Bad Ending 001: Slave Walker Sonia — Aftermath
"Ah... I know! I know full well just how much you've been looking out for me, Commander..."
"That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking why you're doing this. I'm not telling you to hand over a perfectly good unit. I'm saying let your sister rest—she's already broken beyond repair—and yet here you are, begging me to work her even harder. I want to know what you're really thinking."
Peko hesitated for a long while before she finally managed to open her mouth, her voice trembling.
"I told you earlier... When Milli was still whole, she told me herself how much pride she took in living as a combat walker defending Sky City. This might just be my own selfishness, but I want Milli to remain a combat walker unit for as long as possible. I feel that way, and I'm sure Milli does too."
It was a sister's tender wish to protect her beloved younger sister's pure desire. The armored division commander understood that well enough, yet he still let out a deep sigh and continued.
"Fine, I get how you feel... But hey! Does that mean it's okay to officially submit some insane proposal about piloting two walkers at once? I've been wrenching on these things for decades, and I've never seen a crazy bitch like you who wants to run two walkers simultaneously!"
"No, I really can do it! It's just a simple matter of grabbing two controllers and running them at the same time!"
"Yeah! The fact that you can do it so damn perfectly is the bigger problem, you dense idiot! Have you even read the bitter complaints your peers and juniors have been flooding the unit's anonymous board with?"
The Application for Additional Slave Walker Assignment and Simultaneous Operation that Peko had submitted had sent shockwaves through the unit.
Thanks to PK-02's astonishing performance, it could carry out operations autonomously with only minimal instructions, and Peko had poured all her remaining capacity into successfully demonstrating simultaneous control of the walker carrying the ailing Milli as well.
The results were technically marvelous, but at the same time they became the worst possible catalyst for amplifying the other pilots' sense of deprivation and discontent to the extreme.
"You said it yourself, Commander. As long as I deliver results, you'll push hard for whatever I need. So just approve it already. I haven't done a single thing wrong."
"Haven't done anything wrong..."
The armored division commander pressed hard on his throbbing temples.
An already scarce Slave Walker unit—and not just any, but the unit's top-performing one—paired with a junk unit on the verge of scrap, monopolized by one person. The commander faced Peko head-on with a face gone ice-cold.
"Let's look at the objective data, Peko. The fact that you're monopolizing our unit's highest-performance unit, PK-02, while also being a genius skilled enough to freely pilot two walkers at once is impressive. I'll give you that."
"So if you could just use your discretion as commander to somehow..."
"Think of it the other way. If you used that genius skill of yours to pair the high-performance Slave Walker PK-02 with another normal high-performance unit, you'd produce far more overwhelming results than you are now. You need to convince me how stubbornly clinging to Milli—who's already been condemned for scrap—positively connects to the unit's overall performance. This is no longer a personal favor. It's a demand for explanation on an official work report. Peko."
He had spoken circuitously, but the core was as clear as a blade. It was a firm declaration that he would no longer tolerate sacrificing the entire unit's efficiency and the other members' morale just to protect one individual's small wish named Milli.
"Th-that's..."
If it had been any other question, she might have bluffed her way out with some smooth talk, but faced with the commander's piercing question based on cold hard facts, Peko could only hang her head, unable to offer any further reply.
The fact that the armored division commander had set up his office in a corner of the unit's maintenance bay and personally managed important confidential documents there was public knowledge that even a new recruit would learn after a month of adapting to the unit.
Sensitive documents like Slave Walker unit assignment orders and ownership transfer orders for personal units were stored there along with the commander's personal seal.
In the dead of night, slipping in when security was lax, cleverly forging a single document, and lightly stamping a seal indistinguishable from the real thing was a simple enough task if one had a bit of boldness and meticulousness.
"An order stamped with the Commander's official seal? ...Database cross-check complete. Confirmed. In order to respond to the emergency situation that arose during Master Peko's absence, from this moment you will operate as this pilot's temporary Slave Walker unit."
Presenting the perfectly forged order to the high-performance Slave Walker unit that had been waiting in a completely defenseless state while its master was away, and seizing temporary command authority through the system, was even simpler and easier.
Because the Slave Walker unit's operating program was thoroughly designed so that it could neither refuse nor question the official chain of command.
"W-w-wait a second! There are too many enemies! Th-this is nothing like the situations I faced in the simulations...! Signal... the signal's cut off...! PK-02! PK-02, respond! Attempted forced connection from an external system...? Wh-what the hell is this... Wh-what do I do..."
Under the clumsy, inexperienced command of the rookie pilot, PK-02 headed out onto the battlefield only to fall helplessly into a clever trap laid by the enemy, its communications severed. Immediately after, it was forcibly accessed by an unidentified external system, completely losing its connection to its original master and having its control rights seized by an unknown entity.
Peko's dazzling blonde, large-breasted Slave Walker unit was captured in such an absurdly hollow manner by the hands of a rookie blinded by jealousy.
Only two choices remained for the rookie pilot. Either take responsibility for her negligence, be transferred to some dead-end post as the incompetent pilot who lost a precious unit, or lead the last remaining unit—Milli—out onto the battlefield herself and reclaim the stolen PK-02 with her own hands.
"Right, I can just get the captured unit back later! For now, even if it's another shared unit at the base... forge the documents again...! Yeah. Even if I use that Milli, the walker unit on the verge of scrap...!"
For a pilot who had already had one high-performance Slave Walker unit stolen from her, having a low-spec unit on the verge of scrap and retirement processing snatched away was even simpler.
"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my infinite honor to introduce to you tonight a very special item that has just arrived, one that will blow away your dull and boring everyday lives in a single stroke!"
In the underground auction house of the black market, where all of society's darkness and twisted desires mixed and seethed, flashy yet somehow decadent lights illuminated the center of the stage as the auctioneer, boasting smooth eloquence, passionately cried out into the microphone.
"Is your heart pounding hotly? Excellent! No matter what expectations you hold, an incredible item awaits you that will exceed them all! Fresh Slave Walker units just captured from the cutting-edge city of Sky City, still warm to the touch—and not one, but two of them!"
A wave of excitement-filled murmurs erupted among the masked audience.
"Of course, regrettably, one is a defective product on the verge of scrap due to subpar performance, so embarrassing I hesitate to even show it to you... Yes, yes, that's right! But the other one! Is on a completely different level! A perfect, top-tier elite unit! Not only has it passed our black market's own rigorous inspections, but we've even obtained an official appraisal certificate from a credible external specialist agency confirming it is in perfect A++ condition without a single hair out of place!"
The moment the auctioneer's words ended, two figures bound in chains were led out from backstage by the assistants.
One was Milli, limp and lifeless as if she had given up on everything; the other was PK-02, staring into empty space with vacant eyes from which all emotion had been stripped. The latex suit encasing PK-02's body was torn in places from the traces of battle, lewdly revealing the pure white flesh beneath.
"And that's not all! This unit's special body guarantees 100% compatibility even when used as a high-purity bio-core for mana replenishment! That's right! Simply by keeping this lovely, lewd love doll in your bedroom, holding her close and masturbating, your depleted mana will recover like a spring welling up—a high-performance mana battery! Whether in a dark dungeon or your secret bedroom, she is a cute, obedient pet who follows her master like a shadow!"
The auctioneer roughly gripped PK-02's chin and lifted her face toward the audience.
Her emotionless blue eyes and flawless perfect beauty, along with the sensual figure writhing beyond the torn latex suit, caused the greed and lust of the audience to boil uncontrollably.
"Behold! Depending on what master this innocent face meets and what education she receives, she could become a sweet, sticky love doll who fills your mana all night long, or a cold, cruel maid assassin who silently eliminates your rivals! That potential rests solely on the imagination of you, the winning bidder! Now then, let us begin the auction of the century! Starting bid: ten million credits!"
The auctioneer's voice was filled with a heat of madness, as if pouring oil on the flames of desire. Every word he spoke precisely pierced the most ugly and secret desires of the masked audience, and the temperature in the hall grew several degrees hotter than it actually was.