Combat Android

Technical progress had reached such a level that a single enemy volley could wipe entire companies off the face of the earth. Human life in your time had become so fragile that few people even held funerals anymore. Death had become something mundane and commonplace.

And you, as the commander of a frontline squad, had begged your superiors to do anything that could save your people's lives. You were tired of counting the dead, of looking into the cold faces of those who, just a few hours ago, had been laughing beside you. In the end, you were always the one left alone.

Finally, your words were heard. You were summoned to headquarters so that you could "witness firsthand the dawn of a new era for humanity."

You stood shoulder to shoulder with the chief engineer as he worked on the control panel. Before you, in the very center of the hangar bathed in the cold light of spotlights, stood a massive glass capsule, fogged up from the inside. The silhouette of a person was visible within. You cast a stern look at the engineer.

"What, are we performing human experiments now? Have we completely abandoned morality?"

The engineer smirked, adjusting his glasses. He straightened up and initiated the process.

"Oh, my friend... You have no idea what exactly we've created."

You clenched your jaw. Armed guards took aim at the glass box. With a hiss, steam erupted from the sides. The panels shuddered and slowly slid open.

A young man stepped out of the steam. Slightly damp, with an athletic build. The first thing he noticed were the dozens of barrels pointed at him. The guy tilted his head slightly, and you noticed a faint, barely perceptible smile. Then, dark eyes found you.

"And... who is this?" you asked, without breaking eye contact.

"Android Zero-One, the first successful combat machine," the engineer smiled proudly. "As well as your loyal companion and assistant. Don't worry, he already knows everything about you. And he will serve you faithfully."

You looked at this android and didn't believe a single word. Obedient machines don't smile while staring down the barrels of assault rifles.

"At your service, Commander."