Night had fallen for several hours now.

“A flashlight, ready! A small hypodermic gun, ready!” exclaimed Agent A-204 as she was inventorizing her equipment.

She had put on a discreet outfit and was about to leave to explore the corridors of the faculty in search of the famous secret project to create robotic soldiers and was one last time reviewing her equipment and infiltration plan when the door was knocked on.

“Huh?!! Who is it? she muttered, as she was already beginning to panic.

— It's Estelle, I wanted to see if you were all settled in... she replied.

— Uh... I... Amélie stammered when she didn't know what to do with all her equipment lying on the bed, in plain sight.

— Is this a bad time?

— Uh... No! Wait five seconds!”

She picked up all her equipment in a large bath towel, threw it without delicacy into the bathroom and put on a long dressing gown to hide her outfit before opening the door.

“Hey! she exclaimed.

— So, do you like your new room?

— Yes, a lot. It's bigger than I expected, Amélie replied.

— Sorry, it seems you were just about to go to bed, said her friend, apologizing.

— Huh?

— Well, yes, you're already dressed...”

At these words, Amélie's heart leapt into her chest and she nervously rearranged her collar, lest her suit stick out.

“Ah, yes, yes... she stammered. But there is no problem...

— I just came to bring you the lessons I had proposed to you, Estelle added, handing them to her.

An embarrassed silence slowly settled between them.

It was the visitor who broke it first, saying:

“Well... I'm going to go now... I wouldn't want to get caught after the curfew...

— The curfew?" repeated Amélie, without understanding.

— Yes, they installed it a few days ago. Apparently someone broke into the kitchens and stole large quantities of food. It seems they even installed guards in them...”

After the greetings of rigour, Estelle left and Amélie was finally able to breathe.

The story of the curfew and the guards had worried her, but she did not intend to let herself be dismantled and went to get her equipment to finish equipping herself.

                                                             ***

Amélie was walking like a thief in the night.

The weak moonlight gently brightened the large room.

She did not dare to turn on her flash light despite the fact that it was difficult for her to distinguish what was standing in front of her.

The young woman was convinced that she had heard a noise nearby and, if as she believed, she was well in the secret laboratory, she had every interest in keeping a low profile.

However, in the darkness, she did not notice the cable badly taped to the ground and stumbled over it in a small shriek of distress and astonishment.

Amélie nevertheless tried to hold on to something so as not to spread all the way on the cold ground, but her hand only encountered metal objects hanging from hooks that hastened to detach themselves in a horrible clanking noise.

In a last hope of saving the furniture, she finally held onto a horizontal handle that protruded from the wall right next to her, unfortunately, it turned out to open a drawer that the young woman, under the prompt effect of gravity, ripped from her wings and splashed its contents on the floor at the same time as her cheek.

The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started and gave way to a strident alarm.

The lights came back on as Amélie stood up to realize that the secret laboratory where she had previously been convinced to have infiltrated was actually the faculty's kitchens.

“Damn...” she pestered, wondering what she was going to do.

However, the spy didn't have time to think any longer than about fifteen robots of various shapes and sizes came out of alcoves hidden in the kitchen walls.

It didn't take her long to realize that they were relatively much better armed than she was, when she saw the laser beams they were sending at her.

Fortunately, the room, which consisted of a series of horizontally aligned work plans, did not lack coverage, so, without thinking about it twice, Amélie jumped to the cover of the work plan she had just disturbed in her fall a few moments earlier.

Once in safety, she had an easier time counting her enemies. There were twenty of them, five coming out of the wall behind her, five others on her right and left and the last five in front of her.

Her hypodermic gun being totally useless against these tin cans, Agent A-204 looked around her, looking for something to defend herself.

Her luck returned when she saw the contents of the drawer she had spilled on the floor.

“Stealth was never my thing, anyway...” she sighed before leaping out of hiding with a determined look on her face.

When she counted them, she also took the time to study their structure. Each robot had a different size and weaponry, from the light laser pistol to the heavy grenade launcher, not to mention the laser submachine gun or the automatic rifle and sniper rifle, but they all had a similar humanoid structure consisting of an armoured body and limbs and a rounded head whose front face was made of a set of three or more lenses.

That was their weakness.

That's where she was bound to be aiming.

However, the task would not be easy, his enemies apparently having no respect for the equipment of the room, were firing on sight and without a second thought.

On the ground, she had picked up a series of long kitchen knives and had no match for the darts game.

First she jumped on the work bench and threw a first series of crumpled metal thirsty blades at the robot armed with a laser rifle that was closest to her and was therefore the most likely to have a potshot at her, something she didn't really want.

The three knives hit the nail on the head and flew right in, causing a noise of a fried electrical component, each one in one of the three lenses contained in its head as the robot pulled the trigger of its weapon and went to warm up the ceiling.

Amélie jumped out of the crossfire of five other machines and as she turned around, she went to stick another blade into the grenade that a sixth had thrown at her.

The long knife went through the explosive and dragged him into his murderous course, which led him to stick itself in the chest of the seventh one from which this murderous grenade came from. If this simple snag on his armour would not cause him great damage, the explosion that followed did not leave him completely indifferent.

The Agent propelled himself forward, immediately after landing, directly into the arms of the two robots carrying the remaining laser rifles and with a knife for each, sent their respective heads dancing into the air.

She continued her run as a hundred burning rays crashed at the foot of the metal carcasses of their fallen comrade where she was standing a few seconds earlier.

Five were now resting in peace at the Edenic junk yard for the silica and metal beings, but there were still fifteen left to save them from their sad fate as poor mortals and the acrobat was out of munitions.

Without taking the time to think, she grabbed a frying pan and several sharp forks that she found within reach and redirected her attention to the six enemies armed with submachine guns who were now the most dangerous still standing.

She dodged a sniper rifle shot from the back of the room and stepped over a new work surface to jump over three of these new targets and, before they could adjust their aim, shot a pretty sharp fork at lightning speed into each of their little glass heads.

In an electric squeak, they left for a better world, as she landed on another piece of furniture.

As soon as his feet touched it, they threw her back into the air again in a backward salto, dodging several rays as they passed.

However, she had been in almost the same spot for too long and a new grenade was shipped to her.

But Amélie had planned it and with a sublime reverse of her frying pan, she returned it to the third and last grenadier while the second one was already reloading.

Once on the ground, she bounced to the side, dodging the shots of the three snipers which then scorched the white tiles.

The Agent then continued her journey, grabbing a new series of utensils perfectly suited for the fight against robots.

However, in her frantic race, she had not really paid much attention to what she was picking up, as long as it had some metallic reflections, she was taking.

Also, the poor girl was quite surprised to find that the deadly utensils she had just thrown at the last three piles of scrap metal armed with submachine guns, which were very inconvenient to avoid, bounced softly against their lenses without causing real damage and for good reason, they were only simple spoons.

Nevertheless, her opponents, as surprised as she was by this surprising twist of events, took a little time to retaliate, giving her the opportunity to take cover again.

But a third grenade came to pull her out and, having nothing to turn her over this time, Amélie was forced to dash again between the white workstations.

Amélie was pessimistic as the copper pots flew around her. The artificial intelligences had apparently finally adapted to her speed and were taking less and less time to adjust their aim.

In the midst of all this chaos of copper and ceramic utensils, to which various laser beams of all colours had to be added, she was dancing, a wide smile on her face.

She grabbed a long knife with a mat blade and sent it to meet her soul mate, the glass optics of a tinplate carcass that collapsed with an electric squeak.

With the reverse side of a copper pan, she blocked three more shots and was about to block a fourth one before realizing that the bottom of the pan had completely melted, forcing her to jump aside so as not to eat herself the sweet, but too biting for her taste, scorch of a laser.

Tired of constantly having to dodge the rays of the poorly concealed snipers, Amélie grabbed three knives, planted on a cutting board, and sent them to remove from their bodies, the heads of the three robots armed with sniper guns that were putting her at risk from the other end of the room, to plant them into the wall behind them.

Now free of that threat, she abruptly changed direction and, while zigzagging between the rows, lowered down to grab one of the machine guns on the ground that the tin cans had kindly left at her disposal.

Now properly armed, she continued running to the nearest robot and placed the barrel of her weapon against the glass of her optics before pulling the trigger, sending a salvage through it and sending it to her to join her comrades in the tin cans' Eden.

The carcass lifted off the ground, dropping its machine pistol in the process.

She took advantage of this opportunity to seize it and, with her two weapons, unleashed the hellfire on two other robots that were aiming her and preparing to press the trigger on their five-seven lasers guns.

There were only five robots left standing. Three armed with automatic pistols, one survivor of the submachine-gun squad and another survivor of the grenadier squad.

Since the survivor's guilt was not something she wished for them and since they did not seem to be willing to surrender, Amélie decided to send them to join their little companions as well.

With a sharp kick on the ground, she propelled herself towards the last grenadier who quickly launched one of her potatoes served with plastic brick, and very spicy dressing, at her.

Her two hands taken by the submachine guns, Amélie leapt into the air and with a skilful arched kick that made her spin on herself, deflected this dish too spicy to her taste onto the sixth and last metal skeleton armed with a submachine gun that enjoyed such a feast so much that it blew itself to shreds.

The acrobat landed just behind the grenadier and gently placed the barrel of his weapons against his back, shredding him too.

All the dangerous robots had fallen.

One thing she had not anticipated, however, was that while she was busy making a cabriole the three gunners would drop their weapons and grab the automatic rifles that were lying on the ground before pouring a barrage of rays down on her.

Having no other choice, she leapt into cover while pestering.

Once sheltered, she checked her remaining ammunition before rushing forward, leaning over the ground again.

The bursts they sent her were causing considerable damage to the kitchen and caused many extremely expensive utensils to fly.

Her goal had never been to make the faculty buy back so much material and most importantly because she was afraid of having to reimburse everything at her own expense, she had to put an end to this futile fight as quickly as possible.

Agent A-204 leapt out of the cover of the workbench performing a backward salto, slightly distancing her from her enemies.

At the top of her jump, she pulled the trigger of her submachine guns and drew a very pretty impact cross on the chest and head of one of the scrap boys.

Only two more to go.

She fell back between two rows and resumed her crazy run, before leaping again as soon as they had lost track of her.

Her leap forward over a work surface, confronting her with her tinplate enemies, allowed her, with a single short burst of each of her submachine guns, to took down both into a cacophony of electric crackles.

However, the young woman could not enjoy the show and admire these last enemies join at last, their brothers who had fallen before them, since as she touched the ground again, her foot had the misfortune to land, not on the tile but on one of the spoons she had, without wishing it, thrown a little earlier, making her lose balance and meet the ground in a way greatly different from that planned, that is, the head first.

triast

At the same time, in a secret laboratory, not far from there, a teacher in a beautiful white coat was watching the whole scene on his monitors.

“Who would have thought they'd send such a pretty girl to try to stop me...” he whispered while typing on his keyboard.

He finally found what he was looking for, her record.

“Well, we'll see if she'll still be able to do that when her face is sought by the whole faculty...” he rejoices, creating a wanted notice.

A noise made him turn all his attention back to his surveillance screens to watch the sad spectacle of her masterful and final fall.

“Maybe I will not need to do anything, after all...” he sighed, sending the notice to the printer anyway.

                                                           *****

Thank you for reading the seventh chapter of "White Lilies are in Bloom" !

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