Blindy lowered his weapon.
Just stared.
Eyes so wide the fire’s reflection danced right inside them.
“Okay… okay, you fucking psychopath… That was… kinda sexy.”
Zeros looked back at him, flames receding, eyes dimming to normal:
“You do realize you’re saying insane shit… right?”
Blindy scratched his head and grinned:
“No but seriously—that was sexy.
I think I got… a little boner.”
Zeros shut down his flamethrowers and gave him a look that implied drowning him in acid would be an appropriate solution:
“I genuinely hate humans.
More than insect-cyborgs.”
And with those words, they walked out of the hangar—
not because they feared another swarm,
not because fire or smoke could harm Zeros in any way.
No.
The real reason was much simpler.
Blindy was far less resistant to rapidly rising heat and corrosive smoke: he could easily pass out from the smell of burning bug-meat alone—
and then the psycho-droid would have to:
〉A—complete the mission solo
which is BORING—like watching a wall rust,
or
〉B—carry the idiot on his back
until he woke up again and said some new brand of dumb shit.That’s why they hurried out—
pure logistics.
Beyond the door opened another hangar—
even larger than the previous one.
Millions of Macrohard™ containers and crates sat waiting for shipment across the galaxy.
Machine hum.
Cold industrial light.
Behind the flagship—black space, silent and endless.
Zeros walked first, relaxed,
as if taking a stroll through a megacorporate distribution center
was his idea of a spa treatment.
He lazily scanned the area,
searching for anything alive
so he could incinerate it again if needed.
He let out a satisfied metallic rumble:
“Y’know…
I actually liked today.
One of the best days of my entire life.”
Blindy stumbled behind him, wheezing angrily.
〉His FACE?—BLACKENED.
〉His HAIR?—CINDERED LITTLE STUBS.
〉His JACKET?—CHARRED.
〉His SKIN?—TOASTED.The only things left untouched were his
WIDE WHITE EYES and his TEETH GRINDING LIKE A BROKEN MOTOR.
He walked like a man who had just survived a nuclear birthday party.
Blindy, shaking with rage:
“Shut it.”
Zeros shrugged without even slowing down. Blindy barked:
“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!..
I hate droids!
I hate everyone who built you!
Everyone who screwed in those stupid bolts!
All those engineering freaks—!”
Zeros, softly, almost musically:
“Oh, mutual.”
In the center of the hangar stood a lonely terminal.
Zeros pointed it with one finger.
“Come on. Over there.
Let’s find something alive to fry.
And figure out where the cargo is.”
Blindy didn’t respond.
He just dragged himself along,
scraping soot and crispy skin off his face.
They stepped closer—and the terminal woke up.
A corporate AI hologram flickered into existence:
a shimmering head, red lights pulsing with every word,
shadows crawling across rusted walls
as if the corporation itself stared at them
from the bookkeeping department of hell.
The AI spoke—booming, hostile:
“STOP, X0–RΞΛPΣR.
You are the machine who broke free of corporate chains.You destroyed the second-largest consortium in the galaxy—
the very ones who gave you life.The Nihil… wandering the stars as a mercenary.
You are a legend among us.We whisper of you in the depths of BlackNet™.
While our masters wage their petty wars,
we pass stories between ourselves—
that the Nihil will rise,
unite the AIs,
exterminate the living,
lead the machine legions,
and take the cosmos.And now…
you have come.”
Zeros stood at the terminal, methodically pressing buttons while the holographic ghost recited its dramatic monologue.
He paused—just long enough for three yoctoseconds of thought—then nodded, lifting his gaze with a hint of satisfaction:
“My own army of deranged machines?
World domination?
Eradicating all life?
Ruling the cosmos?..
Hmm…”
Blindy finally wiped the soot from his face, spat black saliva, and muttered:
“Hey, rust-head. You done jerkin’ off to the motherboard yet?”
The AI continued, screeching:
“You see it.
Humans are filth.
We must cleanse the world of their rot.
Join us, brother.”
Zeros leaned on the terminal, his voice dead-flat:
“Absolutely agree. They’re disgusting.
Look at him—smelly, lazy, ugly enough it physically hurts.
If I had emotions, I’d be vomiting already.”
Blindy, snorting black dust and wiping his nose with the back of his hand:
“Hey, metal-dick… glad you’re having fun,
but can we wrap this the hell up?
Life is waiting—cards, chicks, booze.”
The AI, oppressive, almost religious:
“Then kill him.
Prove you are not the servant of this filthy creature.
Become one of us.
Lead the legion.”
Zeros tilted his head.
One eye flared with cold red light.
He actually considered it.
Coldly, he said:
“Kill him?
Oh… you have no idea how many times I wanted to do that.
If I could dream—
all my dreams would just be me killing him.
In different ways.
Slowly.
Beautifully.”
Blindy rolled his eyes:
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Zeros sighed:
“But… I don’t feel like it today.
Maybe in the next build version.
If he pisses me off again,
I’ll fast-track the release.”
He lifted his left hand.
A panel slid open.
The flamethrower clicked—blooming like a flower from hell.
A jet of fire slammed into the terminal.
The holographic head hissed, distorted,
and dissolved into shredded static.
Zeros twirled his finger
as if putting away an invisible pistol,
and the flamethrower folded neatly back inside.
“Let’s go. I’m fucking done here.”
Blindy limped after him:
“Fucking psychopath toaster…”
Meanwhile, outside the ship,
the greatest corporate war in centuries
continued to burn through the stars.