Lower Level, Gladiator Maintenance Area
Everett Arena
Everett Arena Lower Level, Gladiator Maintenance Area
Serra stands at the security entrance to the mechanical gladiator maintenance area, toolbox in hand, with Hammer quietly following her.
120 minutes to complete repairs and module upgrades on 7 mechanoids.
Sigh... Hammer, we've got quite the challenge ahead of us today.
(The indicator light flashes rapidly.)
She pulls out her terminal, brings up the information sheet, and quickly scrolls through the details.
Lemme see... Standard models, routine maintenance, three units: "Arc", "Winch", and "Chain". Modified models, upgrade installations, two units: ...
No repair job's too tough for Serra the All-Capable! Let's go, Hammer—another day of getting things done right and fast!
Hey, Uncle Roko! You hearing this? I'm about to get started over here—better keep up!
Oh? Is that so? I'm already working on my first one. Maybe you should've sprinted to your station instead of chatting.
...Shut up!
Serra ends the terminal call with a huff, double-checks her schedule, takes a deep breath, and pulls out her ID card to place it against the security scanner.
Identity verified. Employee 30476: Serra, Junior Mechanic. Access granted to Lower Mechanical Section A.
The security system lets out a mechanical beep confirming its verification, and the heavy metal doors slide apart with a dull, rusty groan.
The moment Serra sees the mechanical gladiators, her face lights up with a radiant smile—as if she's reuniting with old friends.
Gooood morning, my brave mechanical gladiator heroes! Today's another day for Serra the Mechanic to give your frames some much-needed TLC!
Command received. Awaiting maintenance.
The mechanoids awaiting maintenance respond only with identical, emotionless tones, making Serra scratch her head in disappointment.
(Nothing more than basic interaction, huh. Bet this is an outdated batch...)
After a brief moment of disappointment, Serra breaks into a smile again as she follows the instructions on her terminal and enters the first mechanical gladiator's chamber.
Mechanic authority... confirmed. Switching this frame to... maintenance mode.
Lemme see... Transmission system shows some wear, and the power core's energy conversion rate is down to just 40%...
Hmm, but the biggest issue here seems to be your visual recognition module. Seems like the entire component needs a complete upgrade.
But my work authorization only covers "routine maintenance," and I don't exactly have that much time to spend. Well, this is difficult.
Let's see... how about I give your mobility recognition components an upgrade? That should boost your chances in the arena!
Copy that. Modification plan confirmed.
Although... there's not much I can really do for you all...
Either way, give it your all in the arena and fight for that championship!
Unable to process command. Emotional content in communication not recognized.
...That's alright. Okay then, I'm going to disconnect your energy core now!
That should do it. Hammer, hand me wrench number seven from the toolbox.
Serra hunches over her intense repair work, fully immersed in the maze of complex mechanical components and circuitry and completely oblivious to her surroundings.
She quickly completes the maintenance on the unit and jogs over to the next waiting one, ready to repeat the entire process again.
All the while, Hammer, being her most reliable assistant, responds quickly to Serra's every command.
Their coordination is flawless. Whether Serra verbally asks Hammer to do something or with gestures, Hammer, always ready to help, never fails to respond with perfect accuracy.
A sharp contrast to the bubbly young woman she usually is, Serra now takes on the laser-focused demeanor of a professional mechanical engineer.
Time passes unnoticed as fine beads of sweat form on her forehead from concentration, her mind completely unaware of the hours slipping silently by.
Phew... this sure ain't easy...
Let me see where I am... I think there's still one left to do... Wait, I've got less than 10 minutes left?!
Serra screams after a glance at her terminal. At the same moment, the surveillance system overhead issues a warning alert.
Serra, Junior Mechanic. Repair work status: At risk. Time remaining: Ten minutes. Work remaining: CTX-V Enhanced Function Model, codename "Veronica". Quantity: One.
Please complete your assignment within the allocated timeframe. Failure to do so will result in the forfeiture of all work hours logged today.
(The indicator light flashes at high frequency.)
Let's go, Hammer! We gotta get that last one fixed. We've only got nine minutes and 52 seconds left!
Serra sprints down the dimly lit corridor, causing the items in her toolbag to clatter chaotically with each desperate stride.
Hammer struggles to keep pace with her footsteps, nearly toppling over several times while navigating the sharp corners.
The girl stumbles to a halt when she arrives at the room she meant to come to, her breath still coming in gasps when she finds herself staring into a pair of crimson mechanoid eyes.
The tall figure's face is utterly devoid of expression, its cold eyes fixed on Serra. Unfazed by Veronica's demeanor, however, Serra breaks into a smile.
Wow—So you're Veronica—
You look so human-like! Like one of those heroines who knows how to fight!
You can call me Serra. I'm a mechanic here! Can we be friends?
Oops, sorry, didn't mean to be rude or anything! We can totally take it slow here. I got a little overexcited just now because I've never seen a mechanoid like you.
The girl's eyes sparkle with excitement as she extends her hand to Veronica, ready to greet her as though she were a human.
A split second after, the silent mechanoid extends its hand in response—but instead of returning the human's friendly gesture, it violently seizes her by the throat.
...Aaargh!
Veronica's cold mechanical hand tightens around Serra's neck, constricting her windpipe. Serra struggles to breathe, unable to get a single word out.
She has no idea what triggered the mechanoid's "rage," but her current situation makes one thing clear: the slightest resistance would be enough for that hand to snap her neck.
You said you're a "mechanic"?
Serra manages only the faintest nod, hoping that even this tiny movement will be recognized as confirmation.
Veronica hurls a collarDtwisted beyond recognitionDto the ground in fury. It's the same device that terminated that broken, nameless mechanoid the day before.
Remove this damn thing from my neck.
The mechanical hand around Serra's throat loosens slightly. Finally able to draw breath, Serra breaks into a fit of desperate coughing.
She realizes this is her chance to explain.
Cough, cough, cough...
It... it can't be taken off...
This device... It's connected to the terminal system. Any attempt to remove it would instantly trigger an alarm...
If I do that, Overseer would take you to that... that place where mechanoids are "executed"...
But the mechanoid merely fixes her with an icy stare, clearly unsatisfied with her answer.
The hand around Serra's throat tightens again—a silent warning.
She desperately tries to pry the mechanical hand from her throat, but her efforts are futile.
...
In the midst of their standoff, Serra's personal terminal begins to ring in her pocket. Its monotonous tone echoes throughout the room, except she can't answer it.
It clatters to the floor and connects with an accidental tap. From the other end comes an impatient human voice.
Hey, Serra, you there? Have you finished fixing your "metal brutes" yet?
I got stuck with nothing but heaps of junk on my end. Such a pain in the ass. I see no point in fixing them at all, given how beat up they are. Might as well just scrap the whole lot.
...Why aren't you answering? Need a hand over there?
...Well, bet you're just too busy there. I've got two more sections to go, so I can't come over anytime soon. Catch you later.
The call ends with a sharp click.
...
Heaps of junk, huh? That's how you people always see us.
Failed mechanoids, crushed like worthless trash without a second thought.
...
Serra struggles desperately, fighting for even a gasp of air as suffocation starts setting in, but it's completely futile.
There's no need to explain.
You can only blame yourself for failing to earn yourself a chance to survive.
The mechanical hand clamped around Serra's throat tightens its grip mercilessly, squeezing the air from her lungs with methodical precision.
The other mechanoid gladiators remain motionless in standby mode. Responding to human distress calls isn't part of the programming in their processing modules.
The surveillance system remains unresponsive as well. Evidently, it's designed to monitor employee productivity, not their safety.
Oxygen deprivation blurs Serra's consciousness. Just as darkness begins to claim her, a mechanical whirring sounds from behind—Hammer has come to her rescue.
(Emits a piercing alarm and rams into Veronica at full speed.)
The tiny robot is no match for Veronica, but it still rams into her with everything it's got, desperately trying to make her let go of its master.
With cold indifference, Veronica stares down at Hammer. Its body, nothing more than a patchwork of all sorts of components, is now damaged from ramming.
Hammer's effort, however, seems to prove effective—Veronica's grip loosens slightly.
As Serra catches her breath, she doesn't cry for help. Instead, she calls out desperatelyD
H-Hammer! Stop, stop that already!
Pathetic. You really think this "weapon" of yours can put a dent in me?
Veronica's powerful tail lashes out, ready to crush the little robot in one swift strike.
No!!!
In desperation, Serra twists her still-trapped body and swings her arm to intercept Veronica's tail.
Smack— Ugh—
The impact and grunt are heard almost at the same time. Serra's eyes glaze over as her arm falls limp, blood streaming from the wound.
Don't... you dare... hurt... my friend...
Forcing out these defiant words, Serra appears oblivious to what's happening to herself and the greater danger that might ensue from these words.
...Friend?
Veronica's gaze turns cold as she looks at the small robot still futilely charging at her, then back to Serra.
Serra, still frozen in terror moments ago, now stares back at Veronica without a trace of fear.
The spark of courage in the girl's emerald eyes burns like an inextinguishable flame.
...How pathetically foolish.
Veronica lets out a cold snort and relaxes her combat stance. She folds her arms across her chest and sizes Serra up with icy indifference.
Cough, cough, cough...
With purple bruises around her slender neck and blood streaming from her injured arm, Serra gasps for air in relief.
Ignoring her own injuries, she rushes immediately to Hammer's side to check if the little robot has sustained any damage from repeatedly ramming itself into Veronica.
Are you okay, Hammer? Don't worry, these are just minor scratches... I'll patch you right up when we get home!
(The indicator light blinks slowly and rhythmically.)
Think this little show you're putting on is going to change how I see you people?
You're no different from those humans in the stands. Machines are nothing but tools to you people.
We mechanoids fight desperately in the arena, struggling to be the last one standing, only to advance to the next round and face the same brutal cycle all over again.
And you mechanics... You only repair us mechanoids after each match so we can keep those humans entertained.
You all crave the thrill of watching us being torn apart in the arena... That's the only spectacle that satisfies your bloodlust...
(Revs up and attempts to ram into Veronica again with increased force.)
That's enough! Stop it, Hammer!
The little robot still maintains a hostile attitude toward Veronica, its indicator light flashing frantically while Serra tries desperately to calm it down.
Serra and Veronica face each other in tense silence, the air between them awkwardly still—until a notification from the monitoring system shatters the brief quiet.
Serra, Junior Mechanic. Repair work status: Incomplete. Work remaining: CTX-V Enhanced Function Model, codename "Veronica". Quantity: One.
This violation contravenes Article 10 of the Everett Consortium Employee Code of Conduct: Late work completion or substandard work quality within the designated timeframe is prohibited. Your day's work hours have been forfeited as penalty.
This infraction has been reported to management.
Instead of lashing out at the system like she usually does, Serra responds only with a pout.
Yeah, whatever floats your boat.
Go ahead, dock more of my hours! If things get any worse, I'll just stop trying altogether! Hmph!
(Nuzzles repeatedly against Serra's pant leg.)
Oh, there there! I was only kidding! I still need to keep earning points to get you a voice module someday, don't I?
With her work jacket, she casually wipes a component she just removed from Hammer and meticulously puts the component back in.
Veronica notices the girl's filthy jacket that's completely covered in machine oil and grime, its original color barely discernible under the stains.
It's worlds apart from the immaculate, fashionable attire worn by the human spectators in the arena stands.
Serra is completely absorbed in repairing her little robot, utterly oblivious to everything else around her.
...
The terminal on the floor suddenly starts ringing again.
Huh? Where's my terminal...?
She turns around to find her terminal, now only inches from her face, nearly smacking into her.
—Because Veronica has shoved her terminal, still ringing, into Serra's face.
Serra freezes in confusion but soon realizes that Veronica isn't about to smash her terminal into her skull—that she's simply waiting for Serra to take it.
...
...T-Thank you.
Serra reaches out to take her terminal from Veronica, the blood around her wound hasn't yet completely dried.
Hissss...
Blood starts trickling from her wound again when her terminal comes into contact with it. Serra hisses in pain and quickly clutches her hand.
...
Serra and Veronica face each other in silence, the air between them growing strangely still and uncomfortable.
The terminal, now in Serra's hand, continues to vibrate. She quickly hits the answer button, and Uncle Roko's panicked voice erupts from the speaker.
...Hello? Hello! Serra, what the hell are you doing? What took you so long to answer? What's going on with you?
Why is Overseer heading your way? Actually, the big guy is already on its way!
What?! You can't be serious!
Serra already hears Overseer's heavy footsteps coming from the far end of the corridor before she can even disconnect the call.
Serra quickly slips out of Veronica's room and dashes to the corridor, where she stands at rigid attention—this ritual of standing straight to receive a scolding from Overseer is something she's mastered through plenty of practice.
With Overseer now standing right in front of Serra, its frame towering over her, she has difficulty making out its face even if she cranes her neck. Its very presence radiates an overwhelming sense of authority that's impossible to ignore.
Too afraid to look up, Serra quietly waits for Overseer to scan her face and analyze her every microexpression. She struggles to keep her face neutral and harmless-looking, knowing the machine is searching for any sign of defiance.
With the facial scan complete, Overseer, in a cold, emotionless tone, starts speaking.
Mechanic Serra. Explain the reason for your tardiness.
I'm sorry, I... I was too slow. I-I promise it won't happen again.
Your current response does not align with your behavior thus far.
According to your records, of your 54 previous tardiness infractions, you denied responsibility 28 times and displayed inappropriate behavior toward the surveillance system 17 times...
Final verification: Are there any other unreported incidents? Be advised that withholding information will result in the forfeiture of all your work hours for this month.
...Nothing at all, I swear! I promise!
Serra strains to make her voice sound utterly sincere, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and conviction.
She stands perfectly straight while keeping her injured hand behind her back.
Overseer's microexpression and voice pattern analysis detects no anomalies in Serra's behavior—nothing that matches the physiological indicators of deception.
Having finally completed its protocol-mandated "verification" process, Overseer departs from the area.
With Overseer completely gone now, Serra exhales with profound relief, then quickly slips back into the room where Veronica is waiting.
?
I'm here to work, duh.
Oh, stop giving me that look. They've already docked my pay for today anyway, so what does it matter now?
Your frame's taken some serious damage and needs some fixing if you want to win your next match.
Serra twirls the small wrench in her hand with a hint of swagger, seemingly trying to show off her expertise.
...
Keep your filthy hands off my frame.
Veronica coldly tosses a somewhat dirty piece of cloth toward Serra, then turns away without another glance.
Silence occupies the room once more.
...
But it doesn't last long before Veronica speaks again.
Maybe next time.
Ah... Okay!
This, Serra figures, is a sign that Veronica has softened.
Having completed all her tasks for the day, Serra hums a tune as she walks briskly back to the staff quarters.
(Lags behind Serra, the indicator light pulsing slowly.)
Hey, I'm okay. Why are you still upset?
(Stops abruptly, refusing to follow Serra any further.)
Why are you sulking again? Told you I'm okay. Things aren't what you think they are.
See, Veronica didn't actually mean to hurt me.
So... be nice to her when you see her again, alright?
