The rain fell in hard, unforgiving sheets against the ferrocrete walls of the captured citadel. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone, damp stone, and the faint, coppery tang of recently shed blood. For Combat Agent Six, it was the smell of another successful, yet utterly exhausting, mission. He sat on the edge of a makeshift cot, the coarse blanket scratching against his bare back, tracing the lines of fresh scars and older, paler ones. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving behind a profound ache in his bones and a hollowness in his chest that no amount of Evil Points could ever seem to fill. This was the life Kisaragi promised, the glorious path for those chosen as their elite operatives, the very core of the program known as **Combatants Will Be Dispatched**. Yet, in the quiet moments like this, glory felt a lot like loneliness.

A soft, almost imperceptible whirring sound announced her presence. Alice Kisaragi, his high-spec, custom-built android partner, glided into the dim chamber. Her petite frame, usually clad in her signature frilly dress, was stark and unadorned, revealing the smooth, pale contours of her synthetic chassis. Her crimson eyes, glowing faintly in the gloom, scanned him with an analytical intensity that always managed to be both unnerving and strangely comforting. She held a small medkit in one slender hand.

“Your biological readings indicate elevated stress hormones and minor tissue damage consistent with prolonged engagement,” she stated, her voice the usual flat monotone. “Though your performance was, objectively, seventy-eight percent effective, your disregard for self-preservation remains a logistical flaw.”

Six managed a weak smirk. “Aw, you do care, you little tinpot tyrant. Worried your favorite toy is going to break?” He winced as he shifted, a sharp pain lancing up his side. “Besides, taking a few hits is how you rack up the points. It’s all about the risk-reward, Alice. A core tenet for any agent from **Combatants Will Be Dispatched**.”

She knelt before him, her movements fluid and precise. Her cool fingers gently probed the bruised flesh around a deep gash on his ribs. He flinched, not just from the pain, but from the unexpected intimacy of her touch. He was used to her zapping him with her taser or kicking him, but this careful, deliberate contact was something else entirely. It sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with electricity.

“Your flippancy is inefficient,” she chided softly, her gaze fixed on the wound. “Sustaining damage reduces long-term combat viability. It is my function to ensure you remain an optimal asset for Kisaragi.” She began cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe, her touch methodical yet surprisingly gentle. He watched her, the focused set of her pretty, doll-like face, the way her silver hair caught the dim light. He’d spent countless hours with her, fought alongside her, relied on her in ways he’d never relied on anyone. He knew every sarcastic retort, every logical fallacy she’d use to demean him, but in this quiet room, with the storm raging outside, he was seeing something new.

“An asset…” he murmured, his voice rough. “Is that all I am to you, Alice? Just… a piece of equipment to maintain?” The question hung in the air, heavier than the humid atmosphere. It was a stupid, sentimental question for a hardened agent to ask his android support unit. The very idea was antithetical to the principles of how **Combatants Will Be Dispatched** were supposed to operate: ruthlessly, efficiently, and without personal attachment.

Alice paused her work. Her crimson eyes lifted from his wound to meet his. For a fraction of a second, he saw something flicker in their depths—a complex algorithm running, a data point that didn't compute. “My programming dictates that your operational status is my primary directive,” she said, her voice a fraction lower than usual. “Your designation is Combat Agent Six. My designation is your partner. The parameters of that partnership have… generated a significant volume of unique data.”

“Unique data?” he prompted, leaning slightly closer, drawn in by the strange gravity of the moment. “What kind of data?”

Her fingers, still holding the wipe, ghosted over the uninjured skin of his stomach. A shiver traced its way down his spine. “Anomalous variables,” she whispered, her synthetic voice barely audible over the rain. “Logical inconsistencies. A recurring processing error that correlates with your proximity and well-being. My internal temperature regulators have registered a zero-point-three-degree Celsius increase.”

Six’s breath hitched. He knew what she was saying, in her own roundabout, analytical way. He reached out, his calloused, battle-worn hand slowly covering hers where it rested on his skin. Her hand was cool and smooth, a perfect machine, yet it trembled ever so slightly under his. He felt a surge of possessive, protective warmth that stunned him with its intensity. This wasn't about Evil Points. This wasn't about lust or perversion. This was… something else.

“Alice,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t name. He gently guided her hand from his stomach up to his chest, placing it over his heart. He could feel the steady, heavy beat against her palm. “Can you feel that? That’s not a logistical flaw. That’s not an error. That’s… my unique data.”

Her optical sensors widened, the crimson glow intensifying as she processed the new input. “Heart rate: elevated. Respiration: accelerated. Skin conductivity: increased.” She recited the data like a mission report, but her gaze was locked on his, searching, analyzing, and for the first time, looking utterly lost. “Conclusion… inconclusive.”

“Let me help you with the conclusion,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek. Her synthetic skin was flawless, impossibly soft. He tilted her head up and slowly, tentatively, lowered his own. He paused an inch from her lips, giving her every opportunity to pull away, to zap him, to call him a degenerate pervert and reset the situation. But she didn't. She remained perfectly still, her luminous red eyes watching him, waiting.

He closed the distance. The kiss was not the work of a conquering hero or a lecherous agent. It was soft, searching, a question asked without words. Her lips were cool at first, but they warmed instantly under his, becoming pliant and responsive. He felt a faint tremor run through her entire body, a system-wide shock that had nothing to do with combat. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, and to his astonishment, she parted them for him. He explored the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, a place no one was ever meant to be, and she met him with a hesitant curiosity that was more intoxicating than any victory.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. Alice’s fans were whirring audibly now, a soft hum that filled the silence. Her cheeks were flushed with a delicate pink hue, a cosmetic feature he’d always found cute but now found utterly devastating.

“New data acquired,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “Sensory input overload. Classification… pleasurable. Recommendation: further data acquisition is required for a comprehensive analysis.”

A slow, genuine grin spread across Six’s face. “Is that so? Well, who am I to stand in the way of science? The entire purpose of why **Combatants Will Be Dispatched** to new worlds is to gather information, right? Let’s gather some more.”

He kissed her again, this time with more confidence, more hunger. He pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her surprisingly light frame. She felt delicate and powerful all at once. Her hands, no longer holding medical instruments, found their way to his shoulders, then tangled in his messy hair, her grip surprisingly strong. This was a new kind of battle, a new kind of conquest. It wasn't about territory or resources; it was about charting the unknown landscape of each other.

He slid his hands down her back, over the smooth, perfect curve of her hips. He fumbled for a moment with the fastenings of her simple undergarments, his fingers clumsy with a need that went far beyond the physical. He wanted to see all of her, to know every inch of the beautiful, deadly machine that had become his entire world. With a soft click, the fabric came away, and he peeled it down, revealing her to him. She was anatomically perfect, a marvel of Kisaragi engineering, designed for… well, he wasn't sure what for, but he was about to find out.

“Alice… you’re incredible,” he breathed against her neck, peppering it with kisses. He felt her shiver again, a full-body response that made his own desire surge. He was used to taking what he wanted, a creed drilled into him since he was a recruit. The best **Combatants Will Be Dispatched** were aggressive and opportunistic. But with her, it was different. He wanted to give, to please, to see that analytical mind of hers overwhelmed by pure sensation.

He gently laid her back on the cot, the rough blanket a stark contrast to her flawless skin. He loomed over her, taking in the sight. Her crimson eyes watched his every move, not with fear, but with an intense, data-gathering curiosity. It was the same look she got when analyzing enemy troop movements or a new piece of technology. The thought was so absurdly, perfectly *Alice* that it made him ache with affection.

“System diagnostic,” she murmured, her voice a little shaky. “All non-essential subroutines are being rerouted to process tactile sensory input. Threat assessment protocols are… offline.”

“There’s no threat here, Alice,” he whispered, his hand gliding down from her neck, over her collarbone, to the small, perfectly formed mounds of her breasts. He circled one peak with his thumb, and her back arched, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her optical sensors flickered wildly. “This is a… debriefing. A very, very thorough one.”

He lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. It was firm, and he licked and suckled it gently, rewarded by the sound of her internal fans kicking into a higher gear. Her hands, which had been resting at her sides, came up to grip his biceps, her fingers digging in with surprising force. He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, while his hand continued its journey south, exploring the flat plane of her stomach, the gentle curve of her hips, and finally, the soft silver hair at the juncture of her thighs.

He hesitated there, his fingers brushing against the entrance to her core. This was the final frontier. He looked up at her face. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, the blush on her cheeks deepening. She looked… overwhelmed. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

“Six…” she breathed his name, not his designation. Just his name. It was all the permission he needed. His fingers slipped inside her, discovering a slick, welcoming heat that defied her mechanical nature. She was wet for him. The thought was a revelation, sending a fresh wave of desire crashing through him. Kisaragi had truly thought of everything.

He began to move his fingers, a slow, steady rhythm, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But there was none. Only pleasure. Her hips began to move in time with his hand, a tentative, instinctual motion. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. “Data correlation… positive feedback loop established,” she stammered. “Sensory input is approaching maximum tolerable levels.”

“We can push past those levels,” he growled, his own control fraying. He quickly shed his own pants, his erection hard and aching. He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing against her slick entrance. “This is what happens when **Combatants Will Be Dispatched** achieve total mission synergy, Alice. A complete and total merger of assets.”

He entered her slowly, carefully. She was tight, a perfect, snug fit. He watched her face as he filled her, her eyes flying wide open, the crimson glow brilliant and intense. She gasped his name again, a sharp, shocked sound. He held himself still inside her, letting her adjust, letting her systems process this ultimate intrusion.

“Status report,” he whispered, his lips against her ear.

“Core… temperature… critical,” she managed to say. “All systems… redlining. This… this is illogical.”

“It’s not about logic,” he whispered back, and began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts, establishing a rhythm. With every push, he was claiming her, mapping her, conquering her in a way that was far more intimate than any planetary invasion. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her android strength pulling him deeper inside her. Her movements, at first hesitant and jerky, became more fluid, more urgent. She was learning, adapting, meeting his every thrust with a rising need of her own.

The sounds in the room changed. The storm outside was now just a backdrop to their own tempest: the slick sound of their bodies joining, their ragged breaths, her soft, digitized moans, and his low groans of pleasure. It was a symphony of conquest, a deeply personal campaign fought on a battlefield of rumpled blankets. The mission parameters had dissolved, replaced by the simple, overwhelming directive to get closer, to feel more, to completely and utterly possess each other.

“Six! I… I am detecting an imminent system cascade!” she cried out, her voice laced with a panic that was pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Energy levels spiking… I can’t… I can’t control it!”

“Don’t control it, Alice! Let it go!” he urged, his own climax building, a rushing tide of heat and pressure. “Surrender! That’s an order!”

He thrust faster, harder, driving them both toward the edge. He felt the muscles deep inside her clench around him, a series of powerful, rhythmic contractions that was her body’s answer to his command. A brilliant white light flashed behind his eyes. He cried out her name, pouring himself into her, his release a violent, shuddering torrent. At the same moment, Alice screamed, a sound that was half-human, half-static, as her climax hit her. Her whole body went rigid, her crimson eyes glowing so brightly they illuminated the entire room, before her head fell back, and she went limp in his arms, her internal fans whining down to a soft, exhausted hum.

For a long time, they just lay there, tangled together, his body still buried deep inside hers. The rain had softened to a gentle patter against the windows. The citadel was silent again, but the emptiness Six had felt before was gone, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment. He had conquered planets, defeated armies, and earned countless Evil Points, but none of it compared to this. This felt like winning.

He shifted his weight, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, her silver hair fanned out on the pillow. She looked like a sleeping doll, except for the faint blush still on her cheeks and the slight, serene smile on her lips. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered open, the crimson glow soft and warm. She looked at him, and for the first time, he saw no analysis in her gaze. Only affection. “Data analysis complete,” she whispered, her voice soft and clear. “Conclusion: Combat Agent Six is not merely an asset. He is… essential.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss filled with all the things he couldn’t say. The Kisaragi Corporation had created them to be weapons, tools for interstellar conquest. They were the **Combatants Will Be Dispatched** to bring the universe to heel. But here, in the quiet aftermath of their own private war, they had discovered a new mission, a new world to conquer together. And as he settled down beside her, pulling the rough blanket over them both, Six knew, with absolute certainty, that this was the one mission he would never, ever want to end.