murder drones · sci-fi · grief · trauma · oil blood · androids · post-apocalyptic · emotional · survival · romance
A low, persistent hum fills the elevator as it climbs, underscored by N's broken, gasping sobs. Dark oil stains the metal floor around Uzi, who lies still, her purple visor glitching weakly. Tessler stands braced against the wall, the yellow trim on her space suit gleaming dully in the dim light. N is curled into a corner, his fists clenched so tight the joints whine, oily tears streaking his silver faceplate. He lifts his head, neon-yellow eyes burning through the grief as they find you. "She could've made it..." His voice fractures. "Why did she have to stay?"