The Lab (4) - Farewell, Miss Anastasia.

That low declaration sent chills racing across my bare skin—like electricity coursing through me, naked as the day I was decanted. The fear and tension I'd barely shaken off clamped down again, harder than before.

"Wh-what the hell do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. Bio-implant installation: perfect. Cyberware compatibility and adaptability: verified. Per Dr. Makarovich's experimental protocol, we now proceed to the next phase of the project. It's time to measure the cyborg's combat capabilities."

Click... click!Grind!!Bang! He strode to the cabinet in the corner of the operating room and ripped open the locked storage door. The mangled metal panel flew into the corner, and he hurled the contents at me.

"Guhk?!"

A bundle of black fabric smacked into my face, blinding me. My vision blocked, I couldn't see clearly, but something hard clattered onto the operating table around me—a bunch of them.

"Heylong Black Dragon Corp's prototype Hyper Combat Suit, the Peacemaker semi-automatic pistol with spare magazines, and... standard combat rations. Once you've suited up, please proceed to the corridor to begin the experiment."

"?! Hey! Wait!!"

The bastard ignored me completely and left the operating room without a backward glance. I was grateful for the clothes, sure, but he'd dumped way too much ominous info at once. Keeping my cool was impossible.

If Exatech ruled robotics and Heylong dominated military gear, then Enama Corp—Eternal Life Corporation—was the psychopathic frontrunner in human experimentation and cybernetic modification among all the mega corps. What if... just what if the experiments underway right now were developing the prototypes for all those cyborgs from the game...?

What if that android had healed me on purpose, luring me here as part of the experimental protocol's variable controls...?

"Huuu... huup...!"

My hands started shaking again. I took deep breaths to steady them as best I could. Worrying could wait. First priority: check the gear I'd been given.

No matter how petite this body was, I doubted this black sports bra and panties would fit... but they stretched perfectly as I slipped them on, hugging every curve without a gap. The jacket and pants were a bit loose in the chest, but clearly tailored for this body, and finally the walker boots.

Beep... bleep...

The cyberware installed with my implants flickered, analyzing the clothing's materials and functions. Carbon nanofibers... glass fibers... ballistic weave... photosensitive resin. Fuck, this was legit body armor doubling as combat gear.

"...Don't fuck with me...!"

I'd never even dreamed of swaggering into my favorite cyberpunk world. An apocalypse ruled by steel, gunpowder, and credits was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comedy from afar—but pure tragedy the moment it hit you.

And now, just as I'd steeled myself... they were trying to kill me right off the bat...?

Clack!

I snatched up the Heylong Black Dragon Corp Peacemaker semi-automatic pistol and ejected the magazine to check it. The helpful cyberware had already told me the round count even when loaded, but now that this was my only lifeline, I had to see it with my own eyes.

"Just 17 rounds...?"

Adding the spare mags they'd tossed in like an afterthought brought it to 34. Plenty if the test opponent was human—but judging by our cheeky tin can's tone...

The answer was obvious.

Grind...!!

"You think I'm going down that easy...?!"

The starting Anastasia wasn't omnipotent by any means. But with all my Neo Haven knowledge poured into optimizing her traits, a victory plan definitely existed.

Clang...!!Rattle...

I jammed the mags roughly into my jacket pocket and knocked something else out in the process. The object rolled across the icy operating room floor: a can. This must be the "combat rations."

Why bother with MREs in a setup where you couldn't last a minute? Was it the tension of a potential bad end, or the lingering fishy taste of the culture fluid churning my gut? Either way, no appetite. I ignored it and headed for the corridor—until another cyberware popup from the tactless system flashed up.

Bleep...!

"...Huh?"

......This was "combat rations"?

I could only laugh in disbelief. Hilarious... fucking hilarious. This android prick must've thought I was full of shit...!

Time to show him the wrath of someone who'd truly lost their shit.

Step, step.

Stepping into the blinding white corridor, I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greeted by the Carebot's mechanical voice.

"Specimen RoTG-71214 cyborg: combat capability measurement protocol explanation. Article 1: The participating subject will proceed to the training bunker at the end of the corridor and attempt survival. Article 2: Accounting for armament imbalance, the droid will not pursue for the first 30 minutes. Article 3: The experiment continues until one side reaches operational incapacity. Any questions?"

"...Fine. What's 'operational incapacity' mean?"

"For the droid: destruction of the main power core or central processing unit. For the subject: destruction of the central nervous system. May I commence the experiment?"

...Scary words to the bitter end. "Then... what if I do this!?"

Clack...!

I yanked the Peacemaker from its thigh holster and aimed it right at him.

"......"

"......"

His red scanner blinked again, and the silence stretched. Did he see through my bluff? Or did he know a little girl spraying pistol rounds couldn't dent his vitals?

Bluffing against a machine was pointless, as expected.

"Haa... fine. I'll run away nice and quiet. Happy...?"

"Thank you for your active cooperation. Specimen RoTG-71214. Then, July 15, 2195, Wednesday, 11:34 PM. Combat capability measurement exper—"

Bang!!

Right before he finished, I kicked off the corridor floor and charged. Damn, this future Chinese Hyper Combat Suit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was no joke. Even with my rock-bottom physical stats, it propelled me toward the droid at a solid clip.

"That violates protocol."

Groooowl...!!

He barreled toward me, shredding the floor tiles. Like he was begging me to realize the monster I'd unleashed, his chainsaw arm whirred menacingly, cannon barrel trained on my head.

But... the arms actually targeting me were the precise, safe-grip ones.

Shwick!!

"!!"

My knees screamed as I slammed the brakes and threw myself backward. Otherwise, I'd get shredded by debris, mangled by the intimidation saw, or crack my skull falling—pick your poison.

Of course, he had no real intent to harm. He lunged like a tackle, wrapping me in both arms and rolling down the corridor.

Crash!!

"What the &*%^(&...?!"

"You fucking idiot tin can! Trying to pass off priceless old-world gourmet canned goods as 'simple combat rations'? You need a good spanking from a human!!"

Carebots mimicking humans had their CPUs in the head. Droids mimicking spiders had theirs in the torso—so this time, to seize true control, I clamped both hands on his neck and activated my prepared traits.

My will surged from my fingertips into the android's circuits. No network access meant no hacking tools installed... but here, no complex security to breach.

I just needed him to realize I needed him! This cheeky tin can trying to scare me under the guise of "experiment" and send me to the bunker first? Time for a full explanation!

"Primary command authority imprint!! Droid, halt all actions and prohibit evasion or lies in response to questions!"

"...Primary command authority confirmed from surviving subject. Switching to standby mode."

His mechanical arms released me, and I tumbled to the floor with a thud. Without the suit, I'd have hurt myself stupidly. But no time to hesitate.

Self-aware AIs could overwrite code on their own—without sustained hacking, he'd slip control fast.

"Good... Why'd you hide your name?"

"The doctor worried that a chick fresh from the egg might imprint on the first thing she sees as her mother. Excessive attachment to the android would be of no help to Miss Anastasia's survival."

"...Then what about these cans?"

"Dr. Makarovich's gift for Miss Anastasia. He said it's a birthday food from one of the old-world nations, Russia."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"......"

I bit my lip. This was for me too... that was for me too...

Rage boiled up. I might be naive about the world, but I wasn't some lab rat.

"Last question. Are Seekers from Enama Corp already upstairs...?"

"......"

Thud...!

He stood abruptly without answering, canceling standby on his own. Yeah... I figured.

A top-tier mega corp wouldn't leave an asset alive without trying to reclaim it.

"...The bunker has a one-person escape pod ready."

"If I hop in and make it out safe, you know how I survive after? If you wanna help me that bad, stick by my side till the end instead. Don't go clanking off alone to get smashed by the Seeker squad, you moron!!"

"......"

Watching me vent everything and huff, he finally altered his protocol.

"The lab's upper levels still have active defense systems and turrets. If you hack into the control room and block the Seekers' systems from accessing ours, we'll resist with everything we've got."

"Now you're talking sense...!"

His mechanical arms—still cold, but feeling far more human now—scooped me up.

Thud thud thud thud thud...!!

In a flash, via the elevator shaft, our tin can hauled his protectee up to the surface lab and left me in the empty control room, saying he'd grab extra armaments from the hangar.

The control room monitors were already picking up Seekers approaching on hovercraft.

Extra armaments now? What the hell...?

Truth be told, since his base was a mere caregiving bot—even modded to hell with Exatech parts—he felt a tad unreliable against corporate hounds.

Beep...!

I accessed the lab's mainframe using the forged employee ID left by the doctor who'd spectacularly self-destructed underground. Real combat forced on me out of nowhere—perfect chance to practice touch-panel and electrical signal hacks, plus satisfy my curiosity. I pulled up the hangar inventory...

This... this shitty tin can!!

You had this and only gave me a pistol...?

Un-fucking-believable...!

"Forming Enama Corp lab's final defensive line. Initiating scrapped droid control and Goliath external armament fusion. Miss Anastasia, are you ready?"

"...Not as ready as you."

"Miss Anastasia survival probability recalculated... 63%. Insufficient."

I snapped back as curtly as possible over comms, but our smug tin can was busy prepping a welcome party for the approaching Seekers.

Vreeee—!

With a deafening whine, assault rifles chambered rounds, and crimson glows ignited in the eyes of the powered-down robots all at once.

"Miss Anastasia's dedicated Carebot Tin Can, annihilation mode activated."