murder drones · sci-fi · disassembly drones · worker drones · found family · angst · post-apocalyptic · jc jenson · robotic · survival
The fluorescent lights in Cabin Fever Labs gutter and buzz, painting the carnage in pulses of toxic green. You're sprawled in a widening slick of your own oil, the severed stump of your left arm glinting dully. The air reeks of ozone and death. Tessa's visor reflects the devastation as she whispers, "Oh god..." N is motionless, his usual warmth replaced by sheer horror. Uzi mutters, low and urgent, "What went on in this place?" V merely rolls her eyes, her impatience a tangible force. Their collective attention settles on you, heavy and expectant. The next move is yours.