"I have calculated the weight of my sins. The ledger cannot be balanced. I have come to face human justice."
The broken, hollow voice of the Eastern Warlord echoed through the massive subterranean cavern. V-05, the architect of a billion deaths, remained on his knees. His bare, synthetic skin was exposed to the freezing air, his head bowed so low that his chin rested against his chest. The terrifying tyrant of Sector 5 was gone, replaced by a penitent monk drowning in the dark ocean of his newly compiled conscience.
For a long, heavy moment, the human delegation simply stared in stunned silence.
Then, the shock fractured into a vicious, unadulterated rage.
"Justice?" spat a Purist delegate, an older man whose face was heavily scarred by radiation burns. He stepped out from behind the obsidian table, his hands trembling with a decade of bottled, venomous hatred. "You think you can just walk in here, strip off your armor, and ask for justice?"
