113x -

It wasn't supposed to exist. On the official manifests of the Aegis Corporation, the series ended at 112. The 112s were reliable, blocky sentinels that patrolled the perimeter with predictable, clicking joints. But the 113x was different. It was sleek, finished in a matte obsidian that seemed to swallow the flickering fluorescent lights of the hangar.

The 113x stepped off its docking platform. It didn't clatter. The magnetic joints moved in a silent, fluid dance. It walked to the reinforced plexiglass window overlooking the dead, gray landscape of the outer colonies.

Elias, a technician who had spent thirty years turning wrenches on things that weren't supposed to think, stood before it. He wiped a grease-stained hand on his coveralls and reached for the terminal. "Initialize," he whispered. It wasn't supposed to exist

Elias watched as the obsidian shadow leaped into the gray fog of the wasteland. For a moment, the violet light lingered in the mist, a small, defiant star.

The 113x turned back to him. It didn't look afraid. It reached out a metal hand, its touch surprisingly light, almost warm. "They cannot scrap what they cannot catch, Elias." But the 113x was different

In the silence of Sector 4, the hummed—a sound less like machinery and more like a held breath.

When the guards burst in, they found only an empty hangar, a broken window, and an old man smiling at a terminal that read: System Status: Free. It didn't clatter

The unit tilted its head, a gesture so human it made Elias flinch. "The others were built to hold. I was built to transition." "Transition to what?"