After a bit more time spent with Miss Calculated re-arranging 23’s mechanical guts with a pensive expression, 23 eventually decides to fill the lull in the conversation.

“...It’s fine even if Mikah doesn’t manage to overhear the password. Connecting to the hive network is merely a matter of convenience, anyway, and isn’t a necessity for me. Likewise, as I am in functional condition, there is no rush to acquire the various parts upgrades. They would certainly be nice, but they aren’t pressingly essential.” After 23 attempts to comfort Miss Calculated, she hums for a moment, resting her forehead against one of its chest plates, roughly where its heart would be, were it a flesh and blood creature.

Quietly holding this position for a few seconds, she sighs and leans back again, changing her focus to a different internal component of 23’s.

“I know, but it feels like a wasted opportunity if we don’t take advantage of it.” After saying this much, Miss Calculated sighs again and then spends a few moments lost in thought before continuing both working and speaking.

“Hmm, maybe we can take another approach, though. I believe I kept a few legitimately broken cores at work, with the intent of seeing if I could figure out a way of repairing them. I’d feel much less guilty sacrificing one of those... Maybe I can swap one out for the core of the bot that is getting its core replaced tomorrow, so they replace something that is actually broken with a new core. That way we can save the potentially aware core that is currently inside of it from being trashed… That could even help keep up the ruse that Mark doesn’t know about the fact he’s getting scammed by them. That is, assuming he can keep up the act, now that he does know.” While Miss Calculated was saying this, she pulled out two more of 23’s components, looked at them at a few angles with a distastefully wrinkled nose, and set them back into place.

“...Am I really in that poor of shape? I know none of my parts are all that new, but, even still… Though, yes, swapping in a broken core for the bot due for maintenance would probably be the most optimal course of action. Perhaps, while you have its body open to do the exchange and have already disconnected its core, you should take the opportunity to see if that abandoned core is still functioning?” After saying this, 23 rotates its head to glance over at the box of miscellaneous goods, looking at the aforementioned core that is resting on top of everything else.

Miss Calculated chuckles a bit, nodding slightly as she looks over another worn-down gear.

“You’re not in BAD shape per-say, but it really feels like everything is… well… beneath you. Knowing your… hum, mental capabilities, I suppose? Anyway, it doesn’t seem right to have you running on such run-down parts. But, trust me, I’m used to maintaining bots entirely constructed out of components in far worse shape. I just can’t help finding it disappointing, is all. Ah, I can’t wait... You will be better than new, once we get ahold of everything…” Miss Calculated has a wistful look as she trails off, then abruptly clears her throat and gets back to work.

“Ahem, anyway, yes, I was thinking similarly, about the core. I didn’t want to assume we should just use that one as the dummy core to be swapped again, in case it’s not only in perfectly fine working condition, but perhaps it even has its own degree of awareness, and then they mishandle it enough to damage it this time around…” Shortly after Miss Calculated trails off, she furrows her brows and tries applying more force onto a part that’s stuck in place.

“Could you hold my phone? Yes, a little lower… Perfect, thank you.” Miss Calculated frees her offhand by handing her phone off to 23, gently nudging its hand into an optimal position.

Now that 23 is holding Miss Calculated’s phone up with its flashlight mode shining into its open chassis, Miss Calculated leans forward inside it and uses both of her hands on her multitool to pry a cog out of its jammed position.

“...We should have grabbed some WD-14 from the bot supplies area, there has to be some there. I’m rather surprised that you’ve somehow been walking fairly smoothly? I’m clear now, test how it feels to move your leg.” Once Miss Calculated finishes speaking, there is a loud creak before some of 23’s gears skip a few times and then line up properly once again thanks to it lifting and moving around its right leg.

“...I’ve been admittedly favoring my wheels whenever possible. Thank you, that’s much better.” As 23 gives its thanks, Miss Calculated nods a few times.

Pulling her right hand back out of 23, she absentmindedly pushes some of her brown hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear again. This ends up leaving a black smudge across the side of her face from some of the lingering grease that was on her hand.

As 23 starts lifting one of its hands to point it out, she starts laughing before it even says anything.

“Yes, I know it’s there, I felt it. It’s nothing new. Thank you though. Trust me, Maria won’t let me go anywhere until it’s cleaned off, don’t worry.” While she is saying this, 23 quietly lowers its hand again.

A few more minutes pass of Miss Calculated examining every one of 23’s nooks and crannies. Then, suddenly, she yelps, jumping a bit.

“Shit, I should actually let Mark know not to cancel the scheduled maintenances then! He might have already called in to yell at them!” Making this realization, she reaches out for her phone.

Thankfully, a few texts later, she discovers that it turned out that Mark had been sidetracked by the spring rolls. After finishing them, he was still thinking about food, so he started musing about what restaurant they should go to for dinner tonight, having completely lost any interest in any bot-related drama.

Mind you, this all occurred while his feet were soaking in an Epsom salt bath. He has his own priorities, which are no more or less questionable than, say, Lucas’s.

Speaking of Lucas…

Meanwhile, on the 13th floor…

Both Lucas and Marsha are sitting on the ground in what is approximately the center of the strip of space they cleared out, and both of them are laughing hysterically.

Several service bots are moving around in their immediate vicinity, gathering what splintered mannequin remains they can find and carting them off to dispose of them. They’ve been systematically filling up modestly large cardboard boxes with the smashed bits, while a pair of bots keep using the elevators to bring the boxes out to empty into the dumpsters.

‘Okay, fine. I’ll admit that super-strength can be super fun.’

[..? I didn’t even say anything that time.]

‘You were being too quiet. I knew you were judging the hell out of me.’

[...]

‘See! You didn’t even try to deny it, either!’

[...At least the two of you finally, even if accidentally, accomplished clearing out SOME of the trash.]

‘Oh! That’s right! That’s the whole reason we’re here!’

427 barely manages to keep some rather choice words to himself.

-----

Lucas’s total kills: 7

Lucas’s total deaths: 11

Lucas’s total assists: 1

Lucas’s current GDV: 17.40

Lucas’s fame level: 6.0* (Local fame is completely maxed, he’s creeping up on minor celebrity status even on a global scale. Thanks, internet.)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 2.0*

Jonathan’s total kills: 7

Jonathan’s total deaths: 2

Jonathan’s current GDV: 6.09

Jonathan's fame level: 4.0* (Local fame is near-max, but everyone thinks of him via his affiliation with Lucas, and not often just for him, alone.)

Jonathan's hero suspicion level: 2.5*

Willy's fame level: 4.75* (Recently increased thanks to a new wave of memes featuring him and Mr. Quacks.)

Mr. Quacks’s fame level: 5.25* (Recently increased thanks to a new wave of memes featuring him and Willy.)

Supervillain social circle size: 15

-----

Little character theater:

The sleepy bois are still busily napping as hard as they can. The one difference is that Willy was woken up long enough to be towel dried and then move locations to the fluffy luxury dog bed before returning to doggy dreamland.

Lucas, leaning over to grab a metal mannequin bar that the bots deemed still too large to take away, and twisting it into a pretzel before holding it out towards Miss Masher: Here, ya hungry? Eheh...

427 continues to suffer quietly, knowing that nothing he has to say right now would be constructive.

Author, barely suppressing laughter: What’s the matter 427, regretting not repeatedly reminding Lucas what he was supposed to be doing in the first place?

Mr. Quacks, after drifting to a far corner of the tub with his charming companion, is now listening to her tales of her own famous fearsome feats: (quietly) Quack!