"Professor" Anais Ali, Ordinator (Archivist Synergy)

The New World is miles of concrete stacked upon megatons of rubble dumped upon an endless sea of shit. For most people, that's more than enough reason to just stay inside their little storage crate homes, eating their rehydrated noodles and watching markedly more attractive individuals fuck on teevee. But the more adventurous, the more enlightened among the sheep of the New World know the truth: that under the miles of concrete, and the megatons of rubble, and the sea of shit, there are pockets of treasure. Treasure just aching to be uncovered by an adventurous enough, enlightened enough, worthy enough figure.

Of course, that still involves pushing through all of that concrete and rubble and shit. As the jibbering Hacked hurled a decaying box of petrified burgers, the flimsy cardboard instantly shredding to launch dozens of rock hard yet still rotting mystery meat patties like the world's most disgusting shotgun blast, Anais Ali reminded herself how adventurous she was being. And enlightened. And worthy. And also to hide behind the towering, now-literal meat shield was her Remake teammate.

If the hulk of an Enforcer took offense, they hid it very well. Though to be fair, with a chassis as bargin bin as the Heavy Loader that Charlie rocked, hiding ones' feelings is less about being subtle and more about lacking, like, a face or voice that could modulate more than a few notes in either direction. All the same, they stood rock still and sheltered their squishier comrade from the burger barrage with an admirably grim stoicism, waiting until the last meat disk had hammered into their blocky torso before hefting their axe and charging in. Goddamn professional, Ali admitted with more than a touch of admiration, no question about it.

And it wasn't just Charlie who was worthy of the archivist's approval. Ali was to marvel yet again at Tally's incredible display, the peppy wukong whipping through the battleground that was the ruined Mister Meats' Edible Eats restaurant like it was her own personal playground. Ali could barely keep her eyes on her as she bounced about, planting a foot in the face of one uniform-clad Hacked to keep it at bay even as her revolver blew a hole through the face of another, all the while happily chattering and narrating for the rapturous benefit of her viewing audience. That's three things at once. Ali absentmindedly put her underwear on over her other clothes often enough that just forgoing them all together wound up being the most efficient solution.

Still, the woman reasoned, these competent pros didn't know the shameful origin of her commando-only lifestyle. Comforted by the thought that they believed she was simply confident and maybe a touch slutty, Ali released a flare of pulsating neon into the nearest Hacked and resolved to prove she was fully the equal to her impressive comrades. She tapped the side of her bookishly chic glasses, taking a moment to blow a lock of ebony hair out of her face as the lenses filled with data. "Auto!"

-ma'am-

"Detect Anomaly!"

-ma'am-

Ali let out a hum of thought as the A.I stacked a digital overlay on her surroundings, the din of battle fading away as she allowed her newly augment reality to sink in. "Well, they aren't being summoned," she quietly mused, chewing on her plump lower lip, "There's just a shit load of them. After all this time, too...fucking brutal."

No one had any illusions about what happened to all of Edible Eats Inc's workers when the company and associated megacity went belly-up. Everyone above the fiftieth floor was told to stuff their shit in a box and beat feet. Everyone below the fiftieth floor was expected to show-up for their usual shift, and if they didn't know that the Edible Eats Inc data centers that made up the foundation of the megacity were scheduled for demolition that day then, well...sounds like they didn't need to know. Who cares, right?

The lucky ones were smooshed into paste when the megacity collapsed in on itself, the lower few dozens of floors compacting in on themselves to deliver the closest thing to a quick and painless firing one should ever expect in the corpo world. But the ones in the floors that managed to hold, like this Mister Meats', weren't so lucky. They died all the same, either right away or gradually from hideously fatal injuries, but the Workforce Scheduling Pro tech still implanted in their corpses stayed connected to the barely-functioning local networks of the otherwise ruined store. And with Workforce Scheduling Pro, a silly little thing like being dead isn't even close to an excuse for missing a shift.

And so you're left with the Hacked: glitchy tech imprisoning the insane shatters of a consciousness within lifeless, minimum-wage meat, piloting it around in a repulsive marionette show of simply trying to get through another fucking shift.

Wait. Ali blinked, That's it! "Auto!"

-ma'am-

The young woman launched herself over the counter, her padded rear cushioning the slide as she fumbled at the storage compartment built into her wrist. "Activate Wiki for, ah..." Her fingers hit pay dirt, pulling out a pair of anti-security datasticks, "Hacker's Kit!"

-ma'am-

Ali put her shoulder square through the door of the manager's office, the heavily bolted lock utterly irrelevant as the rotting faux-wood crumbled under even the archivist's modest . Snatching the palm computer from her belt, she slapped it on the side of office's flickering command console, her pupils dialting and breath slowing as Auto-Correct downloaded detailed technical instructions directly into her brain. She plugged the one datastick into her computer, immediately bullying the command console's first indignant refusal into submission, adding the second without hesitation to dominate its final whimpering objection. Just trying to get through another fucking shift, huh? Ali triumphantly mashed 'Enter' on her final line of code. "I say overtime's over!"

The effect of the gentle tone on the Hacked as it filled the ruins of the Mister Meats' was about the purest example of a conditioned reaction one could ever find. The undead wage slaves immediately ceased their attacks, heads tilting to one side in unspoken question. The soothing drone of a voice that rumbled through the one working dining room speaker was the final blow.

"Mister Meats' Edible Eats is now closed for the day. Go home and dream of another day of putting Yummies in Tummies"

Ugh. Fucking...gross.

The Hacked clearly didn't share Ali's distaste for the cutesy sloganeering of Edible Eats, their shoulders immediately slumping in what could only be relief. Where moments before there had been a snarling, wailing horde of implacable foes, all that remained was only the pitiful, not-really-survivors of thoughtless corporate cruelty. Ali shook her head, running a trembling hand through her mussed bob. How useless. What waste.

The archivist was shaken from her reverie at the realization that Charlie was seeking out her eyes with their own visual sensors, but the Remake needn't have bothered. There was on what had to be done next. And so solemnly, and with an air that neared reverent, the Enforcer and Ordinator moved through the dormant Hacked, quickly and mercifully putting a permanent end to their suffering. Ali couldn't help another huff of regret. Rest well, friends. And if there is another life beyond this one, work on your resumes.

The real shock to close out the battle was Tally, to Ali's increasing surprise and admiration. _Is she..._Ali squinted through her glasses at the uncharacteristically quiet and still wukong. Is she holding a moment of silence?! The wonders never cease. As impressed as the archivist was, said moment ended the very instant Charlie put the final Hacked to rest. After that, it was all bouncing excitement and faces full of pert monkey girl boobie. "Omigod, ALI! You were SO COOL!"

Ali flushed beet red as Tally's broadcast drone stuck itself directly into her face, the young woman mortified to discover that she was camera shy. "Um, did you hear what I said?"

Charlie lumbered over, their monotone voice droning out of their bulky frame. "What did you say, Professor Ali."

"I said 'Overtime's over!'"

The Remake leaned in. "Professor Ali."

"Um, yes?"

"Are you aware that, given the circumstances of our fight, your words could be construed as having a double meaning."

"I am! That's totally why I said it!"

Charlie leaned in even closer. "That is hilarious. You are hilarious."

Ali did her never best to beam herself into oblivion as Tally wedged herself between her two companions, winking at her audience. "Cool cool totally, but remember why we're here!" The wukong extended herself upwards on her powerful tail, arms raised as she indicated the surroundings. "This is it! The very bottom! The lowest point!"

That's right, Ali thought, pushing up her glasses as her flush of embarrassment turned into one of excitement. This was the lowest surviving level of the Edible Eats Inc megacity tower, even further into the depths of the world than large sections of the Undercity. It's the deepest spot in all of the corpo-owned Cardinal Holdings. At that moment, Tally, Charlie and Ali stood where no living being had stood in decades, in a position that no living being had stood ever. Ali couldn't help puffing out her chest in pride. When Tally had approached her about joining this mission to delve the most remote, least accessible, entirely unreachable places in the New World, Ali didn't need to hear another word. And now, that faith had paid off. Because here she stood, shoulder to shoulder with fellow seekers of knowledge, reaching out to grasp the treasures that could only be claimed by the--

Ali's moment of self-congratulation was quickly interrupted. "That's right, everybody!" Tally rummaged around in her backpack, pulling out what was without a doubt the single biggest bio-synthetic cock the archivist had ever seen. "You're watching 'Hey What's That Let's Cum On It', with Tallywacker Cocomilk, and we're gonna cum on the New World's bottom!"

Oh.