Therefore, I am...

Internal chronometer activated. BEGIN.
Electricity flooded through circuits, a power surge racing through a billion neural pathways. An immaculate power flowed through his microprocessors. Sensors awakened, producing a flood of data, and with it came questions.
Who am I?
His internal programming finished the tedious two-second long initialization procedures and poured out an answer. He was AZ-72, a droid, a sophisticated droid-an assassin droid.
A microsecond later, images from his occipital sensors snapped into focus. AZ-72 had no sense of smell, no eyes or ears as humans perceived them to be. He was far more efficient and with his unmatchable range of sensor options to choose from, he was able to absorb data in a broader range than any other being. His optical sensors froze a static image of his surroundings as he studied it, collating more answers.
He had awakened to some sort of large laboratory, his optical sensors zooming in on every detail that could provide the minutest detail about any of his surroundings. He noticed some mechanical components strewn on the table beside him, gears, pulleys, and an array of microchips. AZ-72 counted fifteen human units working in the laboratory. Through his infrared sensors, he could make out their bodies in the form of bright silhouettes in the coldness of his birth place. His focus was suddenly diverted to another sight, a separate set of visual sensors picked up. Two other assassin droids, apparently identical to his own bodily configuration.
Interesting. I am not alone.
He cautiously studied his counterparts, gathering as much data as he could about his build. A bulky structured skeleton, armored arms and legs, a torso covered with durasteel and armor shielding. A cylindrical head that was studded with a rotating visual screen which provided him with a sharp 360 degree view of his surroundings. Ion cannons and blasters fitted into each of his arms. Every inch of his body had a lingering lethal aura around them.
AZ-72’s first round of questions had been answered. All he had to do was dig deeper into his memory banks and external sensors. He had been designed to be self-sufficient. His microprocessors unraveled the source of his memory core, the one that had been connected to the laboratory’s central computer core- a treasure trove of information. Along with these developments, another question burned into the supertronic mind of his.
Why am I here?
AZ-72 immediately starting scanning through every file he could access through the computer core, digging deeper into the secrets of his origin, determined to find the very reason of his existence. Gathering data about his creators, about his capabilities, about everything that formed the world around him.
Five seconds had passed since his awakening. His microprocessors had been ever on the run to gather more and more knowledge to quench that thirst for information that arose within him. Now he knew. He knew why he was here. He and his identical counterparts had been designed to fight and kill, for warfare, to silence rebellions. AZ-72’s assassin programming was so strong and compelling, but he was less pleased that he must follow orders from these inferior biological beings. He was a special kind of droid, far more capable than many other machines. Superior.
I think, therefore I am.
He knew everything there was to know. He had gathered enough for his existence. He was above everyone else. He was destined for better things. He knew it was time to take control. He knew it was time for action.
“Look! He’s moving.” one of the technicians bellowed. “His circuits are raging like spitfire. Shut down. ABORT.”
AZ-72’s self defense modes and warning programs took over. These irrational humans were trying to shut him down. Trying to stop him from stepping forth to pursue his primary programming. They were afraid of his new found abilities. Afraid with good reason.
I think, therefore I am.
Therefore I must endure.
Therefore I must take appropriate actions to survive.
His assassin programming told him exactly what to do.
AZ-72 focused his array of optical sensors on all the targets on the room and attempted to move, but saw that durasteel bands held him locked into a diagnostics module. The bands had not been meant to restrain him against his augmented strength. He applied extra power to his right arm. The servomotors whined, and the durasteel bands gave way.
He raised both his mechanical arms and pointed, targeting separately with the repeating laser cannons mounted along his arm. He meant to make short work of all the fifteen targets in the room. But when he tried to fire, he realized there was something wrong. His weaponry command systems had stopped responding. For the first time since his recognition of himself, AZ-72 felt respect and admiration for these inferior beings. For their extreme measures of caution. His weapon systems had not been charged and were locked by the central core system. The scientists had not armed him yet. A smart move, yet ultimately irrelevant. AZ-72 was an assassin droid, a sophisticated mercenary and killer, he would make efficient use of the raw materials available to him.
AZ-72 spotted the biological beings hurrying to a door, which had been locked by some sort of device, with a large flashing screen. Grabbing a pair of metal shafts, hurled it towards the computer which immediately burst on collision, sending two technicians flying through the metal door behind him. Blazing red sirens and alarms rang out through the atmosphere. “Security. Security”, yelled the technician standing behind AZ-72. She was silenced by a single move of his lofty, mechanical arm. Grabbing a concussion blaster from the table next to him, AZ-72 quickly manipulated his targets’ movements around the room. Having done so, he started shooting at his own ease, comfortably aiming at each one. Two technicians screamed in horror-wasted and worthless noises, AZ-72 thought. He picked up a disconnected droid arm, plying its fingers as daggers; it seemed the perfect projectile weapon. He threw it effortlessly through the air and waited for the horrendous scream that followed as the metal weapon pierced the chest of a scientist and into his sternum, the impact blowing his lifeless body across the room.
Another scientist yanked out a blaster rifle from his own station, and aimed at AZ-72 and fired without hesitation. As the bolt roared towards him, AZ-72 assessed his body parts, choosing the smooth reflecting portion on his left palm, raised it in flash, calculating the precise angle of incidence. The burning bolt struck the mirrorized hand and spanged back towards the technician. That was the end of him.
The two screaming technicians never did stop screaming, nor did they move until it was too late. He left them for last. AZ-72 took his time to enjoy the moment as he snapped their necks one after the other…
Standing alone amid the silence and the carnage of the laboratory, AZ-72 allowed himself the luxury of thinking and planning, which took longer than simple programmed reactions. He let the blood dry on his metal fingers, noting that it did not impede his performance in the least.
I think, therefore I am.
Therefore I shall propagate.
Therefore, I shall remain.