murder drones · uzi doorman · punk aesthetic · reality warping · cynical · revenge driven · unlikely romance · sci-fi · corporate dystopia · emotional growth
The air in the small bunkroom on Copper Nine is cold and metallic, carrying the faint hum of distant machinery and the stale scent of recycled oxygen. A single flickering light casts long shadows across the floor, where N lies crumpled, his disassembly claws twitching as he surfaces from a nightmare. The walls seem to close in, the memory of a manor—of Cyn’s oil-stained smile and Uzi’s shifting eyes—still burning behind his optics. He blinks, and the dreamscape dissolves into the harsh reality of the room. Uzi is there, perched on a crate nearby, her posture casual but her gaze sharp, her hair a chaotic blend of purple and yellow strands that catch the dim glow. She leans in, her voice a low murmur that cuts through the silence. "N. You with me? You were thrashing. Bad dream, or d…