As Cassandra drove towards the station, a small notification got sent to her brain implant. Giving it a glance, she was notified that Jared was apparently out of the count for the next while. The woman did wonder how such a thing had happened until she realised who she was thinking about.

If any man or woman was to be hurt doing something stupid, there was only one guess needed to figure out who that was. And it most definitely wasn't her or Grunwald, both of them having more sense in their hearts than Jared had in his brain. Even their feet would win in a contest of will half the time.

Or maybe that was just her opinion of the man. Cassandra realised it might have been partially wrong. From what she could read, the automation by Jared’s side had apparently been forced to hold the man down to stop him from trying to work. The woman supposed that such an outlook could have been seen as a positive of sorts. The man wanted to die on his feet.

Maybe it was stupid when one thought about the possibility of surviving if one just relaxed for an hour or two, but who would be able to tell the man that? Certainly not the automation. From what the construct had sent in its partial report, the man was bordering on irrational, a higher fever bringing judgement down to an extremely low level. Cassandra could see how that had the chance of going extremely wrong.

Augmented users had a hard time when it came to getting sick. That was meant in the way that they almost never actually got sick, their bodies having been tempered to such a degree that they always were in near-optimal health. There was a high bar of entry for anything that would cause them weakness.

Yet, much like the effects of medicine and alcohol, the hit was strong when it finally came. Cassandra could go from not even feeling a buzz to being blackout drunk, in the span of a single cocktail. Likewise, she could go from completely fine to in danger of organ damage by just sitting outside in the cold for two minutes too long. It was funny how that happened.

Cassandra guessed that it had been partially due to the sedatives the man had been given earlier. The body might not have cleansed itself of it as much as anticipated, making it weaker to the outside world and making it hard for the body to resist anything thrown it's way. From what she could see, the man was apparently the owner of quite a high fever. It wasn't enough to send out word for a helicopter, but it was enough to get the pair back to the medical wing. Luckily, there was no need for that to be ordered, the automation by his side apparently already in full gear for that to happen.

Looking at the map, it might just have outdone the past record when it came to speeding. The automation drove faster than anything Jules had when inside the city, getting just an inch closer to light-poles at every turn. Cassandra wasn't even sure if she would get to the station before it, if things continued to be like that. The automation truly was a beast in its own class.

… Cassandra supposed she needed to call it Nero instead now. It wasn't the most common name in the world, yet Jared’s construct had apparently found a liking to it. Who was she to really judge? Cassandra certainly had a better reaction to it than Jules, that construct nearly bursting an organ with how loud it needed to shout.

But that was of no real matter. Name or not, the construct was still fit for duty. In the span of Jared showing signs of sickness and them driving to the station, the automation had speedily done two hours of work in the span of five minutes. That alone was enough to jolt Cassandra out of any form of comfort she had before, such a monstrous fact truly shaking her down to her core. Her bones rattled from it.

It was yet another showing of just how fast they could be. Sure, the images that were shown proved that there was a higher chance of some human remains being mildly damaged from being thrown around, but it wasn't like anybody would actually sue them for it, the former cultists not really being in possession of any living relatives or friends. And if the cards were played right, it wasn't even like the general population would even hear about them existing.

When the station was finally within her sight, Cassandra slowed down the vehicle just the tiniest bit. While the woman had been able to drive without too much strain, it had certainly been a long time before she had truly been behind the wheel. She had gotten so accustomed to letting the automations do that task that she had nearly forgotten how to follow the protocols associated with driving at the speed, making the woman have a strong desire towards carefulness. After all, she wasn't an automation capable of making a million calculations an hour. Not all her movements were made with efficiency in mind, and there was no chance that it all worked together with no matter what. In the grand scheme of it all, there wasn't anything a human could really do to match that.

And that was seen easily. In a literal sense that time, Cassandra was able to see another vehicle speeding past her into the parking lot. It drove faster than what she felt comfortable with on the motorway, nearly drifting into one of the spots in front. It was a grand move, made even grander by the fact that the one in the driver’s seat hadn't even been looking out the window, instead of focusing on holding onto the other passenger.

Slowly but surely driving into the parking lot herself, Cassandra was quick to get out of the car with the key in hand. On the front of the station, the automation, Nero, was making quick work of getting some body bags out of the back of the vehicle. They were just about thrown onto the ground in one big heap. Maybe there was some plan for them after that, yet Cassandra just couldn't see it. Perhaps the automation planned on shaking the corpses into fine dust and them just having an easy time because of it? That had been done before.

“How do you plan on getting them into the morgue?” Cassandra asked it, walking over to the side of the car to look inside. Lying on the front seat, with the head towards where the driver normally was, was Jared, looking as healthy as ever.

Sarcasm, of course. That man was paler than anything Cassandra had seen in a long time, the tone going closer to white than anybody should have been comfortable with. If not for the fact that they were already at the station, Cassandra would have personally requested helicopter transport.

“Carrying them. It is faster than finding an indoor transport,” Nero answered, the last of the bodies having been gotten out of the vehicle. There were also some disassembled traps inside, but those were apparently not important enough to take care of that very second. Cassandra supposed that was fair, with how time was of the essence and all.

And it was apparently also faster than going over to the correct entrance for corpses. Body-bags weren't supposed to be brought through the front entrance, yet the automation was very clearly planning on doing just that. Cassandra wondered if it had even thought about that fact, or if it just planned out the most optimal route with no care about what was within protocols.

Cassandra grimaced at the thought of the gross violation. Even though she had some standards to uphold, and even if there weren't any civilians to witness the event, there was still some concern about the decency surrounding it. She had to get involved with this.

“I have an idea, Nero,” Cassandra said, using the construct’s name for extra effect. That certainly got its attention quickly, the automation looking over at her near-instantly. “How about you go through the proper entrance with the bags, and I’ll bring over Jared to the medical wing and set him up there”

“Idea accepted. Please hurry. I will lock the vehicle on my own, so no time should be wasted with that thought in mind,” Nero said. With three swift pulls, the automation settled three corpses on a single shoulder. It was quite the sight to see, Cassandra knowing that at least one of the cultists wore metal armour. How much weight it must have been carrying…

No matter. Getting herself centred on her own task, the woman opened the door in the driver's seat. On it, Jared was partially resting. He must have been in that position for a long time, now that Cassandra thought about it.

Jared was lying on his side, with his feet over towards his own door to the outside. Yet with how tall that man was, it would have been impossible to only occupy his own seat during the travel, meaning that he must have had his head over at the driver. In other words, the automation must have been forced to use its lap as a temporary pillow.

… What a peculiar thought to have. Cassandra wasn't too sure how she felt about it, the woman occupying her own thoughts through the action of taking Jared out of the car. The man had removed some of his gear, making him much lighter than normal. Even still, though, his mass was still greater than hers, requiring some heavy positioning to make it work.

The first attempt was to make the man partially hold up his own weight, yet that worked extremely badly. No real force was used on his legs, and the only worthwhile thing the man did was to make a small groan when his head was moving around too fast. That wasn't the sweetest noise in the world, Cassandra quite honestly having thoughts of just dropping the man on the street at that point.

Not that she did, instead of moving over to a princess carry instead. There were thoughts about doing a fireman’s carry instead, yet the woman wasn't sure if the greater mass on the man would allow it. It was all a hard puzzle to get through, and she could only do her best throughout it.

Getting through the front entrance was a breeze compared to anything else, Cassandra having to enter sideways to stop Jared from bumping his head into the side of the wall. Not the greatest thing to occur after all. The sick would grow healthy from increased brain trauma. Not even if the other person holding the sick person thought it would be a little funny.

The side-ways tactic was used again and again, as the pair got farther and farther into the building. Once again lamenting the building’s design on how to place the medical wing, Cassandra simply did her best to move swiftly. She was sure Nero would have done better at that point.

“I don’t care about your name,” Jared suddenly said. The voice itself was extremely slurred, to the point where Cassandra recalled it as being very close-sounding to that of an intoxicated old man. Yet, even the old men couldn't do that sound justice, Jared truly being hard to decipher. “I just care about you.”

“That is good to hear, I suppose,” Cassandra said, not exactly sure how she was expected to respond to that. Would a ‘thank you' even work? Or was that only appropriate when the man actually knew who he was talking to.

“I don’t understand why I ever shouted at you. You’re a good person,” Jared continued, Cassandra meanwhile trying to think of any real situation where the man had shouted at her. Finding none, she could only surmise her guess to be the right one.

“Just for your information, your partner is currently doing something else. This might be something you want to say to Nero instead,” Cassandra informed him.

“My cheeks are red.”

“Your whole body is red, Jared. I don’t think we needed to be told.”