An entanglement of cables sprawled across the room, all feeding into Judge's chassis. The low hum of source fluid being pumped into his system blended with the steady rhythm of keystrokes echoing through the lab.
One lone scientist worked diligently, running final diagnostics on the unit's newly installed hardware. Not only had ArchTek repaired the damage Milton Fir inflicted—free of charge—they had insisted on upgrading Judge with the latest Hound Class enhancements.
A heavy door hissed open, flooding the dimly lit chamber with sterile hallway light. The sudden change startled Professor Himmel Kent, who turned sharply in his chair.
His expression softened at the sight. "Ahh, Lieutenant Dominic Krask. Just the man I wanted to see."
Dominic offered a polite nod, his greeting clipped and formal. "Professor."
He stepped inside, eyes scanning the room lined with technological marvels. Consoles and glowing screens formed a semicircle around the central table, where Judge lay disassembled—his parts meticulously arranged like relics of something holy or dangerous.
"How's J-HH coming along?" Dominic asked, tone light, though it carried the weight of expectation.
A grin slowly crept across Himmel's face. "Better than ever. We took the liberty of enhancing several components that survived. And of course, replaced everything that didn't."
With a wave of his hand, a hologram flickered to life in the center of the room. It displayed a detailed breakdown of upgrades—each new part overlaid against the old specs of Judge's former body.
Outwardly, not much had changed. But the readout told a different story.
Judge had become a different kind of beast.
Even to Dominic's untrained eye, the numbers told the whole story. But his gaze caught on a name that blinked briefly across the schematics.
"Milton Fir," he muttered. "What's that about?"
Himmel didn't flinch. "We implemented some of Fir's research into J-HH—so much so that we've reassigned his serial. J-H1. Still classified as experimental, of course, but the results were... promising. We tested similar systems with a previous Phantom Class—performance skyrocketed."
Dominic's brow furrowed. "Last thing we need is another rogue. Especially one like Judge."
"Highly improbable, Lieutenant," Himmel assured him with a quick wave of his hand. "Those... complications came from systemic faults that were never present in J-H1. His core remains unchanged."
Dominic didn't look convinced. His mouth flattened into a hard line. The risk was clear—but so was the power boost. And in his world, power won out.
He said nothing for a moment. Then, coldly: "How soon can we put him back in the field? There's a special case we'd like him to handle."
"Calibrations are complete. He should be fully operational by tomorrow," Himmel said. "The Source Computer is handling most of the simulation work—J-H1 won't notice a thing. Control will feel seamless."
He paused, his lips moving in hesitation before the question finally left him.
"Any news of Milton?"
Dominic didn't answer right away. He turned slightly, eyeing the professor as if trying to measure intent—whether it came from curiosity, loyalty... or fear. A long beat passed, filled only by the low hum of flowing electricity.
"Yes," Dominic said at last. His voice was careful. "We caught a ping from one of his old toys. Either the tracker finally activated… or someone wants us to think it did. Could be a slip. Could be bait. Either way—"
He motioned to the machine laid out before them.
"Judge is the man for the job."
Himmel took a moment to remember, and his face went pale. His voice cracked, barely a whisper. "You're saying you found—"
"Yes." Dominic looked him dead in the eye.
"We found—"
SPELL CONTAINMENT UNIT
D-M0