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 facility was larger than Harper had originally thought. It extended upwards almost seventeen stories before grinding to a halt. The first few floors dealt with the ground work; mostly military and the general leaders of this large group of people. Their jobs were to secure the unregistered technology by any means necessary. The next few were practically overflowing with computers and tracking equipment. The workers there had the boring job of actually locating anything of interest.
The other levels were completely different. They were for practical research. That meant actually handling these potentially dangerous tools...breaking them down and studying every last detail. Harper watched through curious eyes as they lugged large carts of alien metal and weaponry around. It was difficult not to swipe one for her own research.
The higher they climbed, the more intensive the experiments became. On the sixteenth floor they were proceeding with human trials. They selected a few volunteers, all amputees, and attempted to fit various examples of alien technology onto their bodies; to replace what they had lost. The limbs made from fairly basic or humanly comprehensible materials were moderately successful, but as soon as they tried to use something that was even a quarter of Victor's complexity...well, it didn't end well. The screaming still rang in Harper's ears.
Upon entering the seventeenth floor, Harper had been asked to remove her chassis. Primarily because it contained sensitive equipment and top secret research. They couldn't risk any of it leaking out, and Harper's model Val (though not made for hacking like Athena) still had the ability to do that.
The metal chest split open, and folded in on itself to reveal the relatively small woman. She stepped out, ignoring the stare that Bobby was directing towards her, and sauntered into the elevator. Wordlessly, Bobby pressed the button with an oddly designed '6' and the doors closed. He reached into his pocket, taking out a carton of cigarettes and offered her one.
"You a smoker?" He finally asked after several seconds passed without so much as a reaction from Harper.
The woman's shoulders slumped, and with a sigh, she took one of the cancer sticks from its packaging. She hadn't thought about these things in years. "I used to be."
Not even bothering to address this clear oxymoron, Bobby leaned over with a lighter in hand and grazed the bright flame against the end of her cigarette. It lit up almost immediately and greyed streams of smoke began circling into the air. Harper brought the tab to her lips and drew in, long and deep. The ashy taste of tobacco scratched against her tongue; foul but strangely satisfying. It was certainly enough to remind her how addicted she had once been to them.
Before the elevator could become filled with this blinding smoke the doors opened. Bobby was the first to step out, attempting to lead the way for Harper who didn't seem to be following him. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw the woman leaning against a nearby wall, cigarette hanging from her mouth and hands massaging the temple on either side of her forehead. She looked sick. Very sick.
