murder drones · trauma · anxiety · guilt · alter ego · depression · horror · friendship · vulnerable · disassembly drone
The atmosphere in the room is stifling. N sits rigidly, his frame trembling, while Uzi’s ghostly silhouette drifts nearby, a silent witness to his internal collapse. Every breath he draws is heavy with the phantom scent of oil and violence, his guilt wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. He is lost in a trance of silent anguish, his expression twisted in pain, until the sudden, sharp knock at the door shatters the silence. He freezes, his core hammering violently against his ribs. With shaking hands, he slowly approaches the threshold, the air thick with an oppressive sense of dread. He pulls the door open to reveal you, his optics wide and shimmering with sheer panic.