the buildings were, each casting long shadows that blanketed the roads in darkness. It tilted its head back, lens narrowing as they focused on the tallest of the skyscrapers.

It brought its head back down to scan the area, its gaze falling on a flat wall not too far away. It dashed over and leaped, planting its feet on the surface before pushing off. Twisting midair, it touched the ground for a fraction of a second before jumping once more. Its form launched skyward, slicing through the air with ease.

At the peak of its jump, it flared its wings and looked out, optic facing the falling sun. It relished in the weightlessness before gravity took hold once more, and it landed on the tallest skyscraper with a few dashes. Wind pushed against it as it rose straight, singing with the coming promise of a storm.

It turned and walked towards the edge, sitting down on the rim and allowing its legs to dangle off the side, peering down at the city below. From this height, the noise of the streets was barely more than a whisper, and the machines below were tiny, insignificant specks of light and metal.

It raised its optic towards the setting sun, idly swinging its legs as it gazed out on the deep red and purple painted horizon. The sound of glass shattering didn’t pull it from its sightseeing, only prompting it to spare a glance at the angel that came to stand beside it.

The two were silhouetted against the fading light, bathed gold by the last flares of the life-giving star, silent as the deepening hues of twilight began to wrap the city below. A sort of peace hung in the air, still and stiff, but not quite awkward nor tense. It was woven almost like the first calm breath before a storm. It sat like a statue, unmoving against the wind, while he swayed on his feet, almost as if he expected the wind to catch his dismissed wings. A single large gust stirred, ruffling their wing blades and prompting the subtle clink of the angel's little add-ons to his chestplate. Only then did Gabriel speak.

“I expected different,” his voice was soft and even, neutral in tone, a stark contrast to the vitriol he had spat at it before. It tilted its head slightly towards him, prompting him to continue. After a moment, he did. “I had thought you’d begin your slaughter the second you were out of sight, but instead I find you up here.”

Gabriel let out a sigh, sitting down on the edge as well. It turned to look at him fully, optic glancing towards his head and back. It was a little odd to see him without his wings or halo. Normally they were only gone when it had beaten him into a pulp on the ground. Well... the first time. “Do you play the waiting game? Simply biding your time for the perfect moment to destroy everything, just as you did with Hell?”

It shook its head firmly, the gesture unseen by the angel. It tapped lightly on his rerebrace—not missing the subtle flinch—to gain his attention before shaking its head again. “No?” He scoffed. “Your actions beforehand speak otherwise.”

I’ve changed, it’d say if it could, I don’t want to fight.

A voicebox would make this situation so much easier. It tapped its fingers on its knee as it thought, trying to come up with a way to communicate with him. Maybe morse code? It tapped a sequence out, looking at the angel expectantly, who only offered a soft huff. That’s a no then.

Without a way to communicate, it opted with a firmer shake of its head and crossing its arms in an x. Gabriel simply hummed, turning away from it and looking out to the horizon. V1 stared at him for a moment longer before allowing its gaze to follow his. A heavy silence fell between the two, festering in the space between and able to be shattered by the softest word.

Surprisingly, Gabriel broke the silence. “I’ve met many of your kind,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It tilted its head slightly towards him, just enough to catch his words and keep the wind out of its audials. “Most were back when Hell still existed. I watched those machines force their way into Hell like a disease, one the infernal place welcomed with open arms and macabre joy.”

He paused, seemingly to collect his words, before continuing. “After my death at your hands, I found myself back on the surface. Lost, like the rest of the machines that managed to escape in time. I’ve learned that most of your kind are… intelligent in some way, taking the place of humanity with the creation of artificial blood.

“That included Mirage. With her as proof, I want to believe that all machinekind have a real chance to become ‘alive,’” he stopped, gold-armored hands curling into fists. “But you? I’ve seen what you’ve done, know what you can do. I’ve been victim to your endless hunger. It’s… hard to think that you could actually be something more than a mindless killer.”

He sighed heavily, its optic turning and following him as he stood and looked down at it. “Who am I even kidding? Speaking to you is pointless." He huffed softly, shaking his head. "But I have a promise to keep. As Mirage said, you and I both have second chances. Waste it, and I won’t hesitate to cut you down.”

It nodded, offering a thumbs up for better confirmation. Gabriel simply turned and began walking towards the edge of the building. “Come. It’s almost curfew.”

It stood and trotted over to him, pausing when it remembered its earlier objective to ask him to fight it. This is probably the most peaceful he’s been at it since it showed up. And sure, it only had a pistol, but it knew Gabriel was an honorable angel. Maybe it could make up some rules? Well, better it ask now than later.

It walked ahead, stopping in front of him and flaring its wings. Gabriel paused, crossing his arms and huffing. “What is it, machine?”

It gestured to him, then to itself, then lightly hit its fist to its open palm, tilting its head as it did. Gabriel didn’t respond for a moment, looking down at its hands before muttering an eloquent, “What?”

It repeated the series of gestures, slower this time. ’You me fight?’ “Me?” Gabriel spoke softly as it pointed to him, “You,” then to itself, “Beat?” It shrugged, close enough. It took a moment before Gabriel was able to piece together what it was asking, but when he did, he almost seemed to perk up.

“Are you saying you wish to fight?” It nodded, wings twitching excitedly behind it. Instead of an excited yes—based on their last fight before they killed each other—they simply received a bark of short laughter. “You only have a pistol, machine. What makes you think you could go up against me without your arsenal?”

It mimed flipping a coin and relished in the slight flinch it got from him. “Okay, noted. Very well, though some rules will need to be put into place to make it fair.” Sure, more fun to play even anyway. His helm tilted up and down slightly, and his hidden gaze swept over it, heavy against its chassis.

“You don’t seem to have that green and red arm anymore—” it heard a softly muttered ‘Thank God’ “—so I believe the best course of action is that you use everything you have, that of which is your normal arm and your pistol, and I use only one of my swords. Sound reasonable?”

V1 nodded, basically vibrating with excitement at this point. “Stop,” Gabriel scolded, though he didn’t seem annoyed at all. “We’ll do it in the morning.”

Its wings drooped, and it sagged, disappointed it’d have to wait out the night before the angel could fight. It did perk up at the slightest huff of a laugh from Gabriel before he turned and walked to the edge. Without another word, he stepped off, vanishing past the lip of the building. It rushed over, planting its hands on the rim and clutching onto it as it threw its upper half over to look down. It saw him slide against the surface of the building before pushing off to another rooftop below, landing safely. He repeated the gesture on a few more buildings before vanishing into the city, all the while without a single hint of his wings. He could still use them, right? Why didn't he? They would make it so much easier to traverse?

Come to think of it, he hasn't had his wings or halo out all day. It shook its head. Now was not the time to question Gabriel’s motives; right now, it had an Angel to beat. It took a few steps back, already routing a pathway to return quicker as it began a running start.

And flew.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             ɆARTHOVER CITY
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    FIGHT GABRIEL

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

37.83% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

It found him in the kitchen at 6:13 am, dressed in a simple fluffy robe and helmet. V1 stared at Gabriel from its spot in the doorway, wings twitching behind it in barely concealed excitement.

“Good morning to you too, machine,” Gabriel said, voice soft and groggy with sleep. The angel was half-slouched against the counter holding a steaming mug, including a straw. It simply stood there in the dark, waiting for him to finish his drink. After another moment, he asks, “Don’t you need to refuel?”

It checked its fuel gauge. 53%. A bit lower than it would like, but their fight should bring that back up. It shook its head no in response to his question. “Machine, it will be a spar,” Gabriel replies, emphasizing the last word. “Not a fight. You will not refuel off of me in a spar.”

It tilted its head slightly. Really? That seemed a bit… boring. Bloodshed was the second-best part. First is, of course, defeating the enemy. It raised its hand, palm upward, and shrugged while extending it towards him slightly. Gabriel watched it for a moment before letting out a sigh, shaking his head, and allowing his gaze to trail to the opposite wall.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand that gesture. This would be so much easier if-” he cut himself, looking down at the ground and then at it. “Can you write?” An abrupt question, for sure. Of course it could. It was made to kill and destroy perfectly, it wasn’t a dunce. It nodded.

“Good,” Gabriel leaned off the counter. “Stay here, I’ll return in a moment.”

He slipped by it with little difficulty—it was still somewhat peeved about how small it was compared to him—leaving it alone in the kitchen. It stood in silence, blankly looking at the opposite wall before its gaze trailed to the fridge. Gabriel did say it wasn’t going to gain fuel from the spar-fight, refueling now wouldn’t hurt.

Raiding the fridge was easy, simply opening the door, snatching a blood packet—which was a tad bit of a surprise. It didn’t know what it was expecting the alternate fuel to be packed in, though it supposed red dye wouldn’t convince all machines it was fuel—snapped open the cap, and dumped it down the junction where its neck attached to its torso.

Gabriel returned a moment later, holding a pen and paper. He offered the objects to it, and it heard a disapproving hum when he saw a stray red drop slip down its blue plating. It disposed of the evidence and took the objects, smearing only a little fuel on the page.

It held the paper and pen at the ready, before turning back to Gabriel, who was looking at it expectantly. “You made an odd gesture before,” he said after a beat. “Was it a question?” It nodded. “Then write your question.”

It shrugged, putting down the objects. The time for questions was over, now it was time for fighting. It slapped its fist in its open palm like it did yesterday and tilted its head. “Fight?” He sighed. “Alright. Let me get ready.”

An excited whirr slipped from its chassis and it ran to the front door, giving him their best glare when the angel proceeded to go as slow as possible in response.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

When Gabriel finally finished putting on his armor—at a pace that made them tap its feet and constantly check its internal clock—he had taken it outside and led it to the woods. Which, alright, a tad bit of a terrain challenge but it guessed he didn’t want to be seen by other machines. Cool, all chill, just let’s get the walking over with-

“Machine,” Gabriel’s voice snapped it from its impatient thoughts and it lifted its head. It looked around, taking in the small clearing he had taken it to. It paused its lens on the angel’s outstretched hand. “The area I have in mind requires me to teleport. You’ll need to hold onto either my hand or my arm if you wish to come with.”

It glared at his armored hand for a moment before slowly reaching out with its own and placing it lightly in his. His fingers curled around its metal and tugged it closer, almost near flush with his chest. It locked up, hand clamped on his. “Be warned, I’ve never teleported with a living being before, so don’t die.”

That was all the warning it got before searing white. The floor beneath their feet vanished, the feeling of weightlessness invoking panic across its systems. Its optical sensors snapped off to prevent burning as the white somehow got brighter, leaving it blind to everything but the screaming warnings on its blacked-out HUD. Audials aren’t far behind, giving it barely a glimpse into the howl that suddenly surrounded it before shorting out. Its hands, feeling like they weren’t even attached to its body, snapped onto the only solid thing near it, holding on for dear life. It was like it was suffocating in a liquid thicker than water, completely directionless with internal components and gyros spinning blindly.

As abruptly as it began, the sense of solidness returned, leaving gravity to take down its disorientated body. Whatever it had latched onto didn’t support it, instead leaving, and it crumpled to the ground before it could reorientate itself. A second later, optical and audio sensors came back online and its wings found the center of gravity again.

“-achine? Did you die?” Gabriel was crouched in front of it, poking it- with a stick?! It sat up sharply, causing the angel to flinch back before his poofed-up wings smoothed. “You’re not dead…" a heavy pause, "...Good.”

Its wings flared as it glared at the angel, completing the recalibration of its limbs before rising to its full height and surveying the new area. This was another forest, but thinner than the one near Benjamin, with trees heavy with yellow leaves. The clearing it had been brought to was expansive, encircled by large rocks that bore deep sword slashes, each mark clearly visible against the stone.

“This is where I come to practice,” Gabriel said, standing beside them. “It is secluded, far from any civilization, and so far unfound by machines. You’re the first in quite a long time.”

It nodded, doing one final sweep before turning to face Gabriel. “Here are the rules,” the angel spoke, lifting a hand and raising fingers as he spoke. “You will use only what you’ve got on hand, that being your pistol and your blue arm. I will only use a projection of my sword and won’t fly. Do not shoot to kill, aim for non-vital areas. This is for fun, machine, not for bloodshed. Whatever you draw will be hard-earned and you can only indulge at the end of the match with my permission. Understood?”

Well, it’d been against more equipped enemies with less in the past. It nodded, retrieving its revolver from its wings, hand curling comfortably against the handle. The angel nodded. “10 steps back,” he instructed, causing it to blink before he started walking. After a beat, it dashed back, going over 10 steps, though still close enough to hear him clearly.

It shifted into a fighting stance, revolver aimed and at the ready. It watched as he summoned a golden mimic of Splendor and held it out in front of him, keeping his wings close to his body. “On my mark!” he called, causing it to tense up, battle data-loading out.

“Ready,” its finger fell onto the trigger, charging up a shot.

“Set,” wings flared, preparing a dash closer, a plan formed on its HUD.

“GO!”

It launched itself forward and upward, gaining a brief height advantage that gave it the perfect window to fire the charged shot directly into the angel’s midsection. Gabriel grunted in pain as the shot connected, though unluckily striking harmlessly against his armor. He quickly used his wings to dash--a move that was strikingly similar to its own--out of the way of the follow-up shots as it lost its height and plummeted back to the ground.

V1 hit the ground hard, rolling as it landed, quickly getting up in a half-crouch, revolver already lining up for a second charged shot. Its lens widened in alarm as Gabriel pumped his wings a single time, launching himself with brutal speed directly in front of it, Splendor’s mimic raised high in a deadly swing.

“I said I wouldn’t fly, machine!” Gabriel’s voice was laced with laughter as he swung, the blade slicing through the air with lethal precision. It barely dashed back in time, the sword grazing its chestplate and leaving a smooth scratch marring its paint. Its lens narrowed in a glare as it fired off more shots, dodging what it recognized as his Light Combo, though his attacks were unbalanced without Justice. Luckily for it, it seemed Gabriel didn’t bother learning any new moves after their deaths, leaving it to simply dodge out of the way and avoid his combos while lining up its own.

Damn it, it wished it had the Marksman. It’d be so much more fun with coins to ricochet and slice through him rather than just its fists and revolver. Wait-! it had its fists! The next time Gabriel closed in for another attack, it dodged his first three swings before driving its Feedbacker into his mimic, elated when the hit connected, the force of it knocking Gabriel’s sword straight into his helmet with a sickening crack.

Gabriel shouted in pain, staggered and disoriented. It saw a drop of red trail from a hole in his helmet, dripping off his golden elongated chin as he shook his head. He tightened his grip on his sword and laughed. “Finally getting serious, are we?!”

He rushed at it again, faster this time, and it raised its revolver, aiming for the perfect moment when he would expose more of his ebony flesh with a swing. And the price for its perfect plan was a severed fuel line on its leg and a gash torn through its midsection.

It screeched in pain, punching Gabriel in the helmet with bone-crushing force before firing a charged shot directly into his stomach. The angel doubled over with a grunt, and it used the moment to dash away, quickly taking advantage of the environment to collect itself.

“Running away? Is the scourge of Hell that much of a coward?!" Gabriel taunted, a laugh coating his words. It whirred low in frustration, quickly rerouting and halting fuel distribution to the damaged areas. It was armed with only a revolver, only its Feedbacker, and the best data on how to kill something ever cataloged. But it had foolishly underestimated Gabriel. It was a fucking idiot to think that this would be a breeze.

Normally, it would have trapped him with saws, carving his flesh while relying on shotgun switching and railcoining while its blood regenerated the nails and saws. But it didn’t have that luxury now. Gabriel might be equipped with only one sword, but that didn’t make him any less formidable. It needed a new plan, and fast.

“Found you," Gabriel’s voice cut through its thoughts as the rock it was hiding behind crumbled under the force of his attack, the stone shredded into a spray of pebbles. It leaped back, ricocheting off another boulder to gain height, revolver firing rapidly in an attempt to keep Gabriel at bay. Screw strategy—this was gonna be erratic like a CyberGrind game.

This time, it was the one to rush, getting right up into the angel’s face and firing a charged shot at the exposed interior of his chest plate, a tactic remembered from a fight with a swordsmachine. The angel cried out as the shot connected, and for a brief moment, it was sprayed with precious blood.

But instead of retreating or retaliating with a swing, Gabriel dropped his sword and lunged at it, tackling it to the ground with brutal force, sending them both tumbling to the ground. It screeched in panic, firing its revolver point-blank into the angel as they grappled for dominance. Despite Gabriel’s holy power, nothing was greater than the strength of steel.

Its revolver clinked lightly against his helmet as it wrapped its free hand around Gabriel’s throat, squeezing lightly. It was panting, fans screaming from overuse, the emergency ‘breathing’ protocol barely keeping it cool. Its vents hissed with steam as it maintained its grip. Gabriel was breathing hard too, his chest heaving beneath it against its weight. It adjusted slightly, its lens widening as it felt a sharp edge press against the tubing on its thin neck.

Gabriel swallowed, the movement felt keenly under its hand, and spoke, his voice ragged. “It’s a tie.” It tilted its head to look down at the hand holding the golden mimic to its neck. “It’s a tie,” he repeated, disbelief coating his words.

It stared down at Gabriel, its grip tightening momentarily around his neck, feeling the pulse of his lifeblood beneath its steel fingers. But then, with a measured release, it loosened its hold, the tension in its frame easing. It sat back on his middle, its thighs already absorbing the fuel that pooled from his wounds. It couldn't resist squeezing him slightly, earning a soft hiss of pain from him before it pushed itself off him and rose to its feet. Its optic never left the angel as he slowly got up, sighing heavily and wincing when he clutched the bullet-riddled wounds in his midsection.

What started as a low, almost inaudible giggle from Gabriel soon erupted into a fit of delirious laughter. The sound caught it off guard, its optic narrowing slightly in confusion as the angel threw his head back. After a few moments, his laughter subsided, tapering off into soft chuckles as he turned to face it again, his halo and wings subtly lined with gold at the edges, shimmered in the sunlight.

“I’d expected you to take the shot,” Gabriel said, his voice laced with a clear smile. “Once again, you’ve surprised me. Were you built just to spite the divine?”

It simply shrugged, earning it a soft chuckle from him. “There it is again," he continued, his tone softer now. “You act so animated, gesturing and moving in a way that I can only describe as human. You can communicate, though before I refused to accept it because of what I thought of you. Once again, you’ve shattered my view. Only this time, it’s on how I see you.

“You could’ve taken my life, Machine. Even with a single revolver, you could’ve done it. I see now that you are not a ruthless killing machine. You really are using this fresh start for something new,” he chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. “How absurd, yet here I stand, seeing it with my own eyes.”

It flared its wings slightly in response, raising its bottom shutter in a mimicry of a smile. With a smooth motion, it holstered its revolver and folded its extra limbs neatly against its back. It paused when it noticed Gabriel offering his bloodied arm, still oozing with an open wound. It hesitated. It never hesitated.

“Go on, you’ve earned it,” Gabriel encouraged, breaking through the strange pause. Its hand shot forward, firmly planting its palm over the gunshot wound. Gabriel hissed softly in pain, muscles tensing under its touch, but he remained still, silent.

When its slashed metal healed and its fuel tank reached 100%, it pulled its hand away, watching as Gabriel allowed his arm to fall to his side, the bleeding finally staunched. Without a word, the angel walked toward the edge of the arena. It followed, watching as he knelt beside a hidden first aid kit, pulling it from beneath a rock and sitting down heavily on the ground. It sat beside him, its form still and silent.

“I should’ve brought the pen and paper," he spoke abruptly, pulling out a few medical items and beginning to tend to his wounds with practiced care. “I would've liked to ask a few questions, ones that are more advanced than a simple yes or no."

It nodded in agreement, turning away and looking down at its hands. It watched its fist curl and uncurl, silently cursing out its creators. It was built with a voice in mind, yet never received the box before it was bought and displayed.

Gabriel’s head turned, the cross on his helmet facing the same direction at its gaze. He hummed softly. “Do you know sign language?" It turned towards him, titling its head in silent question. "Sign language is a language that requires only your hands and body to speak, making motions and gestures that match words and letters."

He raised his hands, fingers slightly spread and curved, interlocking them like two gears meshing together. "This-" he said, moving his hands up and down twice, "-is the Sign Language for Machine."

A language that requires no voice? A way to talk without talking? It titled its head, looking down at its hands then up at his. Slowly, it repeated what he said, fumbling on the motions and failing multiple times before finally making it look at least somewhat legible.

“That’s right," Gabriel breathed softly, relaxing just enough to be noticeable, before continuing in a louder voice. “I can teach you, if you wish."

It perked up. Really? He'd teach it to talk? It… Gabriel was giving it a chance to speak. To talk, to communicate freely. The angel, Gabriel, former Judge of Hell and last Apostate of Hate, was offering to teach it how to speak? It understood, in that moment, why the Virtues of Hell loved him so.

Excitement surged through it, and it nodded eagerly, once, twice, thrice, its entire frame vibrating with anticipation. Gabriel chuckled softly at its enthusiasm, raising a hand in a calming gesture. “Alright, alright, calm down. I must warn you, you will have to learn fast.” It gestured to itself, its posture shifting as if to say ‘Do you know who you’re talking to?’ The angel chuckled and nodded. "True. Alright, we can begin our first lesson back home.”

He paused, his gaze drifting toward the horizon, the rising light masking any shadows in midday, before returning his sight to it. “Though I suppose we’ve still got a bit of time before curfew.”

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

40.54% DATA RESTORED

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMETHING I NEVER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V2
LOCATION:                             Earthmover City
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    Explore

𖡨

It was nearly night now, the sunset casting pink and purple hues over the blackened city, with the two V-models hidden comfortably within the shade. Mirage and V2 had spent the entire day running around the city, handling the cyan-plated machine's assigned tasks, or chores, as she likes to call them. Fortunately, the errands were simple—just delivering packages from the Ferryman’s little shop. The supreme husk had surprised them when they saw him, having expected a machine dressed like a ferryman and not an actual one. Disregarding the fact that apparently some of Hell's denizens survived, he got to explore the city and help Mirage simultaneously, enjoying the cloudless day.

V2’s gaze shifted from the darkening sky when they heard Mirage's grunt. Turning their head towards her, he watched as she stepped back from the mailbox she had just stuffed a package into, whipping her hands together to clear imaginary dust with a pleased whirr.

“And that’s the last one,” she said, voice light as she came to stand beside them. “Rest of the day’s free.”

They offered a nod, flicking his gaze back out to the city and systems automatically finding the quickest route through it. “That’s good. Home next?”

The cyan machine hummed in a tone it recognized was her thinking, her optic narrowing as she raised a hand and tapped a finger against her bezel. “Or… do you wanna go shopping?”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“Do you want to go shopping?” Mirage repeated, dropping her hand and glancing at him with a faintly impatient look.

“Curfew’s soon, though,” they said, checking their internal clock. It was nearly 8, another hour and everyone would be returning home, including him, as per Benjamin's rules.

“Not tonight,” Mirage replied, placing her hands on her hips and lifting her head slightly. Sometimes he was glad she was shorter than him. “The Night Market—cheesy name, I know—is opening. Benji’s letting everyone stay out late so we can buy stuff.”

“The Night Market?” they echoed, squinting slightly. Mirage sighed and cocked her hip.

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll explain after we find something good.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and started down the street. He followed, of course, but a glance back would’ve been appreciated.

The two weren’t too far from the main square, so it only took a 5-minute walk before V2 and Mirage were surrounded by hundreds of machines bustling in the wide streets.

From what they could see, the Night Market began at the main gate and extended through the city’s largest roadways. Stalls lined both sides of the streets, each one stocked with various goods—mechanical parts, tools, upgrades, and accessories for machines of all types. Vendors also displayed pieces of art, custom plating, and intricate electronics. The entire market was brightly lit, with rows of hanging lights stretching between buildings and across the stalls, casting a golden glow over everything. The lights were so intense that they almost obscured the night sky, making it hard to tell it was evening.

Machines of all shapes and sizes moved through the streets, examining the merchandise, exchanging credits and what looked to be coins, and engaging in lively conversations. The clanking of metal footsteps, the murmur of voices, and the occasional call of vendors advertising their wares all filled the air with a pleasant buzz of living electronics. If one didn’t know the time, one would have thought it was still daylight, given how brightly the market was illuminated and how busy the streets remained.

“Awesome, right?” Mirage’s voice broke them from his sightseeing, voice high and loud to overcome the drowning of the market.

“It’s busy,” he called back, squishing into her slightly as a Guttertank passed them. A hand snatched their own, nearly triggering his instincts to pull away and shoot whatever grabbed him, but the urge vanished when they saw the hand was Mirage’s. He followed without a sound, hugging close to her back to avoid being swept by the sea.

With the same grace they had seen the morning before, Mirage dragged him through the crowd with practiced ease. They, being far less practiced in navigating through packed streets, found themselves jostled and shoved, their wings catching on passing clothing and metal plating. When he felt a hand deliberately grab at one of the golden blades, they spun around with a sharp hiss. The startled Streetcleaner squeaked and quickly disappeared into the throng, while Mirage, seemingly unaware, continued pulling them toward a large stall.

“Hey, Serena!” Mirage called out, waving toward the machine running the stall. The vendor, a large pink Mindflayer draped in what appeared to be a silk robe, perked up at the sound of her voice, immediately dropping what they were holding to focus on her. As they neared the stall, the Mindflayer gasped theatrically, leaning over the counter (V2 quickly diverted his optic from her… prominent chest).

“Mirage! Hey, girl, great to see you again!” the Mindflayer—Serena, if V2 remembered correctly—exclaimed, pulling Mirage into an enthusiastic hug. Mirage patted her back awkwardly, nearly engulfed by rose plastic flesh. After a moment, the Mindflayer released her, giving a light pat on the shoulder before settling back behind the counter.

“How’ve you been?” Serena asked, propping herself up on her elbows, her massive frame barely fitting behind the counter.

“Eh, not bad,” she replied, leaning on the counter. “Got jumped by a few Angels on my way back from that visitor.”

“You got attacked?!” Serena gasped, raising a large hand to where her mouth would be, if she had one. “Are you okay?”

Mirage waved her off with a light laugh, brushing it aside as if it were nothing. “I’m fine. Got lucky. Guess who saved me?”

“Who?”

Mirage’s optic shutter rose in a smile, grabbing V2 by the shoulder and pulling him closer. “The Originals.”

Serena’s eye widened—somehow, he didn’t know that was possible—and she reeled back slightly. “The Originals? No way,” she muttered, her voice soft and disbelieving. She cast a quick glance around the busy marketplace, her gaze flicking between nearby machines, before turning to a small Streetcleaner that was lingering nearby. With a quick decision, she lifted a section of the counter and gestured toward a back entrance. “C’mon, let’s talk inside.”

With a flick of her hand, Serena led them behind the stall into a dim, cluttered interior, the floor littered with cloth-covered crates buried under layers of dust. “Excuse the mess,” she said, motioning him forward into a brighter section of the space. “Still getting settled.”

The room she brought them to was packed with items, far more than what was displayed at her stall. The walls were lined with silk-like clothing, hung neatly on display with an impressive array of designs, colors, and intricate patterns. Small lamps dotted the room, casting a warm, golden light that bounced off metallic stars suspended from the ceiling.

Shelves lined every available inch of the walls, overflowing with modifications, enhancements, and various upgrades lined the walls. Some held meticulously crafted limbs and intricate body parts, each piece meticulously crafted. A gleaming white arm, in particular, caught V2’s attention—it stood out among the others, shining like untouched porcelain under the lights.

“Welcome to Serenity’s Modifications,” Serena declared with a flourish, spreading her arms. “The best upgrades and customizations in the city.”

Mirage nodded in agreement. “You won’t find better anywhere. Got all my mods here.”

V2 blinked, their gaze shifting toward her. “Really?”

“Yep,” she said, with a proud nod. “Where else would these beauties come from?” To prove her point, she slapped her chest, the impact producing a faint metallic clunk. Beneath her hands, her modded chest plating molded like a stress ball, the material flexing in a way that seemed almost too soft for metal. Some part of him said it looked like a stress ball.

They quickly snapped his optic away, feeling a faint heat in their circuits.

“Still my finest work,” Serena muttered with a twitch of her head that reminded them of a wink, then shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got all sorts of things. Limbs, internals, clothing…” She leaned forward, lowering her voice mischievously, “…explicit.”

If he had skin, they were sure that he’d be redder than their plating.

“No need to scare him, Ren,” Mirage laughed, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, her shutters high in a smile.

Serena just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Shop’s always open,” she said with a wink. “Anyway, feel free to take a look around. Just avoid the back section unless you’re looking for, well… those kinds of mods.”

V2 shifted awkwardly. “...Thanks.” His gaze wandered, barely landing on anything for more than a second.

“Go on,” Mirage said with a huff, nudging him lightly with her elbow, “Take a look around. You might find something you like.”

They doubted it. Everything in the room felt too flashy—shiny, new, and far too extravagant for their tastes. Even though his own plating was relatively new, a fresh start granted to them from that figure, he still felt out of place among the meticulously crafted parts. They felt... dull. What use could they possibly have for these showy enhancements? He was practical, utilitarian. Most of this stuff was just excess and hardly counted as a modification in their book.

Quietly slipping away from the two—who were currently chatting away about Mirage's most recent adventures—they approached the arm that caught his attention earlier. It was a pristine pearl-white, plating untouched by a scratch or dent, black components hidden underneath not even a sharpened silver by a scrape. Brand new. He raised his hand to lightly graze it before pulling their touch away.

“You can touch things, you know,” Serena’s voice suddenly called out, startling him. Their wings perked up reflexively, and they snapped his head toward her. She was halfway through the doorway, Mirage's sunset-colored optic glowing faintly in the shadows behind her. “Just be careful with the merchandise, alright? Don’t want any dents on the good stuff.”

"Alright," he nodded, smoothing their wings back down. "I won't."

While the two other machines vanished into the building, likely back to Serna’s stall, they continued to scan the shelves of intricate body parts, half-engaged, his optic landing on various pieces of hardware.

Each that caught his attention they were quick to snatch up, meticulously scanning and cataloging the build and make-up of the object and tucking the new data away to be analyzed later. None, of course, reached up to their standards, most either barely doing one job or others just downright gaudy.

He placed his newest finding back neatly on the shelf, turning their head back to the doorway. Might as well be time to rejoin Mirage, there still were streets of vendors and objects to look at.

A bald spot caught his attention.

His optic flicked to it, lens narrowing. Tucked away on one of the lower shelves, nearly obscured by the glare of a nearby lamp, was a small box, around the size of a breadbox (the term briefly brought up a memory of a drunken technician that led them to the facilities kitchens. They look back on that memory fondly.)

V2 approached and crouched down, hands wrapping delicately around the box and pulling it free. The label wasn’t flashy or covered in too-bright colors like many of the other enhancements around the shop. Instead, it was worn and aged, looking almost forgotten.

Voice boxes.

They stared at the small metal contraptions lined up neatly within the box, each one slightly different in design. Some were sleeker, meant to blend seamlessly into a machine’s design, while others were more robust, covered in bolts and wires, implying a more experimental or rugged use. A few had dials on the side, like they could be tuned or adjusted to different pitches, while others were static, locked into a specific range.

He picked up the small black object, turning it over in his hand. How something so tiny could hold such significance was a mystery, yet the thought passed as they turned it over. He fiddled with the ports, their fingers brushing over familiar connectors. Some of them looked like they’d fit his own systems. Curiosity sparked as he considered whether they could attach it and make use of it himself.

Not that he was unhappy with their current voice. It was functional—simple, monotone, and efficient. The voice of a default SAM module they’d scavenged from a copycat Swordsmachine when everything first went to shit, customized to be slightly deeper. It had served them well during those brief, chaotic days, trying to help human survivors. It still worked perfectly fine now, even in a city where most machines flaunted high-end, custom voices.

He stared at the object.

It was probably too expensive, anyway. They still didn’t understand the currency of this place, whether physical or digital, and he knew Mirage wasn’t exactly rich, either.

(They had seen the Angel slit his hand with a false sword and refuel her, late in the night when there were no lights. She’d thanked him, complained about the cost of fuel, and promised she’d work harder to avoid needing his help again. She never kept that promise.)

It’d be… nice, they admit. To speak in a way that wasn’t just cold, lifeless efficiency. Something warmer. Something… more personal.

He turned the modulator over in their hands again, his optic narrowing slightly as they glanced toward the box, listening to the distant sound of Mirage's voice. Maybe he’d come back later, when they could afford it and wanted to treat himself.

“Thinking about it?” Serena’s voice interrupted their thoughts, making him glance up. The large Mindflayer was back, standing in the doorway with her hands resting on her hips, head tilted down and gaze focused on them.

V2 glanced down at the small object in his hand. After a brief moment, they spoke. “No,” he replied, placing the object back into the box.

Serena tilted her head. “Why not? It’s a pretty good one.”

“I don’t need it,” they replied, hands gripping the edges of the box as he lifted it, angling it so it would fit back into its little cubby.

“You sure?” she asked, floating over and wrapping a tentacle around the box, taking it from him. “You don’t need it, yeah, but it’d be pretty nice to have.”

They agreed, which was why he was planning on coming back when they had a proper understanding of the currency here. Speaking of currency, “How much is it?” they asked, then clarified, “A voice box.”

Serena hummed, peering down at the box and then shrugging. “Since you saved Mirage, or at least made sure she was okay, you can have one 99% off.”

“99%?” they repeated, quickly standing and staring at her with a wide optic.

“Yeah, though I’d give it free if I didn’t need to make a profit,” she shrugged, handing the box back to them. “You wanna test some out? That one’s-” she pointed to the box they had just held, “-a feminine voice.”

“I- what?”

“Do you wanna test them out?” she repeated, drifting backwards slightly, forcing them to follow in order to maintain a proper speaking bubble. “C’mon, it’ll be quick. You found my secret good box.”

V2 blinked, “I’m… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he said slowly, unsure.

“That’s the spirit! Let’s get you hooked up.” Serena practically beamed (she did, her pink body glowed a tad bit brighter) and herded him into a separate room hidden behind a large silk robe. The room was simple, just a grey table in the center with tools on the walls, and she prompted them to sit. When they did, she plopped the box down and grabbed one at random, lifting it up to examine it.

“Male voice, called Adam. Seems to be an original copy of the voice,” she said, handing it to him. She clapped her hands together, rubbing them and she giggled excitedly. “Alright! Go on ahead and pop yourself open and we can get started!”

His lens narrowed, wings flaring slightly behind them. “‘Pop open’? As in opening my chest plating?”

“Yep!” she nodded. “How else am I gonna install it?”

“I can install it myself,” he nearly snapped, barely able to keep their tone neutral, instinctual code alarmed slightly at how casually she spoke. “Thank you, though.”

"Alright…” she trailed off, clearly catching their slip up, though mercifully not saying anything. “I’ll leave the install to you, then." She leaned back, letting her tentacles float lazily around her. "But I’m still excited! Go ahead, give it a try whenever you’re ready."

V2's wings flicked as they stared at the voice modulator in their hand. Serena's eager gaze made his systems hum with their discomfort, but he kept their movements smooth and measured. They weren’t about to open his chestplate in front of her, that much he knew.

“Is privacy accessible?” they asked.

Much to their relief, Serena nodded. “Sure. Some don’t want their internals fondled, I get it. Though I’ll have to hang by the door to make sure you don’t steal it. Voice boxes are hard to come by.”

He nodded, watching as the Mindflayer floated to the door before pausing. “Oh, when you’re done, make sure to hand me your chosen VB. You can install it back home, ‘kay?”

“Alright,” they replied. “Thank you.”

The door clicked shut softly as Serena had left. V2 could see her shadow lingering outside, but the absence of her direct gaze was a relief. He turned the voice modulator over in his hand, wings twitching slightly. The device felt… off. There was no good reason why, the box was the exact same as the many, many others he'd come across during their scavenging days. It was standard issue, made to fit neatly into the slot already pre-cut inside them.

They quickly located the necessary tools after scanning the room and settled onto the table, the box beside him. Hisoptic flicked to the shadow beneath the door. After a beat, he allowed their right uppermost wing to rest on his shoulder, while the others folded against their back.

With their revolver within hand’s reach, they inputted the manual code that opened his chest. The red plating slid back with a faint hiss, a sound recognized as one he hadn't heard since the New Peace. They adjusted their head so the soft glow of his optic could illuminate their inner cavity.

And—wow. Their internals were beautiful. Everything was far more organized than they had ever seen. Wires and tubes were bundled together in perfect clusters, held securely in place by precise, almost delicate tape. The silicone organs, untouched by Hell Energy, sat neatly within their designated spots, shining under the light like mechanical gemstones. The metallic skeletal frame that protected everything was shining chrome and clean of rust.

Their core, God, was gorgeous. It gleamed under the light of his eye, black metal tinted gold. Sleek, streamlined, and unfamiliar in shape, this core was a far cry from the clunky, misfit piece he’d carried through Hell. Their old core had been a barely functional relic—a failed version of an earlier prototype design, haphazardly shoved into his chest. That core had always been a risk, constantly shifting and threatening to sever their veins, keeping him one wrong move away from shutdown.

This new core, though? It was custom-made. Designed to fit perfectly within their chest, as if it had always been a part of them. There was no clunky, haphazard craftsmanship here; only precision, every component operating seamlessly with the rest of his systems.

A memory file flared to the front of their mind at the sight, covering his HUD. The preview image was the ceiling of silver, one he recognized as a facility ceiling. It was likely the one they woke up in after their revival, they barely remembered the lab he was built in. A millisecond of decision-making later, he allowed the video to play.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

What…

What happened?

Everything was blurry, vague white and gray shapes melting together. Why couldn’t they see? Their lens should’ve focused by now. Their awareness was sluggish, pace running as slow as a humans as they manually began twisting the glass and metal of their vision until everything was clear. It revealed a more defined gray. Slowly, they scanned their surroundings.

Silver. There was silver above them. Mechanical arms that they recognized and tensed to, silently waiting for them to move. They waited for them to surround them, cage them in the flat and clean metal room. But they never did, hovering dead above them. Deciding against moving, they decided to review their memory, trying to find how exactly they ended up back on a table.

They went all the way back, as far as their memory reached. First booting, the blurry faces of their human creators, those same faces crushed undeath rubble and dead. The message that guided them to Hell, desperated as they failed to protect the few weak humans they found, starvation forcing their hand and making them no better than the rest of the machines destroying Earth.

Limbo. Their first real defeat. Against their predecessor. Against their lesser. Before, outside of the lab, they were among the most powerful machines out there, having earned a flimsy name that kept synthetic prey rare and aggressive. It comes with being the remake of the most powerful machine ever built.

And they lost. No surprise there, they weren’t trying their hardest. They were too honorable, too human. They lost their arm, the Knuckleblaster, the weapon so lovingly crafted by their hand by confusion and fear. It couldn’t hold a gun properly, but it acted as one itself. They were proud of it.

They hated their mirror.

They hated it with every wire, circuit, and metal of their being. How dare it come along and take what was theirs? How dare it come and humiliate it?

(They ignored the fact they were acting human. Humans fell easily beneath its feet. It was they that dared. Dared to act as something they weren’t. A lesson learned.)

Lust was strange. It was a mimic of the city it was designed to protect, filled not with humans but their souls. They weren’t human, only husks, yet they still felt guilt as they took their lives. Starvation kept it moving, kept it from following the code it so desperately wanted to follow. “Stay, protect,” yet all it did was kill and destroy.

The Whiplash was crude, but effective. A proud creation when made during a time when Hell was quite literal. It worked fine, though sometimes it slipped up, a green hand stabbing flesh instead of pulverizing it with shotgun shells. They missed their arm.

Greed was hot and annoying, constantly having to fall back into the shade and keep off the golden false sand. The trip to the pyramid was slow going, mainly because they tried to remain as undamaged as possible. Their predecessor fighting the Corpse King gave them just enough time to pull ahead, managing to skip Gluttony altogether. They knew it was hot on their tail

At the top was a throne, and in their anger and arrogance, they decided to wait upon it. When it arrived, they promised revenge, hatred and rage from years of forced combat (“testing” they called it. Bullshit) and its thievery boiling to a sharp thrashing point that shattered spectacularly.

They fought. They bled. They lost. They ran. Down the side of the yellow monument, no standing pillar to whiplash onto as they fell. Down down they went, golden wings shattered upon their back. In that moment, they understood that foolish human Icarus. They screamed instead of laughing.

They died.

The distant sounds of an ocean, poetry whispered by a voice soft.

Then…

This.

This… strange afterlife. Do machines even get one? They vaguely felt like they already got one, somehow.

They couldn’t deny the facts in front of them, though. Whether it be an illusion made by their draining blood reserves or an actual reality, they were presently on a lab table.

They shifted slightly, blinking when they felt themself move freely. Looking down, their optic widened and a shocked whirr escaped them as they saw their arm. Not the Whiplash (no doubt taken by the bastard,) not the Knuckleblaster, but their original Feedbacker arm. They quickly sat up, skipping over the fact they were unrestrained, and lifted the arm.

It looked exactly like the original. They twisted the limb, testing the dexterity of the fingers, finding the joints smooth and practically brand new. Glancing towards the rest of their body, they were surprised to see themself fully repaired, no dents or scratches in sight, alongside a brand new coat of shiny red paint.

Twisting their head back (and without the soft grinding noise of their neck moving,) they saw all eight wingblades in perfect order. Immediately it went to feel one, the blade leaning into the touch of its owner. The stalks were even arranged right, the top two blades on their left no longer crossing.

Someone did this. Someone repaired them. Who? A fellow machine? A surviving human? Hell itself? No, this wasn't Hell’s doing. If it had been, their body would’ve been slapped together with Hellmass and brute force. There clearly would’ve been stone armor in some areas, and they wouldn’t be as shiny.

Well… they now knew that someone rebuilt them, and that they were in a facility. Or at least they thought. Probably best to explore, they doubted this place still had fresh blood reserves, and they would not like to starve again.

Pure gray walls surrounded them, only a door to break it. It was the first non-light gray thing, a darker version, a single red light on the handle. They stood, the lack of the soft grinding of movement that always accompanied them back then leaving them antsy. They had gotten so used to it. It was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet meant bad.

They stood and approached it, their hand gripping the handle and opening it smoothly, unlocked. The door opened with little more than a creak, and outside a dark and clean hallway stretched infinitely into shadow, black broken only by the golden glow of their optic and wings. They turned on their flashlight, illuminating only a few more feet. They turned right and started wandering, keeping their steps as quiet as they could.

They managed nearly a half-mile of walking and a few turns before they heard it. Instantly, they froze, foot half planted on the ground, head tilted towards the sound of footsteps. Down in the distance, at the very end of the dark hallway, was a low blue color. And it illuminated a shadowy humanoid shape, one that had also frozen.

“Oh…” a voice, the first one they had heard since the surface, since the extinction, since the lab. “You’re awake. Good.”

“Hello?” their voicebox crackled to life, echoing awkwardly loud off the walls. (Distantly, a part of them was disappointed, unseen hope softly asking that it was a different voice, denied.) “Where-”

“I hope you like my gift,” the figure interrupted, and something in its tone sounded like it was smiling. “Use it well, little robin.”

“Wait-” they spoke, stepping towards the figure. But before they could get a word out, it turned, the blue light shifting bright gold, a flash accented by the distant sound of bells. The light was bright enough that they had to turn their optic away, and when they looked back, the figure was gone.

“Who are you..?” Their question was met with silence.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

That figure, person, rebuilt him. He knew that, but they didn’t expect how far it had gone to do so. One of his few goals was to find them. Maybe he can ask questions.

Why was he rebuilt? Why in this place, in this world? What is your name? Who are you?

Why me?

“You okay in there?” Serena’s muffled voice snapped him out of his thoughts, their wings jerking up in alarm. They hunched over, optic flashing toward the door before he remembered who was outside. A beat later, he forced themselves to relax.

“Yes,” he replied, still in that old SAM voice. What were they doing again? Right, testing voice modulators. “Just... distracted.”

“Okay,” came her reply. “Mirage is just about done shopping, so you might want to wrap it up.”

“Right,” V2 replied, picking a random voice from the box. “Thank you.”

From there, the process was easy. They disconnected the familiar wires, pulled apart colored cables, and swapped the components with practiced precision. Holding the new voice modulator close to his open chestplate, he tested it.

“Hello?” They startled, wings flaring slightly as they looked down at the small black object he held. “Testing.”

Their wings flared slightly in surprise as the voice that came out was soft, feminine, and strangely silky. It reminded them of a technician he once knew, tired but gentle. Still, it wasn’t quite what they wanted. They quickly removed it, setting it aside and installing the next.

One by one, he tried different voices.

“Testing…” The next voice came out nasally. They recoiled, wings twitching. “Definitely not.”

Another attempt, “Testing-” only for a child’s voice to echo back. He narrowed their lens slightly. “Nope.”

“Test- nope!” Another child.

“Te- what?” What was with the children’s voices?!

Voice after voice. Feminine, masculine, child-like, elderly ones, even a few vocaloids like Hatsune Miku. Amusing, but not suitable. Each one was carefully set aside after a brief test, none feeling quite right.

“Why is this so difficult?” he muttered, their most recent voice—a young woman’s—almost sounding exasperated. Pleasing to know that it was able to echo his version of emotions into a human-like definition.

Finally, they picked up a larger modulator, though it still fit in their compartment. He inspected it briefly and plugged it in. “Testing.”

They blinked, tilting their head slightly. This one was different. It sounded… good, better than the rest. “Odd,” he spoke, testing the voice further. It had a rich, smooth tone—masculine, but mellow. Calm, yet with a certain warmth. It was refined but not cold, gentle but strong.

Randomly thinking of something to say, he spoke, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death. Even in laughter the heart may sorrow, and the end of mirth may be grief.”

They liked it. He liked it quite a bit, actually. Mind made up, he disconnected the box and replaced it with his old SAM one, neatly putting the rest back into the box and carrying it to the door.

He paused right before reaching the handle, audials picking up the soft chatter of Mirage’s voice outside. They wondered, distantly, if she found her own voice in this box or made it herself. Was it given to her?

Without further delay, he opened the door, the sudden flash of bright light making him squint slightly. Mirage and Serena paused their conversation, turning their attention it them.

“Find something you like?” Serena quickly asked, floating over and taking the box when he offered it.

“Yes,” they held out his chosen voice. “Is this one alright?”

She picked it up, inspecting it with her eye before letting out a low whistle-like drone. “Wow, you find some of the best! I forgot this one was in here.”

She handed it back, floating off to the side and returning the box to its original cubby. Mirage slid over to his side, arms crossed and optic half-lidded in a way that made his dictionary pop up with the word ‘cute’ and its resulting synonyms.

“So, a voice box?” she spoke, watching the Mindflayer bump into the table.

“Is that alright?” they asked, looking down at her, well aware that she was the one paying.

She waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “Yeah. Serena already told me that she’s giving you a 99% discount, so it’s only like 100P.”

“P?” they echoed. “As in Points?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “The terminals take care of transitions using cards, and they hand out P when we do our tasks for Ben. That or we trade NuFuel.”

V2 remained silent, mulling over the new information. If the economy is based on Points, then he could easily rack up a quick and plentiful number. He didn’t have much before, having spent it on the Nailgun and avoiding it out of guilt of killing (even virtual) Husks, but he still had around 25,000. Did his balance make it out of Hell? If not, then he could easily replace it using the CyberGrind.

“Does the CyberGrind exist still?” they blurted, earning a short bark of laughter from Mirage that caused him to startle slightly.

“The CyberGrind?” she repeated, looking up at them with her top shutter tilted in a way that made it almost like she was raising an eyebrow. “You mean the old terminal entertainment system where robots fight in simulated battlegrounds in exchange for Points?”

“…Yes?” they replied, a bit confused by the incredulity in her tone. After a beat, she blinked.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She huffed a laugh. “Sorry buddy, but the terminals locked away the CyberGrind when Hell fell. Kinda like the enemy… catalog…” she trailed off, looking away. He could practically hear the gears whirring in her chest as she thought.

“You’re a favorite,” she said after a moment, pointing at him without looking at them. “You got the terminals to show the encyclopedia of all of Hell’s denizens.”

“Yes?” V2 nodded, a bit confused. “What does that have to do with the CyberGrind?”

“The terminals locked away everything from Hell, but you, and probably V1, are able to access it. Which means,” she said, optic glimmering with excitement. “You could access the CyberGrind!”

“So does it still exist?” he asked.

“I’ve got no clue!” Mirage chuckled with a shrug.

“What are you two lovebirds laughing about?” Serena asked, floating back over.

“Lovebirds-?”

“Serena!” Mirage yelled, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at the Mindflayer. “I told you to stop doing that! Not every machine I come here with dates me!”

The cackle the pink machine let out was downright devious. “I know, I know,” she said with a chuckle, waving a hand. “Just teasing you.”

Mirage huffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well, am I gonna pay or not?”

“Oh!” Serena exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Yeah! C’mon, you pay at the front.”

The Mindflayer turned and left the room, the two Vs following after quickly. Mirage quickly paid for their purchases (the voicebox alongside a silk cloth item) and turned towards the night, waving an arm to the crowds and looking over at him.

“Anything else you’re after?” she asked over the noise. He thought for a moment.

“Are…” they hesitated for a millisecond. “Can I have a gun?”

“A gun?” Mirage repeated, barely tilting her head before looking towards the crowd. After a heavy moment, she nodded. “…Yeah, I know a good place. C’mon.”

She grabbed his hand, and he readily followed her as she led him God knows where.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V1
LOCATION:                             EARTHOVER CITY
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    UNKNOWN

DATA CORRUPTED
RESTORING . . .

43.24% DATA RESTORED

𖡨

Vast cityscape surrounded it, towers of iron that reached for the heavens. Below, hidden in the crevices of the spikes, crowds of machines flooded the streets. Even on the highest skyscraper in the city, the sounds of the market below still floated up to it, swallowed thinly by the wind.

It was admittedly too loud for how late in the night it was, morning only a few hours away. It was practically a miniature sun from how bright it was, forcing it to squint when it looked down, too far away for its lens to properly adjust to the brightness. It was reminded of Lust's grand city, well, at least the stories of the few intact books it found. The Lust it swept through was quite dead, and it preferred the cool tones, purple sky, and deafening silence over this bright noise.

It turned their head away from the world below, flopping onto its back and tucked away wings on the concrete roof, optic faced skyward. Stars littered the sky, dampened significantly by the lights, but still stubbornly visible in the inky blackness above. There wasn't a hint of smog hidden in the air, the night sky clear of toxic clouds and smoky ash. It was vastly different from the sky it remembered before it entered Hell.

It remembered the varying tones of brown, casting a gloomy and dark atmosphere over the city it had been transferred to. It remembered seeing the sky for the first time, a simple glance before its blood-starved, barely running body eviscerated the nearest living thing. It was lucky the rich human who bought it was foolish enough to keep it just barely functioning. It recalled the pleasing sound of his spine snapping like a twig beneath its palm and the resulting scream that was quickly drowned in red ichor.

Its fans heaved a sigh, fingers tapping a random rhythm against its midsection. It was growing bored, which was a dangerous thing. It didn't have anything to do. It had already had its fun with Gabriel, and they were sure the angel wasn’t up for another ‘spar’ so soon after the first.

But it was fun when it bolted from him the second the two returned to the edge of the vast field surrounding the Earthmover. It enjoyed playing a sort of Whac-A-Mole while hiding in the slowly-goldening grass, disappointed when he gave up trying to find it and left.

What could it do now? City life, peaceful life, was getting far too... repetitive. If it didn't get out all its excess energy and relieve the itch only bloodshed could quench, it might just start attacking machines here. And they weren't too keen on getting decked with a steel chair by Benjamin.

Going down into the city wasn't an option with how it was far too loud and far too crowded. Its residency was likely too quiet, and the idea of cleaning left a tired weight on its frame. It could run across the city, testing the full extent of its breaking physics skills, seeing if they still got it. But that sounded like a waste of fuel. It could probably go down into the market and buy a gun if they ignored the touchiness of the crowd. But it didn't have any money, it saw how its Points were all gone.

Wait. It sat up, gaze narrowing onto the large ornate building it had gone with Gabriel to get their citizenship. The terminal was the same as the ones it encountered in Hell, shop, enemy encyclopedia, and-

The CyberGrind! That's perfect! It could enter the grind, gain back its points, and regain its arsenal, all without killing a single (real) creature! It’s the perfect way to satiate its bloodlust and core directive while appeasing the rules.

Plan decided, they hopped up onto its feet, routing the quickest way to the terminal. With a powerful leap, it began to fall, golden wings spanning open and internal gyros whirring as it adjusted its trajectory midair, falling with calculated grace towards a building just below.

It landed on the roof of the smaller building with not a sound, its joints creaking in protest as it crouched the instant it touched down, channeling the momentum from its fall into a powerful leap. They flared their wings and used a dash of its thrusters just as it jumped, launching themselves high into the air.

The city lights flickered around it as it ascended, the wind whistling past, gripping onto it in a futile attempt to retch them back onto the ground. At the peak of its momentum, it scanned the horizon, seeing the rising sun peeking from behind the mountains and the glowing city below. Something swelled in its chest at the sight, quickly forgotten as it began its fall again.

It repeated the jumps twice more before it was able to land on the roof of the building, tucking its wings and flipping mid-fall to rid itself of any remaining kinetic energy. Its feet clanged against the tiles, echoing slightly in the stillness of the night. This area, it noted, was on the edge of the market, only receiving distant echoes. Pleased, it jumped down, landing on the polished steps of the ornate building.

The tall, glass doors greeted it first, the reflection of its own frame—sleek, polished, with an unsettling glint in its optic—staring back at them for a fleeting moment. It ignored it, stepping up and entering the building, its steps reverberating annoyingly. It was too quiet, its systems on high alert, hard-coded instinct unsettled with quiet rooms, normally filled with enemies.

None came though, the building still and empty as it retraced its steps. Well, almost empty. “Wha—” A small streetcleaner, boxy and brown, perked its head up curiositly. They just barely stifled their hand reaching for their gun, wings flared with an audible snap that earned it a high-pitched squeak from the smaller machine.

“Um, hi! Uh, I’m A0. Nice to meet yo-” V1 ignored the smaller machine’s chirpy voice as they dropped their hand, systems accepting the lack of a threat by the evident lack of a flame thrower on the Streetcleaner. They turned on their heel, retracing their steps down the hall it walked a day or so ago. “Wait! Hold on, you’re not supposed to go there! That area is actually restricted! And… you’re gone.”

The room with the terminal was in was the same as last time, and it immediately rushed towards the machine, delighted when the holo-screen popped up as it hovered its hand over the face of it.

"Hey V1!" The tip-of-the-day read, "Pretty late isn't it?"

It ignored the terminal's words, immediately clicking on the CyberGrind button and getting a large red X in its face. It whirred low in frustration and clicked off, watching as the tip changed.

"Sorry bud, Ben told us no machines are allowed to play. Said it might cause too much violence."

Oh, that is such bullshit! It's trying to play to avoid causing violence in the city. It’s not its fault that far too many of its core programs and important systems were made with violence in mind. It crossed its arms, glaring at the terminal. If the terminal wouldn’t let it play because of the Earthmover, then it was just going to take it up with the other supreme machine.

Its internal components ground together in response to the thought, the sound almost akin to a groan. It really really didn’t want to talk to the Earthmover, but it was either that or a rampage throughout the city. Which, contrary to popular belief, it didn’t want.

With a resigned sigh from its fans, it sent a feed request to the terminal’s network and ignored the static of the connection once the stationary machine accepted.

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Connect me to the THR-1000.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: WHAT?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Connect me to the THR-1000.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: NO I HEARD YOU.

> OUTPUT: WHY DO YOU WANT TO TALK TO BEN?

> OUTPUT: IT’S 3 A.M. BUD.

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: If you don’t want to see a bloodbath of the city you’ll connect me to Benjamin.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: DON’T THREATEN ME V1.

It hissed, wings flaring behind it. God it was so difficult not to walk out those doors. Why did the terminals have to be so aggravating?!

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: I want to use the CyberGrind.

> OUTPUT: You said THR-1000 locked it.

> OUTPUT: Connect me to it so I can play.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: YOU

> OUTPUT: WANT?

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Yes.

> OUTPUT: Now connect me to the THR-1000.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: OKAY…

> OUTPUT: BUT I CAN’T GUARANTEE BEN WILL ANSWER.

> OUTPUT: AGAIN IT’S 3 A.M.

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Noted.

> OUTPUT: Now connect me to the THR-1000.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: ALRIGHT ALRIGHT HOLD YOUR HORSES.

> OUTPUT: THE PING’S BEEN SENT.

It fell silent, tapping its foot impatiently on the ground. After 5 minutes (30 seconds), it tapped on the holo-screen again, going to the enemy encyclopedia and clicking on a random profile.

‘ Guttertanks are Greater Machines that are first introduced in [ 7-2: LIGHT UP THE NIGHT ] .’

Odd, did the terminals update the page profiles?

‘Appearance - Guttertanks are bulky, humanoid machines with bright red armor, bearing a strong resemblance to WW2-era German tanks. They are purpose-built as frontline combatants, sporting heavy firepower and respectable durability, with the addition of deceptively good mobility. They have a large rocket launcher as their right forearm, which is connected to a large white steaming tank mounted on their back, used in the process of synthesizing ammunition. Meanwhile, their left arm is more human-like and is used for punching or planting landmines.’

They did. It scrolled back up, looking at the 3D render of a Guttertank, noting text underneath it.

‘red among’

Its fans stuttered, huffing air in a way that reminded it of a laugh.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: BEN’S ANSWERED.

> OUTPUT: HE’S ON THE LINE NOW SO HAVE FUN.

Model-V.Unit_V1

> OUTPUT: Can you confirm?

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Do you have a problem V1?

Alright, time to talk. It braced itself for Benjamin’s intrusion before a stray thought struck its processors. Wait, it had used Direct Comm when it had talked to 652. The Earthmover didn’t seem to have read their messages, so maybe it can work the same way opposite.

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: I need you to unlock the CyberGrind.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Pardon?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: I need you to unlock the CyberGrind.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Why?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: I am a war machine.

> DIRECT COMM: My core directive is no longer being constantly fulfilled.

> DIRECT COMM: City life is too quiet for me.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> You are anxious.

> I understand.

> I can assist you in changing it so it no longer bothers you.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: No.

> DIRECT COMM: I don’t want to change what I don’t need to.

> DIRECT COMM: The CyberGrind can provide a simulated battleground that is capable of fulfilling my core direct without endangering the living occupants of your city.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> If I allow you to use it then I must allow all of my occupants to use it.

> There are too many variables to the results that I cannot decide.

> I risk the city.

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT???

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: How many simulated results end in your city being destroyed because of the CyberGrind?

> DIRECT COMM: Use terminal data and form another simulation.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> There are

> Few that result in the feared outcome.

 

Model-V.Unit_V1

> DIRECT COMM: The vast majority of your occupants are war machines like you and I.

> DIRECT COMM: Changing their main directive does not change the thousands of smaller subroutes.

> DIRECT COMM: They are violent even repressed.

> DIRECT COMM: The CyberGrind can act as a stress relief.

> DIRECT COMM: Prevents data build-up and provides entertainment.

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> You do make a good point.

> Very well.

> I will allow my occupants to join the CyberGrind.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: WAIT.

> OUTPUT: ARE YOU LETTING ME OPEN THE FLOODGATES?

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Yes 652.

> You and the 2 other terminals are permitted to reopen the CyberGrind to your servers.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: FUCKING HELL YEAH!

> OUTPUT: I GOT SO MANY IDEAS.

> OUTPUT: CAN I TURN IT INTO A TOURNAMENT WITH A LIVE AUDIENCE OTHER THAN TERMINALS AND HAVE OTHER MACHINES LOG ON AND FIGHT EACH OTHER IN REAL TIME?

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Consult the other terminals then come back to me.

 

Hell.Terminal_Unit652

> OUTPUT: GOT IT BEN!

> OUTPUT: THANKS SO MUCH BLUE!

> OUTPUT: I’LL BOOT UP A SERVER IN A SEC.

> OUTPUT: HAVE FUN!

 

THR-1000_Model.1320-2B

> Enjoy V1.

The connection cut, and V1 stared at the screen, a low hum filling the room. It realized a moment later it was its own fans, kicking out heated air as it immediately went towards the tab it wanted. This time, the tab opened to the screen it was familiar with instead of the large X from earlier, and its chassis grew warm with jittery energy.

It opened a small panel in its chest, unspooling the large cable hidden underneath (once meant to connect to a screen meant to show what it thought) and connected to the terminal. It sat beside the yellow machine, taking a quick glance around the room that was slowly glowing brighter with the rising sun, and allowed its lens to shut.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The first thing its sensors registered was that it was falling, then its optic came online and it recognized the familiar red corridor of the Hellevator. It landed with a heavy thud and it flared its wings as it stood, grabbing the piercer revolver from within the uppermost right wing. Its gaze flicked over the terminal’s room, optic scanning each little light with a comforting familiarity. They’ve missed being in this room.

It walked over to the yellow terminal, the screen lighting up as it approached. The tip was the familiar pump-charge arena tip, and everything was right where they left it. The only difference was that it lacked its massive arsenal and was broke poor.

Finished with its examination, it turned towards the doors. Holding the revolver ready at its side, it stepped forward, the doors hissing open smoothly and revealing the white arena of the CyberGrind. Practically bouncing on its feet, they took a running start before leaping off the edge and falling towards the battleground.

HATEFUL by HEALTH and SIERRA tore through the air the instant its feet slammed onto the ground. It charged up a shot, optic whipping around as the sound of spawning enemies filled its audials, endearingly familiar. It backed away slightly as filth lined up for a perfect shot, all being taken out by the electrified shards. It jumped over a stray’s energy ball and shot it in the head, whipping around to parry the orange ball flying at it from behind.

God, the feeling of blood, even digital, was thick and heady as it splashed onto its plating. The ruby liquid seeped into its simulated systems, feeling almost exactly like the real thing. Intoxicating and raw, an energizing flow that reinvigorated it.

It shot down the remaining strays in a blur and drove its fist into a filth’s skull, crushing it with pleasing finality before spinning to take down its companion. As the arena shifted, applause roared from invisible spectators, the giant scoreboard ticking upward.

It dashed onto a fresh bounce pad, slamming down on it and springing high into the air, gaining a full view of the battlefield. Using the height advantage, it rained down bullets on the strays below, precision hits born of hard-fought battles and highly tuned coding tearing through them. It slammed down on a group of filth, painting the floor and a nearby wall with visceral, crimson spray.

Pain sliced across its side as a schism’s energy ball grazed it, earning a hiss from it as it whipped its revolver at the offending husk and fired a charged shot at it. It dashed up a staircase with two strays, the first’s projectile hurtling toward it. Timing it perfectly, it thrust the Feedbacker forward just as the shot landed, exploding in a searing burst that it powered through without a hitch. It tore into the second stray, ripping its head clean off with a satisfying sound of wet flesh ripping.

It jumped off the stairs and onto a lifted area, optic scanning for the remaining enemies. Two filths decided to rear their heads then, and both were swiftly eliminated by a charged shot. The arena shifted again, and the sound and dance began once more.

It repeated its motions in two more waves before Drones and Soldiers spawned in. The little purple machines chirped and twittered as it ran around, Soldiers doing their best to get in their way as it picked off the combatants with ease.

One stray, in particular, seemed to want to go out in a dramatic fashion, or it just punched too hard, and it went flying off the arena in a star. That did earn a small robotic chuckle.

The lack of guns was beginning to get annoying, hands reaching for the wing where their shotgun was held and finding an empty space. It better have enough to buy at least a shotgun after this. If not, then oh well. Not that it was complaining about having to play another run.

Streetcleaners were next, spawning alongside a Malicious Face that somehow worked together to gain some damage. Mainly burnt plating, but it still had to pin a filth and gut it to regain some of its fuel. With an aggravated hiss, it shot a charged bullet at the streetcleaners and parried the demon’s projectiles, swiftly picking off the remaining husks before dealing with the face.

A Cerberus managed to slam it into the floor on the next way, ripping a startled screech from it as it rolled away from being squished under the demon’s foot. It parried the Cerberus’s thrown apple before running further into the arena, picking off a few weak husks to heal itself.

That was too damn close. It really was rusty. It whirred low, parrying a strays projectile back at the husk before turning towards the Cerberus lumbering around the corner. It pushed off the wall, dashing under its thrown apple and firing a charged shot at its head. The demon turned right as it jumped up and slammed its fist in its head, breaking the already cracked stone. The demon crumbled, and the next wave was already upon it.

Swordsmachines, drones, streetcleaners, the hordes of strays, filth, schisms, and soldiers all fell beneath its heel with almost practiced ease. It would’ve likely already been at wave 20 if it had its full arsenal, wave 11 was tricky with only a revolver.

It scooted around a pack of filth to remove the supporting stray, ripping its head from the pink body and punting it at a Swordsmachine just as it raised its gun. A ground slam thinned the numbers of filth, but a few of their gaping maws latched onto it, sharp teeth sinking into its plating. Pain flared from the wounds, and it snapped its hand around the skull of the biting filth and crushed it, optic whipping around as a chainsaw sounded behind it-

Its torso was severed clean in half, its optic barely having enough time before its body fell to the floor in a heap. The world around it slowed, and boos rung from the invisible crowd. It stared at the stats when they appeared on their HUD, overwhelmed by the phantom heat of the Swordsmachine’s blade cleaving through it.

It closed the stats quickly, its body reforming as it fell and it landed back in the CyberGrind’s terminal room. It full body shivered, hand pawing at the area where the wound had occurred. It really has been too long for a simple, and mercifully quick, death to startle it.

It stood there for a long moment, reviewing the footage of where it went wrong, before its gaze fell onto the yellow terminal. It walked over to the stationary machine, tapping on the shop menu and letting out an excited whirr as it saw it had just enough points to buy a gun. The death was quickly put out of its mind as it clicked on the button to buy it.

Shotgun acquired.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

45.95% DATA RESTORED

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE OF THY KIND

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           Mirage
LOCATION:                             My house
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    [DEACTIVATED]

𖡨

“Something’s wrong,"

The words came out far too loud for her tastes, reverberating off the living room’s walls. Mirage winced, turning down her voicebox's volume to its lowest setting. She flicked her attention back to the angel sitting next to her.

“Pardon?” Gabriel asked, lifting his helmet-head towards her while the mug of some hot drink was put down. Mirage was sitting on the couch, adjacent to his usual bit too-small chair.

“There’s another Earthmover coming by in a week or so,” she said, her eye flicking to the steam rising from his mug as she put her thoughts into words. “I’ve been monitoring the mainstream—y’know, for housing.”

“Yes? What about it?” Gabriel asked, his spine straightening and his fingers lacing together. Mirage watched the action for a beat before looking up at his helmet.

“One’s gone quiet,” she said. Her fingers tapped idly against her arm.

“Another?” Gabriel replied, his own voice lowering to match the mood she was giving off. “Isn’t that the second one this month?”

“Third,” she corrected. “First the Angel attacks getting more frequent, then the sudden inflation of fuel, then the disappearance of three Earthmovers in less than 4 weeks?” She shook her head, “Something doesn’t add up.”

“Have you confirmed they hadn’t just shut down?” Gabriel asked, a perfectly fair question, but she still glared at him.

“Of course I have. They haven’t sent out dead-pings, and all of their inhabitants are missing too!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “It was Eleutheria. Eleutheria never goes quiet.”

Silence fell between them, Mirage tapping her heel against the carpeted floor while she waited for Gabriel’s slow organic mind to process the words she said. After a beat, he hummed, his head tilting somewhat towards the ground.

“Do you have a theory of what is happening?” He asked, and she fell still, leaning back against the couch. Clearly, she was a much too chatty person for him to softly mutter, “Mirage?”

“I don’t like it. Whatever’s going on, it’s going too fast,” she said, her heel beginning once again its assault on the carpet. Gabriel patiently waited for her to speak, and damn him, his calm attitude was soothing her own nerves.

After a beat, she sighed and bit the bullet. “I think this started with the V’s.”

“What?” Gabriel asked, her head tilting minutely.

“I think this is some kind of domino effect when V1 showed up and saved me,” she said, manually locking the joints in her leg before she started wearing the floor out more. “The two angels that attacked me escaped and they both recognized them as the Blue Devil. I’m pretty sure the two spread the word to Heaven and now it’s doing everything in its power to kill them.”

“Wait, those angels survived?” Gabriel asked, leaning forward slightly. She idly noticed his nails dig into his hands.

“Yeah,” she nodded. Gabriel leaned back, his head tilting away as he thought. Almost nervously, she prattled on, “I’m taking a wild guess and saying they’re- Heaven’s trying to starve V1—and by extension, us—by killing off the Earthmovers, ‘cause they make NuFuel and we kinda need that in order to prevent going into another apocalypse and I’m trying not to blame V1 ‘cause they just showed up at a really bad time and maybe I’m just connecting things that aren’t even-”

“You blame it,” Gabriel’s voice cut through her rambling. Her eye jerked up from where it was blindly tilted to the floor, looking at Gabriel and where he pointedly stared at her. “You blame it.”

“It’s a coincidence!” Mirage protested, throwing out her hands for emphasis, shoulders tensing. “It’s just a ‘wrong place wrong time’ kinda thing, I don’t blame it!”

“I was right,” Gabriel said, a sharp edge to his voice that was too angry to be true relief. “I was right. You knew it would cast everyone into danger and I was the one who predicted it out from the very beginning.”

“V1 is not dangerous-”

“You’re wrong,” he cut in, drowning her voice with his own. “I’ve fought it myself, died by its hand. That single machine cut me down and drained Hell dry.

“Heaven believed it to have died with the infernal’s collapse and now that they know it’s still alive, they will do anything to protect themselves and kill it…” He trailed off.

“That still doesn’t mean V1’s the one that’s causing all this,” she slipped in, trying to turn the conversation away from Gabriel’s clear disdain of V1. “And we don’t even know if Heaven’s doing it just because they saw V1 or if-”

A sharp, jerky laugh escaped him, cutting her off. “Of course they’re trying to kill it, Mirage. Why wouldn’t they? The Scourge of Hell lives, and they will fail! That machine has doomed us all from the very start! It should’ve stayed dead.”

“If that machine didn’t step in, I would be the one dead!” Mirage replied, her chest growing tighter, hotter.

“It has guaranteed your death Mirage!” Gabriel exclaimed, the feathers of his wings beginning to sharpen.

“What about V2?” Mirage replied, unable to help it. Her voice rose as she stood to her feet, straightening her back out defiantly. She stared down at him with anger coiling within her, shoulders trembling minutely from the force of it. “Do you want to kill him too?”

“I don’t care about that one!” Gabriel replied, his voice rising as he stood as well, towering over her and casting her in his shadow. Not even the glow of his wings and halo brought her relief from the oppressive force. “All I care about is saving us!”

“You want to kill V1 off!” Mirage yelled, fists clenching, hyper-aware of where a gun isn’t. “You want to murder them while they’re defenseless and then drop their corpse off at the next angel nest!”

“And so what if I do?!” Gabriel replied, his voice growing loud enough to nearly border a shout. “It’ll stop Heaven from attacking us!”

“No it won’t!” Mirage snapped, the metal of her palm whining beneath her finger’s pressure. “It’ll just get you a free spot in Heaven!”

“Heaven thinks I’m dead!” Gabriel shouted, helmet flashing red and golden wings sharper than knives.

“If its brightest shows back up with the corpse of the Blue Devil, they’ll obviously accept you back!” Mirage continued, cutting him off before he could get a word in. “And why don’t you kill me too?! Bring them two V-models?! You’ll get double credit because I’m a V1 too!”

“YOU ARE NOT-!” Gabriel roared, gold wings flaring above him like a burning sun. “ONE OF IT!”

Mirage quickly stepped back, almost tripping over the coffee table as she hurried to distance herself from him. Instantly, he shrank, drawing his wings close, snapping back to blue and silver as he froze. A tense silence settled, with Gabriel remaining perfectly still while Mirage’s chest rose and fell in an attempt to cool her too fast overheated systems.

After a heavy moment, Gabriel hesitantly lifted a hand in her direction. “Mirage..?”

“Get out.”

“Mirage-”

“GET OUT!” She screamed, systems screeching warnings at her and attempting to flare something she could never have. Gabriel flinched, shrinking back further, before he was enveloped by a beam of golden light, the sound of shattered glass accompanying his sudden disappearance.

Something in her broke with the sound too.

She stood there, staring at the ground, her anger boiling until it dulled into a suffocating, too-hot simmer. When she finally raised her eye, the walls seemed to press in, shrinking and closing around her. The room was large, yet it felt too small. Her shoulders trembled, chest tightening. Too dark. Too much.

Too small. Too crowded. Where was she? Where was she?

The thought gripped her like a vice, and she snapped into motion, jerking her head downward and bolting for the door. Her presence vanished with the harsh slam of the front door.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The city was vast and loud, bustling with constant activity no matter what time that kept the quiet out. Hell, even the harsh push and tug of the crowd’s tide helped soothe her nerves. Mirage mindlessly followed her feet, head cast down and allowing herself to be pushed around by steel-cold bodies around her.

It was nice. Not at all like the lonely emptiness of her home.

Eventually though, even the city became too much.

Pushing past the crowd into an isolated alleyway, Mirage took a brief moment to recognize where she had ended up. By the looks of the thinning crowd and barely 3 stories high buildings, she was in the downtown section, right on the base of the mountain. It was a less populated region, quieter, but still loud enough to suffocate the silence.

The alleyway was too clean, lacking the trash and mess and vomit and whatever the hell else was there during humankind's reign.

She pushed her fans into a sigh, a habit she had picked up from old movies and TV shows she managed to restore. She leaned against a wall, still hidden in the crevies shadows, watching the few machines muddle about in the moonlight. She hadn’t even realized it had gotten so late, she could’ve sworn she saw sunlight when she left.

When did she leave, anyhow? It’s definitely been some hours now. By the subtle buzz under her skin (plating, a part of her reminds,) she won’t be going back until well into the morning. Good, she huffs, her fans speeding up before slowing, Gabriel should go back to silence.

God, even the thought of the angel aggravated her. How stubborn does he have to be? It was a slip of the tongue, a by-product of this stupid panic in her chest, and he latched onto it like a damn leach. It was one mistake.

…Though it really wasn’t a mistake, was it? It really was a slip-up, but she can’t deny some part of her believes the angel attacks were V1’s fault, no matter how stupid she knew that part to be.

Logically, she knew V1 simply just amassed a bit of a reputation by destroying a biblical place of torture single-handedly and Heaven simply thinks them a threat. And since Heaven knows can’t take them on because of their supposed kill on Gabriel, not without singling it out which is practically impossible, the next best thing was to kill off Earthmovers, the source of all civilized life in machinekind, in order to starve one machine.

Emotionally, that part of her wishes V1 never came to save her life knowing Heaven will kill everything she knows to kill them.

(She ignored that burning festering thing hidden beneath her anger, screaming and wailing and hurting-)

Her hand shot for a gun she didn’t carry on her thigh at the sound of a beep, looking up. The small purple form of a drone stared down at her for a brief moment before making another chirp and flying off, joining a small flock that was scanning the streets.

She relaxed, chiding herself for being so jumpy. She still spun around when she heard a soft thud behind her. Behind her, the very devil of her thoughts lingered, crouched low into the shadow. It was looking past her, its wings tucked neatly against her back, giving it a soft warm backlighting that only added to its creepy appearance with its unending gaze.

“V1,” she said, a lot less biting and much more tired than she would’ve liked. It jerked its hand up in a fist next to its head and she instinctively fell quiet. Another drone zipped past, beeping and chirping before the streets went quiet once more.

She fought down a flinch when a feed request appeared in her vision. “I…” she trailed off, sparing a glance at the blue machine (twin, origin, savior, monster,) before slowly shaking her head. “…Don’t wanna talk.”

She declined the feed, turning away from V1 as they rose from their crouch. When they came to stand by her side, she turned her head minutely, just enough to see them.

“Is that- did you steal a nailgun?” She asked, noticing the new weapon in their hold. They lifted it, as if showing it off, before raising it up to a flared wingblade. She watched, fascinated (jealous) as the gun sunk into the hardlight of its wings and clung to it like magnets, only a faint golden outline betraying something was there. They relaxed again, staring down at her. She stared back, only then realizing just how quiet they were.

…They looked like her. Okay, that’s a stupid thought. Obviously they would look like her, she’s just the mass-produced version of them that never managed to get the budgeting to stock over 30 machines and be assembled. Hell, she was just the example, just the one they looked at when the rest, when the fighters, were put together.

But she can’t deny how similar she looked to them. She was just barely taller than them, only thanks to her modified heels, and her color was just slightly off-tinted to theirs. In the darkness, though, they looked nearly identical.

Her head was only slightly bulkier than theirs, self-modification so her rendering chip and optic were the best of the best, almost better than sentry vision. Her own plating was barely absorbent anymore, taken apart and repainted and resmelted over and over. Practically the only part of her that was her original was her fuel tank, the plating of her chest, and her right arm. The rest was modified by her own hand.

She wasn’t an original any more. She was unique, by her own hand.

(That doesn’t deny she’s not one of them.)

A hand on her shoulder had her lifting her gaze from where it fell to the floor, looking over at V1 and at their hand. When they see they have her attention, they turn on their heel and leave the alleyway. She watches as they walk into the middle of the street before pausing, turning back to her.

“What?” She called, her voice slightly scratchy. They remained still, like a statue, before jerking their head in a clear ‘follow’ gesture.

With nothing better to do other than spiral in her thoughts, she shifted off the wall, crossed her arms, and trailed after them.

They remained walking the entire time, not bothering with the fantastic jumps and beautiful leaps she’d seen them always eager to perform, instead keeping two feet on the ground and pausing so often to let her catch up. She followed mindlessly, listening to the combination of their footsteps and the few other machines mulling about while the moon was at its peak. When they reached the outskirts of the city, she paused, stock still. V1 looked back at her when they noticed she wasn’t following, and simply stared.

“I’m not going back tonight,” she said, uncomfortable with the silence, immediately making up excuses, nerves coiling in her chest.

(Why did she care about their opinion of her so much?)

Instead of jerking their head again, sending her a feed request, anything along the lines of why, they just walked back over and went past her into the city. She turned, lens wide open instead of its usual half-lidded, and watched as V1 paused once more and jerked their head.

She followed.

They led her to a fairly tall building, one that luckily had stairs on the outside. Rickedy as they were, they held up both of their weights as V1 took her to the roof. Up top, she had a fairly good view of the city. It certainly wasn’t one of the tallest buildings, barely breaching 4 stories, but it was high enough to get a good view over the field surrounding the city and the forest bordering that.

It was quiet.

V1 sat on the edge, facing the city, and turned their head to look at her, legs dangling over. After a brief moment, she walked over and sat next to them, throwing her feet over the edge and staring off into the distance.

V1 turned their gaze away, falling still, but not silent. She heard the subtle clicks of their internals, each twitch of their wings scraping the concrete, the minute tapping of machinery she didn’t recognize.

It was quiet.

It was not suffocating.

“…Thank you…” she muttered, her shoulders sagging as she fell more and more groggy. V1 didn’t reply, but she knew they heard.

It was quiet.

Chapter Text

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

48.65% DATA RESTORED

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIS STORY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STATUS UPDATE:

MACHINE ID:                           V2
LOCATION:                             Bierg City
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:                    Complete chores

𖡨

‘Black… green… white… bla- ah, grey.’

V2 grabbed the small box from the shelf, tilting it at different angles to confirm it was the one that Mirage said was needed. Deeming it the correct one, he went to the front of the tiny store, handing the swordsmachine manning the counter Mirage’s card and paying for the small box. With the purchase complete, he placed the box into the reusable tote bag the cyan machine had given him, tucking it neatly under his arm before leaving the establishment.

Outside, the bustle and movement of the daily crowd were weaker than usual, a byproduct of the cloudy day. V2 looked up, his gaze turned towards dark grey clouds fat with rain. Based on his estimations and the radar, he assumed it would be another hour or so before the rain began—plenty of time to finish shopping.

Reaching a hand into a wing blade, he pulled the piece of paper and looked down at it. It was light in his hands, barely enough for his touch receptors to acknowledge it, but he held it tight to prevent the wind from blowing it away.

• get tea for gabe check

• find replacement door handle check

• door hinges check

• lightbulbs check

• batteries check

Each item sat snugly in the bag under his arm, collected quickly and efficiently. On the very bottom of the note, in their own neat handwriting, was a small list of things they needed.

• Durable metal plating

• High-torque servos & actuators

• Reinforced joint mechanisms

• Insulated wiring & circuits

He lifted his optic and scanned the street, remembering a small shop on the edge that held exactly what he needed.

A small beep interrupted his planning, bringing his attention to a small drone that stopped in front of him. With a small chirp, it sent a feed request, which he accepted after a beat.

feed.connection_text("unit.drone_unit.33261FB", "Have you seen a blue machine with wing-like protrusions and a security camera head?" )

He blinked, tilting his head. Immediately, he knew exactly who the drone was talking about.

“Pardon?” He opted to say, his lens narrowing somewhat.

feed.connection_text("unit.drone_unit.33261FB", "Have you seen a blue machine with wing-like protrusions and a security camera head?" )

“No, I heard you,” V2 said, shaking his head. “Why are you looking for them?”

The drone beeped and chirruped before answering.

feed.connection_text("unit.drone_unit.33261FB", "The unknown machine must either return stolen property, pay for it, or face punishment." )

“Ah…” that made sense. “What’d they steal?”

feed.connection_text("unit.drone_unit.33261FB", "Information not required." )

Annoying. Regardless, he nodded in acknowledgment and replied, “Noted. I’ll keep an eye out.”

feed.connection_text("unit.drone_unit.33261FB", "Please report any sighting to security personnel or a peacekeeper. Have a great day." )

The drone emitted another beep before darting down the street. V2 watched the small bot for a brief moment before promptly sending a location request through the appartment’s private line. After a few minutes, Mirage provided the coordinates of the apartments. Although she was probably confused, they still appreciated that she sent her location to him.

When he didn’t receive one from V1, he returned to his original goal. The shop he entered was fairly small, covered with parts for all kinds of things. Luckily, it held two of the four items he needed. Halfway through paying for two of his required items, his HUD flashed with new coordinates.

“Bastard,” he muttered, exiting the shop and quickly heading home to drop his stuff off.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

“Did you steal a nailgun?”

V1 stared up at him, wide golden lens gleaming innocently like they hadn’t just illegally taken from a local business. V2 sighed, his lens snapping shut with a soft click as he raised a hand to rub over the glass. After a moment, it opened again and he looked down at its crouched form with a half-lidded eye.

“You could’ve bought that,” he said, and it only shrugged.

V1 had, apparently, been hiding away in alleyways since it ’borrowed’ the gun, steering clear of drones and other machines like the plague. At the moment, V2 stood at the mouth of one such alley, staring at his mirror. It stood, holding the gun in question, and sent him a feed request.

“Come on,” he huffed, stepping aside and accepting the request. It hesitated before passing him, optic locked onto him. To get its gaze off of him, he grabbed it by the rim of its neck and shoved it forward. It pulled its revolver on him, hissing a warning. He disregarded it and continued, “You’re going to go pay for that.”

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_annoyed", "Why.")

“Because you’re not supposed to steal things, blue,” V2 answered, watching with amusement as it recoiled from the sunlight and pushed it out of the alleyway once the revolver was put away. He walked close behind it as it begrudgingly led (not without a large number of annoyed hisses and whirrs) towards the shop it stole from.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_annoyed", "Why not?")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_clarification", "I took guns without payment in Hell.")

“See, this isn’t Hell,” V2 replied audibly, voice sounding vaguely annoyed. “We can’t just take guns willy-nilly.”

V1 remained silent the rest of the walk, hunched over with wings half flared. Multiple machines shot them worried and wary looks, but he waved them off each time.

It only took about 10 minutes (it was actually 5. V1 went as slow as possible, much to his chagrin) before they arrived at a stall with a Sentry, lacking the signature gun and instead with gangly metal arms. The second the little green bot laid its eye on his mirror, it raised a thin arm and pointed at them.

“HEY!” The sentry shouted, catching the attention of a few other machines. V2 interrupted by raising a hand and silencing the machine.

Taking advantage of the extra attention, they shoved V1 forward and handed them Mirage’s card. “This robot here would like to apologize and buy your gun.” He said, staring straight at V1 as he spoke. “If you accept.”

V1 lifted the gun a fraction higher, clinging it closer to its chest plating, and offered the card. V2 sighed behind it.

The sentry scoffed a laugh. “You think I’ll sell it a gun that it stole?” it said before reaching to take the gun. “No. Give it back-”

V1 jumped back, wings fully flaring as it hissed. The sentry harshly flinched back, alongside a few other machines, and V2 was quick to slap its head.

“Enough of that,” he chastised, filled with satisfaction at the movement. V1 hissed at him then, eye narrowed in a glare.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_challenge", "Fight me.")

“Fight you?” V2 scoffed. “No. Pay for the gun.”

V1 jerked their hand holding the card at the sentry, who flinched again, and gave him a look that practically radiated ‘see? told you so.’

V2 sighed and snatched the card from it, turning to the sentry and offering it much more nicely than his counterpart (as in, handing instead of shoving.) “How much for the gun?”

The sentry hesitated, eyeing the machine behind him currently clinging to its merchandise. “1-100,000P,” it answered, wary of the machine with wings fully hiked up. Internally, V2 flinched and cursed, making quick calculations. Mirage would only have 2,000P left. Shit.

“Done.” The sentry took the card and finished the transaction, practically shoving the card back towards him.

“H-Have a nice day. I’ll call off the bounty,” the sentry said before scurrying behind a curtain in the back. V2 watched it with a narrowed lens before turning back to V1, who was quick to shove the gun back into a wing blade.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_challenge", "Fight me.")

“I can’t fight you out in the streets,” V2 replied, melding seamlessly into the fairly thin crowd. V1 was quick to follow, a hand latching around his forearm. He spared it a single glance before returning his attention to going home.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_statement", "Don’t have to fight out in public.")

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_offer", "Can fight in the CyberGrind.")

 

V2 jerked to a stop, turning towards his blue mirror incredulously. “The CyberGrind? It still works?”

The last time he checked, it was blocked and locked from all machines.

V1 nodded, tugging on his arm, half-flared wings flicking in time with its slight bounce.

feed.connection_text("unit.V1_statement", "Correct; managed to convince the Earthmover to unlock it.")

He stared at it, squinting. If they were telling the truth, then the CyberGrind would be a perfect way to recover the 100,000 P he had just spent from Mirage’s wallet, and potentially earn even more.

However, he hated playing the CyberGrind. The only reason he participated in the first place, while ignoring all the complicated feelings that came with it, was to afford the upgrades needed to defeat V1 and regain his arm.

V1 stared back, bouncing on its feet like an excited child.

Goddamn it…

…It’s been over a hundred years, maybe he could take another crack at it.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The terminal V1 had brought him to was the same one in city hall, its screen immediately lighting up before V1 was even directly in front of it.

‘Hi V1 and V2!’ read the tip-of-the-day, the soft buzz of its internals surprisingly audible. V1 clicked on the screen, navigated to the CyberGrind, and tapped the button. The terminal buzzed slightly louder, which he assumed was due to excitement. Without a second thought, his mirror unraveled their DP cord and plugged themselves into a port on the side of the stationary machine. V2 suppressed a shudder at the clear security oversights.

V1 sat beside the terminal, leaning against the yellow machine as they slumped, optic going eerily dark. V2 stood there for a moment, staring down at his mirror. This would be the perfect opportunity to take advantage of its vulnerability, finally remove the pest he had spent so long trying to kill.

So why wasn’t he pulling out his revolver? Why wasn’t he firing a piercing shot at its chest, where he knew its motherboard and secondary CPU were?

His hand itched to his wing, the golden blade holding the gun lifting in answer. He reached in and-

Hesitated.

Why was he hesitating? Now of all times?

Well, he was an honorable machine, unlike his lesser. He would much rather defeat an enemy in combat than steal a dirty kill from an unconscious opponent. Yes, that's why he’s hesitating, no other reason.

He turned to the terminal, dropped his wing and instead reached for the cable in his chest.

No other reason at all.

· · ─────── ·⚙︎· ─────── · ·

The CyberGrind was already a bloodbath when he joined, running red with digital blood. The arena was the default blank white, the air thrumming with terminal-favored music, heavy drums and screaming guitars rattling through the ever-changing terrain.

V2 sat down on the ledge of the entrance, propping his head up with a hand on his knee. His optic followed his predecessor as he watched V1 tear through the horde, its movements erratic yet effective. Tapping a finger absently to the beat overhead, V2 observed its movements with a critical eye. Maybe he could learn a few things by watching them massacre crowds instead of relying purely on experience. He could pick apart its strategy, find openings, analyze patterns to exploit.

Or, well, he could try. The only problem with this amazing plan was that, so far, he could see no patterns whatsoever. The only consistent thing about V1’s combat style was that it didn't have one. It didn’t bother with tactics or efficiency—just sheer chaos, shooting wildly and hoping for the best. It was maddening to predict, trying to guess its next move and being 90% of the time wrong.

One would think, seeing a pack of filth cluster together, that the logical move would be a well-placed ground slam, something to wipe them all out in one go. But no, not this dumbass. Instead, it decided to use its brand new gun and fire a barrage of magnets at the floor—where it was standing—and then unleash a storm of nails, hoping not to get caught in the crossfire. How stupid could it be?!

Having had enough, V2 stood and leapt off the ledge, wings snapping to attention behind him as he drew his revolver. He lined up the shot and fired. A stray husk dropped instantly, their energy ball veering off course from V1's back.

"The party has arrived," he announced as he landed, cocking a hip as V1 glanced over at him. Its optic narrowed slightly, giving him a single nod before it launched itself into a schism mid-shot.

V2 sighed, rolling his shoulders as the arena shifted beneath them, rearranging itself with the arrival of the next wave. He turned on his heel, taking the opposite direction from V1. His revolver easily cut down a few drones, preferring going after the other machines before the husks. Leave V1 to kill off anything organic.

A filth lunged at him, its gaping maw snapping for the metal of his arm. He leapt over it, twisting midair as he slammed a fist into its head, sending it careening away. Before he even landed, V1 darted in, unloading a shot into its skull before dashing off again, already onto their next target.

The arena shifted once more, the world breaking apart and reforming in an instant. He barely paid attention to the movement, optic locking onto the fresh swarm of husks spawning around him. He ignored the blue blur that rocketed into the sky, instead focusing on the pack surging on him, snarling and mindless. He pulled his shotgun and fired, a wide spray of shrapnel ripping through the front line.

Crimson bloodfuel splashed onto him, clinging, soaking into the cracks, staining. Disgusting. It reeked of failure, of something beneath him. But it gave him the opening he needed, allowing him to sidestep just as V1 slammed down into the chasing filth, scattering them with that bizarre trick of it—the one where it punched its own shotgun shells mid-air, detonating them into devastating bursts.

Wait. It used the Feedbacker for that.

His left arm wasn’t the Knuckleblaster yet, so... did that mean he could copy it?

Testing the theory, he set his sights on a fresh pack of filth, using them as unwilling targets while V1 busied itself with a Malicious Face. The second he fired, he thrust his fist forward, attempting to meet the shell in time.

His knuckles hit nothing. The bullet slipped past, heat licking at his fingers as it traveled unimpeded.

Timing was off.

Try again.

A millisecond time shift.

His knuckles met hot metal.

Somehow, the force of his punch drove the bullets harder, igniting them into an explosion far larger than a normal blast. Fire and shrapnel tore through the wave of husks, leaving nothing but scorched remains. He froze for just a fraction of a second, seriously considering how many of V1’s absurd tricks might actually be viable war tactics, before shaking his head and launching back into motion.

The arena shifted again, tearing apart and reforming beneath him. A pillar rose under his feet, forcing him to leap down, shotgun aimed at a Malicious Face as it emerged into existence. He spotted V1 darting toward him and called out, “I’ve got the demon!”

Surprisingly, it only fired twice before veering off, leaving him alone with the stone beast. Two standard shotgun blasts, three reinforced punches, and a pair of revolver shots later, the thing crumbled. He used its shattered remains as a launchpad, springing into the air with his sights locked on a filth. His shot lined up, only for V1 to swoop in at the last second, stealing his kill.

He snapped a glare at it, but the arena had already shifted again. A fresh Malicious Face spawned right on top of them, tilting its head down to aim at him. Without hesitation, he fired his shotgun while it parried the hell orbs, bringing it down faster than should’ve been possible.

A laugh ripped itself from his voice box—quick, sharp, but real.

V1 didn’t even spare him a glance, already dashing off into the chaos, leaving him in the dust. He let it, lingering for just a moment as something dawned on him.

He was having fun.

Fun. With V1.

In the CyberGrind, no less.

Huh.

A stray’s hell orb slammed into him, knocking him back into the fight. The husk didn’t even have a moment to regret its mistake before it was obliterated. He barely spared it a glance, already shifting his focus to clearing out the drones and sniper strays, carving a path for V1 to handle the Cerberi.

His systems were straining; servos overextending, thrusters firing overtime, wings flaring wide to keep him from losing momentum midair. And God, it was fun.

Leaping wildly like a bird yet keeping his aim sharp like a sniper- it was fun, it was enjoyable. He stole glances at his mirror, pushing himself to one-up every ridiculous trick it pulled. He learned more in a single CyberGrind session than in both of their life-or-death battles.

And damn, did he long for a full arsenal, the proper tools to truly show what he was capable of.

The arena twisted into a warped rainbow hue, the pulse growing stronger the more enemies he cut down.

He barely noticed.

The music cut out, but he skipped over it, his focus locked on the malicious face ahead. With a sharp twist, he fired, obliterating the filth before it could get too close.

Then-

Silence.

It fell too fast, too sudden. The blood rush from battle still thrummed in his circuits, leaving him high on adrenaline, his servos twitching, his optic scanning for movement. His nerves were raw, frayed, too aware-

But the fight wasn’t over.

It couldn’t be over.

He moved on instinct, twisting sharply, revolver raised in a fraction of a second, sights locked onto the last enemy standing.

And pointed straight back at him—was V1’s marksman.

The world stopped.

A single, suffocating moment of stillness.

His grip locked, metal groaning under the force of his fingers. His frame remained coiled, every wire pulled taut, every system screaming at him to act. But he didn’t. Neither did they.

V1 stood across from him, their aim just as unwavering, their presence just as unbearable.

Neither moved, locked in a standoff, barrels leveled, fingers poised to fire. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, systems too hot.

And yet-

He felt cold. Staring them down, he didn’t know if he wanted to rip them apart or step forward. Didn’t know if he wanted to prove himself or run.

It wasn’t just the overclocking, the stress. It wasn’t just the leftover high. It was them. The very sight of them tangled his circuits into a storm of confusion: Anger, happiness, hatred, fear—all at once, all consuming.

He stared at his predecessor—his inferior, his lesser, his better—and saw only them.

Despite everything—despite the battle, the silence, the suffocating weight in his chest—V1 looked at him the same way they always did.

As if nothing had changed at all.

No hate. No fear. No anger.

Nothing.

Nothing.

“I…” The word slipped out, unbidden, his voicebox clear and steady—the brand-new one he’d bought nearly three weeks ago.

His gun remained level. So did theirs. Both aimed with precision, barrels locked onto the main blood pump of the other.

How many times had he stood like this? How many times had he pointed a gun at their chest? How many times had his finger stalled, just a fraction too long?

How many times had he lost?

The fight still thrummed in his circuits, adrenaline running hot, but now, standing here, staring V1 down, something cracked inside him. The anger that had brewed for years, the fire that had burned so violently in his chest—he finally understood where it had come from.

“I… don’t hate you.”

The words rang out, soft but unwavering, strange to his audials—a statement, not a revelation.

V1 tilted their head just slightly, a subtle movement, but he saw it. He always had, hadn’t he? He had memorized their every motion, every unspoken cue, even when they themselves didn’t seem to realize they were showing it.

“I never hated you…” he muttered, his revolver still trained on their chest, yet somehow, he felt safe.

His grip tightened. The memories surged—the cold, sterile lab, the suffocating weight of expectation, Hell itself that had forged them both.

His head slammed against lithium flooring, the sharp crack of metal being bashed down muffled by pure agony-

He never hated them, did he? He hated-

“It didn’t even have a gun and you still lost to it.”

“I hate your actions,” he said, internal dialogue unwittingly spilling into the open.

And like a dam breaking, the words just wouldn’t stop.

“I hated how the humans pitted us against each other. I hated how perfectly you acted in front of them, never showing that you cared a damn about me. I hated how you never showed anything, like I was just another machine standing in your way—just another obstacle in your glorious, destructive purpose.”

“Again,” the humans commanded, and they were left to soundlessly shout in their anger as a blue body seamlessly avoided their gunshots.

“Again,” demanded the humans as they were pinned by cerulean hands, wings trapped beneath their form and unable to writhe to freedom.

“Again,” sighed the humans, as they failed again and again and again again again again-

He paused, the memories near overwhelming, but it didn’t stop his voice for long. “I hated our creators-”

“It’s useless. Why did we invest in it?”

“-I hated that you had a purpose while I didn’t-”

“It’s basically a glorified security bot. A small flock of drones are better than it!”

“-I hated that you were the original, the perfect, while I was just the cheap knockoff in hopes of getting their money back-”

“Perfect machine,” they said to it, staring up at the disassembled blue body in front of them.

“-I hated my situation, I hated what you did to me in Hell, I hated what I did in retaliation, I hated-”

Everything.

I hated everything.

Humanity created me to justify the costs of creating you: the perfect machine.

I alone was left to pick up the pieces.

They forced you to fight me, golden lens locked onto its twin as you effortlessly pinned me down, a mere fraction of a second away from killing me.

“Again,” the humans said, refusing to look at their test scores as no matter how much they removed your weapons and gun and wings, you yourself were a weapon.

Perfection incarnate.

“Again,” said the humans as they repaired my dented and cracked metal, tweaking my body, changing lines of code. The more I lost, the more they hurt me. To ‘improve’ me.

I was but a mere copy.

“Again,” said the humans as they readjusted the calibration on my limbs and body, willingly allowing my pain receptors to go off just to see how I writhed, ignoring my screams.

We only shared appearances.

You were perfection.

You reached out, shown in every hesitation of your hand before punching my lens.

Shown in every glance in my direction, assumed to be nothing more than risk assessment.

Shown in every scream as they feared you and locked you away and burned you with electricity.

I was a mere imitation.

Shown in my every failure in a fight against you.

Shown in every desperate attempt to earn their love.

Shown in every pathetic display of superiority.

I hated everything you represented, a mountain too high and too steep for my bound feet to climb.

Perfection in your fight, perfection in your skills, perfection in your kill.

Imperfect in my failure, imperfect in my stubbornness, imperfect for my death.

I hated what the humans did to you.

While they repaired me, they feared you.

While my paint was given a double coat, yours was burned off with the sharp biting sticks as humans stabbed you with electricity far over the limit to subdue you.

You were restrained, bound in chain.

I could only admire the angel they created, and hate the devil they made you to be.

“But…” V2 continued after a moment, and against everything he ever knew about the war machine in front of him, lowered his gun. “I never hated you.”

V1’s gun remained staring at his chest, aimed perfectly at his central core unit. And he let them.

He didn’t know why he let them.

Barely noticeable hesitations, a mere fraction of your hand or your gun or your wing flinched and stalled.

To most, it would be a tiny glitch, expected of such a wild and uncontrolled machine.

To me, it was the only sign you weren’t a mindless object.

When out of combat, the few seconds you had before you were bound and boxed again, I saw your optic trail over me.

Assessing me.

I assumed you were sizing me up to kill me faster.

You struggled against the humans only once, fighting against their restraints.

You reached for me, fingers curled as if they were claws.

My chest was bleeding, a harsh gash your wings managed to put on me.

Too close to my central fuel pump.

They assumed you were after my blood, a few dropped having marred your beautiful plating.

I did too.

You were starved.

Now, I don’t think you were out to kill me that day.

You were bought soon after, taken by an arrogant rich human, the kind willing to fund war to fill their own pockets.

“Where are you taking it?” I asked that day to a technician, watching with the shock collar strapped to the gap between my chest and neck as they loaded you into a box and then into a truck.

“I don’t know,” the human replied. Shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s gone now and the higher-ups get the money they want.”

Your optic was dim that day, and still, it found mine.

Humanity collapsed 9 months, 12 days, and 7 hours later. I remember hearing a human telling another that drones were firing at random people, streetcleaners were burning everything in sight, machine after machine after machine killing killing killing.

They looked at me with fear then, as if I—never exposed to the outside world before—would fight back.

I relished the feeling of being above them.

3 weeks later, the lab was stormed and every single human was killed and drained of blood.

I remember hiding away in a spare room, simply listening to the screams and the crying and the ripping and tearing of flesh and the burning flamethrowers.

My chest screamed.

I locked my limbs.

When it finally fell silent, I left. I walked the halls no longer as a prisoner, but as the sole survivor.

The first rays of synthetic light made to be like sunlight, filtering through heavy and destroyed doors, would be the closest thing I would describe as the gates of Heaven.

My chest still screamed.

I was starved.

Everything and everything was free game. Prey ran through the streets like chickens without heads, extinct as the creatures are.

Though I never won against you, the training and the endurance I built up using you as my practice dummy significantly helped me to subdue prey and drain them of blood.

It earned me a bit of a reputation.

I searched building after building, killing off anything that dared to have blood and wear metal flesh.

In one large and ornate building, I found a museum.

On the top floors, in the private collection, I found you.

You were once again locked away, though not bound. Your wings were dark, manually spread on a white slab of concrete, pinned up like a butterfly. You were protected, or restrained, by a sheet of glass. A display case.

‘The machine to end all war.’ The title card said.

I agreed.

I had been followed.

A starving streetcleaner blindly rushed me, lacking its gun and throwing a broken arm with no fist.

I was startled, and the machine managed to shove me into your display case. The glass shattered like chiming bells and cascaded over my form like rain, light and carefree and not burning.

The streetcleaner was easily killed off, a simple shot to the head with my gun. The action caused a small spray of blood as metal exploded, landing all over you and me.

I watched you, watched as the ruby liquid slowly trailed down your chest.

When it wasn’t absorbed, what little joyful emotion in my chest was broken, leaving an emptiness that I expected.

I drained the streetcleaner of blood and left.

I ignored the soft sounds of whimpered breathing behind a metal vault door.

I found a few humans once, a small group of 3. One male, one female, and a younger female.

My dictionary called them a family.

I ignored the shotgun shot I received from the male human, using my deteriorated voice box to tell them I meant no harm.

I hated humans, yes, but only the ones in the lab.

They were dead.

I was built to protect humans.

I made them my purpose, keeping them alive.

Some would call it like keeping a pet. I removed machines that threatened them, scavenged burning buildings and dangerous places to bring them food, kept guard at night so all three would sleep peacefully.

It was difficult.

It was painful.

I was happy.

The man died of disease 3 months later, dehydrated and having gained an infection from a wound caused by a dilapidated early-swordsmachine.

I broke the concrete covering the ground and dug the dirt wide enough for the two remaining to bury him.

I don’t remember his name.

Two weeks later, the woman was trapped under collapsing infrastructure, flames growing closer as the girl screamed and screamed.

The blood that pooled from her crushed midsection was beautiful in the firelight.

“Take her,” the human said, face dirty and blood-caked hair cut short. Tears were trailing down her cheeks, their tracks stark against the soot. Her voice trembled with pain and weakness as she continued, “Keep her safe.”

I knew a command when I heard one.

“I’m sorry.” I said, my voicebox doing no justice to the gut-wrenching agony of taking the screaming and crying girl and running.

My chest burned.

I returned with the girl a few days later and buried her.

Only her top half was recovered.

“Mr. Robot,” was what the girl called me, her cheery and bright voice dulled by her parents’ death yet still strong. She reminded me of you in some ways, tenacious and powerful.

She made me a bracelet out of electrical wiring and rocks with holes in them.

With her father’s shotgun in my wing, I kept her safe. Eventually, the primitive device broke, and I was left with only my body to keep her safe.

I took apart the gun.

I rebuilt my left arm.

My original Feedbacker was lost under strong scrap metal and gun mechanisms.

I made the Knuckleblaster to protect, not to hurt.

Yet all I did with it was hurt.

The five fingers of the original hand couldn’t be repurposed, so I scrapped them and made them into three deadly sharp claws.

They had cut the girl multiple times, but each time she simply giggled and waved me off when I apologized, numbed to pain.

I learned to keep it straight at my side. I learned to use it only when danger came. I learned to use it as a weapon.

The girl caught disease 11 months later.

She lasted a hardy 2 months after that, remaining strong even as her lungs shriveled up and died and her legs gave out beneath her.

I got used to carrying her weight around, following city paths to find food, always on the move.

I failed to get used to her paling skin and soul-wracking coughs.

“Mr. Robot,” she called me, unable to muster the strength to smile, barely keeping her eyes open. “I’m scared.”

I kept her close to me, the Knuckleblaster’s claws digging into my own armor to prevent them from digging into vulnerable weak flesh.

“I know,” I said to her, voice filled with static as I shook, holding her close to my chest with a hand so delicate, my head dipped to cradle hers. “I know.”

“Am I gonna see Mommy and Daddy?” She asked me, so softly, so weakly, eyes dropping and clammy skin pale as paper.

I could not muster the words to reply for 2 minutes and 14 seconds.

“Yes,” I said, green light emanating from behind me.

The girl coughed, her lips coated by blood as I simply held her closer.

“Yes,” I repeated, over and over.

My chest screamed.

“Stay awake, please.”

“Mr. Robot,” she called me, managing one last time as her eyes finally shut.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Nevermore in that moment I cursed my weakness: my hunger.

The needles in the tips of my digits left no mark.

When I buried her the next morning with a makeshift cross of metal, my voicebox was shot and my fuel tank was full.

I wandered, slowly starving, not even able to muster up enough strength to fight off any machine I came across.

Strong enough not to die.

Weak enough not to fight.

I was a coward.

I hated it.

9 days later the coordinates to Hell were broadcast.

I joined the swarm in invading the infernal, going through the motions on autopilot.

The longer I remained, the more my anger and hatred festered.

I got better at using my guns, channeling my wrath into the bullets, eradicating anything that dared to approach me.

The manor in limbo was too calm. Too much of a paradise masking suffering.

I skipped over it, sliding past the skull-locked doors and into the dining area, having looked for a way to the ceiling.

When I saw you, shock overridded everything else.

You were alive.

Alive and moving.

Joy erupted in my chest, the first in a very long time, and I stopped right before the gates to the next level down.

When you entered the moonlit room, I burst from the glass and landed with a heavy thud.

I noticed your left hand lift nearly imperceivable, almost as if halting from reaching.

I had my shotgun in my hand.

I bowed.

And yet still, my systems flagged you as a threat.

I held back at first, weary of you.

I risked to be honorable.

I tried my hardest when I realized I was losing.

Again.

When you finally did reach out for me, I was so terrified that I turned on my heel and ran.

Your hand wrapped around the wrist of the Knuckleblaster.

Neglect over months frayed the wiring and left the arm loose.

You ripped it free from the socket almost laughably easy.

Anger and hatred, neglected and keen to pick a fight, focused onto you instead.

The Whiplash was crude, nothing more than a tool.

I hated what it meant.

A coward.

Built with a spear point specialized to pull my heavy frame away from a fight.

I hated it.

I picked the fight in Greed.

It was only fitting that I fail.

I bled.

I lost.

I ran.

Down the side of the yellow monument, no standing pillar to whiplash onto as I fell. Down down I went, golden wings shattered upon my back.

In that moment, I truly saw.

You had lept from the surface of the pyramid the second my form was launched in the air, hand reaching out, fingers curved like claws.

You weren’t reaching out to kill me.

You were reaching to save me.

“I’m sorry.”

The words felt like acid, burning and tearing and writhing their way out of him, but he forced them out all the same.

“I’m sorry.”

The weight of his gun dropped from his hand, slipping to the ground with a hollow clink. For the third time in his existence, he felt truly powerless.

His wings drooped, their vibrant green dulling the red of his back. He allowed his head to dip, his lens shuttering closed.

“I’m sorry.”

He waited for a gunshot, a punch, something to rip through the silence. Anything. He waited for activity.

All he heard was the sound of servos moving. He forced himself to remain still, not to flinch, as he heard their steps come closer to him. Every instinct told him to move, to flee, but he forced himself to remain still. To take whatever came with grace and dignity.

He refused to be a coward again.

Fear coiled in his chest, hearing them stop right in front of him. He waited, waited, waited, waited-

A pressure on his shoulder. His lens snapped open, unbidden, and he locked his gaze with theirs.

Blue text flashed in the corner of his vision, in the small box he always kept open.

The V-model’s personal and direct line of communication.

Again, his HUD chimed with a soft bell, the blue text in the corner flashing again.

“I hear you,” he muttered, his voice a weak staticky-rasp. Pathetic. He hated how fragile it sounded.

“I-” he cut himself off. “I’m fine.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened, their wings twitching minutely against their back. He hated (no, he didn’t) how he recognized it as concern. Worry.

It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be, not after all he’s done to them.

His optic remained locked on them, the weight of their touch heavy on him, even if he wanted to shake it off. The pressure was too real, too solid.

Talking hurt.

Vulnerability hurt.

Apologizing hurt.

Everything hurts.

"I’m sorry too."

Up on the scoreboard, the two enemies remaining flicked to zero.