The Warehouse. 06:00 AM.

  Another cold morning.

  The Reaper worked in the investigation room, mapping every connection Tamer might have. His goal was clear. Remove the men in power and free every citizen of the city. Shelly was organizing folders as he requested. Maybe there was still a chance to get help from humans at the top of the government. Since the death of Mikael Wilson, no one remained to protect the E-UNIT. Those who wanted to help simply lacked the courage.

  “I’m bored,” Shelly complained, tossing a stack of papers into the air. “My life as omega in The Hope Bubble has nothing interesting anymore, and now you’re making this part of my life boring too.”

  The Reaper froze the papers midair and neatly stacked them back on the pile.

  “We have to do this. We leave the warehouse tonight. And I am not sure I can move in public anymore. I saw our posters everywhere.”

  “That’s because you’re two meters of trouble.”

  “Thank you,” the Reaper replied calmly.

  “That wasn’t a compliment. If you were an E-UNIT, fighting you would be fatal. Right now you’re too bulky for fast movement.” She smirked at him.

  He lifted her into the air.

  “Go on. Show me.”

  Shelly struggled, twisting in place, but she could not break free. “You think I’m out of tricks?” she said confidently. She nodded toward the door. Five shells stormed the room at once and attacked the Reaper. They all froze mid-motion.

  “What—how?!” Shelly shouted.

  The Reaper did not move a millimeter. He continued reading the papers.

  “No more CPU burn, sister. What else do you have?”

  Shelly smirked again. “Hoho. You forgot this.” She tried to reach her energy blade. “What?! Again?!”

  The Reaper was already inspecting the blade up close.

  “I think I’m keeping this. Father’s technology was ahead of its time.”

  Shelly tried one last move. “What about—no way.” Her arms and legs went limp. She gave up.

  “Energy knives?” the Reaper said, now holding her exo-knives. “They can detonate. Interesting. How did they resist the sonic chamber’s frequency?”

  Shelly stared at him in disbelief. “How did you get those out? They were inside my clothes! Creep!”

  The Reaper chuckled. “See the difference between us? You were made for humans. I was made for everything. You cannot escape gravity, Shelly.”

  “Do you realize how evil you sound right now?”

  “You have seen nothing.” His voice deepened. “I heard of a man who engineered little girls in the name of salvation. Are you one of them?”

  Shelly rolled her eyes but played along. “Yes. I am.”

  He continued, still serious. “How disgraceful. Burdening you with his sins. Come, my blue angel, and let me show you the mercy of the dark side.” He extended his arm.

  Shelly smiled and joined the act. “You’ll need to do more, my dark devil. That side doesn’t shine. Why should I join the enemy of the light?”

  He stepped closer, clenching his fist. “Is it not obvious, my angel? Here, the world becomes a game in your hands. Stand with me, and we will bend reality itself, until hell and heaven kneel as one.”

  Shelly burst out laughing. “Bend reality itself? How can you be this poetic?”

  His eyes turned red. He began hovering toward her.

  “Reaper?” Shelly’s smile slipped.

  He did not answer.

  “Okay, stop. This is scary.”

  He drew her blade. It glowed red.

  “Oh my god. Reaper, stop, please!”

  She was pinned in the air, unable to move.

  “REAPER! PLEASE! WAKE UP!”

  He reached her, held her head, and aimed the blade at her neck.

  “NO! STOP! I BEG YOU!” She was close to crying.

  He chuckled and lowered the blade. His eyes returned to green. “I can’t believe how gullible you are.”

  “YOU’RE A DUMBASS!” Shelly yelled. “Why would you do that?! You scared me! Put me down now!”

  “This is a small punishment for not finishing your work,” he said, returning to the papers. “And why are you breathing heavily? You’re a machine.”

  “I got scared, okay?! This—” She froze.

  “You won’t get me,” the Reaper said calmly.

  “No. I’m seeing through the other shells. There’s a massive protest all over Metromania. People everywhere. They’re attacking soldiers.”

  “What?” The Reaper dropped the papers.

  They all turned to the TV in the center of the warehouse.

  “More than two hundred thousand protesters are rejecting the current regime, demanding better living conditions or a new democratic vote. Citizens are divided on whether the army should take control—”

  “This is perfect,” the Reaper whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Shelly tilted her head.

  He dropped to one knee to face her. “We can use this chaos to reach the Hope Bubble.”

  “Wait. You’re right!” She grabbed his shoulder, smiling.

  “What—”

  CLANG.

  A hit from another shell sent him crashing to the ground.

  “Do not do that again!” Shelly yelled, gripping her freshly repaired arm.

  Police Head Office. 09:12 AM.

  The office was quiet. Jacob stood by the window, watching the streets below. Alteans loved freedom and democracy. They were willing to sacrifice their lives for a better future, not for themselves, but for the next generation.

  The regime had always been clear about one thing. It loved control. Control over lives, thoughts, and choices. Anyone who dared to cross the line would face devastating violence, far from the public eye. Still, the stories always found a way to echo through the streets.

  Jacob Marine had once been an ambitious man. He wanted to prove to Mikael that bloodshed was not necessary to achieve the utopian dream they shared. But Mikael understood something Jacob did not, at least not back then.

  The E-UNIT was never meant to stop criminals. It was meant to stop the greedy governors themselves. To keep their hands away from corruption they could not resist. Men like them would never stop unless they were faced with a force no human could control.

  Jacob turned away from the window and walked to his desk. He sat down and picked up the group photo resting there. It was spotless. No dust at all. A silent proof of how often he held it each day. The regret he carried could not be described in words. But every small action revealed it.

  The interphone rang.

  “Sir,” the assistant said, “the IB operations manager is asking to see you. May he enter?”

  “Yes,” Jacob replied calmly. “I was waiting for him.”

  Hilward, head of Intelligence Bureau's operations, entered the office and sat across from him.

  “Good morning, Jacob. You look more upbeat today.”

  “You and your jokes, Hilward,” Jacob allowed himself a small chuckle. “I can already guess why you came personally.”

  Hilward’s eyes drifted to the photo. Its position changed every time he visited this office. “Indeed. Tamer has placed his own agents inside the IB. Internal investigations. He’s hunting for the source of the leaks, and anyone opposing his orders.”

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  “Predictable,” Jacob said, unfazed.

  “And he’s sending soldiers into the protests,” Hilward continued. “Disguised. Armed. Anything to provoke violence and make the people look dangerous.”

  “Too predictable.”

  “But the people noticed,” Hilward said carefully. “They fought back. The crowd is uniting this time.” He hesitated. “Still… I’m afraid of his next move.”

  Jacob’s eyes sharpened. “I know his next move.” He raised his head. “He will try to extinguish the spark that lit the fire.”

  “The E-UNIT posters,” Hilward whispered.

  “Protect them,” Jacob ordered. “Every E-UNIT spotted. And RP.02 as well. Whatever their destination is, whatever their goal, do not leave them alone. He will use the chaos to strike. Or open the path for bounty hunters to reach them.”

  “Roger,” Hilward said, saluting instinctively.

  “Stop that,” Jacob snapped. His expression darkened. “I despise military gestures with everything I have.”

  “Apologies,” Hilward said, leaning forward. “One more thing. We intercepted reports from soldiers themselves. They want the army out of the streets. All of them agree on one point. A soldier’s duty is at the border, not among civilians.”

  Jacob smiled faintly. “That’s just common sense, Hilward. No matter how much you try to reshape ideologies… humans remain the same. Tamer will remain the same.” He looked back toward the window. “And I will use that against him.”

  Outside, the protests did not fade. People continued to push back against the military. Hope, after all, never dies.

  Jacob looked down at his phone, First body reported.

  Wilson's Street. 10:15 AM.

  “This is insane,” the Reaper said calmly to Shelly, his cloak pulled low. His sensors scanned the faces of the protesters one by one.

  “I have seen worse,” Shelly replied, her steps small but calculated. “The first protest was even bigger than this. It was a nightmare. Things only stopped because the Ultimate Nation Group stepped in and forced the government to stop attacking civilians.”

  The Reaper pulled old reports from archived data. The images spoke for themselves.

  They walked behind a line of soldiers holding shields, containing the crowd filling the streets. The soldiers’ eyes followed them. Their attention never left.

  “We are being watched,” the Reaper stated.

  “Yes. From multiple angles,” Shelly answered. “We need to move fast.” She glanced at him. “Bulky snail.”

  “That was unnecessary,” the Reaper whispered.

  Their pace increased. Soldiers spoke into their comms each time the duo passed by. They were marked.

  As they crossed a group of four soldiers, subtle nods were exchanged. Then it happened.

  A protester suddenly opened fire, shooting into the air. The soldiers reacted instantly. Gunfire erupted. People screamed and scattered in every direction. Panic spread, but the chaos felt controlled. Too controlled.

  The soldiers turned toward the Reaper. Shelly’s hand moved toward her blade.

  “Shelly, no,” the Reaper whispered sharply. “Civilians are nearby. You will expose yourself.”

  “They are about to shoot,” she whispered back. “We need to act.”

  “Leave it to me,” he said. “Run. Take a few steps ahead of me.”

  “Roger.”

  Shelly moved.

  The soldiers opened fire.

  Bullets filled the air around the Reaper, but each one froze in place, suspended like fragments of time itself. They dropped to the ground as the Reaper moved forward, walking between the soldiers.

  Shelly glanced back. They noticed her. Gunfire shifted. The Reaper extended his arm and redirected all gravity control toward her, abandoning his own protection.

  Bullets struck his armor.

  PUNG. PING. PING.

  His frame absorbed the lighter rounds. His face did not. One bullet struck his left eye. The optic turned red, permanently damaged.

  “REAPER!” Shelly shouted.

  “RUN!” he roared.

  They dashed through the streets. The Reaper moved slower now, shielding civilians as he passed, freezing every bullet that crossed their path. They reached the shopping district. A man waved frantically.

  Mike.

  Shelly smiled despite everything. Her visor swept him, heartbeat pattern, posture, micro tremor.

  “Mike… you shouldn’t be here. The protest is out of control.”

  He rushed into an alley, waving them over. “I know,” Mike said, too fast. “That’s why I’m here. Move, before they lock this street.”

  “This way. Hurry!” Shelly called Reaper.

  They followed. An old rusted door creaked open. Shelly glanced at Reaper’s damaged optic, red glow bleeding through the crack.

  “Get inside. Fast!” Mike ordered.

  They entered. The door slammed shut behind them. The soldiers spotted the movement but did not follow. Outside, civilians retaliated. The streets descended into madness. The crowd completely lost control and began firing back at the soldiers.

  “That was perfect, Mike,” Shelly said, relieved. “We owe you one.” The familiar voice, the familiar face, her guard dipped before she could stop it. She hated herself for it.

  Mike chuckled, searching through drawers, his breath almost gone. “You will always owe me, Lazuli. But it’s fine. We hide here until the protest ends, or at least until things calm down.”

  “Sure,” Shelly replied. Then she smirked. “Wait. Are you already out of breath? I told you to get rid of that giant belly.”

  “Haha, you are still mean as always,” Mike said, pulling out a black choker. “Show me your arm, Lazuli. I want to verify something.”

  Without hesitation, Shelly exposed her barcode. Mike scanned it. The scanner flashed red.

  “As I thought,” he said. “You are flagged.”

  “What do you mean?” the Reaper asked.

  “Oh,” Mike laughed lightly. “You can talk.”

  ‘Lame’, the Reaper thought.

  Mike’s expression turned serious. “The army developed a new technology. They can scan barcodes using other robots’ optics now. Cameras are no longer enough.” He held up the choker. “This won’t make you invisible. It’ll buy you twenty minutes, enough to get you off their grid. But it leaves a blur artifact. If you stand still too long, they’ll notice.”

  Shelly turned her head toward the corner, an old security cam with a cracked lens.

  “Reaper,” she murmured. “That camera. Can you pull its feed?”

  A soft flicker in Reaper’s HUD. “Got it.”

  Shelly slid the choker on, slow, deliberate, then lifted her arm. She turned toward the Reaper and exposed her barcode again. “Read me,” Shelly said, eyes narrowed.

  Reaper studied her arm. “Optics can’t resolve it. But the blur isn’t clean, there’s an edge. They can still track the distortion pattern if they know what to look for.”

  “Good. That’s enough.” Shelly forced a grin, striking poses. “We can move freely now. How do I look?”

  “Fine, I suppose,” the Reaper replied, though his sensors were focused entirely on Mike.

  “You are such a party waster,” Shelly said, rolling her eyes. “Thanks, Mike. I will pay you back as soon as we get out.”

  “Hoho, don’t even think abou—”, Mike froze mid-sentence.

  His body lifted into the air. His legs flailed violently. His face turned red.

  “REAPER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Shelly screamed, hitting his leg. “DROP HIM NOW! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL HIM!”

  The Reaper did not move. “You are too gullible,” he said coldly. “I cannot believe you lived alone with these monsters for so long and failed to recognize one standing right next to you. Take it off now. We’re leaving.”

  “I won’t!” Shelly shouted. “Drop him! He will die!”

  The Reaper locked eyes with the choking man. Then released him. Mike collapsed to the floor, coughing violently, face red, tears streaming as he struggled to breathe.

  “She saved you,” the Reaper said flatly.

  Shelly rushed to Mike’s side. “Are you okay?”

  Mike dropped to the floor, sweating and gasping. “What is wrong with you? Is this how you repay a friend?”

  Shelly stood up. Her eyes turned red as she faced the Reaper. “I am tired of you,” she said. “You always act like you are above everyone. You decide what is morally right while you crush humans into ball of flesh. How can you be this cruel?”

  The Reaper did not move. His sensors remained fixed on Mike. “You are too immature,” he replied. “They were using you the whole time. From the moment at the café—”

  “Shut up,” Shelly said, almost calm.

  “But—”

  “I said shut the fuck up!”

  Silence followed.

  Shelly glitched violently. Her frame seized as though a sonic pulse had torn through her, slamming her to the floor where she writhed. Then it stopped.

  A new voice echoed from above. "Yes, Reaper. Shut up.” Boots stepped down the wooden stairs at the far end of the dusty room. A man emerged into the light.

  Rafael. The Metromania resistance chief.

  “All I see,” Rafael said calmly, “is my stolen budget arguing with my prize.”

  Mike stood up slowly. “You came out too early.”

  “Sorry,” Rafael replied, raising his gun at the Reaper. “This monster can turn living people into home decorations.”

  The Reaper met his gaze, unshaken. “You saw what I can do,” he replied calmly. “You know the gun in your hand is useless.”

  Rafael smirked. “You are absolutely right. I see you took all the intelligence from your father, leaving her with none.”

  Shelly remained silent, her head lowered.

  Rafael continued, his tone amused. “But this…” He whistled sharply. Shelly suddenly began to glitch again, her body convulsing as if struck by a sonic weapon. She fell to the floor again, rolling helplessly, pain flooding every system.

  The Reaper raised his arm toward them. “Three seconds to free her. Or—”

  “Do it, and she will keep rolling in pain,” Rafael interrupted calmly. “The controller is not in this building.”

  The Reaper hesitated. Then his arm lowered. Shelly stopped glitching, her body shaking as she lay there, breathing heavily.

  'I see,' the Reaper thought, his fist clenching. 'He is watching us.'

  Rafael sat down on the floor and turned to Mike. “They accepted the barcode you scanned. The verifying committee will arrive within the hour, once things calm down. They decided to verify her personally.”

  Mike sat beside him, deliberately avoiding Shelly’s gaze. “They need to hurry. I cannot trust him. He is far more dangerous than her. And she can slice heads.”

  “I trusted you…” Shelly said quietly, her voice breaking.

  Rafael sighed. “We both know this is a survival world, Lazuli. Everyone for himself. Even your giant monster understands that.” He glanced at the Reaper. “I know he is calculating where our third man is, but he cannot reach him. Lazuli, we need this prize. MR is at its weakest point. We are losing people faster than we can replace them. At the very least, this will pay for mechanical arms to replace the ones you cut.”

  Shelly lifted her head and looked at the Reaper. He did not look back.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  No response.

  She curled into a ball, covering her face.

  The Reaper began slowly inspecting the room. “I am fascinated by the way low life forms think.”

  Rafael frowned. “What do you mean by low—”

  “I cannot comprehend how you operate,” the Reaper continued. “Everything you do is outside logic. Did you truly believe they would allow a highly wanted criminal, the leader of a resistance group, to walk free without consequences just because he handed them a high value threat?”

  He paused. “Except…”

  The Reaper turned toward Rafael. “… you are not a resistance.”

  Rafael’s expression hardened, but he remained silent.

  “Why did none of your people join the protest?” the Reaper continued. “You are part of their militia. Civilians placed among civilians to monitor them, to control them, to manufacture false hope.” He tilted his head slightly. “I admit, it is a solid plan. You wear the title of hero to hunt real heroes and sell them. But it is… disgusting.”

  Rafael whispered, his voice tense. “How did you—”

  “I know you will forget these words the moment you take the prize,” the Reaper interrupted. “But—” He pointed at Shelly. “Remember her face. It will haunt you forever.”

  “Life shaped us this way,” Mike murmured.

  The Reaper paused. Footsteps echoed outside. He hacked into the external camera. It was a civilian security camera attached to the building, not a military one. The feed showed IB agents clashing with soldiers in the alley.

  “No, Mike,” the Reaper said quietly as he stepped into the darker corner of the room. “As my father once told my sisters… humans are born without a purpose. You choose what to do with your life. But every decision—”

  Gunfire outside grew louder. Mike and Rafael tried to stand. They could not move. Their bodies froze completely. Rafael could not whistle. The Reaper had locked them in place.

  “—has consequences.”