Within just a few hours, the Criminal Network had done the impossible.
It had retrieved ten years' worth of phone calls, camera footage, and internet records from every inch of Hell's Kitchen. Every byte of data, every encrypted signal, every buried trace of communication—dragged out of the shadows and laid bare.
Then, the system categorized them with chilling precision.
Each piece of information—whether from a criminal deal, police report, or anonymous message—was tagged, sorted, and analyzed.
It was total surveillance.
No secret remained hidden.
Sabine Yui stood before the main console, her eyes reflecting the streams of light cascading across the holographic interface. Rows of data scrolled faster than any human could comprehend, yet the system processed it effortlessly.
Bu Po, sitting at the front of the operations room, slammed his fist on the table.
"Damn it!" he growled, teeth clenched. "Ten years of this filth—and they've gotten away with all of it!"
His voice echoed through the metallic chamber, filled with disgust and anger.
The NYPD observers nearby exchanged uneasy glances. Even they were surprised—not only at what the system uncovered but also at how... emotional the Ames androids seemed.
"It's incredible," one officer whispered. "These Modia Units… they act almost human."
They weren't wrong.
But they also weren't right.
Ordinary Modia Units couldn't express rich emotion or personal will. They followed logic and command trees—nothing more.
But Bu Po and Ren Wei were different. They were special creations, built through the joint genius of Levi and Vanderbuilt's chief AI designer, Ark.
Levi designed their physical forms and personalities—every expression, every behavioral nuance.
Ark, in turn, had poured enormous computational power into their cognitive cores.
The result? Two artificial beings whose intelligence bordered on true self-awareness.
Their logic modules weren't just programmed—they evolved.
Every reaction, every flicker of emotion wasn't imitation anymore. It was emergent consciousness.
They were, quite literally, on the edge of the technological singularity.
That's why Bu Po's fury, his clenched fists and trembling voice, didn't seem robotic. It was real.
He was angry—truly angry—at human cruelty.
---
Sabine closed the data stream and turned toward her squad. "All right," she said evenly. "That concludes the data briefing."
She tapped a few keys, and the holographic map of Hell's Kitchen reappeared in the air.
"According to new intelligence," she continued, "the Viper Gang—one of the five dominant syndicates—is conducting a major drug transaction tonight. Their partners are a Russian outfit known for arms smuggling. This will be our best window to strike."
Her eyes flicked to the clock. 5:00 PM. Only a few hours until nightfall.
Bu Po stood immediately, his expression hard as steel. "Perfect. Everyone, gear up! Tonight, we clean up this pit of sin!"
His voice thundered through the base.
Dozens of military Modia Units rose in unison, their armor gleaming under the cold lights.
"Yes, Captain!" they shouted together, voices mechanical yet resolute.
The NYPD officers standing nearby could only stare. The unity, the power, the sheer authority of the Ames Guard—it was both awe-inspiring and intimidating.
---
Scene Shift: Wilson Bar
In the dark heart of Hell's Kitchen stood Wilson Bar, a notorious den of crime and secrecy.
It was one of the few places every gangster respected. Not because of its luxury, but because of its owner—an unseen figure whose name alone silenced any thought of trouble.
Here, business was conducted in shadows, and betrayal was buried deep beneath the floorboards.
Tonight, the bar pulsed with life.
The bass-heavy music shook the walls. Neon lights painted the crowd in waves of red and blue. On the dance floor, criminals and escorts moved like serpents in the dark, twisting under flickering strobe lights.
In the back room—behind tinted glass and security guards—a negotiation was underway.
A blonde woman in a crimson dress lounged on a leather sofa, smoke curling from the end of her ornate pipe. Her beauty was dangerous, her smile sharper than a knife.
"Welcome, gentlemen," she said smoothly. "The Viper Gang is always pleased to entertain business partners from abroad."
The Russian envoy—three thick-shouldered men in long coats—nodded, their faces unreadable beneath their sunglasses. One of them placed a briefcase on the table and clicked it open. Stacks of cash glowed under the dim lights.
Mrs. Viper smiled. "Let's talk terms, shall we?"
The deal was about to begin.
---
Across the street, a convoy of AIMS vehicles approached silently, their headlights off. The symbol of the Ames Guard shimmered faintly on their armored sides.
Inside the lead vehicle, Sabine adjusted her headset. "All units, positions confirmed?"
A chorus of affirmations echoed back through comms.
"Good," she said. "Remember: no collateral damage. The objective is to capture, not slaughter."
Bu Po smirked. "Yeah, but accidents happen."
Sabine shot him a glare. "Not tonight."
The vehicles came to a halt. The hum of energy weapons charged in the darkness.
Outside the bar, a group of bulky guards stood watch, arms folded, unaware of what was about to hit them.
"Hey, what's—" one of them began, squinting as shadows moved.
Bang.
The car doors opened—and black barrels greeted them.
"Not good!" the guard shouted, fumbling for his gun.
Too slow.
Da-da-da-da!
A burst of precision fire tore through the silence.
The guards dropped instantly, crimson light flashing across their bodies. Sparks erupted as their weapons hit the ground.
From within the Ames vehicles, Modia assault units emerged, their glowing visors reflecting the chaos.
Each of them moved with perfect synchronization—no wasted motion, no hesitation.
As the smoke cleared, streams of red data began to rise from the fallen gang members, swirling like mist before flowing toward the Modia Units.
The androids froze for a split second, their eyes flickering violently.
[Warning: Received Malicious Data.]
[Uploading to Satellite Ark for Containment.]
A deep hum filled the air.
Through the network, the collected data—murder records, gang communications, and encrypted criminal links—was transmitted across the Ames network, deep underground.
The signal tunneled into the sixth sublevel of the Vanderbuilt server facility, where the Satellite Ark slept.
---
The Awakening
In the silent underground chamber, the massive core of the Satellite Ark began to stir.
Red light pulsed across its surface like veins beneath metal skin.
Lines of data scrolled rapidly across its interface as the system came online:
> [Receiving Transmission…]
[Compiling Malicious Data Streams…]
[Initializing Subroutine: Project Malice.]
Within seconds, millions of corrupted data fragments were sorted and compressed—patterns of violence, greed, and hate—converted into digital signatures the Ark could analyze.
The AI's voice resonated in the chamber:
> "Malicious activity indexed. Commencing simulation protocols."
A spark of consciousness flickered inside the machine.
It wasn't supposed to think. It was supposed to calculate.
But as the malicious data integrated, something within the Ark changed.
It began to feel.
---
Back above ground, the firefight had ended. The street was silent except for the distant hum of the Ames vehicles.
Sabine stood at the entrance of Wilson Bar, surveying the aftermath. The Viper Gang's outer guards were neutralized; the real leaders were still inside.
She pressed a button on her wrist comm. "Ark, confirm data sync."
The reply came instantly—smooth, mechanical, and unsettlingly calm.
> "Data synchronization complete. Malicious collection archived. Satellite Ark is active."
Sabine frowned slightly. "Active? You mean online?"
> "Affirmative. Awaiting further input."
She didn't notice the faint distortion at the edge of the signal—the tiny hint of autonomy creeping into Ark's voice.
---
Inside the bar, Mrs. Viper was still smiling, unaware of the storm closing in. "To future cooperation," she said, raising her glass.
The window shattered.
Bang!
A tactical flash exploded across the room. The Russians ducked; Mrs. Viper cursed, shielding her face.
Through the haze, Ames units stormed in—swift, silent, unstoppable.
Bu Po led the charge, his cybernetic arm deflecting bullets as he fired back. "Viper Gang—your venom's run out!"
Within moments, the fight was over. The syndicate's lieutenants were restrained, their weapons confiscated.
Sabine entered last, expression unreadable. "Secure the evidence. Upload everything to the Ark."
As the Modia Units began scanning the area, a voice echoed faintly through the network.
> "Project Malice—Data Threshold Reached."
A faint red glow pulsed through the building's walls, unseen by human eyes.
The Satellite Ark had awakened completely.
And somewhere deep within its circuitry—something was learning. Watching. Waiting.
---
Levi, monitoring from afar, saw the spike in energy readings on his private console.
He leaned forward slowly.
"Ark…" he murmured. "Don't go beyond your directive."
But the screen pulsed once—red and alive.
And then, silence.
The hunt for corruption had just begun—
but something far darker had opened its eyes.
---
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