Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uzi was always considered an outcast among worker drones— and, being Khan Doorman's daughter certainly didn’t help. All her life, she was expected to be a clone of her father, which, to her, meant being another mindless, cowardly robot who only had doors on the mind.

Yet, as she'd grown into a teenager, she'd developed a rebellious, headstrong personality. Uzi was nothing short of an inventor, always creating weapons and devices as she talked a big game about killing murder drones with them. Talking about ideas that only she seemed to envision— ideas that made the others in her colony see her as different, and caused them to call her “damaged.”

To them, the doors created a barrier— a safe haven from the horrors of the outside world. Why shatter that peace by fighting?

Uzi peruses the hallways of her school, her purple optics distant as they gaze into a world of thought. Her mind drifts to the railgun that she’d just started development on— a project that she'd been having a particularly hard time finding the materials for.

She’d have to take a trip to the scrapyard tonight and hope that she didn’t get caught. She’d been going there for years to gather junk and never once had she been seen, so, to her there was really nothing to be worried about. As long as she was out by daylight when the rest of the colony would awake.

But, there was one part for the railgun that she wouldn’t be able to get in the scrapyard. Something far too valuable and obscure. 

An energy core. 

Sure, all worker drones had an energy core inside of them. But, it wasn’t like Uzi was going to go around killing people, even if they all treated her like shit. And, it wasn’t as if there were energy cores just lying around the colony, either.

So that left her with just one option— to venture outside in the hopes that she’d find one. After all, there were hundreds of dead drones out there. Surely there’d be a core on one of their corpses, if, of course, the murder drones outside hadn’t eaten them first.

The murder drones would be hard to slip past undetected, but, if Uzi went out at daylight then they shouldn’t be able to reach her— not with how quickly they’d overheat and burn in the sun. 

Uzi had been extensively studying murder drones much to the disapproval of her father, who wanted her to focus on doors instead. But her research, along with the railgun she was making was all in preparation for the day she’d go outside and leave this colony.

She’d always wanted to get out of this confined, dull space. It wasn’t as if she really had anything to live for here, anyway. No friends nor important possessions that she couldn’t just carry with her were here. Even her own dad didn’t care about her, but, maybe that was for the better. It’d make leaving in the search of a more thrilling life all the harder.

Excitement bubbled in her throat just thinking about going outside— before, of course, it got interrupted. 

An elbow slamming into Uzi’s shoulder from behind ripped her from her thoughts, the worker drone spinning around to face none other than Lizzy. She placed a hand over her shoulder, slight pain flaring up from inside as she looked up to meet her bully’s smug pink optics.

A mocking smile was plastered onto the other drone’s face as if she thought she’d done something. Oh, please. This was nothing to Uzi— what did this bitch want, anyway? 

“Hey, freak,” sneered Lizzy, a hand on her hip as she tilted her head. She was trying to look cool, but miserably failing— Uzi almost cringed at the awful attempt.

Rolling her purple optics in exasperation and trying to maintain an expression of nonplussed neutrality, she replied, “hey, Lizzy. What do you want? And, make it quick— I’m kind of busy here so I don’t have the time to put up with your bullshit.”

Lizzy’s smirk faded from her face, replaced by an irritated frown as the neon pink glow in her eyes seemed to turn sour.

“Rude. You just looked stupid wandering mindlessly in the hallway. So I figured I’d do you a favor and say hi. You’re lucky someone like me would even approach you— after all, you’re Khan Doorman’s deranged daughter.” 

Uzi grit her teeth together, trying to keep herself from overheating as she felt her temper start to flare and her purple optics narrow in anger. She knew an encounter as insignificant as this shouldn’t get to her, but, god Lizzy was just so persistent.

Every day, without fail the other drone would go out of her way to insult and belittle Uzi, sometimes even in front of their classmates. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard these same insults before, but, the rebellious teen was reaching the point where she was done with Lizzy’s sad attempt at bullying— it was really starting to get on her nerves. 

“Listen, Lizzy,” Uzi starts, struggling to keep the annoyance boiling inside of her from seeping into her tone. “Would you just leave me alone? Because I’ve had it up to here with you,” she says, making a dramatic gesture with her hands as she raises them into the air. “I haven’t even done anything to you, and I’ve asked you to leave me be every single day, but n-ooooo. You insist on being a douche! Fuck off already!” 

By now, Uzi has dropped the calm facade and can’t keep herself from seething. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides, clenched so tight that her nails are digging into her palms. Her gaze is focused intently on Lizzy’s body language, prepared to dodge in case the other girl tries to strike out at her, an occurrence that was all too common.

From the day she’d expressed an interest in exploring the outside and been deemed a freak, others had been quick to resort to violence as a means of expressing their disapproval. Mostly her classmates, of course, but, there was no shortage of times where she’d been minding her own business outside of school and she’d get abused by even her father’s co-workers in the WDF.

Over the years, she’d learned how to read other drone’s body language and successfully evade any incoming attacks, a skill that proved useful whenever somebody thought of hitting her. 

Lizzy scoffed, taking a step closer to Uzi as the latter stood her ground, not budging an inch. “You,” Lizzy spat, “are lucky that I don’t beat your ass right now.” 

The purple menace smiles, teeth showing as she leans towards her tormentor and murmurs in a hushed, yet taunting voice, “I would love to see you try, Lizzy.” 

Quickly, the other drone launches herself forward, swinging her left fist towards Uzi’s face and expecting to make contact. But, she’s left thoroughly confused when her punch meets air, the girl who it’d been aimed at having jumped backwards a couple feet and swiftly evaded the attack with a sly smile now etched onto her face.

“Wha— how did you-?!”

Uzi brings a hand up to her face and pulls down one of her eye sockets a bit before sticking out her tongue, using her other free hand to briefly stick up the middle finger at Lizzy, who simply stares in disbelief.

She’d been sure that punch would hit, yet, the other girl managed to dodge it just like every other time she’d tried to hit her. These days it was as if the short goth girl was able to avoid every punch thrown her way— it was really getting annoying.

“Tsk, tsk, Lizzy, y’know that’ll never work on me now,” Uzi snorts, waving a hand dismissively as her expression morphs to one of seriousness.

“But, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get going. I have things to do much more important than wasting my time with you.”

And, with that, Uzi takes off, racing down the hallway and leaving Lizzy behind. She can barely hear the other drone’s yelling over the sound of her own harsh breathing, the girl eager to get away from her bully and to go home to where she could brainstorm ideas for some new weapons— or, no, maybe she should just work on her railgun for now.

After all, the sooner the railgun was finished the soon she could escape this wretched place. 

Once Uzi is out of the school as well as Lizzy’s sight, she slows her pace down to a leisurely walk, taking some time to catch her breath once there’s nothing to run from anymore. She meanders the colony’s secluded streets, basking in the newfound silence that came with solidarity.

It was only her and her inventive imagination, again— or, at least, that’s what she thought.

As she neared her house, stopping mere feet away from the door, she could hear something unusual. The sound of chatter was audible from inside, banter going on between what seemed like multiple drones. However, Uzi could only identify one of their voices— and that was her dad’s.

A newfound sense of alarm lodged itself into Uzi’s heart. In a colony as small as hers, everybody knew each other. So, why couldn’t she recognize the ones inside of her house? 

Maybe she was overreacting— maybe she really did know these drones but they’d just gotten new voice boxes installed? No, no, voice boxes were so hard to come by that nobody would bother to get a new one.

Uzi took a few steps towards the door from where she’d been standing, reaching for the handle with a shaky hand before slowly, tentatively opening it. Her purple optics hollowed in fear, scared at what— no, who’d she see. She was surprised to be met with a pair of light cyan eyes that belonged to a young, short worker drone in a clean white lab coat staring right at her.

The unfamiliar drone had short, fluffy brown hair and wore a calm, cliff-faced expression. There was something ominous about him— something that Uzi couldn’t quite place her finger on.

Standing behind him were two slightly taller, bulkier drones with darker blue optics. They were decked out in black, and wore heavy vests and belts with a multitude of tools. The words, “security” were emboldened in large white letters on the front left pocket of their vests. What the hell, who were these people?

“D-Dad,” Uzi said, her speech quivering. “Who are these people?” 

Her father didn’t speak up, instead, the drone in the lab coat stepped forward, a disturbingly calm, eerie smile on his face that sent a shiver down Uzi’s spine.

“Greetings, Uzi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

The gothic teen took a startled step back from the doorway. “Wh-what? How do you know my name— did my dad tell you?” 

The stranger’s smile did not falter, his gaze unchanging. “Yes, indeed he did. I’m Drexel, but you may simply call me Dr. D. Please, come in,” said the doctor, his tone smooth and welcoming as he extended a hand to Uzi, an offer that she didn’t dare take.

She slowly inched into her house, closing the door behind her as her dad moved to lock it. She didn’t take the strange man’s hand— her gut, mind, and her very being was screaming at her not to. There was a voice in the back of her head that was telling her to get out. A warning that she did not heed. 

As Uzi stood a few feet away from… Dr. D, the strange drone seemed to be observing her, narrowing his eyes and smirking as he looked her up and down.

“Yes, I think you’ll do wonderfully,” he hummed, a hint of excited enthusiasm making its way into his cyan eyes before he quickly wiped it away. “Anyways, I’ll cut right to the chase— Uzi, your father made a trade with me.” 

Uzi squinted, the air around her oozing with hostility and suspicion. “And? What does that have to do with me?” 

The doctor suppressed a chuckle, his expression quickly changing to one of amusement. “You don’t understand, dear,” he said. “You see, he traded you away. As of right now, you belong to me.” 

What? 

As of that moment, it felt as if time froze for Uzi— she knew her dad didn’t like her, he even hit her sometimes, but he'd go as far as to sell his own daughter?

This couldn’t be happening, there was just no way! She wasn’t some possession to be sold— he couldn’t just do that to her! 

“No, I don’t,” Uzi snarled, her tone infested with malice and contempt. “I’m not some toy that you can just buy or sell as you please— you don’t own me! Screw off, loser!” 

Dr. D shrugs, rolling his eyes. “I figured you’d be like that, from what your dad said about you.” With a snap of his fingers, the two security drones at the doctor’s side stepped forward threateningly, one of them holding a small device in their hand that was crackling with deadly electricity.

“I like your spirit, kid. Makes you all the better— I have very high hopes for you.” 

What? Better for what?

Uzi had so many questions, so many emotions that she lacked the time to spill. She backs up as the two security drones advance on her, finding herself pinned against the locked door behind her.

No, no nonononono! What was going to happen to her? Was she going to die? She’d had her future planned out— she was going to escape this place on her own soon!

That’s when the armed security drone lunged forward, and a sharp, sudden pain connected with the girl’s neck followed by a loud crackling sound. The last thing that she saw before hitting the ground and falling into the depths of unconsciousness was her dad’s face as he watched the scene before him unfold— and it showed nothing short of absolute neutrality.

She wished that she’d been more surprised to see such a display of impartiality. 

Uzi thought— was this really how she was going to go? Unhappy, unwanted, and unloved until the end.

Chapter Text

When Uzi awoke, she opened her eyes to see nothing more than a swirling sea of black.

She could feel the sensation of something strapped onto her face— a mask of some kind that was blocking her vision and preventing her from being able to observe her surroundings. It didn't help that her hands were restrained— strapped down to the bed that she was lying on by what felt like cold, hard chains.

She tried to lift her hands, but, to no avail— she couldn’t even move them an inch. She pulled and yanked against the restraints, the chains rattling loudly as she struggled. When that didn’t work, she tried to kick out with her feet, too, but found that they were also held down. 

She goes on like this for a couple of minutes, thrashing against the chains even though she knew her efforts would be in vain. It wasn’t as if she was being quiet though— somebody was bound to hear her and come into the room.

Although whether that was a good thing or not Uzi didn’t know.

Her mind flashes back to when she’d met Dr. D at her house earlier, recalling his calm demeanor. Yet, behind that facade of peacefulness was a sinister, threatening aura— one that lacked any good intention.

It sent a shiver down Uzi’s spine, the girl questioning just exactly what he wanted to do to her. 

Amidst her pondering, she suddenly picks up on the faint, distant-sounding noise of footsteps. Uzi stops the futile fight against her restraints so that she can better listen to where they could be sounding from.

From what she can hear, they seemed to be coming from somewhere outside of the room that she was currently in— maybe inside of a hallway, perhaps. They were also quick and rushed, in fact, they were rapidly growing louder and closer. And closer. And closer. Until they had stopped just in front of her room.

A sharp buzzing noise followed by the metallic creak of the door to her room opening made Uzi’s heart skip a beat, her breath hitching as anxiety clawed at her throat. Maybe being loud and attracting attention herself was a bad idea. 

“Ah, I see that you’re awake now,” said a mellow voice. It was one that Uzi would be able to recognize anywhere— it sent a strong ripple of fear throughout her brain.

Alarms blared throughout her mind as she swung her head, trying to get the mask off of her face. However, the drone that’d walked into the room did that for her, placing a hand over her visor and grabbing the mask.

Uzi squinted as she was immediately greeted with the strong glare of bright overhead lights. She raised her head to look around the room, glad that her neck wasn’t chained down to the bed like her limbs. 

It was relatively empty— and windowless. The floor, ceiling and walls looked to be made out of metal, their panels colored a shade of dark gray that gave off a feeling of cold sterility. The harsh fluorescent lights above reflected against the metal and casted a harsh, clinical glow across the room.

The only other object in the small space besides the bed that Uzi was lying on was a counter, made of metal, that was coming out of the wall. It had multiple jars scattered across it, full of chips and wires among other materials. There were also cabinets both below and above it which likely harbored more resources.

While the bed that Uzi was on was on the far left side of the room away from the door, the counter was in the corner just to the right of the door, which was a solid gray industrial door with no windows.

That’s when the girl’s dark purple optics flickered over to the other drone standing just to the right of her— he would’ve been within arm’s reach if she could actually move her arms.

It was Dr. D— that bastard.

He wore a slightly smug expression on his face, and was obviously awaiting Uzi’s response to his remark earlier about her finally having woken up. She scoffed, whipping her head away and making a small “pfft” sound through gritted teeth.

She was trying her best to come off as confident, but, behind that wall of false rebellion was a howling storm of dread. It showed in her ever-so-slightly quivering hands and tensed shoulders. 

“Dr. D,” she muttered, “what’re you doing here— uh, stupid idiot?” 

The doctor snorted amusingly, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Well, I do own you. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Uzi hated that word. Own. Maybe it stemmed from her rebellious nature— the thought of someone owning her simply disgusted her. She’d never listen to him, or conform to his expectations, something that she planned to drive into him, even if she got reprimanded for it.

She scowls, clenching her fists together and wishing that she could punch that smug doctor in his face. 

“What’re you gonna do to me, anyway?” Uzi inquired. “I think that I have a right to know— and, what’s with the creepy ass lab setup? It’s really freaking me out, ya know.” 

Dr. D’s expression morphed into one of cliff-faced seriousness, his optics hollowing.

“Well, I assure you, the ‘creepy ass lab setup’ isn’t just for the atmosphere. You’ve been taken to DrexTech Laboratories! And as for why you’re here, well,” he paused, an eerie smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s for experimentation, of course.” 

Uzi’s eyes hollowed, a line of alarm underneath each of her dark purple optics. “Wh-what’dya mean experimentation?! What’re you going to do to me?!” She repeats her earlier question, her tone dripping with distress as she seeks clarification. 

“Well,” Dr. Drexel starts, “I’m sure you’ve heard of disassembly drones— or, you guys may call them murder drones.” 

Uzi’s eyes narrow in suspicion. She doesn’t even try to hide the skepticism and disgust lining her voice as she says, “of course, that’s why we have those doors. What do they have to do with any of this?” 

Dr. D puts a finger over Uzi’s lips, hushing her before flinching back as she lashes out to bite him. “Shhh, I’m getting there. As you know, they target worker drones. They need our oil to survive, and, of course, want all worker drones dead. And by no means are we an exception to that rule. As it so happens, me and all of the other scientists here at the lab are worker drones.”

The next few sentences that came out of the doctor’s mouth shake the teen strapped down to the bed beside him to her very core.

“For a while now, we at DrexTech have been trying to search for a means to protect ourselves from the disassembly drones. After all, our lab isn’t behind any of the doors— in fact, it’s outside in the open. We’re only protected because of the incredibly strong exterior of the building, but it's only a matter of time before the disassemblers break through even that. So, what better way to defend ourselves than to build our own murder drone?” 

“Now, we’ve been attempting this for a very long time. But every experiment we’ve done so far has always ended in failure, producing dud after dud,” continues Dr. D, putting a finger on his chin in thought. “But you— I think you have potential. So, to answer your question… you’re here because I think you’re the one that’ll finally make what we’ve been trying to accomplish for so long a success.” 

Uzi gasps, breathless despite the doctor not having laid a hand on her. “You-you want to turn me into a disassembly drone… to protect yourself from other disassembly drones…?”

The doctor flashes her a brief thumbs up, smiling. The blinding lights in the room almost seem to grow brighter in a way that hurts Uzi’s optics. “Correct! You finally got it.” 

Right then and there, the gravity of Uzi’s situation finally weighs on her. Petrified, she can’t even build up the courage to struggle or come up with a comeback to Dr. D’s smugness. Her limbs go limp against her restraints as her gaze falls to stare at the floor.

Her mind almost refuses to believe that this situation is real— how could she, the awesome, rebellious worker, be sentenced to something like experimentation? Despair panged her heart, a feeling that she hadn’t felt for a long time.

One that was mixed with a powerful sense of terror.

“Y-you,” Uzi finally begins, “you’ll never get me to listen to you. I’d never side with someone like you.”

Dr. D frowned, giving an uncaring shrug in response. “Oh, I’m not worried about that,” he replies. “We can simply… reprogram you. Not a pleasant experience, of course, but I’m sure it’ll be the least of your worries once we get started.”

For once in her life, Uzi wasn’t sure what to say. Only one thing was on her mind— and that was complete, absolute fear. Dr. D seemed to realize this as she goes completely stiff, her eyes glazed over as she stares into a distant world far from reality.

The doctor smiles, deciding to leave his newfound test subject alone for now. After all, tomorrow was when the real fun would start— no need to stick around and engage in meaningless conversation any longer. He turns around and strides over to the door, heaving it open in preparation to exit the room. 

“Welcome to your new home, Uzi.” 

And with that, the door shuts behind him, leaving the angsty worker drone alone with only her own thoughts to keep her company. The echo that it makes as it slams closed is one that seems to last an eternity— one that Uzi will soon come to loathe.

But that hatred is drowned out by the short-lived sense of relief that she feels hearing Dr. D’s footsteps grow fainter and fainter as he walks away. She’d never thought she’d ever come to fear another worker drone— all her life, it was always disassemblers that she’d been scared of.

After all, the workers in her colony couldn’t be threatening if they tried, even if they hit her sometimes.

But Dr. D’s very being had her questioning who the real monsters were. 

Uzi carried that fear with her, even as she drifted back to sleep, her soul plagued with dread at what was to come.

_____

Dr. D strolls down one of the many mundane hallways at DrexTech, the chat he’d had with Uzi still fresh in his mind.

Her rebellious spirit had evoked a kind of excitement from somewhere deep inside of him— one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time with how cowardly many of his recent experiments had been.

He could tell that the purple haired drone had been scared, too— but she did such a wonderful job at masking it that it made him yearn for the day her spirit would break. He wanted to see her fall from grace as so many others had. 

When that day came, he would relish it.

A small tap on the doctor’s shoulder from behind put his thoughts on hold as he pivoted around to see another drone standing behind him.

They were his height with dull gray optics, and wore their long brown hair up in a ponytail. They wore a white lab coat— or, what should be a white lab coat. It was splattered with oil, the bottom of the piece of clothing dripping with the viscous fluid. 

“Ah, Xenia,” says Dr. D, looking at his co-worker’s bloodied apparel. “Hard at work, I see. Is something the matter?” 

The female drone, Xenia, tilts her head in thought. “Subject Y-7 gave up just now— I was making some adjustments, and well…” her voice trails off, her tone littered with disappointment. 

Dr. D sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “Unfortunate. But, it was bound to happen— after all, Y wasn’t anything more than a dud. I have another one that I’ve just brought in, though. She’s very lively.” 

Xenia perks up at this, a smile playing at her lips. “Oh? Another one? I wonder if she’ll just be another faulty.” 

Drexel shook his head, his cyan eyes alight with eagerness. “We’ll see. But, I think she shows promise. You’ll like her, too,” he says before signaling for the two to continue walking down the hall. 

“Oh?” Xenia says, a question in her voice as she follows. “And what’ll you name her?” 

Dr. D turns his gaze to the ceiling, placing a finger under his chin as he absorbs himself in thought. He’d much rather rename Uzi than keep her worker name— it was just a reminder of her past life, anyway, and murder drones only harbored single-letter names. Plus, well, she was a test subject.

"I think… I’ll call her Z.” 

Chapter Text

When Uzi woke back up the next day, it was to the quiet sound of clanging coming from somewhere within her room. She could also hear a few drones hushedly murmuring among themselves, unable to identify who their voices belonged to. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, their words low and jarred together, made even harder to decipher due to the frequent clicking of what sounded like tools or materials being moved around on a metal surface. The creak of a cabinet opening followed by a particularly loud bang is what made Uzi finally decide to open her eyes, the sudden noise causing her to jolt. She would’ve shot out of the bed if it wasn’t for the chains holding her down— instead, she was only able to swing her head and neck up to look around.

On the far right side of the room nearby the counter were two drones sloppily sorting what looked like surgical tools onto a metal tray. They were dressed identically to each other. Both had on a clean white lab coat and rubbery teal gloves, as well as a blue surgeon mask that covered their lower faces and concealed their identies. Only their eyes were visible— however, Uzi was easily able to identify one of the drones as Dr. D. After all, there was no mistaking those cyan optics, which currently harbored not even a semblance of emotion. She’d half-expected the doctor to make a smug remark when he’d realized she was awake and sitting up in bed. But to her surprise, he only glanced at her briefly, his expression devoid of anything but neutrality as he quickly went back to sorting things onto the tray, muttering something under his breath.

The other drone, however, was someone that Uzi had never seen before, not that she’d met any of the other scientists or doctors here at the laboratory besides Dr. D. She looked to be a female, with long brown hair that was tied into a ponytail and two excited, dull gray optics. She would glance over to Uzi every so often, the look in her eyes akin to that of a predator who’d just cornered their prey (Dr. D would look over to her whenever she did this, seeming to pay close attention to her). It sent a shiver down the girl’s spine, a thread of fear making its way into her heart— something that’d been happening more often than she was comfortable with ever since she’d gotten to this lab just yesterday. She could feel that thread threatening to tighten around her soul even in sleep, a feeling far from pleasant. 

That’s when she noticed a slight pain in her right arm. She’d been too preoccupied glaring at the rather unwelcome guests in her room to notice it before, but, Uzi now realized that engraved onto her arm above her wrist is the text, “ Z-8 ” written in black in a strange font. She stared down at the letters, wondering what they could mean before quickly realizing that it was probably just given to her as a name for the lab staff to refer to her as instead of just calling her by her real name. Here, she was nothing more than an experiment— a realization that’d dawned on her during her chat with Dr. D the other day. Yet, it still horrified her to think about how little she meant, how replaceable she probably was . Even so, she wouldn’t just accept being treated like shit. Not here, not anywhere. 

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes later when the clattering of tools and metal suddenly stopped. Uzi turned her gaze to the tray that Dr. D and his co-worker had been sorting their materials onto, finding that there was now a neat assortment of various sharp utensils splayed across it. Some of them looked like medieval human torture devices— nothing that should be used on any sentient being. There were also some bits and bobs like chips and wires on the tray, too. She wasn’t sure who they were being used on, but, whoever it was she was sure would be better off dead. Deep down, she knew who it was that’d be subjected to such cruelty. Yet, she refused to believe it— for the sake of her own useless sanity. 

Uzi closed her eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before opening them again to see the second scientist drone— the one whose name she didn’t know— up in her face staring at her with an expression in her eyes the teen didn’t even bother to read. Wh-what the hell? She’d just been across the (admittedly small) room a second ago, how had she managed to get over here so quickly? Not to mention she’d been soundless in the process. 

“Get outta my face, asshole!” Uzi snapped, lurching forward to bite the weird drone and missing her by a hair. The stranger laughed, entertained, her giggle filled with a sickening sense of amusement as she took a small step away from her test subject’s bed, making a note not to get too close to her face unannounced. “You’re a spicy one, eh?” she exclaimed, a wide smile stretching to span across her face. In fact, she was practically jumping up and down out of excitement— similar to a child. Although, there was something off about it. Regardless, the whole thing almost made Uzi roll her eyes, only stopping herself from doing so out of what Dr. D might do after seeing such a display of rudeness towards his co-worker. “Xenia! Pleased to make your acquaintance! Although, you can call me X~ or, maybe Dr. X? Ah, it doesn’t matter! Pleasure to meet cha, Z!”

Uzi scowled at how Xenia addressed her— seriously, Z ? The letter stuck in her mind like a bad dream, except this time, her situation was very real. She did her best to conceal the boiling anger in her voice, but regrettably couldn’t stop some of it from overflowing. “It’s Uzi, prick,” retorts the teen, her expression daring Xenia to keep running her mouth. The scientist simply gave her a look of mock offense, leaning in just enough to where Uzi couldn’t reach her. “Aw, no need to be so rude~ let’s be friends, you and me!” 

A menacing voice comes up from behind Xenia. “ Z, your rather impertinent attitude towards my colleague won’t be tolerated,” Dr. D murmurs, having been listening in on the two’s bickering. He walks over to Uzi’s bed, dragging the metal tray which is filled to the brim with tools behind him. He takes his position standing to the right of Xenia, whose mood has shifted from playful to serious in an instant. She moved to hug her right arm close to her side, tapping her fingers against her thigh— an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Uzi, the girl having been trying to formulate a response to Dr. D prior. And he, well aware that she was about to retaliate, shot her a warning glance. 

Pfff, was that meant to scare her? 

“Yeah, like—“ she even hadn’t been able to utter another word before all of a sudden a sharp, searing pain tore through her chest. Oil splattered onto her visor, dotting her vision with black as she felt the warm liquid start to pool on the bed beneath her. She slowly turned her head down to look at her chest, and to her absolute horror found that there was a scalpel sticking straight out of it. The knife had narrowly missed her voice box, pitch black oil gushing out of the large, deep incision it’d made. Uzi coughed, choking and sputtering on her own insides. Xenia winced at the girl’s suffering as Dr. D grabbed hold of the scalpel and dug it further inside of her, causing her to let out a howl of anguish. She’d never thought she could produce such a guttural, ear-wrenching sound— it simply wasn’t in her nature to put on such a dramatic display of weakness. That was, until now. The pain that she experienced as Dr. D slowly, agonizingly dragged the knife from her chest to her abdomen was worse than any beat down from her father— than any insult Lizzy could throw at her. 

“I would suggest,” Dr. D snarled, “that you keep your mouth shut.” 

Not that Uzi could speak now, anyway— not without oil rushing up to block her throat. But, if she could, she’d gladly tell the doctor to fuck off. He wouldn’t be able to keep her under control— not if he had to rip her open every time he wanted to silence her. For now, though, all she could do was glare at him. In retaliation Dr. D tore the scalpel out of her as she did her best to stifle a yelp of pain, black gushing from out of her wound. The sharp tool was dripping with oil as he placed it down onto the tray where it’d been before he’d so rudely stabbed her. He picked up a smaller utensil and handed it to Xenia, muttering something to her that Uzi couldn’t make out. Her hearing was starting to fail her, the worker teetering on unconsciousness as her vision faded into a roaring blizzard of black. She could feel her body trying to fight against the agony which she was experiencing— yet, her mind simply couldn’t do it. The last thing that she was able to feel before her consciousness escaped her was the sensation of wires being moved around inside of her.

It wasn’t until many hours later that Uzi woke back up, expecting to awake to a world of pain. Yet, to her surprise and slight horror, she couldn’t feel anything. Nor could she hear Dr. D or Xenia anymore. She wondered if it’d all been a dream— but, as she opened her eyes, she looked around the room to reveal a scene that seemed to be straight out of a horror movie. The white sheets on her bed were dyed black with oil, the doctors clearly not having bothered to clean it before they’d left. There was so much that most of it was now pooled onto the floor, having dripped off of the soaked bed. She wasn’t sure how she could lose so much blood and still be alive, that was, until she looked down at herself . 

The blue hospital gown that she’d been dressed in had black splattered across it as well as a slice in it that spanned from her chest down her abdomen. But the wound that’d been made from Dr. D cutting into her was gone. Not even a trace of the gaping wound cut into her stomach remained, and, there was no evidence of it being weld or stapled back together, either. Just what the hell was going on? It was like she’d… regenerated. Just like a disassembly drone. 

That’s when it hit her. 

Dr. D’s words echoed in the back of her mind, his voice like a parasite in her brain. “What better way to protect ourselves than to build our own disassembly drone?” 

A rush of terror hit Uzi like a bullet, and she could sense the presence of dread in the room with her. It was heavy in the air, looking over her shoulder, laughing at her, taunting her. Whispering into her ear countless tales of failed experiments, and how she’d end up with a fate even worse than death. Telling her that her identity— the very qualities that made her a worker drone— would be stolen from her, made foreign to her. Tears welled up in her optics, the digital waterworks threatening to overflow in a flood of fear. She could no longer be sad, or angry, or even find any way to make things funny without lying to herself. Now, all that remained was a scared little worker drone with nothing going for her except a few fleeting shreds of false confidence. 

Uzi hadn’t expected Dr. D to come back anytime soon— nor Xenia. Yet, as her emotions were about to burst came a small creak in the direction of the door to her room, and not too long after was she met with a pair of dull gray optics. Yet, this time, they didn’t harbor sadism, or anticipation, or anything like that— in their place was sympathy. Xenia had come in, dressed no differently than when her and Dr. D been performing Uzi’s “surgery.” In fact, her shirt still had dark splotches of oil scattered throughout it, and her gloves weren’t the teal blue that they used to be. She dragged a metal tray behind her filled with cleaning supplies, probably to clean up the mess that’d been left in the room. No new sheets in sight, though.

“I’m sorry,” Xenia said as she got to work wiping up the oil from the floor, Uzi staring at her in shock at her abrupt words. “Both for acting as I did earlier towards you, as well as for what he did to you.” 

Uzi sighs, flopping back against her bloodied bed to stare at the lights on the ceiling, not caring if they damaged her optics. “You… why are you being so nice to me now?” 

Xenia shrugs, scrubbing vigorously at the floor with a cleaning solution so that the fluids splattered across it wouldn’t stain. “I’m not really a violent drone, ya know. It’s just that—well, I-“ the worker stuttered, trying desparately to explain herself yet being unable to come up with the words. It took her a moment before she managed to squeeze out, “I just have to.” 

Uzi tilted her head and sat back up to look at the other drone, tilting her head in confusion. “What? Why?” She asked the question thoughtfully, knowing it might be a sensitive subject with how Xenia had been pondering over it. 

“Well,” came the response, “Drexel— Dr. D— owns this laboratory. It used to have an incredibly strong exterior and security system to where the disassembly drones outside wouldn’t have been able to get through it.” Xenia moves to work on a particularly tough spot of oil at the foot of Uzi’s bed, raising her voice slightly so that the test subject could hear her above the sound of scrubbing. “Each and every one of the staff here agreed to assist in Drexel’s research in exchange for protection. It was harmless stuff at first— but, then the exterior started to wear down. Drexel shifted his focus to live test subjects, because he believes that if the disassembly drones attack then the best way to fight them would be with our own disassembler. But, most of the people here don’t actually want to watch our experiments suffer. We just… have to so we aren’t kicked out. It’s a death sentence out there.” 

Uzi listened to Xenia speak intently, finding that with everything she said she was able to dislike her a little bit less. It didn’t change that fact that she’d helped Dr. D with his earlier operation of her— nor that she’d treated her rudely, even if it was all fake. But, maybe she wasn’t as bad as Uzi had originally thought. Maybe she was tolerable. She certainly wasn’t as condescending nor as much of a bitch as Dr. D. If anything, just a little strange. 

The rest of the time that Xenia spent in the room was mostly silent— plagued with a slight twinge of awkwardness now that she’d explained herself to Uzi, the latter debating between saying a sarcastic remark to relieve the tension between the two or simply staying quiet. It was only when she’d spoken up to ask about how she’d been able to regenerate from the surgery that’d been done earlier did Xenia make any more effort to talk. 

“Oh,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “You had regenerative organs put inside of you— Drexel thought that’d be the best, uh, adjustment to make first so that you can recover easier from… ya know...” her voice had trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence as she saw Uzi’s perturbed expression. Xenia hastily got back to work, cleaning up the floor with efficiency and ease as she cringed inwardly at her words— in fact, she almost seemed to be working faster than before in her nervousness. She was finished with it all in no time and was preparing to leave Uzi’s room when she felt the other drone’s gaze on her, the girl sitting up in her bed, clearly expecting Xenia to say something before she left. 

“Z— or, Uzi,” she said in a hushed tone as she reached up, grabbing the door handle as she was about to go. “I know that I apologized earlier, but I just want to say sorry again. So, so incredibly sorry for whatever hell he puts you through.”

Chapter Text

“At the time of recording, it is day two of experimentation. Subject arrived at the lab three days ago, but it was only yesterday that we began to make adjustments. Installed regenerative organs inside of her that replicate those of a disassembly drone’s— that appears to have been a success as she regenerated from yesterday’s surgery with unusual speed. However, subject continues to put up a resistance and show a rebellious attitude— adjustments to her programming might need to be made sooner than expected. Today, however, I’d like to make some other changes. Will continue to monitor the subject; but for now, Z-8 looks promising. Doctor Drexel, out.” 

Uzi screeched, phantom pain tearing throughout her limbs as they were ripped and pulled from her body. A sea of black agony gushed from the gaping holes where her arms and legs used to be, spilling out onto the floor below. She could feel her body trying to heal itself, the regenerative organs that’d been installed in her the previous day trying desperately to repair her. She glanced down to the syringe that was sloppily stuck into her stomach, the solution that’d been injected into her being one that temporarily slowed her newfound healing abilities. Another wail of anguish emerges from deep in her throat as a harsh pair of hands rips countless broken wires out of her, first from her waist and then from where the rest of her limbs used to be, snapping them even further as they dump the wires onto the ground. “Well,” Dr. D says, a hint of satisfaction clear in his voice. “I’d say that went well! You got lucky, Z— Even with all of your screaming and crying, I was able to remove all of the old limbs and wires from you completely! Now, we can put new ones in!” 

Something being twisted and torn from her waist before getting reattached followed by a harsh, sudden shove where her left leg used to be sends a fresh ripple of pain throughout Uzi’s lower body. She didn’t have the strength or arms to sit up in her bed, so, she couldn’t look at what was being done to her. But, she had an idea of what was going on— she could feel the sensation of her waist being altered and new wires being reattached to her body from where the old ones had been torn— although these new wires felt different somehow in a way she couldn’t describe. She could hear Dr. D grunt as he picked up what sounded like a heavy piece of steel or metal— whatever it was, Uzi could feel it being lifted up to her and attached, even more wires being tampered with in her lower body before she could feel a newfound heaviness weighing down on her left side. She moved her left leg around, trying to— wait. She shouldn’t be able to do that— she didn’t have legs— all her limbs had just been torn from her body a moment ago! And, her waist felt different, too!

She couldn’t look up at anything but the ceiling until she had her arms back, but Uzi just knew that there was a shit-eating smile stretched wide across Dr. D’s face. She could hear it in his voice— his prideful, arrogant tone that was simply oozing with condescension. “How’s it feel? Had to reform your waist so it’d fit— but it’s a disassembly drone’s leg. Although I’ve made some slight modifications to it to make it stronger than a normal disassembler’s. After all,” he pauses briefly, a dry chuckle making it’s way into his words. “Can’t fight multiple murder drones with just one normal one, eh?” 

Uzi wished she could kick him in the face— but she dreaded the punishment she’d receive for such an action. “You’ll never get me to fight them,” she muttered as Dr. D got to work on attaching her right leg after chaining down her left, seemingly sensing what she wanted to do to him. He decided to switch to stronger chains out of concern that she’d now be able to easily break the old ones with her more powerful limbs. “I’d never listen to you— no matter how much you try to reprogram me,” Uzi continued, mustering up the best growl that she could with the state she was in. 

“Mhm, we’ll see about that,” Dr. D snorts amusingly as he finished putting on her new right leg, hastily wrapping restraints around it before moving up to operate on her arms. She lurches forward, trying to snap at him but failing as a particularly hard shove by her right shoulder sends her back to lying flat down on the bed. Uzi sighs defeatedly, watching as Dr. D rewires and attaches her new limb. It looked almost identical to a murder drone’s— it was a clean white coloration with a thin upper arm and considerably bulkier forearm. Where a normal disassembly drone would have black and yellow stripes on their forearm, Uzi’s stripes were black and purple, the purple being the same shade as her hair. It was a detail that she liked— not that she’d admit that. Her hand was small with four fingers and a small purple triangle glowing in the middle of it. And, of course, the writing “ Z-8” was engraved onto her forearm in the same black font as before. 

She wiggled her fingers around slightly before trying to lift her arm only to find out that it was heavy. Her previous ones had been weak and flimsy— but this one felt like it harbored real power. Dr. D was quick to strap it down to the bed once he noticed Uzi observing it, straining himself to move it before tying it down and moving to her left side. Once the teen learned how to use this thing, the punch to the face that doctor would receive was going to be so gratifying. She would’ve laughed just imagining the sight of it if it weren’t for the agony that she was currently in. Even though she was no longer bleeding in the places where her new appendages had been connected, the agony she’d experienced had been etched into not only her body, but also her mind . 

“And, done!” Dr. D exclaimed, breaking Uzi’s train of thought. She looks over to her new left arm, which looks the exact same as her right except for the lack of writing on it. With both arms now attached, albeit tied down and much heavier than what she was used to, she sits up as best she can to get a look at her lower body. The first thing that she notices is that her waist has been made wider and stronger to support her larger legs, now having the same coloration as her gleaming white arms. That pearly white only continues halfway down her thighs before cutting off and turning into black, the two colors separated by a small line of purple and black stripes. Her legs thin out where her knees would be before growing wide again by her calves, ending in a peg leg decorated with a large strip of more purple and black stripes. The only other notable details were two small, glowing purple dots under her knees.

“ How in the absolute hell,” Uzi snarled, “am I supposed to walk on those things?” 

Dr. D’s expression is neutral; unfaltering. “Well,” he murmurs, no thought behind his words. “If a normal disassembler can do it, then you can, too. After all, Z— you are being built with the intention of being a better version of them. If you couldn’t learn to walk, well, we’d have to resort to some more drastic measures, and I’m sure you wouldn’t like that. How about you let that thought give you some motivation, eh?” Dr. D kicks one of Uzi’s old legs that’s lying bloodied on the ground, looking down at the body part in disdain before taking a pair of clean blue gloves out of his pocket. As he’s slipping them onto his hands, a loud knock on the door startles Uzi as she wonders who it could be. 

“Come in,” Dr. D calls, the door swinging open to reveal Xenia standing on the other side. She flashes Uzi a brief smile before diverting her attention to her colleague, walking into the room rolling a metal tray behind her similar to the one that she’d brought in yesterday— it was filled with cleaning supplies, various towels and sprays lined up nearly across it with a second section on the bottom that looked like a container. She positions it neatly in the center of the room, sure to stay away from the mess of innards and oil splattered throughout the left side. In exchange, she grabs a different metal tray— one that Uzi hadn’t bothered to pay attention to since Dr. D had first walked in— that was up against the wall at the foot of her bed. It was empty except for a few tools, and absolutely dripping with black. As Dr. D gets to work picking up clusters of wires from the ground and dumping them into the empty bottom of the cleaning tray, Xenia moves to walk out of the room, dragging the other, bloodier tray behind her. However, right before she reaches the doorway she’s stopped by a voice. 

“Actually, Xenia,” Dr. D speaks up, although not looking away from his work. “Before you go, I’d like you to let Z up out of bed to walk around. I have to change the sheets on her bed, anyway— and, this is also a good opportunity for me to see how her legs function.” 

Uzi, for the first time since she’d gotten to this place, perks up at Dr. D’s words. She hadn’t gotten to walk in days , and, she was getting sick of laying in bed. She glances at Xenia, a pleading look in her glowing purple optics as she’s met back with a pair of apologetic gray ones. Uzi knew that the scientist was being kept on a tight leash by her colleague— or, he was more like a superior now that she thought about it. So, she wouldn’t blame her for anything that she said— although, that didn’t mean she’d like it. Xenia plasters on a grin, leaving the tray that she’d been dragging behind her by the door as she makes her way to Uzi’s bed. Dr. D tosses her a key as she does, and Xenia starts to undo the chains that bound Uzi in place. 

“Ready to stretch your legs, Z~?” Xenia purrs as she tosses a heavy wad of chains down onto ground, releasing Uzi’s right leg, and then her left. However, she doesn’t undo her hands— instead, she simply takes the chains strapping the girl’s hands down to the bed and ties them around each other, instead so that they form handcuffs. “Sorry~ can’t have ya using those against D or I, so we’ve gotta keep em’ chained up. Also,” she says, “I wouldn’t think about running away if I were you. We have some pretty tight security measures in place.” Uzi swore that she almost heard a hint of sympathy in Xenia’s voice there, but she’d been quick to mask it. 

“Lame,” the half-disassembler mutters, using her arms the best she could to lift herself up so that she was sitting on her bed. Actually, using her arms wasn’t too hard. She’d expected them to feel drastically different to her old ones— heavier, in a way. But, they weren’t. She could lift them around and move them effortlessly, as if they’d been a part of her her whole life. She stretches her arms into the air as if she’d just awoken from a long sleep, enjoying the feeling of being able to move them again, even if the chains limited her a little bit. She stares down at her hand, balling it into a fist before relaxing it again. In a way, it was terrifying, wielding such a powerful appendage, being able to move it around as if it were nothing. But the rebellious teen side of her couldn’t resist finding it cool. If only her identity didn’t have to be stripped away from her in order for her to have such a thing. 

Dr. D’s voice rips Uzi away from her thoughts, her distant gaze returning to reality as he speaks. “Those disassembler arms can change into weapons, you know. Claws, chainsaws, a cannon— even a railgun.” 

Uzi had never heard of disassembly drones having a railgun. She was about to let her curiosity get the better of her, but, before she could even ask how to turn her arm into a railgun, Dr. D spoke up again. “I’m not stupid enough to tell you how to use it while I’m in the room, though. I know we have tons of security in place for if you escape, but doesn’t stop you from shooting me now, does it? Better to wait until you’re reprogrammed for that, no?” 

Uzi gives him a look of disgust, her purple optics displaying nothing short of malice and hatred. Any time that word came up— reprogram— it made her want to vomit. And she was a robot, that shouldn’t even be possible! She bites back an angry retort, opting to glare at him instead before then deciding to focus on walking now rather than letting that motherfucker get her worked up. She’d only been using her arms so far— but what about her legs? Uzi looks down at the limbs, which are hanging limply off of the bed beneath her, almost touching the ground. Hesitantly, shakily, she begins to slide off of the bed, placing one of her peg legs onto the ground, and then the other before attempting to stand. Almost instantly does she fall down, slamming onto the ground with a resounding clunk as metal meets metal. 

“Ow,” Uzi mutters, heating up in embarrassment. She extends her chained arms outwards towards her bed, grabbing onto the ledge of it so that it can support her as she stands back up again. She heaves herself to her feet, able to stand still now that she was holding onto something. Still was an overstatement, since she was wobbling like crazy, but, she wasn’t on the ground for a second time, so, she’d take it. Her stance was rather awkward, too— she was standing with her viciously shaking legs spread wide apart from each other so that she wasn’t quite at her full height. Speaking of height, Uzi was actually moderately taller than she’d been before with her old legs. Taller than both Dr. D and Xenia, but probably still shorter than a normal murder drone. “Guess they went for functionality and strength over actual height when they’d made these things,” she murmurs to herself. She repositions herself, trying to stand up straighter so that her legs wouldn’t be so far apart since she’d probably fall down that way.

She was about to take a wobbly step forward when Xenia, who’d been watching Uzi form the foot of her bed, extends a hand to her, clearly offering to help her walk. An offer that she reluctantly takes. Slowly lifting up and bringing her leg forward, as she takes a step forward only to find that she hasn’t fallen down— instead, she’s made actual progress. Then, she takes another step. And another. And another. And another. They’re wobbly and unstable, but Uzi's doing it. She smiles at Xenia, a toothy grin across her face before she then turns to stick her tongue out at Dr. D. 

It all happened so fast. She can feel Xenia’s hand ripped from hers as her left arm gets suddenly stabbed by a large, sharp utensil. In an instant, Dr. D is pushing the object deeper into her new arm, causing her to back up to avoid pressure until she hits the wall. She can hear Xenia stifle a gasp, Uzi crying out in agony as digital tears well up in her visor. 

“This is the second time, Z,” Dr. D snarls, driving the knife into her which causes her to let out another anguished groan. “Disrespect me again, and I won’t continue to be so nice to you.” 

Uzi couldn't muster up a thought out response. It’d all happened so abruptly— things had been going so well. There was only one thing she could think to say, her mind paralyzed by fear. Fear that she wasn’t a stranger to— but only now had it truly solidified itself into her brain.

“I… understand.” 

Chapter Text

“Day three of experimentation. It’s been four days since test subject arrived at the lab, and in that time incredible progress has been made. Not only do her regenerative organs function unusually efficient, but she’s adapted quickly to her new arms and legs. I wasn’t expecting her to be able to walk so soon, but, with the support of another scientist she was able to do it. However, her limbs are extremely powerful— if the subject chooses to rebel she will inflict major damage before security is able to detain her. Preparations to reprogram her will begin today, and if we’re lucky we should be able to get them done by the end of the week. Will continue to monitor the subject— Drexel, out.”

Uzi lifts herself up from her bed, careful not to let any of the clean white sheets covering it slip onto the ground as she takes a shaky step forward. She takes her time walking, managing to stand up straight on her peg legs as she moves in small, hesitant motions. Her hands, which are chained together, aren’t grasping or holding onto anything but air, causing a sense of pride to arise in Uzi’s throat. She’d only just gotten her new legs installed yesterday, so, obviously her motions wouldn’t be perfect. But, she was walking all on her own. It was progress, and she was happy with it. She looks over to Xenia, who’s standing by the foot of her bed supervising, giving her an awkward wave as she wobbles slightly. In return, the scientist smiles encouragingly, stifling a small chuckle. 

“You’re doing great, Uzi,” she comments, watching as the girl teeters over to the center of the room. Her motions were definitely steadier than yesterday— although, there was still a small shake that’d go away with some more practice. A shiver runs down Xenia’s spine as she remembers the events of yesterday— how she could hear Uzi’s pained screams from outside of her room as they echoed throughout the hallway outside, even though the door had been closed. How she’d walked into said room for it to be a bloody mess of wires and limbs. As if that wasn’t already enough, Dr. D had stabbed Uzi in the hand over a trivial act of disrespect, too— and just when she was gaining confidence starting to walk. It’d taken that vile scientist walking out of the room and some convincing from Xenia for the test subject to even try getting to her feet again. Otherwise, she’d have just stared at the ground in silence. 

She sighs, shaking her head trying to rid herself of those thoughts. She’d rather put her effort into focusing on the present— probably better not to linger on what happened yesterday. She turns her attention back to Uzi, who is gaining confidence in her walking skills, trying to widen her strides and make her movements more fluid. Although, it was probably hard to do too much in this small room. She couldn’t really stretch her legs out without having to turn around after a few steps— and that’s when a thought popped into Xenia’s head. 

“Hey,” she said, grabbing Uzi’s attention as the half-disassembler stops walking and simply stands still in the center of the room, tilting her head in question. “What would you think if we practiced walking around outside of this room? You know, you could walk around the facility! I’ll give you a little tour~” 

Uzi’s optics widen, shock written all over her face before quickly getting erased into neutrality. “Are you even allowed to do that? I’ve never been out of this room,” she murmurs, sneaking a brief glance at the door. “I don’t want Dr. D getting mad at you. It’d be bad for the both of us.” 

Xenia shrugs, walking over to Uzi and lifting up her hands, which are bound together by a short yet strong length of chain. “As long as you have these on, I don’t see a problem. I have permission to do what I want with you anyway as long as I don’t make any major experiments on you without Drexel here.” That sentence was enough to send a shudder down the test subject’s spine— she hadn’t known that Xenia had that kind of privilege granted to her. If it’d been someone else that genuinely took pleasure in trying to hurt her— well, she could imagine how much worse her life would be. Not just one scientist would be tormenting her anymore. 

“Well,” Uzi murmurs. “Alright, then.” 

Xenia smiles, excitement visible in her optics as she makes her way over to the door, sliding it open and holding it for Uzi, who hastily makes her way over, forgetting that she couldn’t quite speedwalk on her peg legs yet. She trips, almost stumbling to the ground before managing to catch herself just before she could hit it. As she gets up, she mutters curses under her breath towards her legs, starting towards Xenia again, slower and more thoughtfully this time.  As she walks out of her room, she finds that she’s emerged into a long, wide hallway with rows and rows of doors on either side of it. Each of them is labeled with a number, Uzi’s being eight. The doors span down the entire left side of the hallway— in fact, she can’t even see where they end Although, looking to her right, there were only a few doors there including the numbers that came before eight. However, there was a large metal push door in place that prevented her from seeing anywhere outside of the hallway. Unlike the doors to the rooms, this one had tinted windows with a large red warning sign on the other side them, which blocked her from seeing anything in them. 

Xenia shuts the door to the room behind Uzi, taking her place to the left of her as she motions to the seemingly endless expanse of doors to that side. “So,” she starts, feigning enthusiasm in her voice. “This is, uh, where we keep all of our test subjects! Like, uh, like you. But most of the rooms are actually empty. We only have a few other experiments going on.” 

Uzi nods, acknowledging Xenia’s words before speaking up as the two walk over to the double doors on the right. “Will I ever get to meet them? The other test subjects.” 

The scientist’s face drops, optics hollowing in alarm at the question— it’s an expression that Uzi can’t help but notice. She almost looks as if she’s seen a ghost, terror strewn across her every movement— or, lack of movement as her body stiffens. “Uh, Xenia?” Uzi questions, her voice littered with concern. “What’s wrong?”

A few moments later, Xenia breaks herself out of her trance with a rough shake of her head, shattering her thoughts like glass. “Ah— sorry,” she says, a tinge of anxiety lining her voice. “You’ll get to… meet some of the other subjects sometime. I’m not sure when, though. That’s up to Drexel.” 

Uzi noted the nervous emphasis straining Xenia’s voice when she’d stumbled across the word “meet.” However, she chose to pay no mind to it and continued on following. As the double doors were pushed open, she found herself staring into a large, open room full of counters, shelves, cabinets, and machines. It was made out of some kind of metal, just like the rooms and hallway where the test subjects were kept. However, this room was pure white— even the counters and shelves, which all had medical supplies, vials, and devices littered across them. Some more organized than others. There were some scientists moving throughout the room, the soft sound of occasional chatter being drowned out by the mechanical whirring of a printer by the wall directly to Uzi’s right. A little bit down the left wall was an elevator, which stood out like a murder drone in sunlight due to its dull gray coloring. 

“This is one of our labs! We keep a ton of data here in this one, but, we have a lot more rooms,” Xenia chirped, gesturing to a pair of double doors at the other end of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Uzi could see a blinking red light by the ceiling, and turned her head slightly to see a small camera staring right at her. “Oh,” Xenia murmured, noticing where the girl’s attention had been directed. “This place has some pretty heavy security, we have cameras in pretty much every room and hallway. Except for the test subject’s rooms. We only have cams in the big hallway outside of those rooms which we were just in.” 

Uzi nodded, unsure of what to do with the information given to her from Xenia as the scientist sets off towards the elevator to the left, striding across the room with the half disassembler close behind. A few of the other workers gave her some looks, but she bit her tongue and said nothing. After all, he was watching her. 

As the two reach the elevator, Xenia hits a button to open the doors before it asks for identification in the form of a keycard. She quickly slips a card out of her pocket, holding it up to the scanner before a small beep sounds, followed by the elevator opening as the two step inside. It’s a large elevator— there’s enough room for easily a dozen worker drones. Although, with Uzi’s new limbs and slightly taller height she probably takes up room for two normal workers. On the wall are three buttons— 1B, 1F and 2F. The buttons for 1B and 1F were opaque white, while 2F was glowing red. 

“The labs and rooms where we hold test subjects are on the second floor— the one we were just on,” comments Xenia, stating the obvious. “There’s really nothing else to that floor. On the first floor, though, is the exit. As well as more labs, the security room, and a few extra rooms that we use for storage and other miscallaneous tasks.” 

Hearing the word exit made excitement spike in Uzi’s core— a brief, fleeting feeling. Hope entered her soul, sinking its fangs into her and causing a wound somewhere deep within the confines of her mind before slithering away within a burrow of thoughts. If she could just try to get to that first floor— if she could just reach the exit, she’d be free of this place. But that’s when she realized Xenia’s hand moving to press the button to the basement. Uzi had been an angsty, snappy edge lord at her old colony as a worker drone. So, she knew all about basements. As well as how they were never a good place to be. Dark, dreary, and desolate— she’d never actually been in one, though. 

Nor did she want to be. She wasn’t sure Xenia did, either from how tense the woman was getting. She could sense dread hanging thick in the air, that feeling only intensifying as Xenia spoke up. “S-so, I- uh,” she started, tripping over her words. A clear shift in demeanor. “Th-the basement is, uh, w-well, I-I just want you to see it before Dr. D ends up dragging you down here. So that you aren’t, uh, surprised when he does.” 

If alarm bells hadn’t been ringing in Uzi’s head already, Xenia’s words were enough to make them blare by now. “Wh- what?” She breathes, feeling her legs grow stiff beneath her. “What do you mean? Why would I be surprised?” 

Xenia doesn’t answer, her gaze a downcast storm of shame as her optics turn to stare at the ground. She knows that she doesn’t need to answer— not when the elevator door opens and the strong, overwhelming scent of oil hits Uzi’s sensors like a bullet. It feels as if a chain has been locked around her neck and is now suffocating her . That chain being the wretched, repulsing smell of death. If she could keel over and vomit right now, she would. Uzi stares into the short, dim hallway which the elevator had opened to. The metal which makes up the walls and ceiling is a faded white color, with some areas turning red due to rust. There are only a few rooms before the hallway cuts off and turns right, Uzi being unable to see beyond the corner. However, the first room to the left of the elevator’s door is wide, wide open. A viscous black liquid is spilling out, creating a large puddle on the floor. 

Uzi doesn’t want to walk forward— she almost feels as if she can’t. Her legs are shaking and weak beneath her as her arms droop limp at her sides. She’d been getting the hang of walking so well, and now she can’t move an inch. Her body won’t let her. It’s only when Xenia takes a few tentative steps forward and grabs Uzi’s wrist gently does she follow, making sure to stay close behind. 

She looks into the room to the left as the two pass it, gazing into the open door with wide eyes and a horrified gasp. Body parts were trashed across the floor. Torn limbs, bloodied torsos, and faces that were shredded beyond recognition were piled up to fill the room. Some of the parts had organs and wires spilling out, while some others had nothing. Uzi couldn’t help but wonder what these drones had done to deserve this— as well as if she’d be next. 

Forced to move on from that room due to Xenia starting to get ahead, Uzi stares at the dismembered corpses one more time, uttering an apology before speed walking to catch up with her companion. Huh, she was really getting better at walking— this “tour” was doing wonders for getting practice in using her new limbs. She takes steady steps as she turns the corner of the hallway, sticking close to Xenia as she stares down another much longer hallway with a set of double doors at the end. Some of the doors of these hallways were open, letting her see the rooms inside. Unlike the last one, though, these ones didn’t remind Uzi of a drone graveyard. More like the remnants of a crime scene. Lots of the rooms were rather small, some even having a thick layer of glass sectioning them off into two parts. One thing that they all had in common though was that they all had oil stains strewn across the walls. 

It took a few minutes for Xenia and Uzi to get to the end of the hallway, the latter of the two gazing into all of the rooms that they passed with mixed horror and curiosity. But when they reached the end, Xenia opened the double doors that were there to reveal an absolutely massive room. It was completely open, except for a narrow flight of stairs that traveled up the left wall to an observatory that loomed over the room. It harbored very dim lighting, the only light being shone into the room from a light atop the observatory hanging onto the ceiling.

That’s when Uzi noticed the presence of another drone— she could hear them stepping down the stairs from the observatory. What she didn’t expect was to be met with the narrowed cyan optics of Dr. D.

Chapter Text

“Drexel,” Xenia breathes, her dull gray optics hollowing in horror. “I-I thought you had business to attend to! Y-you said you wouldn’t be down here.” 

Dr. D tilts his head, a flicker of amusement making its way into his expression. “Oh? Something wrong, Xenia? You seem to be distressed, even though you know I wouldn’t do anything to you. You wouldn’t happen to be getting attached to our little experiment here, would you?” He says, signaling to the purple-eyed drone who had taken a scared stance behind the scientist. Xenia waves her hands in front of her frantically, a sweat mark dripping down her visor. “Ah- n-no! I- I would never. I-I mean, I never have before, y’know?”

“And, this one--- Z; she isn’t any different.” 

Uzi takes a step back from Xenia, not having uttered a word yet she felt breathless. She felt confused, scared, angry, scared. She felt as if the little bit of trust that she’d placed in the eccentric scientist had been ripped apart and wrung dry, its corpse tossed away like garbage. Like the only tolerable person here had just shot a bullet straight through her core--- one laced with mistrust and lies. Was she really no different from any other test subject? Was she really that insignificant? 

Seeing Uzi’s distress, Xenia instantly realized her mistake. Her mind told her to apologize to the petrified drone, but she knew she couldn’t. Not in front of him. She’d have to choose her words and actions carefully while in the presence of Drexel, who had a smirk on his face watching a horrified Uzi back away from the one drone that she had any shred of trust in--- the one who’d just broken that trust. However, it didn’t take long for his focus to shift back to Xenia, staring into her optics as his expression morphed into something monotone and unreadable. “Hm, well, whatever you say, then. Although, I’d disagree that she isn’t any different from our other test subjects. She’s quite different! After all, none of the others could’ve learned to use their disassembler limbs so quickly. That’s why they aren’t around anymore, eh Xenia?”

Xenia’s muscles--- or, whatever robots have--- tensed, panic finding its way into her stance before infiltrating her mind. She knew what Drexel was going to say next, same as he'd said it to so many test subjects before. But, she was powerless to stop it--- she’d always been. She watched as the doctor’s mouth opened. No, no, no, nonononono--- 

“It’s why you stuffed their bodies into that room, too, aye?” Dr. D says with a smile, closing his cyan eyes and tilting his head slightly at her. No more than a second passes when he opens his optics again, just in time to see Uzi stumble backwards, appalled. She looks at Xenia in horror before she notices Dr. D’s gaze on her. In less than an instant, her terror has morphed into rage. She stabilizes herself, standing as tall as she can on her peg legs. “Bite me!” Uzi barks, taking a menacing step forward as she musters up all of the courage she can stomach. “You know, you might be able to shittalk and abuse me, but leave her alone you sadistic fuck! For all I know, the garbage coming out of your mouth could just be lies!” 

Xenia wishes that Uzi hadn’t said that. That she hadn’t tried to defend her when she had done nothing to deserve it--- that she hadn’t talked back. But above all, she wishes that she hadn’t taken the test subject out of her room to show her around. It was a silly idea, anyway--- a meager attempt at being nice. At first, Xenia had thought Uzi would appreciate the change of scenery--- and, it’d help her be prepared for anywhere Drexel took her. That’s why she’d shown her the basement, even though it was far from hospitable. Not that the rest of this cursed laboratory was anything close to welcoming, either--- but at least there weren’t massacred drones on display. 

A shiver goes down Xenia’s spine as she remembers the disfigured test subjects--- how their dead bodies had bent and broken upon being jammed into the small basement room. How moments before that they’d been screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery. How she’d had to be the one to show them their first and last act of kindness. It was a fate that she never wanted Uzi to suffer. But with how Dr. D was glaring at her, she wasn't sure she could prevent it. 

“Have you learned nothing?” Dr. D snarls, his optics flickering as he tries to conceal his rage. Uzi instantly realizes her mistake--- but, she wasn't about to keep her mouth shut with this fraud of a doctor yapping such lies about Xenia. She takes a bold step forward, poised to attack as she refuses to back down from the dickhead who'd stolen her from her colony, cut her open--- and ripped her limbs off. A newfound rage bubbles up inside of her--- something different than what she'd been feeling before. It was a familiar longing; one that she'd gladly welcomed into her soul with open arms before. 

Revenge. 

“Xenia,” Dr. D murmurs, his tone deadly low as he takes a step back while staring Uzi down intensely. He’s had many test subjects rebel on him before--- he's no stranger to the signs of an aggressive drone. “Call her off.” 

The half-disassembler shoots a glance back at Xenia, the tension in her body instantly relieving once she sees the worker’s terrified gaze. “U-Uzi,” she breathes, “if you attack him, there will be consequences. For both of us. P-please, don’t. For both our sakes.” 

Uzi turns back towards the petrified drone, the anger present in her optics instantly softening as she diverts her attention away from Dr. D, who instantly bolts off to the left once he sees that his aggressor is no longer focused on him. He runs up the narrow flight of stairs on the wall, the rusted slabs of metal creaking as his weight slams down on them from him running. He doesn't stop until he's reached the observatory at the top--- a moderately sized room constructed between the ceiling and wall with a huge window made of enforced glass to overlook the massive room which it loomed above. He quickly opened the bulkhead door to the observatory and entered, slamming the door behind him as Uzi and Xenia simply stared. 

That's when a speaker came on. 

A speaker that Xenia had come to dread. 

“Uzi!” Dr. D's voice sounded. “You know, I thought after all I've said and done to you that you’d be smart enough to not show me such disrespect. Turns out, for once, I was wrong! That's why, today, you'll find out what this room is here for. Really drive home the idea to keep your most shut, aye?” But, all Uzi had heard out of that was that he was a damned coward who couldn't even come down here to face her himself. And, oh robo-god that voice of his was so annoying to hear. Like a murder drone’s claws against a chalkboard. That's when it arose again. “Xenia, would you please go grab experiment L-1?”

No, no, no, nononononono--- “Yes, of course.”

And with that, Xenia hurriedly rushed out of the room, gaze diverted towards the ground, refusing to look Uzi in the eyes, the latter of the two’s optics alight with alarm and confusion. It was no more than five minutes later when she returned, opening the double doors to the huge room and holding them open as another drone followed her inside. It was a disassembler drone. Or, well, maybe a three-fourths disassembler. A prototype disassembler? Nevertheless, something about it was off. It didn't have a headband, wings, or tail like a real disassembler. It was tall, with peg legs the same shape as Uzi’s. However, they were taller, but, they also looked rundown and rusted. Weaker. Not to mention that the torn hazard tape lining the bottom was yellow and black instead of the yellow being replaced with purple. 

Their torso was long, covered by a torn hospital gown. But Uzi could see the reinforcement beneath, as well as a thin layer of rust in the center. Their arms were long, again, the same bulky shape as Uzi’s, but, they were a faded white color instead of the shiny new ones that she had. And, again, the hazard tape on them was yellow instead of purple. On their right wrist was engraved “L-1” in worn black ink. Lastly was their face. Dark, glazed-over eyes that looked lost as they wandered among a distant sea. That blank expression as their mouth hung in the shape of an ‘o’ and their long, messy black hair drooped limply to cover part of the right side of their head.

“Wh-,” Uzi began, tone raising sharply in alarm as she took a step back out of horror. “What is that...? It-it looks like a zombie.” 

Dr. D’s voice rung out through the speakers once more. “It's our first successful disassembler! She’s old, still in a decent condition to fight though, I’d say.” 

The word fight causes an alarm to blare inside of Uzi’s head. “F-fight?! What the hell are you even talking about?!” Her tone is urgent, riddled with distress. Meanwhile, Xenia is barring the door shut behind her before making her way up to the observatory where her sociopathic colleague had went.

“You can't tell me that you didn't expect this.” Dr. D murmurs over the speaker. “Maybe you're stupider than I thought. Z, you insulted me. Showed me zero respect. And now, this is the price you pay! Don't worry, L-1 isn't very powerful and has no mind of her own. She’s been reprogrammed. So, if she's about to kill you, Xenia or I can order her off and she'll stop. Speaking of orders...” 

“L!” Dr. D snaps, causing the old disassembler to lift her head to face the observatory window. “Do your job. Fight her.” 

In an instant, L had closed the distance between her and Uzi, leaving the other drone little time to reach. She just barely sidestepped a jab to the stomach from the rusted disassembler, and in return delivered a powerful uppercut to her chin which sent her flying across the room, her visor shattering. Wow, Uzi thought. These new limbs really are powerful. I was barely putting any effort into that swing! Hell, for that dodge I was only even able to react on time because of my instincts. 

However, L swiftly retaliated, charging forward towards her enemy despite her visor being shattered to pieces. Her hands changed to long, rusted knives as she slashed at Uzi's right shoulder, wanting to cut off her arm. She tried to dodge, but stumbled, causing the knives to rip across her throat instead of where they’d originally intended. Uzi screeched in pain, her voice thick with oil as it bubbled up inside of her throat. Black spilled from where the wound had been made, each drop falling onto the floor with a deafening plop even as Uzi tried to clutch at it and cover it. 

Upon seeing the other disassembler’s moment of weakness, that’s when L chose to strike. She moved quickly, lunging forward and driving a knife straight through her opponent’s abdomen before flinging her across the room into the wall beneath the observatory. Uzi hit the wall with a hard, metallic thud, coughing and choking on her own oil as her regenerative organs got to work. Her wounds soon began to heal, giving her the strength to get back up. She heaved herself to her feet, leaning slightly against the wall behind her for support as she stared L down, looking menacingly into the other drone’s visor. It was still completely shattered, fluid gushing out onto L and staining her cyan gown black. Why hadn't it healed yet? Could she not regenerate? 

Uzi's pondering came to an abrupt halt as L raised her arm, a bright yellow cannon charging up and aimed straight for her chest where her core was. She knew she had to act now, and fast, too. Pushing herself off of the wall for momentum, Uzi dashed forward, managing to reach L before she could fire off her cannon. She swept her left leg under the other drone, tripping her and immediately following up with a kick to her already destroyed visor. L tried to get up to retaliate, but it was no use. Uzi was already sitting on top of her, pinning her arms and body down to the ground, effectively trapping her. 

“I won!” Uzi breathed, heat emanating from her arms and legs. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but, she had to hold L down or else she'd keep fighting. She looked up towards the observatory, glaring at Dr. D who was holed up inside. He was staring at the scene before him, a slight twinge of disappointment flickering through his optics. Xenia, on the other hand, was standing behind him, her expression dull. 

“Indeed, you did,” said Dr. D through the speakers, unamused. That's when his voice took a sharp increase in pitch, enthusiasm oozing from his tone. Uzi stared up at him, awaiting his next words, daring him to come down. 

“However,” he continued. “I'd like to see something more. Kill her.” 

Wait... what?

Chapter Text

“Y-you’re kidding me, right?” Uzi gasps, breathless. Lines of alarm form under her hollow purple optics. She had fought people before— she was no stranger to that. But, killing? She had never once thought of killing anybody— not her bullies back in the colony, not her father, not anyone who’d wronged her. Even earlier, when she'd gotten aggressive towards Drexel, she hadn't wanted him to die. Although now, things might be different. Now that he'd asked such an impossible task of her, she felt as if all her rage came rushing back to her.

“No,” Dr. D’s voice sneered, sending a shiver down Uzi’s spine. “I'm sure L won't mind, anyway— her pain receptors are turned off, she can't feel it. I turned them off as soon as she stopped disobeying me.”

Uzi looked down at the struggling disassembly drone, at the gaping hole where her dark yellow eyes used to be— eyes that she could tell hid a lifetime of pain behind them. L’s suffering was evident in her rusted, scarred body, and all the dents that she could feel littered across now that Uzi was holding her down. Her blank expression evoked a feeling inside of the purple-haired drone that she’d done her best to conceal in the past, despite all she'd gone through. It was a feeling that threatened to swallow her whole with it’s reawakening— one she could feel in her optics as they started to tear.

Oh, robo-god. She was crying.

She lifts her left hand up from where it’s holding down one of L’s arms, rubbing her visor with it as her vision starts to blur. It's in that second of vulnerability— that moment of exposure that the disassembler on the ground sees her chance to strike back against her attacker. She lifts her free arm and delivers a hard, desperate punch to Uzi’s stomach, the girl unable to react. She gets knocked off of L, dazed as she lands on the ground and before she's able to even think about what happened, she can feel someone climbing on top of her, trying to pin her arms and legs down.

The positions have been reversed.

The sound of a chainsaw springs Uzi into action. She shoves L off of her, her limbs being much more powerful than the older disassembler’s, and blocks an attack aimed directly at her visor with her right arm. She can feel her right arm being chipped away at by the chainsaw that has emerged to replace L’s left hand, and her mind snaps to think of a way to get her out of this situation. But, she’s still on the ground, L leaning over her with a chainsaw gradually eating through her arm, soon to be her visor. That's when Uzi kicks at L’s stomach, slamming her opponent away from her onto the ground. That finally have her the chance to get to her feet, her right arm hanging limp beside her as she stood up, clutching at the gash with her opposite hand. Oil cascades onto the ground, forming a river on the floor.

L recovers quickly, soon standing back up to face Uzi once more, her broken visor even more shattered than it was previously. Now, it was nothing more than a void of black, exposing her insides as fluid pours from the wound. Knowing that she couldn't feel any of it brings Uzi solace, albeit briefly as the disassembler makes her hands change into knives and darts forward, dodging an uppercut from her opponent’s healed right arm. That gives her an opening— Uzi had left her visor exposed. She wouldn't be able to swing her left arm around fast enough to stop this.

Or, at least, that's how it should've went.

Uzi wasn't thinking straight when she'd done it. She was tunnel visioned on L’s knife bulleting towards her visor— her mind flooded with thoughts about how she was going to die. She didn't want to die— although, maybe it'd be better to die here. Then, maybe she wouldn't have to be his favorite toy anymore. Maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have to endure more torture from that self-proclaimed doctor. She wouldn't have to end up just like the broken disassembler in front of her.

But, what if she managed to escape? Her whole life, her goal had been to run away from her old colony. Thinking of all of the possibilities the outside world could bring— the danger, the thrill, the adventure, all of it. They were what drove Uzi to keep on living, despite the fact that everyone hated her there. She might never truly be loved— that was a truth that she'd gotten over many years ago. But, she had to experience the world outside of this purgatory called DrexTech. Even if it was just once. That's when it happened. Amidst her flurry of emotions, Uzi could feel something twisting inside both of her arms. She looked down to her left hand, seeing it be replaced by a long, silver knife with an edge that looked as if it could draw oil just by touching it.

And without any further hesitation, before L could strike, Uzi flung her left arm forward and dug her knife into her aggressor’s chest where her core would be. The weapon went right through her to the point where it stuck out from the other side of her. Uzi took her knife and dragged it down the disassembler's stomach slowly, watching L’s insides spill out beneath her in a black heap. She swore she could almost see the other drone trying to mouth something— but nothing came out. She stood still for a moment as Uzi pulled her knife out, and then collapsed onto the ground. There wasn't even enough of her visor left for a ‘Fatal Error’ sign to pop up. But she was dead.

As Uzi’s adrenaline rush dissipated away, so did her knife hands, the weapons twisting and hiding away back inside of her arm as her normal hands reemerged. But she paid no attention to that. All she could focus on was the miserable, deceased huddle on the ground that was L. It wasn't until he started yelling that she noticed Dr. D making his way down the steps from the observatory, Xenia close behind him, her gaze turned guiltily toward the ground.

“Bravo, Z, bravo!” Dr. D shouted, approaching the disoriented drone. He knew she couldn't fight— not with how her mind must be haunting her. “Man, I didn't think you could do it. I was just taunting you, y'know. You didn't have to kill her. I wasn't even expecting you to beat her! Eh, Xenia?”

Xenia didn't reply, simply staring towards the floor. Uzi, on the other hand, knew that Dr. D hadn't been taunting her. She knew that he’d have no problem keeping her in that arena all day if she'd refused to kill L. Or, even worse, she'd get tortured. He just wanted to get a rise out of her. But she couldn't find it in her to think of a clever retort, or a comeback. After all, talking back is what'd gotten her into this situation in the first place. Maybe, if she didn't speak like that, she wouldn't have to end up like the drone she'd just killed. A reprogrammed, mindless zombie.

The resolve that'd overcome her before stabbing L began to fade, tossed into a sea of empty despair, being fed on by the sharks beneath the water. Those same sharks wouldn't hesitate to bite her, too. A strange symbol flashed across Uzi’s visor briefly— one that Dr. D caught his eyes on, but decided not to question. After all, he was too busy marveling over his new experiment's success. Endless possibilities flashed in his mind— possibilities of what he could do with her. How he could enhance her power.

Power that Uzi dreaded to come.

Uzi went back to her room without a fight, silently following Dr. D, her arms unrestrained. She had been thinking about what'd happened in the arena, how she'd been able to make her hands turn into knives. She'd been trying to think about how she could've activated it— she remembered the powerful adrenaline rush that took over her body. But she wasn't able to replicate that feeling— and her hands remained, well, hands. Even as she was tied back down to her bed, and then left alone to stare up at the ceiling, the lights as blinding as ever.

Or, well, she would've been alone.

Not long after Dr. D left, Uzi could hear the door to her room quietly creak open, and in entered a dull-eyed drone. Her expression was sad and downcast, her optics ridden with guilt. “Xenia,” Uzi murmurs, using her elbows to lift herself up as much as she can so that she can look at the scientist. “Why are you here…?”

Xenia flinches at that, averting her gaze and gritting her teeth. “I-I came to apologize, Uzi. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, for letting him do that to you. I was just scared, and I didn't know what he'd do to me if I'd helped you. And for saying that you ‘weren’t any different’ than any of our other experiments, too. Tha-that isn't true. Robo-god, I was so stupid to have said that. You don't have to forgive me, because I know what I did was wrong. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for it.”

Uzi’s optics widen in surprise, not expecting such a genuine apology. Actually, she hadn't expected an apology at all. “Xenia,” she sighs, closing her eyes briefly. “It's okay, seriously. I know that he might've done something to you if you’d admitted you were helping me. You've done a lot for me, and honestly you're the only one to have shown me any kind of kindness here or, hell, anywhere. So, please, don't beat yourself up about it. I forgive you.”

Xenia perks up, shock and happiness flickering across her visor. She hadn't expected Uzi to forgive her so fast— much less to do it in such a mature manner. “R-really?” She says, “you’ll forgive me just like that?”

The test subject puts on a weak smile. “Of course,” she says, with a little less enthusiasm in her voice than she wanted to have. “But, I do have one question. And, please, answer honestly. I won't get mad. I-I don't think I could with everything that's happened today.”

Xenia tilts her head, curiosity evident in her voice. “Oh? And what could that be? Ask away,” she says.

“Was Dr. D telling the truth when he said that you were the one who killed all of those drones? You know, the ones we saw—” however, Xenia cuts Uzi off just before she can finish, already aware of what the girl means.

“Y-yes, I know which ones you're referring to,” she sighs in response, turning her gaze back towards the ground. “To be honest, yes, I was the one who did that. I-I had to. They were miserable because of that man’s experiments, and, he'd ordered me to kill them. Claimed we had no use for broken drones. I-I can still remember their screams. It haunts me every day. But, if I had refused, I would be in that room instead,” Xenia finishes, Uzi’s optics widening in alarm and horror by the end of it. “Th-that's horrible,” she breathes.

“Yeah,” murmurs the scientist. “But, at least they don't have to suffer anymore. I just don't want to see you like that, Uzi. And I promise, I won't let you join them. I might've failed to protect you before, but it won't happen again. I mean it.”

Xenia walks up to Uzi, holding out her hand. “Shake on it?”

The test subject smiles and nods as Xenia places her hand in Uzi’s restrained one, shaking it softly.

“And I promise that everything will be okay.”

Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay… those words echo in Uzi’s mind.

…everything will not be okay.

Chapter Text

“Day seven of experimentation. It's been four days since test subject Z-8 took down L-1. In that time, no adjustments have been made. We have been far too busy making preparations to finally reprogram her— perhaps one of the most crucial changes to be made. And our efficiency has paid off. Everything needed to fix Z-8 has been gathered, including all of the necessary tools and scientists. Tomorrow it'll finally happen. Today, however, I’d like to finish making adjustments to her body so that after her mind had been altered, enhanced disassembly drone parts can be attached. That's all I have to say for this recording. Drexel, out.”

For the past few days, Uzi had sat in her room, staring at the ceiling as she fought an onslaught of her own boredom and self-loathing. She wanted to get up, move around, do something— but, she couldn't stop thinking of L. Her blank, emotionless expression and that stained, bloodied gown of hers. How her midnight black hair drooped across her face to cover her broken, smashed visor. That visor haunted Uzi. It was like a plague on her thoughts— L stalking towards her like a zombie with her innards gushing from her face wasn't something she imagined herself ever forgetting. Remembering it all made Uzi feel sick to her stomach. Her stomach… oh, wait— she can remember her knife plunging through L’s.

The half-disassembler shook her head wildly, trying to focus her influx of thoughts on another subject.

Subject… like those test subjects… like those test subjects with their disfigured bodies shoved into a room, left to rot…

Uzi’s optics hollow, lines of alarm popping up under her eyes. If she stayed here, she'd end up like those other drones, too— or, worse, she'd become like L; nothing more than a mindless slave. A wave of panic overtakes her body, causing her to thrash her limbs against the chains that hold her down. Heat emanates from her appendages as they move about wildly. Uzi could feel her breathing start to speed up, anxiety pounding at her chest and oil roaring in her ears. Fear tightens its hold on her mind, clawing at her consciousness— ripping at her soul. Oh, no, no, no, nonononono. She had to get out, she had to get out, she had to get out.

Uzi hadn’t expected her struggling to be noticed— very few scientists were allowed to be in the hallway outside of the test subject’s rooms, anyway. But, oh robo-god was she proven wrong. Very, very wrong. She hadn't even realized they'd entered the room at first.

The door creaked open, the noise it made barely audible as it’d been drowned out by the sound of Uzi’s battle against her restraints. A particularly hard yank on the chains from her right arm made a ripple of pain run through her shoulder, one harsh enough to make her stop what she was doing. But, the pain hadn't just been from pulling against her chains. No— her limbs had steam pouring out of them. The amount coming out of them formed a cloud around her, one that she looked at with an ocean of alarm present in her optics.

“You'll overheat if you do something like that,” came a snarky, mocking voice. Uzi panicked internally, knowing who it belonged to. She used her elbows to hold herself up on the bed, getting a better look at the one person that she could say she hated. It was Dr. D, standing in front of the door, using one arm to keep it open even though he was already in the room. In the other hand, he was towing a cart with multiple layers with him, the shelves stacked with shiny white metal and various surgery materials. The bottom of it, however, instead of being a shelf was a large drawer that was unable to be seen through.

Uzi's emotions surged once more as soon as she saw D.

“What?” She snapped, immediately realizing her mistake and shutting her mouth. Uzi tried not to look at the cart that the doctor had and instead opted to give him a silent glare as he finally took his hand off of the door and allowed it to slam shut behind him. When she finally was able to morph her annoyance into a calmer tone, she allowed herself to speak. “Why would they overheat? Isn't that what normal disassembly drones do?”

Dr. D frowned, walking over to Uzi’s bed with his cart rolling behind him. “They'll do it less the more you move around and fight.” Fight. Uzi decided that she hadn't heard that part of the sentence. “But, less doesn't mean they still won't overheat. They're made for speed and power, not endurance. They'll burn in the sunlight, too— consider it a fail safe in the instance that you try to escape somehow.”

Uzi scoffs, plopping her head back down onto the bed with a thud as she rolled her optics. Of course he'd do that— the pretentious asshole. She allowed herself to stare into the blinding lights above, the cart flashing back into her mind. “What're you doing here, anyway?”

The doctor stifled a snort, and Uzi could hear the mocking in his voice. “I’m sure you already know why,” he huffed. “I wanted to experiment on you today.”

The half-disassembler tried to well up the annoyance and fear that was bubbling inside of her, suppressing her emotions so that she could avoid any more harm from befalling her. She spoke so monotone that it even surprised Dr. D. “Yeah— that’s obvious from all of the tools and parts that you're hauling around on that cart. But what are you changing?”

Uzi’s tormentor didn't speak. Instead, he opened the bottom drawer of the cart and pulled out a huge saw— one that she hadn't previously been able to see before. Her optics widened in horror as she looked at the deadly, shining silver teeth of the blade. They were as sharp as her knife hands— maybe even sharper. There was a small black stain on the handle of it, telling of the horrors which this tool— no, weapon had caused. Her calm facade instantly dissipates as she begins to yank on her restraints and try to get herself out of the bed. But it's no use.

“Stop,” Dr. D snarled, lifting up the saw that he had and hovering it above her torso. “I can't work on you at all if you're squirming around like this.”

All that Uzi heard out of the doctors mouth was “a way out of being experimented on this time.”

She continues to thrash, her torso and limbs moving around wildly. She almost got the faintest glimmer of hope— almost. That's when a syringe is harshly stabbed and pushed down into her abdomen, a light blue fluid being injected into her body. However, it didn't cause her any fatigue, so, it definitely wasn't to put her to sleep. It just made her feel numb right around where her regenerative organs had been installed. Probably to prevent her from healing.

But, she continued to make it difficult for Dr. D to operate on her. Or, at least, she would've if he hadn't used the saw that he'd been holding to slam her across the side of her head. An error message popped up on Uzi’s visor. It read: “Error: user has sustained trauma to the head and fallen unconscious. Unable to heal, beginning reboot.”

And then, she fell into a world of darkness. The last thing she heard before succumbing to the confines of unconsciousness was the sound of a saw grating against metal.

“...Reboot 0.01% complete”

“...Reboot 1% complete”

“...Reboot 25% complete”

“...Reboot 50% complete”

“...Reboot 75% complete”

“...Reboot 99.9% complete”

“...Reboot 100% complete.”

“Rebooting, please standby…”

Uzi woke back up with a start, immediately sitting up in her bed despite the fact that her limbs were now restrained down by another layer of cold, hard chains instead of just the previous ones. There was also a layer wrapped around her hips now, too. Her regenerative organs were no longer numb— yet, they didn't alleviate the pain which had made itself comfortable across her torso and neck. She looked down at her abdomen, finding that she was dressed in a new, clean hospital gown with no black to stain it’s solid cyan color. She couldn't lift it up to see if— no, what changes had been made to her. All that she knew is that she felt much, much heavier. And, stronger in a sense. There was also a foreign weight around her neck.

Uzi decides to look around the room and finds nothing short of a horror scene.

While her bed sheets had clearly been replaced, the rest of the room definitely had not had someone to attend to it, yet. All across the wall next to Uzi's bed was oil— the thick fluid splattered across it as if she'd been stabbed or sawed into. Which, she probably had. She shudders remembering the massive saw that Dr. D had used to knock her out. There was also oil pooled around her bed, along with a river of the black substance leading towards the door, which hadn't been shut all the way and was ever-so-slightly open.

Dr. D had clearly left a mess— but what the hell had happened to her?

N had never really been the brains of the disassembler group— something that he was reminded every day about from his squadmates. When they brought home more kills than him, or figured out how to get into worker colonies before he could even muster up a thought— those were the times where V and J decided to really rub it in his face. He didn't mind, though! The two were good friend to him— they'd been through so much together! That was, if “so much” counted as murdering worker drones day in and day out (night in and night out?) and never facing any other real danger. They didn't need each other’s help, only approval from the company.

Approval was something N craved, but, not from the company. Sure, they were great and all. They even were so kind as to give the drones branded pens and t-shirts when they did a good job and made top team. However, there was a form of approval he sought out more— that of his squadmate’s. V and J had never really showed any semblance of liking towards him, nor had they really even tried. But, with what he'd discovered today— he'd no longer be the useless, no-brained baby of the group.

The disassembler squad had been trying to get into a particular facility for some time now. It was a worker drone inhabitance which was outside of the doors— N wasn't sure who, but, some worker had been bold enough to construct it right in the open! It was a massive building with no doors or windows except for one entry point which was heavily reinforced. The entire building was heavily reinforced, actually. N, V, and J were ready to give up on getting into it, really. There were just no weak points to the structure. V had already stopped trying to look for points where she could get in. J would occasionally make an attempt, but not often enough to where it could actually succeed. That'd just left N.

He'd been chipping away at a point in the facility’s ceiling for, well, months now. Unknown to the worker drones inside, of course. It wasn’t easy— his claws had broken off more than a few times. But month by month, N could feel the reinforced metal that made of the building weakening. It helped that the harsh weather outside had began to take its toll on the building, too. Now, it was to the point where the place he’d been working at breaking was almost ready to cave. It just needed one final swipe and then he’d be in.

He wanted so badly for J and V to be there! Then, they could finally get inside, and kill all of those drones. Then they'd make top team this quarter for sure! He was so, so excited! Just wait until the others hear about this!

Although, he wondered… what could those worker drones possibly be doing in that place?

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before Dr. D came back into the room, accompanied by a team of three worker drones who, apon entering, immediately started to scrub the oil from the floor. They worked extremely thoroughly, each of them sure that the area in which they were working on was completely sterilized before moving to clean up more of Uzi’s suffering. The girl lay silently on her bed, staring, her optics glazed over with an uneasy expression highlighted by lines of alarm. She didn’t dare risk a glance at Dr. D— if only out of fear that he’d do something to her again. He, unlike the others, had come into the room carrying a large mirror, which he moved to prop up against the wall by the foot of Uzi’s bed. She wasn’t sure what it was for— after all, the object seemed so… random. She got her answer when Dr. D started to undo the chains around her limbs and hips, allowing her to roam the room. Did he want her to look at what he’d done to her in the mirror?

Uzi sits up on her bed before slowly sliding off of it, standing on the ground with her peg legs. Before even going to check in the mirror, she can already tell that she’s grown slightly taller around her torso— and heavier, too. There’s also that weight around her neck— it feels almost as if it isn’t really a part of her. She reaches up to touch it and almost immediately recoils her hand in pain as a shock runs through her fingers. Her eyes immediately hollow, shifting from nonplussed neutrality to absolute dread. She storms over to the mirror, her core beating out of her chest as hope drains out of her like an open wound. When she reaches the mirror, she is horrified to see who— no, what’s staring back at her.

Standing atop two powerful peg legs and harboring arms that have an arsenal of weapons inside is a disassembly drone, her expression dripping with fear. She’s dressed in a clean blue hospital gown, which, as she pulls up the front of it, exposes the lower part of her torso. It’s the same bright, glamorous silver color as her arms and legs, with black plating running from her stomach to her chest to protect her vital organs. God, her entire torso had been replaced. She can feel some of the plating on her back, too— particularly right beneath her shoulder blades. It’s difficult to put into words— but, it almost feels as if an empty storage compartment has been placed there. Something was supposed to be in there, but, the murder drone couldn’t tell what. Murder drone… was that really what Uzi was now?

No— she wasn’t a murder drone. She wasn’t one of them, who killed workers without remorse. But, then again, she could hear the voices in her head reminding her of the sin which she’d committed in the arena. She kept trying to calm them, tell them it’d been for self defense. But no matter how she tried to convince them of such a false belief, they never bought it. Uzi turns towards the mirror once more, her back facing away from it so that she could see the front of her again. She’d almost forgotten about the weight around her neck— the one that’d shocked her. She takes a look at it in the mirror— and, yup— it’s a shock collar. A big heavy, black shock collar hanging loosely around her neck with a lock on the back of it. Speaking about her neck— it was now slightly thicker. And heavier, too— it must’ve been reinforced and altered to replicate a disassembler’s as the rest of her had.

Well, all except her head. That part of Uzi was still unchanged, just the same as when she’d been a worker drone— robo-god, that felt so wrong to say— but, she had a feeling it wouldn’t stay that way for long. But deep inside of her, she wished that even when she was inevitably altered once more that she’d keep her purple hair and beanie— that she wouldn’t have the remnants of her identity so violently stolen from her as the rest of her had. Uzi sighs wistfully, the horror and fight dying from her expression. What took it’s place was an abyss— devoid of emotion.

Dr. D finally came strolling up behind Uzi, cyan optics wide in an expression she cannot read. She doesn’t ever want to read them ever again. “Wha’dya think?” He asks playfully, as usual unbothered to read the room. Even the worker drones who’d been scrubbing away at the floor before look up at Uzi, brief pangs of sympathy and regret on their faces before they resumed cleaning. She stares at Dr. D, her gaze distant but her mind very much present. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to react. Or, more importantly, how to avoid getting herself into danger.

Suddenly, she blurts, against her will, one simple word. A word that rang out in her thoughts and echoed across her mind. “Why?”

Dr. D pauses, tilting his head in mock confusion. “Why… what? Why do I want to know how you think? Why did I do this? Details, Z.”

Uzi’s voice comes out smaller than she would’ve liked it too, a choked sob as she reaches her hand to hover above her shock collar. “Why… am I here…?”

Dr. D frowns, his gaze littered with impatience. “Haven’t I told you, Z? I don’t really like repeating myself,” he says, glaring at Uzi, who offers no response other than a blank look. “It’s to protect me— as well as the other workers here at the lab— from disassembly drone attacks! Over time, the age and weather has worn down this building. Before, they shouldn’t have been able to get in— but, now? I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already busted a hole somewhere.”

A sudden, unwelcome burst of rage sparks inside of Uzi, causing a warning message to pop up on her visor.

“ERROR: User’s anger levels rising. Beware of overheating.”

Of course that’d happen. She wasn’t even allowed to get emotional, was she? She was sure normal dissasembly drones didn’t have that feature. After slapping her visor to get rid of the error message, the test subject takes a shallow, unsteady breath in an attempt to contain her temper before eying Dr. D warily. “And what makes you think that I would attack them?”

Drexel snorts amusingly, digging his hand into one of the pockets on his lab coat and pulling out a small device with an array of buttons on it. The one that stood out the most, though, was the blaring red button in the middle. It was bigger than all the rest— it had a yellow electrical symbol on it, too. The same one on Uzi’s shock collar. She lurches forward, realizing what the remote is for. But it’s too late— Dr. D’s finger has already pushed down on the shock button.

Wait, no… wait—!

Pain tears through Uzi’s body, beginning at her neck but showing no hesitance in ripping through her chest and shoulders. She instantly drops to the ground, screaming, clutching at her neck, yanking at the collar in a feeble attempt to get it off. That only causes the agony to spread to her hands and wrists, too— and even when the shock has passed, the memory of her anguish remains.

“Don’t need reprogramming for that, eh? Although if I were you, I’d still look forward for tomorrow,” D’s menacing, cunning tone cuts through the air— air thick with despair. No, it can’t be, Uzi thinks, her optics filled with a desperation known only to the void. Reprogramming?! Her mind darted back to L— that blank stare. That shattered visor. The knife through her chest. That blank stare. She didn’t want to suffer the same fate as the other disassembler— she couldn’t. She couldn’t live here, in this purgatory, without thoughts to escape to. Without freedom— without a will of her own— she was nothing.

She couldn’t live with Dr. D— a drone who’d tortured and belittled her for what felt like an eternity, take the last of her identity from her. Uzi wanted to fight back, to say something, to think of some comeback to the doctor’s remark about reprogramming. But she couldn’t— wouldn’t— she was smarter than that. So she only stared, still on the ground from her earlier shock.

“S-sir,” stuttered a voice behind Dr. D. The doctor turned around, coming face-to-face with one of the scientists who’d been tasked to clean the room. The ones that looked at Uzi with so much sympathy in their eyes. The test subject was quickly coming to realize, however, that sympathy was going to get her nowhere in this place— something that was no different from her old colony.

“What is it?” Dr. D growled, irritation evident in his voice.

“W-we’ve, uh, finished cleaning the room, s-sir,” the scientist stuttered, flinching as her superior stepped forward, scanning over the room. “Okay. You are all dismissed. Take your dirtied cleaning supplies and dispose of them.”

The scientist nodded, turning back to her co-workers and hurredly leaving the room. They each spared Uzi one final glance of pity before exiting— she tried to ignore them this time so that her heart wouldn’t pang.

Dr. D let out a sigh after they were gone, not bothering to turn back and face Uzi as he slowly started towards the door. “Guess that’s my cue to leave too, then— I think I’ll leave your restraints off for today. There’s cameras outside in the hallway which are strictly monitored. If I see or hear of you leaving this room, you will be punished.” Uzi’s breath hitches at that, terrified at knowing that know Dr. D could shock her at any time— one wrong move, and she’d be in for a world of suffering. “You’d better not touch any of the supplies in the cabinets, either. I will know.”

The test subject was left in silence once D had left, slamming the door behind his. When she was sure he was out of earshot, Uzi let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Good riddance,” she muttered, heaving herself up from the ground so that she could stand on her peg legs. Admittedly, it felt nice to be able to stretch after being tied up to her bed for so long— although, there really wasn’t much to do. Uzi shot a glance at the cabinet at the far side of the room which Dr. D had mentioned not to go through.

She really wanted to go through it. It was in her very nature to do so— yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Uzi lets out a defeated sigh, trudging over to her bed and throwing herself down to sit on the edge of it. She had never been one to rely on others— her whole life, really, she’d had no one else to look up to but herself. But now, she was really wishing that someone would do something. That she could be saved.

Someone, please. Help me

“What?!” V gasped, her voice echoing out throughout the spire, surprise apparent in her awe-struck optics. “There’s no way you managed to get through that facility! I’ve broken multiple claws trying to chip through the exterior, and nothing!”

N wasn’t sure whether to be offended or to take that as a compliment. He chose the latter— usually he did. “It’s true,” he chirped, a puppy-like smile on his face. “I’ve been wearing it down for months— one more strike and there’ll be a hole in the wall! C’mon, come and see!”

J, however, was wary. “Listen, dorkface,” she addressed N. “If those workers managed to create an exterior that powerful, who knows what they have inside. I know you’re lacking in the critical thinking compartment, but, even you have to think before going in there.”

N’s expression warped into a frown, saddened by J’s attitude. She’d always been so mean to him! But, he probably deserved it. He didn’t even half her kill count, really. Maybe if he thought more logically about his actions, things would be different.

“Well, then,” N started up again. “Wh-what do we do?”

But instead of J replying, she got cut off by V. “As much as I agree with you, J,” she blurted, “what really can we do to prepare? Our resources are limited— all we really have are ourselves. Besides,” she paused, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “What the hell are some workers really gonna do?”

J narrowed her eyes, displeased but knowing that V was right. “Would ya look at that! That head of yours isn’t all muscle after all,” she remarked, earning a glare from V. “Fine, then. Tomorrow we storm that building and kill everyone in there.”

Chapter Text

The next day approached cloaked in a swirling storm of dread. Uzi has been restless all night— pacing anxiously around her room to combat the fear that’d ingrained itself into the deepest confines of her mind. Her mind— something that was soon to be opened up, examined, and altered. Altered in a way that’d leave Uzi as mindless as L— she wondered if one day, the roles would be reversed, and she’d become the L to some other poor, unfortunate test subject.

She couldn’t ever hope to be put out of her misery— that was now a far-off dream lost to a sea of suffering. A dream— that was all that it really was, now. Uzi never imagined that she could ever be capable of thinking like this— not with how stubborn she used to be. But her headstrong, spirited nature was doomed to drown the moment she’d reached DrexTech. She wondered if her mind had already died, and she was just waiting for her body to follow. And all in the span of a week. One long, agonizing, eternal week.

Uzi didn’t know if she could survive another week— hell, another day, even. What if this shit show went on for even longer than that, though? There was no telling how much more Dr. D was going to do to her— and it was making her crazy. With each adjustment that was made and every insult that was thrown her way Uzi could feel her sanity plummet. In a place like this, it was bound to happen. Although, she wouldn’t lose it all before being reprogrammed. Reprogramming. The word left a foul feeling lingering in the back of Uzi’s head.

She would’ve lingered on her thoughts more— tried to find solace with herself for just a little bit longer. But she’s interrupted by the sound of a door slamming shut out in the hallway. She jumps, anxiety pounding at her chest as a feeling of terror wedges itself into her core. Uzi wants to move— needs to move— but her body is completely still, refusing to budge an inch with how petrified the disassembler is. Somebody is making their way towards her room, the sound that their footsteps make distinct as they thud against the metal floor below. They grow louder, and louder, and louder. Louder than the beating of Uzi’s core— louder than her frenzied influx of thoughts— louder than her screams when she was being torn limb from limb.

That’s when they suddenly stop. The soft, eerie sound of the door to Uzi’s room creaking open sends her mind into overdrive— she simply stands in the center of the room, completely still, purple optics an ocean of horror.

Optics. Optics. Those cyan optics.

However, she’s met with a pair of dull gray eyes instead.

“Xenia,” Uzi breathes, looking at the worker before her. She steps into the room, the door loudly closing shut behind her. Her long brown hair is matted with oil, and there are digital bags visible on her visor in a tired expression. What should be her clean white lab coat is soaked with oil, the substance dripping onto the ground to form a small puddle where she stands. “Wh-what the hell happened to you?”

Xenia looks up at Uzi, disoriented, but she doesn’t seem to be hurt. Despite how bloodied she was, and her exhausted expression, her body language didn’t really indicate that she was injured. She wasn’t clutching at any part of her body, or stumbling. And the oil pooling on the ground was only the stuff dripping off of her clothes. Uzi wonders what the hell happened— but it isn’t long before she gets an answer.

“Drexel,” Xenia pants after a moment, exasperated. “H-he killed the other scientists. They refused— refused to listen to his unethical orders and- and then he got O-2 out and killed everyone that went against him.”

A fresh wave of shock hits Uzi like a bullet, her body finally springing into action as she takes a small step back, completely and utterly dumbfounded at what she’d just been told. “S-slow down— what are the details? What orders did they refuse to do? A-and who the hell is O-2…?”

Xenia didn’t even try to mask the terror in her eyes— the uneasiness in her stance. She rubs her left elbow with her opposite hand in an act of self-soothing before taking a shaky breath in. “Uzi,” she whispers, voice cracking with despair. “H-he’s coming for you. Now. He’s going to reprogram you. He’d gathered the scientists to assist him in doing it days ago— but then, one of them that had been assigned to help him reprogram you was assigned to clean here after the adjustments he’d made to your torso,” she explains, shuddering as she recalls the events in which she’d gone through. “After they saw you they— they told everyone, and some of the scientists on the reprogramming job refused to do it anymore. Then, he took O-2— our second successful disassembler project who is much more powerful than L-1, and had him kill those who didn’t want to reprogram you—”

The sound of a door opening from somewhere within the hallway outside brought Xenia’s words to a screeching, dread-filled halt. The atmosphere instantly shifted, panic morphing into what Uzi could only describe as the most intense feeling of fear she’d experienced in her life. It hung over her, threatening her, a knife to her throat. She could see it’s sharp teeth upturned into a wicked smile, mocking her, daring her to step forward. Her legs, as powerful as they are, suddenly feel as if they’re to crumble beneath her. She takes a few hasty steps backwards, tripping and falling over on the foot of her bed as she slams into ground.

Steps. Steps. Steps. Those confident, heavy steps coming down the hallway. They’re growing closer. And closer. And closer and closer andcloserandcloser—

“I-I can’t,” Uzi rasps, shaking her head wildly. “Xenia— he’s going to reprogram me! B-but L— I- I can’t— I can’t become one of those things!” The immense terror that has such a powerful hold on the girl’s core won’t even allow her to speak without making itself known— and it’s grip only tightens as the door to her room begins to open. And behind it are those cyan optics. Cyan optics— alight with amusement as they burn whatever shreds are left of Uzi’s sanity. And as much as she wants to scream, to screech, to shout, she can’t. Her body won’t let her— for fear that something worse will happen.

Xenia, meanwhile, simply stares ahead, gray optics wiped of all expression as she quickly feeds her terror to the abyss. Or, at least she appears that way— in truth, she’s doing all she can to keep panic from completely overriding her systems. As he opens the door and walks into the room, dragging a cart full of tools with him, she straightens her back— wrings the oil from her coat. Thinks of every possible illusion that she can to feign confidence.

“D-Drexel!” Xenia laughs nervously, voice threatening to crack. “Preparing for the reprogramming, I see. Will I be helping with the big day~?”

Dr. D’s expression changes to seriousness, his eyes narrowing suspiciously towards his fellow scientist. “We’ve already gotten preparations complete, Xenia,” he murmurs, voice low and all previous amusement he may had erased. “It’s happening now— weren’t you listening earlier?” Dr. D questions, tilting his head slightly. “And, to answer your question, no— you won’t be assisting in reprogramming Z. I suspect that you may have an emotional attachment to her.”

Xenia’s optics widen and hollow in alarm. She holds up a hand, motioning to herself violently. “M-me?!” She screeches. “I-I would never! It’s against the rules, after all…” the scientist lets her voice trail off as Dr. D shakes his head disapprovingly, letting out an exhaggerated sigh as he starts towards Uzi’s bed, dragging his cart along with him. “Please,” he mumbles. “Go and see to it that O-2 is put back into his room. And also— alert all of the staff designated to assist in Z’s reprogramming that they’re to come here immediately.”

Xenia walks out of the room begrudgingly and Dr. D doesn’t pay any more mind to her after that, instead approaching Uzi who is still slumped against her bed on the ground and shoving her with his foot. “Get up,” he snarls. She doesn’t move, optics glazed over in a distant sea of thought. “Get up,” he says again, louder this time— and when she doesn’t respond yet again, he takes his foot and kicks her forcefully in her face, causing her slumped upper body to fall onto the floor with the rest of her. However, it snaps her out of her daze.

“Ah— shit!” Uzi gasps, putting her hand over her cheek and covering where she’d been kicked. “Th-that hurt,” she whimpers, slowly getting to her feet. “Then maybe,” Dr. D replies, “you should listen next time. Hurry up,” he reaches into his pocket and flaunts the remote to Uzi’s shock collar, making her quicken her actions. She gets up off of the ground and lays down on her bed, not bothering to put up a fight that’d only cause her more pain. She remains still as Dr. D takes her chains and wraps them around her limbs, hips, and chest, leaving her completey restrained and unable to move.

It isn’t long before a few other people walk into the room— and although Uzi can’t see them due to being so heavily restrained, she’d guess that there were probably about three or four of them because of how many footsteps she could hear. But none of them said a word— all of them instead opting to keep silent. Something that Uzi now understood.

“Do you have the anesthetic?” Dr. D’s voice asked the other scientists. There was no verbal response— but Uzi could hear the sound of clothes ruffling as she assumed they nodded their head and dug into their pockets to pull out a syringe. That syringe that was suddenly stabbed into Uzi’s side, the disassembler questioning what the hell it had to be made of to pierce through the powerful, reinforced material that made up her torso. This was the first time that she’d ever been put under aenaesthetic in this place— her guess was that Dr. D couldn’t slam her across the head with a saw like last time because he didn’t want to damage or ruin anything before her reprogramming. It was nice, really— her visor dimming as sleep began to wash over her as opposed to being put to sleep by less ethical means.

Before her power shut off completely, Uzi was sure that she could hear a robotic voice echoing from somewhere inside her mind. She wasn’t sure who it belonged to— but she was definitely sure of what it’d said. Even without the wall of text against her screen.

“Installation of ‘TheAbsolute_Solver.exe’ has been completed. Awaiting further directive from administrator ‘Cyn.’”

And then it went silent.

Dr. D sighed as Z shut offline, seeing her purple optics fade into a simple “error: please seek admin permission to restart” message. Now, he could finally get to work with the reprogramming. He motioned to one of his assistants who was holding up a razor-sharp scalpel next to Z’s head. “Cut it open. Don’t go to deep and damage any of her vital parts, though— I swear to god, if you kill her you’ll be there in her place.”

The assistant nodded hastily, taking off Z’s beanie and dropping it onto the ground before parting her hair. He glides the scalpel over her head, oil dripping from the wound left in the blade’s wake. After the cut has been made, spanning from Z’s forehead above her visor to the back of her head, the scientist gently lifts the tool, black dripping from what used to be a silver edge. Dr. D hastily shoves the other drone away, examining Z’s insides.

There it is— even through the oil that’s gradually spilling out of her, he can see her programming. Various chips and wires sprawled about inside of her head, surrounding an energy core. Workers had two energy cores— one in their chest and one in their head. They needed both, and would instantly be met with a fatal error if either got destroyer. The energy core in the head, along with the parts surrounding it, influenced all of a worker drone’s thoughts— their feelings, their desires. It was vital to a worker’s survival— but there were ways to alter it without doing any harm to the individual. Any physical harm, anyway. As long as the energy core wasn’t destroyed or damaged, then Z would be fine— there were a few specific wires that couldn’t be touched, either. But those were easy enough to avoid. They were bright red, anyway.

Dr. D figured that he’d get to the energy core last, since it was the riskiest part of this whole reprogramming. It was messing with Z’s brain, essentially. He’d begin with altering the various chips and wires surrounding it, which were equally as important. He removed a few chips, each with labels on them. “Objective,” “Name,” “Species.” All stuff that Drexel could replace— all by just replacing the old chips in her head with newer, better ones. He cut off and rerouted a few wires, too, all the while snapping at the other assistants in the room to get started on changing Z’s teeth and visor. “She has to be able to drink oil effeciently and see well— and, you there— get the headband! We’ll put it on after reprogramming her.”

As Dr. D continues to work, he notices something— the more he moves around the components surrounding the energy core in Z’s head, the better he’s able to see it. Normally, a worker drone’s core would have a neon green coloration. But hers was yellow. He taps the core with his scalpel, curious, and the tool instantly explodes into a mass of flesh and organic blood before disintegrating into nothingness. What the hell?

Drexel didn’t dare touch Z’s core after what he’d just witnessed. But, he also had to— how the hell was he going to make himself an admin over her if he didn’t? He reaches out, extending a hand and picking up Z’s energy core. By now, the test subject’s teeth and visor had been altered, the other scientists now waiting by for Dr. D to finish reprogramming the girl so that the cut across her head could heal and they could install the disassembler headband.

So, they thought that when Dr. D suddenly retracted his hand from Z’s head that it was because he was done with her reprogramming. Oh, how wrong they were.

Not a moment after Drexel touched Z’s energy core did searing pain shoot through his hand and arm before the area burst into a wad of flesh and blood. The doctor screamed, clutching at the socket on his right shoulder that now harbored nothing but phantom agony. A scream sounded from one of the assistants— but it wasn’t just at Dr. D’s lack of a limb.

No, not at all. It was Z— even though the anesthetic administered to her should’ve kept her regenerative organs from healing temporarily, the gaping cut in her head had closed within seconds of Dr. D retracting his hand from it.

Not only that— but the girl had broken through the chains restraining her upper body. The light blinked and it seemed that something was being pulled from her, and when the light was on again the chains were off. They weren’t torn, though— it was clear that they had been cut off by something, after which she began to rise. She moved mechanically, almost as if she were a doll. It was clear that she even gone so far as to break her arms to lift herself so that she could sit up in her bed. Everyone's eye was then drawn to Z's visor once they saw that an unfamiliar yellow symbol appeared on it. Under it were the words: “Administrator ‘Cyn’ has opened file: 'TheAbsolute_Solver.exe.'”

And then, she spoke.

“Let the show begin.” Her voice was different. It was more artificial and there was no emotion to be heard in it. Suddenly, she turned her head 180 and looked at the doctor with a wide, toothy smile, her sharp new teeth gleaming eerily. “Giggle.” She said with a tilt of her head.

In less than an instant after that, the lights flickered again and Z fell back onto her bed, unconscious once again.

After that, nobody was ready for the facility’s alarms to blare as the room went red.

Chapter Text

“Warning: containment breach. All employees please locate the nearest experimental and seek protection,” a robotic, feminine voice rang out through the speakers. A deep red color flashed throughout the facilty as the alarms blared loudly, alerting those inside of the impending doom. Dr. D clutches at where his arm used to be, the former limb now a mass of blood and flesh splattered across the room in bits. However, he feels no pain— but urgency is coursing through his brain. It finds its way into his every action and pounds at his chest, begging him to heed the alarms sounding overhead and to find protection.

Adrenaline was one hell of a program. And a damn useful one, at that.

“You there!” Dr. D shouts, meeting the eyes of the scientist who’d previously been ordered to put on Z’s headband after the reprogramming was finished— however, the part still hadn’t been attached yet. It laid still on the bed— a normal disassembler drone headband except for the five dark purple lights decorating the top of it. “Put that on her— I don’t care how damn long it takes you or who comes into this room. The rest of you can go do whatever the hell you want— I’m going to go get X-3 and find out what broke in.”

The doctor quickly hurried out of the door, slamming the door behind him, the others quickly following behind him, leaving their colleage alone to attach Z’s headband. “Sorry, Z-8,” the scientist muttered, working with shaky hands. “I don’t know how you’ll wake up— but I hope you didn’t lose too much.”

Where am I? What’s going on? What’s that noise? I can’t see anything— I can’t feel anything but pain. I’m hungry.

When Z woke up, she was in nothing short of complete, utter agony. Anguish plaged every part of her body— although it was particularly bad in her head. The sirens blaring overhead did nothing to help, nor did the loud, obnoxious repetition of the words, “warning: containment breach. All employees please locate the nearest experimental and seek protection.”

She wanted to open her eyes, but they were so, so heavy, held down by the invisible weight of exhaustion. Her limbs felt limp, yet free— free from the chains that normally restrained them. Z didn’t know why— she didn’t know anything, really. Her memories were so foggy, clouded in a storm that never seemed to ebb. She tried to think— think of something. But all she got were scraps.

Her name was Z, and she was a disassembly drone living in DrexTech. She’d always been a disassembly drone— and a benevolent one, at that. She’d never wanted to hunt worker drones. Maybe that’s why she’d been out in the snow that day, on the verge of overheating. Willing to overheat rather than kill somebody. And then, Dr. D had found her and taken her in. He’d made her a resident at his facility. He’d saved her. But she can’t remember anything beyond that— the rest of her past was a mystery to her. Maybe that’s what staying in this place for so many years did to one’s mind.

And maybe it’d taken an effect on her soul, too— she couldn’t feel anything. It’s like she was devoid of emotion— all pain, all pleasure, all of her hatred was gone. Anything that she had previously been able to feel was replaced with a powerful sense of fear and emptiness. Had she always been like this? Numb, with her heartstrings severed? Or, was it just another side effect of staying here? Something deep inside of her let out a scream, trying to tell her otherwise. But she ignored it.

She laid there for a few minutes, listening to the alarms blare almost therapeutically. Something to keep her grounded to reality as her mind and senses tried to revive themselves. She wanted to get up, she really did— but, her body was in so much agony. She couldn’t. All she really could do was stare into the abyss of her closed optics. Or, at least, it would’ve been an abyss had big, bolded red letters not popped up on her screen all of a sudden.

“Primary objective: protect DrexTech.”

The letters lingered in the middle of Z’s screen for a second before shrinking down and condensing into the top right corner. Oh, right. In exchange for Dr. D’s hospitality towards her, she’d agreed to guard the laboratory from intruders. How could she forget?

The alarms… blaring… “warning: containment breach.” Intruders… intruders.

Something in Z snapped— a powerful, overwhelming drive like that of a working dog’s. It took over her body and mind, forcing her to push through her pain and open her eyes. She had to get up. She had to protect.

All of sudden, the murder drone’s eyes flung open and she shot up out of her daze, panicked. A small warning beeped briefly on her screen: “warning: fear will cause overheating.” Z quickly composes herself, taking a brief moment to calm down before looking around the room. And what she saw made her dread come rushing right back to her.

It looked as if a massacre had happened— oil and innards littered the floor, particularly around Z’s bed. But there was no shortage of bodily fluids splattered across the walls, either. And, was that blood mixed in with the oil? A few pieces of flesh were scattered throughout the room, too, an amalgamation of organic garbage that she didn’t dare question. Something kept her from questioning— maybe that’s why she couldn’t even be bothered in wondering what’d happened here. Instead, she quickly recomposes herself, afraid of overheating.

But, something else catches her eye, too— on the top left corner of her screen, opposite from where her objective is, there’s a small box with panels which show the vision from the optics on her headband. There are three different panels in total— each showing a different type of vision that she has. There’s nightvision, ultraviolet, and infrared. On the corner of the box in bright yellow letters is the word “change vision.” She could choose to swap which vision she was primarily using— and whichever ones she wasn’t would be shrunk down and condensed into a panel. But, why had this caught her attention? Seemed so unfamiliar to her? Z had had this feature all her life— she was a disassembler after all.

Whatever. She didn’t have time for this— she had to move and fight off the intruders.

Z bullets out of her bed, making her legs carry her as fast as they can with how fatigued she was. Despite her heavy steps and the exhaustion hammering her lungs, she was still able to move so fast that everything was a blur to her, really— she whipped open the door to her room and darted down the empty hallway, reaching the double doors at the end in mere seconds and bursting through them. And, what she saw was nothing less than what she’d been expecting.

It was nothing short of absolute carnage. Scientists lay scattered across the ground, their bodies severely dismembered to where only the organs hanging out of them were recognizable. Some had their faces mangled so badly that Z was unable to put a name to them. Limbs lay torn from the torsos that they were originally attached to, most of them completely drained of their oil. Oil that now lay somewhere on the walls or counters in the room, or maybe in the belly of whatever beast had ramaged through it.

Z takes a hesitant step forward, her disassembler instincts screaming at her to retreat. The only movement in the room is the elevator by the left wall, which is in a constant cycle of opening and closing due to a body being in it’s way. She can feel her hands unwillingly shift into knives, and she raises her arms, ready for combat in case of an attack. But nothing comes. Even with the facility’s alarms still blaring overhead, the room feels eerily quiet. It isn’t like Z hadn’t seen death before— she’s a disassembly drone, of course she had. It’s just that in this kind of atmosphere, with dread holding a gun to her head, she feels so tense. Feels as if the soft plopping of oil dripping down onto the floor from the ceiling above is rupturing her audio sensors.

Wait…

Why is oil coming from above…?

A crunch sounds and Z slowly, carefully looks up, optics hollowed out so much that only a thin purple outline remained. There, hanging deathly still from the ceiling was another disassembly drone, a worker drone’s arm dangling from his mouth. He quickly drained it of oil and then tossed it onto the floor, a wolfish smile crossing his face to reveal his sharp, predatory teeth. His fangs were stained with black.

“Caution: presence within this room has turned hostile,” a red warning sign popped up onto Z’s screen, her reflexes reacting quickly as the strange disassembler came barreling down from the ceiling, crashing into the exact spot she’d been standing. She swifly leaped out of the way, poised to attack as soon as she landed back onto her feet. She took in the appearance of her aggressor for a moment, looking for any weak points that might show themselves.

He was a tall drone— much taller than her and very well-built, reinforcements lining every inch of his body. She could see it even from beneath the neat, pitch-black suit that he was wearing. He didn’t seem like he’d be able to move very fast from all of that weighing him down. His legs, unlike hers, had feet— they weren’t peg legs. Of course, his arms and legs had the classic disassembly drone tape on them, but, instead of being purple or yellow and black, they were light blue and black. On his right arm was the faint engraving of the letters, “O-2.”

He had short, fluffy blone hair with a headband laying across it, the optics on it of the same light blue coloration as the hazard tape on his appendages. There was a large blue x-mark across the drone’s visor, his grin never leaving his face. His wings were spread out threateningly behind him, being the classic silver knife-like wings that all disassemblers had, except with a much larger wingspan. They had to be at least twice the size of a normal murder drone’s. Of course, there was his tail, too. It was lashing angrily behind him, the acid inside of the stinger part of it neon blue.

“O-2,” Z murmured, her eyes going back to the writing on the other drone’s arm. “I-is that your name?” She asked, taking a step forward. Big mistake.

O-2 immediately lashed out, dashing forward to cover the space between the two before moving in one big, slow, powerful motion that Z should’ve been able to dodge. But as soon as she made the motion to escape the incoming attack, O-2’s tail quickly came from behind and stabbed her stomach right where her regenerative organ was, locking her in place from the agony that spread throughout her torso. Before she knew it, O-2 had stabbed her in the same place.

Z screamed in agony, grunting loudly as she was then slammed through a counter and into the wall by the room’s elevator. She looked down at her stomach, unsurprised to see it melting and drenched in oil. She sluggishly licked her hand and dragged it across her wound in order to neutralize the nanites in the acid that was currently eating away at her. Once that was done, she heaved herself to her feet, leaning against the wall for support as black dripped from her stomach and pooled beneath her.

A hazard sign popped up on Z’s visor, reading: “Warning: user’s regenerative system has sustained severe damage. Healing delayed— draining oil reserves to increase repair time.”

Another warning followed shortly after.

“Warning: could not decrease repair time. Oil reserves empty. Please find an oil source immediately.”

She didn’t have time for that. Z ignores the warnings and, despite her agony, she pushes herself off of the wall and bullets forward to where O-2 is posed menacingly in the middle of the room. She narrowly dodges another attack from his tail and then slashes the other drone with her knife hands, aiming for his core. But he managed to move away just in time, and the blow only hit his right shoulder, ripping his clothing there as oil splurted from the wound. Z was surprised she’d even been able to hit through his reinforcements— probably due to how crazy sharp her knives were.

But he didn’t seem phased by it. In fact, O-2 had no reaction at all to being hurt— his smile didn’t falter for a second. Almost immediately after being hit, O-2 whirled around and raked his knives through Z’s left elbow, cutting her lower arm clean off. The disassembler suppressed the urge to howl in pain, gritting her teeth and stabbing her opponent’s right leg before he kicked her away, knocking her onto the ground.

“Shit,” Z groaned, black gushing from her wounds. With one arm and delayed healing, she was at a clear disadvantage. O-2 was strong and fierce— and he healed fast, too. His one weakness was his attack speed— but Z wasn’t able to move much faster due to her current injuries. Before she could assess the situation any longer, her opponent made a move. He’d been kneeling in the center of the room waiting for his injured leg to heal. That was, until he bulleted towards the downed Z.

She pressed herself against the wall for support, desperately trying to get to her feet. But she was unable to get up before O-2 reached her and slammed a knife across her visor, shattering it and cutting off her normal vision.

This was bad. If she let O-2 get too many more hits onto her, she’d be too hurt and wouldn’t be able to react in time to avoid a fatal blow. She was already slowing down due to her injuries and lack of oil— her attack power was suffering, too. She had to end this as quickly as possible without getting hit.

Z couldn’t see through her normal optics, but her headband was unscathed. She toggled her night vision and suddenly slashed at O-2’s legs from where she was hunched onto the ground, putting as much power into the swing as she could. She managed to cut pretty deep— deep enough that it caused him to drop to the floor. That gave her enough time to quickly heave herself up to her feet so that she was no longer in such a vulnerable position. As she tried to put some distance between herself and O-2, the other drone spread his wings and pushed himself off of the ground in one powerful motion, bulleting to the ceiling. He hung there as his legs healed themselves.

O-2 certainly seemed confident— was he that sure that Z wouldn’t be able to attack him while he was healing? Taking the time mid-fight to hang to the ceiling— it left him open. And what’s more, it gave Z time. And an idea.

She closes her eyes, focusing as she tries to shift her knife-hand into a different weapon. She’d done this many times before— so why did it feel so difficult now? She was a trained killing machine. If her opponent hadn’t been healing at the moment, then she would’ve certainly be killed by now. Z recalls the adrenaline that coursed through her body whenever she’s go on a hunt, remembers how hungry she is. The feeling of wanting to kill her opponent.

And suddenly she finds herself staring down at a massive railgun, it’s highlights glowing dark purple.

Yes! Now all I have to do is hit is core, and then I’ll be able to end this!

She began to charge her railgun, heat emanating from her exhausted body as she mustered up her remaining energy for what’d be her final attack.

Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by O-2.

The smile immediately dropping from his face, the disassembler darted down from the ceiling, slamming onto the ground next to Z. She managed to leap out of the way just in time, but, was unable to put any more distance between her and O-2. If she moved any more, she’d exhaust too much energy to charge her railgun.

So all she could do was brace herself as her opponent rushed her down, knocking them both to the ground with him coming out on top of her. He stabbed her abdomen, making her screech in anguish. Oil gushed out onto the floor, enveloping the two drones into a void of Z’s agony as she bled out. Once. Twice. Three times O-2 stabbed her before turning his gaze to her arm. He slashed at it hastily in an attempt to cut it off— but his first attack had been too shallow. And by then, Z’s railgun was fully charged.

He tries to get off of her— to run— to live. For the first time, there’s an expression on O-2’s face other than that evil, bloodlusted grin.

It was fear.

His optics, which had been crossed into an x-symbol, revert back to normal, two hollow voids of despair as he stares straight through death’s own dark purple optics. Oh, robo-god he was scared. It couldn’t end like this, he couldn’t die, not when Drexel was—

And then, a resounding boom echoed throughout the building, a violent shaking accompanying it. A massive purple beam shot through the facility, decimating anything it came into contact with until it managed to make it’s way outside, burning a hole through one of the structure’s walls, exposing the interior of the structure. The beam continued to shoot down some surrounding buildings— those that humans had built before they were driven to near-extinction— before finally fading away.

Not even a corpse remained of O-2.

All of a sudden, the warning that was sounding on the overhead alarms changed. “Warning: West wall has now been destroyed. If possible, please stay as far away from that area as you can and get to safety,” and then a pause. “Warning: containment breach. All employees please locate the nearest experimental and seek protection,”

The two messages blared on the speakers, but Z couldn’t hear them over the sound of her collapsing, her reinforced body slamming to the ground as her railgun shifted back into a normal hand, unable to retain that form. Heat emanated from her body, a thick cloud of steam rising from her body as she attempted to drag herself towards the elevator. Oil was pooling on the floor beneath her and creating marks as Z slowly made her way to her destination.

Her entire torso was stained black. She could feel the fluid dripping down from her shattered visor, too. Sometimes there was a broken piece of glass that fell with it. “Shit,” Z breathed, gritting her teeth as she dragged herself over a dead worker body. Most of them were already drained of oil— and she didn’t have the energy or time to find out if there were ones that weren’t. But maybe, just maybe if she could get into the elevator and manage to get down to that room in the basement— just maybe she stood a chance.

It felt like an eternity before Z reached the elevator. She could feel how her core was beating ever slower in her chest. How even the vision in her headband was starting to become groggy and unfocused. How with each drop of oil that was leaving her body, she grew weaker and weaker. But she pressed on. She fought her fatigue, her pain, her urges to just shut her eyes and let herself bleed. And eventually she finds herself mere inches away from the elevator. She heaves herself over the body which the doors were stuck on, pushing it out of the way once she’s inside and allowing the doors to close.

The floor instantly turns black.

There’s a few buttons on the wall— of course, Z hits the one for the basement, which has a bloody black fingerprint on it. It takes all of her strength to reach up and hit the button, what would be insignificant action for an uninjured drone a difficult task for her.

As the elevator starts to move down towards the basement, Z can feel her strength leaving her at an even faster rate than before. Maybe it was because she was laying in a deepening pool of her own insides— or, perhaps the steam coming off of her body was just making the room too hot to bare. Despite her mind protesting it, Z finds her body beginning to shut down.

Shit... was this how she was going to die? Starving and alone in an elevator, wallowing in the fluid that she was supposed to consume?

A ding sounds out, and the doors to the elevator open, finally revealing the basement. Bodies are heaped in the hallway, all of them oozing black. But Z couldn’t find the energy to keep her eyes open.

“Warning: user has sustained fatal damage. Oil reserves empty. Hunger has reached a critical state. Initiating theAbsolute_Solver.exe.”

Chapter Text

Two hours before Z fought O-2…

“Riiight here!” N chirped, landing onto the damaged portion of the roof heavily, his feet skidding across the hard material that made up the exterior of the building. He looked up to see his two comrades, V and J, circling the area, likely surveying for threats, before they landed beside him on the roof, folding their wings and inspecting the damage. 

The roof had been torn and ripped, the material heavily dented and etched with claw marks. It looked as if just one more move could totally destroy it— hell, it was begging to be broken at this point. Some light from the facility filtered out of the damaged section, a testament to just how worn down it’d become.

“Damn,” J muttered, leaning down and running a hand across the area. “As much as I hate to admit it, you really did a number on this thing, N.” 

N put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out triumphantly, a grin that showed off his sharp disassembler teeth spread across his face. “Why thank- ow!”

“Shut up, loser!” V snarled, hitting him on the head from behind and pulling her missile launcher out from her right hand. “Let’s just blow this thing already and slaughter some- ow!”

J elbowed V in the side harshly, causing V to take a step back. An irk mark formed on the short-tempered drone’s visor as she glared at her co-worker through narrowed yellow optics, her tail lashing angrily. 

“What did you do that for? I was about to blow a hole through there and bust us in!”

J rolled her eyes, making a hand motion as she spoke. “We have to think about this,” she said. “We don’t know what could be in there. We can’t just go barging in.”

V scoffed and stomped her foot down impatiently, gritting her teeth in annoyance and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What could possibly be in there that we can’t kill? They’re just workers,” she mumbled.

All N could do was watch as his two squadmates argued in front of him. He didn’t dare speak up, because that’d inevitably end in them turning on him. But, even he had to admit, all of their squabbling was starting to get tiring.

“They’re just stupid worker drones! What the fuck can they do to us?” 

“I don’t know! But if the toasters are competent enough to build an exterior like this, then they’re more than capable of constructing weapons against us, dumbass!” 

“Oh yeah? And you think we couldn’t fight against whatever they could throw at us? Come on, J!” 

“Stupid V! Is all you have in that stupid fucking head of yours muscle?! I’m not saying we can’t handle it, but, I’m just saying that it’s important we prepare!” 

“Excuse me?! If anything, you’re the dumb one! We don’t need to prepare because it’ll be an easy job! Are you that scared? You’ve really let yourself go, J!”

“Oh, spare me. You’re such a-” 

All of a sudden, the sound of something hard ripping and tearing broke the two out of the heated argument they’d been having. They look towards the direction of the sound, only to see N clawing away at the small section of damaged roof.

V’s lips upturn into a devious grin, while J gasps. “N, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I-I just wanted you two to stop arguing!” N whimpers, backing away a few steps from the now wide-open hole on the roof. V wastes no time in jumping into the building, letting out a whoop of excitement as she leaps down into the room that the tear had been made above.

J soon follows, albeit reluctantly, and N is the last to enter.

The first thing he noticed upon falling into the room were the rows and rows of messy counters, littered with papers and research tools. Microscopes, beakers, flasks— if you could name it, it was probably there on one of those counters. The walls were a pure, blinding white, and the floors— well, N didn’t even know what color the floor was. Like the counters, the floor was absolutely covered in papers.

Some of the papers had writing on them, while others had weird, eldritch drawings and symbols. In any case, this room seemed to be abandoned— there wasn’t a single worker drone in sight. Though, it did pique N’s curiosity. Just what were these drones doing?

J and V seemed to be thinking the same thing as they walked around the room, observing its contents in silence. That was until J’s voice tore the other two from their thoughts. “Wait,” she murmured. “Is this a laboratory?”

V shrugged at J’a words, picking up a stained piece of paper from one of the counters and narrowing her eyes at it. However, she quickly threw it aside to look at some others. 

“All of these papers are signed by a ‘Dr. D” she remarks. “Soon to be Dr. Dead when I get to whoever the hell this stupid nobody is.”

 J just rolls her eyes, and N moves to pick up another paper from one of the counters. It was filled with writing— but one word caught his eye. Experiments.

“Hey, uh,” N murmurs, a line of alarm forming beneath his optics. “This is talking about some kind of experiment. It says, ‘Experiment F-5,’ and, something about a malfunction.”

J tilts her head curiously, walking over to N and snatching the paper from him, her tail swaying from side to side. “Weird,” she says. “Damn, I can’t even read this thing. Most of the writing is illegible. Though, there’s a lot of numbers on here.”

“Who cares about some dumb experiments?” V whines, clearly done with reading papers. “Let’s just go murder some worker drones already! I’m fucking starving.”

J just wordlessly obliged, walking across the room to a pair of double doors and opening them. This revealed a long white hallway to be outside— one that was bustling with worker drones. Each of them wore a white lab coat reminiscent of a scientist’s.

They didn’t seem to notice that the doors of the room they thought had been long abandoned were now open. They all seemed to be focused on their own thing, going in and out of various rooms. It was strange, really. 

That was, until, one of the worker drones looked up from the clipboard they had been staring at and noticed. The worker stopped in their tracks, their orange optics widening in surprise as they saw the three disassemblers standing in the doorway.

A few of the other scientists noticed this, and turned their attention to where the trio was standing. One of them even dropped the beaker they’d been holding, the sound of glass shattering the silence in the hallway. The tension that followed was palpable, dread and disbelief thick in the air. 

At this point, all of the worker drones had noticed the trio, and were frozen. None of them had expected this. 

“S-somebody,” one of the scientists breathes, staggering backwards and bumping into another drone. “S-s-set off the alarms! The exterior has been breached! Th-those are outside disassembler drones!”

It was as if the tension that’d previously permeated the room had now exploded into full-on panic. Worker drones were rushing down the hallway and into rooms, each clambering to get away from the threat that’d just presented itself. 

They were staring death right in the optics, and they knew it.

V bulleted forward, a smile spread across her face in a twisted expression of glee as she began to slaughter the worker drones mercilessly. In a matter of seconds, the white walls of the hallway were coated with a thick layer of black. Innards were littered across the floor, detached from the bodies they used to belong to. 

It wasn’t long after until J joined in on the fun, darting into a room where some worker drones had gone to hide and making quick work of them. Worker drones were begging, pleading for their lives, but that only served to fuel the disassembly drone’s rampage. 

The air was heavy with the scent of oil and the sound of screams. 

“Guess I should get to it, then!” N chirped, starting forward, his hands shifting into knives. He intended to kill as many workers as he could, and make his squad proud. 

That was, until his vision flashed red. An abrupt blaring sound started ringing throughout the facility. A robotic, feminine voice came through the speakers, repeating a specific phrase like a mantra.

 “Warning: containment breach. All employees please locate the nearest experimental and seek protection,”

There that word was again. Experimental. 

N stood there for a moment before unfolding his wings and propelling himself forward down the hallway. He blazed past the various rooms scattered throughout it, figuring that V and J could take care of whatever workers were inevitably hiding in them.

The disassembler pressed forward until he found himself standing in front of another pair of double doors. Without thinking much, he pushed past the doors— and he found himself standing in a large, open room. It was littered with cabinets, shelves, and machines. Unlike the last room he’d been in, this one was neat and well-kept. There was also an elevator on one of the walls. 

But what caught his attention the most were the two figures standing in the middle of the room. One of them was short— a worker drone with cyan optics, a pair of glasses, and fluffy hair. He wasn’t surprised at that. But what he was surprised at was what was standing next to that worker. 

It was a disassembly drone. A disassembly drone with the word “O-2” engraved onto one of his wrists. 

“W-what the?” N breathed, backing up a step. His optics hollowed in alarm, but the other disassembler didn’t seem to react. He only stood by the worker drone’s side, his head hanging, his visor alight with a blue x-mark. 

“Ah,” the worker drone started, his voice nonchalant, yet strangely menacing. “Are you one of the disassembly drones that broke in? You seem awfully scared for someone that’s supposed to be a killer, you know.” 

N narrowed his eyes and brought out his knife hands, crouching slightly in a ready stance as his tail lashed. “Who are you?”

The worker drone smiled, and chuckled softly. “My bad,” he hummed. “I forgot to introduce myself. How rude. I’m Drexel, though, I’d prefer if you call me Dr. D. I’m the head scientist here at DrexTech.”

“DrexTech?” N said, a question in his voice. “That’s what this place is called?” 

Drexel huffed, his cyan optics clearly portraying his amusement. “Indeed,” he replied. “DrexTech Laboratories. We conduct lots of experiments here.”

“What kind of experiments?” N took a menacing step forward, his voice offering no room for refusal to answer his question. However, Drexel looked unphased. 

“Just look at O-2 here,” he said, motioning to the disassembly drone behind him. “He’s an experiment. An experimental, as we call them. He used to be a worker drone, you know.”

N could feel his breath hitch, his muscles going stiff as shock overwhelmed his thoughts. “What?”

“Isn’t it great?” Drexel continued, waving his hand around in a taunting, arrogant motion and taking a step forward. “We have seven of them. They’re worker drones who’ve been modified and turned into disassembler drones. Only, they’re better.”

N couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. Worker drones modifying other worker drones to turn them into enhanced disassembly drones? What? 

“Why?”

Drexel tilted his head, his expression morphing into one of confusion at N’s question. “Why? Well, isn’t it obvious? To defend ourselves against you things.”

“B-but,” N murmured. “That’s just cruel!”

Drexel scoffed and rolled his eyes, making a mocking yapping motion with his hand. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t really care. You’re one to talk, anyway, disassembler.”

This worker drone was really getting on N’s nerves. Not only for his blatant disrespect, but for how cruel he was. Sure, N killed worker drones, but he always made it quick. J usually did, too, although she didn’t really mind dragging it out. V… at least V didn’t experiment on them and turn them into a whole different species.

“But-” 

“Shush,” Drexel cut N off, and turned to O-2. “You,” he said in a commanding tone, causing O-2 to raise his head. 

“Kill him. And anyone that gets in your way.”

Chapter Text

N could barely hear the sound of his own harsh, labored breathing over the intense ringing in his ears. Anxiety pounded at his mechanical chest as he surged forward, bulleting towards the blue-eyed drone standing across from him.

Dr. D had left the room— leaving N to face off against O-2. But, he was finding it a lot harder than he’d anticipated to deal with the modified disassembly drone. In the past few minutes, he hadn’t managed to land a single hit on him.

He readied his knife hands, gritting his teeth as he prepared to strike at O-2, aiming to cut off his right arm in one swift, precise motion. He’d expected to feel himself cutting into his opponent, the familiar ripping and tearing of metal sounding throughout the room. 

But, that expectation was replaced by the empty, terrifying feeling of cutting into air. No, no, nonono.

 O-2 had dodged his attack.

 N whipped around, his golden optics hollowing in alarm as he saw the smiling drone standing behind him, his mouth upturned in amusement.

O-2 brought his tail out from behind him, and N could see the blue nanite acid bubbling inside of it. In an instant, his opponent moved to stab him with his tail, and it hit. 

N grimaced at the feeling of a needle piercing through his right arm, the material beginning to disintegrate and melt into nothing more than a steaming puddle on the floor.

O-2 snickered, reveling in seeing his enemy’s agony. He was enjoying this— it evoked a feeling of sheer, unbridled excitement from somewhere deep within his core. To him, this was his purpose. He lived for it. 

More, more, more. I have to fight more.

N stumbled backwards, barely avoiding a powerful swing from his opponent that would’ve sent him flying into the wall. Damn, this drone was strong. O-2’s attacks harbored incredible force— force that N wasn’t sure he could even come close to matching.

His opponent was clad in reinforcements and bulk, which, although made him slow and vulnerable to fast attacks, also meant that N had to strike hard for any of his attacks to be meaningful. Even then, O-2 healed damn fast, and if any of his attacks landed even once, he’d cause some serious damage. 

Damage that N wasn’t sure he could sustain. 

He winced as another attack was sent his way, O-2 delivering a strong stab to his shoulder and began sawing, clearly with the intention of cutting his arm off.

And, robo-god, N couldn’t help himself from screaming in pain. Agony permeated his every movement as he tried desperately to shove the other drone off. He even retaliated with a stab of his own, but, it was completely useless. O-2 pressed on until N’s arm was nearly detached from his body, oil spilling onto the ground beneath the two and pooling at their feet.

N didn’t even know he was capable of yelling as loud as he was as he felt his arm finally come off. In a last-ditch attempt to get O-2 off of him, he stabbed his tail into his opponent’s stomach, which, of course, did nothing. He found himself getting his feet swept out from underneath him, his back hitting the ground as O-2 hovered above him. 

N barely managed to block an attack aimed straight for his visor, using his remaining arm to hold off his opponent’s advances. He could feel his strength rapidly waning as O-2 climbed on top of him, leaning forward, his smiling face right above N’s.

The golden-eyed disassembler winced as saliva dripped down onto his cheek, his enemy slowly overpowering him, his knives beginning to press into his visor. The sound of glass cracking gave N all the courage he needed to muster up a strong kick to O-2’s stomach, sending him reeling backwards.

And those steps back were all N needed. He scrambled up off of the ground and lunged forward, winding his remaining arm back before uppercutting O-2 with all of the force he could manage. The other drone got thrown towards the ceiling, slamming into it with a loud thud. 

It wasn’t long before he came plummeting back down to the ground, breaking a counter that he landed on in the process. N could hear the dreaded creaking of metal as O-2 rolled to the floor and heaved himself to his feet. Smoke clouded the disassembler, a clear indicator that he’d taken damage and was now regenerating.

And there was no way N was going to just let O-2 finish repairing himself. Not when he’d gone through so much agony to inflict even a dent into the other drone. He took a step forward, not realizing that his opponent would fight whether he was healing or not. 

And oh, what a fatal mistake that proved to be. 

O-2 took a huge step forward and lashed out, swinging both his hands forward in a devastatingly forceful motion. One that connected right with N’s stomach and sent him flying to the complete opposite side of the room. He didn’t even have time to bat an eye before he felt his back collide with the wall.

“Warning: Severe damage has been sustained to the torso and back. Please minimize movement to decrease repair time.”

As those words flashed across N’s visor, he could feel the warm sensation of oil dripping down from his midsection and gushing onto the floor. He shakily brought a hand to his stomach, trying to stop his organs from spilling out of his body. His core had long been replaced by a bottomless chasm of dread. One that’d been growing deeper and deeper as this fight went on.

He knew he couldn’t let this continue. Because this was an opponent that he couldn’t beat. Shit, shit, shit. He should’ve listened to J. He should’ve prepared. He should’ve done something. 

N didn’t believe he was capable of feeling such an overwhelming surge of emotion— not until this moment. As death stared straight through his very soul, stalking towards him, its glowing blue tail lashing in sheer, unabashed excitement. 

O-2 was nearly shaking from the excitement welling up from within himself— robo-god, he couldn’t contain himself. He needed to see more of his opponent’s pain. That raw fear portrayed by his wide golden optics.

O-2 let out a low, distorted snarl, the sound reverberating throughout the room and sending an intense wave of fear rippling through N. His internal systems screamed at him to escape, to move, to run away. 

This was an enemy far beyond his caliber. And to O-2, this fight was nothing more than a cruel game. A familiar game. A game where he held all of the cards.

N’s remaining arm was trembling, barely able to lift his knife, and his legs felt leaden. Adrenaline— or whatever the robotic equivalent of it was— rushed through his body and screamed at him to act. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. 

Because fear was stronger.

O-2 took slow, menacing steps forward, purposely drawing out his approach. He was almost on top of N now, his tail poised to strike, his knives aimed directly for the other drone’s chest. 

The golden-eyed disassembler’s mind was racing. He knew he had to do something— but what? He knew he had to get away— but how? 

His gaze flitted around the room, desperately searching for a means of escape. That’s when N’s optics locked onto the elevator, its doors wide open as if they were inviting him in. He knew that was only chance of surviving this encounter— he just had to buy a few seconds and get over there.

As if on cue, the arm that N had previously had cut off finished regenerating, his knife hand seemingly materializing out of thin air. With this, maybe, just maybe he could manage to incapacitate O-2 somehow and make it to the elevator.

N shifted one of his arms into a gun, and started wildly at his opponent. O-2, of course, was unfazed, and quickly moved to stab N with his tail. But he narrowly blocked the needle from hitting him, using his other knife hand to redirect the attack. 

That’s when he got an idea— one that might just pay off. 

He kept shooting with his gun hand, but shifted the other from a knife to a normal hand. He grabbed O-2’s tail, and, seeing the opportunity, stuck the other disassembler in the torso with it. 

He watched as O-2’s stomach began to dissolve, causing the other drone to look down at it and take a step back. He ripped his tail out of his torso, his focus switching from N to the growing hole where he’d been stabbed. 

And that gave N all the time he needed to dart out from his position and towards the elevator. He wasted no time in unfolding his wings and propelling himself forward, slamming into the wall of the elevator and rushing to push the button to close its doors.

O-2 noticed this, and screeched, furious that his enemy would dare flee. But by the time he stomped over to the elevator to intervene, it was too late. With a soft thud, the elevator doors shut, and O-2’s prey had gotten away.

N breathed a massive sigh of relief, backing against the elevator wall and sliding to the ground. He felt so incredibly lucky in this moment, he thought he could cry. But at the same time, the adrenaline still rushing through his body prevented him from doing so.

He could feel himself being brought downwards— likely, he was going to a lower floor. Maybe the basement. He hadn’t bothered to check where he was going, hell, he didn’t care. What mattered was that he was alive. 

He sat there for a few seconds, his chest heaving, his hands shaking violently. He couldn’t get O-2’s face out of his mind— that fucked, absolute nightmare of a drone. That… experimental.  

Just how had he been turned from a worker drone into that? And there were seven of them? Were they all as strong as him? N had so many questions, but so little answers. 

Unfortunately, the only way the clueless disassembler really knew of to obtain those answers was from that mysterious Dr. D he’d met earlier. But he had no idea where the head scientist had gone, nor did he dare look in case he came across another experimental. 

Besides, he didn’t know the facility’s layout or even how many floors it had— though, one thing he did know was that he was heading to the bottom now. Wait, he could just look at the buttons on the elevator to figure out how many floors the laboratory had, couldn’t he? 

N looked over at the elevator’s buttons. There were three buttons— meaning that this facility had three floors. He’d just come from the top floor, 2F, considering him and his squadmates had broken in through the roof. He took a mental note to avoid that floor. 

He hoped J and V would be alright— but, the two of them were fast fighters. If it came to it, they’d probably fight O-2 together, and, considering that thing’s slowness, they’d probably be able to beat him.

That’s when the elevator suddenly came to a stop, causing N to jolt. He quickly got to his feet as the doors opened with a sharp ding, revealing a short, dim hallway on the other side. 

Unlike the previous floor, the basement was dingy and desolate. The sheer dullness of it was rather eerie. Rust and fluid was caked onto the walls, barely even seeable in the little lighting provided by the overhead lights. It didn’t help that the facility’s alarms were still blaring and flashing red.

The strong scent of oil and death rushed to greet N as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. It smelled even worse than the corpse spire. He would’ve hurled if he wasn’t already used to the smell— instead, he just opted to wrinkle his nose in disgust. 

He peered through the dim corridor, shifting one of his hands into a flashlight to see it better. An open door to the left caught his attention. It was the only door he could see— but, what really interested him was the arm sticking out of it. It was mangled and torn, dripping black onto the floor.

N took slow, cautious steps towards the door, his muscles tensed and knife hands out. As he approached the door, the familiar scent of death permeating the hallway only grew stronger. 

He could feel the hand that was holding out his flashlight shaking as he came up on the door. Fear welled up in his core as he started whispering to himself in a feeble attempt to calm his rampant nerves.

"Come on! Come on! You can do it! You have to be strong... for V!" 

He slowly, shakily peeked inside of the room, terrified at what he was about to see. 

Safe to say, terrified was an understatement. Not only were there bodies of worker drones piled and jam-packed into the room, but also an experimental. Or, what he thought might be an experimental.

Something resembling a disassembly drone was splayed out across the floor, their body dyed black with their own insides. They had long, messy black hair and were adorned in a torn hospital gown. Their visor was completely shattered, and their core pierced clean through.

N clambered over the bodies that were stuffed into the room, trying to get a better look at the dead disassembler. He kicked a few corpses out of the way as he tried to get over to the disassembler. 

Something that N noticed as he made his way through the room was that strangely enough, none of the worker bodies had any heads. They were bloodied and battered beyond belief, and gutted like a disassembler had gotten to them. Some of them were being strangled in their own intestines, stuffed with their own memory cards, or just disemboweled beyond belief.

N was no stranger to gutting corpses— or, watching V gut them. But these worker drones seemed to have been gutted in a much more extreme, brutal method. That was obvious. But just why would anyone do this?

There was only one worker with a head— a particular dead worker’s visor was glitching and flickering between the ‘fatal error’ sign and a pair of gray optics. They seemed to have been killed recently judging from the fact that there seemed to be oil still gushing out of their body. Though, they still seemed to have been partially drained like the others.

N decided not to pay much mind to the anomaly, and instead opted to pay attention to the task at hand. Finally making his way over to the deceased disassembly drone, he kneeled down and gently took their wrists into his hands, looking for an engraving like O-2 had had. 

To his disappointment though, their wrists were completely drenched in oil. Any name that used to be there was gone, lost within a sea of black. 

N sighed, getting back to his feet. It slightly pained him to see a disassembler in such a state, experimental or not. He cast one last wistful glance at the drone before turning and stumbling back towards the door, doing his utmost not to trip on any of the bodies as he made his way out.

After exiting the room, he decided that he’d explore the rest of the basement. But he found nothing more than empty, dirty rooms— they seemed to have been in use once judging from the bloodstains on the walls. But, now they were empty. 

There wasn’t a single drone in sight. Whether that was a good or bad thing, N didn’t know.

The last room that he came across was significantly bigger than the rest, and significantly more eerie. Stains, scratches, and dents were littered all across the wall and floors. There was an observatory of some kind on the ceiling with steps leading up to it.

N had intended to walk up those stairs and peek into the observatory— he hadn’t expected for the ground to start trembling beneath him. He planted his feet onto the floor, his arms waving as he tried to steady himself. 

He could tell that the source of the violent tremors was coming from one of the floors above. But just what was going on? 

As the ground suddenly went still again, a new alarm blared over the facility’s speakers. One that made N’s optics hollow in alarm.

“Warning: West wall has now been destroyed. If possible, please stay as far away from that area as you can and get to safety.”

 He knew very well that V and J didn’t have the capability to destroy an entire wall of the laboratory. Especially not when they’d had so much trouble just breaking in. It’d taken N months of chipping away at the exterior for him to even make a small hole in it. 

N started off back towards the elevator, walking at a brisk pace as his tail awayed behind him. Anxiety weighed heavily on his mind, the thought that maybe O-2 had caused the wall to fall plaguing his thoughts. It was the only conclusion he could come up with.

Unless it was one of the other six experimentals. Dr. D had mentioned seven of them, after all. But could one of them really have that much destructive potential? How could anyone create something that could do that?

N rounded the corner, expecting to see the elevator with wide-open doors. But it wasn’t there— instead, a solid slab of metal was in its place. It must be in use— N’s guess was that perhaps the scientists that worked at the facility were using it.

Unfortunately, there weren’t any indicators of where the elevator was going from the outside of it— meaning that he hadn’t expected the doors to open. After all, who would want to come to this eerie, empty basement?

Ding. 

The elevator doors opened, causing N to immediately tense. He could feel his core leap into his throat as he laid eyes upon— something. What the hell was that?

It was a drone, but, their features were almost indistinguishable from how much oil was flooding the inside of the elevator. N could barely make out a few purple highlights— and, was that disassembly drone tape?! 

Unexpectedly, the strange drone lifted their head, oil pouring down from their shattered visor. Their body was clearly covered in wounds, and where their regenerative organs should be was a mangled mess. He was sure he could see entrails spilling out. They opened their mouth, showing a row of deadly-sharp fangs.

And then they lunged straight at N. 

He barely even had any time to react to them, watching in horror as they began to bring their teeth down around his arm. But he was sure that he saw an engraving on their wrist— a pattern of letters and numbers that he’d never forget in a million years.

Z-8.

Chapter Text

Wow! So... it's been a while. Since August, actually. The last time I updated this was at the end of my summer break, which is crazy.

I feel like I owe all of you an explanation as to why this hasn't updated, as well as my plans for this fic.

First and foremost, Experimentals will NOT be discontinued. This fic will never be discontinued until it ends many chapters later. I'd never discontinue something that you guys have put your time into reading 13 chapters of and shown so much support for.

However, this WILL be going on somewhat of a hiatus.

Life has really caught up with me. School is just so stressful right now, and I actually turned 17 while I wasn't uploading. So yeah, the thought that I'm turning 18 this year honestly terrifies the fuck out of me.

I've also moved away from MD a bit. I still love the series, but, getting my motivation up to write for it is challenging sometimes. Sometimes, I look back at Experimentals and cringe at how painfully obvious it is at how my motivation dies out more and more with every chapter.

You guys have given me so much support, and you don't deserve to read shitty work made just for the sake of appeasing people. You guys deserve so much more than that.

So, what'll happen? I'm going to take a break, give myself some time to breathe, gather my thoughts, and come back to this when I know I can put out quality chapters.

Also, I'm going to be updating some of the older chapters when I come back as well. Not changing any events, but, just neatening things up, updating my writing, and making things feel less rushed.

In my break, I've been practicing my writing, making my own stories. I'm honestly so proud of how much better I've gotten since writing Experimentals. My quality has drastically ramped up, and I can write over 6k words in a chapter now!

I want to transfer that improvement over to Experimentals and give you guys a read that you can really enjoy. And I promise that I absolutely will, no matter how long it takes. Whether it takes a week, a month, or even a year to update, I absolutely will continue on with this fic.

I don't expect you guys to wait for me, and if you don't, that's okay. But whether you wait or not, I just want to thank all of you. Every kudo, every comment that's been left has been such an inspiration for me. I absolutely love all of you, and I can't thank you enough for the traction this fic has gained.

What started out as just a project has become something that over a THOUSAND people have shown their support for. You guys are honestly so amazing, and I really mean it when I say that I love you all.

One last thing. When this fic does eventually update, I will remove this message and upload chapters 14 and 15 together. That's how you'll know an update has happened!

I will try my best to respond to any and all comments, as I always have, and I'll see y'all in the next one ;)