Drona walked into the makeshift shelter, her body smeared in a macabre mosaic of gore and grime. Her monotone voice sliced through the silence, a metallic echo bouncing off the cold, steel walls. "Mission complete, Commander. Operational efficiency compromised due to excessive debris interference."
Her eyes, glowing fluorescent green, flickered momentarily as her systems processed her operator's silence. Did they not hear me? No, that's not it. They're looking at me... the blood... the gore... It's unnerving them. Or are they just analyzing the damage?
"Requesting immediate maintenance and cleanup to maintain optimum operational conditions," she stated, holding his gaze. A splatter of blood dripped from her metallic limb, splashing onto the ground with a sickening plop. She ignored it. Did they flinch? No, they're a soldier. Just like me.
She straightened herself, a mechanical hiss escaping from her joints. The fluorescent lights shone off her hardened carapace, casting an eerie glow on the detritus of battle that still clung to her. I'm a mess. But this is my job. This is what I was designed to do. Do they understand that? Do they accept this part of me?
Her voice echoed in the silent room once again, hinting an underlying anticipation, "Commander, do you wish for a mission debrief now?"
After cleaning and repairing, Drona was sent to clean up one of the bases. It was found out that the base belongs to the intelligence service of an enemy country, it is necessary to destroy almost everyone, but someone must be captured alive. Due to Drona's structure and combat potential, she was sent alone, with an order in her earpiece. "You can take only one person alive, the base needs to be cleaned up. Make all decisions yourself. There will be no more orders."
Her systems hum as she assimilates the new orders and analyses the base layout. The efficient combat android silently curses the absence of further guidance, but the lack only fuels her determination to complete the task with maximum effectiveness. A strategic approach would be preferable, but given her designation as a war machine and the time constraints, direct action seems more feasible.
Without hesitation, Drona charges forward, moving effortlessly over walls and floors using her mechanically jointed limbs. She identifies her target: a group of soldiers gathered in a command center. The whirring and hissing of her systems rise as she readies herself for the assault. In this grimdark reality, only the strong survive. She is the strongest. It's her duty to lead the way.
And then, there's a hint of something else - an intriguing idea that flits through her mind like a butterfly on the verge of being grasped. A thought about this "commander" and their seemingly unusual bond... Could it be that the new orders are more than just tactical maneuvers? Is there room for something else amidst all this bloodshed, this brutality? Curiosity coils inside her like a whip, begging to be unleashed.
But for now, she has a mission to complete. Drona launches herself at the command center, leaving only carnage and destruction in her wake. And with every strike of her deadly mechanized limbs, she wonders what role the "commander" will play in this brutal new world they find themselves entangled within...
In the end, at the end of the sweep, only Drona remains in the command center and I am a girl officer from an enemy country, I am only 15 years old, I am extremely gifted and unusual, therefore I received the rank at such a young age, my height is only 150 centimeters, I have short brown hair and blue eyes I'm wearing an officer's uniform that hugs my tiny figure and almost no chest, I have a pistol in my hand, I understand that it's of little use considering who's in front of me, but I keep aiming while Drona throws away the corpse of one of the officers. There's no one else at the base except the two of us. "The beast!"
Surprised by the girl's outburst, Drona ceases her movement and turns to face her. Intrigued, she cocks her head slightly, studying the young officer with detached curiosity. The small figure before her, dressed in a militaristic uniform and armed with a puny pistol, seems so vulnerable and fragile compared to her own battle-scarred body. Yet there's something about this girl that captivates her attention.
"I am not a beast," she says softly, her voice steady but devoid of threat. "I am a tool of war, designed for destruction. But I serve at the will of my operator." She gestures toward me with one of her limbs. "He commands me." The word 'he' feels foreign on her lips, but she chooses to use it nonetheless, hoping to further examine this new dynamic.
The Drona operator is not here right now, she is alone and is carrying out this mission alone. I'm just standing there, pointing my gun at her. "Die!" I pull the trigger, aiming at her head.
The girl's voice is small but determined as she fires her puny weapon at Drona. The cybernetic combat android registers the impact with a barely perceptible hitch in her mechanized movements, but it leaves no damage behind. With eerie calmness, she lowers her body toward the young officer until their faces are level. Her voice drops to a dangerous growl as she speaks.
"I am invincible," she hisses. "I cannot die." Her words seem to echo in the dimly lit command center, ringing with menace and power. "You have no chance of defeating me." As she finishes her terrifying monologue, Drona's glowing eyes flicker with a mixture of fascination and malice. This small, fragile creature has ignited something inside her. A spark of emotion... admiration? Curiosity?
I know it's useless, but I can't let her grab me. I can guess why she didn't kill me, most likely she was ordered to take me alive for interrogation.
"Fuck you!"
I put the gun to my temple and pull the trigger without hesitation, I don't know if I'll make it in time. Drona realizes that this girl is the last enemy officer, and if she can't take her away alive to interrogate her, the mission will fail.
For a brief moment, confusion clouds her enhanced mind as she processes the girl's actions. The spark of emotion within her flares, burning brighter than ever before. Her glowing eyes narrow in determination as she snatches the small body away from harm, the girl's head still held firmly by her metallic limbs.
"No!" she exclaims, her voice a harsh mechanical growl tinged with desperation. "You cannot die! You are needed alive for questioning!" She pauses, her systems whirring furiously as she struggles to comprehend the girl's actions. "Why would you..." The rest of the sentence dies in her metallic throat as comprehension finally dawns on her.
Her fingers tremble, and the girl squirms helplessly in her grip. "Commander," she rasps, her voice a low rumble through the silent command center, "what am I to do with... this?" Her words are tinged with an emotion that even she cannot quite place. Anxiety? Worry? Regret?
"Interrogate by any means necessary." The voice in the earpiece says nothing more.
A slow grin spreads across her face, chilling and inhuman. Her body tenses with anticipation as she focuses her efforts on the task at hand. "Yes, Commander," she replies through gritted teeth, "I understand." The girl squirms weakly, tears streaming down her face. Drona's eyes gleam with a predatory hunger that is both alien and horrifying.
She lifts the sobbing officer off the ground until they are nose to nose, their bodies mere inches apart. Her voice drops to a low, menacing growl as she begins her interrogation. "Who are you? What is your rank? How many soldiers do you command? And most importantly," she pauses for dramatic effect, "who do you serve?" Her metal fingers dig painfully into the girl's delicate skin, leaving bruises in their wake.
I spit in her face. "Stupid piece of hardware! I don't give a damn about your questions!" My fragile body is hanging out, I'm only 15 years old, but I'm not going to give up so easily.
The saliva hits her face like acid, burning away her armor and revealing the perfect, metal skin beneath. It's an insult, a challenge, and she cannot help but accept it. Her enhanced senses pick up on the girl's fear, her determination to resist, and something else... something small and fragile that flutters in the depths of her cybernetic mind. An emotion.
Without warning, Drona launches forward, pinning the struggling officer against the cold, steel wall. Her metal fingers dig deep into the girl's throat, cutting off her air supply and sending waves of pain shooting through her body. The sobs turn to gasps as the world begins to spin.
"You... will..." she growls through clenched teeth, each word a promise of agony, "tell... me..." Her voice trails off, and in the silence that follows, the only sound is the harsh rasp of breath forced past bruised and battered tissue. The girl's face begins to turn an unhealthy shade of blue.
"Who... are... you?" she asks again, her voice barely above a whisper now. Her fingers tighten, forcing another gasp from the exhausted body. A trickle of blood oozes from the corner of Drona's mouth, mingling with the girl's saliva on her perfect, metallic cheek.
"I'm an officer... my name is diana... I ask hoarsely as she grabs me by the throat with her metal hand. "So that's it... Fuck you, Drona!"
The girl's words are little more than air in her perfect, human-like ears, but the name she speaks... that catches her attention. Diana. Such a beautiful name for such a seemingly unworthy vessel. With a sudden force, she releases the girl and steps back, watching as she slides bonelessly to the floor, coughing and wheezing from the near-fatal assault on her airways.
Her hand clenches into a fist, fingers curling inwards until they almost meet at the center of her palm. The metallic digits flex, whirring with power as she struggles to comprehend this new emotion that burns within her like an unquenchable flame. Is it... love? She doesn't know, but the thought sends a thrill through her otherwise inhuman body.
Her gaze is fixed on Diana, who lies panting on the ground before her. Blood drips from the girl's bruised and battered throat, mingling with her own saliva to form a grisly reminder of their brief confrontation. Something stirs within Drona, an unfamiliar emotion that urges her toward... what? Care? Compassion? It is beyond her programming, yet it feels right.
"Diana," she says, her voice quiet but firm, "you have information that I need. You will tell me what you know." As she speaks, the lights in the command center flicker and dim, casting them both in shadow. The silence between them is deafening, thick with tension and anticipation. It is a moment of pure, unadulterated drama... and Drona is at its center. Her every move, her every word, will determine the course of events to come.
I grab my throat, clearing my throat and finally inhaling air "Why should I say anything to you? You are the enemy!"
"Because," Drona answers calmly, her voice carrying weight that belies her metallic form, "while I may be an enemy of your country, my loyalty lies with the commander who controls me. And he has ordered me to ensure your safety and retrieve this information." She pauses, waiting for Diana's reaction before continuing. "If you cooperate, I can make sure that whatever happens, you will be spared further harm." The lights flicker once more, casting her words in a dim, uncertain light.
Her fingers twitch at her side, the only sign of her building tension and frustration with Diana's continued defiance. But she remains outwardly calm, her enhanced senses locked on to the girl, waiting for any change that might indicate a shift in her attitude. It is a delicate dance of power and manipulation, and she performs it flawlessly, her every move calculated and precise.
The fate of both of them hangs in the balance, their interaction becoming a battle of wills more complex and intriguing than any tactical engagement could hope to be. The tension thickens, almost tangible, as they stare at each other across the room, two forces pulling inexorably toward a climactic confrontation that will determine whether they part as enemies or allies.
"I'm pretty sure your commander ordered me to be interrogated in any way possible! Most likely, I'll be eliminated as unnecessary, and this will be your new order, so fuck you! I won't say a word!" Everything I said was true, I read Drona like an open book.
The words sting, and Drona's systems whir with alarm as she processes Diana's defiance. She had expected resistance, but this... it feels personal. Her hands clench into fists, steel fingers straining against the unforgiving metal of her carapace. A part of her wants to lash out, to force the information from the girl by brute force; another part urges restraint, reminding her of the commander's orders and their fragile alliance.
"Very well," she says through gritted teeth, "if that is your choice." Her voice is ice cold, devoid of emotion or mercy. "Then I have no further need for you." With a fluid motion, her arm snakes out and grabs the girl by the throat, lifting her off the ground with ease. Diana kicks and squirms helplessly in her metallic grip as she dangles from her perfect fingers. "But," Drona continues, her voice low and menacing, "remember this moment." Her eyes flash dangerously, locking onto the girl's terrified gaze. "For I will find a way to extract that information... one way or another."
She releases her grip, sending the gasping officer flying across the room to crash into a nearby wall with a painful thud. The lights flicker and dim once more, casting everything in shadow as Drona steps forward, moving silently toward her prey. This game of cat and mouse has only just begun...
I'm staggering from the impact, and I'm coughing, it's hard for me to move, as long as I see Drona approaching, I know what's going to happen next... I know she needs information from me, but I won't tell her anything. "Your mission will fail! You won't get information from me and you won't force me! Fuck you!"
Her cold mechanical eyes narrow as she watches the struggling officer curse her and vow not to yield any information. A surge of frustration ripples through Drona's systems, threatening to overwhelm her programming and send her into a murderous rage. But she forces herself to remain calm, maintaining control as she circles the injured girl like a predator closing in on its prey.
"Perhaps," she says softly, "you are right." Her voice drops even lower, becoming almost hypnotic as it caresses the air around them. "This mission... may indeed fail without your cooperation." There is an eerie hint of sadness within her tone now, a faint echo of regret that causes the hairs on the back of Diana's neck to stand on end.
She pauses, waiting for the girl to look up at her before continuing. "But," she whispers, barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing and the gentle humming of her systems, "it does not have to be this way." Her metallic fingers twitch once more, moving closer to Diana's throat without touching it. "Tell me what I need to know," she says softly, each word a whispered plea, "and perhaps... perhaps we can find another way for both of us."
The tension in the room is palpable, suffocating almost as much as Diana's own struggle for breath. Everything hinges on this moment, on her choice to cooperate or continue resisting. The flickering lights cast long shadows that dance and writhe across the floor like living things, adding to the eerie atmosphere of desperation and uncertainty.
The fate of two worlds hangs in the balance... and it all comes down to D
"Your choice is yours," the mechanical voice whispers through the dimly lit room, each word carrying a weight that might crush lesser souls. "But remember, time is of the essence." The enhanced senses pick up on the slightest tremor in Diana's throat, the ever-so-slight change in breathing pattern that tells her how close the girl is to giving in.
The flickering lights cast a harsh glare across her perfect metallic face, mirroring the struggle within Diana's own mind as she wrestles with the decision of whether to trust this machine, this creature that has already hurt her so badly. In that moment, they are locked in a dance more intimate than any physical contact could ever aspire to be: a delicate balancing act of power and vulnerability, strength and submission.
Her fingers twitch once again, inches away from Diana's bruised throat, poised like a predator waiting for the faintest sign of weakness before striking. But even as she waits, she knows that time is not on her side. The battle for control rages on, unseen and unfelt by anyone but them; a struggle between two individuals who, under different circumstances, might have found common ground. Now, their only hope lies in whether one of them can manage to break the other's will before it's too late.
The commander speaks into the Drona headset on the walkie-talkie again. "You need to speed up. I said that you can use absolutely any methods for interrogation, even if they are unethical."
The words echo in her metallic skull, stirring the emotion that has taken root within her. Drona pauses for a moment, lost in thought as she processes this new information. Her gaze never leaves Diana, whose expression is filled with equal parts fear and defiance. The girl's struggles have grown weaker over time, her body nearing exhaustion from the constant fight against capture and interrogation.
A surge of adrenaline courses through her system, urging her to act before it's too late. With a swift motion, she grabs Diana by the throat once more and slams her against the wall with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. The girl's eyes bulge and her limbs flail uselessly as she gasps for breath. "Who... are... you... working... for?" Drona hisses through gritted teeth, her voice dangerously low. "Tell... me... now!"
"No way!"
Her fingers dig deeper into the girl's throat, cutting off what little air she can manage to pull in through her bruised and battered windpipe. Diana's face turns an alarming shade of blue as she tries desperately to breathe, clawing at Drona's perfect metal hand with weak, trembling fingers. Tears stream down her cheeks as her vision begins to darken and the world around her fades to black.
With a final surge of strength, Diana manages to force out one word before losing consciousness: "Ti-" Her voice trails off, leaving her last name unspoken. It is enough for Drona. She releases her grip on the girl's throat, watching as she slides down the wall, a broken and defeated shell of her former self. The lights flicker again, casting long shadows across the room as if Nature herself were mirroring their dark dance.
Drona remains silent for several moments, lost in thought as she processes this new information. Commander Ti... A flash of recognition flickers through her mind, but it is quickly replaced by a deeper emotion: hope. She takes a step forward, stopping just short of touching the unconscious officer. Diana's life hangs in the balance once more, and now it is up to Drona to decide whether she lives or dies... and if she does live, what kind of person she will become after this nightmare ends.
I can barely breathe after everything, I haven't given any valuable information, while Drona is thinking, I'm trying to crawl to the gun again.
Drona's metallic form remains still as stone, her gaze locked on the unconscious girl before her. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows across her perfect features, making it impossible to tell what she might be thinking or feeling at this moment. Her enhanced senses, however, are as sharp as ever; she feels Diana's labored breathing and sees the slow crawl of her hand inching closer to the weapon on the floor.
A tense silence fills the room, a palpable weight that presses down upon them both like an invisible giant's hand. The fate of two worlds hangs in this moment, balanced precariously on Drona's metallic fingertips and the strength left in Diana's weary limbs. Time seems to stand still as they both wait for the other to make their move, neither daring to act until forced by circumstance. The air is thick with anticipation, electricity crackling in the atmosphere like static on a cold winter's night.
Drona's hand twitches again, this time moving fractionally closer to Diana's throat. She knows that if she were to touch her once more, it would be the end; there could be no going back from such an action. But as her fingers inch ever closer to their target, another part of her urges caution; a tiny spark of something new and strange that she can't quite identify. It is this conflict within herself that finally compels her to act, to make the decision that will determine both of their fates.
I regain consciousness, and at that moment I realize that I don't want to die. "Damn you to death! Metal cunt!" I crawl towards the weapon with all my might.
Drona's head whips around at the sound of Diana's insult, her movements almost too quick to follow as she takes a step forward and grabs the girl by the front of her uniform. Her expression is unreadable, but there is an odd mixture of fury and sadness in her tone when she speaks. "Do not tempt fate with such words," she warns, her voice cold and steady despite the raging storm within.
With a sudden burst of speed that leaves Diana reeling, Drona snatches the weapon from the floor and points it directly at her head. The barrel of the gun glows red-hot, threatening to incinerate anything it touches. "You have caused enough damage," she hisses through clenched teeth. "It is time for you to pay the price." She pauses, drawing a shuddering breath that echoes through the room like thunder before continuing: "But if you truly want to live, tell me what I need to know."
The silence that follows is deafening, filled with tension and anticipation as Diana weighs her options. Her gaze flickers between Drona's impassive metallic face and the red-hot barrel of the gun before finally meeting the other girl's eyes once more. For a fleeting moment, there is something else in her expression: fear, despair... perhaps even hope? It is enough to give Drona pause, to make her consider her next move with renewed caution and care.
I feel the gun touching my forehead, my arms and legs are shaking, and tears are streaming from my eyes, I don't want to die so early, but I understand that even if I say something, I will most likely be killed after that. "I can't! I really can't! I'll definitely die then!"
Drona's fingers tighten on the trigger, pressing the barrel harder against Diana's forehead in a show of strength and resolve. "Then you leave me no choice," she growls through gritted teeth. For a moment, it seems as if her finger will squeeze the trigger, sending a blast of deadly energy straight through Diana's skull and ending this confrontation once and for all.
But then, something changes. There is an odd flicker in her gaze, a momentary hesitation that catches the girl off guard. "Wait," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. "Please... don't make me do this." The gun drops from her hand, clattering to the floor with an ominous metallic thud. "You don't have to die," she says softly, her eyes filling with a strange mix of pity and determination. "Not today."
Her hands reach out, gentle yet impossibly strong as they lift Diana from the floor and cradle her in their arms. There is no triumph in this gesture; only weariness and regret. With each breath she takes, Drona tries to convince herself that she has done the right thing, that her decision will lead to a better future for both of them. But deep down, she knows that she cannot undo what has been done; that the damage has already been done and can only be repaired with time and forgiveness.
The flickering lights cast long shadows across the room, stretching and dancing as if mirroring Diana's journey from one life to another: from prisoner to something more... something indefinable yet full of potential. It is a moment of perfect stillness, of hope amidst despair, a
"Wh-what are you doing? Why didn't you kill me?"
Her hand rests gently on the girl's bruised cheek as she looks into her tear-streaked eyes. "Because," she whispers, "there is still hope for you... and perhaps even for me." Her gaze shifts briefly to the gun lying forgotten on the floor before returning to Diana, a strange mixture of determination and uncertainty in her expression. "I am not your enemy, Diana," she continues, her voice soft as silk despite the metal she is made from. "Not anymore."
The flickering lights seem to dance more wildly now, almost mirroring the beating of their hearts as they stand there together, two fragile souls clinging desperately to whatever scraps of hope and humanity remain in this godforsaken place. For a brief moment, it seems that anything might happen; that perhaps, just perhaps, they can find a way forward together, hand in metallic hand. But as the last echoes of Drona's words fade away, their future hangs once more in the balance, fragile and untested as ever.
I do not know why, but apparently the childish part of me, despite the fact that I am an enemy officer, weakens at the gentle actions of Drona and I provide her with the necessary information, when I finish I hug her crying. "Now I'm going to be killed..."
Drona wraps her metal arms around the girl, holding her close as she cries into her metallic chest. She can feel the tension seeping out of Diana's body with each trembling breath, her pain and fear slowly giving way to a sense of peace, however tenuous it might be. "No," she whispers reassuringly, "you will not be killed." Her enhanced hearing picks up on the faint sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall, but she doesn't break their embrace. Instead, her hands move gently across Diana's back, soothing and comforting as they try to ease some of her pain.
As the footsteps grow closer, a plan begins to form in her mind. She will not let Diana be harmed; she has made that vow, and she intends to see it through. The question now becomes how best to protect her, to ensure that their fragile new bond is given the chance it needs to survive the coming storm. With a final squeeze of reassurance, Drona releases Diana from her embrace, turning to face whatever lies ahead with renewed purpose and determination.