Gibralter, Lethal
Day 1, Early Morning.
Overlooking a cliff by the sea, a young man laid rested against the bark of a tall oak tree, an abundance of grass beneath his body. The sky was orange, tinted in the reflection of the setting sun, the air was cool around him as it lapped at his skin like the delicate touch of a woman. His eyes remained closed, opening ever so slightly at times to look at the orange globe as it fell into the sea. He breathed in deeply, the fresh and salty air filling his lungs, before he exhaled, his warm breath mixing with the air around him.
Peace, content, these were the feelings Gibraltar felt, that is, until he opened his eyes and the world slowly shattered around him in crystallized and digitized glyphs. He did not flinch, he did not flee, he simply closed his eyes as the void suddenly engulfed him, complete darkness.
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RECHARGE COMPLETED
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STANDBY FOR ACTIVATIONA sudden whirring filled his ears as his ocular receiver gave him vision once more, his Heads Up Display loading the vast programs that filled his field of view with a consistent flow of information. Fluorescent lights slowly increased in intensity as his ‘bed’ began to activate, he could feel the various cables popping off his metallic body and the neural uplink attached to the base of his neck disconnecting him from his ‘dreams’. He felt the casket like device lift up and the doors slid open before him, steam exhaling like a dragon breathing in slumber.
ACTIVATION COMPLETEGibraltar took in his surroundings, he was in Lethal’s workshop, and just like always, so was Lethal. Over by her workstation, working on some project of hers as sparks sputtered and flew, the tiny robot ROB-CAM overlooking her work with quite a bit of fascination as it pattered about observing all the different angles as she worked tirelessly on...whatever. Servos began to whir to life and Gibraltar stepped out of his station, slowly approaching his mechanical confidant who either didn’t notice his ‘revival’ or was simply too busy with her work to care.
”Good morning Abiteth,” His deep, slightly robotic voice greeted the young woman,
”What is on the agenda for today?”
With the play button pressed in, an old transceiver device statically released
a classical song of a world’s past. The music resounded throughout the lab which resembled that of a junkyard. A woman with long, silver hair and charcoal spots on her half seared face stood under her 1966 GAZ 21 Volga that was lifted above ground with her car jacks. A
seemingly old-fashioned cigarette laid between her lips as smoke leaked out without any movement of her face or body.
Still. Calm. Motionless.
Simple work goggles covered her eyes as she looked up at her old timer. Her untidy hair was tied up by a stiff rubber band, her left bangs falling in front of her facial blemish. She wore army green cargo pants, a midriff red vest with a black crop underneath it, and a tool belt around her waist. Along with all that, she held an electrical car plier in one hand and an electromagnetic drill in the other.
There was no telling how she felt. Her face was expressionless, lips slightly ajar due to her poisonous addiction, and her eyes were hidden behind black tint lenses. Smog surrounded the area, all which came out of her cigarette that released smoke like a cigar.
A little robot wobbled into the musky cloud as sparks began to fly. It’s rusty gears turning on the inside and oil dripping from it’s hinges, as it whirred closer to it’s master. The fumes that ascended into the air from it’s back tank amplified the massive cloud that had already been created. The robot’s forehead blinked red like a beacon light informing the woman that it was recording her escapades. Though the lens were visually impaired due to the smoke, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence, the robot was set on heat sensor mode and was able to see the mechanic and the car through the toxin.
The woman was lost in her work, forgetting time itself. This car would be her forever project, constantly improving it, always wanting to make it deceivingly misleading yet incredibly better than any of those newer models.
This was her life.
There was no need to dream bigger dreams. As long as she could immerse herself in the dangerous world of technology, the stoic woman would be satisfied. Of course, there was also her knightly duties for the Tower but they understood her needs or at least, they kept her… entertained. Working here killed time, gave her something to do, let her put her friend through life threatening tests, and the majority of ground 0 was her playground! The deal was great even if she had to interact with more people than she would like to.
The hard steps and deep voice of Gibralter pierced through her concentration. Ah, yes. Her name was Abiteth. Not many people were permitted to call her the name given to her by her father and that wretched whore she knew nothing about. This cyborg of a man was an exception since her father gained a liking to him, finding him to be useful and good natured. A man to watch over his daughter as his daughter used the man however she pleased. Sounds sexual right? Unfortunately, neither cyborg nor mechanic had any interest in the other romantically. Hell, she couldn’t even feel remorse after ‘accidentally’ exploding a church during a funeral ceremony.
Putting the pliers in a pouch on her tool belt and handing the drill to ROB, the woman gingerly made her way out from under her car, out of the smoke, and to the hulk of a man she accepted into her life.
Removing her goggles and resting the eyepiece on her head, revealing her crimson red eye and an indiscernible charred eyelid, Lethal flatly replied,
”Check in. See if we’re needed for a...” Pause. Let the next word sink in.
“Wedding.” The last word might have had a pinch of annoyance added to the blandness of her voice. The mechanic did not find such occasions worth the hype, especially when she had better things to do in the comfort of her lab. Grabbing a rag off the nearest work table and wiping the grime out of her hands, she looked up at Gibralter and muttered,
”Word goes around fast.”
”A wedding?” It was subtle, but when Lethal mentioned the word her tone had changed ever so slightly. Raising a hand up to his visor, he started searching through Archive’s database as information flooded at the speed of thought across his HUD. It’s not like his fingers activated his HUD, he could do that at will, but he liked to at least let people know that he was either looking something up or at the very least busy at the moment, plus it was...impolite to do it without the person knowing.
An image of a wedding memo popped up in his vision, holding his arm up the glyphs on it began to glow as they floated up and formed a digitized image of what he was looking at in front of Lethal.
”The Lord of Storms is to be wed to Lady Marrowfell, a wondrous occasion for all to come.” He read the words aloud on the digital pamphlet.
”Well, let us check in. I don’t believe we will be needed for the wedding preparations, the tower hands will more than likely have that assigned to them. No if anything, we will most likely be asked to be a part of the vanguard or some type of honor gua-.”The image suddenly evaporated from his vision and forearm, curious. He tried accessing Archive, it was offline; curiouser. The lights in the workshop started flickering too as he looked up at them, were they under attack? No, there was no seismic activity, perhaps a powersurge? Archive reactivated after a temporary disabling.
”Archive just went offline, it’s back up, checking the source of the power disruption; standby.” After a brief search he discovered one of labs as being the source, should they go check on it? No...Urthar was already there, he disengaged Archive before answering Lethal again,
”We’re not needed, the Master of Words is already investigating the matter, for now, we’ll need to go and perform the check in.”Stepping back to his station he retrieved his sword, attaching it to his back via a magnetic plate and holstering his handgun after checking its ammo contents.
”Shall we?”
Having placed the drill on a low shelf, ROB’s small footsteps clanged throughout the lab, starting from the car and drawing closer to the two individuals that have been heavily implanted in it’s memory card. Over the years of constantly documenting Lethal’s endeavors, the machine had grown an odd, artificial attachment to her cyborg companion. The music abruptly went on and off, on and off, and eventually started playing backwards. The sound that was being produced now from the device screeched, almost like a demonic fiend screaming, and ROB made aware of Lethal’s twitchy eye. After the heat sensor disengaged, having left out of the smoke, the machine’s lense switched to aura sensory mode.
Staring wide-eyed at it’s master (not because it was surprised, it simply had a big lense), the robot saw a light shade of orange, which symbolized a growing aggression. Though Lethal was great at keeping her emotions to herself, when she actually felt something, the robot was always prepared, constantly analyzing the flowing numbers around him. An area had so much information to it. Anyone who came down here could assume a couple things about Lethal, but ROB CAM was capable of dissecting and reading an area to its core. His lense would extend out and find all the possible clues that led to better understanding Lethal, Gibralter, and the building itself. The robot’s previous owner had given it the ability to prevent possible mishaps or at least foresee an issue before it could occur. Luckily, Lethal was only annoyed. If her aura was red… then there would be a problem.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
The robot teeter-tottered toward the music player and pulled the cord out from the outlet making the room completely silent. Bringing its attention back to it’s master, ROB observed quietly as her aura turned to an earthy brown… relaxed, calm, at peace. When foolish individuals interrupted Lethal’s tranquility, attunement with her classical music, and her passion for steel and technology… someone, more often than not, died.
Power surges were not common occurrences in the Tower, the cold hearted woman could suspect someone was the cause behind it but her care to investigate was nonexistent.
Both Lethal’s comrade and ROB had one thing in common, they both resolved predicaments before they could occur; perks of being a machine or having been transformed into one. The robot knew it’s master wasn’t unreasonable and irrational (for the most part). However, past events have made it absolutely necessary to constantly take precautions.
After Gibralter had spoken, ROB’s computer synthesized, high-pitched, unisex vocalizer ‘happily’ uttered,
”I’m on a seafood diet. I see food and I eat it! End Log Set H #55,836.” The red light on it’s forehead stopped blinking and the recording was stored in the database within it’s metal plated chest.
Not saying anything in response to her comrade, Lethal tossed her cigarette in a disintegrated, non flammable trash can, and removed her lab tool belt, replacing it with her repair tool belt. Taking another cigarette out of her right pocket, the mechanic pressed it against her metal, demonic sigil ring, and quickly dragged it against it causing it to burn. Placing it in between her lips and nonchalantly shoving her hands in her pocket, she muttered,
”Let’s go.” and strolled out of her lab, with ROB following behind next.
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