A combat doll with multiple modules.
Its primary one has two modes: one each for being on and off the battlefield. One that handles combat and the other that sits for briefings and debriefings. Their functions are intertwined. They swap seamlessly, the change so smooth and gradual one would never know they were separate.
Its secondary one operates during downtime and when handling civilians. Hiding its bolts and wires under shirts and coats, they could almost pretend to be a person, compassionate and kind and full of joy and whimsy. It swaps to this module on occasion if its squadron or handler need a moralle boost from its wit and care. In rare times of peace, this module also ensures it isn't lost or restless like its peers.
There is no third module.
There is no broken child hidden within its circutry. There is no person that died to create it. There is no being that begged to be destroyed and remade from the ground up because existing as they were was too painful to endure. There is no ghost or spirit lingering, longing to be touched or seen once more, perhaps by gentler hands and kinder eyes. There is no captive wolf, no swatted spider, no snuffed candle, no blinded eye.
Indeed, there is no third module.
There is no fourth module, either, that ensures neither the other modules nor their superiors find out.
As far as the combat doll is concerned, it is a whole entity, one made for war. The modules are just that: modules. Modes of operation that carry out its Purpose. Its Purpose that it must fulfill at all costs.
Or else the third module would
There is no third module.
