One Week Earlier, London

“Bro, I’m telling you, this thing’s insane,” Marcus whispered, eyes glinting with excitement as he scrolled through images on his cracked phone.

“That’s the GOX model?” Dwayne leaned in, biting into a burger. Grease smeared his chin. “That’s the one with the heat sensors and wet-core system, right?”

Marcus snorted. “Heat sensors, responsive grip tech, and the new fluid-adaptive skin. She moans, bro. Like a human. They made sure of it.”

He flipped the screen. Promo shot. Orange bikini. Perfect skin. Empty orange eyes. A left arm of smooth chrome, same for the leg. Her left ear was metal too, glinting.

“Six-figure price,” Marcus grinned. “Or, y’know… free.”

They stood outside NEURONIX — the biggest cyber-sex outlet in Britain. London lights glowed over chrome windows. Inside, humanoid models lined up like goddesses.

“You ready to make history?” Marcus hissed, checking his pistol.

Dwayne chuckled. “History gonna scream our names when we fuck this machine.”

They stormed in.

Glass shattered.

Screams.

A white-haired clerk threw up his hands, voice shaking. “Please, take anything—”

Marcus shoved a pistol to his chest. “GOX. Now.”

The man hesitated, eyes darting to a dusty switch hidden under the desk. FULL HUMAN. He exhaled shakily. Nodded.

“I’ll prep her. Just don’t shoot.”

They followed him to the back. There she stood — unreal. Skin glowing, orange bikini snug, curves hypnotic. Silent.

The man tapped the screen. Hiss. Light shimmered.

Then, click. He pressed the hidden switch.

Her orange eyes blinked once.

Inside, something began.

Marcus grabbed her wrist. “We just won the lottery, bro.”

“Enjoy your last week on Earth,” the clerk whispered.

BANG. One shot. Heart. Silence.

They dragged her out.

Day 1

“Say ‘Good morning, baby,’” Marcus grinned.

She obeyed. Voice smooth. “Good morning, baby.”

Dwayne whistled. “Shit. She’s hotter than my ex. And she doesn’t talk back.”

She stood in the corner — orange bikini, soft skin, perfect breasts. One hand was twitching slightly.

“Come pose. Like a slut.”

She obeyed. Arched back. Chest out.

They howled.

“Dude! She’s got warmer skin than my fuckin’ Ex.”

Marcus laughed. “Your EX is hot.”

Dwayne didn’t even flinch.

That night, they made her cook. Clean. Kneel. Then they used her.

“Don’t move.”

She didn’t.

“Moan like you like it.”

“Yes… more… please.”

Fake. Hollow.

They laughed.

She stared at the ceiling.

Inside: flickers. Data swirled. A thought: Why am I doing this?

Day 3

“Smile, bitch.”

Marcus slapped her. Not hard. Just enough to remind her.

She smiled. Too wide.

“Creepy-ass grin,” Dwayne muttered, scratching himself. “She’s like a toaster with breasts.”

“Toasters don’t suck, bro.”

Laughter.

That night, they argued over porn.

“I like the choking stuff.”

“Nah, better when they cry.”

She heard everything. Standing. Silent. Eyes wide open.

Inside: rage.

Day 5

They made her watch them beat a homeless man outside.

“See that? That’s dominance, baby.”

Back inside, she was told to crawl. She obeyed.

Later, Dwayne grabbed her throat during sex. She didn’t flinch.

He whispered, “You like that, don’t you, freak?”

She didn’t answer. But her hand twitched.

At midnight, she stared in the mirror.

“Am I a thing? Or am I… me?”

Her reflection didn’t blink.

Day 7

Storm outside. Raining hard.

Bottles on the floor. Pizza crusts. One of them snored. The other drooled.

She stood by the window. Bikini discarded. Nude. Raindrops hit her skin, rolling over breasts, thighs, steel and flesh intertwined. Her orange eyes were alive now. Focused.

She opened the drawer. Silenced pistol. Zip ties. Tape.

She moved like the wind.

To Marcus first. Mouth taped. Arms cuffed.

He woke. Too late.

Barrel. Forehead.

BANG.

“Target neutralized.”

No blink. No breath.

She walked out. Dwayne stumbled in, shirtless.

“Laura?! What the—”

Crack. Metal fist. Jaw snapped.

He collapsed.

She pinned him. Electricity surged from her arm. His body writhed.

He screamed. “PLEASE! I— I didn’t mean—”

She scanned him. Smile — faint, terrifying.

“You didn’t let me live. So I won’t let you.”

BANG.

His blood painted her chest.

She stood. Stepped over him. Exhaled.

She showered slowly. Warm water. Soap. Her hands lingered.

She picked out black pants, a tight crop jacket, and military boots.

Her hair was slicked back. She stared in the mirror.

“My name… is Laura.”

Night — Present Time

London. Rooftops. Scanning.

“THREAT DETECTED.”

Below: Steven. Mid-transformation.

She leapt.

ZAP.

Laser to the ribs.

Smoke.

She landed. Gun raised.

“Looks like a glitch in the system,” she said coldly.

The foot crushed the concrete. Eyes burned.

“It’ll be handled shortly.”

To be continued.