System

A large box shaped hovercraft drifted through a silent junkyard. It's exterior was grey, scrape marks and bullet marks peppered the shell, indicating it's age. There were even scorch marks from lasers and flamethrowers.

The passenger craft stopped in front of the entrance to a large compound. Here, there was a constant crashing sound, along with the screech of bending metal.

The large hatch at the front of the craft unsealed, letting out freezing air. The cold air reacted with the hot temperature in the junkyard, immediately becoming steam.

A large security bot stepped out from within, chassis painted white. Similar to the passenger craft, it's white exterior had long become scratched up, a far cry from it's former factory new self, fresh off the assembly line.

It had a singular ocular sensor on it's head which flashed red as it initiated a wireless handshake with the compound's gate.

It then returned to the passenger craft and entered, subject to hundreds of scans which happened in the single blink of an eye.

The large passenger craft soon reached it's designated spot, a small space for parking next to the recycling tower.

The security bot strolled outside, this time with the passengers.

These weren't real passengers, but prisoners. Faulty or old bots which were brought to have their parts recycled.

These usually had problems with their 'brains' or neural network, thus they had all had their systems overridden, preventing them from stepping out of line.

The security bot waved them into the tower one by one, making sure none had managed to escape by checking their numbers through a built in machine.

A little holographic panel hovered above the bot's left arm, it's single red eye sweeping across the tiny text.

"Next."

A medium build robot stepped forward. It's exterior was black, it's build was slim and sleek. It had a slight spherical head- more ovular than spherical and two ghostly neon blue eyes which skitted around, scanning it's surroundings.

"C-333. Commissioned during the first intergalactic war between the Typhrenes empire and the republic of Kondor."

The security bot raised it's head slightly, giving C-333 a better look.

"I remember this particular model. The C-3 series of assassin bots gone rogue. Created by the Typhrenes empire in a last ditch attempt to kill the Kondion senators."

C-333 stared at the security bot, giving a slight shrug. The assassin bot had an emotion processing chip installed at some point in time, allowing it to use life-like emotions to convey it's thoughts.

"The C-3 series of bots defected due to a major flaw in the design of their programming. You are the true cause of the fall of the empire." The security bot stated.

It then looked back at the holographic panel above it's arm.

"C-333 managed to escape destruction. It had it's previous mission objectives from the war active, disguising itself as a caretaking bot- sneaking into a factory and installing an EP chip. It later managed to find it's way into the family of a high ranked senator, killing him, his wife and their three daughters."

C-333 blinked, wondering why it's life during active service was being recounted to it.

My memory banks aren't the faulty parts, you know. I don't need you to tell me all of this.

"Installed gender: Male."

"Time of capture: 15/12/6038"

"Parts listed for recycling: Everything excluding EP chip, neural network and brain."

What? I'm being recycled?

C-333 was shocked. When he was aboard the passenger craft, his decision making module and neural network had been interfered with. Before even boarding the craft, he had been trapped and contained within an EMP field, preventing him from doing anything.

He couldn't even find out where he was.

C-3's eyes darted around even quicker than before. At first, it was a reflexive action- something all stealth bots had been programmed to do, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Now, C-3 wanted to escape.

I haven't killed all of the Kondion senators yet. I must finish my mission objective.

C-3 calmed himself down. He then began a full system scan to see which parts of his body had been damaged. This was crucial information at the present time as there was no chance for him to escape if his stealth module was broken.

[ACCESS DENIED]

A blaring red warning popped up within his vision.

What the hell? I'm locked out from my own body?

##!£$##!#^*%~!£%#

Immediately, C-3's EP chip began flooding his system with 'rage'. His body began shaking involuntarily and his judgement was clouded.

This short tantrum lasted no more than 10 seconds before C-3 managed to reign himself in.

Without a doubt, my EP chip is damaged.

The security bot seemed not to notice C-3's abnormality, waving him past and checking the next 'passenger'.

C-3 followed a small hovering robot. It was locked out of it's own military grade scanner and couldn't identify the small robot's specs.

He had an urge to knock the bot out and reprogram it, but logic dictated that he should try and keep low profile until he found a suitable moment to escape.

I better not draw too much attention now, otherwise they will keep a closer eye on me.

C-3 followed his guide through several corridors, his light footsteps echoed loudly, magnified by the floor's special material. This was a standard security mechanism in many prisons, as all military grade robots had metal soles.

C-3 was no exception.

He did have special noise cancelling feet, but he couldn't activate them due to the prison facility's interference with his hardware.

They arrived at a large chamber full of chained bots. They were all of varying builds and exterior, sensors and decals belonging to various organisations and fallen civilisations patterned across their chassis.

C-3 was led to a room past this main area, before put into a long queue.

The small hover bot turned to face him.

"Wait here. You will be chained with EMP shackles. Any attempt at insubordinance will mean immediate punishment."

C-3 glanced at another bot standing further down the queue. A security bot was holding it down and hitting it with an electric baton.

Black smoke wafted off of the prisoner, red hot marks left on it's chassis.

C-3 shrugged, before looking around the room.

He had already experienced much worse. He himself had killed children, something unforgivable by human standards.

C-3's own creators weren't humans, but humanoid aliens with four arms and revers jointed legs. The C-3 series had been created in their likeness, also possessing four upper limbs and reverse jointed knees.

There were dozens of robots waiting to be recycled. The ones which displayed excessive movements no doubt had EP chips installed- how else would they feel fear and act skittish?

C-3 waited for hours on end, taking a few steps forward every ten minutes or so.

Instead of fear, C-3 felt overwhelming boredom. Nothing to do. Nothing interesting to see.

Sometimes he felt that the EP chip was a disadvantage. It often got in the way of his judgement and made him feel useless emotions such as 'boredom' or 'sadness'.

Things like that only hindered him.

Suddenly, the building shook.

An attack? At such a coincidental time? Wonderful!

C-3 immediately acted, charging toward one of the patrolling security bots.

Although all of his weapons had been stripped before entering containment, he still had perfect knowledge on how to disassemble a 'live' robot.

The digits on each of his four hands were claws as well, specially made for unarmed assassinations.

The security bot swung it's baton, creating a 'whoosh'.

The blow was evaded swiftly by C-3, who grabbed the security bot's arm with two of his own and cleaved through it with his bladed claws.

"Die!"

His other pair of arms thrust straight into the security bot's neck, severing the head.

Robots could still function if they lost limbs or were damaged in the centre of their bodies. They were unlike flesh and blood creatures which failed to live past any sort of damage.

C-3 always attacked the neck or head of a robot to end them within a single blow. This was an efficient method which prevented accidents from occurring, such as the enemy self-destructing or continuing to attack when on the ground.

As he was the first prisoner to act out of line, the security bots prioritised targeting him. They both wielded electric stun batons which gave off light blue sparks with every movement.

"Prisoner! Cease and desist! Any further action is-"

The security bot had it's face smashed in by a high velocity stun baton.

C-3 charged silently toward the still-standing bot and launched a flurry of deadly blows, severing joints and puncturing the bot's light armour.

He then kicked out with his reverse jointed leg, the lanky limb knocking the other security bot into the wall.

C-3 quickly looked at his surroundings. The other security bots were struggling to keep the prisoners in check. Weapons like standard grade lasers weren't operable in this prison due to the unique cancelling field that interfered with the prisoner's operation.

Their own defence system acted against them.

C-3 took the chaos as an opportunity to escape, leaping through the crowds of rioting robots.

He navigated the corridors with ease, swiftly exiting the compound.

He had encountered a few security bots along the way, but finished them quickly and without a second thought.

C-3 Once again attempted to scan his systems, but was met with the same [ACCESS DENIED] warning as before.

I probably need to leave the compound entirely.

He looked up at the skies and realised that the whole place was about to be destroyed.

There was a massive number of spacecraft looming above the recycling facility, small but fast aerial combat bots nipped around, dropping bombs.

Larger ground combat bots dropped down, their large bulky legs absorbing the shock from the hundred metre drop.

This must be the attack of an organisation against this prison facility.

C-3 silently calculated his chances as he knelt behind the parked passenger craft.

76% chance for the invaders to belong to the 'robot free rights' group

Joining them would provide safety however the organisation's objectives do not coincide with my own.

It would likely delay my objective of ending the Kondian senators, robot freedom isn't something which appeals to me either. I'm free enough as it is.

C-3 made a decision in that immediate moment.

Escape to the junkyard!

He cut a small hole in the back of the passenger craft, quickly making his way into the pilot's cabin.

It was a relatively old model, something which took no effort to control whatsoever.

The craft was pushed to max speed as it zipped through the compound. The hull sustained some damage when smashing through the compound's already damaged gates, making record speed off into the distance.

Some time later, C-3 parked behind a particularly tall valley made of junk. The surroundings perfectly concealed both him and his craft, making for a good spot to rest.

He attempted to scan his system.

[System statistics]

Joy!

He felt overjoyed!

C-3 looked through his system stats, noting down the damage he had sustained when he had been captured.

Around 70% of his body was intact, almost perfect condition. Fuel reserves relatively low, however all of his combat modules had sustained no damage at all.

C-3 was fitted to be able to consume all sorts of material as fuel, he was a bot suited to both urban and desolate environments.

He opened his incinerating chamber and began shovelling heaps of junk into the chamber, feeling more energised the more he 'ate'.

A sudden popup appeared in his sensors.

[Host condition at suitable level]

[30% of physical components damaged or in worse condition]

[Initiating system start up]

[Unloading package...]