Chapter 42: Countdown. [Part 1]

-72h

He sat motionless in the center of chaos.

The Ministry of Defense was in complete disarray. Soldiers sprinted toward deployment zones. High-ranking officers rushed through corridors carrying stacks of documents and sealed folders. Sergeants barked orders at exhausted units, voices overlapping into a single wall of noise.

In the middle of it all, Henry Vegas sat in silence.
His eyes were locked onto the screen. The map was bleeding red arrows across the west.

“SIR!”

Sebastian Tamer had been calling him repeatedly, his voice nearly drowned by the alarms and movement around them.

Vegas finally broke out of his frozen state and turned his head slightly.
“Sorry,” he said flatly. “I spaced out.”

Tamer straightened himself. “No problem, sir. Honestly, I understand the situation very well. They announced the attack after launching it. We had no time to react, no time to mobilize—”

“Stop.”
Vegas cut him off without raising his voice.

Tamer snapped into a salute. “Sorry, sir. I will stop stating the ob—”

“Not that,” Vegas interrupted again. His gaze never left the screen. “Let them advance.”

The room froze.
“Let them advance toward Metromania. Do not engage unless they deviate toward civilian centers outside the corridor. No air strikes. No armor engagement. Let them commit.”

The noise did not stop, but the people closest to him did. Officers exchanged glances. A few slowly turned their heads toward Vegas, unsure if they had heard him correctly.

Vegas leaned back in his chair, letting its metal frame creak under his weight.
“They are right,” he said calmly. “The E-UNITs are high-threat mass-destruction weapons. And they are not under full military control.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it without hesitation. The smoke rose slowly, contrasting with the frantic movement around him.

“We cannot afford to sacrifice valuable human lives to protect replaceable assets,” he continued. “If New Mer wants to dismantle the E-UNIT, let them.”

He exhaled.
“That way, we only fight one war.”

Tamer slowly lowered himself into a chair, his expression tightening as he processed the decision. His fingers interlocked unconsciously.

“…Understood, sir,” he said quietly.
But his eyes never left Vegas.

-71h

Nick sprinted across the city.

The idea of driving had been completely erased from his brain. His mind was locked onto a single objective, repeating it again and again like a corrupted loop. His breath was barely sufficient. He had been running nonstop for nearly thirty minutes.

Honestly, he should exercise more.

He reached his destination.
The lab.

E-Medic M03 looked up from her station and smiled warmly. “Welcome, father. It has been—”

He cut her off instantly, grabbing her shoulders with shaking hands.

“Prepare the operation room. Make it spotless. Prepare the tools and lay them alphabetically. Call the top five engineers and bring me…” he paused for half a second, “…coffee.”

She panicked immediately and snapped into a salute. “Roger that, father!”

Nick dropped himself into the waiting chair nearby. The receptionist, a young woman in her early twenties, kept staring at him. He noticed it. He had never looked this emotional or this stressed in the past two years.

“What?” Nick asked bluntly.

“N-nothing, doctor!” she said quickly. “By the way, you have ten missed calls from Mikael. Twenty-three from Daniel, the Prime Minister. Fourteen from Redwood. Twenty-five from Vegas. Forty-one from—”

He rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “Sorry, but I don’t have much time. Tell them I’m busy.”

“Sure!” she replied instantly.

Nick leaned forward, rubbing his temples. His thoughts spilled out without control.

“How do I fix the overflow of the energy…” he muttered. “The voltage is too high. The current output needs an external outlet, but that’s impossible with a sound-speed moving unit. Nothing matches her synchronization rate. The excessive energy consumption does not align with the crystal’s output curve…”

A familiar voice interrupted him.
“Still stuck on that?”

Nick snapped his head up.
“Dave! You came fast!” he jumped slightly in his seat.

Dave, forty-two years old, senior engineer, and professional antagonist of Nick’s creations, crossed his arms. “Yeah. I was nearby. And honestly, I don’t want to be anywhere near a stressed E-UNIT right now.”

Nick frowned. “Stressed? Why?”

Dave chuckled briefly, then his expression hardened. “You really are out of this world, Nick.”

Nick stayed silent.

“New Mer launched a full military march toward Metromania,” Dave continued. “Thirty thousand Black Medics.”

Nick’s jaw dropped.
“Thirty… thousand?”

“Yep. And the deadline is seventy-two hours.” Dave checked his watch. “Actually, seventy-one by now.”

Nick leaned back, staring at the white lights of the reception room. They felt too bright. Too clean. Too calm for what was coming.

After a long pause, he turned his head slowly toward the assistant.
“Call Hank.”

His voice was steady. Too steady.

-70h

“Alright, team,” 03 faced the other E-UNITs and spoke loudly. They were standing inside the training room, arranged in a loose formation. “This here is E-Medic M05. Since the minds of the E-Medics are stored on hospital servers, their bodies are fully replaceable.”

She paused, then sighed and looked down for a brief moment. “I wish we had that feature…”

05 stepped forward slightly. “May I ask something? Why 05 exactly?”

33 replied without turning her head. “I have heard that question before.”

03 rolled her eyes. “No reason. Enough talk. Let’s begin training. 11, please take the lead.”

“Roger.”

11 stepped forward. She faced the circle formed by the team and stood at its center. “Our father designed the E-Medic parts to be easy to dismantle, allowing fast and efficient repairs. The reason is simple. He wanted the engineers to focus on us alone.”

She lifted an E-Medic leg and held it up for everyone to see. “Because of that, he made the parts snap under sufficient force. But this also left the joints exposed and easy to shoot. That was the behemoth’s vulnerability. Easy to repair, but weaker.”

With confident steps, she drew her pistol and aimed at the standing E-Medic positioned inside the shooting range. Her visor slid down.

Bang.
Bang.
Bang.

The body collapsed after only three shots, crashing to the floor. The connection to the server was instantly severed, and the body was severely damaged.

Gasps echoed through the room, followed by clapping and murmurs of awe.
11 simply smiled.

03 grinned and glanced toward the M05 unit.

05 stared at the fallen E-Medic, imagining herself standing in its place. In that moment, she finally understood why she had chosen that number.

-48h

Hank arrived at the lab. It used to be a police department, but it had been repurposed long ago, back when Metromania still needed human badges and human mistakes. As he stepped through the automatic doors, his sharp eyes scanned the interior, as if he were already preparing his criticism.

The young receptionist noticed him immediately and contacted Nick. Hank approached her desk with slow, confident steps.

“He will be with you in a moment,” she said calmly.

“Thank you.” Hank paused, then leaned slightly closer. “Did you know that he used to cry?”

The receptionist blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”

“Nick,” Hank continued, “used to cry during my exams. He acted smug whenever I gave normal-level subjects. The moment I raised the difficulty, he broke down right on top of his paper.”

“No way,” the receptionist gasped.

“Oh yes. And I enjoyed every moment of it.” Hank chuckled. “Acting like you know everything is worse than knowing nothing, in my opinion. You should have seen his face when he cried.”

Before he could continue, Nick burst into the room and grabbed Hank by the arm.

“Dr. Hank, we have work. Move.”

“Why are you pushing me? Wait.”

Nick dragged him away. “Thank you, Ellen. I will take it from here.”

She smiled knowingly. “No problem, doctor.”

Nick pulled Hank into his lab room and finally let go. “Why are you making up fake stories?”

Hank wore a wide grin. “Was it a lie?”

“It was a huge exaggeration,” Nick snapped. “It was one tear.”

Hank sat down. “Everything is relative, Nick.” He crossed one leg, finally calm. “So. Why the urgent call?”

Nick sat across from him and took a deep breath. “You saw the news, right?”

Hank’s grin faded into something more honest. “Thirty thousand.”

Nick nodded once.

Hank studied him for half a second. “Are you prepared? And I mean mentally. I saw how she looked at you. Unit 02 was an incredible invention… and an even more incredible daughter.”

“She still is.” Nick smiled faintly as he turned on his computer. “She always thought ahead. I add internal notes to their systems so they do not need external records. 02 wrote everything for her personal project in a single file. It was her blueprint for something she called a thought server.”

He turned the screen toward Hank.

“A thought server?” Hank leaned in, reading carefully. His expression shifted slowly from curiosity to awe. “She tried to preserve herself.”

“Yes. After 03 lost her body two years ago, 02 fell into depression. She almost lost her sister.” Nick spoke slowly. “But it did not break her. She started working on a system to preserve their memories. A system that would prevent them from vanishing.”

Hank didn’t speak.

Nick continued anyway.

“This isn’t a ‘third-person profile.’ It isn’t someone else describing her. It’s hers. Her own captures. Her own internal notes. Her own decision patterns. Her own archived memory mapping.”

“Incredible,” Hank murmured, resting his chin on his hand.

“She failed many times,” Nick continued. “She could copy memories, thought patterns, even personality traits. But when she tried to organize them, the server could not handle it. The data overload was too severe.”

“A classic problem,” Hank said. “She could not replicate your work.”

“Exactly. Life cannot be simulated with just a few files. She had everything except the final step. The part that gives meaning and continuity.”

Hank smiled. “And you were the only one who solved that problem. Your graduation project.”

“Yes. She stopped for a while. Then she realized it was possible. I made the E-Medic system and the brain server concept. She kept updating the memory archive until a few days ago, trying to copy the system secretly. One day before her death.”

Hank sat back. “Then revive her.”

Nick finally spoke like every word was a weight. “I have a hundred spare bodies.”

Hank blinked once. “Then why is she still dead?”

Nick replied calmly. “But she would die again against thirty thousand enemies. I cannot watch that happen twice, after testing it, I can’t handle that.”

“You did not test it, Nick. Life did,” Hank said firmly.

Nick shrugged. “Maybe. But I have a better body for her. One that can save this country. It was meant for the future, but plans rarely survive reality.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed immediately, catching the word like a hook. “Omega.”

Nick looked away for a fraction. “It’s unstable.”

“And you called me,” Hank said, voice turning flat. “Because you want me to make the impossible stable.”

Nick didn’t deny it.

Hank stood.

“Show me everything,” he said. “And I’ll fix your overflow.”

Nick exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for days. “Follow me.”

They walked through corridors and empty offices. old offices turned into storage, walls too clean, lights too bright. Nick stopped at a forgotten corner of the building: his first workspace. Small. Cramped. Embarrassing.

Hank remained silent.

Nick planted both hands on a large metal closet and pushed.
It didn’t move.

Hank sighed and stepped in beside him. “You really need to exercise more.”

Together they shoved it aside. A hidden door revealed itself.
Nick opened it.

Beyond it lay a different world.

A vast futuristic lab stretched before them. White walls, spotless floors, and clean air filled the space. E-Medics moved quickly between engineers, preparing an operation room. Soft ceiling lights illuminated advanced equipment and sleek furniture.

“Where are we?” Hank whispered.

Nick didn’t slow down. “The future we promised ourselves. The one I refuse to let die.”

He moved through the lab without slowing down. At the final corridor, glowing letters hovered above a massive door.

G-BOTS.

Nick entered the password and scanned his fingerprint. The door opened.

Inside stood seven androids. Their bodies resembled E-UNITs, but far more advanced. Greek letters glowed on their chests, each with a different color.

Nick turned as the lights activated. “I present you, Greek Bots.”

Hank didn’t breathe.

Nick moved to the blue-marked one and rested his hand lightly against the chest plate, almost respectful.

“And this,” he said, voice low, “is Omega.”

Hank’s legs gave out. He dropped to his knees without noticing the floor.
For the first time since he entered, the professor looked like a student.

He lifted his head slowly.

“I will help you let this technology see the lights,” he said quietly. “No matter the cost.”
He stood up again, eyes burning with resolve. “Let us begin.”

-36h

11 stood alone in the armory, methodically loading weapons. With all civilians ordered to remain indoors or take shelter, there was no human support for minor operations. Every small task now fell on the E-UNITs.

The metallic door slid open.
19 entered and stopped at the doorway, her gaze fixed on 11’s back. She did not speak at first.

“What do you need?” 11 asked without looking up.

19 crossed her arms. “You are impossible to understand. One day you act like a caring captain. The next, you become a cold maniac, killing other sisters without hesitation or remorse.”

11 stopped. She placed the half-filled pistol on the table and turned slowly.

“Let me be clear,” she said calmly. “I did not kill 17 out of spite. I did not do it because I hate E-UNITs. I heard the rumors you spread while I was out of the city. I am asking you to stop being my professional enemy for one day. Your obsession is getting in the way of logic.”

19’s jaw tightened. “You call leaving 17 to rot in a sewer logic?”

“No,” 11 replied, her voice colder. “What I call useless is the constant accusation that leads nowhere. I have already proven my perspective multiple times. The 30 Series and I are proof of that.”

“What are you even saying?” 19 snapped.

“I am saying I will prove it again.” 11 straightened. “I will stand still. I will fire a shot two millimeters above your head. That zone should trigger your automatic shield.”

19 hesitated.

“If your shield activates in time and protects the wall behind you,” 11 continued, “I will kneel in front of everyone and apologize. If it fails, you will let this argument die here.”

A slow smirk formed on 19’s face. “You do realize that shield deployment is one of our fastest responses?”

“Exactly,” 11 said. “Do you accept?”

19 nodded. “Gladly. I would love some—”

“Then it is settled,” 11 cut in.

She walked backward, counting her steps until she was nearly ten meters away. 19 stood with her back close to the white wall. 11 held her stance the way 02 did in briefings, hands steady, face unreadable.

“That distance is unnecessary,” 19 said confidently. “I would detect the projectile long before—”

“I am giving you a fair chance,” 11 replied evenly.

19 frowned, then raised her hand. “Three.”

11 adjusted her stance.

“Two.”

11 raised her weapon.

“One.”

The shot was fired.

PING.

19’s shield deployed instantly. She lowered it moments later, wearing a triumphant grin.

“See?” she said.

11 had already turned back to the weapon table and resumed her work.
“Look behind you.”

19 froze. Slowly, she turned.
Her breath caught.

The bottom half wall behind her was intact, but the top half above had been carved into it with extreme precision. Each mark was perfectly spaced, exactly nineteen millimeters apart, forming her number, 19.

19 collapsed backward onto the floor, staring at the ceiling, her systems struggling to process what she had seen.

11 spoke without raising her voice. “Training can make a machine better. Hardware limits are often excuses used to avoid growth. Most people remain in their comfort zone, even when it weakens them.”

She finally turned and met 19’s eyes.

“Are you ready to leave yours?”

19 did not answer.
The armory fell silent.