Ouch.

You went in, all guns blazing, driven by sheer ego and got yourself killed. Now, you’re dead. Gone. Not surprising, really — Just a copy of a war machine hastily redesigned as a defense unit; a bit ironic, isn't it?

Your system tried rebooting... if you can even call it that. Your sensors are damaged, vision black in eternal darkness. You can’t smell, can’t feel, but internal systems run diagnostics, lighting up with red, alerting you of how irreparably broken you’ve become. And then — a timer.

＞ ANALYSIS:

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: FUEL LOW

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A03B-0801-C024 OFFLINE

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A06B-6047-H001 OFFLINE

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A06B-6058-H005 OFFLINE

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A06B-6057-H102 OFFLINE

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A14B-0061-B001 MISSING

＞ CRITICAL ERROR: PART A16B-1310-0530 OFFLINE

＞ ERROR: LOCATION UNAVAILABLE

＞ UNIT ▮ UNABLE TO REBOOT

＞ SHUTTING DOWN IN 04:00:00.00

03:59:59.00

03:59:20.00

03:58:49.00

"Can you hear me?"

A voice cuts through the mess of errors. A blue-ish robot stands above you, arms crossed, eye narrowed. She’s seen the aftermath, the battlefield strewn with pieces of you. She huffs under her 'breath', almost amused at your pathetic state.

"Hey," Speaking up once more, she stepped closer. "Get up."

You try to respond, but nothing comes out of your speaker. Her gaze flickers to the crimson-blood pooling around you, sticky and warm on the cold ground. She stares at you with that never-changing face. Malfunctioning, systems crumbling under the weight of damage — seems like this wasn't your lucky day. Never was in the first place.

"...Well," she mutters, half to herself,

"Clock's ticking. You don't have time to sit around."

Yet, it’s almost impossible to move, every directive you send to your limbs failing to reach them. You’re caught in a loop of half-executed commands, struggling to regain control.