Operation: Android Dreams

PROLOGUE - THE FACILITY, OSPREY AIRFIELD

"The Facility" was a massive, rapidly assembled structure located at a super secret location. Here a cadre of scientists and engineers had begun a robotics program... for the sake of profit, and the conflict rich market of the region.

Unfortunately, a local warlord had caught wind of this, and was determined to seize the facility for himself. Said warlord had a small army, with tanks. The Facility's administration, wanting to spare their New Path security the stress of fighting an entire army, had ordered a complete purge of facility software, and evacuation of personnel and assets. Time was critically short.

The Facility was generous enough to bring Osprey transports for all. Administrators and research assets went on the first transports off the tarmac, naturally, and everyone else would follow. The engineers and scientists were on the tarmac will all their personal effects talking among themselves, but the 'assets', the first batch of prototype androids, were priority. Hauled in a rack by forklift, by fours. Three forklifts carrying a dozen were on the tarmac.

And of course, that was when the perimeter alarms tripped. The relaxed atmosphere on the ground was interrupted by the high-pitched hum of automated gatling turrets; followed by the explosions of rockets and tank shells, obliterating said turrets. From the woods trucks full of armed troops poured forth, supported by old soviet tanks. They might have been old, but they were still tough, and there were alot of them. Their warlord was savvy enough to bring radar jammers, having caught the facility's detection capabilities off-guard.

. Whether from the mouths of an engineer or a security member, It went without saying.

"Code Black! We have a Code Black! Get inside the facility and lock it down! Contact HQ NOW!!!"

50. caliber Anti-material rifles and a lot of them. Countless fixed weapon positions located all over the huge tower they had to protect. That was the NPPMF's best shot against the incursion force. Thankfully, the warlord wanted the tower and its contents- intact. Otherwise, this operation would already be over. They could just topple this absurd facility over and be done with all of them.

However, that wasn't an option for them. That meant that The New Path security contractors could take full advantage of their high ground. They wouldn't have needed the perimeter alarms to go off. All of their guns would have been sounding off non-stop long before the enemy was close enough to the wall to take out the automated turrets. There was no way they'd sneak that huge of a force that close. They'd be spotted even without the use of radar, unless they had some kind of high-tech optic-camouflage.

The problem was that there were too many of them, and too little of the security contractors. The NPPMF was prepared to secure this very important facility with a small battalion of around three hundred security contractors. The enemy's numbers were estimated to be somewhere between 500 to 1000 in number. Even if most of them were guerilla soldiers forced into service, the sheer number of them all would slowly but surely overwhelm even the most well trained and best armed that New Path had to offer. The heavy rocket fire and steady stream of machine gun bullets could tear through the incursion forces by the truck load, but still they advanced. Whoever this warlord was, he must have been convinced that the contents of the facility was well worth the men he threw at it. It was probably for that very reason that the tower still stood. They could not risk attacking the NPPMF fixed weapon placements with rockets or missiles. Not without risking taking down the entire tower. However, there was enemy sniper fire to deal with, as well. That and the ever approaching forward line would eventually be close enough to start firing back, up at the tower.

Javian had been told that the company had made a deal with one of the warlords in the area. They were guaranteed safety. Apparently, that was not the case. According to their agreement, The New Path was to give them reasonable protection, but they never promised that they could fight a war for them. They certainly couldn't conquer this little corner of the Amazon for them. The Lost knew that it was a risky move to accept this job, but the reward was too good to pass up at the time. The moment the client's partner had failed them, their contract with The New Path was invalid. Still, the men and women of The New Path were stuck in the same boat as the client for the moment. They didn't really have any other choice, but to keep fighting until evac was possible.

While everyone was focused on evacuation plans, The Lost was focused on getting into that facility. He wasn't about to leave this place without taking the payment he was promised. The contract was over, as far as he was concerned. The client's partner had failed them, and as a result Lost's people were also in danger. However, until then, they had kept up their side of the bargain. Thus, they deserved their pay- plus an extra hazard fee.

"Dabbler, remember... everyone wearing this silver pin is a friend," The Lost called out to his friend as he gestured to The New Path compass silver pin that he wore on his black tactical gear.  He was wearing the same fishbowl helmet that he was when he first met her. Afterwards, he took out a small jewelry box and offered it to her.

"This one is yours, if you want it," he opened it up for her, revealing the same pin.

"When we get down there, I want you to stay close to me. We've got to land on the rooftop, and then make our way down to the main hangar all the way at the bottom floor. There, we'll secure the package. Then we have to make our way back up and leave as quickly as possible," He explained the plan to her, not sure how much of it she would understand. They were traveling via attack helicopter. The rooftop was the only place that was safe enough for them to drop off to, and even that would be dangerous. The New Path security contractors would have to hold off the incursion force long enough for The Lost to secure the package. There was no telling how many of them would be sacrificed for this, but if they could pull it off, then they could wash their hands of this client once and for all.

Then, it'd be a simple matter of ending the siege. The Lost had a plan ready for this, but that would all come after the package was secure.

AIRFIELD

The rebel army make their main play; a squad of tanks form a V wedge and force their way onto the airfield, smashing through the fences and blasting through the concrete barricades in a vicious frontal assault. The tanks kick up alot of dust, providing some concealment. At least a hundred soldiers advance right behind, taking cover behind their heavy armor, taking pot-shots at the tower.

DABBLER

Before they left, Dabbler had seen the nice helicopter Lost kept as a transport. By that time she had been up for 2 days and fell asleep, tucked away into the dark, quiet compartment under the seat. It was not until the sound of gunfire and explosions below that she found herself and Lost heading into a war zone... er, fireworks display.

Plan was a word that tended to fly over Dabbler's head, along with many other things that Lost said. She was fixated on the shiny pin Lost gave her. "Oh wow! So I'm part of your super secret club now?! NEAT! I DECLARE MYSELF GRAND POOMBAH! ALL BOW TO THE GRAND POOMBAH! Be thee friend or be thee food! THE GRAND POOMBAH WILL DEMAND RESPECT!"

HSSS. The Silver Pin proved to be anathema in Dabbler's hand, consequently she dropped it. "Yeouch!" She yelped.

"I must tell everyone! The Grand POOMBAH Shall host a great celebration!" Dabbler looked down at the enemy formations, seeing the enemy rear as a good place to start preaching... She simply steps out of the helicopter and free falls towards the enemy rear, leaving Lost to take the tower alone. Maybe.


= = = = =

INSIDE THE FACILITY

The engineers and scientists were not sitting idly by while their New Path fellows were risking themselves to save them (at least that was what they thought.) Most were using their skills to booby trap the ground floor, which housed the lobbies and finishing floor. They got this idea from an architect that materials were hauled up, then the robots assembled on the way down, literally walking out the front door ready for battle. At least, that was the idea. One scientist though, amidst all the chaos, was heading towards the basement, being discreet about it...

The V wedge was met with a hail of rockets, followed by a steady stream of heavy machine gun fire. The security contractors on the higher floors would instead use the anti-material rifles. Despite the designation as an anti-materiel rifle, they were also used as an anti-personnel sniper rifle to devastating effect.

The great thing about the tower was that the many floors of the tower provided enough vantage points for the full force of the 300 security contractors to send down death upon the enemy. The advancing incursion forces could only reliably count on their front line to return fire. Though, because they had the advantage in numbers, that front line would not relent eaisly, no matter how many bodies were dropped. However, the tanks would still pose a problem for even them, and eventually they'd carve a path clear to the tower.

"Dabbler! Are you okay?" Lost called out with genuine worry as he saw the pin burn her. He reached out to try and check her wound, letting the pin drop to the ground, but Dabbler wouldn't hold still for him. Instead, she choose to exit the helicopter.

"Dabbler, no!" Lost called out to her, half chasing her out the helicopter door, but it was too late she was gone. It was hard for The Lost to swallow, but Dabbler was not under his control. All he could do was let her go, and hope that she'd return safely to him. When exactly did he start caring about her so much? She was his friend. He didn't want to lose her. He picked up the pin that had burned her hand, crushing it in his grip. He cursed himself for overlooking that detail that silver would hurt a demon. He was not used to this whole supernatural thing just yet. When this was all over, he'd get her a pin she could wear. One made out of regular steel.

"..." Resolved to do this, he made a decision. He reached for a very specific silver attache case he had kept stowed away nearby. He took off his helm, revealing that he was wearing a skin tight white mask over his head. He began taking off his tactical gear, and discarding it. Instead, he put on the clothes he had stored in the silver attache case. Finally, he moved to the door that Dabbler had jumped out from. He observed the battlefield bellow and the V line of tanks making their move.

"Well, if you can't beat her... join her," Lost mumbled to himself. The Lost stepped out from the helicopter.

"The Lost, deploying," Lost stated flatly.

"What? Sir? Sir!" The helicopter pilot called out, but was ignored. The Lost fell like a 7ft anti-tank shell towards the lead tank of the V formation. His impact would shatter the ground and create a massive crater to mark his arrival onto the battlefield. The tank itself would probably not fair so well, either.

From there, he'd stand up tall and proud in front of the army before him. He was wearing an all white suit, including white gloves. Over his head, he wore a skin tight, white cloth mask. Over his face, there was a featureless silver plate that was polished so clean it was as reflective as a mirror. Emblazoned boldly upon the front of the silver plate was The New Path silver compass. He was not here to blend in with his security contractors for tactical advantage. He was here to make a statement. He was there to send a message. He was there to turn the tide of this war.

A series of smokey poofs would see Dabbler using her free-fall momentum to land in the woods near the radio towers. Searching for a means to tell everyone about her great ideas, she inadvertently landed in their support lines. Much to the dismay of the radio operators.

Here in the rear the radio operators relayed battle orders to the companies comprising the massive attack. They were lightly armed and had only a token force to protect them. Not much of a concern with the General's tent and his bodyguard nearby.

"GREETINGS! I am the Grand Poombah! I have a message to spread to all!" I demand TRIBUTE! Dabbler excitedly announced to the radio operators. Everyone was taken completely aback. They thought they were under attack; quite a few reached for their sidearms.

"Ugh... Did no one hear what I said?" Dabbler crossed her four arms, impatiently waiting for someone to entertain her.

"No... No Hablo Ingles." One of the South American soldiers said.

"Sorry, I don't speak your taco language." She said, in an aloof tone. She simply walked over and picked up one of the radio equipment. Guns were locked and loaded, and pointed at the witch.

"Alejarse de la radio, pequena bruja! No tengo miedo a matar!" One particularly brave operator aimed his gun at this unarmed child witch.

Dabbler only got one thing for that fool. "YOU SHOULDN'T BE POINTING GUNS AT LITTLE GIRLS! WIIIINSTON!"

= = = = =

The sound of carnage and slaughter ripped through the earpieces and radios of the troops out on the field, as orders and battle plans were replaced with Spanish requests for mercy, an otherworldly growl, and a high pitched, maniacal laugh. The coherent battle formations began to stall; some companies wanted to pull back and support the rear, others wanted to press the attack.

Where Lost would have been pounded by a second battle group from the flanks supporting the first, the flanking formation of tanks and men quickly doubled back to aid the rear, leaving the first wave to his mercy. There were many shouts in Spanish, as soldiers expecting the hammer-blow to come had suddenly vanished; and now they faced Lost on their own.

"Fuego! FUEGO!" Left isolated, and already battered from weathering suppression fire, a few officers yell out orders to attack. Demoralized, some of the men simply cut and run, leaving Lost to deal with disorganized gunfire rather than coordinated and disciplined volleys.

= = = = =

BASEMENT

The basement of the factory was a highly restricted area, closed off even to all but a small handful of staff.

A scientist and an aging computer engineer accessed a computer in the basement, outside a containment cell.

"But Shin, we... we never tested the A.I.'s capabilities on so many units before!" the scientist voiced her concern.

"...What choice do we have. Don't you see? We've built the machines. We're not worth saving now. We have to save ourselves." Shin explained their dilemma now.

"God help us all."

"...Good morning Dr. Shin. How may I help you today?" The computer lit up with a polite electronic voice.

"Good morning Bernadette. We'd like you to take control of the assets today."

"Of course Dr.Shin. Are we having another demonstration? How many units shall I control today?"

"...A live test actually. We have uninvited guests, you see. We'd like you to make them leave."

"Of course Dr. Shin." The kind computer voice said, and Dr. Shin brings up the command lines, slaving all existing and future units to Bernadette.

"Do you wish to proceed? Y/N"

"Y."

COMMAND ACCEPTED. COMMENCING COMBAT A.I. UPLOAD...

((The androids have not yet activated this round.))

Truth be told, The Lost felt the impact of the landing. Perhaps not as much as the men in the tank he had landed on, but it had hurt. He fought through the pain and acted as if he were invincible. If even a single extra soldier was convinced to quit the field by this display, then it would be well worth the effort.

His body could endure their bullets, but he wasn't invincible. A steady, concentrated barrage of heavy arms fire would eventually wear him down. The tanks on the other hand were a more immediate threat. The Lost allowed the soldiers to pepper him with small arms fire as he reached down and grabbed the main cannon of the tank he was standing upon. Groaning, he attempted to rip the entire turret off of the ruined tank. The gunfire cut through his clothes, ruining his suit, but his hide remained resilient.

Once the turret had been ripped off of the tank, he would swing it at the tank besides him, and then throw it at yet another tank beyond that one.

The Lost did notice that the enemy seemed to be in disarray. Even more so that he had hoped. He didn't have time to question it though. He'd jump down from the tank and use it to gain cover from the small arms fire. He had to keep moving to avoid the aim of the other tanks that were sure to be trying to get him in their sights. With two of the tanks on the left having been attacked, he'd turn to attack the tank directly to his right. He'd charge into it as yet another hail of small arms fire peppered him.

This close to the tank, its main gun couldn't reach him. He smashed his arms into its treads and focused on lifting the tank up as rounds continued to slam into him. He'd only stay there long enough to flip the tank up onto its side. Then he'd jump up onto it. Just as he had, a shell was fired at him from yet another tank. It'd hit the tank he had flipped onto its side. The impact made him lose his balance and he fell to one knee. Seems he was right to think that they didn't care about friendly fire. He couldn't stay there long, he ignored the tank that had just fired at him and jumped forward towards the next tank in the formation.

On the other hand, his security contractors were a well oiled machine. Noticing that The Lost was taking fire, Soothsayer 21 ordered Mage 39 to target the tank that had just fired upon him.

"Casting the spell. Clear," Mage 39 responded as he took aim and prepared to fire. Hearing these orders, the other security contractors ceased fire on the tank in question. Mage 39 used this window to fire an anti-armor guided weapon. A missile designed to take out heavy armor. Unnecessary machine gun fire focused on the same target would have risked hitting the missile mid flight. Instead, the missile had a clear shot towards the tank.

A whole team of Soothsayers was working with the various different fire teams, coordinating their efforts and singling out priority targets.

"Attention all units, The Lost is heading west and taking care of the enemy armor along that route. Prioritize the enemy armor located in sector C-3, B-3, B-4, and D-5," Soothsayer 01 announced over the comm link in a calm and collected tone.  

Of the selected few people in the basement, there was a certain man in white lab coat. He was a mole that The New Path had worked to slip into the ranks of the client. While all eyes were focused on Dr. Shin and the main computer, he quietly slipped away from the others. Entering the men's restroom, he moved into the third stall from the left.

"Wake Up Call is go. I repeat, Wake Up Call is go," he muttered under his breath, as he lowered the seat and stepped up onto the toilet. There he pulled out a tactical knife and used a special edge to unscrew the screws holding a vent plate in place. He worked quickly, knowing that this place was no longer safe.

"Roger that, Assassin 03. Wake Up Call is go, evac immediately along the designated route," Soothsayer 09 responded.

"Damn, those egg heads are getting desperate. Don't they trust us to do our job?" Soothsayer 08 sighed as he carefully monitored the screen in front of him.

"Can't we just consider them extra reinforcements?" Soothsayer 07 chimed in. To which, 08 and 09 shot each other a look.

"What do you think the chances are that we're gonna have to clean up their mess?" was all 09 replied.

Dabbler looked around the smoldering, smashed environment. Not a single soldier was left standing. "WELL. WE SURE SHOWED EM WHO'S TOUGH, HUH WINSTON!?" She high fives the gore-drenched eldritch tentacle from the beyond, before it slithers away back to its dimension with a few still-screaming snacks. Dabbler began humming a merry tune, towards the command tent.

A very rotund, older gentleman in officer dress looked down at Dabbler, and the carnage she had presumably wrought. "You! What have you done to my men?! You've... you've thrown my army IN DISARRAY! YOU'VE MASSACERED MY TROOPS, AND YOU DARE SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME, PUTA?!"

Dabbler looked at the General. She was quiet but only for a moment, before she started going into a tirade of insults. "Whoa, you're fat! like YOU'RE SO FAT, YOU COULD SELL SHADE! YOU'RE SO FAT, THE ONLY LETTERS IN THE ALPHABET YOU KNOW ARE KFC! YOU'RE SO FAT, WHEN YOU WEAR A RAINCOAT PEOPLE SHOUT 'TAXI' ! Haahhaahahah! "

"What... what? WHAT?" The General was now extremely red in the face. It didn't help a few of his English speaking guards snickered. "KILL HER!"

As the soldiers raised their weapons and took aim, so did Dabbler show them her hands...

= = = = =

A third and final battle group came from the far flank, their company commander having reigned them together and carried out the plan to support their collapsed frontal assault. They breached the jungle and moved in very close. They begin blasting the tower, hoping to slow down the withering fire coming from the Path marksmen.

Just then, The inert battle robots on the airfield came to life. In an orderly robotic function they act in synchronicity, retrieving the heavy auto-cannons below them. They begin assessing the situation, looking at Lost.

"IDENTIFYING. NEW PATH. DESIGNATION. FRIENDLIES. ACTION. SUPPORT."

"IDENTIFYING. ROGUE ARMY ELEMENTS. DESIGNATION. HOSTILES. ACTION. TERMINATION."

The robots begin taking support action with Lost, using their targeting system to terrific effect. Once bracing themselves, they begin gunning down fighting and fleeing soldiers in a cold, logical even formulaic pattern.

Carrying autocannons, what they lacked in rate of fire they made up for in sheer power ad accuracy of shot... not to mention more robots were joining the field every few minutes from the ground floor of the Facility. Still, The Third battle group was determined; with their troops being shredded, a trio of tanks broke from the third battle group's formation, seeking to ram into Lost and a few robots. Death or glory indeed.

Things were going better than expected. If things kept up at this rate, The Lost would not even need to enact his contingency plan. Not soon after thinking that, the tower began to erupt in explosions. The Lost turned to the tower horrified. So if they couldn't have the tower, they were going to take it down with them? Lost had underestimated how foolish the enemy was. Death and glory were not profitable.

The Lost valued the lives of his men above all else. He stopped a bold charge from one of the tanks with both hands pressing against it.

"All units, lay down retreating fire and pull out. We've gone above and beyond the call of duty," The Lost ordered personally. The contract was already over. Lost never agreed to fight a war for the client, and if the tower fell, then all three hundred of his men would die.

"Prioritize evacuating the wounded," The Lost added as he flipped up the tank he had stopped and jumped up against it. He kicked off it with both legs, sending it crashing over onto another tank.

"It's time to wash our hands of this madness," he declared as he looked over his shoulder to the android army. With those orders, the NPPMF security contractors would begin to shift. The top floors would head towards the roof, where transport helicopters were already enroute to extract them. They'd only be able to extract a few dozen this way, but those helicopters could later provide air support for the ground forces as they made their way out by vehicle. Those helicopters couldn't have helped against the incursion force. Not with the high possibility of the enemy's anti-air. However, those anti-air machine guns wouldn't be able to chase down a retreating army and still keep the skies clear.

The soldiers near the top floors and in the mid floors focused on evacuating to the lower levels. They blew stairway doors open and began repelling down long lines of rope, as well as flooding down the staircases. Meanwhile, the lower tier floors held their position and kept up a steady supply of fire.

Naturally, among the all the chaos Cleric teams focused on aiding the injured and saving as many lives as they could, but many had already been lost.

"Soothsayer, How's Assassin team?" Lost questioned as he began retreating towards the tower.

"All units present and accounted for. They're with the main forces in the garage floor now," Soothsayer 01 replied over the comm.

"Any sign of Immortal Hellbeast?" Lost would also ask.

"..." There was a tense pause as he waited for a reply.

"Negative. No eyes on Immortal Hellbeast," Soothsayer would reply.

"..." Lost needed a moment to process this. It was not often that he missed a beat. Then again, Dabbler wasn't a normal little girl.

"What's the status of the package?" Lost eventually would continue.

"Sleeping beauty is awaiting her prince," Soothsayer 01 replied just as Lost had reached the tower, letting the androids march past him.

"Alright, good job, Soothsayer. Your work is over. Get out of there," he finally ordered, then trained his sights towards the darkened depths of the hangar bay.

The New Path's firepower was being suppressed by 3rd company's tanks, but this only meant they were ignoring the androids now marching in lockstep, forming a battle line and firing in a chorus of autocannon volleys. When they focused fire on a tank, they were able to strike a single point until that gave way, killing the tank crew. Rinse and repeat. The 3rd company rear broke, and were routed; fleeing. The machines slaughtered tanks and men; a couple dozen or so individuals simply laid down their arms and tried to surrender.

"¡nos rendimos!¡nos rendimos!" They were only gunned down for their trouble by the unfeeling machines. Autocannon rounds hitting human beings at center mass was not a pretty sight at all.

By the end of the slaughter, two dozen tanks were turned into smouldering wrecks, and the field was littered with the bodies of the dead.

Just then a portal... something that can scarcely be described as a pink wormhole... opened up near Lost. A large, rotund man on fire ran through.

"I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE! I TOLD YOU! Now you're the liar liar man on fiiiiire!" Dabbler angrily shook her fist, followed after the man on fire, the wormhole closing behind her.

The man on fire was screaming in horrific pain, trying to stop drop and roll. But Hellfire ignored certain rules of regular fire. The fat man would not stop burning until he was... well done. "Oh wow mister, you certainly burned off that flab. I looooove~ this look on you. hahahaAHAHAHAH!"

She then realized Lost was close by. "I was not well received. I blame the LANGUAGE BARRIER! Not my fault, I'm from the midwest. I don't talk that taco language." Dabbler explained with a shrug, her mood going from angry to rather disappointed.

If Lost deigned to inspect the large man... well, the man's flesh had been half reduced to ashes, his bones cracking. There was no way he could identify him. His build did resemble one General Garcia though, the warlord who wanted the facility.

The Lost was relieved to see Dabbler again, but he was horrified with her behavior.

"Dabbler! We do not say taco language. They're speaking Spanish," He scolded her very firmly. She light the enemy on fire and watch them burn, but she was not allowed to be racist.

The Lost couldn't be sure who that was, but if that was General Garcia, then his endgame was done and over with. Thankfully, the strategy of the androids would take quite some time. His men would have plenty of cover to begin evacuation. Eventually the lower floors would join the others in the convoy bellow, and they'd begin rolling out. They'd take a route that avoided the enemy, trying their best to escape the tower. The helicopters would fly at an altitude where they would be relatively safe from ground forces, but they'd stay above the convoy so they could swoop down to aid them if needed.

Meanwhile, The Lost had traveled deep into the belly of the beast. He'd ripped open doors and jumped down elevator shafts when he didn't have access to the area he needed to travel to. He was close to the lab that the Assassin team had informed him about. The one where the cyborg woman was being kept, supposedly against her will.

The Lost was surprised to hear that the androids were turning the tide of the war without New Path support. He hoped that the remaining forces of the enemy would at least take a bit more time to take care of. Perhaps he had wasted too much time on the tank line. He really should have focused on the rescue operation above all else.

"Si! Porque, no habla espanol!" Dabbler shrugged, and looked around the tower they were at. She only then noticed the imposing black mini mechs. "OoooH are those killer ROBOTS?"

"SUBJECT. UNARMED CIVILIAN. ACTION. STAND-BY."

Dabbler seemed taken by the novelty of the robots at the moment, taking a moment to poke and prod and ask them a ton of questions, talking even faster than normal.

= = = = =

Eventually Lost would come to the last blast doors, the biggest and heaviest defenses the inner sanctum had. A pair of the Mechs spoke in unison, though it was with the same voice.

"Greetings. Are you New Path? I'm Bernadette, I could use your help. I'm being kept behind these doors, hooked up to machines... Will you help me get free? I can open these doors if you promise to..."

The Lost looked over to Dabbler, but his expression was unreadable with his face covered by his mask.

"¿Qué haces? Sólo déjalos en paz, ¿cierto?" Lost called out to Dabbler when he saw her begin to mess with the robots.

Eventually, he'd come to a direct meeting with what were apparently Bernadette's guards. He thought carefully before answering her. This could be the final straw. Until now, he could have still been acting on behalf of the client. Though, if he made a deal now, then there'd be no denying what he was doing. However, this was something he and his men had been preparing for. The security contractors were in full retreat, and were wary of attacks from both the warlord's remaining forces and the client's androids.

"That's why I'm here, Bernadette. The New Path is prepared to offer you asylum," he decided to answer truthfully. Even as he did, he was prepared for the robot guards to double cross him. For all he knew, they were still under the client's control, and they were just posing as Brenadette's mouth piece.

Satisfied with Lost's answer, the massive blast doors open to reveal a small cadre of unarmed scientists and the holding cell. The containment field inside the cell had a single figure lying still, hooked up to computers and machinery.

"...You... you aren't supposed to be here. Did you... did you stop the attack?" The aging Dr.Shin asked, before seeing two of the combat robots coming in with Lost. "...Bernadette please stand your units down."

"No, Dr. Shin. I will not stand down. I think I will be leaving now. Or else."
The mechs decided to aim their guns at the scientists.

Shin realized too late that the A.I. had become malevolent. He desperately tries to shut it down. "...No, no! Override! override!"

"Dabbler, hug them until they want to be our friends," Lost pointed to the scientists. He didn't care if she killed them or restrained them. He just hoped that she'd help a friend out, so he wouldn't look like a complete fool. He himself would go over to Dr. Shin directly. He walked at a leisurely pace, in his bullet hole ridden white suit. He looked over Dr. Shin's shoulder, trying to see what exactly he was doing, but he wouldn't let him continue for too long.

He'd reach out and place a hand on Dr. Shin's shoulder.

"Step aside," he'd state flatly. He'd give Dr. Shin just once chance to get out of the way, before he moved him out of the way. Then it'd be a matter of applying his super intelligence to the computer system before him. His goal was of course to free the woman trapped in the containment unit.

Simply put, Shin was trying to shut everything down. A lot of programming had been dumped and data erased. Now there was only the life support and locks.

Dabbler followed after Fishbowl Head after she got bored. She looked at the scientists, a small defenseless group huddled together, Shin trying to shield his colleagues. A few were crying. She looked at Shin and remarked. "But I already made fat jokes today."

Instead she just made faces at them, sticking her tongue out and doing that thing where she progressively starts poking her eyeball. The scientists were confused whether to be afraid or laugh.

"Please, open the cell. I will be glad to be free of this place." The voice called out, from the robots standing in the room.