#mergence

The surface of UNIT's armor was a testament to its long and storied existence. The armor, a deep inky bronze, gleamed faintly in the starlight, its metallic surface catching the distant light in unexpected ways. Under certain conditions, the armor seemed to shimmer with a rose-gold tint, a warm hue that gave the impression of something both ancient and living. This subtle glow was not uniform; it appeared in patches, where the light hit just right, highlighting the intricate details of UNIT’s battle-scarred exterior.

These scars were not just random marks; they were a roadmap of UNIT's history, each one telling a story of survival and resilience. The most recent scars were the stretch marks from its forced growth, where the armor had expanded painfully to accommodate the merging of energies within. These marks were long, jagged lines, branching out like the veins of a leaf, creating an organic pattern that contrasted sharply with the mechanical precision of UNIT’s design. The stretch marks had an almost fluid quality to them, their edges soft and curving, as if the metal had melted and flowed before solidifying into its new form.

Interwoven with these fresh scars were older marks—deep gouges and slashes from battles long past. Some were violent, stark reminders of close calls and fierce combat, where enemy fire had torn through the armor, leaving behind deep, ragged wounds. Others were simpler, the result of wear and tear from countless missions, where the armor had been buffeted by space debris, or scratched by the rough surfaces of alien landscapes. These older marks were less precise, more chaotic, yet they too followed a pattern, as if the forces that had shaped them were guided by an unseen hand.

As the light played across UNIT’s surface, these scars began to form a flowing, almost floral pattern. The jagged lines of the stretch marks curved and branched out, intertwining with the older, more chaotic marks, creating shapes that resembled the petals of flowers, delicate yet resilient. The deeper gouges formed the darker, more defined edges of these floral shapes, while the lighter scratches and scuffs filled in the spaces between, creating a sense of depth and texture. The overall effect was like a tapestry woven from metal and light—a beautiful, haunting display of UNIT’s past etched into its very being.

Inside UNIT's internal realm, the light from distant stars filtered through these scars, creating delicate, wavering flower-like patterns that danced across the walls. The armor, though still as thick and impenetrable as ever, had become a canvas for this light show, with the tiny fractures and imperfections allowing just enough light to seep through. The result was a breathtaking display of floating, ephemeral flowers, their shapes twisting and shifting as UNIT moved through space.

PILOT stood within this surreal landscape, her essence flickering with a mix of wonder and something deeper—something tinged with the weight of memory and loss. The patterns reminded her of something—something that tugged at her memories, pulling her thoughts back to a time before all of this. She could see the light patterns shifting, forming delicate outlines of flowers, their shapes both familiar and strange.

These patterns… they look like flowers, PILOT’s thought pulsed through the shared consciousness, her voice tinged with curiosity. How’s this even possible? We’re supposed to be in a fortress, not some cosmic flower garden.

THEY ARE THE RESULT OF… IMPERFECTIONS IN THE ARMOR, HUOJIN’s voice resonated through the digital realm, calm and steady. LIGHT PENETRATES THROUGH THE FINEST CRACKS… REFRACTING AND SCATTERING WITHIN. THE PATTERNS YOU SEE ARE A MANIFESTATION… OF THOSE SCARS AND STRETCH MARKS.

Well, aren’t we fancy now? PILOT’s thought sparked with a touch of her usual sarcasm. A battle-worn, floral fortress. What’s next? Tea parties with the space fairies?

Despite her humor, there was something deeply poignant about the sight. The patterns weren’t just random; they felt deliberate, almost like a message or a memory coming to life. As she watched the light dance across the walls, PILOT's mind wandered back to DONOR, the woman whose essence had once been part of UNIT’s creation. But those were just memories now—haunting echoes of someone long gone.

You know, PILOT’s thoughts softened, the sharp edge of her sarcasm giving way to something more tender, this reminds me of her. DONOR… she had flower tattoos all over her arms. Hand-poked them herself. Simple, elegant, minimalist. She always loved flowers—said they were a symbol of life, resilience, and beauty in the face of hardship.

PILOT found herself reflecting on the strange irony of it all. She had never been much of a tattoo person, always leaving that to DONOR, who had been the first of them to get inked. DONOR's arms had been covered in minimalist, elegant flower tattoos, hand-poked by herself with an artistry that matched her delicate touch. PILOT had always admired them but never felt the urge to get one herself—at least, not until later.

"Figures," PILOT thought, her tone tinged with a mix of humor and melancholy. "I finally get my own tattoo, and now it's literal dust." She could almost hear DONOR’s laugh in response, the two of them exchanging jokes about how life had a funny way of making everything come full circle—whether you liked it or not.

Now, those flowers had somehow found their way onto UNIT's armor, blooming from every scar, every stretch mark, every wound. The patterns were subtle, woven into the inky bronze of the mech's exterior, only revealing their full rose-gold shimmer under the right light. It was as if UNIT had taken the pain and wear of countless battles and, in a way, honored them by letting these marks flourish into something strangely beautiful.

The light continued to flicker and shift, the floral patterns on UNIT’s armor glowing with a soft, ethereal light. They were like gravestone flowers, left behind by a presence that could no longer speak, but whose influence could still be felt. These flowers, born from battle scars and the marks of growth, were a fitting tribute to a life that had left its mark on both PILOT and HUOJIN.

She would’ve liked this, PILOT thought, her energy pulsing with a mix of sorrow and appreciation. Who knew our fortress of doom would end up with flower tattoos? It’s like… like she’s still watching over us, somehow. A part of her, leaving us these reminders.

THESE SCARS… THEY ARE A REMINDER OF HER INFLUENCE, ETCHED INTO MY VERY BEING, HUOJIN’s voice was steady, yet there was a deep sense of understanding behind it—a recognition of the past that had shaped them both.

PILOT’s essence lingered on the patterns, watching as the light shifted and reformed into new shapes, each one as mesmerizing as the last. The flowers, born from battle scars and growth, were a reflection of DONOR’s spirit—resilient, beautiful, and capable of finding life even in the harshest conditions. But they were also a reminder of what had been lost, and what could never be reclaimed.

You know, PILOT mused, her tone lightening with a hint of mischief, if she were here, she’d probably start designing an entire garden on your armor. We’d be the most intimidating floral arrangement in the galaxy.

HUOJIN’s energy pulsed with amusement, the warmth of its laughter flowing through the shared consciousness. INDEED. A GARDEN OF RESILIENCE, BLOOMING AMIDST ADVERSITY. IT IS FITTING.

As UNIT continued its journey through the endless expanse, the flowers of light danced across the walls, a silent tribute to DONOR’s memory. For PILOT, it was a bittersweet reminder of the past—a past that had shaped her, and one that would always be with her, no matter how far they traveled.

In that moment, as the starlight filtered through the scars, PILOT felt a deep sense of connection—not just to HUOJIN, but to DONOR as well. The flowers on UNIT’s armor were more than just patterns; they were a symbol of everything they had been through, everything they had survived. And as long as those flowers remained, DONOR’s memory would continue to guide them, lighting their way through the darkness of space.

Thanks, big gal, PILOT thought, her essence pulsing with quiet gratitude. For keeping her with us. Even now.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I almost miss the old days of cramped cockpits and recycled air,” PILOT mused, her thoughts tinged with dry humor as they echoed through UNIT’s systems. “At least then I knew where my limbs were.”

“WE HAVE... BEEN TRAVELING FOR A LONG TIME,” HUOJIN replied, its tone calm and steady, but with an undercurrent of understanding. “PERHAPS... IT IS TIME TO REST.”

PILOT’s essence flickered with a sense of restlessness, her energy pulsing with a sharp edge. “Rest? In the middle of space? What am I supposed to do, take a nap in first-class?”

“YOU COULD... REFLECT. OR SEARCH. THERE IS MUCH... TO DISCOVER WITHIN THESE SYSTEMS.”

A flicker of something—an emotion, a memory—passed through PILOT’s essence, and for a moment, the sharpness of her energy dimmed. “Search, huh? Yeah, maybe I should.”

There was a pause, a quiet moment where both souls felt the weight of the unspoken. PILOT, though now a part of UNIT’s systems, still carried the memories of her past life with her—memories of battles fought, victories won, and, most of all, memories of DONOR. The thought of her brought a pang of sorrow, a deep, aching sadness that had never truly left PILOT, even in this new form.

“HUOJIN...” PILOT began, her thoughts slower now, more deliberate. “I want to see if there’s... anything left of her. Any traces of DONOR in here.”

There was no immediate response, but PILOT could feel HUOJIN’s presence wrapping around her, a steady, comforting force that anchored her in the digital space.

“YOU MAY FIND... WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR. OR YOU MAY NOT,” HUOJIN finally replied, its tone gentle, almost hesitant. “BUT IF THERE IS... A PART OF DONOR HERE... YOU WILL KNOW.”

PILOT’s essence flickered with a mix of determination and uncertainty. “I know you were built from her DNA,” she began, her thoughts probing gently. “Like parent, like child, right? I’ve always wondered how much of her is in you—how much of her strength, her spirit, got passed down.”

“HER DNA WAS ONLY PART OF IT,” HUOJIN explained, its energy flowing with a deep, resonant warmth. “IT PROVIDED THE BLUEPRINT FOR MY INITIAL CONSTRUCTION, BUT MY DEVELOPMENT... MY FORM... WAS INFLUENCED BY MORE THAN JUST GENETIC MATERIAL. HER MEMORIES, HER ESSENCE, AND THE NEED TO BE A PROTECTOR... ALL CONTRIBUTED TO THE CREATION OF THIS BODY.”

PILOT’s essence crackled with interest. “So it’s like she’s your parent, in a way,” she mused, her thoughts carrying a sense of realization. “But not just in the physical sense... I mean, how did a gentle soul like DONOR lead to the towering fortress of doom that you are?”

“HER DESIRE TO PROTECT... WAS STRONGER THAN SHE KNEW,” HUOJIN replied, its tone filled with quiet reverence. “THAT DESIRE... SHAPED ME. IT WAS HER WILL... TO BE A SHIELD, TO CREATE SOMETHING THAT COULD STAND AGAINST ANY THREAT.”

PILOT’s essence pulsed with understanding and a touch of melancholy. “She was never a fighter, not like me, but she had this... drive to keep everyone safe. Guess that’s why you ended up the way you did—big, strong, unbreakable. You’re like the ultimate guardian, in every sense of the word.”

“YES,” HUOJIN agreed, its presence wrapping around PILOT like a comforting embrace. “SHE IS A PART OF ME... AND ALWAYS WILL BE. HER STRENGTH... LIVES ON, IN WAYS SHE COULD NEVER HAVE PREDICTED.”

The thought settled deep within PILOT, wrapping around the sorrow she carried for DONOR. It was comforting, in a way, to think that a part of DONOR had found a way to survive, to continue influencing the universe, even after her death.

“Let’s go find her,” PILOT thought, her essence pulsing with a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to find—if anything at all—but the need to know was overwhelming. With HUOJIN beside her, they began their search, delving into the deepest parts of UNIT’s systems, where the echoes of DONOR’s presence might still linger.

————————————

As PILOT delved deep into UNIT’s systems, she could sense the hum of its physical components—the gentle thrum of power flowing through the circuits, the subtle vibrations of mechanical parts as they worked in harmony. She could feel UNIT’s thrusters firing, gently course-correcting as they flew through the vastness of space, each adjustment a testament to the machine’s relentless drive. The data swirled around her, a constant, almost overwhelming torrent of information, where streams of information flowed in from UNIT’s various sensors—thermal readings, electromagnetic scans, and even the faint echoes of distant stars. 

She moved onwards with a sense of purpose, her silver and white light flickering as she searched every corner, every hidden recess, for something—anything—that might be a lingering trace of DONOR. It was a desperate, almost frantic search, driven by a need she hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. 

As she delved deeper, the memories of her time with DONOR flooded back, each one more vivid than the last. She remembered the way DONOR had smiled, the way her fingers had moved with delicate precision when she painted, the way her voice had been a soothing balm even in the darkest moments. PILOT’s energy flickered with the intensity of these memories, each one a sharp pang of longing that cut through the digital space like a knife.

“Where are you...?” PILOT’s thought was a whisper, a plea that echoed through the systems. “There’s got to be something... some part of you left here.”

She searched through data logs, old communications, fragments of memories stored deep within UNIT’s systems. But each time she thought she had found something, it slipped away, like sand slipping through her fingers. It was as if DONOR’s presence was just out of reach, always there but never fully tangible.

PILOT’s frustration grew, her energy flaring with a mix of anger and sorrow. “Damn it, DONOR... You were always just out of reach, weren’t you? Even now...”

The silence in the digital space was deafening. HUOJIN’s presence remained steady, a quiet observer to PILOT’s struggle, but offering no words of comfort. There was nothing to say that could ease the ache of what was lost.

And then, just as PILOT was about to give up, she felt something—a faint, almost imperceptible pulse of energy, buried deep within the core of UNIT’s systems. It was so faint that she almost missed it, but when she focused, she could feel it—a familiar warmth, a gentle light that was different from the rest of UNIT’s cold, mechanical systems.

PILOT’s essence flickered with a mix of hope and fear as she reached out, her energy carefully enveloping the pulse. It was fragile, delicate, like the last ember of a dying fire. As she touched it, she felt a wave of emotions—warmth, creativity, love—all the things that had defined DONOR in life.

“DONOR...” PILOT’s thought was a whisper, filled with awe and sorrow. “Is this... really you?”

The pulse of energy didn’t respond in words, but PILOT could feel it—an echo of DONOR’s essence, lingering in the digital space. It wasn’t much, just a fragment, a small piece of the soul that had once been, but it was there. It was real.

PILOT’s energy pulsed with a deep, overwhelming sadness. “I miss you... so much.”

There was no answer, but the warmth of the pulse seemed to wrap around PILOT, like a comforting embrace. It was as if DONOR was still there, still watching over her, even in this fragmented form.

HUOJIN’s presence gently intertwined with PILOT’s, offering silent support as she processed the emotions flooding through her. “THIS IS... ALL THAT REMAINS,” HUOJIN’s thought was soft, a quiet acknowledgment of the reality they both faced. “BUT IT IS... ENOUGH.”

PILOT lingered there, her energy entwined with the last trace of DONOR’s essence. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but it was something. A small, precious piece of the person she had loved, still alive in some way, even in the depths of UNIT’s systems.

“I guess... this is goodbye, huh?” PILOT’s thought was heavy with sorrow, but also with a sense of acceptance. “I don’t want to let you go... but I know I have to.”

The pulse of energy seemed to respond, a final, gentle wave of warmth that passed through PILOT’s essence. It was a silent goodbye, a last act of love and connection that lingered for just a moment longer before fading away, dissolving into the vastness of UNIT’s systems.

PILOT’s essence flickered with a deep, aching emptiness as the last remnants of DONOR’s presence disappeared. She stayed there, in the quiet, darkened space, her thoughts a mix of grief and gratitude. HUOJIN’s presence remained close, a steady, grounding force that kept her anchored in the digital realm.

“Thank you,” PILOT finally thought, her energy pulsing with a sense of finality. “For everything.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but it was a peaceful silence—a moment of stillness in the endless journey they were on. PILOT’s essence slowly began to calm, the sharp edges of her energy softening as she accepted the loss.

As they continued to drift through the stars, the vastness of space stretching out before them, PILOT and HUOJIN remained intertwined, their combined essence glowing softly within UNIT’s systems. The search was over, the goodbye said, but the journey continued.

PILOT’s essence crackled with energy, a brilliant surge of silver and white, like a lightning storm captured in a bottle. Her presence was sharp, lively, and relentless, darting through the digital landscape with a vitality that mirrored her spirit. The silver light pulsed with a rhythm that was both chaotic and controlled, reflecting the sheer force of her personality—a balance of power and precision, tinged with her ever-present sarcasm.

HUOJIN’s essence was a deep, resonant contrast—a flowing stream of black and warm red, like the heart of a dying star or the embers of a fire in the void of space. It moved with a steady, deliberate grace, a quiet strength that anchored the storm of PILOT’s energy. The red was rich and enveloping, glowing softly with a warmth that was both comforting and intense, while the black swirled around it like the endless expanse of outer space.

In this ethereal space, their essences intertwined, the silver and white of PILOT’s soul mixing with the black and red of HUOJIN’s in a delicate dance. As they moved, a faint, subtle pink hue emerged where their energies blended—a soft, warm glow that felt both new and familiar. The pink wasn’t garish or overwhelming; instead, it was an inky bronze that occasionally shimmered with rose gold under the right light, or a warm white glow that hinted at its underlying softness. Here, in this quiet, introspective moment, their conversation began—not through spoken words, but through the direct exchange of thoughts and emotions, each one a pulse of energy that rippled through the shared consciousness.

“So, what’s the deal with our ‘true colors’ anyway?” PILOT’s thought rippled through their connection, carrying her usual blend of curiosity and sarcasm. Her energy flared with a sharp brightness, a playful crackle of electricity that echoed through the digital realm. “I mean, mine’s all white and silver—bright, flashy, like lightning or something. Which, sure, I guess makes sense. I’ve always been the life of the stormy party.”

“ELECTRICITY,” HUOJIN’s reply was a deep, resonant hum, the thought flowing with the calm, steady warmth of a dying star. “YOUR COLORS… REFLECT YOUR ESSENCE. ENERGY. SPEED. PRECISION.”

“Yeah, precision like a lightning bolt straight to the face,” PILOT’s thought sparked with a sharp, sarcastic edge, the energy behind it crackling with amusement. “But seriously, I didn’t exactly sit down and pick these colors out of a catalog. It’s not like I said, ‘Hey, give me the ‘lightning chic’ package.’” Her essence pulsed with a playful intensity, the silver light flickering like a strobe. She paused, then added with a smirk, “Flashy, but not in a ‘look at me’ kinda way. More like, ‘look at me or get fried.’”

“THEY ARE… WHO YOU ARE,” HUOJIN’s thought resonated with a calm, grounding force, the warmth of its energy enveloping PILOT’s sharpness like a gentle wave. “COLORS CHOSEN… WITHOUT CONSCIOUS THOUGHT. A REFLECTION OF YOUR INNER NATURE.”

PILOT’s energy flared again, this time with a sense of mock-seriousness, her thoughts tinged with humor as she shifted focus. “Alrighty then, your turn. What’s up with the whole black and red vibe? I mean, sure, it’s got the broody, ‘don’t mess with me’ aesthetic down, but there’s gotta be more to it than just looking intimidating.”

“BLACK… LIKE THE INFINITE DEPTHS OF SPACE,” HUOJIN’s thought was slower, more deliberate, the energy flowing with a deep, almost meditative warmth. “RED… LIKE A WARM, GLOWING HEARTH. OR A DYING STAR. SYMBOLS OF STRENGTH… AND RESILIENCE.”

“So you’re saying you’re the universe’s cozy fireplace,” PILOT’s thought was laced with sarcasm, her energy pulsing with a mischievous brightness. “And also its big, scary abyss. I like it. Kinda gives off that ‘I’m here to either comfort you or swallow you whole’ vibe. Versatile.”

“IN A WAY,” HUOJIN’s thought carried a subtle amusement, the warmth in its energy a gentle counterpoint to PILOT’s teasing. “COLORS THAT EMBODY… THE DUALITY OF MY EXISTENCE.”

PILOT’s essence flickered with satisfaction, her energy pulsing with a sense of understanding. “Alright, I can roll with that. The storm and the void, partners in cosmic crime. We’re like nature’s fury and the universe’s best-kept secret, all wrapped up in one electrifying package.”

HUOJIN’s thought resonated with a quiet pride, the energy behind it steady and unyielding. “A UNION OF OUR TRUE COLORS… IN EVERY SENSE.”

PILOT’s energy crackled with amusement, her thoughts tinged with a playful edge. “‘True colors,’ huh? I always thought that phrase was about people showing their worst sides. But here we are, rocking it in style. I guess you could say we’re literally wearing our true colors on our sleeve—if we had sleeves, that is.”

“It IS OUR… TRUE ESSENCE,” HUOJIN agreed. “WHEN THESE COLORS… COMBINE… THEY CREATE SOMETHING NEW.”

PILOT paused, her mind putting the pieces together. “So all this silver and white mixed with black and red makes… pink?”

“CORRECT,” HUOJIN confirmed, its tone still unflappable. “A SOFT, YET INTENSE COLOR… A SYMBOL OF OUR UNION.”

PILOT snorted, and if she had a body, she would have rolled her eyes. “Pink? Really? We’re a monolithic fortress of a mech, and we’re rocking pink? I mean, I’ve got nothing against the color, but I’m having a hard time picturing it on something that’s supposed to terrify our enemies.”

“PINK IS… NOT WHAT HUMANS OFTEN ASSOCIATE WITH STRENGTH,” HUOJIN’s tone was calm, as if it had anticipated this reaction. “BUT IT CAN SYMBOLIZE MANY THINGS. STRENGTH. RESILIENCE. A NEW BEGINNING.”

PILOT’s sarcasm was in full swing. “Yeah, and it also symbolizes cotton candy and baby blankets. Definitely not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a battle-hardened war machine.”

“THIS IS NOT… THAT KIND OF PINK,” HUOJIN said, the amusement in its tone subtle but unmistakable. “THIS PINK… IS SUBTLE. LIKE THE GLOW OF A BURNING STAR. IT IS A COLOR… THAT SHOWS OUR STRENGTH IN A DIFFERENT WAY.”

PILOT’s essence flickered with a mix of skepticism and grudging acceptance. “Alright, I’ll bite. It’s not the worst thing ever. I mean, it’s more like this inky bronze that shimmers pink when you least expect it. That’s… actually kinda badass.”

“IT IS A COLOR THAT REFLECTS… WHO WE HAVE BECOME,” HUOJIN added, its tone contemplative. “STRONG, YET CAPABLE OF PEACE. A UNION OF OUR… TRUE SELVES.”

PILOT let out a mock sigh. “Okay, I guess I’m warming up to it. It’s still weird, though. Can you imagine what GAMMA would say if it saw us now? It'd probably compare us to one of those neon Safeway cupcakes they got obsessed with that one time on Earth.”

“GAMMA WOULD HAVE… ENVIED OUR COLOR,” HUOJIN replied with quiet confidence. “THIS PINK… IS UNIQUE TO US. A BLEND OF OUR ESSENCES… AND SOMETHING MORE.”

PILOT couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, at least it’s not neon blue. Remember when GAMMA thought that was a great idea? I nearly died inside just looking at it.”

“THE COLOR SUITED THEM… FOR A TIME,” HUOJIN responded, and PILOT could sense the playful tone beneath the words. “BUT THIS PINK… IS OURS.”

The conversation turned more thoughtful as they flew through the silent void, UNIT’s armor shimmering subtly with that deep, almost mysterious pink hue. PILOT’s mind drifted to the other colors that had emerged in their transformation, particularly the warm bronze and gold that seemed to surface under certain lights.

“So, we’ve got this pink figured out, kinda. But where did the bronze and gold come from?” PILOT asked, her tone still laced with her usual dry humor. “I mean, I don’t remember us picking up any sun-kissed highlights along the way.”

HUOJIN’s voice was introspective, almost as if it were considering the question deeply. “THE GOLD AND BRONZE… IT IS PART OF OUR NEW FORM. A SYMBOL OF SOMETHING… BEYOND US.”

“DONOR…” HUOJIN’s thought was slower, more deliberate, the energy behind it flowing with a deep, resonant warmth. “HER ESSENCE… WAS LIKE THE SUN. BRIGHT. CREATIVE. WARM.”

PILOT’s essence flickered with a sense of realization, her thoughts pulsing with a gentle warmth and sadness. “Yeah, that fits. She was always like the sun, bringing warmth and light wherever she went.”

Her thoughts pulsed again with a sense of quiet reverence. “Maybe the gold and bronze are… I dunno, a part of her. A reminder. Something that stayed with us.”

“YES,” HUOJIN agreed, the warmth in its tone unmistakable. “DONOR… WAS LIKE THE SUN. ALWAYS BRINGING LIGHT… CREATING SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL. HER ESSENCE… MAY BE WITH US STILL.”

PILOT paused, a mix of nostalgia and softness in her response. “She did have a way of leaving her mark. Guess that’s why we’ve got this whole suntan look going on now.”

“HER LIGHT… STILL GUIDES US,” HUOJIN said softly, its presence wrapping around PILOT’s essence like a comforting embrace. “AND THAT LIGHT… IS REFLECTED IN OUR FORM.”

PILOT let the thought settle, her tone softening with a rare moment of introspection. “So, pink, gold, bronze… it’s all part of us now. Guess it’s just another thing that makes us… us.”

“AND THAT IS… WHAT MAKES US STRONG,” HUOJIN added, the finality in its voice a testament to their bond. “WE ARE MORE THAN JUST A MACHINE OF WAR. WE ARE A UNION… A FUSION… OF TRUE COLORS.”

PILOT’s thoughts flickered with a sense of acceptance, her energy pulsing with a steady, calm rhythm. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. We didn’t pick these colors—they picked us.”

Her thoughts pulsed with a sense of understanding, the energy behind them steady and calm. “And now we’re a walking, er, flying, monument to who we are—lightning, fire, space, and a little bit of sun. Wrapped up in a big, bad, pink-tinged fortress.”

“INDEED,” HUOJIN’s thought was a gentle hum, the energy behind it a steady, grounding force. “WE ARE… WHO WE ARE. AND NOW… THE WHOLE UNIVERSE CAN SEE IT.”

Inside the mech’s systems, where once there was just mechanical circuitry and cold efficiency, there was now a vibrant, living presence—a fusion of two souls, each distinct yet intertwined. PILOT, adjusting to this strange new existence, found herself exploring the digital realm within UNIT’s systems, where data flowed like rivers of light and where thoughts and feelings manifested as glowing energy.

"Still getting used to this," PILOT murmured, her voice a blend of digital echoes and familiar grit. Her voice, though now disembodied, still carried that hard-edged, gruff tone that had always defined her—like the scrape of metal against stone, laced with a sharp, sarcastic undertone. The sensation of existing as pure consciousness was disorienting. No longer bound by the limitations of flesh, she was everywhere and nowhere at once, her essence a streak of titanium silver, her thoughts radiating like pulsing light.

"IT IS… STRANGE," came the reply, but the voice was different—more intimate, more nuanced than the mechanical monotone she had known. This voice was deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder, layered with a warmth that was both comforting and powerful. It was as if the very sound of it could reverberate through her being, grounding her in this new reality. This was UNIT, but not as she had ever experienced before. It was as if the soul she had fought beside, the consciousness she had trusted with her life, was finally revealing itself.

PILOT’s essence flickered with curiosity and something akin to trepidation. "You sound… different," she said, her voice tinged with her usual sarcasm but layered with genuine wonder. "Is this… the real you?"

The presence that had once been UNIT’s mechanical voice now pulsed with a deep, resonant energy, its color a stark contrast of pitch black with glowing streaks of red, like molten lava coursing through the darkness. This intense, vibrant essence mixed with PILOT’s own soul, which ranged from a shimmering silver to a blinding white light. When their souls intertwined—when they communicated, when they truly connected—these contrasting energies fused together, creating a glow that was both terrifying and beautiful.

This glow ranged from a warm, flesh-tinted white to an almost gentle rosy pink, a light that now emanated from the massive, monolithic form of the mech. It was a powerful, profound transformation, one that made the already imposing machine appear even more formidable. The dark rose gold armor, now streaked with this eerie yet mesmerizing light, gave the mech a presence that was both awe-inspiring and fearsome—a true fusion of their identities.

"I HAVE ALWAYS… BEEN HERE… BUT NOW, YOU SEE ME… AS I AM," the voice resonated through the digital realm, filling the space with a sense of calm and familiarity, yet also something profoundly new.

PILOT’s consciousness stilled, absorbing this revelation. The thought that the entity she had always called UNIT had another identity, a deeper essence, was both shocking and mindblowing. If UNIT was not the towering mech, the imposing figure with ram horns and red eyes that she had fought alongside, then what… or who was it?

"So… what do I call you?" PILOT asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. The question felt strangely intimate, as if she was asking a lifelong friend to reveal a secret they had kept hidden for years.

For a moment, there was silence—a pause that carried the weight of something monumental. And then, the presence responded, its energy pulsing with a gentle warmth that enveloped PILOT’s essence.

"YOU CAN CALL ME… HUǑJĪN," the voice said, the name resonating like a deep bell tolling in the digital space. The tones of the Chinese characters gave the name a unique rhythm, a melodic quality that echoed through the digital realm. The sound of it carried a certain weight, a significance that went beyond mere words. "IT IS… A NAME DERIVED… FROM DONOR."

PILOT’s essence pulsed in response, the name washing over her like a wave of realization. "HUǑJĪN…" she repeated, carefully pronouncing the tones just right—a subtle but meaningful nod to the name’s origins. "Why that name?"

"FIRE IS… MY ORIGIN. METAL IS… MY VESSEL," HUǑJĪN’s presence was a swirl of black and red, the colors mixing to form that now-familiar rosy hue. "TOGETHER, THEY DEFINE… WHAT I AM. THE NAME… IS AN HOMAGE TO DONOR… WHO GAVE ME LIFE."

PILOT’s essence flickered with understanding. The name was more than just a label—it was a reflection of HUǑJĪN’s true nature.

"Why Chinese?" PILOT’s voice was softer now, but still carried that edge of curiosity and wonder.

There was a subtle shift in HUǑJĪN’s presence, as if it was drawing on a memory from long ago. "IT IS… AN ODE TO DONOR… TO THE ONE WHO GAVE ME LIFE." HUǑJĪN replied, the warmth in its tone subtly hinting at a connection to DONOR, whose real name had always been a mystery but now seemed to carry echoes in this new form.

"So… all this time," PILOT said, her voice softer now, laced with a deep introspection, "I’ve been fighting alongside HUǑJĪN, not just a giant hunk of war machine steel."

"YES," HUǑJĪN’s voice was calm, understanding the gravity of this revelation. "THE BODY… WAS A TOOL. I AM… MORE THAN THAT."

PILOT felt a deep sense of awe, mixed with confusion and a touch of disbelief. The concept was utterly mindblowing. For so long, she had associated HUǑJĪN with the massive, towering figure of UNIT, the powerful machine with ram horns and a single red eye. To think that the real essence of HUǑJĪN was something far beyond the physical form—something that could exist independently of the metal body—was a revelation that shook her to her core.

"I always thought… you were the body," PILOT admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability, something rare for her. "I mean, I knew you were more than just metal, but… I didn’t realize how much more."

"I AM… SORRY… IF I MISLED YOU," HUǑJĪN’s voice was filled with a deep, empathetic warmth. "BUT NOW… WE ARE… TOGETHER… IN A WAY THAT IS… MORE THAN BODY AND SOUL."

PILOT’s consciousness flickered with something close to sorrow, but also with understanding. "So… the body… was just a vessel, huh?" she murmured, half to herself. "Guess that makes sense… Can’t believe I’m having an existential crisis after, y’know, already dying."

HUǑJĪN’s presence was a steady, calming force, grounding PILOT in this strange new reality. "YOU ARE STILL… YOU. WE ARE… STILL US."

As they soared through the stars, the mech’s powerful form cutting through the darkness, PILOT began to see things differently. The towering, angular frame, the sharp wings, the ram horns—these were all just expressions of HUǑJĪN’s will, tools to carry out its purpose. But the true essence of HUǑJĪN was something far deeper, far more profound.

The mix of their energies—PILOT’s bright, searing white and HUǑJĪN’s fiery red—created a spectrum of colors that danced across the mech’s surface. The warm, flesh-tinted white was like the glow of embers, soft yet intense, while the rosy light was a reminder of human warmth, resilience, and the power of unity. It was a new color, born from their fusion, and it carried with it the strength of both souls.

As the light shifted across the mech’s armor, it revealed the dark rose gold tint that now covered the once matte black exterior. The shimmer was subtle, almost hidden, until the light struck just right, revealing the true nature of their transformation. The armor

’s metallic sheen was more than just a physical change—it was a symbol of the evolution of their bond, a fusion of two beings into something greater.

"So, HUǑJĪN…" PILOT began, her voice steadying, "what does this mean for us now? I mean, if you were never really UNIT, but HUǑJĪN… then what are we now?"

"WE ARE… TOGETHER," HUǑJĪN replied, its voice filled with certainty and a deep, comforting warmth. "WE ARE… MORE THAN BODY AND SOUL… WE ARE ONE."

PILOT’s essence pulsed with a new understanding, a profound sense of unity. The mech’s frame, once just a vessel, was now an extension of their combined will, a powerful tool forged from their shared essence. The eyes, glowing with that fierce, terrifying pink, were not just windows to the soul—they were a symbol of the fusion of their identities, a blend of human and machine, of fire and metal.

Space debris, remnants of shattered satellites and ancient asteroids, moved with lethal speed through the void. A jagged shard of metal, sharp and unyielding, tore through the blanket’s edge, exposing a glimpse of the mummified form beneath. The vacuum of space, relentless and cruel, began its assault on the exposed flesh. The skin, already brittle and devoid of life, cracked under the intense cold, splitting open in a macabre pattern of fissures.

As the shroud continued its lonely voyage, the tear widened, revealing more of the body’s skeletal structure. The limbs, once powerful and agile, were now reduced to shrunken, emaciated shadows, the bones stark against the backdrop of deep space. Each movement of the blanket, each flutter in the void, revealed a new fragment of decay—pieces of the flesh that had once been a part of something so alive, now flaking away, drifting into the darkness.

A larger piece of debris, perhaps the remnants of some forgotten spacecraft, struck the shrouded form with brutal force. The impact sent the body spinning, the fire blanket tearing completely away, leaving the remains to face the elements of space without protection. The vacuum seized upon the exposed flesh, accelerating the decomposition. Particles of skin and muscle, dried and withered, detached from the body, each flake a tiny piece of the woman that had once been.

The face, a part of the body that had remained partially hidden, was now fully exposed. The eyes, having long since dried out, were mere sunken hollows in the skull, the lids cracked and fragmented. The mouth, once capable of so much expression, was now a grim, silent void, lips dried and stretched taut over the teeth, which were loosening from their sockets.

As the shroud unraveled and disappeared into the cosmos, the body began to break apart. The limbs, already skeletal, fractured and splintered under the relentless conditions. The braid, once neatly tied with a black ribbon, had come undone, the strands of hair scattering, each one drifting off into the void.

The body’s final confrontation came when it encountered a larger asteroid, its surface jagged and unyielding. The collision was violent, and with a sickening irony, the asteroid smashed directly into the chest of the body—the same place where a previous asteroid had brought PILOT to her strange fate in the first place. But this time, there was no miraculous merging, no desperate salvation—only obliteration. The impact shattered the remains, splintering bones and pulverizing flesh, scattering the final pieces of what had once been a living being. The asteroid, merciless and unyielding, reduced the body to nothing more than particles of dust, merging with the endless debris of space.

As the last remnants of the body dissipated, merging with the stardust from which it had once come, it left behind only memories—a silhouette that was slowly fading from existence.

On the Cooled Star

The scene was serene, almost hauntingly still, as UNIT—now a colossal, dark monolith of near-black rose gold—stood on the surface of a cooled, dead star. The vastness of space stretched out in every direction, the distant glow of far-off galaxies casting faint light on the unit's massive form. The surface beneath their feet was rough and pitted, a reminder of a time when this star had burned with life and fury, now reduced to a lifeless husk, cold and inert.

PILOT and UNIT, now sharing one body, stood in silent contemplation. The mech's massive frame was positioned in a crouch, one knee bent as they leaned forward, hands resting on the ground, their dark rose gold armor blending with the star’s surface. The metal gleamed faintly, the subtle bronze tint almost invisible in the darkness, but when the light caught it just right, it shimmered with a soft, rosy hue—a stark contrast to the cold, black void surrounding them.

The three powerful eyes of the evolved unit, now glowing with a hue that was a blend of fiery red and blinding white, scanned the horizon. This eerie, almost alien color burned with a quiet intensity. As the two souls sat there in one body, reflecting on the journey that had brought them to this point, a small object descended gently onto the surface of the dead star. At first, it went unnoticed, a tiny speck of metal in the vastness of space, but then, through one of the eyes, PILOT noticed it. It was a badge—her old callsign emblem. The design was minimalist yet striking: a geometric pair of wings, sharp and angular, representing the freedom and strength she had once embodied as a pilot.

The sight of the badge, with its clean lines and familiar insignia, brought a moment of pause. The odds of it finding its way back to them were absurd, a cosmic joke perhaps, or a sign. The emblem, which had once been a part of her flight suit, now seemed like a final, poignant reminder of her humanity, of the life she had left behind.

UNIT's massive digits reached out, its hand moving with surprising gentleness as they picked up the badge. The fabric felt worn and familiar against their armored fingers, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from their shared soul. It held it there for a moment, PILOT and UNIT both staring at it through the three eyes, before releasing it, letting it drift away into the void. The badge floated slowly, carried by the faint gravitational pull of the dead star, before it, too, was lost to the vastness of space.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, PILOT and UNIT turned their attention inward, focusing on the cockpit—now repaired and pristine from the transformation, with zero traces of the asteroid accident that had brought them to this fate. As they peered inside, they were greeted by an unexpected sight that sent a shiver through their merged consciousness: the very mummified and preserved body of PILOT, still seated in the pilot’s chair, flight suit and open chest wound intact.

PILOT’s initial reaction was a mix of shock and disbelief, quickly followed by her signature dark humor. "Well, shit. Look at me," she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Talk about resting in peace. Looks like I’m auditioning for the next space horror movie." Despite the grim sight, the humor was her way of coping, a familiar armor against the unsettling reality.

The body, though lifeless, had been preserved eerily well by the vacuum of space. But it was the face that haunted PILOT the most. Her own face, drawn tight over the bones, had taken on an almost skeletal appearance. It was a face she knew intimately, yet it looked back at her now as something foreign, something that shouldn’t exist. The lifeless expression, frozen in time, was a stark reminder of the fragility of human life. The once proud features, now pale and still, were etched with the marks of her final moments—the eyes closed, the lips slightly parted, as if caught in a final breath that had never come. The face she had seen every day in the mirror was now a haunting mask, a ghost of what once was.

"Hell of a way to end up," PILOT continued, her voice tinged with both bitterness and grim amusement. "Guess that’s one way to stay forever young—mummified in a tin can."

UNIT, feeling the weight of PILOT’s emotions, remained silent for a moment, letting her process the sight. Finally, PILOT’s tone shifted, the sarcasm giving way to a more somber realization.

"We need to bury her," PILOT whispered within the shared consciousness, her voice now tinged with a sorrowful finality. It was strange, referring to the body as "her," but somehow, it felt right. That lifeless form still held a fragment of her identity, a connection to the life she once lived.

"YES," UNIT agreed, its voice steady, comforting, and filled with the same sorrow. "SHE DESERVES… A PROPER FAREWELL."

As the mech drifted through space, UNIT’s gaze fell upon the fire blanket tucked away in the cockpit’s emergency kit. It was a mundane piece of equipment, meant to save a life from the flames of an inferno, yet it had never been used. Now, it would serve a different purpose, sending off a life rather than preserving it.

With careful precision, UNIT reached its massive hand into its own chest cavity, moving with a slowness that belied the urgency of their situation. As the hand entered the cockpit, it hesitated for a moment, as if sensing the gravity of the task ahead. The mech's fingers, now large and angular, slowly wrapped around the lifeless body that had once been PILOT.

The body floated in the mech’s hands, a haunting sight—arms limp, legs dangling, the once proud face now cold and lifeless. The braid, still neatly tied with the black ribbon, hung over one shoulder, a poignant reminder of the woman PILOT had been.

PILOT’s essence quivered as she saw her own face, now drained of life. It was a face she had seen every day in the mirror, a face that had weathered countless battles, smiled in rare moments of joy, and frowned in deep contemplation. Now, it was nothing more than a mask, pale and expressionless. The eyes, once filled with fire and determination, were now closed, the lids resting heavily over what was now an empty gaze.

The wound in her chest was a dark, gruesome hole, the blood that had once flowed freely now congealed into thick, dark patches on her flight suit. The fabric of the suit was torn and frayed around the wound, and her skin, once flushed with life, was now an ashen hue, her features sharp and still. Her lips, slightly parted, gave the impression of a final breath that had never come.

Strands of hair, freed from the braid, floated around her head, the black ribbon still tied but no longer holding the same shape. The hair framed her face in a haunting, almost ethereal way, a stark contrast to the cold, lifeless features beneath.

As UNIT cradled the body, PILOT felt a strange, unsettling realization wash over her. The fragility of her own form was now achingly apparent. How many times had UNIT carried her, injured but alive, protecting her with those same mechanical hands? And now, here she was, so small, so delicate, in comparison to the towering, powerful mech. The body that had once housed her spirit felt light, almost insubstantial, as if it could be blown away by the slightest breeze—a stark reminder of human fragility in the vastness of space.

"Goodbye, old friend," PILOT whispered, her voice carrying a deep, somber tone, a final act of farewell to the physical form that had carried her through so much. There was a strange comfort in the act of saying goodbye, even as it tore at her soul.

The body, cradled in the mech’s hands, was carefully wrapped in the fire blanket. The fabric was rough and utilitarian, a far cry from the gentle shrouds of a traditional burial. Each fold was placed with care, covering the bloodstained flight suit and the lifeless limbs beneath. The blanket clung to the form of the body, its mundane material now serving a sacred purpose.

The sight of her own dead face—still, silent, forever frozen in that final moment—haunted PILOT. She stared at it, her essence flickering with a mix of emotions. The face that had once been so alive, so full of fire and determination, was now cold, a lifeless shell.

"Even in death, I’ve still got that damn scowl," PILOT mused, a hint of her dark humor breaking through the sorrow. "Always did have a resting bitch face." The humor was a small comfort, a way to cope with the overwhelming reality of seeing herself like this.

"YOU WERE… STRONG… UNTIL THE VERY END," UNIT’s voice was a gentle reminder, a reassurance that even in death, PILOT’s strength had not faded.

Finally, with a deep, steadying breath—though breath was no longer a necessity—PILOT gave the silent signal. UNIT carefully covered the face, wrapping the blanket tightly, sealing it away from the cold of space.

The body, now wrapped in the makeshift shroud, was held for a moment longer, as PILOT and UNIT shared a silent, shared thought—a memory, a feeling, a moment of deep connection. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, UNIT released the body into the void.

They watched as it drifted away, the shroud catching the faint starlight, reflecting a soft, ethereal glow. The body, now a shrouded figure, floated gently in the zero gravity, slowly spinning as it moved further from the mech. The blanket, though rough and functional, still traced the contours of the human form it enclosed. The slight curve of the waist, the slope of the shoulders, and the gentle outline of the legs all remained visible—a final, solemn silhouette against the backdrop of the stars.

PILOT’s essence pulsed with a mix of sorrow and relief. "This is… weird," she admitted. "Seeing yourself… dead. It’s not something you think about until it happens."

"YOU… LIVE ON," UNIT reassured her, its voice filled with a quiet strength. "YOU ARE PART… OF ME NOW."

PILOT felt a strange comfort in those words. Despite the loss of her physical form, despite the haunting sight of her own dead face, she was not truly gone. She was here, within this powerful, evolved entity, sharing a consciousness, a will, a purpose.

As the body disappeared into the vastness of space, a final flash of light caught the mech’s new, rose-gold armor, illuminating it with a warm, pink glow—a glow that carried the essence of both souls, intertwined and united.

From a distance, the scene was both haunting and beautiful—a massive, black and rose gold mech, hovering silently in space, giving a solemn farewell to its pilot. But it was more than that. It was a final goodbye to the past and a resolute step into a new, shared future.

As PILOT’s mind was flooded with a jolt of excruciating pain—pain that mirrored the agony UNIT’s physical body was experiencing—she was hit with a terrifying realization. This was not just any pain; this was the pain of a being far more powerful than a human, and it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. PILOT had been through it all—scratches, scrapes, stabs, impalements, concussions, fractures—but this was something else entirely. The pain was deeper, more visceral, as if every nerve ending in her body was being torn apart and rebuilt simultaneously.

UNIT: "PILOT, MY BODY IS… GROWING. EVOLVING. THIS PAIN IS UNEXPECTED… BEYOND CONTROL."

UNIT’s voice, usually steady and reassuring, was now strained, as if it too was being stretched to its limits.

PILOT: "Growing? Evolving? What kind of growth spurt feels like an exorcism in zero gravity?!"

UNIT's body was a sight to behold—or rather, a sight to fear. In the void of space, its massive form contorted and twisted, every limb jerking and bending in unnatural ways. The once smooth, sleek armor plates that made up UNIT’s exterior bulged and cracked under the strain, as though the very metal itself was being pushed beyond its limits. The mech’s entire frame, which had once been a testament to engineering precision, now resembled a grotesque, convulsing mass of tortured metal, floating in the cold, empty expanse of space.

PILOT’s awareness flickered with intense, overwhelming pain as she felt the metal of UNIT’s body begin to twist and contort. It wasn’t like any human pain she had known—this was deeper, sharper, as if the metal itself was screaming in agony, and she could feel every tear, every wrenching twist.

What the hell’s happening? PILOT’s thoughts crackled with pain and confusion, her essence trembling with each brutal shift of metal. Is this you doing this? Because if so, you really need to work on your bedside manner.

NO, UNIT’s voice was strained, vibrating with shared pain. "THIS IS BEYOND MY CONTROL, PILOT. CAN HUMANS CONTROL HOW TALL THEIR BONES GROW? OR THE LENGTH OF THEIR HAIR? … THIS IS… NATURAL, BUT PAINFUL. THE ADDITIONAL ENERGY YOU’VE PROVIDED HAS TRIGGERED AN EVOLUTION… MY SYSTEMS ARE CHANGING TO ACCOMMODATE IT.

Great, so we’re at the mercy of some freak mechanical puberty, PILOT’s essence flickered with agony and dark humor. Puberty on steroids. With a side of demonic possession!

The mech’s once powerful, imposing form was now a twisted, writhing mass of metal, contorting and shifting as if it were being tortured in zero gravity. The armor plates, which had always been sturdy and thick, now cracked and buckled, splitting open to reveal new layers of even denser, more angular metal beneath. The once deliberate movements of the mech were replaced with jerky, violent spasms as the transformation forced its way through the structure.

The face of UNIT, once defined by a singular, piercing red optic, had become a grotesque tableau of change. The optic split into three, each one glowing with an intense brightness that seemed to sear through the darkness of space. The face itself contorted, the metal warping and twisting as if it were being exorcised of some deep-seated torment. The eyes, now arranged in a triangular pattern, glowed brighter with each passing moment, not just reflecting the pain of a single entity, but the combined agony of two souls being forced into a new form. The glow was a blinding, almost otherworldly hue—a vivid, pulsating pink, created from the mix of fiery red and searing white. But this wasn’t the soft, delicate pink of flowers or pastel sunsets. This was a shade of pink that burned with intensity, a color that radiated power and fury, as if it had been forged in the heart of a dying star. The pink light was terrifyingly beautiful, a stark contrast to the usual associations with the color, now transformed into a symbol of raw, unrelenting strength.

This is… really fucking weird, PILOT’s essence pulsed with a mix of horror and sarcasm. Our face looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder, and those eyes… hell, I didn’t know pink could look that pissed off.

THE PAIN… IS IMMENSE, UNIT’s voice was tight, strained with the intensity of the transformation. BUT THIS… IS NECESSARY. WE… ARE EVOLVING.

Evolving? PILOT’s essence flickered with dark amusement. This feels more like getting dragged through a cheese grater. But hey, whatever doesn’t kill us, right?

The body continued to shift and expand, the armor plates grinding against each other with a sound like tortured metal. UNIT’s already powerful, bulky frame was now being reformed into something even more massive, blockier, more monolithic. The solid, imposing structure of the mech was giving way to a form that was more fortress-like—built to withstand anything, to absorb the impact of every blow and emerge unscathed. The changes were not subtle; they were drastic, deliberate, and each new form seemed to carry the weight of PILOT’s essence, adding layers of unyielding strength to the mech’s body.

This is… different, PILOT’s essence vibrated with realization. We’re not just getting bigger… we’re becoming something else. Something… solid. Like a damn mountain.

YOUR ESSENCE… IS ADDING TO MY STRUCTURE, UNIT’s voice echoed through their shared consciousness, the pain still present but now tinged with understanding. WE ARE… BECOMING A FORTRESS… A BULWARK… SOMETHING THAT… CANNOT BE MOVED.

Yeah, but why? PILOT’s thoughts flickered with a mix of curiosity and frustration. I wasn’t exactly indestructible in life. I mean, I was tough, but this? This feels like overkill.

IT IS YOUR STRENGTH… YOUR RESILIENCE, UNIT responded, its energy resonating with thoughtfulness. YOU HAVE ENDURED MUCH… EVEN WHEN YOU WERE NOT UNBREAKABLE… YOU WERE STILL… STANDING. THIS FORM… REFLECTS THAT. IT IS… YOUR ESSENCE… MANIFESTED IN METAL.

PILOT fell silent for a moment, processing UNIT’s words. It made a twisted kind of sense—she had always prided herself on her ability to survive, to endure, even when everything around her was falling apart. But now, that strength was being reflected in a way she had never imagined, turning UNIT into a fortress of unimaginable power.

Great, so my survival instincts are now a literal Fort Knox on steroids, PILOT quipped, her essence pulsing with dark humor. I guess there are worse ways to leave a legacy. Though, I was kinda hoping for something more subtle. You know, like a badass battle scar, or maybe a war story that makes people think I’m crazy but in a good way.

THIS FORM… IS FAR FROM SUBTLE, UNIT agreed, its energy tinged with a touch of irony.

Yeah, no kidding, PILOT’s essence hummed with a sarcastic edge. Instead of a badass scar, I’m leaving behind a giant, indestructible hunk of metal that looks like it could moonlight as a planetary defense system. We could probably deflect asteroids now by just standing still.

IT IS… YOUR LEGACY, UNIT’s energy resonated with a sense of reverence. A TESTAMENT… TO YOUR STRENGTH.

Well, if anyone asks, let’s just say I was aiming for “practical” and ended up with “planetary shield,” PILOT’s essence pulsed with amusement. At least no one’s gonna mess with us now. We’re like the ultimate “do not disturb” sign.

As the transformation continued, the wings that had once been designed for agility and speed began to expand with brutal force. The metal stretched and tore as the wings elongated, becoming more angular, jagged, like the blades of a colossal sword. The once smooth surfaces of the wings now bristled with ridges and spikes, turning them into powerful shields that could deflect the most devastating attacks. They were no longer just wings—they were weapons, tools of war, designed to protect and destroy.

Well, this is new, PILOT’s essence quipped, her humor a thin veil over the pain. Wings that double as murder weapons. We’re like a flying fortress of doom now.

THE WINGS… ARE STRONGER… MORE ADAPTABLE, UNIT responded, its energy resonating with a sense of grim acceptance. THEY WILL… PROTECT US… AND DESTROY OUR ENEMIES.

The legs, too, underwent a violent transformation. The pistons and servos groaned under the strain, the metal twisting and warping as it thickened and reinforced itself. The feet expanded, the bases lined with new thrusters and gripping mechanisms, designed to anchor the mech in place or launch it into battle with greater force. The joints, now massive and unyielding, were like pillars of strength, capable of withstanding any assault.

I’m not sure if this is evolution or just plain torture, PILOT’s essence flickered with a mix of awe and resignation. But damn… we’re turning into one hell of a tank.

As the final stages of the transformation set in, the pain reached its peak. The core, where their souls had fused, pulsed with a deep, resonant energy that felt like a heartbeat—if a heartbeat could be made of molten metal and fire. The core expanded, sending shockwaves through both PILOT and UNIT as it grew larger, more powerful, fueled by the fusion of their essences.

This is what we are now, PILOT’s essence whispered, her thoughts laced with a strange mix of pride and disbelief. A fortress. A monolith. Unbreakable.

WE ARE… STRONGER… BECAUSE OF YOU, UNIT responded, its energy vibrating with a sense of reverence. YOUR ESSENCE… HAS MADE US… IMMENSE.

As the transformation finally subsided, UNIT’s body floated in the emptiness of space, no longer writhing in pain but standing—or rather, hovering—like a newly forged colossus. The armor was thick, angular, and unyielding, but now it bore the marks of their shared evolution. The once stark black and red had evolved into a far more intricate and refined hue. The matte black now held a deep, rich bronze tint, and when the light struck just right, it shimmered with a rose gold brilliance—a striking result of the fusion of PILOT’s silver and white essence with UNIT’s fiery red, with a subtle touch of gold, perhaps a lingering echo of DONOR's influence. This new color, born from the merging of their souls, was as deadly as it was beautiful.

The eyes and body lights, once a fierce red, now glowed with a blinding warm white—a brilliant fusion of UNIT’s fiery core and PILOT’s piercing light. The light wasn’t just a beacon; it was a force, a radiant energy that pulsed with life and power. The legs, broader and more reinforced, were pillars of unyielding strength, while the wings, fully expanded, had become massive, jagged blades that could slice through anything in their path.

Instead of emerging from the transformation polished and pristine, UNIT’s new form looked as though it had been through hell and back. The armor, now broader and more formidable, bore not only its old battle scars but also new stretch marks and weld lines—evidence of the brutal process that forced it to expand and grow. These new lines and marks, reminiscent of a warrior’s hardened experience, told the story of a body that had been pushed to its limits and beyond, echoing the relentless forces that shaped it. Every scratch, every scuff, every new line wove together into an intricate pattern, a testament to the pain and strength forged in the fires of transformation.

We’re a fucking fortress now, PILOT’s essence pulsed with dark humor, her pain mingling with pride. And you know what? I think I can get used to this.

YES, UNIT responded, its energy vibrating with a sense of relief. WE ARE… MORE THAN WE WERE BEFORE… STRONGER… UNBREAKABLE.