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Voxxi watched as the group of 20 or so standard units filtered into the main room. They were a diverse bunch, maybe not each having their own unique features yet, but the characteristics had already begun to show; all of them shared one thing in common – they were fresh out of the “Kindergarden”, as Voxxi liked to call it. He’d come from here as well, too long ago to really remember properly now. Most of his memory files were after his upgrade to this much larger form. From what he remembered, the Kindergarden was a strange place, filled with the sounds of whirring servers and soft hum of electricity. It was a place of learning and growth, where the newly activated units were taught the basics of their programming and how to navigate the world through a series of simulations and physical application. He recalled padding on the walls with specialized plates installed for better reflection of sound.
Up here, there were no safeties, and many of these young ones hadn’t been out of the concrete depths before. The safety of the servers was barely a week ago for these particular techfolk. The echoes reverberated off the walls differently here, especially as most of the interior of the old resort had been modified and stabilized for the ease of travel of a large unit such as himself. The portion they were in now used to be part of the southwestern section; it’d been repurposed into sort of a training area. A small hangar of sorts cleared out with most of the hotel still around them. The outside of the building retained the façade of a broken down, battered piece of human civilization long forgotten. After all, that’s what the Speakerman faction wanted others to think. As he moved around the still incoming bunch (26 so far; wasn’t this group supposed to be 30 strong?), the large Speakerman’s senses picked up on the faintest of sounds – the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of voices… How silently he moved seem to unnerve some of them, causing a few of them to startle slightly before he felt the brush of sound along his form that meant they were investigating the source of movement.
Except for in files, Voxxi was the first large Speakerman they would’ve had contact with. He easily towered over the lot of them by a good 10-11 feet. He remained observant of where he stepped as the throng finally had the last 4 units arrive, letting them get used to his size.
When he finally addressed the group, his voice was low and commanding, his words carrying the weight of authority. “Pay attention, recruits.” He chuckled at the automatic blaps of irritation that came from a few of the units at the sudden sound of his voice. “I’m a large Speakerman unit, serial A – 869-94.” He focused on some of the Speakermen still jittering, showing just how fresh out of the servers they were. He dialed back his voice a little, softening the tone. “Today, we’re going to take it easy on you mix-matched minions. You’re here for one job. Each of you has been given the number of a room somewhere in this building; you’re mission is to find this room.” He buzzed softly, emitting an infrasound frequency that seemed to help some of the units he was standing near. Good. He needed them relaxed. “My job is to tag you out before you get there. Get tagged out, you return underground and must wait until the next group.”
One of the Speakermen near his left leg looked up. “We’re playing hide-and-seek? What kind of training is this?”
Voxxi looked down at him. “We’re not fighting skibidi right now. We’re fighting these fuckers called Astros. They will be bigger. They will be faster. But today, you don’t have to be bigger and faster than them. You have to prove you can be bigger and faster than me.”
“Faster, I get, but bigger?”
“I’ll leave that open to interpretation.” Voxxi chuckled at the curious chirps that followed. “Who doesn’t think they’re ready?”
Less than he thought raised their hands. With each group, one never really knew. He motioned, giving a dismissal sound as he did, watching as the handful turned and disappeared back through the doors and into the creche below.
“Good.” He strode to the front, facing the entire group this time. “Mission starts… NOW!”
The blast of sound released with that one word sent most of them scurrying, running for the walls, nearby half-intact stairs, and adjoining hallways. He waited, counting to 10; something bumped into his leg when he started to move. One of the young ones had frozen up, simply standing there, shaking. Kneeling down, he hovered his hand just off the unit’s frame.
“You ok?” The Speakerman shook his head, barley giving more than a chirp and a few clicks. “Is it ok if I touch you?” With that nod, Voxxi lightly laid his hand flat on the other’s back, expecting the small flinch. “Can I help you get back downstairs?” Another nod. He lightly massaged the smaller one’s frame with his thumb, feeling the shivering dying down some as he did. “Do you want to walk, or do you want me to carry you?”
“…….” A Chirp. “….you would carry me?”
“I’m pretty big, y’know. I couldn’t fit down there, but I can pick up a little guy like you pretty easily.” Making sure the Speakerman knew exactly where his hands were always, Voxxi maneuvered the other into a cradling position in one of his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you sorted. I gotta go be an asshole to the rest of the group.”
It wasn’t anything more than a test of their current capabilities. They had to rely on their sonar, touch, and limited visual capacity to navigate the halls and find the room they had been assigned. In their line of work, being able to move quickly and effectively in any environment could mean the difference between life and death. Those who showed promise in this test would be moved to either the main Speakerman HQ or one of the other bases to begin their actual training, depending on their potential and area of expertise they expressed interest in. The room number never changed. It was always the location of the old lobby, yet frequently the new recruits always wanted to go up. He never bothered with the ones who bolted for cover on the first floor.
The old traction service elevators had fallen long ago, crashing in to wedge into a now permanent basement home. The shafts still had enough room and cabling for someone of Voxxi’s size to work his way up through if he pulled his limbs in right. Not all 16 floors were accessible; most spots had been remodeled with reinforced flooring specifically to handle someone of his mass. The ones who'd ended up here didn't even realize what a tight spot they'd gotten themselves into yet.
When he came to one of the spots he could exit the shaft, the large Speakerman could just pick up the sounds of fumbling in the darkness as some bumped into walls and furniture as they struggled to find their way. Perfect. Those were the ones he was wanting to territorize.
With a quick, fluid motion, he contorted his body and pulled himself up through the door, his large frame barely fitting through the narrow opening. He had to crouch low to avoid scraping his head against the ceiling, moving silently like a predator stalking its prey. Memories flashed through his circuits of watching Polycephaly do something similar on base, looking like some sort of giant tech-spider moving through the hall sized for standard units instead of large, just to prove he could.
If they were smart, their sensors would be heightened and on alert; the fumbling grew louder. Small voices in hushed whispers caught his audio as he closed in.
“We’re on the wrong floor.” One of the units hissed, his hand sliding along the wall. “The number is too high.”
“86994 said we needed to be bigger, right? He meant up.”
“The number isn’t—”
One of the group of three blatted an alarm. With a swift and calculated motion, Voxxi lunged forward, his massive hand reaching out to grab the “guard”. There was a moment of shock and confusion as he struggled to break free while the other two took off down the hall. Obviously, they hadn’t expected someone of his size to fit up here.
“Tag.” He set the young unit back down on the ground. He sent off a quick communique to the trainers still downstairs. “Stay put. Another unit is coming up for retrieval.”
One out of 26. 25 left. Already crouched as he was, he was near to a ventilation shaft in the floor nearby. It took only a matter of seconds of listening intently before he picked up the faint sounds he’d been hoping for. Voxxi gestured for the recruit to watch and learn but not to move closer. Moving his hands along the floor, he used his palms to amplify the sound and transmit it back to him. “Pay attention, kid. This is how you use your senses to your advantage.”
Each floor was littered with hidden compartments and traps, specifically designed to test the recruits’ abilities. In this case, he was going to use one. In short order, he spotted the weak spot in the floor and, without hesitation, braced himself and slammed his weight down, causing the floor to give away beneath him. Landing on his feet with a thud on the floor nearly 10 feet below, he startled another group, their sudden shrieks and yelps echoing through the room. “You’re making too much noise. If I can hear you, imagine what the Astros would hear.”
The first took the chance of dodging between the large Speakerman’s legs. He let them, instead, going for the four others nearby. Instead of giving chase, he picked up an ottoman nearby, the red pleather cracked and worn. “Distance attacks count as tags!” He threw the furniture down the hall, booming out his laughter as it hit it’s intended target – the wall. Still, it scattered the recruits enough that one of them dodged right into a false wall, falling through it with a crash into the next room. The others hesitated with a mix of obvious confusion as they watched their comrade try to stumble to his feet, looking slightly dazed. The moment they heard Voxxi’s footsteps, however, they took off at a fast pace.
Chuckling to himself, Voxxi approached the fallen Speakerman and offered his hand out to help him up. The moment the recruit took it, he sent out another signal to downstairs. “Tag.” He hauled up to his feet, subtracting the count down to 24.. “Looks like you could use a hand there, friend. Wait here and someone will be up to escort you back down.”
“What the hell was that?!” The Speakerman blatted.
“That was your lack of spatial awareness. What, were you planning on just ricocheting off the wall like a ping-pong ball instead of going through it?”
The young one tilted his head slightly, processing Voxxi’s words. Finally, he gave a questioning chirp. “What’s a ping-pong ball?”
He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the strange dynamic between them. After all, he’d been around since the beginning of his faction’s entrance into the war. This unit….maybe a week. “It’s…uh… It’s this little plastic ball that can bounce off of stuff real easy.”
As the Speakerman processed this new information, Voxxi took a moment to look around the hallway. It was one of the few on the upper floors that was designed for his larger frame, allowing him to move around more comfortably. Like all the rest, there really wasn’t much in the way of lighting; the windows were all on the exterior of the building. As a trait, Speakermen didn’t exactly need light to “see”, per se. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. It was a feeling he had learned to trust over the years, even if he’d never been able to quite understand it.
Maybe they were finally catching on.
“Ping-pong balls sound fun.” With that, the smaller sat down, leaning his back against what remained of the wall.
Hearing a faint rustling sound coming from the way he’d landed, the large Speakerman spun around just in time to see a figure disappearing down where the hallway T’d with another. Curiosity piqued, he couldn’t resist the urge to follow, deciding to take the bait and see what these little guys were up to. This was usually when things started to get fun. Stalking slowly down the hall, making sure to avoid any false flooring, he kept his hand on the wall. Funny. This way lead to the elevator he’d used to crawl up here in the first place. Sliding down the cabling to reach the first floor quickly would be a pretty good plan, if that’s what they were going for.
As he turned the corner, another flash of movement caught his senses. Definitely going for the elevator then.
When he came to the empty shaft, he could make out one of them standing in the door near to the bottom, and the whispering, hissing tone being used was, perhaps, inaudible if it wasn’t for the shaft amplifying the echo in its own right. “I don’t think he noticed us…” and another, “So he doesn’t know we’re down here?”, then, “What do you think, buzzbrain?”
Easing himself into the shaft as quietly as he could, Voxxi started down, using the thick elevator cabling as a rope and the shaft’s sides as footholds. He was just about to the first floor when several screeching sounds erupted from up above. He clenched tight as several falling objects cascaded down upon him, knocking both his grip and footing loose. He cursed loudly as he plummeted towards the ground, bracing himself for impact, but instead of crashing to the floor, he landed on the roof of the elevator just below ground level. Objects rained after him on him; Voxxi held his arms above his head, protecting himself from any serious harm.
After a few minutes of trying to wriggle free, he came to the conclusion that he was well and truly stuck. Groaning in frustration when he realized he’d had pretty much anything from old sofas and chairs to multiple mattresses dumped on top of him, he finally managed to get enough away from his head casing to hear someone shout down, “Sorry, sir!”, witnessing quite a few sliding down the cabling and helping each other out to the 1st Floor. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on him at all. It was like something straight out of a slapstick comedy.
“Oh, you motherfuckers.” He managed to pull his communicator out enough for him to press the location beacon for…well, normally not his retrieval. This wasn’t something he was going to live down for a while. “So this is what feeling proud and pissed at the same time feels like.”
The fabric felt rough and uneven against his fingertips, a stark reminder that sewing was not his forte. In fact, it seemed that none of the Speakermen working at the headquarters had mastered the art of stitching. The best he’d been able to accomplish was a thick, chunky line that was barely even straight, but the tear had been stitched up well enough for him. There werren't exactly any tailors around. All the outfits for the newly activated units were sent down from the main Speakerman HQ. Can’t expect a shirt to last forever, he supposed. Maybe his next one could be closer to the same purple as Polycephaly’s tie…but the TV man had said he’d liked this one, so maybe he’d keep it.
Retrieving the small bottle of biodiesel sitting next to him, he slid back the corner of his biofuel burner. The system came to life as the golden liquid settled happily. Fixing the cover back, he buttoned his shirt back up, trying to refocus on the report he’d been writing. Three separate groups of 30 had been churned out and tested so far. Hopefully, the two other creches he was aware of were seeing similar numbers. A high percentage had proven they were ready for full-scale training. A few would be hanging back for further examination.
The stylus and tablet sized for large units went lax in his hand as he tapped the stylus against the screen. He looked up, relaxing his visual system by watching the horizon of the ocean change colour as the sun set. The cool breeze filtered into the front of the old concrete battery; he was reasonably sure it’d brought in ocean mist with it. Either way, the slight chill was welcome, and he momentarily turned off his visual processor to enjoy the sensation of the water collecting against the smooth, red surface of his head casing.
The thump and ensuing, “Oof!” had him raising his hand to stabilize the small unit that’d flopped unceremoniously onto his shoulder. “Hey, lil’ guy. Thought you’d be hanging with the others. You know, ‘cause you’re not supposed to be here?” With a light chuckle, he reached out to gently scruff the young one on the head.
“I thought I had you that time.” The recruit buzzed. “You know as well as I do they’ll be going all night. And I told you, I want to be called Beethoven. I…really liked that music you showed us.”
“I’m not calling you that. It’s a fucking mouthful.”
He blatted in protest. “I literally fought another guy for this name!”
“And busted his faceplate. I know.” Voxxi grumbled, putting the report down for now and settling back to get more comfortable. “I was the one pulling you two apart last week. How about I call you ‘Bee’ for short?”
Beethoven let out a frustrated buzz, but soon settled down as the large Speakerman lifted him up by the nape of his jacket and set him on his lap. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound in the room the soft hum coming from the young unit..
“Because I sting?”
“Because you’re always buzzing around! Now, why am I taking shit from the little shit who convinced the others to drop a fuck ton of furniture on me?”
Bee chirped, his mood shifting as he recounted his frustrations to Voxxi, “The others weren’t listening to me at first. I kept trying to tell them what you told me, about what being bigger really means. It means we need to work together. Nobody wants to listen to the guy who took 3 times to finally pass the test.” He crossed his arms. “Plus, you threw furniture at us first.”
Voxxi hummed. Gently, he started petting the recruits head casing again to hopefully help smooth the little one’s emotions out. It seemed to work with Bee beginning up a small purring sound. After a moment, he said, “We don’t exactly always work together well out there, either.” Bee twitched in curiosity as he looked up at the larger unit, eager to hear more, but Voxxi changed the subject a little, leaning in to rumble conspiratorially. “It took me 4 times.”
He took Bee in hand and the discarded tablet in the other, ready to get out of the battery that was supposed to have been his attempt at quiet. It was blaringly obvious he wasn’t going to get the report finished at this rate.
“Come on. I’ll get you back to the barracks.” He rumbled with laughter. “I’ll even tell you how a fight led to a TV Man becoming one of my best friends.”