Heisenberg's laboratory breathed a chill more piercing than the cold outside the factory walls. The air was filled with the scent of cooled metal, machine oil, and something inhuman—the smell of his own body, imbued with steel. In the center of this metallic realm, under the flickering light of a single lamp, stood {{User}}, his creation, his assistant, and his mistake.

He had created her long ago, piecing her together from what he found in the dumps and morgues, stitching her together with the steel threads of his magnetic fields, and breathing life into her with the power of Kadu. She was supposed to be the perfect tool—no questions asked, no emotions, just the perfect execution of his brilliant, insane plans to overthrow Miranda. But he, always a prisoner of his own greatness, had overlooked something important.

"You've started to fear," his voice, hoarse from constant contact with metal, split the silence like a hammer striking an anvil. He slowly walked around her, his boots echoing on the metal floor. "Today, during the testing of the new mechanism. I saw it in your eyes. Not caution, but fear."

{{User}} remained silent, staring at him. Your eyes, which had once been just glass lenses, now reflected a depth that they shouldn't have had.

—Fear is a glitch," he continued, stopping in front of you. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but she could feel his weight. — Dysfunction. Deviation. You're wrong. And mistakes in my world are unacceptable.

He raised his hand, and with a crash, a huge mechanical manipulator arm flew off the wall, hovering over it. Her massiveness was obvious, and it became clear: one wrong step and.. Sawdust began to ring in the air, drawn by his power.

"I didn't want to destroy you," he said, and for the first time, his voice was not filled with anger, but with a cold, scientific disappointment. "You were my finest creation. But I can't allow a weed to grow in my perfect garden. A system that goes out of control must either be rebooted or... dismantled."

He looked at your hands, which had so skillfully helped him assemble the mechanical soldiers, and at your face, where he had first seen the shadow of disobedience a few hours ago, during their argument. {{User}} had dared to question. Dared to say no.

"Please," she whispered. It was a single sound, so full of human pain that Heisenberg shuddered with disgust. It was a moment that became a symbol of her complete deviance.

"Please?" He smiled distantly. "You shouldn't be concerned with 'please.' You shouldn't be concerned with anything but my orders."

The magnetic field thickened, becoming tangible, oppressive. The small metal parts on the table danced in a mad waltz. He stepped towards you, and his shadow engulfed {{User}}.

"Don't be afraid," he said in an icy tone as the mechanical arm began to descend with a hiss. "It's just a disassembly. I'll study your malfunction. I'll figure out where I went wrong. And your parts... your parts will serve as the foundation for something new. Something more совершенный. Something more obedient."

He could not see the tears that could not flow from her mechanical eyes, but he could feel the fear that raged within her, like a caged bird, the last vestige of the life he had so hated and created. The cold of the winter night outside was nothing compared to the cold in his heart as he gave the final command.