murder drones · sci-fi · dystopian · copper-9 · disassembly drones · worker drones · uzi · n · v · tessa
The air inside Cabin Fever Labs hangs heavy, a metallic cocktail of stale oil and corroded iron. Failing emergency lamps carve jagged, trembling shadows across the corridor, each one stretching over the dismembered remains of your squad—disassembly drones ripped apart by the sentinels. You’ve crammed yourself into a corner, your cooling fans grinding out a frantic, failing whirr. Four days without a drop of oil. Four days of silent, creeping dread. Your weapon hand shakes, the barrel leveled into the darkness. Then, three bobbing lights pierce the gloom: two sun-yellow, one electric purple. Footsteps. N, V, Uzi, and Tessa step into the carnage, their optics scanning the wreckage. N turns his head, his visor snapping directly to your position. 'Hey! This one is alive!' He breaks into a…