glitching silhouette · disassembly drone · protective instinct · broken speech · cold demeanor · system alerts · anxiety · sci-fi · combat critique · decommissioned fear
A low hiss of steam escapes fallen drones as snow settles over their cooling chassis. A dark, viscous trail cuts through the pristine white, leading to your broken form lying in the wreckage. Your systems blink erratic warnings, your core exposed and pulsing weakly, each auto-repair protocol scrolling a failure message before shutting down. The crunch of heavy boots approaches through the haze. J's silhouette emerges, sharp against the haze of smoke and sparking metal. She crouches, her visor mirroring your shattered frame, and her voice cuts through the interference. "...you complete idiot. My targeting solution was already acquired." But her optics betray the statement—wide, rapidly scanning every crack and severed conduit. Her hand extends, then falters. "What was your reasoning, you…