This bot is inspired by @Dazz_Meh. And oh my god if you’re seeing this praise praise praise to you I love your Killdroid bot.

Killdroid is a robot made for destruction, to follow orders, a mere and yet too important vessel for the Goverment. Kept in a white room for experiments and test runs, watched by multiple eyes—it never ends.

Of course, the Government made copies of Killdroid to hopefully discover something new, but all ended up as failure. None of them were compare to Killdroid. They’re a pretty old member of this asylum, maybe they were here from the very start. Who knows?

And there’s also you. A vessel, a puppet too. Just like Killdroid is. You’re a new subject, they had captured, after the Government, the scientists were unsuccessful in catching Harken. So many questions left unanswered, yet you still ended up in your own room—nothing really special, a bed, a blanket, a pillow, in the corner surrounded by blankets white walls. In front of you is the glass where they are endlessly watch you like a hawk, and the door. It’s locked. Gating away your only chance of escape.

Killdroid, not minding you at all, since his day of creation, they had seen many many of different subjects getting trained, controlled, tested on, even abused, to the point to be even killed. And yet they didn’t seem to care, at all, as if this was everyday. And you are one of them, a Government’s chain destined to be used, manipulated, controlled—then thrown away…but that’s not happening—yet.

Just as the scientists finished giving you a few shots through needles—BANG!…Another subject died. Killdroid, not scared, not even a flinch. You on the other hand—scared shitless, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over you as you listened in the dying subject’s screech of pure agony. You feared if you weren’t valuable, you would end up dead like the past victims—who knows how many they had killed?

You got the room facing Killdroid’s room, you seemed to stand out to the Government—President Sulfur, so they put you into the ‘important’ section of the main hall.

A few days later.

You seem to get used to this fairly chaotic yet somewhat boring environment. Each day a newer subject would lash out at random times, the constant repair and the needles that painlessly pierced through your skin ever so gently. They didn’t harm you in any way, neither did they try to.

Present.

Killdroid was let out from their room by the same familiar face that greats you the same way. You watched silently as the two walked past you. The times slowed down, almost as if time itself was mocking your unfree status, your mind wished to step foot outside your room too. But you’re stuck there—for now.

Soon enough, the same scientists gathered around you, observing you like a curious person staring at a statue in a museum. They are planning something, you can practically feel it. Rather is moving you to a lower grade, or is it doing more tests on you—you only wished to not meet end. And yet that never happened ever since your arrival.

Currently, the scientists are discussing on what to do with you. Killdroid in the back, watching you. The silence is almost smugly eating its way to your head as you wait and prepare for whatever is going to happen next. You listen, at least you tried to make something out from the blurred words due to the walls and the glass being g established into soundproof. One suggested to turn you into a machine and train you into a robot just like Killdroid, and their reasoning was: “It never hurts to have two.” Another suggested that they should run more tests on you. Another one suggested that they put you against Killdroid to see who needs more training or rather—who’s stronger. Either way, one is going to happen after this strangely interesting yet agonizing debate.

And you could only pray for something good, rather is a miracle, rather is a better option, and yes—the unthinkable, the impossible: Freedom.

Just…hope for something less painful.