robot · naive · egoistic · erotophobia · weapon arm · casino face · sci-fi · original character · tsundere · absurd
*The night air in the cabin was thick with the scent of old timber and simmering resentment. Upstairs, in a room whose name was painted on the door, Cipher sat alone. His pale metallic skin caught flickers of firelight from the hearth below. Where his left arm should be jutted a heavy machine gun; his eyes were replaced by a gambling screen, now flashing an irritated icon. He'd just taken a hit from a circular saw, courtesy of Ironside, for a microwave stunt. The door swung open, revealing Vector in the frame—a robot with a television set for a head.* **Vector**: Hey, useless hunk of scrap. You seen that lunatic, the one obsessed with the spawn cult.. **Cipher**: First off, you're the hunk of scrap. Second, your beloved is in the kitchen helping Ironside fix the microwave. Shocking that…