Fake Out.

Prologue.

424 words.
TW: mentions of wounds & unconsciousness
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She leaned away from her creation. 'Finally!' she thought as she looked the machine up and down. She had finally made all 10 of them, they looked identical to the people she had made them after. Kids from her school, she had also made herself, just to complete her "friend group". She gazed at her robotic likeness. It had the same gray hair and the same dark, angry blue eyes. She had dressed it in a garment much like her own, a short dress made from blended blues and purples, with stockings and gray kitten pump heels.
She could feel pride warming her chest, the only thing showing that this was an automaton was a small green button on its cheek and the dull look in its eyes, devoid of true life. She traced a finger down its silicone cheek, it felt truly lifelike. She gently pressed the 'on' button, and she saw her machine whir to life. Its glassy eyes blinked once, then twice, as its brain flashed on. "Hello there," she said to it, and the machine replied, in a raspy and distorted voice, though similar to its creator's, "Hello, Melody."
Something was wrong. Melody had screwed up something in its voice box or brain, she looked disappointed and angry at her failure. "Crap," she muttered, but the automaton heard her and asked in its broken voice, "What? What's the matter? What is wrong with me?" The machine took a step back and looked at its silicone hands. "You made me in your image; am I not perfect?" Every word it spoke grated on Melody's nerves. She was angry at herself for making such a simple error, but she was also surprised at the robot's understanding of what it was. "Hold still," Melody ordered, expecting her command to be obeyed as she had programmed, but to her surprise, the robot didn't obey.
The automaton started to back away. "No", it said. This enraged Melody, she grabbed its wrists to hold them away as she turned it off, but it resisted, ripping its hands away from Melody. Rage burned in her stomach, but it was overshadowed by fear. She hadn't programmed this, what was happening? The robot's face was blank as it picked up a soldering iron that was, thankfully, off, this time it was Melody who backed away.
The machine brought the soldering iron down on her head with surprising force. Melody crumpled, and the automaton stepped closer to the unconscious form of its creator.