Robot Dystopia - An Open-Source RP Coded by NinjOS
The RP has begun. Find the first post here. Note, open sign-ups are still open until the 15th. Exceptions can be made after the fact, but be sure to send those in via PM.
This future is not a beautiful one. The skies run gray with clouds. Sunlight barely filters through the clouds, and when it does, it only serves to illustrate how bleak the streets have become. Homes stand caked in dust, buildings dirty and marred by lack of upkeep. Inside homes, families cower, and pollution and worse litters the streets.
On the bright side, there is plenty of food to go around. The darker side, though, is that the food, along with every other resource, is allocated by the Robots. The Lords of the land, the robots maintain their oppressive regime through a monolithic building, the Spire, in the middle of the city. From the top floor, a ring of red glows through the clouds. Some say, on the colder nights, you can feel the piercing of the robots looking down on you. You can't see them, but it is certain that they can see you.
Humanity's last hope lies in The Escapist, a rag-tag resistance group who act as a foil to the robot overlords. Although numerous, The Escapist isn't very well equipped, stocked, or trained. The glowing red beam in the sky is a constant reminder of the Escapist's mission, one in which they'll pursue even at the risk of death. Or, knowing the Robots, worse.
You are an Escapist, fighting against the tyranny that is the Robot Suppressors. Either as a captive inside the Robot Cell, a slave in the Robot Construction Plant, or a free fighter on the outside of the Spire, it is up to you to crush the regime of NinjOS.
Should you encounter any characters during your progress around/through the Spire, you cannot affect their character in any major way (make them change position, lose an appendage, or anything equally drastic), although you may have them speak to your character, and perhaps engage in battle where they are not seriously hurt (only if the battle is in a shared area, though).
Generally speaking, your first post should show your character's attributes, skills, brief physical description, and personality description. In case someone was to need to sit behind your character, if even just for dialog. If you character would flight rather than fight, that is an important detail to note for other RPers.
Outside of that, do not begin or end any fight with another character in the area, or against another character in the same post, nor majorly hamper any other RPer's character unless a previous arrangement with that character has been worked out to that effect.
Otherwise, have fun. Let's see where this goes.
Any players are allowed to join the side of the Robots or The Escapists. Perhaps having an antagonist that isn't NinjOS could be entertaining. Any players joining as a Robot will need to contact me via PMs, and authorization permitting, may be joining as a co-host. Should you wish to join as a Robot, please sign-up as "Robot / Robot Sympathizer" near the top of your character sheet so that you may be written in as such for the story. I'm limiting this number to five, so get these in quickly.
NOTE: Sign-Ups will begin today, and continue until November 15th. The RP itself will start at 1 PM EST on October 27th.
To sign up, all you really need to do is give us a quick "sketch" of what your character's name, brief physical description, abilities, current situation, and very basic intended plan are.
I'll drop a template here so you have something to work with, but if you don't follow the template exactly, I'm pretty sure I won't mind.
Character Sheet for NinjOS:
Name: NinjOS Operations Prime v. 2.74
Physical Description: Generally seen as a large wall of circuits, monitors, gears, pipes, lines, tubes, and internets, NinjOS OP v2.74 takes up the entire top floor of the Spire. His physical abilities are unknown, although it's universally theorized that NinjOS has a direct, possibly satellite-linked connection to every robot, either in the Spire or on the streets. Almost omnipotent, NinjOS exists to be a universal villain for all human-kind, and a picturesque example of why you don't go around making computers sentient.
Abilities: Unknown, although it's generally accepted that they're nearly as limitless as they are all destructive. You don't screw with NinjOS if you don't want hell, high water, and steam-powered-death to descend upon you.
Current Situation: In power, not worried, and with nearly limitless resources. Fifty-or-more years of being in power can get you all kinds of resources... Not perfect, though, so I'm sure you could crack his armor with a ton of effort. Assuming you're suicidal enough to do so.
Intended Plan: With his power as it is, NinjOS OP 2.74 will stop The Escapists from quelling his Empire. No matter how hard humans may resist, the robots will rule the world. Give up while you can, humans.
Current List of Members:
NewClassic - NinjOS (Host)
General Hellspawn - "Hellspawn" Autonomous Engine (Co-Host)
Skarin - "Berzerker"
RAKtheUndead - Avatar / Intelligence
Zemalac - ASATU-ZEM
ManveruAlthena - Manveru Althena.
Sentinel10 - Francis Bucholtz
ThePoodonkis - Dewy Ponkis
MasterSqueak - Eric Davidson
Xitel - Xivout
Labyrinth - RU-486?
Neosage - N-E 0
thegamermn - Dmitri Kamarov
Sky14Kemea - Sky Kemea
Xhumed - Spider
Combined - 421
Amnestic - Andrew Pearce
Footnote: This is my third time trying this RP, so I may not be completely full-speed at first. Apologies for as much, but I do not think I will do too badly. Have some patience if I screw up though, unlike NinjOS, I am but human.
Can I get a reserve? :P I will have a character sheet up tomorrow
I'd love to join! It sounds awesome.
Name: Manveru "Veru" Altharen
Physical Description: Veru is an average-looking 26 year old man with a taste for the unusual and extraordinary. He loves solving mysteries, no matter how small they may be, and loves expanding his already overlarge vernacular. He has an extensive knowledge of programming and electronics.
Abilities:As a former White Hat, Manveru can easily interface with many different computer systems. He's created a few small gadgets, including a device that can momentarily stun a bot, but it only works at close range. However, his increased intellect has caused his physical state to become slightly weakened, so he can't sustain strenuous exercise for extended periods of time. His preferred method of travel is an old 18-speed bicycle.
Current Situation: An outsider living on the run from the bots, Veru is living on his wits and his grit. He finds ways to talk his way out of tough situations, fearing a physical confrontation because of his physical weaknesses.
Intended Plan: Take down the Spire and finally inspect NinjOS' data files.
Catch Phrase: I look around this place and it reminds me of one thing. How much I ****ing hate bots.
Character Sheet Sentinel10
Name: Francis Bucholtz
Physical Description: Tall, but lanky due to malnourishment. Blue eyes, Brown hair. Shaved buzz-cut, similar to most slaves. Decent amount of muscle, built from working in the factory. Knows his way around machines, especially the robots he is forced to create.
Abilities: Knowledge of robotic systems and abilities. Strong, good with tools. Able to work as a sleeper cell within the Factory.
Current Situation: Enslaved since he was 18, he has been working inside the Factory for 12 years. Leader of the Slave branch of The Escapists, he has the power to incite rebellion within the slave corps.
Intended Plan: Gather enough slaves into The Escapists, then incite a riot within the Factory, hopefully overpowering the guards. If that succeeds, he plans on joining his men and women into the outside forces of The Escapists.
Name: Model 2600 "Hellspawn" Autonomous Battlefield Engine
Physical Description: "A monstrous behemoth of steel and weaponry, the 2600 "Hellspawn" series of ABE's is yet another edition to Leviathan's patented battlefield robots. Armed with 2 twin-linked KillerKroc Flak Cannons and Missle Systems, and a practically indestructible fusion of both a 220,000 Watt Fusion Core Refractor shield and flawless steel construction, this beauty is a steal for merely $65,000,000!"
Snippet from Leviathan press release, circa 2040
Abilities: Aside from the aforementioned firepower, Hellspawn's programming gives him incredible efficiency in the battlefield. In an instant, it can ascertain who to take out first, an enemy's likely psychological response to a given attack, and even the enemy's logistics and reinforcement lines.
Current Situation: Wandering the barren wastes, seeking an objective programmed into it 3 decades ago. However, NinjOS' inherent link to all robots may lead him into more trouble than he was ever built for.
Intended Plan: Due to lack of an apparent commander, absolutely nothing.
Beware Hellspawn. I helped create you. I CAN TAKE YOU APART AS WELL!
Oh hell yeah I'm getting my foot in the door with this one. I'll have a character sheet up tomorrow. Tis going to be a fun one...
Report on Codename RU-486
Faction: Unknown and probably undecided.
Physical Description: There is no direct information available to establish the physical properties of Codename RU-486. High probability of an artificial consciousness operating as an underground collector of information. Whether NinjOS is aware and/or controlling Codename RU-486 remains unknown.
So far no contact with the Escapist is indicated so assessing sources within that faction will likely be unsuccessful. Rumours about the existence and characteristics of Codename RU-486 stretch between a human mind with a system rivalling the internet of former times to nothing more than a myth spread by NinjOS for the sake of encouraging Escapists to attempt contact and hence reveal their locations.
Abilities: Information gathering and processing. Possible but unconfirmed reports of an ability to manipulate bots and AIs.
Current Situation: Sources indicate that Codename RU-486 is attempting to rectify gaps in its data sources before making a decision and then moving to act upon it.
Name: Eric Davidson
Physical Description: Moderately well muscled, and of average height. Green eyes. Short, unkept black hair.
Abilities: Living on the run from robot tyranny has given him decent hand-to-hand and melee combat skills, though he has never faced more than a robot scout or two in battle.
Current Situation: Hiding in an abandoned building, living off of a dwindling supply of food rations and armed with a crowbar.
Intended Plan: Salvage real weapons, gather a team of rebels, and go on a damn fool crusade to free humanity.
Sorry if I'm assuming anything, like if it would be possible to take out a robot scout or something unimportant like that with a crowbar.
If you don't mind me joining, I'll play as the same bot as last time.
I'll take a wild swinging stab at this.
The buggy bumped and swayed as it flung itself over the pot-marked road. The resistance hadn't been doing as well lately, but at least the numbers were up. Captain McEnroe felt like he had gotten some sense of order. A semblance of hope, as it were, to handle the fall of the robots.
Truth be told, though, he wasn't so sure. Families huddled in molding beds, men and women going without food. All for the greater cause, allegedly, but still a horrible thing to wish on humanity at large. Even still, he had hope for what they were doing. While it may seem a little inhumane to put people through hell and highwater for a cause, it was better than being subservient. Right?
McEnroe felt like he was on the crest of something as he pulled into the secret base a few hundred feet from the Spire. Alas, he didn't see the MCU darting from the scene, quietly. In the middle of the night, a garage door closed down on a parking garage, and an Escapist base exploded.
Ash rained down, but across town, in the actual Escapist HQ, radio silence reigned. Then, in the first broadcast after the explosion, war was declared.
People settled into their seats, discussing quietly amongst themselves. The room was large, an old warehouse that had been converted to something more functional, and served its purpose well. There was a make-shift stage in the front, built solidly but ultimately cheap. Several men were mounting the stage, taking seats and talking in hushed voices about the war. It was a strange thing to think the battle will become more open in the future, but it can't be helped that the Robots took the fight to the streets.
The man in a tired, worn military uniform stood. The cloth showed signs of wear, faded from many years of fighting battles in nonspecific locations. The threads were fraying on the sleeves, man hems could be seen where knives or bullets had found their homes in the man's body. He looked old and tired, but given the rebels' living conditions, probably looked older than he was. His skin was wrinkled, his hair white, but his eyes had a central focus that was rarely seen. He walked with a very weak limp, enough to make one foot thump a little harder on the hollow stage than the other. Even still, he was composed, and spoke with a faint British accent.
"Good morning, and welcome to the headquarters. I am Jason Briggs, and with me is our tech team and espionage group, Thomas and Jessica Sands. These are trying times, especially with the loss of our Field Base at the foot of the Spire, so I'll try to be brief. What we do here is primarily damage and riot control, at least until we get a stronger hold on the Robots. The short of the matter is that they have a factory, weapons, food, slaves, and resources. We have a series of field bases scattered around the city, and men and women armed with sidearms. Most of our main weapons have no real ordinance, and we're up against a force that we can't number or outclass.
"So, our best offense is isolated squads, covert attacks, and intel gathering. In the thirty years that this resistance has been running, ten of which were under my command, we've learned very little about how the robots operate. What we're doing here is something entirely new. It's generally considered very hazardous to try to get spies within the robot compound. Effectively, what little we know is shown here." A projector hummed to life, and a young boy in a nice suit stood. He pointed at the snapshot of the base of the Spire that had appeared on the screen.
"This is a street-view shot of the compound. The lower levels, here and here, are the factory portions of the Spire. They're guarded twenty-four hours a day, and are operational 18 hours a day, worked by three slave-teams that go in shifts. The slaves are housed in the upper-levels, given food before and following each shift, and a common area for their time not spent at work. Physically speaking, their living conditions are better than ours, but their work shifts are particularly taxing. Each assembly line handles a different part of a different robot, meaning that no one has a full idea of the functional schematics of any of the completed unit.
"What we've managed to salvage has given us precious little intel, but I'll run the numbers through quickly. There are four types of units to look out for. Next slide please."
The light blipped, and a small bipedal robot appeared on-screen.
"This is NinjOS Bipedal Unit, and the cheapest to mass manufacture, and the most common seen on the street. Their power source is unknown, though there is a battery and motor on the chest cavity that operates the unit's locomotion. This is the standard shutdown point on the unit, and the best place to strike when subduing a construction. The armor is bilayered aluminum, which isn't firm enough to block a lot of damage. Any solid strikes or shots to the left side of the torso, opposite the heart on humans, will shut it down. Keep in mind that most units have self-destructors, and while not violent enough to do anything but corrupt components, they can oftentimes cause shrapnel to fly from the machine if too badly damaged in a core area.
Their weapons are limited to a self-charging energy weapon. The range is limited, only a few hundred feet, but have no limit on ammunition or rate of fire. The energy is self-cooling, dissipating any heat within thirty seconds. The individual rounds have about 120 feet of range, and can remain hot for ten to fifteen seconds after it hits an object. Because the shots are so head-based, any insulator like clothing and armor will displace the damage. It is worth noting that any short range attacks from these units are also powered with the same weapon, and will induce burns in the first degree on contact. Do not take close-range combat lightly.
"Next slide please. This is the Military-Capacity Unit, or MCU. These operate in squads, and will rarely be seen without back-up. This is a rule not to be taken lightly. If any single MCU is visible, there will always be a squad nearby. These units are thicker and much less frequent than their nBU counterparts, but much more sturdily built. Their chassis are made of aluminum paneling over interlinked kevlar and composite plastics. They can take small arms with relative little damage, with only the optics, knee-joints, and elbow-joints showing the weakness required for small arms damage. The internals these are roughly the same, and destroying the left-most chest-cavity will destroy it. The self-destruct is also still in effect, but the armored hull means that shrapnel is practically impossible.
"Their weapons operate on the same energy-principal as the nBU, although they also carry human weapons. Their targeting system operates on probabilities, which means that statistically likely shots are those which they will take. Random, unpatterned dodges are the best way to avoid fire, and fights are statistically suicidal. When encountering an MCU unit, shots will always be aimed for the chest. Running is encouraged, and hallways are the best escape routes. Next slide please."
The screen flashed, and the diagram for a large, tread-bound torso appeared.
"This is the boogeyman that will haunt you at night. The Tankbot, as he is known around here, is a tread-powered bot in the service of guarding the factories and Spire. It is layered with unknown metals, and no ordinance we have available here has managed to pierce its armor fully. With the exception of a claymore mine, which has managed to rip one of its treads. Barely. These things maintain large scale cannons on the upper-right shoulder, and can launch up to ten highly explosive rounds a minute. The right and left arms have high-velocity machine guns, both capable of firing 5,000 7.64mm rounds per minute. This is all theoretical, as nothing we've sent at one has survived long enough to last through all 5,000 rounds."
The room fell silent as this information sunk. The young woman took the stage, "I'm Jessica Sands, and here are some basics. The Ninj-Operating System operates on a small program called the ProConDeciSoft. The package is stimulus-response, which will only act if a certain stimulus is met. The low-level AI at work reacts as it sees most fit. Because of this, it can only operate on basic parameters. If any of us are out on the streets before curfew, we will not be harmed or approached unless one of us is armed. As such, the best method of attack at the moment is problem management.
"Don't encourage the robots to fight unless you're out past curfew, and do not engage in combat unless the situation is most dire. That's as much as we know for now. General, anything else?"
The old man took the stage again, frowning. "No need for titles, Mrs. Sands, we're quite capable of being informal here. If any of you have any questions, feel free to stay after the presentation and ask. Right now, our main objective is to acquire intel. Each of you will be issued a sidearm. Please treat it kindly, as they're rare commodities. Any questions?"
Thus, the presentation over, Thomas and Jessica got up, and went to work. Jason stood at the stage, and fielded questions. Time to make war.
Dmitri sat on a roof top in a lawn chair, his rifle by his side, a bottle of home-brew Vodka in one hand, a pair of binoculars in the other, he raised the binocs as he noted a glint in the distance, headed down the street his building was on, the image wasn't a welcome one "MCUs" he muttered before heading inside, taking his rifle with him.
***HELLSPAWN: PROGRAM LOG #00001 STAMP DATE OCTOBER 27TH 2072****
SYSTEMS SCAN RESULTS
AMMUNITION READOUT: 100%
SYSTEMS READOUT: 100%
MOBILITY READOUT: FULLY FUNCTIONAL
OBJECTIVE COMPLETION STATUS: NOT COMPLETED
OBJECTIVE: SEEK AND CAPTURE "HELLSPAWN SOFTWARE ENHANCEMENT v2.0"
SYSTEMS SCAN RESULTS END
EXTERNAL SCANNER RESULTS
LIFE DETECTION READOUT: NO LIFEFORMS NEARBY
ELECTRONIC SYSTEMS DETECTION READOUT: HIGH CONCENTRATION AT COORDINATES 23,45 ON RADAR
REINFORCEMENT READOUT: NONE
LOGISTICS READOUT: NONE
EXTERNAL SCANNER RESULTS END
COMMENCING BATTLEFIELD SUCCESS CALCULATION...
MOST PRUDENT ACTION: OBJECTIVE UNATTAINABLE, INVESTIGATE ESD READING AT 23, 45
***HELLSPAWN PROGRAM LOG END***
Veru's scanner program on his PDA alerted him to the explosion across town. He hoisted his small bag over his shoulder and hopped on his bike. Nothing of this magnitude had happened since he had fled the factory, and he knew that something big was going to happen soon. He had been tracking a small group of MCUs for a week or so, and marking their scouting pattern. But now he decided it would be most prudent to find some of the other Escapists and join up with a group - if the war was on, it was no longer safe to travel alone.
Francis sat in his quarters. Each bunk room held about ten other slaves. Most of them are young. He may be the oldest one in the room. Each of his room mates were members of the Escapists. He looked around him. The room was dark, and bare. No luxuries here. Just bunk beds. The mattresses were stiff, and did not take anything away from the bone-aching labor. The walls were sterile white, and so were the floors and ceiling. Lighting was dim, and not always available. Power demands must be very high for this place, Francis thought to himself. Usually, the only sound would be the coughs of the sick, and small chatter from the slaves who's spirits haven't completely broken yet. But today, the talk was of revolution. With only faint communication with the outside world, Francis tried to coordinate the slave uprising with an attack on the Factory. He sent the message, hoping that it wouldn't be intercepted, or, god forbid, couldn't reach the Escapists.
> GPS synchronization completed!
> Arrived at objective Waypoint Sierra!
> Commencing scan....
> Terrain mapping completed!.
> Insufficient resources in localized region!
> Updating data library...
> Update Complete. Commencing to Waypoint Tango.
> Alert!. Atmospheric disturbance and seismic waves detected!
> Target out of scanner range!
> Disturbance projection: Sector 4E-Bravo-O6
> Aborting Secondary Objectives..
> Disengaging Auto-pilot..
> Activating Autonomous Control..
> Primary Operating System Online
> Proceeding to coordinates: 4E-Bravo-O6.
__________________________*** Command Log Entry -Start- ***_________________________
Subroutine #1125-03C-1-Bravo initialized:
> Anomalous activity reported- Sector 4E-Bravo-O6
> Priority Threat Assessment Required!
> Emergency termination of Secondary Objectives.
> Automatic pilot disengaged. Proceeding towards disturbance for analysis
> Risk of hostile activity: High
> Weapons system armed!
> New Objective: Reconnaissance of Sector Sector 4E-Bravo-O6
__________________________*** Command Log Entry -End- ***_________________________
>> All systems online!
>> Powering up Jump pack..
>> Calculating Flight Trajectory..
>> Executing Jump..
>> Jump Underway!
>> ETA: 00:33:17
Dewy sat in an alley, hoping that he could live to see another day. He saw a robot making its way down the alley, and he became very worried. He started to get up, hopefully, he could get a head start and get away.
Suddenly, an explosion sent a tremor through the city. The robot's attention centered on the disturbance's source, and it started to leave the alley.
Two choices: follow it and hopefully find others (or get caught), or run away and prolong death by starvation (or worse)
Pon took a deep breath, and started running toward the pillar of smoke.
Kane burst out the front door as the explosion shook the ground, he began following the group of MCUs, figuring they would move to it's source
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
The Escapist command appears to have ordered retaliation against NinjOS for recent bombing. Lives lost: unknown. Bots lost: unknown. Buildings lost: 1, alleged but seemingly fake Escapist HQ destroyed.
It is likely that this has given The Escapists more information on their adversaries however they still appear to know very little about the schematics and weaknesses of their foes. Planting certain known information or sending it as a gift may encourage first motions into place. Careful assessment of distributed information essential. Too much or too little will upset balance.
Direct contact not advised. Investigation of HQ location required. Network establishment required. Rumour manipulation minimal but beneficial, about existence and nature of RU-486. Solid information must remain hidden. Rumour mill will provide ample hyperbole.
A series of lights flashed on and off. On and off and on. Off. The whir of fans stilled. An outpost close to the area of the bombing folded back together, the little satellite dish folding up and disappearing back into a concrete case.
Sorry its late >_> also my 'Current Situation' may change, but hopefully I can have a first post by tomorrow =] if I'm still in that is :P
btw I guess I would be considered Neutral, although I'll probably end up helping the Escapist's xD
Eric looked out the window at a black dot flying through the sky, as he chewed on a ration bar.
They must be sweeping the area.
He finished his ration, and started stuffing the remains of his food and water supply into his backpack. Once that was done, he fell onto his worn bedroll and fell asleep, planning on leaving under cover of night.
There was a man who was not a man.
Yes, from a distance it looked like a man. It moved like one, stood like one, and even had little ticks like one. It stood on the roof, flicking the fingers of one gloved hand against the railing, making a repetitive little ringing sound that sounded loud against the wind. The figure was cloaked in human clothes, but it was not flesh beneath them, and in this city it was what was beneath that counted most.
Ping, went the fingers on the metal rail as the man who was not a man looked down at the street below. Ping.
It was watching something. It had no eyes, but the dim violet glow from beneath the brim of its hat showed that something was there and seeing, and what it saw did not want to be seen. Fair enough: the man who was not a man did not want to be seen either. It could respect that. But today only one of them was getting their wish.
Ping, said the fingers on the rail.
There was someone in the shadows on the street below, looking deep into the alleys and corners as he passed, but never looking up at the rooftops. The robots tended not to take to the roofs--less maneuvering room, too many things that could go wrong and send an unwary machine crashing to ruin below. Far more efficient to use the streets.
The man in the shadows moved, carefully, warily, and seen.
Ping, went the railing, and when the next note was expected there was only silence.
Ext. Outskirts of town
Neo looked at the human girl, he had been with her as long as he could remember, which for Neo could possibly only a few days, his memory had been damaged or corrupted in some way and he had no idea about anything. The girl seemed to know things so it was useful for him to have her around and she couldn't really object to having a powerful fighting bot (at least, that's what they assumed he was, they couldn't really know for sure) by her side.
External Address:- Miss.Kemea, your fuel stocks are running low. I suggest we go looking for some food.
Robot's couldn't feel affection but, Neo had become rather attached to the human girl, even if she was all squishy and weak.
A small man sat in an abandoned coffee shop. Outside, smoke billowed in the distance, likely from the explosion. What a hellish city, and what God awful luck. Working for the United States Postal Service had done him well in life, except for the day his jealous boss had moved him to a new city. "Note to self," he said bitterly, lifting a soda can to his lips, "don't screw your boss's wife." A passing nBU paused long enough to look at the strange man.
A matrix of options passed through the processor, percentages and possibilities flying at a rate beyond that of normal computing conventions. After a short second, the audio speaker kicked to life, "Good evening, sir. Please keep in mind, there is a 7 PM curfew in effect. The current time is 6:32 PM, you should be making your way home."
The man sighed, and set the empty can down. It clanked on the wooden table, kicking up a spark of dust on the table top. "Go screw yourself, 'bot. I'm having a nice day."
Numbers flashed in electric brains. "No need for hostility, sir. I will ask you once again only, vacate the premises immediately, or face curfew counter-measures."
The man rose, stiff with the soreness of age. The SigArms P223 in his pocket was heavy, but fully loaded. It swung oddly in his coat as he walked. "Very well, robot. Please move the hell over so that I can leave."
"Very well, sir." The robot replied, stepping from the doorway, "Have a pleasant evening."
The man passed through the door, fingers flexing as he whirled. The gun jumped up, the butt of the gun slamming into the hollow aluminum of the robots head. Processors immediately reacted to stabilize the center of balance, but it meant very little in the amount of time it took. The robot fell to the floor, and turned just in time for the optics to focus on the length of a barrel. In its last instant of life, nBU registered a 98.7% chance of death. The report on the gun cracked out into the evening, and the bullet shorted the optic system. The overload of feedback sent an electric backlash against the processor nestled into the back of the head, and the robot was fried instantly, making the chance of death a certain 100%.
The man sighed impatiently, and pocketed his gun. He turned, his cloak managing a slight breeze before a rifle report came from across the street. In no more than an instant after the report registered, the man's chest exploded open. The hollow-point had torn into the flesh, spilling out ballistics gel and wires. The processor inside shorted briefly, and the man fell to his knees. At the top of the Spire, NinjOP spared a moment of mourning for nSU-B2. The robot had successfully fooled a passing nBU, and had even responded well enough to mimic the most common human tactic for destroying one. However, there were still flaws. The system required a massive energy input, giving it a theoretical field life of 36 hours at most, 8 of which were tested in absolute stillness of "sleep," in order to fool the human elements of the experiment.
The door opened, and a small man entered the room. His eyes looked sunken with age, his hair turned white, and his skin wrinkled with the sign of age. Though he was completely human, his psychology suggested something altogether more unstable. "Mornin' Op."
A custom-built MCU rose from the corner, adjusting the collar of a tailored-suit and running a brief system diagnostic, responded, "Good evening, Nuke. It's good to see you again, though I suspect you're none too happy about being awake."
"Damn right," the old man answered, spying the humanoid's light blue 'eyes,' "It's been a fun ride here at Lassic Industries, but I think it's about time I retire."
"Retirement, sir?" NinjOP responded, eyeing the human with skepticism.
"Retirement," Nuke confirmed, taking a seat and breathing comfortably, "I've been in this business too long as is, and it's about time I started taking care of my human needs as well as the company's."
"I see, sir." The robot said, numbers whirling in the robot's head. "Shall I inform the public?"
"Please do," Nuke replied, "let them know that I am now officially retired."
Below, at the base of the Spire, a secretary typed at her computer. Surprisingly, glass shards rebounded off of the floor out front. "What's going on?" She asked, watching as more glittering triangles fell from the sky. Then, more shards. Finally, an old man crashed into the pavement, spewing blood, flesh, and worse all over the front glass. Sandra, as all humans would, started screaming. Beneath her screams, a robotic voice sounded from her console, "Sandra, inform the slaves, Floor 52 needs its glass-wall replaced."
Atop the Spire, NinjOP clamped a hand on the divider that once held the window in place. Nuke's landing had not been a pretty one, but he felt no more love for the human. "There you are," he said finally, "enjoy your retirement."
Theta X's optical recivers observed the surroundings around the Sprie. The upper floors allowed him an uniterupted view what to him seemed like infinity. He was also ntaking note of the potential cover in the surrounding area's around the factories. He particullary paid attention to the rubble that had once been a gurrella base right next to the Spire.
Scans confirm nine hundred and seventeen potential ambush positions around quadrent Seven
However they only took note of the obvious and semi-obvious psotions in the buildings and in small structures in the street. Theta did not notice the various difficult to get into positions such as sewer grates which could also be used to launch attacks from.
He slowly made his way to a lift and after ten minutes he was riding a lift to the Spire's upper levels, the lift groaned under his weight, but he ignored it.
Eventually he stood facing NinjOS
You called for me master?
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.
The peal of an alarm set off a chain reaction through the Hub. It worked like so much clockwork, programs running, flicking switches, data re-routing from one destination to another to find what was needed.
Patriarch and originator of Lassic Industries dead. Reason unknown. Cause of death was contact with ground after falling from Spire. No apparent retaliation suggests NinjOS as perpetrator or done under NinjOS' orders. Knowledge of death is minimal as he was not a recognisable figure. Population will likely assume it was just a displeasing slave/human. No evidence of genuine information on NinjOS network. Assumed to keep the few who may still sympathise silent.
No sign of Escapists gaining this information. The information would be beneficial to reach them. Near-total anonymity recommended. Use messenger who will give some hint but knows nothing but rumours to spread. This should not be used as a first-contact declaration but as a precursor. Trust must be established.
Mailto: Escapist HQ
Means: Human delivery.
Escapists. The creator, the first, the origin is gone. Trust not in mania lest mania come crashing down upon thee. He was old but would have been useful had you known. There is always a human mind to light the fuse.
The slip of paper spat from a vent high up and floated down to the busy street below. It was just approaching curfew and someone would be rushing off to an Escapist safe-house to take it with them. In their hearts many humans felt that resistance was there for the sake of humanity, whether they partook in it or not. When it arrived, it would undoubtedly cause a stir.