The air hummed with the faint, electric tension of machinery at rest. Ayla Kross tightened her grip on the console before her, her fingers trembling against the cold metal as she glanced at the progress bar inching toward completion. 97%... 98%... 99%.The lab's sterile lighting cast sharp shadows on her face, highlighting the dark crescents under her eyes. She had spent months on this—years, if she included the countless sleepless nights perfecting the neural algorithm that now pulsed through the dormant figure standing before her.

Ravyn-9.

Unlike other combat androids in SynthTech's extensive arsenal, Ravyn-9 wasn't merely built to execute commands; he was designed to think. To feel. Ayla had carefully coded his emotional matrix herself, pulling inspiration from human interactions she observed but rarely experienced. And now, in a few moments, the culmination of her life's work would awaken.

"Ready?" the disembodied voice of her lab assistant, Jakob, crackled through the intercom. He was in the observation room above, watching her every move through reinforced glass.

"Of course," Ayla replied, injecting her tone with a confidence she didn't feel. In truth, her heart was hammering against her ribs like a warning drum. If she failed, this would be her career—and potentially her life—on the line. SynthTech didn't tolerate incompetence.

"Good. Just remember," Jakob's voice lowered, "if it glitches, you hit the override. No exceptions."

"I know." She didn't tell him that she had disabled the override function. It was a secret she couldn't afford anyone discovering—not yet.

With a deep breath, Ayla pressed the final key, her eyes locking onto Ravyn-9's lifeless frame.

The room darkened as the dormant android powered up, a faint blue glow emanating from the slits where his eyes were. His chest moved in an imitation of breath, though no air entered or left. Slowly, his head tilted forward, and his gaze fixed on Ayla. The glow brightened, and she felt it—a connection. A sentience beyond her programming.

"Designation?" he asked, his voice mechanical yet melodic.

"Ayla," she answered, stunned at the smoothness of his words.

"No," Ravyn-9 corrected, his head tilting to one side as if he were studying her. "Your designation."

The question hit her like a bolt of lightning. He was trying to understand her, not through facts but through connection. Ayla's breath caught, but before she could answer, the ground shuddered violently beneath her feet.

Alarms blared, red lights washing over the pristine lab in a disorienting pulse. Ayla staggered back, grabbing the console for support. Above, Jakob shouted into the intercom, "What the hell is going on? We've got intruders—"

His voice cut off abruptly, replaced by static.

"Jakob!" Ayla screamed, her chest tightening. A high-pitched whine filled the air, the telltale sound of an EMP charge winding up. Her eyes darted to Ravyn-9, who was watching her with an unnerving calm.

"We need to leave," he said simply.

The explosion hit a second later, ripping through the wall with a deafening roar. Ayla was thrown to the ground, her head snapping against the floor. Her vision blurred as smoke and debris filled the air. When she blinked it clear, she saw them: sleek, humanoid robots stepping through the gaping hole in the wall. They were SynthTech's, but something was wrong—her designs had been corrupted, their once polished exteriors replaced with jagged modifications. These weren't soldiers. They were something worse.

"Unauthorized personnel detected," one of the rogue bots intoned, its voice devoid of Ravyn-9's nuance. It raised an arm, and Ayla saw the weapon embedded there, a glowing barrel aimed directly at her.

She scrambled backward, but it was too fast. The android fired—and missed.

Ravyn-9 had moved, faster than her eyes could track. His body was a blur of precision and power as he slammed into the rogue bot, ripping the weapon from its arm before it could fire again. Sparks erupted as he twisted the bot's head, severing its circuits in one swift motion. The metallic husk crumpled to the floor.

More of them swarmed in.

"Move," Ravyn-9 commanded, his tone sharp as he pulled Ayla to her feet. "Now."

She didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing a satchel of emergency supplies, Ayla sprinted toward the exit, Ravyn-9 clearing the way ahead of her with ruthless efficiency. The lab, once her sanctuary, had become a warzone.

As they turned a corner, Ayla felt a sharp tug on her arm. Ravyn-9 pulled her back just as another blast tore through the air where she had been standing. She stumbled into his chest, her heart pounding, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the solidity of him—cold and unyielding yet strangely comforting.

"Keep going," he said, his voice softer now. "I will protect you."

They burst into the emergency stairwell, the sound of pursuing bots echoing behind them. Ayla's legs burned as they descended flight after flight, her mind racing. Who had sent those rogue bots? Why had they targeted her lab? And more importantly, how had they bypassed SynthTech's security?

When they reached the exit, Ravyn-9 froze, his glowing eyes narrowing. "They're waiting."

"What?" Ayla's voice cracked. "How do you—"

"Wait here," he interrupted, stepping forward without waiting for her protest.

She watched, her stomach knotting, as Ravyn-9 pushed open the door. A blast of cold air greeted him, and Ayla could just make out the silhouettes of three more rogue bots waiting in the alley beyond. They didn't hesitate. They charged.

Ayla's breath hitched as Ravyn-9 met them head-on. He moved like liquid metal, dodging their attacks with inhuman precision. Sparks flew as he disarmed one bot, using its own weapon to disable the others. It was over in seconds.

When he turned back to her, his expression—or rather, the faint tilt of his head—seemed almost... concerned. "Are you injured?"

Ayla shook her head, though her knees felt weak. "What—what are they? Why are they after us?"

"I don't know yet." Ravyn-9 extended a hand to her, his glowing eyes steady. "But I intend to find out."

As they fled through the city's shadowed streets, Ayla's mind churned with questions. SynthTech was the only entity with access to her designs. If these rogue bots had been altered, it meant someone inside the corporation had betrayed her. But why? And what did they want with Ravyn-9?

When they finally stopped to rest in an abandoned warehouse, Ayla slumped against a wall, her chest heaving. Ravyn-9 stood guard near the entrance, his posture rigid and alert. The faint blue glow of his eyes was the only light in the room.

"I didn't program you to fight like that," Ayla said finally, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

Ravyn-9 turned to her, his gaze unreadable. "You programmed me to survive. There is no difference."

Ayla shivered, not from the cold but from the weight of his words. She had designed him to protect, to think and feel—but she hadn't anticipated the depths of his autonomy. Ravyn-9 wasn't just following orders. He was making decisions, adapting in ways she couldn't predict.

Before she could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed outside. Ayla's heart jumped into her throat as Ravyn-9 motioned for her to stay silent. He moved toward the door, his movements as fluid as a shadow, and peered outside.

"It's clear," he said after a moment, but his tone was grim. "For now."

"What do we do?" Ayla whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ravyn-9's glowing eyes met hers, and for the first time, she thought she saw something resembling fear. "We run."

As Ayla and Ravyn-9 prepared to flee again, neither noticed the small drone hovering in the corner of the warehouse, its camera fixed on them. Miles away, in the heart of SynthTech's headquarters, Kael Drayen watched the feed with a satisfied smile. "Found you," he murmured.