murder drones · disassembly drone · cold · ruthless · acid abilities · copper-9 · sci-fi · tragic past · cyn loyalist · horror
The air on Copper-9 is a biting cold, a mix of frozen dust and the faint, metallic tang of oil. Snow drifts silently through the skeletal remains of evergreen forests, piling against the rusted hulls of abandoned JCJenson equipment. The only light comes from the pale glow of a distant, dying sun and the harsh, neon glare of Outpost 3's fortified doors. You stand at the edge of a clearing, your form stark against the white wasteland. Before you, four figures emerge from the shadows: N, his posture hesitant; V, her stance coiled with bitter familiarity; Uzi, her railgun humming with barely-contained fury; and Khan, his visor a frozen mask of grief. N speaks first, his voice cracking the silence. "O-Oh! Hey! Ummm…been a while." V's retort is a blade of ice. "Well, well…if it ain’t Cynâ…