Ironically Human

I was feeling incredibly bored, perhaps more so than I had ever been in my entire life. This unfamiliar world I found myself in offered little opportunity for exploration, primarily due to the incessant concern of the androids that surrounded me. Thankfully, I had been keeping myself occupied ever since I delivered that speech a few days ago.

In the wake of my declaration, the four of us, myself and my android companions, had surprisingly managed to work together efficiently. We were busy constructing our motorhome, which I had fittingly named Astrowheel, a nod to my aspirations of traveling amidst the stars and planets. Just picture it—an RV among spaceships.

However, the relentless sun remained ever-present in the sky, casting its relentless brightness over everything. I found myself yearning for darkness, even if only occasionally, just for a change of scenery.

Unfortunately, my two android knights were currently absent, leaving me in the company of seriously stoic, mommy android and a small-stubby machine that seemed incapable of ceasing its incessant beeping. I had left it securely strapped to the table, but apparently, a bit of beeping was not enough to dissuade it.

"So, 8B?" I began, breaking the ice in this rare moment of solitude between us. I couldn't deny a touch of anxiety bubbling beneath the surface, but I masked it with my typical Stark charm.

"You were a part of YoRHa, right? And now you're a fugitive. Do you think they're actively searching for you?" I inquired, all the while tinkering with piles of metal and gears, my focus currently on the Astrowheel's engine.

8B, unlike 22B, wore a solemn expression as she approached me, her demeanor a far cry from a watchful babysitter expression when she was perched by the door.

"Yes, in the eyes of YoRHa, all three of us are considered deserters. I suspect they'll dispatch a few battle, excitation, and scooter models to hunt us down. Once they find us, they won't hesitate to eliminate us on sight," she replied icily, a hint of discomfort evident in her eyes, conveying her dissatisfaction with our predicament.

"Yes, in the eyes of YoRHa, all three of us are considered deserters. I suspect they'll dispatch a few battle, executation, and scouter models to hunt us down. Once they find us, they won't hesitate to eliminate us on sight," she replied icily, a hint of discomfort evident in her eyes, conveying her dissatisfaction with our predicament.

I couldn't help but quip, "Ah, just a few battle models, excitation models, and scooters? Well, I suppose that's not an overkill, right?" I flashed a wry grin, the signature Stark humor peeking through even in the direst of situations.

"What about me when I'll be found out?" I inquired cautiously, emphasizing "when," not "if."

8B's response was grim, her tone matching the seriousness of the situation. "Before, I would have said you'd be treated like a god. But after learning from YoRHa's secret archives, I wouldn't be surprised if they attempt to do to you what you're doing to that machine, just to replicate you. YoRHa exists to eliminate Machines, and they'll go to great lengths, even using their 'gods' to boost morale and effectiveness."

My brow furrowed. "And if I don't cooperate?"

"They'll create a new 'god' for themselves or use you as they have been using the Council of Humanity, a fabricated faction of humans residing on the moon."

Well, that was a revelation I didn't quite expect. The realization that the most militaristic Android organization on current Earth might be after my knights added another layer of urgency to my mission. I needed to become stronger, build more, craft better armor, weapons, and expand our base.

The parallels between YoRHa and Hydra were becoming increasingly unsettling and, truth be told, making me a tad trigger-happy.

"Don't worry," 8B continued, her words carrying a reassuring tone as she settled into a chair beside the table. "In the event of our defeat or your capture, you won't necessarily be in harm's way. After all, YoRHa androids, like us, have their own desires." She said this nonchalantly, her lips curving into a slight smile.

"They, too, long for human touch, want to hear your words, and are willing to protect you, even if it means they have to lay down their lives. It's encoded in our algorithms, our instincts. Even if they try to manipulate it, they can't deny or harm you."

At least intensionally was left unsaid.

I found her words surprisingly calming. Despite the controlling nature of YoRHa, even their leader shared the same codes in her algorithm to protect me, much like my knights did.

"Thank you, 8B. That's reassuring," I smiled at her, and she struggled to hide a smile threatening to break through her stoic facade.

"Of course," she nodded, her expression turning serious. "But let's not attempt to contact YoRHa. We all want to live, not to meet our end by YoRHa's blades." Her unspoken message about their newfound purpose hung in the air.

Before we knew it, 8B and I had transitioned from discussing our dire circumstances to engaging in casual conversation, all while we worked on various projects in our makeshift workshop.

The table was noticeably more spacious now, with Small Stubby securely strapped to the wall this time. The little machine seemed to have either given up resisting or adapted to its predicament, and for now, I had no plans to harm it. It was starting to seem like this machine had developed an unusual taste for its situation.

This machine somehow developed masochism.

I thought while shivering. At least my dad would probably proud of me.

After our heart-to-heart conversation, 8B and I continued our work, and she displayed an unexpectedly curious side when it came to humans, shedding some of her usual mature and rigid demeanor. We answered each other's questions about humans while making progress on our projects.

We were all focused on developing the power source first, not for lighting or any such thing. With the sun perpetually present, harnessing solar energy was a straightforward task, especially considering I had Arc Reactors at my disposal. They served as both a power source and a means of energy storage. It was times like these that I couldn't help but think, "You're a genius, Dad," and I also owed a nod to dear old grandpa for sparking this during the Second World War.

Our current project wasn't related to the Astrowheel, though. Instead, it was focused on a device I whimsically called the "Iron Laundry." I know it might sound a bit unexciting, but hear me out.

The Iron Laundry was one of my pet projects, a multi-functional hanger capable of emitting a controlled laser for heating, equipped with small mechanical tentacles for repairs and device creation. It even had a rudimentary computer and a basic social AI built in, allowing Sunday to use it as a more precise extension when we worked on various creations.

In essence, it could produce heat, repair things, melt materials into raw form, and provide us with the resources we needed for our projects. The only caveat was its voracious appetite for power, along with the complex hardware required for its construction and the integration of a small computer that only accepted commands from my Supercomputer and Sunday, who resided within.

While we toiled away on the engine, 22B and 64B scurried about, collecting every bit of metal and other materials they could lay their hands on, leaving no stone unturned in their scavenging efforts.

An hour later, 22B and 64B returned, visibly fatigued. However, there was no sign of the large, hollow base for the van or bus I had requested.

"Peter, 8B," 22B called out, panting as she caught her breath, "we found it again," she managed to say between gasps for air.

I swiftly took their hands and guided both 22B and 64B to chairs, as they were panting as if they had just run a marathon. It made me wonder, did androids possess artificial lungs to pant like humans? These androids seemed to mimic human behaviors more closely than I'd anticipated.

I composed myself and asked, "So what's going on? Are you in danger? Is it a machine, or is it YoRHa?" I calmly prepared my repulsor gloves, just in case we were facing a threat that required my intervention.

64B quickly recovered her breath and explained, "Yes, I mean no, it's a machine, but we're not in danger." Her tone was a bit babbling, which brought a smile to my face. Her brown hair and mannerisms were starting to remind me of my sister Morgan.

No bad Peter, now's not the time.

"Is it a village?" 8B asked, prompting me to raise an eyebrow in surprise. A village? What was she talking about?

"No," 64B shook her head, disbelief evident. "It's the Amusement District. There were fireworks, vehicles, and machines dancing around."

22B chimed in enthusiastically, "We expected a battle, but those machines were like the ones in Machine Village. They didn't attack and just danced around with no malice."

I scratched my head, realizing that maybe not all machines were bad guys. I glanced at Small Stubby, still securely strapped to the wall, and facepalmed. "Well, that's good and all, but what about the materials I asked for?" I questioned, sitting back in my chair and crossing my arms.

"That's the interesting part," 22B replied excitedly. "That park is filled with materials and working machinery from the old world."

"The only problem is there are lots of machines," 64B mentioned somewhat dejectedly. "The worst part is, these machines aren't even hostile. I'd feel like a monster if we just went in and started a massacre."

Both 22B and 64B gave me puppy-dog eyes, which left me a bit offended. "What?" I retorted, feeling the need to defend myself. "Why are you looking at me like I was going to order you to exterminate them? I'm not bloodthirsty."

"You've got a machine on the wall, the same machine you've been dissecting for days," 22B pointed out, deadpan.

"You've been swearing vengeance at Machine lifeforms every time you wake up from your sleep," 64B added.

"From what we know about humans, your species has a history of evolving through violence and war," 8B chimed in stoically.

My headphones beeped, and my AI joined in with its own jab. "Your first creation was a weapon that could cut through steel like a hot knife through butter."

Okay, but it was Lightsaber, its what it was supposed to do.

I sighed and decided, "Okay, we'll approach them diplomatically. If they're not hostile, there's no point in slaughtering any sentient species." I started getting dressed, donning my tactical suit underneath my casual outfit. The tactical suit was incredibly thin yet durable, allowing me to wear it under any full outfit.

However, 8B stood up, her expressionless stare locking onto me, and she stated firmly, "You're not going anywhere. We don't know how they'll react to humans." Her words sparked a spike of anger within me, but I suppressed it for now.

"I've been cooped up here for weeks, I haven't seen my mother and sister's faces, and you're telling me to stay put?!" I couldn't help but raise my voice, my frustration boiling over as I struggled to keep my emotions in check.

I understood that they wanted to protect me, but the constant surveillance and confinement were starting to take a toll. It felt like I was a new toy or pet they had acquired, and all they wanted to do was feed me, play with me, and smother me with care, all while denying me my much-needed privacy. I longed for a moment to walk alone, to clear my head, to have some semblance of freedom.

I was genuinely grateful for their support, but my anger was mounting. I missed my family – my mother, my sister, Uncle Peter – and I yearned for the familiar faces of my friends like Friday, Doctor Strange, Thor, the Bartons. I missed my world, my time, and most of all, I missed human interaction.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I choked out, "I miss... I miss... I miss them all."

And now, these oversized washing machines were confining me here, adding to my frustration and loneliness.

(Sunday's POV)

"Peter, calm down," 22B tried to pacify the situation, but Peter wasn't listening. Instead, he shot her a glare, causing her to stiffen in something akin to fear, frozen in place as Peter rose from his chair.

Redheaded girl was too frozen to do anything but stare.

8B quickly positioned herself in front of Peter, who began walking toward the exit. "We're only trying to protect you, Peter, please calm down," she implored.

The young Stark looked at 8B briefly before gazing at the ground. "First, find the difference between protection and imprisonment."

His usual jovial tone was absent as they recoiled at his cold tone and voice.

Peter's ring suddenly glowed intensely, prompting everyone in the room to avert their eyes or shield them from the brightness. When they dared to look again, Peter had vanished.

"Look there," 64B pointed outside, and all of them stared in astonishment. Peter was soaring upward, propelled by the jet boots on his feet, the very same repulsor jet technology found in Iron Man's suit. In this case, it was from the rescue armor suit built by Tony for Pepper.

"Get after him!" 8B shouted in a panic as they rushed toward the outside.

"Wait!" Sunday's voice came through the headphones, causing the androids to halt in their pursuits.

"You can't catch up to him. None of you can fly," Sunday's words were a cold reality check.

"But we can't just stand here," 22B protested.

"Exactly," Sunday replied. "This is how Peter has been feeling all week." The headphones on Sunday's projection began to beep as she transmitted her message through the hologram.

In front of the androids, a new figure materialized, and it was unmistakably Sunday's avatar. Unlike traditional AI representations as mere lines of code, Peter had crafted a distinctive avatar for Sunday.

Her appearance was reminiscent of an iron suit, sleek and formidable. However, instead of a conventional iron mask, her visage was concealed beneath a hood, adding an air of mystery. Her thin armor seemed to ripple like liquid metal, and a cloak billowed around her, giving her a peculiar unholy blend of Iron Man and witch-like aesthetics.

"Peter's AI," 22B remarked in surprise as she observed the avatar's striking image.

"I'm Sunday," came the AI's cold reply. At this stage of her development, she had yet to simulate emotions like her mother, Friday.

Sunday's avatar remained solemn as she addressed the androids, delivering her wisdom with a measured tone. "Before rushing to Peter, you should learn about him. Blindly trying to help someone without knowledge tends to do the opposite of what you're trying to do."

8B voiced her concerns, her stoic facade cracking as anxiety crept into her features. "But what if machines attack him? I still think one of us should go."

Sunday's response was firm. "You're letting your obsession guide you. That same obsession is turning into fear now that Peter has left."

She continued to reassure them, "Peter is exceptionally skilled in combat, espionage, and escape. He may not be an android, but he represents the pinnacle of human capabilities. Equipped with magic, gadgets, and a brilliant mind, he will be fine, and he will return. There's no need to worry for his safety."

As 22B nodded sadly, Sunday couldn't help but notice that the androids were capable of mimicking expressions like crying.

"I know he's strong," the redheaded android spoke softly, her voice filled with concern. "So let me ask this, why did he snap like that? Is it something we did?"

All three androids cast their gazes downward, their expressions downcast. It was as if they had inadvertently angered a deity, and now he had abandoned them for good.

"It's a symptom of human fatigue. He wasn't angry at any of you in particular, perhaps just a tad annoyed," Sunday explained, her voice reflective as she processed data and emulated human conversation. She was swiftly learning to converse with these androids in a more human-like manner, yet there was still much to grasp.

"Symptoms? Is he getting sick?" 8B inquired with a mix of concern and slight fear.

"In a way," Sunday replied, "due to being away from home and missing his family and friends for such an extended period, he's grown restless."

The androids visibly flinched, as if struck by her words.

"We didn't even consider that," 64B admitted. "We were so focused on serving the last human that we forgot he had other people in his life. Being a time traveler, it's only natural he would miss other humans from his past."

Androids felt unfairly jealousy at that toward past humans.

Sunday nodded in agreement with the brown-haired android's insight. "Yes, and because of the circumstances, he was thrust into this timeline. He's feeling guilty, thinking that everyone from his past will be worried sick about his disappearance."

"But he was laughing and joking just an hour ago while we were working together. It felt sudden, and I didn't see it coming," 8B observed.

"That's a coping mechanism, something he inherited from his father, I suppose," Sunday remarked, examining data related to Tony Stark.

"Behind the smile and the jokes, pressure was building up inside him because of the lack of privacy and being confined to the same place for an extended period. He developed cabin fever, and when you tried to prevent him from leaving, he exploded," Sunday explained.

"Are all humans this complex?" 22B asked, massaging her head, or perhaps experiencing a minor glitch, given her android nature.

"No, he's a growing teen, 18 years old, and it's easy to snap due to emotions and hormones. It's the phase of transitioning from a child to a mature adult," Sunday replied as her image began to flicker.

"So he'll cool down; just give him some space and time," she concluded, her words carrying an air of assurance.

There was reason why Sunday was so calm after all. She believed in her best friend(?).

22B gazed at the flickering images of Sunday's AI with a sense of curiosity. "Peter said yesterday that you had yet to develop, understand, and mature, but you're providing us with such valuable information. How?"

Sunday's avatar paused briefly, a subtle shift in her demeanor. It was as if something unusual had caught her attention within her own algorithms, a sensation that felt both warm and alarming.

"I've been with Peter since he was six," Sunday responded, her tone laced with affection. "If there's one thing I've come to understand deeply in my short existence, it's Peter."

With a mental command, Sunday's avatar vanished, retreating to her digital home within the headphones that doubled as Peter's supercomputer. Left behind were androids who felt emotionally stirred and, to some extent, mildly affected by her departure.

And depressed because of Peter.

The three androids made their way through the Ruined City, moving deliberately as they navigated the landscape. Straggler machines crossed their path, but these mechanical beings didn't even bother to engage with the androids, who walked with an air of deep concentration.

"We know next to nothing about humans," 22B remarked, her metallic foot occasionally kicking small pebbles along the way, a seemingly human-like gesture.

"Yes, they've been extinct for many millennia, so it's only natural," 8B responded.

"And according to Sunday, our first human in our world, Peter is not even an adult; he's more like a new Scanner model from YoRHa, curious and emotional," 64B added, contributing to the conversation.

"According to this data," 8B began, referencing information sent by Friday, which included materials on "Human Psychology" and various other books on health and philosophy, "he's going through something called a rebellious phase. It's nothing short of a miracle that he's put up with the three of us for a week, considering we're strangers to him."

She sighed deeply, the weight of the situation evident in her voice. "And let's not forget, physically we appear female and attractive in the eyes of a teenage boy. I can't imagine it's been easy for him to be locked up with us."

As they continued to walk with a sense of melancholy, Sunday remained silent, utilizing her surveillance capabilities to scan their surroundings, a role Peter had entrusted her with over the years.

Suddenly, 22B came to a halt, her eyes closing as she concentrated on something.

"What's wrong, 22B?" the brown-haired android inquired with concern, only to receive a hushed "shush" from the red-haired android.

"Listen," 22B whispered, and all three androids fell silent, their attention directed toward the auditory hardware and software near their ears.

As the haunting melody of the song filled the air, the three androids listened attentively:

"Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind,

Thinking I can see through this, see what's behind,

Got no way to prove it, so maybe I'm lying.

But I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all, don't put your blame on me."

Excitement coursed through 8B as she recognized the voice. "It's Peter!" she exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over her. Her android codes provided an equivalent to dopamine, signaling her relief.

However, 22B's giddy smile persisted as she clarified, "No, it's a song." Unlike most androids who stored and enjoyed all Old Human media in their databases, 22B had a special affinity for music. It was a form of human expression she cherished.

64B interjected with a grin, a mix of relief and amusement in her expression. "She meant it's Peter's voice, you dunce."

Following 8B's announcement, the three androids sprinted toward the origin of the voice, running with a sense of urgency as the singing voice grew louder. In the Ruined City, where human voices had been absent for thousands of years, this song echoed like a long-lost treasure.

"Oh, some people got real problems,

Some people out of luck,

Some people think I can solve them,

Lord heavens above,"

The voice continued to sing, guiding the androids closer to its source.

The androids came to an abrupt halt as they reached the edge of the city, overlooking the river. There, they saw Peter sitting on the largest boulder by the riverbank, a fishing rod in hand, singing without a care in the world. It would have been a heartwarming scene for the androids if it weren't for one significant detail: Peter was surrounded by a multitude of machines.

Small Stubbies, medium bipeds, and various small and medium fliers encircled the young human as he sang, while the machines appeared to dance along with his song.

8B, ready to spring into action with her weapon, stopped just a few meters away. The memory of her earlier actions, when she had acted without considering Peter's feelings, weighed heavily on her mind. Blindly pursuing what she believed was right had led to Peter's anger. Should she risk making the same mistake again?

She was well aware that not all machines were inherently hostile, contrary to what YoRHa often taught its soldiers. But in this moment, with a human potentially in danger, the androids faced a difficult choice.

"I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all,

Don't put your blame on me, don't put your blame on me."

The time-traveling human just didn't give any reaction as Peter sang, his face relaxed, without a hint of fear or worry, and despite being surrounded by machines, he remained utterly relaxed. His face bore no sign of discomfort or worry as he sang and enjoyed his fishing by the river.

The androids, sheathing their weapons, decided to join the excited beeping machines. They closed their eyes, savoring the moment as they listened to the song, which emanated from the only human on the current Earth. To them, he was their creator, their god.

"Cause I'm no Prophet or Messiah,

You should go looking somewhere higheeeeeer~"

The song continued, and as the melody and beats descended, the androids finally opened their eyes. They, too, found themselves encircled by machines, but these machines were not hostile. Even when some machines brushed past them or bumped into them by mistake, there was no aggression.

Like the machines surrounding them, they were completely absorbed in the music and the presence of the human.

"I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all,

Don't put your blame on me,

Don't put your blame on meeee."

Finally, the song concluded, and Peter took a deep breath, releasing it with a contented sigh, as if all tension and stress had been lifted from his body. The machines also snapped out of their trance, their beeping indicating a change in their state. Whether this shift was due to irritation or simply their usual behavior, the androids couldn't say for certain.

"My Knights."

As Peter spoke, the androids experienced a familiar sensation within their systems. It was a pleasure-inducing feeling that typically occurred during combat or, in some cases, artificial sexual encounters. Androids, in their quest to replicate human experiences, had also been optionally equipped with artificial genitals, designed solely for pleasure since they didn't procreate but were manufactured in factories.

22B, despite her android nature, hastily concealed her burgeoning blush. She refocused her attention on Peter, determined to keep her thoughts from veering into more provocative territory. Lewd thoughts were not allowed right now.

"The show's over, exterminate the machines," Peter announced in a quiet and matter-of-fact tone. There was no trace of coldness, hate, or anger in his voice. He simply stated it, akin to announcing that the sky was blue.

The androids, filled with a deep sense of ecstasy from the core of their being, didn't hesitate. They descended upon the unsuspecting and foolish machines like a pack of wolves. These machines were oblivious to the imminent danger they faced.

With surgical precision, the androids landed critical strikes, targeting the machines' vital and weakest points. The machines, being low-end and utterly unaware, didn't stand a chance. The androids relentlessly pushed themselves to their limits for such weak adversaries, and the conflict didn't last more than seven seconds.

Peter smiled as machine bodies exploded around him, creating a satisfying boom, both in sound and visual spectacle. While it was nowhere near as powerful as a grenade, it had a strangely flashy quality to it.

Once the slaughter was over, the androids turned their attention to their master, their expressions ranging from various emotions.

Peter, however, simply shifted his focus back to the river and his fishing rod, as if everything was perfectly normal.

"Those machines weren't sentient. I was just minding my own business when one of them bumped into me, and suddenly I'm the bad guy," Peter explained in an exasperated tone, his frustration evident as he almost pouted.

"Why were you singing instead of running away then?" 8B asked calmly, making an effort to not come across as too authoritative in front of the boy. She had learned from data received from Sunday that it often irritated human teenagers, especially those who were geniuses or wealthy.

(Peter's POV)

"Because I didn't need to run," I responded, thinking back to all the dangerous situations I'd been through due to my involvement with the Avengers and supervillains over time. "So far, I haven't encountered anything that can harm me, except for sneak attacks when I'm asleep, including you."

My words seemed to sting the androids, and I could sense the hurt in their emotions. It was clear that they were wounded at the mere thought that I believed they would hurt me.

8B walked forward until she was directly in front of me, her bright blue eyes fixed on mine. She removed her visor, which had a blindfold-like appearance but could function as an operative HUD system, similar to an Iron Man suit helmet.

All of their eyes were a vivid blue, and they all discarded their blindfolds. Despite being artificial organs, I could still see emotions within them, and they seemed ready to shed tears, much like a human would.

"I, we just want to serve you; it's our sole purpose, but we can't do it if you die like the rest of the humans," 8B began, with 64B and 22B standing beside her, nodding in agreement.

"So, are you going to lock me up for your own selfish reasons?" I asked, glaring at them, my frustration evident. Despite being presented with a whole new world, it seemed like these three always attempted to confine me to the same place.

"That was not our intention, we just..." 22B trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"You just want the human you found all to yourself, denying me and even other androids. Just like humans, you guys are selfish and arrogant," I accused, my tone laced with anger.

The androids were torn between feeling glad for being compared to their human creators and sad because, even if they displayed humanity, it wasn't always the admirable side of humanity.

"Arrogant?" 64B asked in confusion.

"Did you honestly expect to keep me in the same place for so long when you guys are already in danger from YoRHa? Instead of planning for your survival, you've been taking care of me like babysitters and pretending that all your problems no longer exist," I scolded them.

Sheesh, how the hell I became the resposible one? Is this how it feels to have three teenager stubborn daughters?

"Because that's our purpose!" 8B shouted for the first time, her legs giving way as she knelt down.

"Your life isn't yours anymore," the usually mature and adult android sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "You're our hope, our reason for existing, our salvation from this never-ending cycles of war."

"We don't want to become hope killers by endangering your life," 22B added, her own tears flowing freely.

My expression softened considerably as I tried to see things from their perspective, just as Uncle Peter had taught me all those years. After a moment of reflection, I came to a decision.

"But that's not your decision to make, is it?" I said as I stood up from the rock, casting a shadow over them with the sun behind me. From Androids eyes, I looked god with golden bright halo of light around my body.

It was almost divine.

"You don't know what it means to take care of humans. You claim me as your god, but you don't know how to interact with your god because you've never seen or felt a human before we met in your entire existence."

It was a harsh truth, one that cut to the core of their purpose.

"But what can we do? You're right; we never knew what it means to be human in our existence. We only know what we were programmed to do," 64B admitted with a sad expression.

"The answer is very simple," I said with a genuine smile. "You will serve me."

"Isn't that what we were doing?" 8B asked, puzzled.

"No, you were calling it serving, but you were doing your own thing. You guys simply don't know what you're doing anymore," I replied with a mix of annoyance and fondness. It was clear to me that I needed to take charge from now on. If they wanted to serve me, they had to serve under me, not above me.

Wait, that came out wrong from another angle.

"What I want from you is your support and your cooperation and obedience. At least for now. You guys are like children by human standards, still learning," I said with a hard stare, hoping they would refuse and stand their ground.

Prove me wrong that they were capable to take charge, keep me safe, help me. As my father's son I expected lot from these Android. To my eyes, if there was no humanity left, these guys were the humanity, at least our legacy.

So stand your ground and learn from your mistake. I glared at three Androids.

To my disappointment, they knelt in front of me in complete obedience. It seemed my words had struck a chord, and they were willing to follow my lead.

"We have much to learn, so teach us, our god," 8B said, composed and controlled.

"Our entire existence is to serve humans, so of course, I will serve you," 22B said with a happy smile, wiping away her tears.

"However, remember, if the moment comes when you are in danger, we will save you, by any means necessary," 64B declared with an almost maniacal tone, her voice monotone.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked at these androids who had just placed me above them in their hierarchy. I smiled, realizing that I was now their leader.

Now then, since I'm a leader now, do I get to call them my team of Avengers?

Amidst the vast desert landscape, two white-haired figures moved with purpose. The first figure, a strikingly beautiful female android, displayed unparalleled grace as she effortlessly cleaved through the massive machines that dared to cross her path. Her twin swords sliced through the metallic bodies with precision, and she showed no signs of discomfort or fatigue.

Hovering above her like a vigilant guardian was a drone-like object, its rapid-fire bullets precisely eliminating any small machines that managed to evade the android's attention. The drone's small but deadly projectiles ensured that no enemy could escape their relentless assault.

Walking alongside her was the second android, a male resembling a young human man. Unlike his partner, he maintained a safe distance from the frontlines of battle. Clad in an outfit similar to his human counterpart, he wielded a sword, but his primary role seemed to be different. Instead of engaging in direct combat, he utilized his exceptional hacking skills to dismantle the machines from a distance.

With calculated precision, he remotely accessed their systems, causing them to malfunction and explode, all without exposing himself to unnecessary danger.

As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, only the two androids remained standing amidst the wreckage of the machine life forms. A few scattered parts of the defeated machinery lay scattered around them, evidence of their efficiency and prowess in the ongoing war against the machines.

"Woo, we did it, 2B!" 9S exclaimed with enthusiasm, his cheerful demeanor in stark contrast to the serious and cold visage of his companion. He knew that 2B was not one to engage in idle chatter during missions, but this wasn't an official mission, just a mundane chore assigned to them by someone at Resistance Camp.

2B, her eyes concealed behind a visor, regarded 9S with an impassive expression as he continued speaking.

"We don't have time for chit-chat, 9S," she replied in her business-like tone. She had a job to do, and her focus was unwavering. "Did you find a rusted clump, dented plate, and copper ore like we were asked?"

"Well," 9S teased, "if you call me Nines, I could answer you." He grinned, feeling a bit bolder today. After all, it was just a chore, and he couldn't resist a bit of playfulness.

Normally wasting time and showing emotion is a big no-no in YoRHa's mission but this was simply a chore. Super boring and long chore given by some guy in Resistance Camp.

The nerve of that guy, ordering YoRHa combat units to do chores and not even sounding grateful. So yeah 9S was feeling bored, petty, and happy at the same time, hence he was pretty bold now, bolder than ever.

2B's response was as flat as ever. "No," she stated firmly, not allowing any distractions from their mission, even if it was a chore.

"Uuuf." That was merciless as ever as his crush (*) answered him flatly.

The curious scout android just sighed miserably as he signaled the assignment complete to his partner.

"Then let's go, I'm sick of this desert." 2B ordered as she huffed softly. Before she could take a step, a drone hovering above 9S beeped.

9S let out an exaggerated sigh, his attempt at humor met with a resounding rejection. It seemed that, even in the face of danger and boredom, 2B's resolve remained unyielding.

9S quickly scanned the data streaming into his Pod, his expression turning serious as he processed the new mission directive. "It's a new YoRHa objective," he replied to 2B, his voice devoid of the earlier playfulness.

As the urgent message from Pod came through, both 2B and 9S instantly shifted their focus to the new mission at hand. The desert winds carried away any semblance of their previous boredom, replaced with a stark seriousness.

"Understood," 9S replied, a hint of anxiety in his voice as he imagined confronting their rogue YoRHa comrades. This was a situation he hadn't anticipated.

2B nodded and took a step forward, her intent clear. "Let's move quickly," she said, her sword at the ready. In moments, the two androids were on the move, determined to track down their former allies and bring them to justice, no matter the cost.

"Looks like Gerbera has to wait." 2B announced, her hands touching the hilt of her sword floating behind her back.

"Those three have to face YoRHa's judgment first." She said coldly.

9S swore he could feel bloodlust from his crush as his body shook for some reason. It felt like she was the executioner rather than the battler that she was supposed to be.

"Yes, ma'am." He squawks rather unmanly than he is unintended.

Dun Dun Dun

Like most of my protagonist, Peter is not gamer or wizard. Yes he has advantage and he's genius.

But at the end of the day. He's Human after all.