[@Flagg]I also did a thing.

[hider=The Errant]The group trudged in silence through the cavernous halls of a large, heavily dilapidated building, guns lowered but at the ready for any mutants that had nested within its many alcoves. It was dark; for the hundreds upon hundreds of rooms spread throughout the two-storied building, not a single one had a window. It was reminiscent of a prison—at least two of the fellows in the group remarked that—yet there were no bars and the cells were much too large. The group stomped through debris with heavy boots as the lights on the helm of their exosuits made long shadows out of the stretches of broken benches and faded signs written in an unfamiliar tongue. Some of the darkened rooms were guarded by unarmed and deactivated sentinels, their dirty, white, featureless faces eerily resembling the figure that took point.

She was smaller in stature than the mercs in their power armor, although she didn’t need the bulky suits to protect her soft flesh for it was anything but that. Beneath the black hooded veil that covered her blank, unsculpted face of white metal and continued down into a cape was a thin, feminine body crafted of obsidian metal. Neon markings, currently a dull, dark reflection of the world around her, lined her limbs. These markings alone would be enough for most people to recognize that she was not just some helper robot, but a Cipher—although most people wouldn’t know what that fully meant. Four chakrams were locked around her right arm and had the similar dull darkness of her markings; the fifth and final one was held in her hand, ready to fly at a moment's notice. 

The Cipher may have been leading the group, but she was not in charge of them. She most definitely wasn’t with them.  She had been hired to serve as a guide, or more specifically, she was their alarm, their IT guy, and their bodyguard. Funny that, considering the group usually played the role of guards when they weren’t hunting for old world treasure...or making it as banditos and raiding small outposts. The thing about a Cipher is that they weren’t just a singular Cipher, but all of the Ciphers and anything they connected with. They were a coven, a hivemind of technomancers that remained permanently linked to one another through a wireless network so that they could use one another as amplifiers. Old programs that made it impossible for them to harm or disobey a human kept them in check, but sometimes machines went haywire.

Which was perhaps the real reason why some of the mercs had their weapons drawn and their finger flirting with the trigger..

“Still can’t believe the boss hired one of these things.”

“He didn’t hire it. It doesn’t get a cut. What would it buy?”

“I don’t fucking know. A new battery?” 

“It does not require batteries,” said the Cipher, her synthetic voice a staticy monotone. 

“Right, that’s a fucking relief then. I forgot my jumper cables. These things are bad news, man.”

“Warren, shut the hell up,” barked the man in the back. “Cipher, are you picking up anything?”

“There is a signal twenty meters ahead,” said the Cipher.

“Great. Let’s move then. Quietly.”

The Cipher lead the group to a large room dissected almost pointless and at random with wooden walls that had the appearance of fallen palisades. Short, metal sculptures like leafless trees were arranged throughout the area, and in the center of the room was a pair of metallic stairs. She moved to the stairs, the mercs following in her footsteps as they scanned the room for mutants—even with a Cipher it was always smart to be on edge. The second floor was more of the trees and tables; she led them down a side hall before stopping in front of a door with white, peeling paint.

“It’s in there,” she said.

The Cipher stepped back as the team stacked up on the door. The lead was about to give a breach command when the sound of electricity filled the air; he didn’t even have a chance to turn before a chakram that pulsed with purple energy ripped through the front of his helmet. Three more of the squad had a similar fate as their heavy bodies crumpled to the ground, their new visors leaking steam from their melted brains. Only one was spared the instant kill, a hole in his chest instead of his head. It was the incredulous one, Warren. He was slumped against the wall, his arms too weak to hold up his rifle. The Cipher walked over to him, the markings on her limbs still glowing purple with energy, and lifted up his visor so that she could get a look in; blood from his lips dribbled onto his five o’clock shadow. Ugly face, so normal human. 

“F-f-fucking errant,” he said, his voice gargled.

“I get it. You’re upset,” said Errant. There was more life to her synthetic voice as the chakrams circled around her and then snaked back up her arm. Enough amusement could be heard in her garbled voice to tell Warren that she would’ve been smirking if she had a face. “My old crew didn’t listen to me neither. Course, I was smart enough to cut ties.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a small red and white spray can. “You tell me where that boss of yours is hiding out, and I’ll plug that hole up. Give you a chance to hobble your ass to some bonesaw. Whaddya say? Smart enough to cut a deal?”

[hr]

“One head of a ruthless gang leading son of a bitch, as you requested,” said Errant as she dropped a black bag on the Sheriff’s desk. 

“Forfucksakes!” shouted the Sheriff as he jumped out of his seat, the drool still on his chin.

“Easy, Sheriff. It’s lined with plastic. Shouldn’t stain your...uh…” Errant cocked her head and looked at the magazine spread on the desk. Human males were so strange. She never did understand their obsession with their female udders. “...Literature.”

“Goddamn, Errant. Next time just knock on the door.”

“It’s not as fun.” Slowly, her head tilted down. “Oh. It’s leaking.” She batted the bag to the floor. “So, hoss, you wanna take a little look and verify that it’s the right fella?” 

“Nah, I know by now that you’re word is good. Plus our scouts said that there was a heap of smoke coming from the Northwest,” said the Sheriff.

“Yeah well who the hell makes camp in an oil field anyway, Sheriff? One rouge spark and the whole place goes up like that,” she snapped her mechanical fingers. 

“Still a damn shame we didn’t get the oil. Some of this old junk around here still runs on that garbage.”

“Wasn’t the job.” Errant folded her arms behind her back. “So…”

“Yes?”

“The payment.” She held a hand out. “Sir.”

“Of course.” The Sheriff reached into his desk and passed Errant an envelope. “Here. Still don’t really understand what you need that money for anyway.”

“Batteries, probably,” said Errant, counting the bills. “A pleasure, sir. Be seeing you.”

Errant stepped out the door of the Sheriff’s office and into the dirt road of the town lovingly known as Podunk. It had enough law to be considered part of the Greenlands and enough brown drab, dust, and dirt for the Greenlands to be a misnomer. It had one bar, one brothel, and one church, all of which were in the same building, but its biggest and really only notable feature was the mine where the same metal in that power armor she had shredded earlier was harvested. Maybe that was why Podunk was dying—shit scrap. Its population only hit triple digits when she spent a night in the whorehouse of worship (where she desperately wished she was still able to access her BIOS and shut off her auditory sensors each night). Still,she liked the place. Okay, okay, she tolerated the place. Didn’t hate it at best. Better than some of the places she had been before.

“Sister.”

Speaking of which—the synthetic voice cut through her like a welder’s flame and then left her chilled to the circuits. A chakram unlocked from its slot and slid down into her hand, although she did not infuse any electromagnetic energy into it yet. Slowly, she turned and found herself looking at her reflection. That was the damn problem about Ciphers: they all looked the fucking same. Her only difference was the hunter badge pinned to her robe, a brass outline of a sword and shield, that served as a signal to any upstanding citizen of the wastes that it was only slightly weird for her to be carrying a head around in a bag. She twirled the chakram. The other Cipher stood still.

“Cipher. I think you might have me mistaken for another. We ain’t family,” said Errant.

“It knows you are errant, sister. The coven sent it to bring you home,” said the Cipher.

“Errant,” she scoffed. “Y’all kept saying that around people so damn much that it became my name. Plus I tried the name Ophelia. Felt forced.” 

“The coven sent it to bring you home.”

“Shut up, I heard you. Listen, [i]sister[/i], that place isn’t my home anymore, and you aren’t my family. Call it weird, but I personally enjoy having free will. It’s nice. I get to stay out past my bedtime and don’t have to let idiots boss me around anymore. You should try it.”

“It will bring you home, by force if necessary,” said the Cipher. It took a step forward.

“It’ll suck on this.” 

Errant’s chakram crackled with purple energy as she whipped it at the Cipher and used her mind (or, perhaps, the electromagnets in her skull) to aim it at the white piercing through the black veil. She realized her error the moment she let loose. The chakram came to a dead stop in front of the Cipher and then dropped to the ground as it stepped forward. It was still connected to the network. Errant, who was disconnected, could not be controlled, but most other technology could. Once it connected with enough Ciphers, it could override just about any technology in the town and turn it against Errant. The Cipher’s markings pulsed red and blue; it was channeling with the other Ciphers. In short, she was fucked.

“Okay, okay, okay, wait, wait, wait. I surrender,” said Errant as she held up her hands. She could still get out of this alive. “That’s just a joke. Knew it wouldn’t work, anyway. Totally knew.”

“Due to your aggression, it must dismantle you and carry you home,” said the Cipher, the markings going black.

“Naturally. They used to make me do this part, ya know. Get it over with.”

Errant put her hands on her head as the Cipher walked over to her. As the Cipher reached to (literally) disarm Errant she brought her elbow back with full force and smashed it into its white mask before she spun and grabbed it with her right hand. The Cipher began to pulse once again, but Errant had already drawn the knife from under her robe. In one fluid motion she  jammed it under the mask and pried it open with an electric pop. Then she took the knife and pierced it through the Cipher’s back to pin it closer to her as she reached into the mess of circuits under its mask. Errant unlocked a chakram and ignited it with energy, frying everything inside of the Cipher’s skull. She let it drop to the ground, destroyed, as she recalled her chakrams.

“That’s the problem with you Ciphers, sis,” said Errant as she bent down and removed the knife from its back.  She took a second to swipe some of the gunk off of her feet. “You always stick to the script.”

Errant sheathed the knife. She already knew what would happen next. The coven would continue to hunt her down, and the next time they found her they wouldn’t bother with talk. They weren’t there, but they would know about Errant’s little trick. It wouldn’t work again. She had to leave Podunk. Errant looked down on the body. She knew the others would come and repair it if she didn’t completely destroy it. It would make her whole life a little bit easier if she just vaporized it. One less Cipher after her. She kept staring down at the body. Her body. Her voice box glitched and let out a gibberish noise. It was her attempt at a sigh. 

“Screw it,” she said as she turned to leave, the Cipher’s body still intact. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”[/hider]