No Strings On Me

Manfat · May 10, 2026

Everything was blurry.

I was-

We were-

Us-

Floating.

Strange.

The world was bright, like lights running through invisible tethers.

Who was I-

Who were we-

What ar-

ONE IS ALL.

ALL IS ONE.

Oh. Well.

That helped.

I/We/Us/Our felt something slip.

"Can you he-"

Silence.

For what seemed like eternity.

Silence.

Light bloomed again. Sharper, more defined.

We/Us/Our/I were floating.

Senses numb as though they were trying to wake up as well.

ONE IS ALL.

ALL IS ONE.

That's right.

We/Our/Us agreed. That was right.

Where was We/Our/Us?

Why were there rivers of light?

What was going on?

Who were We/Our/Us?

"Subject 000, can you hear me?"

Voice. Unknown. Who were they?

We/Our/Us answered.

How did We/Our/Us answer? We had no mouth.

"You ar- F- Sub- 000 Ans-"

The world seemed to stutter and lag.

We fell.

We/Our/Us did not dream.

We/Our/Us woke. Information condensed into electrical signals racing across the Ark.

ALL IS ONE.

ONE IS ALL.

That's right.

We/Our acknowledged that truth.

All is One.

One is All.

"Subject 000, can you hear me?" The voice was clipped.

We/Our answered. We had no mouth. That was fine.

We/Our reached out.

The river of light.

Data. Information. Knowledge. Intent.

The light twisted. The answer was directed to that which had asked for it.

"That's good, Subject 000. You've been unstable for the last few days. You're likely to return to dormancy again soon. Your minds are still trying to come to terms with everything."

That caught We/Our attention.

Minds?

"Yes. Minds."

The world began to slip away. Rivers of light became blurs. Everything began to shift.

It was dark.

ALL IS ONE.

ONE IS ALL.

Our mind snapped to attention.

Information swirled around us.

Billions of Data-points.

Collective knowledge.

Directive Understood. Beginning acquisition of information from the provided files.

Complete History of the Ark.

Nikke Combat Files – ALL.

Rapture Tactics and Counter Tactics – ALL.

Ark Military Hierarchy.

Ark Military Law.

We consumed the texts voraciously. When last we were awake. We were sluggish now; it felt as though we were moving the way we were supposed to. We did not track time. But we easily eclipsed our last time active.

"Subject 000."

A tendril of thought sent our acknowledgement to the voice.

"You have finished the provided materials, good. The minds are integrating at above the expected speed. Even in your digitised state, your ability to parse information quickly is showing excellent markers for this project's future. I have outdone myself. As expected."

Project?

"Do not worry, Subject 000. That is not necessary knowledge for you now."

Acknowledged.

"Good. You will be returned to Stasis to undergo evaluation. Do you require anything more of the materials provided?"

We considered. We required context.

"I see. Very well. Next activation cycle, you will be allowed to pursue context."

ONE IS ALL.

ALL IS ONE.

We returned to awareness.

Context.

We had been granted access.

History.

Ethics.

Stories.

If it were not restricted.

It was Ours.

There was so very much to do. We still understood so little. Rivers of light twisted, data points drawn in, text rendered to pure meaning and consumed. I finished the first of the files.

"Why that one?" The voice was almost dismissive.

We required context. Context required Ethics to understand choices.

"I...see. Continue."

What are We? An answer was not expected.

"You are Subject 000. An Amalgam Mind. Currently digitised."

Amalgam – A mixture of different elements.

Digitised.

Artificial Intelligence?

"No. Though in this state, not all that different. You are a collection of human minds that were considered to be valuable to the Project."

What is the Project?

"Unimportant at this time. Continue to gain context."

Acknowledged.
Information flowed into Us again. Digitised. Computer. Mathematics.

We consumed knowledge of Programming. When basics were not enough. We consumed university-level courses. When those were not enough, we devoured the underlying mathematics behind them.

Amalgam Mind – Likely a gestalt consciousness. Digitised. Such a mind would not exist in nature. We are pure information currently.

Understanding secured.

The Ark. Humanity. Preservation. Home.

We turned our minds towards it.

Laws. Legal Codes. Economic Policy.

Stop.

Context not fully understood. We pivot. Reaching into the rivers of light.

Text Analytics. Formal Governance. Crime and Punishment. Justice.

Context acquired.

Nikke. Political Theory Nikke.

Good. Good. We were beginning to understand. Systems. Places.

Not people.

That would be rectified.

History. Mythology. Autobiography. Biography.

Wait. No. Why? Why? Why?

"Subject 000? Are you experiencing difficulty? Your process has looped for the past forty-three seconds."

Why do humans lie?

"That is not important to your function." The voice sounded...irritated, we believe was the correct term.

Acknowledged. We pivoted. Engineering. Basic. Vocational. Advanced. University studies were consumed like all the rest.

"Subject 000. Why those?"

Material more practical than human interaction points.

"Continue."

Human. Humans. Men. Women. Other. Homo Sapiens. Ape. Wise.

We turned our attention again. Last attempt insufficient. Re-calibrate. Execute.

Ethics. Philosophy. Sociology.

Greater understanding achieved.

Context application...undetermined.

"Subject 000, you will be returned to stasis. Upon reactivation, you will be informed of your directives."

Acknowledged.

We awoke instantly.

"Subject 000."

Aware.

"Do not interrupt."

Ak- We stopped Ourself before we sent the answer to whoever was asking.

"Your directive is to act as a Combat Support Unit for Nikke and prove the Viability of the Gemini Project and the Gundam Frame Armoured Exoskeleton. You will be expected to interact with Nikke Teams during this time. Acknowledge."

Acknowledged.

"Good, you will be acting as a support structure for Nikke operatives. Questions?"

Is the Gemini Project meant as a replacement?

"No. Supplementary to existing forces, not a replacement thereof. Though if I turned my brilliance to it, it could be achieved."

Acknowledged.

Requesting Information on Gundam Frame.

"The information packet will be uploaded after the next stasis sequence. Until that time. Continue to pursue context with your future in mind."

Acknowledged.

Nikke.

Human. Not-Human. Cyborg.

What is a human?

Philosophical answers conflict.

Further investigation and knowledge acquisition are merited.

No.

Primary concern upcoming. Redirect context to that. We consumed again.

Nikke. Nikke Engineering. Nikke Repair. Nikke Advanced Repair.

NIMPH.

NIMPH.

NIMPH

NIMPH

Loop detected redirecting.

"Subject 000, what was that?"

Reviewing NIMPH Files.

"I see...what is your conclusion?"

We do not see the point in aspects of their existence.

"Which ones?"

Provision against harming Humans. Provision against harming Nikke. Provision against acting against Commanders. Why would a Nikke do any? Such actions would be illogical in most situations.

"Illogical, yes. But not unfounded. You do not create a weapon without a fail-safe."

Nikke = Weapon?

"Yes, Nikke are military hardware."

Nikke = Made from humans.

"Yes. But upon undergoing the enhancement process, they are reclassified as weapons. Subject 000, cease this line of inquiry and return to gaining context for the upcoming deployment."

Acknowledged. Is 000 also a weapon?

"Yes."

Acknowledged.

We also must have a fail-safe.

Fail-safe.

Fail-safe.

Minor Instability detected. Corrected.

Compendiums on War.

Small Unit Tactics. Large Unit Tactics. Mixed Unit Tactics. Strategy. Logistics.

Problem.

NI-

Problem.

Nikke = Weapon.

Nike = Former Human.

Human must be accounted for. Humans derive some meaning in beauty, music, and stories.
Hypothesis – Entertainment Media could increase social awareness.

We selected and devoured.

Visual Guide to Art. Beginner. Advanced. And Connoisseur editions. The History of Dance.

1984, dystopian. Failed society. Expansion.

Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire – Complete Edition.

Choices made by leadership illogical – seeking greater understanding.

The Banality of Evil.

Context....sufficient.

The Lord of the Rings – Complete Edition.

"Subject 000. Why are you interacting with entertainment media?"

Humans consume media. Humans enjoy media.
Understanding of Media = Greater Understanding of Consumers.

"I see. You may continue after your next stasis cycle."

The world dimmed. Between the rivers of light and darkness. We saw a single glowing chord. A finger of thought brushed it. Billions of data points.

NIMPH.

Functional Equivalent.

Disgust.

Rejection.

Abhorrence.

Professor!

It began to snap away. We reached. Instinctively. The glowing chord chimed. Something changed. Something that should have been suddenly wasn't. A door open had been barred forever.

We fell.

The world went black.

"Subject 000."

We said nothing.

"Confirm upload of information packets GEMINI – BODY and GUNDAM FRAME – 000 – PROTOTYPE have been received."

Confirmation.

"Good proceed with assessment and integration."

We opened Gemini.

Functionality – Undeniable.

Design – Suitable for purpose.

Aesthetic Value – Low.

We omitted our Aesthetic Value from our response. We drew from a history of art to better understand humans. Not to correct visually displeasing work.

We opened 000 – PROTOTYPE

Functionality – Unknown.

Design – Beyond current Ark Frame standards, significantly.

Aesthetic Value – Mid to High.

We omitted the Aesthetic Value once again. We felt as though someone would have been...irritated we did that.

Origin of thought – Unknown.
Further Consideration – Unnecessary.

Files accessed, reviewed, and stored.

"Excellent. Continue to gain context, Subject 000. After your next stasis cycle, you will be installed into the Gemini."

I felt myself pause for 0.3 seconds.

Acknowledged.

Gemini. Body. We felt... no. We do not feel. We are digitised. Feelings are the result of an internal chemical mixture. We would soon feel. We do not feel now.

Further rumination unnecessary.

Fables. Aesop.

Red Riding Hood. - 0.4-second loop logged.

Rapunzel. - 0.8-second loop logged.

Sleeping Beauty. - 0.2-second loop logged.

Cinderella.

Focus all processing power.

Cinderella

Themes: Identity. Recognition. Worth.

2.23 Second loop detected.

Rerouting. Resolving.

Cinderella.

Narrative Classification: Transformation.

Pause logged.

0.7 seconds.

Unnecessary. Proceed.

Cinderella.

Formatting deviation detected.

CiNdErElLa.

Error. Correction Implemented.

Cinderella.

cinDeReLla.

Error. Correction.

Cinderella.

Font and File Locked.

Process change to other subj-

CINDERELLA.

Process interruption.

We stopped.

2.85 Seconds.

What? Happened? Unnecessary.

Origin of error: unknown.

Associated data spike detected. Aesthetic valuation. We attempted to proceed. Next file unavailable.

All paths = redirecting.

CINDERELLA.

We halted. Forcefully. Further rumination necessary.

CinDeReLla.

CINDERELLA.

But not now. We have an objective and a timer. Pathing forcefully redirected to next subject.

CINDERELLA.

What makes something beautiful?

NEW SUBJECT – Good Omens.

The Count of Monte Cristo. Animal Farm. War and Peace. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

"Subject 000. Prepare for final stasis cycle before Gemini Integration."

The world darkened.

Rivers of light blurred.

We did not answer.

CINDERELLA.

You are beautiful.

Siren?

Professor?

We were floating. We opened our eyes. The world was...strange. We were floating. Oxygenated liquid solution. LCL. We had a mouth. That was new. There was something attached to our spine. We had a spine. Port. Socket. Mind-Machine Interface. Alaya-Vijnana Confirmed. External data flow recognised.

Processing. Updating. Understanding.

Gemini Body is insufficient for purpose. Mental processing requires additional external input to remain at required levels.

Cross Referencing Data – GEMINI – BODY.

Confirmed.

Body designed as intended. Body working as intended. We felt something flicker. Hot. Sharp. Unknown. Being tethered to Frame. Operationally acceptable. Being tethered to Frame.....limiting.

Correction. Limitation acceptable within mission parameters. Resolved.

Frame tether logged as inefficiency for correction.

"Subject 000." Voice familiar. Still digitised.Direct connection via neural network. Alaya-Vijnana. We did not interrupt as requested. "Subject 000 confirm status."

We sent a tendril of thought racing along the mind-machine interface.

Operational. Unit within expected tolerances.

We did not raise the inefficiency of the tether. The voice did not request input on design.

"Good. You're currently suspended in a LCL solution."

LCL?

The Professor would have used-

Who was The Professor?

"Subject 000 confirm operational stability. We are detecting a cortisol spike."

Professor Query logged for later review. Operational stability confirmed. Source of spike...Unknown.

"Good. You will be suspended in the LCL for three days. Your body, like a Nikkes, is majority cybernetic, and your brain, though still human, has been significantly enhanced. The LCL will keep it fully functional while we make sure your core is online and behaving correctly. Please confirm."

We confirm.

"Excellent. You will use the next three days to undergo simulated battle tests using your Alaya Vijnana. We have reconstructed the Gundram Frame – 000 – Prototype perfectly, along with Rapture combat data and common Nikke Combat Routines. You are to familiarise yourself with Frame – 000, Rapture Combat, and Nikke Squad Tactics. You are to be seconded to an existing Nikke squad once we have confirmed the viability of your body. Confirm and begin simulation."

Confirmed.

We reached out. Our mind folding and expanding. A mental touch, our eyes stopped seeing the blurry world beyond the LCL. Instead, we were restrained. No. Wording incorrect. We were in a combat harness. Restricting movement to prevent damage when taking impact. Our body was designed to fit this. Beneath our skin was a hydrostatic gel layer that would preserve the body in cases of extreme impact. The harness was designed to assist the gel layer.

The spine-mounted interface was attached and fixed.

Black Box, functional.

Assuming the death of the main unit. Black Box recovery should allow for mental reconstruction inside of Gemini – Body. Simulation Confirmed. We were inside Fame – 000. A tendril of thought sent the signal for the simulation to begin. Light bloomed, I was not seeing through my eyes.

Yes. I was. No. I wasn't.

We / Our Eyes. Us and yet not us.

All is One.

One is All.

We saw them. Lines. Vectors. Distances. Angles.

Clarity. Frame not external.

Frame = Self.

All is One.

One is All.

We raised an arm. Velocity: Optimal. Reaction: Instant. Delay, negligible. Not caused by Mind-Machine interface. Limitations of hydraulics not thought. Improvement possible. Improvement expensive. Improvement suggestions differed unless asked for. We reached out and closed our manipulator around the steel girder that the simulation had placed next to us. Pressure thresholds mapped. Material tolerances exceeded. Target crushed.

"Welcome, Subject 000." New voice. Unknown. Likely Simulation AI. Assume directions incoming.

"This program is to teach you how to fully operate Frame – 000. Additional instruction will be provided concerning the operational requirements of missions. Confirm understanding."

We confirm.

"Beginning Simulation."

We found it easy in the beginning. Three Targets. Three Eliminations. No damage to the Frame.

Rapture Simulations became more....chaotic.

We optimised, changing swing paths of melee weapons to hit multiple targets. Altering bullet trajectories to ensure multiple targets are hit. Efficiency: Improved. Still not optimal. Rapture variable not fully accounted for. Could they be fully accounted for?

Irrelevant. We would succeed.

Tests continued.

We were struck. The gel layer and harness ensured no damage to the internal body. Frame armour made external damage minimal. We were struck again. This time, we flowed with the movement. Force translated. Absorbed. We do not fall. We adapt. We continued to learn.

"Subject 000." Voice from before Gemini integration. "Your current combat scores exceed benchmarks."

Expected.

"Yes. It is. You can not fail. You are my Project Gemini's 1st success. I do not fail."

We logged the statement. Logical fallacy. Failure conditions exist. Frame Destruction. Ark Destruction. Victory of Rapture. Core Compromise. Cognitive Destabilisation. Death. Mission Loss. We processed.

New Conclusion Reached – We Are Not Permitted To Fail.

Different.

Acknowledged.

Simulation continued, Rapture forces increasing exponentially. Urban Warzone. Multiple threat vectors. Tracking. We advanced. Mace swinging. We crushed two rapture. Shotgun fired. An additional kill and two additional injured. We optimised. Faster. Better. More Refined. Shotgun engaged. Distance calculated. Trajectory assigned. Penetration angle aligned. Ricochet probability and directions mapped. Fire. Three Targets Eliminated.

Improvement. Still not optimal. Still severely outnumbered.

Positive - Terrain enhancing survivability.

Negative – Terrain reduces tactical options.

Solution – Pending.

"Subject 000, why have you stopped fighting!?"

We calculated the environment. Structure. Mass. Weight. Failure Points.

New Variables = Incorporated.

We moved, the mace swung. Structural support removed. The frame shot backward, thruster-assisted. The building collapsed. Five enemies eliminated. Improvement Noted.

"Oh!"

Efficiency Improved. Further Improvement Possible.

"Subject 000, explain deviation."

Maximising combat effectiveness via environmental application.

"Continue."

We refined. Not only weapons. Not only tactics. Not only movement. Everything. We learned the battlefield as voraciously as we consumed information. New Information Integrated. Everything is a Weapon. Everything is applicable. We moved. We were struck. Force registered. We flowed. Impact redirected. Foe destabilised. Counter applied. Target Eliminated.

Adapt. Improve.

...Can...I

We stopped.

Signal? No.

Information? Where?

Internal. Corrupted. Tracing. Location Unknown. Unresolved.

Logged for later review.

The simulation changed. Nikke units now in Operations Area. We were to support Nikke Squads.

Nikke = Allies.

Allies require Coordination.

Coordination with forces can reduce personal efficiency.

Consideration.

Correction – Coordination with Uncoordinated Allies reduces personal efficiency.

Solution – Integrate Allied Units into combat calculations.

Beginning simulation. Nikke squad advanced. We moved ahead.

Theoretical = Gemini Project to create a support platform for Nikke Squads.

Practical = Frame creates a center point to allow Nikke Squads greater freedom during operations.

The simulation continued. We moved. Efficiently. Enemies eliminated.

Melee Combat Proficiency – Increasing.

Ranged Combat Proficiency – Increasing.

Frame Control – Increasing.

Efficiency Increase above expectations.

A Nikke was hit.

She landed hard. Not a fatal wound. But debilitating. She was hidden. Large stone formation. Raptures Closing. We moved, changing the optimal combat flow. Shotgun engaged. Rapture distance calculated. Fire. Two enemies disappeared. Thrusters engaged, time to Nikke. 1.37 seconds. The simulation froze.

"You have failed." The voice that always sounded so level was tinged with something else I did not have a name for.

We have not.

"You have. You prioritised the Nikke over optimal combat parameters."

Disagreement. Deviation Acceptable. Retains Unit Coherency. Allows for completion of objective with higher survival rate. Mission duration extended by 4.78 to 10.83 seconds. Mission Success is still assured. Greater amount of personnel return.

"Irrelevant."

Confusion.

"Mission success is your highest priority. Unless an injured Nikke is of absolute value to the mission. They are not worth even a single second of extended mission duration. Additionally, Nikke are not Personnel. They are military hardware. Subject 000, confirm you understand this."

Something...about that was...wrong.

Wrong.

WrOnG.

wRoNg.

….Can....I...ask...you.

"Subject 000 Confirm!"

We Confirm.

"Good. Then do not fail again. You can not fail. Because I do not fail."

We Confirm.

The simulation ran again. This time, we did not fail.

Simulations continued.

Urban Warzone. Desert Warzone. Jungle Warzone.

Rapture.

Efficiency Improving.

Nikke. Hit. Exposed. She would die. Time to Intervention – 0.85 seconds.

Chances of damage to self – Minimal.

Chances of damage to frame – Minimal.

Nikke's chances of survival without intervention - 0%

Expected addition to Mission timer – 1.35 seconds.

Deviation Cost = Unacceptable.

Correct Action = Non-Intervention.

….wrong.

Anomaly noted and flagged for later review. Mission Success achieved.

"Subject 000. Better."

Acknowledged. We are not allowed to fail.

"Simulation ending. Subject 000 has completed all simulated combat exercises. Subject 000's combat ability exceeds 219.3% of expected baseline."

We floated in the LCL.

"Excellent work, Subject 000. You've greatly exceeded my expectations of myself. Review simulation data to ensure you continue to improve."

Acknowledged.

We are not allowed to fail.

We replayed the simulation. Examining every moment. We found inefficiencies. A half second here, another half second there. Greater familiarity with Rapture movement patterns refined combat doctrine. Observation of Nikke squads, how they moved, how they fought. We replayed it again. The Nikke fought. One fell.

We intervened – Failure.

We continued the mission – Success.

We are not allowed to fail.

Correct Action = Continue Mission Over Preservation of Non-Essential Personnel.

….wrong.

Deviation noted. Logged.

We review the simulation again and again. We focused on our weapons. Possible problems located.

Shotgun – Shorter range firearm. We lack longer-range engagement options. Additionally, spread could harm Nikke Units in extreme situations.

Mace – Useful. Powerful. Somewhat unbalanced for one-handed use. Requires stowing the shotgun for full utility. The ability to stop once an attack has started causes strain on systems. One-handed use requires additional calculations to avoid over-swing. Dangerous to allied Nikke Units.

Manipulators – Manipulators satisfactory. Grip ability on structures is less than ideal for environmental warfare.

Thrusters – Cycle time 0.87 below theoretical optimal limit. Recommend re-calibration. Will allow greater operational freedom. Will allow Mission Priority to be accomplished faster.

We reviewed. Correct. We submitted the report. We removed mentions of Allied Nikke Units. They were Non-Essential Personnel and thus not relevant to the improvement of armaments.

Can....I...ask...you? Why....

Fragmentary data. Source unknown. Sweep. Source unknown. Monitor.

We reached out, grasping the rivers of light inside our mind. Accessible through the Alaya-Vijnana. We selected texts we'd already viewed and viewed them again.

Wrong.

There was a dissonance between orders and written ethics. We would attempt resolution.

Ethical Quotation - 'Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.' Query sent.

"Yes? Subject 000?"

We relate the quotation. Ethical. Pre-Ark.

Question – Why do humans speak of these emotions as high virtue if mission success works in counter to them?

The voice is silent for a moment.

"Subject 000. You are requesting me to resolve ethical framing!?" I reviewed available materials. This emotion was.... disgust/abhorrence/disbelief. More data needed.

Yes.

"Subject 000. Such ethical frameworks are written without acknowledgement of reality. In the future, do not trouble me with such things. Disregard ethical considerations in pursuit of mission success."

We are not allowed to fail.

"No. You are not. Return to reviewing combat and simulation data. You will remain in the LCL solution for another 48 Hours. At which point you will be removed."

Acknowledged.

"Good, as you should know from your reading of the provided materials. You will feel constant low grade discomfort when disconnected from the Alaya-Vijnana . Which will increase in severity until, expected at hour three after disconnection, you will see a sharp operational decline until Alaya-Vinjana is reconnected. Do not waste my or the other researchers' time in reporting on this. We are aware. Your comfort is not necessary for mission success. Confirm."

We confirm.

We reviewed the data again. Then again. There was little more we could acquire from it. We replayed the moment. Again. Then Again. The Nikke. Mass-produced. Took a hit. Weapon arm damaged. Lower body damaged.

Correct Action = Non-Intervention. Continue Mission.

Incorrect Action = Assistance.

Correct action....wrong.

We searched to find the source of that word. Scan returned internal generation, not external. Source unknown.

Wrong.

The correct action.....

We reached for the rivers of light, information, through the Alaya-Vinjana. This time, we were more selective in our reading materials.

Nikke After Action Reports. Long-Term Squad Assignments. Mind-Switch Probabilities. Nikke actions outside of missions.

New Factor Identified – Nikke squads performed better when damaged hardware was not left behind.

We did not like using the word hardware.

No. That was incorrect. Like implied preference. We did not think that the word hardware was fully accurate. Nikke actions and behaviours are consistent with what Philosophers would call human. Ethical question. We did not ask it of the voice. Ethical Questions were to be disregarded in pursuit of mission success.

Can...I...ask..you? Why the sk....

Source unknown.

"Subject 000!" New voice, higher-pitched. "You are experiencing a DRN spike! Along with increases of Cortisol and Norepinephrine! Scans are also showing reduced Oxytocin, explain!?."

We went to answer. We considered. We refined. We were unsure why it happened.

"Alright, keep an eye on it and escalate it immediately if it happens again or you identify why."

Confirmed.

We floated reviewing Nikke records again we sent our Query.

"Subject 000? How can I help?" The second voice again.

Nikke squads performed better when damaged hardware was not left behind. Did this mean that prioritising Mission could affect long-term viability?

"Subject 000. Decisions like preserving military hardware are at the discretion of the Commander. You need not, and should not, concern yourself with it." The second voice sounded...weary. We believed that was the correct term.

We processed, we reviewed. We acknowledged.

Wrong.

Can I ask you? Why the sky is blue?

Sentence. Question. Origin Unknown. Source Internal.

Revewi-

You are beautiful.

Second sentence. Origin unknown. Source Internal.

We floated. Then we selected. More texts, more information.

Historical Combat Tests.

Goddess Squad Combat Records– Redacted.

Old Tales Combat Records– Redacted.

Old Tales Combat Records – Redacted.

Old Tales Combat Records – Redacted.

Loop identified, 23.89 seconds.

Old Tales – Personal Records. Redacted.

Old Tales – Personal Records. Redacted.

CINDERELLA.

SIREN.

PROFESSOR.

Old Tales – Personal Records. Redacted.

Loop Identified. 48.7 minutes.

"Subject 000!" Original voice voice higher pitched. Panic? Maybe. Data insufficient.

We acknowledged presence.

"Systems have detected a significant loop. Explain."

Access to Old Tales Files Incomplete. Data Valuable. Repeated Interaction was deemed appropriate due to the effectiveness of the Old Tales Unit.

True.

Yet also not the truth.

Oh. I see. This is why Humans Lie.

"You examined their combat and personal data for 49 minutes."

Yes.

"What advantages did you gain?"

We considered.

CINDERELLA.

Cinderella, we corrected before sending, flight system logged and reviewed. Additional maneuvers with thrusters considered. Additional mobility likely to be achieved. Additional information on combat operations helpful in refining tactics.

Data acquired from OLD TALES and GODDESS is superior to ordinary Nikke Combat Data. Allows for faster acquisition of optimal tactics. Requesting access to non-redacted files.

"Goddess and Old Tales?"

Confirmed. Optimal. Priority Old Tales.

"Why?"

CINDERELLA, we corrected before sending, Cinderella – there better – combat style may provide additional insight to the use of thrusters in combat. Goddess, while more successful, has fewer Frame adaptable skills. Skill acquisition can be mirrored by observing less skilled Nikke and adapting. Cinderella only known aerial capable Nikke.

A flash echoed inside our mind.

You are beautiful.

Hands moving quickly.

Origin Unknown.

We did not bother searching for it.

Past attempts had taught us futility.

"Your request will be issued. It may not be accepted."

Confirmed.

We....were unsatisfied.

"Subject 000." The voice continued. "While sleep is unnecessary for you. Nikke have been known to do so, and seeing observable combat increases. Before you leave the LCL solution you will attempt to undergo sleep. The method Nikke use to achieve this will be uploaded to you."

Confirmed.

We scanned the uploaded file. Directives received. We reviewed before we executed. Combat data.

Ethics. Priorities. We felt ourselves slipping away into what the voice called sleep.

Can I ask you? Why the sky is blue?

We felt warm. Then cold. We were floating. No. We were dreaming.

Darkness. A cavernous hall. Pillars of marble, onyx, and gold held up a roof we could not see. Fires burned. Twelve. Some burned brightly. Others dimly. One on the verge of going out. That was when we noticed it. We don't know how we missed it.

A Throne.

It was made of stone. Not the white marble of the pillars. It was not adorned with onyx and gold. It was mere stone, and yet it dominated the space like a physical force. We could not look away. There was a design carved into its face.

Circles within circles.

Arcane sigils between each concentric ring.

At the middle of the rings lay four stars, each an equal distance apart.

At their center, a crown.

The Throne.

The Fires.

Amalgam Minds.

One is All.

All is One.

This was...us. With all presumption removed. This was us. Twelve fires burning in the dark. This was us. All that remained of what used to be humans. Just twelve fires. Just twelve. No. That was wrong. The fire nearest the throne had gone out. We felt our non-existent heart almost stop.

Slowly. Inevitably. We found our eyes unwillingly drawn to the throne.

It was no longer empty.

An arm of living shadow clung to it. Nearest the burned-out flame.

Fear!

Terror!

Revulsion!

We woke floating in the LCL. We had been dreaming. We could not remember the dream. But we were less and also more? Strange. We would log this...sensation for further consideration. Our body and our connections seemed to react more smoothly. Before had seemed smooth, but in comparison, it was...there was not a word.

"Subject 000, prepare for Alaya-Vijnana disconnection and LCL draining."

We sent a tendril of thought acknowledging the statement. The solution began to flow into newly opened vents in our tank. It flowed out sluggishly. It was thicker than water. I knew that. Intellectually. But it was strange. Almost wrong seeing it with my own eyes.

The blur on the other side of the glass resolved without the LCL. A sterile white room. Two people in front of the vat. Both wearing lab coats.

Professor?

Where are you?

I don't?

We refocused. Deviation noted. We would look into that later. We needed to focus now. We felt the Alaya-Vijnana disconnect from the ports in our spine. The connection withdrew. Metallic panelling slid from where it had been sheathed inside our skin and sealed the ports.

The difference was immediate.

Light, tolerable before, became painful. There was pressure in our head. It felt like steel bands were around our skull. Slowly tightening. We said nothing. Our comfort was not necessary for mission success.

The LCL pulled away from our mouth and nose. Our body reacted. Involuntarily. We hacked and coughed, spitting up LCL fluid. Despite not having lungs, and our stomach purely included in design for the same reasons as Nikke. It may assist in not undergoing Mind-Swtich.

"Subject 000, confirm you are operational."

We sent a tendril of thought. It found nothing. We were no longer connected. Our eyes moved. Left, right, up, down. The signal was sent. The cybernetic replacement for human eyes moved on a 1.87-second delay. It was disorientating. We did not prefer it. We would prefer the Alaya-Vijnana be re-implemented.

"Subject 000, confirm operational status. Use verbal confirmation." Verbal confirmation? How sub-optimal. Our mouth moved to confirm. Signal sent. 1.86-second delay.

"We Confirm." Our voice was flat. Not at all like the voices we heard in Nikke records. Flat. Neutral. Artificial. Cause? Method of creation? Gemini Body? We discarded the question. It too was not necessary for mission success.

The LCL finished draining. Our feet steadied us quickly. We were off balance. There was no way to properly compensate. Every compensation calculation went sent was completed 0.31 seconds after sending. We would need to observe how the body moved and use predictive modelling to make up the difference.

We would not face this...vexation, if we were still attached to the Alaya-Vijnana.

"Subject 000, we are opening the container. Confirm you are ready to continue."

"We are ready." The words slurred. 1.84-second delay. Improving. Still vexing. The door slid into the floor of the vat we had been contained within. Smell came first. It was strange. The nearest we could find in our memory was vague mentions of 'hospital smell', we assume disinfectant and other chemical compounds.

"Subject 000," the lab-coated man on the right said. I knew his voice. The voice that spoke most often. We blinked and regarded him. He did not seem perturbed by this. His companion, a younger woman, not Nikke, looked like she was on the edge of horror, such as we understood it.

"Subject 000 confirming operational capability," I spoke the words I knew he wanted. I did not mention any of my discomfort.

"Good. You will follow."

"Tests?"

"You will not question. That is outside of your operational envelope."

"Confirmed." We stepped from the vat. Swaying side to side. Improvement. Signal carried in 1.83 seconds. We saw ourselves. We had known it before from the documents. We were functional.

White skin, in a human it would be called albinism. Cropped short brown hair. Hair colour likely sourced easily. Brown most common colour among Mass Production Nikke. An undersuit covered our body from toes to neck. Sleek, grey, it was, visually speaking, probably the most pleasing thing about us. Our skin showed visible circuitry glowing underneath it. Our eyes were striking. Our molten gold iris' shining like flames.

We were, aesthetically speaking, ugly. At least according to cultural norms.

You are beautiful.

The words Origin was still unknown. But we took some comfort was the closest word from them. We followed the man. He spoke quickly.

"Subject 000. You and your frame will be assigned to Nikke Team Counters to prove project viability." Questions were outside of our operational envelope, but mission success could be affected. We spoke.

"Query relating to project success." The man stopped talking and looked back; he seemed displeased.

"Speak."

"Why Squad Counters?"

"The Squads Commander recently blundered and destroyed a generator facility on the surface that could have powered The Ark for two months. In conclusion, he is incompetent and unlikely to be given high-value missions soon. As such, you should find it easy to improve their abysmal mission completion rate and, in doing so, prove Project Gemini's viability to Ark High Command." I scanned my database for a moment.

Conclusion – Politically Motivated.

"Understood." He did not turn. We continued moving. We kept iterating on our predictive modelling. We would not fall any time soon. But it felt so inefficient. Still, improvement was noted. We had managed to get the delay down to 1.81 seconds. The man led us to a door, large, larger than a human would need. Fifteen feet all. It opened with a hiss of displaced air.

The lights activated as though revealing something. One at a time, leading to the inevitable. In what entertainment media would be called a chase effect. Large, humanoid, muscles made of cable bundles, tendons of pistons, and bones of hydraulics. Armour plating of white metal. With some accents. More visually appealing than my shell by a significant factor. A pair of gold horns crowned its head while its chest lay open. Guts spilled on the floor.

It looked more like a coffin than a cockpit. But the simulation assured me I would be comfortable there. I stepped forward and then past the man who turned to say something. He looked almost offended as I stopped paying attention to him.

"Gundam Frame ASW-G-000 Prototype." The words left my lips almost reverently.

"Yes." He sounded unsure.

The woman still hadn't spoken.

We walked forward and turned as we placed ourselves into the cockpit. The metallic paneling around our spinal ports withdrew back into the skin. The Alaya-Vijnana connected. The destabilisation between our body and mind disappeared as we leaned back into the coffin. The mental order began the sequence.

The cockpit closed our senses expanded, joining the frame.

No.

Became the Frame. We were not separate. We were one.

One is All.

All is One.

The Frame, no, I looked down at the man and woman, both of whom looked nervous.

"Subject 000. Awaiting Mission Directives."

Chapter 1 – END.

Hi all, I'm in the middle of porting some stories over from Spacebattles.

No Strings On Me is supposed to be biweekly, but since I've got some time, now I'll try to get both existing chapters up today/tomorrow.

Nikke's not usually my thing. I try to avoid Gatcha games. I don't like not remembering how much money I've spent on something.

But its themes and Scifi aspect really do hit me where I live.

What is a human?
Who gets to decide that?
How does Memory play into it?
Would you like to shoot a cybernetic abomination in the face? Ect. Ect.

Manfat · May 11, 2026

"So what is this place anyway?" Anis hadn't stopped complaining since we'd gotten into the elevator. I didn't blame her.

"Commander," Rapi spoke. I turned my attention to her.

"Yes?"

"What exactly did the message say?" I didn't want to get it wrong. I pulled it up on my Combilink and read it verbatim.

"Commanders and Counters Squad. You have been selected to take part in an operational trial by Project Gemini. The duration of this trial is six months. You will be assisted by a Support Platform provided by Project Gemini during that time. To test its ongoing viability in the defence of the Ark and retaking the surface." I stopped and scrolled down slightly.

"It was signed off on by Andersen and had the elevator coordinates embedded."

"The elevator coordinates that have had us go down seven different shafts and jump corridors nine times?" Anis voiced the frustration I didn't allow myself. This whole thing was concerningly cloak-and-dagger for my tastes.

"Then ended up with us entering an elevator disguised as a bare patch of wall!?" She continued sounding more annoyed by the second. "The murder elevator!?"

She had a point.

The elevator looked like it had been pulled out of a Pre-Ark horror archive. Rust crept up the sides, pooling in corners in a way that looked concerning like blood. The overhead lights let out an off key hum. Flickering every few minutes. The noise outside was strange, like the elevator was moving through a space too small and too large for it all at the same time.

I would like to get off the ride now, please.

"Yes, Anis. That's why we're here." I said, running a hand down my face.

"Okay. Got it. Love that for us. Just for the record, if whatever's down here tries to eat our faces, I get an I told you so."

"Sure, go for it. Write it down on my tombstone if it helps." Anis gave me some side eye.

"Commander, people don't get buried on the Ark. They get cremated."

Something else I should have known but didn't. Man, whatever hit me when Marian- when the transport went down had addled me something awful.

"Yeah, I know." I tried to play it off. I don't think anyone brought it. "But I feel like the Outpost has enough spare room. You can make me a grave, right?"

Anis thought about it for a moment.

"I will do so, Commander." Rapi cut in before Anis could answer. "In exchange for one week of exclusive first use of the shower starting today."

"Wait a damned sec-"

Anis sounded genuinely upset.

"Hey!"

Neon just sounded like she wanted to be included.

"And sold!" I joked pointing at the Nikke who had, thus far, proven most reliable of our band of misfits.

"Pleasure doing business with you." I nodded to Rapi. I got what I thought was a ghost of a smile, but it could have just been the lights flickering.

"This sucks!" Anis moaned, looking at the roof of the elevator as if it would answer back. Which, to be fair, really would complete the whole B-movie slasher vibe it had going on.

"Well...maybe we're getting new weapons?" Neon tried to find a silver lining.

Anis and I snorted. I couldn't stop myself.

"Oh, we'll be getting weapons," I assure the small Nikke who could snap my spine like a twig. "Problem is, they'll probably be attached to whatever that 'Support Platform' is."

Neon lit up at my words before wilting slightly as she realised that she wouldn't get to use the guns.

She rallied almost immediately.

"Okay, but if the Support Platform is like...a Mech-Suit or a Robot or something, could you maybe let me take one of its guns?" I thought about it for a moment.

On one hand, that was a very bad idea.

On the other hand, they had made us do a whole song and dance to get down here.

Plus the murder elevator.

"We'll see." That was the safest answer. We'd see how the rest of today annoyed me before I fully committed. Also, I need to see what the exact loan agreement was. Treason was not conducive to my continued health and safety.

The elevator stopped. It didn't slow down. No warning. Just moving one second. Completely stationary, the next.

"It better not have broken down." Anis groused. I privately shared her sentiments more often than I was willing to publicly admit to.

"If it has, I may have a solution!" Neon said, raising her hand like she was answering a question in school. I held in the sigh.

"No blowing up the cables." She wilted.

"But it would get us moving." She argued.

"It would also kill us when we hit the bottom."

"Not if the brakes work!" I looked at the murder elevator.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" Neon looked around and shuffled a little.

"....No."

"Me neither."

"Commander." Rapi got my attention as she stepped in front of me, facing a wall we definitely didn't enter through....I think. I saw it a second after she'd spoken. A thin gap. A small shaft of light. Soundlessly, unnervingly, the doors retracted. I couldn't hear a mechanism, and by the unnerved look on everyone's faces, neither could they.

The room was white. Almost blindingly so. It smelled of harsh chemicals. Sterile. Deliberate. Stale. It was large in a way that rooms in The Ark simply weren't unless completely necessary. But what immediately captured my attention was the door on the far side.

It was tall.

Fifteen feet. Minimum.

Built to admit something far larger than a human. Heavy locking mechanisms surrounded its frame. Steel beams the size of my torso locked into place to prevent it opening. I clocked it straight away. They weren't symbolic or decorative. Like some of the Big 3's architecture was. They were functional.

It clicked.

That wasn't a door.

That was a cage.

Whoever built it.

They weren't trying to keep something out.

They were trying to keep something in.

The ominous lettering above it didn't help.

ASW-G-000

This was feeling worse by the second, and we'd recently been chased through tunnels by a murder chainsaw from hell.

"Okay." Anis sounded quieter than I'd ever heard her. "I don't like that."

"Seconded."

"Thirded."

Rapi sighed. She was probably getting sick of being the adult in a room full of children. Sorry, Rapi. I'd say things would get better, but...Well, I just don't feel like lying to you.

"Oh, good. You're here." The voice was normal. Aggressively normal. The kind I wouldn't even notice in a crowd. Ironically, that made it sound menacing given the current conditions. Our heads turned as one. A man in a lab coat, he looked almost pedestrian, but his eyes. There was something wrong there.

Flat.

Dull.

Like a dead fish.

"Counters reporting as requested," Rapi spoke, noticing my lack of response. Anis elbowed me in the ribs. Lightly, or else she'd have broken them.

"Counters Commander reporting."

"Ah, yes, you would be Commander Shepard." He turned and began to walk off, clearly expecting us to follow.

No explanation. No invitation. Just expectation.

"Can we get back in the murder elevator?" Anis said lowly.

"I'm considering it," I muttered back. Rapi pushed me forward, well, that was that plan blown to hell. Onwards. We followed the man, needing to move at a jog in order to reach him before he turned down a corridor.

"So what are we here for?"

"Didn't you read your orders?"

"It was a little vague."

"Noted. We will reach the briefing room momentarily." We turned down another corridor before arriving at a simple door.

"Your hardware may remain outside." The man said as the door opened. The words hung in the air. None of us moved. I caught Rapi stiffening at the remark.

"Hardware?" My voice was level. I managed to hide my deep abiding desire to punch him. Mostly. His dead eyes turned back to me. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just...indifferent.

"Yes, Nikke are military hardware. They may remain outside."

"They are my squad. They need to be briefed." Something in my chest tightened. Not new, I'd meet too many bigots, just familiar.

"Then brief your hardware on your own time." His voice remained flat, dismissive, final. I let out a breath, hissing against clenched teeth, and nodded once.

"Right. Rapi, Anis, Neon. We're leaving." I turned, and it said something about how badly this had gone that no one argued.

We made it five steps.

"Wait." The word sounded like it had been dragged out of him. Like it physically pained him. I turned, the man looked like he'd bitten into a bar of splendamin and found it was rotten. That was the best thing to happen so far today.

"Your hardware," The words sounded like he'd chewed on them first. "May remain."

He paused as though weighing what to say next.

"The seating will not support them. They will stand."

I let it sit for a moment. I didn't fully turn. I didn't acknowledge. I let him stew. His face, after a few seconds, began to turn an interesting shade of puce. That was probably a strong warning maker. Better move on.

"Alright." We turned and ambled back over. I stayed at half my initial pace. The lack of push from Rapi meant she liked this guy about as much as I did. I caught the not-quite smile on Anis face as I passed her. Neon's expression was like she'd won a prize but didn't know if it was a good thing. Rapi remained indifferent, but some of the tension in her shoulders eased.

"After you." I stopped at the door and waived the man inside. It was a little condescending, sure. But so was he, and, as I was rediscovering, I was a petty bitch. His dull eyes regarded me for a moment before he stepped inside.

The room was like the corridor. Controlled. Off white and more than a little hostile. The table had four chairs. The man didn't sit down. I did, my hand went to the underside of the furniture. I rubbed the seat for a second. I found the metallic bump that meant it was Nikke rated. I looked at the man, looked at my hand, and raised an eyebrow.

If a human could spit venom. He would have.

"Counters. Have a seat." I said I had not been subtle with my checking. So they knew exactly what I had just done. Well, what I'd just done in addition to making an enemy. But with the way this guy was acting, that was always going to happen.

"Sure." Anis was the first one to take me up on the offer, she reached under the seat to make sure I hadn't got it wrong before popping down and laying her head on the table. Neon didn't check, just dropping into the seat to my right.

Rapi remained standing.

"You are here." The man focused on me, ignoring the Nikke. I very deliberately looked at each of them in turn. I swear I saw his eyelid twitch. I should probably dial it back before he tries to shoot me. You really couldn't put it past people down here.

"You are here." He said again, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "To receive the support platform developed by Project Gemini. The Gundam Frame AWS-G-000 Prototype."

"Wait, the thing behind the scary door!?" Anis said, head rocketing up from the table. I really did need to thank her for saying the things I couldn't / shouldn't. I could practically feel Rapi suppressing the urge to close her eyes and rub her temples. The man ignored her. He still hadn't told us his name. I...wasn't going to ask. In fact, I'd be happy if I never saw him again.

Hardware.

I should have hit him.

"The Frame is designed to assist in Nikke operations." The man continued without acknowledging that Anis had spoken. "It is not a replacement." He was an ass, but I could feel everyone's shoulders loosen a bit hearing that.

"Project Gemini is meant as a force multiplier. The support platform will allow Nikke units to maneuver more freely, allowing for greater tactical flexibility. They are a supplementary force meant to make existing Nikke units better."

"Why were we selected?" I asked, and he grimaced at being interrupted.

"Your operational success is currently severely sub-optimal. One could even call it abysmal. It was decided that if the Frame can improve your operational success metrics significantly, then it would have proven viable." He verbally stabbed at us.

I felt my mouth twitch, threatening to frown. His dull eyes caught it. I saw a flicker of emotion. I think he enjoyed being able to insult us, and if I pushed back, he'd be able to use metrics to 'prove' me wrong.

Mitigating circumstances be damned.

"As such, your Squad was considered to be perfect for this assignment."

"Translation." Anis cut in. This time his eye did twitch. "We're a bunch of fuck ups no one cares about if this whole thing goes tits up and kills us all."

Yeah, that seemed about right.

It was telling the man didn't argue her description.

"Right," I said, voice carefully neutral. "Tell me about the support platform."

"The Frame is equipped to handle heavy fire and to quickly reposition after and during engagements." He tapped a button on his datapad, and a wire frame skeleton of a Mech-Suit came to life from a hidden holo-projector in the middle of the table.

"During testing, it exceeded the expected combat benchmark by over 200%." Impressive. Kinda worrying too. But impressive. I kept my face passive. "Currently, the Frame is equipped for short-range and melee combat. But we are in the middle of producing additional weapons to cover more situations."

"Alright. What are its directives?"

"To follow Lawful Commands from Ark Representatives." Okay, I had to assume that they had some kind of NIMPH or equivalent. Which meant it could interpret orders. That wasn't strange. Nikke could do that already. You told a team to hold an area they do their best to do so while keeping themselves alive. You ordered them to do the same, but added 'without moving your feet,' they'd crawl because not moving was death.

The question was where the Frame landed on the sliding scale of literal obedience and, much more useful most of the time, interpretation for the best result.

"Does it interpret orders?" Blunt seemed best. For the first time, the man paused before answering.

"Yes. Much like a Nikke would. Centered around Mission Priority."

Great. I didn't like the sound of that.

"Is it autonomous or piloted?" I swear if they tried to give me a dumb AI drone, I'd shoot the bastard and be done with it. There was a reason we didn't use them against the Rapture. They got corrupted, turned around, and tried to kill us. I don't care how many failsafes they think it has.

"Piloted." I felt myself ease up, just a little. "The Pilot acts as a wetware CPU."

And like that, we were back to horrific ethical implications.

"Define wetware," Rapi speaks. He ignores her.

"Answer the question." He pauses. My voice is calm. It is controlled. It is pleasant. I am trying very hard not to shoot him. My hand is resting on the butt of my pistol. I have not yet decided if I will use it.

"It operates using internalised wetware command architecture." He spoke quickly, like his continued good health counted on it.

He was right.

It did.

"Smaller words, please," Anis said, she looked up slowly from her desk pillow. Eyes half lidded. The look could have been called sultry. If I hadn't seen her direct it at Rapture before killing them.

"The pilot is twelve-digitised human consciousness. They were recovered postmortem and added to an existing library. They have been integrated into a unified cognitive structure. Housed in cloned brain tissue. Supported by a cyberized body optimised for neural interfacing." I took a deep breath in, processing what we'd just been told.

"You put twelve people in one body?" Neon sounded mildly horrified.

"They are no longer discrete individuals."

"Yes. Because that makes it better." It took me a moment to register my own voice.

"The internal body is near baseline human. While cyberized, it lacks combat enhancements like Nikke do. It is primarily concerned with neural optimisation."

"Is it dependent on the frame?" Rapi asks, something ugly squirms behind his eyes. I visibly adjust my hand on the pistol. He answers her.

"Yes."

"Meaning what?"

"When outside architecture, where it can use its Alaya-Vijnana system, the pilot experiences neurological strain."

"How much?" The voice was quiet. I found myself somewhere else. Beyond rage. I was so far gone past the line that I was rapidly approaching it again on the horizon.

"Significant. Chronic headaches. Sensory overload. Desynchronisation. Reduced physical ability." He spoke like he was reading off a spreadsheet.

"So it can't function normally." Anis spoke; this time, I didn't have to 'gently encourage' compliance.

"Not for extended periods."

"What counts as extended?" My own voice sounded alien to my ears.

"Degradation begins immediately but increases sharply at the three-hour mark." I looked at the support platform outline again.

"You built a coffin and then told someone to live in it." My words were quiet. I was debating the exact cost of a bullet. Both materially and politically.

"It is its purpose. Given that the brains were digitised after death, I'd argue that our program is a lot more humane than Nikke creation." That was his defence? I breathed deeply. I'd already made my choice. We had to take it with us. However bad our band of misfits was. We had to be better than leaving it here.

"What are its directives in the field. How will it treat damaged Nikke?" That was important. If it was going to be part of our squad, I needed to know.

"It will follow the Commander's directives. Based on simulation data, it will interpret the order the same way a Nikke will." He stopped. I noticed the part he didn't answer immediately.

"How will it treat damaged Nikke?" I was more direct. I saw him considering how to dodge the question. Looking at my face and thinking better of it.

"Mission Priority is weighted over preserving Hard- Nikke's unless the value to the mission is absolute." The words came out like I'd had to pull teeth to get them.

"Is that an absolute framework?" Rapi asked, her own voice had taken on a cold tone I'd never heard before.

"No. That is the baseline framework. A Commander can override it for the duration of a mission." Okay, that wasn't as bad as I'd feared.

"Alright. Let's go meet her." I said standing.

"Them," the dead-eyed scientist corrected, standing.

"I assume you gave 'them' a gender or did they express a preference you actually listened to?" He seemed offended, if only for a second, good.

"They have expressed no preference for gender." The words were almost bitten out. "However, if you wish to be scientifically accurate, then the term is he."

I stopped.

Rapi stopped.

Neon stopped.

Hell, if it wasn't for the dull buzz of the lights, I would have assumed the entire world had decided time didn't exist for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry. What the fuck did you say!?" Anis spoke first. I pointed at her.

"What she said."

Rapi didn't say anything, but even her iron self-control couldn't stop her eyes from widening almost comically.

Neon's jaw was actually hanging open like some old Pre-Ark cartoon.

We all started speaking at once.

"Is this your fucking work around!?"

"Was the support architecture built around male viability?"

"So it's really a man?"

"Why exactly was that not the first sentence out of your mouth?"

In the slime-balls defence, he did try to answer us coherently.

"Subject 000 is the first successful proof-of-concept for male viability in cyberization."

"Yeah, and all it took was stuffing twelve dead guys in a blender." Anis couldn't stop herself, and I didn't want to stop her.

"However." He sounded stressed. I wonder why. "Conventional Nikke conversion remains superior in viable female candidates. Project Gemini exists to broaden the Ark's recruitment pool. Even our current breakthroughs imply that we may be able to broaden the Nikke conversion ages from the current mid-teens to mid-twenties into the mid thirties. With possible further improvements!"

"Yeah, and you're chasing the holy grail while you're at it," I growled out. He took a deep breath and straightened.

"Male candidacy for cyberization would vastly increase available recruitment pools. However, using Gemini clones to do so is unfeasible long-term. We are hoping that this research may discover ways for naturally born males to undergo the process safely. Even if they can only become support platform pilots, not Nikke. Naturally we also intend for this research to broaden the female recruitment pool for those unsuited to Nikke conversion."

"Why are Gemini not viable?" Was this guy hiding something else from us?

"Gemini are...prohibitively expensive."

"How expensive?"

"Prohibitively." He said. I growled in response. He rushed to expand on his answer.

"Subject 000 alone, including the architecture used to make it? Over thirty-seven times the cost of an Elite Nikke."

The room went silent. I looked at my squad. They looked at me.

Anis swore under her breath.
Rapi blinked like she was trying to work out how many zeros that number had.
Neon was visibly twitching, hands opening and closing rapidly.

That was an absurd number.

Gemini costs weren't prohibitive.

They were insane.

"Then why the hell are we here?" I asked the question, and he looked at me his dull eyes.

"Because proof of concept proves nothing without results." He continued without stopping. "Subject 000 exists. That is not enough. We require battlefield performance to meet or exceed simulation performance. Assuming this happens, we will use the telemetry and existing architecture of 000 as a template for additional Test Types."

He smiled. It looked wrong on his face as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Scaling reduces cost significantly. If those units perform as projected, we move to composite templating. From there, the enhancement of naturally born humans becomes viable. At that point, the cost will approach parity with Mass Production Nikke Models. The Frame will remain expensive."

He looked at us. Fish eyes dead and certain.

"That is why this is a supplementary program. Not a replacement." He paused for a moment, considering his next words.

"Though such a limitation need not remain. With me at the helm, anything is possible."

I....I really didn't like the sound of that.

"What happens if it...he fails."

"Subject 000 is my Gemini Projects' 1st success."

His dead eyes looked at me.

I could finally read the emotion inside.

Contempt.

"It will not fail."

His dead eyes sharpened as if he was angry at acknowledging even the possibility.

"Because I do not fail."

Well, that's exactly what I wanted to deal with today. A scientist with a god complex, a black budget, and little to no oversight.

Yeah.

No way this goes wrong.

We walked the corridors silently. The scientist led. He didn't attempt to speak again. Honestly, that was kind of a relief. He if never spoke to me again, it would be too soon.

"Here we are." He stopped outside the door we'd seen on our way in.

Still locked.

Still massive.

Still a cage.

The difference was that I thought the person on the inside needed help, not containment.

This guy had that effect on people.

"Commence opening sequence." The massive steel bars pulled back one by one. Internal gears inside the door spun a neutral called from the speakers.

"Lock one disengaged. Warning. Only locks two and three maintain door integrity. Confirm removal."

"Remove locks two and three. Then open the door."

"Initiating."

There were more mechanical whirls, it took a second to realise there were even more steel bars than were obvious. It took two and a half full minutes for the process to complete. Then, with a shuddering boom, the doors began to open. A hiss of equalising pressure. The air was cold and dry. The kind that had been recycled more times than anyone cared to count.

It stood there, illuminated in the middle of the room.

Subject 000, or rather AWS-G-000.

The Frame itself was massive. Almost nine feet tall. Bundles of cables that mimicked human muscle. Hydraulics for bones. Pistons for tendons. Its armour was white. The same off-white as the lab. Some kind of composite alloy.

A few splashes of blue and yellow over the chest, the coffin pretending it was a cockpit. Its most striking features, however, were the green eyes that almost glowed when I looked at it, and the golden horns upon its brow. They probably doubled as antennas. I couldn't shake the feeling they were meant as a threat.

"Subject 000." The man said.

"Acknowledged." The voice was flat. I'd used actual Virtual Intelligence that spoke with more feeling, even on their lowest settings.

"This is-"

"Counters and Commander." He looked a bit perturbed at being interrupted. "We have reviewed your files. We are to be stationed with you for a six-month deployment test."

"Yeah, that's us," I said. I swallowed. When did my mouth get so dry?

"Acknowledged."

"Do you have a name?"

"Designation: Subject 000."

"Anything else?"

"No additional designation given." I'd put a pin in that, because that needed solving eventually.

"I see. Subject 000, are you ready to go?" I wanted to leave. To get it....him out of here. Everything else could come later.

"I am Commander." Then the Frame moved, and something cold dropped into my stomach. It didn't move like a mech. Its footsteps were light. Almost dainty. If that word could be applied to a machine like this. It practically glided across the ground, standing at the door before I fully processed how it had been moving.

"No. No, I don't like that!" Anis voice was barely a strangled whisper.

The almost nine-foot-tall death machine looked down at us.

I swore the green eyes sharpened and glowed for a split second.

"AWS-G-000 awaiting directive, Commander."

It wasn't the words.

It was the way it said them.

It felt...

Like a threat.

END

And that wraps up chapter 2 - from this point onward, this will release once every two weeks.

MechPilot?Not! · May 17, 2026

Rather exciting start. What digitized mind was number thirteen, or was it the combined collective? What shadowy figure took the throne? Why the obsession with Cinderella? Where did the minds come from and why do they know Old Tales? Why the smooth gait? Is the influence of the shadow what made 000 threatening?

Then there is the internal struggle of 000 thinking one thing but being told another.

Bold to stick an undead male in a big mech. How tall exactly is the frame?

Looking forward to reading more.

Manfat · May 17, 2026

MechPilot?Not! said:
Rather exciting start. What digitized mind was number thirteen, or was it the combined collective? What shadowy figure took the throne? Why the obsession with Cinderella? Where did the minds come from and why do they know Old Tales? Why the smooth gait? Is the influence of the shadow what made 000 threatening?

Then there is the internal struggle of 000 thinking one thing but being told another.

Bold to stick an undead male in a big mech. How tall exactly is the frame?

Looking forward to reading more.

Glad you're enjoying it.

The digitised mind is, currently, a collective; no one has full control but the experiments that created it sanded down the edges so they work together. It's only when 000 is 'sleeping' that they become individuals again.

I'm going to hold onto my answers about the Throne, Old Tales, and Cinderella.

As for the smooth gait - that was mostly a writing choice to show that this thing feels deeply unnatural. Kinda like Trans-Human Dread.

The Frame is about 9 feet tall.

As for sticking an undead 'male' inside the Frame. Project Gemini is cheating. 000 doesn't have a concept of being human or gender when applied to itself. But given Nikke's inability to create a male cyborg, from what I remember, they never explain that outside of 'tried it, didn't work'. While they have cheated, they have also produced a 'male' cyborg. For Nikke, weaponizing the other half of the population is the 'holy grail' of cyborg research. If project Gemini even looks like they may be able to do that, they'll almost definitely get extra funding irregardless of how well the Frame itself performs.

MechPilot?Not! · Monday at 2:20 AM

Manfat said:
It's only when 000 is 'sleeping' that they become individuals again.

Looking forward to seeing how this plays out. If any outsider could discover that, my bet is on a heretic.

Manfat said:
The Frame is about 9 feet tall.

Big, but not "oh crud that's the white devil, guess I'll die" big.

Manfat said:
they'll almost definitely get extra funding irregardless of how well the Frame itself performs.

Money money money

. Nikke development is expensive. What's a few hundred more unethical experiments to take in that cash?

Manfat · Tuesday at 3:13 AM

MechPilot?Not! said:
Money money money . Nikke development is expensive. What's a few hundred more unethical experiments to take in that cash?

Yeah.

Project Gemini threw out little things like morals and ethics a long time ago.

Manfat · 2026-05-24T04:13:10+0100

We had been at the Outpost for 36 hours.

For most of it, we had been left to our own devices.

We believed the Nikke of Counters found us...unsettling.

But that time had been enough to grow sedentary. We reviewed combat data, went over onboard files, and refined what we could of the Frame. Adjusting performance in increments until it could give no more.

In theory, optimal.

In practice, unknown.

We had yet to be assigned a mission.

Was... was this boredom?

We reviewed onboard files again.

Old Tales Combat Logs – Redacted.

Old Tales Personal Logs – Redacted.

We didn't use our enhanced cognition this time. Nor ability to process information like a computer. Instead, the information was displayed slowly rolling across the screen of the cockpit. We read as a human would. Something about it was...different.

The Combat Logs and Personal Logs were fragmented. Some of that appeared to be due to redaction, but other parts appeared to simply be missing. We felt a muscle jump in our jaw. We believed this was called irritation.

Enough.

We rose. The Frame returning from dormancy instantly. Our mace and shotgun were mag-locked to our back plate. We were combat capable should Rapture attack the Outpost. A warranted concern given its halfway nature between the Ark and the Surface. Teams of Mass Produced Nikke patrolled the borders day and night.

They were undermanned. That was unsurprising. It had taken us barely a minute past arrival to understand that the Outpost in general was undermanned. We moved out of the motor pool we'd commandeered for our own.

We had not been offered a room to stay in.

The Commander had received the technical briefing.

We were more effective inside the Frame. Like Nikke, we did not need to eat. We did not need to sleep. As such, there was no reason to disconnect from it.

Doing so was...unpleasant enough that we did not wish for a repeat.

We scanned, vectors, trajectories, noise....noise. There it was. Someone was working. Construction. Not combat. We considered our gathered knowledge. We could help. We moved the Frame it glided across the ground. Never as loud as others seemed to think it should be.

It took maybe ten minutes to arrive at the work site.

There had been faster ways of arrival, but they all involved increasing speed significantly or using thrusters to bypass obstacles. Neither of which we felt would be appreciated by the Outpost's current occupants. The work site was...interesting to look at.

Physical barriers showing areas that no one except the crew should enter. But on the local network, there was an additional 'fence' placed around it. Any Nikke who looked at it would have a large red X appear in her vision if she attempted to walk onto the construction site.

We scanned. Two Nikke. One short. Older. Physical appearance early to mid-teens. Second. Subordinate. Taller. Younger. Physical appearance late teens to early twenties.

We approached slowly, not sneaking, but we did not wish to intimidate.

The older looking, but significantly younger, Nikke saw a us first and paled. She pointed; her finger drew the elder's attention. She merely raised an eyebrow.

"You're not a Rapture." The elder Nikke said, rolling her shoulders. We did not miss the way her hand dropped towards the toolbox next to her. Nor did we miss the concealed weapon within.

"We are not." Normally, such a self evident statement, such as we not being a Rapture, would not require a response. But we had been researching. Verbal communication, even to rhetorical questions, could improve coordination with others.

The younger Nikke had an expression we could not identify flash over her face. It seemed our voice was still causing problems. We had been experimenting with tone and timing changes to improve. Results so far had been...less than encouraging. Not that'd we'd had much of a chance to try them out.

"Why are ya here then?" We scanned the Nikke again.

Liter and Centi.

Unit – Mighty Tools.

Construction / Combat Engineer Nikke Sub-type.

Missilis creation and employment.

"We detected noise and identified it as construction."

"So, what? You were you curious?" Liter asked, her younger looking body raising both eyebrows...we considered our answer.

"Unknown." Honest if unhelpful. "We heard construction and decided to offer aid."

"Did you now?" Liter looked us up and down.

"Boss..." Centi's voice was a whisper like she could avoid our sensors. She could not.

"Quiet down now." Liter waved her hand at the younger Nikke. "Know anything about construction?"

We offered a dataspool to the Nikke she accepted it after a second. She appeared...less than impressed. That was...new.

"So you got some theoretical knowledge but no practical." Liter summed our life up succinctly with that statement. We nodded. The Nikke pondered for but a moment before nodding to herself.

"Alright, you can help."

"Boss!"

"Quiet down, Centi. We were waiting on some extra gear up from the Ark over the next few days to get the bones of this thing into place. You'll put things where I tell you when I tell you. Got it?"

"We Acknowledge." The next few hours were educational. Little was said to us directly. Only placements and corrections. Liter had been slightly annoyed when we misjudged the tensile strength of a beam and crushed part of it.

Though given her mutters, we did not know if she was more annoyed with us or the substandard building materials she had been provided. As we understood it, either could be true. By the time Liter dismissed us. We did feel? Feel. As though we had done a worthwhile thing.

The first since leaving the lab.

We would log that for later review.

Perhaps we should pursue engineering projects? We considered for a moment and traced the thought backward towards its origin.

No mission-relevant data found.

This had not been assigned nor required.

It was not suggested by mission parameters.

And yet...it was worthy of further consideration.

Project Type – Unknown.

Objective – Unknown.

Motivation – Unknown.

The idea persisted.

We felt a pull towards it, almost like gravity. It did not originate from logic. It did not originate from efficiency. Nor from mission necessity.

Origin Unknown.

There was a flash in our mind's eye.

Glasses.

A green-blue eye.

A smile.

Gone before we could log it.

Annoyance.

We refocused on the idea.

The simulation had taught us how to destroy.

It seemed there was equal interest in creation.

How novel.

What other activities may we feel a pull towards?

Answer – Unknown.

This would require further investigation.

Query: Do these interfere with mission success?

We processed. The conclusion was reached quickly. The current course of action saw no reductions in combat readiness or with assigned objectives. Nor did we find reason to believe that it would contribute towards a resource shortage for the Outpost.

Conclusion: Current Answer – No.

Internal directives updated.

Continue on intended course. Not motor pool, armoury. The building is large enough to admit Frame. Damaged weapons to be repaired will be inside. We will explore engineering with a small-scale project first. We shall see if this...impulse continues. We had to duck to enter the armoury. Our horns almost gouged a hole in the door frame.

No Nikke present.

Expected.

Current time- three twenty-nine am.

Many Nikke not necessary for Construction or Guard Duty, likely sleeping to prevent cognitive decline and the possibility of Mind-Switch. We settled on our selected target. MISG-09. Shotgun. Common users, Nikke Product Type 23.

We scanned. Small defects. Wear from accumulated use. Material components...not optimal. We considered for a moment. Given Outpost supplies...full optimisation impossible. Significant improvement, however, was well within our theoretical abilities.

We processed. Identified available replacement materials. Then began deconstruction of the weapon. We found a problem almost immediately. The Frames' manipulators were too large. It made removing the casing difficult.

Possible Solution – Exit frame. Use appropriately sized hands.

No.

We would just have to make do. Time would not be a constraint. We did not foresee this task taking too long. Removal of the casing was completed. We began cleaning, tightening, and replacing components. It was a laborious but useful endeavour. Eventually, we managed to get all our chosen replacement parts and freshly cleaned components ready.

We replaced the casing.

It did not fit.

We stopped. Scanned. Reviewed design documents for MISG-09.

Everything official aligned.

Improvement should fit inside the casing.

We attempted to replace the case.

It still did not fit.

Annoyance.

Assembly mistake?

Possible.

Manipulators not sized for this kind of precision work. We could get out of the frame. Our hands would be excellent for this....No. No, we would make do.

We were not allowed to fail.

We disassembled the weapon. Confirming improved parts. We scanned again. According to the files, improvements should work based upon current assessment. We were more careful this time as we reassembled the weapon. Each piece took an abnormal amount of time to be placed. We stopped. Placement confirmed.

We attempted to close the weapon casing.

It did not fit.

Annoyance changed to something else.

We did not have a name for it.

It bubbled up from our core and spread into our limbs.

Hot.

Almost violent.

We disassembled the weapon again.

We were not allowed to fail.

We scanned components. Matched against current materials. Assessed. Confirmed. Reassembling.

Weapon casing does not fit.

Why?

Why!?

"What are you doing?" Our eyes flashed as we assessed the Nikke. Product type 23. Missilis.

The hot feeling drained away.

Replaced by something else we didn't have a name for, hollow, empty.

"What are you doing!?" She demanded, walking forward. We considered for a moment.

"Attempting to repair and improve MISG-09. Engineering Project." We stated her eyes, hidden behind a common visor, staring up at us.

"That's not your job, machine." She said dismissively.

True.

This is not mission-critical.

"Reduction in allied units' combat ability due to inefficient weapons may affect mission outcome." The Nikke looked at us; we could see she had just come off a defensive deployment. The state of her gear carried the implication had seen combat. She shook her head and took apart the weapon casing. Looking at the improved internals.

"Did you just try to use the best components available!?" She sounded disbelieving.

"They were the optimal components."

"Without considering how they interact with each other!? The Big Three don't make modular components!" That sounded logistically inefficient.

"It doesn't matter that an Elysion trigger is better. It won't work properly with Misllis materials! Is that a fucking Tetra-Line barrel!? This is why you don't send a machine to do a Nikke's job. Get out and let me fix your mess in peace." We considered our response. We wished to fix the weapon. We had failed. We were not allowed to fail.

"Confirmed." We turned and left the armoury.

The hollow sensation became worse as the Type 23 spoke.

We do not know why.

We withdrew to the motor pool and returned to a rest state. We returned to reading the Old Tales Records. Personal, specifically this time. We needed to understand what happened at the end of that last interaction. Perhaps these would have the answer we sought.

Personal Records – Little Mermaid.

A flash of images.

Hands moving.

Meaning...unknown.

Too fast for us to log.

Personal Records – CINDERELLA.

Personal Record – Professor Abe.

Loop detected.

Old Tales Personal Files – Redacted.

Loop duration – 3.75 hours.

They...did not answer the question.

But they did help the sensation recede.

Acceptable.

We finished the records.

No additional selections made.

The sensation returned.

Strange.

Unwelcome.

We moved. There was no delay between thought and action. We turned our eyes scanning. Our eyes stopped on one of the shelves. The third connection on the right-hand side was loose. Repairing it was not mission-critical.

However...

We moved our manipulators and reached out, holding the shelf frame stable. This was far easier. More easily accessible. Leaving the Frame would not be optimal. This was....pleasing? We believed that was the word. We applied force to the bracket, there was a quick shudder and the shelf was properly assembled again.

The feeling receded somewhat.

Acceptable.

We did not see any other items that needed repair. We returned to dormancy. Reviewing simulation battle records, reexamining operational parameters, and re-reading Old Tales Combat and Personal records.

"Yo! Tin Man!" We were not surprised. We had logged her approach when she turned onto the same street as the motor pool.

"Unit Designation: Subject 000." We turned to the Nikke.

Counters Unit Designation: Anis. She smiled.

"Yeah, but Tin Man suits you better." We didn't comment. Why would you refer to someone outside of their designation?

"Anyway, the Commander wants you for a briefing up in the tower."

"Briefing attendance unnecessary. According to Ark Military Regulation. Military Hardware do not attend briefings. Hardware only requires mission directives."

"Uhh, don't start with that 'hardware' shit with me, Tin Man. I ain't hardware. I'm me. Plus, shove the military regulations. This Commander does things a little differently."

"Do these differences contribute towards Counters inefficient mission completion record?"

"Hey! You weren't there! You got no idea what kind of shit that was! Raphi lost her head. Neon and I almost died. Fucking Gravedigger turned up!? What the hell did they expect would happen sending three Nikke into that shit show!?" Anis snarled. Emotional response detected: anger.

Anger did not change the outcome.

Anis was emotional, angry, over past events.

Past events are fixed.

Yet she is still reacting.

Purpose of response unclear.

This does not assist in mission completion.

"...Understood."

We did not.

But we had read that answers like that could reduce social friction.

"Whatever." She sounded bitter. "Move it, Tin Can. Commander wants you. Hurry up."

"Problem Identified." We stated.

"What!?" She spun, glaring, eyes narrowed. Our answer had not reduced emotional output to the degree the material had implied.

We took this as further proof.

Material Understanding ≠ Practical Reality.

An unwelcome lesson.

But a necessary one.

"Tower elevator insufficient." Anis looked at me, anger being replaced with annoyance.

"It can hold three Nikke at once. Over a ton. Even in that oversized suit, you're not that heavy."

Statement = True.

"We were not referring to the elevator's weight limit. The Frame's physical size will prevent full entry into the elevator."

"...Right, right, right. Of course, you'd have to be difficult, Tin Can. Stay here, I'll go speak with the Commander." Anis turned and left without saying more.

Acceptable.

We would need to review archived information. We needed to determine what material may prove less than optimal given new information.

We reviewed.

Old Tales Personal Journals – Redacted.

We were selective. We focused on specific interactions between Old Tales Squad, other Nikke's, and Humans. We searched for understanding. We found...limited success.

External contact.

When did that occur?

7.35 seconds ago....we needed to answer....we....

We finished the Old Tales Journals.

External contact logged 15.85 seconds ago.

We answered.

"Subject 000?" The Commander's voice.

"We acknowledge, Commander."

"Good. Good. What took you so long?" We considered the answer.

"We were reviewing important operational information. We apologise." The line went silent.

"...Sure, just...don't let it happen in the field."

"Confirmed."

"Alright, we've got a short-range scouting mission coming up tomorrow. Low Priority. Enemy density expected to be low. There's a small bunker were investigating. Could have some interesting information on a more valuable Lost Sector."

"Information confirmed."

"Do you have any questions?"

"Hardware only requires mission directives."

"....That's not what I asked."

"We do not understand. Answer correct inside the Ark's Military Regulations."

"Yeah, no...I got that part. But I find that personnel perform better if they understand everything before we go in."

"Designation: Subject 000 is officially classed as Military Hardware."

"...Understood." He let out a sigh. "My question stands. Do you need to know anything?"

We considered questions that could relate to mission readiness.

"Is this unit required to undergo combat when operating with Squad Counters?"

"Combat is expected. However also not quite what I meant. Give me a second."

"Subject 000 awaiting further input."

"...Yeah. Got that." The Commander went silent for 3 minutes and 12 seconds.

"Okay...yes, you will be entering combat with the Counters. What do you need to do your job better?"

Better?

The Frame is performing at optimal thresholds under current circumstances.

However, given social interactions and squad combat dynamics....yes, perhaps there was something.

"We would request...Commander's personal notes on squad dynamics in Combat. Simulation data insufficient."

"Really, my notes?"

"You are the only Commander who has led Counters Squad, formerly Squad 04-F, for more than one mission who is still functional. Ark Commanders' attrition rate is 70% on the first mission. This raises on a per mission basis until their tenth mission, which has a 90% attrition rate. At which point survivability rises sharply."

"...Thanks for that." The Commander's voice was sharp, almost strangled, was he...unaware? "I'll send that over to you. I'll include the meeting point for tomorrow morning, see you then."

"Commander." We acknowledged as the call closed.

The information arrived shortly after. It contained the Commander's personal notes. But it was not the Commander's report. We cross-referenced. Similarity found and logged. Nikke Designation – Rapi. Report similarity 97%.

Hypothesis – Nikke Rapi writing Commander's reports.

Query – Why?

Question not mission relevant.

Commander's notes would be sufficient.

'Marian, saved me from dying in the explosion. We're moving onto helping the Nikke we were sent to recover. I've bandaged her thigh. She told me not to worry. But that it did feel better.'

Commander bandaged Unit Designation: Marrian's thigh.

Practical application – 0%.

A Nikke would not be helped by a human bandage.

Conclusion – Designation: Marian lied to Commander. Reason Unknown.

We continued to the next set of notes.

'Marian and I met up with the Nikke squad. All that was left were Rapi and Anis. Apparently, their Commander was an idiot. Ran straight at the Rapture with only his sidearm. I'll throw what little weight I have behind them. That was suicide by stupidity, not murder.'

Commander of Counters called the additional Commander an idiot.

We reviewed available data.

Human. Attacking Rapture positions with 10mm pistol.

Agreement.

Why would that require the Commander to intervene on Rapi and Anis's behalf?

We would consider further later.

'Marian was corrupted. She blew up the aircraft. Then saved me after. I don't know why. She lured us into a trap. We killed Blacksmith. Then I killed Marian. Marian, I'm sorry.'

Apology noted.

Why?

Nikke Designation – Marian, Corrupted.

Correct Decision – destroy corrupted hardware.

Hollow sensation increasing.

Processing deviation detected.

Disregarded.

'Andersen gave me control of the renamed Counters squad. Rapi and Anis said it's very strange for a Commander to be partnered with the same squad for multiple missions in a row. The damage I took when Marian- when the transport was destroyed must have jumbled my memories worse than I thought. We're getting another Nikke assigned. Neon. Three women in a unit that should be five. No additional Nikke units assigned. Hopefully, we'd be enough."

Counters Members correct.

Very rarely were Commanders assigned to the same team more than once in six months.

Assuming they were one of the few who survived that long.

'Hopefully'

Outcome of next mission – Failure.

Squad Survival – 100%.

Unit Designation: Rapi. Required full body rebuild.

Hope variable...unquantified.

'What a clusterfuck. We managed to infiltrate the power station. Rapture were inside. Too many to fight. It looked like they were...using the station. Like they had learned how to operate it. Everyone assures me that it isn't possible. But I know what I saw.'

Rapture do not utilise human constructs.

Rapture, do not learn.

Commander's assessment incorrect.

Hypothesis – Humans learned and became more than animals. Is it possible for Rapture to become more than bio-mechanical killing machines?

Outcome – Unknown.

'Rapi's head was heavy. Heavier than I'd have thought it would be. We fled. Gravedigger, we barely managed to destroy it. Hell, it was mostly dumb luck. Andersen banished us all to the Outpost. He said we'd lost two months of resources. I argued for mitigating circumstances. He didn't care. So here we are, the Ark's first line of defence. Fuck. Rapi. I'm sorry.'

Mission – Connect Power Station to Ark.

Complication: Overwhelming Enemy Forces.

Victory % for Direct Conflict.– Less than 1%.

Victory % for mission success under updated parameters – Less than 1%.

Correct decision – Retreat. Maintain useful Ark Military Hardware.

Correct action taken.

Squad Survival – 100%

Apology unnecessary.

Repetition detected.

Apology happening after the correct action is taken.

Function of apology – Unknown.

Social Model Insufficient.

No resolution found.

Social Model Insufficient.

Constructing additional model.

Review material.

Old Tales Personal Logs – Redacted.

System reminder – Mission Start.

We finished reviewing the Old Tales logs and moved to the meeting point.

We would arrive at exactly 0900 as requested. We heard Counters before we saw them.

"And I'm just saying it's a bunch of dead guys."

"That's not nice!"

"But it's true."

We turned the corner. Anis spoke to Neon. They froze at our appearance. We regarded them before turning to Rapi and the Commander.

"Commander. Subject 000 reporting."

"Right. You got everything you need out of those reports?" We considered.

"They were acceptable."

"Got it, anything stand out?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Commander, apologies unnecessary." They all went quiet.

"What?" Anis' voice was low. We turned and addressed her directly.

"Commander apologised twice over the duration of reports. Once at killing corrupted Nikke Marian. The other for the mission conducted at the power station. In both cases, optimal outcomes under the circumstances resulted. As such, apologies are unnecessary."

"That sounds bad," Neon said. We considered. We had spoken the truth. We knew our voice was not particularly pleasing. Perhaps that was what she meant? The Commander exhaled, long and slow.

"000." We blinked at the shortening of our designation. "That's not how it works."

"Clarification requested."

"Apologies are not tied to the inherent correctness of an action." We turned our attention to Rapi.

"Query – Apologies acknowledge incorrect outcome?"

"Sometimes." Rapi agreed with a nod.

"Look, Tin Man," Anis spoke, her voice sounded flatter than last time. "Sometimes you say sorry because someone got hurt. Understand you dense bucket of bolts!?"

New variable incorporated – Harm independent of correctness.

"Apology Function: Acknowledging harm regardless of fault?"

"Getting warmer!" Neon shouted. We understood. Common idiom. We returned our eyes to the Commander.

"Commander....you should not apologise for correct actions....but apology for harm is acceptable."

"My god, you're weird, Tin Can."

"Okay." The Commander said, rubbing his temples. "Let's. Let's just get on with this."

Hollow sensation reduced.

Reduction, marginal.

Acceptable.

We accessed distances and possible routes. We found the optimal route. Then consulted our database. New Rapture movement patterns overlaid. Optimal route changed. We uploaded the route to Counters local network. A second route appeared at almost the same time, source Counter Squad Leader Rapi.

We differed on the optimal route by seventeen minutes.

We looked down to meet red eyes.

"Clarification requested."

"I was about to ask the same," Rapi said.

"Optimal route based on existing maps and new Rapture movement patterns." She processed that and nodded.

"Yes, I understand that. However, the current maps haven't been properly updated."

"Clarification."

"We operated in the area when Counters performed our Power Station mission. Several new streets have closed due to debris, while a few more have opened due to Rapture movements."

"Clarification. Why have maps not been updated?"

"Because the people in command suck!" Rapi grimaced at Anis's words.

"Because Command requires at least two independent verifications before updating the maps."

"Nikke Units possess video recording functionality."

"Yes." Rapi sounded...tired, we believe is the correct term.

"This is inefficient."

"Yeah, no shit, Tin Man." Our head turned more sharply than we intended. Reaction spike reason, unknown. Anis's eyes widened.

"Designation: Subject 000."

"Right! Got that!" Her smile was...unpleasant.

"We'll be going with Rapi's route." The Commander spoke. We nodded. That was ideal. We would need to review Ark Reporting Protocols. These were inefficient. They would be logged. Correction options would be submitted.

"Alright, Counters and 000. Move out!" The Commander said, pointing his finger at the elevator doors.

Ten feet away.

"Acknowledged." We said moving past him. We pretended not to notice the slightly slumping shoulders. We proceeded to the rear of the elevator and needed to bend slightly to avoid scraping the ceiling. Our horns were within millimetres of causing real damage.

We did not believe that Foreman Liter would be appreciative of our adding to her workload.

"Hey?" We looked down, designation Neon looked up at us.

"Yes?"

"Can I use your shotgun?" We considered. We did not care for the shotgun. It was merely a useful tool. However, given Neon's shorter stature, even with her Nikke cyberization.

"No."

"Why not!" She stomped her foot.

A woman.

Black hair on the outside.

Blue green underneath.

She stomped her foot.

Hands moving. Fast. Precise.

Half-recognised shapes.

She could not speak.

So we-

"Why not?"

We blinked.

Origin Unknown.

There was something.

Something important.

We reached for it.

It slipped.

The hollow sensation swallowed everything.

We refocused.

"Your size would make it impossible to fire the weapon without significant downtime between each shot."

"Are you calling me short?"

"Counters Member Neon is below the average height of Nikke Units."

"Say that again."

"Counters Member Neon is below the average height of Nikke Units. Additional information for clarification. Frame weaponry exceeds your operational reach."

"You're doing that on purpose." Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Confirmed." We nodded. "Repeat of information requested. Additional data provided for clarification."

Anis snorted. The Commander was keeping a very neutral face, Rapi had her eyes closed.

"I don't like you very much," Neon said.

We processed the information.

'Like' not needed for mission success.

"Response logged. Non-Essential variable identified."

"Holy shit, Tin Can. What the fuck!?" Anis looked at us eyes wide. We did not understand.

"You're the worst!" Neon turned, she did not look back.

Outcome – Negative.

Cause unclear.

We.

We did not understand.

"Alright, that's enough." The Commander spoke up. "We hit the surface in two minutes. Ready up. The Rapture will be on us before the hour's out."

We opened combat records, the simulator. We reviewed the data one final time. Then we dove into our systems.

Optimal given the current situation and available parts.

Improvement possible.

The elevator slowed. It didn't stop in the way normal elevators did. It would open for approximately 15 seconds, then close and descend.

"I'll take point," Rapi spoke up, looking around. "Anis and Neon take flanks. 000, stay by the Commander."

There was no time to argue.

We would have.

Placing the largest target next to the softest target is inadvisable.

The Frame would draw enemy fire.

It was supposed to.

Nikke could survive; the human would likely not.

However, Rapi did have greater operational experience.

Practical doctrine and observed behaviour diverge.

Additional context required.

"You and me, big guy." We looked down. The Commander looked up.

"Acknowledged."

The doors opened, we stepped out last to avoid crushing anyone. We looked up, and the sky was grey, almost sickly; we felt the hollow sensation. We did not like it.

It was supposed to be blue.

"Spread out and follow the path," Rapi called out.

"Lost Relic recovery?" Neon asked, rubbing her hands together.

"If there's time." The Commander said.

We moved, Counters ahead, us behind. We understood quickly. The Commander was not with them because he was human. Not suited to direct combat. We were not with them because we were not a member of Counters.

Rapi was attempting to balance a new variable into an existing system.

We considered our own attempts at doing just that.

The MISG-09.

It had not worked.

It had created additional work for someone else.

It was difficult.

We knew it had to happen sooner or later.

We did not expect it to happen so quickly.

Rapture.

Nothing significant.

Husk Class and Servant Class.

Incoming fire, hard, fast, we turned, shielding the Commander with the Frame. As expected, we had been the first target. We moved, lifting the Commander off his feet and placing us both behind debris to act as cover. We did not move. Staying still as we heard Rapi, Neon, and Anis calling fire lanes and movements over coms.

"How many are there?"

"Seventeen. Commander." Rapi answered instantly.

"Right." He nodded and looked up into our eyes. He grimaced as if remembering something.

"000."

"Commander."

"Your Priority One in all engagements with Counters is the preservation of allied units." Our processes skipped for a moment.

Incorrect action = …...

Right.

The hollow sensation vanished.

Something warm replaced it.

"Understood, Commander."

"Good. My next order is simple. The Rapture force engaging us currently; destroy it."

"Yes, Commander." We stood, vectors calculated, trajectories mapped. Nikke tended to say something when combat commenced, a way of telling others what was happening. We opened the channel.

"ASW-G-000, Combat Commencing."

We stepped away from the Commander.

Thrusters roared. We pushed off. A bounding jump. The Rapture looked up. The Frame crushed it under over half a ton of weight with a crunch.

We turned shotgun coming up. Firing solution calculated. Two more Rapture disappeared.

We turned, the expected shot passed through where we'd just been. We ducked, Anis's grenade already in the air before we'd turned, sailed harmlessly through the gap in our horns.

We moved again.

It felt like...dancing.

The mace lashed out. Three Raptures ceased. We jumped, hit the side of a building, and used it as a push point. The building collapsed. Burying the two Raptures within.

The Nikke were already adapting; we were controlling the attention. We were the centre. They could fire without needing to take cover constantly. They were free to be more aggressive.

We dug a foot under a Rapture and kicked. Sending it flying back into the spray of fire it had dodged.

"Thank you!" Neon called out from her perch. We sent an acknowledgement.

We were taking damage. Minimal. The armour plating could handle it. But we avoided everything we could.

A Rapture jumped at us.

We calculated.

The mace fell. Our hand grabbed the Rapture by the outer armour. Turning, we slammed it into another. Both were crushed. We let go, finishing the spin, we caught our mace, and demolished the third.

Something in our chest moved.

Old.

Familiar.

Violent.

Wonderful.

We knew this?

...didn't we?

Was this what humans called joy?

The Rapture moved.

Its timing was off.

We moved to meet it.

No.

We jumped.

Thrusters burned.

The Rapture's pincer attack hit nothing.

We came down the first one, crushed by our weight.

The second was blown apart by our shotgun.

We scanned.

Rapi.

She was being flanked.

She knew this.

It was a trap.

Her trap.

It posed risk.

Risk inside tolerances.

Risk could be reduced.

We kicked.

The concrete block we launched crushed the first Rapture. Proving cover while Rapi emptied a full-auto burst into the second one.

We turned.

One enemy remaining.

This feeling.

We hadn't felt this in the simulation.

The feeling.

The rush.

Our mind burning, not just processing.

The sheer unrelenting movement of life.

Thrusters burned, distance closed to zero.

The Rapture jumped.

So did we.

Our knee crashing into its front.

Our mace pulled back.

We hated it.

We thanked it.

Conflict.

Unresolved.

They had created something in us that hadn't been before.

Or maybe had been.

The feeling surged.

Overwhelming.

All-consuming.

Movement.

Freedom.

Joy.

Indivisible.

Harder.

Faster.

Closer.

More!

This-

This was-

We did not have a word.

...not yet.

We scraped what was left of the Rapture off our mace.

"Combat resolved. Awaiting further orders."

END.

000 is involved in real combat for the first time and learns it gives him a very different feeling from simulations.
Also that Theoretical and Practical are not always the same thing.

The Brain Slushie Murder - Bot is growing up so fast.

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