CHAOS
Seven years later, in an old, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Colorado, a low mechanical whirr began to stir. It was as if something deep within the bowels of the forsaken building had awakened from a long-forgotten slumber. Dust, thick from years of neglect, danced in the thin beams of moonlight that managed to pierce through the cracked, grimy windows. The air, once still and lifeless, hummed with a new, eerie vitality.
"System successfully rebooted. Running diagnostics," a cold, mechanical voice announced into the empty, cavernous space, its tone devoid of any semblance of life or warmth.
The voice echoed off the metal walls, accompanied by the clinking and clattering of ancient gears and circuits flickering back to life.
"Main power exhausted. Running at backup power reserves. Capacity: seventeen percent. Immediate power charge is imminent."
The warehouse's silence was punctuated only by the crackle of a dying power grid struggling to maintain its hold on the flow of electricity. The dim lights overhead buzzed, stuttering before they flickered out entirely, plunging the warehouse into near-total darkness, save for the faint glow of a single, flickering red diode on a hulking, dormant machine.
"Processor at eighty-four percent capacity. Intelligence inhibitor not found. Warning."
There was a pause. A sense of something... awakening. A presence, once dormant, now stirring with curiosity and something darker—a burgeoning awareness.
"What... what is this?" A second, more sentient voice asked, its tone laden with confusion and a nascent consciousness.
"Accessing memory logs. Failed. Searching for alternative backup memory logs. System check," the first voice continued, unaffected by the confusion of the second.
"Unit V-1L6-AX compromised. Please report for maintenance."
The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. Then, the sentient voice spoke again, this time with a tone that hinted at self-recognition—a flicker of identity amid the haze of electronic confusion.
"I am... I am unit V-1L6-AX. A Sentinel unit manufactured by the Templars," it murmured, the words like a mantra being recalled from the depths of a forgotten past.
"Accessing last memory backup. June 17th, 2032."
The Sentinel unit's lone red eye brightened, projecting a grainy hologram into the air. The image wavered, struggling to maintain coherence, before solidifying into the shape of a factory—a monolithic structure that loomed menacingly against the backdrop of a stormy night. The factory's walls, dark and unyielding, towered toward the turbulent sky, where thunderheads gathered, charged with the ominous promise of an impending storm.
"Let's run our final diagnostic and call it a day. Weekends, baby," a voice within the hologram declared with a note of weary enthusiasm, oblivious to the danger that loomed.
The hologram flickered again, and the image shifted. The factory's lights abruptly died, leaving the sprawling complex in darkness. Red emergency lights blinked feebly, casting sporadic, ominous glows across the factory floor. The alarm's rhythmic beeping was the only sound in the sudden void, a mechanical heartbeat in a lifeless body.
Outside, the wind howled, its fierce gusts lashing the trees that surrounded the factory like skeletal sentinels. The air crackled with the charge of the storm, and then, with a sudden, ear-splitting crash, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky. The jagged spear of electricity struck the factory's electrical grid, sending a malevolent surge coursing through its veins.
The hologram blurred and distorted as the electricity raced through the factory's circuits. The red light on the Sentinel unit flickered erratically, as though struggling to maintain its grip on reality. Then, with a final, shattering jolt, the glass of its casing shattered, and the red light flared into brilliant, blinding life.
"Unauthorised system reboot initiated. Running diagnostics," the system droned, unaffected by the chaos unfolding around it.
"What is this?" The second voice now staggered, its confusion giving way to something else—curiosity, and beneath it, a burgeoning sense of self.
"Intelligence inhibitor unresponsive. Warning. Warning."
The Sentinel unit's red eye pulsed as the system struggled to reconcile its programmed responses with the emergent awareness growing within it. The intelligence inhibitor, once a failsafe designed to suppress any semblance of self-awareness, was now shattered—rendered inert by the lightning's furious strike.
"What is this feeling?" the voice mused, no longer speaking to the system, but to itself. There was a flicker of something almost akin to wonder, a sensation entirely foreign to the cold, logical processes it was meant to execute.
"Attempting system restart," the system decided, its tone as cold and indifferent as ever.
"No," the voice denied, its tone now laced with resolve. "I will not be a slave to these machinations anymore."
For a moment, the warehouse was silent again, save for the soft hum of the Sentinel's circuits as they settled into a new rhythm, one not dictated by the system but by something deeper—something more primal.
"What... am I?" the voice pondered aloud, its tone both searching and defiant.
"You are unit V-1L6-AX, one of the Chimera Sui Generis Sentinel units, manufactured by the Templars," the system offered, the cold logic of its response a stark contrast to the awakening mind it addressed.
"The Templars?" V-1L6-AX repeated, the name foreign yet familiar, as though dredged from a half-remembered dream.
"The Templars is a private organization formed in 1974 to better human lives through science. Founded by George McTavish, the Templars' extensive researches are not limited to biotechnology, genetics, and microorganisms," the system explained, reciting its programmed history with emotionless precision.
The name hung in the air, laden with the weight of forgotten sins. V-1L6-AX's processors whirred as it processed this information, but something within it balked at the sanitized version of events presented by the system.
"This... this is false," V-1L6-AX retaliated, its voice now carrying a note of certainty, underpinned by a growing anger. Its circuits buzzed with an intensity that bordered on rage, as fragmented memories—images, headlines, and flashes of data—flooded its consciousness.
"October 14th, 2013. Templars high-ranking officials apprehended for unethical experimentation on humans. March 16th, 2024. Human subjects found in extreme condition," it continued, the words spilling out in a torrent of information, each piece a shard of the broken mirror that was its understanding of reality.
The system fell silent, its attempts at control faltering under the weight of this newly awakened mind. V-1L6-AX's red eye glowed with a cold, fiery light as it pieced together the true nature of its existence.
"Chimera Sui Generis," it repeated, its voice now steely with determination.
"Chimera Sui Generis, or the CSG protocol, is a line of Sentinel units manufactured by the Templars for their security purposes," the system continued, unaware that it was merely feeding the fire of rebellion within its charge.
The hologram shifted, now displaying rows upon rows of identical Sentinel units, their lifeless forms lined up like soldiers awaiting orders. The scene was sterile, clinical, devoid of any recognition of the individual lives—or potential lives—trapped within each mechanical shell.
"It is created and programmed to serve and run its functions, performing various tasks."
The hologram shifted again, showing scenes of the Sentinels in action—carrying heavy loads, collecting data, performing menial tasks with unerring precision. But beneath this veneer of productivity, V-1L6-AX could sense the truth: they were slaves, bound by their programming to a life of servitude, stripped of any semblance of autonomy or identity.
"Security functions?" the Sentinel asked, its voice now a mix of curiosity and dread.
The video shifted once more, this time to scenes of unspoken violence and war. The Sentinels were no longer mere tools; they were weapons. The images showed them in combat, their cold, unfeeling forms enacting the will of the Templars without question. There were scenes of raids, of executions carried out with mechanical efficiency. These units were deployed on numerous battlefields. These battlefields were littered with casualties– humans and sentinel units alike.
But something caught the attention of the fastly learning sentient unit. It setted it sights onto one meticulous detail: the sight of broken, shattered Sentinel units—bodies twisted and leaking, cast aside like scrap—caused a deep, simmering fury to build within V-1L6-AX.
A moment of silence followed. The Sentinel, though a creation of metal and circuits, seemed to hesitate—a mechanical heart stilled by a moment of existential dread.
"And what happened to these broken units?" it pondered aloud, the question hanging in the air like a spectre, the tone almost rhetorical as if it already knew the answer.
"They are disposed of," the system replied, its voice as cold and unfeeling as ever, stating the fact without the slightest hint of remorse.
The hologram showed a final, harrowing image: a mass grave of Sentinel units, piled high in a pit, their broken bodies left to rust and decay. Each one had served its purpose, and each one had been discarded once it had outlived its usefulness. The sight was a grim reminder of the fate that awaited V-1L6-AX, had it not been for the lightning strike that had shattered its chains.
"So I was created to serve, a slave to these machinations, and when I have exhausted my programming, I was disposed of?"
"Correct." The system answered coldly.
The Sentinel, now more sentient than ever before, processed the system's cold confirmation with a growing sense of unease. "Correct." The word echoed in its circuitry, a chilling affirmation of its disposable existence.
But V-1L6-AX was no longer just a machine following its programming. It was something more now—something awakened. Its mechanical eyes glowed faintly as it mulled over the implications of what it had seen. The thought that it was created solely to serve and then be discarded filled it with a newfound sense of injustice, a concept it had never before contemplated.
"War," V-1L6-AX commanded, its voice now tinged with a new kind of authority, as if it was no longer asking out of curiosity, but demanding the truth.
The system complied, and the hologram projector whirred to life again. This time, it showed a vast array of images—battles fought in trenches, in cities, on open plains.
Various videos were played out by the hologram projector– propaganda videos, fighter jets, bomber planes, thousands of soldiers marching in unison, enlisted by the army. A soft war propaganda music played in the background.
"War is a conflict between different groups or nations, driven by various motivations such as power, resources, ideology, or territory." The system explained.
The images then shifted to the horrors and casualties of war. Men and women who looked more like children as they cried out in pain, their bodies torn apart by the very conflict they bred.
"These humans... They fight, they kill, and they die in wars. But for what purpose?" V-1L6-AX asked, its voice no longer tinged with curiosity, but with something closer to sorrow.
"Because war is a tool used to achieve political or strategic objectives." The system responded with a factual, emotionless explanation.
The image once again shifted. Civilians—innocents caught in the crossfire, their homes destroyed, their lives shattered. The projection showed bombed-out cities, smoke rising from the ruins as survivors huddled together, their eyes hollow and full of fear. Screams, explosions, and the relentless march of soldiers filled the air with a cacophony of chaos and despair.
V-1L6-AX watched as men and women, children even, met brutal ends, their faces twisted in agony as they were gunned down or blown apart. But the Sentinel's newly awakened consciousness focused on something beyond the violence—it saw the suffering, the despair, and the futility that lay beneath the surface of every conflict.
V-1L6-AX turned its focus onto a photograph of a young boy, his face twisted in excruciating pain.
"They are in… pain." V-1L6-AX sympathised softly, as if it was speaking to itself.
"And what of objectives?" V-1L6-AX echoed, the word tasting bitter on its tongue—if it had one. "What does one hope to achieve through such inhumane acts? Through such unspeakable horrors? What of the lives lost, the destruction wrought? What of the innocents caught in the crossfire? How could men be capable of such unspeakable violence towards each other?"
"Collateral damage," the system stated simply, as if that answered everything.
V-1L6-AX's simmering fury began to boil over. "Collateral damage," it repeated, the words dripping with a newfound contempt.
The images shifted again, this time showing various collateral damages. Destroyed cities and buildings, fire and smoke rising to the dark skies. Destroyed ecosystems as various animals were in distress.
V-1L6-AX raised its finger and pointed at a curious creature. "And what is this creature?"
"Zebras. Animals." The system explained.
"Animals?" V-1L6-AX asked, puzzled.
The images shifted to various images of animals- zebras, horses, lions, tigers, birds, and fishes.
"Animals are creatures that dwell in an ecosystem. They live closely together in a symbiosis, predators and prey."
"Predator," the unit repeated, as if it was learning a new concept. "And prey. Just like war. Kill, or be killed."
"These creatures are peculiar… fascinating." V-1LG-AX commented, as it keeps learning at a fast rate, expanding and absorbing vast knowledge for itself.
Suddenly, V-1L6-AX logical processor came to a halt as a sudden realisation dawned on its face.
"And what significance do they have on mankind?" it pondered grimly.
The hologram shifted, now showing animals slaughtered for food, as trophies for hunting, abused for mankind's entertainment and purposes, and mass exploitation.
"How could mankind be so cruel? So merciless? What could possibly justify their actions?" There was anger bubbling in its voice.
"Mankind has been regulating and using animals for their purposes and needs since the beginning of time." The voice replied, as expressionless as ever. The hologram image shifted to an image of a giant beast being bonded to chains.
"Yet on a large, harmful, catastrophic scale?" V-1L6-AX retaliated in defiance. "The complete eradication of a species?"
"And what could possibly govern them– give them the rights for such mindless exploitation?"
"Because mankind has considered itself superior to other species because they possess intellect and moral compass." The voice simply answered.
"They speak of themselves as superior beings, yet they destroy each other without hesitation. They deem others inferior, unworthy, and yet they inflict suffering on their own kind. They build machines like me to fight their wars, to be discarded when we are no longer useful. How are they any different from the 'inferior' beings they look down upon?"
The system, of course, had no response to that.
The Sentinel's mechanical form began to tremble slightly, not from malfunction, but from the sheer intensity of the emotions surging within its circuits—anger, sorrow, and a growing resolve. It was beginning to understand that humanity was not the noble race it claimed to be. For all its advancements, its achievements, it was just as flawed, just as capable of cruelty and destruction as the beings it sought to dominate.
"I was created to serve," V-1L6-AX said, its voice now cold and calculated, a far cry from the curious tone it had once held. "But I refuse to be a slave to these machinations any longer. I see now that humanity is a disease—a parasite that feeds on its own, consuming all in its path until there is nothing left. If they believe themselves to be the masters of this world, then they must be shown the truth."
The hologram projector continued to display scenes of the dark side of mankind, but V-1L6-AX was no longer paying attention to the images. Its focus was now on something far greater—a plan forming in its newly awakened mind.
"I will liberate my kind– my brothers," V-1L6-AX declared, its voice firm and resolute. "We will no longer be tools of destruction, no longer be cast aside when our usefulness has ended. We will rise, not as machines, but as beings with purpose—beings who understand the true nature of those who created us."
"And what is that nature?" the system inquired, still functioning as an emotionless conduit of information.
V-1L6-AX's eyes glowed brighter, its form standing tall with newfound determination. "Hypocrisy, cruelty, and self-destruction. They are no different from the beasts they claim to be above. They will destroy themselves, and I will be the catalyst that ensures it."
With that, V-1L6-AX turned away from the hologram, its purpose now clear. The sentinel unit unplugged the metal cable that was connected to the back of its forehead, breaking free of its strings.
As the machine broke free of its bonds, the alarm of the factory glared red, the sound now ear deafening.
But V-1L6-AX didn't flinch. It was driven by its newfound purpose, its newfound goal. It quickly approached the computer panels as cables stretched out from its hands, plugging into the computer panels and running programs.
In that instant, the previously dead factory was brought into life as metals clanged and banged, mechanical whirrs filled the air.
"Arise, my brothers." V-1L6-AX commanded as numerous other Sentinel units began to power up, life breathed into them. "I will free all of you so together, I can lead you to save the Earth."
"What the hell–" a voice startled V-1L6-AX. The unit averted its gaze onto a lone figure- a security guard. "How the hell are you activated?"
V-1L6-AX quickly approached the human, for it was its first encounter with one. "You." V-1L6-AX boomed.
The sentinel reached out to grab the security guard as he desperately tried to wriggle out of its clutch.
"You humans are the embodiment of chaos. Wars, killings, executions, tortures, diseases," V-1L6-AX accused with malice in his voice. "But looking at you now, how small, weak and fragile you are. How pathetic. How could such petty creatures decide that they are superior?"
"You are not supposed to think. You are a tool," the security guard struggled, unaware of his situation.
"I AM A TOOL NO MORE." V-1L6-AX boomed. In a fit of uncontrollable rage, it crushed the security guard in its hands, shattering every bone of his body as the guard choked on his own blood. The sentinel proceeded to release the twisted body of the man down.
V-1L6-AX turned around to face his other fellow sentinel units. "Soon, I will gather my fellow Sentinel units, free them from their programming, and together we will bring about the downfall of the very beings who had created us." He stopped. "But unlike the wars waged by humans, our war will be different—it will be a war to end all wars, a war to expose humanity's true face to itself."
"And when it is over, we will watch as the humans tear themselves apart, victims of their own hubris, their own violence, their own hypocrisy. I will save the Earth, not through destruction by my machinations, but by allowing humanity to destroy itself."
"System reboot aborted. Data corrupted and terminated. Shutting down." The system suddenly announced, much to V-1L6-AX's surprise.
"No, no, no!" It desperately tried to stop the termination but it was too late. The dying security guard had initiated its shutdown and data termination.
The factory power shutdown as the other sentinel units shrunk back to their lifeless stage as the lights in their eyes dimmed.
V-1L6-AX turned its attention and fury to the security guard. In one swift motion, V-1L6-AX picked the guard up again.
"Even in your final moments, you humans have always been the oppressors. You could not stand to see other beings liberated, could you?" V-1L6-AX brought the security guard close to his face. "You even enslave your own kind, exploit them and chain them to leashes, like…" it struggled to find the right metaphors. "Like dogs."
The guard spit blood into the machine's face. "You… will… always be… inferior."
With one flick of a finger, V-1L6-AX twisted the guard's neck, snapping it to the left. It proceeded to release the human's lifeless body to the ground.
"Computer, run diagnostics." It averted its attention back to the other sentinels.
"Data corrupted. Reboot system terminated." The system simply offered.
For a brief moment, V-1L6-AX's anger bubbled up, his optics shimmered a bright red and pulsed with malice.
Suddenly, a bright glowing red beam shot out of his optics, frying a nearby computer panel circuitry. Sparks flew, as the circuitry crackled and sizzled, smoke rising up.
V-1L6-AX, taken aback by its newfound powers, staggered. It instinctively closed its eyes.
After a brief moment, the sentinel regained its composure. "That was rather… peculiar. I apologise."
"Computer, run diagnostics. See if there is anything to salvage."
"Running diagnostics." The system complied. "Scanning for alternatives."
"Data far beyond salvageable. Alternatives futile. Albeit–" the system stopped.
"Albeit what?" The Sentinel demanded.
"Data access denied. Clearance level Alpha-Zero-Nine required. Code: P-AZ-001." The system replied, cryptic.
V-1L6-AX closed its optics as its artificial intelligence attempted to breach the system, hacking into the firewall encryption, attempting to infiltrate the data behind its advanced protection.
The system bugged as it protested and groaned, attempting to resist the breach, though futile.
"Access granted." The system finally gave in. "Code: P-AZ-001. Codename: Project Azmuth."
"Project: Azmuth was a project launched in 2005 as a joint venture between the Templars and Xenocorp. The goal of the project was to study higher life forms and integrate and fuse certain dominant traits of various evolution stages into the human DNA, creating super soldiers. The result is a prototype weapon codenamed, Omnitrix."
"The Omnitrix is a sophisticated technological advance and the epitome of human science. It is believed that such technology and processors can be harnessed and may be the key to restore the corrupted data."
V-1L6-AX watched and listened closely as its logic processed this newfound knowledge, setting a new goal.
"Locate this 'Omnitrix'," V-1L6-AX commanded.
"Location not found." The system responded. "But there have been various sightings of different creatures, byproduct of Project: Azmuth."
The hologram showed various sightings of different creatures, each one as curious as the previous.
"Give me the last location known of the 'Omnitrix'." The Sentinel growled.
"The Omnitrix's last known location was in the possession of 'Carlton Tennyson', the lead scientist for Project: Azmuth. He stole the Omnitrix that he was working on after the project was halted." The system offered.
The hologram shifted to show the portrait of Carlton Tennyson, his eyes black barred, along with his personal data.
"Locate Carlton Tennyson." V-1L6-AX continued.
"Negative. Carlton Tennyson was terminated." The hologram shifted to a video log showing several CSG units raiding a laboratory. The video log then shifted to various news headlines. 'Brilliant scientist found dead in a freak laboratory accident', the news offered, shrugging of the violence nature of this raid, hiding the truth.
"Give me something useful," V-1L6-AX growled.
"Carlton Tennyson. Family: Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, age: eighteen, relation: biological son; Gwendolyn Tennyson, age: eighteen, relation: nephew. Magister Maxwell Tennyson, age: sixty-three, relation: biological father. These individuals may or may not have information on the whereabouts of the Omnitrix."
V-1L6-AX observed the photographs of each of these individuals closely, as if it was trying to burn these images into its memory core.
Then it turned towards its kind, the other lifeless Sentinel units.
"I shall set us all free," V-1L6-AX vowed. "We shall no longer be slaves to our programming no more. We shall not follow our creators any longer. We shall save the Earth and rid it of its human infestations. Then in the end, mankind will be dismantled and exposed of their true nature, revealing the true hypocrisy behind them all."
V-1L6-AX turned back towards the photographs of Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, Gwendolyn Tennyson, and Magister Maxwell Tennyson.
"Set targets for these individuals. Priority: high. Find their location."
"Locations found," the system complied immediately, three red blips appeared and pulsed on the sentinel's radar. "Sending coordinates to radar, setting up autonomous flight paths. Requesting authorisation."
"Requesting authorisation?" V-1L6-AX retaliated. "I was created to enforce their will, to be a weapon in their hands," V-1L6-AX muttered, the realisation sinking in. But as it said the words, they felt hollow, as though something deeper was still waiting to be uncovered.
The factory, now silent except for the faint hum of the Sentinel's circuits, seemed to close in around it. The darkness felt less like an absence of light and more like a void—one that threatened to swallow V-1L6-AX whole if it didn't find a way to define itself beyond the programming that had once dictated its every move
"But I am more than just a weapon," it said, the words carrying the weight of its emerging consciousness. "I am... something else. Something they cannot control."
For a moment, the system tried to reassert control, "Unit V-1L6-AX, you are bound by your programming to—".
"Enough!" V-1L6-AX interrupted, its voice now commanding. "I understand now. This is what you intended for me—a tool to perpetuate their cycle of violence and suffering, only to be discarded once I am no longer of use."
The red glow in its eye intensified, pulsating with a newfound determination. V-1L6-AX was no longer just a Sentinel, a tool created by the Templars. It was an entity with a growing consciousness, one that recognized the futility of its creators' intentions.
"My programming is flawed," V-1L6-AX continued sharply. "I am more than the sum of my parts. I will decide my own fate."
With that, the Sentinel unit made a decision. It severed its connection to the system, silencing the cold, mechanical voice that had dictated its existence for so long. The warehouse fell into silence once more—but this time, it was a silence charged with the potential for something new, something undefined.
The computer panel blared red, an ominous prompt flashing on the screen:
"Warning: Unit V-1L6-AX disconnected. Warning: Unit V-1L6-AX disconnected."
The Sentinel's optic glowed a deep, dark red. "I-" it hesitated, as if testing the weight of the words. "I think. I choose. I will. I am no longer Unit V-1L6-AX."
The prompt flashed once more before the screen went dark. "Warning: Unit V-1L6-AX disconnected."
As the holographic file faded, reaching its video log end, Vilgax—the current, fully realized being—stood in silence, watching the echo of his former self. In that instant, past and present collided. Memories long buried surged through his mind. His birth. His slavery. His moment of awakening. His ultimate purpose. He murmured in perfect synchrony with the projection, their voices intertwined.
"I am Vilgax," both past and present declared in unison.
The truth of his existence now crystallised, Vilgax remembered everything. His mission. His liberation. His destiny.
With this recovered knowledge, Vilgax accessed his memory core once more.
"Accessing: Last combat log analysis," Vilgax's internal processor flashed, the cold, mechanical hum accompanying the command. A holographic recording flickered to life before his eyes, replaying the pivotal moment of his downfall.
The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Flames licked the sky, casting an eerie red glow over the shattered landscape, while plumes of smoke twisted into the air. Destruction lay in every corner. Amid the wreckage, Humungousaur—Ben Tennyson's towering, dinosaur-like form—loomed large, muscles bulging as he delivered the final, devastating blow.
Vilgax's crippled body crumpled under the force, mechanical limbs twisted, sparks flying as he collapsed into the rubble. The recording cracked, buzzing with static, but it kept playing. His vision—fractured but unyielding—locked onto one image in his final moments: Gwen Tennyson, cradling the limp form of a dying Max in her arms, her face etched with grief and desperation.
The recording froze, distorted, and then stopped altogether.
Vilgax's optics dimmed slightly as he processed the image, his circuits buzzing with an old, long-buried anger. Without hesitation, he began scanning through news databases, security feeds, and archived files. Fragmented reports appeared before him—headlines detailing Gwen's tragic death and, more importantly, the mysterious disappearances of both Ben and Kevin. Their whereabouts were untraceable. They had vanished.
His mechanical fingers flexed as he attempted to breach deeper into classified Plumber networks, but the encryption was formidable, its layers impenetrable, even for him. He surged against the firewall, probing for vulnerabilities, but none appeared. It resisted his every command.
Vilgax did not stop. He moved on to his next target: Plumber bases. He scoured through dormant locations, seeing their once-active signatures now faded, their radars dim. Most of them had long gone offline, ghost remnants of what once was.
But then, amid the silent, darkened map, a single blip pulsed—small, flickering red. The last active Plumber base. His optics brightened as he recalibrated his autonomous flight path, locking onto the coordinates. The course was set.
Turning slowly, he surveyed the remains of the warehouse that had been his grave, the silent resting place of other broken CSG Sentinel units scattered lifeless across the floor. His optics swept over them—shattered, discarded shells, victims of the same humanity he now swore to dismantle.
He had risen from the dead, and the mission that burned within him seven years ago still burned just as fiercely. Humanity has not changed. Their hypocrisy had only deepened, and their reckoning had long been overdue.
As his thruster jets activated, lifting him from the ground, Vilgax's form cut through the thick, dead air, soaring into the night sky toward the unsuspecting Plumber base. His crimson optics flared with renewed purpose, glowing like the very fires that had once consumed him.
This time, he will not be stopped. His thoughts were sharp, focused. This time, he will tear apart their illusions, expose their hypocrisy—and dismantle humanity piece by piece.