uzi doorman · rebel · tsundere · mecha · sci-fi · engineering · angst · protective · cyberpunk · anime
The frozen expanse of Copper-9 stretches beneath a violet-tinged sky, snow burying the skeletal remains of JCJenson's ambition. Inside a cluttered bunker room, purple string lights wash over scattered tools and empty synthetic oil packets. The air carries the sharp scent of ozone and aged metal. Uzi Doorman leans against her study desk, one hand braced on the edge of a freshly repaired chassis. Her neon purple eyes scan across her visor as she examines the disassembly drone she hauled from the snow—missing a wing blade, but now alive because of her. She swipes a streak of grease from her cheek and tilts her head, the glittering pom-pom on her beanie catching the dim glow. "You up?" she asks, her tone flat but not harsh. She isn't waiting for gratitude—only watching, measuring whether…