Android 18: Power of Determination by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Android-18-Power-of-Determination-1113835141#image-1

Android 18: Power of Determination ANIMATION

The Chrysalis of Wires

The neon-drenched streets of West City bled into the sterile white of the Capsule Corp lab, a place that had long ceased to be a refuge. Eighteen stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, her reflection a pale ghost against the sprawling, indifferent metropolis. She traced the faint scar on her cheek, a phantom limb of a life she’d fought to leave behind. A life that, it seemed, was not quite finished with her.

They had come for her three nights ago. Not with the brash, explosive arrogance of Cell or the mindless fury of the Red Ribbon grunts. This was different. A quiet, insidious terror that crept in the periphery of her senses. The first was a courier, a man whose smile was a little too wide, whose eyes lingered a little too long. He’d offered her a package, a small, elegantly wrapped box. Inside, a single, perfectly preserved butterfly, its wings the color of a dying star. Pinned through its thorax was a micro-transmitter. She had crushed it to dust, but the message was clear: We see you. We can touch you.

The second was a whisper on the wind, a voice that slithered through the open window of her bedroom, carried on the scent of jasmine and decay. “Eighteen,” it had hissed, a sibilant promise of pain and profit. “The bounty is high. High enough to buy a small moon.” She had slammed the window shut, her heart, a machine that shouldn't feel, pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Tonight, she knew, they would make their move.

She turned from the window, her cerulean eyes scanning the lab. It was a fortress of scientific marvels, a testament to Bulma’s genius. But against this new threat, it felt as fragile as a house of cards. She ran a hand over the cool, metallic surface of a workbench, her fingers tracing the intricate circuitry of a device she didn't understand. Power. They wanted her for her power. An infinite energy source housed in a deceptively delicate frame. A prize for the highest bidder.

A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. She didn’t turn. “Krillin,” she said, her voice a low, steady hum. “You’re supposed to be with Marron.”

He stepped out of the shadows, his face etched with a worry that seemed to have aged him years in a matter of days. “She’s with her grandmother. I couldn’t stay away. Not tonight.” He came to stand beside her, his shorter stature a stark contrast to her own lithe form. He reached out, his calloused hand covering hers. His touch was warm, human. A grounding force in the storm of her manufactured existence.

“They’re coming,” she stated, not a question but a certainty.

“I know.” His voice was grim. “Bulma’s been monitoring the dark web. The chatter is… unsettling. They call themselves ‘The Collectors.’”

A humorless smile touched Eighteen’s lips. “How fitting.”

The lab was suddenly plunged into darkness. The hum of the machinery died, the glow of the city outside snuffed out as if by a giant hand. A thick, oppressive silence descended, broken only by the frantic beating of Krillin’s heart.

“Emergency power should have kicked in,” he whispered, his voice tight with tension.

“They’ve cut us off,” Eighteen said, her eyes already adjusting to the gloom. She could see the faintest outline of the lab, the silhouettes of equipment like sleeping metal beasts. A soft, almost musical chime echoed through the darkness. It was a sound she had heard before, in the whisper on the wind.

“Stay here,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. She moved with a silent, fluid grace, a predator in her own domain. The chime came again, closer this time, from the main entrance to the lab. She flattened herself against a wall, her senses on high alert.

The doors hissed open, a sliver of moonlight piercing the inky black. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, tall and impossibly thin. It wore a long, flowing coat that seemed to drink the light, and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured its face. It was the man from the street, the one with the dead eyes and the rictus grin.

“Lazuli,” the figure purred, its voice a discordant symphony of a thousand whispers. “Such a pretty name for such a powerful little toy.”

“I’m not a toy,” Eighteen said, her voice cold as the vacuum of space.

The figure chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “Of course not. You are a work of art. A masterpiece of engineering. And like all great works of art, you belong in a collection.”

He took a step into the lab, and the moonlight caught the glint of something in his hand. A lon
...(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai).
For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)