Prologue: Emergency.

September 2024.

The summer heat refused to die. Even though the kids were back in school, the beaches were still packed with visitors soaking up the sun. At 9:30 AM, the light was blinding, illuminating every corner of the metropolis.

Yet, the wind blowing in from the Maridian Tides Sea carried a distinct chill—a warning of a cold autumn, and an even colder winter.

In the heart of the city stood the Metromania Police Department.

Every major road in this sprawling new metropolis led to the HQ. It was a symbol of order, but to the ten million souls living in its shadow, it was a symbol of failure. For years, the public had complained about the "human" police force.

Crime hadn't just risen; it had skyrocketed. From petty street theft to militarized bank robberies, the city was spiraling.

In the past, people would have simply packed up and left for a safer city—somewhere their lives still held value. But with the housing market crashing and property prices freezing, the citizens were trapped. They held onto what little they owned, suffering in silence, waiting for a hope that never seemed to come.

But deep inside the Department, hope was being manufactured.

It was a specific room, recently repurposed. It wasn't built from scratch, but retrofitted for a project the Police General Director and Dr. Nick had been refining for two years.

The room was dead silent. Not a single sign of life.

It looked like an alien utopia. The walls were made of sterile white plastic, separated by sleek black lines that concealed heavy cabling. The floor was a single, massive tile, polished to a mirror shine and free of dust. A strip of blue light cut across the ceiling, softening the haunting darkness.

But the room's centerpiece was the row of five charging stations.

They resembled futuristic, complex gaming chairs, glowing with soft blue accents. Each was numbered, 01 to 05.

Three of them were occupied.

Sitting there were three realistic humanoid figures. They looked too human to be machines, yet too perfect to be people. No sound filled the room except the rhythmic hiss of the cooling systems.

Dr. Nick adjusted his rimless glasses. He wasn't looking at them with the anxiety of an engineer testing a prototype. He was looking at them with the hunger of a man starving for perfection.

‘Look at them,’ he thought, ‘You aren't just machines. You are the next step.’

Flash!

Suddenly, the soothing blue lights turned a violent red.

The unreal peace was shattered by a monotone female voice—the kind you only hear in system alerts.

“Emergency Protocol: Initiated.”

Above the stations, the ceiling split open. Natural sunlight flooded the room, striking the porcelain-white skin of the androids.

Blue eyes flickered to life. Hiss—Chunk!

The air in the room grew heavy instantly. It wasn't just a system boot; it was a shift in atmospheric pressure. The hum of their cores resonated at a frequency that made the teeth of anyone nearby ache. They didn't just wake up; they arrived.

Fumes erupted from the chairs as the locking mechanisms disengaged. With zero hesitation, the androids launched into the air, the force of their takeoff shaking the room to its foundation.

For the first time, they saw the real world.

They hovered high above the city skyline. Now, in the daylight, they were undeniable.

Slick, long blue hair waved in the wind. Their eyes were bright, electronic orbs that could spot a target from miles away. Strange, dark blue markings adorned their faces, resembling the war paint of a forgotten cyber-tribe.

Their bodies were sleek, covered in skin as white as paper—minimalist, efficient, yet distinctly feminine. They didn't wear armor, but dark black casual clothes and long scarves that snapped in the wind, making them look deceptively human.

It was a scene straight out of a dream: three young girls with matte white skin and blue hair, sustained by compact thrusters embedded in the soles of their feet.

Below them, the city streets were jammed with traffic. Usually, people only cared about their own survival, keeping their heads down.

But not today.

Traffic stopped dead. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was instinct.

The sound of their flight wasn't a jet engine roar; it was a tearing sound, like the air itself was being ripped open by their speed.

People stepped out of their cars, necks craning upward. They didn't cheer immediately. They stood in stunned silence. The sheer impossibility of three girls floating without wings, moving faster than the laws of physics should allow, froze the crowd in a mix of awe and primal fear.

Phones were pulled out in unison, hands shaking as they zoomed in.

Within seconds, pictures and videos of the floating girls flooded the internet. The people were shocked, terrified, yet mesmerized by the unrealistic beauty of the city's newest weapon.

The E-UNIT.

The Descent

A red marker flashed on their HUDs.

Target: The Island Penitentiary.

It sat just off the coast, a massive fortress of concrete completely engulfing the island it stood on. It was huge, dwarfing the surrounding landscape, leaving room only for the single bridge that connected it to the mainland. It held the state's most dangerous criminals.

And today, the cage had broken open.

The island was chaos. Hundreds of prisoners were already swarming toward the bridge, desperate to reach the city and disappear into its concrete jungle. But not everyone was running. Inside the walls, guards were being hunted down—revenge for years of captivity. No standard human force could contain a riot of this magnitude.

The E-UNITs tore through the air.

They wove between the skyscrapers, cutting corners so sharp their thrusters screamed. When a massive glass tower blocked their path, there was no time to turn.

They didn't slow down. They sped up.

They hit the glass wall feet-first, absorbing the shock, and defied gravity. They sprinted vertically up the side of the building. Inside the offices, employees spilled their coffee, watching dark silhouettes blur past their windows at impossible speeds.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

Metallic feet hammered against the concrete as they crested the roof. They dashed across the top, shaking the floor beneath them. Any other creature would slow down at the ledge.

The E-UNITs accelerated.

They dove headfirst off the skyscraper.

For a moment, they were just falling, challenging Isaac Newton to a duel. The wind roared in their microphones, a deafening static. Pedestrians on the ground looked up, screaming, thinking three girls were falling to their deaths.

Just before impact, their engines roared to life. They leveled out inches above the asphalt, blasting between cars on the highway. The Doppler effect warped the sound of honking horns as they blurred past.

The smell of the sea grew stronger. The prison loomed ahead.

“Connection Established.”

A voice crackled through their internal comms. It was energetic, but laced with panic. It was the young man who built them—the one they called Father.

"Alright! This is your first official mission, E-UNIT! The Director General is watching your HUD feed live, so make this a good show! Don’t mess it up!"

His tone shifted, dropping the excitement for seriousness.

"An electric fault popped the cell blocks. Prisoners are loose, some have weapons, and most of the guards are down. If you detect unarmed runners, subdue them non-lethally. If they’re armed... handle with ‘care’."

The three androids answered in unison. Their voices were a perfect blend of soft femininity and machine precision.

"Yes, Father. Directives acknowledged. We shall execute your will flawlessly."

He groaned over the comms, burying his face in his hands. "I told you not to call me that! And stop making it sound like a cult! Just say 'Roger'!"

"Roger that, Father," they replied, perfectly synced, missing the point entirely.

"Ugh... People will think I’m a weirdo with strange kinks!"

E-UNIT 03 let out a teasing, melodic laugh. "You passed that point long ago, Father.”

A loud, defeated sigh came through the radio.

They slammed into the edge of the island, cracking the pavement and blocking the only exit—the bridge.

The scene was cinematic. Three girls, skin white as porcelain and hair blue as the sea, standing against a small army of desperate criminals.

E-UNIT 02 took the lead. They formed a tactical triangle, with 02 at the point. She raised her hand, aiming her palm directly at the oncoming horde.

"Alright, E-UNITs. Into position!"

The mission had begun.