Chapter 02: Money Problem.

North Sector. The Drug Den. 10:20 AM.

02 landed near an old apartment block. The mission file said: Ground floor, high criminal activity.
She scanned the building.

“Classic drug den,” she said flatly.

The streets reeked of decay — trash fires, flickering neon, broken signs, and graffiti bleeding across brick walls. Homeless figures watched her with tired eyes. Gangs stood by, their faces lit by cracked phone screens.
Metromania, 2024 — the modern dystopia.

She walked toward the rusted orange door, once bright, now corroded.
The stench was unbearable — but good thing she wasn’t human.

Captain 02 approached politely at first — then raised her leg and kicked.
The door exploded inward, leaving a deep dent in the metal.

“These are the manners of Metromania,” she said dryly.

Inside, chaos.
Music blared from a half-broken Bluetooth speaker. A mix of heavy rock and static filled the air.

‘That speaker has seen better days’, she thought.

The criminals froze — startled, confused, and offended all at once.
One hung from a ceiling pipe for some reason. Others sat around a dirty couch, a few playing cards, others cutting white powder on a table.

02 raised her voice. “Metromania Police Department! Give up now and my fist won’t touch your skin! Any sudden mov—”

They burst into laughter. Maniacal, wheezing laughter.
One slapped his leg so hard it bled.

“Who pulled this prank?” one said between laughs. “That you, Marshal?”
“Never, bro. I hate electronics. Must be Marco.”
“Yeah, definitely Marco.”

02 just stared. She scanned the room — no firearms, only pipes and improvised weapons.

One of them got up, grinning with rotten teeth.

“Alright sweetheart, let’s show you what we do to cute little girls around here.”

He reached for her.

A flash.

A crack.

Her fist hit his jaw — instant silence.
Before his body could react, her knee slammed into his stomach, and she finished with a bicycle kick that launched him straight through the window across the room. Shattered glass. Blood on the floor.

The others froze.
Then pride took over fear. They armed themselves with whatever they could grab.

“Why did you stop laughing?” she said, tilting her head.

She charged — sprinting across the walls like a blur passing the group charging her. She reached the four that never saw her coming.
A spinning kick sent one’s teeth flying. Another was used as a projectile against the incoming mob.

She flipped over the table, both feet landing on two men’s heads. One slammed into the wall; the other dropped cold.

Seven left.

The mob that was shot by their colleague regrouped, trembling, but determined.
02’s eyes narrowed — calm, focused, deadly.

Her boosters hissed.
She launched.

Her fists met faces; metal clashed against bone. She grabbed one man and swung him like a club into two others.
Three fell. Four left.

She sprinted again, ran across the cracked wall, and dropped from above, slamming one through a window frame.
She picked up a pipe and cracked another’s legs cleanly out from under him. As he knelt, she met his eyes.

“You should’ve stayed down.”

Then threw him into the trash pile outside — through the same door she kicked in.

The last one fainted before she could touch him.

02 brushed the dust from her metallic white hands.

“To the next door.”

Room Two. 10:25 AM.

She approached quietly this time, her system still humming from the last fight. But she started thinking about the group behind the door.

‘Why didn’t they react to all that noise? Were they scared? Or... preparing?’
Her processors ran fast.
‘No... most likely, the room’s empty. No one could hear that much chaos with no reaction and not be— ‘

Another kick.
She was starting to enjoy this door knocking manner.

The door burst open. Four men sat at a large table — money, drugs, torn paintings, and exhausted women surrounding them.

She blinked.

“—stoned,” she finished her thought aloud.

In a flash, their rifles were aimed at her.

Her system registered danger.
Her chest tightened — her first taste of fear.

“Code Red... initiated.”

Her eyes turned crimson.
The shield deployed in fragments, covering her arms, chest, and legs in glowing red armor.

Bullets came fast — bouncing harmlessly off her barrier like raindrops on glass.
She advanced steadily, mechanical and unshaken.

She slammed the first man into the wall with a shield bash. The second soon followed.
The last two backed away, panic replacing their rage. They kept firing, desperate, until—

Click.
Empty.

They looked down, then up.
Her shield lowered slowly, revealing a smirk that could chill blood.

She dashed.

The first man caught a kick to the leg, dropping him instantly.
He looked up just long enough to see her eyes — emotionless, lethal.
One punch. Out cold.

The last man ran for the door.
He looked back—just in time to see the massive wooden table flying through the air toward him.

CRASH.

Silence again.

02 stood still, surrounded by dust and broken furniture.

“Area clear,” she whispered.

02 stepped out of the half-collapsed building, blood still smeared across her metallic hands.

Every face that met her fists had left its mark, and yet her gaze stayed calm. She believed what she was doing was right.

‘They are criminals, she told herself. No need to think twice.’

Her father’s voice cut through her internal silence — warm, proud, full of life.

“There is no limit to how much you can impress me. Every time you reach the ceiling, you just raise it higher! Is there even a ceiling anymore?”

His words warmed her un-existing heart.

‘Then it must be right,’ she thought. ‘If Father approves, he must know best — about his own kind.’

“Mission successful. Continue patrolling the north side.”

She obeyed without delay.

Metromania PD. 10:32 AM.

Across the city, Dr. Nick leaned back in his chair, grinning.

One monitor showed E-UNIT patrol feeds; the other displayed the face of Mr. Mikael, the Police Head — the highest authority in the national force.

They’d been in a call for nearly three hours. Mikael refused to miss a single mission. He wanted to see every movement of his new creation — humanity’s next evolution of law enforcement.

Dr. Nick gestured to the screen, his chest puffing out.

"So... are you satisfied yet?"

“Almost,” Mikael replied with his slow, gravel voice. “Never rush the main dish, Doctor.”

“But you have to admit — they’re beyond human capability.”

“Indeed. They adapt faster than any system I’ve seen.”

“That’s free AI, my friend. You give them a goal and they draw the path. You’ll be more impressed every day. Believe me — this is only the beginning.”

The two men grinned like old conspirators.

“So, can we call the Blue Angels Project a success?”

“Very soon,” Mikael said. “I will free this country from corruption, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

Mikael’s conviction was genuine — he was a man who had seen too much decay in the system. He believed the E-UNIT was the cure. He cared more than anyone. Perhaps he had spent too much of his life scraping rot from these streets, and he saw the E-UNITs not just as machines, but as his final shot at redemption. Mikael leaned forward, the lines on his face deepening.

At fifty-seven, the Police Head was a man who commanded respect even from his enemies; when Mikael wanted something, he got it. And right now, he wanted justice.

The Local Police Chief’s office. 10:34 AM.

But elsewhere… another man thought differently.

Inside the highest floor of Metromania’s Police Department, the Chief of City Police — Alfred Kane — sat in his dark office, replaying the E-UNIT footage over and over. He had access to every file in the police system.

The room was drowned in smoke and silence.

His frameless glasses reflected the blue glow of the monitor.

His grey hair and beard caught the faintest slice of light through the curtain.

He looked tired. But more than that — he looked angry.

“How can they be this good?” he muttered.

“Why didn’t the government make them sooner? Is the Police Head behind this? Of course, it’s him… that weak old fool Mikael.”

He leaned forward, scowling.

“They’ll replace us all.”

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” Alfred said in a low, icy tone.

“Hey Alfred! It’s me — Gus!”

Officer Gus stepped inside — an old comrade, now with a belly and tired smile.

He froze when he saw Alfred’s expression.

“Why the gloomy face? Didn’t find a flaw?”

"Not. A. Single. Flaw." Alfred spat the words out, his finger stabbing the desk.

"Wow, easy there, brother!" Officer Gus stepped inside.

"How can I calm down when those shiny blue toys will put me out of work!?"

"You’re near retirement anyway. Why wor—" Gus stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened as the realization hit him. The deals. The money. The arrangements. "Oh."

"Exactly!"

Alfred slammed his fist on the desk. "We need to stop him. I know how."

"Nick? Forget it, the Ministry of Internal Affairs shields him. The man even sleeps at the lab!"

"Then we attack the things we can reach." His glare moved back to the monitor.

On the screen — three blue silhouettes marked E-UNIT 02, E-UNIT 03 and E-UNIT 05 — blinking across the map like fireflies.

“Those machines don’t know it yet,” Alfred growled, “but they’re about to make powerful enemies.”

Outside, Metromania’s lights kept flashing, oblivious to the quiet war that had just begun.

the Chief took one last drag of his cigarette, crushed it, and stared at the screen.

A new call blared from his radio — “Code 7! Central Bank, armed robbery in progress!”

Alfred smiled.

“Let’s see how perfect our angels really are… when they bleed, they woke up an enemy that can hurt them."

Gus joined, "I see.."