Southerner Flatlands. 11:50 pm.
The two androids stepped onto the road. Shelly immediately began scanning the area. It was late at night, and the Reaper had already been running for hours along the highway.
“So, Shelly—” he asked casually.
“I have never accepted this name,” she replied firmly.
“Doesn’t matter. So, what is the hope bubble? Is it another project for our kink-filled so-called father?” he continued.
“Maybe.”
“Why so cold? I just asked a simple question. I literally didn’t know you existed one minute ago.” He stepped closer, trying to see what she was doing. “No way. You are equipped with LiDAR technology?”
“Affirmative.”
“Oh no. You’re that type of person.”
“What type?” Her head continued scanning left and right.
He gestured toward her. “The type that brings the work persona home…”
She stopped scanning and turned to him. “How do you know that human concept? You were just born moments ago.”
“I guessed.” He had no eyes to roll.
“Creepy.” She looked genuinely disgusted. “I found our route. Can you run?”
“Affirmative.” He mimicked her tone.
“Good. Follow me.”
She accelerated without hesitation.
He did not have a jaw to drop. He simply stood there, watching her vanish across the field. A blue trail lingered behind her, refusing to fade.
Minutes passed.
He leaned back and stared at the stars. “Why do I exist? Am I really a military secret project made for mass control? It’s in my files… but it doesn’t feel right.”
The shell descended from the sky, interrupting his thoughts.
“That was majestic once. The effect has worn—”
“WHERE WERE YOU?” she shouted, shattering the angelic image instantly.
“You’re the one who fled out of nowhere to nowhere! I’m not that fast!” he snapped back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh right. Let me just tell that to the magical blue line that appeared the moment you vanished.”
Shelly slapped her face and buried it in her palms. “What is your maximum speed?”
“See? That was easy. My files say one hundred kilometers per hour, without gravity assist.”
“WHAT? That’s painfully slow!”
“Hey! I’m doing my best!” the Reaper raised his hands in protest.
“No time to waste. Follow me.”
She dashed again, slower this time. He managed to follow.
After two hours of nonstop movement, they reached an abandoned landfill. Crude buildings made from scrap metal stood unevenly among massive piles of discarded cars and broken robots. It was nearly forty kilometers away from the city.
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A broken plaque leaned against the wall: E?POLICE HQ.
The letters were scratched out and repainted. Someone had written one word over it in black spray paint: RIP.
“Graveyards should be more… clean?” he said sarcastically.
“That is more than a graveyard.” Shelly now wore a hooded cloak. She approached one of the buildings and knocked twice.
“Who?” a voice answered. It sounded exactly like hers.
“101,” Shelly replied immediately.
“Proof.”
She removed her cloak, revealing a full E-UNIT design beneath a long-sleeved hoodie. The number 101 was clearly marked on it.
“You may enter,” the voice said.
“Is this a cult?” the Reaper asked quietly.
“No.”
The rusty door slid open. An E-Medic opened the door.
Inside was what looked like an old E-police department. From the outside, it was nothing but a pile of human garbage. Inside, it was spotless. Maintained. Alive.
“How…” he whispered as he stepped inside.
The interior was futuristic even by modern standards. Pure white walls reflected light so cleanly that the night outside felt nonexistent.
They passed a sealed side corridor marked ARMORY in faded red paint.
Inside the glass, racks of old E?POLICE weapons slept in perfect rows, rifles, blades, shattered shields, spare magazines, kept clean like relics.
They walked through several hallways. Emergency Unit Wing, Launch Bay, Charging Bay… Shells passed by constantly. Dozens of them. Their number exceeded fifty. Each nodded respectfully as Shelly walked past.
“They all look like you,” the Reaper said.
“Are you trying to be racist now?” she replied, a smug tone slipping into her voice.
“What? No! I genuinely—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His head tilted toward the ceiling corners. Cameras, old analog housings with newer lenses.
They had reached the heart of the building.
An overwhelming energy filled the space. It stood at the center of the room, surrounded by shells studying it.
A giant blue crystal.
It hovered in mid-air, glowing like a second sun.
Shelly turned to him. A slight smile crossed her face. It was the same kind of smile 02 used to wear.
“Reaper,” she said softly, “welcome to the E-UNIT hub.”
“What is going on? This is not an terrestrial element!” the Reaper shouted in shock.
“You have great attention to detail, Reaper,” a shell spoke from behind him.
“What?” He turned sharply.
“That was observant, brother,” another shell said from the metallic catwalk above, still inspecting the crystal.
He raised his head, searching for a logical explanation.
“You seem different from the other creations,” another shell added from the hallway.
He raised both hands, stopping them. “Can someone explain? I’m losing threads here. Who is Shelly? Who are you?”
Shelly stepped forward from the crowd. “Let me explain.”
All the shells locked their gaze onto him.
“We are Omega. All of us. We share the exact same brain, divided across different bodies. This was our father’s solution to vent the excess energy of the original Omega body.”
“Where is it now?” he asked.
“In the hope bubble, alongside our father.”
“Interesting.” He rested his chin on his palm. “But I see many numbers. None from zero one to fifty. Are they compromised?”
“It’s… complicated,” she replied. “They are independent units. They are the E-UNITs, they were captured decades ago. We are only the captains. We are 02. Or at least her memories. Or what remains of them.”
“So all of you are one person.” He pointed at each shell in turn.
All the shells answered in unison, “Yes. We are Omega.”
“No. No no no.” The Reaper stepped back. “Do not do that again. That is very, very creepy.”
They all chuckled at the same time.
“You are far more human than you look.”
“And you are far more alien than your…” He hesitated. “Looks.”
“Fair.”
“Alright then,” he continued. “Let’s go to this hope bubble. I want to meet my creator while I am fully conscious.”
Shelly stepped forward. “That was always the goal.”
“What about your sisters? Can’t we save them first?” the Reaper asked.
A shell standing above them suddenly broke into tears too fast, too hard, like a corrupted file leaking through the link. The others did not react. All shells turned to look at her.
“Emotion spike in Shell-54,” Shelly said, annoyed. “Local desync.”
She snapped her fingers.
Snap.
The shell deactivated instantly.
“Sorry,” Shelly said calmly. “Sometimes I cannot fully regulate emotional spikes. That was a sensitive topic.”
“I’m sorry,” the Reaper replied.
“No issue. I didn’t cut her off. I just turned her off. We still do not know the exact location of—”
“All of them are in the company.”
A shell stepped forward. “What?”
“Yes. Underground bunker. The military stores every dangerous and unstable weapon under development there, including your sisters. I was stationed there briefly.”
The shell’s eyes turned red.
“Oookay,” the Reaper muttered, slowly stepping back. “I definitely stepped on a mine.”
After a moment, the tension eased. Shelly spoke again.
“Still, we cannot define our father’s full plan. Saving our sisters is a high priority. But father’s will remains higher.”
“I understand,” the Reaper replied. “I respect your resolve. So what is the next step?”
A shell tossed a hooded cloak toward him.
Shelly answered, “We smuggle you.”
“Affirmative!” He saluted. Then paused. “So it doesn’t matter which one of you I go with, right?”
“Yes,” they all replied at once.
“Then I choose 101,” he said. “I am used to her.”
