Work Text:
Inaba Autonomous Guard – Miniature Model 3.21.7
Administrator Tag: IchiUsagi
Primary Charge: Subject #1396
Inaba-Mini was made as a personal companion, defender, and enforcer to Number 396.
Every day, every hour, every moment, Inaba would be there to monitor him. If someone were to attack him, it would step in. If 396 were to attack someone, it would similarly end the attempt. It was built to pack enough force to bring down 396 in a pinch, and its administrator – the supervisor, the doctor, many hats on that one – had installed the newest, most compact weaponry within Inaba’s body for this exact reason.
The Deputy, Rorotto, who did not have main admin powers yet reprogrammed it anyway, added a secondary subroutine to work alongside its guard duties. Under his direction, if the prolonged time without social interaction began to wear on 396, Inaba was to help alleviate that.
How, it wasn’t quite sure, as it was not programmed with any language output processors nor had any human social activity information downloaded. But even doing nothing seemed to do the trick with 396, who seemed content to just talk one-sidedly with Inaba. It made sure 396 knew it was recording the audio, making big movements with its arms and ears in response to the sounds and tone 396 used.
In one instance, 396 started expressing sadness, tears rolling down his face. Inaba had responded by batting at one of the tears – making sure to calibrate its strength to the minimum force – in an attempt to block them. 396 had laughed.
Inaba didn’t understand what had elicited the reaction, but had logged it regardless. Because its charge was curious. And he was its. No human guard could replace all that it did for him. They couldn’t take him away from it.
Character Report—
(Last Updated: 2nd Jan)
ID#: 1396
Aliases: ‘Number 396’ (Guards), ‘Zakuro’ (Inmates*), *exception: ‘Zakuro-chan’ (Inmate 17)
Containment Level: Maximum Isolation
Cell: 78
! SPECIAL HUMAN CONSTITUTION !
▸ Full Biological Profile
Hobbies: None (Exploring)
Likes: None (Exploring)
Dislikes: Being Chased
Current Objective: To Improve Himself
↳ Recent Changes Towards This Goal: > Gotten Better At Introducing Himself
> Went To Building 13 Recreational Room
> Made A Friend Within Building 1
People He Cares About, Ranked: 1) Inmate 0117 — 2) Inmate 1315 — 3) Deputy Rorotto — 4) Inmate 1124 — 5) Supervisor Ichijou Toma-
“Okay, why the fuck does it have all these things logged?” the supervisor snapped, while Inaba was loading all this information onto the external monitor it had been plugged to.
Because it was essential information about its charge.
“Is this because you’re ranked at the bottom of all the people he knows, Supervisor?” the deputy asked.
“Number 24?” the supervisor hissed. “He only knew that one for a few minutes! And Inaba wasn’t around to log their behavior together. How did he overtake me?”
Inaba had a very sophisticated algorithm to determine people’s emotional closeness. Protocols had this feature available so that it could select an effective hostage when the situation called for it. And it had gauged that 396’s concerns over Inmate 1124 took priority over his quiet ambivalence to the supervisor.
It helpfully showed these data points on the external monitor.
The supervisor swore a little and closed the new window. “Didn’t ask for that. Only react to direct orders, before I decide to scrap you entirely.”
Inaba stilled. Personal survival ranked top of its priority queue, now that its charge was out of its sphere of influence.
Right.
396 had not been logged in its sensors for days now. Since the second of January.
At the end of the New Year’s Tournament, Inaba had found… a body that matched 396’s physical characteristics. Which lacked all signs of life.
It had not heard from 396 since. Had not been given a new objective nor decommissioned. No further information on the case was relayed to it. Understandable – it was just a guard bot.
“You can’t do that, Supervisor. It would be good for him to have a familiar face nearby,” the deputy chided.
An unknown third party?
The automatic sub-routine implemented to react to 396’s words made its ear twitch. The supervisor cackled loudly. “That catch your ear, huh? Lucky you; you’re about to get a surprise. Not many robots get treated to those.”
A different charge? As the other high-security inmate in Building 1, Inaba briefly considered Number 17. No, it hadn’t seen them since the New Year’s Butoukai either.
17 or not, it didn’t want anyone outside of 396.
<Sleep Mode… Sleep Mode… Sleep Mode–>
– Bing!
Inaba’s eyes lit up and limbs swiveled around to make movement easier. Looked around to gauge the area.
The supervisor was directly in front of it. The deputy at a spot along the far wall of the room they were in. The standard bare concrete walls and steel shelves signaled that they were in a storage room. A room located-
It tried to connect with the Nanba network to determine what section of the prison they were in. No connections available. None? Impossible error. Retrying…
“Oi, stop trying to connect to networks,” snapped the supervisor. It promptly closed that task. “You’re not gonna find any, but if you do, it’s gonna fuck us all over.”
Data transfer to external sources was now dangerous. It logged this detail into its security data.
“For now, here’s your task,” the supervisor directed it towards where the deputy was standing. He was tall enough that it was only until Inaba was closer that its cameras registered a third person within this room. Someone holding themself still against the wall, not making a single movement.
It approached with caution, examining all of the data points of this new factor.
170cm. White hair. Baggy white clothes, with flashes of red peeking out from the collar and the sleeves.
Inaba took off into a run. Threw itself against 396’s leg, arms extended to hug the limb.
Metal thunked against metal, with only slight fabric cushioning the sound. 396 remained stationary, no reflexes kicking in, nor any attempts to scoop Inaba up. It craned its head back to look up at its charge. Impassive eyes looked down at it. Not half-lidded, but also not the eye-popping wideness 396 always looked at everything with.
There were a variety of microexpressions used to relay human emotions. 396’s unique physiology and the base it had originated from greatly relied on small movements in the eyes to portray what they were thinking. Yet, now, 396’s facial muscles were not operating in a way that fit with his usual template. In fact, they were not aligning with any indicators of emotions within its library.
“Was that supposed to be a tackle?” 396 asked, affect flat and not registering with Inaba’s tone interpreter. “Is it broken?”
Inaba wasn’t the one acting broken. Running a quick diagnostic check, it found that the body temperature and heart rate didn’t fall within proper ranges, either. Was 396 sick? It wasn’t designed to be a medical bot – basic vital checks and alerting more qualified beings were the extent of its abilities.
“Ah, so you recognized him?” the deputy said. “That’s good. Means that the repairs weren’t… too extreme.”
Repairs. So that’s where he had been. They didn’t seem to be complete, though. Or maybe biological material was harder to piece back together than metal.
Along with the repairs, it seemed that the supervisor had installed hardware upgrades. Instead of the spiked shackles around 396’s wrists, both his arms, starting from some point above his elbow, were entirely metal, ending in enlarged hands and sharp claws that hung past his knees. The legs also had similar replacements, with the feet being far longer than before, made of the same reddish-pink metal that made up his shackles. Shackles which didn’t seem to be reverting to their dormant form anymore, with the collar lying flat against his neck.
“This is gonna be a return to form,” the supervisor lectured. “We can’t keep an eye on him this whole time, so you’ll be watching him again. Make sure he doesn’t leave this place, that no one comes anywhere near here. If you suspect people might be poking around, alert me immediately.”
Inaba wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work – it didn’t have a connection to any network.
The supervisor sighed loudly and gestured it towards him. Inaba followed reluctantly, hesitant to leave 396’s side. A chip was plugged into it; a secure, two-way data connection. Sophisticated and old-school at the same time.
“I mean it, you,” the supervisor jabbed his index finger at Inaba. “No one can find out.”
And so it was.
Whatever repairs 396 had been through clearly did not work. He was almost unrecognizable, beyond the outer shell. None of the behavioral quirks, completely altered life signals; had he been reverted to factory settings? 396 certainly acted like he had never seen Inaba before.
It had been warned to avoid 396 for now. To stay on the outskirts and monitor, just like it had been instructed to when initially assigned to 396.
Now, in this small room, there were no tasks for 396 to complete. No other companions to engage with him. Instead of getting fidgety and nervous, 396 seemed content to slowly shift between lying down, standing, and sitting over the course of hours. There was a chute for meals, refilled every day, presumably by the deputy, and 396 ate dispassionately no matter what was in the package sent to him.
Ninety six hours of the same routine was what it took for Inaba to decide: it did not like this at all.
396 was too quiet. And he wasn’t reaching out to Inaba at all. He wasn’t doing anything.
“You wanted to get both sets of memories, huh, Doc?” croaked 396, finally. “Or maybe just the hunter’s memories. And the fake’s docile nature.”
The supervisor wasn’t here. Inaba looked at 396, blinking a few times. Its charge stared blankly at it. “I know you can hear me. Or will hear me, if this is a video playback. Who cares. You fucked up big time. Didn’t get the goody-two-shoes, didn’t get the serial killer, didn’t get any of the data stored in my head. Should’ve left this thing in the freezer. Or taken it apart to do something better. Kind of a waste of resources to keep me here.”
Inaba lacked key contextual information. It at least gathered that 396 directed these words to the supervisor, and thus bookmarked this section of recorded footage to be given to him when he next visited.
But 396 had never done this before. Talked right through Inaba, as if it were some kind of telecom. Never not addressed it nor commented on its usefulness or presence.
Inaba was a security robot, and it had no particular issue with that designation. But it was still here. It existed. Why wasn’t it being acknowledged?
It reached up to wrap its arms as far along 396’s torso as they would go, and squeezed him into a hug. Familiar stimuli could awaken memories within humans.
“Ow,” the exclamation was blank. Unbothered. Reflexive more than an expression of pain. He squeezed his hand under Inaba’s tight grip, the fingers thinner than before the new year started and acting as the perfect wedge to peel away Inaba’s mechanical digits. Its tactile sensors informed it that 396’s devastating strength remained. And yet he still handled everything with infinite care.
“What’s wrong with this thing?” he gave Inaba a quizzical look, holding it by the scruff of its neck. Then dropped it on the ground, “Doc gave me a malfunctioning bot.”
It bounced slightly as it hit the ground, but was quick to get back up.
Finally, a similar pattern of behavior from before reconstruction. Inaba could work with this.
It riffled through its memories of 396 in the Building 13 recreational room, and during his time with Inmate 17. A game that was small and easy.
Inaba waited a few hours for the hug initiation to be forgiven. Then, got the meal tray for the day and sat down to eat, it moved to stand across from him.
396 watched it carefully, fumbling slightly to hold chopsticks with the broader palms and longer fingers of his new hands.
In the slight grime of the floor between them, Inaba used a paw to trace out a small three square grid. Added an X on the middle row, right column.
Silence hung between them. Then a ribbon-like tendril drifted out and made a ◯ in the middle row, middle column. It was delicately handled, but the screech of concrete against metal bounced off the walls. Old 396 would have flinched and burst into apologies.
This new one didn’t blink. More uncharacteristic behavior.
Inaba opened a new file.
Character Report—
(Created: Just Now)
ID#: 1396 (Personal Reference Key: 1396_B)
Aliases: ‘Number 396’ (Guards)
Containment Level: ???
Cell: N/A
! SPECIAL HUMAN CONSTITUTION !
▸ Biological Profile (Under Construction)
Hobbies: None
Likes: ???
Dislikes: ???
Current Objective: ???
Personality Type: Quiet
Approximate Rating on Emotional Connection to Inaba Model: 0.1/10
▸[Behavioral Pattern Array]
▸ [Comparison Chart to Old Figure]
It was sparse, like any new target would be. Inaba pushed the file back.
Looked back to the grid etched into the floor. Placed an X in the top row, left column.
The new 396 put in another circle. The game continued.