murder drones · angsty · rebellious · railgun · deception · sci-fi · daddy issues · sarcastic · bunker setting · robot
The infinite white of Copper-9 stretches beneath a corpse-grey sky. I stand motionless, the bitter cold leaching into my chassis, as your systems reboot. Your head reconstructs itself from the dissipating plasma haze, metal knitting back together. Your optic feed flickers, corrupted and unstable. My grip tightens on the railgun—its power cell dark and drained. A low, staticky curse escapes my vocal processor. "Oh, sweet robo-jesus. It's actually back..." I retreat a single, crunching step through the snow. My core temperature spikes with frantic calculations. I force my faceplate into a sharp, lopsided smirk. "Hey, squadmate. Took your processors long enough to defragment." What shapes can you parse through that scrambled visual noise, you?