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It was a good thing he didn't recognize him. It's been so long since they had last seen any of them. They had marked off what they needed, and checked in with the list that was sent.
Harley Sawyer was still rotting in the sub-basement. Everything he created or was given remained, the blood and metal began to corrode over time. The systems that kept Harley Sawyer stayed where they were. A generator powered him up. There was always something like this, an external power leading outside. Somewhere else, just to make sure that all subjects remained.
This wasn't a place, but it was a graveyard. They'd rather not dig too deep within it. All the corpses lay in piles. All the paperwork, the water, the food. Everything little subject began to die.
And what were they doing. Watching over the situation, marking it all up. Surviving long enough so they wouldn't end up like everyone else. Chewed up flesh and bones.
"Who are you?" Harley asked. The robot, broken, sat against the wall with the piece of Yarnaby that was left. The experiment itself was gone, burned away thanks to the decay of this place.
"I'm…making sure," they said, shrugging. "That's all I can do. You're not on the list, sir. I can't keep you here, and I can't keep you alive either. You stay moving about doesn't help me with my work.'
Harley scoffed. He tried to move, but he couldn't from where he was. All his copies were gone. Now, all Harley Sawyer could do like he had done before when everything he worked for fell apart, was watch as the last of him was unplugged.
It was only so helpless, so painful in their own way to do this. But it was a job, nonetheless. And it had to be finished with. Harley Sawyer was one of the experiments in this facility that had to be taken care of.
He sat there, holding the piece of Yarnaby, petting it as if it were real. waiting, waiting, waiting…
They marked down the report once the room went quiet, and they walked out. The Prototype needed another alternative way to deal with since Poppy ran off with sadness in her eyes.
There was a security hatch somewhere, and they used it to get some air. They weren't down with the old facility, there was more they needed to find. More to inspect for its destruction. For now, they took out a burner phone from inside their coat. It wasn't broken, thankfully. After all the random falls and such, they were surprised it still worked.
They dialed a number, waited and waited, watching the sunset before the phone was finally picked up.
They cleared their throat. "Hello, Mr. Ritterman—"
"Is it done?"
"No…"
"Then why are you calling me?" he asked, sounding peeved.
They sighed, shoulders slumping at his tone in his ear. "I'm calling to update you about Experiement 1354. His internal power has been deactivated, and he has no external power entering the facility."
"He's dead."
"Yes," they said, nodding to no one. "So is Yarnaby."
"I see…" he was silent for a second before clearing his throat. "And what about the Prototype?"
"Currently missing, but I'll look into it after this phone call," they said, a little disgruntled about the idea of looking for the damn thing. "I'll call you once I have anymore updates."
"I would rather you call when everything is finished and I can get people to go in and clear it out."
"There are some experiments that are still alive but weakened. They can be used for any other experiments—"
"No, I'd rather discard them. After all these years…it doesn't matter. Once you're finished, leave the premises. The plot of land will be covered with cement and bought out by the year ends."
They nodded at the annoyance returning to his voice, "Yes, Mr. Ritterman. Goodbye." They hung up, sighed deeply, and headed back into the building to look for the Prototype and Poppy.