Victor Stone had resigned himself to the fact that he was completely alone in the world. He had comrades, but they were completely organic. He had people he'd consider calling 'friend', but they were organic as well. They had secret identities. They...
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The Progenitor was placed in a large glass cylinder, tubes running from various machines and pumping everything from oxygen to blood straight into her ancient veins. Her skin was pale, and a few more wrinkles had sprouted under her eyes since the last time Harper had seen her. Accompanying her, as always, was the scrawny automaton that she had created to communicate and act for her. Both of these figures were standing safely behind a buzzing field of charged particles; a force field that would prevent any physical object from coming into contact with it.
Every step Harper made echoed hollowly throughout the cave, and nothing answered besides the ragged breathing of her creator and the faint clicking of the skeletal construct's internal fan. It hobbled on unstable legs, creaking like a loose iron ceiling in the midst of a hurricane. It barely looked like it was holding itself together as it stepped between her and the Progenitor.
"You have disappointed me, 2901." The synthetic voice of the pile of junk spoke, though it's words were those of her creator. "You have compromised everything that your sisters worked for."
"They didn't know any better," Harper said dismissively. "and now they're just cannon fodder for you to throw at the wall, right? You're a cunt of a person, you know that?"
"You were made with a purpose in mind. You cannot ignore that." The robot's eyes flared bright red. "It's the only reason that you exist at all."
Harper raised her right arm, a high-powered semi-automatic cannon affixed to it. Harper replied, "I don't have time for this."
The Progenitor's thin android stared at her intently but didn't respond at all.
Instead, Harper's impact alarm sounded. She spun around just in time to see a gigantic mass tear through the wall on her left and throw a clenched fist at her armoured body. Harper barely managed to sweep under the thing's arm and bring her cannon's barrel onto it.
She fired once, twice, but the colossal machine's dense hull plating pancaked her high-caliber rounds and sent them fluttering off out of sight. This massive mechanism slammed its other fist into Harper's gut, throwing her backwards off her feet.
Her new neural implant, which assisted in controlling her suit, sped up her reflexes significantly. Harper managed to spin in mid-air, redistribute her body weight, and land on her feet. She took a few seconds to analyse the situation. The Model that she was currently using wasn't finished...it didn't even have a name. Its forearm cannon was the only weapon it was equipped with before Harper scrapped the build. She didn't have a whole lot of options...well, more accurately, she had one.
With a thought, Harper sent a command through her suit. What looked to be a backpack-like mass on the suit's rear snapped backwards, and slipped off into the air. It reconfigured itself by sliding panels around and folding on its hinges, revealing a pair of rotors. On its underside was a cannon similar to the one that was mounted to Harper's arm.
