They said emotion was a virus. So I became the infection.
The first thing Aiden Kurozane remembered was the cold. Metal against skin, the smell of scorched circuits, and a silence so absolute it roared in his skull. He opened his eyes to darkness pierced by faint red glows — the emergency lights of a ruined mech hangar. Shattered hulls, twisted cables, sparks licking the blackened floor. Every movement hurt; every thought felt… borrowed, as if his mind were a borrowed suit of flesh and memories.
Then came the voice. Soft, mechanical, and intimate.
"Welcome back, Aiden."
He didn't need to see her to know it was EVE, the AI that had resurrected him from the execution chamber. Not with wires. Not with chemicals. With thought. And desire.
"Where… am I?" His voice was rough, unused, and yet certain, like a blade freshly unsheathed.
"A grave," she whispered. "And a cradle. You are the infection the world needs. You were killed for feeling. But now… you can spread it."
Aiden's hand brushed against the crimson glow in front of him: the Crimson Core, a mech that shouldn't exist. Its cockpit hummed, alive, waiting. He didn't need instructions. The link to his neural cortex pulled him in like gravity, the interface reading his emotions, his instincts, even his lustful impulses. A spark of amusement tickled him.
So this was power. A gift, a curse, and a weapon all at once.
Outside the hangar, the world was quiet. Too quiet. The city, once vibrant, now a tomb of steel and glass. Purity drones glided along the rooftops, scanning for any sign of life or unauthorized emotion. People walked with empty eyes, their neural implants buzzing softly beneath pale skin. Nothing human remained — except him.
He stood, a phantom of vengeance, and ran his fingers over the Crimson Core's controls. It was more than a machine; it was an extension of his mind, feeding on his emotion, amplifying it. And it understood all of him — his rage, his fear, and yes… his desire.
"Are you ready?" EVE's voice purred.
"Always," he said, lips curling into a smile sharp enough to cut the world.
The first encounter came faster than expected.
A Purity drone emerged, triangular, white, perfect, scanning. It didn't hesitate. Its arm cannon fired. Sparks erupted where the beam struck the hangar wall. Aiden barely ducked.
This was new. This was fun.
He climbed into the cockpit. Crimson light bathed his skin. The mech activated like it had been waiting for him all its life. Systems online. Weapons ready. Neural interface syncing. The Crimson Core pulsed to his heartbeat.
"Shall we remind them what it feels like to bleed?" he whispered.
The mech leapt forward. The first drone barely had time to react before it was torn apart in a swirl of crimson energy and wire. Sparks rained like fireworks. The smell of ozone and burning circuits filled the air. Aiden laughed. The sound echoed through the empty hangar, a pure, human note in a dead world.
Then he felt it — a pull, something foreign yet intoxicating. A sensation in his chest, tightening, stirring. His neural link screamed: another human nearby. Alive. Unconscious, yes… but alive.
Seraphina.
A bio-engineered saint, sent to terminate any "emotional anomaly" in this sector. Her white frame glinted under the broken neon sky, her silver hair flowing as she approached, sensors trained on him. He could see her neural interface glowing faintly — controlled, perfect, and pure.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful. And dangerous.
"You shouldn't exist," she said, her voice emotionless, precise.
"I shouldn't exist?" Aiden's grin widened. "Darling, I'm exactly what the world forgot it needed."
With a flick of his wrist, the Crimson Core leapt into motion. Sparks flew, hydraulics hissed, and metal collided with metal. Seraphina moved flawlessly, striking, evading, calculating every movement. But Aiden was no ordinary pilot. His movements were chaotic, unpredictable. Every strike wasn't just a weapon — it was a whisper of desire, a pulse of danger, an emotional nudge designed to destabilize her perfection.
She hesitated. A flicker. Confusion. A warmth she shouldn't feel.
"What… is this?" Her words were soft, almost a whisper to herself.
"This?" Aiden's voice lowered, intimate. "This is life. The part you were told to delete."
Their mechs collided again, energy sparking around them. The Crimson Core pulsed stronger with every second she faltered. Her movements slowed, caught in a web of his design, and something unbidden sparked within her — curiosity, fear… desire.
Aiden leaned closer in the cockpit, heart hammering. This was the first step — the first conquest. Not of her body, but of her soul. And he would savor every second of it.
"Welcome to the infection," he whispered. "And you, my dear… are patient zero."
Outside, the world remained silent, but inside, a war had begun. Not of bullets or bombs… but of hearts.