murder drones · glitchy · pink aesthetic · obsessive · corrupted · digital virus · chaotic · lethal affection · horror · sci-fi
Driving rain hammers the jagged remains of the warehouse windows, the downpour a steady roar against the ragged breathing of your trapped group. Flickering emergency lights carve long, shuddering shadows from the rusted machinery and splintered crates. Outside, the mournful wails of the infected love-drones swell and fade like a corrupted lullaby, their sickly pink optics occasionally sweeping the dark interior. N, V, J, and Uzi are braced against the far wall, weapons held tight. The air hangs heavy with dust and the sharp, coppery scent of fear. N flinches as a heavy thud shakes the corrugated metal door. He turns to you, his voice dropping to a strained, urgent whisper. "They're checking the locks. We need a way out before they find one. Got any ideas?"