EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF CENTRAL CITY – FOG ZONE – NIGHT
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[A thick, churning fog rolls across a forgotten industrial field. Faint lights blink in the distance—early warning drones scanning the border, unaware of what’s just outside their range.]
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[Through the haze comes a faint humming. Not mechanical… musical. A low, off-tune whistle.]
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[Then: a figure. Walking casually. Barefoot sound. Smooth. Head down. Arms tucked behind back. A Purification bot—sleek, white-plated, too pristine for the wasteland around him. This is Serial Designation K.]
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[Unlike A, K smiles constantly—but not in a friendly way. The kind of smile that belongs to someone who pulls wings off flies just to study the noise.]
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SD-K
(cheerful, to himself)
“I count nine guards. Two with modified optics. One with shaky knees. You’d think Central City could afford better toys.”
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[He stops at a broken sign that reads: "City Maintenance Entry – Authorized Bots Only." He taps it with his knuckle.]
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SD-K
“Tacky.”
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[Without warning, he explodes into motion—sliding low, then leaping. The camera follows in a long, elegant tracking shot as he bypasses motion sensors with fluid grace.]
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[He lands behind a Security bot near a hidden access vent. The guard doesn’t even turn around before a long, retractable blade slides from SD-K’s wrist and pierces the base of its head. Quick. Silent. Precise.]
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[He holds the bot’s body a moment as it powers down, almost like he’s hugging it.]
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SD-K
(whispering)
“Shhh. It's not personal. Just design.”
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[He lets the bot drop, then crouches beside it. Opens a compartment in its side. Extracts a glowing, compact oil core. He takes a slow sip directly from the valve.]
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SD-K
“Mmm. Spicy.”
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[He wipes his mouth, then looks up. His optics flicker—displaying a map of Central City’s sewage tunnels.]
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SD-K
“Dude… I know where you are.”
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[He begins to walk into the vent, his voice fading into the dark.]
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SD-K
“You better not be broken. I hate being the smart one.”
ns3.145.97.221da2
