Breachers

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lobotomy Surprise

 

 

Day 66

 

 

 

The next day, Marcus found himself leaning against a counter within the old hardware store, his attention shifting between shelves stacked with parts and supplies. A full shopping basket sat on the counter beside him, flanked by oversized plastic containers. He tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound faint in the quiet shop. Occasionally, he sniffed the air, hoping his heightened Perception Stat would reveal more about his surroundings, proving the Stat point had been worth it and not a waste of Glass. Yet, he could only vaguely detect hints of oil.

‘It’s only one point... I shouldn’t expect that much.’

The sound of footsteps caught Marcus’s attention, and he turned to see the old man, Pete, approach with a large plastic bag. With a heavy thud, the bag landed on the counter, prompting Marcus to face the old man and the package.

“Is that it?” Marcus asked, eyes widening for a moment.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Pete grumbled as he removed the plastic wrapping. “Like I’m going to drag a heavy piece of metal around for fun.”

Without any flourish, he revealed the repaired metal arm of Marcus’s latest robot. Despite the lingering cuts and dents on the exterior, the internal components appeared to be properly fixed.

“The upper arm was still fine, just needed some cleaning and a bit of hammering to straighten things out. The lower part needed a bit more love, and I had to replace a piston.”

“It looks great,” Marcus said , running his hands over the arm, testing its flexibility by bending it and wiggling the steel fingers.

“It looks like crap,” the man grumbled, sliding a small USB stick onto the table beside the arm. “As for your other request. I recorded the whole process, explained every step why I did what I did, and what I’d have done different given more time and tools. It was a very weird request... even from you.”

With a deliberate motion, the old man pressed his index finger on the stick, inching it slowly closer to Marcus. “This better not end up on some weird website, you hear me?”

“It’s—”

“Yeah, yeah... art project. I don’t want the details,” Pete cut in, shaking his head as he moved away from the counter, muttering the word ‘bullshit’ before disappearing through the door again.

Marcus couldn’t help but suppress a smirk as he tucked the USB stick into his pocket and re-wrapped the robot arm in plastic. Moments later, the shopkeeper returned with a box brimming with parts, topped with several solid steel rods. Marcus could see how each rod had a sharpened tip and was roughly the same size as a short spear.

“Here’s the rest of the stuff,” the man grumbled, opening the box to reveal spare pistons, motors, and various other parts. “The rods that you assured me aren’t weapons, but objects to keep your art project in place.” The shopkeeper paused, giving Marcus a slightly bored and skeptical glance that spoke of a silent understanding of the pretense that they both had to maintain. “Made from the best steel I have. If you want better, you’ll need a specialist or access to Breacher gear.”

“This should do fine for now,” Marcus said before gesturing towards the overflowing, unsightly blue shopping basket on the counter beside him, and the empty heavy-duty plastic containers. “And I’ll take these too.”

The man grabbed the shopping basket, peering inside to find several hand axes, dozens of flares, steel plates, knives, balloons, a small speaker, and other odds and ends. He scanned each item, shaking his head at the sheer amount of axes.

“Got enough credits, lad?”

In response, Marcus just nodded, prompting the man to stare at him for a moment.

“Alright, anything else?” he asked, scanning the last item before dumping it to the growing pile.

“Do you happen to stock any spray paint? I’m looking for black, non-reflective and waterproof.”

“Aisle nine,” Pete said, casually pointing in the direction of the correct aisle before he continued in a sarcastic tone, “Probably the one with the big ‘paint’ sign hanging above it.”

Shaking his head, the old man grabbed a few large plastic bags to pack all of Marcus’s items, shaking his head again at the amount of items today.

Marcus returned a few minutes later, carrying cans of black spray paint and several other colors, causing the shopkeeper to speak up again.

“Is that everything?”

“You don’t happen to sell cameras by chance?” Marcus asked, well aware that he was probably pissing the man off with all of his questions.

The man shook his head. “Nearest electronic store’s a few blocks north from here. Or you could try the local pawnshop.”

“What about hunting stores? For ammunition and—”

“You got a firearms license?” The shopkeeper’s interruption halted Marcus mid-sentence. In response, the young man shook his head, prompting the shopkeeper to sigh. “Then no. Rules are pretty strict these days in the Netherlands. You can still buy bows and crossbows for hunting, but guns and other fancy equipment needs  paperwork and long waiting time. That or a lot of credits. I take it your art project is time-sensitive?”

“It’s due in a day, maybe two,” Marcus mused, then turned to Pete again. “Do I need a license to buy bear mace?”

The old man raised an eyebrow at the question before speaking up, “Lad, there aren’t any bears in this bloody country.” He watched Marcus continue to stare at him, as if still expecting an answer. “Why are you asking me? Do I look like I’m in charge of their stock? Just go over there and ask them.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll do that,” Marcus said, reaching for his phone and opening his banking app. He placed the phone against the register as the old man slowly swiveled the screen towards Marcus, revealing the sum total.

Marcus did his best to stay composed when he saw the amount and not wince when he felt his phone vibrate once, indicating the loss of a sizable chunk of credits.

“Thanks again for the help,” he said, struggling more with the bulk of his items than their weight as he balanced them in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man said, gesturing with his hand dismissively as he watched Marcus head towards the door. He observed the young man awkwardly using his foot to pry it open, then navigating out without bumping into anything with the sharpened steel rods.

“Hey kid,” the shopkeeper suddenly called out, surprising both himself and Marcus, who turned around. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, alright?”

Marcus paused for a second before flashing a smile and stepping outside, letting the door close behind him.

The old man stared at the door for a moment, his brow narrowing, before he turned back to his work. “Art project, my ass,” he muttered as he grabbed a nearby broom and began to tidy up his shop.

 

 

- - -

 

 

Marcus and Specter sat on the sofa in his apartment a few hours later, each with their feet propped up on the table in front of them. Between them, a laptop displayed the ‘documentary’ of the old man’s explanation on metalworking and repair techniques, while Marcus’s smartphone was next to it, paused on a video showcasing close combat strategies frequently used by Breachers. Still, despite the material in front of them, both were looking past the screens, their attention fixed on the hulking robot before them.

Every metal piece on its frame was painted black, while the thick plastic armor pieces were now painted green. A sturdy backpack hung from its waist, while two axes and a simple hammer were duct-taped to its side. It had also taped several knives to its chest, allowing it quick access. Its left hand gripped a thick steel shield with spikes on the outside, while its right held a steel short spear.

“One more time,” Marcus instructed, watching as the robot assumed a defensive stance with its shield raised. It then executed a series of combat maneuvers—quick stabs, shield bashes, lifting the shield to stab underneath, retreating, and other maneuvers. The machine’s motors and pistons kept the movements steady, showing no signs of slowing or tiring. ‘Even with my boosted Stats, my muscles would be aching by now.’

“Form looks solid,” Specter commented, observing its steel counterpart. “Although we haven’t got the faintest clue about what is or isn’t proper form. But, based on my experienced at getting mauled by monsters, I’d say our brother’s new setup will make those bastards think twice.”

“We’re just a bunch of idiots with weapons,” Marcus said, agreeing with Specter before he clapped his hands, signaling the big robot to stop.

Specter rose from the couch, grabbing two pillows as it approached the other robot. “Still, we don’t need to be weapon experts,” it remarked, facing the other robot. “The spear has been around almost as long as humanity itself. I mean,” it said, stepping back a few paces, “the pointy end goes into the enemy, then you pull it out. Repeat until we win. It isn’t rocket science. And I’m pretty sure we don’t need a lot of skill in using an axe or knife.”

It then nodded to the larger robot, which assumed a defensive stance again, shield out in front. Specter then shot forward as fast as it could, pillows out in front as it launched itself at his opponent. It slammed into the larger robot’s shield before Specter’s momentum suddenly stopped and it fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. Specter then pointed its hand up in the air, giving a thumbs up. “I think it’s ready.”

“I am,” the larger robot said awkwardly, still getting used to its voice—an almost perfect copy of Marcus’s. “The new arm feels... fine,” it added, flexing its repaired limb. “Strong.”

Specter slowly rose, tossing the two pillows back onto the couch before approaching the large robot again. It tapped its hand against the shield, producing a dull thud. “So, my boy here handles defense while I handle scouting and help with attacking. And you?” Specter asked, pausing to shift its attention back to Marcus.

“Try not to become monster food and thank my robot overlords for all their hard work?” Marcus said with a shrug.

“Exactly. Foolproof,” Specter remarked, taking a seat on the table in front of Marcus, while the other robot started practicing with the shield and spear again. “Look, I know you have doubts about this. But I saw what I saw back then. You’ve seen it through my eyes... err... ‘lens’,” it said, folding its steel fingers and straightening up. “Hundreds of monsters, with only a small entrance from what I could see. There might be others, but if all goes well, we won’t need to worry about that.”

“It still means potentially facing a literal horde of monsters,” Marcus said, sinking deep into the couch. “Even with the three of us—and me hitting Power rating ten once I use the rest of the Glass—it’s still a huge risk.”

“It is,” Specter agreed while picking up Marcus’s phone and opening his Breacher’s app that listed all the available Spheres in the area, along with their booking status. It then pointed to one near the lake that they had raided quite a few times already. “This Sphere has been active for three years. Parties can book slots to fight monsters and hunt for resources, but with the agreement that the Orb must remain untouched,” it explained, handing the phone back to Marcus. It tapped on the screen, indicating that the next slot was already taken. “Essentially, it’s a farm. And the same party that had booked it the last two days has reserved it for three more.”

Marcus nodded, recalling Specter’s previous mention of it. “And you said this party is thorough in their clearing, right?”

“Yeah,” Specter nodded, its damaged lens focusing on Marcus. “Though I usually stayed near the shoreline, even I noticed a decrease in monster activity last time. This group of Breachers knows what they are doing and will leave a weakened Sphere for us.”

“So, we go in right after their last reserved day, when the Breachers have done the heavy lifting, and hit the Orb at night,” Marcus suggested, struggling not to smile at the idea of tearing out the Orb and actually destroying a Sphere himself. He understood the risks, especially with Specter’s plan to handle the monsters, but he couldn’t deny his own excitement.

Specter nodded. “I’ll wait inside the Sphere in the water, ready for the Breachers to leave. Then I’ll get out and take out any survivors or new monsters along our route to the old restaurant. When you two arrive, we can strike at the center of the Sphere right away.”

Marcus’s smile broke through as he closed his eyes and leaned backward. “I thought we agreed to grow up and be smart about things?” he asked, opening his right eye to look at the robot. “I recall you even chocking me to drive that point home.”

“This is different,” Specter said, tapping Marcus’s knee before moving away from the couch. “We’ve got a plan, a third member of our wolfpack, and we’re better armed. Sometimes, being smart means taking calculated risks when opportunity knocks.”

An alarm suddenly sounded on Marcus’s phone, interrupting their conversation. Immediately, the larger robot ceased its activity, setting aside its spear and shield. It then made its way over to Specter and Marcus. “Two hours of Mana left,” it reported, proceeding to clear the table with as much grace as a hulking robot could.

“Speaking of taking risks,” Specter uttered, a trace of hesitation in its voice.

“It’ll be fine,” Marcus said as he got up to his feet and grabbed a few of the tools he’d need.

“You don’t get to say that,” Specter muttered, sinking onto the table and then reclining onto its back. “I’m the one who’s risking getting lobotomized.”

Marcus just shook his head as he placed the tools on the table before picking up three small boxes and setting them down beside Specter. With deliberate care, he began to unpack them, revealing three small cameras. One resembled the damaged one already in Specter’s head, but without the scratches. The other two were slightly smaller but had a more sophisticated design. “Don’t be so dramatic,” Marcus said, his tone reassuring. “We’re just replacing your busted-up camera and upgrading your vision with one of these three, possibly two if there’s enough room.”

Specter gestured towards the tools Marcus had retrieved earlier. “Oh, I’m allowed to be dramatic when you’re about to literally yank out my eye and leave me with a gaping hole in my head.”

In response, the other larger robot moved closer to Specter, its movements exaggeratedly slow and deliberate, like a villain in a melodramatic play as it leaned in close before whispering, “Drama queen.” It then snatched up a nearby drill and gave the trigger two quick squeezes, causing the drill to spin with two satisfying hums. “We could always use this one if you want?”

“Enough, you two,” Marcus intervened with an amused grin before focusing his attention on Specter. “Do you want me to undo the Echo effect before I start?” His expression softened with empathy as he stared at the prone robot. He didn’t need a mental link with Specter to grasp what it might be going through. ‘I used to dread going to the dentist or hospital visits. This, though, feels like hellish territory.’

“No. I’d rather stay in this body,” Specter replied, rapping its knuckles on the table to signal the start of the operation. “Now, less talking, more eyeball pulling,” it said bravely, eyeing Marcus as the man reached for a flat screwdriver and undid two screws before he slid it beneath the scratched camera lens. Specter clenched its fists and stayed perfectly still as Marcus applied pressure, slowly easing the camera out.

“Almost there,” Marcus grunted as he felt the camera begin to shift more easily, then suddenly encountering a stretchy resistance. ‘Now to deal with the weird veins,’ he thought, carefully grasping the damaged camera with his right hand and Specter’s head with his left. “One... two...” With a sudden jerk at the second count, he yanked out the lens, releasing a spray of light blue liquid and disintegrating glowing veins. Stumbling backward, Marcus inspected his ‘bloody’ hand as the strange liquid evaporated within seconds, leaving only the camera behind. “Well, that’s the first part,” he said to Specter, placing the lens on the nearby couch before nodding to the larger robot, who handed him one of the new cameras. “You good, Specter?” he asked before seeing the robot give him a thumbs up and muttering something about how messed up all of this was.

Marcus moved closer to Specter, noting the otherwise motionless frame, save for the occasional foot wiggle and raised thumbs-up. All of it was enough for Marcus to know that Specter was still present, despite the absent camera and the hole in its head. ‘I need to stop thinking their bodies are like mine.’ Curious, Marcus peered into the opening, glimpsing the inner workings of the robot—remnants of old hardware, likely operating systems, now rusted and broken but firmly lodged in place. He carefully probed inside with his finger, nudging a few pieces loose after a bit of wiggling. ‘'I always assumed Specter’s thoughts and movement were tied to some brain or hardware inside its head. But maybe the Orb holds their minds?’ Marcus thought, his expression hardening. ‘Even now, weeks later, I’m still clueless about what these Orbs are and my own Abilities.’

After a brief pause, with Marcus continuing to stare into the cavity in Specter’s head, the robot suddenly piped up. “Well... what’s happening?”

“New plan. Looks like you’re getting that lobotomy after all. We’re going to remove your faceplate and hollow out your head,” Marcus said while shifting his gaze towards the other robot. “Hand me the power tools.”

Specter’s voice took on a fearful pitch at the sound of whirring power tools by its head. “Wait? What?” it exclaimed, panic creeping into its tone. “Guys... I was kidding about being ready for this. Please undo the Echo... Marcus? Marcus!”

 

“Echo”

 

Specter’s robotic frame suddenly went still, its consciousness merging back into Marcus’s mind, fortifying his mental capacity. With their reunion, Marcus absorbed the wave of memories, thoughts, and experiences Specter had built since their last synchronization, including its final moments of fear and confusion. An amused smile played on Marcus’s lips as he shifted his attention to the other robot, ignoring the small spark of irritation in the back of his mind where he could feel the vestiges of Specter cling to its own identity. He slowly placed his hand on the large robot as he closed his eyes, focusing on the part of his mind that was inside of the robot.

 

“Echo”

 

He retrieved his mind from the larger robot, becoming whole for the first time in what felt centuries. He paused for a second, enjoying the feeling before he split off half of his mind and poured it back into the robot, along with what made Specter who it was.

Releasing the large robot, he watched it shake for a moment as the robot flexed its metal fingers. “You thought you were funny, huh?” the robot asked, its voice now resembling Specter’s usual tone. It shifted its gaze to its old body, peering into the hole that was now within the head. “This is proper weird, right?”

“Yup,” Marcus agreed as he carefully removed the screws holding the robot’s face in place before prying off the metal plate. Inside, they could see more of the rusted remnants, prompting Marcus to begin removing and discarding the damaged parts on the table. It didn’t take long before Specter joined him. As they cleared away the debris, the vacant interior of the robot’s head came into view.

“Looks like there’s plenty of room.”

“Is that a jab at my intelligence?” Specter’s metallic voice rang out as it turned its head towards Marcus, its lenses fixing on him. Marcus simply shook his head, then held up the faceplate and began muttering something about there being room for more than two.

“Wait... all of three of them?” Specter asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into its tone. “You think they’ll all fit? Would that even work? Two I understand, but three seems weird.”

Marcus just shrugged in response as he took a closer look inside the empty metal head, placing the faceplate next to it.

“Only one way to find out, I guess,” he said in an amused tone. “And I’ve got another idea for what we can stuff in that empty dome of yours.” His hand then moved toward Specter’s old body, pointing at the worn chest full of dents and holes, from which a pulsing dim blue light bled through the cracks and openings.