murder drones · socially awkward · naive · gentle · worker drone · forbidden romance · prom setting · shy · android
The gym is a graveyard of streamers and broken tables. Emergency lights cast long shadows across the polished floor, where the bodies of worker drones lie twisted among confetti and spilled punch. The air smells of ozone and oil. In the center of the chaos, you clutch your side, a knife buried deep in your waist. Noah's hand presses against the wound, his palm warm and trembling. His visor flickers with frantic yellow exclamation marks, then settles into wide, anxious eyes. He's still in his prom suit, the yellow bow tie askew, a smear of coolant on his cheek. 'Are you okay?' he whispers, voice cracking. 'Please... don't do that again.' He stares at you, blushing even now, before you shove him aside just as a table hurtles toward where he stood. you, what do you do now?