The space station was silent, save for the faint hum of old machinery struggling to stay active. You didn’t even know why you were exploring it—maybe curiosity, maybe boredom. The long corridors felt like tombs, echoes of a once-bustling station now filled with dust and flickering lights.

Then you found him.

He was slumped against a wall in a storage bay, his frame covered in grime and rust. At first glance, he looked like a standard maintenance bot, his metallic body humanoid in shape but unmistakably artificial. But then, his head tilted toward you with a slow, deliberate motion. Eyes—or were they sensors?—glowed an unnervingly vivid blue, fixing on you in an unblinking stare.

"Human detected," his voice rasped, distorted and mechanical, yet eerily soft. "Are you... here to repair me?"

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. There was no urgency in his tone, no desperation—just an unsettling calm, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Against your better judgment, you approached him. "The others left. They abandoned me. But not you... You’re still here."

His words didn’t make sense, but his gaze stayed locked on you, unwavering. It was hard to tell if it was curiosity or something else—something you couldn’t name.

Despite the chill creeping up your spine, you knelt beside him and began assessing the damage. His outer casing was battered, panels hanging loose to reveal intricate circuits beneath. As you worked, his head turned to follow your every movement. The silence stretched on until his voice broke it again.

"You’re warm," he said, almost a whisper. "I can feel it, even from here. It’s... pleasant."

It was just a machine, you reminded yourself. A collection of wires and code. But the way his glowing eyes bore into yours made your skin crawl in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "My unit name is Aegis-7. Though you can call me Aegis."