[REPORT FILE: X-02]
DATE: [REDACTED]
SUBJECT: X-02 Post-Deployment Maintenance & Diagnostic Assessment
OBJECTIVES:
1. Conduct full diagnostic scan on X-02's neural and combat systems post-limit removal.
2. Assess damage to internal circuitry and replace compromised components.
3. Reinforce exoskeletal plating to withstand prolonged high-output engagement.
4. Implement additional health monitors to track vitals and neural strain.
5. Evaluate potential risks of prolonged unrestricted usage.
Observation Notes: Structural integrity remains stable despite excessive gravitational output. Minor fractures detected along secondary plating—repairs in progress. Neural synchronization remains uncompromised, but minor fluctuations detected. Further monitoring required to ensure operational stability.
--Othan Research Bureau Report No. 7727
Recorded By: Lead Engineer 48-01
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The sterile glow of the containment chamber remained unchanged. Unwavering. Cold. Caleb's pod was the same as it had always been, the reinforced glass reflecting the artificial light in dull streaks. Beyond it, Mira remained in her own pod—suspended, unmoving, untouched by time as she had been for years.
He turned his head slightly, the motion slow, deliberate. It was the only movement he was allowed. The ever-present restraints within his programming kept him still, kept him contained, kept him controlled. Except for these fleeting moments of consciousness.
"They never stood a chance." His voice was quiet, nearly lost beneath the low hum of machinery that kept them both confined. His eyes traced the shape of her, the faint rise and fall of her breath the only indication that she was still alive.
"They think they can control me. That they can use my power as a tool, like an extension of their will." His fingers twitched slightly, the only defiance he could afford. "They call it Construo. A force that binds, that shapes, that holds things together." A hollow chuckle left his lips. "But when they took away my limiters, they saw something else, didn't they?"
Destruction.
Not in the way that A-01 embodied it—absolute annihilation, the eradication of existence itself. But in the way his power crushed everything in its path, bending space, distorting reality, pulling everything toward an inescapable collapse.
"If I turned it inward—if I let it consume me instead of them—do you think this place would hold me?" His voice was soft, the words never meant for an answer. "Would they have enough power to stop me if I shattered my own programming?"
But they had accounted for that.
Every day, every second, they refined their control, leaving him with only this—this sliver of autonomy, this silent rebellion in the form of words spoken to someone who could never respond.
"I wanted to know what it was like," he murmured, his gaze never leaving her. "To have memories with you that weren't given to me through directives or fabricated for observation. I wanted to know what it felt like to be beside you, not as a weapon, not as a subject."
His voice faded as the familiar weight of unconsciousness pulled him back under. The restraints tightened, the ever-present programming weaving itself back into place, forcing him into submission.
The window closed.
And silence remained.