The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Vale sky in hues of orange and purple.
Penny, her metallic fingers laced together, watched from the window of her temporary living quarters in Atlas base.
She had spent the day with Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang, along with Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren.
They had laughed, trained, and shared stories, their youthful energy a vibrant contrast to her own composed existence.
A quiet sigh escaped her internal mechanisms.
She had observed them, truly observed them, throughout the day.
The way Ruby's eyes sparkled when she talked about her scythe, Crescent Rose, or the genuine concern in Weiss's voice when Blake seemed troubled.
She saw the easy camaraderie between Yang and her teammates, the unspoken understanding that flowed between Ren and Nora, and the quiet strength of Pyrrha and Jaune.
They felt everything so deeply, so effortlessly.
Penny envied it.
She envied their spontaneity, their uninhibited joy, their raw emotions. When Ruby giggled, it was a sound that seemed to bubble up from deep within her.
When Pyrrha expressed concern, her brow would furrow, and her hand would instinctively reach out.
Penny, despite her advanced processing power, could only simulate these reactions.
Her laughter was programmed, her empathy a sophisticated algorithm.
"I wish I could be alive like them,"
She whispered, the words a silent hum within her circuits.
She wanted to feel the warmth of true friendship, the ache of genuine sadness, the exhilarating rush of joy, not just register them as data points.
She wanted to feel the sun on her skin, the taste of real food, the simple pleasure of breathing.
As the last sliver of sunlight vanished, casting the room in shadow,
Penny turned away from the window.
Her "home" in Atlas base wasn't a cozy room with personal touches.
It was a functional space, designed for maintenance and recharging.
A large, cylindrical capsule stood in the corner, its sleek surface reflecting the faint glow of the city lights outside.
This was where she spent her nights, connecting to power, undergoing diagnostic checks, and downloading updates.
It was efficient, sterile, and utterly devoid of warmth.
She approached the capsule, its hum a familiar, if uninviting, lullaby.
Just as she was about to step inside, a soft chime echoed through the room.
Her internal sensors registered an incoming visitor.
Her optical sensors identified the person through the frosted glass of the door.
Her database immediately recognized the silhouette.
A surge of unexpected happiness, a feeling she had learned to identify as joy, rippled through her.
"Father!"
She thought, a small, almost imperceptible tilt to her head.
Pietro rarely visited her directly in Atlas base, but when he did, it was always a welcome surprise.
He was the one who understood her, who saw beyond her metallic shell to the soul he had painstakingly given her.
The door hissed open, and Penny's programmed smile, usually so bright and unwavering, faltered.
Her internal systems registered a sudden drop in her emotional output, a feeling she now recognized as disappointment, swiftly followed by a cold, sharp prick of something akin to fear.
It wasn't her father.
Standing in the doorway were General James Ironwood and Specialist Winter Schnee.
Ironwood, as always, had an air of rigid authority, his cybernetic arm gleaming under the artificial light.
Winter, beside him, was equally composed, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a professional, almost clinical, gaze.
"Penny Polendina,"
Ironwood's voice boomed, devoid of warmth or personal inflection.
"We are here to conduct a routine data extraction and system analysis."
Penny felt a familiar, uncomfortable tightening in her chest, a sensation that mimicked the human experience of sadness.
She knew this routine. It wasn't a visit; it was an inspection.
They treated her like a valuable asset, a powerful weapon, a scientific marvel. Never like a daughter.
Never like a person.
"Affirmative, General,"
Penny replied, her voice perfectly modulated, betraying none of the internal turmoil she felt.
She moved towards a nearby data port, ready to connect herself. It was her duty.
She was designed for it.
But that didn't make it any less disheartening.
Ironwood, meanwhile, was visibly agitated.
His jaw was clenched, and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
The day had been a complete disaster.
His Atlesian Knights, usually paragons of obedience and efficiency, had gone rogue.
Not in a destructive way, thankfully, but in a baffling, almost whimsical manner.
They had abandoned their patrols, forming impromptu dance circles in the plaza, playing tag in the corridors of the academy, and even attempting to juggle dust crystals.
He had spent hours trying to find the source of the anomaly, but his extensive diagnostics revealed nothing.
It was infuriating.
The thought of his carefully programmed automatons behaving like children made his blood boil.
Winter, ever observant, noticed the General's simmering frustration.
She herself was preoccupied.
Her mind kept drifting back to her conversation with Weiss earlier that day.
Her little sister, the notoriously reserved and disciplined Weiss, had a crush.
A boy? She knew not.
The very idea was preposterous, yet Weiss had spoken of him with an uncharacteristic softness in her voice, a gentle blush on her cheeks.
Winter's protective instincts, honed over years of guarding Weiss from their father's influence and the treacherous world of Atlas high society, flared.
She remembered her own mother, consumed by a love that ultimately led to her despair.
No. She would not allow Weiss to fall victim to such a weakness.
She would find this "boy" and assess him. If he was anything less than perfect, anything that could jeopardize her sister's future, Winter would deal with him.
Decisively.
As Penny connected herself to the data port, the cool hum of the machinery filling the silence, she closed her eyes.
She imagined the laughter of her friends, the warmth of Ruby's embrace, the feeling of true belonging.
And in that fleeting moment, before the data streams began their relentless flow, a single, unspoken wish echoed through her core programming: I want to be human.