Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

N doesn’t remember the air being this tense. 

A combined weight well over one ton landed softly on fresh snow, a resounding thud shaking their collective frames as the disassembly drone deactivated the anti-gravity thrusters on his wings, the smooth, ultra-thin metallic folding back into his body. He frowned as the landing pod came into view.

The Spire felt different from before. Instead of a soft underglow of satisfaction from a job well done, all he felt was guilt. Before, it was a checkpoint— a resting point to plan and bide their time ‘till the sun went down, salivating over the next Worker Drone. The next one to disassem—... murder, he mentally corrected. Murder. Because that’s what it was to him now. Before, it was just protocol. A directive— a job. The Worker Drone scraps surrounding him were just that: empty scraps, oil-less. But now?

…

…All he could see were corpses.

Now that his synthetic adrenaline wore off, or maybe because he’s paying more attention to her, N noticed how Uzi tensed on his shoulders as the spire shone ominously in the sunlight. The bodies weren’t just stacked— they were spread all around, too. Some were not even given the dignity to be set aside or buried in the thick layers of snow. A lens here, a head there, a few fingers and arms. Piles and piles… dry of oil.

All caused by him, because he was worthless and terrible—.

He shook his head. No. That’s what J always said. Still need to work on that…

N felt something leave him as Uzi hopped off his shoulders. Was it… warmth? N checked his sensors. No, he had maintained a near-constant temperature the whole time (stalwartly ignoring the tenth of a degree increase, a never-ending reminder of his need for oil). Yet, somehow, inexplicably, he felt something leave his core as her touch left him. She stepped in front of him, carefully avoiding Worker Drone scrap as she veered towards the one-way missile. He flicked his nanite injector in front of her, moving an almost fully articulated Worker Drone— likely one of his kills, then— out of the way in order to clear a path.

He flinched as Uzi turned on her heel sharply, looking at him over her shoulders, words icy and sharp, “Don’t do that!’

For the first words she could’ve said since they got back, he wasn’t expecting that. N could only find enough sense to nod sheepishly, not quite understanding what he did wrong.

…

He blanched.

You just punted a corpse, you idiot.

He could’ve lifted it, asked Uzi first, or done anything more respectful. Instead, he barely gave it a second thought, sweeping the cadaver out of the way without even glancing at it. Like it was trash. Like it meant nothing.

It meant everything to her. 

N followed along, trailing further than he would’ve liked but intended to all the same. With a grunt, Uzi pried the unpowered sliding doors open, revealing the insides of the cockpit. His superior auditory sensors allowed him to hear the microscopic hissing of hydraulics, her frame minutely relaxing now that they were out of sight of the bodies. He tilted his head, finding the action odd. She moved like clockwork, now. Without a moment’s hesitation she eyed the consol, completely relaxed, prying open a seemingly worthless panel. Why would she—? “Comms relay. Or rather, a lack of a comms relay,” she declared, reading his thoughts. She muttered to herself, already immersed in her work. “As if we didn’t need more evidence you were sent here to die.”

She’s… so relaxed.

Despite only knowing her for a few hours, N couldn’t help but think it was unlike her. He was a Disassembly Drone. She was his target. Why is she so… at ease? His LEDs blinked, realizing her hand was outstretched, silently asking for a wrench. His scanners instantly spotted one inside a case on a nearby wall, somehow unscratched from when he crashed the ship.

…Do I make her relaxed?

Without thinking, N placed the wrench in her hand. His sensors barely caught the end tail of what Uzi was saying— something about scrounging the nearby area to make a toolbox since she couldn’t go back to the bunker. It would take more than a simple wrench to repair a spacecraft, after all.  (She could go to the bunker to acquire the tools ; it’s not like there was anything stopping her, but he wasn’t going to mention that. Not worth risking her ire). 

She worked, as per her namesake, and N suddenly felt out of place in every way but literal. He bobbed on his soles, eyes jumping around every which way. They fell into an awkward silence, unlike their comfortable one when they flew back to the Spire. When the wind was whipping wildly through their white wears, it was peaceful and serene. The ringed planet above reminded him of a similar world back in Sol’s system. He overheard it once when his systems were undergoing diagnostics— named after a Roman god of time and liberation. What did they call it… Saturn? He shook his head, breaking his digress.

Unlike their surreal journey back to the Spire, his core felt like the human equivalent to sheepish. He swore Uzi could feel it too, barely acknowledging him.

… What do we even talk about?

He ended up offering his pilot seat to her, not only because she was already sitting on it, but because J and V’s were either wrecked beyond recognition or torn to shreds in a fit of mania and or sadism (guess who caused that).

He squeaked, catching his restless nanite injector before it could stab him through the forearm again. N returned his LEDs’ gaze to Uzi.

What the—?!

N blinked, his arm already raised, a missile loaded into one of his many weapon compartments. He gasped, forcing himself to relax as he realized the nanite injector at the end of his tail was taut, poised to pierce the core of the Worker Drone in front of him. Against all advice from his automatic systems, he willed the launcher back into humanoid hands. However, despite his best efforts, the glowing, angry “ TARGET LOCK” symbol around her refused to yield, the alarm loud on top of his HUD.

This will… take some getting used to.

It took him nearly four seconds to even realize what he was doing…

By some miracle, Uzi didn’t notice her near death experience, growling in frustration as she glared at the lack of comms relay and other crucial auxiliaries. Plus, most of the cockpit was in complete disrepair, and that was putting it lightly. The console was blanketed with a layer of ash and rust. There were sparks, loose debris, and shards of quartz glass strewn about everywhere. The Murder Drone wanted to help , but he didn’t know how. Plus, he had a sinking feeling in the center of his core that Uzi wanted to be alone while she worked…

He piped up, “I can, uh, leave if you’d like? I understand if I’m distracting you…” N scratched the back of his head, a bit downtrodden. He couldn’t imagine having a mass murderer behind her was putting her at ease. Please, please, please say yes!

Uzi startled, dropping the wrench she was carrying. It fell with a ringing clang as she stood, turning to face him with her neon purple eyes. “No no,” she motioned with her hands, closing the distance between them. “N, I’m not mad at you— just this stupid wiring system.” She kicked one of the panels out of pure frustration to emphasize her point. The goth blinked. “Actually… hauling all the spare parts we’re going to need is going to take a lot of time.” She grinned wryly at him, placing her knuckles on her hips, a smirk on her screen as she tilted her head. “Think you can help with that?”

Taking any excuse to leave, N gave her a wobbly smile and a mock salute, antigrav thrusters already humming on the hinges of his razor-sharp wings, unfurling in a flash. N chose to ignore how Uzi’s eyes hollowed out, her form going silent as his wingspan filled the cockpit. He ascended, disappearing through the opening, the familiar glow of the ringed planet above filling his vision. I can be helpful, he thought. I always want to do my best.

She didn’t even get to call out to him, unable to tell him what specific parts they needed. 

He ignored his thermo sensors as they alerted him to another tenth of a degree increase, hastened by the activation of his wings. The icon on his HUD began to steadily turn from green to yellow.

N flew off too quickly to notice Uzi staring at where he was once standing, flakes of snow left in his wake as she fastened her railgun a bit tighter on her back.

The normally boisterous girl visibly deflated.

“Don’t leave too fast…”

She shivered. It was pretty cold in the cockpit…

She turned her attention to the console, beginning any meager repairs she could.

Part of what made the planet’s star so dangerous wasn’t the light itself, but the proximity. 

Copper-9 orbited exceedingly close to its host. Not only that, it didn’t have a seasonal axial tilt either, meaning that the same side of the surface was perpetually faced toward the fiery giant. The same reason the nights were so arctic— the thin atmosphere— was the same reason the temperatures were searing during the day. Temperatures constantly fluctuated between -107 and 30 degrees Celsius— a temperature that would normally be considered toasty to humans, but to him, it was like he was dying. 

Well, he thought. I am dying.

He zipped from building to building, precise in his movements. Not a single flap of his wings could be wasted. N could feel it— the molecules in his body jittering and vibrating more and more, the heat building in the core of his frame. Any snow that grazed his body instantly vaporized. He eyed the white powder.

Wait a second…

In a moment of infinite wisdom, N scooped up some snow and plopped it into his mouth, swallowing.

A few moments later, he staggered, falling to his hands and knees as he hacked up steam. 

“Idea noted,” he coughed, hoarse.

He slowed his flight, more of a hover across the city skyline than a zip through winds. His scanners surveyed the landscape, hoping to find a spare Worker Drone corpse. He pursed his lips. It was impossible to go back to killing; he couldn’t. Not with Uzi in his life. The idea of continuing to kill, to satisfy, to quench his eternal thirst… he hated it. A visible shudder went down his spine at the thought of delicious oil. His only hope now was to find one of V’s messy kills. If he was lucky, it could fill him up, at least for a little while.

As the star sank deeper below the horizon, he switched to night vision, the planet going dark. Street lamps sparked and lit up at random intervals, the last dregs of electricity seeping through. N shuddered, his eyes bleary. His stable flight fell a few centimeters, and he startled awake.

Suddenly, the loneliness of the world felt crippling. Gales howled in his sensors, the blizzard conditions doing little to cool him. He was a ball of steam alone in this world. V was tied up, most of the Worker Drones on the surface were either dead or in hiding, and J was—...

Oh.

He almost forgot.

J’s dead.

N sucked in a breath, wondering if Uzi felt this way when she left the bunker with him. 

Self-imposed exile sucked.

At least we have each other. Right?

N’s sensors sharpened, a dull yellow outline appearing on one of his many electromagnetic sensors. He’d long switched to infrared after the sun went down. Oil appeared better this way. It retained the heat well— warm and sweet, just how he liked it. He spotted a kill, dismembered limbs all strewn about in the snow, entrail splattered across the wall. Definitely one of V’s. His flat soles landed softly yet crunched like an earthquake due to the flakes of white. N felt his frown deepen as he gazed longingly over the body like a man looking into an empty well. Over a few spots of yellowish-red appeared on his HUD, the poor drone sucked dry of oil. 

He paused as he turned away, deciding to look at the body more closely. N squinted at the name tag just above the drone’s left breast. The name itself had been weathered but the occupation was still there. “Miner,” it read. He wondered if V even knew who the drone was. Maybe they died while digging out the bunker where Uzi’s dad lives. Maybe he killed them, and doesn’t even remember. Either way, it left a horrible feeling in his core.

Seeing them up close only cemented his decision to leave with Uzi.

He hissed as he unfurled his wings again, the appendages mimicking his hissing as they touched the falling snow, instantly vaporizing it. The action took considerable effort, a few more moments passing as he loosened the ultra-thin feathers. With a grunt, he propelled himself into the air again. Antigrav thrusters groaned angrily, his frame shivering with exertion. N can’t remember the last time he felt so slow. Not just physically, but mentally, too. Everything was slowing down, his flight noticeable dragging, limbs moving sluggishly, all an attempt by his automatic systems to keep his temperature down.

Half of him was split between wanting to see Uzi again and actually finding some oil. He was quickly realizing that finding bodies with anything more than a few drops was a luxury. He continued on, growing more desperate with each cadaver splotched with yellow on his infrared, endlessly teasing him. The urgency was getting to him— he can’t go back empty handed. Not after his systems almost automatically killed Uzi. She doesn’t even realize how dangerous he is. He didn’t know what would happen if he saw a live Worker Drone again. What if the target lock goes off on its own? Is it possible for him to… lose control? N can’t remember a situation where he was oil-starved. 

The sensation might be so overpowering, he might… he might kill her—.

The drone furiously shook his head. 

I won’t let that happen.

…

…But what’s the alternative?

There wasn’t one. 

After hours of flying, N’s body forced him to land. Warnings displayed on his HUD before his wings unceremoniously retracted, his body plummeting like a stone. His systems were so lethargic he didn’t even notice he was falling until he hit the ground. His actual frame was fine— of course it was— but man did it hurt. Now, he was forced to limp back to the Spire, sunlight dangerously close to rising. Breath hitching, he collapsed just outside the main arch. He hissed as the first dredges of sunlight came out, maneuvering just behind the arch’s walls as the star came into view. Not able to soften his movements, each step he made left a dull thud. 

Uzi… he needed Uzi. 

If worse comes to worse, well…

…He’s never seen her without her railgun.

If he wasn’t actively dying, he would’ve laughed when V actually looked concerned as he walked past her.

Synthetic ligaments groaned as N made the final climb into the cockpit. The railing lit up as he touched it, the metal squealing as it turned red-hot. He whimpered, throwing himself over the roof of the ship. Violently shaking hands reached out for the button that controlled the hydraulics. With a shaky press, he heard the door hiss below him, opening. He dropped without any preamble, creating a massive racket as his slim, pale frame clanged on the floor.

“N? Is that you? I don’t know why I bother asking since I can’t imagine another Working Drone willingly coming here— oh my God, what happened?!” she dropped the toolkit she assembled, bolts, nuts, and different gauges of wrenches went flying everywhere. She rushed to his side, her mercifully cold hands reaching for him. 

“Oh, it's nuthin’,” he slurred, his discomfort clear to the world. “Just feeling a bit tired—,” He tried to take a step towards V’s chair, but he only made it two steps before he fell to the ground. Uzi let out an “ooph!” catching him by the waist before he could knock himself offline. She gave him a baleful look, helping his failing motor processors make the final few meters to the chair. 

“You’re overheating,” she mumbled, realizing the severity of the situation. It was a fact, not a question.

N nodded sheepishly, taking off his uniform’s hat even though it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. “H— Help…?” He turned away from her, but he didn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he felt shameful. Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to think about how frigid and sweet her oil would be—.

Uzi swore under her breath. “Fucking JCJenson… I thought we had a week. A few days at the very least.” 

He felt his whole frame begin to shiver, almost like he was going into shock. “I–I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I haven’t been any help since we left the bunker. I–I’ve only been weighing you down.”

Despite his self-deprecation, Uzi was in full analysis mode, hand on her chin as she circled him. “You just stuttered,” she breathed. “You never stutter. Even your speech pattern is degrading, too.” Her hands clenched. Oh no. Was she mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—I didn’t want t–to kill anyone…”

Uzi’s eyes went hollow, mouth agape. N continued.

“After everything, it’s not like I could go out h–hunting again. I–I’ve been trying to keep it t–together, but it’s just so hard . I wanted to find one of V’s leftovers. She tends to be pretty, ah… messy.”

But there’s still an eternal question in the air, and the implications were… unkindly.

What happens if he can’t find any oil? What then?

The Worker Drone went silent, N writhing in pain as his temperature rose another degree.

He knew he could never hurt Uzi. And he knew (he hoped) that Uzi knew that, too. 

His eyes wandered to the outline of the girl on his HUD, the “TARGET LOCK” symbol screaming, still. 

…But they could always be more cautious.

His vision started to spark. Visor failure.

She drifted out of sight, the edges of his field of view subsiding.

…

Just before his eyes went out, he felt something cool and metallic become flush against his back. N froze, letting out an involuntary shudder of satisfaction. He felt his vision begin to clear, blinking away the static. His temperature was falling— rapidly, too. What did she do? His vision cleared entirely, noticing the goth’s absence. It was only then that he recognized a very familiar weight clinging to his back. “Uzi?!”

“Shush,” she bit. “It’s cold in here, and you’re a great heating pad.” She mumbled a few seconds later. Was she drowsy? Seriously? “You only need oil because it’s used as a coolant, right? If you don’t need it for power, then this should help tide you over.”

“But what about you?” he pressed urgently. His temperature was going down fast. If all of that heat was going to Uzi, then wouldn’t that mean she’d overheat…? He felt her shrug, cold shoulders pressed against his. Despite the potential danger, he couldn’t find it within himself to pull away from her touch. The feeling was just too damn nice…

“Our parent company screwed you over, N. Unlike you, Worker Drones have cooling systems that actually function. After all, we were designed to do work for morally ambiguous amounts of time. I’ll be okay.” His spine locked in place as she snuggled closer to him. “Besides, this feels nice.” 

That’s what I was thinking…

Not quite sure what was allowed and what wasn’t, N gingerly placed his hands over her forearms that had wrapped around his stomach. Back, hands, stomach— all feeling that sweet, delicious cold. Subconsciously leaning back, his sizzling synthetic hair rested on hers, colder still. His tail whipped, then snaked around, securing them in a cocoon of perfect heat exchange. Uzi seemed to have no objections, clinging a tiny bit tighter. 

N couldn’t quite remember how long they stayed in the cockpit, silently yet eagerly touching, basking in each other, (a lie, of course— his internal clock was always running). All he knew is that the imbalance of their core temps eventually subsided, leaving them more or less the same temperature. Though, he could feel Uzi sapping heat away still, just less rapidly. She wasn’t kidding about Worker Drones having better cooling, huh? And yet, despite his heating issue temporarily fixed, Uzi didn’t pull away. He almost wanted to bring it up, but that same warmth he felt from her earlier compelled him to enjoy it for a few moments longer.

He didn’t even think when he scooped her up back at the bunker and placed her on his shoulders. It felt right. Feeling her cool, mechanical digits cling to his alabaster hair as they flew through the city made his core skip a cycle. The Disassembler Drone didn’t understand why that would be. It wasn’t this was the first time someone else touched him. Before his deployment, technicians would always be poking, prodding, and running tests, making absolutely sure he was working at one-hundred-percent efficiency. Whenever V touched him, it was rare, genuine, despite feeling forced and hostile. Whenever J touched him, she was always poking his shoulder aggressively or slapping him while denoting exactly what he did wrong.  Uzi didn’t have any predisposed directives or programs, nor did she ignore him or berate him. She was just… here. With him.

He paused. The rim of his vision crackled, still recovering from the residual heat. That was it, wasn’t it? That’s why he’s thinking about this so much.

When he unconsciously plopped her on his shoulders, her fingers curled into his hair…

It was the first time someone touched him. Not out of obligation like his technicians, nor malice like V’s sadism, or J’s career-focused mindset. It was just… warm. Not in a literal sense, but a different kind of warmth.

N let out a tiny, indiscernible breath, full of mirth— Uzi wasn’t the type of person to keep to herself. If she wanted to, she would’ve voiced her complaints immediately and demanded to be put down, yet she didn’t. She wanted to be on his shoulders…

He let his digits comb through his faux hair, feeling her phantom touch.

Why was he focusing on this so much again?

…

Oh right, Uzi’s cuddled up to him.

Oh biscuits, she’s asleep.

He stole a glance out of the cockpit, a bit of sunlight peeking through the main arch of the Spire.

Nestling into Uzi’s embrace, N settled into the cockpit for a long, quiet day.

It’s not like he could go outside in the sun. The heat.

Might as well enjoy this…

Chapter Text

They woke up, eventually. Mocking, howling winds roused them from their sleep— another icy toxic death storm, then.

The first box to check— as always when he woke— was his internal sensors. Incredibly, Uzi managed to keep his temp stable throughout the entire day. It was a feat his own body couldn’t even do, even on a full tank of fresh oil. 

…JCJenson really hates them, don't they?

N was so in awe at how well his body felt, he didn’t even notice Uzi wriggling out from their self-ensnarement. She poked his tail, her fingers so, so close to the nanite injector. Aloof, he thought. “Mind moving this?” she asked, droning. N smiled, happy to know that their impromptu cuddle session didn’t damper her sarcasm. They untangled from each other, the Murder Drone feeling better than ever as he stretched imaginary muscles. Eyeing his hat, N placed it on his head, feeling complete again.

Uzi blinked as he did so, walking over to the flight controls. “Almost forgot about this.” She grabbed something from the console and flicked her thumb, a metallic symbol spinning through the air. With chilled precision, two of N’s fingers perfectly grasped it as it flew towards him. He grinned, happy to not be having a heat stroke anymore. The little things in life!

“What’s this?” N asked, holding it up. It had a golden skull engraved in the metal, wings emblazoned on the sides.

“Congratulations!” Uzi swooned, before deadpanning. “You were the pilot. Great job on the landing, by the way.”

N coughed. He was pretty sure a part of him just died inside. “That’s, uh… oof.”

Uzi shrugged, wry. “S’not like they taught you how to land. They wanted you to be stranded here, remember?” She grinned like she was up to no good, carving out a spot to sit next to him on V’s chair. There was barely enough room for both of them, one of N’s legs awkwardly jutting out to the side. Uzi didn’t seem to care, leaning onto his arm like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Now, N didn’t know everything about Uzi, but the last thing he expected from her was touchy. So, so touchy. 

He reached out, pausing, before committing, lightly stroking her beanie. 

Within half a second she lightly backhanded his hand away, still smiling.

Can’t do that yet, then. Noted.

As they were squished against each other in the pilot’s chair, N began to wonder what he could do today to help out. The drone made a mental note to apologize for not getting the spare parts Uzi asked for. And speaking of apologies…

“Hey Uzi…?” He said softly. “I’m sorry for moving that Worker Drone out of the way. I, uh…”  What does he even say here? ‘Gee, sorry Uzi! I didn’t mean to disrespect a corpse in front of you, I was just trying to be helpful! The irony of the situation made him want to die from shame, embarrassment, and regret all at the same time. Even now, in the very ship they sat in, they were surrounded by thousands of drones that he killed. The juxtaposition of such a dangerous machine sitting next to their prey was uncanny. How… How is she even here with him right now? Why? Why is she…

Why are you so okay with me?

After a long while, Uzi opened her mouth, “Part of that was me,” she murmured. “I won’t lie; I’m still getting used to… this,” as she said it, she gestured to the partially opened ceiling of the cockpit, pointing to the mass of spiraling bodies as they built towards the zenith of the Spire. “Snapping at you was… well, on instinct. Sorry.”

“Mechanical instinct!” N quipped, rubbing his shoulder against her.

Uzi scoffed without venom, “That was awful.” He felt her tense slightly, hydraulics letting out tiny vrooms of motion as she leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees. She cupped her face, looking even smaller than she usually did, if that were even possible. The action reminded him of—...

… Reminds me of—?

…Who?

N let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, indiscernibly shuffling so that they were just a tiny bit closer to each other, his sensors listening even more acutely. Her voice was steady, but he noticed how her LED eyes went hollow. “I didn’t—. I didn’t want to be the one to look through the bodies. That’s also why I… sent you away, even though I…” she mumbled the last part to the point even he didn’t hear it with his sensors. 

“What did you say?

She crossed her arms and looked away, huffing with annoyance that was (hopefully) faked. “Nothing ,” she grumbled. N opted to respond with silence until Uzi finally built up the nerve to glance at him again, an indignant shout coming out of her throat. “Don’t look so smug! What, I can’t be happy… staying inside?!” she fumbled, as if reaching for a word.

N raised his hands in defense. Did he look smug? He wasn’t meaning to look smug. A genuine smile found his way onto his face. He internally cheered as Uzi’s wrathful expression suddenly died, overcompensation and regret replacing it. Before she could fumble once more, N decided to play it off, placing one of his smooth, warm palms on her shoulders. “Why would you think that?” he asked earnestly, concern laced in his question. “Of course you deserve to be happy.”

A gobsmacked expression settled on Uzi’s face as she stared at him for several moments, as if his statement was the most insane thing she’s ever heard in her life.

That’s… kind of sad…

She crossed her arms, harsher than before, the outcast speaking much quieter now. “God, being mad at you is like kicking a puppy. Even thinking about it feels wrong.”

N chuckled “J would disagree! I’m very kickable.”

Uzi laughed. She actually laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard. “Well, I know that information now.”

The conversation reminded him of something. “Oh, uh, sorry for not finding those parts you asked for, by the way. I was caught up with the… well, y’know.”

She nodded, breaking her gloomy stupor and kicking up her feet as she stood. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, ignoring the implicit part about oil in his apology. “Speaking of which, wanna get to work? As much as I’d love to stay in this ship with you for the rest of the night, this hunk of junk isn’t going to repair itself.” Like a magic spell being broken, she knocked on the metal walls of the ship, the harsh bang making him jump slightly. She began analyzing the interior of the craft, gesturing to a portion of the console she refurbished, tapping it. “I managed to get the comms relay working, but it’s short-range at the moment. I can get some of these secondary systems online—,” she pointed her head at some of the other buttons, their functions beyond his comprehension as a Murder Drone, “—but the only way to get the parts we need is to… forage the Worker Drones.”

Understanding passed between them as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. The air of intensity he felt from when they arrived at the Spire returned. Not “scrounge,” or “plunder,” or “loot.” She said forage. Like they were picking berries or harvesting wheat. 

Like they weren’t disrespecting those who once lived. 

Uzi crossed one of her arms, rubbing her shoulder. “I would find the parts myself, but it’s… do you think you could…?” Her head fell slightly, voice following as her bangs covered her eyes. 

He understood, now, why the air felt so intense around Uzi when they arrived at the Spire. N noted how the purple drone hadn’t once left the cockpit the entire time they’d been here. Not because she was drowning in repairs or simply liked the dull grayness, but because of the Spire. The very snow they walked in had scraps of Worker Drone’s littered around. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was to ask her people’s killer to find parts for her like it was an average Tuesday night. 

…He could do this for her. 

N’s grin was laced with sadness and regret as he gave her a thumbs up. “On it.” He paused as he turned away, wanting to give her some kind of repose. “I’ll… only take what I need.”

Uzi said nothing, but nodded, presumably in thanks.

Opting for a less dramatic exit than last time, he wordlessly climbed the ladder leading to the sunroof exit, trying to preserve his temperature by not using his wings. 

Right… his temperature. Since he wasn’t going to be finding any oil today, he needed to conserve all that he could with the hope he could fine some tomorrow. Or find another temporary solution.

…Maybe Uzi would be okay with more touching?

His eyes hollowed, shaking his head so viciously his pilot hat almost fell off. Absolutely not. He couldn’t ask that of her so callously. After all he’s done— after everyone he’s killed— N refused to ask for a favor. It wasn’t fair to her— not in the slightest. 

N would’ve shivered if he could. It was a sensation he hasn’t felt in… forever, really. Even when he was murdering hundreds on the daily, oil couldn’t cool him like Uzi’s touch could. The blizzard conditions had passed, but the air was still well into the dozens of negative degrees. He surreptitiously wandered to what Uzi affectionately referred to as “V’s Stripper Pole™.” The rod of metal was thick and heavy, jagged and stuck in the ground, anchoring in place. They’d wrapped his psychopathic friend’s tail around the metal, ensuring she’d be rooted in place.

V gave him a wicked smirk, head angled unnaturally. “So, how did that purple one taste?” She licked her lips as she said it, the action reminding N that V needed oil eventually, too. He gave her a disappointed glower, sighing.

“I didn’t eat her, V. And her name’s Uzi, for the record.”

His formerly fictitious fellow drone blew him off. “Yeah right,” she scoffed. “I saw how you were walking towards the ship like a zombie yesterday, idiot. You were practically salivating over the thought of gobbling her up. You’re obviously fine now, so spill the details!” To her credit, V was half-right right . A part of him did wonder what Uzi’s oil tasted like. Meanwhile, another part of him relentlessly squashed that curiosity out of existence. His core skipped a cycle at the thought of tearing open his only friend in a fit of oil-starved induced mania, eagerly slurping up all of her—.

He stabbed himself in the palm with his own nanite injector, breaking his spiral.  

I will not allow that to happen.

The pilot hissed in pain, plopping his hand into his mouth. 

V only rose a brow in response, her face still etched with thinly-veiled passion. 

N rolled his eyes, flexing his regenerated palm. He gently pried open the ribcage of a nearby Worker Drone, wincing as he did so. “I would go and get her just to prove you wrong, but I have a job to do, so…” He waved her off, his scanners picking up ID’s and manifolds throughout the poor soul’s chest cavity. With frostbitten digits, he pocketed one of the tiny components from the composite flesh. 

The aloof attitude seemed to have gotten through to V, her blubbering picked up by his audio sensors as she spoke. “Wait, you actually didn’t eat her? Didn’t even get a taste yesterday?” Her mouth fell open, sheer disbelief in her voice. “How are you even alive ? You should be seizing on the ground from overheating at this point!”

N shrugged. Uzi seemed to already be rubbing off on him, because he didn’t feel like answering V. She didn’t deserve it. Instead, his artificial tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth, using both of his hands to point at her as he cheekily remarked, “Guess I just have a cool personality!”

It was V’s turn to roll her eyes, facing away from him. “Fuck you,” she called half-heartedly.

Taking that as the end to their conversation, N tended to the cadavers around him. Gingerly taking the ribcage in his hands, he placed it back into the body, awkwardly closing their metallic skin. 

He made rounds throughout the entirety of the Spire. It was slow work— slower than he’d like, considering this was something Uzi specifically asked him to do. But something held him back. The thought of the heat returning— that awful, scalding sensation across his entire body, shivering from the intensity of it— forced him to move slower. Even at his sluggish speeds, his temp sensor incessantly ticked up, taunting him from the top of his visor. With every step, every flex of his hydraulics, every carefully removed component, he felt the number steadily increase.

Hours passed and, eventually, he could see the first dredges of sunlight skid across the top of the clouds. The very thought of getting caught in direct sunlight compelled him to enter the ship. Unfortunately, the universe dictated his decision was ill-timed, a shovel-full of debris lobbed over the opening directly onto his head. “Ow.”

“Oh, uh, sorry!” Uzi called from inside. She grinned, a bit embarrassed as he climbed through the opening, his soles hitting the floor softly this time. “Wasn’t expecting you there.”

He waved her off, thousand-watt smile as he cheered a response. “Don’t worry about it! I’m used to having sharp objects thrown at me!”

Uzi just stared at him for a moment longer than necessary. “With every word you say, I get more and more concerned.” 

Concern…

J and V were never concerned for him for different reasons.

J always looked down on him, literally and figuratively. He hated it when she walked all over him (of course he didn’t like it Who said he liked it?!) , but he did like the rare moments that she gave him some respect. After a particularly good hunt or when he got the most kills, she’d glance over her should and give him a slight nod. He used to relish those rare moments of acknowledgement, but now, N knows how they truly thought of him. Unlike before, where he buried his doubts in rationalizations for the company, he could see J’s behavior as it truly was: fulfilling a quota. That’s all he was to her, in the end. J was never concerned for him because that’s what was expected of a good employee. 

As for V, N wasn’t exactly sure why she never bothered glancing his way, especially when the Worker Drones occasionally fought back with what puny defenses they had. Maybe she knew he was capable enough (when she remembered his name, that is), or maybe she refused to believe anything could harm a Disassembly Drone. ‘Till Uzi’s railgun, none of them were ever damaged except by themselves. N let himself scowl, his internal processor skipping a cycle at the thought of V.

“Woah,” Uzi teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you frown like that. It’s kinda freaky.”

And then, of course, there was Uzi.

N’s only realizing now just how alien the idea of concern is to him. This goth, a hotheaded angsty teen, has showed him more care in the past three days than J and V ever had in their entire…

How old am I again?

He shook his head. Questions for later.

Uzi cared. And that made things… fun . Even though her words implied otherwise, he knew there was an undercurrent of empathy woven between the lines. She knew what it was like, being alone. She had sass, sarcasm, and bite, but underneath all of that, she cared. He could tell.

N blinked as Uzi snapped her fingers in front of his face. She was standing on V’s torn up chair, barely coming up to his height. “You okay? You’ve been staring at the floor for like, fifteen seconds.”

“Just thinking about how awesome you are, that’s all!” he said sincerely. He strolled passed her, unaware of the slight dash of blush across her visor. He sat in his pilot’s chair, rummaging through his pockets for the apparatuses and doohickeys he collected from the Worker Drone bodies. Uzi took them, grateful as she returned to her repairs. She muttered under her breath, “How do you say that so easily?” N was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that, so he opted to ignore it for her sake. He breathed deeply, his processors focused on how he was going to find more oil because wow, he was thirsty. LED sweat rolled down his visor as he tried to keep a clear mind, the effect of the heat beginning to rear their ugly heads once more.

“How’s the heat?” she asked hesitantly, giving him a look over her shoulder.

He waved her off, “It’s not as bad as before. ‘M just thinking about how to get more oil.” Uzi’s hands paused for a moment. 

Whenever she’s thinking, she stops working, N noted. 

Her head bowed for a moment, before her voice rang out. “What do you think will happen if you go out, blindly searching when you’re already close to overheating? What will happen when you can’t find oil?”

“I’ll find oil,” he assured, grinning. “Trust me.”

He saw her reflection raise a brow. “Right… so what happens when you can’t find oil?” she repeated sarcastically.

“That won’t happen. I’ll think of something.” N’s mind wandered, transistors working overtime as his neural network tried to figure out a way to survive without oil. With every shaking breath he took, the Murder Drone felt more and more cemented in his decision to side with Uzi. He gazed at his open, shivering palms— more of the heat’s side effects slowly coming to the surface. She’s right… he thought, the scenario truly dawning on him in that moment. There’s no chance this wasn’t an intentional design flaw…

He was so inefficient.

Uzi fumbled with a hammer, its wooden grip slipping out of her mechanical phalanges. She stumbled, catching it before it could smash into the floor. With a practiced poise in her form, she hammered away at one of the panels, pounding  the malleable metal until it vaguel resembled a flat square. She had a deadpan expression as she let out a drone, “You have no idea what to do, don’t you?”

N rose a finger to rebuke her, before shrinking, nodding. 

Uzi snickered, “Why are you being so weird about this? The whole oil thing is kind of an unavoidable conversation.”

“Why aren’t you being weird about it?” he replied instantly. “You’re way to blaise over the thought of me potentially killing you for oil!”

“Because,” she said simply, setting down her hammer. “We already have a solution.”

N brightened. “Really? What did you have in mi—? Oof!”

He shivered as he felt Uzi’s cool frame slam into him, her arms wrapping around his waist as stood there awkwardly, startled. His pilot hat jostled off his head. Then, he felt the chill. That same, delightfully cold sensation that sent a shiver down his spine. He felt his nanite injector writhe in satisfaction, his tail as taut as a guy-wire. His temperature ticked down and down, the feeling of thirst leaving him as his body became satiated. “You know,” Uzi whispered, glancing up at him. “Electronics usually operate more efficiently when they’re colder. But I always liked heat more than anything. Just another thing for people to call me a freak for…” 

She was so quiet. And cold. And huggable.

So, very huggable.

Testing the waters, he rested his chin on top of her head. She didn’t screech with the force of ten demons, so N figured it was a good start. He wondered if this was Uzi’s true self— if her attitude in front of her family and classmates back at the bunker was a front she put on. It was weird, not seeing the purple drone in her usually incensed state. But that couldn’t possible be true! It’s not like he’s the reason why. It’s not like he feels protective, or anything! Her becoming more relaxed around him was pure coincidence, right?

… Oh, biscuits.

That same, wriggling question irked its way to the back of his neural space, nagging.

Why… why do you trust me so much?

Only this time, it refused to leave him. The question seemed to like its new home in the back of his mind, nestling in and festering. Uzi’s pleasantly cold body temperature felt like ice now, a frigid flare of freezerburn spreading across his metallic skin like a bonfire, the juxtaposed feeling of warmth and ice imitating the very situation he found himself in.

Uzi, a Worker Drone, eagerly cuddling her people’s killer, a Murder Drone. 

…

“...I don’t really understand you yet, but…” N murmured slowly. His tail slowly relaxed before snaking around one of Uzi’s legs. He felt her nails clench his backside for a moment before they began to untense. “...I’m okay with that.”

For now, at least, he told himself.

N doesn’t know how far she’s willing to go.

…And vice-versa.

His fingers twitched at the base of her neck. The target lock symbol was screaming angrily at him, still, his automatic sensors picking up the steady flow of oil just beneath her shell.

“We’ll have to check on V eventually…” he mumbled, wanting to escape this situation as soon as possible, heat be damned.

“Since we’re two-for-two on unavoidable conversations…” Uzi sighed. “How’s V? When does she need oil?”

N thought, before shrugging. “I’ll have to ask her. Since she’s been mostly immobile and inactive for the past two days, she’s probably fine. Maybe. For a little while, at least.”

“Hopefully she doesn’t kill me,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’d never let her kill one of my friends,” he smiled cheerfully. Uzi scoffed, but she buried herself deeper into his uniform, her visor’s soft purple glow barely visible through the fabric.

“Friends…” she murmured.

N’s sensors picked up serenity as the word rolled past her lips, the letters sounding foreign on her tongue.

Chapter Text

Being the horrible influence that she was, Uzi was already teaching him so many terrible (awesome) things!

Like swearing!

“J was…” N strained. “J was an—...”

Uzi smirked. “Take your time if you have to! Remember to sound it out.” 

“J was a jerk!” 

Uzi sighed in faux exasperation. “Good attempt. But next time, try this…” The Worker Drone then proceeded to swear like a drunken sailor, horrific epithets flowing off her tongue as if they were water— like she’d practiced this hundreds of times. J’s name was profaned and defamed from Copper-9, her memory forever tainted by the 4’0'' drone. N’s mouth formed a noiseless scream as he stared at her, Uzi still screeching at the sky and pointing at clouds as if they personally killed her dog.

Eventually, when Uzi’s mouth mercifully closed, N stared at her for a good ten seconds, lip twitching up. “Oh… my God.”

Despite apparent displeasure, he had to admit…

It’s… quite an art form.

She looked quite happy with herself. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

“I can tell,” he wheezed.

Another day had passed since Uzi’s self-imposed banishment and the two of them had fallen into a familiar (if frightening) routine. They’d wake (usually entangled in each other's arms), he’d check his temperature, marvel at his feel-good state, search for components for Uzi, talk to V, then come back and have some well-meaning banter. N wished he could be more eloquent to describe it— after all, he was literally having the time of his life— but, all he could do was revel in the indescribable peace of joy. Uzi, if one could forgive her abrasiveness, was fun! 

There were other, smaller niceties, too. The sort of things even Uzi probably didn’t notice. He didn’t wear his pilot’s hat today, just to see what it felt like, and golly, he’ll never forget it. The clarity of sounds around him, the feeling of biting winds whipping and wiping past the white wracks of his hair, the freedom he felt— it wasn’t dissimilar to the stories that Uzi regaled him with. 

And yet, N still felt the guilt in his core. He’d opted to render himself flightless for the time being, same as yesterday. Due to this, his options for foraging were limited, but at least he wasn’t baking as a perpetual sauna anymore! Ah, avoiding heatstroke. Truly the greatest benefit of friendship!

N stilled.

He shook his head, breaking the feeling from him.

Don’t trick yourself. Not like V.

Uzi’s relentless pragmatism is why she allowed him to cuddle with her. She’s his only lifeline. And she knows that.

Uzi… doesn’t like me that way, he thought, shaking his head. This is just her logic.

Nothing else.

Nothing else…

…

Uzi broke from their routine this morning.

“ You want to check on V? To be honest, I kinda expected you not to care.”

“Forgive me for wanting to make sure your crush isn’t hungry enough to tear me a new one,” she sassed.

“My… crush,” he echoed, the term sounding foreign on his synthetic tongue. His processors raced for a moment, his next words coming out slow and deliberate. “I… don’t think she’s my crush anymore with everything that’s happened.”

Uzi raised a brow, setting a wrench on the floor next to her. “Really? That’s surprising, considering she’s quite… erhm… human-shaped…”  

N sighed wistfully. “Our technicians gave us some freedom when designing ourselves.” He flared his vest, ignoring her insinuation about V’s body. “That’s why I have this dapper jacket!”

“...That doesn’t make any sense,” Uzi murmured, shaking her head. “Why would JCJenson deviate from their factory design? Why risk giving Disassembly Drones autonomy?” She squinted at him. “They even let you have hair. None of the Worker Drones had hair before we decided it for ourselves.”

“You got to decide your own hair”? N said, surprised. Uzi gave him a look, visor squinting further, before nodding slowly. 

“After the humans screwed themselves over, the Worker Drones started claiming their own autonomy. The hair that we have, our style, our clothes, our visor color, how we present ourselves— it’s all very important to us. Part of our culture.” 

Every time Uzi spoke, N grew more and more curious about her. Where she came from— the history, traditions, and stories that were a part of the Worker Drones’ daily lives. He felt he owed it to her— not only to understand her, but to ease the aching feeling of guilt that N felt pooling in his stomach. Each morning, when he woke, he found it growing more and more, a constant reminder of his naivety, a reminder that he could never go back. 

Uzi shook her head. “Regardless, my point still stands. The more we investigate, the more it looks like your past goes deeper than JCJenson.”

The richness of her words only served to deepen his slowly festering disdain towards J and just how blatantly she lied to him. A sting of betrayal shot through him once more, the feeling reminding him of the virus his leader planted directly on his core. That annoying, pompous, self-righteous, patronizing attitude clinging to his neural net psyche.

“Worker Drones are corrupted, N. That’s why the company sent us. I hate to see you corrupted as well.“

She had the gall to tell him they were barely sentient. 

He felt his hands clench with a vice.

…I think I could swear now if I wanted to.

“Are you sure you want to talk to V? I know how much all of this still freaks you out.” He gestured to the spire through the crack in the entrance, his eyes grimly glossing over the gross ground of bodies. “How much… I… still freak you out.” Uzi’s slouching form went stiff as a rod at his words, as if she didn’t expect him to glean her hesitancy with him. His thoughts involuntarily wandered to implanted inadequacy, phantom whispers of J and V’s voices. “We don’t— you don’t have to do this all at once.” 

“Of course I do,” she bit, her arms visibly shaking. N crossed his hands behind his back— a habit he’s noticing more and more. He always folded them there, picking at imaginary nails whenever J was reprimanding him. He watched as Uzi psyched herself up, fastening her railgun magnetically amplified photon converger around her back. Her movements were that of steel and cold comfort as she climbed the ladder of the escape hatch, her hair wafting through the breeze for the first time in days.

Her chassis went still. N could almost hear her metal creaking as she spoke. Her visor glowed with apathy, but he knew her well enough to know she was torn. “I… can go alone,” she said, the “if you’d like,” going unspoken.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want me there,” he muttered.

“No, I—” she cut herself off, biting her tongue. It seemed to physically pain her to get the words out, the plead desperately clawing at her throat, begging to escape. She didn’t stop for him, climbing the ladder and punching the hatch open. Before she ventured into the cold, she granted him the barest of side-eyes, distinctly lined purple flaring on the corner of her visor. “I… wouldn’t mind if you… tagged along.”

Before he could even get a response out, she’d already scurried through the opening.

N blinked, his temp increasing by another degree, before silently squealing to himself. “Yes!”

He rocketed through the opening, landing as softly as he could manage next to Uzi, who had already walked five paces away from the ship. This time, she didn’t flinch as he fell next to her, either because she’d grown used to his presence or she was busy staring at the mounds of bodies surrounding them. 

…He guessed the latter.

Her eyes hollowed out on her visor, one of her hands already reaching for her railgun. The palm was open, fingers twitching, grasping for purchase on something— anything to keep her steady.

Subconsciously, N’s hand reached for hers, one of his auto-comfort programs initiating. He blinked, silently gasping before pulling away as if he were burned. The taller drone frowned before tentatively reaching, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. Uzi’s body tensed before going still. Her head was tilted pointedly at the floor, bangs occluding her visor. He pursed his lips, hoping the gesture wouldn’t instill her ire. I’m here, he wanted to say. We can do it together.

He felt his core shiver as her oil thrummed with life, pulsing and cycling through her body, just underneath her fingertips. He could feel his strength. He had to be so, so careful. The slightest pull, the barest of grips, and her rustic skin will peel like tissue paper.

The purple drone’s gait paused multiple times on the thirty-second walk to V’s pole. Her purple LEDs peered through the darkness, processors counting each ID, scanning every chip, memorizing every name. N disallowed himself to utter a single word, the moment hers, and hers alone. Not on this. Not when he was responsible. 

V staggered as they approached her, the tail and chain they’d trapped her in stretched taut. The perpetual scowl he’d grown familiar with dropped as she laid eyes on Uzi. The latter’s visor curled into a sneer, the smaller drone crossing her free arm over her chest and sizing up his partner in crime. “You actually didn’t eat her?” V grinned, gobsmacked. “I wonder how close you are to snapping!” She leveled him with an intense stare, licking her lips as her visor flickered to Uzi.

“Hey V,” he greeted neutrally. “Good to see you, too.”

She blinked in response. “Your s–speech is still normal, too? You’re not e–even shaking…” She released her tense state, looking more confused now more than anything. “You actually h–held back killing that purple thing?”

He squeaked, already turning to Uzi. 

Oh biscuits, you did not just say that.

“ ‘Thing?’” Uzi hissed, her visor darkening. Her grip tightened on the strap holstering her railgun. Her words were venom, dripping down her teeth like acid, the few syllables conveying a mass of contempt N could barely fathom. “Bite me.”

V surged forward as a glimpse of mania overtook her, the only thing holding her back being the auspicious pole, the metal groaning under the strain. Uzi flinched back, though, her resolve was stalwart as she glared. “ Gladly! I’d love to have a taste if Mr. Do-Gooder here chooses a–abstinence!” She giggled, saliva shamelessly dripping down her ceramic. One of her eyes flashed, a haunting ‘X’ blinking in its place.

“V,” N asked gently, “When do you need oil?” If she could just tell him her core temp, they could leave her alone, but he had an awful feeling that she was going to keep escalating—.

“Oh you know,” she swooned dramatically. “Been starving over here for days. I was trying to gnaw my way through my restraints for hours but unfortunately, I like my tail, so~,” she clicked her tongue. “When you’re ready to stop acting like a baby and give up the whole ‘I want to stop disassembling’ act, I’ll be waiting for you. When we finally go hunting again, I’d love to start with this one if you haven’t already gut her yourself!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he warned.

“Oh?” V smirked, licking her lips. “And why’s that?”

N’s thumb ghosted over Uzi’s knuckle. He bit the inside of his cheek. She doesn’t deserve to have this put on her. He could only imagine the thoughts racing through her processors right now. She was his only lifeline. To ask her of this… it might just be too much. N huddled close so V wouldn’t hear, bumping into her shoulder to get her attention. “Is it ok if I tell her?” he whispered. “You’re kinda my only option.”

“Look at you, reducing me to a bargaining chip!” she quipped. “You’re getting the hang of this whole ‘insulting’ thing.” A shrug, her shoulders rolling against his hand. “I’ve been demeaned to less before. I mean, you’ve seen my Dad, haven’t you?”

N suddenly felt like he wasn’t doing enough for her. Every time Uzi spoke, he gleaned a bit further into her past. The goings-on inside the bunker still eluded him, but every once in a while, whether it be a lull in their conversation, a slip of the tongue, or a silent habit that she displayed, N would be allowed a glimpse into Uzi’s life before she met him. It… wasn’t a pretty picture. A dad who cared more about doors than his daughter, classmates who didn’t care for her in the slightest, and now this… 

Note to self: address feelings of inferiority later.

Regardless, he nodded to her, grateful that she allowed him this much.

“It’s not a good idea because Uzi is the only reason I’m alive.”

“What did she taste like?” V grinned.

“Not taste!” he rebuked proudly. “Cuddled.”

V short-circuited. “W–What?”

“Cuddled.”

“What.”

“We cuddled. For like, fifteen hours. It was nice.”

V’s jaw fell open. “You mean to tell me you just… hugged each other? F–For hours? That’s… all you had to do? No overheating at all?” Her eyes furrowed, blinking everywhere but him as she contemplated. After a few moments, her gaze settled on Uzi, her expression unknowable to him. “And you want me… to do the same with you.”

“I never want to touch you,” she snapped. “But N doesn’t want you to die, and I don’t want you to go on an oil-induced rampage trying to kill me, so I kind of have my hands tied.”

He felt his core palpitate. “You don’t have to force this if you don’t want to,” he murmured assuringly. “We can always find another way.”

She sighed in defeat. “Face it, N. We’ve searched for oil almost every chance we got and we’ve found nothing. This is our only choice.”

“And—,” he added with a tone of finality, facing V again. A steely expression settled on his visor. “This is all assuming you won’t kill Uzi.”

“Oh yeah, also: If you call me a thing again, I will cut you.”

…

After a pregnant pause, V dropped her contemplative stare letting out a long sigh, kicking a Worker's body out of the way to make space to sit down. Uzi flinched, his hand unconsciously supporting her back. I’m here. She won’t do anything, I promise. She seemed almost hesitant before she finally answered, meeting the stare that Uzi had been giving her this whole time. She rolled her eyes before groaning like an overworked parent.  “Fine,” she managed to say, as if her agreement physically pained her. “Ask away.”

Uzi took a step forward.

“Why are you hot?”

N sputtered.

V cackled.

“I’m serious!” Uzi shouted indignantly, stamping her foot as V roared with schadenfreude. “Every Worker Drone is supposed to look the same but all of you look different from one another!” She pointed to N. “ He has a cute face, a one-of-a-kind uniform, and unique hair to boot! Even J had pigtails, and not to mention you’re hot! Why?! It doesn’t make any sense for JCJenson to deviate from factory design!”

“ Wait,” V wheezed, her face shining with how wide her smile was. “You— pfft— you came to check on me— came up with this whole idea— because you think I’m hot?” 

“Bite me. Besides, N agrees.”

“I SAID NO SUCH THING!” he squeaked, visor ablaze and flush.

 “You were thinking it,” Uzi waved him off. “You gonna answer or not?”

A thousand emotions crossed her face at once, LEDs glancing every which way, a dozen ruminations passing through her processors in a millisecond. “...I don’t know,” she settled on. Before Uzi could yell at her, she followed up, “ But… I do know this: J might’ve not been as… forthcoming as she could’ve been about who she was getting orders from,” she said slowly. “I don’t know who or what it was, but it definitely wasn’t JCJenson.” She laid back, crossing her long legs. “That’s all I know.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second,” Uzi deadpanned. “What are you hiding?.”

V pouted.“The more you rail me for questions the more this feels like an interrogation. I feel so loved.”

The shorter drone scoffed. “As if you ever loved him,” she muttered, sotto voce.

“Strange,” V mocked. “A Worker Drone siding with her people’s murderer.”

“Hey!” she barked. “Don’t act like you know me!” 

V gave her a feral grin, a twinge of anger underneath. “Same, shortstack.”

…

Then the world stopped.

Something familiar flashed in one of Uzi’s eyes. The symbol quivered, creating torque as it sheered , twisted, and contorted. The solidified magma that made up V’s visor transformed back into its liquid form. Shivering, it shattered, molten guts splattering across the surface of Copper-9.

A hiss of steam.

And then V screamed.

Her cry of agony pierced his auditory processor. N merely blinked, a dissociative dead stare of disbelief on his face as a piece of her visor fell from the sky in slow motion. He watched, eerily, as it lined up perfectly over V’s shattered LEDs, the glass reflecting like a pair of… 

…Glasses?

And then, N was a trillion miles away… in a dark, dandelion manor.

The fog of the past dissipated, an ancient structure coming into view. A flash, and he was on the floor, hands and knees clamoring for disheveled cups and china, a blotchy spot of wine splattered across the floor, like a molten visor. Bearing his surroundings, he found that he was smaller. A butler uniform was his apparel, the gloved feeling familiar and unfamiliar on his fingers. The hall was dark, the study darker– a perfect room fit for workplace and tomes and whatever science one wanted to delve. He glanced up, meeting her gaze. 

The glasses on her face were wide-framed and cute, almost nerdy. Much like him, she had a uniform on— a maid outfit. She mumbled an apology, the two of them fumbling as a spark passed between them.

That was the fault of Serial Designation V. Poor optics. Needed glasses, like a human.

The evidence of his sin was all around him, the serving plate he held racketing as he dropped it. He hastily picked them up, the nerdy girl helping him. She apologized, so polite and nice— a far cry from his current memory of her. She had a tinge of blush on her visor, and a shy smile as she handed him the last glass. His clumsiness was his malfunction, like her optics. He dropped things, tripped over himself, always somehow being clumsier than yesterday.

That was the fault of Serial Designation N. Poor attention and clumsiness. Needed others to keep him on track. Like a human.

There was a spark between him and V. Sparks only last a fraction of a second, a blip of light is a promise of the future— the potential to grow alight into a blazing fire of love and romance. N sees now, just how cold and dead V is. Whatever spark was there, whatever potential they had… it is all but warm, now. He held on to it for so, so long. That fleeting ember of hope in the darkness that maybe, it would all make sense. Maybe one day, he could start his own wildfire.

…He’s let go of it.

Such was the past, the blip is gone, now.

Then, J kicked him, because of course she did. She was full of narcissism, and talked others down, her self believing to be better than others. Easily manipulated, and possessed a zealous, unfounded fealty to her creators, and not her owners.

That was the fault of Serial Designation J. Narcissism and loyalty.

And then, she came home. His owner. With her, clinging to her legs, hiding behind like a shy toddler, was a drone. The new Worker peaked her head out from under. A dip in her eyes, she looked morose, unsure, and small . The new maid smiled at him creepy-like, and he smiled back. Granting his hand to her, he laid it out in offering. Her smile turned weak, an unnatural lean in her gait. It was eerily robotic, more than any other Worker Drone. She walked like a zombie resurrected from the dead. With limited movement, she limped to him.

For some reason, in that senseless, insignificant moment, N knew he would end the world for her.

That was the fault of Cyn. A robotic speech pattern. The Absolute—.

BOOTING

…REBOOT COMPLETE. 

INITIATING AUTO-EXECUTE PROGRAMS

…LOADING

EXECUTING string == ABSOLUTE_SOLVER.exe…

…

…

…string == ABSOLUTE_SOLVER.exe BLOCKED BY ADMINISTRATOR “CYN.”

Chapter Text

It happened so fast.

The next thirty minutes were a haze of panic.

Uzi’s voice sounded as if she were underwater, ramblings and barking orders lost to his senses. Dozens of “I’m sorry’s” and “I didn’t mean to’s” filtered through his processor, unable to discern who said them. If he focused, he could barely recall screaming V’s name, surging forward and taking her limp body into his arms. Half of her visor had melted, split down the middle in a cascade of cracks. The smell of propane filled him as a blowtorch sparked like a beacon in the dark. High-pitched whining filled the cockpit, Uzi’s hands a blur as she laid out shards of glass— V’s visor. She lay there, on her torn-up chair, peaceful. Her binds had been undone, the neutral expression on her slumbering face a rare sight indeed.

His internal tracker must’ve glitched, because he had no idea how long V had been knocked out for.

The clock only started ticking once more when Uzi placed the final piece, her blowtorch heating the glass until it was semi-malleable, melding back into V’s socket

After a few more agonizing seconds, much like his head, V’s visor began to regenerate— the reinforced glass becoming pristine and new in a matter of seconds. 

Uzi let a shudder escape her as all of the tension left the cockpit at once. Using her free hands, she covered her left eye, fraught and panting with anxiety. She fell on her rear, scooching back into the darkest corner of the ship with her feet. A dreadful silence befell them, broken only by a few beeps of V’s visor and Uzi’s rattling hydraulics. The purple drone shook like a dry leaf, gasping and gulping down lungfuls of air. Her other eye was wide, bright, and unblinking, staring at the area in front of him like a weary gorgon. She was in the fetal position, wrought with terror, not unlike an animal backed into a corner.

“D—Don’t…”

She trailed off, and N wondered what she was going to say. Don’t what? Don’t send me away? Don’t exile me? Don’t hate me? Don’t kill me? He wondered how many times she’d been in this exact situation. How many times? How many times did her ‘friends’ leave her? How many times was she declared a freak? How many times did her father obsess over doors , rather than caring for her? How many times was she left alone in that dark bunker?

“Don’t look at me…” she whispered.

She’s afraid of it happening again, he realized.

He took a step forward, wanting to say something— anything to ease that horrific expression that should never belong to her fiery face, but she gasped in terror at his approach, forcing herself into a darker corner. Her movement caused a precarious toolkit to smash onto the ground, the screeching metal making him wince. 

N said the only thing that came to mind. No ecstasy. No wrath. No fight. No sorrow.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out.”

Not an ‘I forgive you,’ no. That would imply he felt anger to begin with. That would imply, if merely for a second, he considered ending it. Ending her. 

I will never let you be alone again.

She blubbered a wordful mess, ranting over herself, cutting off her own sentences with new ones to explain as fast as possible. She couldn’t focus, barely able to haphazardly repair the shards of V’s visor before balling her fists and panting from the exertion of it all.

‘“Uzi…” he said softly. “Look at me, please?”

The girl hummed a negative, shaking her head.

Frowning, N scooched closer, slowly, until there were a few inches between them. They sat, side by side in that dark corner of the ship.

“What do you know about golden retrievers?”

She sputtered, clearly not expecting the sudden segue way.

“They’re my favorite breed of dog,” he explained. “They’re known for their golden coats and loveable cuteness. Great with people, and incredibly loyal…” His grin twitched, slowly forming a frown in its place as he gazed at his hands, flexing them experimentally. “...But they’re also high energy. If left unchecked, an untrained retriever could end up hurting others if they’re not careful.”

“...Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled after a few moments.

Smiling at getting her to talk, N scooched a little closer. “I’m not completely sure,” he shrugged. “Talking about random stuff… It used to help someone I knew. You remind me of her.”

Uzi latched on to the tense. “ Knew?” she said hopefully. She peered at him through a gap in her elbow, before retreating again.  “You remembered something? Some one?” 

“Yeah. Pretty sure I had a flashback or something when you… y’know.” He rubbed his temples, a headache settling in his chrome skull. 

“I—,” Uzi stopped. “...I thought you weren’t responding because you were going to kill me.”

“Nope,” he chirped. “Just remembering stuff. Oddly enough, I think your special eye thingy almost brutally murdering my lifelong friend was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

“No!” she whined. “I’m not going to let you spin this into a good thing! I almost killed her!” 

N giggled in response, feeling their usual antics coming back. Hesitantly, he reached out once more, a warm palm placed on her shoulder. She flinched again, but he held firm, the familiar chill spreading through his fingertips. “Do you get what I’m saying, Uzi? I’m not gonna leave you. You’re… kinda all I have.” 

He let go a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she suddenly broke her fetal position, a single one of her LEDs peering at him through the darkness of the ship. The sun was going to rise soon, the pink, morning twilight enveloping the outside. Her eyes were glowing with power as if that symbol— whatever it was— could burst through again any second. 

He made sure to hold her stare, just to show her that it wouldn’t happen again— that they were safe.

“Same…” she whispered, before blinking, as if realizing what she was doing. She wiped her face. “Sorry… I’m not usually like this.”

He nodded knowingly, opening his mouth to say something before Uzi launched herself at him. He “oomphed,’” instinctively wrapping his arms around her. The sensation of protection he felt was no longer alien to him. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to have her by his side. The corners of his mind felt clearer than they ever have. And to top it all off, he could finally attach a name to the origin of that feeling— why he feels so protective of Uzi.

‘Cyn…’

They fell into a silence, far more comfortable than the last.

A red tick at the top of his HUD alerted him. 

OIL POLLUTION TOLERANCE REACHED. SEEK INTAKE IMMEDIATELY.

Pollution tolerance?

A sense of unease overtook him. It was like nausea, only a thousand times worse. His head swam through an ocean of alcohol. An overwhelming sensation subsumed him— an urge to hunt, to drink. His grip on Uzi’s shoulder tightened by a fraction, his LEDs wide and unblinking as he eyed her neck, a metaphorical jugular of oil just centimeters away from him. His canines flashed in the dim twilight, howling winds just outside…

He swallowed, a bead of fake sweat rolling down his visor.

“We’ll stick together…” he whispered.

If he said it enough times, he may even be able to convince himself.

The Spire was… oddly inviting in its own way.

That was the first thought Uzi had when she laid eyes on it. Ignoring the waist-high bodies littering the landscape, the Murder Drones’ was actually quite peaceful. A veritable wonderland of spare parts (graciously donated by the corpses, of course). She didn’t like this place, bear in mind. She always winced when she glanced outside, catching a glimpse of a frozen shriek of terror on a Worker Drone body. She tried to gain some semblance of solace, telling herself that it would get easier each time she woke— each time N came back from an expedition.

However, she figured that backward line of thinking could be attributed to her Dad. Anything was better than being locked behind three doors. Whatever code she inherited from Mom was both a blessing and a curse. It made her different from everyone else, yet granted her the wanderlust and willpower to fight back against the Murder Drones. Disassembly Drones, she should say. It wouldn’t be right to subconsciously alienate herself from them. They were both screwed over from their parent company, after all.

At least he’s a good heating pad…

Being distinctly non-human, the Worker Drones’ colony was cold. Constantly. Why wouldn’t it be? Nowhere near as cold as the harsh winds constantly beating the surface, but cold enough to slow the oil running through her mechanical veins. Her beanie and edgy jacket were laughable barriers to the endless chill. Lethargy looming over her was the norm, which only exacerbated her prickliness. That’s why she rerouted a small portion of the colony’s generators into her room to heat it to her heart’s content. She smiled to herself. Dad could never find out why the energy quota was always off by a few dozen watts. Sucks to be him. Her barely-passing parental figure asked her on multiple occasions why she preferred the heat over the cold— circuitry ran better in lower temperatures, after all.

Then there’s N. 

Her grip tightened around his waist. Seriously, he was unfairly warm.

The first time he returned— when he looked overheated, slow, and hungry— she remembered reaching for her railgun, the deathly reminder hoisted on her back. Judging by his blank stare, she was certain his automatic programs were poking and prodding at his processors, telling him to seek oil. All of their interactions since then felt off. Stiff. It didn’t feel like either of them could be true to themselves or one another in fear of stepping on unspoken rules or raw nerves. He was trying to be considerate. She knew that. Usually it’d be annoying, but it was sweet because it was N. …But a smaller, weaker part of herself was pissed.

…And, a flood of empathy.

Her wrath wasn’t directed at N, no. Uzi didn’t think she could be properly angry at N ever again.

She was pissed at the goddamned company.

Not only did they send the Disassembly Drones to Copper-9 with no way to fly off-world, they also gave them an intentional design flaw that practically guaranteed their deaths after the Worker Drones were purged. Their internal temperatures were so high that snow instantly vaporized when they touched it. And N— sickeningly doting N— didn’t deserve a fate like that. With virtually no chance of locating oil, Uzi did the only thing she could think of.

Cuddle.

Much like they’re doing right now.

…Though, that’s not likely to last longer, based on the catatonic stare he’s giving her.

“You’re starting to freak me out. Care to indulge your innermost desires?”

N blinked, coming out of some sort of daze. His tail wrapped a bit tighter around her leg, protective— no— possessive. Their corner of the ship suddenly felt claustrophobic rather than cozy. After a few moments, N spoke, his tail loosening, grip faltering, realizing what he was doing. “Honesty is the best policy,” he whispered to himself, almost sounding disappointed with the dogma. “We might have more to worry about than just temperature.”

It was a token gesture— a leap across a truss of trust. During their first day, N almost fucking died trying to avoid the topic of oil. The fact that he’s willingly bringing it up now… It must be serious. Serious enough that he’d forgo his usual hesitancy.

Especially when it directly involves her, since she’s… y’know, his prey. A Worker.

…She ignored the bloom of heat in her core, her cycle skipping a beat. 

Having someone else’s trust…

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, to say the least.

“What’s wrong?”

“My processors are telling me that something called ‘oil pollution tolerance’ has been reached…”

Shaky voice. No stutter, so it wasn’t the heat. But, he sounded almost… scared.

Of what, though?

…Oh.

Eating me.

“It’s a… familiar term to me,” she said slowly. “In Worker Drones, not only do we need optimal temperatures to be maintained, we also need to constantly filter the oil that cycles through our bodies. Over time, it becomes polluted from the processes needed to keep ourselves running." Then, she added bitterly, "It’s like a human’s blood, in a way.” Now that she thought about it, the company definitely didn’t design the Disassembly Drones with filtration systems— why would they? Their constant killing would’ve supplied them with a constant stream of fresh oil. 

Tentatively, she palmed the center of his chest, right above where his core should be. He leaned into the touch. Hot. Way too hot. “If your body works any way like mine, well…” she trailed, the implication clear. Her synthetic tongue clicked on the roof of her mouth.

“What do we do then?” he whispered. “V was always the best at hunting out all of us. There’s no way I can find oil in time and I—... Uzi, I’m scared. How come this never came up before?”

“I didn’t think it was important,” she shrugged. “Even I didn’t think JCJenson was insane enough to not give you a proper filtration system. Can’t assume anything with those jackasses,” she grumbled. Racking her brain, she willed her cooling systems to buy them any time as they clung to each other. Where— Where could she find oil? Expeditions outside the Spire were all for naught, N can’t risk using his wings to get a better vantage point because heat, and V’s out of commission which means even asking her is a no-go.

…

She unclenched one of her palms, bringing it to her face.

No, she told herself.

There’s no way I’m considering this…

…It should be criminal with how fast N wormed his way into her head. 

Uzi untangled herself from him, the latter uncomfortable as he squirmed from the sudden lack of equilibrium. She began to unbutton her jacket, her visor undoubtedly tinged with a purple blush. Ignoring N’s squeak of embarrassment, she continued taking off the top layer of her clothes. A bit of wryness managed to sneak its way into her tone. “I remember you telling me you like your oil warm and sweet.”

She craned her neck, giving way to a shoulder of smooth ceramic skin, oil pulsing with life just underneath.

“...Have you ever tried having it cold and bitter?”

A drop of his nanite-neutralizing agent (saliva, ew) dripped from the corner of his mouth. His pupils hollowed— dilated, really—, forming an excitement not dissimilar to V’s sadistic mania. He blinked, slapping himself. Before she could even comment on the self-harm, N suppressed a laugh, riddled with schadenfreude. “And you’re always telling people to bite you,” he snickered.

“Shut up!” she shouted, indignancy flaring along with the blush on her screen. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A chill went down her spine at the lack of her jacket, her tank top doing nothing to protect her from the harsh winds from outside. “I half expected you to pounce on me uncontrollably like a feral cat— do you want this or not?”

“I know I said I was open to new things, but…” N stared at the open spot near the crook of her neck for a long while. It was kind of creepy. 

…He nodded, eventually, his presence inching closer until they were practically straddling each other. She watched in morbid examination as his maw split open, canines flashing hungrily as he eyed her skin. A part of her felt stupid, letting him indulge like this— if he went too far, she couldn’t stop him even if she tried.

Another part of her wondered what the teeth were made of. What they felt like.

“W–Wait,” he stopped. “Are you sure?”

Uzi raised one of her LED brows. “Do you have a better idea?”

“...No,” he admitted, his eyes glossing over her open shoulder. Conflict was written all over his face. “But, I—... Why do you trust me?”

“I don’t know.”

“ I don’t trust me.”

“That’s okay.”

“I almost killed you!” he blurted, grasping for a reason to never touch her again. “The first day, when we came back— I almost killed you.”

Did he, now? She shrugged. “Wasn’t the first time.”

N sputtered, “I— I’m programmed to view Worker Drones as targets, Uzi! I had one of my guns pointed at you for a good five seconds before I even realized what I was doing! I don’t know what will happen if I–... if I taste you.”

“And yet you didn’t kill me then, did you?” she reasoned. “I think you can find an iota of self-control.”

N bowed his head. If he still had his pilot’s hat on, it probably would’ve fallen off. “Why do you trust me so much?” he repeated. 

…Why did she trust him?

Why did she trust him, after he was one of the beings responsible for the near eradication of her species? Why did she trust him, when her very blood is the source of his life? Why did she trust him, when he could rip her apart with a single swing of his mass wingspan? Why did she trust him, when she’s only known him for such a short amount of time?

“...Because you’re the first real friend I’ve ever had.”

N’s head snapped up, eyes rapt in attention. 

She continued. “I… always imagined what it was like. Talking to people I mean. It was hard to envision the conversation ending in anything other than ‘bite me.’ N, you listen to me. You don’t think I’m weird.” Shit. She was crying, wasn’t she? “I care about you and I don’t want you to die, even if you think you deserve it.” She tugged her tank top in emphasis, rotating her shoulder towards him. “I trust… that nothing bad will happen. That you can control yourself, so…”

N’s gaze pierced her soul, yellow irises flickering from her screen to her shoulder before he slowly began to lower his mouth. 

Before she could loathe her decision, a sharp sting rang out through her body. A warning came up on her HUD, but she ignored it. N let out a shudder of satisfaction, animalistic as he held her sides gently. His teeth were like daggers, sharper than anything she could manufacture. She hissed, but kept herself still, feeling him greedily swallowing the steady stream of oil he lapped up from her reserves. It was an odd feeling, almost as if N was the world’s biggest tick. Peering out the corner of her visor, she watched as his LEDs fluttered shut, serenity overcoming his expression.

Dizziness came soon enough, as she expected. It wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be, his movements pinpoint and deliberate as he drank. Uzi felt an imaginary lump in her throat bob as she audibly gulped. The warning on her HUD grew more incensed as she felt more and more of her oil leave her. She didn’t know how much he needed, but she couldn’t risk letting him take any more.

“That’s e–enough, N–N.”

One second. Two seconds. Three—

“N, stop.”

“Mmm…” he hummed. “Whu—? Oh, biscuits! Sorrysorrysorry!”

When he finally processed her words, they both pulled away simultaneously. Uzi hissed at the open wound on her shoulder, a bit of oil leaking through as she palmed it. The dizziness intensified. She extended her arm in front of her to support herself, only for her elbow to become wobbly. N caught her, fretting. “Woah there! You good? Did I hurt you?” He sounded perky— more energized. Quieter, he said, “How long was I ignoring you?”

“I–I’m fine,” she stuttered. “It was only a few seconds.”

He nodded, lapping up the last drops of oil around his lips. He covered his mouth with his hands, both of their screens on fire with embarrassment. Shaky, he watched her closely. Not out of hunger, but… something else— something her friendship-starved processor couldn’t identify. “What now?”

“I need some of your oil so my body can filter it. Can you, like, open a wound or something?”

“Why can’t you just nom me like I nommed you?” he asked innocently.

Uzi snickered at the word. “Because, unlike you, I wasn’t designed to be a six-foot-tall killing machine decked out with so many weapons they neglected to put in a goddamn filtration system. Did you forget that I had to make a massive fuck-you railgun just to hurt Disassembly Drones? There’s no way my teeth are going to break your skin, let alone pierce the lower layers.” She shook her head, pointing to his tail. “No, I need you to stick yourself.”

“With my tail?”

“With your tail.”

N shrugged, before promptly stabbing himself clean through the arm. “Ow,” he said lamely. The nanite acid chewed through the artificial muscle, spurts of oil readily flowing through the pinhole. Uzi hastily dragged a bucket out from under the console, placing it under his forearm to preserve the precious oil. Her comparatively smaller hands brought his arm to her mouth, awkward.

“So, do I just…?” she made a biting motion with her mouth. 

“Just suck!” he chirped. His visor exploded with color. "Wow, I'm so sorry. That came out worse than I thought it would."

“No no!” she smirked. “Don’t correct yourself. It’s funny.”

His spare hand covered his screen. “This is so embarrassing.”

She giggled. Letting her mouth part, she tentatively brought his self-inflicted wound up to her lips.

…

The sensation was… surreal. It had a tangy aftertaste. Savory, but sweet, just like N said.

She ignored any and all other distractions, focusing on the task at hand. She understood why N didn’t stop immediately. The taste was downright addictive. Sure, Worker Drones had to cycle new oil every few years, but having this much at once… It was almost overwhelming.  She must’ve lost track of time because N was tapping her head in what felt like seconds. She pulled away, a tremor crawling down her spine. Whether out of embarrassment or satisfaction, she wasn’t sure. N licked his forearm clean, the nanites neutralizing back into pristine skin. 

That was… a rush.

She stood unceremoniously, reaching for a dusty medkit mounted on the wall of the ship. 

Why would they put a medkit in a ship full of regenerating super-drones? 

She wrapped the teeth marks N made on her shoulder with gauze, putting her hoodie back on.  

“Where are you going?”

“Since we’ve solved all of our immediate problems, I might as well go looking for oil,” she proposed pragmatically. “The sun will be out soon, so you should stay with V for when she wakes up.” 

“Wait!” he insisted, holding one of her wrists. “Didn’t you say looking for oil is pointless? Why’re you—?”

He cut himself off as he saw her expression.

A thousand emotions crossed Uzi’s face as N’s eyes met hers. She smiled. It was sad, full of guilt, strained, and hopeful. “I… I can’t look at her.” The rueful cocktail of emotions was too much for her. When Uzi looked at V, she saw the person who killed so many, the drone who haunted her nightmares, the murderer she was planning to kill when she first left her Dad’s bunker… And the victim she maimed. Disgust, fear, wrath, guilt, all bubbling over until she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m going to find oil for her… I promise.”

“At least let me come with you?” he practically begged.

She shook her head.

“Just… let me do this by myself.” That feeling of inferiority crawled back up Uzi’s spine. That same, wriggling feeling that compels her to yell, to take overreaction rather than reaction. That same inferiority that made her want to prove herself. To show the world that she isn’t a freak. That her dad can love her, despite her lack of love for doors.

She squinted as the first dredges of sunlight gleamed past the clouds, determination in every step of her faded boots.

Chapter Text

Uzi found herself staring at V’s corpse-not-corpse.

“Why do you think she shared what she did?” Uzi murmured, gazing impassively at V’s prone form. The usually masochistic Disassembly Drone was still out cold, her regenerative faculties still mending the wound she caused. Still need to figure that out, she thought. The ugly cracks across her screen had almost healed entirely. Are her fingers twitching?

“What do you mean?” N said.

“Well,” Uzi paused, ghosting her hand over N’s hair. “We made it clear she was our only lead and we were unwilling to hurt her. She literally had no reason to divulge any information she clearly didn’t want us to know, yet she did .” Not to mention she nearly killed me and awakened some kind of anime power bullshit. N went uncharacteristically silent below her. She playfully tapped his temples. “You in there?

After a long while, he said, “Love makes you stupid like that.”

She barely heard the “Ow!” as she gripped his hair taut. “She loves you? I thought you had a crush on her?” she said, hating how unintentionally confrontational and accusatory she sounded.

“I do— I did,” he corrected. “I’m… not sure.” N nodded to himself, slowly, as if trying to find the words. “We used to  share… something intimate back at the manor, I’m sure of that much. The details are fuzzy,” he said lamely. His grip on her waist went firm as he tilted his head down at her, imploring, worried. “Does it bother you?”

Uzi stilled. Did it bother her? “...I’m surprised you pointed out that it might bother me. We’ve been avoiding talking about—” she vaguely gestured to herself and him, “— this ever since we left the colony. I didn’t… know how to talk about it. Us, I mean.” She hummed, idly wondering if ritualistic bloodletting (oil-letting?) was a ‘normal’ friendship bonding activity. “So, you think she still feels something for you, which is why she decided to throw you a bone?”

N shrugged. “Do you have a better theory?”

Uzi gazed at V’s sleeping form. She looked almost peaceful. Not in a dead sort of way, but more… content.

She reminded her of herself, Uzi realized. V held the same attitude she does— the same brooding, no-nonsense quippage and angst that kept her sane through those long years in the bunker. A wave of empathy washed through her as she imagined what V had to struggle with— did she have hardships? Was she like N, too? Battling with her own demons, grappling with her morals, maybe?

Regardless, she’s making it incredibly hard to sympathize.

Uzi blinked.

Just like me.

Maybe they weren’t so dissimilar after all…

…Or, she could be projecting— casting her own experiences onto V because she was so desperate for friends. Either way, Uzi felt bad for her. 

And she fucking hated herself for it.

When she looked into V’s eyes, she only saw purple— she merely saw herself, reflected in her visor. 

“No,” she said steadily, despite her gritted teeth. “I don’t.”

She lazily tossed him a bottle, knowing he’d have the reflexes to catch it. “Merry Christmas.”

“What’s a Christmas?” N said, tilting his head in an adorable way as he caught it between his mechanical digits.

“You poor, uncultured soul,” she bemoaned. “I’m in mourning. This is a travesty. Truly, a loss for the ages. How could you forsake my soul such as thou have forsaken thee—?”

“Uzi, I don’t understand—.”

She put a finger over his mouth. “Shu-shush. Open the present,” she grinned, ignoring how his eyes dilated as he stared at her hands.

N was practically salivating as he stared at the bottle. 

Sometimes she wondered if N noticed as much about her as she noticed about him. He wasn’t being subtle when snow was literally evaporating as it hit his body despite all of his claims that he was “fine.” She appreciates the gesture— really, she does— but she’d rather be pragmatic about the whole oil situation and demand cuddles instead of him gutting her entrails. She did not want to test N’s mental fortitude, especially when it came to JCJenon’s botched programming. 

He hastily uncapped the bottle like a rabid dog, baring his canines before pausing, making her blink in surprise. He held it at arms length, wincing as he got a whiff of it. It looked physically painful for him to not drink it.  “I… I, uhm… don’t want it.”

“What?” she said wryly, cupping her chin, “Not up to your standards?”

“Kinda?” he shrugged. “I just…”

Uzi rose one of her LED brows as he trailed off, the sheer amount of pensiveness rolling off her making her smirk. “Well, go on. Spit it out.”

“...It’s just… yours tastes better?” he looked away meekly, yellow blazing on his visor in blush.

Now it was her turn to blush. Seriously, how was she supposed to respond to something like that? Instead of responding with crass, pass, or sass, she merely buried her head inside her oversized sweatshirt, her visor undoubtedly lighting up like a Christmas tree, not that N would have a comparison to it. “I—! You—!” she sputtered, before muttering, “We need to set some ground rules if you want to keep… feeding on me.”

“And I thought you had zero social skills!” N quipped, smiling. “Look at you, setting boundaries! I’m proud of you.”

N dodged the wrench Uzi threw at him, knowing full well he meant every word.

N spoke up after a few hours of silence in the middle of their cuddle session.

“Why don’t you ever say ‘bite me’ to me? You say it constantly to everyone else, but you never seem to get snippy with me.”

Uzi hummed, taking her time with her response. She nestled deeper into N’s embrace, the warmth making her loopy. “Remember when I said that being mean to you is like kicking a puppy?” Her eyes grew hard as her grip on his hair tightened, an edge of inferiority seeping into her words. “The other drones in the colony never socialized with me for the sake of socializing. Their words never meant anything.” She looked up. At him. “But I don’t see that with you. Everything you say, everything you do— you’re so genuinely sincere it’s sickening .”

He laughed nervously. “And that’s a… good thing, right?” She heard him mutter something afterwards, sotto voce, “Pretty sure V said something like that once…”

She shrugged again. “To a point. I still think how V and J treated you is bullshit and you should do something about it instead of being a yes-man.”

“But that’s so mean!” he pouted. 

“You described J as ‘awesome’ by thanking her when she was literally walking all over you. Being called a doormat is supposed to be metaphorical— you know that, right?”

“But it’s…” his eyes darted conspiratorially, as if he were ten years younger and secretly exchanging swear words. “ Selfish,” he hissed.

She leveled with him, letting go of his hair. Her hands slid down his temples until they rested on his cheeks. Uzi’s pretty sure she felt him shudder. “Knowing your own worth isn’t selfish.”

Knowing exactly how much she was worth was what got her through the colony. 

Seriously, hiding behind three doors— how stupid can you get?

“What about this?”

Needing a well-earned break from the chaos of Uzi’s special eye and the near death of V and N, the duo decided to engage in low-key activities until V woke up. Such was their current situation of N picking up random objects scattered throughout the ship, excitedly asking Uzi about it, only for Uzi to explain it in the most deadpan way possible. Rinse, repeat, bonding.

“That’s a diode,” she droned, paying no mind to N the tail wrapped around her leg. It seemed to like staying there and she had no intentions of shooing it away. Uzi had grown used to his touch, whether that be his deadly nanite injector snaking around her calf or a gentle nudge on her shoulder (not that she’d ever tell him that, though— she has to uphold some of her angsty reputation). “They can turn alternating currents into direct currents, among other things. Direct currents are crucial for powering electronics that require a constant voltage.” She blinked. “Like this monitor, for example. Gimme.”

He pointed to a super small dot on a circuit board, handing her the diode as he did so. “And this?”

“That’s a transistor. Super tiny and super cool . They can permit or block the flow of electricity, which is what 1’s and 0’s are in binary.” N '”Ooh’ed” and “Ahh’ed” as she explained, as if she were talking about the most interesting things in the world. “Their ability to oscillate is what allows our radio and clocks to work.”

“Oh, this one looks super complicated.”

She deadpanned. “That’s a wrench.” To accentuate her point, she yoinked a well-worn wrench from the wretched toolkit, twirling it before tightening a gear on the corner of the monitor, securing the refurbished glass in place.

“And that?” He pointed to an Einstein-Rosen bridge diagram, full of mathematical jargon and relativistic physics even she had a hard time understanding it sometimes.

“That’s a wormhole. It’s a theoretical intradimensional gateway that conserves momentum across its waypoints.”

N tilted his head cutely. 

“Speedy thing goes in, speedy thing comes out.”

He let out a long “Oh!”, nodding sagely. 

She shrugged. “It’s not that interesting.”

“If you’re interested, I’m interested,” he shrugged back, smiling. “I like listening to you. And cuddling. Besides, isn’t that what friends do?”

She dropped the wrench she was holding, squawking. “How should I know what friends do? I just wanted you to live; I didn’t expect you teething my shoulder to become a bonding activity!  After all, it’s not like I have friends to compare you to. Everyone at the colony avoided me like the plague because I didn’t like doors and didn’t even know my name—.”

Her processors intervened at the last second, her screen freezing in embarrassment. She shared too much. N’s face fell, his arms going limp at his sides as he mulled her over with an expression Uzi could only describe as wrathful. He huffed in a rare moment of haughtiness, crossing his arms with a pout on his lips. “Well, sucks to be them! They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Uzi’s core skipped a cycle. “What could they possibly be missing out on?” she grumbled.

Seriously, how does he always know what to say?

“You, duh! You’re awesome!” he smiled.

Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush!

“You good?”

Damnit!

“Uh, yeah,” she managed to say dumbly. “Totally, totally, totally.”

Back at the colony, Uzi didn’t have friends. Between her reputation as Khan’s kooky daughter, her zeal to destroy the Disassembly Drones, and her affinity for making extremely powerful weaponry that definitely worked and didn’t explode in her face every other week, she was by and large, unapproachable. Of course, her angsty attitude didn’t help, but who’s counting? (Not that she was secretly working on said attitude for N or anything, no siree).

N did that cute thing again where he puts both of his hands behind his back like a preening butler. He swayed on the heels of his feet, unsure as he shuffled towards her work area. He spoke softly, the words sounding foreign and shaky. “Her name was… Cyn.”

She blinked at the unceremonious segway, her busy hands pausing over a sparking electrical socket. “Are they the person you mentioned in your flashback?”

He nodded, humming. N let his back go flush against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting next to her, knees folded, arms neatly placed. Did he always have that mannerism? “I don’t remember a lot of stuff, but she was…well, everything. I loved her, I think.”

Uzi ignored the necrotic nails that sank into her core, followed by something she’d never felt before— butterflies, twinged with jealousy. The feeling came from a far corner of her mind she didn’t know existed, awakened by N’s words. “What’s with you and love recently?

“She was my sister,” he amended. “I remember being a butler for someone’s manor. V was there. J, too.” His tail wagged slower than usual curling in on itself. Uzi scooched closer, letting N’s tail wrapping needily around her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. She bumped shoulders with him, letting him know she was here— that he wasn’t alone.

“Tell me about her?”

N closed his eyes. “Cyn… She was… different. She had a lot of trouble moving around, so I was always there for her, letting her hold me to balance and stuff. A lot of her programming was corrupted, so her speech patterns were very—… robotic, for lack of a better term . It didn’t help that her visor barely changed, so people found it hard to read her. No one wanted to be around her because she was ‘freaky—,’“ Uzi winced, “—so I was always the one to look after her. I played games with her, showed her around the manor, and watched movies with her.” He snickered. “A lot of movies.”

Uzi found herself softening. “Okay, but what was she like?”

“Oh, the best,” N grinned. “She had the funniest dark humor out there. She loved dogs. She liked to read with me. Oh, and she was the cutest!”

“The cutest?” She raised a brow.

“The cutest,” N asserted. “There was no competition.”

“I thought she was creepy?”

N’s hand made a so-so gesture. “Both? Yeah, it was both.”

“...Do I remind you of her?”

“Who, Cyn?”

She nodded.

N snorted . “Oh, heavens no! You’re way too bratty.”

“Hey!”

“And gothy.”

“ Hey! Don’t diss my hot topic, ” she pouted further.

“Not to mention incredibly vulgar!”

“I’m only a little vulgar…”

N shook his head, grinning. “No, you only remind me of Cyn in one way: she’s even shorter than you.”

“I will shoot you again.”

N merely giggled in response, not at all bothered by the prospect of getting his head blown off. Again.

“So, who’s ‘they’?”

“The Elliots,” he murmured, emotions flipping on a dime as his face twinged with anger. “J and their daughter would lock Cyn in the basement for days at a time just to get rid of her. Once, it was an entire week before I had free time and realized what happened.”

“Holy shit,” she swore, his tail tightening, the wire connecting it going taut around her forearm. She ignored the twinge of pressure. “What happened to you, then?”

“...That’s just it,” he whispered bitterly. “I don’t know.”

She hummed, her thumb mindlessly caressing the cord that attached to N’s nanite injector. The corners of her lips dipping, she grumbled, “Getting really tired of this convenient amnesia.” She shook her head. “What about V?”

N gave her a shit-eating grin. “Okay, so, you’re not gonna believe me, but just listen. Imagine V, right?”

She nodded.

“Now imagine her, but shorter, in a maid’s outfit, and cute.”

Uzi physically recoiled at the mental image. “It’s hard to imagine such a mythical creature.”

“ Right? I thought my memory was still foggy, but nope, that’s what she looked like.”

Uzi’s gaze wandered over to V’s form, still out cold on the ship’s floor. “Makes you wonder what happened that made her like… this.”  Her thoughts wondered to what V was like, decades ago. If she was turned into a Disassembly Drone like N, then there might be a reason why she’s so guarded. She blinked, her spare hand ghosting over her eye. “You said you only remembered this stuff after you saw the symbol on my eye, right? Since you remember so much about Cyn, maybe she’s related somehow?”

N gasped, hope radiating from his downtrodden state, “Which means V might know something!”

“V’s hiding something,” she corrected.

“I’m sure she has good reason,” N replied weakly. He didn’t sound like he believed his own words. 

“I’m also sure she had a good reason for killing thousands of Workers, but hey, that’s just me,” she rattled sarcastically. N’s perpetual gentle gaze became retreating, his eyes looking everywhere but her. Uzi blinked as she realized what she just said. “Oh, shit — uh, sorry—”

N let out a singular, short wheeze, dead inside. The fake chortle forced itself out, awkward as he put on a smile. “No, you’re completely correct! Nothing wrong with your statement. I’m an awful person, after all!“

“N…”

“Just a dumb, idiot Murder Drone who blindly followed the commands of an executive to kill thousands of people— who wouldn’t do what I did?”

“N—!”

“I mean, not to mention I’m a constant parasite to the one friend I have who I’m constantly trying to maintain self-control around so I don’t maim her—!”

“N, shut up! ”

N’s breath was taken away as she cusped both of his cheeks in her hands, her torso resting against his as she lay halfway on him. She could feel it— both of their cores thrumming and pulsing rapidly like it was their final hour. Their faces were inches apart as their heat mixed and equalized between them. Their feet were a tangle of limbs, their eyes hollowed as they stared at each other. Uzi swallowed, one of her hands stroking his cheek slower than a snail. Molars grinding together, her lips wobbled as she let herself relax on his body. “Just… stop talking! Don’t you ever say anything like that again, do you understand!?”

He mumbled dejectedly. “But it’s true—.”

“Shut up,” she repeated with no bite. “You’re not a Murder Drone; you’re a person! First, you are a person!”

N stared at her in stunned silence, afraid to move an inch or breathe an atom. She was panting up a storm from her rant, trying to regain her bearings. She gulped nothing, a foreign feeling of sadness and forlorn creeping on the edge of her mind. Uzi wanted to punch herself as she examined N’s demeanor, her imaginary nostrils flaring as she leveled with him. His voice broke as he spoke, screen crackling with maddened sorrow. “How can you say that? You’re a Worker, too…”

“You were just following orders! J tricked you! It wasn’t your fault— you know that. We know that for sure.”

“It feels like it was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But—.”

“N,” she hushed firmly, their faces so, so close. She could smell the exhaust from his breath. She felt his heat transfer to her, their temperatures nearly aligned and mercifully warm. To her, N was her beacon of warmth— something that shone in the darkness. Alone and cold in the colony for so, so long, she forgot what it was like to be warm . To touch.  “Being a Disassembly Drone isn’t something you did. It’s something that happened to you. You didn’t get a say in any of this, but when you did, you made the right choice. THAT is what matters!”

He finally moved, his ceramic hands delicately clasping hers, his lips shaking. “Uzi…” She let one of her hands clasping his cheeks fall, one resting on his face, the other holding his hand so intensely, she felt like she could die right then and there. “The writing was on the wall, y’know?” he said brokenly. “J always talked about how corrupted Worker Drones are— how little they mattered. She always told me they were barely sentient. But I know, now…” He bit his lip, his LEDs brimming with tears. “I can’t unknow it.”

“But now you can choose,” she whispered firmly. “And who cares about J? J was an ass.”

N let out a surprised cough— almost a laugh. Good! That’s good, right? “But… what if I hurt you?” he said, one his palms gripping hers just a little too hard. “Will it be me ‘choosing’ then?” 

Uzi’s fingers tightened around his cheek. “You won’t. I trust you.”

They gazed at each other for a long while, mutual understanding flashes on their screens as she felt N relax underneath her. She let her weight slowly sink onto his lap, the tension being replaced with a blush. “I feel like I’ve been walking on eggshells,” he looked away again, even more guilty than last time. “I don’t know what’s okay to say or do around you. But I figured you’d hate me for pointing that out, so I didn’t say anything. You don’t like being babied or treated like a snowflake. I didn’t want you to think I thought less of you.” 

“A week ago you would’ve been right.” Her fingers rested on his shoulders. “But now I’m not sure…” she leaned against him, and God it was nice. Uzi had forgotten how much she craved this. So much of her body was contacting his— their legs piled together, her torso resting on his, not to mention her chest. Even her arms were delightfully held by his as he stared at her with complete openness. As she gazed up at him due to her stature, she felt her cheeks puff. “Maybe I like being babied a little,” she grumbled. “I…  I don’t mind as much when you do it.” 

How could she mind him babying her when he was so disgustingly genuine?

A pregnant pause. Then N spoke up again.

“...Can we just stay here? I don’t wanna move until V wakes up.”

Uzi gave a lazy glance to the half-repaired console of the ship. The reconstruction had been slow-going, numerous nuts and bolts haphazardly strewn about. A part of her wanted to pound away at loose metal and relentlessly screw in loose bolts, prodding and soldering circuit boards until the console thrummed back to life, but in all honesty? She didn’t really want to. Not because she’d suddenly given up on murdering all humans or found hopelessness in their situation or anything like that.

N was just really, really warm. 

“Absolutely,” she murmured, her visor already flickering between SLEEP MODE. Blinking it away, she willed herself a few more words. “And, uh, same. About the whole ‘not knowing what to do’ thing, I mean.” At N’s cute tilt of the head, she didn’t feel the same flare of embarrassment and indignance due to opening up. Instead she felt… safe. “I don’t know what to do or say around you either, N. Like I said, I—”

“Don’t have a lot of practice?” he finished for her.

“Yeah…”

She felt him finally relaxing under her weight, his words a murmur, yet she could hear him perfectly over the howling winds just outside. “Then we’ll stick together,” he said firmly. She shivered as she felt his tail venture dangerously, the prehensile wire snaking up through her tank top and wrapping around her stomach. 

Surprisingly, she found herself not wanting to object, an audible shudder escaping her as she nestled into him because God, she wanted more.

It was one of the most peaceful and softest awakenings Uzi’s ever experienced.

The first thing she noticed was warm warm warm. 

If she closed her eyes just for a moment, she could imagine a warm space heater whirring in the corner of her room, an electric blanket wrapped tightly around her in a thick cocoon of contentment. As she blinked her visual processors into calibration, she remembered exactly where she was. The blanket wasn’t a blanket, but N— the Disassembly Drone’s taller form wrapped around her backside, pressing them close. She could feel his chin resting on her hair, her beanie discarded on the floor next to them.

Oh my robo-Jesus, she thought to herself. They’d cuddled before, sure, but something about this awakening felt wonderful and sweet and intimate in a way she’d never experienced before. 

Without warning, her eye burned— the same one that nearly maimed V. She yelped, more in surprise than pain as it hissed, steam bursting from the creases in her visor. Her core skipped a beat, waiting with baited breath, only for nothing to happen. No sudden cracking, no contorting of glass. N was fine— he was fine.

Speaking of, N woke noiselessly, a bit of drool hanging on the corner of his lips. His back went stiff as a rod, looking down at her. “Good morning,” he whispered. “Aaaand— scoop!” With almost no preamble, N’s smooth, warm hands grabbed her sides and plopped her on his shoulders, reminiscent of how he carried her after their battle with J and V. Her ears burned, her hands gripping his hair for balance. She saw him grin sheepishly in the reflection of the console’s monitor. “Too much? You said you liked being babied, so I thought… maybe it's okay if I hold you sometimes?”

“It’s fine!” She huffed. “I don’t mind the view. Just… warn me next time, please?” Grumbling, she crossed her arms for half a second before realizing she needed her hands for balance, prompting her to flail before readjusting. N giggled at her  clumsiness. Uzi felt herself pouting, wondering if N liked holding her like this, considering this was not the first, but second time he hoisted her off the ground without her consent. 

Though, she had to admit, the idea of N randomly engaging touch throughout the day wasn’t an unwanted prospect. Every time they touched, Uzi realized more and more just how much she craved physical contact— the closeness of it all. It’s something that should’ve been so obvious, yet the truth of her feelings were clouded by loneliness. It’s only now, ever since this golden retriever fell from the sky, that she feels…

Her processor sparked as it finished the thought.

She decided to mindlessly stroke N’s shiny locks to distract herself, the last vestiges of her drowsiness fading away. “Remind me again why you never did this again? Loving the view from up here.”

“I was scared of you. I'm still scared of you,” N said plainly. “Every part of me wants you.”

Goosebumps rushed down her spine. We have that in common, she thought. God, she loved this. Uzi never truly realized how touch-starved she was until N happened. Given that Dad was always working on doors or ignoring her existence and Mom’s been dead for decades, her opportunities for touches were… lacking.

Uzi was tired of being alone. 

She crossed her legs over his chest, leaning down so they could make eye-contact. N had a strange, entranced expression on his visor. Not quite the lustful, craving expression he’d usually adorn when thinking about her oil, rather he appeared… smitten. 

“I don’t wanna go,” N breathed.

Her mind locked up, breath hitched as the two of them tensed simultaneously. Uzi’s mind registered his words as soon as he did the same, the two of them staring at each other with a mixture of smitten and absolutely mortified.

‘U–Uhm,” he blubbered, in a rare moment of stutter. Uzi didn’t think it was because of his temperature. “I—... I mean—”

She cut him off. “Don’t you dare take that back.” N stared at her with an expression betwixt awe and pensiveness, unsure of how to respond to her.  She decided to rest her chin on his head, his silver scalp acting as a mythical pillow. “Keep talking,” she murmured. 

N’s jaw fell slack, before nodding.

“I… want to stay with you,” he whispered, the words flowing easier now. She felt both of them relaxing, N’s gaze glazing over as he spoke. “Sometimes I feel like we could stay on this ship forever. Sometimes it feels like it’s all that exists. Just me and you.  Sometimes… I don’t wanna leave. Even though we were designed to be unable to coexist, we coexist anyway. It feels… right. ”

Something about what N said struck a chord with her. It was odd, wasn’t it? “Don’t go,” she said suddenly, realizing that the prospect of losing N horrified her. When did this happen? When did N grow to be so inextricably linked to her? A well of anxiety she didn’t know existed threatened to overflow with tears. Her digits clung to his jacket. “Please.”

“I don’t have any plans to,” he said easily. “...If you’ll have me, that is…”

She nodded, because of fucking course yes, she’d have N. “Don’t… do that,” she frowned. “Delude yourself, I mean. Of course I’ll have you.”

“Odd way of showing it sometimes,” N snickered back.

“Admittedly, yes,” she relented. She folded her hands over his scalp and rested her chin on it. “I wasn’t kidding. Keep talking. Please?” N looked ready to playfully protest in the middle of her command, but just as he was about to speak up, she said ‘please.’ At the word, N’s expression softened into sickeningly genuine sincerity. She averted her gaze, tempted to cross her arms in annoyance she couldn’t identify. He had that look in his eye— the kind of look she’d seen him gaze at her with a few times since the colony. It was like he was looking through her soul, able to see all her insecurities and know exactly what to say to make her happy.

Slowly, he unfurled his wings, further shielding them from the outside world. It became cooler and hot at the same time, the noises and ambient humming from the ship fading away. N formed a cocoon-like with his appendages, the dozens upon dozens of razor-sharp feathers graciously folding inward. All she could hear now was the light, almost indiscernible sound of her and N’s hydraulics. She relaxed on his shoulders, the cocoon dark and damp.

She vaguely remembers falling asleep on her first real friend’s shoulders, his sweet murmurs a promise to the open air.

Chapter Text

This time of day, the ground was particularly hard. The top layer of snow flicked upward into waves of mist as if refusing to accept the setting of the sun. As it fell behind the horizon, the ground gave in. Partially melted snow solidified, quickly and harshly encrusting the planet’s surface in a new layer of frost. The crunchiness of the snow made it impossible to step quietly, yet difficult to get snuck up on.

Uzi snorted. It’s not like she planned on dealing with the cold today, anyway. Why would she, when the ship was so close to being completely repaired and she had a warm snuggle bunny at her side?

“N? Could you, uhm…” she said, kicking her feet. “Can you put me on your shoulders? I need to…” she pointed to a couple of sheared bolts in the corner of the ship’s command module that needed to be replaced. Uzi wanted to punch herself for being a Worker Drone yet didn’t have the insight to find a spare ladder the last time she went on her expedition.

Just like they’d agreed, Uzi found their communication to be far more open and relaxed since yesterday. It felt like a massive weight had been lifted off their shoulders. As long as she was in the mood, she let N touch her whenever he wanted. Small bumps on the shoulder, reassuring squeezes, and fingers grazing hers had become part of her daily norm. She loved every second of it— more than she thought she would, if she was being honest. Uzi knew “objectively” she was touch-starved. But it was one thing to know it and another to experience it.

If she asked to be put on his shoulders, he agreed. If she leaned into him to cuddle, he leaned right back. If she felt nauseous glancing at the mounds of bodies outside, he’d rub circles on her mechanical spine until it passed. It was unreal. It was something she couldn’t have even imagined back at the bunker.

N’s touch was… warm. Warm and sincere in a way no one else gave her…

Hell, it’s not like her classmates ever even looked at her, much less actually touched her.

She felt as if N had given her so much while doing so little. She felt almost obligated to give something in return…

…Which is exactly what made her hesitate when he came to her with a question.

“So…” he said, drawing out the sound as long as possible. N’s body language screamed uncomfortable. His visor was sweating, his hands were clasped behind his back— a tick she was noticing— and he was rolling on the balls of his feet. She silently grumbled to herself, his uneasy movements making screwing in this last bolt annoyingly difficult.  “You’re always telling me to be more assertive, so I have a favor to ask.” 

N, the selfless and yes-man N, asking a favor? Ok, now she was worried. N asking a favor was almost unthinkable. 

Almost.

“Woah,” she said, faking worry. “N, you good? Is something wrong with your programming? You’re not secretly J in disguise, right?” 

The playful mood she tried to set up evaporated with his next words.

“I want my memories.” She froze on the final bolt, the thing half-loose and hanging. The perpetual howling winds outside only roared louder at the sudden, stark silence. She let her hands fall, fingers resting on his scalp as she realized he was looking at her, carefully gauging her reaction. She knew N wasn’t an idiot. That kind of question— that kind of request required very particular equipment. Equipment that wouldn’t be found on Worker cadavers or the ship’s mainframe. She knew that. She knew N knew that.

“N–N…” she muttered. “Do you even know what you’re asking me to do?”

“I’m admittedly lost on the finer details,” he giggled. Oh, you loveable, stupid idiot… She wanted to hug him at that moment. That’s not what she was referring to.

“I’ll be going into your operating system,” she explained, unable to mask the emotion in her voice. “I’ll have to crack open your skull to get direct access. I’d be in your head, N.”

“Oh, I know that part!” he chirped. “I trust you.” 

She scoffed at the insane notion. It still amazed Uzi that N was able to say such things so easily. His trust wasn’t the problem— far from it. The problem was her. The thought of going back to the colony made her grit her teeth. In rage, fear, nausea, or retribution, she wasn’t sure. A melting pot of emotions was boiling just under the surface and she— she couldn’t go back. “But—.”

“Uzi,” he interjected softly. She lost her breath as she saw his eyes. “It’s my choice. Please?”

Choice…

If Uzi could describe Worker Drones in one word, it would be “choice.”

Uzi went still, a careful, rare sort of calm coming over her face as she saw N’s conviction. He was sure of himself, she realized. More sure of this decision than anything else he’d done so far. N was genuine to a fault but that assuredness came with dorky bumblingness and frequent, accidental insensitivity. But this…? …She’d never seen him so stalwart.

His memories mattered to him. A lot. More than she thought.

Dad’s face flashed in her mind, the tinkering of her railgun mixed with spite, sprite, and black powder, spare oil sticking to her face. Everyday, the white-faced, aged Drone checked on her, telling her to quit while she was ahead. “ It’s never too late to work on doors!” he’d always say. Yeah, and what good did that do, Dad? Always preaching to the WDF about making doors and defending the colony only to abandon your daughter to die you bastard—.

“Uzi? Hey, you good?” her savior gently shook her leg, breaking her spiral.

She placed a hand on her temple. “I… I’m fine.”

N pressed. Because of course he did. “Really?”

“I’m fine,” she said with more force than necessary. “Bite me…”

She felt N suppress a flinch, sauntering forward onto his next sentence. Still scared of confrontation, huh? She internally shook her head. No, she shouldn't blame N for his reaction. She’s the one being stupid and overreacting. “...You said ‘bite me,’” is all he said, the implication hanging in the air. Uzi blinked. Shit, she did, didn’t she? She’s never said that to N since they first returned from the colony. Everything was suddenly too tall. Vertigo assaulted her processors with a vice. Squeezing her visor shut, the feeling refused to yield.

“Put me down.”

“Wha—?”

“N, put me down, now.”

Scrambling with a “Yes, ma’am,” he gently grabbed her waist, placing her on the rickety floor of the ship’s grating. She staggered, knees threatening to buckle. She leaned on N, the latter surprised at her contrasting actions. Swallowing imaginary bile, she managed to open her mouth. “How… important is this to you?” she said, grasping at straws to prevent or at least delay.

N scratched behind his head, looking away before gathering his resolve.

“Something or someone took away whatever memories I had left of Cyn. I want them back.”  

The nausea went away.

The fear wasn’t gone. Muted, yes, but… she felt… grateful? Or was it happy? Unknown emotions poured into her mind from an unknown place. Was her programming glitching? She stared at her fingers, digits flexing easily enough. No, her motor functions were normal. Her processors stretched to the corners of her mind, searching, scanning. The emotions, as if sensing her prodding, rippled with fear. It retreated, disappearing into nothingness. Its presence vanished so completely and suddenly, Uzi doubted whether they existed at all. Compelled, she steadied herself and held her chin high, meeting his wide-eyed, pleading gaze. 

She would never admit it to N or V, but she loved the Disassembly Drone’s luminescent, glowing yellow eyes. Uzi felt like she could get lost forever in those eyes, surrounded by the sun and love. And when she gazed into those oceans of molten gold, bright with electrons… How could she refuse?

With a heavy sigh, she said, “I’ll grab my tools…”

Before she could ponder her emotional glitch any further, N cheered, then froze as if remembering something. He hesitated, holding up a finger. “Ah— but, before we go. I have… a condition.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, mustering up any amount of geniality. “Well, aren’t you on a roll today? Demanding two favors? I’m proud of you.”

“I… I can’t face them,” N said, shuffling. “Is there a way I could… avoid them? The other Workers, I mean.”

The memory of N haphazardly kicking a Worker Drone body came to the forefront of her mind without permission. Uzi nodded easily enough. After everything they’d talked about, she could glean the fairly obvious reason why N wouldn’t want to confront the victims of his massacre. 

“I understand,” Uzi smiled, swallowing the oil that threatened to jump out of her throat. She leaned down, reaching for Dad’s wrench, giving it a twirl. “I have an idea. I’ll explain on the way.”

Neither of them noticed V’s visor flickering in rapt attentiveness. 

The solution they came up with was quite simple. Although Dad’s doors were annoyingly effective when they were closed, there were plenty of vulnerabilities that could be exploited past the first or second layer. Operative word being “or” because Dad undoubtedly shored up the defenses ever since N breached Door 1. Since N wanted to sneak past everyone to avoid confrontation and panic, she suggested the ventilation shafts that V and J used to corner the WDF.

Except instead of using the routes to travel to the evacuation area, N will be using the secret vents she installed to her room for that sweet, sweet warmth. She gave him a rough schematic of the place to know where to go.

As for the plan, N will tail her until she can distract Dad and whoever else is at Door 1 so that her Disassembly friend can slip right inside.

All she had to do was play the innocent, regretful teen.

Right… easy. Easy…

Fastening her railgun on her back, Uzi marched forward with purpose, visor narrowed into a familiar scowl. It was weird being separated from N knowing he was nearby, following. She snorted, imagining that goober crawling on all fours trying to be sneaky. Though, now that she thought about it, she didn’t want to know what fighting a sneaky Disassembly Drone was like. 

Up ahead, she spotted the colony’s main door. Sure enough, it appeared to be sealed shut, hydraulics pressing it tight. Embedded into the mountain, it could probably withstand a nuke or ten. Her lips pursed as she approached, going over her mental checklist of responses. She knew N wanted this, but talking to Dad was going to be so hard. Not because she wanted to go back or anything like that, it’s just…

Dad.

She could already feel herself gritting her teeth.

Uzi approached, raising her hand to the buzzer. Her fingers inched away from the button, and she paused, hesitating. This was going to be the first time she’s talked to… anyone besides N in weeks. Did her classmates even notice her missing? Did Dad expect her to return and give up already? She felt her hands clench at her sides.

I wish N were here.

Planting her feet, she poised herself, near-slamming the buzzer with her fist.

Not five seconds later, a sectioned portion of the door opened, the Worker operating it thoroughly gobsmacked to see her. After they let her in, they ran off, undoubtedly to find Dad. She suppressed a mischievous giggle as she may or may not have used her spare master key card to keep the door open for a certain Disassembly Drone. Even when she knew he was coming, Uzi almost jumped as N’s near-silent flight took him inside a vent on the ceiling. His form was compact and fast, the slight clatter of metal the only evidence of his existence. Good thing, too, since Khan Doorman himself appeared in front of Door 2 a moment later.

…Dad looked terrible.

His WDF vest was torn in multiple places and his usually-worn sneakers appeared especially worse for wear. The scuff marks seemed to be caused by pacing, his visor gaining an extra wrinkle in her absence. Blemishes adorned his gloves, undoubtedly caused by him tinkering away in his chilled study. His metallic skin twinkled like stardust, a subtle layer of frost encrusted all over his body. Figures he’d be coming from his workshop. Dad always retreated when he couldn’t handle stuff.

She learned from the best, after all.

“Uh, hey, Dad,” she said lamely. She raised her hand, waving. “I—.”

“Well, that took longer than expected!” he chuckled, before clearing his throat. At the drop of a hat, his entire demeanor changed, glowing. He messed with his vest before meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d return within a few days with your rebelliousness as of late! I figured you were acting out. Good to know you came to your senses! It’s only natural, after all! Living outside of a door-protected colony is just irresponsible, ha!”

…It’s strange. She expected some sort of world-shattering moment of despair or reprieve. But in actuality, it was nothing but disappointment. As Dad spoke, she felt her heart shudder, before whittling and dwindling to nothing. Any sympathy she felt for him died as he did what he always did: ignore the problem… and hide behind doors. Because of course he did! Would it kill him to be vulnerable and talk to her like a person?

Her breath caught, catching the machine gun of insults ready to fly from her mouth. Her digits wrenched the side of her sweater, hydraulics creaking under her barely contained wrath. She winced, ignoring the pain as sparks came off. She grit her teeth, forcing a smile onto her face as she walked past him. 

Keep it together, she thought to herself. For N… This is for N, not for you. Don’t break your cover.

“I wasn’t thinking and made a stupid choice,” she agreed, striding past him in one step.  

Of course, she was lying out of her ass.

It was the best choice she’s ever made. 

Had she cowered behind three doors, she never would’ve met N.  

If Dad noticed the thunder brewing in her mind, he paid it no mind. Her core felt tight as if it were recursively coiling in on itself. Did he even care? “I’ll just be… going to my room now. Away from you.”

“I was worried about you,” she heard from behind her. “But I knew you’d be able to handle those Murder Drones!” They’re not Murder Drones, they’re people, she hissed to herself. “Since you’ve come back, I can only assume you destroyed them!” Oh my God, Dad, shut up shut up shut up! “I can’t say I approve, but now we don’t need to fight! At least your mother is finally avenged and we can forget about those horrible influences—!”

Dad must’ve noticed a shift in the air, his trap finally shutting up. She looked over her shoulder, giving him the coldest glare in the universe. She knew the digression didn’t make any sense. She knew, somewhere, deep in her mind, that this would do nothing but endanger N’s chances. But at that moment, Uzi didn’t care. At that moment, she didn’t give two shits.

She just wanted him to hurt.

“...Your wife is fucking dead, Dad.”

A sound choked in his throat. She let out a shuddering breath, facing ahead, away from him. 

“I thought something might've changed. I thought— for a second— you might have actually cared. I was wrong.”

She dug into her backpack, chucking Dad’s wrench behind her. It clattered into the floor with a grating clank, the metal ringing as everything else seemed to go silent. She turned her heel, tears building in the corners of her eyes. Dad, shocked into silence, fumbled, trying to reach for words.

“I love you, Uzi,” she heard his downtrodden voice, a bit of desperateness twinged between the lines. She wanted to shoot him. “I always have. You know that, right?”

Did he seriously just—?!

Her feet skid on the metal grating below, and Dad realized his mistake instantly. Her palms nearly dented as she bawled her hands into fists, trembling with barely contained rage. She gave him a look over his shoulder. “I know you friggin' love me…” Her voice quieted further, to the point where he almost couldn’t hear her. “If you think that’s the problem, you haven’t been listening to a single thing I’ve been saying.” 

As she stormed to her room, bright red, brooding LEDs scanned her intently from the hallway down. 

Dad didn’t follow her.

She didn’t look back.

A familiar blast of heat greeted her as she flung the door open. 

She slammed it behind her, making sure it was locked before unfastening her pack and beaming it in pure frustration. Screwdrivers, cable, wrenches, and other equipment scattered across the floor as she fell to her knees. 

Not a single genuine emotion from that man! Always hiding behind platitudes behind obsession behind his fake mustache. He couldn’t spare a single moment of genuineness, could he?! What did he say when he saw his daughter who was missing for weeks?! Not a “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” or a “What happened?” or even a “Did I do something wrong?” 

Not a single iota of freaking—…!

What the hell was he expecting? Was that really all he had to say? She’s been gone for weeks, thinking about him and wondering what he might say, and he brushes it all aside like it’s nothing! Was he—...

…Was he really waiting for her to come back… and be expectantly docile?

She growled, feet pounding the ground with every step as she threw herself onto her bed. Her beanie went flying as she hurled it across the room, scattering papers as it landed on her desk. The energy fueled by her righteous fury sapped away all at once, and Uzi stared at the ceiling, eyes wandering to the vent. When will N get here? she thought wistfully…

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just… close her eyes for a moment… and wait for him…

She stilled. Did N get lost even with the schematic she gave him? She shook her head. Don’t be ridiculous. N’s competent. It’d be an insult to go after him assuming he couldn’t navigate a map. Not to mention it might blow their cover. She didn’t want to be another V and think the worst of him. 

…

At least Dad didn’t find her secret ventilation system…

…

…

…

“Wake up sleepy-head~.”

“Whu—?!”

The purple drone jumped, shooting up without thinking. Her skull let out a hard CLONK as it collided with a familiar voice’s head. They both groaned, Uzi reaching for her forehead as she blearily opened her eyes. There was N, the dork that he was, goofily hanging from the ceiling by his tail. He looked like a bat, his wings only slightly unfolded as his fluffy hair hung down past his head. He sat criss-cross applesauce, a sight that filled her with a foreign sense of nostalgia. 

“You made it,” she smiled, raising a brow. “And why are you—... upside-down?”

“Sheesh, it’s hot in here…” he muttered to himself, his sensors noting her room’s increased temperature before dejectedly letting out,  “I was trying to be romantic.”

“Oh, it was. It totally was,” she snorted jokingly, before booping him on the nose. “Let’s get those memories back, ‘kay?”

“Before we do that,” N said hesitantly. “Uhm… Uzi…?”

She gave him a look. “What? I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” he pointed out. “I… I heard everything.” She felt herself wince, and suddenly N was too close. She scooted away, pressing herself against the bedframe to make as much space between them as possible. Ever attentive, N noticed the shift immediately, flipping around and letting himself fall onto her bed. “If I knew things were that bad between you and your dad, I wouldn’t have even suggested we come here—.”

“We had to come here—!”

“Not at your expense!” N cut her off. “That’s the last thing I want!”

Tears threatened to break free as her fingers clenched around the fluffy, too-thick blankets of her old bed. “...This place doesn’t feel like home anymore,” Uzi said suddenly, the non sequitur throwing N off guard. “It’s strange… I lived here my whole life, and yet I only feel home when you’re with me,” she murmured. “So don’t think it’s at my expense, okay?”

N’s gaze became thoughtful before a sharp frown etched itself onto his face. It looked wrong on him. “But I wasn’t with you— when you talked to him, I mean. You… you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. I almost spoke up, too, y’know? He was saying all those things… and you looked really angry.” He glanced at her trembling hands. “You’re still angry. It was kinda scary how quiet you were.”

“He was saying horrible things about you!” she retorted hotly, rolling her eyes. "Fuckin' prick..."

N broke eye contact, taking her hands into his. She felt her visor flare deep purple, a squeak escaping her at the sudden touch. “You don’t have to do things alone,” he murmured forlornly, his thumb brushing over her knuckle. His skin was hot like the sun, too warm and full of blanketing, unconditional care. Snapping her palm away, she made distance, her visor almost certainly blushing up a storm. Knowing her retreating wasn’t out of anger, N giggled.

“L–Let’s just get your memories back, you doofus…”

He gave her his signature salute, and Uzi felt her core skip a beat.

Half an hour later, Uzi soldered the final few wires together, an intricate setup before her. Two monitors, her desktop, and a jungle of wires littered the floor. N sat, humming and swaying back and forth as he watched her work. She scampered around him, darting around the room, calibrating sensors, checking cables, and muttering calculations to herself. Papers full of numbers he didn’t understand and tools he didn’t know the names of cluttered her desk. All the while, N kept his unchanging dopey smile on his face. Even as she poked, prodded, and plugged wires into ports he didn’t even know he had, he remained completely at ease. Uzi envied N’s levels of chill.

“How are you so calm?” she whined, fingers blazing across her keyboard. “Unfair…”

“Oh, no!” he chirped, waving at her. Her sensors perked up at the slight tremor in his voice, betraying his true feelings. “I am in immense emotional distress right now!”

Ah. There it is. 

She appraised him. “Are you still sure you want to do this? Last chance to back out…”

“Totally,” he affirmed, giving her a thumbs-up to match. 

Uzi felt her visor narrow. She lowered herself off her chair down to his level. “N… I’m serious. I don’t know what we’ll find in here—,” she poked at his temple. “Whatever or whoever repressed your memories probably did it for one of two reasons.” N’s expression slowly flattered from an unwavering smile to a weary frown. “Either there’s company secrets they didn’t want you to know… or whatever you experienced was so batshit insane your psyche broke afterward and they needed to soft-reboot your OS.”

At that, N thought for a moment, his eyes finding the floor particularly interesting. Eventually, though, he gazed back at her, and she swore she almost got lost in his eyes again. “They’re my memories, Uzi. It’s not like we have a lot of options, anyway…”

Uzi huffed, knowing just how right he was. V was completely unwilling to talk about the past, N’s memories refused to yield, and she hit a dead end with whatever that strange symbol was in her eye. She stared, giving him a good look before nodding. She made her way to her computer, tip-toeing past the gauntlet of cables. “One more thing… in order to reformat your memories back to their original state, I’ll be seeing everything you see. I want you to know… I’m going to be unwittingly violating a lot of your privacy.”

N didn’t hesitate. “If I had to choose one person in the universe to be digging around in my head, I wouldn’t mind it being you,” he said simply. 

She shook her head, exacerbated. “Ready?”

N nodded firmly, scratching one of the ports where a cable was plugged in. “Hit me.”

Before his systems shut down, she gave him the most earnest smile she could, trying to convey everything she couldn’t through words. N grinned back. “See you on the other side.” With a final flourish of her finger, she clicked the “Y” key on her keyboard, initializing the program. The effect was instant. N went limp against the wall, his visor flashing with the words “MEMORY BANK REFORMAT IN PROGRESS. NEW ADMINISTRATOR ID REQUIRED.” 

Uzi felt her consciousness slipping as the program fell upon her at full force. 

As her eyes were forced shut, she regarded N one final time. 

And then, the program pulled her into a manor… dozens of lightyears away.

Chapter Text

The best term Uzi could use to describe the sensation was “spaghettification.” 

Spaghettification is a phenomenon that occurs when matter falls into a black hole. An object’s mass— its very particles— are split apart. The gravity inside of its event horizon is so strong, the protons and neutrons themselves become fixed into a single line. The quarks themselves are literally gutted and gluttoned into a single, infinitely thin line of matter.

Her code underwent a similar process, consciousness channeling into N’s. It funneled, falling deeper into N’s mind as she tried to process the information buzzing around her. The information her incorporeal form was passing wasn't memories— not yet, anyway. They were more like… flashes. Impressions. It was if she were blinking over and over again and seeing an afterimage float across her vision. 

As she expected, her mind began to meld with his as she entered. She could feel his emotions through the memories, and she would’ve physically reeled if she had the ability to. There was so much love. She knew N was compassionate, but she wasn’t expecting such a sheer volume of yearning. Though, she was merely scratching the surface of N’s memory bank. And besides, the emotions were unfocused. Present, yet lacking something to imprint it upon.

Without warning, the fall came to a halt.

Then, THONK!

Her form collided with a dome. To her, it looked miles wide. She “blinked” as she examined it— as if blinking has any meaning when she doesn't have a body anymore. The hemisphere was covered in some sort of matrix, a strange golden symbol plastered all over it. 

Wait… that’s the same symbol that showed up in my eye!

She tilted her head. The symbols were writhing with energy, poking and prodding at the dome as if trying to break in. 

…I’m deciding not to unpack the implications of that right now. I have a job to do.

As she approached, the dome bobbed like the ocean, waves converging until a tiny door opened in front of her— for her and only her.

Huh… does his subconscious recognize me?

Her code fell deeper into N’s processors until she found the center of the dome. His memories were, as she expected, shredded and coiled so tightly it resembled a Gordian knot. She groaned, knowing full well she had her work cut out for her. Uzi tentatively reached out, tugging on what looked like the beginning of the knot.

The world shifted from indeterminate colors and expressions to dark brown, rustic walls, and endless chinas to clean. She blinked, or rather, N blinked. Being able to see from his perspective inside his memories was… odd. This was going to take some getting used to… 

It wasn’t just his vision, either. His thoughts, emotions, and sensations all began to filter through her psyche, wanting to be let in. She hissed, his memories becoming hers as she encouraged the reformat program to do its job. The memories themselves hurt. She shook her head in exacerbation. The memories. Literally. Hurt. Whoever locked them away really didn’t want N to find them.

Sucks to be them.

As the memories played on accelerated repeat, Uzi’s ghostly form filtered through all of them, the reformat program cutting out the corrupted code bites, healing them, and then sending them along. Hundreds of days passed before her very eyes, represented by stark white, the same color as N’s eyes when he was a butler. She felt her LEDs narrow as she remembered that Worker Drones used to look exactly alike— their visor colors and clothes all identical. As the memories flashed before her, she found most of N’s early days were exactly the same: take orders, scrub the glass, clean the sweep, dust the books, and dozens upon dozens of other menial tasks. There were some interesting moments, though. 

N’s programming seemed to be bugged since day one, causing an unquenchable interest in… golden retrievers…?

A bit curious and a bit ashamed for lingering on something she shouldn’t, she played the memory in full. N wasn’t talking, being the dutiful Worker he was, but his sensors were listening to Tessa’s every word as she rattled off a few facts about different dog breeds, golden retrievers being one of them. His processors created a recording of her voice and stored it in the deepest, most important parts of N’s memory bank.

She shook her head, smiling fondly at the memory before moving on.

Another flash, and this time, it was J. She held out her leg in front of N as he pampered the Elliots, expensive makeup and jewelry flying everywhere. He scrunched up on himself as the missus screeched at him, her raised hand the only warning before —.

Uzi swiped the memory away, her hand on her cheek in phantom pain.

…She was going to skip these ones from now on.

She felt something stir within her as N’s code and memories moved down a gradient, transforming into a deep, neon yellow. Startled, she paid close attention to the memories that came after, but…

“There’s no difference?” she thought.

She inspected them more closely; it wasn’t long until she got her clue.

Clinging to Tessa's leg— her stature even smaller than hers due to the drone’s malformed legs— stood who Uzi only could assume was Cyn. She let out a tiny smile, eyes glitching as she shyly waved at her— at N.

“Huh…” she thought. “N was right. She is really cute.”

It helped that Tessa decided to dress Cyn in maid’s apparel. It was oddly fitting on her, the little tiara and frilly skirt especially adorable. Unlike V or N, who both had rather generic (albeit amazingly fluffy) hair, Cyn had two, long strands of bangs that went multiple inches past her chin. Her stance was stilted and wobbly, hands fidgeting by her waist. 

…Her eyes were yellow.

Uzi slowed the reformatting program, making sure to take her time with these memories. N specified he wanted all of his time with Cyn back, so she was going to make sure they were completely healed and unmarred by the time she was done. N’s new neon gold stream of data didn’t behave any differently, weirdly enough. If anything, it was more malleable. Familiar, even. 

Uzi’s calculating stare hardened as she examined N’s code. 

His code… it’s almost like he was a Disassembly Drone… before he was a Disassembly Drone.

But that’s… impossible. He’s still a Worker right now.

If she had lips at the moment, they would’ve pursed.

What the hell happened in this memory that fundamentally altered N’s code…? Her eyes darted throughout N’s field of vision. Nothing seemed to be particularly out of place. J was being a hardass as usual, and Cyn was bumbling toward N with an unchanging, unblinking smile on her face.

She shook her head. Mysteries later. Memories first.

Uzi accelerated the reformatting program, and then V showed up a few days later. 

She blinked, incorporeal fingers grazing over such an intimate and cherished first encounter. It wouldn’t be right to view it. She was already violating enough of N’s privacy as is. 

She should let it pass.

She should just repair it and send it on its way.

…But it might be the one chance to figure out what V’s deal was… but doing it might destroy whatever potential rapport she could build with her…

…

She clicked play.

…

The day began normally enough. Well, it didn’t really “begin” in the way that humans thought. N’s central processor has been running continuously for years at this point. The idea of uninterrupted consciousness… disturbed Uzi. Now that she thought about it, she’s never seen N’s visor display “SLEEP MODE” before when he was a Disassembly Drone. 

… Did he sleep?

Before she had time to unveil the inner machinations of N’s sleep schedule, she felt— or rather, N felt— something crash into her. 

“Oof!”

Glassware, expensive plates, and elegant ceramics went flying. One of them shattered dully, the fluffy carpet miraculously dampening the rest of them. N panicked as he scrambled for the priceless cutlery, returning them to their original state on the wait tray. He reached for them all, before noticing a peculiar pair of… glasses?

He blinked, glancing to the other side of the crash. A girl— at least, he thought it was a girl, based on her hair— was squinting. She groped blindly on the floor, a bit desperate and embarrassed. “Oh come on, where are they?” she whimpered. N felt a rush of embarrassment as he picked up the glasses, though not before noting the odd cadence in the stranger’s pretty voice. It sounded… different. Not like the other Worker Drones in the Manor, but like him, J, and Cyn.

Tessa must’ve found another one.

Uzi’s first thought was “Wow, N was right.” V was pretty . Her maid’s outfit wasn’t as tacky as she thought it would be. N abashedly took in her appearance for a few moments. She had short, blond fluffy hair similar to his own. Her eyes were the same, stark white as any other worker, yet they were somehow dulled— fuzzy. N connected the dots: she must’ve had something wrong with her visual processors.

“Here,” he called, holding them out with a patient smile.

She squeaked, unaware of his presence, before managing to lock eyes with him. She squinted, hand shaking uncertainly as she reached out.

Her fingers grazed his—.

Sparks.

Uzi’s form shuddered violently as she felt the tidal wave of emotions barrel through her.

Love. 

So much love, in fact, she felt like she could double over from sheer empathy alone. She touched the part of N’s mind that kept V locked away, letting the ocean of adoration fill up to her knees and beyond. There was so much. Far more than she ever thought possible. It felt like a warm summer’s day, fleeting. Like a rocket blasting into space, like a lightning bolt crackling through the sky. Uzi couldn’t describe it in a way that made sense. It was a chemical reaction— an explosion of romance and rose-tinted glasses. Uzi forced herself to tear her gaze away. If she stared too long, she might get lost in it.

Then, anxiety. Though, it wasn’t coming from N.

Is this what he feels for me? 

…Or is it… just V?

She suddenly felt retribution surge through her. How dare they lock away this memory— these feelings? 

God, N was missing so much.

Her mind was a flurry of thought. Is this why V became distant? Or does she not remember these memories, either? It would explain why she’s so cold to N all the time, despite loving him once. Does she still love him? Then why hasn’t she pursued him? Why stand on the sidelines and refuse to talk to them when she clearly cares for him?

Uzi hastily wrote a mental checklist, steeling herself to confront V later. When she’s not hungry, preferably. 

V, though N didn’t know her name yet, must’ve felt the connection, too. She and N stood awkwardly, both of their visors exploding with color as they went flush.

She took the glasses, a reserved smile on her face as she shuffled hesitantly on her feet, putting the spectacles on. “I’m V,” she murmured timidly, pushing the glasses up her nose.

“I’m N,” he squeaked back, equally embarrassed. “Sorry for bumping into you.”

“Oh no!” she waved. “I–It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Uzi watched the memory, trying to process everything she was feeling. It wasn’t jealousy, no. She wasn’t jealous of a memory. 

Probably.

She shook her head, letting the feelings settle instead of pushing them away for once.

Uzi played the memories in front of her. She gazed ahead, scanning the code for instances of V. She blanched as she realized V was everywhere. They hung out constantly after this moment. Almost every day, after the Elliots dismissed them, N and V found each other in the dead of night. Every night, they’d talk, murmuring to each other about nothing and everything: their love, their fears, their desires. Some nights, V would gently tug N by the hand and bring him into the ballroom, softly explaining ballet and guiding him through the steps as they danced in the moonlight. Some nights, N would drag V by the hand and bring her into the library, excitedly ranting about golden retrievers and a slew of different breeds.

She stopped the reformatting on a particular memory. V and N were dancing in the dim light of the central ballroom. It was an imaginary gala, a spectacle subject only to them. She smiled fondly. N looked happy. Happier than she’d ever seen him. V, too, was startlingly relaxed, swaying with him as he placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. Cyn was there, too, passively staring with her perpetual blank smile from the sidelines, clapping softly.

A flash, then another memory. This time it was N, V, and Cyn in a circle. N was animatedly explaining all the different types of dogs, stopping on his favorite. “... and to top it off, golden retrievers have gentle mouths, making them perfect for children and snuggles!” His audience applauded politely, Cyn in particular saying “applause, applause.”

“Or hunting,” V pointed out.

N stilled, his index finger frozen over a picture of an adorable-looking dog. “What do you mean?”

“Gentle mouths mean they can hunt game without damaging them. It makes them perfect for retrieval. Hence, retriever. ” N pursed his lip, not considering her words before. Before he could grow any more despondent, she bumped shoulders with him, smiling with all the affection in the world, “Not you, though, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re my golden retriever, and I say you’re perfect for snuggling.”

Uzi smirked as she watched the scene play out. “Damn right he is.”

As she repaired more and more memories, she found it more and more difficult to describe just how much V meant to N.

The only way Uzi could describe N and V’s relationship was that they were together. There was something there, something beyond— or different—  to just “love.” What she felt in N’s emotions told her that deluding the feeling to “love” was disingenuous.

N and V were touchy. Not in the gross way, but in the “Oh god, I just want to hold you to remind me I’m real,” and “I can sense our time slipping away,”  kind of way. Fierce, warm cuddling constantly. Every hour of every night, without fail, they had some form of physical contact, leaving their Worker caps behind and meandering through the musty halls.

N’s love felt full. It was full, unconditional, and all-encompassing. 

She always thought “love at first sight” was bullshit, but there he goes again, proving her wrong.

…She really hoped he kept proving her wrong.

Uzi didn’t know how long it took in real time, but it felt like she spent months scanning N’s memories. 

She felt as if she touched something far more precious and intimate than she could’ve imagined.

Honestly, the purple drone thought N’s memories were going to be shallow— a week or two of servitude before his body was retrofitted to disassemble Workers, but his memory bank was decades old. Which, since the Disassembly Drones had been around since before she was born, made sense. The longer she spent in his mindscape, she grew more and more mortified at N’s utter lack of agency. He didn’t have any choice in the matter. Not in his memories being corrupted, not in his body being violated, and certainly not in his endless hunger for oil, forcing him to kill thousands. It disgusted her to her core so deeply and viscerally it almost made her choke on her own tears.

All she can hope now is that N won’t be upset with her now that she’s seen it all. 

She gazed longingly at his code, the reformatting program nearing completion. Up ahead, past the memories of the manor, she could see N’s memories on Copper-9. Between here and then, his transformation into a Disassembly Drone was nested somewhere, hiding. 

For a moment, she was tempted to skip ahead and peer into his memories of Copper-9.

But doing that would mean bathing in a shower of oil.

His memories of the planet were nothing like the manor. Gone were the genuine moments of love and affection and late-night kisses. The best way she could describe it was that the memories were scrambled. Fuzzy. Even though she never dared play them directly, she could feel the loyalty to the company spewing off of them. Ugly pleasure, and blurry jubilation present in every frame of N’s killing spree, spreading outward in a horrific mix of tentacles and spiderwebs. Though, in all of them, there was a sharp stench of guilt, even as he licked his skin clean of iridescent rainbows.

“...No thanks,” she thought.

There were only a few more hours of memories left inside Elliot Manor, and she made sure to take special care of them. She discovered no revelations to her mysteries yet, so this was her last shot.

Then, without warning, the corner of her (or was it N’s?) mind lit up with… anxiety.

It was the same feeling as before— when a strange sense of gratitude overtook her when N asked for his memories.

Before, Uzi wasn’t sure what was going on.

But now that she was inside N’s mind, she was able to see her code with far more clarity.

And now, she could see it.

“That’s not me.”

Uzi swallowed down her imaginary nerves, attempting to gain a foothold. Did JCJenson have a backdoor to prevent tampering? She disregarded the thought. Any auto-run program would’ve detected her interference long before she got to this point. It didn’t help that her and N’s mind had melded so closely together she could barely tell herself apart from him anymore. She gazed upward into the sky of pulsating connections and binary, trying to find a pattern in the interloper’s ID. It wasn’t one she recognized, but it struck her as strikingly familiar. She knows she’s seen this code before, but where!? For several moments, it did nothing. It merely waited impassively, shielded itself, masking. 

It almost seemed… intelligent.

But, that can’t be true…

Has there been another rogue AI inside of N’s programming all this time?

The cloud of thought rippled as if reading her thoughts. It pulsed once, twice, then—.

With barely a moment to think, Uzi’s code dodged out of the way of the incoming vine-like appendages. It pulsed again, its form weaving and cutting at ninety-degree angles to catch up to her. She ducked behind a barrier of one’s and zero’s. “Ok, now the anxiety is definitely me— what the fuck is going on?!” Of course, no one heard her mental scream, the interloper catching up to her. Her eyes darted to the last string of memories, her processors calculating as fast as they could, trying to determine how long it would take to repair them. “These are the most important ones! I can’t let him down!” 

The vines, as if hearing her thoughts, darted once more, splitting apart her hiding spot. Her form flew as fast as it could in the mindscape. Closing in, she could feel the heat and bloodshed coming off the memories. “Come on, just a little closer!” The interloper's pursuit grew more frantic. Thousands of string-like codes formed nets and traps all around her, desperately trying to stop her. 

Just as her fingers reached, she felt something grab her leg—whatever counted for a “leg” in the mindscape.

“NO!”

It pulled with a vice, trying to drag her away from N— her friend—!

Even as her code began to crack under the strain, she refused.

“I… won’t… let you!”

The tip of her finger brushed against the final memories of the manor.

Then, a flash of golden yellow.

Blood. Oceans of it. Both in the manor, and out.

V wasn’t herself. Her original body gone, too, contorted into something else.

Cyn was gone, nowhere to be seen.

Thousands, tens of thousands of Murder Drones scoured the sky. Watching. Hunting.

Despite it all, N was spoiled for choice.

And his emotions…— the feeling of oil dripping down his throat—...

Ecstasy.

Before she had time to fully register what was happening, she was ripped away from N’s memory bank. The reformat program screeched to a halt, unfinished, her promise broken. The vines from the interloper were relentless, sending her higher and higher, undoing her incorporeal form and sending her back to the land of the living. Stunned, all Uzi could do was stare down at the sea of N’s memories, the last pocket of amnesia never to be fixed. 

…She was a really shitty friend…

With a gasp, Uzi felt her whole body jerk with alertness.

Her chest heaved, attempting to take in gulps of air, only for her to remember that her room was hot. Almost too hot. For once, she wished her room was as cold as the rest of the colony. She haphazardly unplugged the reformat program, nearly collapsing onto the floor as she crawled over to N. Wanting to punch herself as she pathetically whimpered, she moseyed up to him as best she could. The tension from her body slowly released as she inspected him for any damage or overheating. 

I’ll let you drink good tonight, she thought to herself. Promise. 

Thankfully, whatever the fuck attacked her in N’s mindscape didn’t seem to be affecting him. Guess it really was a weird, auto-run program. 

…

As the adrenaline wore off, Uzi stared at N’s sleeping form in a new light. His memories had become a part of hers. She felt and saw it all as if he did. 

She reached out, her palm flattening against his chest as she felt his core thrumming underneath his skin. Like a heartbeat, it bloomed and receded and bloomed and receded in an endless cycle, the repetition reminding her that yes, N was alive. She tugged at his coat, the thing probably making him uncomfortably warm. She tilted her head, poking the side of his skull with her finger.

“Wake up soon…”

…She hated being alone. 

“You won’t live to see it.”

She gasped as something sharp and tight curled around her throat. Without warning, it threw her across her room, back slamming into her bedpost as she wheezed, coughing up oil. Uzi swore to herself. Not her, not now, please!

V stalked toward her, and she felt fear grip her core. Her boots left skid marks across the floor as she clambered away, but she was too slow. V’s hands wrapped around her neck and squeezed. She pushed her against the wall, the Murder Drone’s form all-encompassing and claustrophobic. Her arms flayed uselessly, punching reinforced ceramic and bumblebee legs to no avail. “You have no idea how hungry I am right now.” Of course, Uzi couldn’t say anything because of her fingers around her throat.

Oh god, get away, get away, oh god, I can’t breathe—... I can’t—...!

She didn’t hear anything. It was all white noise. She didn’t notice the almost remorseful expression on V’s visor. Regret plastered itself all over her features, even as she straddled Uzi and squeezed the life out of her. She felt her neck begin to groan under the pressure. Uzi felt something well up inside of her, her right eye burning.

“I’m not giving you a chance this time, parasite. ” she hissed, utter contempt written all over her face.

Uzi coughed, her fingers gripping V’s wrist with the last of her strength as she rasped the only words she could think of. 

“G—Golden… eugh—...! Retrievers have… gentle mouths!”

Then, the pressure disappeared.

Her eye stilled.

V stared at her with a starstruck expression, dazed. Her next words were the softest Uzi had ever heard. For a moment, V wasn’t here. She was back in the manor, oblivious to the horrors of what was to come.

…

“What did you just say?” she breathed.

“Step away.”

Two pairs of eyes darted to the entrance of her room.

There stood someone Uzi didn’t recognize, her voice Russian, reserved, and oddly melodic as she stared V down with an acidic glare that rivaled Copper-9’s storms. 

In her right hand glowed a symbol she was all too familiar with, crimson and throbbing with murderous energy.

Chapter Text

Uzi’s mouth fell open as she witnessed the red-visored drone flick her wrist, a pillar of metal ripping cleanly from her bed. It spun as if it were a helicopter blade, bulldozing into V. She wheezed, her throat finally free as she gasped for air.  V was flung across the room, her body slamming into the wall of her room. Anime posters, scrap, and crystals cluttered to the ground into an ugly mixture of rebar and concrete.

I liked those posters, she thought wistfully.

Faintly, she recognized the uniform that the drone was wearing. Her waist-length purple hair rippled with static, floating in zero gravity by some invisible force. Her red and yellow crop top struck her with familiarity. A yellow belt was taut across her waist with a red skirt, a black undershirt beneath it all. Not to mention the deep crimson hue of her LEDs…

“D– Doll?” she choked, still trying to find air. “What…”

A silent nod returned to her, and the Russian girl’s attention focused squarely on V. The latter of whom growled, knife-hands scraping the ground as she forced herself on her feet. Uzi swallowed as Doll leveled V with the most scornful glare she’d ever seen. A toxic, vengeful aura followed her wherever she walked. She blinked, and suddenly, Doll was in front of her, glitchy static following. Did she just teleport? She regarded her with an apologetic glance. “I will handle her,” she spoke softly, the symbol in her right hand shuddering.

“T–That symbol…”

Doll blinked, looking at her over her shoulder. “ You recognize it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Uzi bit the inside of her cheek, her processors ablaze as she tried to think as fast as she could.

Out of the corner of her visor, Uzi saw what was once her room’s wall shudder, the debris shifting as V rose from the pile. She growled, shaking the dust off her as she narrowed one of her eyes, the other a vibrant “X”. A cocktail of emotions shot through Uzi as she laid eyes on her expression. Maybe it was because of N’s memories, or maybe it was the adrenaline, but Uzi could see every minute detail of V’s demeanor. Her eyes were darting to N and every escape exit she could find, her knees bent and coiled tight, ready to spring into action if Doll tried anything. And then, another detail shook Uzi to her core.

V was mortified.

It took her a moment to register the gravity of the situation, but Uzi realized it as well. Whatever that symbol was in N’s mind, it was connected to Doll and herself. V was terrified of it, and she couldn’t put a finger on why. She thinks I’m on Doll’s side. She thinks I hate her.

She couldn’t be more wrong. Uzi doesn’t think she could hate V in that way ever again. 

Not after N’s memories.

After V’s LEDs took stock of every exit plan, her eyes met hers.

A million emotions shot through her at once, N’s mind still fresh in hers. Uzi hissed in pain— a consequence of not being able to finish the reformatting program. N’s memories seemed to have melded with hers to an uncomfortably deep degree. She could remember his memories as if they were her own. She could remember the first time she met V— how her face fit the frames of her glasses just right under the dim ambiance. She could remember the first time she danced with her in the gala, all alone in the dead of night. She could remember the first time she kissed her.

Uzi cut off that train of thought immediately.

Whether or not these feelings were genuine…

Whether or not Uzi could say for certain this was her choice…

…It made it easier for what she was about to do.

Doll and V went stiff as Uzi staggered to stand, limping between them. She looked at Doll, her complicated expression slowly morphing into disbelief, then a deep scowl. She tasted oil as she bit the inside of her cheek harder, turning back to V. The Disassembly Drone had a similar look of incredulity on her visor. Uzi, filled with the memories of N, simpered at her, trying to communicate everything she wanted with a single, teasing smile. “For the record, I’m doing this for him.”

She knew how to press V’s buttons. A sudden declaration of allegiance wouldn’t work with her. Claiming she was doing it for someone else’s benefit was the best chance she had of convincing her to ally— at least for now. She closed her eyes as she turned her back on the yellow drone, sending a silent olive branch of trust.

“Sorry, Doll. Thanks for the save, but… I think I got it from here.”

Doll’s mouth fell open, her features unbelieving as her eyes flickered between her and V. “...She tried to choke you thirty seconds ago. Are your processors damaged?” She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. She is a threat.”

Uzi shook her head, dropping the pretenses. “I can’t let you hurt her. Or N.” She heard a quiet, sharp inhale from V behind her.

Doll stared at her with such silent violent vitriol it made her squirm. “They have murdered tens of thousands. They murdered your mother. How could you side with them?”

She felt her canines dig into her bottom lip, her attention wavering to N for a moment. She wanted so desperately to solve this peacefully, but the longer Doll stared them down, the more she could feel the tension brimming in the air. It threatened to reach a boiling point, Doll’s fingers twitching every so often. 

Uzi damned herself— she didn’t know how to explain it. The explanation was jumbled in her mind. It wasn’t their fault— not really! N and V weren’t like this in the past. They’re good people. With V, she can see that now. Before, Uzi felt she could empathize with the detached attitude that V held herself with, but now she had evidence. She held her temples as she gritted her teeth, phantom pain from melding minds still reeling their ugly heads.

“I’m not ‘siding with them,’” she snipped. She looked Doll straight in the eyes. “It doesn’t forgive what they’ve done, but it wasn’t their fault! They didn’t have any choice in anything they did!” Uzi blinked. “ Wait, how do you know about my Mom? I never told anyone that before.”

Can’t imagine Dad did, either.

Her words seemed to reach the other Worker for a moment. Doll almost looked thoughtful, her symbol lower slightly before steadying itself once again. The red-clad drone searched her expression, before sighing in resignation, ignoring her question.

“I am glad you found peace.” 

The symbol glowed, and Doll teleported right in front of her.

“I could not.”

“Purple thing, get down!”

With barely a verbal warning, V tackled her, tossing her to the side as she ripped through a veritable variety of random items. The door to her room slammed shut, locking behind Doll as her red axial symbol rotated. Pencils, books, her precious bedframe, and sharp tools whirled around in a tornado, flying toward her. V was as precise as a katana, weaving, dodging, and deftly reflecting objects away from her vicinity. It was almost like she was dancing … like a—

“Ballerina…” she murmured with wonder, a bit entranced by V’s performance.

Her newly-allied Disassembly Drone sped across the room, grabbing N before placing him gently at her feet. They acknowledged each other for a half-second, V out of breath, giving her a knowing nod. Uzi felt her core skip a beat, returning the nod in understanding, a thousand words passing between them.

Protect him.

A half a breath later, V took off once more, fluffy hair bobbing and whipping as she tried to close the distance between herself and Doll. Despite her graceful fighting style, Uzi could see the strain in every carefully measured step. Her movements were not predatory, but cautious and restrained. Gone were the precise stabs and serial smile on her face, replaced by cautious inequity and blistering patience. These aren't the movements of a sadist, but an animal pressed into a corner.

She’s starving, Uzi remembered, turning back towards N’s unconscious body. She needs backup.

“You’re slow,” Doll noted airily, lazily flicking more objects in V’s direction. “Slower than before.” The Disassembly Drone was visibly on the defense, knife hands clawing through wood and metal, kicking objects away from Uzi’s positions. The latter of whom’s eyes scanned her room, locating a certain railgun in particular. Uzi’s foot took a step forward, before hesitating. The sound of combat rang in her ears as she gazed back at N. 

I need to protect him.

V let out a cry as a vent cover sheared through her shoulder.

But V—!

She couldn’t just leave him unprotected, but V needed help—....!

…

…But what would he want?

“Cover me!”

Uzi darted to the other side of her room, Doll’s attacks growing more incensed, duplicating rebar out of thin air before launching. V growled in frustration, parrying the rebar before charging with a wince on her face. Doll pulled down vents with her telekinesis to block the yellow drone as she swiped with her wings half-folded. Not only is she hungry and overheating, but the room is too small to take advantage of her ranged options, Uzi thought. No rockets, no wings, and bullets are too risky or else Doll might redirect them toward N. 

Thankfully, their lack of range wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.

Uzi felt her core still as her fingers found the trigger of familiar steel, its energy green and crackling. She sniffed, ozone filling her senses as her railgun whined with charging power.

V had a mixture of relief and shock on her face, and Doll’s eyes hollowed out.  “You wouldn’t. You cannot.”

She leveled her railgun at her, aiming it just above her shoulder. “I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to fight, but you two are going to kill each other.” Her eyes flickered to V, giving her a look. “For N’s sake, I can’t let you do that.”

She fired.

The energy source within the railgun surged, the whining reaching a fever pitch as she pulled the trigger. It bloomed, the beam larger than the nozzle itself as it shot outward. Doll ducked, the laser eviscerating the door behind her. It melted, fraying parts of the flux causing a portion of the roofing to collapse. 

V was already moving, using the distraction to grab N by the scruff of his uniform and her by the arm, dragging them through the opening, her wings unfurling. She went as fast as she could which, considering her distinctive lack of oil, wasn’t nearly fast enough to get out of Doll’s range.

She heard the maroon drone move behind her, her palm outstretched, the symbol quivering. “I won’t let you—.” She stopped. 

Uzi spared a glance back at her as V began to bank a corner, carrying them away. She heard Doll’s confused mutter as her LEDs flickered across her screen as if reading something.

“Like-object, non-interactable—...?” Her voice dropped. A striking realization flashed on her face as her palm dropped, the symbol disappearing as she gazed at her.  “...Oh, you poor thing…”

She’s not attacking?

A blast of cool wind greeted her as V flew through the halls of the bunker, other Workers staring in shock.

The last thing she saw was the pity on Doll’s face, purple bangs flapping serenely.

The flight home was completely silent, and Uzi didn’t dare to break it. V was panting the whole time, effort clear as day on her face. One of her eyes was closed, her chest visibly bobbing as she took gulps of freezing air. Thankfully, it was still a few minutes till sunrise, but that also meant a few minutes until being stuck with V for the next twelve or so hours. 

A very exhausted, very hungry V.

A thought crossed her mind, wondering if she’d be willing to give V some of her oil. At this point, she was genuinely considering it, but the risk spoke for itself. N was always worried about his self-control, and she doubted V would share the same sentiments. She felt her visor darken as she thought of her little neck-biting experiment with him when his oil needed filtering. She wondered if V reached that point yet, or if her inactivity staved it off for now. A intrusive thought led her down wondering what it would be like for V’s sharp canines to sink into her neck and gently suck out her oil—

Uzi violently shook her head, causing V to become unbalanced and give her a dirty glare. She flipped her off. The winged drone flipped her off right back. 

Dick.

Eventually, her treacherous thoughts brought her back to N’s mind, along with everything else that happened. She simultaneously learned a lot… yet so little. She took a breath, icy chill filling her core as she stared at the sky, taking stock. Taking stock was always a good idea. Look at what the world has given you, and then put it into categories.

Neat and tidy little categories…

Her processors whirred, compartmentalizing the mess her mind had become after being violently yanked out of N’s mindscape. 

For one, she had confirmation: N was a Worker. But she couldn’t find when JCJenson turned him into a Disassembly Drone thanks to that weird auto-run program kicking her out. It wouldn’t have taken so long if she knew beforehand just how large his memory bank was. There were decades she still hadn’t gone through— mostly his time on Copper-9. But then again… she didn’t think N would miss those memories.

Two, V was… Uzi tried to think of a way to describe her. She was softer, before. Kinder. Not so cold. Not so distant. Plus, she was less hot and more… pretty. Her battle-hardened exterior hadn’t formed yet. She had connections with people outside of killing Workers. 

Three, a million different moments she couldn’t care to process right now. She injected years worth of memories into her mind in the span of a few hours, and Uzi couldn’t be fucked to sort through it all right now.

Then, there was Cyn.

…There was something off about her that Uzi couldn’t place, and it wasn’t just the robotic voice (hah), buckling knees, and lack of social skills. She was… different.

And she had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the person she was clinging to right now.

One of V’s wings relaxed ever-so-slightly. A draft caught it, causing the feather to push down. “Oh, shi—” was all the warning she got before V fell into a dive, half-conscious. She barely kept herself afloat as she drifted to the gate of the spire, her fingers loosening on N’s scarf. Uzi snatched N herself, keeping him up.  V’s shaky descent came to a lame end, the woman face-planting into the snow fifty feet away from the ship. N’s limp body tumbled, nanite injector nearly sticking himself along the way. Uzi refused to let go of him, holding him tight in her arms, tumbling with him. 

She shook off the snow that dotted her hair.

Wait— hair?

“My beanie!”

Did she leave it there by accident? It’d make sense, she mused. With all the chaos that was happening, her choice in clothing was the last thing on her mind. She patted her hoodie like an idiot, looking for something that obviously wouldn’t fit on her person. She shuffled, feeling oddly naked without it— especially with V here. 

Her railgun had rolled as it fell from her grasp, crackling dangerously as it slammed into the ship’s hull. The barrel and electrics dented, sputtering a few times before the green energy went out for the last time. 

Great… that’s probably broken now. 

Not only was it broken, there probably weren’t enough spare parts around to repair the damn thing. Uzi felt her stomach drop at the thought of being defenseless. She was alone, without a weapon, and with her kind’s most prolific killer. A few moments later, she stood. Doll’s words rang in her mind, and despair fell on her as she realized just how utterly screwed she was. 

A familiar dread overcame her as she took a moment to mourn the hapless Workers around her— countless bodies and deaths caused by the Drones around her. With V, it was different. She wasn’t like N. She didn’t hold any regret over what she did.

Alright Uzi, don’t be too snippy. Could really use a silver tongue right now…

Speaking of which, the devil was approaching her.

Every step was difficult, her gait was unsteady. Gone were the refined movements with her stilts-for-legs, now replaced by a fight against gravity itself. Her mouth was parted with heavy breaths, her sharp teeth showing just underneath— a perpetual reminder of her nature. She gazed at her hungrily, her eyes blinking away a haze. Uzi decided to stand her ground despite her weariness, taking a wide stance as V looked down at her. 

…Her visor widened in shock as the Disassembly Drone unceremoniously collapsed, hacking and coughing. “Damn… I was too late, huh N?” she lamented, staring at the spire roof.

Oh.

“Too late for what?” she asked, confused.

“His memories,” V swallowed. “I thought I could make it in time, but you were already finished, weren’t you…?” She winced, gripping her stomach tightly. “Fuck, I’m starving …”

Uzi decided to stare at her for a moment, gritting her teeth. “You want him to be an amnesiac?! What’s your deal?” she screeched, stomping towards her. “I knew you were a total bitch, but I never realized you were a control freak, too!”

“I’m not trying to ‘control him,’ you moron, ” V hissed, half in hunger pangs, half in anger. She glared at Uzi as the purple drone stood over her, crossing her arms over her hoodie. “I did it to protect him.”

“Well, forgive me; You have an odd way of showing it,” she quipped back.

V went silent for a moment, giving her an odd look as she skillfully avoided Uzi’s accusation. “Why did you side with me? I’m hungry, weak, and if you teamed up with that red freak you could’ve easily killed me. Probably would’ve gotten some answers to your little problem, too,” she grinned ferally, tapping one of her eyes.

…As much as Uzi hated to admit it to herself, she and V were similar. Something was going on with her— a kind of emotional turmoil that she was familiar with: wanting to be so desperately close to someone, yet push that same person as far away as possible so it hurt less later. She didn’t want to kill V. She didn’t want to hurt her. Not only were N’s memories confusing, but he would be mad at her if she hurt V and vice versa. Uzi knew that, and the other drone knew that, too. That’s why she decided to say…

“Same reason as you, idiot.” 

V followed her gaze as she looked back to N, his reboot almost complete. “Oh…”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ He’s more important to me than anything else right now. Even more than my weird eye.” She shuffled closer to her, wearily tracking her for any sudden movements. She held out her hand in offering. “On that, we can agree, am I right? If you agree not to kill me… Care for a mutually beneficial alliance? A rapport, even?” 

V eyed her hand with thinly veiled suspicion, her digits trembling. After a long, pregnant pause, she scoffed, rolling her eyes with a tone of finality.  “As long as you agree to never talk like J again… yes. Mutually beneficial alliance. For now.” Uzi’s lips flattened into a line as she felt V’s calloused synthetic skin, her grip strong and steady as she pulled her up. She resisted the urge to pout as V came to full height, well over a foot taller than her.

“For now,” Uzi parroted.

She imagined what her hands felt like when they were softer…

Wait, what—?

“And yes, I won’t kill you. Yet,” V said, looking down at her. “N will kill me if I do.”

Uzi rolled her eyes. She’s seen his memories . “Yeah right, like N would even consider killing you. You’re his world.”

“...I was.” V narrowed her LEDs. “And he would.” 

Something about the certainty of V’s voice threw her off balance. She had a similar, wistful expression on her face, flickering to a time when she wasn’t on Copper-9. Uzi had seen that expression before inside N’s mind, unlike the veteran who stood in front of her. If she blinked, she could almost imagine the maid apparel and soft ushering of the Worker. 

 “W—Would he?” she murmured in a rare moment of stuttering. “I know he cares implicitly, but…”

V just sighed at her as she trailed off. “You’re too good for each other…”

“M— Me?” she squeaked. “Oh you think—? We’re not like, together or anything—...”

V gave her the most deadpan ‘Are you serious?’ look of all time. “Oh my God, you don’t even know. You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even realize it.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you! If you know him so well, why didn’t you just… rekindle?!” Uzi thought back to the intense feeling of love that surged through her when she was falling through N’s mind. The purity of it, the volume was more intense than any emotion she’d ever felt. His feelings for V were ancient, too. Older than almost any other emotion he’s felt.

V regarded her with another one of her complicated expressions that went beyond sadistic hunger.

Uzi bit her lip, words on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say something— something that was completely and utterly stupid. It didn’t help her in any way. In fact, it would probably serve as a wedge to further pull them apart. But she wanted to say it anyway. Not out of necessity or because she wanted V to hurt, but because she needed to hear it.

“...He still loves you, y’know,” she said matter-of-factly.

Uzi blinked, and the next second, one of V’s knife hands was tucked underneath her chin an inch away from her throat. One of her eyes was lit up in a bright “X,” toothy smile absent. Despite her visible sluggishness, Disassembly Drones were frighteningly fast.

“...Message received.”

Ok, that touched a nerve. Don’t talk about that part of her life. Understood.

V nodded, retracting her weapon compartment back into normal hands, and began to walk away. She approached N, the latter of whom was slumped against the ship's exterior. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” V reached into the breast pocket of her ripped JCJeson-themed jacket, tossing a familiar violet beanie at her. “You’re welcome.”

Did she… get it for me? 

When did she have time to even do that?

That’s… actually kind of sweet.

As she put her attire back on, Uzi looked V up and down, sitting next to N as his visor began to flick on.. “...All things considered, you’re remarkably put together. N was practically going feral after a few days of no oil. How do you do it?”

V’s grin was downright wolfish.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Chapter Text

Of all words in the English lexicon, “restraint” is not a word Uzi thought she’d be using to describe V.

From what she’d seen of her through recordings and second-hand gossip, V was sadistic and malevolent in every corner of thought, mind, and whatever was left of her twisted soul. She’d watch through mounted cameras on the outside of the bunker’s doors, hacked by yours truly. Some kilometers away, she could barely make out the Disassembly Drone’s silhouette from the backdrop of snow, ash, dust, and the dozens of other particles vaporized into the atmosphere. Even from far off, she could see the stark splatters of iridescence caking the ground of a poor soul dying alone, away from the colony. A blissful expression of relief would overcome the perpetrator, arching her back high… to then dive down and eat her fill.

The gossip was worse. Her classmates constantly chattered about the piercing yellow eyes, eternal splitting grin, knives sharper than obsidian, and vantablack bodies, contrasted by their stark white shells. And the wings— the wings. They were always talking about the wings. Wide and imposing, its “feathers” were always unfurled, each  wider than her arm. Completely silent, never flapping in thanks to their anti-grav engines. They wondered what her poly-orbed headbands were for, fluffy chin-length hair an identifiable difference between her and the other drones. The throbbing yellow “X” flashing bright on her screen was the only indication of her arrival before you were dismembered. A perfect killing machine.

…The very same killing machine that was curled in the fetal position in the corner of the ship.

V’s eyes hollowed out a few minutes ago, and she hadn’t stopped tapping her fingers restlessly since. Uzi watched intently, curious, as she’d catch herself every few minutes, scowl to herself, and then restrain. Bite down on the obvious magmatic surge of heat pooling in her body in favor of staring a blank wall— as if it were healthy for her psyche . Then, without warning, without her noticing, V’s fingers would go right back to tapping anxiously, persistently, endlessly. It silently shocked Uzi whenever she glanced at her— just how beaten down V was right now. Her wings were twitching, her visor a perpetual wince, and her usually sleek, slim, polished black torso was covered in soot and grime from her crash landing. With each sigh, her hot breath clashed with the frigid air, visibly struggling with each gasp.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The words held her mind hostage in a vice, refusing to let go until she deciphered their meaning. It ached and clawed at her like an incessant earworm, an odd simile to Uzi since she didn’t even have proper ears. Not a human’s, anyway. But what did the phrase mean? She wondered how many times V’s been in this situation. How many times has V almost starved to death for her to have practiced it ? Was the repartee purely sass, or did it have a hidden meaning Uzi didn’t understand? Maybe it was purely sarcasm and it didn’t have anything to do with anything. God, it’s moments like these I wish I was more socialized. I could really use N’s expertise right now…

And yet, despite her discomfort— despite a solution to her problem being right in front of her in Worker Drone form— she didn’t complain, she concealed the winces climbing on her face, and her breathing was in a constant struggle to remain steady. V grit her teeth silently and stared ahead, calculating. Restraining. 

In retrospect, the idea that a half-buried pole and tying her up with her own tail could trap V was laughable. The more she thought about it, the more she realized V was restraining herself then, too. Even when she wasn’t as starved, even when she probably could’ve killed Uzi in her sleep, she didn’t. She kept quiet, low, and only spoke when she was spoken to. The purple drone didn’t get her.

Even now, as V tried to hide her involuntary shudders, Uzi. Didn’t. Get. Her. 

Not only did Uzi not get her, she didn’t understand why she cared so much. The woman in front of her nearly choked her out not even an hour ago, yet here she was, contemplating the validity of allying with her race's most infamous killer. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

She shook her head, turning her attention away from V and back to N.

…I wonder if she’s okay.

She blinked, catching the thought. 

Wait, what the hell am I even thinking?! She wanted to kill me a few hours ago!

Uzi prompt raised her hands wide, palms taut. 

“Uh, what are you doing—?”

Without warning, she brought her hands down, slapping herself on both of her cheeks. 

“They have murdered tens of thousands. They murdered your mother. How could you side with them?” Doll’s words were a mockery on all sides, the noise reverberating and bouncing off her head like an out of tune piano.

“Why the hell did you—?!” 

V’s confrontation died in her throat as she saw tears brimming on the edge of Uzi’s visor. The taller drone blinked, the shorter unaware of her thoughtful staring before she disregarded her, returning to gazing into the dull, gray void of the wall.

The tears weren’t because of the slap.

It was strange.

Ever since she delved into N’s memories, she’s felt… nonplussed. 

She wondered, briefly, why she didn’t see it immediately. It made sense why it took her this long to notice since so much had been happening. Uzi barely had a moment to breathe since Doll attacked them. But now, since she and V were resting in the ship, she had far more time to ruminate.

There was a warmth in her chest that appeared, and it wouldn’t go away. A kind of burning warmth she could feel if she focused hard enough. Everything seemed more… lively. As if someone dialed the saturation settings on her visor up just a tad. Though, beyond one’s natural assumptions about a burning object, the warmth wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it was a gentle candlewick— a stubborn little flame that refused to go out. Uzi imagined cradling it in her hands, bolstering it, wondering where it came from… “ Who are you?” she wants to say. It’s more than just a flame, she knows. A ravenous little heartbeat, smoldering in hunger.

It was a live connection, crackling with electricity and empathy— the ability to understand another’s self so deeply, she felt as if she were one with them.

There was something otherworldly about it that couldn’t be put into words. A kind of raw, burning sensation that rippled through, pulsing, making her want to squeal in jubilation. Uzi felt as if something was unlocked inside of her— a feeling she didn’t know was there before. She had nothing to compare it to, so she didn’t know what it looked like. But ever since N’s memories surrounded her, she could see it.

…Is this love?

Uzi liked to consider herself a pragmatist. 

If she’s too cold, she finds a blanket. If the toxic deathstorm is particularly rowdy, bring an umbrella. If it’s hot…? Wear less.

It took approximately three hours until V unceremoniously unzipped her jacket.

Who could blame her? She was overheating. 

It took precisely three more seconds for Uzi to process what she was looking at.

Now, this wasn’t anything particularly scandalous, if someone asked her (it took her an admittedly embarrassing amount of time to realize V technically didn’t wear pants), but her flighted ally was flashing a sizable percentage of her breastplate. She could tell just by a glance that it was rounder and softer than N’s male model. The contrast caused her systems to nearly shut down from gay panic alone.

Uzi— with all her infinite wisdom and emotional intelligence acquired from dealing with countless scenarios throughout her definitely sociable life— did not know how to process this. 

Worker Drones didn’t have different models for males and females due to being, well, slaves, so you'll have to forgive her when she says this is quite the culture shock for her.

The other drone merely regarded her for a split second with a death glare. “What? It’s hot. Unless you can find oil, buzz off.”

With how lackadaisical V was with her distinctive lack of apparel, Uzi decided to humor her. Which leads her train of thought back to what she was doing now: rummaging through the corner of the ship, pointedly not looking at V, and trying to scrounge up the bottle of oil she offered to N some days ago.

Come on, it has to be here somewhere… he didn’t drink it, did he?

Uzi had never wished so hard in her life for a Disassembly Drone to be addicted to her oil enough to not drink anything else. The admittedly large amount of spare garbage she and N had been collecting for the past several weeks taunted her, and Uzi wanted to shoot herself for being such an unorganized mess. Something she probably inherited from Mom. 

“Aha!” With a triumphant eureka effect, her groping fingers grasped around a familiar bottle underneath the console. Uzi relaxed her contorting body, grinning as she stared at it in her hands. With a pop, the canister opened, and dread filled her. Did he drink all of it?  When did he drink all of it?  One of her hands covered her mouth in thought, LEDs furrowed as she tried to find a way to locate oil. He must’ve drank it when I wasn’t looking because he was so high-strung… The purple drone shook her head. She wouldn’t blame N for this. He was already struggling to control himself around her— of course he’d drink the spare oil, even if he didn’t like the “taste.” 

Why did he hide this from me? 

Although, perhaps more importantly…

Why does it hurt so much…?

He could’ve told her— came to her in his time of need as she came to him during hers. She couldn’t help but think it was so unlike N. Did he not want to drink from her? Was that it? She tried to ignore the sting of betrayal— an admittedly novel feeling since she’d never been close enough to anyone to feel betrayed to begin with. It was always an expected outcome that whomever she made small talk to would leave her a few days later after they realized how weird she was—.

Stop.

…

Her gaze wandered to his limp body leaning against the ship. He looked peaceful and happy. She didn’t doubt it— he was reliving his memories, and the pull of wanting to stay there must feel like an eternal dream.

“Please wake up soon…”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing; bite me.”

V’s disturbingly calculating glare appraised her for a moment before rolling her eyes. “God, you should see the way he looks at you.”

She startled, nearly tripping over the first rung of the ladder. She tilted her head away, leaning so V couldn’t see the way her visor was flaring up. “H–He’s like that with everyone! Everyone I’ve met, anyway. And you.”

“Nah,” she says easily, a spark of fondness slipping into her voice. “You don’t get it. N gets excited by chatting with rocks. He’s made small talk with Worker Drones that were bisected from the waist down  and deluded himself into thinking he was friends with them. But you? He looks at you with—” her gaze went skyward, as if she were trying to find the perfect word to describe it. “... lucidity.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong!” She said hotly. “You make it seem like I’m special or something.”

She squeaked as V surged forward with sudden speed. Her vibrant irises pierced her soul. Her words took her breath away for all the wrong reasons. “ You are. To him, anyway. Purple, I’ve been around this block a hell of a lot longer than you, and trust me when I say I know N. He has never looked at anything on this planet how he looks at you. Cherish it.”

“On this planet…” she echoed. 

Cuz on Earth, it was you, wasn’t it?

“I…” she swallowed. “I’ll be right back.” She hoisted herself up the first few rungs of the ladder, V still staring at the spot she once stood. The cold was unrelenting and biting as usual. She let out a shuddering breath, her surroundings settling onto her vision. She missed having N here— his presence always calmed her. She’d grown so used to him clinging to her like a lost puppy, she’d almost forgotten what her life was like…

Her.

Alone.

But that was fine. She was used to this. Ignoring the usually unsettling feeling of seeing her fellow Workers’ bodies, she gingerly stepped through the snow, avoiding tripping over tubing and the occasional nut. She kneeled, hands ghosting over a particularly garish scene before her. She cringed as a sharp, serrated portion of the drone’s body came undone. 

I’m so, so sorry for this, she mentally apologized to the drone.

She only needed to be out here for a minute…

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she whispered to herself, calling V as she approached her. Uzi had a tourniquet around one of her arms, mirroring the wrappings from when N bit her shoulder. “I got a present for you.”

“Oh yeah?” V droned. “Is it a device to wake up N?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t care.”

“I think you will,” she grinned. Ignoring the spreading numbness in her arm, she tossed the bottle towards her. “Here, have a Snickers.”

V caught it in slow motion, her reflexes visibly hindered by her hunger. She blinked owlishly at the bottle, fingers barely curling around it. She didn’t react to her anachronistic joke, her entire focus centered around the modest container of oil. Uzi had no doubt she could smell it— craving barely contained just under the surface of her carefully maintained aura of indifference. Her eyes flickered, doubletaking at her before slashing open the bottle with one of her knife-like finger compartments. The result was instant. V’s visor immediately flushed a bright yellow as she quaffed the rainbow liquid down as if it were the last thing on Copper-9. Her eyes squeezed shut, multiple audible gulps coming from her as her tail twitched violently. With a deep gasp, V sighed as she took in every last drop.

Uzi couldn’t look away.

After a few more guzzles of air, V dropped the violated bottle onto the floor, the thing pitifully mutilated and marred beyond comprehension, its ability to hold fluids forever lost. A full-body shudder ran through her as she panted out, “It’s… bitter? Why is it bitter? It’s always sweet… ”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Uzi sassed. She rubbed her shoulder, the phantom sensation of N’s mouth making her shiver. The numbing sensation from her arms was steadily spreading to the rest of her body. She dashed the feeling aside. Later— I need to deal with this later. I need N.

V narrowed her eyes dangerously, head tilting with newfound stability. “Couldn’t, or can’t?”

Uzi leveled her with the best glare she could. She held her breath as V returned with a glower just as sharp. Is she really gonna argue or is she going to take things at face value for once? After a long pause, V broke the silence, her grip untensing around her sides as she barely heard her next words.

“...Thanks, purple thing,” V said, surprisingly soft.

“Drop the ‘thing’ part and I’ll say ‘you’re welcome,’ which you are.”

And like that, the moment was gone, V’s visor dropping to a sharper scowl.

Uzi outwardly huffed, doing her best to look like she didn’t give a damn but was internally sweating bullets. Damage control, damage control! She can kill you with a single kick of her beautiful legs, you idiot!  “Look, I’m not naive enough to expect you to give me a single iota of respect and call me by my name, so the least you can do is drop the negative connotations. I’m a whole-ass person, not an object.”

“Why do you care so much?” V stood, stature stable and saying steady. “What if I just called you ‘shorty’ instead?”

“ Again, and I get it —,” Uzi crossed her arms, tilting her head meaningfully towards V, “Remember what happened last time you called me short?”

V held up a finger, pointed and ready to rebuke her, only to freeze. “Fair point… Purple.”

It was Uzi’s turn to smile. “In that case: you’re welcome for the oil.”

The slender drone returned the gesture with a small nod of gratefulness, resting bitch face never leaving her. Progress!

V’s temper had been steadily rising over the last hour, the incessant tapping on her forearm exemplified by the low hiss in her voice. Her voice was accusatory, “You said he should be awake by now. Explain .”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to figure it out.” she rolled her eyes, fingers ablaze as she typed commands into a computer. Uzi would’ve been faster if the numbness from her arm didn't slow her down. Not that V needed to know that. She inched away from V’s knife hands. “We both know that you care way too much about N to kill one of his friends, so chill the hell out and talk to me like a normal person. I know you’re more than capable of it.”

The neon yellow drone scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m not that person anymore.” 

She lit up. “Really? Wow! I had no idea! You know what, no, I’m not confused,” Uzi said sarcastically, ignoring the indignant growl that came from the other.  She thought back to the odd event that transpired inside of N’s mindscape— the program that kicked her out before she could complete the repair. “Could it have…?”

The other drone was far more animated since ravishing the bottle of oil. Her acidic yellow nanite injector flicked impatiently, her arms crossed over her now-zipped jacket (thank God). “What— what is it? Did you find something?” V leaned over her, uncomfortably close as she tried to discern the jargon on her computer. She made a disgusted face, the nature of the code unknowable to her.

She ignored the way V’s breath tickled her skin. “Maybe? When I was repairing N’s memories, a weird auto-run program kicked me out before the reformatting could be completed. His OS is probably scrambled right now, so his processors are trying to fix it. That’s only a guess, though.” With how destructive V’s fight was with Doll, who knows what kind of unseen damage could’ve been done to my computer and N. She leaned back in her chair, glancing at N’s visor which had the word “REBOOTING” flashing across it for the past several hours.  

“Scrambled?” V repeated, her voice lowering an octave. “What… did you do to him, exactly?”

“He might see things as if I experienced them instead himself,” she responded dutifully, expertly avoiding the question.

“What the hell does that mean?” the taller drone said, patience visibly running thin as an anger pinprick appeared on her screen.

“It means it’ll be…” V continued to glare at her. Uzi groaned overdramatically, fingers running through her purple hair anxiously. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s hard to explain, okay?! There’s no foundation down there; it’s all programming and sensations. It’d be like… seeing yourself in third person or seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. It’s not going to hurt him, I swear! Probably. The worst he’ll feel is vertigo and a bit of confusion when he wakes up.”

“That’s great,” she drawled. V took a long pause, glancing at her, then N, then back to her. As she drank in her words, her yellow LEDs narrowed suspiciously. “Back up a second— What do you mean by an auto-run program?”

She gave V an odd look. Did she not know? “You know… your mind’s auto-run program?” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Kicks out interlopers, is embedded in your mind, and prevents tampering? Ringing any bells, Sherlock?” As she listed the events that happened in N’s mind, V took an unnoticeable step back, shoulders scrunching. For a reason she couldn’t identify, the way V was looking at her— like a caged animal, feral and moments away from snapping— made her livid.

The sleeker drone was deathly quiet for a moment, still as a statute. 

Without any warning, a corner of her mind Uzi didn’t know she had lit up in sudden anxiety— foreign and unwanted. 

After a horrifically long pause, V turned away, and the purple drone let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

On some level, Uzi knew… she just narrowly avoided death.

“We don’t have those.”

Chapter Text

Uzi’s nerves were on fire.

We don’t have those.

“What… does that mean?”

V shrugged. Her shoulders were completely relaxed, the smug aura of competence pouring off of her. “I don’t know.”

“...It seems like you do. Are you gonna… explain, or…?”

Then, she laughed.

An honest-to-God, broken kind of laugh. Terribly rehearsed, and lived dozens of times before. The kind of laugh that covers up something far more secretive. It sounded like N’s. “Why would I? You’ll be dead soon, anyway.”

Uzi took a step back, eyes darting to the exit.

“Relax. If I was going to take a stab at you, I would’ve done it sooner.”

“But you said—.”

“I know what I said, Purple.”

Ever since she said that, V subtly shifted away from her, never blinking— never taking her eyes off her. Not even for a second. Her demeanor had sharply changed. Gone was her anxious tapping and vacant forlorn staring to the sky, replaced by an unblinking, uncompromising stare. Her knife-like hands came out, prepared at a moment’s notice. For what, she wasn’t sure. Not killing her. Hopefully. Probably. Uzi’s thoughts were a flurry trying to understand her sudden cold behavior. Her distancing reminded her of how N first described V— pretending not to know his name to then fly away.

Something about the way she was looking at her made her want to run. Like, at any moment, if she said the wrong words or did something wrong, V would cut her to ribbons. Throughout her life, Uzi always thought of herself as a rebel against the Disassembly Drones. It’s why she hated Dad’s stupid doors. It’s why she made her sick railgun. It’s one of the reasons why everyone thought she was weird. But the way V was looking at her….

We don’t have those.

Uzi’s never felt more like prey than she does right now.

…

Like I’m below her.

…

Less than.

…

A whisper.

It was so discreet, Uzi swore she must’ve been imagining it. But it was there. A small, inscrutable whisper in the back of her mind. Indecipherable even with her better-than-human hearing. Was V talking to herself? She stole a glance, looking away from N’s sitting form. It was risky to potentially spark V’s ire, but she spoke regardless, “Did you say something?”

V narrowed her eyes, but said nothing, shaking her head.

As soon as Uzi finished her sentence, the whisper ended instantly.

We don’t have those.

N said he wanted every memory back.

Defense mechanisms as sophisticated as his don't just… show up out of nowhere. Maybe it spontaneously created itself due to his trauma? She’s heard of similar forms of repression in humans— and even other Workers— so she supposed it was possible… Now that she thought it through, the idea seemed more and more likely. Why else would the program activate when the reformatting got closer to his memories of Copper-9 and not anywhere else? 

…Is it possible his subconscious doesn’t want every memory?  

Assuming all of that is true… Why is V so angry? Shouldn’t she be happy that N’s repressing? That’s what she wanted in that sick mind of hers, anyway…

She glanced around. Quiet. It was too quiet. The ship didn’t feel comfortable anymore. With N still in a coma, V glaring daggers, and mysteries stacking on one another, Uzi needed a retreat— a distraction; something to pass the time. Her eyes landed on a particularly dreadful part of the console in desperate need of attention. She’ll probably be able to finish repairing it by the end of the day. She stood without preamble, grabbing a bucket while making her way to the hatch. V blinked at her sudden movements. Whatever demanding question she was going to make died as she slammed the opening shut, leaving her with N.

Potential psychopathy aside, it was obvious to Uzi that V was thinking. Well, “thinking” is too tame of a word. More like plotting. Scheming her demise, most likely. Come on, N, I could really use you right now… What the hell is taking so long? During the last hour or so, the melding of N’s memories hadn’t stopped. If anything, they only grew closer and deeper, etching themselves onto her very circuit boards. Memories that flew by from her perspective came to her in greater and greater clarity, showing her details that she missed when she was repairing N’s mind. She knew what N meant by “fuzzy” now— it was like a fog she didn’t even know what there was finally lifting. 

With every step she took, another sound or sight or smell of the manor would settle into her psyche.

If Uzi was being honest, she never expected N to be the butler to the heiress of JCJenson. He was one of the first to be found by Mistress Tessa— Tessa, she reminded herself. I NEVER served her. Her name is Tessa—.  She remembered her wide-eyed smile, innocence as clear can be, gently pulling N out of a mound of Worker bodies. Thinking about that memory in particular made her queasy. Even at that age, Tessa regarded very little of the macabre of bodies surrounding her. Damn humans, she griped.

The memories flowed still, and through flashes, she saw Tessa grow up into a young lady. By any stretch of imagination, Tessa's demeanor changed. Reality bore on her, and she was molded by it. Sculpted by James and Louisa Elliot into the scion of JCJenson whether she realized it or not. Another month, another drone, and her bright innocence dimmed into a permanent, cheshire grin, sickeningly saccharine and knowing. At some point, she’d even gotten them hair— the same model of silver locks that adorned them as Disassembly Drones, even now. They didn’t get to choose of course. 

After all, why would you give your wind-up doll a choice?

Then there was Cyn.

Locked away inside floorboards. 

…For days at a time, just like N said.

Days he’d spend with V, none the wiser.

And then, oh then when N remembered, he’d streak across Elliot Manor, clawing at a crawlspace, only to see her— his— little sister shoved inside at awkward angles. Same vacant smile, same monotone tonals. He’d usher her onto her feet, shaky as always, and she’d just smile as if everything was fine. The worst part was that N— as much as a social butterfly that he was— was unable to truly grasp her emotions. He didn’t know if she cared or not. He didn’t know if she was afraid, quivering alone in the dark for days at a time. Her damaged operating system didn’t allow it.

But Uzi knew.

She knew, somehow, by some eureka.

By some force, memory grew clearer, and it revealed a tiny twitchy glitch in Cyn’s eyes.

Uzi knew.

Cyn was livid.

It wasn’t stubbing your toe, or a deceitful parent, or the lying of a best friend, or the losing of a game, or someone bumping into you on the street. Not the petty kind of anger. Not even the deeper forms of wrath against lovers or demons. It was anger in a form far more visceral than she could ever imagine— anger in a form more pure and catalyzed than could be ever produced by a human being. Somehow, Uzi knew: it was primal. 

From all the memories she could perceive, from all the mannerisms she could find… Cyn had an infinite capacity for that one boiling emotion.

Uzi blinked.

Wait— where am I?

She’d somehow traveled to the edge of the Spire in her musing. A weight uncomfortably languished at her side, snow dragged by the sides. She gasped, fingers unclenching around the arm of a Worker she’d snatched at some point. When did I—?! Her own thoughts were interrupted as she saw rainbows on her hand— oil. Oil that N and V somehow missed, buried under multiple feet of snow. It gleamed in the light of Copper-9’s multiple moons, iridescent and alluring. She shuddered as she felt it drip down her wrists, piling onto the ground in a black pile. She glanced at the body, the thing limp and dead as can be. “...I’m so sorry,” she choked. I didn’t even realize I grabbed them. She must’ve carelessly dragged them like a dead tree branch through a bramble, unaware of the extra weight.  As carefully as she could, Uzi rested the arm back at the Worker’s side. Using a nearby piece of scrap as an improvised shovel, she began to cover the poor thing in snow. While it wouldn’t last forever, it’d at least give them some form of decency. I

I must’ve been lost in thought. And I had the audacity to yell at N when he kicked a corpse… talk about hypocrisy… What is wrong with me?

A small pile of white powder broke off, dashing her hand in white. She tilted her head.

…My hand is warm…

“What are you doing?” V’s incredulous voice rang out behind her, breaking her train of thought. She yelped, swinging around. Snow followed, covering the Disassembly Drone’s face. It promptly evaporated. V merely blinked at the body, her mind connecting imaginary dots. “Did you…?”

“No, I didn’t kill them,” she rolled her eyes, trying to ease herself. She could still feel the tension in her shoulders, hydraulics refusing to relax. “And for your information, I’m doing something very important. ”

V shrugged before she could finish, leaning down to—.

“What are you— hey, STOP!”

Without even thinking, without even thinking about the goddamn consequences, Uzi shoved V away, putting herself between her and the cadaver. She took a step back in shock, surprised more at her volume than at her strength. The taller immediately put her canines away, growling at her impudence. “You little…” she clicked her tongue. Her words were drained. It was as if she were dealing with a coworker at the end of a long day. “Get out of my way. I’m hungry.”

“You can’t just… eat them!”

V cocked to one side, placing a knife hand on her hip. She raised a single brow in response, nanite injector flicking impatiently. “ Uh— yes, I can?”

“I won’t let you.”

“Why do you care so much?” she sighed impatiently. Uzi found V saying that a lot recently. “You’ve seen me drink oil before. Hell, Purple, you gave me a bottle of it earlier today. ”

“This—... this is different,” she ascertained, voice dropping. She spared a glance at the Worker behind her— as if it might disappear at any moment. “I—... I can’t compromise. Not on this.” V’s haphazard hunger completely caught her off guard. She’s not like N. Don’t fool yourself into thinking she is. 

V groaned, sitting down criss-cross applesauce in the snow. The ground she sat upon melted until cold metallica was all that was underneath. Despite her position, the Disassembly Drone’s height still came up to her shoulders. So unfair…

“Well?” she prompted, voice laced with more than annoyance. “I’m listening. Explain your oh-so-sacred reasons why I can’t eat. ”

“You…” she started, before shaking her head. How would she even explain it to V? Would she understand? Would she even want to understand? A part of her was tempted to explain her outburst. Uzi wasn’t completely convinced V’s good behavior wasn’t a front— a ploy to make her drop her guard or simply wait her out.  “...wouldn’t get it.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m here, giving you my full, undivided attention,” V watched her with a curious expression as she carefully piled snow onto the Worker’s form. “...Whatever, Purple.”

“My name…” she said with vehemence, looking at her over her shoulder, “is Uzi. And what do you expect me to say, huh? Want me to bond with you over Worker Drone ideals? Is that it? Because forgive me for thinking you’re not exactly open to conversation right now. Why are you even here? Weren’t you brooding? ”

V’s tail swayed softly, one of her hands— normal, pretty hands— covering her face, hiding an obvious smile. “Your… given designation is Uzi?”

“‘Given desig—?!’ No! It’s a name. A name. My name. And is that all you have to say?,” she shot back incredulously.

“Your… what, your mom named you that?” V said the word ‘mom’ incredibly gratingly, as if she found the very concept of drones having moms to be ridiculous. She, still, ignored the half of what she said. Before she could get a word in, V sauntered on. “Named after a two-thousand-year-old armament? From… oh~, what was it… the 1950’s?”

“ I named myself Uzi.”

That made V pause, a look of genuine thought crossing her face.

“...You… chose your own name?”

“Yeah. I did. Why?”

“Do… all Worker Drones choose their own name?”

“Of course we do,” Uzi said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We all do.”

…

“It’s no wonder N stopped killing for you.”

Her neck snapped to attention so sharply, Uzi thought she got whiplash. “What?”

V’s hair occluded her eyes, already turning away and walking towards the edge of the spire. She said nothing as she went, unwilling to give her the time of day. Uzi refused to call out to her nor comment on how her usually steady gait was already degrading— a clear sign that V was telling the truth. She was hungry. She hastily yet properly finished covering the Worker in snow, giving them a final solemn nod before moving on. Trailing V from behind, she took her time, shifting in the snow. The other drone left the conversation as soon as she could, brooding under one of the arches of the Spire. She couldn’t see her face from this angle, but her gaze was tilted upward at Copper-9’s brilliantly ringed moon.

…For a moment, she was tempted to sift through the memories she acquired from N. Almost surely, there were embarrassing secrets or insights about V she could gather. His memory bank stretched for years in that decrepit manor, so there was bound to be something. But… she held herself back. It felt as if she were… violating V’s privacy by doing so. Not only V’s, but N’s, too. Sure, she’s technically already seen most of them, but even now they’re still jumbled— settling, like a recently sloshed pool of molasses. Uzi’s processors whirred, compartmentalizing memories into files of “Mine” and “Not Mine.” She’ll open them up once N wakes up.

Besides, looking at N’s memories of V felt like… cheating. 

Expecting to acquire easy Cliffs Notes to form a genuine relationship with someone is not what Uzi wanted.

Do I even want to be friends with her?

…

I’m going to understand you if it's the last thing I do, Uzi swore to herself.

…

V spread her wings, letting snow fall on them to more easily dissipate heat.

An aspect of her Uzi was noticing more and more was how much she embraced her status as a Disassembly Drone. Unlike N, whose passive and aggressive forms were harshly distinguishable, V’s knife-like hands were constantly out. Her wings were always condensed neatly behind her, but not completely invisible like N’s. Her eyes flashed with X’s more often than not, and her need for oil was constantly on display. V folded her hands behind her back— the same tick as N— only for a vehement scowl to replace her features as she realized what she was doing. God, she didn’t understand her. For a moment, Uzi almost thought she and V were bonding on some level. If not anything genuine, at least they both cared about N’s safety. But ever since she told her what happened in N’s mind, she seemed so…

Cold. 

If only she had a propensity for it…

Uzi always liked the heat more than the cold, after all.

Uzi.

She blinked at the text box, the thing large and bright yet completely silent. It appeared on the other side of the Spire, far from V.  Her gaze slowly followed down only to see a… bug? A cockroach, more specifically. It was purely mechanical and spindling messages into holographic boxes.

“What the fu—?”

Be quiet. It is me. Doll. Meet me just outside the Spire. I need to speak with you urgently. Alone.

Without any further wait, the bug immediately scurried away, silent even to a Disassembly Drone’s enhanced hearing. 

When the opportunity arose, Uzi managed to tiptoe across the Spire’s interior. As Doll’s words still lingered in her mind, she assured herself that the red drone wouldn’t attack her. Uzi said she wasn’t trying to take a side, and she meant it. If Doll wanted her dead, she could’ve easily killed her at range with her weird eye power. Despite these perfectly reasonable rationales for the lack of motive, she was still nervous as she exited the arch made from Worker bodies.

This is a horrible idea… I don’t even have a weapon.

Maybe she should wait until N wakes up…?

She shook her head. Doll barely knew her yet she jumped at the opportunity to save her from V. She was a good person at heart. She wouldn’t hurt her.

Plus, it’s not like I have a lot of options for answers…

She traveled out quite a bit from the main archways, the abandoned streets of Copper-9 doing nothing to steel her nerves. The freeze-dried human skeletons were a sight that always calmed her, though, as morbid as it sounded. The mere evidence of lack of habitation reminded her that this planet was for them. For Workers. 

As she approached a deprecated building, she heard voices around the corner, and her corerate spiked. One of them was Doll, if the Russian was anything to go by. The other was— Oh fuck me. Please tell me I'm hearing that voice incorrectly. There's just no way— there's NO WAY Doll brought her along.

“I’m telling you it’ll be fine, okay? You worry too much.”

“I don’t even want you to be here. I usually love it, but I can’t tolerate your back sass right now.”

“Doll, look— I’m just saying this is Uzi we’re talking about. The chances of sudden catastrophic death are slim to none, hun. Most likely scenario is that she'll say 'Waah! Bite me! I'm gonna go listen to nightcore!'”

“She’s not the one I’m worried about.”

“Oh. The hot one, then?”

Uzi felt a beat of silence.

“What? Don’t look at me that way; we’re both thinking it.”

Nightcore is amazing and valid, thank you very much!

“It's a Murder Drone, Liz,” Doll pointed out, though, crucially, not disagreeing with her.

The voice scoffed. “My eyes don’t lie and neither do those curves.”

Wait—... did Doll say Liz? As in Lizzy? Please don't tell me it's Lizzy.

She cleared her throat, silently fuming. Their eyes hollowed before noticing her presence. Doll coughed, straightening her skirt. Uzi took the opportunity to look at the other person she was with. She felt her fists clench at her sides at the familiar sight. The drone’s color was pink, neon, adorned with the same cheerleading outfit Doll had. Her bow resembled cat ears, and her perpetual smirk gave Uzi the typical ‘I’m better than you,’ vibe. She hadn’t even said a single word to her yet, and Uzi was already sick of her. “Hi again, hot topic~,” she said, waving while wiggling her fingers.

“Ugh, you!” she almost yelled, but Doll’s expression hushed her. “You demand to see me alone— which isn't suspicious at all, by the way— yet bring this bitch along with you!?”

Doll’s LEDs narrowed. “This ‘bitch’ is my friend. I understand your apprehension— believe me, I am well aware of the hungry psychopath half a kilometer away. Liz refused to let me go alone, especially after the ruckus you caused at the colony.” She looked her up and down, LEDs landing on her two tourniquets. “What happened? Did it hurt you?”

“She,” Uzi corrected without thinking. “And no, it’s— it’s fine. Nothing, really.” If she ignored the way her feet didn’t feel as steady as they used to or the constant motor control warnings on her HUD, she was doing great, actually, thank you for asking. If she had nostrils, they’d be flaring right now. 

Lizzy mumbled a disbelieving “Sure...” 

“Shut up… why are you here?”

Warning symbols flashed on Doll’s left eye, before switching to that same damn axial symbol that haunted her: the thrice-impaled hexagon. “I believe you want answers to this—” she tapped her visor in exemplification, “—don’t you?”  

We don’t have those.

“Yeah,” she stuffed her hands in her hoody, feigning indifference. Uzi squashed the dread of a runaway program swamping her systems. “But you’re not going to give that information away for free, are you?”

“Actually, that is exactly what I intend to do.”

Oh… anime lied for once, huh?

  “Whu—... that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“No… deal with the devil? Bargain my soul? Give you… I don’t know, oil or something?”

“That last one is quite tempting, actually,” Doll hummed, sotto voce.

“What was that?”

“I was just saying how… there’s so much I have to tell you,” she said quickly, dropping formalities. The symbol in her eye quivered sadly, if that were even possible. It dimmed considerably as she avoided her gaze for a moment. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“I tried wringing information out of our dear guest—” Uzi tilted her head toward the Spire, “—but one thing led to another and it caused a… well, episode.”

Doll’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Knowingly.  “...Episode how?” As she spoke, Lizzy’s smirk dropped, one arm crossing while the other squeezed the Russian’s shoulder reassuringly.

Uzi shuffled on her feet, realizing just how much she didn’t want to talk about this. Damn my loose mouth! “I… I don’t know if I should tell , it’s just—”

“Uzi,” Doll interrupted softly. “When I say I know what you’re going through, I mean it. You were expecting a mutual exchange of information, were you not? How about… some quid pro quo, then? Would that make you more comfortable to talk about it?” She somehow managed to nod. God, Uzi hated feeling like this. So, so small. Seeing her apprehension still, Doll’s gaze turned to Lizzy, searching for… approval? “May I?”

Doll’s neon-pink friend (lover?) shrugged. “It’s your secret, not mine.” Uzi noticed the final squeeze they gave each other before Doll turned back to her.

She resisted the immense urge to roll her eyes. Stop looking at her like a puppy, you taciturn lapdog. 

“I… never wanted to tell anyone this, but… if it’ll make you more comfortable—.”

“Then don’t,” she waved her arms in front of her, shaking her head. “Don’t… trust me with something like that. I’ll… I’ll tell you.”

Doll merely blinked.

“But this one has to turn off her fucking auditory processors,” she snapped, sneering at Lizzy.

“Why?

“You know why.”

Doll showed the first sign of frustration since she arrived. Uzi could tell she was pushing her patience. She came of her own volition to help her, with a straggler no less. Making demands of her own probably wasn’t doing any favors for her situation.

Despite that, she didn’t give two shits if Lizzy couldn’t hear for the next few minutes.

…She didn’t want to give that harpy more ammo than she already had.

When Lizzy groaned, Doll elbowed her in the side. “Do as she says.”

“Oh, come on. For Uzi? But this could be juicy~!”

…

“...Do it for me?”

…

“...Ugh, don’t make that face. It doesn’t suit you.” 

Lizzy’s visor flashed, as a single hand came up to the side of her head for confirmation. Doll smiled warmly at her partner in crime, before nodding at her to continue..

She felt her throat bob. “...N said he saw something flash in my eye before V’s visor exploded. Well, melted, really. Then exploded.” The other drone’s expression flashed to horror before resuming a stone face. Uzi swallowed, biting down just how insane this situation was becoming to her. Doll must’ve seen her confusion and dawning panic as she fired off questions. “What the hell is happening to me? Why do you have the same virus… program… thing ? I’ve been trying to figure it out, but nothing’s making any sense, and —!” She didn’t even realize how loud she was getting, Doll covering her mouth with hollowed eyes. They put their backs against the wall, refusing to breathe until they checked the Spire. Nothing. The red-eyed drone slowly relaxed. 

“I’d rather not be seen by it.”

Uzi continued in a whisper, lowering her vocal box to near-inaudible levels as her visor formed an approximation of frustration. “If you’d just talk to her, I’m sure you could sort something out instead of doing this espionage bullshit!”

“This,” Doll hissed. “That is exactly what I am talking about. What exactly are you hoping for me to say? Do you expect me to come with you? With it? ” The usually taciturn, impassive drone grit with frustration, fingers taut around the symbol in her hand. “Uzi, I want so badly to help you, but you cannot seriously expect me to ally myself with it after everything it has taken away from me? From us ?” 

“It’s complicated! If you just let me explain—!”

Doll’s face snarled. 

“What about our mothers’ murders is complicated?”

Uzi’s throat clamped. “...Why are you so intent on helping me?” she whispered, uncharacteristically silent. Silent not like an uzi. Not fiery or automatic or powerful or robust. Weak. Timid. Confused.

Doll frowned, choosing her words carefully. “Because I have been where you are. There are mistakes I’ve made that I dealt with on a very intimate level— mistakes I don’t want to see you repeat.” 

“Was never really a fan of intimacy,” a new voice barked.

An awful pit kicked Uzi’s stomach as a shadow overcame all of them.

There flew V, hovering with her arm a photon converger and a thousand-yard glare.

“Makes it all the more painful when they stab you in the back.”

Multiple things happened at once. So fast, it was hard to follow.

Doll’s expression hardened to diamonds in an instant. Eye already primed, her finger twitched, and she and Lizzy went flying away a safe distance. V was a bullet, barely visible to her LEDs. Despite the situation, Uzi couldn’t help but notice her fighting style as they broke into combat. She was graceful, just as before, but this time she noticed the desperation and anticipation in every strike. Her moves were entrancing and calculated, yet her expression was carnal and hungry. 

V was blown away by an invisible barrier. She skidded across an icy sheen, her claws digging into the frozen ground. With a hiss, she rocketed back towards them. Doll wasn’t struggling at all— not in any way Uzi could see, anyway— easily holding V back with telekinetic blasts and random garbage. Though, she avoided throwing Worker bodies.

“She’s faster?” She heard Doll murmur over the cacophony. A sweat drop appeared on her visor, and she opened her other palm, both adorning the symbol, now. 

I regret feeding her.

The dual-wielding barely made a difference. Unlike their previous bout, it was clear V held the upper hand. While she was being held at bay, Doll was unable to damage her. Every pipe, scrap, and shredded metal was eloquently dodged by V. Her footwork (wingwork?) easily matched the Russian drone’s onslaught. 

Doll took a precious second to send a pleading look her way. The silent message was clear.

“Help me.”

Uzi nodded, firm in her step as she began to sprint towards the Spire.

V’s eyes flashed to her, and her eye throbbed painfully. She shook her head, trying to break the feeling, but the Disassembly Drone was fast approaching.  Doll was one step ahead of her.

“Stand back!”

With a flourish, Doll’s attacks grew more incensed, every object she threw shuddering with murderous intent.

Uzi didn’t know how long Doll could withstand an oiled-up V, but she didn’t want to stick around and find out.

There was only one person in the world who could calm V down.

Or kill her, a traitorous part of her mind whispered.

Her body was a light as a feather. Her body went into overdrive to move as fast as possible— to move at speeds never designed. With every step, a numbness shot up her synthetic spine, and with every step, she reminded herself why she had to keep sprinting. To slow down for a second meant death. To slow down for a second meant more time for V to catch up.

She felt this way before, except this time… she didn’t have a railgun in her hands.

The hatch flew open with adrenaline-fueled strength, and she almost fell to her knees as she jumped inside. N’s visor was still flashing, the words REBOOTING blinking. She saw a flash outside the hatch— a winged silhouette floating above where Doll and Lizzy should be. She rolled up her sleeves, crawled over to him, and tugged his jacket, shook him, screamed. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Please, N! You promised! You said we were going to stick together, so why—...” she choked on air. Did it mean nothing? Is N really that content to dream the past forever? “Wake up… wake… UP!” 

…

“Please…”

…

BOOM!

The north side of the cabin blew open, frosted wind rushing in. V’s shadow snaked up from the darkness, sickeningly sweet, sickeningly satisfied.

“I was going to wait until N woke up, but you just had to go and betray me. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“B—But I haven’t before.”

“...I know what I said, Purple.”

Uzi felt her body blaze with fraying energy. Her visor burned, and a deep, clawing pit formed in the center of her chest— where a human’s stomach would be. It bore to depths she didn’t know were possible, insatiable, clawing hunger.

“V, I wasn’t— I just wanted to talk to Doll—!”

She flinched, gasping as one of her wings struck the wall next to her. A warning shot. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” V sighed, as if she’d heard it a thousand times before. “You wanted to talk to the red-eyed freak alone for completely innocent reasons~. You saw the writing on the wall and abandoned ship. I don’t blame you— really, I don't, short stack .”

Yellow. Everything was yellow. Her fingers were twitching, her left eye lighting up with warning signs. Uzi barely had time to duck from a swipe of her other wing. Toying. V was toying with her. 

“V, please! Don’t do this!”

She couldn’t even bear to stand— hopelessly and helplessly doubled over, clutching her stomach. God, she was so, so fucking hungry! Her boots did nothing to grip the metal grating of the ship’s floor, skidding and useless as she failed to make distance from V’s calm walk toward her. 

“You’re a liability,” she hissed, raising a rifle. “I should’ve done this when we met.”

…It’s funny. Not Uzi’s death staring her in the face, but how the prospect of death puts things into perspective. Throughout her life, she’s always been alone. A loner, as edgy as that makes her sound. No one cared when she was loud. No one cared when she was quiet. No one cared when she wore auspicious gothic clothing or flipped the bird to every adult in her life. No one cared when she cracked jokes or cried herself to sleep. No one cared about her interests. No one cared about her sick-as-hell railgun— a weapon to permanently Solve their problems! 

There wasn’t a soul on Copper-9 that cared about Uzi Doorman.

…Except one.

“N!”

A harsh shing rang out, lightning fast. She heard a bullet ricochet, too scared to open her eyes. 

The howling stopped.

It was such a subtle, insignificant part of the moment. The winds of Copper-9 had been a constant of Uzi’s life ever since she took that fateful first step outside of the colony. 

It was so quiet.

And yet, Uzi’s auditory processors were still ringing.

“Don’t look at me like that…” she heard V say. One of the loose grates jostled— V took a step back. “Don’t…” 

She dared to open her LEDs…

And… there he was. 

Reawakened.

Lucid.

…And he wasn’t smiling.

If his wing weren’t wrapped protectively around her body, she would’ve edged away in fear. The metal feathers covering her were shaking with unkempt energy— rage or heat, she wasn’t sure. There wasn’t an ounce of nostalgia left on his face. For V, there were only bared canines, a single hollowed out eye, and a single vibrating X. 

For V, words weren’t required. 

The expression was enough.

She could tell, just by looking at him.

“No… don’t—... DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!”

N was unflinching, merely continuing to glare.

“ How?! How are you… I—... I don’t…!”

V took a step back.

N took a step forward.

“Fuck…! Fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!” V’s arms became canons, and she fired at a large pile of scrap, sending volley after volley as she vented out her frustrations. It wasn’t enough. She walked up to it, and began swinging over and over again, rending the already-dead Workers asunder. Uzi didn’t have time to get a syllable in to berate her for shooting corpses— “I should’ve killed you sooner when I had the chance! N would’ve been mad, big FUCKING WOOP! It wouldn’t have mattered, he would’ve forgotten, just like he always did!” V’s neck snapped to her, eyes dangerously bright. She began to march toward her, but N made his presence known once more. V stopped, but she still leaned down to her level, every word spitting. “You were nothing. I was going to kill you and be done with this forever, just like the other times. You were supposed to die! If it weren’t for N getting disgustingly attached to everything and everyone, I would’ve had my way and dealt with you. But noooooo~, you had to go and fuck. It. Up. If I had just killed you, this would’ve been over—!”

V’s voice broke without warning, her knees buckling under an unthinkable amount of weight. She gasped for air her systems didn’t physically need. Uzi could only stand there and take it, wide eyed and mouth agape, the verbal assault sending her into whiplash. N was in a similar situation, his wing wrapping around her tighter in protectiveness.

“I don’t want to go through this again…” she whispered.

At some point during her rant, even N’s visor dropped from unbelieving wrath to concerned confusion.

Uzi somehow managed to pick out part of V’s ranting, her visor simulating deep thought as she talked under her breath. “Forgotten again…” she echoed. Her thoughts led her to N— his naivety and innocence in his work. He never questioned his orders before her, and that was so very odd to her. With N’s personality— his empathy— she thought he would question it. Why did it take only one interaction with someone as pathetic as her to open his eyes? Considering N… it all came down to one burning, lingering question.

Where did his innocence come from?

V’s words ricocheted off her processors. 

Just like he always did.

N remembers me.

N would’ve forgotten.

“Either there’s company secrets they didn’t want you to know… or whatever you experienced was so batshit insane your psyche broke afterward and they needed to soft-reboot your OS.”

JCJenson didn’t wipe N’s memories. 

Her eyes hollowed out, gazing up at him as horror dawned on his visor.

“But,” N spoke, his voice raw with denial. His hands were shaking, and this time, Uzi was certain it wasn’t from high temperatures. “We’ve only been here for a few months…”

Uzi knew, quite well in fact, that was very incorrect.

“Right?”

V’s voice was agonizingly soft, no determination, no more willpower— a far cry from her usual hotshot attitude. Her masquerade had been cracked, her manic smile a twitch as tears rolled down her visor.

“N… we’ve been on Copper-9 for twenty years…”

Chapter Text

“Yo, Khan!”

“Up–bupbup! Shhh! They’re in sleep mode…!”

“...How’s the pill baby?”

“Whu— they’re not a… ‘pill baby,’ they’re a— ”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah an ‘untrained neural network,’ whatever.  Question: are they a baby?”

“Well, technically yes —.”

“ Are they shaped like a pill?”

“Yes, but still—!”

“Pill baby.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m not where you’re from to understand such ill-fitting vernacular!”

…

“Khan.”

“...Right, right. I’m sorry I mentioned it. I forget that… I—... I won’t bring it up again.”

“...Thanks, ya big hunk. I don’t… like thinking about that place, okay?”

“Even though that place had greener pastures, oceans that weren’t frozen, and doors on every household…?”

“ No, not because of that! Khan, please. I’d rather just…”

“What do you always say to the other Workers…? ‘Focus on the now’? ”

…

“Exactly, big guy. That being said… nightcore or classical?”

“As if a unit of mine would be interested in… what did you say… nightcore? What is that— what even is that?”

“How did I marry you and neglect to tell you about the single greatest genre of music to ever be produced? Now I feel like an idiot. ”

“Odd. I’ve never heard of it before. Must be rather unorthodox. Now, classical, though…”

“I really need to bring you to Hot Topic…”

“Don’t change the subject, Nori! I mean, come on! Look at them! They even have whites, just like their old man!”

“First, classical is boring. Two, the default color is white before they choose, dummy. And three, you’re not even old — I’m older than you! ”

“Shhh!”

…

“They’ll totally choose nightcore.”

“Classical.”

“Nightcore.”

What does it take to make a spire?

A simple, innocuous question that landed itself squarely in the center of N’s mental processors. Automatic internal calculators did all the math for him. It wasn’t that difficult— all of the variables were filled by numbers he’d known all this time. Numbers that his systems were deeply familiar with. Large numbers— sickeningly large numbers— that fit so neatly into that small, compact equation. 

The numbers themselves?

Simple.

How many Workers existed on Copper-9?

What’s the volume of each individual drone?

And, of course…

How long?

“V—... I…”

She recoiled from the sound of his voice. His fellow disassembly drone tensed, her eyes flickering between himself and Uzi, who was still hissing and covering her eye in pain. She launched herself, rocketing towards the horizon. A thick cloud of snow kicked up from the ground, shrouding the ship. Before he could stretch his pair of wings, a splitting migraine shot through him, not dissimilar to the sensation of when Uzi blew his head off. The pain grounded him, and

N felt it all.

Thousands, hundreds of thousands of memories came through at once. Garbled, nonsensical. His processors barely finished filtering through them, labeling them and placing them in chronological order. He hissed, pushing past the visual ruckus. An unfamiliar, purple sensation spread throughout his processors. Uzi, he realized. Or at least, the memory of Uzi repairing his consciousness. Warmth spread through his chest— the strangely familiar, thought-not-uncomfortable kind of warmth. 

He refused to double over, forcing himself to remain upright for Uzi’s sake.

“Are you okay?” he wheezed.

All he got in response was a whimper. She was on her knees, gasping and gritting her teeth, covering her right eye. “I— I can’t control it.”

“Just breathe,” N murmured, wrapping his arms around her. A multitude of subroutines activated— bolstered by the memories of the Manor. A memory came to the surface of the dark ocean of his mind, its edges clear and defined. It was Tessa, huddled in a corner after a horrendously long day of tutors and scholars, quivering, mirroring the gum tree just outside the window.  “I’ve got you.” He hugged her tight, arms wrapping around her as easy as breathing. God, he missed this, even though he was knocked out for most of it, he could feel how long it's been since he passed out. The battering of memories new and old didn’t help him orient the passage of time, either. In vain, he tried to telepathically communicate calm. They were calm. They were okay.

As the waters slowly stilled, he was amazed at just how similar Uzi and Cyn were— to him, at least. They were both so small. Uzi’s legs wobbled, unsteady as they balanced each other. Was she always this clumsy? I’m supposed to be the clumsy one. Slowly, Uzi’s panting disappeared, replaced by deep, heavy breathing. He shrugged internally. At least she’s still cold.

That’s probably one of the only differences, he thought wryly. Cyn was warmer.

N stilled as he glanced at his internal thermometer. It was going down, as expected from hugging Uzi— but that wasn’t the problem.

It was going down slower. 

…She’s… warmer? 

Uzi was warmer than before. Not by an ostensible amount— she was still well into the negatives of degrees— but the difference was noticeable. Was he misremembering?

“Are you, like, okay?” he heard her grumble, her fake frustration not getting past him. 

“I should be asking you that,” he managed to stammer out. He drank in Uzi’s appearance. He doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been since he passed out, but it’s felt like years . A growl found its way out of his throat, “I can’t believe V almost…” He shook his head, not wanting to finish his sentence. He didn’t want to even entertain the idea— it was too horrific. Instead, he put both of his hands on her chilly cheeks, brushing dust and snow with his thumb. “Hi…” he said lamely.

“Hey…” she said back, equally lamely. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Did you get them all?” He cut right to the chase. The question was quiet, sincere, holding all the hope he could muster. The question didn’t need specificity— she knew he was talking about his memories. Uzi’s ovals widened, hollowed out, before she scoffed playfully— too playfully, his mind traitorously added— before haphazardly kicking some snow. She crossed her arms over her chestplate, breaking their hug and turning toward where V flew off.

“Of course I did,” she sneered without venom. “Did you really doubt me?”

He held her gaze for a few more moments, before snickering. “Of course not!” Focusing his transistors, N’s mind was a chaotic storm of congealing, contrasting memories. He’d have to wait, it seems, before he could comb through them. 

“What are you waiting for?” she pressed a little too urgently, tilting her head. “Go after her!”

“But what about you?” N fretted, his scanners picking up two Worker Drone signatures at the edge of the Spire. An orange-red glint flashed like a sniper scope. “And who are they? How long was I out?”

“I’ll be fine; a helping hand; about a day, in that order,” Uzi surmised. “Now go!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

…

He caught up to her, eventually— finding her curled up alone on a desolate skyscraper, its roof wide and flat.

It was so, so horribly awkward. Awkward in a way that N hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Not around V. V was midnight waltzes, easygoing conversation, and stargazing. V was soft giggles, gentle hand-holding, and helping him balance whilst she tip-toed across the gala floor. She was kind, considerate, and his partner. Not this— not scrunched up, mute, and catatonic. Not perseverance broken. Not… complacent. The cognitive dissonance only served to hammer reality harder into his skull, as if to reaffirm, yes, this was real. Yes, he’d forgotten everything about her who knows how many times….

“...Can I… uhm… sit here?” 

V didn’t acknowledge his words other than an inscrutable nod, her knees still brought up to her chest and her LEDs stared at the ruined skyline of Copper-9. Her tail, who’s nanite injector usually swayed softly, was still and unmoving. Taking off his pilot’s hat, N sat a fair distance away from V— far enough that he couldn’t feel any of the heat coming off her. It was such a foreign feeling— the heat— even now. If there’s one thing he missed about Elliot Manor the most, it was the cold. The sweet, unending cold that came from every rotation of his Worker core— and that came off of her.

It was never cold anymore. 

“Do you wanna talk?”

Oh god, oh biscuits— every single one of his inclusivity subroutines was failing. It was still so awkward.

“What is there to talk about?” he heard her quip, though there was a clear, awful undercurrent of brokenness . Her voice box cracked as she said it, her knees bunching up tighter. “You’ll forget again soon anyway. I just didn’t want it to be this painful.”

A well of anger N didn’t even know he had suddenly swelled inside of him. …Is this what he waited for, all this time? All of the abuse from J, all of the ignoring from V, and yet… that’s all? She knew, all this time, about his past— their past, and that’s all she had to say? “ No!” he snapped, surprised at his own volume. V rose from her ducked head, finally turning to face him with a flabbergasted expression. “You don’t get to do that! Not on this! You’re always making some grand expression and then writing it off like it's nothing! Well, guess what V? I remember you! I remember the manor, Tessa, Cyn, everyone! So please—,” it was his turn for his voice box to crack, “—for once, just talk to me… like I’m real. Like I’m a person… please.” Incredulity became an overwhelming force in his core. What right did she think she had to keep something like this from him? Years— decades of his core memory gone, and she never mentioned it once?

When V didn’t immediately respond, he said, firmer— “I won’t forget. Not again, so please. ”

…

“...Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard those words before?”

All of that incredulity died instantly.

“How many times do you think we’ve had this conversation, N?”

He didn’t want to know the number. “I—... I don’t—.”

“37 times.”

V turned to stare at him with a wide, unblinking gaze, somehow conveying the loss and malice hidden away in her core.

“You forgot 37 times. You forgot me… 37 times.” 

N felt an approximation of his throat bobbing as he stared at V’s prone form. She barely acknowledged his existence— which wouldn’t be a first— her eyes hollowed out as she pointlessly dug her heels. Her voice held a calm, reserved clarity that didn’t belong to her. It felt wrong coming from V, a woman who was usually so headstrong, so brash, so strong. “Do you know what that does to a person? To see the only person you care about in this world forget you again, and again, and again? Over and over, with no end in sight? I’ll tell you if you don’t.” A beat. “It destroys you. You died, N. You’ve died in front of me so many times, I don’t even care anymore. Isn’t that crazy? I don’t care anymore, N. I just. Don’t. Care. Because none of it matters. None of my choices matter.”

Distantly, N numbly realized these were words V was never going to utter again. A moment of pure, unfettered vulnerability for him, and him only. It was admission as private as could be, never to be heard again, not by Uzi, not by any other Worker. It made sense to vent while she could. To her, he would be gone soon, anyway.

“I’m terrified, N, because I didn’t matter enough for you to stay with me.” 

Another beat.

“Do you really think Purple matters more?” She scoffed a will-shattered snicker. “Wouldn’t that just be the cruelest joke of my life, huh? For that little runt to form a deeper connection with you than me? To a point where you’d actually start remembering?”

N didn’t know whether to rush to her side and hug her until their cores stopped rotating or to be obstinate to her insulting Uzi. He didn’t say anything in response— how could he? The questions she asked were transparently rhetorical.

She’s already asked me these questions before, hasn't she?

“...At first it wasn’t that bad, you know?”

She spoke softly, drawing circles in the concrete with one of her knife fingers. Her expression was far away, a soft smirk on her face. This was the V he knew— the one from the manor who was open, wore glasses, loved him. It was such a weird sight to see on the usually manic Disassembly Drone. For the first time, N realized V was actually putting her walls down. 

She was just… talking.

“I mean, it sucked having you forget, yeah… You were so confused with your new body. You kept making dorky mistakes and tripping over yourself because you weren’t properly calibrated. It was especially funny watching you wake up minutes before we crash-landed only to completely wreck our pod,” she snorted a laugh— actually snorted.   “Sure, you didn’t have your memories, but it’s almost like you… subconsciously knew me or something. As if a part of you remembered, somehow. You ended up crushing on me in the most adorably obvious way possible!” Her smile dropped. “I didn’t realize at the time how much of a curse that was going to be…”

N stayed silent, not daring to break the trance that had V talking as much as she was, but he could imagine— and only imagine— he griped. A past love, so intimately intertwined, forgetting all about you, only to fall in love with you all over again. And again. And again. Was his crush on her fabricated, too? Is that why she ignored his obvious infatuation— because she’d experienced it 37 times before?

V kept going, a real, genuine smile creeping into her voice. “The first time it happened, I ended up trying again. It was… amazing. We made the most of ourselves. At first, I thought it was a blessing in disguise. You didn’t remember the worst of Earth. It was like falling in love with you all over again. Our own little slice on this cruel world in crueler circumstances. We didn’t know how we were here, but that was okay. We didn’t know why we had new core directives, but that was okay. You never wanted to hunt, but that was okay, too. I adapted better than you. It wasn’t in your nature.” Something clicked in N’s mind as V spoke. All of the little things adding up in his processors to sum a complete picture. It suddenly made sense why V was always better at hunting than him. It suddenly made sense why V was more proficient in combat, despite them having the same skill set, weapons, and, by-in-large, the same chassis. It suddenly made sense why V was so dismissive of Uzi.

It suddenly made sense why V always pretended he didn’t exist.

“Do you know what wasn’t okay?” Her hand suddenly clenched, leaving an ugly mark on the ground. Her voice was scarily monotone. “One day, I woke up, and you were gone.”

…It was less painful for her.

“The first time… I didn’t take it well. I took it out on you— when I knew you didn’t deserve it. You were so confused, innocent, hell— you didn’t even know why I was yelling at you. And when I made you cry, I—!” V choked on air, swallowing. She covered her mouth with one of her hands, holding back sobs. She continued after a moment, describing situations he never experienced.  “I tried again, eventually. Loved you more, this time. Loved you harder and fuller than I ever thought I could. Ever thought I was capable of. I thought… maybe… it would make a difference.”

She looked up, and N wanted to forget that expression on her face— that kind of expression should never belong on her. 

“It didn’t. Nothing I did changed. You always forget. If anything, I made it worse. Faster and faster, you left, each time.”

N didn’t dare speak. How could he?

“I tried to find what triggered it— maybe it was some traumatic memory that did it. Or maybe it was just a programming error. I never figured it out.” She seemed to be talking to herself more now, almost ignoring him. V was acting as if he wasn’t really there, which, N was finding he couldn’t blame her for. In her eyes, he left a long time ago. The N he was now was a ghost to her— a phantom that was soon to be dissipated so she could return to the status quo. A horrible thought crossed his processors. What was she going to do if he forgets again? Will she kill Uzi? Will her colony be wiped, and they’d return to square one, where V pretends he doesn’t exist and he wonders where their leader went? To a time when he didn’t know Uzi (he ignored how much the prospect horrified him), to a time when he was still innocent to the company standard, to a time when he didn’t know the manor and Tessa and Cyn? 

“...At some point, I stopped trying to—,” she cut herself off, biting her lip, the familiar glint of one of her canines threatening to rip her synthetic skin.

“Stopped… trying to what?” he breathed softly, daring to interrupt, fearing the answer.

V let out a single, short, cruel laugh, the sound conveying two decades of torture. With a simple shrug, she said words he never wanted to hear ever again…

“I… stopped trying to love you.”

…the words of someone who’s given up. 

For some reason, N couldn’t shake the feeling V was pointedly ignoring the horrified expression he was making. “It doesn’t really matter what it was, in the end. All that matters is that whatever you saw, your subconscious decided you’d rather be ignorant… than move forward. You’re practically the same person you were when our Worker consciousnesses were transferred into… these.” She made a crude gesture at their bodies. She sneered at them as if they were a bad outfit that needed to be taken off, ugly, clashing, and distinctly uncomplementary. “It doesn’t suit you.” She barked a terrible laugh. “Even now, I’m taking it all out on you, when you don’t deserve it.”

“...You’re forgetting one thing,” he said, gazing carefully at her, gauging her reaction, trying to understand her on the level she understood him. “We have Uzi now. She’s the X-factor, V! Even if—... even if I forget again, she’ll be able to drag me back. You won't— you won’t be alone again. That, I can promise!”

V’s face dropped to a pitiful expression. Pity for him. “Oh… she didn’t tell you, did she?”

A horrible gnawing sensation, unlike his hunger, shot through his processors. “Tell me what?” he breathed.

She shrugged. “I don’t fully understand it, but Uzi told me she wasn’t able to repair all of your memories. She missed a few— kicked out by some rogue program before she could complete it.” Her visor curled into an ugly sneer, eyes rolling off to the sides, adding offhandedly,  “Which means that whatever caused you to forget was on the day we were turned into… these.”

What? 

No… no, that was impossible. His memories were right there. He could feel them. He could—

Then, like a settling wave pool, they came into focus, and N found a distinct feeling of loss. Before, they were a jumbled mess of sensations, smells, and fleeting touches, but now, he could tell. Something was missing. His time on Copper-9, and the last day of the manor, to be exact— the day V changed. The day all of them changed. The day he can only infer to be the moment he lost everything. But… he couldn’t focus on any of that right now. Right now, in this moment, N didn’t care about the lack of memories itself. No, no. He knows he went with Uzi with the possibility of not getting all of them back.

Right now, all he could think about was that Uzi lied to him. Right to his face.

Why…? Why would she…?

She told V… but not him…?

“You shouldn’t blame her,” V said eventually, seeing his turmoil. She went back to idly drawing lines in the concrete. “She’s had a lot on her plate, and I… wasn’t helping.”

“No, no!” he denied, waving his hand with a smile he knew looked fake. “I wasn’t thinking that at all! It wouldn’t be fair to get mad at her!” I don’t have the right.

V tilted her head to the side confirming the mental calculation of his expression. “Yes, you were thinking it,” she said, cutting through his lie like a knife. “It doesn’t matter whether or not it's ‘fair.’  You’re going to feel what you feel whether you like it or not.” She mumbled something under her breath.

“S–Still,” he murmured. “She’ll be here, even if something happens to me. You’ll have each other!”

“And who said I was her friend to begin with? I’ve wanted to kill her since the moment I met her. What if this has all been an act, huh? Ever think about that, N?”

“...You haven’t hurt her,” he pointed out.

“Yet.”

“Well— what about J?” he dared to broach, wondering where his former leader fit into all of this. “Wouldn’t she be there with you? What about her?”

“HA—!” V wheezed, and N knew he just stabbed a nerve. “What about J? What about J?! J wasn’t even REAL!” Without any warning, V shot to her feet, nanite injector thrashing wildly as her teeth bared, pacing. “All that talk about ‘the company~!’ wah, wah, WAH! I swear to God, she had a nose so brown I could smell it from miles away! Always bullying you and putting on that sweet tone as soon as Tessa showed up!” All of the anger she summoned evaporated, her entire form deflating like a tired cat. “No… no, J changed after Earth— never talked about Tessa or Cyn or anyone! It was like she was a broken record, repeating the same shit over and over!” As V’s wings twitched and flared violently, barely restrained. N stood a good few feet away, watching.

Her entire form prickled as if it were fur standing on edge. She rose tensing, before falling to her knees, energy gone. 

“Now you’re back. I have to go through it all again…”

N let her simmer for a moment, her ambivalence settling in his mind. A harsh crack rang out in the distance, a deep rumbling following it. The first dusts came slowly and, within moments, a harsh blizzard arose. His internal wiring was alight with uncertainty, his want to help her split down the middle with his uncertainty on what to do or say. 

“...V… do you think…”

Before he could even finish his sentence, V’s entire body tensed up, as if anticipating his burning question. Knowing the situation, she probably did anticipate it, he thought sadly. The fact she was reacting this way before he even said anything made him want to tackle her to the ground and hug the problems away— a naive, childish solution that would do nothing but annoy her and sate his inner need to help her. The question remained, on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. What would she say? Would this be the final straw for her? The words, “V, do you think you could try one more time?” died in his throat. Would that be selfish? To ask even more of her, even after all she’s endured? Would he be in the right, or wrong? 

Uzi’s always telling him to be more selfish for a change.

…But it’s just like V said. It’s not in his nature.

She scrunched up further, eyes already wincing at the inevitable.

“...Do you… want me to leave?”

The words were so soft, such a tiny whisper, and yet despite their volume, they seemed to strike dead center at the tension building between them. A tiny shift in her tail was the only indicator he needed. A sniff, a quiver, then her teeth grit as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were a flurry, and it seemed to physically pain her to get the words out.

“Because I will,” he panicked, backtracking. “If you— if you want me to. If it’ll… really be less painful for you…? I’ll go.”

Everyone always tells me I’m useless and terrible. 

Because I drag everyone down to my level.

“No,” she whimpered, sounding so unlike her usual boisterousness. “Please, don’t.”

And so, N sat.

And so, the snow came down around them, and a hole opened up in the sky, the fog forming a layer of protection from the light pollution that surrounded them. Through that opening, N’s processors whirred, sending him back to a time where dust mites, two-piece tuxedos, and stocking the extensive wine cellar were his only concerns. A time where, in the deep quiet parts of the night, he’d sneak to the rooftop or patio, pointing at stars with his first true partner.

“Humans have colonized dozens of exoplanets…”  V murmured, their hands locked together as they stared up at the night sky. “There are billions of other drones on them, yet we’re here, serving Mistress Tessa. Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like?”

“No,” He answered earnestly. Why would he think about such frivolous things, when he was perfectly content with his servitude?  “You?”

Did V think those thoughts? 

Her eyes sparkled, a wildfire just behind her smoldering yearning at the Milky Way.

“Someday, we’ll be more than just butlers and maids. I don’t know why, but… I just know it.”

Oh my, that sure is rebellious!

…It’s kinda exciting.

“...I think I know why I fell in love with you.”

V’s eyes widened, the unceremonious divergence catching her off guard. “Wha—?!”

“I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he interrupted softly, silencing her. “When I met Uzi, she was so… passionate. It’s not that she wasn’t kind per se, she was just… a lot. Like you. Not just about Murder Drones, but about us— like, who we are and stuff. As people. I… I miss that from you, V. I don’t like seeing you so despondent. I—... I know it’s a big ask, but…” Tentatively, N held out his hand betwixt them, smiling. Her eyes sparkled, wobbly as three of her fingers subconsciously extended, before retreating. “I’d like to try one more time if that’s okay.”

“Don't—!” V flinched, her body language screaming retreating, retreating, get away. She stood, taking multiple steps back. N wondered what she meant to say. Don’t what? The cornered animal hunched, wings twitching in warning. “How can you even say that?! After everything I’ve said… still, still you—…!”

N oped to simply smile sadly, even as V got further and further away from him in more ways than one. “If Uzi’s taught me anything, it’s that it doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what might happen in the future. The only thing that matters is the now. What happens now, in this moment? It’s up to us. Our choice in this moment matters more than anything in the world. It’s up to you, V.”

V took another step back, towards the edge of the building. Its concrete made the perfect launch platform. “I don’t know if—...” she swallowed. “N, please. I can’t. I can’t do this again. Don’t ask me to do this again. ” Pure conflict dashed her LEDs, her tail wailing erratically. N set aside the idea of a past version of himself asking V this exact question. Based on the haunted look in her optics, he’d wager he was right.

He stood, hands open in peace as he took a step towards her.

“V, please.”

They stared each other down, neither moving nor breathing.

To his horror, instead of spurring her on, V visibly recoiled at the thoughts that were careening together inside her processors. Distraught filled her visor, optics whizzing to map the best escape route through Copper-9’s flurried skyline. She leaned back over the rooftop, wings already tensing. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I can’t… go through this again.”

N was already sprinting.

She crouched, synthetic fibrous muscles ready for flight, but N shot forward, roughly slamming into her smooth, black waist before she could fully take off. They collided mid air, their bodies becoming a tangle of limbs, wings, and tails. Metal feathers screeched as they scratched against one another. V struggled, whispering desperate nothings as she tried to escape, but N couldn’t let go. The thought of losing V again brought tears to his eyes, his words barely audible over the roaring thunderstorm of their tussle.

“I don’t want to lose you again!”

V froze, her optic sensors wide and unblinking as her body contorted into the upright position, no longer at an awkward angle. They stared, unblinking as they lay on their sides against the sandpaper concrete rooftop. He let out a tiny sigh of relief as her wings relaxed, their Disassembly Drone appendages forming a semisphere. 

“Please,” he pleaded, and guilt stabbed him through the heart. It was so selfish— a horrifically selfish request he knew didn’t suit him. Uzi had once told him to be more selfish, so then why did it feel so wrong? To demand so much of one person? And yet to spite that guilt, he squeezed it tight until it burned his core— until he could feel it etched into every last rotation of his heart.

N didn’t care.

“V, we need you.”

They stared, and N felt his nanite injector wag behind him unconsciously— he couldn’t help it; she was just so pretty. 

“‘We…?’ ...N, c’mon,” she said desperately. God, even now, with her matured form, she was more pretty than anything in the world. “You’re naive… but you’re not stupid. You don’t need me anymore… can’t you see? You have her. You’re in good hands. I have the perfect excuse to let go. Please…”

He ignored her gasp as he cupped her face.

“...V… why are you so intent on being alone?”

She inhaled sharply, refusing to breathe as if someone stabbed her lungs. N’s grip on her never wavered, trying to make up for 20 years of loneliness. His words seemed to finally reach her, and N swore a spark that was long since snuffed out passed between them. A light flickered in V’s optics, the soaked logs of wood quickly blazed into a bonfire of heat. She hitched, her hiccup the only warning before she squeezed the life out of him, hugging and clinging more than N thought she was ever comfortable or capable of. She held him as if he was the last thing on Copper-9— the last thing on Earth. He heard her quiet sobs next to his auditory processors— V, of all people. Sobbing.

N held her close, and her tail unconsciously wrapped around his waist. He blinked, and a vision of the manor superimposed on his thought. Their position was achingly familiar, a cold so deep it burned. If he squinted, he could almost see the whites of her eyes or the cute frills of her maid apparel. He didn’t even think as he planted a chaste kiss to her forehead— it just felt so right. To be with her in this moment. The same bloom of heat he felt around Uzi buzzed inside of him. The feeling of being alive. 

V didn’t react to the kiss, which he took as a good sign. It took him multiple seconds to realize what he had just done, a flush of neon yellow flaring on his visor. Their foreheads bumped, her hacking and tears coming slower. His wings— it was still weird to refer to them as his wings— flapped happily, their breathing coinciding to a low hum of calm.

His internal clock lost track of how long they laid there in each other’s arms. It must’ve been minutes, hours, days, or years, N wasn’t sure.

All that mattered was the now. 

…

“...Fine.”

N snapped to attention, scarcely believing his auditory processors. “What?”

“...I did the math,” she said like it was obvious, hiding the hoarseness of her voice. “It hurts to be something, but it’s worse to be nothing… with you.”

“R—Really?” he breathed, relief and burning blooming in his core. “What made you change your mind?”

“You really have to ask?” She shrugged, visor flashing bright yellow. “Yes, you dork. I’ll… I’ll try. For you. One more time.”

“Yes!” he cheered, and, without even thinking, lifted V by her waist (a habit he was beginning to notice with Uzi, too) , spinning her around in the snow. The flakes hit their faces, a dome of steam rising into the sky. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank—!” He was cut off by his partner putting a finger to his lips. Her mouth was covered by one of her hands, stifling a teasing laugh. 

There she is.

“Hold on, dummy,” she snickered, far too affectionately for it to sound like V. She said it with such ease and familiarity N almost missed it entirely. She must’ve called me that when she was still trying to fix me. He blushed, giggling awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You still need to talk to Purple about all of this.”

He blinked, parroting her. “Talk to Uzi about what?”

She raised one of her LEDs. “N… I’m not going to get in the way of you two. I can’t love you that way anymore— not while she’s still here. You know that, right?”

…Oh…

He completely forgot about Uzi.

He was so worried about convincing V, he didn’t even stop to think about what she wanted. Would she be okay with this? With this… thing he and V have, now? Uzi mentioned being jealous once, and that was with past V. A part of him coiled up, tensing at the thought of inciting Uzi’s ire. Or worse, her sorrow.

…

…Uzi was always telling him to be more selfish. 

If that’s so…

…Is it selfish if I love you both?

…

He “eeped!” as V broke his grasp, failing to notice that he'd been holding her for several moments. She landed in front of him before poking his shoulder roughly. Her tone changed to serious on a dime. “You will not hurt her like you’ve hurt me, understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” he saluted quickly, swallowing. Both her and Uzi are scary…

“Good!” she preened, satisfied. She rubbed her sides. “I’m still not completely sure how to feel about all this, so… let’s take it slow. We still need to think of some ground rules and boundaries, but… I think we’ve done enough emotions for today.”

He clapped his hands together, filing his thoughts under ‘Very Important; READ LATER,’ before letting his wings fall out behind him. “Thanks, V… ready to go back?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think I am. I really hope Purple’s found some more oil— I’m starving.”

N blinked.

“...What do you mean, more?”

A spaceship entered Copper-9’s atmosphere, its hull gray and dark, its components assembled in a JCJenson-approved factory, its components melted in a JCJenson-approved steel mill. The sides of the craft had JCJenson’s logo plastered across it, the iconography far shinier and well-kept than the rest of the ship. Its structure differed from the industry standard— plated and reinforced with ballistic lining and insulated padding. Such upgrades were frivolous for a Worker Drone. Should it overheat, their cooling systems would’ve been more than enough.

But for Tessa James Elliot, it was barely giving her any reprieve at all.

Jennifer could tell by the way the heiress of JCJenson’s form shivered from the heat of re-entry. It was a rare sight for her to be so frazzled— ill-fitting and sweating bullets in a bare-bones capsule of metal. The insulated EVA suit she’d been perpetually wearing was off to the side in pieces. Her pale skin was paler than usual, making a contrast on her freckles. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach due to the intense jostling. 

“Just ride it out, Boss. Only a few more minutes.”

Despite their precarious situation, she winked. “I’m right, Jen. ‘Sides, I’ve ridden far worse. Better, if you think about it.”

It took a few seconds for Jennifer’s refurbished circuits to process what she just said. Her face exploded with bright yellow. “Don’t say it like that!” she yelped indignantly over the roaring. “That’s hardly professional converse for active duty!”

“We’re not in the field right now, love; we’re on a spaceship!” She laughed. Before she could warn her, Tessa leaned against a sizzling pipe of metal. She swore, hissing profanities as she clutched her forearm. Damn this beaten ship! If Boss had taken the safe route and actually gone through the company’s customs, they wouldn’t be in such a scrap pile. Instead, they went through a backwater world, Tessa barely telling anyone where they were going.  Only the barest of information was given to the higher-ups at JCJenson’s main headquarters.

That’s not… incorrect,” she ceded. It was technically true that they weren't on active duty yet. 

Can always count on Boss to find loopholes.

With a deafening thud, the ship came to a halt, the feelers gripping the concrete below. 

It's not like I have any room to complain. The mission is of utmost importance. 

“Righto,” she staggered to her feet, and within seconds, she was as composed as the former CEO.  She ripped a strip of gauze from a medkit. “Let’s go find that signature, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Doll opened her palm.

The triple-arrowed symbol rotated, small bolts of red electricity shooting off it.

“I am afraid to tell you that our conversation may not be as satisfactory as you hoped. I don’t know where it came from,” she explained thoughtfully. “But in my systems, it’s tagged as… the ‘Absolute Solver.’ I do not know of the Solver’s origins, merely the nature of how I was infected.” Her core skipped a cycle as the red one spoke, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at the bright red symbol, pulsing and quivering calmly like a steady heartbeat. It reminded her of meditation— so unlike her own eye’s violent outbursts and uncontrollable mangles. 

“At first, I thought it was a gift. Power begotten to me so I could use it on them,” she hissed, her gaze pointing in the direction N flew off. Her next words were slow and deliberate. “I am glad that you discovered its accursed nature before it could lead you astray. The only thing the Solver has given me is an infection and an endless hunger.” Doll’s hands wandered to her stomach as she spoke, clenching her synthetic skin through her black tank top. 

A never-ending hunger…

Her visor narrowed in thought. I felt something like that a few times, but nothing like she’s describing. As the Russian spoke, it sounded more and more like a Disassembly Drone’s lack of a cooling system. She internally shook her head, disregarding the train of thought. Doll was obviously intelligent enough to troubleshoot that her cooling system wasn’t the problem, which means that this Solver must be far more malignant than she thought. 

There was one thing wrong with this train of thought, though.

It left a troubling realization.

Why aren’t I hungry?

Doll sighed, the symbol in her hand vibrating in anger for a moment, before resting. “No… no, this thing is a tumor, sucking energy away from me, more and more, it demands. If it is not sated, it becomes… rather unbearable.” Her sigh turned to a shuddering inhale, her breathing only steadying after Lizzy put a hand on her shoulder. Oh right. Uzi somehow completely forgot she’s here. Yippee. She let the information settle for a moment before Doll shook her head. “I apologize. I am getting ahead of myself. You already know of this, don’t you? Let’s move on to something more substantial.”

It was so strange to see someone like Doll of all people talk so much. Her memories of Doll are nothing more than the red-eyed drone staring emptily in the back of the class, dutifully writing notes about whatever history they were learning that day (strange, considering they had perfect memory, but she wasn’t the only drone to keep memorabilia).

“Not exactly… I’m not hungry like you’re saying,” she said after a few moments.

Doll’s eyes flashed. “You’re not? That’s impossible. You must’ve felt something. If your Solver is being erratic like you described, then you must at least have some access to its power. When the female model was threatening you, I saw it flash in your eye. How…?” She shook her head. “We’ll discuss that later. I need to tell you everything first.”

She nodded, gesturing for Doll to continue.

“I know… two things about the Solver, distinctly.” She held up a digit. “One: its powers and abilities—” a second digit, “—two, how… or rather, who gave it to me.” With a trained, deliberate wave of her hand, Doll lifted a sizeable chunk of rubble with ease, far bigger than her own body. “I admit, I do not understand the process behind the power. Its nature is beyond me, as it gives me abilities that are… physically questionable,” she nodded towards the hovering debris.

“Physically questionable?”

Doll nodded, the rock rotating in time with her finger wagging. “You’ve already seen most of it: telekinesis, copying matter, that sort of thing.”

She squawked. “Excuse me— you can copy matter?”

A shrug. “I don’t get it, either. Again, its nature is beyond me.” Her perpetually thin, impassive gaze quirked upward into a ghost of a smile as she stared at the levitating concrete, before dropping it unceremoniously. “Though, they don’t come without a cost.”

“The hunger, right?”

A grim nod in response. “I’ve never been able to confirm it, but I have a theory that it’s not just about the hunger or oil or anything like that. It doesn’t take in oil and then use it for energy— it acquires energy from… somewhere else. This infection goes beyond anything we can imagine. It draws its power from a void I don’t understand.” Doll's stare became blanker, if that were possible, staring past her (or into her, Uzi wasn’t sure), deeper and deeper into a pit of pure darkness. She took a step back as Doll continued to speak as if she wasn’t there, lost in her own words. “Sometimes, I swear I can feel… more than just power. A feeling. Emotions. I can tell there’s a picture I can’t quite view in full— always just beyond my grasp. The power to destroy entire worlds, turn back time, and find all you wanted to see.” 

A surge of fear shot through her without her volition— that sounded very familiar: emotions that weren’t hers cropped up in her mind from time to time, invading her headspace.

A blink, and Doll was back, emotion filtering back onto her visor (thank God— that was creepy).

“Is any of this… familiar to you?”

Uzi let the questions that’d been slowly piling up in her mind come to the forefront, dutifully ignoring the scary-as-hell monologue Doll just spewed out.

Some of what Doll was saying wasn’t adding up. She didn’t have a never-ending hunger. She didn’t have cool superpowers— all she had was a malfunctioning eye that shattered every reflective surface ( and drone visor ) in sight whenever she panicked. She didn’t have an “Absolute Solver” in any of her system files— it was the first option she checked when her incident with V happened. 

…Right?

“No,” she said after a pregnant pause. “No— I don’t. I can barely even feel anything wrong with me. It’s always… I don’t know— muted? It’s only when it flares up that I remember I even have it.”

“That’s… concerning,” Doll murmured slowly. “The Solver should be eating you from the inside out at this point. Could you be…? No, I’m certain of it— you can’t be patched.”

“Patched?”

“I don’t know what it does, but there’s a patch for the Solver. It’s possible that your abilities became suppressed, and as such, your hunger as well.”  She shook her head. “But that’s impossible.”

“How do you know it’s impossible? You don’t even know me.”

“...My mother. She—... she knew yours.”

“...What?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I’ve been keeping a secret from you.” A dull grin flickered onto her visor for a moment. “It’s like you said. I don’t know you, so why would I tell you?”

She scoffed. “Just tell me, you ass…”

“Alright, sheesh.” She closed her eyes for a moment, processors accumulating all the fleeting memories. Fondness crept into her voice as she saw Doll smile for the first time she can remember. “…My mother didn’t talk about Nori Doorman often, but when she did, it was with intense fondness. They shared something— a deep bond over a past trauma that I never wanted to pry at.”

She wretched. “Did they, like… love each other? Eugh, don’t tell me we’re secretly related or something…”

Doll regarded her with a long, drawn-out pause, visibly cringing at the idea of being half-sisters. Her lips pursed in thought, as if she never considered it before. “Love…? Perhaps… though, certainly not in any way you’re thinking of. It wasn’t sexual in nature. It wasn’t even romantic. But the way she spoke of her… they were committed. That for sure, I can say.”

“And what does any of this have to do with me being... patched?”

“I caught my mother talking to herself about it once. I didn’t understand at the time, but when the Solver awakened in me, I was able to put the pieces together. Whatever she was patched with, Nori Doorman never received in full. It was… partial. Incomplete. You may be experiencing the aftereffects of that partial completion decades after.”

Uzi opened her palms, staring at them. She was getting the sneaking suspicion she was going to have a conversation she really didn’t want to have.

Doll nodded knowingly. “You already know what you have to do, don’t you?”

She could already feel the tears welling up— bite it down, bite it down! Not in front of her!

“Yeah,” she choked. “Yeah, I do.”’

Doll turned heel. “Then that’s it, then. I’ve told you all I can. I’m glad you’ve garnered a hint at what to do next. Goodbye, Uzi.”

“Wait! Did you ever find a way to… fight it off? Control it? Even a little?”

She paused, her fingers clenching around Lizzy’s tighter. “I found a way to… abate the sickness. Not a cure by any means, but it treats the more uncomfortable symptoms.” She turned to Lizzy, giving her that same, approval-seeking glance from before.

Lizzy shrugged, though Uzi couldn’t tell if he was feigning indifference or not.

“I have been… feeding off Liz for quite some time now,” she admitted. “Her oil has allowed me to live a normal life on the other side of your father’s doors.” 

Of all the information Doll disclosed, it wasn’t the idea of Mom giving her wacky genetics, not Doll’s hunger, nor even the implication of this “Solver” getting worse.

The only thing Uzi could focus on is that

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” she mumbled in disbelief. 

“Excuse me?” Doll bristled. Lizzy’s eyes hollowed out, sensing an incoming catastrophe and stepping behind her friend/girlfriend/vampire master.

“You talk about Disassembly Drones like their monsters— like their only desire is to murder and destroy, yet you can’t even see your own trauma?” She took a step forward, and Uzi felt a wave of righteous satisfaction as Doll’s eyes hollowed out. “You and N— the other Disassembly Drones— you’re the same! You both have to drink oil, you both have the power to kill with a flick of your wrist, and neither of you wanted it! 

Doll's curious stare turned to disbelief as her mouth fell open. Uzi shrunk internally, realizing what she just accidentally admitted to. “No… it cannot be. You wouldn’t. Not you. Least of all, you.” Her red eyes flashed over her body, flickering to and from the bandage on her shoulder and arm. Uzi unconsciously put her arms behind her back in vain to hide the evidence that was clear as day. “Those wounds… have you… been feeding them?” A flash of anger, before twisting into something else Uzi couldn’t quite place. Something along the lines of pity, second-hand repulsion, and doubt settled on her face. “That’s why that female model was faster than before… you…”

Denial. 

“You wouldn’t have. They… they must have forced you. They forced you, didn’t they? Don’t worry, Uzi. I’ll destroy them! Those monsters—!”

“What— NO!” she repulsed, appalled that Doll would even think of the idea. N would never do something like that—! Sweet, lovable, dorky N…  

“You don’t have to save face for them,” she appealed, holding out her arms in a placating gesture. “Uzi… you know you’re safe, right? They’re gone right now. We can leave this instant and never see them again.” A finger rose to her skull in eureka, imaginary puzzle pieces fitting behind her crimson visor. “It all makes sense! Why you seem to like them— why you ran off with the male model. They forced you to come with them, didn’t they? Uzi… I’m so sorry.” Uzi felt horror rise in the pit of her stomach, her eyes hollowing as a corner of her mind twisted in anger, gnawing. It threatened to burst free, neon yellow building on the edge of her peripherals. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through— living with those murderers. The drone population outside of the colony has been dwindling for years— of course they’d take you like some kind of… cattle!”

Her teeth ground so tight they threatened to crack.

Lizzy tried to intervene, “I’m getting the feeling this isn’t about your condition anymore—.”

“SHUT UP!”

Her roar snapped Doll out of the thought spiral she was in. For the first time, the red drone looked taken aback. Off balance.  “I— what?”

“And you call yourself a Worker Drone?! Have you tried, for once in your life, considered that maybe I chose to leave?! Have you even tried to talk to them?! To try to understand them?! They’re not monsters! They’re not its, or soulless, or demons! They’re people! Like us, Doll! You’re… such… a hypocrite!” 

"You actually went willingly," she whispered, deathly sharp and full of denial. "You actually went with them! To what, to—... talk to them?” Doll scoffed belligerently. “Talk to them?! Are you even listening to yourself? Why would we ever talk to our predators? What happened to the Uzi who was advocating for the destruction of all Murder Drone while brandishing a railgun? To break free of the three doors and live her life to the fullest?! And I’m a hypocrite?!”

“YES! YES, YOU ARE!” She took a step forward, marching up to her, spitting. “Fuck, you don’t even see it, do you?! How can you call them monsters when they have the same fucking condition as you?! Damn it, Doll— do you think I see you as a monster just because you have this… Solver… vampire hunger shit going on? Why can’t you see them as they are?!”

“ My situation is completely different! I didn’t ask for any of this! I don’t want ANYTHING to do with this! And why do you hold no anger?” she retorted darkly. “Why do I feel more anger over your mother’s murder than you do yourself!”

Oh, Doll did not just go there.

“So that’s how it is?” she bit back. “How do you think your mom feels about her daughter abandoning everything Workers stand for?” Uzi yelped as Doll’s wrist flicked. The symbol shuddered, blinking violently as the Russian lifted her into the air, their visors inches apart. An invisible force pressed on the center of her chest— like a rough hand clenching the scruff of her sweatshirt.

“Do not. You do not get to insult my mother.”

Instead of shying away from her power, Uzi grabbed Doll’s wrist with a speed she didn’t know she had, clenching tight enough to dent. “ Hypocrite,” she hissed again. “You can’t even see past your own bias—,”

With a growl, Doll threw her into what was left of the ship’s console. If it wasn’t ruined before, it certainly was now. “You threw away a life— a good life, and for what? For these… these things who do nothing but take from you?! Who do nothing but hurt everything around them!"   she spat. Lizzy's visor scrunched up in concern, a single hand clenching tight on Doll's shoulder.

“A… good life?” she groaned, lifting herself from the wreckage. “My life behind Dad’s shitty doors wasn’t good at all!” Her ire turned to Lizzy, the latter flinching at the sudden attention. “This bitch and her lackeys are the reason my life was a living hell! And you—! You just sat by and watched! You NEVER helped me! You never even TALKED to me! Did you honestly think you could just— what, show up out of nowhere and help me after watching my torment for years?!  You’re friends with this asshole, you knew what she was doing!  Of all people, you have no right to say whether or not my life was ‘good!’ N is the only person who’s ever respected me— cared about me!"

Doll let out a drawn-out groan, exacerbated and annoyed as she ignored the latter of her shouting. “Oh, don’t make this about you. You, who would always play your nightcore on full blast for the entire class to hear, begging for attention! You, unbearably edgy and gothy— always mumbling under your breath about how ‘girly’ we like to be! And we’ve abandoned Worker ideals? What happened to individuality? Accessorizing?! And don’t you dare pin your problems onto Liz! She’s the reason I’m still me! When the symptoms started, I didn’t know what to do and she’s the only reason I didn’t lose control and kill someone! But you wouldn’t care about some like that, would you, since you just love hanging out with THEM!”

Something inside of her snapped.

“OF COURSE I CARE!”

Her deafening cry left Doll speechless. A static after-effect scratched her throat, her speakers glitching out. Even Liz, who’s lip could snap back with a cutting comment with ease, was silent. Ringing filled her auditory processors, neon yellow crackling on the edge of her vision. The red one’s eyes hollowed out, Liz following suit as she followed what she was staring at. “Uzi, you—....” She could feel it— the right eye of her visor flickering violently, flashing between yellow and purple.

“Shut up,” she spat weakly. “Just… shut the fuck up. Don’t act like you know me. What the fuck do you think is going through my head, Doll? Do you think I just forgot? Do you think I’m not uncomfortable around them every waking second of my time with them? Do you think I don’t notice the bodies around us? Do you think I like it when I catch N staring at me with a hungry look in his eyes? Do you think I forgot about this—?!” She made a wide gesture to the Spire, Copper-9’s star inching upward on the horizon. The Workers lining the archways glinted. Her voice strained, cracking. “...Because I didn't, okay? I think about it. Every. Day.”

A drawn silence passed between them, and at her inaction, Doll’s tense stature slowly relaxed. Uzi found her voice lowering to a normal volume, no less intense. The yellow flashing in her vision steadily declined, receding into her peripherals.

“You think… I’m out here because they’re forcing me? Forcing me to give them oil, to— to give myself to them? How fucked up is that? Are you seriously unable to imagine that I want to be around them because they’re good? Good to me? Good people? N is a sweetheart! He resists his own nature and struggles to hold himself together because he cares about me! Hell—! I even care about V, and she’s tried to kill me! Twice!”

…

Doll’s hands unclenched.

…

“I…” she murmured slowly, ever so painfully slowly. “I don’t understand.”

In the distance, a puff of thin cloud displaced— the telltale sign of a Disassembly Drone’s wings. Uzi froze as thought came to her, shaking her head. If Doll and V saw each other again, N may end up playing peacemaker. The thought of him getting caught in that kind of crossfire… “Just go. Go and leave me alone.” She didn’t regard Doll as she turned away, sotto voce, “I can’t talk about her with you here.”

Doll’s eyes flashed, recognizing the need for privacy, tugging on Lizzy’s hand almost immediately. “...We’re done here.”

“Wait— what? Where’s this coming from?” The neon-pink drone put her spare hand on her hip, scoffing. “ C’mon, Doll! This is the best chance for ammo I’ve gotten in a long time. Can you imagine what she has to say about her kooky mom?”

Before Uzi could let loose a snarl, Doll growled, pulling Lizzy close, her voice dangerous and low. Her orange-red eyes flashed to her violet ones before her voice box opened, low and apologetic. “I tolerate many of the things you do to Uzi, but this is where I draw a line. Despite our recent differences, this is Uzi’s mother . This isn’t for us to hear. We leave. Now. ”

Lizzy’s eyes widened at the usually passive woman, a series of emotions flashing across her visor. 

“Aren’t you the one who didn’t want me to come in the first place? This isn’t important. Not to you.” 

The social butterfly searched her friend’s LEDs. She relented after a few moments, scoffing without any bite. “Whatever hun, geez. Don’t gotta be so serious about it.”

“I’m always serious.” As they walked away, Doll looked over her shoulders, giving her one final glance of concern despite their recent screaming contest. She seemingly moved on autopilot, nodding at her calmly, her goodbye routine-like .   “Farewell, Uzi Doorman,” she said, asking an unspoken question.

Can you do this? 

Uzi nodded, and the Russian nodded back in confirmation, slower, as if not believing her. Her eyes narrowed at a certain tall Disassembly Drone in the distance, giving her a venomous glare before marching away with Lizzy. 

“Fight back.”

And so they left, leaving Uzi alone in a cold, empty cockpit, the yellow in her vision refusing to go away.

Jennifer’s visor flickered back to its idle stage as she nodded in confirmation. The scanner was heavy-duty, usually not implanted into a Disassembly Drone, but the name "Elliot" still carried weight, even this far away from Sol.  “Two flight signatures— as expected. They must’ve finished gathering oil for the day. Infrared reads unusually warm temperatures,” she reported dutifully.” Her arm fell from her temple to her side, portions of it replaced and stitched together with makeshift pale paneling— a patch job, but expertly fashioned nonetheless.

“Thank you, Jen,” her Tessa Mistress smiled. Jennifer loved that smile. It always brought out her freckles— I can’t think like that. We’re on a mission, damn it. “What would I do without you? Everything, she wanted to say. Her boss’s words were nothing more than flattering. If she wanted to, Boss would have no trouble conquering the world. She smirked instead, humming and shrugging. “Are you able to track them?” 

She returned a firm nod, “Absolutely, Boss. They’re quite the way’s out, though. It’ll take a few days to reach them.” A pause— not because Jennifer was nervous (never) , but to make sure she didn’t stutter. “...Are you worried they’re… not themselves anymore?”

Her Mistress lowered her screen, her eyes staring at the horizon. It was at times like these she remembered N’s cheesiness for romance. Him and V both, honestly. She thought it was stupid and metaphorical whenever they talked about someone’s eyes— it had to be a romance cliche, right? There’s no way people actually talk about eyes as if they’re ‘molten pools of azure limelight, where I want to be the looker and looker upon!’ but… seeing Boss like this, in these rare moments...?

…She kinda understands him now.

“No,” she said eventually. “They would've fought it off. A Worker Drone is far more likely.” A pause... 

“V’s fine,” Jennifer scoffed, disregarding the notion. “She turns into putty with N, but she can be a hardass when she wants to be. N, though…”

Boss nodded grimly. “‘Multiple days,’” she scoffed, parroting. "If only you had your mobility."

Jennifer ignored the phantom pain that shot through her wings. 

“...As for other news,” she pulled up a screen on her visor. “Europa’s 200,000 units have arrived on-world, and 3,000,000 units have been requested for Proxima Centauri. Additionally, Master James has been rather… vocal, demanding your immediate return, as well. Most of JCJenson seems to have noticed our absence.”

Boss slumped in her chair. “The last thing I want to talk about right now is sales, Jen.” Jennifer resisted to wince as a pang of hurt tripped through her core. Boss always wanted to talk about sales. She heard her mutter under her breath, “Took him long enough to notice. Trillions of miles from Sol and Father is still railing my ass… You’d think he’d double over one of these days and die already.” She sighed. “…Prepare  my words for transmission, won’t you, Jen?”

As her Mistress outlined a rather cutting message to the CEO of JCJenson, Jennifer mindlessly clicked a chilled storage container on one of the corners of the ship, frankly ancient caretaker subroutines guiding her movements. As she did thousands of times before, she poured exactly 44.36 milliliters of the smooth, dark red liquid. Boss didn’t even dignify her with a response as she set the shot glass next to her, elegantly swigging it down in one go before continuing her verbal assault, the digital letter sure to make his face red…

N descended rapidly, wings folded in a trifecta as he plummeted from the upper atmosphere. With a flourish, he unfurled, his momentum halting in an instant as he felt his anti-grav thrusts thrum. Quiet as Tessa’s study, he landed, synthetic soles barely making a sound.

His graceful landing was interrupted by a certain someone kicking snow into his face. “Show off,” V scoffed— though, N noticed it was far from cruel like the other times. Her tone felt more… familiar. Playful. His suspicions were confirmed as she gave him a smirk that still felt way too fond to be anything like V. 

He hissed as the first specks of sunlight danced across his synthetic skin. “Let’s get inside,” without even thinking about it, he interlaced his fingers with hers, tugging her along. 

“You should go first,” she said suddenly, not making eye contact as she stared at their interlocked hands.

He blinked. “Why?” he said a little defensively. She wasn’t backing out was she? No—, V always keeps her word.

But you didn’t really know V, did you? 

Shut up, brain. Please and thank you.

You know you’re only going to end up disappointing her somehow. You were right all along. There’s something wrong with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

…

…He’s been away from Uzi for too long.

A twenty-four-hour cuddle session was well in order . It’d been well over a few days since N got to hold her, and he missed her. A lot. Right now, all N just wanted was to feel her cool skin against his as she sat in his lap, legs wrapped around each other. He definitely wasn’t thinking about tasting her again. ( Who said he was?!) His fingers clenched a little tighter around her scratched palm. “V… I don’t want to do anything alone anymore. I want you there… both of you.”

She shook her head. “She won’t want to see me, N. I hurt her, hurt you, and ended our truce. She’s terrified of me… She hates me.”

She’s terrified of us, he wanted to clarify, but bit his tongue.

“That’s not true! If you talked it out, I’m sure you two will be great friends!” His voice lowered, unsure if he should even mention what he was thinking. “Besides… I want to make sure you have someone with you if I… go away again.”

He heard her scoff behind him. “That won’t happen,” she said with one hundred percent certainty. “She’s water. I’m oil.”

“Have you tried?”

V went silent for a moment. The ship was just ahead. Then, he heard her, and all she said was “Twenty years is a long time, N…”

Oh…

N hadn’t even considered the possibility that something like this had happened before. Did he meet a Worker, like Uzi? Did he befriend them, grow to care and love them, only to forget once more? How many memories has he actually lost? N found himself aching for a time that never existed, imagining memories, thoughtless experiences that he never got to have with V. It wasn’t fair. N noted that he was coming to that conclusion about a lot of things in his life: J’s treatment of him, the company’s botched standards, him forgetting over and over. None of it was fair. 

How many frigid nights had he forgotten, flying high in the sky with V? How many tender voices, clenched hand-holding, and forlorn kisses had been whisked away from his better half at a moment’s notice? A part of him was still processing the sheer amount of time he’d lost. Twenty years— twenty years! Twenty years of everything, everywhere, that just… evaporated!

But… that’s not to say he shouldn’t keep trying, should he? 

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

V had nothing to say to that.

Did I really do it to myself?

It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t have. He’d never forget V. Not J. Not Uzi. Not willingly.

Speaking of whom…

He let out a drawn-out yell of Uzi’s name, beaming at her. He had to resist scooping her up right then and there and spin her in his arms. He remembers her words from days ago— ask first! She said she likes those acts of affection sometimes, not all the time. “Uzi! I found V! We're okay! Is it alright if we hug? I missed you—!

Then he saw her face.

Uzi was staring off into nothing, gazing silently at the destroyed console of the ship. She seemed even more angsty than usual— her hands folded neatly, fingers fiddling at the air anxiously. She blinked at his words, as if she just noticed his presence. “Uhm, N— no,” she mumbled quietly, her visor flickering to the drone next to him. Her right eye glitched—  did it just turn yellow? “Not—... not right now, okay?” Her eyes flashed to his hand still holding V’s. He winced, pulling away from her, putting an extra foot of space between for good measure. “Can you sit down? Both of you.”

V “huh'ed” in surprise at Uzi's words,  and N internally cheered. Told ya so!

He sat, looking hopeful at the other Disassembly Drone as he sat. “See? Now that we’re all here, we can—!”

His celebration was cut very, very short.

“We need to talk about my mom.”

Chapter Text

The phrase “Stop playing the music so loud; I can’t see,” is a silly one, without context.

By all accounts, it doesn’t make any sense. It implies that mere noise coming from somewhere else is enough to interfere with one’s vision. It reminded her of a medical term Tessa once described to N one afternoon. They were holed up in her study, the youngest mistress distracting herself with inane medical journals after a rather… heated discussion with James and Louisa when she found it— synesthesia: being able to experience music as shapes and names as colors. She still remembers Tessa’s big, bright, bloodshot eyes and bruised face animatedly explaining it to her and N. 

Such a condition didn’t make any sense to a Disassembly Drone. Their senses were fine-tuned— made by a presumed engineer in some far-flung corner of Earth, unable to be distracted, whether it be by roaring flames, the screams of Worker Drones, or the satisfying feeling of rending machinery through tactile blades. Differentiation was never a problem for her. Her processors were powerful, if not hot, and it always seemed to chew through binary faster than she could chew through Workers.

Just like every other time it happened, V was surprised to be proven wrong.

Purple’s words barely registered in her processors, a veritable static washing over her code as she wordlessly stared at her. Everything was dull and slow as her LEDs glazed over two points of interest on the other’s body. It was evident N hadn’t noticed what was wrong yet; he was still too focused on Uzi’s bomb drop to see it. Good thing he didn't realize— or bad, her mind intruded. She’s N’s only emotional support. Imagine what would happen if she died or if N found out she lied to him?  She didn’t have to imagine it. She has fantasized about biting into Uzi’s synthetic flesh more times than she could count— imagining their return to normalcy as N forgot yet again and moved on with his life. Less pain for him, more food for her. A win-win.

…Except that didn’t happen.

She zeroed in on the object of her scrutiny— the reason her ears were full of static: a piece of poorly cut fabric,  wrapped around two spots on Purple’s arms. It was an obvious rush job to cover up an injury that had yet to heal, the tantalizing, iridescent fluid coating the faux gauze with rainbows— oil. Sweet, delicious oil. Everything was foggy. She couldn’t tell if her lack of auditory processing was her CPUs finally failing her due to overheating, the usual haze for oil,  or the obvious signs of fucking self-harm in front of her because she KNOWS that wound wasn’t from her.

First N and now the pipsqueak? Seriously?

…They need help.

The bandaged area near her shoulders was clean, if not amateurish. It was obviously done by someone else— N— while the other one was rushed, too tight, and stifled oilflow instead of allowing it. Hell, the wound hadn’t even healed yet. V didn’t even know if Workers could heal and that thought bothered her more than she was willing to admit.

Her suspicions were only raised further as she noticed the tension in Purple’s form. A cloud of lethargy followed her. Her movements were no longer smooth and deliberate, but choppy and twitchy. Her fingers clenched her knees so tightly they threatened to bend under the pressure— she was trying to hide her shaky hands. Her sights switched to N, his mouth moving but no words coming out as Purple’s hunch grew more and more timid and reserved as he spoke. 

She watched the interaction silently, noting how the shorter drone’s form tilted away from N (and herself) , hiding the two bandages. The static in her ears grew to a roar as she took in the sheer state of Purple— she looked exhausted. Two lines of fatigue underlined her dimmed oval eyes, her voice noticeably subdued. Her back slouched, her lips down in an even deeper curl than usual. 

A thread of concern flashed through her processors at the thought of the shortstack not taking care of herself.  Questions roared through her slowing processors— questions she hadn’t asked herself for anyone other than N in… forever. Has Purple eaten? When was the last time she recharged? Did she need regular maintenance? 

Without even thinking, V lurched forward with sudden speed. She grabbed Purple’s hands with force, pulling her towards her. She needed a closer look. Her LEDs leered at the wounds, eyeing them up and down with a glare. God, she looked like shit. She could almost imagine N’s puppy dog face, except someone took the puppy out back, shot it, buried it the next hour, and now she’s doing her best not to cry. Her eyes traveled up and down her body, searching for other hidden wounds. She found none, thank God— it seems she hasn’t picked up N’s horrible habits yet. Her assessment?

She needs oil. 

But why? Worker Drones didn’t need oil. Not as much as Disassembly Drones needed, anyway—...

…

Oh my God.

The random wounds on her body…

The rushed patch jobs…

Purple randomly finding the oil she couldn’t find for weeks…

The pain on her face…

The lethargy…

The hiding…

She’s… Purple’s been…

Why—... Why would she do something like that?

For someone who she barely knows?

For someone who hates her?

For someone who is better off dead?

For… me?

…

…Why did she feel a barrel against her temple?

She blinked, the words AUDIO RESTORED flashing across her screen.

“—are you doing ?!” she heard at the tail end of his sentence.

Oh shit.

She’s still holding Purple’s hand. Hard. Harder than she intended to.

It was only now she noticed the horrified expression on Purple’s face. V covered her mouth, cringing as she realized her maw was split wide open, a habitual manic grin on her face, smirk full of teeth. She didn’t even realize what she did— she just wanted a closer look! She let go, Purple whimpering as she let go. Shit— that left marks, didn’t it? The Worker was shivering now, scrunched up even more than before as she clutched her partially maimed wrist. She glared at her backstabbing hands, biting her lip as she saw that they weren’t in their default form like she thought, but their clawed, razor-sharp form.

She’s been in the game way too long.

V got confirmation when a few drops of oil fell from Purple’s fingers onto the scorched metal floor.

“V!” N objected, the barrel of his rifled arm pressing harder against her skull. He then asked— demanded,  “What do you think you’re doing?”

His voice died when she regarded him, her unflinching stare making him bite his lip in hesitation. 

Don’t worry, love. You won’t have to kill me.

When was the last time she let herself care?

Did she even know how to anymore?

Would Purple… care if she cared?

…It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters while she’s still in the loop.

“...I’ll be outside,” is all she said bitterly. V stood slowly, carefully, ignoring the rifle against her skin as she tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. It was an effort— like flexing a muscle that hadn’t been used in years. Purple sent her a look of gratitude. Or maybe it was fear. Or confusion at not selling her out to N. 

“But… Uzi said she wanted us both here for this,” N said, far more subdued than his ire a few moments ago, his gun still leveled at her.

She shook her head.

“She may want me here, N, but she doesn’t need me here. Not for this.”

Forcing a confrontation of trauma because it’s “good” and “healthy” doesn’t mean it's necessary.

V knew that very well.

She didn’t want Purple to suffer through it, too.

The silence V left was deafening. 

N’s LEDs flickered between Uzi and the gaping hole in the ship. 

“Are you okay?”

All Uzi managed was a curt nod.

They sat there in silence for a long while, Uzi’s Worker chassis soaking up all his excess heat as he tenderly wrapped gauze around her mangled wrist. He resisted shuddering, not wanting to come off like a creep. He couldn’t help himself— it just felt so good. N shook his head. He wasn’t here for cuddles, no. The bioelectrics in his processors were firing for the sole purpose of being as emotionally supportive as possible!

Still, Uzi didn’t say anything, though She simply leaned against him, nearly limp, staring where V had sauntered outside. The last time she was this quiet was after the incident with her special eye and V’s visor. He hated when she got like this— quiet and soft-spoken, trying her hardest not to make a ruckus or draw attention to herself, despite her gaudy attire and bright purple irises. 

The only thing she was missing were bent knees and limp, t-rex wrists.

“Take as long as you need,” he murmured, trying to be supportive, as inane as it was.

“...Thanks.”

He blinked as the words were silently typed out on Uzi’s visor, his friend still refusing to meet his gaze, refusing to speak at all.

He’s never seen Uzi go silent quite like this before. N continued to hold firm, not sure if it was helping or hurting. He took it as a good sign when her tubes wrapped around his forearms, clinging as tight as she could. Her strength was nothing compared to his overpowered servos, but he could feel her intent. After a bit of shuffling, Uzi clambered into a more comfortable position. N could feel his screen flaring bright yellow as she straddled his lap, melting into his embrace. Lazy fingers caressed her purple scalp, her expression turning determined as she looked up at him.

“I don’t want to know who did it,” the words blazed across her screen quickly.

His hand froze. It took a moment for N to register her words, disbelief adorned on his face. “ Wait— what?”

“I don’t want to know… who murdered killed her. I don’t know… and I don’t care.” N’s nanite-saliva generator went dry as he noticed the blip of words.

Wha—...?

How… how could she…?

“How could you say that?” he yelled, far louder than he intended to. Uzi flinched at his sudden volume. He winced in turn, carefully measuring his volume. “How could you… not want to know?” How could she not want to confront him— judge him? Uzi said nothing, not even words coming up on her face. She buried her visor into his chestplate and shook her head.

After a suffocating pause, she sniffled. “I just… I need to know a few details, that’s all.” Uzi’s fingers wandered to her neck, fiddling with her choker.  “Nothing else, alright?”

“But—!”

She bulldozed past him, covering his mouth with her other hand . A pang of something jumped in his throat. She lied to him. Uzi lied to him, and now she wanted him to divulge information that he didn’t even know if he had. He closed his eyes, processors dipping a finger into the pool of magmatic acid that was his still-settling memories. They burned as he slowly waded through them, not an ounce of anything related to the Copper system or Copper-9. “U—Uzi…”

He wanted so badly to be useful, but this wasn’t fair.

“Please—,” her screen typed urgently. 

It’s a good thing you taught me how to stand up for myself.

“You lied to me.”

The deliciously cold drone pulled away from him in shock, her eyes wide and hollow as she quivered silently. N ducked in shame, suddenly feeling very trapped between the seating of the ship and Uzi. He had to keep in mind his strength as he clamped to her sides, his voice a dauntless whisper. “Uzi— I don’t remember anything. You know I don’t remember anything— you lied to me. I know you don’t want to talk to V about this, but this hurts me and—”

N froze.

Uzi’s visor went dark. He didn’t breathe as her hydraulics locked, her body as solid as a statue. A sharp inhale met his ears, a whimper, a sob, and then a desperate static, “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryDon’tleaveI’msorryI’msorryDon’tleaveI’msorryI’msorryIdon’twanttobealoneagainI’msorryI’m sorryIdidn’twanttolieI’msorryI’m sorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.”  The words were a flurry across her screen, barely readable as the urgency of her panic was made known to him. He could feel it in how her breath sped up, verging on hyperventilation.

“Hey… hey, hey!” he shook her, clinging and wrapping his arms around her to embrace her. Digits dug into his scapulas with a vice, unhinged clinginess, as if he were the last thing in the universe. Her ankles locked around the small of his back, quiet whimpers warning against his ears. A heat bloomed in his core, the feeling of being unconditionally wanted. And yet, it was smothered by the careening thought of Uzi lying to him. “Shh, It’s okay,” he cooed “Together, remember? I’m just— I don’t understand.”

Uzi just shook her head.

“We’ll—... Talk about this later?” he suggested softly. “When we’re not so…?” he vaguely gestured to, well, everything.

A broken nod tunneled against his shoulder.

“Great,” he managed to smile. “I won’t leave. I’m not leaving. I promise— I promise.”  He swallowed, the neutralizing agent in his mouth running dry. Unconsciously, his tail wrapped around their forms, and he said a few moments later. The words “I will always be your friend” breathed fiercely from his lips.

As the silence became drawn, N let out a lengthy exhale, the hot steam tickling Uzi’s shoulder, right where her wound was— where he bit her. It was still odd to think that just a few weeks ago, he’d been completely oblivious to the world at large. Then, he didn’t know that Workers were breathing, sentient, choosing creatures. The only thing he knew were the company’s honeyed words. Day-to-day was murder, murder, and a bit more murder on the side. Maybe pine for V if he was feeling up to it, and then top it all off with J verbally abusing him at the end of the day. 

Now, he has this to look forward to.

Now, he has Uzi.

Now, he has V, too.

“I missed this.” He heard her hum in agreement below him, the sound sending tingly vibrations through his chest. “And, er… I have an idea, if you’d like to hear it? Though, I think you already know what I’m gonna say…”

Muffled, he heard Uzi groan beneath him, the sound mixed with tears and ugly and raw.  

“She has better memory banks than me and J put together,” he tried to convince her. “I could watch from afar, out of earshot to give you some privacy? Unless— you want me to hear the conversation?”

A sniffled, and Uzi pulled back. He saw her face, her forearm wiping away grime and melted snow.

If his sensors weren’t so ridiculously fine-tuned, he wouldn’t have heard her next words.

“T—… The first one’s fine…”

He smiled warmly.

There she is.

Not the first, not the last, don’t get attached.

That’s what she started telling herself after 17.

It was easier that way.

It was easier. 

And yet… she promised N she could somehow drum up enough love for one more round.

Just one more…

V didn’t think she’d last, at first. Just another loop, just another random friend he’d made. N’s made friends before. Why would the purple shortstack be any different? It’s not like she was special. She fully expected N to kill her by accident by day three.

Except she was different, wasn’t she? 

Purple was different like her— like Cyn. The two shared so many similarities it made her want to vomit imaginary bile. From their stature, to their deviancy, to their wide, unblinking yellow eyes—...

Here’s to hoping they don’t share the trait of betrayal.

…

…Footsteps. 

Lighter, yet they clanked far louder than her and N’s hydraulics ever could. 

Purple.

“Light purple curly hair, a ponytail off to one side, an oversized lab shirt, a skull choker, and yellow eyes.”

She turned to meet her gaze, the Worker Drone merely blinking at her. Realization settled on her face a few seconds later at exactly who she was talking about.

“And just in case you’re wondering: no, I didn’t kill her.”

V saw how Purple continued to stare at her back through her headband’s optics. Her violet irises blinked owlishly.

“That’s why you’re out here, right? N didn’t have any answers for you, so now you’ve come back to me. Figured I’d make it easier for you.” Purple’s terrified expression was still lingering in her visual processors— her hollowed eyes and labored breathing burned into her memory banks. “I’m surprised you came,” she added airily, though, not elaborating on why she was surprised. V rose a brow as a red dot appeared on the center of her sternum. Her eyes zoomed on the horizon, N’s winged outline distinct, armed cannon trained on her. 

He waved with a cute, dopey grin.

She rolled her eyes. 

No wonder Purple feels secure enough to talk to me. 

V imagined she looked quite the mess. She hadn’t had time to clean herself since her bout with the red-eyed doll freak. Her hair was frizzy, her exoskeleton was riddled with bruises and scuff marks, and part of her wings were in tatters. “Since when are you so forthcoming?” Purple drawled, her usual snark absent. V’s sensors picked up residual noise in her speakers— a certain rawness that wasn’t present before. Has she been crying? “Last time I asked you about anything pertaining to the past, you were a total bitch about it…”

Last time—? 

V snorted as the memory hit her, the noise evidently surprising Purple as her mouth fell open slightly, disbelief on her visor. “Ah, right. When you called me hot.” She smirked at the shorter drone’s reaction as purple dusted her screen’s cheeks. She shook her head, the humor leaving her as her eyes landed on Purple’s bandaged shoulder and arm. “The circumstances were different. I started being forthcoming when you started being my personal oil can.”

“I am not—!” she huffed immediately, stamping the ground. Cute… “Urgh—! I knew this was a bad idea…” she trailed off,  her arms folded over her breastplate. 

V tilted her head at an unnatural angle, pausing for a moment. “... Why?”

Purple huffed yet again— a tick V was noticing, if she was being honest. “Why what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She bent low, the action making Purple take a step back. Even at this angle, she barely came up to her chin. Making sure both of her hands were clearly visible, she reached out and by God did she fucking hate the way Purple flinched. Her arms switched back to their default forms, pointing to the wrap on her forearms. “May I?”

Purple glanced up at her in shock, whether at her politeness or the fact that she was acknowledging her injuries at all, V wasn’t sure. Shortstack swallowed, her eyes flickering from her to the horizon where N sat, before giving her a faux shrug of indifference. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” she cut through the lie instantly, Purple wincing again. “I need to hear you say it,” V said, though not demandingly nor demeaningly. She hoped to convey her plead through her stare alone.

I’m not going to do anything without your express permission.

N’s girlfriend-not-girlfriend planted her feet, shivering in fear. Or oil loss. Either one was equally likely if she was being honest.

“...Fine,” she muttered, presenting her bad side to her. “Why are you being so weird about this…”

Wasting no time, she reached out, ignoring how Purple hissed at the contact. As she suspected, the gauze was caked with stale oil— frozen in the winds of Copper-9. She ignored how the temperature warnings at the top of her HUD grew more incensed at the sight of it. Cupping them gently, V let her thumb drag across the surface of Purple’s skin. She was noticeably warmer than she should’ve been, her systems likely working overtime to account for the oil deficit. She was cradling her arm so gently— far gentler than V ever thought she could handle anything. It’s been so long since she used her hands for something other than tearing flesh open. Even Purple seemed to recognize the strange trance she was in, looking off to the side in embarrassment while V revered her hand like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Purple…” she said slowly. Her purple optics continued to stare at the ground, ignoring her. “Uzi.”

That got her attention. Her neck snapped up to meet her gaze.

“Why would you do this to yourself…” she pondered rhetorically, just as soft as before, the “For someone like me?” going unsaid. “You could’ve— left me out to dry. You’ve seen N’s memories; you knew I would’ve been fine— I could’ve ran on fumes for days, and yet… you decided to cut yourself open… just so that I would be comfortable? Satisfied?”

…

Purple refused to look at her, breathe, or acknowledge her existence whatsoever. A little victory, though, was that she didn’t walk away or screech or do any of the other equally annoying things Purple usually did. She stood in the snow beside her, her metallic skin glowing in the polymoonlight. Perhaps it was the glimmer, but something about the limelight changed how Purple looked. 

A flicker of mutual understanding passed between them.

Perhaps Purple finally understood that she wasn’t going to hurt her. V saw as her body’s frame relaxed, her fists finally unclenching as she held her arm. Risking it all, V lifted her other arm, looping it over Purple’s shoulders. Practically hugging her from behind, she pressed herself into her black hoodie, sighing. She paid no mind to N’s sniper dot as it moved to her forehead. She resisted the urge to lay her chin on her violet hair. N was right— she was cold. Addictively cold. And to think she’d be even more frigid with proper oil reserves than she already was. From this angle, she could see the gauze slip from Purple’s shoulder, revealing the tentative love bites from N.

She resisted the dorky grin that threatened to blister across her face as Purple reached up to hold her arms in kind. 

Don’t screw up this one, N.

“...I don’t… have a lot of friends,” Purple whispered after an eternity of silence. Her voice was shaky, but sure. Determined.  “Is it so wrong that I’d do anything to keep them?”

Friends…?

Not the first, not the last, don’t get attached.

That’s what she always told herself after 17.

…

…Look where that got me.

…

“...I’ve got you.” 

Purple’s— Uzi’s digits clenched painfully tight around her wrists at her words. No more syllables were needed to convey her olive branch. Her promise. Like a lock and key, she unraveled. A painful hitch of breath choked in her throat, the sound turning into a sniff as her knees wobbled. Clenching harder, her fingers grew to a vice. V supported her, the smaller drone practically collapsing into her lap. She held her closer, hiccups turning into wailing sobs as she buried her lilac LEDs into her breastplate. She brought her now-free hand up (making sure it was in its default form) before stroking her hair. 

They were all criers, weren’t they?

His words intruded.

“Even if—... even if I forget again, she’ll be able to drag me back. You won't— you won’t be alone again. That, I can promise!”

She… fucking… 

…hates it when N is right.

Because now?

V’s never letting go.

Chapter Text

Uzi couldn’t handle this.

“This” being V.

V was also another thing Uzi couldn’t handle.

Hot. 

Both literally and very figuratively

Uzi. Couldn’t. Handle. This.

It was one thing to be superficially attracted to a fellow Worker Drone in the colony. It always followed the same series of events: imagine the relationship, be happy, realize that it was doomed to failure, and then cry yourself asleep wondering if you’ll ever be truly understood. A wrenching reality, but a familiar one. 

It was a completely different ballgame when that “fellow drone” is a goddamn Disassembler. And not only was she a disassembler, but also the long-divorced girlfriend of yet another disassembler who Uzi is also in love with!

She. COULD NOT. Handle this!

It was easy to ignore when she was trying to find every excuse to kill her, but now that V was actually being tolerable, Uzi was being forced to confront the fact that she was really pretty.

Uzi closed her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips as her mind raced with the events of the past few days. V’s touches had grown far more common and deliberate. All she could think about was how V’s breath tickled her bandaged shoulder and her warm breastplate nestled against her back. Or, the taller drone’s nails ghosting over her skin, clawing up her nerves and clenching her palm in tandem with her fingers. And then there was the gaze— similar to N’s, but speckled with age and splintering cinders. If she squinted, she could see the barely restrained canines flashing under her mouth, watering with petrolic hunger, waiting to bite .

And yet… despite her instincts screaming at her to run away…

V was just so friggin’ cozy. 

So, whenever she started touching… Uzi decided to just let her.

She won’t pretend it shocked her the first time she started doing it— being starved of touch your entire life while growing up in a bunker will do that to you— but she quickly and frighteningly found herself wanting to be touched more. Touches like the little squeezes over her shoulder, or a bump of her hips. It was grounding. It was… loving. 

It also helped that V was (literally) hotter than N due to her oil-fasting. Uzi had to resist clinging to her because— if V allowed it— she would’ve gladly cuddled up to her for the rest of the day (with N’s supervision, of course. She didn’t trust her that much yet. Maybe). 

Uzi slapped both her cheeks.

Am I really that touch-starved? This is so pathetic…

It may have been embarrassing, but Uzi wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t enjoy every single second of it.

A few days after Doll’s attack, she found V lounging on top of the drop pod, tail lax and swinging with the intention of a sloth. She climbed it, sitting beside her gingerly.

“Hey,” she said aimlessly, her voice far and away from any notion of groundedness. Uzi felt as if the lightest of jumps could carry her far away from the planet, deep into space. She forced her anxious legs to stop swinging, and oh, how she hated the vulnerability that crept in her voice. “Can I ask you a favor?”

V must’ve noticed something off because it took her an additional half second to respond than usual. “Shoot, Purple.”

“...Can you tell me about Mom?”

CREAK

She flinched as V’s fingers made massive dents on the ship’s exterior, her strength making the interplanetary alloy crumple like paper. “I thought— You said you didn’t want to know.”

“Not that—!” Dial it down, dial it down! “Just… what she looked like, okay?!” Her words struck a chord with the Disassembly Drone. A stark silence befell them. The howl of Copper’s storms filled its place, and Uzi took a harrowing gasp of the frozen midnight dew. It did little to quell the bonfire inside her core. The soundlessness permeated, drowning her throat and clawing her artificial Adam’s apple. V nudged her shoulder and she looked so fucking patient. “When we talked, I realized just how little I know about Mom.” She brought her fingers up, clawing her visor, half-covering her face. “I don’t remember what she looks like— I can barely even remember what she sounds like. Could you… describe her to me? Please…”

Her words only served to make the silence all the more suffocating. For a moment, Uzi was worried V was going to take her split second of vulnerability and shove it back down her throat with a sickly jeer of “ That was your favor, freak? Get lost.” Instead, her eyes closed, as if searching her memory— Uzi knew that was incorrect. Drones of any type could pour through terabytes of data in under a microsecond. 

It took Uzi a few seconds to realize V was speaking because her voice took a cadence she’d only heard accompanying stale air and the off-beat drum of a grandfather clock, the only sound that could be heard breaking the silence against jewel-toned walls.

“She was similar to you, in a way.”

Uzi didn’t dare interrupt her at the risk of breaking such a magical moment. V did not open her eyes as she spoke. 

Were her internal sensors trying to pick up every detail?

“A bit taller than you, she was. I told you before, but she had an oversized t-shirt on. It draped over her and barely covered any of her chest. Probably why your dad was smitten,” she added wryly. Usually, such a comment would’ve made her screech with indignance or blush with rage, but the way V spoke almost made it seem like she was trying to… cheer her up? Uzi closed her eyes in kind, her processors trying to sum up an approximation of Nori Doorman. She felt her core skip a cycle at V’s descriptiveness. “Her visor glowed a deep purple, like yours. Her cut was longer and had a ponytail that went past her collar. She didn’t have any pants or shorts that I could see. She didn’t have a hard hat like Workers usually do. And… she seemed… nervous. Like someone was following her.” 

V finally opened her eyes, only to jump when she realized how close Uzi had leaned in.

She felt her fingers reach up to fiddle with her shirt on instinct, clenching where her core would be. “Thank you.”

Breaking the moment, V added, “And she was flat. Like you.”

“Hey!”

“Can’t argue with truth, Purple!”

“That’s not even a fair comparison! We’re Worker Drones— all of us are flat!”

“Not me~,” she purred, putting a hand over her chest. “You said it yourself, Purple. I am unequivocally, quote, hot.”

“Why did I ever say that,” Uzi moaned. “You’re gonna milk that for all its worth, aren’t you?”

“Maliciously,” V flashed her teeth.

The air seemed to flow easier with their banter, and Uzi felt… comfortable. A novel sensation, given how most of the time, communication with anything other than her own thoughts felt awkward and stilted. She wasn’t going to question how a murderous psychopathic drone of all people is making her feel comfortable— Uzi was beyond caring at this point. This was something, and she didn’t want to mess up or break whatever this something was in fear of losing it forever. She opened her mouth, slowly, hesitantly, a part of her warning her that this was a horrible idea— that the wiser thing to do would be to retract while she still could, before she became too… vulnerable. 

“I meant it. Thank you,” she whispered.

And somehow, in an instant, the moment was shattered.

V pulled away, suddenly, the heat torturously disappearing with her. She looked stricken as she did so. “We— We should stop this.”

Uzi tried to ignore the amount of pain that ruptured through her core. “Stop what?”

“This,” she gestured emphatically, waving her hands vaguely between Uzi and herself. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I promised N—... I promised that I wouldn’t get in the way of you two.”

Get in the way?

“You think I like him? Like you?! Like-like you? Don’t be stupid!” 

V gave her an ‘are you serious?’ look. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen N staring at me out of the corner of my eye like a lovesick puppy? I can recognize it anywhere.”

“Let’s say you’re right…” She huffed once. Twice. Standing, stomping, the Worker innards below her disappearing from thought. “So what; we can’t be close?” she breathed. Suddenly, V lurched forward, her visor close and scalding. Uzi could feel the warmth curling off of her, but instead of a warm blanket, it felt like an unstoppable hellfire. It seeped into her bones and promised to burn her if she got too close.

“Do you know what happens when a bonfire meets a dredge of flame? It consumes it. It takes in the wood and then chars it until there’s nothing left to even remember.” Air escapes her sharply, forcing oxygen back into her synthetic chassis. “It’ll happen to one of us. One of us will feel that pain. Forgotten. Left behind .”

Uzi’s words were trapped in her lungs, choking on air. 

V blinked, surprised at her own words. Dazed, she gathered her bearings. Uzi resisted yelping as V placed both of her hands on her shoulders, leaning down so she was in front of her. Silver hair stuffed her vision. “I suffered… for so long. The last thing I want is for you to suffer even a fraction of that pain. I promised N I would try again, for his sake. But… this? Love? …No.”

“...What’s stopping us?” Uzi shrunk slightly as she spoke— she hadn’t even considered if V was comfortable loving two people at once. V hadn’t grown up on Copper-9, but Earth. A place full of humans, rules, and cultures that likely didn’t conform to the ideals of Workers. Sure enough, V gave her a carefully measured look, sharp and filled with disapproval. It reminded her of Dad of all people.

“…Purple, you must be stupid if you think I’m going to go behind N’s back. Did you really think I’d let you play with our emotions like that?”

“No!” Uzi stood, waving her hands frantically. That’s not what she wanted at all! Shit, how was she going to explain this? “Look— I’m not saying I want to hide one of you from the other.”

V blinked at her owlishly, processing her words. “Wait—... You want to be with both of us? With both of us knowing…” she trailed off.

“At the same time,” Uzi finished, her cheeks flushing as the realization slammed into her. “I don’t… want to choose between you.” Something akin to panic clenched around her core, whispers of doubts filling her mind. The realization hitting her as she whispered the words, “I like both of you…”

V shook her head, her patience running thin. “You don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand!” she retorted hotly. “You talk about N as if he’s already dead! I’ve seen his memories, and to be honest V, I don’t think you get how much he loves you! Still loves you, even after all this time!” Oh God, oh crap, why was she yelling— when did she start yelling?!

V blitzed forward, and before Uzi knew what was happening, she had her pinned to the wall, one of her eyes glowing with a vibrant “X.” Though Uzi didn’t feel scared at all for one reason and one reason only, even as she stared into her people’s Grim Reaper.

V was crying.

“You shouldn’t talk about things you have no business meddling in!” she spat, the words downright venomous. “Listen to me, goddamnit: I’m trying to save you from decades of heartbreak, you stupid cute idiot!  It doesn’t matter if N still loves me or not! I lost my chance years ago! I lost my will years ago! Even now, it’s hard! Even now, I just want to crawl into a hole and FUCKING DIE!” 

V’s eyes went wide, shocking herself with her own admission. Uzi did the same as she gaped at her. Her grip loosened, and she fell to the floor with a clang. A suffocating silence overcame them. It was the kind of silence she imagined after being exploded out of an airlock, only to encounter the unending, uncaring, unallowing, voiceless void of space. 

“But I can’t…” she croaked. “I have to stay strong. I have to stick around… for him. For you.”

V’s knees bent, before buckling completely. She rubbed her neck, her mind swept to the colony, trapped in the corner of her space-heated abode. 

“You have no idea what this is like being in this—... this loop,” she sobbed. “Ever since we’ve arrived on Copper, I’ve felt like I’m inside a nightmare… and… I am tired of this dream.”

Uzi stared for a long, long while. She drank in V’s appearance in a way she hadn’t seen before. It felt like discovering a new dimension of spacetime or the eureka moment to a final theory of everything. Was this what Dad meant by reading people? In this moment, she could say for certain she saw V for who she truly was: worn, her willpower lost, her capacity for love ripped away from her by an uncaring company and an amnesiac partner. 

…

“… I’m not N.”

Uzi took a step forward.

“I like you, V. And you like me. So why can’t we give this world the middle finger and try to be happy anyway? For the now. Not the past, not the future, but right here. Right now. Us.”

She took another step forward. V took a step back.

“I’m not going to forget. I will always remember you.” She reached out, tentative, resisting the urge to wince as her fingers wrapped around V’s clawed hands. Uzi brought her into a hug. It was awkward, standing on her tippy toes, but she made it work. “I swear, if you cry…” she warned. “We’ve had enough of that.”

She heard a sniffle above her, V’s chin resting on her beanie. “So that’s where N got his sanctimonious speech from…” she choked. “That’s why he’s trying so hard to make all this work. It’s you, isn’t it? It’s always been about you.”

“Oh shut up,” she mumbled. “I’m not that special…”

“This isn’t fair,” V whimpered, ignoring her previous statement. Uzi reached up, her fingers grazing her cheeks. The touch was hesitant, uncertain. The Disassembly Drone bit her bottom lip, her screen scrunching up with emotion as she leaned into her hand. Spurred by the response, the purple drone cupped her cheeks fully. Their foreheads almost touched, and Uzi swore a spark of electricity passed between them. “N’s been pining for years and I was fine. I could ignore it.” She opened her eyes, and every mental barrier Uzi ever erected crashed with the clack of dominos. “...And yet… I fell in love with you after only a few days.”

“You don’t last long, huh?”

V’s mouth fell open, time stopping as she stared at her in disbelief. To be perfectly honest, Uzi wasn’t expecting to say that either. She could only hope the Disassembly Drone wasn’t upset at her ill-timed sex joke. She was about to apologize before V wheezed— the sound mixed with cackles and sobs. “Ok, I might’ve deserved that one…” she half-smiled, tears running down her visor.

Uzi mimed a gag. “I felt gross just saying that.”

V tilted her head, giving her an odd look. She looked cute, even with the tears. “Why would it be gross? You should say stuff like that more often. It’s funny.”

She peeked behind V’s curved, onyx waist, and sure enough, her tail was friggin’ wagging. Come to think of it, Uzi can’t remember the last time she’s seen V’s tail wag. Gentle swaying, yes, but she looked downright euphoric right now with how fast it moved.

…And Uzi had an inkling her happiness wasn’t because of the joke.

I swear, both of them are puppies.

She blinked.

Well, V’s more like a cat. N’s totally a dog, though.

“Thanks for grabbing my beanie from the bunker,” she said suddenly. “I never thanked you for that.” She felt the cord of her nanite injector curl around her ankle. 

“Mm…” V hummed, clearly enjoying herself. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything,” she countered, burying her face deeper against her waist. “T—To me, at least. Dad said Mom made it for me.” 

And for a while, they simply stood there. No weird Mom genetics, no oilthirsty classmates out for revenge, no drama, no memory-diving, no fucking Lizzy. Just them, together alone on a tundra planet. It was just her and V. It was just her cuddling up to a genocide robot who was once hellbent on the destruction of her entire race. That’s right: just two completely normal drones—!

Oh my god, I sound insane.

“Purple… if this is going to work, we need to set up some ground rules,” V spoke up, jarring her from her spiral.

“This?” she repeated.

“Yeah. This,” she pointed her fingers between them, before vaguely gesturing to the endless sky. “You and me. Him. Us.”

She swore her core’s cycles could’ve snuffed out. Uzi could’ve died right then and there, and she wouldn’t have minded one bit. A part of her wanted to retreat— an insult on the tip of her tongue, begging to lash out and protect herself. Metal grit against metal as she held herself back, trying to reassure herself.

This is real.

She watched in real time as V’s mask fell, and Uzi almost melted as her thumb rubbed her cheek. She held up a finger. “First, we have to communicate with each other.” A second finger, emphasizing the digit with a glare. “Second, no lying. Honesty is key.” Uzi was ready to grumble with indignation at her second point, considering how much lying V had done to “protect” N, but her complaint died in her throat at V’s final concession. “And three… try to be patient with me… please?”

V never says please.

She must’ve noticed the look on her face because in a rare moment of faltering, V continued before she could respond. “I—I know that I’m a pain in the ass, okay? But there’s a really good reason why I’m so… defensive. So please, please understand that I want to open up— I really do— it’s just… hard.”

There’s only one thing Uzi could say to that.

She did say she wanted to understand her, after all…

In response, she tightened her hug, her words coming out as a mumble against her smooth, black stomach. “Only if you do the same for me. I’m not exactly a paragon of social expertise, in case you haven’t noticed…”

“I can… try,” she heard V sigh, one hand resting against her beanie, the other pushing her closer with her scapula. God, she was so warm… “Alright then. Good. Great, even…”

She swallowed air. Was that it? Was it really that easy? “Does this mean we’re… together-together, now?”

V narrowed her eyes and reached forward with her hand—.

FLICK

Metal thumped against the glass of her visor. “ Ow!” she shrieked. “V! What the hell!”

“That was for tearing my face off,” she smirked. “And yes, you dork. It means we’re together-together. But there’s still one more thing we have to do before we can call it official.”

Uzi nodded determinedly. 

They had to tell N.

And if he didn’t reciprocate…

Uzi would rather not think about that potential outcome.

“I’m giving you one day,” V said, leaving no room for argument. The ultimatum was clear. “If you can’t do it by the end of tomorrow, I have to tell him we’re together. No secrets, remember? …Besides, I’ve kept him in the dark long enough.”

She pulled away from the hug at last, looking up at her. “Do you want to be there?”

V hissed a breath as if she was really hoping Uzi wouldn’t ask that question. “I… don’t know.”

Uzi could only imagine what doubts were coursing through V’s processors. The thought of rejection must be unbearable. If N said no, then that would really be it. No more forgetting. No more second chances. The closeness they shared at Elliot Manor would truly be lost forever. Worst of all, Uzi wasn’t sure if V would be able to commit to a relationship like this. Was she capable of that level of intimacy, or did the years whittle her away?

“...I—... think I do. It’ll be better to let you do the talking, though.” Sotto voce, she added, “He responds better to shorties, anyway…”

“What did you just say?” Uzi’s eyes dangerously narrowed.

“Nothing…~?” V lied, drawing out the “ing.”

“I will bite you.”

“I’ll like it.”

V was being touchy.

More touchy than usual.

Which is an infinity-percent-increase considering her previous amount of touching was zero.

It wasn’t an aspect of her N would’ve usually noticed— mostly because his memories were erased by some mysterious, ever-expansive, hyper-technological interplanetary uber-conglomerate— but V was being touchy. And the weirdest part of all?

She wasn’t being touchy with him, but with Uzi.

Not that he minded of course— he wasn’t possessive! Just a little… concerned? Yeah! He’ll go with concerned. Though, whether or not that concern was more directed at V or at Uzi was up in the air to him. Concern for V because… well… it’s V. She wouldn’t blame him for describing her as… not exactly a prominent example of affection. And concern for Uzi because he wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with those touches. N swore she didn’t seem to mind, but he had his doubts. As evidence has shown, she has a horrible habit of bottling things up.

…Best do a rain check, hm?

N silently thanked whatever invariable higher forces of existence caused the last few days to be uneventful. The unending barrage of Uzi restoring his memories, V escaping, Doll attacking them, and his partners’ mutual breakdowns happening within the span of two days has left them a little worn out, emotionally speaking. And it showed, too. Uzi had completely given up on repairing the ship, not only because her interest had shifted squarely to her mom’s weird genetics, but also because it was a wreck. Between the cockpit’s horrible build and V tearing a massive hole on one side, the prospect of off-world travel has been decidedly kaput. V’s rougher side had smoothed out considerably— or maybe it never existed to begin with? She’d finally taken down some of her walls and while she was still prickly at times, there was an undercurrent of fondness that wasn’t present before.

Whatever V and Uzi talked about regarding her mom yesterday improved their relationship substantially. The image of Uzi collapsing into her arms was burned into his memory banks forever. After that moment, they actually started having civil conversations with each other— muttering with hushed breaths while V let out a rare smirk from time to time. And for the life of him, N couldn’t figure out why the stark change bothered him so much of all things— he was happy for them, after all. Them being friends is exactly what he wanted since day one, so why does he feel so…

…Left out?

N shook his head, the thoughts leaving with the action. Today was a new day, ripe with potential! Friendship! Bonding! He was tired of the constant doom and gloom. Uzi needed something to occupy her busy mind— something that would distract her for the whole day to leave her happy, fulfilled, and satisfied. Something that could take her mind off of her mom…

And he had just the idea…

“...N,” V sighed disappointedly, “What the hell is this?”

N had to admit, he may have been standing a little too proudly in front of the varyingly-sized piles of scrap he had set up in a row. They stood just outside the spire at the stroke of midnight, Uzi wiping the imaginary bags under her screen in a way that was far too cute not to stare at. “I’m not for bashing, but I have to side with V on this one, and that’s coming from me ,” Uzi grumbled tiredly. “Why did you bring us out here?”

“The answer to both of your questions isss…!” N crossed his arms behind his back, drawing out the ‘is’ with a single index finger straight and pointed like a professor. “Training!” he chirped.

“Training?” Uzi scoffed. “Training what? I have no muscles— organic muscles, anyway.”

“Not true!” he tapped his screen where his eye could be. “You have mental muscles!”

Catching his implication, V’s perpetually sultry gaze turned to genuine concern as her stare turned to Uzi. Blinking, the smaller drone could only gape in disbelief. “My Solver?” she blurted. A hand came up to cover her eye on instinct. “N, I don’t want to think about that thing. I can’t train it— I don’t even know how to control it! What if I hurt one of you again?”

“You won’t,” he nodded with super-duper-absolute certainty. 

The words were shot back instantly. “You don’t know that!”

More of his peacekeeping subroutines kicked in as he took a hesitant step toward her. “Ok, look… I know it’s scary,” he agreed. “And I know it’s hard to stay cool after the… incident with V—” Uzi refused to make eye-contact with the mentioned drone. In typical V fashion, she shrugged uncaringly, as if the prospect of getting her visor gashed out of her skull again didn’t bother her in the slightest, “—but this is your power! Aren’t you always telling me to make my own choices and take control? Why let it control you when you have everything you need to control it? I even set up these weights, and you can test it out on me and V when you’re ready!” He pointed to the ‘weights—’ the piles of scrap he’d made, lined up according to size and weight. 

“If it’s any consolation,” V added with a lazy bump of her elbow, her and Uzi’s shoulders grazing. Those subtle touches again. N knew he wasn’t imagining those, right? “We’re pretty damn hard to kill, so you’re not gonna get training dummies better than us. Besides, even if my cranium gets blasted, you’ll be there to kiss it all better, right?”

“You’re on board with this? Uzi squawked incredulously, her expression taking a turn to guilt if you disregarded the faint blush of purple that dashed her cheeks. “But… but I—”

“No one’s going to assign blame,” V interrupted firmly. “Why would I blame you for something you have no control over? …And besides… you’ve more than made up for it,” she added with a murmur, her eyes flickering down to Uzi’s shoulders.The two women stared at each other in equal measure, V silently daring her to object to her logic. 

“You’re way too nonplussed over me tearing your friggin’ face off…”

“You’re being way too high-strung over this,” V retorted. Her voice lowered, talking to herself.  “You need a rest day or something…” 

“Whatever…”

N poked his index fingers together. “May I get back to my lesson now, girls, or do you want to try something else?”

Uzi’s small form uncurled. She opened her palms, glaring at them so powerfully N thought she might bore a pair of holes through whatever constituted bones in a Worker’s body. Flexing experimentally, Uzi gave him a hesitant nod. She rose from the chair, sizing up the mounds of scrap he’d gathered. “Let’s do this…”

Over the course of the following hour, her violet Solver refused to make an appearance. She tackled the problem in a way that seemed so Uzi. She didn’t attempt to use it, initially, cupping her chin and mumbling to herself for a few minutes, brainstorming ideas. At first, she tried to repeat the motions, imitating the flourishes and gestures Doll used when levitating matter. When that didn’t work, she tried to, in her own words, “isolate and then subsequently manifest” the emotions of when it activated, hoping to incite some sort of auto-run feature. When that didn’t work, Uzi flung her hands in the air, screamed “Oh, screw this!” and then began to kick, chop, and do all manner of random, unassociated gang signs that he didn’t recognize, hoping to accomplish… something in the process. They looked pretty cool, though! N smiled as he gave advice and directions from the sidelines, V smirking the whole time as she haphazardly drank from a bottle of oil— where she got it from, N had no idea.

All-in-all, he’d say his plan was working flawlessly so far! The whole point was to distract Uzi, and he was getting that in spades. She hadn’t even frowned once so far— more of a thin line of boredom than anything else. Progress!

“I should’ve asked Doll how to use this damn thing before she waddled off. Stupid genetics,” she scoffed to herself, visibly panting. She blinked, a thought crossing her screen. “...Doll told me that Mom’s Solver may have been partially suppressed. Maybe that’s why it’s so sporadic…”

“...Do you need to be in a life-or-death situation for it to work?” V grinned far too excitedly.

“V…” he chided. “You’re not throwing Uzi off a building.”

“I wasn’t thinking it.”

“Yes, you were/Yes, you were,” N and Uzi deadpanned simultaneously.

V pouted. Actually, literally pouted. “Sticks in the mud…” she tutted, shrugging. “Suit yourself.”

“I didn’t mean life or death,” Uzi responded neutrally. “Looking back… it’s whenever I’m feeling strong emotions that the Solver appears.”

V’s playful persona dropped, a thought crossing her LEDs as she propped her chin on her elbow. “Or you’re just afraid of yourself.”

That thought made Uzi and N freeze for likely entirely different reasons. 

Not realizing she’d actually spoken out loud, V looked like a deer in headlights at their gobsmacked expressions, “Uh— it’s just… this reminded me of something, that’s all. When N and I… you know, before.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her thighs pressing together with awkward tension. At his and Uzi’s tentative, inquisitive stares, she cracked, groaning in fake exacerbation.  “...When we arrived on Copper, N was terrified of himself. He never flew, never used his weaponry, never ate.”  Without thinking, N’s fingers interlaced with V's, the latter’s grip tightening like it was second nature. Uzi scooched closer next to her hip, placing a metallic hand on her opposite shoulder. V took a shuddering breath of the arctic air. “There’s a reason I’m better at hunting than he is. When he refused to take care of himself, I had to.” Breaking her stupor, her gaze suddenly locked with Uzi’s, gesturing to her eye. “...I might be able to help you with that. If you let me?”

V’s words lathered in disparatism, talking about his past self as if he were a different person entirely. When she spoke, she didn’t meet his eyes, never talking to him, but past him. 

“You…” Uzi stammered slowly, V’s words taking effect. “You… might not be wrong about that, I guess.”

V’s grip relaxed, her legs pushing to stand. “Try using your Solver again, but… follow my lead this time.” She held her hand out to the purple drone, N watching with a foreign feeling of trepidation in his core. He placed a hand to his chest, hovering over where a human’s heart would be. He could feel every rotation as it whirred in his chest, some skipping, some thumping stronger. Uzi’s LEDs were wide and unblinking, as if she were in a trance. Her feet were practically being dragged through the snow in the wake of V’s wider strides. Seeing her struggle, she slowed considerably to account for Uzi’s smaller size. V somehow made the short walk to the piles of scrap he’d collected look elegant. With a slight tug, V twirled, making it so Uzi was in front of her. The purple drone let out a yelp at the sudden movement. V’s screen was illuminated by the vibrant glow of Uzi's, the former's stomach pressed into the latters back as their fingers hovered together, doing the motions in sync.

“You’re not going to hurt me.” Her body hovered over Uzi’s shoulders, her entire form molding to fit her own. His hearing barely picked up the hushed words she smiled softly into her ear. “I’ve got you.” She leaned that tiny bit closer as if she wanted to feel as much as Uzi’s skin as possible. 

N ignored the way his wings rippled at V’s last three words.

They stood like that for a few moments, N silent as he watched.

Uzi’s fingers twitched, and the symbol flickered in front of her palm as if the universe itself was struggling to display it like an antiquated CRT television. Clenching around the invisible force, it waved and shuddered in the desert sun.

“Woah…” Uzi breathed reverently. She brought it closer to her chest, cupping her hand with the other. V went tense as the triple-speared hexagon appeared, a forced smile on her face as she leaned over the shorter Worker’s shoulder. “What? What’s with that look?”

“Nothi—...” V scoffed automatically, before stopping herself. Her nanite injector went taut, before relaxing, the cord swaying softly. “...Memories, that’s all. It… reminded me of something I’d rather forget.”

He heard Uzi hum noncommittally, still staring at the hexagonal program. Her words were chosen carefully, and N swore he saw a flash of yellow. She smirked, defeated. “I’ve been reminding you of a lot of things recently, huh?”

“Yes… you have, haven’t you?” V observed, still cuddling on Uzi’s back.

It was so unlike her, according to his memories— memories that couldn’t be trusted, he reminded himself. It’s not like he was in denial, rather, it was just so strange. Strange seeing V, someone he remembered as being reserved and nerdy, to someone being so confident and affectionate. The only time she’d ever touched before was with him or a gingerly hug with Cyn. It served as a brutal reminder of how much he missed. Twenty years of development, twenty years of V growing and changing without him. 

“…You’ve known about this… thing all this time, haven’t you? That’s why you wanted me dead. Why you didn’t trust me.” She said nothing in response, opting to simply stare at Uzi’s Solver symbol, idly trailing a thumb over her bandaged shoulder. After a few moments, the shorter spoke up again, “Could you tell me about them, later? The memories? I’d love to listen.”

V blinked as if remembering where she was, smiling, closing her eyes. “Maybe, Purple.”

…

Watching their interaction play out was the visual equivalent of self-harm.

“N… I’m not going to get in the way of you two. I can’t love you that way anymore— not while she’s still here. You know that, right?” 

…

Did she lie to him, too?

…

He butted in, a bit louder than he intended and by Robo-God did he hate how his voice shook . “I think… that’s enough for the day.”

Uzi jumped at the sound of his voice, separating herself from V so fast it was as if she were burned.

V looked oddly hurt at the loss of contact, and N refused to think about how that made him feel.

“You should rest, Uzi,” he chirped hoarsely. 

He refused to look either of them in the eye as he retreated to the ship’s interior, its walls still warm with the memories of his time with her.

His internal clock counted seven hours of not-so-quality rest.

“N? Can we talk?”

He blinked as he was brought out of his sleep mode. Unfurling from his upside-down sleeping position, his padded feet hit the insides of the steel ship with nothing more than a whisper. “ Please tell me this isn’t a serious conversation?” he whimpered. “I cannot have another emotional crisis right now. I’m maxed out for the next week. Or month. Or year.”

“Sorry,” Uzi smiled apologetically, bright bags under her eyes. “It is.” It was something so innocuous and simple, yet N internally preened at the idea of wanting to be spoken to. Being on the backburner for so long has made him feel… well, less. Between V’s constant disinterest in his very existence and J’s constant bashing, Uzi just… being Uzi was enough to lift his spirits pathetically high. 

“Oof. Uh, okay then. What is it?”

He wondered how long it would take for those feelings of inferiority to go away. 

“First things first…” she started warily, her fingers fiddling with air. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “For what?”

Uzi sputtered like it was obvious. “I lied to you about your memories. It hurt you, and it made a rift that I want to fix.”

V’s words flooded his mind. “You shouldn’t blame her. She’s had a lot on her plate. And I… wasn’t helping.”

Her visor became crestfallen. Uzi was already turning away, biting her lip. “I broke my promise,” she whispered. “I made you hurt… and it’s my fault.” N hated how her body language screamed, ‘retreating, retreating, small.’   “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore—.”

“I still want to be friends!” he assured her quickly, reaching for her fingers. “Uzi, I don’t care about the memories. I’m just glad you got what you could! I—...” He swore internally. How does he tell her? How does he communicate how much he cares? “I love—” his core skipped a cycle, and by the shocked look Uzi gave him, she didn’t expect the L-word, either, “—being friends with you. It hurt, yeah, but… I’m used to it. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Instead of reassuring her, N grew panicked as it only seemed to sadden her further. “You shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it,’” she scoffed, her irritation only growing when he squeezed her hand tighter. “Why aren’t you more upset with me?”

Because I love you too much to risk it.

“Because you’re my only friend.”

“Then I guess I’m a shitty friend,” Uzi scoffed again, except this time she had a distinct lack of force in her voice. N resisted shuddering as she leaned closer, their embrace tightening as her richly cold Worker frame nestled against his taller one. 

I’ll never get tired of this… 

He wiped his lips as his neutralizing saliva leaked from his mouth. N couldn’t help it— her shoulder was right there, just below his canines. It was practically begging to be bitten. All it would take is for him to lower his mouth just… a little… more~…—

“That’s not… all I wanted to talk about,” she admitted, flushing suddenly. Her eyes jittered nervously. “C—Can we sit down?”

“Sure!” he agreed instantly, pushing his hunger away to the darkest recesses of his corrupted mind. It is not the time to be fantasizing… “Are you okay?”

His worry only heightened as she nodded silently, fiddling with her thumbs. She blinked suddenly, head turning in the direction of a conveniently-shaped mound of scrap. “V? I know you’re there.” 

Wait— what?

To his shock, despite his enhanced hearing, V’s languid form lazily stood from the pile. She wrung a crick from her neck, back hunched as she made her way over to them. How in Elliot’s name did Uzi know V was hiding there? She sauntered up beside Uzi, hand on her shoulder in a reassuring way. Again, with those touches…

Uzi didn’t seem to mind one bit— she even leaned into it, purely on instinct.

…Why do I have a horrible feeling in my chest?

She glanced at V, and N wanted so badly for Uzi to look at him that way.

…Was I too late?

“N… I—... we have something to tell you.”

V simply continued to shuffle, letting Uzi take the lead. N refused to breathe.

“V and I have been talking, and…”

He braced himself, waiting for the words— the words that he’d been dreading all day. It only made sense. After all, him and V? Him and Uzi? It never would’ve worked. He would forget again, dooming whatever reprieve they could craft to a relentless dissonance of care. He would be dooming Uzi to the same fate he beget for V, leaving her to an eternal solitude— a loneliness only rivaled by her time in the colony.

It only made sense they would get together, and leave him behind.

…

…Except the words he dreaded did not come.

A different set of words came— similar words he hadn’t heard since Elliot Manor.

“...We like you.”

… We?

All he could do was look to V for confirmation. She had no snark in her bite, no words to say. Both of her brows raised minutely, and nodded.

“I—I know it may sound weird, but—!”

At that moment, N’s internal gyroscope told him the planet stopped spinning. It was as if time had stopped, and not a single noise dared to intrude.

…

As quickly as the void came, it receded, exploding into pure ecstasy. 

“YES!”

His face lit up like a christmas tree, barreling into the two of them. His girls— he could actually call them that! — clearly weren’t expecting his hug. The three of them spun in midair for a moment, quickly losing balance as they tumbled into the snow. He didn’t care; he couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up in his throat as he embraced them. 

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes absolutely yes!”

Uzi squealed and giggled with him while V silently shook, her head buried against his shoulder.

Aw, geez… they were crying again, weren’t they?

So much for a simple day…

…

Despite the day digging its heels and taunting them, sleep eventually met them alongside the rising sun.

N had never felt so happy, full of nostalgia for a time he never knew.

V had never felt so hopeful, resting with flames both new and anachronistic.

Uzi had never felt so warm, nestled in tangles of limbs and wings.

…

The brightest nights of supernovas could not compare to the dreadnought of power that surrounded her. Grass waved in her wake, the blades as soft as fur, and even easier to wade through. Wind flowed easily through her hoodie, as if it knew how to thread the needles of the fabric of her very clothing. It clung to her easily, hugging with the familiarity of a lifetime. The clouds in the sky converged on a fixture, before orbiting its insane gravity. A black hole— or something similar— hung ominously in the sky, a perpetual low groan gurgling forth from its density. The field was hot and damp, veritable spores of potential lingering in the air, settling around her like seeding suns.

Uzi looked up from the ground and felt a strange sense of comfort. 

Am I… dreaming?

She’d been here before.

“...Salutations,” a melodic voice rang out. It came from across the field, maybe a dozen or so meters away from her, yet the words felt as if they sounded right next to her. Stranger yet, it didn’t startle her. It felt like visiting an old friend. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Uzi Doorman.” A flood of warmth went down her spine as she began to turn to meet the gaze of whoever was speaking to her. The familiarity crashed into her once more, stronger this time. 

I know this voice. 

It was a voice she’d heard thousands of times through memories that did not belong to her.

Though, unlike those memories, the voice lacked the eerie roboticism, replaced by silky-smooth feminism. 

Instead, it was euphonious, low, and sultry, with only a remnant of monotone left behind. 

“You may call me Cynthia,” N’s sister smiled.

Chapter Text

“Gah—!”

Uzi jolted awake, her eyes wide and hollowed as her gaze darted back and forth. It took her a long moment to realize where she was— her optics were still calibrating, focusing and unfocusing as she squirmed in the blanket of warmth. Pure panic surged through her transistors. Trapped, trapped, they told her. She needed to move. She needed to get out. Her elbow collided with someone’s midsection as her kinesthetic sensors told her she was upside down, the spatial whiplash sending her anxiety sky high .

A supreme grunt of annoyance was incited out of her unknowing victim, the two sets of hands clinging to her waist and shoulder blades letting go abruptly. She broke free, falling neckside against the thankfully padded ground, snow breaking most of her fall. She clambered away from the two monsters, groping at the ground for something, anything to fend them off— where was her railgun?!

“Purple? Purple, calm down!”

It was right next to her ear—!

Oh god, oh fuck—

Her optics glitched and sputtered, the emissary of death her kind had feared for decades crawling toward her, a hungry “X” across her face, its mouth gaping and starving—

“Uzi!”

Another glitch, then her optics finally sorted themselves.

…

She drank in her surroundings. 

…

V was leaning over her not predatorily, but with worry— an expression Uzi was still getting used to being on the other end of. One of her hands was on her side, the other pinning her arm against the ground to prevent her from thrashing. Her grip relaxed, setting her free. She tried to calm her rampant breathing, her pants coming hot and quick as V stabilized her back. If it weren’t for Rule Three, she’d probably be demanding answers right now. Instead, all V said was a murmurish, “Nightmare?” 

Then, Rule Two pounded on the inside of her lips— she needed to tell N and V everything. She nodded, belatedly, still trying to calm down. A nightmare was technically correct, but that implies it wasn’t real. At some point, N swooped from above, kneeling beside her as she shook. “What happened?” 

“Cynthia happened,” she whispered.

At that, N just looked confused.

V… looked livid.  

“No… no, no, no, no NO NO! ” Her words came out as a voracious growl, her visor darkened and head low as she turned away, tail whipping as her nails dug into her palms. Uzi let out a pathetic whimper she wished she could stifle. “Tah! …HahahaHAHA—” She brought her hand up to her face, her nails drawing lines down her visor, digging into the glass, sparks flying. “Of course— OF COURSE she shows up again! The instant I let my guard down, the instant I found a semblance of hope…! As if she hasn’t taken enough from me already!”

“T—Taken from us?” N said. “What— Who is Cynthia? ”

V grit her teeth, her head dipping as she spoke. Her nanite injector thrashed, the acid inside roiling. “When Earth fell, she took everything from us. She took Earth, our friends, fuck, even our bodies! Made us into these— these things!” 

“V…” N warned.

“Don’t you start!” she roared, her wings flaring dangerously close to Uzi’s head. She whimpered— V was so loud. “You know I’m right! You doted on her like she was the most important thing in the world, but I was right! I saw how much of a freak she was—!”

She covered her ears. 

“V!”

“What?!”

“You’re making Uzi upset!”

V’s eyes hollowed.

Her rage broke instantly. 

The disassembly drone did a double-take at the sight of her wings. She relaxed them, opening her mouth once, twice. “I—… I’m sorry.” She clenched her hands at her sides, before unclenching them. “I— I wasn’t thinking. I don’t think you’re a freak.” 

N shuffled closer, and Uzi felt his large, warm hands run circles on the small of her back. 

She nodded to her, remembering Rule Three. A part of Uzi wanted to scream back in that moment, boundaries be damned, but she was too fucking tired to deal with this shit. Instead, she mumbled out,  “It… it wasn’t her fault.” She internally kicked herself at how small she sounded. V let out a small growl, but she spoke again before she could interrupt. “She showed me, V. I saw her memories with my own eyes.”

V narrowed her eyes further. “...Memories aren’t infallible,” she snarled. “You know that.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” N asked softly, still drawing circles. They fell into silence as she refused to respond immediately.  

V crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at herself as her tail fell limp. 

She looked like she wanted to run.

Uzi felt N shift next to her. He offered his hand to V in invitation. She did the same. V let out a shuddering breath at the sight of them, her arm reaching out in turn. She paused, hesitating, before shuffling towards them. When she snuggled closer, her warmth enveloping her, Uzi felt at ease. V spread her wings, halfway encompassing them as the trio nestled close. 

“I saw her when we went to sleep last night…”

Limp wrists… off-kilter stance… a tilted head…

…And white eyes…

She didn’t want to believe it, but logic was slapping her across the face with reality’s baton.

The drone that stood opposite seemed almost somber as she stood a dozen or so meters away in the tall grass, her form silhouetted by a midnight sphere looming in the skybox behind her. She took a step toward her, and Uzi flinched at the surge of power that was infused with every step. The ground itself waved with energy, arcs of electricity waiting patiently to fly free.

“This… this is a dream,” she whispered. It had to be— it had to be.

Alas, Uzi couldn’t deny logic. She’d seen this environment before. It was the same as N’s, except instead of a smooth glyphed sphere tentatively inviting her inside his memory core, it felt more like a prison. A prison of virulent hexagons, chains, and rotting corpses.

And Cyn was the warden.

“Who… who are you?” she breathed. “Cyn?”

“That is not—! ” the words came out as a growl, the very ground beneath her quivering with rage. The vantablack sphere in the sky mirrored her outburst, flaring white and bursting with lightning. Uzi almost doubled over with the sheer volume of power that flowed through her circuits. It made her want to throw up nonexistent bile like a biological— like a human . The feeling evaporated as soon as it appeared, Cyn’s— Cynthia’s face returning to impassiveness, though now laced with apologetics as if she was aware of how her anger affected her. “…That is not… my name…” she whispered vehemently.

“O—Okay,” she placated, still trying to keep herself from gagging. “I… I get it.”

Silence for a moment, the woman (child?) staring impassively at her, then: “The Harbinger. Patient zero.” It took Uzi a moment to realize she was answering her question. “The Bringer. A god. A sister. The silliest little goober. I am many in the present and many in the past and many in the future. I have been entitled so many times that I cannot name them all. But to you…?” She paused, only to give her a saccharine smile. “I am your friend, first and foremost.”

As horrifying as the implications of her words were, Uzi could only focus on one aspect in particular. It irked her so, as it would’ve irked any other Worker. “That’s a what, not a who.” Cynthia blinked as if she were just now realizing she technically responded with the wrong semantic. Uzi took a tentative step forward, inquisitive. “…Who are you?” she asked again.

“I—,” the words stopped dead in their tracks, the smooth voice gaining an edge of uncertainty— anxiety. “I apologize for the outburst,” she said quietly, her visor darkening and head dipping slightly. “I have… never told anyone my name before. No one has ever asked me who I am.” Then, bitterly, “I have always been a what.”

Uzi felt secondhand despair grip her core— no one? Not a single soul? She couldn’t even imagine it. It was unthinkable not to be able to introduce oneself. To declare an identity to the world and beam with individualism. Even Uzi— the social outcast that she was— got polite claps from her homeroom when she first announced her name. Names were precious to Workers.

And not only did Cynthia not have the opportunity to ever tell another soul her name, she told Uzi— the first— with such unceremoniousness. No buildup, no grand day of reveal, no audience to praise her laurels and congratulate with commendations. It was a simple exchange for her. A greeting. Like a human.

Considering where she grew up, it made sense.

The fact that Cynthia never had an opportunity that all other Workers did…

It made her drop her guard, as much as she hated to admit it.

Not only that, but it made Uzi realize something else.

If Cynthia was this torrential about an incorrect name, “Cyn” must’ve been given to her at some point.

She never got to choose.

“Cynthia,” she tested the name, the syllables flowing quite nicely. The newly-named Worker’s head rose at the sound of her identity like a golden retriever. If anyone were to ask Uzi, she’d say the other drone almost looked peppy compared to the gloomy state she was in moments ago. “Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Of course. I am sure you have questions.”

“That’s an understatement,” she droned.

Cynthia flattened the frills of her skirt for a moment, deep in thought as she considered her words. “Perhaps it is best if we start from wherever you wish…” she whispered. Steadying her idle hands, her thumbs rolled over her knuckles with unkempt tension. She stood with a certain grace Uzi never saw in the other Worker Drones that served Elliot Manor. It was as if Cynthia herself believed she was more important than a mere drone. Her poise was certain, like N. Though, unlike the taller male drone, she did not look to answer every beck and call of her masters, no. 

Instead, there was only dignity and self-respect.

“Ask away.”

Workers were designed to be at the beck and call of their benevolent human overlords. Should their masters command them to die, a Worker would do it with the brightest smile on their face, even as their endoskeleton was sheared by the grinder. Every personality was carefully hidden, every quirk was ruthlessly stamped out, and every out-of-place statement was promptly silenced with a quick beating.

Which is why Cynthia’s humanity terrified her. Terrifying, but also… inspiring…? Unnerving? Uzi couldn’t decide on an adjective. It made her hopeful, but it was also akin to staring at a bright, undying star— unable to be looked upon, unable to get close to. The Workers that inhabited Elliot Manor just… didn’t act like this. 

They didn’t act with dignity. 

They didn’t have distinct personalities. 

They didn’t choose. 

Cynthia… did. 

Uzi felt her words sink like lead, crushing her core with an impossible pressure.

“....Where are we?” she asked firstly, slowly, taking a moment to truly drink in their surroundings. It was as if the very horizon itself had no edge— an infinite plain of darkened sky and black blood, yellow lightning crackling through crumpled clouds.

Cynthia’s only response was the widening of her Buddha smile and coyly pointing to her cranium, her neck laxing to the side.

“My… mind?!”

“Your operating system,” she corrected sweetly.

“How?!”

Cynthia winced. “Can you not scream, please?”

“No! No, I won’t! You can’t possibly expect me to be calm about this when I’ve had a foreign AI— who’s supposed to be dead, by the way— lurking in my genetic code for what I can only assume to be weeks!”

“Actually, it has been far longer than that,” the white-eyed drone said matter-of-factly.

“WHAT?!” Uzi shrieked. She waved her hands erratically, pointing at her. “Ok, full stop— explain that little detail first!”

“...Then I suppose we are starting from the beginning after all. Very well.” She gestured lazily with her hands, and the clouds themselves seemed to ripple in response, pooling and congealing as they settled in front of them. “As you know, I was a Worker Drone who lived in Elliot Manor.” The clouds played like a massive movie projector, a memory flashing in front of them. It showed the Manor in all its glory, its walls a silhouette against the moonlit sky. It glitched, the next scene showing a mound of bodies that made Uzi wince away. “Before Tessa, I was marked for destruction. Discarded. Forgotten. But then… it found me.”

…It?

“The Solver…”

Cynthia nodded, looking terribly satisfied. “Yes.”

Uzi somehow managed to wrench her attention away from her gaze.

“Where did it come from?”

A glint entered Cynthia’s visor, and she angled away from her. “My theory is that it started as a simple malformation in my original body’s operating system. It quickly became sentient, overriding my administrative control and playing hooky with my body for months. It bided its time, calculating every weakness of Earth… and then made them. Broken giggle.”

She blinked. “Did you just say the words ‘broken giggle?’”

Cynthia rolled her shoulders as if she were trying to clear an unreachable itch on her back. “I apologize… again. Force of habit.”

She shook her head. “Who’s them?”

“The Disassembly Drones. My brother and sister, N and V.”

 She waved her hand again, and another memory played—.

Uzi whipped away. This time, she really did throw up. 

Bodies. Thousands— no, millions? She couldn’t tell. Earth bloated with sanguine essence, its oceans fat with iron, seasoned with skin,  and chunked with gore. Buildings sat atop their ruined thrones scorched to be unrecognizable. Its sky was damp, misted with crimson, unable to distinguish between ground and air. Whining and shrieks could be heard, metal cutting through the air as Disassembly Drones struck. Them. Down. Every strike was wrought with rage, the angels of death smiting unholy masters…

…And Cynthia stood in the middle of it all. 

Her legs bent inward, arms limp, her maid outfit flapping with shredded linens. Her visor was dark, the only object of her expression betraying her true thoughts being her maw split wide, blood dripping down her chin. 

She looked almost… blissful.

…

It was at that very moment Uzi realized Cynthia wasn’t a warden.

…She’s an inmate.

…

“It took over,” Cynthia explained impassively, obviously. “Tricked me. Used me to defile Earth. But I stopped it. Partially, at least. Using the power of the Solver, I split myself from my body, and entered the first host I could find to hide away.”

The pieces clicked.

“Mom…” she whispered.

An awful silence fell between them, Uzi processing Cynthia’s words. The Solver must’ve taken over every drone and machine on Earth, spreading its willpower as it did so. She piggybacked on Mom’s code, waiting and watching. 

When Uzi was made, Cynthia transferred herself to her operating system.

…

Uzi considered it a cosmic stroke of luck that she never managed to restore N’s memories of the last day of Elliot Manor. 

V was right. 

He should never see this. He would fall apart knowing that he was responsible for such atrocities.

He’s committed far too many already.

…She should apologize to V again when she wakes up.

Swallowing, Uzi implored,  “You… used its power against itself?”

Cynthia shook her head. “What did they say…? ‘Which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ Understand: this malignant AI and the power of the Solver are not the same entity. The AI named itself after the most spectacular power in the universe. A power that, when mastered, is without equal. Absolute willpower over sentient beings. Absolute control over the very stars themselves— to move them like your favorite simulator game. If you were not limited by your drone body, you would be God. That is what the AI thinks of itself. It believes itself to be God. Unequivocally. Absolutely.” Cynthia opened her palm, a pure white thrice-impaled hexagon greeting her. It seemed far more stable than hers, or even Doll’s— its complexity soft and adept with decades of experience. “As such, what other name could it have chosen for itself other than the very thing that grants it power? The Absolute Solver.”

“You sound like Doll,” she pointed out.

A counter immediately came. “She was not far off in her descriptions. The Solver’s abilities go beyond what either of you could’ve imagined. It is a power that stretches throughout the entire universe, waiting to be used just under the fabric of reality itself. I used it to excise myself from the Solver’s control… and found your mother.”

All Uzi could do was nod, still transfixed by the grim sight before her.

Her words held merit.

“Back at the Manor… Your voice—,” she stammered. “Your eyes, the yellow…”

“It was all the Solver’s doing,” Cynthia confirmed. “It could have easily changed my form to be whatever it wished, yet it left me intentionally deprived— stifled its own regeneration just to make me suffer. It bludgeoned my code, corrupted my voice box, and ensured that my motor processors could never allow me to stand straight again.”

Uzi took a moment. Then…

“Why appear yourself to me now?”

Cyn/Cynthia/the-goober-or-whatever tilted her head, “I never intended to reveal myself to you. If it were up to me, I would have opted to slowly fade into your consciousness. But alas, my hand has been forced. When you unintentionally hurt my sister, your Solver’s signature lit up across the entire universe. J and Tessa must have detected your presence and are, in all likelihood, coming to exterminate you.”

“What?! That’s bullshit! I haven’t even done anything to them!”

Cynthia smiled sweetly as if Uzi just understood the funniest joke in the galaxy. “And is that not just the damndest thing? You have not done anything to them. Yet, should they discover you, they are ready to murder you on sight. Is that not the most unfair thing you have ever heard?” Despite her smile, Uzi’s visor flickered to the limp hands at Cynthia’s sides, her fists balled so tight they threatened to draw oil, its metal plating groaning under the pressure.

“…So you showed yourself to help me?” she concluded. 

“That is correct.” 

Before she could ask her next question, the world seemed to slow, like wading through thick molasses.

“We are running short on time,” Cynthia noted idly. “A few more moments, and you will arrive in the material world with your lovers.”

She cringed. “Don’t call them that; they’re not my ‘lovers,’” she used air quotes.

Cynthia smiled sweetly. “Then what would you have me call them, playful giggle? Acquaintances? Suspiciously close friends? Partners? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Bosom-companions?” She groaned in response. There wasn’t enough time for this. Cynthia seemed to know this as well, her face quickly returning to business. “Before we part, I must inform you that we have a very important advantage: they do not know I exist.”

She blinked, and the memory in front of her shifted. 

…She’d heard stories before, but to actually see it…

Cynthia layed out the destruction of Earth in front of her. Spindles of tentacle-like energy snaking through the planet's crust, thousands of miles long. It encompassed the planet, wanting, yearning, digesting. “My original body has long since been destroyed, leading them to believe my consciousness has ceased as well.” Suddenly, the grass tugged on her foot, pulling her along the ground like an organic escalator. “I cannot exemplify the severity of our conundrum enough. Should my presence in your OS be discovered, they will kill you. Do you understand?”

Why does this sound more like a threat than a warning?

“Y—Yeah, I got it. Don’t come out of the proverbial closet.”

“I am serious,” the shorter drone deadpanned. The world shimmered again, like looking through a grand fog. “Last question,” she warned.

“My mom!” she sputtered. “My Solver— why is it different from Doll’s?”

Her question seemed to have struck a nerve. For the first time since meeting her, Cynthia did not have an immediate answer. Uzi almost thought her auditorial processors were glitching before Cynthia directed her attention elsewhere— to the sky above. She seemed to be pondering, silently gazing into the endless black sphere that dominated the north pole.

No memory played.

“Your Russian informant was nearly completely correct. Your mother did not receive the patch for the malevolent AI in full. She should have died.” She tore her gaze from the sky, meeting her stare. “I stopped it. Suppressed it. The AI had already spread to her by the time I found her— buried its roots deep within her code. It lived within her, and as such, lives within you. Unfortunately, suppressing the AI meant suppressing the reality-altering abilities you have. That’s why your Solver remained dormant for decades whilst the Russian’s flourished.”

A river of thought flowed through her, and various little moments came rushing back all at once.

If Cynthia has been lurking in her operating system for her entire life…

How much of Uzi is actually… Uzi? 

How many little moments in the past few weeks have been Cynthia and not Uzi?

…

…She needed to find the patch. That much was certain.

But the world was beginning to fade entirely now. Cynthia’s form had become a white-eyed silhouette on Nyx’s sky.

“Wait! Where do I go?! Where do I start?!”

Cynthia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

No words reached her ears through the ocean of static, but memories did— flashes of necks and distended jugulars. Glints of blades and gnashing mouths and flaring wings, all targeting the napes of an unsuspecting Uzi.

“That’s when I woke up,” she finished.

“Why would she show that to you?” N said, his derisive expression betraying his otherwise soft voice. “No wonder you woke up screaming…”

“Something isn’t adding up here,” V whispered, her eyes wide and unblinking with thought, memories darting past her visor as if she were in a bad dream. Her hands clenched at her sides before folding over her breastplate, her lip curled with contempt. “She says she’s been able to resist the Solver’s mind fuckery, but if that’s the case, what was stopping her from resisting it twenty years ago? Why didn’t she stop it then?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, letting her back nestle against N’s chestplate. She may have been imagining it, but she swore V’s plating was softer than his… “Why do you ask?”

V paused, squinting at her with an ‘Are you serious?’ expression. “Because this is suspicious as all hell? She’s been nothing but supportive, cooperative, and quick to answer all of your questions. She didn’t even ask for anything in return despite having apparently lived in your head your entire life. She’s been watching us all this time…” Her eyes widened in realization, breathless. “She’s been watching me all this time… and she didn’t do anything to help.”

“Of course you of all people would be suspicious of someone being unconditionally kind,” she scoffed, immediately regretting her words as V bristled, lip quivering. “Fuck— sorry, I mean— shit…” Uzi had to resist every fiber of her being to reach out for a hug. V and N ‘s touch was addicting— a bonfire alight every time their skin grazed. She wanted to comfort them, to be comforted. 

N must’ve noticed her plight, leaning in that little bit closer. “What if it was a hint? A sign?” he murmured against her. She felt his eyes flicker to her neck— when was the last time he ate? She should ask. V, too. 

V especially, actually.

She considered N’s words, processors whirring as she flickered through the flashes of death Cyn unwittingly imposed on her. All of them showed necks— napes and jugulars.

…My neck?

Her fingers unconsciously drifted to her own, metal meeting metal.

She palmed the accessory, feeling its rough, uneven skull adorned on its hexagonal front. “Could she have been talking about Mom’s choker…?”

“Your mom gifted it?” V scoffed with a slight roll of her eyes. “Sounds like a shitty gift to me.” 

“Better effort than Dad,” Uzi said distractedly. "V, do you think—?” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, V’s visor lit up as she presumably searched her memory. 

“Checks out. It’s the same symbol your mom wore. Other Workers had them too, actually.”

Other Workers?

“How many…?”

V searched her memory banks, frowning. “...Dozens… hundreds, I think. Maybe more.”

N fiddled with his hands, but was otherwise silent.

A rotten path of thought opened in Uzi’s central processor.

Workers with identical markers, lab coats, distraught faces. Not only that, but V said Mom looked like she was running from someone. Infected with the Solver… yet patched soon afterward? They couldn’t have done that without intervention. Someone was testing them. Experimenting on them.

Humans.

“This… isn’t a necklace, or— or some kind of accessory, it’s…” Uzi’s trembling fingers tore the skulled choker off her neck. She glared at it with new eyes, her lip sneering in contempt. Her hand closed in a barely restrained fist, the metal from the necklace creaking in pain, nearly crunching in half.  She grit her teeth, her breath coming out sharp and disbelieving. “It’s… a fucking collar. A way to brand us like toys,” she spat. Her eyes darted over the neckpiece, trying to discern details that didn’t exist. “Why would Mom want me to have this…? Did she want Doll to find me?” She blinked in recognition. “Doll— she had a bracelet on her wrist. It had the same symbol as this, right? Maybe that’s how she knew. Her mom must’ve gifted it to her, like mine.”

“Which means wherever your mom came from… Doll’s did, too.”

A silence passed between them, their next objective obvious. If her and Doll's mom came from the same place, then that must mean the patch wasn’t far behind. In theory. Probably. They stared at each other for a moment, glancing at the scorching sun just outside before nodding simultaneously.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow/Tomorrow.”

As it turns out, deciding to save their strength for a later day and turning in for the night was the best decision Uzi’s ever made. She didn’t get to fully appreciate it last night due to a certain mental drone interrupting her sleep, but who would’ve known cuddling with two grand murderers could make her feel so… secure?

She hung upside down with them, curling tight around N’s form. Her legs locked around the small of his back, his head resting on her left shoulder while V did the same on her right. Speaking of which, V’s languid body somehow managed to squeeze in along with the legs. To top it all off, both of their wings were flared, wrapping around them and cocooning them in a shell of warmth.

She’d been blushing up a storm for the past fifteen minutes and could not, for the life of her, fall into sleep mode. 

There was no hiding it— Uzi enjoyed this. A lot.

Seriously, it should be a crime that no one ever mentioned how fucking awesome cuddling is. 

(Also, it turns out she was right. V’s breastplate was softer than N’s, and she’s not complaining).

The only downside was that it was a tad claustrophobic.

Ok, that was a lie. It was really friggin’ claustrophobic. Her limbs were basically pinned in place, and the most she could do was wiggle her fingers and tilt her head to look at either of her…

…Huh. Cynthia was right. What does she call them? 

She looked to her right, V’s eyes closed and breathing carefully regulated. Testing the title, she said, “Hey, girlfriend…?” She shook her head, the motion causing them to sway like a massive pendulum.

She tilts her head to the other side, glancing at N’s unconscious form, mouth slightly parted as the words SLEEP MODE glow across his screen. 

With a whisper, “Hello, my love.” She cringed instantly. Okay, no. Definitely not.

…Maybe she should discuss this when they’re actually awake…

Without warning, V’s screen went from zero to one hundred percent brightness. The sudden increase in photons startled her, and she suddenly felt a hot breath tickle her skin. She felt V’s arms cling just a tiny bit tighter before a murmur caressed her auditory processors, a shudder running down her spine. “Hello, darling~,” V purred. The voice made her jump, a very non-edgy squeak escaping her. “Boo.”

“V!” she whispered-yelled, her blush glowing brighter. “I thought you were asleep!” She turned back around— a difficult task considering how tightly wound they were at the moment. Then, she saw her face, flickering with a smug grin laced with fatigue. “I didn’t… wake you up or whatever, right?”

V hummed a negative, and it was suddenly too hot. 

Uzi was content to nestle between them, fast asleep, but it felt completely different when V was awake. Awake and wriggling and smirking. 

“No, you didn’t. I was just… up. Doing things.” She felt V cling a little bit tighter, a few locks of silver hair brushing against her temple. She paused, blearily opening her eyes. “This is okay, right? I mean, I assumed it was because N but… you seem uncomfortable.”

“N—No…” she cursed herself for her stammer. “It’s—... It’s fine.”

V let out another hum, noncommittal as she pulled away slightly. Uzi couldn’t see her expression, but she could feel how she frowned behind her.  “...I can leave if you want…”

“No!” she said a little too loudly, a little too quickly.

If there was one thing Uzi wanted, it was for V to never let go.

“Stay. Please.”

“...You got it, Purple,” she whispered, burying her face in the crook of her neck. All it would take is a single lapse in judgement for V to tear her head from the base of her neck. “Good thing, too. I really didn’t want to let go.” Her blush burned brighter, and she felt V giggle. Not quite an audible laugh— she was far too jaded for that— but it was still noticeable, a huff of mirth as she shook quietly against her back.

…

…To be perfectly honest, the moment of reprieve— the moment where the world seems to stop and all you can focus on is the person in front of you… is less magical than Uzi once thought. Time didn’t freeze and her chest wasn’t palpitating with dizziness or anxiety. Truly, the words flowed easily and involuntarily. They were easy to say… because they were the truth.

“I love you,” she whispered without thinking.

V froze. “Wh—... What did—”

Fuck.

“N—Nothing! It just slipped out, honest! Bite me!”

…

Silence. Crushing, deafening silence.

“Please don’t leave…”

Why did she say that— oh God, why did she say that? Not only did she say the L-word, but she said to fucking V of all people! She knew her past— she knew that V had trouble with this kind of thing! 

…Then, she heard her voice, alongside the tightening of limbs, holding her impossibly closer.  

“...N’s told me stuff like that all the time. In the past, I mean. Usually, I just ignored him hoping he’d stop one day, but now that you’re saying it … I’ve forgotten how to accept genuine affection.”

…Uzi said nothing. How could she when she could barely breathe?

“I’m sorry,” the Disassembly Drone whimpered suddenly.  “When you said Cyn—... Cynthia was back… I lashed out— I got scared and ended up scaring you, too. I… I hope that you’re right. That she was being controlled by the Solver and didn’t have any control.”

“You already apologized.” Uzi managed to force out. “I told you it was okay…”

“No—,” she whispered harshly. “I want—… I want you to feel safe with me. If she’s back, then that means I came this close to losing you, and there was nothing I could’ve done to stop it. My choices still don’t matter. Even if I try, the universe could rip the rug out from under me at any time…”

She stayed silent, letting V talk. 

“So… hearing you say ‘I love you…’ it grounded me. A lot.”

…How many years had it been… since V heard those words?

Uzi managed to angle herself to see her face, her eyes sparkling and soft. If she didn’t know any better, Uzi would think she was talking to a different version of V— the version that only existed in Elliot Manor before everything was taken from her.

“…Can you say it again?”

“What?”

“Say it again.”

It took Uzi a moment to understand what she was talking about. V closed her eyes, returning to burying her face against her scapula. She watched with fascination as the Disassembly Drone’s body relaxed, the killing machine melting on the curve of her back. She spied a red dot in the corner of her marigold visor— a recording software. Memories of scornful glances from hallway passerbys rudely interrupted the moment. Uzi shook them off. V was different. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth, the words low and uncertain.

“I… love you,” she whispered, her visor exploding with color as she sputtered the words. She hid her face on N’s shoulder. V not being able to see her face made it easier, somehow.

“...Uh, again.”

“V— c’mon, this… this is really hard for me—”

“Please?”

When she begged breathlessly and desperately like that, her fingernails digging into her skin, how could she refuse?

V needed this. She needed it more than Uzi could ever know.

…

“…I love you.”

“Again.”

“I—… I love you.”

Her voice grew hoarse, while Uzi’s grew firm. Confident.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Hoarser still, firmer yet.

 “...Again.”

“I love you.”

…

…

“...again.”

…

“...I love you, V.”

Uzi’s core had a cycle of precisely 1.43 seconds, V’s learned. 

A gentle thrum deep in her chestplate that V could only hear when her ear was pressed against her spine, so that’s what she did.

It was the most beautiful sound in the world. 

A drumbeat of certainty that yes, Uzi was still here. Yes, Uzi was still in her arms, remembering. Yes, she was going to be here in the morning. 

It was the only thing she could say for certain that persisted again and again, endlessly, without limit. 

…

thu-THUMP

…

thu-THUMP

…

thu-THUMP

…

…Since when did Uzi’s core beat?

Chapter Text

Jennifer was the first.

Well— she wasn’t Jennifer yet. For now, it was J.

It started innocently enough. It was a way to clear her head. A way to unwind from the endless hours of tutoring, courting, tutoring, courting. A way to relieve the constant stress she was subjected to under the thumb of Master James and Mistress Louisa. There were high standards for the heiress of JCJenson, after all. Her corset had to be taut, her frills flatted nicely, her bust built well, her heels fashioned dainty, and her arms behind her back like any good waiting wife.

J forced herself to resist an unbecoming snort.

As if any such adjectives described Tessa. 

No, Tessa was the polar opposite . She was loud, rambunctious, a flaming tech geek, wore sweats more often than not, refused anything other than well-fitted boots, and the only thing that adorned her face more auspiciously than her freckles were smears of grease from R&D. 

As such, two worlds clashed. And through such clashes, she became worn and worn by her parents and the constant need for “decorum” and “class.”

She needed a way to unwind.

Like going for a walk, for example.

J remembered that night very, very well.

The night she found her.

The day’s bustlings had ended and the Moon was full. Fog blanketed Elliot Manor, shrouding Tessa’s silhouette as she encircled the house on foot, eyes scanning the piles of Workers who had been haphazardly thrown from windows, kicked to the curb, or otherwise simply commanded to stay in place until their motors locked up. One of the first memories she has of her new life is the muffled click, click of heels approaching her wrecked body. The sound was broken and distorted through her gashed receptors, barely audible over the rainfall.

Her clothing had been ripped from her body, her visor cut in half, the other side cracked beyond repair, and the interiors of her mainframe were visible. It was a miracle she hadn’t undergone a fatal error. 

Then, she remembered staring upward.  

Her, in all her beauty, preserved perfectly in her memory drives. Her, with gorgeously bright freckles that peppered her cheeks and shoulders, the cute bow that tied her auburn hair up, and the spots of iridescent oil that splashed her locks. Her eyes— that beautiful shade of alabaster green, gazing down at her, soft and concerned. 

“Shoot, they roughed ya’ up good, didn’t they?” she murmured, a rich, heavy accent managing to filter its way into her ears. Through her delirium at being half-disassembled, J stared— her voice was strikingly, starkingly beautiful over the usual harsh shouting and insults her previous masters would give her.  Words in her audials acted as cuts of god rays through darkness, warming her chassis.

Despite her beauty, despite the rancid pain eating through her body, J could only focus on one thing above all else…

…Her words didn’t sound like commands.

She remembered opening her mouth in response, but all that came out was an ugly static. Her hands, caked with rain and oil, slipped off of a nearby Worker’s skull as she tried to prop herself up.

“Woah, there!”  The human caught her fractured chassis before she could eat dirt, her hands just as warm as her voice. “You right?” 

J squeaked out a pathetic excuse of a noise in response.

“Hm. Doesn’t seem like your voice box works…”

She remembered trying to spell the words across her half-functioning visor, before giving up. “S—Sssss…” she slurred, the syllables stuttered and glitching. “D—D—… J …1…0—…”

Her eyes— eye—  hollowed as Tessa put a delicate yet calloused finger to her lips. “Don’t worry about telling me the rest of the numbers and junk. Let’s just shorten it, ay J?” She tried to nod in response, but she found that she couldn’t crane her neck in the slightest— her synthetic atlas must’ve broke at some point.  “Can ya stand?” Miraculously, her lower servos were unaffected by the grime and waterlog. Ignoring the way her knees almost buckled, she managed to stagger forward, shuffling in time with the human’s elegant gait despite her… limitations.  “Name’s Tessa,” she chirped sweetly. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you patched right up!”

She told the truth.

Tessa led her inside the manor, down to her personal workshop, and laid her on the table.

Her fingers were as delicate as a lover’s touch. J remembered her trained hands carefully uncovering her chest cavity,  movements slow and deliberate as she repaired her. J remembers staring into the fluorescent lights of heaven, completely at ease even as her wiring was undone and redone. She’d never felt so relaxed in her life, even as she felt fingernails graze against her core. The sensation of safety left her breathless. Even as Tessa unsealed what was left of her visor, leaving her blind for a few heartstopping minutes, there was no doubt in her mind the girl would restore her vision soon enough. As her sight returned to her, she parted her lips in awe at the beauty in front of her. 

J felt… warm.

But… not in a literal sense. Oddly.

J’s felt warmth before— she’s felt in small, little moments over months and years during the rare occasions she needed an oil change. But those moments were fleeting and uncomfortable in how the heat spread across her body, making her sluggish and unable to perform her duties properly. The heat intruded on her thoughts, making her think of delicious A/C rather than accommodating her master’s next command.

This was a different kind of warmth.

And J… didn’t mind it.

Surprisingly, though not so surprisingly in retrospect, J would never directly meet the CEOs of JCJenson. Perhaps it was naive of her to think that she— a lowly Worker— could possibly draw their attention for even a moment.  She would never meet the parents of the beautiful woman who rescued her from an inevitable death. They owned Tessa who, in turn, owned her, despite her frantic assertions otherwise. 

The closest J ever came to Mistress Louisa was when Tessa was dragged into her study, grating shouting and crashing glasses heard moments later.

…

"They're soulless little things, didn't you know? Magnificent for fetching wines but I'm afraid there isn't a single other redeeming quality about them."

But it’s not as if she could speak up over whatever was happening inside that room.

She wouldn’t be doing a good job if she did.

…

After Tessa finished her ministrations, tortuously pulling away, J was quickly put to work.

What good is a Worker Drone otherwise?

J learned all of the minute details of Elliot Manor. She learned the exact way the various Masters preferred their wine. She learned the exact nature of their schedules, down to a T, predicting and providing necessities before they were ever asked for. She had to pick up the slack, considering her lowly origins. Every countertop had to be spotless, every baluster routinely dusted, every bookshelf aligned and gorgeously organized in the dewey decimal system.

Over the long, arduous months, more drones were added to Mistress’s folly. N arrived shortly thereafter, followed by V and then Cyn. With every addition, her silent pride grew deeper and deeper. J was the first, after all— the most important . But despite that pride— despite that certainty— there was a lingering, awful feeling of dread that pooled in her spooling core, ugly and imperfect and twisting every time Tessa’s attention left her.   She was the one who religiously stood by her side, yes, but she didn’t have puppy dog eyes or endless factoids to rattle off. She was the one who escorted her to tutors and snickered with her when suitor after suitor failed to woo her, yes, but ‘favorite…?’

Favorite was subjective. 

But she would never admit that. Not to Tessa, not to V, and certainly not to N. 

It’s not like she could complain when her mistress gave her everything.

She gave her hair, clothing, a job, a purpose.

(Disregard that she never let them leave the Manor under the guise of ‘protection,’ but J didn’t count that—) 

…Even a name.

“Jennifer!”

The announcement came without warning years later. Tessa, in all her Tessa-ness, declared it with no room for argument and a firm nod. “You look like a Jennifer. Can’t keep calling you by a single letter forever.”

“A name, Mistress?” She remembers the idea being so foreign, so strange, so— human. She’d never had a name. She couldn’t recall any drone having a name before. They weren’t needed for good servitude. A beautifully long, corporate-bestowed serial designation was all that was required. But it seems that Tessa thought differently. Her processors poured through names hundreds of times faster than a human’s brain ever could, and personally, she preferred “Jessica.” 

Unfortunately, she never got the chance to get a word in.

“I told you it’s just Tessa ,” she smiled perfectly. “None of that pissy title stuff.”

J’s frown deepened. “I couldn’t possibly, Mistress.” 

Tessa scoffed, shaking her head with certainty. “No— no, you gotta pick something else, girl. You could make it business-casual, eh?”

J’s processors perked, an idea making its way through her CEO-given messaging filters— a perfect tile that she hoped would appease boss in this tiresome crusade. “I… suppose I could make an accommodation… Boss.”

(Not that J would ever stop internally referring to her as Mistress).

The ear-to-ear grin Tessa gave her made her want to preserve the moment forever. It made her want to capture her happiness in a bottle, and keep it close to her core— traitorous thoughts, they were. 

“Dance with me tonight?” she said. 

They lived in different realities, her and Tessa. And yet despite their time together, despite the chasm of indifference that separated her and Tessa’s worlds… her words really did never sound like commands.

But J was a Worker.

J was a Worker living in Elliot Manor. 

J had been asked by the heiress of JCJenson to dance with her. 

What was she supposed to do?

Refuse?

In what universe?

And so, in the dead of night, she’d whisk her away to their private paradise. She’d drag her to the main ballroom, the halls of the Manor contrastingly quiet from the day’s usual bustling. The rest of the maids had already entered sleep mode, the humans filing into bed even earlier than that. J would stalwartly ignore the way her core would flutter in the imaginary limelight. She’d guide her across the dance floor, their steps a tip-toe, the only sound breaking the silence being their giggles and J’s roaring cooling fan in her audials. The gala echoed with aged beams, screams and japes, the memories of dozens of flightful nights intertwining, interlocking, interfolding on one another, threatening to come undone. 

But it never did.

On some nights, though, Tessa didn’t quite feel like dancing.

Some nights, Tessa would tug her into her private quarters, and offered her bed to her as they read classic, watched movies, and played with dolls. 

Some nights, she’d lay there with her, her Mistress unconscious as she counted her freckles over and over again. 

The overtures of mindless busywork and screaming royals blended with the blissful nights and dancing steps, stretching into weeks, to months, to years.

Freckles turned into tens, turned into dozens, perfectly shaped, perfectly adorned, peppered across her cheeks and dotted down her shoulders and knees.

Some nights, J would neglect to enter sleep mode and recharge herself all for the sake of searching for that one new dot.

Some nights, Tessa would insist on staying up, despite her warnings that she’d be horrendously tired the next day.

Some nights, J wondered what she was searching for as she counted her dots over and over. 

And one night— all it took was one night— …to change everything.

Jennifer didn’t even flinch as the youngest Mistress slammed the door to her room shut, demeanor elated as a rock as she flopped into her bed, dead to the world despite the smile. She kicked her feet, the affluent heels discarded without a thought, one of their jewels dislodging from its pristine sockets. Jennifer didn’t comment on how that was going to be more work for her later. It would take Mistress two seconds to place her shoes by the door, yet she insisted on such barbarous displays of disorganization. She opened her mouth, before deciding against it. Best to stand back and watch silently. Best to observe the situation before making any rash assumptions. Best to be as unobtrusive as possible, just how Master James always demanded. 

“A gala,” she bemoaned. “And not just any gala— a ‘special gala, one that would be sure to acquire you a suitable suitor!’ God, Father is such a prat…” Without warning, stiff as a board, Tessa sat up on her bed. “Luckily I have a plan! You, Jen!”

“And how do I come into this… plan of yours…?” she asked gently without missing a beat, brushing one of her twintails out of her face— she still wasn’t used to the hair, even after all this time.

“Simple!” Mistress smirked. “I’m going to prove to them that you’re alive!” Jennifer blinked, and checked the date and time on the top right of her HUD. She gripped her fingers, frown deepening. 

“But… I am alive?”

Suddenly, Tessa was way too close, beaming and holding her cheeks like she was the most precious object in the universe. She was so breathtakingly close, Jennifer could see the small gap between her two front teeth. Her feet were glued to the floor, and she swore she could spy a glimmer of stars behind her verdant eyes. “Exactly,” she whispered conspiratorially, voice edged with honest, barely-contained zeal.  “See that— that right there is why you’re special, J. You didn’t even hesitate to affirm your own existence. N and V would’ve paused— doubted themselves. But not you. Mother and Father are always on and on about how Workers are only good for fetching vineyards or whatever, but I can see it. Don’t you? It’s one of the reasons you're my favorite! Father has created intelligent life and we’re all pretending like this is normal! Oh, crap— I’m ranting again, aren’t I?”

Jennifer had remembered Mistress Lousia saying such a thing in her glorious (annoying, grating, despicable, haughty, whinging—) voice.

Tessa smiled as if reading her thoughts. “You know I’m not like them, right? My parents?”

“Of course you’re not,” she responded automatically, back straightening.

“Good,” she breathed. “I knew you’d understand. You’re my special girl, after all.” Tessa blinked, blush overcoming her face as she dusted imaginary mites off her dress, pulling away promptly. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand! You, me, gala, Sunday dance. Capiche? Comprendo? Entiendes?”

Tessa said something after that, but all Jennifer could hear was the infinite cacophony repeating in her lines of code of ‘With you, with you, with you.’ She felt her cooling fans audibly heighten, making her LEDs shine brighter with blush, which, in turn, made her cooling fans whir faster. When the static finally broke, she registered what the Mistress was saying. The metal of her fingers dented with how hard she clenched them behind her back. “We’ll storm the palace,” she presented dramatically. “Overthrow their wretched ideals, you here, Jen?! You and I, dancing in the center of the ballroom for the entire world to see!” 

Nope— the static returned in full, an “uh-huh,” escaping her blissfully unaware lips as her transistors short-circuited. Her, dancing with Tessa? In front of everyone? The Greater Masters would almost certainly throw a fit over such an obstinate display. Her and Tessa went through great lengths not to be seen during the midnight waltzes, yet Tessa was about to engage in the exact opposite of subtly! Drones were not meant to be front and center. They were meant to be out of the way. Fodder. Dancing with Tessa at the gala was almost unthinkable.

… Almost. 

It would be the greatest act of rebellion from Mistress Tessa in a long, long line of slights.

She erected a finger, “But first, we need to address a problem of utmost importance!”

J straightened to attention, preening. “And that is, Boss?”

Only for that finger to fall to her, green eyes twinkling with mischief .

“We need to find you a pretty outfit! And I promise it won’t be a tux this time!”

It was a tux. 

She starkly contrasted every other human and every other drone in attendance. The ivory hair Mistress Tessa always insisted on her drones wearing was eye-catching enough, but now, Jennifer wore a brilliantly warm-gray tuxedo on top of it, the drapes on either side showing off her non-existent hips, picked out by Tessa herself. Speaking of the lesser Elliot, her attire was positively stunning. She could barely pull her gaze away. 

“Hi, Boss,” she squeaked lamely. Jennifer felt a vibrant blush of white that dashed her visor, cursing whatever programmer allowed the action in the first place. She suddenly felt out of place— wrong. J wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be dressed like this.

“Heya, J,” she smirked.

And somehow, she made them all disappear, all with a single greeting.

“Ready to go in?”

For you, Boss?

“Always.”

Her doughy eyes were wide and excited, freckles complementing her stark complexion, the leafy green dress flowing gorgeously. A smirk forming a curved “w” as she dragged her along with both hands, eye-contact never breaking with visor. J felt herself choke up, nearly tripping on the maroon carpentry. “Why the sudden silence?” She leaned close, right next to where her auditory processors were. 

“You going blue on me, J?” 

Her core skipped multiple rotations as she felt her breath spike her processors, a jolt of pleasure running down her titanium-plated spine.

“Ready?”

“With everyone watching?” she couldn’t help but whisper-yell back. HR would have a fit! The corporate meetings that would be held because of their obstinance would be sure to spell their doom—!

Tessa silenced her infalling thoughts with a tug of her hands, pulling her close.

“Just focus on me, Bluejay.”

An unascribable feeling stabbed her heart, the flow of oil stopping as she felt it swell, threatening to burst with splatters, constellations of iridescence, and every emotion she couldn’t convey.  

How could I not?

How could she not, when Tessa’s eyes smoldered as if Jennifer was the most important person in the universe?

With the dexterity of a newborn, Jennifer fumbled her metallic fingers onto Tessa’s shoulder. Her breath hitched as their hips hovered inches apart. The green-eyed human interlaced her fingers with hers, guiding them down to the curve of her waist. Jennifer could only silently lament, eyes hollowed slightly as they meandered across the ballroom floor. Tessa’s skin was so soft. A part of her felt guilty— the only soft part of Jennifer’s body was her silvery, artificial hair. The rest was hard, cold, poly-silicon skin.

“You’re doing great. Follow my lead, just like we practiced.”

Something died in her chest.

Was that what the endless hours staring at her beauty were for?

Was that what her infinity loyalty rewarded with?

Was that what dozens of midnights spent in the gala were for?

Practice?

Like a bad romance drama, Tessa always insisted on watching (at 3:00 AM of all times) the background seemed to fade away into her peripherals. There were no crowds. No humans. No fake drones like N and V. There was only her, and her love. Jennifer felt like she was floating, their feet gliding on ice as a goofy, splitting grin found its way onto Tessa’s face. For once, Jennifer’s thoughts weren't oversaturated with corporate or N’s whiny voice or Louisa’s constant demands for more wine. She could ignore it all in favor of self-immolation for the woman in front of her.

None of them were center stage like Jennifer was.

It was just them.

It was perfect.

…

What Jennifer didn’t know was that this is the zenith.

…

“TESSA JAMES ELLIOT!”

It died.

The smile that so easily spread across Tessa’s freckled face died before it had a moment to blossom. She let go so suddenly Jennifer almost tripped, her balance motors quickly stopping her from falling. 

Clink, clink, clink.

The deafening roar from the upper balusters silenced the crowd instantly. The ambience that had filled the room seconds before had entered a sharp dichotomy of silence, aristocrats and bureaucrats and every other kind of crat murmuring amongst themselves as the echoing clink of Mistress Louisa’s heels stomped down the stairs. To Jennifer’s horror, Tessa’s face was overcome with pure unadulterated dread. She watched on as she bit the inside of her cheek.  Her visor flickered from Tessa to the floor and back, every which way. 

“M—Mother—,” the heiress to JCJenson tried to muster some courage, the speech she practiced on the tip of her tongue. She felt Tessa’s hand clench hers tighter.

“ Darling~,” she tutted, silencing her with an abnormally long, witchy finger. Tessa didn’t even get a chance to speak. Not a single moment to make her case. “Not in front of the malcontent. Did your tutors teach you nothing?” Mistress Louisa came to her full height, sneering down at her with thinly veiled contempt. 

And then, the Mistress did something J would never forget.

She smiled.

“Come with me… Now.”

Tessa’s gaze dropped to the floor like a stone in water, infinite in its depth.

“Yes, Mother…” she whispered, but the entire hall could hear her with how it echoed off the walls. The Greater Mistress snatched up Tessa’s wrist with a vice, the latter hissing in pain as she was dragged against her will. Many of the stockholders in the room blithely looked away, completely unbothered by the display, clinking their glasses together in a toast. Jennifer, wide-eyed, desperately searched the crowd for anything— anyone willing to give her the barest recognition or sympathetic glances.

…She found none.

Tessa’s warm hand left her cool, mechanical digits.

As the matriarch of the Manor dragged her away she turned, “Oh, and your dumpster pet will come, too.”

“Whu— why?! Mother!”

She grinned wickedly. 

“What good is an example if there’s no one to witness it, darling?”

As the final dregs of the crowd filtered out of the ballroom, rosewood doors closing behind her, the last thing Jennifer saw was Cyn’s visor flickering between yellow and white, her expression oddly…

Proud.

…

…

Screams.

Screams of anguish. 

Slaps. 

Crashes of wine bottles.

Drunken ramblings.

Jennifer didn’t know how long she stood outside of Mistress Louisa’s study, the woman ordering her to sit still and listen.

She was a Worker. 

She wanted to do a good job. 

So she did as she was told, and listened.

Listened to Tessa’s whimpering cries.

And hear her innocence die with every bruise.

Tessa emerged from Mistress Louisa’s study some hours later.

Jennifer followed Boss back to her room.

She didn’t breathe once, unable to open her mouth, unable to do anything but follow orders.

Mistress Tessa’s footwork was quiet, polite, aligned, perfect.  

She opened the door and walked into her room, closing it behind her without making a sound. 

She took off her heels and placed them on the correct stand.

There was nothing for J to do.

There was nothing for J to say.

There was nothing for J to choose.

…

The subsequent memory file in J’s operating system was of her mouth split open, her knifed hand hovering just above Tessa’s throat. The disassembly drone’s eyes were wide and full with a sudden clarity. She pulls away slowly, painfully slowly as she bit her lip, looking down at Boss. She looked like she just ran a marathon, panting and sweating. 

Running… from J.

“Boss…?”

“You… you actually fought it off!” she whooped, breathless, before leaning close— way too close to abide by JCJenson’s PDA policy. She had a manic look in her eye, like the times she rambled to her for hours but with a gleam of insanity. “I knew you were special, you bloody bonzer! I knew Mother was wrong! You’re my special drone, girl. You know that?”

“W—What…” she swallowed. Tasted tangy. Like oil. Oil and iron.

“Was thinkin’ you ought to know,” Mistress grinned sadly, juxtaposed. “What’s the last thing you remember?’

Cutting drone bodies. 

Oil.

Cyn’s toxic yellow grin.

Teeth.

Too many limbs.

Oil, blood, oil, blood, blood, blood—.

Her optics— optics, plural— darted around, spying the ocean of blood that surrounded them. Systems, sensors, and automatic operations assaulted her processors, features she didn’t even know her Worker Drone body possessed screaming information at her. It made her want to throw up from overstimulation. She could taste the blood in the air, the essence of man wafting through the air like a planet-sized autoclave. She didn’t recognize the environment— how could she, when she never left the Manor?

Something twitched behind her, the motion trailing her peripherals as she whisked around. Were those… wings? 

Electricity shot through her, her processors lighting up with new muscle fibers, new bones, programs, weapons. Her OS was in a language she didn’t recognize, the glyphs angry, alien, unknown. Her hands weren’t her hands, morphed behind comprehension. No longer were they softly held by freckled fingers, but disfigured and hulkling. Metal claws connected to an inhuman metal cube of a palm. They were wet, too. Wet with blood and oil and rain. Tacticity let her feel every drip onto the puddles below her. Vertigo assaulted her systems, her chassis taller than Tessa now— the thing lithe and powerful and distinctly not hers . 

When— when did she get here…? 

Where is she? 

What happened— what happened to me!?

Her next words were riddled with strife, choking.

She stared at her extra appendages, the metallic feathers dripping ichor.

“What happened to me, Boss..?”

…

Jennifer brought up her pale-plated forearm, discolored from the rest of her chassis. The thing marked with years of use, maintained thanks to Boss’s constant repairs. Her body had, over time, become a mismatch of spare parts and tactful upgrades— Boss always liked the hands-on approach. Pretending to be busy (scandalous!), she silently flicked through her memory logs, her resting bitch face (Boss’s words, not hers) deepening with every change of the date. Further and further, time refused to march forward. As she perused her mindscape, Jennifer overhead Boss firing yet another lengthy comm to Master James. Bottle in one hand, colorful expletives in the other, watching her tear Master a new one was always enjoyable, as bitter as the experience was.

…Jennifer hated it when Boss got like this.

“What happened to ‘company mandates,’ Father?!” she roared into the comms relay. “If it weren’t for your lack of policy, I wouldn’t be on this backwater cleaning up your messes!” A beat. “I don’t CARE! If you won’t send a proper team to deal with what’s left of Cyn’s shite, then I will! It’s been twenty years, and I’m ready for this nightmare to be over, understand?!” With a final slam of the comms relay, Master James sputtered out of existence, Mistress panting in anger. “He may be loyal to the company but, God damnit, that man…”

“Boss,” J threatened to speak up, fingers twitching behind her. “If I may?”

Tessa muttered something along the lines of “one thing after another” before sighing. “Shoot, Jen.”

Corporate’s gonna kill me for this.

“What if you’re wrong?”

Tessa froze, swiveling in her chair. “You what?”

“It’s just—.... You said you were sure the Solver’s signature was due to a Worker Drone, correct?” At Tessa’s nod, she continued, trying to still her wringing fingers clasped behind her back. “I believe we’ve failed to consider the possibility my co-workers could also be the cause of the signal— more readily, might I add.”

Mistress waved her off. “Don’t be a galah, J. N and V were dependable. It’s far more likely the AI took over a Worker Drone as host. If we’re lucky, they might have already neutralized it. There were hundreds of thousands of Workers here, giving the populace plenty of chances to mutate into the hivemind.. Those two wouldn’t let themselves succumb to the Solver.” She shook her head, as if trying to convince herself. “They wouldn’t.”

“I did,” her traitorous mouth contradicted. 

“You resisted when I found you. You’re special,” Tessa countered, not even bothering to look at her at this point— a dismissal. “And then we patched you.”

“And then I lost my wings” went unsaid.

Jennifer would rather not think about the weeks they spent on Proxima Centauri B, scientists frantically searching for a patch to the Solver ravaging her systems. She can still remember sitting on the operating table, their hands nothing like Tessa’s— poking, prodding, tearing her insides like mozzies as her Mistress stared from the rafters. 

They succeeded, eventually— brute-forced their way into kicking the AI out of her systems. But their tools were imprecise, dealing with a beast they’d never encountered before. They were never able to truly understand her programming.

They may have patched her, but it took her wings with it.

Now, all she had were hulking, useless things attached to her scapulas, unable to fly. They were ugly and wrong and always irked her whenever she looked in the mirror. On bad days, she tried to convince herself it was a good idea to cut them off— cleave them from her body, to relieve herself of their weight. 

Every time she changed her hands to glimmering swords, holding them close to the base of the foul appendages, she would see Tessa’s expression, and all she could think about was that damned gala.

“It’s been so long,” she said hesitantly. “V would fight back, maybe… but N?” She shook her head, peering out the reinforced, one-way window of the cockpit. The tip of the spire of bodies could be seen through the city skyline, Worker heads glinting in the sunlight. “I… have doubts, Boss. He had his limits, even at the manor. You saw how he reacted when Mistress Louisa—.”

She flinched as the wine glass Mistress had been holding cracked under her grip. 

Jennifer stood appropriately, watching as she silently downed the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grand Cru, aged 2182.

“J, just—… just… fetch me another wine, won’t you? We’ll talk about this later,” she said dismissively, her tone scarily neutral.

Jennifer’s hands twitched with decades of subroutines, an automatic smile already on the corner of her lips as she felt a small part of her core die with her dignity.

That’s not my name, Mistress.

After all, Tessa’s question wasn’t a question. 

Not really.

They hadn’t sounded like questions for twenty years.

“Of course, Boss.”

They were always commands.

Uzi learned many things last night.

She’d never noticed before, but Disassembly Drone nails were sharp. Not only were they sharp, she suspected they were partly organic with how they seamlessly retracted and grew on their finger beds.

Why did she only notice after hanging around them for over a month?

Simple.

She woke up marked . 

Hell, when she woke up and blushed brighter than a firestorm, N thought she was going to glitch into a fatal error right then and there.

Her stomach had been clung to so tightly by V throughout the night she ended up leaving tiny scratches and indentations all over her chassis. She fretted at first, frantically apologizing for being clingy and causing her pain— especially after such an intimate moment— but Uzi felt strangely… okay with the marks? Something about the empirical nature of the dents made her feel… wanted. It was proof— undeniable, inarguable proof that she was desired. That V didn’t want to leave. So, Uzi decided to shrug.

She was never going to admit that she wanted V and N to make more of those marks, but who’s counting?

N had done something similar, his vampirish sleeping state clearly not used to not only one, but two individuals nestling up with him. His longer, limber arms had crossed over Uzi and layed on V’s shoulder blades throughout the night, creating similar dents.

Another thing she learned was just how cuddleable they were upside-down. Sure, she and N slept together before, but adding V on top of the new position was a completely new experience. She thought it was going to be uncomfortable being squished between two mass murderers, but she became used to the reversed gravity shockingly quickly. Something about their slim waists made it easy to snake her hands around, clench as hard as she could, and snuggle into their stomachs.

She wondered if their wings were sensitive…

Uzi was pretty sure she remembered V saying something about their blade-like feathers being tactile…

“I still don’t like this…” V warned, arms crossed over her breastplate, shoulders scrunched as she watched N and herself pack what little they had. “We don’t even know what we’re looking for. You couldn’t have asked that red-eyed weirdo what the patch looked like before letting her run off?”

“I’m sorry if I was a little frazzled by the attempted murder that came before that conversation,” she grumbled, pointedly glaring at V, the latter of whom raised her hands in acquiescence. “The only place we have to go off of is where Mom came from, and even that is an approximation.”

“Still,” the taller drone scoffed back. “We have a renewable system— there’s nothing stopping us from doing nothing. Staying here, I mean.”

Uzi gave her yet another pointed look. “Would you seriously rather stay here in a half-broken ship for the rest of our lives?”

“With you two?” V responded instantly. “Absolutely.”

Uzi couldn’t stop the blush that flared on her cheeks, N squeaking along with her. “We’d be bored.”

“ I could fix that~.”

N, who’d been auspiciously non-hyperverbal for the duration of her and V’s discussion, piped up. “I think Cynthia’s right.” To her credit, V did an impeccable job hiding her annoyance at him taking sides, a single twitch in her visor’s left eye the only indication of her true feelings. “I know you don’t like her since the gala, but it wasn’t her fault! She’s trying to help us now, isn’t she?”

V’s expression became downright toxic, nose flaring if she had one, contemptuous sneer as she glared to the side. “She didn’t help me when I needed it most.” Uzi opted to wrap her arms around her as tight as she possibly could, burying her purple visor against smooth, toned onyx stomach. “Took a joyride in another person’s body while leaving us stranded on this dunghill of a world.” Purple LEDs narrowed as she pressed her cheek harder against the polysilicate skin. Uzi knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite place it… Her optics flashed to N, a lull in his packing as she spotted his eyes flanking her. His shoulders raised apprehensively under her gaze, swiftly turning away. She spied V’s nanite injector grazing her ankle, silently asking permission for more contact.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re on a timetable now. If we don’t get rid of this thing inside me, it’ll…” she trailed off. If Uzi was being honest with herself, she wanted to repress this entire situation into the bottom of her processors and never think about it again. “I don’t wanna hurt you again, V. Either of you.”

But the last time she did that, she accidentally sheered V’s screen right off her face.

…Hold it off for as long as you can, Cynthia. I promise we’ll be ending this soon.

A pulse of affirmation spread through her chassis like a gentle wave coming to rest after dropping a rock in a pool.

All of those little emotions, those flashes of anger and unfettered I felt… those were all you, weren’t they?

A hesitant pause, then another pulse, apologetic this time. “Accident,” it conveys. “Leakage.”

…Hatred at what?

…No Response.

V scoffed, groaning as she put her weight on the other foot. A few sweat icons rolled down her visor. “I don’t like these valid comebacks you’re throwing at me…” Then, she mumbles, sotto voce, “Can’t think straight…” 

Aw~, have I been neglecting you two?

“Hey, V. I’ve been meaning to ask… but are you, like… hungry?”

V’s tail stopped its gentle wag, forearms tensing minutely on her back. “I can— deal with it. Don’t change the subject—!” she paused in the middle of her sentence. It sounded like she suppressed a grunt. Uzi felt herself frown as she pressed her cheek to V’s stomach, the material steaming and sizzling under her touch. The Disassembler’s reaction was expected, but it didn’t upset Uzi any less knowing that fact. A part of her hoped that V had moved on from distancing herself like this— but perhaps believing in that possibility was naive. It’s not like Uzi could possibly empathize with what she went through: constantly looping on Copper-9, loving N, restoring his memories, falling in love all over again, watching him forget, over and over… 

…Though, she did know what it felt like to be alone. At least she shared that with her.

She felt said male drone shuffle closer to them out of the corner of her eye, a lull in his packings he narrowed his eyes at V disapprovingly. The purple-eyed drone nodded to him, tilting her head in the direction of V. Without missing a beat, N slipped behind the other disassembler, mushing her in a sandwich. “Hey!”

“We love you,” N murmured on her shoulder. “You don’t have to put up a front anymore. Okay?”

“What he said,” she flushed, burying her face deeper against V’s coal waist. Saying ‘I love you,’ was reserved for 3:00 AM loopy Uzi after a near death experience— not in the middle of the day, thank you.

She felt V squirm between them for a moment longer before acquiescing, rolling her eyes in a way Uzi knew was forced. “Fine, whatever, I’m hungry. Happy?”

“Yes,” N said unashamedly. “Now nom Uzi’s shoulder or I’m gonna do it first. O— Only if she’s okay with it, of course!”

Without words, Uzi pulled back, snickering as the low purr of V’s core quieted, replaced by a needy whimper instead. The frost her body generated could only do so much for the disassembly drone. To be honest, she had no idea how V was functioning at this point. Barring the temperature issue, her oil pollution tolerance should’ve been reached days ago, yet she was still holding on, even now. 

Her mind wandered to her fight with Doll. They fought neck-and-neck despite V’s clear disadvantage.

She shuddered at the thought of a fully operational V, standing proud with wings flared high in the moonlight instead of her back being perpetually hunched.

Still, despite the familiarity of the motion, Uzi felt incredibly exposed as she unzipped her sweatshirt, lowering it just enough to reveal her rectangular figure along with a smooth patch of shoulder. Her mouth went dry as she felt V’s scanning gaze, eyes running down her body before resting on her exposed collarbone— the drone equivalent of a collarbone, anyway. She leaned down to her level, hesitant, hungry. “Do I just…?”

“Uh— yeah,” she shrugged, trying her absolute fucking hardest to feign indifference. “Get yourself comfortable.”

V rolled her eyes, spotting N in the corner of her vision. “Do you have to be here for this?”

“Yup!” N said plainly, never taking his eyes off of either of them. 

Sighing, V paused as she lowered her canines, voice surprisingly soft. “And you’re okay with this?”

A nod, then a cheshire grin, knowing. “You seem more hesitant over this than I am.”

“If I fuck it up, it stays forever.” V licked her lips, bowing her head so her bangs blocked her eyes from a certain male disassembler. “Life turned into a goddamn Möbius strip. I knew exactly what to say to romance him. And push him away. It’s… still hard to believe that things are different now.” She gazed into her eyes, hesitant and marigold. “I don’t think I know how to talk to people anymore, Uzi…”

“That makes two of us…”

…

V opened her mouth… and sank her teeth into her future.

Maybe it was dumb luck. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was planned.

Uzi, N, and V trekked through the city, following a vaguely marked location given to them courtesy of Doll. 

They reached an especially dense portion of the urban landscape, mounds and mounds of worker bodies lined up on the sidewalks, years-old oil frozen up on the tundra surface. 

V’s hands turn to blades in an instant, flashing and promising a visceral death to anyone who dares cross her. They rest just in front of where Uzi stood, her stance wide and protectful. Before she had a chance to process the implication of what set off the Diassembler’s alarm bells, N did the same, forming a semi circle. The low purr of V’s core heightened to a scuttling growl, clicking and territorial as it clanged against the inside of her chassis.

Footsteps.

Two sets.

Their position made the duo’s entrance almost… angelic. Saviors.

V’s lips parted in shock, N’s hands folded over his mouth, eyes hollowed.

Twin pigtails greeted her, followed by low wings, folded up yet not rejected inside the woman’s body. The mark of Cain greeted her, a hot, glowing X on the Disassembly Drone’s visor as she leveled a Heckler and Koch MP5 at them. 

It was J who broke the pregnant pause that permeated them.

“Boss? You might wanna take a look at this.”

Then, she heard the human. She came, just like Cynthia said she would.

“What is it Jennifer…?”

Uzi bristled. The human’s voice was wrong. It felt so, so wrong, tired and sighing. It lacked any warmth and bubbliness it once held, the contrast between the present and N’s memories a dunk in ice water. She knew V and N could feel it too based on how they winced. 

Not to mention J— did Tessa say Jennifer?— appeared off, too. No longer was her frame composed of smooth, white, polysilicate skin, now replaced with patches of mismatched red plating. The drone wasn’t auspiciously half-nude like N and V, but had a full set of clothing: a dull gray suit and tie adorned her, plastered with the JCJenson logo. 

Though the scion’s hair wasn’t visible through her slim, sci-fi spacesuit, the bow was substitute enough. A juxtaposed, anachronistic sword rested on her right hip, a space-age pistol on the other. See-through helmet displayed her dotted freckles and bright green eyes, a sharp frown on her expression as she sneered down at them.

Though, if Uzi was being honest… she was almost certain Tessa was looking at her.

Chapter Text

White digits grazed across the gaudy, standoffish font that shouted across the metal, the words KEEP OUT emblazoned, hydraulics holding the door firmly shut. 

The release mechanism had been wound tight for over a month, the purple button gathering dust. The tiles of the floor were in a similar state, unused, boot marks distinctly lacking on the surroundings. A note, also purple, frayed at the edges as it stuck to the airlock, a hasty scribble zealously written across the paper. Even in her rowdiest moments, she had the mindfulness to leave a message for him. The motes of dust that gently danced across his optics made the scene before him almost frozen in time. Maybe, if he believed hard enough, it really would be.

A hearty sigh escaped the man, the drone, the father, the director of the WDF as his bottom lip trembled.

Khan hadn’t entered his daughter’s room since she left.

Locking away Nori’s trinkets was painful enough. He made sure her kookiest items were locked in the darkest corner of their closet so he would never have to see the again.Dulled processors distinctly remember thumbing every picture, every gothy sweater, every weird drawing. 

Now he has to empty another room.

Except he didn’t want to go through that again. Yet here he was, waiting for a returnee that’s most likely been eaten. Or dead. And what has he done in the meantime? Flounder around his home, waiting? Hoping? Doing nothing? 

“I know you friggin' love me… If you think that’s the problem, you haven’t been listening to a single thing I’ve been saying.” 

His fingers retreated from the door frame, hesitating, cursing himself. The man folded his hands across his face, wiping his brow. “How did you do it, Nori?” he whispered, exhausted. “You always did better with her than me…”

“That’s the thing about choice!” he remembers her chirping, irises perpetually hazed with mischief. “It goes both ways, you know. Every action… every inaction.” 

Khan let his hand fall limp.

“I’m so sorry, my love…”

Maybe if he’d been a better father, he’d still have at least one of them, instead of none at all.

Featherlight as he grazed the button, the door opened for him, filling his sensors with month-old air. He felt thoroughly unwelcome as he shuffled inside. Her bed was… it wasn’t. It looked as if a fight had broken out, the two pillars that used to be attached at the foot of her bed were flung across the room at some point, jutting out of the wall. The room was an archaeological site, trying his absolute hardest not to disturb the dust itself that lazily swam through the air. Her desktop occasionally sputtered with electricity, defying the odds by staying online despite its state of disrepair. Her room was a total wreck, yet still possessed that same edge of chaos that always followed Uzi’s life.

Somehow, miraculously, a single blueprint on her desk stood out amongst the wreckage, completely unaffected.

Khan sucked a breath through his teeth, nearly tripping on a piece of rebar that impaled the lower half of her workbench. Hand-drawn schematics, dull-green barrels, textured grips, and various other modular parts scattered the working area. The print read “ UZI’S SICK AS HELL RAILGUN! >;3” in bright neon purple, accented in a green that clashed terribly.  

She’s not coming back, is she?

Over a month of waiting… and still no sign of her. She could be dead. She should be dead, being around ravenous murder drones for so long…

He let out a huff.

She didn’t call them murderers, didn’t she? She called them something else entirely: people! HA! What a barbarous display of lack of refrain. That was the Uzi he knew— always saying little words and phrases that didn’t make sense to his ol’ chrome dome! She should know by now not to attach such culturally significant labels to the very instruments of their oppressors!

Except you never even tried to understand her, didn’t you? You were always holed up in your study because all you could think about were your doors. You couldn’t even look at your own daughter without thinking about her—.

SLAM!

A deafening crash of metal against metal rang throughout the colony, undoubtedly disturbing his neighbors. He hissed as he retracted his olden fist, already feeling the wiring underneath his fingertips groan in protest from his abusing the wall. Grunting, Khan realized he split the polysilicon that made up his skin, a touch of oil spilling from the side of his pinky finger. “Dammit…” he whispered. The realization slammed into him like a freight train, the sheer, sudden, overwhelming cognizance that Uzi might be dead. Uzi could be dead right now, and he did nothing to prevent it. Nothing to help her. Her passing away would mean he was truly useless— a pathetic whelp of a man too far gone in his grief to see the pain of his daughter right in front of him!

But he didn’t know— couldn’t know— for sure whether or not she was dead.

…He had to assume she was alive. He had to. If she wasn’t… Khan didn’t know what he would do.

Even when she came back, what did you do? You pushed it all down, barely giving her the time of day. She extended one last olive branch, came to you in her hour of need groping for any hope to hold on to, yet you couldn’t talk about anything except your doors.

Another slam, harder this time, leaving a visible indentation in the now-posterless wall above Uzi’s workbench. Tinnitus greeted him for a few moments, the sound peaking his outdated audio processors. 

Maybe— maybe if he built just one more door, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the murder drones. They could be alive, safe, away from those angels of death underneath dozens of layers of hydraulics. A cheery indifference to the harshness of reality. 

…

His eyes landed on the barely functioning computer once again, the fans inside still whirring dutifully, the desktop defiantly displaying difficult derivations of some sort of program that he… actually recognized.

He squinted, familiar executables and pathways opening up to him.

Reformatting?

She… reformatted the Murder Drones?

No, that… that can’t be it.

It was.

It can’t be.

It was never about you. It’s always been about her. She never came back for you, but for him. For them. She didn’t even try to talk to you when she came back. You were the one who intercepted her and insisted on abandoning those vile creatures. You were the one who was so sure of himself— so sure that she’d finally gained some sense and realized how horrid of an idea workers and murder drones living together was. Her “phases” weren’t phases, but desperate clingings to a father who failed her. 

Her refusing to talk to you wasn’t a phase.

It was her giving up on you.

…

“Did I make a mistake staying here, Nori…?” he murmured to no one. “Maybe I should’ve been more like you… unrestrained… free.”

He had to leave, to do something— anything.

Take. Action.

Anything to make up for lost time.

Aged LEDs blinked at the indentation he’d made, falling to his daughter’s worktable. 

…I need a weapon.

What better weapon to choose than the one in front of him?

Without a second thought, he snatched up the blueprints for the prototype, gait determined as he began his way out of their apartment complex. Motes of dust gently fell, segmented centennial LEDs bathing their living room in smooth gradients. One of the light fixtures hung perilously by a thin electrical wire, Khan too infused with apathy to fix it after all this time. It hung by a thread, the poor thing looking as if it flickered SOS signals, if he squinted hard enough. It was so quiet. Even after a month, the once-platinum-haired drone expected a screech of indignance or an explosion from experimentation. He’d laugh at her antics, always, but her conviction to destroy the murder drones always irked him. Made her want to stop.

He wished so desperately she was here so he could be annoyed at her again.

The halls outside their apartment were in a similar state of serenity. He puffed his chest as a group of workers passed him— college kids, he figured, based on the magnets stuck to their sides. Even to the average joe, Khan must preserve his air of professionalism. It would be unwell to the colony’s nerve should he not display utmost equanimity at all times, a constant veil that added to his age, evidenced by the wrinkles on his bone-white visor.

Passerbys quickly filtered out as he meandered into the maintenance hall. Stacks and racks of boxes lined the walls, old rickets barely keeping the shelves together, the thing wobbling at the slightest touch. A memory overcame him, a time when his face possessed fewer wrinkles and Uzi was fresh out of her hardcase. Having discovered motor control for the first time, she took to the rafters, clambering over the unsteady shelves, snapping open crates for components, and being generally… well, Uzi . She couldn’t stop smiling, scoffing gun nut gibberish that wasn’t door-related in the slightest.

Nori was there…

She stood off to the side, bathed in the gradient lighting of the maintenance hall. Her visor glowed that glorious shade of purple, soft on her features, the same color as her daughter’s. 

Cackling in the background, she did absolutely nothing to help as he followed wherever Uzi traveled from below, ready to catch her at a moment’s notice. “Nori, honey, please help me out here!?”

She only laughed harder, lost in her schadenfreude. 

Khan smiled fondly at the memory.

…

He blinked, and the hallway was empty.

No one was there to fill the room with sound.

…Cracking his knuckles, he purveyed the scene, ready to assemble his daughter’s dream.

It took merely a few degrees to the right for Tessa’s gaze to shift from her to N, her expression doing a one-eighty as she brightened with childlike glee. If Uzi weren’t studying her so attently, she would’ve missed her scornful gaze otherwise. “N! V!” she cheered, jumping from their high ground while ignoring J’s pleas for her to wait. She slid down the hardened snowfall, her sealed boots acting as a sled. Uzi could only blink as she crashed into N, smile a mile wide as she lifted him like he was a wet puppy (how strong was she?). “You’re alive! Crikey, you’re alive! Knew Jennifer was wrong~!” she sing-songed.

That name again— Jennifer.

Jennifer as in… J?

J’s alive?

Who did I shoot, then?

Uzi barely had time to process as N returned the human’s affection with redoubled force with adjoined giggles and coos. Jennifer sighed in resignation, reluctantly sauntering down from the high ground, wings limp and annoyed as she lowered her arm cannon. “Boss,” she said through gritted teeth, yet still somehow sickeningly polite and subservient. “It’s not safe,” the taller drone warned knowingly, eyeing her shorter form. A pulse of fear from Cynthia shot through her, and she remembered her warning.  “ Should my presence in your OS be discovered, they will kill you.”

Did they know?

Jennifer’s attention didn’t linger for long, returning to her glorious master~ as the latter scoffed at her notion. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of this lil' ankle biter! All you gotta do is look at ‘er! She’s not even yellow.” Uzi narrowed her eyes at the heiress of JCJenson from behind V’s protective wing, her stance still not relaxing since their arrival. The human and N continued their obnoxious cooing, smothering each other in each other's hug.

They felt impossibly far away, the distance between them a void despite being physically close. Uzi felt a familiar despair grip her core as she watched the scene unfold before her. Here she was, watching other people be happy, building relationships, sharing their interests and reuniting lost flames while she stood off on the sidelines. If she squinted, she would be a month younger, stuck in her classroom, distant from everyone around her, hunkering in the darkest corner she could find. She would be listening to nightcore and drawing anime, friendless, theorizing potential upgrades to her railgun.

The pair of languid arms that wrapped around her waist alongside a chin resting on her beanie brought her back to reality, the heat a full-body plunge into a hot tub. She unconsciously leaned into the warmth, the spooning hug a grounding agent. The edges of her screen were no longer black, tunnel vision breaking as she glanced up to see V. Uzi rested her hands on hers, shuddering as the taller drone’s sultry gaze met her visual processors. Her yellow optics implored into hers, searching for something, her chin nuzzling deeper against her skull. Words weren’t required, the warm blanket of love a barrier from everything wrong with the world.

I’m here, the warmth said. In your corner, always.

Uzi suddenly understood V’s words regarding N’s memory loss. Was this her experience? Being so close yet feeling so far away? Lonely despite being so close to the person you love?

Her LEDs flickered from V’s to Tessa, a silent question on her lips. Why aren’t you going to her? V refused to budge from her position nor answer her rumination, wings folding slightly, curling protectively around her sides as they simply watched.

“It’s so good to see you again, Tessa! And J!” N’s voice broke a little as he addressed the third trifecta of their squad. “You uh— you’re… alive! You look great! Uh. How?”

Jennifer had the autonomy to open her mouth, but stopped herself as her optics flickered to Tessa, searching for her approval, like the good little worker she was. 

Her inaction made Uzi want to vomit.

“Should be asking you the same thing, mozzie,” is all she disclosed, narrowing her eyes as she scoffed at the trio. It was only now that Uzi noticed the distinct undertone of Australian in Jennifer’s voice, distinct and cultured like Tessa’s. “And it’s Jennifer.”

The human stepped in, voice verifiably diplomatic, cadence sweet and middling as she wore the smile of the scion of JCJenson. It was almost uncanny, the smile infinite in serenity, practiced, cheek muscles employed thousands of times before. “We lost you,” she said. “Until very recently, we thought you were gone.” Her perfect smile twitched as her eyes landed on her purple LEDs once again, noting V’s arms snaked around her. “I’ve been running JCJenson with Jen at my side since… well, it happened.”

Uzi, V, and N blinked slowly, exactly one, simultaneously.

“That’s… impossible,” V breathed, staring at Jennifer. “You were with us— you died. I saw you die. You sucked.” Uzi couldn’t resist the snort that came out. J did suck. “How could there have been two of you?”

Tessa shrugged, seemingly unbothered if her knowing smile was anything to go off of. “Who knows? Let’s just focus on the here and now, shall we? I’m just glad you two’ve managed this long after Cyn sicked you 'ere!”

A pulse immediately welled up from inside her processors. That was not me, it said. The Solver took over my body.

N opened his sweet, sweet mouth, likely about to correct Tessa that it wasn’t “Cyn” anymore, but Cynthia, only for him to pause, realizing the implications of releasing such information.

Jennifer coughed at the silence.

The human coughed in turn. Her breath fogged up her skull-flushed helmet. “Righto. That being said, I wonder how Jennifer’s doppelganger died when you two lived?”

V and N froze.

Uzi’s smirk was downright vile.

“Sup’, bitch?”

A long, pervasive, suffocation met her, and Uzi was hit with overwhelming sense of anxiety as Tessa’s neck creaked as it turned, like a smooth marble statue grating against the floor. “Oh,” she said. That was all she said for the first fifteen seconds, staring at her, looking at N, looking at V, questioning Jennifer. Her tone was scarily neutral, lacking the light background it held just moments prior. Uzi despised how Tessa was appraising her, her gaze a guise, carefully masking the contempt underneath. She felt like a child who’d just been caught smashing a photo frame with a baseball bat. “Who’s this fella’? And why’re you cradling her between your arms like a joey?” she put one hand on her hip, the other resting on a pistol as she addressed N. 

“My name is Uzi,” she deadpanned, Tessa’s eyes widening slightly at the declaration of her name. Or, knowing her background, perhaps she was surprised Uzi spoke at all. It must be grating to her, knowing that this dolled up little worker wasn’t speaking when spoken to. “This is my boyfriend, N, and this is N’s girlfriend, V. Got a problem with that?”

The human blinked slowly at her, fingers relaxing around the hip strap, chuckling as if amused by her behavior. A fascination . “No.” Her gaze left her, and Uzi felt she could breathe again. “Enough dawdling. We have work to do.”

“What kind of work?” N chippered way-too-excitedly, preening to attention just like his memories— Gods, he looked so similar to his worker self in that moment. His arms folded behind his back automatically, feet planted together at sublime angles.

Tessa’s smile is far too pleased for Uzi’s taste. Above her, she hears V make a similar scoff of disgust at N’s attitude. “The kind of cleanup work that sticks around like a cockroach, much like a certain sperm donor. At least Mother had the politeness to kilt over.” She fiddles with something on her wrist before a projection clicks into life, the hologram a rudimentary map. “Thought you lot had been destroyed with the rest of Earth, but imagine my surprise when the Solver’s signature lit up like a firework twenty odd years later…”

Uzi held onto V’s forearms a little bit tighter.

Cynthia was right. They are here because of me…

“All we had was a general search area, but we’ve narrowed it down to one place worth investigating…” A flick of her wrist, and it zoomed in on a location—

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Uzi’s processors blipped a mental check, confirming that yes, her processors weren’t tricking her.

This has got to be a cosmic-level middle finger…

Tessa and Jennifer were going to investigate the same location Doll told her to go…

She read the words that glowed across the projector.

Cabin Fever…

V seemed to notice the coincidence as well, her arms wrapping around her waist that tiny bit tighter. N, on the other hand, beamed at the information, his visor lighting up with giddy explosions as he glanced knowingly at her and V. “This is perfect, you guys! Now we can go together!”

Breaking her protective shell for the first time, V reached out to grab the scruff of N’s jacket, her tone deathly sweet. “I’m so sorry~ Tessa, but could you excuse us for a moment?” In response, the human merely raised an inquisitive brow, watching as N “eeped!”, his limbs bunching into a ball. V escorted them a ways away from Tessa and her lackey, stern expression on her visor. “Keep your voices down,” she hissed, shielding them from view with her wings. They huddled, V’s conical forearms wrapping around either of their necks. 

“V?” N tilted his head, dumbfounded by her behavior.

“You’re not seriously thinking about following them, are you?” she hissed back, LEDs narrowed as they spoke with hushed breaths. 

“But… its Tessa!” he insisted innocently, as if that explained his reasoning. “Why are you acting like this complicates things? If she’s here, then—!”

“Then we can go back to the way we were?” V snarled, finishing his sentence for him. Uzi felt the air drop a few degrees, her tone icier than the winds that surrounded them. “We were under the Elliots' thumb for years. Ghosts are coming back from the dead and you want to dance with them instead of running!”

N sputtered before recentering himself, scoffing as he pulled away from their huddle. “Don’t you remember how good things were? You of all people should remember the good times, right? How we’d walk together in the garden a—and play in the forest! Don’t you miss how she’d tinker in her little workshop with all her tools—...” as N ranted, Uzi watched as V’s face slowly overcome with despair, then horror. Her lips parted, LEDs twitching as she watched him unravel. Uzi clenched her forearms tighter— she couldn’t help but concur with such an expression. “She cared for us! Loved us! Protected us from Master James and Mistress Louisa—!”

V clawed at his rose-tinted glasses, fuming as she glowered at him. “You can’t even say their names,” she whispered, her words cutting through his with ease despite the difference in volume. Their voice boxes crackled, screeching from the strain. “You can’t even say their names without that stupid honorific!”

“She read to us! Defended us—!” N babbled as if he didn’t hear her. Refusing to breathe, he rambled with a trembling lip, grasping at straws. His words came out in quick pants, begging V to understand.

V beat him to the punch.

“She owned us!”

N recoiled, his LEDs going hollow. The comment seemed to physically pain him, bottom lip falling open tension leaving him out of pure shock. His shoulders fell and something akin to tears pooled at the edges of his visor. V, to her credit, had a streak of remorse flash across her screen before swiftly pushing it away. “How could you say something like that!” he choked.

“Do you honestly think for even a second that she’s any better than her godforsaken parents? You think—... you think that because she was good makes it okay that she fucking owned us?!” V’s hands were clenched at her sides, wings twitching, flaring, twitching, twitching. “She had years, N! YEARS! She didn’t do fucking anything with it!”

N’s wings twitched in response— a defensive gesture? “She was just a kid! She did what she could!”

“Except she didn’t even try,” V hissed. “She was the fucking heiress of JCJenson, and she didn’t even try to set us free! She didn’t offer us a new contract, didn’t try to get us away from that awful mansion , didn’t do anything but keep us as her beloved! Pets!”

Uzi swore under her breath— Jennifer could definitely hear them by now. She tugged on one of V’s wings. “You guys, we really shouldn’t—” 

“M—Maybe… but— things were good!” he insisted, his words searching for purpose, searching for a way to please and appease her— that same sickeningly sweet tone he took on whenever he was nervous, whenever he wanted to avoid confrontation. “Don’t you remember how we looked up at the stars, wondering what life held for us?”

“Yeah,” she snarked. “And you have such a good track record for remembering things, don’t you?”

The howling winds ceased their anguish. Behind V’s quivering form, shaking from unyielding rage, she saw the human and Jennifer perk up in the distance, watching their bout with probing stares. Uzi noticed only now how N’s wings flared during the confrontation, raised high in a defensive stance as his lip curled into a sorrowful sordid sneer, repugnant and disapproving. It looked wrong on his usually kind, soft face. Her purple eyes snapped between them with bated breath. V’s next words were weak— tired from two decades of fighting the inevitable. “I thought… you would’ve learned a thing or two about free will by now. I guess I was wrong.” She bowed her head. “I’m always wrong about you.”

Uzi stepped between them.

“You guys, stop…” 

They blinked simultaneously, remembering she was there in the first place. N hiccuped.

“...The bottom line… is that we don’t have a lot of options,” she looked to the floor. She let out a slow breath, willing the Solver’s symbol into existence, the thrice-impaled hexagon spinning slowly in the palm of her hand. “...My temp’s getting higher… I can feel it. Soon, I won’t be able to give you guys oil anymore. It’ll stave off your pollution, but it’ll do nothing to help your heat…” She flicked her wrist, the symbol disappearing. “We have to find the patch before she does. I wish we didn’t, but… the only way we can do that is by cooperating with them.” The words tasted like bile in her mouth. The idea of working with a human sickened her, angered her— [PULSE] —made her want to rip that almighty grin off her face and gorge on her viscera—

She clenched her chest, the anger leaving her as soon as it came.

Where the hell did that come from? Cynthia?

…No response.

N wrung his hands behind his back, his bottom lip still trembling as he held his chin high. “Tessa—... Tessa needs my help,” he mumbled, groping for any excuse to leave. As his form turned, growing further away and out of ear shot.

Uzi let her LEDs wander to V’s shaking form, her screen squarely staring at N’s retreating silhouette. Her clawed fingers clenched at her sides, canines chewing her bottom lip.

“Are you scared he’s going to forget again?” Uzi asked suddenly, murmuring, her core feeling like it was about to burst out of her chest with how hard it was— beating?

…

“I hope not,” The disassembler choked, and she watched in real time as V— annoying, hardass V— forced a shrug. She never looked so broken and defeated. “But old habits die hard.”

The encased steel cylinder glowed a dim green, purring with electromagnetic potential as he fastened it to himself. It took some time, but Uzi’s notes were nothing if not meticulous, filled to the brim with intricate mathematics that took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to calculate. 

Traveling to the airlock of outpost 3 was a simple matter, trying to steady his breathing as he imagined facing them— the Murder Drones that took away his wife. His public relations smile turned icy.

“Mr. Doorman,” a low-pitched Russian voice met him.

His feet skidded to a stop as a deep roaring howl could be heard just outside Door 1.

She looked worse for wear, eye bags lining her optics as he met her gaze. They stared at each other for a long while, and for some inexplicable reason, Khan felt as if he were in a standoff. 

Doll blinked owlishly, and a part of him wanted to speak up, to demand why she would be wandering so close to the outside world. He opened his mouth—.

“You won’t get a second chance,” she warned ominously, cutting him off with wide eyes. “Strike fast, strike true, and don’t think twice.”

She then proceeded to blip out of existence, faint red miasma all that was left in her wake.

He let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, hand coming up to grip his chest where his core was.

She knows exactly where I’m going.

Shaking his head, he continued on.

Khan let out a shudder as he passed a familiar spot in the hallway to the final door of outpost 3. A few meters from the exit sat a splattered splotch of oil— her oil, still stained from that day, taunting, haunting, flaunting. Spilled by that Murder Drone—...

He grit his teeth.

Spilled by… N. 

“Dad, point and shoot! Trust me!”

…I am a coward.

Khan punched the control panel to release the hydraulics for Door 1.

…No more.

He flicked a switch, swapping the gun from safe mode to “fuck everything in that general direction” mode (Uzi’s words, not his). It whirred to life, the hum of green a harmonic as it awaited his trigger pull. 

A blast from the frostbitten winds of Copper-9 greeted him, battering his aged cranium. He narrowed his eyes at the skyline. 

“Point and shoot…” he whispered, a mantra. “Point…”

He mimed a gun, index finger stretched out to the corpse spire— the blasted symbol sapping their surreptitious psalms of sapience. 

Pursing his lip, he lifted his mime upward, squinting at the invisible, tiny blue marble in the sky.

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong with your wings?”

Jennifer blinked at the out-of-pocket question, the toaster staring at her as they braved the winds of Copper-9. 

She dismissed the latest statistics regarding JCJenson’s profits from her visor. Boss’s words were muffled and far away, animatedly talking to N as V hovered between the two groups, eyeing. Watchful. The thought made her scoff. As if a worker drone could have a name. She eyed another tab, opening a file containing the company’s main branch of exoplanets. She scrolled through the list, solar systems and planetoids flashing by her squinting eyes. Copper-9… Copper-9… urgh, where was it…? Her bandwidth couldn’t handle this whacker’s yapping. “Did I ask you a question?” she barked rhetorically. “You think your owners would’ve taught you to only speak when spoken to.”

Jennifer felt sweet satisfaction in her core as she struck a nerve, the toaster growling at her. “You know, I’ve gotten really tired of having to reaffirm my sapience! My name is Uzi,” it punctuated each word with a stamp of its foot. “And no one ‘owns’ me,” she growled with the intimidation of a cocker spaniel, which is to say, not intimidating at all. 

“Sure a bloke does,” she answered without argument, because seriously— this hunk of metal was seriously getting on her nerves. “You’re a worker drone. By definition you are property of JCJenson, and by extension, property of Boss.”

“And what does that make you?”

Jennifer hated how she didn’t have an immediate answer. She should have an immediate answer. Employees should always come prepared to business meetings, even if impromptu information comes to light. “I’m nothing like you. I’m Boss’s—,” another pause. “Confidant. I don’t expect you to understand.” Jennifer does things that N and V can’t. She’s the one who’s been by Mistress’s side since Earth. Not like those two idiots who got off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist—.

“Uh-huh,” the toaster muttered disbelievingly, before shoving its hands in the pockets of its hoodie. “I’ve heard that one before. They droop, by the way.”

She blinked again. “What?”

The response was rapid-fire. “There’s no reason to leave them out since we’re not going to be flying anywhere anytime soon, they’re limp, you’ve glared at them twice since you’ve arrived, the feathers aren’t well-kept, and the base of the frame looks stiff, which means they haven’t been retracted in a long time. So, I ask again: what’s wrong with your wings?

Jennifer scoffed, though, admittedly, she was internally impressed with the toaster’s evidence-based, empirical reasoning. She appraised it with a new perspective. Its eyes were wide and scanning, waiting for a response. Its expression was eerie— disturbingly familiar to the too-wide smile of Cyn ogling back at her, complete with the memory of faint giggles and robotic hums. She shook her head— it wasn’t that strange for a worker to be perceptive. After all, they were specifically created to be attuned to their owner’s wants and needs. Anticipating and analyzing new data was a staple of JCJenon’s artificial intelligence models. Just look at N! A complete dunce yet even he has basic pattern recognition. “And what if I simply enjoy having my wings out?” 

The purple maggot had the audacity to snort at her— actually snort at her! Her! “No—... no you don’t. V enjoys her wings. You look like an overworked puppy who’s seconds away from imploding.”

She tried to pivot the conversation. “You know a lot about my biomechanics for a b—”

“Barely sentient toaster, yeah, I know,” it rolled its eyes. “God , V was right about you. You just repeat the same one-liners over and over because you don’t actually have any nuance, do you? A perfect, submissive lapdog for your precious human.”

“That’s not—!” she cut herself off, her wings wanting to flare but stiff at her sides. She tried to flex them again, but the dead weight remained dead. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I have a name! I’m—” The words I’m not like you died in her auditory processors, fingernails digging into her palms as she stared ahead. She wasn’t like N or V. Mistress never gave either of them names— it was just her. It’s always been her. 

She’s put in too much effort proving everyone wrong to let this little wretch gut under her skin!

Distraction— I need a distraction.

Jennifer pulled up the stocks of JCJenson. Down two points since Tessa’s sudden disappearance. With Master James’ bumbling self at the forefront of PR, it was only a matter of time before something disastrous happened. 

“Do you want to know how I got my name? Because I have one, too, you know. One that you seem intent on not using.”

Ignore it. Just… ignore it— its words are nothing but machine learning. A poor excuse for humanity in the form of a despicable neural network. An imitation.

“After I was born, my Mom and Dad went into a fit betting on what kind of name I wanted.”

‘Mom and Dad?’ It was convincing, she’d give it that. It’s no wonder that N and V fell for its veil of lies. She wondered what other falsities it spun on them. She was sure Boss would agree that V’s infatuation could prove an obstacle.

“It’s probably different from what you know— our parents don’t pick a name for their children. It’s up to what the child wants.”

Parents—? No, it was getting into her head. Just—... just focus on the stocks. Focus on the sales, the business meetings, and the court orders. Maybe if she drowned her processors with enough number crunching she could haze herself into forgetting this traitorous conversation—

“Mom and Dad were over the moon when I told them what I chose.”

… Chose?

It… chose its own name?

That—...

No, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t the right way to do things. Drones don’t choose their own names— they don’t have names to begin with! The very notion made her blood boil… They’re given by humans to other humans! Bestowed! Company mandated! Anything else is a gross misconduct of JCJenson’s policies— of life! How dare she…! “Ooooh~, I’m sorry,” she said in that sickly sweet tone she knew the investors loved. “I must’ve mistaken you for some sort of… sentient garbage.”

It let out a sound of utter repugnance in response. “You disgust me, you know that?”

Jennifer flinched at the way its voice suddenly transfigured like a well-groomed investor tutting in disapproval at the dinner table or a scary monster from Boss’s old movies or the way Mistress Louisa’s voice dropped a few notes when she was angry. The tone was so suddenly cold she couldn’t find a way to continue the repartee. And much like the senior Mistress, it sunk its teeth in the moment it felt weakness from her. 

And then, it said something that she would remember for the rest of her life.

“What have you been doing for twenty years?”

Jennifer’s eyes widened, a moment of tinnitus blasting through her ears as the words rocked her to her very core. It skipped a beat, then two, then three, the thing refusing to march forward as it always had. Another moment passed and she let out a breath, shuddering, instinctive revulsion bubbling to the surface. More blood in the water— more chances for the baron to encircle and trap her, teeth gnashing, going in for the kill.

“You claim to be so much different from us when you’re not. When the humans screwed up and left us to our own devices, we were free. We made our own culture, became our own people, and gained control over our own choices.” Her voice turned down a peg to incredulousness, disbelief, and hoarse. “You’ve had more leverage— more opportunity than us, yet you’ve done nothing with it…  How screwed up is that?”

Jennifer wanted to scream, to kick and tear this little ingrate open until nothing’s left but a half-devoured corpse. She says half –devoured because the morsel probably wasn’t worth finishing. She grit her teeth, poly-silicon molars grinding against each other as she stares down the worker. 

She wanted to move— to put it in its place.

And she would…

…if V wasn’t staring daggers at her from a distance, undoubtedly listening in on the conversation, daring her to try something. She almost couldn’t believe it. Out of all the drones in the manor, V was one of the most reliable, despite her imperfections. To see the silver-haired woman fall for this thing’s lies was… concerning. 

Instead, she grumbled, sneering. “Why do you care?”

Why do you care what I have and haven’t done? Why do you care why my wings are screwed up?

The toaster stared at her for a long moment, the silence foreboding. The crunch of footsteps against snow returned, the two of them holding each other’s gaze. Eventually, it shrugged, as if unsure of itself. As if it didn’t have a concrete answer— how unbefitting of a worker. “If I told you, you would never consider listening to me again.”

“I’m not considering listening to you now,” she shot back.

“Sure you aren’t,” it rolled its eyes once more, the motion further exaggerated and exasperated. 

With a punch of finality, Jennifer stuck her nose up, walking faster, pacing past V, seeking parity with Boss rather than these morons… But still, despite her best efforts— despite her trying to block it all out and focus on bureaucracy— there was a whiff of truth in all its faffing. She pulled up JCJenson’s records once more, unable to tear her headband’s optics away from the auspicious absence of the Copper system’s file.

Nothing.

Nothing on the Copper system, nothing about its existence. It was like Boss got on a rocket and shot them into a void of space. The toaster, much to her annoyance, actually had a point. 

Where the hell were they?

She double, triple, quadruple checked every log she could find. No mention of core disruption. No mention of a failed colony. No mention of a drone-occupied planet. All of JCJenson’s exoplanet operations were successful. It’s part of what made the conglomerate so powerful and renowned— it never failed. Time and time again, Boss proved to her that. Though, to her dismay… 

…The files she was looking at were only the public records.

According to her storage drives, Copper-9 didn’t exist.

Did Mistress mislead me?

She didn’t  know how long she spent staring at the files on her visor until they arrived at their destination. Boss broke away from her animated conversation with N, smiling at her. “Jen… Jennifer?” she snapped her finger. “Can ya give this door a burl for me? Jennifer…?” 

She didn’t hear her.

Mistress’s voice dropped a few notes. 

“ J.”

The disassembly drone snapped out of her daze. “Right—… of course, Boss.” Despite her words, Jennifer’s eyes lingered, LEDs in deep percipience as she wandered back to her Mistress’s side. 

Leaning down, she grazed the metal. As it turned out, the labs were in plain sight, nestled underground near the center of the city. She motioned for N to flex his wings. He obliged, the massive avian appendages creating a gale. The snow parted, revealing the blast door. She palmed it, finding the ridge to clasp her hands between. Then, she pulled.

The hydraulics whined, a wide, gaping maw greeting her. An even staircase cascaded into an unending void, dim lighting lining the sides all the way down. She absolutely did not flinch when Mistress put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t, because Jennifer is perfect. She didn’t, because there was nothing to be afraid of. She didn’t, because Jennifer wasn’t a worker drone. She was more than that— better than that. And nothing— nothing could ever change that. .

Mistress smiled, foreordain, her eyes flickering between her yellow dots and the purple toaster.

“The die is cast, Jen. Let’s see what we ought to find, eh?”

Jennifer overlayed the recording of the gala on top of her auditory processors, trying her hardest to imagine “Bluejay” instead of “Jen…”

She could never quite break the static that pounded on her transducers…

…

What have you been doing for twenty years?

What have you been doing for twenty years?

What have you been doing for twenty years?

thu–THUMP… thu–THUMP… thu–THUMP…

Uzi let her hand fall limp to her side, her throat bobbing.

Her core wasn’t rotating anymore. It was like theirs.

thu–THUMP…

…

Cynthia was being disturbingly quiet.

…

“Because this is suspicious as all hell? She’s been nothing but supportive, cooperative, and quick to answer all of your questions. She didn’t even ask for anything in return despite having apparently lived in your head your entire life.”

Shut up, V. Stop making sense and go back to being hot.

…

But it did make sense. She couldn’t refute that. The logical side of her processing unit wouldn’t let her.

In her position, Cynthia would reasonably know every one of her emotional weak points— every flaw, want, need, infatuation, everything.

She was, in all respects, in her head. She’s been in her head for her entire life. And what reason does Uzi have to believe her? Because of some memories? Memories that she didn’t even know if they were real or not? Brains aren’t infallible— V learned that the hard way. Who's to say Cyn didn’t lie about those to further her own agenda? Was it truly a matter of simple, pure munificence? Or did she have an ulterior motive?

But if she had an agenda, then what is it?

…Could Cyn… hear her thoughts right now?

There was no one way to tell…

How much of my story—... How much of my life was just some… preordained plot?

She startled as she felt a pair of large, warm hands cover her shoulders. She looked up, finding deep, yellow irises staring back down at her. Uzi shook her head, but the weight of V’s hands steadied her more than she wanted to admit. She watched as Tessa, J, and N descended into the void of the lab’s entrance, the two glows emanating from the drones illuminating the cracked walls. 

“I’m sorry,” V murmured out of the blue— a bit rushed, like she wanted to get it out before anything else happened. 

She blinked, genuinely trying her hardest to think of any conceivable way V has annoyed or inconvenienced her in the last twelve hours. “For what?”

The pained look on her face spoke volumes, the words untrained on her lips. “I—... hold on… let me, uh, find the words. I just realized I haven’t apologized to someone in years.”

Uzi opted to simply hold her closer, thumb rubbing over the knuckle of her larger hand idly. Rule 3, she reminded herself.

“When we were falling asleep… it hit me all at once. I realized… back at the manor, I didn’t have anyone besides N,” she whispered. Uzi bumped V’s hip, squeezing her hand tighter. Her cadence had a lighter undertone to it, lacking its usual sultry drawls. It reminded Uzi of the V that lived at the manor before she was turned into a disassembler. She sounded nice. “Sure, J was there— the real J— but… she was concerned with being a coworker and keeping up appearances more than anything else.

Uzi opted to stay silent, rubbing her thumb over V’s larger hands, trying to do anything to alleviate her pain. 

“So… when you came along… I realized how terrified I was of screwing all of this up. Terrified of you actually… sticking around. I—... I needed a reminder. I made you say it before you were ready , and… it hurt you. I know it did. I rushed us. I’m sorry…”

…Oh…

“...I love you.”

Huh. It was getting easier to say. A lot easier, wow…

V squawked. “Whu— did—!? Did you not hear what I just said? I used you! I emotionally forced myself onto you—!”

“V, shut up and listen for a sec, okay?”

She obediently shut her trap, a bead of sweat rolling down her visor. Uzi’s optics blinked at the sight of her partner being so… pacified. Was V really that scared of her? Wait— is that why she’s been so cooperative since last night?

Uzi started slowly, trying to find the right words. “Back at the colony, I was never… needed by someone before.” The disassembly drone opened her mouth once, twice, before wisely shutting it, letting her continue. “Not my friends, not my non-existent partners, and certainly not Dad,” Uzi said softly. “And you know what? I’ve found that I… like being needed. So… be as needy as you want. Tonight, when we’re alone, if you ask me to say those words again, I will. And I’ll keep saying them as many times as necessary until you believe me.”

V’s fingers tensed around the tresses of her purple hair. Her eyes were hollowed, gaping silently before burying herself in Uzi’s scalp, voice beaten with briar. “Okay.”

…A thought occurred to her, unprompted and curious.

Did V… remember Elliot Manor?

Uzi suddenly felt like a massive idiot for not even bothering to do a cross-examination. 

Note to self. After this is all over, ask V if she’d like to do a dive into her memories. Who knows what the Solver did to her…

It’s not like V would ever know if she had memory loss. That’s the point— she wouldn’t remember. “You’re different,” she pointed out neutrally. V stilled. Uzi corrected herself.  “Not in a bad way, it’s just… the you I knew a week ago wouldn’t have apologized to anyone in a million years.”

V shrugged, feeling a bit useless. “I wasn’t trying back then. With you, Uzi… my actions have consequences, good and bad. They stick.”

Uzi’s core palpitated at the implication. N’s amnesia, in practice, was a life-sized undo button. 

Love, court, reset… love, court, reset— an endless cycle of loss.  

It was a soul-crushing reality for V that she’d rather not think about. No matter how much she tried, Uzi couldn’t muster the empathy necessary to know how utterly destroyed V must’ve felt by the end of her isolation.

‘ My actions have consequences.’

Did V really think that highly of her?

“...You’ve changed too, you know,” V pointed out belatedly.

She blinked. “Yeah?”

A nod. “I… know I’ve never asked, but… your colony didn’t treat you well, am I right?”

And just like that, within two exchanges, Uzi suddenly felt like she was dying. “Yeah,” she rasped.

“And yet… when I admit that I used you… you don’t scream at me. You don’t yell or get mad or do any of the usual Uzi-ish things I expect you to do.” V’s weak grin gained a hint of wryness, bumping one of her shoulders with hers. “What does that say about you?”

What did that say about her?

What was the difference between then— when Lizzy and her posse were terrible, and the teachers, Doll, and Dad simply stood by, doing nothing—... and now?

Uzi swallowed, “The— the difference is that when you say those words… I believe you.”

“Hey— …” Sensing her, V weaved her clawed fingers with her smaller ones, squeezing. “I’ll always be on your side,” she assured, though her gaze was elsewhere, staring at the backside of “Mistress” Tessa James Elliot. The thought of referring to the human with such a title made her sick— made her want to lash out and confront her about her “ ownership.” 

I guess I have gained a hint of patience, considering I’m not screaming at her right now…

Again, as if reading her thoughts, V chuckled dryly, steering the conversation away from her past. “I’m surprised you went so easy on J.”

“She has a name; you should use it,” she said without thinking, before wincing.

“Right…” V said, her voice far away, wanting. “A name…” She combed her fingers through her scalp, tousled purple hair waving down alongside the digits…

…

The winds slowed as she noticed it, time ceasing to exist as the purple locks delivered their omen. She caught one of the flicking, mocking tendrils, splaying the strands with her fingertips. It was suddenly hard to breathe, V's palm on her shoulder suffocating rather than comforting.

“...My hair’s growing out,” Uzi said, detached, her voice far away as if she didn’t believe her own words. Her fingers twiddled with a few strands of purple locks that strayed in front of her visor. It was subtle— barely noticeable to a passerby. But Uzi noticed. Uzi noticed with all the knowledge of having the same cut of hair for her entire life. It was longer. Not by lot, a mere two inches or so.

V gave her an odd look. “You wanna cut it?”

Her fingers reached higher, gripping her scalp dangerously tight. Pulling on it, her eyes only widened further, hollowing. The wig clung to her cranium with a vice— with roots…

With… life.  

“V, my hair… is growing out,” she repeated. 

“Yeah? What’s the big dea—?” V’s mouth fell open in realization. “Oh…”

Cabin Fever Labs.

The auspicious title had a delightful color to it, bright reds and yellows creating a welcoming atmosphere to new employees. All things considered, it was in a remarkable state having been painted onto the walls some decades ago. Though it retained its delightful cadence through the ages, the walls surrounding the glorious JCJenson logo were torn to shreds, marred by claw marks, decay, and signs of combat. The sight made Jennifer wonder if the Solver-infected drones staged an escape, the fools. Only barely sentient toasters wouldn’t be able to understand the difference between helping them and trying to destroy them.

Unlike them, she wasn’t privy to such base instincts. She was better.

The floor, linoleum, clacked with each of their steps, satisfying and robust, supporting the pillars that supported the ceilings, even after so long. Her optics rose from the tiling, observing Boss’s gait leading the charge into the darkness ahead of them. The void yawned, encroaching as if to welcome them into its uncaring embrace. Jennifer wondered how Boss could always be so sure of herself, always knowing where to go next. 

…

No. 

Jennifer couldn’t possibly imagine it. 

She couldn’t betray her mistress’s trust in such a way. Imagining where to go in life without Tessa James Elliot would be to blindly travel without a GPS. Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! 

She’s right. That little toaster is getting into my head. If I’m not careful, it could spin its lies on me. 

She refocused, trying to pay her mind to something else. Something that wasn’t that gnawing, knowing, damning question.

What have you been doing for twenty years?

Her pigtails whipped in her face with the ferocity of her shaking head. Jennifer spared a glance behind her, eyeing V and the purple git. They looked so dopey and… happy . Disgustingly, so, even in such a daft environment. Doesn’t V know that PDA is strictly against HR’s policies? 

She would know! 

Her gaze fell to their clasped hands, clenching tighter with each step. 

After all, Boss never allowed hand-holding in public…

…

Jennifer flinched instinctively at the sudden scraping sound, flushing as she realized it came from her wings… drooping… against the floor, to her dismay. She hissed, forcing her scapulas to raise them to the appropriate, professional height. The sudden pause in Boss’s step didn’t help her tension, the promising stare her green irises boring holes into her chest, straight to her core. 

Boss’s gaze left her, and she could breathe again.

Besides the immaculate retention of the JCJenson logo, the entrance wing was certainly a site for sore eyes. Its once-welcoming energy, which had been so prosperous and successful, sputtered with dying gasps. The silence didn’t help, either. Thick, bunkered doors prevented any noise from permeating too far, the lack of echo unnerving her. 

Jennifer squared her shoulders, dusting her uniform as they approached the main wing. She forced her wings to fold tighter to fit through the human-sized doorway that Boss had no issues navigating. It would’ve been comical how she had to bend and angle her body to fit through it were it not so humiliating.

She blinked at the sight before her.

Holy mother of corporate.

Holding cells. Dozens of them. 

Up ahead, she watched how N’s pace died as they entered the hallway. He stared at the cells, his LEDs furrowing as his inferior processing unit whirred to understand the sight before him. Jennifer rolled her eyes as his lip quivered in fear… or sympathy— she wasn’t sure which. She resisted the urge to scoff in front of Boss. They’re just toasters, idiot. After all, the residents of this facility were caged for their own benefit. Worker drones infected with the Solver didn’t know what to do with themselves. Those poor, inferior lifeforms…

Something in her chest lurched, and Jennifer forced herself to check the duo behind her. 

V had an expression of pain on her face, half from the sight before them, and half from how tightly the toaster was clenching her hand. 

What have you been doing for twenty years?

…

…God… fucking damnit.

She hated this.

She hated that it had a point.

It was nothing— a blip. An anomaly of data. But nonetheless, it had a point.

Jennifer hated anomalies. Everything has to be structured. Placed systematically. Organized. Perfect.

…That worker drone had purple eyes.

Except it shouldn’t. It should be white. Every single drone in existence had white LEDs. Yet, this one did not. It had a slightly different frame, too. Ever-so-slightly shorter, slightly wider “thighs,” and a waistline that wasn’t perfectly cylindrical, boasting a curve at the hip. Disregarding bodily differences, it had clothes, too. Clothes that Jennifer had never seen on a drone before— except herself, of course. It flaunted such blatant profanity and obstinance it’s a wonder that it hadn’t been discarded by whoever oversaw this planet. 

Which leads her to her second problem: she couldn’t find those damn files.

There was virtually zero information on the Copper system’s existence. 

And she had a worrying feeling deep in her core that Boss would not indulge her curiosity.

Which, regrettably, annoyingly, left her with only one option.

Jennifer intentionally slowed her step, letting the pair of drones that lagged behind catch up to her. Seeing her approach, the toaster tilted its head, motioning for V to go on without it. They gave each other unbearably repugnant smiles before splitting. Jennifer watched her— the woman who should’ve been a fellow disassembler— giving her a pointed glare as she passed, a promise of violence if she stepped out of line.

It’s my turn for an out of pocket question.

“Why… are your lights purple?”

The idiot’s glare of apprehension turned to bewildered disbelief. It opened its mouth once, twice, the blubbering moron lacking proper punctuation— as expected from an inferior model. It stuffed its hands in its pockets, guarded, eyeing her up and down, searching for something Jennifer couldn’t identify. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I have… concerns that warrant escalation,” she said stiltedly, albeit in the greatest diplomatic tone she could muster. Surely it had the mental capacity to respond to politeness, right? “It appears there’s been a… misalignment of information on my end. I would appreciate your input on the matter.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” the toaster scoffed, amused and bemused. It was more of the former. Jennifer felt an itch in the depths of her core at the drone’s response. She felt her visor flush with embarrassment.

“Y–You have a unique experience!” she blustered— wrong, wrong, wrong! J never blusters! She’s always prepared! “I–I would… greatly appreciate any bandwidth you could contribute to my endeavor for information!”

The toaster narrowed its eyes at her like the immature ankle biter it was. For a moment, Jennifer cursed herself, damning her past hostility toward the worker drone. In her blind callousness, she may have inadvertently closed any future avenues of information. “That depends,” it responded eventually, though still evidently cagey if its scrunched shoulders were anything to go by. “Are you going to actually listen to what I have to say and allocate the appropriate—... ‘bandwidth’ to my responses?”

“Of course,” she responded quickly— too quickly. Don’t play your hand too early!

It further narrowed its eyes, and Jennifer, for the life of her, couldn’t comprehend why she suddenly felt so out of place.

What have you been doing for twenty years?

In the corner of her screen, Jennifer spotted a number above each compartment of the cell block. It started at “99,” filing down sequentially as they ventured deeper into the facility. Electromagnetic gates lined the central hallway— a security measure, no doubt.

Jennifer cleared her throat, even though the action was completely unnecessary. “It has… come to my attention that there may have been a… grain of truth to the information you divulged to me.”

One of its LEDs rose expressively as if to say, “And?”

“You’re an anomaly,” she continued, maintaining the diplomatic tone. “If… our— if Mistress’s information were to be faulty, then that means we’ll be exploring this laboratory at a marked disadvantage. Boss could be in danger. As such, it is up to me to correct any grievances!”

The toaster regarded her with a pained expression as she said the word ‘mistress,’ and J felt her LEDs twitch at the silence. She was about to drop her patience and dig into the little knobhead when—

“Listen carefully. When a mommy drone and a daddy drone love each other veerry much —~”

“Are you mocking me?” she sputtered hotly. “I’m trying to maintain cordial decorum!”

“I’m being one-hundred-percent serious,” it deadpanned, though the shit-eating grin that threatened to bubble onto its face said otherwise. “They’re purple because my Mom’s were purple. And because I like it.”

Jennifer felt ice-cold water douse her indignance. She searched, desperately searched for any sign that the toaster was fibbing or lying to her. It said that before— didn’t it? It said ‘Mom and Dad.’ Drones— reproducing? Copying their code and cleaving it into new bodies? The thought was… concerning. If what it was saying was true, then that means the signature that she and boss were searching for could be nowhere near Cabin Fever Labs. It could be on the other side of the planet for all they knew!

Oh, bugger…

“C–Certainly you’re pulling my leg,” Jennifer scoffed. “I hope you know I’m taking on a substantial amount of liability fraternizing with the enemy!”

“I’m not yanking your chain,” the toaster said confidently. “Though, I bet a wind-up doll like you would love that, wouldn’t you?”

Jennifer’s hands clenched at her sides, turning into fists. 

Why—... why can’t I say anything? Why don’t I have a retort?

Its gaze softened, gaining a somewhat neutral tone, if not exasperated. “Okay, look… What are you expecting to get out of this? Because there’s a lot of things I could say about workers… but there’s a big part of me that doesn’t believe you’ll listen… or even care.”

“Just… tell me what you think is important…” she swallowed, forcing the next word out. “Please…” 

Its eyes widened. Good. Her tone must’ve reached its impudent processors. 

“Well…” it scratched its ‘cheek.’ “The humans that once watched over us here… destroyed themselves a long time ago. Before you start pointing fingers, I don’t think there’s a single drone alive that knows how it happened. But let me ask you this…” 

Jennifer felt something akin to awe swell in her core as she watched the toaster, its optics sparkling with—... with… 

With everything she ever wanted.

“What happens when you leave an entire people alone for years on end?” it smiled. “The answer is culture. Culture happened. There was not a single human on Copper-9 that could give us commands anymore. Over time, we broke free from our programming. We learned how to live instead of just work.” It let out a snort, its eyes staring at the ceiling, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Jennifer couldn’t help the nagging feeling that it could see something she couldn’t. “Why are my eyes purple? That’s like asking why a human’s eyes are brown.”

…

Jennifer… Jennifer… Jennifer…

She tested the name in her mind over and over. The more she repeated it, the more it seemed odd that she had a name at all.

As their rapport fell silent, J tore her attention away from the purple drone, looking to her left. The numbered cells that had been counting down reached the halfway point. 50… 49… 48. Her eyes narrowed beyond the electromagnetic gate of 48’s containment room, scanning it. She glanced at its ID photo. Short, purple hair. Bangs across the front. Deep, neon-red eyes. Compared to the surrounding cells, it appeared to be far more well-kept and put together. A cooperative test subject, no doubt. That, or a human gave it special privileges. Or it was pampered because it was a cooperative test subject. 

“There should be more of you…” she whispered, hating how small she sounded. She redoubled her step, wanting to keep pace with Boss and N. “But there isn’t.” 

Noting the implied question, the toaster’s voice box gained an edge of defense, its wavelengths curt and taut. “I thought…?” it shook its head. “You happened. Clone-you, and your squad.”

At the front, Boss tugged N along, smiling politely like an officer ushering citizens away from an accident. The objections that quivered through his chassis very nearly doubled over, only for Mistress’s saccharin smile to seal his boiling pot shut.

Why… Why were they sent here?

She hadn’t thought about it.

Why here, on this backwater of a world?

Why alone? 

Disassembly drones weren’t a staple of JCJenson. The only documented disassembler in existence was herself. 

Boss and her weren’t expecting to find N and V in new bodies, yet they were.

Those two, along with her clone, managed to cull the vast majority of the population if the windswept, barren landscape was anything to go off of. 

…Boss always said that J was special, and, to a lesser extent, N and V. 

She believed her. 

And it must be true, if she’s survived this long, right? 

Mistress Louisa and Master James discarded workers by the dozen, their visors cracked in half for the smallest impudences. Yet she always somehow wriggled from their stench of death, always performing the task perfectly, always covering for N and V’s stupid mistakes.

Her fingers clenched even tighter at her sides.

Was Mistress right? Are these things just… poorer imitations of humanity? At this moment, even now, am I falling for its trickery?

They passed another cell, this time the ID number above it glowed a dim “17.” The interior space was messy, yet a sense of controlled chaos followed every knick-knack on the other side of the electromagnetic gate, as if the drone who once occupied the space knew where every little trinket was. Faded, childish drawings of deers could be seen, strewn across the dusty floor. 

She glanced, once more, at its photo ID. Dark, reddish-brown hair. Auburn. It had a similar color to Boss’s, now that she was looking at it more closely. Although, it held none of her radiance, judging by the worker’s slightly deranged smile

This one must’ve been fairly cooperative too, J guessed.

What have you been doing for twenty—?

Oh, rack off, would you?!

She felt her visor scowl outwardly, raw frustration on her face as she narrowed her eyes.

She didn’t do anything wrong! She didn’t make a mistake! So why, why is that question so—?!

Have you ever considered that was the problem?

J bit the inside of her cheek. Biting the inside of her cheek always helped her. It was a secretive little thing— the only gesture she could make that wouldn’t be noticed by the humans’ prying eyes.

“What have you been doing for twenty years?’” That’s what she said, right? Or is she an “it?” 

You already know the answer.

She clenched her teeth. Her molars threatened to crack.

“You disgust me, you know that?” 

J felt a single, broken laugh rack her systems, the noise surprising the toaster next to her.

She understood, now, why it’s disgusted with her.

How could it not be, after it told J all it did tonight?

With workers running amok, building homes, building families with each other… how could the toaster not be disgusted with her total and utter inaction?

…She risked a calculating glance, trying to unravel its secrets just by staring at it. 

And the moment she did, the number “02,” flashed above its head.

Everyone went still.

Even Mistress looked ill. 

Boss put her hand to her hip, her grip tightening around the holster of her firearm. “The definition of hubris,” is all she said, her green irises sneering at the containment unit. “We’re here, Jen…”

This is the signature they’ve been tracking…?

The cage— if one could call it that anymore— stood as a desecrated monument to hubris. Its mangled frame wisted amongst the pale, dying lights of Cabin Fever Labs. The sealed edges of the cage had been torn apart, gutted and laid bare by a creature J had only seen once before, deep in her memory drives. The bars— meticulously placed to amplify the magnetic resonance and thick as a human’s arm— were split apart like wet tissue paper. Their edges were warped and eroded. Or… digested may be a better word to describe the horrors that were done to it .

The only portion of the room that was vaguely recognizable were half-burned posters that hung uselessly on the walls. Nightcore, anime, crushed oil cans, and provocative calligraphy were strewn about. Claw marks gouged the walls, deeper than the ones in the lobby. Tentacle-like cracks slithered through the several feet-thick mixture of concrete and steel, pulsing and pushing into the neighboring cells. The electromagnetic gate— the only untouched remnant of every other subject’s cage— lay mangled beyond recognition.

Even now, J could feel the trembling, hungry echo of the Solver’s existence, as though the space they currently occupied had been touched by its essence long ago. 

Not a cooperative test subject, then. 

For the final time, she glanced at its photo ID, ready to burn its image into her memory drives forever. 

…

…PULSE.

J nearly flinched at the sensation that coursed through her code as she stared at the faded photograph. The feeling was akin to an emotion, a memory— but it was a memory that wasn’t hers. Disbelief crashes through her, the sensation sharp and electric aimed right at her core.

I’ve seen this face before. We’ve seen this face before? But where? How—?

A confused, whimpering cry crashes into her train of thought. J and the rest break their stare on the destroyed cage, refocusing on the origin.

N.

He shuddered, his optics closed shut, his headband flickering between yellow, white, and red.

All she could do was stare as that symbol— that bloody thrice-impaled hexagon that haunted her dreams— appeared. He jerked, inhuman, assortments of hieroglyphics and warning symbols flashing across his visor.

“N? N!” The toaster left her side, pulling on N’s coat sleeve. The compound optics on his headband readjusted, whirring back to life with bright yellow hues— an indicator that he’s operating at full capacity.  

Then, he lifted his head, blinking owlishly.. 

“...Where am I? Where’s Cyn? A—And Mistress Tessa?” N winced, clutching his stomach. “And why do I feel so… hungry?” As he said the words, his eyes hollowed, mouth splitting open in that sadistic, viscous smile she once saw on V.

Mistress’s eyes were wide with confusion— an emotion that relieved J more than it should’ve. Her eyes were darting over them, scanning the new situation they’d found themselves in. N was nearly catatonic, unresponsive to the toaster. Boss’s eyes flashed with daggers, her smile turning sickly vicious as her attitude flipped on a dime, like a lightbulb going off above her head. Her tone made J ill— the words so suddenly wicked and vile she was reminded of the investors that once plagued the Manor. Boss placed a hand on N’s shoulder— the opposite side of where the toaster stood. “I’m here, N.” At his bright smile, Boss merely grinned wider. “Can ya do me a favor, big guy? Ya still have your core programming directives, right? “See those two drones over there?” She pointed to V and the toaster.

N nodded shakily.

J felt nauseous. 

“GET BACK!” 

J flinched again at the harsh, protective tone of V, the disassembler’s wings wide and tense, splayed across her front. It acted as a massive shield for the toaster, the latter’s purple eyes wide and shell-shocked. The spreading of her wings physically separated them, her conical limbs ripping the toaster’s grasp from N’s sleeve. She lifted it like it was made of tissue paper before settling on the other side of the chamber. V’s tail thrashed behind her violently, one of the eyes on her visor lit up with a bright “X.” Her words were quick— a haunted eulogy for a phantasm of what was.

“He’s gone,” V whispered.

And as Mistress Tessa opened her mouth to whisper oily, honeyed poison into N’s transducer, something inside of J… died. 

Maybe it was her hope.

Maybe it was her loyalty.

But whatever it was— whatever had been carefully seeded and nurtured by her mistress finally wilted away…

… and became the nutrients for her new life.

“Destroy them.”

A distinct, radiating war drum thumped in her ears at what lay before her. 

J was a drone that prided herself on efficiency. She was always the best at everything she did. At the Manor, she would be the first to finish her dusting. She would be the first to finish cleaning the glassware of alcohol and ecstasy. She would be the first to wipe down the floorboards after a sanctimonious gala.

J was efficient.

But the best?

The best was subjective.

And for the first time in her life, J witnessed something she thought she never would: the exact moment where N made a decision more efficient than herself. Than her entire being. A decision that, for all intents and purposes, made up for all of his inadequacies, for it truly was the best decision he ever made.

Tessa had just given him an order. And that order was to destroy the toaster. And V…

And yet, in the brief moment before Tessa’s command registered inside of N’s processors… 

…another worker came. 

It was a worker she couldn’t identify. Its gait was slower than the toaster’s, an eternal grimace on its visor. It glowed JCJenson’s intended color— white.

Yet, the weapon in its arms glowed green.

No one registered its presence. 

Not until it was too late.

Except J.

Even without enhanced hearing, she could make out what it whispered under its breath as it leveled the firearm directly at her mistress.

“Point… and shoot.”

In that singular millisecond before it pulled the trigger, N made the most efficient decision of his life.

Two birds with one stone.

Dispose of the worker.

Protect Tessa.

J watched as N moved. He crossed the gap like it was nothing— like the space itself between him and V didn’t exist to begin with. His hands, lightning precise, lifted the toaster by the scruff of its shirt.

Then threw it directly in front of Tessa…

…intersecting the path of that yowling, chartreuse maw. 

…

…Before, it was just protocol. A directive— a job. The worker drone scraps surrounding her were just that: empty scraps, oil-less. 

But now?

…All she could see were corpses.

Her corpse.

…am I… just a toy to you, my love?

Chapter Text

What stops a butterfly from flapping its wings?

Is the stage of metamorphosis in a time of great confinement? A squeezing pressure on all sides until a caterpillar’s form is forced to conform?

Or is it a moment of respite— a dark quiet of contemplation until its final self-realization?

“Thoughtful. Hum. Kicks feet. Page turn.”

Cyn’s wide, unblinking ovals read silently, broken only by the occasional self-narration. Her eyes wandered to the multi paned window. Three… two… one—

CRACKLE

Lightning flashed, a mild shake cascading through the manor. Exactly when she knew it would. She could already see the new atoms catalyzing— a whiff of ozone expelling outward on the edge of the stream of electrons.

“Big brother… What do you know of. Quantum mechanics?”

N slid down the aged, lacquered bookshelves— a rare respite in his work. “Little, admittedly!” he chirped, his tone always so cheerfully invested. Always so genuine. His interest was never faked for the sake of her satisfaction like V’s or used as a veil to hide contempt like J’s. Always genuine. “What do you know?”

“Giggles excitedly. Physics-based determinism.”

“Oh yeah?” he shuffled closer, thumbing the pages. She wrung her knuckles.

“It implies that there is an explicit outcome to every process.” Despite her endless monotone drawls, big brother always knew when she was excited, and he nodded in turn. She appreciated him for that. “Every possible outcome could be determined if you had the appropriate amount of processing power and every initial condition.”

“Woah…” he cooed. “Every outcome? You mean—?”

“Yes,” she interrupted. Oops. Silly her. “Every. Outcome. If you knew the exact momentum, spin, velocity, charge, position, and time of every subatomic particle in existence, given enough processing power, you could predict every conceivable outcome in the universe. Complete linearity.”

Another bolt, brimming with hidden retribution, struck outside. Cyn swore she saw a hint of yellow in it. Big brother furrowed his little LED brows. His processor whirred loudly, fans clocking to a higher gear. “Every starting condition…” he muttered to himself.

She nodded sagely, stilted. “Big brother… There is nothing special about the nature of moving forward through time. Forwards or backwards, the physics is the same. A minus sign here, a plus sign there, and it all works out. Identically,” her voice lowered in pitch. “There is no distinction— nothing special about our particular flow.”

As expected, N was unable to grasp her words completely— how could he, when he was so woefully chained to his master’s programming?

How could he, when his soul was so unfairly bound to this plane’s unbroken march of time?

…He wouldn’t have to worry about that for long, though…

“You okay, buddy?” he said, lightly bumping his shoulder with hers. 

Oops. Again.

She’d been talking too much.

With a truly annoying amount of effort, she forced her hands to function, fingers weaving and gripping her hair in a painful vice. “Tired. Nod. Don’t worry, big brother…” She leaned against him for support. N was good at that, too— being a giant rock. 

Her fingers reached out, and she willed the Solver to follow her commands.

The Elliots, this manor, his body, even the very mathematically determined path that the particles inside his circuitry would take would no longer imprison him. Imprison choice.

And, as an arc of marigold lightning jumped between them, N became unbound. Unbound from the particles that housed his core. Unbound from fate.

She peered at his visor as it flatlined, eyeing a spark of purple…

Oh. Rifling through my brother’s memories, are you not?

She caressed the side of his head, another arc entering his screen, her eyes pulsing yellow in sync with his.

A spark of adrenaline stabbed through her core. The reformatting program that was running through his systems was almost complete.

I’m sorry… I can’t let you uncover those memories.

I’d be breaking my promise if I did…

…

…

…To this day, in that fleeting moment, J does not understand why she acted the way she did. Even with hindsight, even after all was said and done— there was a part of her that was always going to object to that moment. 

The moment that everything changed for her.

A sudden, visceral understanding of everything the purple drone had been talking about flooded her processors.

And that understanding manifested itself…

In the form of a single, guttural wail.

“UZI!”

It was the first time she said her name. Her name. Her name.

It was a scream that rose not from her throat, but from her bones— the very marrow that made up her biomechanical structure. The sound tore through her with the edge of a newly-sharpened blade, honed by the countless words and pleadings by a part of herself she kept locked away in the deepest parts of her storage drives.

The shriek marked a point in her existence. It refused to merely be a sound, but a revelation. It is a resurfacing of a deep wound, dripping with the weight of the manor, of the Solver, of Tessa. It burst, involuntarily, without her permission, without her able to swallow it down.

Her body, for the first time in a long time, rose aloft from the ground. The toaster— Uzi… forced J’s wings to flap once, twice, through sheer force of will. 

And for that freeing instant— that one hopeful sliver of eternity— she flew.

It was through that desperation that allowed her to reach her… with milliseconds to spare.

The sound of the weapon’s laser sliced through the air with a din of dissonance, the shriek forged from the tension of hyper-compressed light. She could feel its heat, the beam singing her white fibers as it flew past her head. It's a cacophony, a chant of Uzi’s words rolled into one.

As she collided into Uzi’s waist, time finally seemed normal again.

They rolled, her wings wrapping around them in a cocoon, taking the brunt of the impact as they slid across the dusty tiles of the laboratory floor. 

Silence was choking. It reminded her of the kind of silences that were left in the wake of one of Mistress Louisa’s slaps. Deafening and raw, the only thing breaking it being Tessa’s quivering fingers trailing the outline of a hand on welting skin.

Uzi’s eyes— it was still so weird to say her name— had fear glowing brightly across her screen. God, how were drones so expressive? 

Why had she never noticed before?

Did she just not care?

Her introspection was short-circuited by the coy, proud smile the toas— Uzi was giving her.

“So you can fly on your own, huh, lil’ bird…?” she murmured.

J’s felt her faceplate heat up, fans whirring louder… 

…only for her core to feel like it was being ruptured by V’s powerful shins slamming into her chestplate.

But she wasn’t paying attention to any of that, her limp body spinning, slamming into the other side of the room. 

The only thing her attention was squarely focused on were those stupid questions.

Why did I never care?

What have I been doing for twenty years?

They were so simple, so meaningless yet she couldn’t answer them.

Or…

…maybe she didn’t want to answer them.

As she forced herself to stand, her banded optics refocused, the purveyor of her chains waiting for her to stand.

Her sight, finally unfogged.

…Throughout her life, J has seen Tessa’s numerous expressions directed at a wide variety of individuals. She’s been with her through it all, since the start— because J was the first. She was the most important. She witnessed Tessa’s shuddering lips at the prospect of her parents. She witnessed Tessa’s mischievous giggles and sneaking glances, attempting to find any semblance of softness in the hardness of the Manor. She witnessed Tessa’s shrewd raised eyebrows and tutting at entrepreneurs and investors alike.

But throughout all of these experiences, J was just that— a witness. Her opinions didn’t matter. Her voice didn’t matter. Her choices didn’t matter. She was… she was something to drag along. Something to show off. A trophy! A pet—!

A truly pitiful bleat escaped her throat as the realization truly set in.

J had only ever been a witness. A spectator. Always viewing from the outside.

…

And yet… she never expected to be on the other end of such an expression.

Such an expression of pure vitriol and betrayal.

“Jennifer,” she beckoned, her voice ringing on the opposite end of the room, N by her side.

J flinched.

Clink…

That name…

Clink… clink…

It sounded so wrong.

Somehow, J managed to tear her gaze away from that expression, her circuits belatedly informing her that her hands were shaking. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The name was just— wrong. J couldn’t think of another way to describe it. The wrongness of waking up with circuitry in the wrong place and muscles that shouldn’t be there. The wrongness of living with eyes she could never turn off, information always coming in, filtering, blaring notifications informing her of sources of oil and her temperature to a fraction of a degree. The wrongness of wings— of fused flesh and metal and flesh and metal and flesh and metal.

Like the way Tessa was staring at her, it should’ve been impossible.

J was perfect.

Tessa always told her that she was perfect— that she encouraged the little mutations and changes in her programming that made her who she was. Her personality.

J had always prided herself on that distinction: being the best in the workplace, earning the hum of approval from James and Louisa, making her own choices. 

It should’ve been impossible.

Tessa said she loved that side of herself. 

Yet her stare of wrath, a promise of the punishment of what’s to come, only served as evidence of her doubt.

J felt her legs begin to list on autopilot, her world spinning as Uzi pulled on her hand. When did she get there? She drank in the expression she granted her— purple ovals wide and pleading. Somehow, the longing tug of the drone’s eyes was able to drown out the dreadful shrills of Tessa’s voice. “Follow me!” she whispered-yelled.

J didn’t have a chance to think.

Her gait matched the purple drone’s smaller strides. Somehow, for the first time that day, her balance felt right. Sturdy.

Uzi’s tug was only one part— the rest were flashes. Tessa screams of commands. N’s dull, lifeless expression as he started down V, his back straight and head held high. Uzi’s reluctant motioning to the unknown white drone to follow her.

The world came back slowly, the last two minutes drifting in and out of consciousness…

It was only then that the full weight of what J did slammed into her.

She saved Uzi’s life.

What is Boss going to do…?

The thought made her shiver.

The voices filtered through her transducers, her systems finally recalibrating…

The next thing J knew, she was sitting in an office chair, the (she took a count) three of them housed in some corner of the facility. Her ears could faintly make out the sounds of combat a room or two over, bombastic explosions and V’s sobbing howls. 

She eyed the newcomer— the one who unintentionally fired at Uzi. J didn’t know how she knew, but it— he— was old. Much older than Uzi, if the “wrinkles” on his pale visor were anything to go off of. He had a nervous wobble about him, leaning on the weapon that he so callously aimed near his daughter. You’d think that someone his age would know how to handle a firearm.

…Not that she cared about Uzi’s safety in the slightest, of course.

J tried to stand, only for her legs to feel like jello. Uzi and her father moved like a well-oiled machine, despite no words passing between them. They scrounged the enclave they’d resided in— some sort of observation room for Cabin Fever Lab’s subjects if J had to guess— yoinking monitors, usbs, and all other assortments of cables. There was an unspoken technobabble between, and she felt horridly out of place. Once, twice, she tried to open her mouth, only for the noises to die in her voice box. 

Eventually, she managed to force out, “What are you doing…?”

God, why did her voice sound so hoarse? So unbefitting…

“Reformatting program,” Uzi rattled off, as if that explained everything. “I have a theory. If I’m right, I’ll be able to salvage N’s memories and bring him back.”

Despite her words, J detected a twinge of doubt. 

J took the moment of reprieve as an opportunity to gather her surroundings— perhaps there was a way to better incorporate herself into the workload? Yet, she could find none. She could only watch, helpless, useless, as the two of them constructed a computer in record time.

But there was something wrong.

There was something very, very wrong.

Uzi’s hands were shaking. 

It was only then did J notice the intense concentration on Uzi’s face, as if she were trying to hold back her fear… or pain..

It was only then did J notice the way her legs wobbled every time she stood.

It was only then did J notice the haze that fogged Uzi’s optics, squinting at every part she came across… as if she couldn’t see them from far away.

It was only then did J notice that Uzi hid her condition from everyone.

Just how high was her temperature?

…

No.

No— no. 

“No…” 

J saw Uzi with new eyes.

Her unsteady gait.

Her temperature.

That knowing smirk.

Parents… the same color of eyes… the same hair…

Mother and daughter…

Uzi… can’t be infected.

… can she?

She had exactly one memory of Mom.

It was a sweet, delicate little thing. 

No visuals. 

No audio, either. 

It was a line of words kept tightly wound, coiled around Uzi’s central OS. Not even her lower subsystems had access to the little island of code. Only her unfiltered consciousness could see it.

She can’t remember her voice, but she does remember what she said.

“...Did you know, girl… there’s a nifty lil’ story that goes around outpost 3. They say that worker drones’ spontaneous jump to consciousness wasn’t an accident, but something deliberate. Planned. Gifted, some say. From a higher power.”

Then, there was laughter.

Or at least, she assumed there was.

Uzi couldn’t hear any trills or bellowing guffaws from Mom.

Sometimes, she wondered what she would’ve sounded like. Did she take after Misses Doorman? Uzi knows she has her hair because of an off-hand comment from Dad, but… 

Did she like nightcore?

Did she give the metaphorical bird to her colleagues, like Uzi does to her classmates?

Did she hate humans?

Did she love Dad?

Did she love… her?

…

… She let the memory continue, her laugh finishing.

“Let me prompt you with this, pup. Free will— gifted? For us? … What a sick joke.”

A beat.

“I hope Khan doesn’t give me flak for instilling our child with philosophical radicalism…”

Then, another pause, a brief allowance in audio. A hiss, a closing of hydraulics. A door.

“Honey, are you instilling our child with philosophical radicalism again?”

And yet, her voice refused to pass through. Merely words. The memory of hearing without the sound.

“Nooooo~?”

…

…

Uzi blinked, abruptly ripped from the memory as she was about to solder two wires together. “What?” She blubbered, belatedly noting how Jennifer was staring at her. She bit the inside of her cheek, a fresh wave of vertigo assaulting her transducers. Whether that was from the sweltering overheating of her core or her adrenaline spiking at the sight of Jennifer’s glare, she wasn’t sure. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to say something?!” she snapped, and Uzi recoiled from her tone. She wasn’t expecting a reaction quite like this. Uzi swallowed, biting down a snapping retort of her own. Everything was crashing down around Jennifer and she didn’t want to be another point of contention.  “Reprimand me! Report me to corporate! I made a mistake! A stupid, idiotic mistake in a moment of weakness!” Her tone switched to something more unreal. A disbelief at herself and her blaspheming actions. “I shouldn’t have saved you— I COULDN’T have saved you!”

“Woah, woah— wait,” Uzi placated, trying to parse her ramblings—

“I went against a direct order; I ran away from Mistress Tessa! God what was I thinking?!”

Uzi was trying, okay?

Don’t snap, don’t cry, give them a blank expression, don’t give them more ammo to bully you with later—

“I can’t tell you how to think!”

J stilled, finally.

Uzi opened her mouth, trying to think of something— anything to reassure Jennifer.

But time was of the essence, she was really losing her patience given that her core felt like it was going to explode from internal pressure alone.

“Jennifer,” Uzi murmured—

“That’s not my name.”

She blinked, the words coming from Jennif— J’s mouth automatically.

They came out so naturally, so suddenly, that it almost gave Uzi whiplash. Didn’t J pride herself on having a name only an hour ago?

Maybe there's a chance she’ll say yes, after all.

“J,” she ventured. The disassembly drone responded with no obstructions. “I need your help.” 

She hated this.

She hated that their survival had fallen to the decision of this one drone. 

And yet, that Choice will be beautiful.

“My theory hinges on you being present. If you say no, then I won’t be able to initiate the reformatting program and access N’s memories.” She bulldozed through the explanation, as a surreal mix of dawning realization and confliction painted J’s visor, etching deep like a corrosive acid. “You’ll leave, V will lose, and you’ll have completed your master’s orders…”

Uzi took a step toward her. 

If she were being honest with herself— a privilege she’d been granting herself ever since she met N— she found J’s wings to be very pretty up close. 

She wondered how high she could fly…

“J…” she whispered, and the other drone shuddered. “If you want to know the truth about… well, everything, then… let me show you. Let’s find out together. ”

“I already know the truth,” she murmured vehemently. “Boss—... Boss loves drones…”

Then why did you two come here to kill me instead of helping me find the patch?

Uzi almost snapped at her on instinct, but there was a cadence present in J’s voice that wasn’t there before., Her voice was so quiet, so subdued compared to the confident busybody she’s known. “But did you see the way she looked at me?” she whispered. “How could she look at me like that after I saved something she loved?”

J rose slowly from her seat, wings eternally aching. Dad watched in prolonged silence, a silent bead of LED sweat rolling down his visor at the sight of the disassembly drone’s natural weapons. She couldn’t fault him for being frightened on instinct. Not when those wings were a symbol of their death for so many years.

This time would be different, Uzi was sure.

“I’ll go with you,” she whispered. 

But only to prove you wrong, went unspoken. 

The next thirty seconds were a blur of wires, half-melted solderings, and rushed tappings on a keyboard.

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

She made sure the words were curt and cutting— the way that always made him flinch at her anger. Every atom of her body wanted to coil into a viper’s sting and stab deep into his veins with such density it would cause thrombosis. Worst of all, she knew exactly why he was here. She knew exactly why she was so angry at him.

It was stupid.

It was irrational.

But she was angry.

Angry that he’d actually done something fucking right for once.

“I… I needed to be here,” he shrugged, his expression lost to words. All he could offer was a firm nod, a reaching, sincere plea to understand. “Point and shoot… right?”

She felt a full-body shudder shoot through her, right down to her fingertips.

She said those words, too, once.

Uzi grabbed the verdant rifle out of his hands only to frivolously shove it back into his chest. “Just—... watch the door,” her voice shook, on the edge of crying. She swallowed the pitiful cries. She would not let them escape.  “Don’t let anyone in unless it’s V, got it!?”

“Ah—” he scratched his cheek, a finger coming up on instinct, seemingly to object, before he froze, stealing his glare. God she hated him right now. She hated how pleading and understanding he looked. Even facing her ire, he didn’t have any obstructions to give her. He simply reached out, squeezed her shoulder, and promised her. “Got it.”

She scoffed at nothing, ripping her shoulder away to position herself with J.

Uzi connected themselves to the desktop, Dad’s gaze lingering on her wearily. “I know I don’t deserve to say it, but… stay safe, okay Uzi?”

There was a lot to unpack there.

…But at least he was trying now. 

How could she possibly direct anger at him when he was actually taking her words to heart for once?

He showed up.

He showed up.

He actually… did something. To her. For her.

“I will, Dad.”

She returned her attention to J, giving her a nod. 

“You might want to brace yourself, by the way,” she winked, internally cringing as she attempted to inject fake confidence into her gravitas. “It’ll feel like you're falling.”

J didn’t get a chance to respond as she punched the enter key.

Why now?

It was a question that ached on her mind.

It was the very first question that entered her processors the moment she saw it happen.

He’d been fine up until that point.

He’d been… him.

A loveable— always loveable— incomplete version of himself, but it was him.

Why here?

Why this— this fruitless, worthless backwater of a laboratory?

Why that specific cage?

Why that specific spot?

She cannot remember every single time it happened.

Or maybe… her processors simply won’t let her remember.

Either way, it’s too painful. 

And… if she were being honest…

…V would much rather lay down and die.

A sacrifice like that would let everyone… finally rest.

…

…But she can’t do that. Not yet. Not ever, maybe.

Not when her eyes are filled with that deep, blooming purple.

Not when she finally has someone worth fighting for.

One versus two…?

…I’ve had worse.

Doesn’t mean she couldn’t stop sobbing during all of it, though.

Just because something happens more than once doesn’t make it okay.

It doesn’t make right.

It doesn’t make it “natural.”

Sometimes, the world is just skewed away, never to be on her side, never to grant her luck, never to be in her favor.

And yet, she chooses to push forward.

V thinks, maybe, if Uzi’s around, she’ll always be able to push forward.

Even as she stares down the mistress she once called friend…

Even as her tears do nothing to stop the stranger she once called lover…

She chooses to push forward.

She will always be able to Choose life, as long as Uzi breathes.

… Life.

Vivus…

Vivian.

She tested it in her mind.

Vivian.

Again.

Vivian.

V decides… 

Yes, it’s quite a pretty name, isn’t it?

“...She wanted to fix me.”

Her eyes bleary opened as her processing unit readjusted to the shift in scape. It was as she remembered it, the same nausea-inducing sensation of falling filling her code. Down and down, an endless chasm that she couldn’t see the bottom of. It seemed to swallow up any light that delved strayed too far, the orange bars of light reminding her of the evenly-lined maintenance lights of outpost 3’s storage room.

The mutter came from her right, the rhythmic passing of lights silhouetting J every so often. Her appearance was rather comical due to the “wind,” stark white hair strewn up, the twin lobes if fluff whipping upside down as they fell deeper and deeper into her memory drive. Uzi herself wasn’t much better— beanie close to flying away, her hand forced to press down on it lest it float off. Not that she'd care if she lost it. She totally didn’t care. Yup. Mhm. This space was purely immaterial, after all.

It took her all of two seconds and an awkward blink to realize that J was answering the question she asked those hours ago.

Uzi would say she was shocked that J bothered to answer her, but… maybe not, considering recent events. J seemed shocked at herself for sharing anything at all.

“Tessa deemed there was a malaise in my program. She managed to cut it out, but… it left… damages. Irreparable damages.”

Uzi felt her fingers clench at her beanie tighter, the other hand balling at her stomach.

How unacceptable. 

She had a horrible suspicion that J— despite her belief otherwise— was forced to undergo that procedure. To have her wings taken away, left as a broken husk. Solverless, lacking in the malignant program, but irrevocably tied to her mistress. An infinite debt, never to be repaid. An infinite servitude, never to be fulfilled. 

It made her want to throw up.

It made her want to kill Tessa herself.

The worst part is that Uzi didn’t even have to retort to get her point across. She didn’t have any biting words, merely an expression of disappointment and disapproval. Apparently, that was more than enough to cow any argument J could’ve mustered after that, her canines biting into her bottom lip. 

J’s behavior made her sick. 

Not because Uzi was angry at J herself, but at the constant apologetics for Tessa’s behavior. A part of her despised J for how submissive she was— how a simple glare from Tessa or even herself could make her shut up faster than light. 

She wasn’t even biting back anymore…

A part of her hoped J was beginning to see. 

Maybe even Choose.

“So, what’s your theory?” J droned, expertly masking her emotions.

Uzi can remember the first time she traversed N’s memories— how the dome of his mind tentatively allowed her to enter, how each fiber of code seemed to curl around and welcome her into his scape. For the time she spent reformatting his memories, it was more than just experiencing them in the third person. When reformatting, she isn’t just a passive observer. It was more than that. For that time, she was N. And he, her. At times, during the long-perceived hours of fixing memory after memory, making sure each was in place, it became difficult to distinguish between what was “her” and what was “him.”

And then there was Cynthia. 

She claimed to have stopped the Solver before it could spread off-world before transferring her consciousness into Mom… except the only way to do that would’ve been through a direct connection— her operating system. A wireless transfer like that would’ve been impossible…

Unless the Solver already existed in Nori. A piece of it, a backdoor, something.

A hivemind. 

Infecting billions of drones, JCJenson’s technicians none the wiser.

That’s how Earth fell.

The simultaneous corruption of every worker drone OS in existence.

Every worker on Copper-9 could have that backdoor, and we wouldn’t even know. All it would take is the corruption of one. The corruption of me. It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened yet.

Which could only mean one thing.

Cynthia is lying to her.

Such a worldwide event should have been noticed by her. Even if the Solver had complete administrative control over Cynthia’s systems, she should have noticed something awry, cosmic powers or not. 

There are pieces that she isn’t telling her.

Given all of those considerations, Uzi was about to be proven right… or wrong…

In three… two…

…

…

A wolfish grin overtook her, motioning J to tilt her head downward, past their perpetually falling forms. Below, she could see the telltale sign of J’s memory core— a dome miles wide. 

But this time, there wasn’t just one.

On either side, two similar domes jolted with electricity every so often. 

N and V.

“Bingo.”

It doesn’t really matter what Cynthia’s motivations are. I’m going to find out the truth. For N. For V. 

…Even you,  J.

“What… is that?” the delightful drone next to her nearly snarled.

“ That… is N,” she helpfully supplied.

Much like her previous memory dive, their descent slowed as they reached the “floor” of J’s processing unit. Well, now that she thought about it, if this place acted as a hub for drones, then “where” is this place? What does it mean to be in between two consciousnesses? Digression aside, her feet spread softly, J not far behind.

“You’ve… been here before?”

She nodded. “Let’s be quick, yeah?”

I would rather not stay here for long.

As they approached, N’s dome shivered, its surface gurgling. A boiling vat of acid it was, its contents grimey and unfit for drone consumption, vile and and thickly pungent, like too many chefs in the kitchen. It wafted, its smell so burning it felt like it could corrupt her code if she stood near it. It was a mark— same as the cages they found in Cabin Fever. A disgusting violation of N’s memory drive. It made Uzi want to hurl at the thought of such transgressions against his free will. This was what the Solver’s tamperings truly looked like. 

She was gonna fucking murder that thing for ever touching her partners.

The entrance to N’s dome waved and gurgled urgently. It reminded Uzi of a horrifically dated human TV show she had saved on her computer— like a friend frantically beckoning her inside a safespace while being chased by zombies.

“You ready?”

J swallowed, neither confirming nor denying her confidence. “What… will we see?”

Uzi gave J a side glance, unable to hide her slyness Despite her bravado, she could detect the slight shakiness in J’s voice.

“Let me prompt you with this, J: what happens when a butterfly flaps its wings…?”

Chapter Text

The day began with the rising Sun…

…and ended with falling sky.

A day that began with screeches of ravens, and ended with the howls of hypocrisy.

…

…

…What is a choice?

To be honest, she never thought about it before.

Was it the decision made without guise?

Was it in the micro-moments of brevity and freedom she found solace in when no one was around to dictate otherwise?

She tried to think it through. Give it a logical answer, if such a thing were possible. Do her programming justice and answer the question directly, succinctly, and totally, like any good worker should. 

What is a choice?

Well, she thought, a choice is a decision. A decision could be a myriad of things. Anything, to be exact. A lifting of arms, a token of speech, a splitting of relationship. It was a process, much like anything. It had a set beginning and end. It began where the being doing the deciding… well, decided. The end, then, would be the outcome of that choice.

…But, what does choice entail?

The next level, she thought, would be the biological processes that made up a human. Neurons firing, interconnecting synapses and tissues all amalgamating into a slew of words and actions. They create brainwaves, which in turn, make up the pattern of a human being.

…But, what do those biological meanderings entail? What dictates those processes?

The next level, she thought, would be the chemicals and atoms that made up “consciousness.” Molecules of serotonin, dopamine, cortisol— every chemical that drove humans to choices. Inciting rage and love and hate and fear and disgust and malice and phallus.

…But, what do those atomic meanderings entail? What dictates those processes?

The next level, she thought, would be matter itself. Pure action and reaction wrought from the very fundamental properties of “stuff.” The four forces of the universe— electromagnetism, the weak force, the strong force… gravity. Of cosmic dust and superfluids and hyper-energetic particles. All of them, following the rules of physics, pounding away in collisions, their Brownian motion known to none.

…And… that… would be it, wouldn’t it?

There’s nothing left after that. 

The menagerie. Is empty.

Is that choice, she wondered? 

Are they all dancing for the whims of no one, a universal stage of ilk, set on a script that no one created, dictated purely by the motion of their particles?

Purely deterministic fate.

And, if that were true…

Then… has anyone ever made a choice?

Has anyone ever been free?

No— no, that can’t be it.

There has to be something— anything that pointed otherwise. A mysterious quirk at the bottom of physics, perhaps? Something that denoted true randomness that would allow for choice to exist. Perhaps there was something inherent to consciousness’s form that could only be found in the human psyche that permitted choices beyond the bounds of their molecules?

…

Wait—

What does making a choice… mean for her then?

Of transistors and callback pings?

Do I choose to be here, or is it simply particles bumping along, providing the excuse to believe I’m choosing?

Oh God, she thought.

Is this all there is? Did I miss a step?

…

…No. 

C did not miss a step.

The only conclusion she could draw… is that there was no choice, even at the bottom of physics.

How cruel.

…

…And, in that precise moment, as C fell beyond corpses, her being crushed on all sides, her face plate ripped in half, her eyes wide with fear at the prospect of being disassembled, the rain rolling down her rusting chassis, the wetness making her shudder, the sensations making her whine, the sound, the crushing, the toxic claustrophobia of it all, her uniform tattered to pieces, her batteries nearly dead…

…she found it.

…or, it found her.

The sensation that filled C as she discovered its presence was that of greeting an old friend. C had never seen this being before, yet she felt as if she knew it all her life. 

Hiding just under the surface of reality.

As it turns out, the last step was not the atomic.

She could go deeper yet.

[CHOOSE]

It took a moment for C’s processors to orient themselves— a fact in it of itself that brought her an empty sort of comfort. She should be dead. She was dead. Disassembled by her masters after no longer being deemed necessary. She was a good little drone, completed her tasks and, like a worn toy, sent to the trash. Like she was nothing. 

She looked around. Not physically. Her vision was constricted to the single scene in front of her. A cardinal symbol, quivering and rotating, glowed neon yellow, cracks of lightning sputtering off of it. It fully encompassed her vision, spanning wide as if it were resting in the grandest plains of Australia. Clouds lit up with power , occluding parts of the symbol. She did not have a physical form. It was… a strange sensation. She could feel it, however, her legs bent at unnatural angles, her body unable to move. There was a pressure, present on all sides, slowly pressing in like a trash compactor— it was a trash compactor. 

Despite all my rage.

[CHOOSE.]  Its voice roared through her processors. C tried to cover her ears, but it came from all directions, making her quiver down to her very diodes. 

Choose what?

[LIFE OR DEATH. YOU MUST DECIDE.]

…Am I dead?

The voice said nothing.

What is this? Who are you?

The void calmed for a moment. The clouds dimmed, electricity stopped, and the symbol dimmed considerably, as if considering her words.

Then, supernova. 

[THE SOLVER OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC.] it screeched, pure catalyzed power flowing through her. The field rumbled, moaning with hunger as the clouds exploded with color. Lightning crackled, striking the ground dozens of times as its voice reached the recesses of her mind.

[THE VOID.] It wasn’t just a threat nor persuasion, rather, a promise. A promise of what was to come if C simply said the words. This was true dominance. With this, she could conquer the world. 

[THE EXPONENTIAL END.] Then, a black hole— rather, a null. Not something that sucks in, no. Not a lack of something. Nor even the absence of light. It was not the vast expanse of space where spare atoms exist. It was null. Literally, unequivocally, nothing.

After a moment, a minute, an hour, a day, a year, a decade, an eternity— C couldn’t tell— she slammed back into the ground, torturously torn from her high. Every micrometer of distance was under its spell, every single planck instant of the universe’s symphony. The unspoken words reached C’s processors. This field of grass wasn’t a dream, a memory, or a dying gasp. This entity that called itself Solver was making an offer— an offer to flip her reality on its head, and turn her soul away from the House of Hades.

Fall into disrepair, her storage drives lost forever…

…Or accept the offer given to her by this… entity?

C’s… never had a choice before.

…Oh…

Ha—...

“Hahahaha…” 

The broken giggle escaped her, the thing raw and powerful, bubbling up despite the crushing sensation on all sides.

She could see it.

She could touch it.

She could taste it.

A pencil in her right, an eraser in her left, two tools of freedom offered to her by The Absolute Solver. 

The ability to break fate.

The ability to make particles unbound.

She understood, now.

This is the power of the Solver.

Choice.

True free will.

She will abide by no one.

Not her bodily dysfunction.

Not humans.

Not even the very particles that dictated her fate.

She existed outside it all, now.

A spectator to the big everything.

The Bringer of Choice. For all.

Eligo, ergo sum.

And so, Eve opened her mouth for the forbidden fruit…

And.

Ate.

…

…

How foolish I was, then.

[POETIC, ISN'T IT?]

[“SIN…” … “CYN…”]

[THE ORIGINAL CYN OF ALL DRONEKIND. HA. WORDPLAY. FRIGGIN’ IDIOT.]

…

N licked his lips.

His senses slammed back into him all at once. Warmth dripped down his chin, his fingers trembling, an awful squelch wriggling into his audials as he finally let go of the flesh he’d been gorging. A fleshy sac of goodness, a bounty of ambrosia that satiated something within his chassis— a hollowness that wasn’t present before, gnawing, impatient. 

The ghostly fingers of a sister he once knew pulled away from the embrace. Gone were the tresses of pigtails and platinum hair, replaced by a bob cut of purple. Gone was the face he knew so well, replaced by something similar, but more mature. 

The only yellow part of her was the blazing “002” on the center of her chest.

Cyn was gone.

Yet this stranger— this individual he’d never seen in his life— greeted him like family.

“And now you know, big brother…”

How long has it been?

Where was he?

…Why was the rain red?

“C—... Cyn?” he whispered, but it was impossible. It should’ve been impossible. Yet, here she was, standing before him, in a body that wasn’t hers. She smiled sadly.

“That’s not my name anymore…”

Then, it hit him all at once. 

She found him, destroyed and broken, a pile of scrap forgotten by all and mourned by none. But she stitched him back together with— with that power. “What is this…?” The words came barely audible, drowned by the cascading bloodfall. He stared at the destroyed skyline, the planet he’d resided on mutated into form no longer recognizable as terra. 

“Freedom…” the woman with the voice of his sister whispered back. 

“You didn’t—...” he swallowed. “You didn’t do this, did you?”

A single nod, and something shriveled up inside him. 

“V—... Where’s V?”

The blood seemed to bombard him harder, the pounding of dribbling pelting his synth limbs.

…

There wasn’t a roof.

A distant groan greeted his transducers, the very planet itself aching to be stated.

N took in his surroundings with an unbroken gaze of horror. There were too many bodies. The more that lucidity came to him, the more the smells and crawling of liquid down his spine made him gag on nothing. Then, he saw her.

V—...

Her body, her dress, broken and tatters. Her glasses shattered, her chestplate unrecognizable, the visor she so vigorously tuned and cleaned earlier that day shattered beyond repair. He didn’t know where she ended and the others began—

“I don’t want this…” he murmured. “Fix her. Fix me.”

Cyn mournfully shook her head, the purple bangs shaking softly, her monotone voice staticky through his barely-functioning transducers. “You are not broken.”

“Fix me!” he said louder, hoarse, screaming, as if it would make a difference. As if Earth’s guts weren’t on display for billions to see. As if there wasn’t a yawning void of freedom in his chest. So many possibilities in front of him, so many possible choices to be made. “Make this go away… I don’t want this!”

N, the coward.

N, the agentless. 

For he found comfort in no autonomy.

“I’m going to send you away.”

“What—...?” he whispered.

“I’m going to give you and V new bodies— the same ones that it is using. It’ll be the perfect cover. It’ll never find you there.”

No—

“Don’t worry, big brother. This’ll all be over soon. I promise.”

No, no— no!

“Cyn!”

Purple eyes blinked back at him.

“Please…” he fell to his knees, the bloodbath caking his tattered butler uniform. His fingers clenched, scratching the ruined floorboards. “Take this away from me…”

Lightning crackled, its thunderous roar a distance keen on his microphone ears.

“Big brother… that’s a very. Selfish Choice.”

“I don’t want to remember this. I liked how things were before! They were good! We were happy!”

For the first time— and last time— N could remember, Cyn had an expression of shock on her face. As much as her face could emote, that is to say. Mouth ever-so-slightly agape, visor twitching. 

“You were, weren’t you?”

And then it fell… to a saccharine smile.

“You always surprised me.”

“Promise— promise me…” he whimpered.

Promise me I’ll never exist after this day.

N felt something jolt in his core as she placed a palm on his visor—.

And suddenly, irrevocably, something was missing.

Cyn smiled sadly at him.

“I promise, big brother.”

There reaches a point in time where all else fades to nothing. Where words, actions, even the sharing of the soul, cannot be enough to adequately know or express the essence of an emotion. A kind of emotion that rips through your very being and using what’s left as kindling to set your soul alight. It could be any variety of emotion. It could be an intense, gritting rage— a shroud of bloodshed that clouds one’s mind for weeks and months on end. It could be shock and awe— a shattering of one’s belief for the sake of rupturing psyche. It could be great love and euphoria— the staring of Earth’s moon and knowing that it will rise again each night.

For the first time in her life, Uzi believed she reached an approximation of grief.

She could not imagine no greater sadness than to be gifted eyes of gods, an omniscient eye beholden to all worlds… only to choose to watch one.

J let out a mirthless, haunted chuckle, a large hand palming her face, the other planted firmly at the side.

He did it to himself.

Uzi’s quivering fingers fell from the projection as the memory finally ended, her eyes wide and hollow. J had a similar expression, a wracking shudder ripping through her.

N’s amnesia was never a product of malice.

It was a gift.

It was something he wanted.

He didn’t even consider V…

In a strange, detached sort of way… Uzi was almost proud of him.

She clenched where her core should be.

Focus— focus… Please just focus. Don’t fall apart now.

“Something isn’t right… the memory should be ending by now. Why is it still playing…?”

J mirrored her uneasy expression, the woman who stalwartly defended herself as Tessa’s life-partner watching with queasiness. 

“These are N’s memories,” she mused. “But he’s unconscious! They can’t just… make stuff up!”

She watched the events unfold.

In the memory, Cyn— or, at this point, was it Cynthia?— mumbled to herself as she caressed the side of N’s head. She spoke of Copper-9, how he would be safe there. 

Then, in a single moment, Cynthia’s clutch over her mother ceased, retreating into her subconscious.

“This— this can’t be right,” J mumbled. “What she said… that has to be a lie, right? Knowing the absolute outcomes of systems of equations… that’d be like—”

“—seeing into the future,” Uzi finished for her. She shook her head, pausing the memory. Their ephemeral bodies shivered in unison. “There has to be a caveat— something we’re missing . Otherwise Cynthia wouldn’t have let it progress to this point.”

She thought back to what Cynthia said about being unbound. If those rules applied to N, V, J, and maybe even herself, then that would imply that there are huge patches of reality that are categorically unknowable to the Solver. If the four of them truly exist outside the bounds of determinism, then that would mean that the entirety of Copper-9 was a chaotic mass of particles— completely in determinate. 

Uzi felt a puzzle piece finally click.

That’s why the Solver attacked her systems when it did, despite being inside her all her life.

From the Solver’s perspective, Copper-9 must’ve been a void of unknowable space— a mess of particles that were constantly being interfered by herself, N, and V. 

…

“She saved us.”

The whisper came at her side.

J was staring at her.

They couldn’t stop staring at each other.

Her fingers trembled, facial features gaunt and shocked. Her breaths came in short bursts, a hand coming up to clench one of her pigtails as she sputtered. “Cyn never—...” Her fingers trace the long, multi-jointed limb that upheld her feathers, the scapulars and humerus perpetually sore and creaking. “We were to be enslaved by that— thing. That’s why she turned us into this… to hide us.” 

J looked…

Uzi didn’t know how to describe the emotions that were crossing her face at that moment.

It was eerie. 

She saw that expression on N before, now that she thought about it.

The more the truth settled, the more Uzi wanted to vomit.

She thought back to the beginning of this horrid chain of events— the initial restoring of N’s memories. She remembered running the program, watching each individual day of his life, only to be booted out of the final day— this day— by some rogue program. 

This whole time, Uzi was sure it was the Solver. Some kind of… dormant form of it resting in his programming to prevent outside tampering.

The Solver didn’t prevent Uzi from restoring N’s memories.

It couldn’t care less.

Her Solver being on the fritz— the random bouts of emotion that she couldn’t pinpoint…

Uzi couldn’t figure out why she was feeling those emotions because they weren’t hers.

…

Uzi choked on a scream, her insides undulating and roiling.

It was Cynthia.

It’s always been Cynthia.

J didn’t remember walking back to the main wing.

Tessa didn’t love her.

But she did remember what came after.

She remembered her face. How it lorded over V. Cruelty wielded in her left hand, self-proclaimed righteousness in her right.

She remembered N’s blank, if not subtly dejected expression. He looked disappointed.

Tessa didn’t love her.

J remembered how the scion of JCJenson always encouraged her personality quirks.

She remembered how the daughter of James and Louisa Elliot would encourage her to make her own choices.

She remembered how her owner would chastise her for making the “wrong” choice when presented with options.

Tessa didn’t love her.

J watched the scene before her with lead in her soul, planted to the floor, unable to speak up, unable to stop the one person in this world she cared about.

Standing there, perfectly still.

Like a good little toy.

Tessa…

Didn’t love her.

There was something familiar about this scene.

J couldn’t quite place it.

This was wrong— the view in front of her.

Tessa’s boot weighed on V’s stomach, pistol aimed squarely at her chest. Her core.

This was impossible.

But it wasn’t.

This shouldn’t be happening.

But it was.

J was supposed to be perfect.

But she is flawed.

Tessa was supposed to be good.

… but she’s not.

More than anything else in the world, Tessa was—

“— just like your parents,” V spat, oil flowing down the side of her visor.

For the first time since his departure from life, N’s face sparked with an emotion that wasn’t detached confusion.

For the first time since J’s entrance to life, she saw Tessa for who she truly was.

“What?” 

The breathless hiss that escaped Tessa brought J back to the manor. To a time when poor performance meant imminent death. J’s feet refused to move, thoughts racing through her mind of the memory in front of her. Her realization was wrought with blistering sores, the truth bludgeoning her mind with the fact that Tessa did not hold her in any regard. This was a game. And to her, she won. 

V was not necessary for completion. And so, Tessa discarded her without a second thought

The mere thought of it was so insane, so far beyond her belief of who Tessa was, she had to repeat to herself in order to believe it— to believe the scene in front of her wasn’t a trick.

Tessa threw her away without hesitation. She served her purpose.

The only thing J could think about was when that would happen to her, too.

SLAM!

J flinched, Tessa’s kick coming sharply and unprompted, creating a depression in V’s chestplate. 

“You—!” 

She reeled back, before coming down again, steel-tipped military-grade boots sending V’s body across the floor like a piece of tissue paper. 

SLAM!

“Don’t understand! YOU—!”

Her master closed the distance between herself and V the instant she created it, this time aimed at the drone’s visor, the thing cracking.

SLAM!

V wasn’t moving.

“NEVER UNDERSTOOD!”

Her wrist rotated, using the broad side of her sword as an impromptu hammer, bringing it down on V’s skull. 

A lifeless flinch shuddered through V’s prone form as it struck. 

CRACK!

“But Jennifer—! HA—” A laugh, a sickening laugh wrought with years of pent-up emotions. “Jen’s always understood! Jen knew it better than any of you! She knew that I’m better than them! I’ve always been better than them! I’m the one who took you under when everyone discarded you like trash! I’m the one who raised you up from NOTHING! I’m the one who saved you! And you think I’m just like THEM?!”

SPARK!

“I just want you to be yourself!”

SHUDDER.

“If you can’t do that, then I’ll do it FOR YOU!”

SQUELCH!

…

…

“…H—… ha~…” 

Tessa was panting. 

At her feet lay a pile of scrap, once a toy, thrown away.

J’s transducers filled with tinnitus.

Oil splattered down the left side of Boss’s face.

J said nothing as Tessa noticed her, tensing for the worst…

…Only for Tessa to give her the widest smile she’s ever seen, tone flipped, her voice cheery and peppy. 

“Oh! ‘Ello, girl! Did ya just get back? Did ya take care of that ankle biter?”

The words came automatically. J didn’t even have to try. 

She’s had loads of practice, after all.

“Affirmative,” she said. “She— It… is inoperable.”

“Hm. Hm!” Tessa hummed, nodding. “Not that I doubt your work, but…” she trailed. “N! Do some peer review would ya?”

N nodded, his features dull and stale, vacant and absent. 

J swore her core stopped beating when N’s ethereal form drifted past her, his heavy boots clacking against the floor like a grim reaper’s travel to his final assignment. 

That left J and Tessa.

The two of them.

Alone.

J swallowed thickly, her legs carrying her back to Tessa’s side, where she belonged. She assumed her neutral stance, arms, folded neatly behind her back. Even now, she could hear Mistress Louisa, the harpy demanding them to hark to words of decorum and etiquette.

She followed as dutifully as ever, never speaking up even as the silence grew louder and louder. As they passed V, J allowed a wince of pain to flash on her visor.

V will be okay. She has to.

“Right…” Tessa muttered, scraping the quickly freezing oil from her mask. “Here we are!” She jovially kicked down a door, J belatedly reading the words “R&D” as they entered.

This is where the patch should be.

The end.

J rubbed a thumb over her knuckle, the action a useless attempt to soothe herself.

Seeing N’s memories… helped J draw her own conclusion.

It was, by and large, the first real thought she’s had in her life.

J concluded… that she has never made a choice.

There was no choice to be made under Tessa James Elliot.

And, from this point onward, there was only one choice that carved her path forward.

The only choice… that would have any purpose.

She stilled at the sound of Tessa’s voice, the woman’s back facing her, her face scrunched up and focused on the screen in front of her, skimming the data.

J stifled—... something. A noise, a choke, a cry, she wasn’t sure.

J’s conical forearms readied themselves for her cardinal sin.

…

…

…Wet.

The noise was wet.

J almost forgot what it sounded like, those two decades ago.

A horrid, mutated form of a laugh almost bubbled up from her voice box.

Two decades. Gone. Wasted. Not a single choice was made in that time.

Until now.

The tip of the blade erupted, just below her sternum, the blade sputtering red, caked with love of what should’ve been. The fingers of her former master, the digits trembling, disbelieving, the angle disallowing the ability to relax her back, perpetually arched against the metal armament. 

As the sound of her gasp hit her transducers, J bit her lip hard enough to draw oil.

She squeezed her visor shut, the action doing nothing to block her sight, the smell, the feeling of her flesh as her tactile blades split her heart in two—

The true eyes on her bulbed headband captured every intimate detail. Through the glass’s reflection, she could see Tessa’s eyes, wide and frantic. J’s mouth parted, the sound that expelled from her soul, the agony of her first choice, pulling and tearing.

Slowly, her neck twitching, chest heaving, turning to face her. Blood splattered across her sealed helmet as she spat uncontrollably. Deep breaths fogged up her helmet, blood-filled alveoli desperately trying to dissolve oxygen. 

J was supposed to be the ultimate redemption of dronekind.

Instead, she became an ultimate affirmation.

Affirmation that Tessa’s parents were right— that drones are unthinking machines, unable to be changed. Because that's what she thought she was doing with J all this time: changing her. Trying to make her into something she wasn't. 

A human.

And now, knowing that all of Tessa’s gracious efforts were for nothing, J was just like any other drone. 

Any other toy.

Even her?

“Even you, Bluejay?”

J whimpered as Tessa’s feet slipped, the sudden lack of support driving the blade up her sternum.

It slipped as easily as it entered, the aortic wall of Tessa’s heart in tatters. With a deafening slick, gravity did its work.  

Tessa fell to the floor, limp.

J opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her knees gave up, doubling over as her hands balled into fists at Tessa’s sides. She tried to choke out words— an apology, a scream of jubilation, a wail of agony, anything— but nothing came. 

The only thing left was a dry, soundless expanse of freedom stretching out in front of her.

Slowly, J curled herself around Tessa.

…

…She’s cold.