Chapter Six: Resource Management Class

"Can you please put out that cigaret, Sir? My Gemini isn't responding well to the scent." Hanging from a set of chains from a Power Armor repair crane, Ult, the war-frame gynoid commented. Her voice was light and soft, melodic even. It held a startling femininity from the massive frame and spoke without a tone of synthetic modularity.

Only a torso, she was built similar to a Super Mutant than her initial Assaultron Frame design; all of it custom.

It'd been nine-months since her initial activation, and Ivan had been hard at work, or as Ult called him, Mr. Balor or Sir. He'd branched out and started really collecting high-quality materials, but had also started project Gemini under the heading of Ult. He'd initially wanted to get Ult up and running before doing scavenging runs to obtain enough supplies to then build Alt. Like an engineer, dividing up problems and snowballing resources to keep momentum.

However, Ult herself wanted the Gemini first, before herself due to a desire to have 'better sense'. An innate curiosity that sprung from Ivan incorporating a crude taste sensory software that replicated the taste of toast to the AI. Knowing that the Gemini would be getting better sensory hardware that didn't have direct military use, she wanted that body to be done first in a fit of impatience.

Ivan surrendered to his creation's wants, as he was quickly and easily guilt tripped into working towards the Gemini's completion, of which Ult soon after apologized for forcing the issue and allowed Ivan to continue working on herself. This, however, created a two-front war in the engineer's mind, as he now mentally had two projects 'in-progress' and not working on one would constantly grate on his mind.

'Women.' Was Ivan's only thought in regards to the situation, and resolved not to be so much of a push-over and realized he needed to grow a social spine that didn't involve intimidation, threats, and extreme amounts of violence.

'How my Charisma Score is 7 when I'm ugly as sin and such a social recluse, I'll never know.' Although, for most Ghouls a 7 would be human's...4? So maybe that was accurate. Besides, his body wasn't that bad, if one ignored the charcoal black skin that'd been melted and the glowing blue cracks and crags in his skin.

Ivan sighed and pressed the head of his cigaret to a nearby ash tray that overtime was becoming less and less used due to Ult's nagging. He grumbled under his breath, although complied all the same as he knew she was just trying to help him get through his junkie phase that he'd snowballed into over the past fifty years of managing stress and isolation in the post-apocalypse.

He glanced over to the skull and eyes connected to a custom combat frame with a strange face as it was hard to read emotion on a face so ruined, before moving his gaze back over to the skeleton of an advanced Gynoid frame suspended inside the Robotic Assembler, which had been modified so many times to incorporate custom tools that it now looked like some demented robotic auto-doc.

The gynoid that Ult had named Alt had all her limbs and a full skeleton, unlike the immobile Warframe as he was calling Ult's body.

Ult's body hadn't been seeing much work due to him using a majority of rare components and materials creating Alt's frame and structure, from the gold-platinum alloy bones, to the synthetic muscles that were made of a shape-memory alloy he'd used a massive amount of resources to both invent and manufacture for the slowly shaping up musculature for both of their bodies. Then there was a nearby bench with what looked to be a skin suit, of which was actually a Heavy-Real skin, a synthetic skin that could outright shrug off low calibers while actually enhancing certain tactile sensations without being deliberating.

There was a lot of work to be done, of which his mental split into two projects wasn't helping as all resource were diverted into both projects at inconstant rates, making it feel like nothing was actually being done, when in actuality a lot was, but it was just happening at a rate slower than Ivan was used to that it felt like he was moving at a glacier's pace.

Thankfully, things were about to speed up again.

"Your legs and arms are about to be complete. After which we'll start doing stress-tests, before we leap into Heavy Weapons and technical training. I've got a few Assaultron memory cores that can teach us how they fight in close ranges against foes, hopefully training you in close-quarters combat and from there its simple experience; the greatest teacher of all." Ivan stated while gazing at the needles threading muscle into place onto Alt's body.

"Unless your having second thoughts?" Ivan asked, looking over at Ult with obvious concern. He alone understood what he was asking of her, and was worried she didn't understand that she'd quite literally be created to kill for him. And when one kills, they themselves should be wholly aware of the possibility of themselves being killed.

Despite the effort and time he'd put into creating Ult, and eventually Alt, there was always a limit. There wasn't much he could do about some scav finding a mini-nuke and Fat Man. Or a super-mutant getting lucky with a RPG, or some faction suddenly busting down the door in suits of power armor and Laser Gatlings.

Ivan was good, really, really good. He was fully confident of him somehow managing to dodge, bust, break, kill, slaughter, and otherwise think himself out of such a situation what with all his supernatural abilities like VATS and his medical precognition. Then there was the fact that when pushed into a corner, he get angry, really angry. Beware the Angry Nerd, for he's ripped a super mutant in half before and killed one with a blast of wrathful radiation through the simple heat of the radiation he infused into the fucker's body.

He was paralyzed of something happening to the pair of gynoids sitting inside his lab, and he'd quickly diagnosed that as an unhealthy possessiveness. He'd made the offer far too early, and it was far too late to back out.

"I'm sure, sir." The firm voice of Ult made him wince.

"Mr. Balor, no Ivan." Ult started, drawing his attention back to the black skull and golden eyes staring at him deeply. "Don't feel any guilt, you are not responsible for how this world works. Without you, we would not be here, we wouldn't know what toast tastes like, or all the ways this world works through your ramblings, or your kind smile, no matter how fearsome it is to the normal eye."

Ivan stared, closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Thanks. Thank you, Ult. I...needed that." Ivan's voice was uncharacteristically soft, Ult having to strain her ears for the almost mumbled admition of thanks. There was still a hesitance to his posture, but there wasn't a weight and reluctance inside his eyes while working anymore, just a soft regret and knowledge that he'd effectively made someone to kill for him. It was an oily feeling, one that even in all his unmoral actions, knew he'd never move past. That sin will stay with him.