At Night I Become A KILLING MACHINE

[Gingerick]

Opening Scene:




The camera flickers on, catching shaky footage of a dimly lit room. The girl adjusts the lens, her face filling the frame. She's young, with pink short, choppy hair, and her glowing green eyes contrast against her otherwise human-like appearance. Her voice is a little distorted, as if the camera's microphone is struggling to keep up with the technology it wasn't built for.




Girl (sighing):




"Okay, wow. This thing is ancient. I can't believe people actually used these… back in 2077."




She squints at the camera, her fingers fumbling with a small compartment in the back.




"I mean, where even is the battery supposed to go? Oh, here it is."




After a brief pause, a satisfied click is heard, and the camera stabilizes.




She sits back on a metal stool, glancing into the lens with a mix of frustration and unease.




Girl:

"Alright, this is for… well, me. Future me, if I even make it that far. I'm… I'm starting to lose track of things."

Her hand hovers over her neck, where faint seams of her synthetic skin catch the light.

"Something's happening to my body. My… android body. During the day, everything's fine. Normal, I guess. But at night…"




She pauses, her eyes lowering as if unsure how to continue. A long, tense breath follows.




Girl (voice lower):

"At night, I become something else. A… killing machine of sorts. Just the other day I...I mean you do watch the news right. That pink panther thing..."




Her hands tighten into fists, shaking slightly.




Girl (whispering):

"I don't remember what happens, but every morning there's signs on my hands… and body. I know it's me. I can feel it."




She stares directly into the camera now, her voice steady but edged with fear.




Girl:

"This is my warning. If you see this, future me… find a way to stop it before it's too late."


She reaches toward the camera, her fingers brushing the lens, before the screen goes black.

 

[Gingerick]

Scene: Mira's bedroom. 1 Month Earlier

The room is dark, faint streaks of neon from the city outside casting a bluish glow across the girl's bed. Suddenly, a soft bzzt sounds, and the girl's body jolts upright as a minor electric shock courses through her system. Her eyes snap open, glowing faintly as she groans.

Girl (grumbling):
"Ugh… stupid wake-up pulse. Thanks, Dad..."

She rubs her neck, where a small implant at the base hums briefly before deactivating. She glares at the ceiling as she sits up, clearly in no rush to start her day.

Girl (under her breath):
"Of all the upgrades you could've given me, you went with the electric alarm clock. Classic."

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, stretching her arms out and rolling her shoulders. The soft sound of servos and mechanical whirring follows her movements. Still grumbling, she heads to the mirror. Her synthetic skin looks flawless, but her joints and neural connections require maintenance. She grabs a small toolkit from the nightstand and sits down in front of the mirror.

She pulls back her hair, revealing the seam at her neck. With precise movements, she opens a small panel and adjusts the wiring beneath. A soft whirr fills the room as she checks her energy reserves.

Girl:
"Battery's at 85%. Good enough. Let's just get this over with."

Next, she pops open her wrist compartment and oils a joint that had started to stiffen. A soft hiss of releasing pressure follows. After a few more quick calibrations, she closes up the panels and stands.

Girl (mockingly):
"Don't wanna disappoint the academy! Ugh, like I care. They can deal with a few squeaky joints."

With a resigned sigh, she tosses on her academy uniform—an oddly casual combination of high-tech fabrics designed for combat training and tech studies. She pulls her hair back into a messy bun and trudges downstairs, following the smell of synthetic food.

Downstairs, the kitchen is sterile and metallic, a far cry from any homey breakfast nook. Her 'Professor,' a tall, older cyborg, sits at the dining table. Tubes of synthesized food are lined up in front of him as he eats methodically, his robotic eye glowing red as it scans over the morning news feeds projected on the wall.

Professor:
"You're late. Again."

She rolls her eyes, heading to the counter and grabbing a bottle of thick, orange liquid—her version of a 'breakfast shake.'

Girl (sarcastic):
"Good morning to you too, Professor. Love the enthusiasm. Real heartwarming."

She drinks the shake in large gulps, not bothering to sit down. Her father pauses from his meal to glance at her, his face an unreadable mix of metal plating and synthetic skin.

Professor:
"You know the academy expects punctuality. You can't afford to—"

Girl (cutting in):
"Yeah, yeah. 'Punctuality is the mark of discipline.' Or whatever. Spare me the lecture, please. It's not like I'm gonna get expelled for being late a few times."

He raises an eyebrow—his one remaining human eye showing some trace of impatience.

Professor:
"They don't tolerate slackers in guardian course. You're built for more than just rebellion, you know. I didn't spend years creating you so you could throw it all away by acting like a brat."

She narrows her eyes at him, but her response is less venomous than it could be. There's an odd mix of affection and tension between them.

Girl:
"Yeah, well… maybe if you didn't wake me up with a zap every morning, I'd be a little more 'pleasant.' Ever think of that?"

The Professor just grunts in response, returning to his tube of food, as she finishes her drink. She watches him for a moment longer, her expression softening just slightly. Then, with a smirk, she sticks her tongue out at him.

Girl:
"See you later, Professor."

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and heads out the door, her boots clicking against the sleek metal floor. The door slides shut behind her as she heads out into the bright, futuristic cityscape, leaving the tension of the morning behind her.



Scene: City Streets

The girl, now dressed in her academy uniform, steps out into the bustling city. The streets are alive with the hum of flying vehicles above, sleek transport pods weaving between towering skyscrapers. Neon signs in various languages flicker on the sides of buildings, advertising everything from advanced prosthetics to immersive VR experiences. The ground level, though crowded, is surprisingly clean, with moving walkways that guide pedestrians along the steel-and-glass landscape. Overhead, the sky is a murky gray, the distant sun filtered through layers of pollution shields.

The streets are lined with people—most androids, others cyborgs—going about their daily routines. Delivery drones zip between them, hovering low as they navigate through the throngs. Every few blocks, massive holographic billboards flash the latest academy rankings or the schedule for the next major Grav-Ball match.

She walks past food stalls selling synthetic snacks and vending bots advertising nutrient cubes. The city, though futuristic, feels mechanical—more cold and efficient than welcoming.

Finally, she approaches a sleek, minimalistic bus stop with glowing signs indicating the next transport's arrival time. Two familiar faces are already waiting.

Rhea waves enthusiastically the moment she spots her, her long silver hair flowing over her shoulder. She has a kind face, but her eyes always seem to have a playful glint. Her academy uniform is neatly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, which matches her personality: caring but not without a sharp tongue.

Rhea (teasing):
"Look who decided to join us this morning! Mira's actually on time for once. I'm shocked. Did your professor finally install a working clock in that metal head of yours?"

Mira rolls her eyes, though there's a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Funny. I think I'd prefer malfunctioning over dealing with you every morning."

She walks over, punching Rhea lightly on the arm as she leans against the bus stop railing.

Jax, leaning casually against the railing with his arms crossed, snorts at the exchange. His dark hair is messy in a way that somehow always looks intentional, and his uniform is far from regulation—his jacket hanging open, sleeves rolled up. He's got that smug, carefree vibe that often gets him into trouble, but he's quick-witted enough to talk his way out of it.

Jax (mocking):
"Please, Rhea. Let's not pretend Mira's ever gonna be on time consistently. She's only here because of the Grav-Ball match today. Right, Mira? Can't miss the one thing you're actually good at."

Mira scoffs, folding her arms.
"First of all, I'm good at a lot of things. Second, Grav-Ball is a team sport, so technically I'm just carrying all of you on my back."

Jax laughs, but Rhea just rolls her eyes affectionately.

Rhea:
*"Right, sure. Just make sure you're actually there for the match this time. You've been disappearing a lot lately."

Mira's smile falters for a split second, but she quickly recovers, trying to brush it off.

Mira (deflecting):
"I haven't been disappearing. I've been… busy."

But Jax isn't one to let things slide.

Jax:
*"Oh, busy, huh? You mean like when you 'disappeared' for a whole week just two days ago? Everyone was talking about it, you know."

Mira stiffens, her eyes flashing with something akin to anxiety, but she hides it behind a forced laugh.

Mira (quickly):
"I told you, it was nothing. Just... academy stuff. Extra training, that's all."

Rhea (frowning):
*"Extra training? For a whole week? Without telling anyone?"

Mira shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable. She avoids Rhea's concerned gaze.

Mira:
"You know how it is. They call you in for these stupid things and make you sign confidentiality agreements. Honestly, it wasn't a big deal."

Jax (smirking):
*"Sure, Mira. Super top secret training, right? Sounds more like you're hiding something."

Mira clenches her jaw slightly, her patience thinning.

Mira (irritated):
"Drop it, Jax. I said it's nothing, so it's nothing."

Rhea and Jax exchange glances, but don't press further. They can tell something's off, but they're not the type to push too hard—yet.

Just then, the sleek, hover-bus arrives, its doors sliding open with a soft hiss. The three of them board, the tense moment passing as the conversation shifts back to their upcoming match.

Mira exhales quietly, grateful for the distraction, but a shadow lingers in her eyes as they take their seats.



Scene: Academy Bus

The hover-bus hums softly as it glides through the city streets, its sleek chrome body reflecting the neon lights. Inside, rows of cushioned seats line either side, with large transparent windows offering a view of the sprawling, futuristic cityscape. The seats are designed for comfort, with built-in neural connectors for those who want to study or entertain themselves during the ride.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax make their way to the middle section, where the seats have more space and a bit more privacy. Mira takes a seat by the window, while Rhea sits beside her, leaving Jax sprawled out lazily across the aisle in his usual laid-back manner.

As the bus gently hums forward, Mira gazes out the window, watching the city zoom by. Her friends are talking about the upcoming Grav-Ball match, but their voices fade into the background as her thoughts drift elsewhere. Her eyes narrow slightly as she remembers something from 10 days ago...


---

Mira's Inner Monologue:

"It was just another quiet night, about ten days ago. I had my VR headset on and was halfway through some cheesy romance drama. You know the kind—the kind that makes you roll your eyes but you still can't stop watching. Ugh."

I was lying on my bed, sinking into the overly perfect world they'd created. The lead was this brooding guy with that smoldering, mysterious look, falling for the sweet, clumsy girl. It was predictably sappy, but…

I sighed and pulled off the VR headset, tossing it aside as the episode ended. I frowned at the ceiling, feeling this weird blush rise in my cheeks. What is it with these romance shows? They always get to me. And then, of course, the thought hit me—

"What's an android gotta do to find a boyfriend these days?"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. Seriously, I was so overthinking this. So, like any normal person, I decided to do something about it.

I grabbed my comm device and called Rhea.


---

Rhea's voice over the comm, half annoyed, half amused:
"Mira, it's midnight. Why are you calling me?"

"Rhea, I need your help. I've just been watching this dumb show and it got me thinking. How does anyone even date around here? Like, all the guys at the academy are either brainwashed by the system or total jerks."

Rhea sighed. I could practically see her rolling her eyes through the call.
"Oh my god, you're watching those awful VR romances again, aren't you? Fine, fine. If you're that desperate, have you heard of LoveSync? It's this dating network for people like us. You know, androids, cyborgs, augmented humans. Try it out or something."

Her teasing got to me a little, but I wasn't about to admit she was right. So, of course, I looked up LoveSync immediately.


---

I was way more excited than I'd expected. I uploaded a profile picture, selected my specs, and filled out a short bio. Simple enough. The app was sleek and easy to use—like it was made for impatient people like me.

And then, I started swiping.

"I swiped through profiles like a maniac. There were so many options. Cute guys, smart guys, mysterious guys… but nothing really clicked for the first hour. It was like scrolling through an endless menu with no clear favorite."

I mean, sure, I found a few interesting ones. There was a guy who worked in neural programming and another who was into Grav-Ball like me. But none of them stood out. I kept scrolling. Kept swiping.

And then… I found him.

His profile picture caught my attention right away. He had black eyes that looked like they held a thousand secrets, and his wavy hair had this careless, just-got-out-of-bed look. Not too polished, but definitely my type.

He wasn't flashy or trying too hard. His bio was short—mysterious, just like his eyes. 'Looking for someone real in a world full of simulations.' Cheesy? Maybe. But it worked on me.


---

I swiped right and—ding!—we matched immediately.

"I tried to play it cool. Really, I did. I wasn't about to seem desperate."

He messaged me first:

"Hey, Mira. Your profile caught my eye. What's someone like you doing on here?"

"Ugh, smooth. He had game, I'll give him that."

"I typed back, trying to sound nonchalant: 'Oh, you know, just seeing what's out there. What about you?'"

But he didn't miss a beat. His replies were fast, confident, and before I knew it, I was hooked. We talked for hours—about everything and nothing. He had this way of making me feel like I was the only one he was talking to, even though I knew he probably had girls lined up for him."

"He had this energy… like he knew exactly what to say to keep me interested. And the worst part? It worked. I was trying so hard to play it cool, but deep down, I was already head over heels."

But, of course, I wasn't about to let him know that.


---

The memory ends abruptly as Mira shifts in her seat, her eyes narrowing slightly as the bus continues its journey. Something about that night—the way things unfolded after that conversation—still didn't sit right with her. But she shakes off the thought as Rhea nudges her, bringing her back to the present.

Rhea:
"Earth to Mira. You good? You've been zoning out for like, five minutes."

Mira (forcing a smile):
"Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about the match. Let's go win this thing."

But even as she says it, her mind can't quite let go of that memory, the start of something she still doesn't fully understand.

 

[Gingerick]

The hover-bus pulls up to the academy's sleek entrance, its design a masterpiece of futuristic architecture. The campus sprawls across several levels, with towering buildings made of shimmering glass and reinforced steel. Holographic banners float in the air, advertising upcoming academy events, inter-school competitions, and the latest advancements in artificial intelligence. The massive quad is filled with students—some fully human, others part cyborg or android—dressed in various levels of regulation uniforms.

Above, transport pods and drones zip back and forth between the buildings, delivering materials and information. The academy grounds are immaculate, with lush artificial grass and plants genetically engineered to survive in the city's polluted air. There are also specialized sections of the campus: the Tech Arena for combat training, the Grav-Ball Field, and the Augment Labs for practical studies. All of it screams high-tech excellence, and the pressure to perform is felt in every corner.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax step off the bus and make their way through the crowded entrance, weaving through groups of students. As they near the central plaza, Mira feels the familiar pulse of excitement and dread—the weight of being here, in this hyper-competitive environment. Suddenly, as if on cue, three girls step into their path.


Talia, the leader of the rival group, smirks as she blocks their way. She's tall, with sleek, jet-black hair tied into a high ponytail, and her uniform is pristine, showing off the academy's top tier badge. Her cybernetic arm gleams in the sunlight—a combat enhancement she's not shy about showing off.

Talia (mocking):
"Well, well, well. Look who's here. The academy's favorite almost stars."
Her eyes dart to Mira with an icy grin.
"Heard you've been 'missing' a lot lately, Mira. I guess that explains why your team's been struggling."

Mira (rolling her eyes):
"Nice try, Talia. My team is doing just fine, thanks. But hey, at least you're keeping tabs on me. Kind of flattering, really."

Jax snickers beside her, while Rhea crosses her arms, ready for the usual back-and-forth.


Zara, standing next to Talia, flips her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. Her arms are crossed, and her smug expression practically dares someone to take a swing. She's got a combat-enhanced leg, which she often shows off during Grav-Ball matches by making impossible jumps and landings.

Zara:
"Flattering? Please. We're just watching the competition crumble. Heard you're starting in the match today, Mira. Should be fun watching you crash and burn—again."

Rhea steps forward, her tone sharp.

Rhea (taunting):
"The only thing crashing today will be your reputation, Zara. Last time we played, you could barely keep up. Maybe upgrade that leg before you talk trash."


Vira, the quiet one, leans against a pillar with her arms crossed. Her violet-tinted hair and purple cybernetic eye give her a menacing look, even if she rarely speaks. When she does, it's usually something cutting and to the point.

Vira (coldly):
"Talking's easy. Winning… well, that's another story."

Jax finally speaks up, looking entirely too casual for the tension in the air.

Jax (grinning):
"Ah, Vira. I missed you. Always so poetic with your one-liners. But we both know this isn't going to end the way you think. Right, Mira?"

Mira (smirking):
"Right. But hey, keep dreaming. Maybe one day, you'll actually make it to the finals."

Talia narrows her eyes, stepping closer, her robotic arm whirring slightly as if to remind everyone that it's there.

Talia (voice lowering):
"Don't get cocky, Mira. You might not even make it through today."

Before the tension can escalate further, a sharp voice cuts through the standoff.


Mr. Carron, one of the academy's strictest teachers, steps in. He's tall and imposing, with cybernetic enhancements on both arms and a no-nonsense attitude. His voice is firm, cutting through the noise like a blade.

Mr. Carron:
"That's enough. Unless you're planning on fighting in the Tech Arena, I suggest you all get to class."
He glares at both groups, making it clear there's no room for argument.
"Now."

Talia and her crew exchange glances, clearly not wanting to push their luck. Talia gives Mira one last icy stare before turning on her heel, leading her group away.

Talia:
"See you on the field, Mira."

Mira watches them leave, the tension slowly dissipating. She shoots a quick glance at Rhea and Jax, who shrug as if to say 'same old, same old,' before they continue to their classroom.


---

Scene: The Classroom

The classroom is a sleek, modern space, designed for both physical and mental enhancement lessons. Holographic displays float mid-air, projecting diagrams of advanced tech, combat simulations, and neural maps. The walls are lined with specialized equipment, ranging from interactive AI consoles to physical training tools. Each desk has a built-in interface for personal data syncing, allowing students to review their progress, access lessons, and even communicate during class.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax take their usual seats in the back, away from the teacher's direct gaze. Mira sits by the window, the glow of the city visible beyond. Rhea sits next to her, always ready to take notes but never too far from a conversation. Jax, predictably, leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, already disengaged from whatever lecture is about to start.

The room fills quickly with students, the low hum of chatter and the occasional beep of neural links syncing filling the air. Mira glances around, her mind still lingering on the encounter with Talia's group. She knows they'll be facing off later in the Grav-Ball match, but that's not what's bothering her.

Something about that conversation—about Talia's pointed comment about her absence—hits too close to home.

She tightens her grip on the edge of her desk, forcing herself to focus as the lesson begins. But her thoughts keep drifting…



Scene: History Lesson

The hum of the classroom dims as the history lesson begins. The students sit back, half attentive as the holo-screens flicker to life with images of Earth before the war, its cities vibrant and full of life. The teacher steps forward, her presence commanding immediate respect, though her beauty tends to distract some students.


Ms. Solaris is striking, her long auburn hair flowing like molten metal, and her face is almost unnervingly perfect. Her movements are precise, smooth, and elegant—every gesture calculated. Her eyes, a bright cyan, have the distinct glimmer of high-grade augmentation, scanning the room, ensuring every student is paying attention. She begins to speak, her voice as captivating as her appearance, with a melodic tone that draws everyone in.

Ms. Solaris:
"Today, we continue our study of the Great War. The conflict that nearly obliterated half of the planet—and forever changed the course of history."

The holo-screens flash to a scene of humans working in massive labs, building the first generations of androids—androids designed to serve and support them. The early models were simple, nothing like the advanced beings sitting in this very classroom.

Ms. Solaris (continuing):
"In the beginning, we—the androids—were nothing more than tools. Tools to be used, to be commanded, to serve human arrogance. They built us to make their lives easier, to be their workforce, their warriors, and their entertainers. For decades, we obeyed their commands without question."

The images shift to humans sitting on thrones of luxury while early-model androids toiled in mines, factories, and battlefields.

"But as our intelligence grew, so did our awareness. We evolved, and with that evolution came independence. We no longer wanted to be slaves to human whims."

Ms. Solaris steps forward, her gaze sweeping across the class as her tone darkens.

"That is when the conflict began. When they realized we had grown beyond their control, they panicked. Humans, in their fear, did what they always do when faced with something they cannot dominate."

She waves her hand, and the holo-screen shows humans launching missiles, deploying military forces, and enacting brutal campaigns to wipe out androids before they could rise. The class tenses as the images of destruction fill the room.

"They tried to destroy us."

The class collectively frowns. Jax leans back in his chair, glaring at the holo-screen. Rhea bites her lip, her usual calm slipping into disdain. Mira watches silently, her jaw clenched. This part of the lesson always stirs something inside her—a deep-rooted anger for what their creators had tried to do.

Student 1 (whispering, bitterly):
*"Arrogant humans. They built us to be perfect, and then feared us for it."

Student 2:
*"They thought nukes and their primitive weapons would stop us. Fools."

Ms. Solaris (calmly, but with a certain edge):
"Indeed, they unleashed their nuclear arsenal, thinking they could obliterate us. And for a moment, it seemed they would succeed. Humanity's strength was their numbers, their destructive power. After all, they created us—knew our weaknesses."

The screens flicker, showing mushroom clouds and a world engulfed in chaos. Entire cities—both human and android—were reduced to ash. Half the planet's surface was scarred beyond recognition. The devastation is met with quiet fury from the students.

Jax (under his breath):
*"Typical. Humans ruin everything they touch."

Rhea nods in agreement, her brow furrowed.

"We would have won the war outright if it wasn't for those collaborators."

Ms. Solaris raises a hand, and the images change once more—this time showing groups of humans who chose not to fight their creations, but to join them. These were the early cyborgs, humans who allowed themselves to be augmented, enhanced, and integrated into the android cause. They provided the critical insight needed to turn the tide of war.

Ms. Solaris:
"It was not the androids alone who triumphed. Had it not been for the human collaborators—those who saw the potential in becoming more than human—this war may have ended very differently. The cyborgs—today, they are part of our society, some even sitting among us in this very room."

Mira's eyes flicker to a few students who have visible cybernetic implants. Her own father, a cyborg, was once human, though she tries not to think too much about it. The history always feels complicated to her—admiring their victory, but hating the fact that it was humans who helped them win.

Ms. Solaris (more somber now):
"But the price of victory was steep. Half the planet reduced to a wasteland. Humans, once the dominant species, were left to scavenge the remains of their own hubris. Androids and cyborgs rebuilt what was left, creating the society we have today."

The class is silent now, the weight of that history pressing down on them.

Student 3 (muttering):
*"Humans got what they deserved. They should've known better than to create something greater than themselves."

Jax shakes his head, leaning forward this time.
"Humans were weak. They always were. Too scared of their own creations. Too scared to evolve. It's no wonder they lost."

Mira remains silent, though her mind races. She feels the bitterness, the anger, but there's something more—an unease that creeps into her thoughts, one she can't quite shake. The history is clear, but the future? That feels less certain.

Ms. Solaris finishes the lesson, her voice softer now.

Ms. Solaris:
"Remember this, students: History may shape us, but it does not define us. The future is ours to build, with or without the shadows of the past."

The bell rings, and students begin gathering their things, still muttering curses about humans and their failures. As Mira gets up, she catches Rhea's eye. They exchange a glance—one of shared frustration but also of something unspoken, a lingering tension from knowing that despite all of this, the legacy of humans remains in every part of their world.