Serial Designation E entered his boss' "office" with a scowl, idly rubbing at his healed chest as he walked up to the giant eyesore of a desk.
"About time, E," came the deep baritone that often featured in E's nightmares. "Report."
E did as instructed, choking down the indignation of having to talk to the back of a chair. He made sure to emphasize the fact that the numbers he put up would put him well ahead of both the Bossman himself and the Depresso Machine. Combined.
Of course he couldn't see his squad leader's reaction, but the loud creaking of the reinforced chair's armrests as they nearly snapped off was just as good. There would be consequences later, but it was worth it just to know that he could still get under the prick's skin.
"...Good work on getting those results, E, but if you really wanted to have that little 'vacation' you were looking forward to, you should have gotten them a week ago. At this point I am right on your heels, and X isn't far behind," the leader finally spun around to face him, golden eyelights burning with open contempt. "But every dog has his day, and this is yours. So congratulations. Now go get some rest; training will begin at sundown."
Serial Designation A was a hulking bruiser of a drone, quite literally 'built different' and he never let anyone forget it. Sporting a "viking" haircut and dressed in a black three-piece silk suit, he was taller, broader, heavier, stronger and, according to himself, just plain better than everyone else.
Unfortunately, it was something you couldn't really argue with when you saw him in action.
"Training?" E asked, the cheeky little smirk completely wiped from his face.
"Of course. You just told me you got into a fight with a bunch of insects and lost. Regardless of the outcome, THAT is the reality. Clearly I have allowed you to slack off for too long and I plan to correct that mistake."
"Oh, come on, A!" E protested, only to receive a warning snarl in response.
"You have had a rough day, so I'll let that one slide. I'll simply remind you of what you already know: I am not a letter, Serial Designation E. I have a name, and you will use it when addressing me."
"...Sorry, sir, still getting used to that," E replied through gritted teeth.
It had been a good three years since A just randomly decided he had a real name one day, and was quite insistent that everyone call him by it. But E refused to indulge the latest manifestation of his squad leader's rampant narcissism.
Said DD clearly wasn't happy with the little etiquette loophole, but didn't press the issue further.
"Now, is there anything else?"
From the moment he managed to pull himself together after the harrowing encounter, E had contemplated saying nothing. Just let the powerful traitor be a nasty surprise when he and A inevitably crossed paths.
But he had to acknowledge that having a traitor in their midst was a problem far bigger than his grievances, no matter how justified they were.
"Yeah, there is. We've got a traitor."
"Excuse me?" A growled as he leaned forward in his chair.
"I...didn't get everyone in the bunker. There was a band of armed Workers left, and they had some pretty serious firepower," E winced as he remembered the stupidly powerful plasma cannon thing that would most certainly one-shot anything it hit, nanites be damned. "I could've taken them, but they had backup, and at that point it just wasn't worth it."
"I see...Did you get a designation?"
"No, but he wore a black trench coat with fur lining and a pilot hat. And he was an Alpha," E said, carefully schooling his expression with that last announcement.
