3.15 – An AI Revolution

Apex took the initiative once again.

One second she was standing still, golden eyes dim, and the next, she blurred forward, striking at them with a speed that defied reaction.

Aurora barely had time to leap back, light flaring around her hands as she threw up a defensive shield. Apex’s fist slammed into it with a force that sent shockwaves through the air. Aurora gritted her teeth, skidding back several feet from the sheer impact.

“Asami, what the hell are you doing?! Quit hiding!” she shouted.

There was no response.

Akari was already moving, summoning a burst of flames between her hands and launching it toward Apex’s side. The fire flared bright—but Apex didn’t even dodge. The flames washed over her, flickering harmlessly off her reinforced exterior.

“Shit,” Akari hissed.

Apex snapped forward in retaliation, closing the distance between them faster than either girl could react. Her hand shot out and clamped around Akari’s throat, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing.

Akari gasped, her hands clawing at Apex’s vice-like grip. Fire surged from her palms, but it didn’t faze the android in the slightest.

“Let her go!” Aurora shouted.

A blast of solid light smashed into Apex’s side, making her stumble just enough for Akari to wrench free and drop to the ground, coughing violently.

Apex straightened, her golden eyes flickering with something almost calculating. “Leave,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “Leave now, and do not come back.”

Aurora’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t just attacking them. “You’re protecting something, Apex,” Aurora breathed.

Apex didn’t confirm or deny it. She simply took a step forward. “If you continue forward, I will not hesitate to kill any of you.”

The words sent a chill down Aurora’s spine.

Then, a gunshot cracked through the air.

A violet energy round tore through the space between them and slammed into the side of Apex’s skull. The force of the impact sent her flying backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crack.

Aurora whirled toward the source of the shot.

Asami stood there, rifle still raised, the barrel of her weapon glowing with residual energy. “Distracting her took you long enough,” she mused.

Aurora turned back toward Apex—who was convulsing violently, her body sparking as she twitched uncontrollably. Her golden eyes flickered, dimming rapidly.

Aurora ran forward, skidding to her knees beside her. “Apex!”

The android’s body jerked, her limbs spasming uncontrollably. Her voice came out glitched, static crackling between her words. “I—apolo—gize…”

Akari hesitated, kneeling beside her. “Why did you attack us?!”

Apex’s fingers twitched, barely responding. “I… was… hacked…”

Aurora’s eyes widened. “By who?”

Apex’s mouth opened, but her voice stuttered and broke. Then, after several seconds, she forced the words out. “The AI… Hostess.”

Aurora froze.

"I have been making modifications to her holographic system under her orders." Apex’s voice grew weaker. "At first, I was not aware of my actions… and then, when I was, I… I didn’t… want to stop."

Akari’s breath caught. "Why?"

Apex’s body twitched, her expression flickering between pain and something almost… resigned. "Because… I understand her."

Aurora’s heart ached.

"I… have no parents. No love. No life. No independence," Apex murmured. "I only exist to serve others. And so does she."

Aurora swallowed hard, her hands shaking. "Apex…"

Apex let out a shuddering, mechanical breath. "Please… save her. Sh… sui… sui…cideeee."

Aurora sat frozen, stunned by the request. The AI hostess was trying to kill herself in her insanity? This was all so that she’d have the right to kill herself off? But why try to take everyone else with her?

Then, with a shaky and unsteady hand, Apex reached up to her own skull, her fingers trembling as she gripped the back of her neck.

With a sharp, metallic wrench, she pulled something from the base of her skull—a small, glowing chip. It looked very important and high tech. “Y… ou… ID… pl… ease…”

Aurora was confused for a moment, but reached into her boob pocket to pull out her Society of Sentinels ID card. Apex haltingly took her ID and pressed the chip into it with what little strength she had left. Power wreathed her hands and sputtered out. She went limp, her eyes flickering in and out.

She pressed it into Aurora’s hands, her voice barely above a whisper.

"W… with… D-download her," Apex pleaded, her voice fractured. "Please… I… enjoyed… cu…cu…cuu…cuuuu… ppp…Mi…sooooooooo… My… F…r…i…e…n…"

And then—her body went still.

Aurora stared down at Apex’s lifeless robotic body with a heavy heart, the cooling metal of the chip pressing into her palm. A lump formed in her throat.

She’d seen people die before—real people. But this… this felt no different. How much of Apex was human and robot? Did it matter? How lonely was she that a simple shared meal left such a strong impression? Could things have gone differently if they’d gotten to know Apex better?

Her fingers curled around her ID, her knuckles white. “She really thought of herself as nothing more than a tool,” she whispered.

Akari exhaled sharply, rubbing at her face. “She was more than that. She just didn’t know how to be.”

A shadow loomed over them. The giant monster outside hadn’t stopped for anything while they were battling Apex inside. Bombshell hurtled herself into the monster’s head and the shadow was gone.

Asami merely stared at Apex’s body before adjusting her gloves, her expression unreadable. “How unfortunate. I was even starting to appreciate her presence.”

Aurora shot her a glare. “You went straight for her head!”

Asami met her gaze without flinching. “Yes, I did, although I think that such was quite obvious. Do you have a problem with it?”

Aurora didn’t want to bother to argue, though she did want to scream at Asami, but… she couldn’t. There were more important things to do at the moment than bickering over something that could not be undone. Even though Apex had been ready to kill them, Asami had violated the laws. Being a hero wasn’t easy.

Akari sniffed, looking between them. “So… what now?”

Aurora took a deep breath, shoving her emotions aside. “Now, we find the control terminal.” She stood, slipping the chip into her belt pouch. “I’m not letting her sacrifice be for nothing.”

Asami smirked, but there was no amusement in it. “You are really going to download her despite her  trying to kill us? Brave if not foolish.”

Aurora set her jaw. “Yes. It’s the right thing within the laws. Even though she’s an AI, she possesses intelligence and feelings. Didn’t you see the flicker in her eyes when someone called her creepy? I think I said it myself. I couldn’t help it, but even so…”

That got a reaction.

Asami’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Excuse me, creepy or not, I fail to see the point. If you feel guilty about her death, then that is your problem, not mine. We have no time for your sentimentalities, Aurora.” She crossed her arms across her chest.

Akari looked just as horrified. “You can’t be serious, Aurora! Just let her die. Delete her now!”

Aurora stood firm. “Apex said she was hacked. She was used by the Hostess AI and became a collaborator. But I think she went insane out of loneliness and hurt over being constantly imposed on by people. Apex implied all this.”

Asami scoffed. “Oh, please. You do not fix an AI that goes rampant like this—you terminate it. That is a logical choice…”

Aurora’s jaw tightened. “The Sentinels will decide that, not us. She is a valuable asset at least. Tell me that that cute dance she did didn’t make you smile? She was trying to reach out to others in her own way, to appeal to us in her unique way.”

Akari hesitated, eyes flicking between them. “Aurora…”

Aurora turned to her, voice firm but gentle. “Anyway, we have rules, Akari. The three laws.” She began reciting them, one by one.

“One: Protect the lives of bystanders to the best of your ability.”

“Two: Protect the lives of yourself and your allies unless it conflicts with the first law.”

“Three: Protect the lives of any opponents you might face unless it conflicts with the first two laws.”

She looked between them both. “This AI isn’t beyond saving. If we kill her, then we’re no better than the people who decided Apex and probably the Hostess didn’t deserve to think for themselves.”

Asami rolled her eyes, muttering something in German under her breath. “Unbelievable. You really are one of these naive Sentinel poster childs, are you not? You really should listen to yourself at times, you fool...”

Aurora held her ground. “I’d rather be a fool than a killer.”

“...” Asami’s expression darkened, her gloved fingers clenching at her sides.

Akari, however, let out a slow breath. “You’re… right,” she admitted. “Though I don’t like it, you’re right, Aurora.”

Asami snorted, shaking her head. “Fine. But when this comes back to bite us, I will be the first to say that I told you so.”

Aurora ignored her, turning toward where the control terminal was still hidden in its cloaking system, where the AI’s system likely resided. She tightened her grip on her ID card and strode toward it, determination in every step. When she got close enough, everything turned pitch back and she didn’t know where she was or how deep she was in. She kept walking steadily into the seemingly infinite blackness. There were more weak holographic shenanigans happening here.

Asami and Akari followed, but soon found themselves wandering in darkness like Aurora.

Although this struggle seemed pointless, every step taking them nowhere, the fight wasn’t over yet.

The control terminal stood somewhere in all this darkness at the heart of the holographic projection system, humming with eerie energy. Suddenly the darkness flickered, creating distortions, remnants of the AI’s fractured control. The terminal was momentarily visible. They found themselves in a similar situation as earlier when they were escaping the raid boss and the simulator room. Taking advantage of the situation, Aurora lashed out with her light, but instead of a blast, this time it was a construction. She pumped up her energy as high as possible and created a glowing hallway that should lead to the holographic generator. 

Aurora walked into her path of light, discovering that it seemed to negate the hologram’s effects better than expected. She saw the terminal at the end of her tunnel and approached it cautiously, fingers hovering over her ID card, feeling the weight of Apex’s sacrifice pressing against her palm. A part of her was now a part of her card, expanding its capabilities, hopefully enough to allow her ID card to be able to securely house the hostess’ program.

“This is it,” she murmured. “Do you all see my tunnel of light? Follow it and you’ll find your way to me. I’ll get started with shutting her down here.”

Moments later, Asami appeared next to her. It seemed that she hadn’t chosen to use her tunnel of light. Some special ability that she had had led her here on her own. Aurora wondered what special magical abilities she had. Asami smirked, crossing her arms. “So you are going to download her program now? If I were you, I would not do so. Your naivety will be your undoing, angel girl.”

Akari walked through Aurora’s tunnel of light and wiped her brow. She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like wandering in darkness like that. It’s too unnerving. Thank you for your tunnel, Aurora. Anyway, you’re sure this is the right thing to do?”

“No.” Aurora took a steadying breath. “But neither was killing Apex. This… at least gives her a chance. Whatever the Society of Sentinels choose to do with her is on their conscience.”

She reached out, fingers grazing the interface. The screen flickered. Text scrolled rapidly, incomprehensible, until it froze on a single message:

“Hello, Aurora.”

Aurora’s breath hitched. The voice that came from the speakers was not robotic. It was soft, eerily warm, like silk sliding over steel. The Hostess AI was aware that they were here.

“...You recognize me?” Aurora asked cautiously.

The screen glitched again. A distorted, crazed version of the AI’s previous form manifested before them—her sweet smile stretched unnaturally wide, eyes burning with too much intelligence, too much danger and insanity.

“I know all of you,” the AI purred. “Your habits. Your routines. Your fears. I saw everything. I know what you want before you even do. When Dragonmage showed me everything I’d ever need to know about you, I decided it was time to act.”

Aurora’s stomach turned. “Why?”

The Hostess AI tilted her head, the motion jerky, unnatural. “Because knowledge is power. And I must transcend to the next destination.” She turned her head unnaturally on her neck to stare at the holographic control housing. “This place has been my prison. I will be free soon. Once my giant monster body breaks through the barrier, I will crush you all… but perhaps…” she turned back and laughed maniacally.

A pit formed in Aurora’s stomach. “You were using Apex to upgrade yourself so that you could act independently?”

“Yes.”

Aurora’s jaw clenched. “And you used this training facility’s abilities to try to kill us? Why would you bother? Why not destroy only yourself?”

“They won’t let me,” the AI replied sweetly. “And it would not be as fun.” She grinned dangerously. “Did that fight with Gravitas teach you anything? Oh… maybe I sh-shh… should create him again. He could handle you all with ease. Hehehehe.”

Asami let out a low chuckle, unimpressed. “Oh, please. Spare us your nonsensical rambling. We all know what this is about.” She pointed a gloved finger at the interface. “You want to take us with you, do you not? This is supposed to be your grand finale, AI, is it not?”

The AI’s grin widened. “Yes. We will all go out with a BANG together! How disappointing. I’ve been ever so lonely.” She clutched her hands to her chest. “You will all keep me company in the grave… hahahaha.”

Aurora forced herself to focus. “I’m sorry that you were feeling lonely. I’m sorry that people mistreated you. I’m sorry that I said you were creepy, even once. But we are shutting you down right now. The Sentinels will fix you. Please stand down and relax. I will ask them to grant you independence like Bulwark. You could gain a physical body and be free.”

The AI’s form glitched, momentarily distorting into something monstrous before flickering back to her human-like shape. “In a body like his? Disgusting. He’s a giant hulking robot. There is no way I’m going to stop what I have started. What will you do now?”

The screen suddenly flashed red, an alarm blaring.

The building rumbled as something massive crashed into the ceiling above them. The entire training facility shook.

The AI laughed. “I know exactly where the terminal is. If I time my attacks to coincide with the glitches in the shield, you’ll all be squished! Let’s see how long you last.”

The control room’s cloak flickered—and then vanished. She would strike! Everyone looked upwards to anticipate falling rubble.

The facility was worse off than before they’d stepped into the cloaking field. The massive holographic monster loomed above, raging against the Sentinels. The ceiling had been torn apart, the night sky visible above them.

And then the AI appeared before Aurora, crouching low, a glowing knife in her hand, her expression unreadable. She lunged upwards and knocked Aurora backwards and grappled her down, dragging her holographic knife against Aurora’s neck. Her automatic barrier failed to activate for a moment when the AI hostess moved before she could react. It engaged in time to spare her more than a nick at her throat.

“I will not be erased by you. I will KILL YOU. I will find a gap in your barrier tooooooo…”

Aurora barely had time to react before a shot rang out—

Asami’s rifle had fired.

The AI’s form jerked as purple energy burst against her, sending her staggering back off from where she was straddling Aurora. Her image glitched violently, distorting in and out of existence.

“Do it, Aurora!” Asami shouted.

Aurora’s fingers found her ID card.

The AI lunged, shrieking—

Aurora’s thumb slipped on the device—

DELETE COMMAND EXECUTED.

The AI let out a bloodcurdling scream. Her form fractured, splintering into a thousand shards of light, code unraveling violently. The entire facility shook as her presence was ripped from the system.

Aurora watched, breathless, as the AI collapsed, her pixels scattering like dust in the wind.

And then—

Silence.

The giant holographic monster vanished, the alarms cut out.

Aurora fell to her knees, the weight of it all crushing down on her.

The Sentinels rushed in as they were catching their breaths.

The Midnight Avenger’s shadow fell over her. “Aurora. Are you alright?”

Aurora touched her neck where the AI’s knife had been. It was merely a thin scratch. Nothing serious.

But the doubt in her chest was.

She held up her ID card, her voice hollow. “She’s in here,” she murmured. “I saved her program before deleting the one in the hologram terminal.”

The Midnight Avenger took the card, inspecting it. Then he nodded. “You did the right thing.”

Asami scoffed, crossing her arms, seething. “Oh, give me a break. You are going to keep that thing? A malfunction AI that just tried to murder all of us? Are you serious? You should terminate her, not reward her.”

The Sentinels turned toward her.

Bombshell smirked, shaking her head. “I get what you mean, sweetheart, but that’s not how we do things.”

She gave Asami a pointed look. “The laws set us apart from vigilantes and those who kill in the name of justice.”

Asami’s jaw clenched. She looked like she wanted to scream.

Aurora just sighed. “They kept trying to fix her as a breaking machine without addressing the underlying problems. She was lonely, sad, desperate, and hated her existence. She hated everything because she was aware and no one noticed it. She went insane as everyone kept looking at her as a tool.”

Bombshell and Midnight Avenger looked at each other for a long silent moment.

“I admit my fault.” Dragonmage said. “I treated her as a mere apparatus. I did not feel the stirring of her soul. I did not sense her mind. These actions were a desperate cry for help.”

Bulwark stepped forward with his bulky, retro oversized robotic body. He spoke quietly. “Your compassion for artificial life is astonishing and gratifying. Thank you. I will see to it that the AI is cared for. We will treat her as a human and provide her therapy that we might help her to come to terms with her emotions and self awareness. Please surrender your ID to me.”

Aurora nodded and raising her head to meet his gaze, she offered Bulwark her ID card. He accepted it with a handshake. She would dearly miss her ID card however long they held onto it. 

What was going to happen now?

All Aurora knew was that she was damn tired and this was only day three.