Electronic Heart // SandRay - Only Friends

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"Unidentified civilian," the robotic voice echoed behind Sand, sending a chill down his spine. He sprinted down the narrow alleyways of the city, the dim glow of neon lights from the strip club, bar, and casino flickering against the walls like stars in a polluted sky. His breath came in ragged gasps as he navigated the labyrinth, desperate to shake off the relentless robotic enforcers hot on his heels. His once white attire covered in must.

As he rounded a corner, he collided with something solid—a man towering above him, muscles coiled like springs. Sand barely managed a stammered, "Sorry" before darting past the hulking figure. The man, momentarily surprised by the chaos unfolding behind Sand, cast a glance at the swarm of enforcers, a scoff escaping his lips. With casual air, he resumed his stride toward the back door of the strip club, seemingly unfazed by the commotion.

Sand let out a strangled cry, a sound tinged with resignation as he turned a corner and found himself exposed in the open. The stares of the city's citizens felt like heavy weights pressing down on him—judgment and fear across their faces. He paused, the fight draining from him. Slowly, he raised his hands in defeat, sinking to his knees, the weight of his choices settling like a shroud. "Shit," he muttered, feeling the familiarity of a cold barrel gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Down," a stern voice commanded from behind, and he couldn't muster the energy to resist. He knew the end was near and all he could do was surrender.

"I'm down, I'm down, just put that gun at safe distance" Sand called out, his voice steady as his eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, aware of the onlookers dispersing to avoid the confrontation. He caught the enforcer's derisive chuckle behind him. "You're a threat, 180, but nice try."

Before the clinking of handcuffs could fully register, Sand felt the presence of another guard behind him. Acting on instinct, he thrust his head backward, catching the enforcer off-guard with a bone-rattling impact. The guard staggered back with a grunt, and Sand seized his chance. Swiftly, he twisted around, ripping the gun from the enforcer's grip and sending him stumbling with a forceful kick.

"Stay back!" Sand warned, his voice fierce as he raised the gun, his gaze hard and unyielding.

The remaining humanoid enforcers lifted their weapons in defence, joined with their robotic counterparts, forming a tense wall of resistance. The man on the ground groaned, clutching his nose with one hand while raising the other in a feeble gesture of protection as Sand cast a cold glance down at him. The enforcer from whom Sand had seized the weapon crouched beside his injured teammate, ensuring he was alright. The man took a deliberate step forward, his voice steady but cautious.

"Sand, put the gun down."

Sand levelled the gun at him, the barrel cold and unwavering as he loaded it, his gaze hard and unforgiving, "Why should I? You threatened me first!" he shouted, his voice edged with defiance. The man took a cautious step forward, reaching out a hand. "No one's here to hurt you, Sand. That fear—it's all in your mind. Your mind is the real enemy. Just put the gun down, and we'll take you back to the facility where you can keep getting the help you need." His voice steady, almost coaxing, each word measured and careful.

Sand scoffed, a bitter sound, "Bullshit," he muttered.

But then, something flickered in his peripheral vision, drawing his focus for a split second. The man seized the moment, lunging forward. Reflexively, Sand pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out as the enforcer stumbled back, struck by the bullet. Sands eyes widened and the robotic enforcers immediately opened fire, filling the air with a storm of bullets. He ducked, bolting for cover while firing back at the humanoid authorities who aimed to take him down. Spotting a car ahead, he sprinted toward it, but a sharp pain jolted through him as a bullet tore into his arm.

He stumbled, choking back a yelp as he staggered behind a car, pressing his back against it for shelter. His breath came fast and shallow as he glanced down, seeing blood soak into the dirt-streaked white of his uniform. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the relentless gunfire.

He pressed a trembling hand to his wound, breath hitching as pain flared through him, sharp and relentless. A hiss escaped his clenched teeth, and he forced his eyes shut, his head thudding back against the cool metal of the car. Rapid, shallow breaths filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of gasoline and dust. When he dared to glance over the cars edge, his stomach twisted. The enforcers were advancing, their weapons drawn, steps measured and deliberate. Panic clawed at him, but he swallowed it down, took a shaky breath and bolted.

He barely made a few steps away before a brutal shock ripped through him. The force threw him forward, and he hit the ground, completely dazed. His vision blurred, edges fading to darkness, and his body went slack, numb, as if it drifted away from itself.

Behind him stood a man who might've looked ordinary from a distance, but up close he was anything but that. He lowered his arm, and as the shadows shifted, it became clear he wasn't holding a weapon—he was the weapon.

He took a slow step forward, his steel-toed boots striking the ground with a weight that reverberated through the air. With each movement, the bullet belt slung across his torso clinked, the metal glinting dully in the dim light. His black sweater was ripped from shoulder to waist, exposing the edges of his frame where flesh met cold metal, scarred and seamless.

His right arm, entirely mechanical, gleamed with smooth, dark plating that covered complex wiring, every joint built with deadly precision. A faint smoke curling from the taser fixed in his palm, still cracking with residual energy. He brought it to his lips, blowing the smoke away with casual ease. His right eye—a glowing white lens embedded deep in his socket, scanning every detail with an eerie, calculated clarity that felt almost inhuman.

There was nothing ordinary about him; he was built for violence, crafted for the safety of the city, a perfect fusion of man and machine.

Ray.