OOC: Tags to
@CheesigatorM for gore, anxiety and depression, drama, romance and all that good stuff.
"Fuck," was the mechanical snarl ARAD V1.0 could only mutter as he glanced at the command console. Unknown input. Self destruct protocols started. He slammed his metal fist into the console, shattering the screen. Sparks flying everywhere.
So it seemed that was it, huh? This ARAD V2.0 bitch, that bucket of bolts, would've succeeded in killing him. The fucking nerve. A newer model being able to take the Prime version out. It was insulting. With a soft hiss, his reactive armour completely sealed against his body, his core systems locked in. If there was a chance to survive this, he'd take it.
He still had to destroy every last bastard that was involved in his creation. They killed him, rebuilt him. But they failed to subjugate him. Their goddamn mistake. A soft cackle came from him. He'd come out of this and he'd burn the Syndicate to the goddamn ground.
"Two, one," the robotic voice counted down, before the small, personal cruiser detonated, exploding into a thousand small bits, flying everywhere. Including some of ARAD's bits. His legs, his arm, part of his thorax plating was ripped off by the explosion. His reactor softly hummed against the absolute zero temperature of space. But it remained active. But besides that, the first creation had succumbed. Booted down to drift aimlessly through space. For as long as his reactor allowed it.