SYSTEMS ON
STARTING DIAGNOSIS…
DIAGNOSIS COMPLETE.
HEAD: OK. FINS FUNCTIONAL, SOLAR PANEL FUNCTIONAL. SOLAR POWER GENERATOR AT 100%.
FACE: FUNCTION LOST IN RIGHT EYE.
TORSO: DAMAGED, BUT FUNCTIONAL.
ARMS: DAMAGED. MOVEMENT IN LEFT ARM LIMITED. BUSTER DEACTIVATED.
LEGS: DAMAGED. MOVEMENT LIMITED.
ENERGY: LOW. RUNNING SOLELY ON SOLAR POWER. REQUIRES RECHARGE AT PROPER STATION.
SEEK REPAIRS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
SCANNING AREA...
SCAN COMPLETE. SHELTER DETECTED IN 3 MILES.
"Only three miles, huh?" the reploid asked nobody in particular. He covered his entire body in nothing but the ragged remains of a brown sheet as he trudged through dirt and grime slowly, legs heavy as if being held down by invisible cement blocks. "Long as that means people inside, I should be good." As he spoke, sparks flew from his left hand. The fins on both sides of his helmet flapped uselessly, trying to swim through water that just isn't there. With each breath, hot, dry air entered his systems. Each step felt like an eternity for him.
When the shelter was in sight, a smile played upon his lips. It was too long since he had seen a sign of life. Judging by the condition, it was built recently. Any older and it might have been ruined by maverick attacks or the remnants of a space colony crashing down and crushing whatever they touched. Life had to be there. It was a matter of whether or not the life was hostile or docile...
For his own sake, the reploid hoped it was the latter.
------------------------------------
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The shelter seemed eerily empty as the reploid walked through the hallways. Nothing but steel surrounded him: Steel plates, steel floor, steel pipes. The only things that weren't steel were the cameras overlooking the area. He didn't particularly feel like smiling for them, though. Maybe if he didn't stare at them and waved, nobody hostile would see him-
WARNING. WARNING. INTRUDER DETECTED! POSSIBLE MAVERICK! WARNING. WARNING.
Okay, maybe it was time to smile at the cameras. If he smiled, they'd spare him, right? Nope. Dozens of people, decked in suits and armor and holding rifles, swarmed him and surrounded him. A quick scan revealed that behind the suits, they were all made of 100% organic material. Humans. He couldn't hurt them. One shot would be enough to get him labeled as a Maverick. How to get through this without hurting anyone?
Wait. His legs.
System, diagnose legs.
BEGIN DIAGNOSIS...
DIAGNOSIS COMPLETE.
LEGS: DAMAGED. MOVEMENT LIMITED.
What about the Emergency Boost System?
EMERGENCY BOOST SYSTEM IS ACTIVE, BUT NOT RECOMMENDED. MAY DAMAGE LEG PARTS FURTHER.
I'll take those chances.
Taking a deep breath, the reploid dramatically pointed behind him and yelled, "THEY GOT ME! RUN, GUYS!"
The hunters turned towards where he pointed, giving him a chance to charge energy in his legs and dash through the crowd, breaking free and making a sharp turn at one of the winding hallways. It wasn't long before the hunters realized there wasn't another maverick there and chased him down. The fish reploid kept dashing, pushing his emergency boosters to his limit. His own legs weren't capable of running in his current state, anyhow.
Soon, he found a door. Freedom awaited! Frantically, he fumbled with the doorknob and opened the door...
"Take one more step and you'll have more to worry about than those amateurs," a cold voice said. The reploid didn't have to turn towards it: it came from right in front of him. A woman in a black suit, much like the hunters he encountered, stood before him, pointing a gun right at his head.
Busted.
---------------------
In the Shelter's Control Room, a little girl in a white and blue dress and a tall man wearing only a T-shirt and ragged jeans was watching the action from the main computer. Apparently, a fishlike, yet humanoid reploid had gotten in. He looked pretty goofy, to be honest. Who puts cyan and aqua green together like that for their armor? Ew. There was something more important nagging at his mind, though.
"Hey, Tina?" the man asked his companion. "How stupid do you have to be to wander into a shelter that's been attacked by Mavericks in the past few days?"
"Maybe he didn't know!" Tina replied, playing with her long, brown curls. "If he was a maverick, he'd shoot at least one of us."
"Maybe he's trying to infiltrate our ranks with the innocent look."
"The mavericks around here don't think that far, Stan. They're not like Lumine or Sigma!"
"Thank god, too," Stan sighed, holding his head in his hands. "I'd hate for them to come back. Either way, Sasha has this one. Kid waltzed right into her. Poor guy, I'd haaaate to be him right now!"
"Looks like she's taking him up here, judging from the movement on the monitor! We're gonna be able to question him! If he's really a maverick, he might not tell us anything, though."
"Oh, we'll see, kiddie. We'll see."
---------------------------------------
Well, that sucked.
The reploid found himself in the sort of room he thought were only in movies. A dim light hung overhead, swinging to and fro, as he was chained down to a folding chair. He sat in front of a folding table, nothing but the drawings of a 5 year old plastered over it. The walls, of course, were made of steel. Could have used a poster or two to liven things up. He was going to really hate the shades of gray for a while after this, wasn't he?
Either way, he figured he was in an interrogation room, considering the circumstances. Maybe they wanted to talk to him about maverick activities. Yes, talk. With guns. And very angry noises. Maybe it'll have some complementary tea-
WARNING: SOLAR ENERGY AT 50%. PLEASE RECHARGE AT THE CLOSEST STATION AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
...Scratch the tea, what he needed with a solar battery upgrade.
The door creaked open, humans here to greet him. The suited woman from before... a child... and some Zero-wannabe, he figured from a cursory glance. The man looked pretty irritated as he slammed his fist down on the table, scattering some of the pictures.
"Okay, dumbass, I'm only gonna ask this once: Serial number and your reason for invading."
The reploid couldn't help but pout for a moment, but when the woman and man motioned for their weapons just in case he was uncooperative, he knew they meant business. Better not to ruffle these feathers. "PCS12931121602."
The woman motioned towards the child, who happily inputted it into a miniature computer. She made some funny beep boop noises until she pressed a key and flailed about. "The only reploid with that serial number is designated Pisces, Stan and Sasha!"
Stan crossed his arms and asked, "And? That doesn't answer my second question!"
"Weeeeeell, I dunno either! He's supposed to be an underwater exploration reploid, if this stuff is right!"
"Oh, I was," Pisces added helpfully before pulling off a dramatic sigh. "And yet, now I'm merely a fish out of water!"
Stan clearly wasn't impressed. He took out a cigarette and lit up, taking in the toxic fumes before blowing it in the reploid's face. "Guess you lost a couple bytes of data from being out of the water too long, eh?" he said before he laughed. "You just waltzed right into enemy territory like an idiot!"
He laughed for a little longer, almost like he was gloating over the reploid's loss. Pisces didn't really mind that much, but he did mind the cigarette. There was a little girl right there! He turned to Sasha and asked, "Are your subordinates always this inconsiderate?"
Sasha stared at him for a moment before glaring at Stan, who grumbled something under his breath before heading out of the room. She then turned her gaze back to Pisces as she asked, "Well? What were you doing here?"
"Maybe take these chains off and remove the cloth, and you'll find out," he teased.
That got their attention. Sasha removed the chains, allowing the reploid full movement. She did, however, point a gun at his back. Smart one, this girl was. Didn't want a runner. The child walked up to him and removed the cloth for him, adding a little "Ta-dah!" with a flourish.
He watched their expressions change from wariness and happiness to shock and worry. Sparks were still coming off from his left arm, and his legs were torn up, wires sticking out where armor should be. His torso had chunks of armor missing, as did his right arm. All in all, he was a giant mess.
"Not the best condition I've ever been in," he admitted with a nervous chuckle. "But hundreds of years can do a number on you."
Sasha exchanged glances with her friend before putting away her gun and shrugging.
"Mavericks usually don't come in such a bad condition to fight us," she reasoned. "That and you didn't attack any of my men, or scream about how we're the ones who caused the apocolypse. You're welcome to stay for a day or two."
Pisces couldn't help but let out a "WHOOP WHOOP!" and do a fist pump with his left arm. The two ladies smiled, probably because he wasn't going to hurt them or anything.
Especially not with his left arm falling off onto the ground, sparks flying and hydraulic fluid leaking from some of the parts. He couldn't help but wince in pain.
The suited woman sighed.
"Tina, he needs repairs. Now."
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