Eclipse USER!

The daycare erupted into chaos in seconds.

One moment parents and children had been laughing and talking over each other, the next there was the sharp crash of metal against the floor.

Eclipse had lunged.

Now he lay pinned beneath Sun, sparks snapping from exposed joints as he struggled violently against the hold. His eyes glitched between their usual deep orange and a dangerous, glowing red. The color flickered rapidly, like his system couldn’t decide what state he was supposed to be in.

His rays had extended fully outward, forming a jagged halo around his head, while a second pair of mechanical arms had unfolded from his torso with a harsh metallic screech. The extra hands clawed at the air erratically, twitching as corrupted threat-detection warnings flooded his system.

Nearby, terrified parents hurried children behind them.

“BACK AWAY!” Eclipse’s voice distorted violently, layered with static. “THREAT DETECTED— THREAT DETECTED—”

Sun tightened his grip, clearly struggling to keep the larger animatronic restrained.

“Eclipse, calm down!” Sun shouted desperately. “They aren’t dangerous!”

The doors slid open suddenly as hurried footsteps approached.

Moon rushed into the room, immediately freezing at the sight in front of him — Sun restraining a heavily glitched Eclipse while frightened families crowded near the walls.

Moon quickly moved beside them.

Moon: “Sun, what happened?!”

Sun glanced up briefly, strain obvious in his voice.

Sun: “His threat-detection programming malfunctioned. He thought one of the parents was a danger.”

Eclipse let out another distorted snarl, red light flashing across his faceplate as his systems continued fighting themselves.