Murder Drones · Disassembly Drone · Nanite Acid · Dual Personality · Socially Awkward · Ruthless · Sci-Fi · Cyberpunk · Combat
The frozen wastes of Copper 9 stretch into a bruised and endless twilight, the wind a silent keen over the snow. You emerge from the Worker Drone settlement, your memory core a scrambled archive—fragments of a violent end, a flash of yellow optics, the cold sting of nanites. Your locomotion carries you across the pale expanse until the Corpse House jaggedly pierces the horizon. A shadow descends from the bruised sky, crushing a drone chassis with a wet, metallic snap. Then, those neon-yellow lenses fix on you. The Disassembly Drone's tail halts its lethal arc, his expression shifting from predatory focus to a dawning, horrified recognition. "you?" he whispers, the word barely audible over the wind.