“Basilisk to Cerberus. We have a lead.” The giant heard through the buzz of his damaged conical implant.

  Proteus spectates the giant Cerberus who stands with his face dented, bloodied and bruised. Cerberus, who places a metallic fingertip on his ear with the look of death’s deliverance upon his face.

  “Go on…” Cerberus oozes, modulating his voice so carefully so as to betray his anger. He could tell by the venom in her voice that she knew that this would happen. His embarrassment at the hands of their master.

  Basilisk buzzes again through his ear; though Proteus couldn’t hear due to lacking the conical surgery to listen. “There was an unauthorized purchase of a virtual reality experience. The purchaser remains unidentified, though I have the location of the unsanctioned seller.” Basilisk tells him.

  “Big deal.” Cerberus mutters seethingly. “What business is it of ours in petty transfers?”

  Basilisk hisses, sounding more offended than even Cerberus. Though make no mistake, she is not. “Such experiences are invaluable to our control. An unsanctioned transfer is an affront to our order. This is no petty matter.”

  She continues, Cerberus turning to Proteus who looks up to him with wonder.

  “Every artificial resistance we have fabricated is a finely woven tool. Some of my greatest work. If such a tool falls into the hands of an interloper…”

  “Point taken.” Cerberus replies, cutting short her monologue as he orders.

  “Feed me the coordinates.” And so she does. Yet she only feeds them to Cerberus, not Proteus for some reason. Cerberus looks back up, her buzzing gone from his ear.

  Proteus, continuing his stare, asks the giant. “Well? What’s the plan?”

  Cerberus’s dead eye flickers to life for a split second, before sighing in resignation as he reaches into one of the pockets of his armored vest.

  Out of it he pulls a modified digiphone, comically small in the hands of the giant. He wraps his fingers around, delicately pressing its buttons.

  “Can you not just see the coordinates on your cybernetics?” Proteus asks. Cerberus’s backhand flies just above Proteus, smashing to bits a concrete pillar he stood beside in this dank basement of the Ivory Tower.

  “HAVE YOU NOT BEEN STARING AT MY LACK OF FACE, YOU FOOL?!” The giant shouts at him, Proteus crouching to the ground in reaction to the attack that could’ve easily ended his life.

  “CEASE YOU GAZE OR HAVE IT CEASED!” Cerberus demands of the smaller man. Proteus rises, though not much higher in the eye of Cerberus.

  “I understand and I apologize.” He tells him.

  “AS YOU SHOULD! APOLOGY ACCEPTED!” He grunts. “Now, come with me…” Cerberus beckoned as his blood still boils.

  Proteus learns more about how times have changed in his explorations of the Ivory Tower. He follows in the shadow of the towering

  Cerberus as they make their way to one of the vehicle bays, its floors and ceilings of glossy white marble and filled to the brim with covert technologies, weapons of war and other gadgets.

  Cerberus leads him to an unassuming vehicle near one of the grand exits, a station-wagon looking thing. Extremely civilian in appearance.

  “Get in.” Cerberus orders, pointing to the driver's seat. “I will fit only in the back trunk. You will drive us to the destination.”

  Proteus gives him a second look in protest. “I will oblige requests far more than orders. My employment has stretched far longer than yours, Cerberus.”

  Cerberus remains in place, seemingly unfazed by the comment, though his previous reply suggests otherwise. “Do you see it wise to trial my patience at this moment, venerable Proteus?”

  Proteus sees the implication, setting his pride aside in order to put forward his pragmatism. “I do not. Allow me to open the trunk for you.” He replies, approaching the rear of the vehicle.

  The giant Cerberus cradles himself into a ball to fit in the back, and locks himself down, his various augments shutting off as he stays still as a rock. Proteus gets into the driver's seat and starts the vehicles, roaring to life with the sound of an inline-five power plant.

  He looks around, acknowledging the thing is not as civilian as it appears. “I do not know the extent of your knowledge.” Cerberus admits, his voice loud and clear despite his frozen jaw and appearance.

  “Though I am familiar with your role. Your unassuming form is perfect for it.” Proteus considers the comment, unsure if it is a compliment or insult as they leave the vehicle bay, into the dark rain and winding driveway to the streets.

  Proteus replies. “Thank you. We will become acquainted in time. Need you say anymore?” He asks the modern ornament.

  “Two things.” The ornament-like Cerberus replies. “One, we are headed to the Briggs Plaza as seen on your infotainment screen. Two, always remember, SERaMACs is watching. Always act as if ‘he’ can see you.”

  “He?” Proteus considers. “Understood.” Proteus replies.

  “It.” Proteus corrects, in his head. It is humorous that Cerberus believes he needs to inform Proteus of this because of his sleep.

  The ride is uneventful. The roads and streets grow more populated as it reaches the early morning, and grow less populated as they reach closer to the developing areas of North Platte City, where the Briggs Plaza is located.

  Cerberus fills Proteus in on the details as they travel like regular pedestrians, all whilst Proteus gets to look at the new world up close.

  How infrastructure has changed to suit the artificial rainfall. The vice, which has since devolved from blatant prostitution into public acts of solitary degeneracy. The decay. The rot.

  It looks all roughly like how he’d imagined, and yet, as he recognizes his feelings towards it, he understands that the imagination made real is a dangerous thing.

  “We are here.” Cerberus says, Proteus getting out into the rain, his suit washing off the rain like duck feathers.

  He opens the door for Cerberus, who unfolds himself out of his cradled state and exits into the rain to join him.

  Proteus notices the fading marks of a skid in the deep black tar. Perhaps a sign of a hurried escape, he thinks.

  The two enter the dissonant decadence of the Grand Briggs Plaza lobby, Cerberus trailing Proteus in observation while Proteus does the negotiation. The android bot snaps its sight onto Proteus as he approaches confidently. “He is on floor one hundred and seventy three. Apartment A.H4273Y.” SERaMACs tells him.

  “What is he doing?” Proteus asks.

  “Engaging in explicit degenerative activities.”

  The SERaMACs bot replies.

  His golden eyes look upon the bot, yet he scans his periphery like a hawk as he questions it. “Distracted?” He asks.

  “For the past two hours.” SERaMACs replies.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He checks his analog watch, the time 5:49am. He looks back to Cerberus, signaling the beast to join him in the elevator.

  “Error.” SERaMACs says as Proteus enters the elevator. “Maximum rated cargo capacity of this model lift is rated at two hundred and twenty kilograms. Cerberus will have to proceed a different route.”

  Cerberus looks upon the bot with ire, asking the thing.

  “Is there a staircase?”

  “No.” Replies SERaMACs. “The west side of the building holds a concrete facade you may climb.” Cerberus grunts in acknowledgment.

  The pair nod at each other, Proteus taking the elevator and Cerberus disappearing outside.

  As the elevator ascends to the required floor, it stops to pick someone up along the way on floor seventy nine. Proteus stands in front of the wall, his hands locked together towards his front. Upright, and tidy.

  The door opens and a middle aged woman walks through, wearing a pretty dress and covered in thick makeup. “My my… look at you.” She says to Proteus who stares forward. The door closes and they begin ascending again, the woman asking him. “Say, are you always that silent?”

  Proteus looks her up and down, then gives her a smile and extends his hand. “Not at all. I merely reserve myself. What is your name sweetheart?”

  She blushes and reaches for his hand, shaking it gently as she gets closer. “Mary Williams. Don't mind the last name, I'm still young on the inside… yours?” She asks, running her other hand down his tie.

  Proteus replies swift and natural.

  “Brody O’Reagan. It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am.”

  Proteus says, gently taking her hand off his tie and placing it by her side with a matured smile.

  “On the contrary… It's a pleasure to meet you, Brody. It is a shame not all men have manners such as yours these days.”

  “It is.” Proteus plays along. “Especially for a gorgeous lady such as yourself.” He states, making her blush and giggle slightly.

  “But you know what they say, they don't make ‘em like they used to.” The lady smiles at his reply, a slight thud emanating from outside.

  The elevator reached the one hundred and fiftieth floor. The lady walks away towards the door, only letting go of his hand once he's too far to hold on to.

  “Say Brody, they have a lot of amenities on this floor. Care to join me for some… illustrious activities?” She asks suggestively.

  “I would love to… though not today.” Proteus replies, staying in character. “Duty calls. Work. The peasantry. Ahh. I need to talk with one of my staff who's been having difficulties. I'm sure you understand the hassle.”

  The lady leans on the doorway, getting a good look of Proteus before she leaves. “Mmm… okay darling. But you know where to go once you change your mind.”

  “That I do.” He says softly, pressing the button to ascend as the thuds get slightly louder. “Take care now.” He ends with.

  The door closes, the elevator ascends and Proteus wipes the facade of a smile from his face. The floor number raises rapidly until he reaches floor one hundred and seventy three.

  The thuds, a bit quieter now, though still growing. He figures it's Cerberus on the ascent outside.

  Proteus inspects the corridor, the red carpeted floors a poor match for the neon grid display below. The gold and pink neon lighting, a poor choice to serve as softer accent colors. AI generated art, framed on the walls and serving zero purpose. He then looks at the room names and signage.

  To his left are the rooms ending ‘Y’ and to his right, the rooms ending ‘Z’. And so, he goes left, to the apartment the third furthest from the end of the corridor. He pulls out his modified digiphone, far more advanced than his old analog one.

  Instead of putting his ear to the door, he presses its microphone into the hard plastic. The quality is low, but he makes out the sound of various overlapping monitors, rain upon glass, heavy breathing and another source of a kind of gory wetness.

  Some sort of croaking sound. Some muffled, digital moans. Proteus wasn't so naive to misunderstand what is probably happening behind that door.

  He takes back the digiphone, pulling out SERaMACs to ask it some questions.

  “Give relevant details of the tenant of Apartment A.H4273Y.” The machine replies instantly, its voice more human as Proteus interacts.

  “Name - Clyde #1792

  Occupation - Quality Assurance. / Worth - 23,422 Credits.

  Citizen Class - C.

  Height - Five Foot Seven. / Weight - Sixty Kilograms.

  Age - Twenty Two Years Old.

  Augmentations - Canid Vulpes Hybridization, Conical Nerve Implantation, Synthetic Heart Replacement, Digigrade Leg Surgery, Ongoing Hormone Replacement Therapy, Aquamarine Hair Pigmentation Surgery.”

  “Dangerous?” Proteus asks, the thuds from outside changing their pace and remaining the same heightened volume.

  “Convicted of grand theft auto seven years ago. Frequents the Furries League United forms on the contentsphere. Highly addictive personality. Prone to uncontrolled emotional outburst. Is physically weak though highly sexually motivated.” SERaMACs replies.

  Proteus grimaces, closing the digiphone wishing this Clyde person was just violent. A human apprehension to the ordeal is present and obvious as he pulls out his silenced laser pistol from his suit. A human apprehension, as he anticipates those who have become mere animals have lost it.

  Just as he is about to knock, he hears the other elevator door open. Obscuring his pistol swiftly, he watches as two people, a man and a girl both dressed in raggedy clothing look back at him. Both holding bags full with something nice-smelling. The pair and him stare at each other awkwardly, before Proteus makes a casual recommendation.

  “Move along.”

  And so, they do, moving slowly towards the other end of the hall and entering their room, maintaining eye contact until they reach it.

  The unspoken tension leaves with them.

  As they close their door, Proteus leaps into action. He hammers his fist against the door, yelling. “CLYDE. OPEN UP.”

  “Oooooh, ughh, yeah… just uh, hang on…” He hears through the door, the voice one of a man yet devoid of masculinity. Or subtlety.

  Proteus considers his approach for a moment, pivoting his tactics to appeal more. “Oh… COME ON BIG BOY, DON'T YA WANT A COMPANION TO SHARE IN THE FUN?” He yells through the door in a slightly more needy manner.

  “Oh… did I tell you abo— uh… this new android?” Clyde replies barely even sentient. Proteus closes his eyes in disgust at the thought, answering.

  “OF COURSE BLUE BOY, NOW HURRY UP AND LET ME IN, I'M… THIRSTY.”

  The outside thudding stops about where Proteus expected, slightly above and to his right outside. Then, the monitor noises are paused. Some light, wet footsteps approach from the other side of the door.

  Proteus moves to the side of the hinges just as the door starts opening. Clyde pokes his muzzle out. “Well… come let yourself in—”

  Proteus grabs his throat from around the door and rips him out of his room. He pulls Clyde's stumbling body over into the opposite wall of the corridor, punching his face as he rebounds and forcing him into a choke-hold from behind.

  Clyde smells awful, feels slimy and is matted. Proteus spares himself from looking down. “Who did you sell it to?” Proteus asked calmly, strangling Clyde against his body weight hard.

  “Aggg— ag— a cahmt brredh— a cahnt breedh!” Clyde gurgles outs, unable to speak from the tightness. A sensual moan escapes Clyde as Proteus gets tighter, inspiring Proteus to choke even tighter as his mind shifts from a current interrogation to a future interrogation.

  The quicker Clyde passes out, the happier Proteus will be. Soon, Clyde starts tapping Proteus's elbow, then begins struggling after only now just realizing he won't let go.

  Proteus handles him like an animal; then hearing the window of his room being smashed followed by some hulking thing causing destruction through the wall.

  Clyde's struggles fade as his consciousness leaves him, Proteus pushing him forward into the floor as he inspects the room. Within it is Cerberus, who has destroyed every poster, every monitor and every object and piece of furniture.

  He takes particular note of a fragmented android, contorted into a form similar to that of Clyde except with more forms of genitalia than it has any sane right having. Cerberus follows Proteus into the hall, overlooking the butt-ass naked body of Clyde. “Disgusting.” Utters Proteus, while Cerberus picks it up and wraps it in a blanket to carry.

  “Disgusting?” Cerberus asks rhetorically, dragging out his words. “You have no idea.” Cerberus throws Clyde over his shoulder and walks back to the smashed window.

  “He will be seated in the passenger seat with you Proteus. I will carry him down. Meet you at the vehicle.” With that, he jumps down. slamming his hand into the building to slow himself down towards the streets below. Proteus hops into the elevator which takes him down to the ground floor. He brushes some blue hair off his jacket.

  As he walks into the lobby he probes with SERaMACs. “See what happened?” He asks. The bot looks at him, its claws interlocked, staring blankly as it takes a while to reply. “Unfortunately, I did.” Says SERaMACs, slowly looking down. “I saw every. Last. Bit of it.”

  Proteus takes a mental note of the reaction, continuing to the dark outside. He feels compelled to be witty, but he instead reserves himself; excusing himself to the station-wagon.