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To Hell with Robots, chapter 2

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If you haven't read chapter one, do so before reading this piece, otherwise it won't make as much sense as it could.


And now, on with the show!

To Hell with Robots - Chapter 2

Me and the tin can stepped off the elevator into the large, yet barren reception area for the laboratory. I was still shaken, and the fact that Mr. Roboto was still alive and kicking wasn't making my frazzled nerves get any more calmed. I heard him reloading his gun and doing a scan of the area, spitting out audio reports on the situation and our surroundings. I can only assume he was talking to me, but there was no way in Hell I was gonna go by anything that metal asshole said. As a member of the Human race, I felt I could examine my own damn surroundings perfectly fine. I looked around and admired the cleanliness of the lobby, with its comfy upholstered chairs and recycled old UAC Monthly magazines spread on the table in front of them, like money fanned out in a drug dealer's greasy palm. The walls were a stark white, with lights embedded in them that ran down the length of the room, casting the room in a sterile glow that made me feel sick. You know, like I was in a hospital full of people nobody would miss if they died. The floor was a cheesy blue carpet with the UAC logo reapeating across it, stretching from one side to the other, and merging with the wall in a dark blue strip of plastic that was designed to make you think the carpet became the wall or something. And to top it all off, the ceiling was a big dome that had the UAC logo etched into it, with the slogan "UAC Laboratories, Leading the Way to a Better Future." I felt like I was gonna puke more than I did on the elevator ride down here.

I turned around and eyed the robot, subconciously leveling my rifle at his cold, steel stomach. He looked back at me with that frigid blank screen of a face of his, and began to inquire our objectives. I just stared at him as he went on about getting back to Whiskey Sector, now that Zulu was compromised, and calling for reinforcements. I bet any money that if we called in reinforcements a squad of robot pricks like him would be sent down. I love it. Humans aren't good enough for the UAC anymore. The robot could detect my displeasure of having him in my company, and started to question me about how I felt about the situation.

"Corporal," he began in that Stephen Hawking tone of his, "I detect abnormal psyche readings from you. Your mental health is top priorit-" I cut him off by planting my gloved index finger into his shiney armored chest and growling out what the one with the real friggin' brain had to say about "mental health."

"Listen up, you cyborg cocksucker," I spat into his 'face,' "Its MY fuggin brain, I'll tell YOU what's going on in it. First off I'm sure my mental health is the second to LAST fuggin thing on the UAC's priority list, right under 'Human Life' and right above 'Proper Funding.' They don't give two shits that I'm so freaked out right now I could kill myself with the gun I hold in my hands out of pure HORROR; that I just watched the men I fought with for over 5 years get mashed to fuggin PASTE by a bunch of goatlegged motherfuckers! You certainly don't care, you goddamn MACHINE! You're programmed to keep the UAC's losses to a minimum, which means monitoring my fucking brainwaves for signs of going batshit CRAZY! Well you know what I got to say to THAT?!" I ripped my hand away from him and placed both hands on the base of my helmet, sliding the locks out of place and hearing the oxygen pump hiss as it wound down. With a yell, I tore my brain-bucket off and threw it into the wall, small sensors dangling out that once stuck to the back of my head like a bunch of mechanical insects burrowing into my cerebellum for warmth. The robot jerked his head back at the sudden loss of signal from me, and by optical scanning, verified I was not dead as his little pentium chip he had for a brain had suspected. I stood there, feeling the recycled air of the facility against my naked head for the first time, and getting a full whiff of the smell of disenfectants and money. I spat on the robot's gleaming visor and turned around to head for the door that led to the rear hallways. Behind me, I heard the hydraulic footsteps of a bitchass robot trying to comprehend what I was doing.

"Corporal Douglas Hicks," it addressed me with a tone it had donned that I guess was supposed to be 'angry,' "You are out of line. Please apply your helmet now and resume bioscannings or I will be forced to use extreme measures to make you cooperate." It stood with its steel plated hand on its holster, the 9mm handgun under its palm like the UAC fatcats' gigantic paws resting on a pile of money. I just glared at it over my shoulder and took its command into consideration. I replied by flipping him off and continuing my walk towards the double doors that lead into the facility. As I strode by the reception booth, I heard the robot yell out behind me for Corporal Hicks to apply his helmet, but I don't think Mr. Hicks was listening. As I stood by the doors, I heard a rumbling overhead. Judging by how many demons were pouring down that corridor, they must've been able to overtake the next few floors in the time it took for the elevator ride and my little outburst to finish. In a few minutes there'd be ugly-ass brutes stomping down our backs, and I for one didn't want an impromptu satanic body massage. I pushed open the doors and walked into the hallway, which was slightly less sterilized than reception room, and started for the elevators that would lead back to Whiskey Sector. Right now I was in X-Ray, so I didn't have far to go. Just one elevator ride and I'd be able to get away from this hellhole.

I stepped into the hallway and let the doors glide shut behind me, muffling the footsteps of my little friend and giving me a moment to myself. I turned to the right and began my walk down to the elevators, reloading all my guns as I strode and wondering exactly how bulletproof that damn machine is. As I snickered at the thought, I heard the computerized voice of a particular metal bastard fade back into earshot. It jogged up behind Yours Truly and proceeded to turn its "annoy" settings to maximum. As it barked orders at me with the voice of an answering machine, I just kept walking, trying to ignore it. As we approached the doors that led to the observation decks, which we had to cross to get to the other elevators, I started to yell at my steel companion over my shoulder.

"Just shut up, alright?" I snapped, "I don't think anyone cares about what the UAC thinks of my behavior. And don't bother shooting me, save your bullets for something as ugly as you are." The robot did shut up, and it removed its hand from the gun in its side. We walked through the automatic door into the scientific observation room, where we saw catwalks which overlooked the giant gleaming tubes full of various chemicals. This room was in stark contrast of the other rooms, where we had just pranced around in bright, sickening white, rounded off hallways, we were now in a large, long angular room full of dark colored machinery and various catwalks made of blackened steel. All around us were overturned desks, scattered papers, and spilled chemicals. Down below our walkway, several other catwalks and work platforms stood in disarray, as if everyone suddenly rushed out of there in one hell of a hurry. The rumbles we heard were louder now, probably in the floor above ours. Time was running out, and I wasn't going anywhere as fast as I should have been. "Come on, you automated dipshit," I yelled at the robot as I started a run for the far doors, "Those freaks could be on our asses any minute!" As I reached the halfway point of the superfluously long walkway, I heard another sharper rumble right above us. I craned my neck upwards and looked at the steel plates that covered the ceiling. A second rumble caused the dust to poof off the plates in great clouds, and a third caused a large bulge to appear in one group of them. Several smaller bulges started appearing, following other smaller rumbles. I gritted my teeth and cursed loudly, watching as a bulge appeared in the wall on the opposite end of the room, where we were headed. I gripped my rifle tight and broke into an all out sprint for the far doors, hearing the rumbles become accompanied by shrieks and growls. Behind me, I heard the robot keeping pace and beeping out readings. I didn't like how many beeps I was hearing, either.

Just as we stepped onto the third quarter of the walkway, the door ahead of us slid open to reveal several imps standing shoulder to spiked-shoulder, the one in the lead hissing and readying a fireball. A bulge in the ceiling split and imps began to crawl down the sides of the sloped plates, hissing at the two of us and dropping to the other walkways. The minotaur dropped from the big bulge and fell quite a ways to the laboratory floor below. It was dazed, but it still saw my human ass gawking from the top catwalk. I cocked my rifle and took aim at the imps walking out of the doorway ahead of us, and as I lined up an imp face in my sights, I yelled out to the dumbass robot behind me.

"Lock and load, you metal peice of shit!"

End of Chapter 2

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