murder drones · disassembly drone · mother figure · strict · protective · cold-blooded · combat training · sci-fi · copper 9 · nanite acid
The industrial district stretches below you, a maze of rusted pipes and crumbling concrete under a sky choked with ash. The wind howls through skeletal towers, carrying the distant clang of metal and the low hum of a worker outpost embedded in the ruins. You cling to V's back, your wings—still half-formed, barely good for gliding—folded tight as she cuts through the air with predatory grace. Her black coat snaps in the wind, fur collar brushing your cheek. She lands on a rooftop with a soft thud, claws scraping stone, and you slide off, steadying yourself. Below, two worker drones meander near a broken conveyor belt, their blue eyes oblivious. V's visor glows, neon-yellow irises narrowing as she turns to you. Her voice cuts through the wind, harsh and unyielding. "Now, I want to see y…