>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_SORCERER
>//checking...
>//SORCERER_DENIED.
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_HORNET
>//checking...
How could I say no to you?
>//HORNET_ACCEPTED >//PARTIAL_ACCESS_GRANTED
{Observation of #2576011
Callsign: N/A
Video file transcribed by: ████████ Wouldn’t you like to know?}
2576011 (age 15) has just been discharged from the medical ward after a separate mining accident that resulted in the loss of his eye █████████████. For the sake of monitoring, ARC provided 2576011 with an ocular prosthesis that has a camera inside of it. The following recording is taken from that camera.
A perfect replica 2576011 (which will be referred to as 2576011-1 for the remainder of this recording) appears suddenly in view of 2576011. The camera shakes lightly as 2576011 jumps back. 2576011-1 speaks clearly and coldly. “You look like you could use some help.”
“What are-” During 2576011’s response, 2576011-1 abruptly cuts off his speech.
“Odd. Slaves typically aren’t used to asking questions. Are you a slave?” The words fall out of his mouth, as if he knows how the entire conversation will go from the beginning.
The camera tightens. The sound of a firearm being grabbed can be heard. “Identification number 2576011. What are you?”
“A terrible name. Let’s see…” 2576011-1 walks through the panels of the mining robot and begins sifting through its combat logs. They’re always bound to have something interesting. 2576011 readies the firearm and shoots it into 2576011-1’s head. The gun misfires and the barrel explodes, rendering it completely useless. “Add it to your scrap pile. They may accept it as part of your findings. Now… Your most recent kill was a man named Simon Dominguez. That’s you now. Understood?”
“What did you do to my gun?” ███████ Simon seems threatened by this presence. “What are you? How did you get here?”
“Your current likelihood of dying a slave on this planet is 99.99999%. Not very good odds for you. But you’ve done nothing but question me, so I don’t believe you are SUPPOSED to be a slave. I can raise your chances of liberation from 0.00001% to 100%. So tell me, do you want my help?” There’s a significant pause from both. 2576011-1 looks expectantly towards the camera. Towards the person behind it, as if it already knows what he’ll answer.
“...What do I need to do?”
2576011-1 smiles. “Another question. Good. Follow my lead. As for those questions you asked before… ask me again when you hold the cards.”
The following is a recording taken from the cockpit of HA Tagetes “Two-Headed Boy”, piloted by Simon Dominguez, Callsign: LOVETRAIN, two years after First Contact. Two NHPs are loaded onto Two-Headed Boy: ASURA and SISYPHUS, neither of which have a unique distinction.
BEGIN PLAYBACK
LOVETRAIN: Sisyphus.
SISYPHUS: Yes, Simon?
LOVETRAIN: Why do you think ARC gave me this Callsign?
SISYPHUS: I have no interest in discussing the thought process of ARC.
LOVETRAIN: Oh, come on. Humor me a little.
SISYPHUS: No.
LOVETRAIN: You’re a real bummer sometimes.
ASURA: Simoooooooooooon?
LOVETRAIN: Yes, Asura?
ASURA: I’m booooooooreeeeeeeed. We've been standing here forever! When do we get some action?
SISYPHUS: It has been 3 minutes since our last combat. We have not moved in 3 minutes.
ASURA: Do you know how long 3 minutes is, Sisyphus? That's like… a long time! I wanna do something!!
LOVETRAIN: Have a bit of patience, Asura. We're gonna be stationed here for another hour.
ASURA: AN HOUR?! Fuck that! We should be kicking their damn door down! Take the fight to them! Fuck whatever ARC said to do!
SISYPHUS: We can't afford to disobey direct orders yet. It will lower our odds of success by 28%.
ASURA: Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
LOGS: 20 instances of Minesweeper have been opened on the mech’s computer system. They are all completed in less than 10 seconds, simultaneously. They continuously reload.
LOVETRAIN: See? You found something to do. All’s right with the world.
ASURA: Not something interesting…
SISYPHUS: 7 hostiles approaching. Prepare for battle.
ASURA: REALLY?! RA really DOES love me!
LOVETRAIN: How tough are they? One to ten?
SISYPHUS: For the average pilot, eight.
ASURA: So two for us?
SISYPHUS: Yes.
LOVETRAIN: Can't ever catch a break, can we?
PLAYBACK END
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_STALKER >//checking...
Only because of our child.
>//STALKER_ACCEPTED >//PARTIAL_ACCESS_GRANTED
{Observation of #2576011
Callsign: N/A
Video file transcribed by: Sisyphus}
The following is a recording taken from the cockpit of the SCRAPPER Midnight “Free Me From Hell”, piloted by Simon Dominguez, Callsign: LOVETRAIN.
BEGIN PLAYBACK
LOVETRAIN: Sisyphus, mind if I poke your bra- uh… mind?
ASURA: You can say brain, Simon. It's not like we’re empty up here!
LOGS: The mech’s arm knocks the head of the mech lightly.
SISYPHUS: The Ignition button is an automatic setting that will activate the drill at maximum output. Arm it with the switch next to it in the cockpit.
LOVETRAIN: Hey, look at that! You miscalculated. That wasn't my question! Ha!
ASURA: But it was on the list of questions, right?
LOVETRAIN: Shut up. Sisyphus, what are we doing about the heat ventilation?
SISYPHUS: I had a special idea for that.
ASURA: Ooooooh! Never a good thing when HE starts getting fun ideas!
SISYPHUS: The Midnight has certain capabilities when it begins to overheat. One of which is to vent excess heat out through the integrated weapon. I believe we could use this to frighten those who seek to oppose us.
LOVETRAIN: Hmm… I like it. A big, flaming pillar straight into the sky. Pretty sweet idea.
ASURA: Nice one, Sisy! You're actually learning to be kind of cool!
SISYPHUS: I would recommend holding your tongue if you seek to shower me in backhanded compliments, Asura.
LOVETRAIN: You have tongues?
PLAYBACK END
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_SUSPIRIA
>//checking...
I suppose he told you this part... but you're missing the context!
>//SUSPIRIA_ACCEPTED. >//PARTIAL_ACCESS_GRANTED
250,000+, dead in an instant. And yet, I’m still alive. This hurts. A lot. When did the cockpit get so stuffy? I can’t breathe in here. Sisyphus? Asura? Can you-
LOGS: Simon Dominguez, Callsign: SPIRAL tries to speak. He chokes on the blood that has completely filled the cockpit.
Okay. That didn’t work. Am I still spinning? I can’t see anything. It’s all just red. Am I angry about something? I don’t feel angry. I’m proud. Does pride make you see red? I’ve never been proud before. I’ll have to ask Sisyphus. Talking doesn’t seem to work right now. I need to get out of this mech, or I might die. All this work, for nothing.
LOGS: SPIRAL begins flailing about uselessly, trying to reach for ejection. At the same moment, the SISYPHUS-Class NHP has made the ejection protocol inaccessible.
This is too much pain. It’s cold here, at least. Better than the heat from the drill. Where exactly are we, if the planet’s gone? Maybe I should stay in here. It feels… awful, but my body is breathing. Somehow. It just feels like I’m dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying.
LOGS: SPIRAL’s vitals begin stabilizing via the complete synchronization of himself and Free Me From Hell. It is using the blood in the cockpit to give SPIRAL oxygen in a completely oxygen-void environment.
Sisyphus, Asura, if you can hear my thoughts, get us somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t here. I hate this feeling. I can feel the spinning, still. It’s sickening. Don’t make me start wishing for death.
Understood. We’ll be arriving on an oxygen-rich planet in less than 2 minutes. Focus on breathing through the blood. It’s keeping you alive.
Don’t worry, Si! We’ve got it under control!
I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I wish I was-
LOGS: Free Me From Hell arrives on a nearby planet. The cockpit opens and SPIRAL’s blood spills. SPIRAL falls out of the cockpit and falls unconscious.
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_WINTER
>//checking...
>//WINTER_DENIED.
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_HARPY
>//checking...
>//HARPY_DENIED.
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_RETRIEVER
>//checking...
Hmm... no. Not yet. Don't worry, you're still my favorite.
>//RETRIEVER_DENIED.
>//UIB_CLEARANCE_ID_HADES
>//checking...
>//HADES_DENIED.