Olympian Complex

“Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s men…”
“Bake me a cake as fast as you can!”

Thirteen year old Artemis giggled a little, which was an odd sight, considering her body was currently some four stories tall, made of various metals and plated in Adamantine. Still, the long, multi-segmented fingers covered the vaguely humanoid head, about where the mouth ought to be, as the giggle found its way out through the airwaves, encoded as it left her mouth and decoded as it reached the headset Apollo wore. The giant structures ran through the empty moon, leaping over boulders with the same ease that they had shown in playing patty-cake. Despite their massive weight, the figures – Helios and Selene, properly – moved with the same grace and agility Apollo and Artemis sported in the gym. By thirteen, the simulator practice had been more than sufficient to boost their synch rate above the 80% figure needed for live practice in their units, and their workouts in the gym had worked their muscles to the point where their brains expected whatever body they were controlling, via muscles or kinetic power, to respond rapidly. Selene, under Artemis’ direct control, turned a cartwheel to prove her response time, while Helios watched carefully, relaying all his cameras saw to Apollo’s perch in the cockpit.

Disappointingly to the researchers, neither twin seemed to care much for the onboard weaponry. Selene had been outfitted with a handheld crossbow capable of firing beams of blue light at long range, and Helios had been outfitted with a similar weapon that fired yellow beams. Auxiliary weapons had yet to be implemented, primarily because the twins seemed entirely uninterested in combat. As the handlers had feared, their contact with each other had led to a tight bond; they much preferred to spend time with each other than in training, and seemed content to merely play around so long as they were together.

“And you’re certain they’ve further potential to be reached?” asked the Director, for what must have been the fifteenth time that month, watching the screens.

“Their teamwork will be essential for joint missions. If I can just motivate them properly… they pass all their test with flying color, and have surpassed all the benchmarks we set out for them. Trust me, they won’t let you down.” Gregory Dawson, the twins’ handler, was nervous as he spoke, but he managed to refrain from fidgeting with the collar of his shirt as he spoke. The Director didn’t appreciate weakness, and with several of the mechs running over budget, rumor had it that there were hard decisions to be made in the coming weeks. As always, however, his words seemed to fall on deaf ears – or rather, mute mouth. He was certain that the Director had heard his words and were taking them into account, but the hard woman rarely spoke of her plans before they went into action.

Please, thought Gregory, Please don’t let them terminate my babies.

Subject 003-4 notes: As always, the twins continue to make progress by leaps and bounds. Today’s test went better than expected. Synch levels remain above 87%.