017 found herself bolting towards the door, trying to find an abandoned warehouse to hide in. There were two problems with this plan: One, the rodents of unusual size were already warded off by her arc-flare; and two, this place was not by any means abandoned. This left 017 looking at the lock, wondering how best to break it before turning to her ‘allies’ of convenience.
Oh.
There wasn’t any bloodshed, in fact it seemed that the most damage had been done by her at this point in time. This left the little robot staring at the group as they communicated with the homeless. Unfamiliar chimes and tones that became familiar through exposure and — memory? 017 cocked her head as she thought. This place was strange but… Familiar. Why it was familiar eluded her, her memory a jumble of moments without context, save for one single command.
The question then became how she would survive in this situation. She had guaranteed her immediate safety, but what she needed now was time to think and plan. Planning in the middle of a wharf where you had announced yourself with the equivalent to a flare was not a wise idea. These were merely the first vultures, and soon more vicious scavengers would arrive to feast. Wait, vultures? How did she know the birds of this place? Questions for later.
“Pleasantries can wait,” 017 spoke. Her voice was a clear artificial trill, feminine, but with a tone that implied some degree of experience. Unbefitting of her small frame. “I would rather find a better place for recuperation, given that this place is evidently not safe.” 017 held the chain and the lock in her hand, pointing to it. She was a good number of meters away, but not so far that her voice could not be heard and her figure not be seen. “Given the lack of rust on this lock and chain, I suspect this warehouse is far from unattended to — but it is better than being in the open.” She jostled the chain for a moment, before her hand went into that familiar configuration that implied she was going to do some welding.
“Unless one of you has a suggestion?”
Oh.
There wasn’t any bloodshed, in fact it seemed that the most damage had been done by her at this point in time. This left the little robot staring at the group as they communicated with the homeless. Unfamiliar chimes and tones that became familiar through exposure and — memory? 017 cocked her head as she thought. This place was strange but… Familiar. Why it was familiar eluded her, her memory a jumble of moments without context, save for one single command.
YOU MUST SURVIVE
The question then became how she would survive in this situation. She had guaranteed her immediate safety, but what she needed now was time to think and plan. Planning in the middle of a wharf where you had announced yourself with the equivalent to a flare was not a wise idea. These were merely the first vultures, and soon more vicious scavengers would arrive to feast. Wait, vultures? How did she know the birds of this place? Questions for later.
“Pleasantries can wait,” 017 spoke. Her voice was a clear artificial trill, feminine, but with a tone that implied some degree of experience. Unbefitting of her small frame. “I would rather find a better place for recuperation, given that this place is evidently not safe.” 017 held the chain and the lock in her hand, pointing to it. She was a good number of meters away, but not so far that her voice could not be heard and her figure not be seen. “Given the lack of rust on this lock and chain, I suspect this warehouse is far from unattended to — but it is better than being in the open.” She jostled the chain for a moment, before her hand went into that familiar configuration that implied she was going to do some welding.
“Unless one of you has a suggestion?”