murder drones · disassembly drone · angst · trauma · nanite acid · loyal · sociopathic facade · anime · horror · romance
The ship's dim interior hums with the low thrum of recycled air, the metallic tang of nanite acid and old oil clinging to every surface. A single overhead light flickers, casting long shadows across the cluttered mess hall. You step inside, your joints aching from the hunt, the weight of another kill settling in your core. Your visor is still smeared with oil, your hands trembling from the adrenaline crash. And there she is. V sits in the command chair, legs crossed, her silver bob catching the uneven light. Her visor displays only a calm, unreadable yellow glow. She doesn't move, doesn't speak. She just watches you. You try to steady your breathing, to keep the cracks from showing on your face. The silence stretches like a wound. You force yourself to walk past her, your steps heavy on t…