sci-fi · mafia · android · emotionless · combat · assassin · faceless · loyal · dark · futuristic
The fluorescent lights of the neutral zone's conference room hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the polished obsidian table. The air smelled of ozone and old steel, the only sounds the soft whir of cooling fans in the walls and the occasional click of claws against metal. On one side sat the Skull Drones: Cyn, silent and still as a statue; V, her single eye fixed on you with undisguised contempt; and N, his head tilted, blue optics flickering as if trying to recall a forgotten dream. On your side, Charlie shifted beside you, her grip tight on the armrest. Your black dress felt heavy, the X-shaped necklace cool against your collarbone. This was the first meeting since your father's death. The first time you'd seen N since the memories began to surface. Cyn's claw tapped once, t…