I sat back onto the tattered sofa, which let out a sharp, unpleasant groan.
The springs were totally shot. The seat buckled, warping around my body until my back sank so deep I felt more restless than relaxed.
Shards of broken glass and a few liquor bottles that had somehow survived the chaos were lined up on the table in front of me. It looked like someone had gathered the "survivors" into a temporary refuge. I reached out, grabbed one at random, and flicked the cork with my thumb.
The dry pop echoed through the room.
I brought the bottle to my lips and took a long swig.
Harsh alcohol burned its way down my throat. The vapor rising through my sinuses created the illusion of heat spreading all the way to my lungs.
...Good stuff.
I let out a breath through my nose and grabbed a second bottle. I held it out to Cordeaux, who was still standing in the center of the room, looming over me.
For a second, he looked like he was going to say something, but he clamped his mouth shut, relaxed his shoulders, and took the bottle. He raised it in a silent toast before tipping it back.
"Pah! ...Dammit, this really throws my rhythm off."
Whether from the sting of the booze or the pain in his wounds, Cordeaux scowled as he slumped into the seat across from me. His new prosthetic leg hit the floor with a heavy metallic clatter.
I tilted my bottle back and smirked. "You seemed a bit heated. I figured you could use something to cool you down."
"Hmph..." Cordeaux gave a dry snort and swirled the liquid in his bottle. The amber fluid caught the light from a cracked lamp, shimmering with a blood-red tint. "...Of course I'm heated. No one takes a hit this big and stays calm."
He spat the words out and took another drink. His expression had finally settled.
"You gave me that chip yesterday, right?"
"Yeah."
"I had my engineers look into it. We isolated the system and put it under heavy guard, just in case. There was no telling what was on that thing." Cordeaux prefaced his explanation with a grimace. "The analysis itself was going fine. We lucked out and had a guy who was good at breaking encryptions, so we managed to bypass the passcodes. As we dug into the data, we realized it was definitely Vira Corp tech."
The Doctor had figured out that much. By now, he was probably buried in the data, forgetting to eat or sleep.
"We couldn't get anything more out of it. However, the data seemed to have 'compatibility' with Vira Corp-model androids. We figured if we hooked it up to a physical medium, we might get somewhere."
"...I see. So you gave it a shot."
"Yeah." Cordeaux laughed, his head hanging low. A shadow of the earlier rage flickered across his face as he recalled the moment. "Depending on what was inside, it could've been a hell of a bargaining chip. We kept the team small—two engineers, two veteran guards, and me."
He slapped his left leg. A dull, hollow sound thudded through the room.
"...And this was the result."
I kept my expression neutral and lowered my bottle. "A rampage?"
"Yeah. We had the main power off and tried to peek at the contents using only the sub-circuits. Then, the damn thing just auto-booted. None of the signal overrides worked. Before I knew what was happening, it went berserk—turned the engineers and the guards into blood bags in seconds. I moved fast enough to dodge, but I still got caught in the crossfire. Hence, this mess."
Cordeaux’s eyes narrowed into slits.
"The thing kept coming for me. I had to lead it away while the rest of the guys in the office got involved. We fought back as we retreated and eventually put it down, but..."
His fist tightened around the bottle until the glass let out a faint, ominous creak.
"You were using the modification room in the office, weren't you?"
"Yeah. That’s the only reason I’m still breathing. The guys outside rushed in immediately... but the place was half-wrecked before they could even blink."
He exhaled deeply and drained the rest of his bottle. He set the empty glass on the table with a soft clink and stared at it for a fleeting moment. He traced the rim with his finger as if mourning the lingering scent of amber, then stood up without a word.
His left leg—the prosthetic below the knee—clicked rhythmically against the floor. His gait seemed normal at a glance, but every time his weight shifted, the metal joints gave off a dull, grinding protest.
"Wait here."
He disappeared into the back of the room. I heard the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. I tilted my bottle, draining the last few drops.
Cordeaux returned shortly. In the dim light, he was hauling "something" with one hand. The sound of metal scraping against the floor—clash, clash—filled the silence. He dragged it to the side of the table and dropped it with brute force.
The humanoid wreckage hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Most of the artificial skin had been scorched away, leaving the internal mechanical frame exposed. The exterior was riddled with bullet holes, and jagged shards of armor plate were peeling off. Only the right arm remained attached to the torso by a few frayed cables; the other limbs had been blown clean off, leaving blackened, charred stumps.
The head was in no better shape. Half of it had been vaporized by an explosion, and what remained of the hair was singed and matted. An unusually large burn mark scarred the base of the neck.
"This is it."
Cordeaux looked down at the charred mass of metal with a bitter expression. The light glinted off his prosthetic leg, casting a pale blue glow over his face.
"You recognize her, don't you? She was one of the Vira Corp general-purpose androids we used around here."
"...Yeah. She was at the reception desk yesterday."
"She wasn't supposed to have a single combat function. She was built for housework or greeting corporate guests. But this thing... it was different. It was putting out power levels far beyond what any combat model should be capable of."
His voice was low and gravelly, like he was grinding stones in his throat.
"The chip fried itself when I tried to pull it out. I scoured the program logs, but they're wiped clean. I’m at a total dead end."
Cordeaux let out a heavy sigh and slumped back onto the sofa. The springs shrieked under his weight.
"Did you check with Vira Corp?"
"I did. Played it cool, like I was just asking about a malfunction." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I was hoping for some kind of lead, but they just said, 'There are no issues with the production lot. This is likely a malfunction caused by unauthorized external modifications.' The best they offered was a pittance in hush money. Since we’re the ones who jammed a strange chip into it, pushing them too hard would just cause more trouble for us."
"Standard procedure for them. They label any external interference as 'modification' and wash their hands of it."
"...I can't stand it. But there’s no point in starting a war over this right now. I’ll make them pay in other ways later, but for now, that’s it. Explaining this mess to the 'higher-ups' is already going to be a headache."
Cordeaux scratched his head in frustration and slammed the empty bottle onto the table. The glass cracked under the impact.
"That's why I'm asking you. This is a personal request."
He tapped his terminal, sending a file to mine. My device chimed, and a holo-display flickered into existence.
The reward amount was significant. It had as many zeros as the payment for the chip yesterday. I stared at the screen, considering it for a moment. Then, I manually edited the amount, cutting it exactly in half, and sent it back.
"Half is enough. Consider the rest a get-well gift for your leg."
There was a beat of silence. Then, Cordeaux’s lips curled into a grin.
"...Hmph. Still a flashy bastard, I see."
"I try. But I do have one favor." I stood up and looked down at the wreckage beside the table. "That android. I’m taking the head."
"Just the head? ...Fine by me. I’ve checked every inch of it already, and the logs are backed up. It's just scrap metal now anyway."
His tone was dismissive, but I didn't mind. I reached down and placed my hand on the wreckage’s neck. As I disengaged the metal coupling joints, the internal power core flickered with a faint blue light before dying out completely.
I lifted the heavy head with one hand. "Her" face was a mess—the right side was gone, leaving only a single left eye. Patches of scorched artificial skin clung to the metal. The remaining eye stared blankly into the void.
The machine was dead. It was supposed to be silent. And yet...
In the corner of my vision, a small speech bubble flickered into existence.
<What... why... where am I...>
The mechanical corpse was still dreaming.