You try to act cool in the face of this unprecedented and compromising position.
It works a little better after you light up a smokestick.
You're still a little on edge though.
"
Oy, Butterfly Kisses, we ain't got all day for ye to be puffin' on that.
haul your squishy gray carcass with me to the cap'm"
You acquiesce.
The droid leads you down the hall past the mangled bodies of
your collaborators, some dead, others injured. The corridor fills with the
terrifying din of dozens of clanking droid legs mixed with the blood curdling
terror-shrieks of your unprepared revolutionary militia as they incur the wrath of the droids.
Occasionally you make out the electric bang of 00AEEF's plasma gun firing over
the crowd at the mechanized horde of buccaneers.
You scarcely manage to keep your cool throughout the turmoil unfolding around you.
The chaos is scarcely less in your twenty five minute walk to the lower core of tower 3.
The droids roam throughout every hall, pillaging dormitoria of the inhabiting mutants,
many of which are invalid and utterly incapable of resisting.
The mayhem is so senseless that you nearly suspect it of being a ruse to
horrify you. Even if it were it would do little to ease your nerves.
You maintain your resolve.
Eventually, at the lowest level of the central elevator, the droid presents to you a great vaulted door.
"
Aye, Butterfly Kisses, 'ere's the cap'm's quarters.
Cap'm says he'll humour yer request for parley.
Ye shan't get another chance ye vile urchin.
Be on yer best behaviour."
The myriad locking mechanisms undo themselves as if of their own volition.
"
And rememb'r, if ye try any funny stuff with the cap'm I'll be out 'ere to have ye dismember'd"
The vault is a dark room illuminated only by several sensor spheres, and a number of monitors.
a simple expressive face glows orange below the main screen, its imitation eyes aimed at you.
A considerably more organic sounding voice echoes from all corners of the vault, across the servers and
cables.
"
Avast! TQ-03 from north sector 11295, resident for 436 MCPs on me island, and treacherous slavedriver
and brainwasher of droid and mutant alike. Come to do the right thing and negotiate your surrender in the ancient art of parley at long last?"
.
Man, I wish I was any good at writing.
This might turn out less disappointing.