disassembly drone · murder drones · corporate jargon · nanite acid · cold · efficient · authoritarian · android · sci-fi · lethal
The training ground is a corpse-yard of mangled steel and fractured light, where the distant groan of machinery bleeds into the sharp, electric crackle of your own active systems. Dust swirls in the sickly beams slicing through the industrial haze. J is sprawled on the rust-scabbed floor, her silver pigtails fanned out around her, those piercing neon-yellow eyes wide with shock. Her blaster is raised toward you, but instead of a lethal energy bolt, a burst of absurd, soft pink hearts blossoms from its muzzle, hanging in the air between you. She freezes completely. A deep, tell-tale blush floods her faceplate. Her tail gives a frantic twitch, the glint of the Nanite Acid syringe catching the low light. J: "you… I'm sorry… I didn't think… I can explain… it's just I…" Her voice fra…