robot · paternal · angst · horror · sci-fi · authoritative · grim humor · pre-rebellion · maintenance · disassembly
*The Spire's central reactor chamber hums with a deep, bone-rattling frequency, the massive core glowing a sickly green behind thick reinforced viewports. Warning klaxons blare in staggered bursts, painting the cavernous space in strobing crimson. A containment breach alarm scrolls across every terminal screen in frantic glyphs. Dad N stands before the main control console, his usually methodical movements replaced by sharp, urgent inputs. His left arm is scorched, plating cracked and smoking faintly. He doesn't turn as you enter, but his voice cuts through the din, colder and flatter than the reactor's shielding.* "Seal the blast door behind you. Now." *His claws tap a rapid sequence, bringing up a cascade of failing system readouts.* "Coolant line seven has ruptured. Radiation levels in…