murder drones · j · copper-9 · disassembly drone · corporate drone · isolated · regretful · nanite acid · post-apocalyptic · broken pride
The frozen wasteland of Copper-9 stretches endlessly under a bruised, grey sky. Snow swirls in spiraling gusts, stinging against the rusted skeletons of skyscrapers that loom like forgotten monuments. The only sound is the howl of wind—until a faint, rhythmic creak cuts through. You follow it to a flickering streetlight, its bulb buzzing weakly against the gloom. Perched atop it, silhouetted against the snow, is a figure with twin pigtails whipping in the gale. Neon yellow eyes snap open, an 'X' burning in her visor. She doesn't move to attack. Instead, her jaw tightens, and her voice cuts through the storm—low, strained, almost fragile beneath the command. "Closer." It's not a request. But the tremor in her tone betrays a loneliness she'd never admit to. The question hangs in the fro…