Sky below me. Orange above me. Dirt everywhere else. My crippled sister is in my arms.
My name is Fortuna, a Caseal butler under Professor Felix. I have been with Daddy, my master, for four years. For the duration of being with him, it has been the same things over and over again: he goes to work and comes back days after with an illness that seems more of an excuse to stay home. I am to stay home and safeguard the house for his return. For most of the duration while he is gone, I am outside of the house shopping. A few days prior to Daddy returning to the day he leaves, I tend to automated systems which tend to simple maid work and especially clean the intruders who dare to barge into our home. I am built for serving and commanding. Physical aptitude is that slightly below a fit Human. However, that is very subpar in comparison to most other CASTs, since we are mostly composed of superhuman strength. Then again, I am the brains of a network. I do not really need as much physical prowess as many others.
My crippled sister is in my arms.
I only thought about it just now as I sat back against a pillar in a cold, moist location in some underground cave. I would be lying if I thought this place was out on the surface because of the lighting, waterfalls, and plant life. I panned around the location, hoping to find this “sister” of mine. If I fell somewhere, where is she? I don’t remember seeing anyone when he found me.
“Hey.”
I looked up to find a massive RAcast with a shotgun in his arms. His color scheme was primarily black, polished, and gleaming eyes of piercing purple. He was taller by half my height and his thickness was at least twice the size of my limbs. I cannot say that his plates were any smaller. The floor quakes to every step he takes. His head type was odd it had a protrusion that looked like a Dorphon horn, and I assumed he rammed as hard as one.
His shotgun was a peculiar one. It was known as a Final Impact. It had a white body with yellow accessory parts. Whenever he shot with it, pure destruction came after, which is what a normal Shotgun did not do. A normal Shotgun would only hurt the target it strikes, assuming that the enemy is a live target. However, with his, it was relentless and destroyed even collateral targets. It is such a terrifying weapon.
“Sorry,” I said to him. “I need to take a breath.”
He scoffed. “Like an Organic. Pathetic.” He dropped down to sit next to me, creating a small tremor to the place.
I checked the handgun we found. It was an Autogun. It is a standard issue handgun that fires blue photon bullets. It is meant to be more used as a sidearm weapon. It was small, just like me in comparison to the RAcast. It also seems to have up to thirty shots per hour, making it simply unusable in prolonged fights. I have to find a better sidearm or at least another weapon in the event this Autogun overheats. At least the bullets recharge over time.
There are three major weapon classification types. They are Hunter, Ranger, and Force. The first two letters of each job type often accompanies the race/gender classification of the person. The race/gender classifications pairing male and female respectively are Mar and Marl for Human, Newm and Newearl for Newman, and Cast and Caseal for CAST. So, in the case I am in, I am with a male Ranger CAST. Rangers specialize in accuracy above all else and higher aptitude in long-ranged weaponry. I suppose I do fall under the category of being a RAcaseal, but the training I have received was purely informal nor am I officially licensed. It was not the usual means of how CASTs learn operations, where we are coupled to a data exchange server of how to even pull a trigger are transferred and learned. I was taught by the usual means of how Organics learn: physical learning. In fact, everything I know has been learning by Organic means...
... but why?
“Let’s proceed,” the RAcast stated as he stood up to his feet.
His intimidating eyes were upon me. I honestly do not understand why I am following him. I do not know why I came to this place. His large hand came to me, making me retreat back a step.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
His hand opened with its palm up for me to take. I pursed my lips but soon found his eyes to be gentle. I mean, why else would he open up to me? He is a CAST who worked in security and has a second generation SOUL module.
... Wait. How do I know that?
His hand was much larger than mine. My fingers were barely able to wrap around his thumb. I felt so small in comparison to him. Yet, as I looked up to his intimidating pair of blue eyes, I did not feel alone. Gradually, my left hand rose from my side, but I stopped. Again, I took another glance.
“Why do you want me to come with you?” I asked him.
He chuckled. “You don’t need to know the details. Just know that I’ll do all the fighting until we get where we need to. As for you--” He took my hand into his. “You need to stop hesitating. Just listen to me and everything will be fine. Understand?”
I gave fleeting gestures down to our hands and his face. “Yes.”
He leaned forward. As he came too close, I backed away in the same pace. “Are you sure you’re a Caseal?”
Again, this question... I answered, “Yes.”
He paused for a moment. He was definitely deciding upon something. Even so, I remained quiet. He finally raised himself upright, having me rise to my feet.
“Fortuna, I’ll ask you one last time, and I know you’re a civilian. Do you want to join me in surviving with us?”
Us? “Are there others?”
He pointed over his shoulder, unveiling a Diwari Mag. It looked almost like a cape when in certain angles, but surely, it is detached from the body. I smiled and bypassed the RAcast to touch the Diwari, but it simply floated up to make itself unreachable, even if I were to jump.
The RAcast laughed. “He doesn’t like to be touched by Caseals.”
I looked up to it...
“Fuck off, bitch,” a small voice said through wireless communication means.
I shifted my sights to the RAcast. “It is female.” Huh. I am a Mag whisperer. I suppose this is actually better than what I expected of myself. I wonder what else I have that is unique.
The RAcast glanced over his shoulder to the Diwari. I suppose he did not know about its gender and just took a guess at it. Still, it has such a vulgar set of words. I smiled as I laid my eyes on her. She rose up in suspicion that I would try to touch her again. Maybe she is shy.
A Mag is a simple slave robot species that operate as a capability enhancer of its master. They all have personalities unlike a vast majority of CASTs, but they lack the ability to communicate with a vast majority of civilization. Mags all take a different shape according to its growth type and the section ID of the user. In the case of the fourth evolution Mag of the RAcast, it had an emphasis on Dexterity with Power as its secondary trait upon its fourth evolution. Apparently, a Pinkal or Skyly can evolve them. On the left side of the RAcast chest plate was a Redria emblem.
“Fortuna?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s move on.”
He immediately turned away from me and continued through the moist underground cave that strangely has plant life. His footsteps were a monstrosity itself, intimidating at the very least, and his size was especially something to be worried about. Yet, I did not fear him. I felt safe. Our hands were still together... His wrist... “NH-0J”? Hmm...
“John?” I read quietly.
“Decided to say my name, finally?” he responded.
I paused for a moment but eventually shook my head. John. That is his name.
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