Chapter 09: Coup D’état.

Metro Robotics’ Storage Facility. 09:10 AM.

The same cold morning wrapped the city like a thin sheet. Leaves skittered along gutters while the Light Lane hummed under a sky that had already learned to fear metal boots.

Back at the warehouse, 02 moved like a commander who never wasted a second.

“Nice job, E-UNIT. Move fast,” she said, voice crisp. “01 — main entrance. Block it. Hold every worker here under suspension. 05 will arrive soon to transport them back to the department. 04 — swap with 05. You take patrol; 05 scans and copy everything into Father’s main PC. Keep memory organized. The lab main computer has large storage — it’ll hold everything.”

“Roger that, Captain!” 04 and 01 answered together, military-precise.

“What are you doing then?” 01 asked.

“I’m reporting to Father,” 02 said. “I need to brief him on the Lightning Blade and the Light Lane — and a special side mission I picked up earlier.”

“Side mission?” 04 blinked.

“Yes. Things are going to get dirty. Help 05 finish here fast. Support her.” 02 didn’t wait for more. 04 snapped a salute; 01 returned it.

02 reached the Light Lane in a blink. Her thrusters sang as the lane’s reinforced asphalt and covered bridges swallowed her speed like a track built for gods. The Light Lane wasn’t just a road — it was a promise: reinforced pavement, bridges over every intersection so they could run without traffic, and transparent tunnels of glass, plastic, and metal covering the bridges so nothing accidentally launched into the skyline.

In minutes she was back at the launch bay. Dr. Nick waited; eyes bright.

“HOW WAS IT?!” he blurted.

02 smiled a little, surprised. “Let’s talk private. We have ears everywhere now.”

Right — Nick stiffened. “Sorry. Sorry. I got ahead of myself.”

The Police Head Quarter. 09:20 AM.

Meanwhile, in the capital, Mikael stood in a small control room wearing a tight suit, smoothing his hair and humming like the world belonged to him. Jacob Marine leaned in the doorway, watching him.

“Your mood can’t get better,” Jacob teased.

“Are you kidding? Today we take down that geezer!” Mikael answered, full of electric joy.

“I can’t believe it was that easy,” Jacob smirked.

Mikael laughed. “Me neither. Dr. Nick gave me a present no one else could.”

“Not even Michell?” Jacob widened his smile.

“Hey!” Mikael mock-scolded, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “That woman is something else. My wife is my life, but Nick just gave me the result I wanted for my whole career.”

Jacob’s grin grew. “I’m going to tell her.”

“Please don’t,” Mikael said, half-serious, half-playing. They both laughed.

“Heads are going to fly today,” Jacob said, tone sharpening. “You prepared for the fallout?”

“If this hit succeeds,” Mikael said, voice cold and delighted, “we cut their legs and leave the rest for the E-UNIT to finish.”

Jacob’s nod was eager. “Sounds like a plan, but don’t you think people will be scared of the blood scenes?”

“That’s more than a plan,” Mikael said, eyes distant. “Don’t worry, people are ready to sign a devil contract, for any hope of a safer town.” He smiled, small and fierce — a man ready to pull the plug on an old order.

“And that will lure the rat out of his den.”

Jacob agreed, “he will see the violence and try to use it against us. So, the TV interview is just a battleground full of traps.

Mikael turned his eyes to him. “Precisely.”

They headed out to the press room, ready to light the first match.

Mikael always thought in details — every angle, every pause, every line. Maybe that was why he loved the E-UNIT project: machines that never tired, never bored, never skipped a beat. They clean rot where humans can’t, even on a shoestring budget. And that last phrase — small budget — burned him like a rock in his shoe. It was the excuse old men used to stop progress. He would not let them swim in their pools while the city bled.

He stepped into the press room — not outside in the cold, not some sloppy courtyard. It was almost four in the afternoon; the sky was grey and the Light Lane hummed far away. He wanted every eye on him alone: not the wind, not the weather, not the chandeliers — him. Cameras flashed as he walked, a storm of lights that would blind any new face. Mikael was used to it. He took the lectern as if it were a thing, he had designed himself.

He set his hands on it, aggressive but controlled. The room quieted like a stage falling into shadow.

“The weather changed. The trees changed their leaves. Corruption will change soon,” he said, voice low and sharpened. People leaned forward. A ripple of murmurs ran through the room.

“You heard me.” He didn’t waste breath. “I’ll be direct — I don’t have much time. Let me say this plainly: anyone who took a single cent of public money, or used people’s money for shady deals, should be afraid. Trembling. If you are not, let me open your eyes.”

He paused. The cameras hunched closer. Journalists readied keys and pens like weapons.

“We are a country proud of technology—military, police, soon medical fields with my help. But tonight, I want to show you the work of our new police force: the Emergency Unit.”

A projector flicked. The feed filled the wall — raw security cams, drone shots, the E-UNITs moving like red ghosts. The hangar replayed, frame by frame: blades that burned through steel, bodies that vanished and reappeared, sparks and blood in slow, terrible ballet. The room reacted in one body: gasps, clicks of cameras, fingers flying on keyboards.

“These mechs had a story,” Mikael said, voice even but cutting. “They were built illegally, in the corruption core of Metromania. Five-hundred-kilogram war machines moved, fixed, and stored under the noses of officials. How could that happen? How could such heavy equipment be made and transported while local authorities — the police, the municipality — claim ignorance? Or were they looking the other way? And by the way, those are war machines used by our NATIONAL military.”

Reporters typed like their lives depended on the next sentence.

“I’m not pointing fingers without cause. An investigation is open — led by the E-UNIT. Yes: they have access to official records now. Yes: they are smarter than many of our investigators. In ten days, they advanced this case further than a decade of human corruption did.”

He leaned toward the mic, bringing his words as a blade.

“Some parts of government were jealous. They put roadblocks everywhere.” He took a breath and then widened his arms as if to embrace the whole hall. “But that didn’t stop our girls from fighting corruption. They hit criminals. They knocked down anyone who stood between justice and the people.”

Mikael steadied himself, eyes fierce beneath the studio lights.

“Even with low budgets. Even with people in the way. Even without cooperation from local units—the E-UNIT is achieving what I dreamed: a government free from rot. We are this close.” He pinched two fingers together to show distance smaller than a breath. “And I don’t intend to stop. I will remove the rocks from their light, starting today.”

He smiled, slight and dangerous. “Watch me tonight at nine on national television. Everything will make sense.”

Applause rose before he finished speaking. Phones recorded, channels cut in live, social feeds caught fire. In that room, people who had been waiting for a leader found themselves holding onto a name: Mikael Wilson. Hope gathered around him like a tide.

He stepped back from the lectern, not triumphant so much as purposeful. The city outside kept breathing beneath its neon and rust. Inside, the press room buzzed with noise and plans and first drafts of headlines. Mikael’s mind was already three moves ahead — press strategy, legal cover, timing for the leak. He felt the perfect click of a lock falling into place.

He had made the city watch. Now he would make it decide.

The upcoming national broadcast was going to shake the entire country.
Mikael saw an opportunity — and he wasn’t about to miss it.

After returning to his office, he found Jacob waiting for him.

Jacob was waiting, practically vibrating with energy. “You did it, Mikael! That was perfect!”
Mikael corrected him, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. “No, Jacob... we did it. All our work — ten, twenty years? Doesn’t matter anymore. It’s finally going to pay off.”

They shook hands — firm, proud, full of respect. They were about to face their biggest challenge yet.

The Ministry of Defense. The Defense Minister Office. 10:11 AM.

Meanwhile, inside the Ministry of Defense…
An old man was preparing for war of his own.

Alexander Robinson, eighty-one years old, the current Minister of Defense — a legend, and the last of the old guard — stood in his office as his advisor, Henry Vegas, looked on with concern.

“Sir,” Henry said, his tone respectable but worried. “Are you sure you want to go yourself? Mikael will rip you apart — he’s been waiting for this.”
Alexander replied with pure arrogance, adjusting his cuffs. “Yes. I’m the only one who can face that brilliant man. Every move he makes is calculated. He’s a strategist... a perfectionist. If I don’t go, no one else can.”
“All I see is an arrogant fool who doesn’t respect his elders,” Henry sighed. “But... you’re right. He isn't normal. Then — sir, take a safe trip. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Henry saluted sharply.
Alexander smiled faintly.

“You’re in charge while I’m gone.”
Henry fixed his poster, “Yes, sir! Don’t stay too long or we juniors will miss you!”
Alexander asked sarcastically, “And who’s that?”
Henry joking, “You know him very well, sir.”

Both men laughed quietly — their last calm moment before the storm.

The National Television HQ. 07:44 PM

At the National Television HQ, at the capital. Chaos reigned.
Three major figures were about to appear on the same show — the Police Head Mikael, the Minister of Defense Alexander Robinson, and Arthur, Vice Manager of Metro Robotics.

Reporters screamed orders. Cameras flashed.
Wires tangled.
The director shouted until his voice broke.
But one room stayed quiet. The makeup room. Inside, the well-known host Isabella Harper sat still. She was known for her sharp mind and fearless interviewing style.

Suddenly, a staff member burst in, breathless. “The guests—they changed!”

Isabella glared at him in the mirror. “How dare you barge in without—”

“The Minister of Defense is coming instead! He’s in the building!”

Isabella froze, her lipstick hovering inches from her face. Silence filled the room for a heartbeat. “Whaaaaaaaaaat?!”

The Waiting Room. 07:51 PM.

Mikael arrived early. He was guided into the green room, where he immediately spotted Alexander Robinson and Arthur already seated.

“What a lovely sight,” Mikael said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m blessed to see two brilliant men before me.”

Alexander didn’t smile. He was eighty-one years old, a legend of the old guard. “You’ve always disrespected the wisdom and experience that built this country. It’s time you stop. You’ll never show your face again after tonight.”

“You won’t be able to see it anyway,” Mikael shot back.

The air went heavy. The Director rushed in, panting. “Gentlemen! Thank you for coming! Sorry for the mess—everything was prepared in a hurry!”

Alexander sneered. “Young men these days… such chaos.”

Mikael smirked. “Like your generation wasn’t?”

The Director sighed. This was going to be one hell of a broadcast.

The Studio. 07:59 PM.

The lights turned on. 3… 2… 1…

LIVE.

Every adult in Metromania watched. Streets emptied. Families gathered around screens. Phones were glued to faces.

Isabella Harper looked into the camera, composed. “Thank you for tuning in. This is National Television, presenting the debate that’s been long awaited. Two fronts will discuss why the whole government isn’t standing behind Mikael Wilson’s project. Up to now, the numbers only show green. So—let’s start.”

She turned to her left. “On my left: Defense Minister Alexander Robinson. Beside him: Arthur Silver, Vice Manager of Metro Robotics.”

Alexander bowed once. Arthur nodded stiffly.

“And on the right, alone and facing the other side: Police General Director Mikael Wilson.”

“Thanks for the kind words,” Mikael said.

“Let’s start with the left,” Isabella said. “Mr. Alexander: what’s your raw, unfiltered opinion on the E-UNIT project?”

Alexander’s voice was blunt, measured. “To be blunt: sending uncontrolled robots with one hundred percent free logic is dangerous. Without human control, you can’t ensure the outcome. All we see is bloodshed. People deserve a fair, legal court, judged by a human. Letting this AI roam the streets is like telling someone badly wounded to swim in a pool of alcohol. It might be effective, but it’s brutal, dangerous, and inhuman.”

“Very good insight,” Isabella noted. “Mr. Wilson—your reply?”

Mikael’s tone was sharp. “All I hear is the same old cassette, replaying again. Humans reacted the same way when we introduced computers. They said: ‘Humans do it better.’ Same excuses. People fear computers because computers don’t hide and don’t forget. Now, abnormal numbers light up in red—we can see who didn’t do their job. If the infection is this bad, you need the courage to disinfect it.”

Isabella turned to Arthur. “Mr. Silver—your position? Your company makes mechs for warfare. Why oppose robots on the streets?”

Arthur’s voice tightened. “Exactly: Warfare. Machines should not face the people they serve. They are ones and zeros. They don’t have empathy; they can’t feel. If you want to stop criminals at first contact, human police can do that.”

“But what if human police don’t act?” Isabella asked. “If they have ulterior motives?”

“You’re right,” Mikael cut in. “If human police were enough, we wouldn’t need E-UNIT. We know how bad humans can be. We need tools to make sure no one with power is above the law.”

“Mr. Minister—do we have no choice?”

“We do,” Alexander argued. “Empower humans with better tools. Computers don’t kill—these machines do. They slice people up. How can you apply the law to criminals if they’re not alive?”

“Again with the excuses!” Mikael snapped. “Your humans aren’t clean themselves. How can you entrust a bank to a thief?”

“What do you mean, ‘thief’? We just need competent humans!”

“You’re far from being able to say that!” Mikael yelled. “You kill people for a living—there’s a war on the west side right now!”

“Those are not our citizens! We kill enemy forces! We don’t go into people’s homes! Your machines do!”

“Then you’re just like them. You choose who to kill too.”

“Then you’re simply bad at your job managing the police!”

“You use machines yourself in the war!”

“Humane control,” Alexander declared. “They are superior by every measure. Our producer is a respectable company that makes weapons good enough for our military.”

Mikael smiled. The trap was set. “And who is that producer?”

“Classified.”

“Then it’s time for the truth to come out.”

Isabella raised a hand. “Please, calm down both of you.”

“I’m calm,” Mikael said. “And ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“To clean the streets myself. 02—please come here.”

A hush fell over the studio. The Director muttered, “Who brought her in?”

Alexander’s face lost all color. “You brought the killing machine into the studio?”

02 walked onto the set. Her white metallic skin caught the studio lights. She answered with flat politeness. “Is that what you call us, Mr. Minister?”

Alexander sputtered. “She can talk?”

“Of course,” 02 said cold and clear. “But my main task is taking out trash… and I see a lot of trash here.”

“What do you mean? Are you nuts?”

“Not at all, Mr. Robinson. For making shady deals with Metro Robotics. For using illegally made weapons. For shutting down multiple attempts to investigate the Ministry budget. And for using your office as Minister of Defense to obstruct the E-UNIT project for personal gain...”

She pointed a metal finger at him. “You are under arrest. Any attempt to flee will be met with lethal force.”

“What the—”

04 and 05 appeared behind him, silent and precise.

The cameras caught everything. The feed did not cut—millions watched the Minister’s face go from shock to rage to disbelief.

Then, abruptly, the broadcast shut down.

For a single frozen moment, the nation saw only a still frame: an E-UNIT’s red eyes, the Minister’s open mouth, and the studio lights judging them all.

The signal returned minutes later to a blank screen and a news crawl: BREAKING — BROADCAST INTERRUPTED. INVESTIGATIONS UNDERWAY.

Every household in Metromania sat stunned. Their Minister had been accused on live TV. An E-UNIT had walked onto a national stage and declared an arrest. The line between law and spectacle had collapsed in a single, impossible instant.