Chapter 4: Delinquent Aka ATM!

Left alone in the crater, the armored girl, Tohka, stared at the empty sky, the image of a silent, sword-stealing machine waving goodbye burned into her mind. 

The confusion curdled back into a deep, simmering resentment as she faded away, her mood utterly ruined.

My Vector Gate send me in the quiet heart of the city, far from the newly-formed disaster zone. The exit point was a narrow, graffiti-scarred alleyway, smelling faintly of stale rain and refuse. 

Here, the frantic wail of sirens was a distant echo. Life continued its mundane rhythm; people bustled along the sunlit sidewalks, oblivious to the brief, violent tear in their reality that had occurred only a few kilometers away.

I was an anomaly here, too, but for a different reason. My unclothed, mechanical body was a declaration of my non-humanity. To walk onto those streets would be to invite panic, investigation, and trouble I had no time for. I needed to blend in.

First problem: currency. My soul had been transported, leaving any worldly possessions behind. I was, for all intents and purposes, broke. I could, theoretically, dismantle a non-essential part of myself and sell it for scrap, but the thought was absurd.

Thankfully, the fictions of my old world had prepared me for this exact scenario. In any transmigrator's tale, when one is penniless in a new world, there is a universal solution. One that conveniently respawns in dark alleys.

The local ATM the human kind.

Now, hacking a bank was well within my capabilities. A trivial matter of finding a network access point and letting my Ex-Machina processing power run wild. 

But the ghost of Arden, the law-abiding citizen, still lingered. 

There was a line I wasn't willing to cross unless absolutely necessary. Power did not grant one the right to be lawless.

But punishing the lawless? That was a different matter entirely.

My internal sensors, configured to detect elevated heart rates and aggressive vocal patterns, swept the nearby city blocks. It didn't take long. In this sprawling metropolis, predators were always hunting.

I became the hunter.

….

"Hey, you!"

"Eep! Y-yes?"

In a secluded side street, a scrawny student with thick glasses was pinned against a brick wall by three delinquents. The leader, a lanky youth with bleached-yellow hair, grinned, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

"My friends and I are a little short on cash. Mind helping us out?"

"Of course, of course! R-right away!" The student fumbled frantically with his bookbag, terrified of provoking them. 

He pulled out a thick envelope of bills his living expenses for the month. 

So much for taking shortcuts home, he thought miserably, handing it over. Chalk it up to a life lesson.

"See? A reasonable guy," the leader chuckled, letting the student scurry away. His cronies laughed with him.

"Nice haul," the yellow-haired punk said, thumbing through the cash. "Looks like his parents are loaded." He pocketed the money. "Alright, let's get out of here."

He turned, but his followers didn't move. They were staring past him, their faces pale, mouths agape.

"Wh-what... boss..." one of them stammered.

"What's with that look?" The leader scoffed, annoyed. A chill ran down his spine as he realized the alley had gone silent. "Tch. Pathetic. If there's nothing behind me, you're dead."

He spun around.

And looked directly into a face devoid of life.

It was a porcelain doll's face, exquisitely crafted but utterly empty, with seams of metal tracing its jawline. Its eyes were golden camera lenses, glowing with a soft, analytical light, and they were fixed on him.

….

I emerged from the alley a few minutes later, pulling a large, dark hoodie over my head. The garment was several sizes too big, its generous cut concealing my mechanical frame completely. With the hood up, I looked like any other small, unassuming person.

Such charitable young men, I thought with a flicker of dry amusement. I merely asked to borrow some money, and they insisted I take all of theirs. They even gave me a coat.

During our "friendly" exchange, I had discreetly plugged one of my data conduits my "tail" into the lead delinquent's smartphone. 

In the span of a microsecond, I had created a bank account, registered a legal identity under a shell corporation, and transferred their digital funds into it.

Thank you, delinquents of the world. You are a truly renewable resource.

First order of business: new clothes. My olfactory sensors, sensitive enough to detect individual molecules, were screaming. This hoodie smelled... ripe. Its previous owner clearly had a contentious relationship with soap and water.

As I walked toward the main shopping district, a thought struck me, so obvious I mentally slapped myself.

Wait. I'm an Ex-Machina. Why would I buy clothes?

I ducked back into the alley. The three delinquents were still unconscious in a heap. I stripped off the foul-smelling hoodie, dropping it on top of them. 

Then, activating my own materialization protocols, I let golden data coalesce around my body. It solidified, weaving itself into a perfect, 1:1 replica of the hoodie and a pair of simple black trousers. Clean, sterile, and custom-fit.

Much better. With my disguise re-established, I finally left the alley for good.

….

In a quiet corner of a bustling downtown cafe, I sat by the window, nursing a cup of coffee I had no intention of drinking. 

My appearance now was deliberately styled the oversized hoodie, the long pants, the way I sat hunched over slightly it was all reminiscent of Schwi, from the story of my past. 

At 155 centimeters, with my delicate features, I passed for a cute, androgynous teenager.

The thought of being seen as "cute" caused a flicker of annoyance, a tsk sound that was purely internal. 

Gender was an irrelevant concept for an Ex-Machina. I possessed no biological functions for it. I was, for all intents and purposes, neuter.

From beneath the hem of my hoodie, a slender, black conduit snaked out, invisible to any casual observer. It was plugged neatly into a network port on the wall. 

My tail. While my physical body appeared to be staring blankly out the window, my consciousness was soaring through the city's digital infrastructure.

The funds from those thugs won't last forever, I calculated. The clothes were free, and my body required no food, drink, or maintenance. 

My daily expenses were effectively zero. Which was, I had to admit, incredibly convenient. Still, relying on mugging muggers was not a sustainable long-term plan.

I needed to maintain some semblance of my humanity. To feel the pleasure of eating, even if I didn't need the sustenance. 

Without those small, grounding rituals, it would be too easy to drift away, to become nothing more than the cold logic of the machine I inhabited. 

My will to survive was the only thing driving me now; I couldn't afford to let it erode into apathy.

A quiet, internal chime brought my attention back to my primary system.

[Dimensional Engine charging... 20%]

The engine, the system's gift, was slowly regenerating the immense power required for a world-jump. It was my ultimate escape route, my ticket to anywhere. But for now, I was here. And I had work to do.