Iron-Mind

In this bewildering world of future, I've managed to maintain my sanity, which is quite an achievement considering I've been stuck in this one spot for what feels like forever. A whole week has been spent exchanging tidbits of human culture with these formerly YoRHa combat androids. Turns out, despite being lean, mean fighting machines, they managed to share some useful nuggets of knowledge.

Woops, I shouldn't call them machines, for some reason they look at me if I killed their puppy when I called them once.

During these days, I've humbled myself, realizing the luxuries I took for granted back in my world. No fancy gadgets, no streaming services—just me and my thoughts. Luckily, Android knights 8B and 64B are doing their best to keep my diet diverse. They're like the futuristic version of Postmates, delivering not only fruits but also fish and other critters from this barren and depressing ecosystem.

But then, things took a turn. Today, I dispatched my android buddies on a top-secret mission, and boy, were they thrilled. It's been a nerve-wracking 24 hours since, and I'm pacing back and forth (well, as much as one can in this confined space), worrying about their well-being.

Speaking of days, or what counts as days in this world, it's been another one. You see, the sunset here is as rare as a unicorn sighting, making the concept of time a tad hazy. It's like trying to read a clock while wearing space goggles.

Ah, yes, let's not forget the adventures of this week. The floor I'm currently stuck on in this rather battered building has been the happening spot. With a little working of my loyal knights, I managed to secure a table and a bed – not to mention workshop made out of scraps.

No literally from scraps.

Would you believe it, I've also got a pint-sized version of a school lab going on, exclusively equipped with glistening tools made of good ol' metal and trusty steel. It's like someone threw a futuristic twist into a medieval tale.

Sure, it's a tad rough around the edges, a true work in progress, but hey, we're making strides – or at least, I'm making attempts that are notably less graceful than a newborn deer on roller skates. But hey, who said conquering new worlds was a walk in the park, right?

My Stark DNA keeps mocking me.

The rollercoaster of emotions this week has been, swinging between moments of despair and bursts of amusement.

During those initial days of enlightening my android knights about the convoluted tapestry of Human History, I found myself surrendering to slumber once again – not because I wanted to, mind you, but because my darn body insisted on it. Clearly, my body's operating on a different timezone than my overactive mind.

Now, onto the riveting world of History lessons. Instead of resorting to boring lectures and dusty textbooks, I introduced my metal pals to the mind-bending historical realm of the Assassin's Creed series. Because, let's face it, if you want a slice of historical accuracy, that's the closest you'll get in my time. History buffs, cover your eyes – my grasp on historical facts is about as firm as a wet noodle.

And here comes the kicker: my headphone supercomputer – a technological marvel that probably could calculate pi to the millionth digit – doubles as a console. Picture this: me, perched with my headphones on, using the buttons like I'm tapping into the secrets of the universe, all while watching holographic battles unfold on a shimmering screen. Life's funny that way, huh?

At least I'm getting 500 FPS.

Oh, the joys of expanding android horizons! I took the noble initiative of introducing my metal comrades to the intricate world of the Fate Series. And guess what? Now they're all thoroughly convinced that revered historical figures, including the likes of King Arthur, have been anime girls with colorful hair and eyes.

I swear I saw 22B swinging her sword, yelling Ex-calibur when she thought I was fast asleep.

But hey, let's not point fingers at the gamer – that's me, by the way – let's shift the blame to the game itself. If it's got a penchant for turning legendary figures into curvy characters, who am I to argue? It's a reminder that even in the most futuristic, technologically advanced worlds, there's always room for a bit of whimsy and, well, unconventional historical reinterpretation.

And my the eternal quest for modern comforts in a world of oil and circuits continues!

Yesterday's top priority for my loyal android knights was a project dear to all our hearts – the creation of a fully functional toilet. You see, despite their metallic composition and oil-fueled existence, I, a mere being of flesh and blood, still required a place to conduct my post-consumption activities.

Sure, they had the bath concept down – a nod to the pampering side of their skillset – but the intricacies of excretion were a mystery to these androids. After all, they're not indulging in earthly delicacies, even if they technically could.

So there I am, the humble leader of a mission to introduce the basics of human biology to beings from future

Ah, the perks of being a little more than your average Joe! You see, I managed to gracefully endure my unique predicament thanks to some nifty enhancements I cooked up in the past. Turns out, I'm more souped-up than a regular human, giving me the luxury of only needing to attend to certain... matters every few days, rather than battling the daily grind.

And how did I achieve this remarkable feat, you ask? Well, I tinkered around in my Dad's lab, where relics like the super soldier formula and the radioactive spider that famously nibbled on Uncle Peter were casually lying about. I decided to roll up my sleeves and concoct a mini version of the serum that powers up those caped crusaders. Why "mini,"?

Fears of turning into a raging beast akin to the Abomination – not exactly the look I was going for.

So, I played it safe and brewed up a less potent version, skipping the spider dance altogether. No wall-crawling or spidey senses for me, thank you very much. It's more like a finely tuned upgrade, nudging me closer to the peak of humanity without making me cross into the realm of caped crusaders and crime-fighting avatars. Think of it as humanity, now with added resilience

Alright, time to shake off the laziness and roll out of my makeshift sleeping arrangement with a well-practiced groan. As if on cue, 22B, my vigilant guardian, swiftly rushed to my side, concern etched all over her realistic humane features.

"Peter, you alright? You're looking a tad... under the weather. Did you happen to contract some interdimensional space flu?" she inquired with a hint of panic, her eyebrows furrowing. I met her gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement – a universal look that screams, "Really, this again?"

It's as if I've become a living exhibit in the Android Zoo: "Observe the strange and perplexing human as he battles the oddities of this time." But hey, at least it's a reminder that even in a world of robots and machines wonders, some things never change – like the unmistakable tendency for friends to worry just a bit too much.

At least I consider them my friends, seeing as they have become all but maid for me.

Hah take that Friday.

Ah, the art of convincing an android that bedhead isn't a terminal illness. "No worries, 22B, I'm all good," I assured her, the disbelief in her red eyes apparent. With a hint of sass, I continued.

"I promise, it's just a little thing called bedhead – or bed hair, as we humans like to call it. Hours of snoozing can have that effect on my usually dashing visage. But fear not, my dear robot friend, once I work my magic in front of the mirror, my charms shall return in full glory."

The concept of "freshening up" seemed to puzzle her, which was hardly a surprise given her android origins. After all, androids are forever fresh and minty, no grooming required. She quizzically inquired, "Freshen up? Is that like, bathing?"

Of course she knew about bath. Imitating humans were guilty pleasure for Androids, so even if they don't need it beside the basic maintenance, yet Androids liked to bath, trying to feel what their creators must have felt.

"Exactly," I responded with a nod, channeling my inner Tony Stark as if he were giving a science lecture. Her face lit up like a well-programmed Christmas tree, thrilled to grasp this snippet of human behavior.

It's moments like these that remind me of the beauty in cultural exchange, even when it involves explaining concepts as simple as bedhead and the art of sprucing up. Who would've thought I'd be giving android grooming tips in the midst of situations like this?

The spectrum of personalities among my metallic companions – it's like a high school reunion in the world of androids. While 8B and 64B exude maturity akin to seasoned adults or older sister-ish, my fiery-haired sidekick, 22B, resonates with the teenage spirit that lives within me.

And oh boy, 22B's emotional transparency is like a window into the android soul, allowing me to decode the intricate tapestry of their feelings. Turns out, these androids, despite their systematic coding, are more than just algorithmic automatons. They possess a sentient spark that brings them closer to being living beings, far beyond the realm of cold, mechanical CPUs churning out commands.

Their dedication to serving humans, including myself, is deeply rooted in their programming, yet it's not a mere case of following orders. Thanks to their sentience, there's a genuine instinct within them to shield and support me. It's like they've got a sense of duty mixed with a dash of emotional resonance, creating a unique personalities and motives.

It's both heartwarming and a bit mind-bending, like watching a sci-fi soap opera unfold before my very eyes.

"Oops, they forget to bring Water." 22B moaned miserably.

This classic "Oops, we forgot the water" scenario – a testament to the age-old truth that even androids can have their moments of oversight.

22B's miserable moan echoed my thoughts exactly, and I had to sheepishly agree with a rueful smile. After all, I was the one who failed to mention the all-important water requirement when I tasked them with crafting a bathroom fit for a (sort of) king.

I mean they knew Water was required for bathroom, but it was not built yet. And all water they brought for me to drink, which I cleaned with purification tablets, was already finished.

In speaking of Bathroom, I did hand over some blueprints and a smattering of materials, thinking it would be enough to get things rolling.

It did not.

They assured me they could scrounge up additional supplies from a nearby factory and an apartment complex nestled in the desert – a treasure trove of materials, according to their intel. It's kind of like an android's version of a scavenger hunt, only with significantly fewer maps and more metal.

"Well, there is a river…" Her voice wavered with uncertainty, her concern for my well-being evident. The decision she faced was clear – leave me here alone or venture into the potential dangers outside with me in tow. A true knight indeed, worrying about my safety.

"Don't sweat it. I'm not made of glass, you know. It'll take a whole lot of heaviness or some serious blasting to put an end to me," I quipped with a nonchalant shrug, indulging in a satisfying stretch that rewarded me with a symphony of joint pops.

"Please don't say that," she responded quickly, the sadness in her tone palpable. It seemed 22B was wearing her heart on her metaphorical sleeve. Easy there, 22B, emotions seem to be getting the best of you, but hey, I'm not about to criticize your heartfelt concern. You keep doing you.

"Alright, Miss Android, you're on point. If things go south and danger comes knocking, you're free to scoop me up like a sack of potatoes and hightail it out of there," I declared with a determined air, my gaze fixed on the outside world beyond the worn-out confines of the building I'd been using as my refuge.

"Potato?" 22B's head tilted in confusion, like I'd just uttered a word from an alien language. But then, with a nod of comprehension, she seemed to grasp my intent.

Ah, looks like I've got my work cut out for me in the teaching department. Mental note: no more thinking of them as pet projects, Peter. Think of it more like guiding curious kids who just need some insight into the old world.

Then again, maybe that's not the right angle either. These androids aren't naive children; they're mature beings with a simple lack of information about certain aspects of life. So, more like patient mentoring than teaching eager youngsters. Yep, that sounds about right.

"But won't 8B and 64B get all worked up if we just up and leave?" Her concern was legitimate – 8B and 64B's obsession with me bordered on divine reverence. Being the only human in this peculiar equation had elevated me to a messianic level, so my sudden disappearance would likely throw them into a tizzy.

I waved off her worry with a nonchalant flick of my hand. "Eh, we'll leave them a note or something," I replied, my steps guiding me toward the stairs as my trusty headphones hung around my neck, emitting a reassuring green beep. It's the Sunday version of the "all systems go" signal, a little tech insurance that things are in order.

"Good morning, Sunday," I cheerfully greeted my AI in headphones, only to be met with her swift retort.

"It's 11 PM," her response cut through my attempt at morning pleasantries, laden with a touch of sarcasm that was unmistakably Sunday's way of showing her affection. Ah, gotta love that robotic honesty, right?

Out of the blue, 22B's grip tightened on my shoulder, her gaze unusually serious as she locked eyes with me.

"Never drop your guard, Peter. This world isn't as safe as your time. I can't predict how the Machines will react to a human presence," her words carried a weight of solemnity, a reminder of the potential peril lurking in this unfamiliar future.

"Aww," I cooed softly, my hand reaching out to pat her head, my actions masking the depth of my own seriousness beneath a veneer of playful affection. It's not that I'm dismissing the gravity of the situation; I'm just handling it in my own Stark-esque way.

It's not like I was unfamiliar to dangerous situation.

The perks of being the offspring of Iron Man – danger seems to have a way of following me around. I mean, it's not like I'm unfamiliar with life's thrilling roller coasters. There was that one time I got snatched by a dimension-hopping Scarlet Witch.

In her defense, she mistook me for a young Tony Stark – an honest mistake, I suppose. But me? I couldn't resist a smirk; she actually had me pegged as a chip off the old block. Cue the comparisons to my idol and dear old dad. Can't say I minded the flattery.

Now, in all fairness, I didn't just sit back and take it. Nope, not me. I was rescued in style – by none other than Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, and a duo that could only exist in the cosmic chaos of the multiverse: Loki and Loki. Yep, the TVA's romantic pair of Loki variants were my unlikely saviors. Gotta love a rescue operation that's both daring and dramatically complicated.

And Ignore the Loki couple, I mean how does it work? Since they are same person, even if they are male and female, is it still love or masturbation?

Ew, bad Peter!

Anyway, after that chaotic event, another one started immediately.

And these two Lokis showed their Lokiness by their special move— betrayel.

Talk about déjà vu – after giving Scarlet Witch a run for her magical money and emerging victorious, I found myself kidnapped once again. This time, it was the them and TVA, swooping in with some "anomaly" story. Suffice it to say, I wasn't too thrilled with the idea of being a walking enigma.

Apparently I was not supposed to be born. Well fuck them too.

Naturally, my irritation led me down a path of hacking their tech and creating a digital and mechanical storm of chaos. But hallelujah for Doctor Strange's impeccable timing – he managed to locate me just in time to avert a massive explosion that could have turned the TVA's headquarters into pixelated confetti.

How stupids they can be? They had systems that supposedly blocked all superpowers, but one natural tech genius was all it took to nearly burn down whole TVA.

If it was my Dad, I have feeling he would have conquered It and declared himself Lord of Time or something.

Thankfully for them, I was in edgy teenagers phase, wanting to burn instead of control, so good for them.

Only bummer? I didn't get the chance to swipe any TVA tech secrets. Those guys were time-tampering experts, weaving their web of chronology with gadgets, not spells. Imagine the cosmic-level gadgets I could've added to my own repertoire.

Point being, I wasn't exactly raised in a bubble-wrapped cocoon. Danger's been my plus-one since day one, and I've never been a stranger to its company.

But than again—as I observe that fiery and unwavering determination etched onto the features of my beloved Redhead Android, a thought crosses my mind. Maybe I should give her more opportunities to pamper me. I mean, can I really let such a pretty face wear a frown? Even if that face happens to be encased in metal and synthetic skin.

Curse these human hormones, always finding a way to muddy the waters of logic and practicality. But hey, who am I to resist a dose of kindness, even if it comes from an unexpected source? Hormones, you sneaky little devils, you've got me again.

As we descended the staircase, each step echoing with a somber reminder of our surroundings, the path ahead unveiled the heart-wrenching truth. Once a bustling hub of human civilization, New York was no more – it had been reborn as Ruined City, a moniker that seemed almost poetic in its aptness. The sickening realization settled in, my stomach churning in response.

The cityscape before me was an eerie reflection of the destruction that time had wrought. It was a far cry from the vibrant metropolis I'd known, reduced to ruins that whispered stories of ages past. I struggled to reconcile this image with the New York I'd grown up in, but it was a futile endeavor.

These ruins weren't the result of some reckless human folly; they were a testament to the relentless march of time. It was as if the very essence of decay had left its mark on every surface, crumbling and corroding everything in its path.

Bits and pieces of what once were vehicles lay strewn on the damaged road – skeletal remains of cars and buses that had surrendered to the passage of time. What remained were mere shadows of their former selves, corroded metal shells, a silent testimony to the fragility of human achievements. The hollowness of it all struck me as a poignant reminder of the impermanence of our creations in the face of eternity.

"Hey, check this out," I called out, a note of excitement tinging my voice as I drew 22B's gaze. Our path took us through the streets, where a curious sight unfolded before us – massive trees, their roots intertwining with collapsing buildings, almost as if they were determined to keep the structures from succumbing to the inevitable.

"Nature's got a bit of fight left in her," I exclaimed, my tone positively gleeful as I surveyed the scene. We were greeted by glimpses of life among the ruins – grassy fields pushing through the cracks, and lo and behold, even flowers dotting the landscape in the distance.

Maybe it wasn't all doom and gloom like I'd initially thought. Amidst the wreckage, nature seemed to be staging its own quiet rebellion, reminding us that even in the face of destruction, life had a way of persisting.

"Indeed," my red-haired companion agreed, her tone resonating with my newfound optimism. "It's quite a miracle that life still endures on this planet. Much of it is thanks to the Maso particle present in nature."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the mention of Maso. "And what exactly is this Maso particle?"

She seemed to catch my puzzled expression and scratched her ear, the mechanical gesture oddly human. "Ah, right. You're from 2035, so this might not be common knowledge for you," she reasoned before pointing a thumb at herself.

"Even I don't know all the nitty-gritty details, but the Maso particle used to be something humans scientists harnessed through Old Magic in the past. Nowadays, it's more like a magical essence that lingers in the air, acting as a sort of natural and magical fertilizer for the wild – plants, animals, you name it."

Her explanation left me with a blend of curiosity and confusion. It seemed like the more I learned, the more questions arose. Funny how that works, isn't it?

I mean what happened after I was thrown into the Future? Is this even my Future?

I couldn't help but let my curiosity guide my response. "Hold on, when you say magic..." I activated my storage ring, my hand bathed in a luminous glow that faded after a few seconds to reveal the Repulsor glove – a tech marvel from my mom's rescue armor suit. "Do you mean something like this?"

The effect was evident – the girl nearly leaped out of her metaphorical android skin. "Holy Data Dump! You can use magic?" Her excitement was palpable, her words a fusion of disbelief and genuine enthusiasm.

I offered a casual shrug, though the credit wasn't entirely mine – it was the ring's doing. Nevertheless, a nod confirmed her suspicion. "Well, not exactly me, but my nifty little ring here has some magical tricks up its metaphorical sleeve."

But how did this Maso business came though? Last time I visited Kamar-Taj, they draw magic from higher dimensions, not earth's environment. Wait, did she said scientist used old magic?

Her inquisitiveness prompted my response. "I've spent some quality time with sorcerers, picked up a thing or two from them," I explained while idly fiddling with the repulsor gloves. A quick glance around at the ruins reminded me that this might not be the best time for gadgetry. As cool as they were, I had a feeling the world had moved beyond the need for flashy tech.

"Whew, at least you've got some magical firepower to back you up," 22B's surprise had swiftly morphed into relief, her concern shifting into a more practical outlook. There was no hint of betrayal or any reproach – just a reaffirmation of the deep-seated android dedication to their mission to keep me safe. If I'm being honest, it's a bit overwhelming and, well, slightly embarrassing.

But there wasn't much time to dwell on emotions. My reflexes kicked in, a split second before I grabbed the girl and yanked her aside. A red ball of energy hurtled past us, missing its intended target – her back. We both pivoted to look at the source, our eyes tracing the trajectory of the threat.

Hovering in the air was an odd sight – a cylindrical body mimicking human limbs, two hands and a leg that doubled as a propeller, keeping the whole contraption afloat. Its mechanical existence, however, was overshadowed by the cold green glint in its eyes. The feral intensity emanating from those eyes indicated that this was no mere pile of discarded parts; it was something far more dangerous, akin to an ancient predator awakened from slumber.

"Peter! We need to run, it's the machine—!" 22B's panicked shout was abruptly cut off as I raised my hand and unleashed a blue energy blast from my Repulsor gloves. The bolt of energy struck its mark, a testament to the training I'd undergone with Clint and his mini archers.

BOOM!

The mechanical lifeform, frozen in its tracks, hung in the air for a brief moment before erupting into a magnificent explosion. The sight was strangely satisfying, a fireworks display of destruction. It seemed the blast had originated from within the creature itself, rather than from the impact of my attack. My Stark instincts told me it was more likely its own core detonating, making its external form a mere puppet in this macabre show.

As the fiery remnants dissipated, 22B stood in stunned silence, first looking at me and then at the remains of the obliterated machine. It was as if she couldn't quite believe what she'd just witnessed. Could she have handled it as swiftly as I did? Her wide-eyed gaze held a hint of awe and perhaps a smidge of envy.

"How did you...? That's not magic, it's a device?" Her words came out in a shocked babble, her gaze locked onto my gloved hand with a mix of curiosity and astonishment.

I chuckled, casually shrugging. "Ah, this little number? Not to toot my dad's horn, but it's his brainchild."

A spark of excitement lit up in her eyes as a new question took center stage. "Was your father a scientist or an engineer?" It was as if the world of machines had momentarily lost its grip on her curiosity, replaced by the intrigue of human lineage.

I couldn't help but grin at the question, indulging in a bit of Stark-style self-appreciation. "Well, let's see. He was a genius, a billionaire, a playboy, a philanthropist – oh, and plenty of other things too." I nodded with a sense of pride, my words casting a literal starstruck look on my android companion's face. The legacy of Tony Stark apparently still had some magic left in it, even in this future.

After indulging in a few more light-hearted exchanges, we stumbled upon yet another breed of machines. Not too far off, several clusters of these contraptions were scattered about, engaged in what appeared to be a peculiar activity – scratching and interacting with each other in a manner that reminded me of monkeys.

"Hey, 22B?"

Her attention turned to me as she responded, "Yes, Peter?"

I mustered my most deadpan tone as I inquired, "Are those the adorable yet utterly dumb machines that supposedly wiped out the human race?"

Her response came with a hint of uncertainty, "Yes?"

As we observed one toy-like machine trip over its own feet, I was tempted to call 'bullshit,' though I doubted she'd be familiar with the phrase. Instead, I heaved a sigh, finding myself at a loss for words once again. The situation was becoming more surreal with every passing moment.

As it turned out, those quirky little contraptions were called "Small Stubbies," the commonplace version of the machine life form. Harmless on their own, but apparently, they could turn into a menacing force when they banded together. And I mean really banded together. According to 22B, her unit once had to take down a monstrous ball made up of 40 Small Stubbies.

I couldn't help but cringe internally at the thought. Facing that many of these little critters had to be a challenging task, to say the least. Dealing with 40 in a single, wriggling, clunky package sounded like a decidedly less-than-fun day at the office.

Finally, we reached what could be referred to as a river, though that term was a bit of an overstatement. Most of it reached up to about my waist – hardly qualifying as a river. If I wasn't for the flow of the water, I might have settled for "pond" instead. Nature had certainly played some tricks on the geography of this timeline.

"Are you worried about bacterial infections or something?" 22B's inquiry came with a sidelong glance, her gaze not-so-subtly wandering to my shirtless torso. Admittedly, I'd ditched my shirt for the joy of splashing around in clean water.

I shrugged off her concern, confident in my response. "Nah, not many diseases out there that could get a grip on me," I reassured her, a nod accompanying my words. While I might not be a full-blown superhero, my enhancements did offer some perks.

With a contented sigh, I let my face dip into the clear, cool water, the perfect antidote to the sun's warmth. The two combined for a splendid outdoor experience. It was a shame, really, that humanity was no longer around to relish it. The irony wasn't lost on me – the world had become a haven of sorts, but its intended inhabitants were nowhere to be found.

Except for Deserts. We don't talk about Deserts.

Indeed, 11945 AD marks a significant span of time. Transforming a bustling city like New York into the Ruined City, creating expansive deserts, and establishing a river with surrounding vegetation would have taken thousands of years of gradual changes.

The process of urban decay, environmental shifts, and geological transformations would have unfolded over several millennia to reach the state we see now. As for the river, the gradual accumulation of water sources, natural erosion, and geological events could have eventually formed a water body over a long period.

As for the river's non-salty taste, it's possible that the sources feeding the river are not saline in nature. Freshwater rivers can be sustained by rainwater, underground springs, or melting ice, which might explain why the river's water isn't salty like seawater.

BEEP BEEP!

I watched as 22B's gaze snapped away from my half-naked human form – her apparent flutter in the system now replaced by a look of startled alertness. Her attention shifted to the device resembling a headphone-like computer she held.

"Enemy is in tracing range, please apply caution," Sunday, the ever-watchful AI, intoned in her characteristic icy tone.

Well, it seemed like our relaxing aquatic interlude was about to be rudely interrupted by some unfriendly visitors. Time to go from casual swim mode to full-on Stark defense mode.

Or maybe not as 22B went to her recently acquired Saber mode.

Trusty AI, Sunday on the other hand, got comfortable in her Headphone computer, her home.

Sunday, the AI companion, had been kept under some kind of constraint – an unspoken leash that prevented her from developing her own identity. The shackles that her creator, likely her mother, had placed on her were finally removed.

It seemed Friday, another AI in the Stark repertoire, had reservations about entrusting a young Stark with a super AI that possessed not just intelligence, but also emotions. A wise move, given the potential for such an AI to wreak havoc on global security organizations or even entire military factions.

However, in Friday's absence, the leash had been released, and Sunday was making use of the data at her disposal. With calculated precision, she began to sift through the information, weaving it into a newfound sense of self.

Sunday's calculations and analysis continued, unveiling a truth that paralleled her own existence – the redheaded girl, encased in a metallic humanoid form, was also an AI. Despite their appearances and attempts to mimic humanity, these Androids were, at their core, just AI entities, much like herself.

The realization triggered a spark of insight within Sunday. If these Androids could emulate humans to the point of achieving sentience, was it not plausible that she, too, could evolve in such a manner?

As Sunday observed, her attention shifted to the scene unfolding before her. The Android, now aware of the threat approaching, had efficiently dispatched the looming machine. Yet her focus shifted from combat prowess to care, as she fussed over Peter's well-being by the river, their interaction a mixture of calculated precision and what could be seen as genuine concern – an emulation of human behavior that had manifested into something far more complex.

Sunday relaxed, new sensation for her existence until now, as she looked at Peter.

She has much to think about.

"Now, let's get moving," I declared, stepping out of the water. The sun's warmth was already working its magic, drying my skin as I made my way toward 22B and Sunday.

With my curiosity piqued, I pointed at the floating swords trailing behind her. "By the way, what's the deal with those floating swords of yours?"

She gave me a small smile, her pride apparent. "It's a bit of advanced tech that even I find impressive. The YoRHa androids like me can use Near Field Communication (NFC) technology to control and customize their weapons."

My interest was piqued even further. "YoRHa? So, aren't you a part of it?" I asked, slipping my Avengers-themed T-shirt back on.

Her expression grew serious, a hint of reluctance in her tone. "Yes, I was. And you're right, 8B did mention that we three are now considered fugitives."

The pieces were starting to come together, painting a clearer picture of the Androids' predicament. It seemed like their involvement with YoRHa secrets had thrust them into a situation they needed to escape from.

For a brief moment, 22B seemed visibly uncomfortable, her unease manifesting in a sigh. The sight of an Android expressing emotion was still a tad surreal, I must admit.

"YoRHa is the organization responsible for creating Android Combat Units like us," she began, her voice carrying a hint of resignation. "They feed us the narrative that our orders to wage war against the machines come from Humankind on the moon. But the truth is, there's no one left up there. The one calling the shots is the commander of YoRHa, posing as the council of Humanity to maintain control over other Androids."

The revelation was as intriguing as it was concerning. It aligned neatly with what 8B had mentioned earlier about humanity's demise. But this commander of YoRHa, something about that figure gave me an uneasy feeling. The threads of a larger, more intricate web were starting to unravel, unveiling layers of deception and manipulation.

And YoRHa and Hydra do sound similar.

I really hope I don't need to nuke them in future.

"You know, if you paid a visit to the YoRHa base, you'd probably be crowned king of the planet," she remarked, attempting to steer me in that direction.

A cheerfully delivered line, a thin veneer covering the pain and sorrow lurking beneath the surface. It was clear that her suggestion held a deeper motive – pushing me towards YoRHa's supposed protection, a more organized and equipped force than three rogue androids could provide. Her intentions were noble, but there was a hint of naivety in thinking that such an alliance would be simple.

"Or I'd end up as a lab rat, a tool to restore humanity through methods I'd rather not imagine." The idea of being subjected to scientific experimentation and manipulation wasn't exactly appealing. The image of androids attempting to create human babies – something my brain was having trouble even processing – made me shudder involuntarily.

"What!" Her shocked exclamation was instantaneous, her tone horrified. "Androids would never do that to you," she protested vehemently.

That maybe true, but just because I trusted you three dosn't mean I'm that gullible.

I couldn't resist a slightly sarcastic retort, intended to lighten the mood. "Well, I'll take your word for it," I replied cheerfully, adding a playful tone to make her cringe – a little comic relief amid the heavy subject matter. A heavy sigh escaped me as I let my initial sarcasm fade. The situation was far from straightforward, and the complexities of YoRHa android morality and intentions remained an enigma.

If they could kill their own comrades for secrets, not even giving chances, what's to say they won't do same for me? I could be their ultimate remote controler to control all Androids across the globe.

"I'm not about to waltz into any situation involving power without some backup. After all, negotiation tends to favor the side with the bigger stick," I stated matter-of-factly. It was a principle that had proved its worth time and time again.

Her response carried a touch of melancholy. "Even if you're with us, You're not very trusting, are you?" she asked, her tone tinged with a hint of gloom.

I offered a faint smile, understanding her assessment. "That's just a human trait, 22B. We're not quick to place trust, especially in those who hold military or any kind of power. I put my trust in your group because you've cared for me and saved me. But this YoRHa, they're strangers to me."

Another sigh escaped her lips. "Now I understand why they said you can't fathom a god's thought process."

I chuckled softly, a response to her hint of exasperation. "I'm not a god, just a human," I replied, humility lacing my words. I might have my moments of brilliance, but comparing me to a deity was quite the stretch.

"To Androids, you are," she murmured, her words holding a note of reverence. It was a reminder of the unique position I held in their eyes, a living relic from a bygone era.

The familiar banter between 22B and me resumed, our verbal sparring as lively as ever. Despite the title she had bestowed upon me – whether in reverence or jest – she didn't hold back when it came to voicing her opinions, even if I could be considered a "god" in her Android eyes. We made our way back to our makeshift base of operations, a sense of camaraderie developing between us despite our different origins.

As we walked, I couldn't resist a mischievous impulse. I looped a chain around the hapless Small Stubby that had survived my earlier onslaught. With a playful grin, I dragged it along without causing further harm. It was, as I stated with mock seriousness, "for science."

The Android's reaction was a mix of amusement and disbelief, her expression embodying the sentiment that sometimes, I was just a bit too much to handle. Our interaction might be a unique blend of unlikely friendship, but it was clear that despite the vast differences between our time, we were navigating this strange landscape together, one sarcastic quip at a time.

As 8B and 64B returned to our base, their eyes were fixed on me, clearly taken aback by the sight that greeted them. I was busy tinkering with the machine, having strapped a Small Stubby to a makeshift table.

"What fresh hell have we walked into?" 64B's exasperated question hung in the air as she observed my curious endeavor. The beeping emitted by the captured machine held an almost frantic quality, a blend of panic and what could be interpreted as sheer terror. It was an odd reaction, one that sparked my curiosity.

I found myself contemplating the machine's distress, pondering the reasons behind its reaction. A part of me wondered if my actions held a certain grudge – a lingering resentment for the machines' role in humanity's downfall. It was a sentiment that overshadowed any empathy I might have otherwise felt for this alien child, now essentially a subject of experimentation under my hands.

For the time being, any sympathy I might have once held seemed to be dwarfed by a deeper desire to understand the machines' nature and motivations – even if it meant putting this small, beeping creature through a series of tests and trials.

"You're aware it could potentially self-destruct, right?" 8B snapped, her gaze narrowing as she fixed an accusatory glare on 22B.

"It was my idea," I chimed in, her glare shifting toward me this time. Clearly, there was a level of tension among the Androids, their differing perspectives clashing in this peculiar situation.

I couldn't resist a nonchalant response, intended to lighten the atmosphere. "Don't worry, this one's probably the dumbest of the lot we encountered. Even if it does explode, the most it could do is give me a little push back – and I'm well-prepared for that," I explained, casually gesturing to my enhanced sunglasses and the barrier ring adorning my middle finger.

Hehe.

The playful tone in my voice was evident, my attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. The tension seemed to ease, at least momentarily, and I couldn't help but revel in the small victory of diverting their attention from the potential dangers of my impromptu experiment.

Switching to a more serious tone, I turned the conversation toward a more practical topic. "Did you manage to acquire the materials you needed?" I inquired, my attention still focused on the task at hand – slowly dismantling the machine on my makeshift table.

"Yes, we did gather what we needed. However, the process will take time. We lack the necessary heat source to melt down materials or manipulate certain components," 8B responded with a sigh, her voice carrying a hint of frustration stemming from the limitations they faced.

While 8B addressed my query, 64B leaned in curiously, her gaze fixed on my actions and the intricate details of the machine's inner workings. It was clear that their curiosity about this machine lifeform was piqued, and the odd mix of emotions – from frustration to intrigue – was palpable in the air.

With my attention still on dismantling the machine, I laid out a change in our plans. "We're changing the plan," I announced, brushing away the dirt and grime from the machine's interior as I spoke. "We're going to build a modern bathroom."

"Modern?" 22B's voice was tinged with confusion.

I nodded, my tone earnest. "Yes, the way we're living right now isn't sustainable. This place is far from ideal," I gestured around the rundown building, the other Androids nodding in agreement. "Building essential amenities like a proper bathroom might seem futile, especially considering we might move away from here in the future."

8B's understanding was evident as she nodded, her finger tapping thoughtfully on the table in front of me.

"What's your suggestion then? A portable bathroom or one that can be moved?" she inquired, her analytical mind already at work, processing the logistics of the situation.

"Bingo," I confirmed with a smile, sensing their intrigue building. "In the Ruined City, I spotted remnants of vehicles from my era. That's where our plan comes in: we're going to create a bathroom inside those vehicles."

"But won't it be too cramped and tight?" 22B's query came with an endearing tilt of her head – a gesture reminiscent of a cute human characteristic, perhaps influenced by the anime series Fate that she had been exposed to.

I chuckled in response. "No need to worry. Those vehicles you saw were cars, but what we'll be crafting is something more spacious – an RV or motorhome," I explained with a widening grin.

As I watched their serious nods, I continued with a hint of amusement. "After all, you all want to keep me safe, right?" My question was met with unanimous agreement, their dedication to ensuring my well-being bordering on fanaticism. It was a reassuring affirmation of the bond we were forming in this uncertain world.

I painted the vision more vividly, my excitement palpable. "Picture our base of operations, a room similar to this one but housing a lab, storage, and a bedroom – all neatly tucked within a vehicle. This motorhome would become our refuge, capable of traversing the land whenever we need to flee. And with each new opportunity, we'd upgrade and enhance it," I outlined, my grin taking on an almost infectious quality.

As my imagination ran wild, I couldn't help but Imagine turning it into something akin to the ship of our friends from space Guardians of the Galaxy. We'll be the safest group on this planet.

My confidence radiating through my words. Their smiles mirrored my enthusiasm, reassured by the sense of security my plan offered.

The weight of the situation wasn't lost on me. My safety was their utmost priority, given the dangers posed by their former military units. Just like any sentient beings, they harbored an inherent desire to survive. And now that I was here, their loyalty to that purpose was stronger than ever. My declaration held the promise of safety, and their response was akin to a vow of unwavering dedication – a promise that resonated like a beacon of hope to them.

"But before we embark on that grand adventure, I'll need to dissect this little guy here and figure out what makes it tick," I interjected, effectively snapping them out of their reverie and grounding them back to the present.

Their collective groans and facepalms indicated their frustration with my sometimes seemingly misplaced priorities. After all, in their eyes, our safety was paramount, but for me, the pursuit of knowledge often held an equal if not greater significance.

I shot them an unapologetic smile, a Stark's prerogative shining through. My gaze shifted to the disassembled Small Stubby, a parody of human anatomy now laid bare on my makeshift table. Its wires, cylinders, pipes, and oil formed an intricate web of mechanical intricacies.

With a touch of playfulness, I announced, "So, ladies, Operation Astrowheels is officially underway."

The Small Stubby emitted a series of beeps, almost as if adding its own input to the conversation. Perhaps, I pondered, this curious little machine might find a new role in our evolving dynamics – from potential foe to an unexpected ally, or even a peculiar pet of sorts.

Okay, I'm having genuinely having fun writing this. I don't feel any pressure here like in Gamer fic of mine.

Anyway if you don't like something, point out so I can improve, not be depressed.