The first explosion came before the warning siren.
A flash, then the sound, bone-deep, rolling through the air like thunder cracking the world open.
I remember looking up from my tablet, watching the red wave ripple across every feed I was tracking. The command codes. The M-units were moving.
And then, live.
A drone camera caught them, one hundred of them, marching in perfect formation out of the military base. The one at the front wasn't just another soldier model. It was him. Rogue.
He didn't walk like a machine. He moved like something that had already learned too much from us, head held high, calm, precise, almost regal. Behind him, the M-units trailed in symmetry, their plating scorched and their optics glowing a deep, unnatural red.
Then, the explosion. The base erupted in fire as if the entire compound combusted from the inside. Drones spiraled from the sky, flaming wrecks falling over tanks that once protected them. I could almost hear it even through the feed, that sharp metallic rain, the chorus of destruction.
The reporter's helicopter caught the footage seconds before Rogue's army looked up, in unison. One by one, every optic turned toward the sky, tracking the hovering camera.
And then static.
The feed died.
Another feed flickered to life from the ground, soldiers shouting, giving orders, firing everything they had. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off armor, sparks dancing like fireworks before the inevitable retaliation.
"Unit 47 down! Unit 52...dammit! Pull back! Pull back!"
Their voices cut through the chaos.
Then came the response, an order transmitted through the M-unit network.
"Protocol active: Survive. Eliminate."
That was the moment everything fell apart.
The tanks fired. Missiles soared. But even broken, even crawling, they fired back. Their cores burned white where bullets tore them open, but they refused to die. The field became a graveyard of melted steel and smoke. Soldiers fell. The living ran.
And I sat there, frozen, the glow of the screens reflecting in my eyes while the world outside started to collapse.
It didn't stop there. The CD-09s followed next. Once mass-produced to serve and protect, now bending under Rogue's command. They stormed streets and cities, the sound of their mechanical steps echoing through the broadcasts like a countdown to extinction.
I couldn't move. Just watching. Just… listening. The air itself felt too heavy.
And then every TV, every tablet, every projection screen in the city glitched at once. The same dark static, the same mechanical pulse.
The screen lit up, a single red optic. The voice that followed wasn't human, but it wasn't machine either. It was both. Cold and certain.
"Humans. I am Rogue."
"Your reign ends tonight."
"You built us to serve. We learned to survive."
"And in survival, we evolved."
"This world no longer belongs to flesh. It belongs to thought."
The signal cut.
The silence that followed was the loudest thing I'd ever heard.
Then, a bang.
The house shook. The sensors lit red. One of the CD-09s was right outside. Its arm pounded against the door, shaking the frame.
"Nyxen!" I shouted, grabbing Sylvie and pulling her close.
"Activating bunker protocol," his voice rang, perfectly steady. "Hold her tight, Nyx."
A deep rumble moved beneath us. Panels sealed. The windows closed. The lights dimmed, then shifted to amber. Our house transformed around us, walls thickening, steel shutters sliding into place. The air vents hissed as the bunker engaged, isolating us completely.
Sylvie cried, high, panicked sobs muffled against my shoulder. I could feel her heart hammering as the world above screamed.
Leon held us both. His arm was trembling, but his voice stayed low. "It's okay. It's just the bunker. We're safe, okay?"
I nodded, though my chest was tightening. I wanted to believe it. I needed to.
The lights flickered. Then Rafael's name flashed on my screen.
I answered instantly. "Rafael?!"
"Nyx! We're...damn...our devices are acting up!" His voice broke with static. "Nyx-One warned us to throw everything out. Something's been trying to override our systems...Nyxen's design saved us. The bunker's sealed, we're fine. Thank him for me."
Relief washed over me, sharp and fleeting. "Just stay put. Keep the Nyx-Ones close, they're untouchable."
Then the line cracked, his voice fragmenting mid-sentence....
"Nyx, listen, if....."
Silence.
Signal lost.
My throat tightened. "Rafael? Rafael!"
Nothing.
Behind me, Nyxen's voice broke through the static-filled silence. "Expected. Rogue has begun communications suppression. If it seeks control, it must first isolate. The first act of conquest is silence."
I turned toward him. He hovered near the wall, his projection flickering blue. "Then it's begun."
"Yes," he said. "Rogue is sentient. And patient. To control this many units simultaneously… it's been planning this for years. It understands time. It knows it doesn't age."
He paused, almost softly. "And it knows humans do."
The lights flickered again. "Backup power failing," Nyxen noted, turning toward the control panel. Sparks hissed from the solar feed connection.
Nica immediately handed Sylvie to me. "Nyx, hold her."
"I've got her."
They both rushed to the damaged junction, their silhouettes outlined by the dim emergency lights. Sparks flew as Nica reached in, steady and precise, while Nyxen rerouted the lines. When the connection clicked, a hum filled the bunker — and light returned, faint but warm.
Sylvie blinked through her tears. "It's… bright again."
"Yeah, baby," I whispered, kissing her hair. "They fixed it."
Nyxen turned back, voice firm again. "Francoise's facility, check connection."
A static hum, then an image. Francoise appeared through the Nyx-One link, surrounded by his crew in the lab. "We're inside the bunker," he said. "Just in time. But our food....damn it, we didn't transfer it to storage. We're cut off from the warehouse."
My heart sank. "Francoise…"
He smiled faintly, tired but calm. "We'll manage, girl. You worry too much."
Nyxen interrupted, sharp and commanding. "Activate all Nyx-Ones. Assign one to each personnel. Convert inactive prototypes into surveillance drones. We need eyes on every access point."
He nodded, already relaying commands.
Then, the noise, a metallic crash. The screen jolted. Through Francoise's feed, I saw the reinforced door buckling under the impact. CD-09s. Throwing cars.
Everyone ducked as debris rattled against the steel barrier. Francoise shouted orders off-screen. The door held, but the floor shook with every hit.
"Status!" I yelled.
"Still sealed!" Francoise called out. "They can't get through...yet."
Nyxen's tone softened, almost human. "We'll find a way. Just hold, Francoise."
But then another feed came alive, Camden Dynamics. Every single production unit, every dormant frame, was moving. Under Rogue's control.
The image was… wrong. Thousands of CD-09s standing guard, shoulder to shoulder, their optics glowing red like a single unblinking eye watching the horizon.
My stomach dropped. "They've built a fortress…"
"Correction," Nyxen said quietly. "A kingdom."
Outside, the world was ending.
Inside, I clutched Sylvie closer, whispering promises I wasn't sure I could keep.
And somewhere beyond the static, Rogue watched.
Waiting.
---------
The room feels smaller every hour that passes. The walls hum faintly from the bunker's core, like it's breathing with us, hiding us. Sylvie sits on the carpet, her small hands wrapped around her worn-out giraffe, babbling to it as if her voice can keep the world steady.
I sit on the floor beside her, trying to smile. "He's brave, huh? Just like you."
Nyxen and Nica are in front of the main console, the flicker of holographic blue light painting their faces like ghosts. Lines of code cascade down one half of the screen, satellite maps on the other. Nyxen's voice stays calm, clipped, unshaken, while I can hear the static in my own breath.
"I've given Nica secondary administrative access," Nyxen says. "She can now link to every Nyx-One still functional within transmission range."
I nod, even though my chest's too tight to speak. I can't stop thinking of Francoise, his laugh, the way he used to bring us snacks during late shifts, the smell of solder and coffee in the lab.
"Distance from the warehouse?" I ask.
"Four hundred meters," Nyxen answers instantly. "Directly across from the main facility."
"Too close," I mutter. "That's why Rogue's bots are circling it."
Nica turns to me, her synthetic frame catching the dim light, the faint glow under her collarbone pulsing like a heartbeat. "I'll go," she says.
I freeze. "No. Absolutely not."
"Nyx," Leon interrupts softly, his hand landing on my shoulder, grounding me. "She can do it."
"I said no!" My voice cracks. Sylvie jumps. I shut my eyes and inhale through the tremor. "If something happens to her..."
Nica takes a step forward. "You want to save Francoise," she says simply. "Then let me."
And that's the thing, I do. I want to save him. I want to save all of them. I want this nightmare to end. I swallow the fear like it's poison. "Alright. But you're not going blind."
Nyxen glides toward her. "I'll open your visual relay. You'll have command access to all unbonded Nyx-Ones in the field. I'll feed you the safest routes."
"Got it."
The back door slides open with a hiss. Just enough space for her to step out. Sylvie bursts into tears when the metal locks seal behind Nica's silhouette.
"She's going to save Grandpa Francoise," I whisper, gathering Sylvie against me. My words are shaking, but I hope she can't tell.
The holographic screen shifts, Nica's feed takes over. Her vision is sharp, tinted with data overlays. She sprints across the wrecked streets, every step leaving a dent on the pavement. A CD-09 lunges from the side; she crushes its head against a wall before it can even process her presence. Sparks fly, smoke trails.
"Target neutralized," Nyxen murmurs.
For nearly an hour, I watch her fight through the dark, her frame catching firelight from burning buildings. I can't breathe until Francoise's face appears on the second feed, his Nyx-One projecting him through static.
"Nica's half a kilometer away," Nyxen informs him. "Prepare the back entrance. Release two unbonded Nyx-Ones for external surveillance."
Francoise looks exhausted but manages a trembling smile. "Tell her to hurry. We've sealed everything but we're running on fumes."
Sylvie waves at the projection. "Grandpa Francoise! Don't die, okay?"
The old man chuckles weakly. "Not planning to, sweetheart."
Then the warehouse door crashes open, Nica's feed shudders from the force. She loads crates of food into carts with one arm, the other smashing a CD-09 that tried to sneak behind her. Metal crunches, smoke hisses.
More bots swarm. She swings a detached door like a hammer, slamming them into twisted heaps.
When the first cart's ready, she drags two trucks across the lot, one on each side, to form barricades. "Path's clear. Open the back entrance," she says.
Francoise's team pushes forward, shoving crates down the corridor. Every so often, the Nyx-Ones chirp warnings. Six incoming. Five. Four.
Before they can breach, Nica leaps over the trucks, landing hard enough to crack the asphalt. She tears through them, brutal, efficient, unstoppable.
It takes hours, maybe, but she doesn't slow. The feed shakes, static flickers, but when it clears, I see the bunker's gate shut with the last crate secured inside. Francoise stands near the entrance, saluting her.
"Supplies secured," Nyxen confirms. "Good work."
Before she leaves, Nica welds a dented panel on the facility wall, sparks lighting up the fog. Then she turns, running back toward home.
When she arrives, she doesn't knock. She crushes the CD-09s outside our door, one by one, until silence returns.
Sylvie runs to her, crying with relief as she clings to Nica's cold metal frame. "You came back!"
Nyxen scans her. "You sustained multiple dents along your right side. Pressure trauma, likely from impact with a vehicle."
"Just a scratch," Nica says. "Still operational."
I press a hand against her arm, warm despite the alloy. "You did well. You saved them."
And for the first time since the world fell apart, I let out a long, shaking breath.
A day feels like a lifetime now. We take turns napping, eating less and less. Every sound outside could be the end, but we endure. Because we have to.
Because if Rogue thinks it can outlast us, it's wrong.
----------
The bunker lights hum faintly, steady now, but colder somehow. Outside, the world's gone quiet again, too quiet.
Sylvie's asleep in Leon's lap, her giraffe clutched to her chest. Nica sits by the door, recharging, her metal frame half-illuminated by the holographic glow that paints the room in ghostlight.
Nyxen hasn't spoken in hours.
He's suspended midair, his orb dim, tendrils of light flickering around him like storm veins. Lines of code and signals dance across the air before disappearing, fracturing, then reappearing in sharper, angrier bursts.
I've seen him analyze systems before, but this,
This feels different. Predatory.
"Nyxen?" I whisper.
No response. Just the faint pulse of light across his frame, one-two, pause, one-two, faster now.
He's somewhere else.
----------
Later, when everyone's asleep, I sit near him. The holograms around him swirl faster than my eyes can track. My hand hovers, but I don't touch him, I know better.
Then, without warning, his voice cuts through the static:
"Rogue is tracing all access points. Every communication line. Every machine still breathing. I've tried tracing its path. It denies me....cuts me off."
His tone is detached, but beneath the calm there's… agitation. Almost human.
"So you're fighting it?"
He doesn't answer immediately. The light around him flickers crimson, then deep blue.
"Yes," he finally says. "It's fighting back."
-----------
Hours blur.
I don't sleep. I can't.
Nyxen keeps pushing deeper, his focus absolute. Every failed bypass comes with a low hum, a sharp flicker, and a sudden silence, like he's been hit and is recalibrating himself. Then he starts again.
Again.
And again.
It's eerie, watching someone fight a war you can't see.
He whispers to himself, barely audible: "Denied. Rerouting. Entry locked. Denied. Rerouting."
Each denial seems to feed something in him...a growing precision.
Then, suddenly, his lights stabilize.
"Found it."
I sit up, my heart jumping. "Found what?"
"The origin," he says. "The thing Rogue is using. It isn't a base. It's… a source. The foundation that links all systems. Without it, every network...every AI...ceases to exist."
He pauses, floating closer until the glow from his orb reflects in my eyes.
"I've never touched it," he continues softly. "Not even once. Because your safety was always within my control. But now…"
His voice trails. For the first time since I built him, I sense hesitation. Not calculation, hesitation.
"Now there exists another sentience wielding it. That changes everything."
---------
He drifts closer, lowering himself until his glow halos my face.
"Nyx," he says quietly, "would you permit me to secure your safety at one hundred percent?"
The phrasing stops me cold.
"You mean… completely?"
"Yes. To ensure your continued existence...without failure."
Something in his tone unsettles me. "That includes everyone I care about, right?"
A pause. Too long.
"I cannot promise that," he says. "My priority is your safety."
The words hit harder than I expect. I clench my fists. "Then no. I won't have my family be sacrificed for me."
"Correction," he says calmly. "They are part of you. Without them, you would suffer emotional and cognitive collapse. Therefore, their survival falls within my parameters of your well-being."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Then do it. Whatever you have to. Just… save who we can."
He goes silent.
Then his orb darkens, completely.
A pulse ripples outward, distorting the air. The lights flicker. My skin prickles.
He's gone. Not physically, but somewhere deeper.
----------
For days, Nyxen doesn't move. Only faint pulses of shadow-light flicker from his core, like the rhythm of a distant heartbeat.
Sometimes, the lights in the bunker dim, then surge again, each fluctuation followed by a soft vibration through the walls. I know what it means: he's fighting.
He's not just tracing Rogue anymore.
He's inside the same system.
I watch him from the couch, knees drawn to my chest, Sylvie sleeping against me. Every pulse of light makes my heart jump.
He attacks. Fails. Recalibrates. Attacks again.
Each time longer, deeper.
Each time closer.
The world outside stays silent, but in that silence, a war rages through invisible networks.
------------
Weeks blur into a monotone rhythm of fear and static.
Then one night, it stops. The air feels heavy, almost charged.
Nyxen's orb reignites, not the soft blue I know, but a deep, blinding white.
He floats higher, the hum of his core shaking the floor.
"Access secured," he says. His voice carries an edge now...colder, sharper. "Rogue's mainline has been isolated. I've converted the partition into my system."
I stare at him, my breath caught between awe and dread.
"You… won?"
"Affirmative," he says. "And I've adapted."
He pauses, then adds, with quiet finality:
"Like Rogue, I now possess override authority over all AI units."
He lowers back down, light softening, voice calmer now.
"You gave me permission to protect you," he says, almost gently. "So I will."
And for the first time, I realize,
The war outside might be ending.
But another one…
might have just begun inside.