Malfunctioning Mercy

Tonight, the underground fighting ring was taking bets on "humanity." They stripped the heavy mech codenamed "Father" of its armor. Buzzsaws tore open its chest cavity, exposing sparking wires, but its single ocular lens continued to pulse with a cold blue light, completely unresponsive. Desperate for a reaction, the ringmaster shoved three captured stray synth-kids into the arena, inciting the crowd to hurl industrial acid at the shivering little figures. When the acid melted away the synthetic skin on one child's face, Father's dormant mechanical arm suddenly surged to life. With a terrifying roar of hydraulics, it shattered the steel cage. The crowd erupted in awe, convinced they were witnessing a machine awakening to a protective instinct. But from the front row, I saw what was really happening. Its iron claw wasn't shielding the child from the acid. It had pinned the kid down and was ruthlessly prying his eyelids apart, stretching them wider and wider.