The march toward the Sector 4 Forge was a lesson in mechanical humiliation.
With every third step Vanta took, his right knee let out a distinct, high-pitched piston-wheeze that sounded remarkably like a dying rubber duck. The liquid carbon plating of his left arm was completely silent, drinking the ambient neon glare of the Upper Spire's underbelly, but the corporate radiator pipe Spike had jammed into his shoulder kept rattling against his collarbone.
[Current Structural Integrity: 45%]
[Hydraulic Pressure: Stabilized at 1.2 Bars]
[Dignity Stat: 60/100 (Sustained deficit due to sanitation-grade parts)]
"Spike," Vanta said, his mechanical baritone grinding through his vocal filters. "If that valve in my knee doesn't stop whistling, I am going to use your anti-grav chassis as a structural shim."
"Hey, premium parts require break-in time!" the little repair drone buzzed, floating upside down to inspect the leaking seal. "Besides, we're entering the lower forge perimeter. You need to look inconspicuous. A Tier-3 Void Entity sticks out; a guy who sounds like a broken lawnmower blends right in."
"I don't want to blend in with garbage," Vanta deadpanned, his golden eye-ring narrowing as they approached a massive, reinforced steel checkpoint.
The entrance to the Forge was blocked by a triple-layer blast door, guarded by two Hegemony Enforcers (Level 25). They wore heavy, industrial exosuits designed to handle molten metal and riot control, their faces obscured by polarized welding shields.
"Halt," the lead Enforcer barked, raising a high-frequency shock-baton that crackled with blue electricity. "This sector is under corporate lockdown. Scrap clearance codes or turn back."
Vanta didn't have clearance codes. He had a 45% calibrated chassis and an increasingly short temper.
Distance: 12 feet. Target mass: 450 pounds each including exosuits. Kinetic defense rating: High. Weakness: The exposed battery line running along the left hip joint.
"I am executing a priority maintenance run," Vanta said, his face remaining a featureless void of absolute blackness.
"With a Sector 9 Sanitation pipe sticking out of your chest?" the Enforcer scoffed, lowering his baton toward Vanta's throat. "Nice try, scrap-rat. Step into the decontam cage or we open fire."
[Threat Level: Low]
[Win Probability: 99.8%]
[System Note: Please do not damage their hip joints too badly; we need those servos.]
"Understood," Vanta whispered.