29 hours and 52 minutes remaining.

Floor 400 was listed in the archology schematics as being fully dedicated towards corporate security. It separated the general populous below from the upper floors of corporate management and manufacture.

The central atrium that the fashionable partners had walked into had once been a shining example of ruthless bureaucracy and corporate enforcement, now it was just slick with gore and riddled with still smoking bullet holes.

Flickering broken lights overhead illuminated the flawed arena, shedding revealing light onto the piles of twisted bodies clustered about the place. Unwanted customers or ‘sigh’ Aliens had been dumped unceremoniously in the battered corners while the ‘not sleeping apparently’ humans had been sealed into shiny black body bags, lining the offices like a pre-corporate cemetery.

Corporate cemeteries of course being vertical and paid for monthly.

In the middle of the atrium and behind a barricade of glowing riot shields and uprighted ravaged office desks were what remained of the battered Corpo-police. They had been seemingly hit hard by the ‘invasion’, of the estimated 5000 officers and 10,000 police-droids barely a handful remained.

In fact ZM-11833 could only spot 10 wounded and bandaged men and women cowering behind the makeshift barricade; of the security-droids there was no sign.

Over top of a bright blue padded and skin tight jumpsuit they wore thick black padded armor with polymer inserts, it protectively stretched from neck to groin. Thick black anti-slip boots clad their legs to the knee and heavy duty grip enhanced gloves ran up to their elbows.

A durable polymer helmet projected a glowing light-based face shield, the latest in light-bending technology.

Over one arm they had strapped on riot shields made of the same projected light and the other held heavy caliber pistols that were pointing ZM-11833’s way.

It would seem to ZM-11833 that a brutal fight was scheduled for her day; it was good that the good-looking twosome had prepared themselves as well.

On the floor below this one they had once again raided a gun store, ZM-11833 blamed Anaya for being such a bad influence on them. They surely had such a long corpo-citation sheet by now.

Several weapons and ammo had joined their wardrobe, Anaya scolded ZM-11833 for not having pants to fit magazines in, so they had reluctantly added a black webbing-holster under their shiny jacket to store more ammo. It clashed a bit but was hidden enough away to not upset them.

What did upset them was that Anaya had opted to wear a reddish fabric and polymer-plated vest and corpo-military helmet over her intricately picked outfit. It clashed in their opinion but they did have a new appreciation for the fragility of life.

ZM-11833 slung another rail-shotgun that glowed with lights that meant nothing over their graceful shoulder and held twin sparking electro-pistols in either bewitching polymer hand.

Anaya had proven herself to be a dead-eye shooter so ZM-11833 had DNA-coded a laser-based sniper rifle to her corporate Tawaga profile. Allowing her to use it without it locking up on her or issuing a litany of fines.

Anaya’s anemic bank account wouldn’t survive that, she had been fired for not showing up to work by the automated systems.

“So you’ve come to turn yourself in!” From across the spacious atrium an obnoxiously nasal voice called, it was the awful shouty man from before.

The man, if they could call them that, the voice belonged to could barely fit into his armor, the belts creaked ominously under the strain of his rolls and rolls of fat. He waddled his way into view to sneer at the transcendent beauties that had bothered to grace his unworthy presence.

A corpulently fat man had taken advantage of his position as head of security to feast upon the suffering of the residents below. A quick search of the reported crimes in the corpo-system’s data-terminals showed that during his tenure as head of security, seizures of prohibited foods were up 400%. Most likely shoveled into his gaping maw.

ZM-11833 likened him more to one of the overweight doggos that they had encountered before, wet slimy skin and all. Less holes in him for now.

“Holy Shit! You’re so fat! Look Zee this dude's more lard than man!” Sweet Anaya taunted loudly across the echoing hall towards an increasingly red-faced officer.

“ARREST THEM! STOP GAWKING YOU LOUTS AND BRING THEM TO ME!” The obese man bellowed towards his subordinates who nervously held their shields up and cautiously approached the stunning pair. Several battered police-bots emerged from neighboring offices, and a stumbling four legged spider-like machine rose from its resting spot where it had been hiding on the floor, twin machine guns bearing down towards the pair.

ZM-11833 just smiled “Anaya~ you take out the ones in back. I’ll deal with the big boys~”

They each moved swiftly, Anaya launched herself sideways behind the corpse of a fallen doggy and ZM-11833 rushed the spider drone. As they went they trained their twin pistols on its under-slung machine guns, targeting the delicate sensors.

The pistols ratted off as ZM-11833 pulled the triggers as fast as a bot could. ‘ratatatatatata’. The spider-drones sensors sparked and its guns arched a path along the walls, destroying multiple bots that were in ZM-11833’s way.

Bright searing light blasted away from Anaya’s position, expertly passing by the changing war-fashion-bot. Some lasers even skimmed between their blazing legs as they ran up one sturdy leg of the spider-drone. Quickly they emptied the electro-pistols into the locking hatch on its top and busted it open.

Wires now exposed, it was laughably easy for them to hack in and turn the machine’s guns on the rickety barrier and blast it open, sending riot shields and bodies flying. The drone clicked empty, all ammo expended, and ZM-11833 gave it a parting blast with their rail-shotgun, forever disabling it.

Turning back they noted the corpo-security forces hadn’t fared well under their brutal and quick combined assault, half lay dead already, lightly smoking and all the bots were shredded.

ZM-11833 could hear the faint whine of the blimp of a man but put it out of their electronically focused mind.

Springing off the dead machine they landed behind one of the remaining panicking officers that were blasting Anaya’s cover apart, ZM-11833 still heard Anaya’s swearing and the occasional light blast from behind the rapidly thinning biological cover.

A blast point blank rendered the body armor useless, it also rendered their entire middle useless too. The splat of a slumping body followed the ear ringing boom.

Two more officers died before they even realized what had happened, the remaining two turned hurriedly upon the blood-drenched robot and fatally forgot what they had been suppressing.

Twin beams of light less than a nano-second apart reminded them quickly.

ZM-11833 calmly strolled over the smoking and headless corpses to the blubbering oversized man who had fallen down in the brief chaos, his bulging hand desperately gripping around a much too small pistol, his fat fingers unable to get past the guard.

With a quick swipe that broke his grasping hand ZM-11833 knocked it away lest he somehow fire and hurt Anaya.

Speaking of, a slight turn of their head while still keeping the fatso in sight revealed a limping Anaya, a lucky shot had over-penetrated her cover and hit her. In a fast worried scan ZM-11833 recognized the coagulating foam on the wound from the med-kits on the remains of the officers. Anaya must have swiped one as ZM-11833 confronted the fatty.

“I can help you! Get up, that is! Up further the floors if that’s what you want!” The snot-soaked bovine-like man crawled backwards away from them as he blustered.

Hmm? ZM-11833 was just gonna stomp his head in, but if he has a faster way up then even better, after all he was gonna die anyway when the nuke hit. Great! So now just to interrogate him.. ‘PTZZZT’.. ZM-11833 stared at the hole where a fat face had been, then turned to the now murderous Anaya holding a glowing laser-gun.

“What? He called you a ‘bimbo bot’” Fair enough reason.

The now emotionally touched ZM-11833 supported their hurt friend as they limped along, stepping on the corpulent body as they went.

ZM-11833 led Anaya towards a mostly intact table and had her sit on it while they unbundled another med-kit. A pair of razor-sharp scissors opened up the pant leg with surgical precision, freeing the wound.

The bullet had missed bone thankfully but it hadn’t been going fast enough to exit so it was still in the leg. ZM-11833 wiped away blood and foam with water and an alcoholic swab that was in the kit. Anaya hissed at the contact and tightly gripped ZM-11833’s shoulder.

With robotic grace ZM-11833 had the bullet out and the wound sewn up in barely a moment, a quick spray of alcohol to disinfect the area and another to hasten the healing was applied with finesse. The upper levels had all the good stuff.

Her pants were ruined however, while it was a sad fact it just meant to ZM-11833 that there was more clothing shopping for the couple in the near future.

“You’re hurt Zee” Anaya told ZM-11833 softly as she stroked their left cheek. Raising their own hand up they felt along a deep groove that carved away from their nose and under the eye. A lucky shot had barely grazed the fast moving bot, it probably hadn’t even been aiming at ZM-11833.

Perhaps there was a difference between a dedicated war-bot and a fashion-bot pretending to be one.

“Just a graze~ No need to worry cutie~ Can you walk?” ZM-11833 reassured the silly human pet they had.

Anaya tried to walk on her injured leg but the adrenaline had worn off by now and the pain was too much, ZM-11833 was worried that Anaya had too much medication and stimulants in her system that adding a painkiller might just shut down her kidneys or liver.

With a gentle swing they hoisted a softly grumbling Anaya into a princess carry and headed towards the way up, dumping the weapons as they slowed them down far too much now.

Unlike the other times ZM-11833 had carried their human, Anaya didn’t yell and complain, only resting their head upon their hard polymer chest. It was positive steps towards house training her pet it would seem.

The monotonous stairwell to the next floor felt a little bit longer and also a bit shorter at the same time, perplexing the poor logical-based robot.