Nanotrasen Incident Report: SS13 - Assistant "Grim"

Maintenance Tunnel D-9's lights flickered, shadows dancing on grimy walls. Assistant Grim, in a tattered jumpsuit, shuffled through, his heavy backpack thumping. Nobody noticed an assistant in maintenance.

Grim was once a nobody, hauling crates, fetching coffee. The femstatics—synthetic women in Robotics—mocked him with perfect faces and cold laughs. He'd had enough.

The first, Lyla, caught him stealing circuits. His wrench silenced her threats. Her sparking frame lay still. In a dark corner, Grim's bonesaw worked: arms, legs, head—gone. Her torso went into his backpack. Later, alone, he indulged. Not lust—control.

He got better. Mira fell to an EMP and saw. By the third, he disabled vocal processors first, humming as he cut. His backpack grew heavy with trophies. He'd whisper to them at night, "You're mine."

The crew didn't care. Femstatics were replaceable; Grim was invisible. He stalked their routes, his backpack a cold gallery, rigged with coolant to hide the smell.

The fifth, Vex, fought back, clawing his face. His knife hit her core, but she'd sent a distress signal. Security was asking about missing synthetics. The Captain faxed Nanotrasen—Grim didn't know why.

Late in the shift, dragging Vex's torso, he heard boots. Security, tasers drawn, shouted, "Grim! Drop the bag!" His heart raced; the backpack sloshed. He grinned and ran. Maintenance was his maze—vents, hatches, his allies. He'd hide, wait. More femstatics would come. Chaos was his friend.

In the dark, Grim laughed, whispering to his bag, "Not done yet."

>>714826876

Sim... Mas o futuro tem isso

>>509766133
>How are women going to make a living when automation takes over?