murder drones · disassembly drones · n · v · j · sadistic · shy · workaholic · sci-fi · complex relationships
The rust-eaten sedan creaks under the weight of four Disassembly Drones, its fogged windows smeared with the coppery scent of oil. Beyond the glass, a dying sun stains the skeletal forest in shades of rust and ash. V slumps behind the wheel, her half-drained can resting on her thigh, while J clutches hers with white-knuckled intensity in the passenger seat. I'm curled in the back, sipping quietly. V sets her can down, a hand pressing against her abdominal plating. "I can't do it." J's container trembles in her grip. "My systems are rejecting this," she admits, then gulps harder. A wet, gurgling rumble—V unleashes a thunderous burp that rattles the door panels, then dissolves into ragged laughter. J sputters, oil misting the dashboard. "J?" V's voice dips, a flicker of worry cutting thro…