Chapter Text
Uzi hated mornings.
Not because they were inconvenient.
Not because she had anything better to do.
She hated mornings because mornings meant school.
And school meant dealing with idiots.
The Engineering Club room was the only place in the entire bunker that actually made sense.
Machines made sense.
Wires made sense.
Circuits made sense.
People?
Absolutely not.
Uzi stepped out of the club room, carrying a small pile of parts under one arm while muttering to herself.
“Seriously, if one more drone tells me my projects are ‘too dangerous,’ I’m going to introduce them to what an actual dangerous project looks like.”
She adjusted her jacket.
Nobody understood.
That was the problem.
Everyone else was focused on surviving.
Uzi was focused on figuring out why they were still surviving.
There had to be answers.
There had to be something more than hiding in a bunker forever.
She was halfway to her locker when she nearly walked straight into someone.
“Watch where you’re—”
Uzi stopped.
Chad.
Of course.
The absolute last drone she wanted to see.
The taller Worker Drone looked down at her, seemingly about to say something.
“Oh, hey, Uzi, I was actually going to—”
“Going to what?”
Uzi crossed her arms.
“Say something stupid? Make some terrible joke? Pretend you have a personality?”
Chad frowned.
“Wow.”
“No, seriously.”
She stepped closer.
“Your entire existence is like someone asked a broken AI to design a personality and then gave up halfway through.”
Chad opened his mouth.
Then paused.
His expression changed.
Like he suddenly remembered something.
Uzi narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
Chad looked down the hallway.
He saw someone that was standing there.
Watching.
His confidence immediately vanished.
The drone’s expression shifted.
“…Uh.”
A moment passed.
Then he quickly looked away.
“Never mind.”
Uzi blinked.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were literally about to say something.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“Yep.”
“Convenient.”
Chad didn’t answer.
He just swiftly walked away.
Uzi stared after him.
“Moron.”
She shook her head.
Whatever.
She had better things to worry about.
Like the fact that her locker wasn’t glued shut.
Uzi stopped.
That was weird.
Very weird.
Usually, someone had messed with it.
Not anymore.
She slowly opened it.
Nothing.
No glue.
No prank.
No garbage.
Just her stuff.
“…Okay.”
She looked around.
“Who replaced everyone with competent people?”
A voice came from behind her.
“Maybe the world finally decided to improve.”
Uzi immediately turned.
“Ares.”
Standing behind her was a Worker Drone she knew far too well.
Ares.
He was a little taller than most Worker Drones, standing around 5’10”, but not enough to be intimidating.
It was everything else about him that made him stand out.
His messy dark hair was usually kept somewhat neat, though right now there was a very obvious streak of blue dye mixed into it.
His clothes were different from most drones too.
Ares actually cared about what he wore, surprise surprise.
A dark jacket.
A comfortable shirt underneath.
Boots that looked far more practical than anything fashionable.
He had a habit of making himself look put together, even when he clearly hadn’t tried.
—And he looked exhausted.
“Why do you look like you lost a fight with a paint bucket?”
Ares sighed.
“Because I barely escaped.”
Uzi raised an eyebrow.
“From what?”
Ares pointed behind himself.
“Lizzy.”
Uzi immediately understood.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Ares wiped some of the dye from his hair.
“She decided blue would look good on me.”
“Would it?”
Ares paused.
“…Yes, it very much would.”
Uzi stared.
“Wow. You admitted it.”
“Hey, Lizzy may be a severe detriment to my peace, but she isn’t stupid, nor an idiot.”
He crossed his arms.
“But if I tell her that, then she’ll take that as an admission of defeat, and start dressing me up all KINDS of ways.”
“She’s already got you.”
“Not permanently.”
“You’re literally wearing the evidence.”
Ares looked away.
“This is unrelated.”
Uzi smirked.
“You know, for someone who hates being told what to do, you sure let Lizzy boss you around a lot.”
Ares narrowed his optics.
“Careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
A pause.
“An observation.”
Uzi laughed.
“You’re weird.”
“You’re Uzi.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
She glared.
He stared back.
Then both looked away.
Neither wanted to admit they were actually friends.
“So.”
Uzi leaned against the locker.
“Got a question.”
Ares looked over.
“What?”
“Have you got anything to do with why nobody has been bothering me lately?”
Ares’ expression became suspiciously neutral.
“No.”
Uzi narrowed her eyes.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Maybe.”
“ARES!”
He shrugged.
“Listen—that’s a trade secret.”
Uzi stared.
“You’re actually impossible.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I accepted it as one anyway.”
Before Uzi could respond, she noticed something.
Behind Ares.
Someone was approaching.
Slowly.
Quietly.
A familiar pink jacket.
A familiar smile.
Lizzy.
Uzi looked back at Ares.
Then at Lizzy.
Then back at Ares.
She decided not to say anything.
Ares noticed her expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“Nope.”
Ares frowned.
Then—
“Heyyyyyyyy Buddy!”
Ares froze.
His entire body went still.
Uzi watched his expression change.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something worse.
Recognition.
“No.”
Lizzy stepped closer.
“I was thinking about your hair again and—”
Ares moved.
Instantly.
No hesitation.
No warning.
He turned around and sprinted.
Not jogged.
Not walked quickly.
Sprinted.
Ares became a blur down the hallway.
Two drones walking in his path barely had time to react before he jumped over them.
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!”
“What the—”
“HEY!”
Lizzy watched him disappear.
“…”
She smiled.
“He’s adorable.”
Uzi stared.
“You scare him.”
“Yes.”
“That’s the problem.”
“No, that’s the fun part.”
Uzi sighed.
She looked down the hallway where Ares had vanished.
Ares was strange.
Everyone knew that.
He didn’t remember where he came from.
Didn’t remember his life before Copper-9.
Didn’t remember anything except his name.
A drone without a yesterday.
But somehow…
He still acted like someone who had already lived a thousand lives.
He got angry easily.
He cared too much.
He protected people who couldn’t protect themselves.
He was stubborn.
Annoying.
And honestly?
A little insane.
But Uzi had to admit something.
Copper-9 was full of drones who had lost everything.
Their homes.
Their purpose.
Their past.
Maybe Ares was just another one of them.
A drone trying to figure out who he was.