The facility was in chaos.
Blaring alarms cut through the sterile air, their shrill cries reverberating off cold metal walls. The rhythmic stomp of boots, frantic voices barking orders, the mechanical hiss of security doors slamming into lockdown—all of it layered together in a dissonant symphony of disorder. Red emergency lights flickered through the glass of her containment pod, casting fractured shadows across her vision.
Somewhere beyond, distant explosions trembled through the structure. Something was happening. Something big. But through the haze in her mind, she could barely piece together why.
The noise pulled her from the depths of sedation, her thoughts sluggish, her body unresponsive. The world around her was fragmented, slipping between consciousness and nothingness. It took effort just to process the data flashing across the transparent glass of her pod—real-time vitals, neural synchronization status, system stability. Meaningless numbers.
A sharp crack split through the cacophony.
Then, the sound of shattering glass.
Instinct took over. Her body flinched, eyes squeezing shut against the inevitable impact. The cold air rushed in, carrying with it the metallic tang of burning circuits, but before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her, steady and firm.
"Wake up."
A voice. Close. Steady. Urgent.
Her breath hitched as she forced her eyes open. A face hovered just above hers, framed by the erratic red light. His gaze was sharp, scanning her expression for recognition. He was wearing the same cybernetic suit as her, battle-worn but functioning, a tangle of reinforced plating and sleek, unnatural machinery. A flash of familiarity struck her. A connection she couldn't explain.
"Can you hear me?," he continued, voice firm despite the chaos around them, "We're getting out of here. Together."
She blinked, forcing her sluggish mind to process his words. "Together…?"
The boy's grip remained steady as he helped her upright. "It's good to see you again."
Again.
The word lingered, heavy in her thoughts. That memory—
"The battlefield," she murmured, studying his face. "We locked eyes… didn't we?"
His expression didn't shift, but something in his gaze flickered with recognition. "You remember."
"Not clearly," she admitted. "But I saw you."
"They tried to erase it." His tone darkened, his grip on her arm tightening briefly before he let out a measured breath. "I guess they failed."
Failed. She didn't know whether to take comfort in that or fear it.
"I'm X-02," he continued, stepping back slightly, though he kept an arm steadying her in case she collapsed again.
A name. A designation. A piece of a puzzle that still made no sense.
"…A-01." The words left her lips before she fully understood them, as if instinctively programmed into her.
His jaw tightened.
The alarms wailed louder, the facility teetering on the edge of collapse. Overhead, the intercom crackled with broken transmissions, distorted voices shouting about breaches, containment failures, lockdown protocols overridden. The entire facility was spiraling into anarchy.
Through the shattered glass, she glimpsed movement—figures in dark suits moving between the shadows, some carrying weapons, others desperately trying to stabilize the situation. It was impossible to tell friend from foe.
X-02 turned, scanning the area, his jaw clenched. "We don't have much time."
She wasn't sure where they were going or why he was so certain they had to leave. But something inside her told her to trust him. And so, unsteady but willing, she followed.
As the effects of sedation wore off, her mind became clearer. A-01. That was who she was. Not just a designation, but something deeply embedded within her. Her body—altered, strengthened, encased in a powerful exoskeleton—was built for something beyond simple survival. She could be controlled, her consciousness suppressed and overridden at will. And above all, she was feared. The scientists avoided her, altered her configurations, restrained her movements when necessary.
She took an unsteady step away from the pod, the cold floor pressing against her feet. As she moved, tubes and wires connected to her tore free, some hissing as they disconnected. There was no pain, only the sensation of detachment, of something final breaking away.
X-02 reached for her wrist, steady but firm. "Come on," he urged. "We need to move."
She followed without question, letting him lead her through the chaos. The facility was unraveling, and with it, their opportunity to escape. They wove through the corridors, avoiding security teams scrambling to contain the breach. The metallic scent of scorched circuitry filled the air, mingling with the faint, acrid stench of burning materials. The red emergency lights flickered erratically, casting long, fractured shadows.
"What's happening?" she asked, voice hoarse from disuse.
"The facility's control system was hacked," X-02 explained as they ducked behind a collapsed wall panel. "They're scrambling to regain control, but that's our chance. If we move fast, we can get out before they lock everything down."
Her mind was still sluggish, still processing. "Who hacked it?"
"The rebels, probably." His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. "And I don't care. We use the opportunity before it closes."
They pressed forward, breaking through security barriers, slipping past patrols, avoiding the surveillance drones that hovered ominously above the halls. The deeper they went, the more she realized—this was the first time she had ever been fully conscious. No restraints. No forced shutdowns. No suppressions overriding her thoughts.
For the first time since she could remember, she was awake.
And she was running free.