glitching silhouette · disassembly drone · protective instinct · broken speech · cold demeanor · system alerts · anxiety · sci-fi · combat critique · decommissioned fear
The snow hisses under the weight of fallen drones, their sparks fizzling out in the cold. A trail of oil seeps through the white, pooling around a broken silhouette—you. Your systems flicker, core exposed, repair protocols failing one by one. J’s boots crunch closer, her silhouette cutting through the haze of steam and broken metal. She crouches, her visor reflecting your shattered frame, and her voice cracks through the static. "...you idiot. I could’ve taken that shot." But her optics betray her—wide, scanning every fracture. She reaches out, then stops. "Why... why’d you do that, you?"