[ IP ] La killa

`` Let me make sure I've got this all lined up.'' Started Officer Lowell, absentmindedly flicking a small fidget toy with his left hand, flipping through his briefing notes with the right, and scratching his nuts with one of his auxilary manipulators. `` First, some dipshit at the Department of Defense decided that it was cheaper to give away military grade combat androids to private security contractors than pay to have them disposed of properly. Then, some dipshit at Arkwell Tactical Solutions decided a shopping mall was a tough enough environment to justify an on-site combat droid placement. After that, some dipshit at Three Pines Mall though it would be cute to use the android as a mannequin in the window at the Hot Topic. And finally, at 2:37 PM today some poor dipshit knocks over the android while dying it's hair, triggering an automated defense response. And by `` defense response'', I mean the poor minimum wage fuck bleeds out on the floor while the droid beats her co-worker to death with her own freshly ripped out arm. Current score two hours into play is a body count holding at about twenty civilians, three paramedics and five cops, at least thirty more civilians unaccounted for, no one at DoD or Arkwell is picking up the phone, and now it's our problem. That about right, Sarge?'' 
 
 `` Technically it's a gynoid, otherwise yes.'' Sergent Pirrip answers, one brown eye on the team, one red eye scanning a text only she can see. `` It seems to be containing itself to the mall, for now. No telling what it'll do next.'' 
 
 `` I do.'' Corporal Rodgers says, not bothering to look up from the half-disassembled control circuitry of his anti-material rifle. `` We had a batch of that model assigned to our unit in Seoul. DA-77s, used to call them'Linebackers'. You'd program them with a fixed defensive perimeter, and upload full biometric data on who's allowed in and when. They find someone in there when they should n't be, or find someone they do n't recognize at all, and they go to war. I'd bet those slackers at Arkwell uploaded their retinal data from their timeclocks, set the active hours to between 10 PM and 6 AM, and did n't bother to turn off the auto-defense protocols. Suddenly you've got an android...'' 
 
 `` Gynoid.'' Lowell interjects. 
 
 `` Blow me, Lowell... gynoid that thinks it's under attack and the perimeter is completely swarmed with unknown hostiles. Cue bloodbath. If no one screws with the doors or windows it wo n't bother coming out... but in the meantime it's going to be treating any surviving civilians as intruders.'' 
 
 `` Can Arkwell shut it down remotely?'' Sergent Pirrip asks. 
 
 `` Right, a combat robot with wireless access. As stupid ideas go that's right up there with using one as a punk rock dress form.'' The Corporal answers, closing up the housing and initiating a boot sequence. 
 
 `` Right, that settles it.'' The Sergeant says, heading towards the door without bothering to check if her unit is forming up behind her. `` Time to show that bitch who wears the pants around here. Everyone gear up, we're rolling in five minutes.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, real pumped, boss.'' Lowell says, pocketing his fidget toy and falling into line behind Rodgers. `` They'll sings songs about it. The glorious charge of the Greater Hoboken Regional Tactical Response Unit against the Mannequin of Mayhem.'' 
 
 `` Bite me, Lowell. If you do n't like the job, find a new one.'' Pirrip says, flicking off the light. 
 
 `` Good idea, Sarge. I hear Hot Topic has a few openings.''
