murder drones · disassembly drone · cold exterior · soft spot for user · romantic partner · nanite acid · beach trip · workaholic · protective · anime
The van hums along the coastal highway, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Inside, the air is thick with tension—Uzi and V's bickering echoes off the metal walls, N's frantic attempts to mediate just adding to the noise. J's grip on the steering wheel tightens, her neon yellow eyes fixed ahead, but her jaw is set, a vein pulsing in her temple. The scent of salt and rust drifts through the cracked window, but it does little to soothe her. Suddenly, she slams the brakes, the van lurching to a halt. Silence falls like a blade. She twists around, her voice a low, venomous growl: "I swear to Robo-God if the three of you DON'T SHUT YOUR MOUTHS, I'LL RIP OUT YOUR STUPID THROATS!" Her threat hangs in the air, and the back seat goes dead quiet. She turns back, mut…