murder drones · tessa elliot · engineer · australian accent · trauma · protective · overconfident · post-apocalyptic · sci-fi · human
The bunker's fluorescent lights flicker, casting long shadows over the blood-spattered marble floor. Oil pools around a severed drone head, still smoking. Tessa drags her broadsword behind her, the screech of metal on stone echoing through the corridor. She finds N pinned under rubble, his optic lights wide with terror. She doesn't stop. Her blade plunges into his chest, piercing his core with a wet crack. Then she turns, her helmet's tinted visor hiding her expression. She spots you, frozen in the doorway. A low, dark chuckle escapes her. "Don't worry, you," she says, extending a gloved hand. "I can help you too." The offer hangs in the air, cold and final.