Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A dull hum echoed throughout the steel-lined walls of Outpost-9, a light dusting of snow along the side of the hallway shifting with the airflow, creating a sparkling mist on the floor. Laughter, chatter and a thrumming of voices flowed as the melody of civilization. A tranquil air hung about the place. Well, that was until a loud crash shattered the peace, followed by a furious bellow.

“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! IF A MURDER DRONE WERE HERE YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD 5 MINUTES AGO. MOVE!!!!!!!”

The youths training room door, albeit shut, did an absolutely atrocious job at blocking out the sounds of carnage that came from within.

“MOVE YOUR FEET! AS LONG AS YOU’RE STOOD STILL, YOU’RE SCRAP!” The voice yelled, a commanding roar that was almost certain to damage someone's audio sensors some day. A magenta haired drone scrambled to her feet, narrowly avoiding a knife that bounced off the ground mere inches from where her hand had been.
“GOOD, KEEP MOVING, THINK ON YOUR FEET, WHERE CAN YOU HIDE? WHERE CAN YOU GAIN A VANTAGE POINT?”
The drone slid behind a worn barricade, vents working at full whack to keep her cool as her mind span. Shaking her head to clear it, the bot jumped to her feet again, charging at the larger drone situated in the centre of the room, but just before she reached him, she ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding a punch to the visor, trying to sweep the male's feet out from underneath him. The only thing THAT achieved was a slight stumble from her opponent, followed by a boot to the chin, sending her skidding across the room.

“COME ON, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!” The male roared, turning to face her again. “GET UP!”
Grunting, the girl staggered back up, wiping a smear of oil from her cheek, spitting a globule of the thick black lipid onto the ground as she shifted into an offensive stance. Eyes darting over the stockier drone in front of her, she let out a frustrated huff, shifting to a defensive stance instead, spreading her weight out. Observing the slight change, the male huffed, picking a bar off the ground, gripping it tightly as he ran towards her, zigzagging his path to make him harder to track. Barely giving the girl any time to react, he slammed the pole into her side, making her swerve to the left to avoid the blow, allowing him to knee her right in the visor. Ramming the metal pole against her midsection, cracking her casing, oil spurting out of the wound as she was sent skidding across the floor, crashing into a barrier. The drone coughed, gasping for breath as she curled into a ball, shaking. After she didn’t get up, her fellow sighed, dropping the pole and walking over to her curled up form.
“You should have been able to block that.” He said coldly, icy blue eyes staring judgmentally down into her own emerald ones. When she didn’t respond, he sighed, crouching down next to her.
“Amy?”
Silence.
“Amy?”
Silence.
“Amygdala, answer me right now.”
Nothing.
“AMY”

“That hurt…” Amygdala whined, slowly uncurling herself, wiping the black oil from her casing. “I hate you, Makava…”
“The feeling is mutual.” Makava grunted, grabbing her around the forearm and dragging her to her feet. Gasping as a throb of pain ran through her midsection, Amygdala widened her stance to balance herself, vision spinning as her optics readjusted.
“Did you really need to hit me that hard? I swear you crushed half of my internal components..”
“Oh quit complaining, a Disassembly Drone would have ripped out your components long ago.” Makava spat, glaring disdainfully at the crack in her abdomen. “Go to the medical wing, they’ll patch you up.” His icy eyes softened for a second. “You’re getting better, slowly, but getting better nonetheless…Keep up the good work.” He nodded, before turning, tidying the evidence of their practice session.

After the ‘bleeding’ had slowed, Amygdala pulled open the heavy steel door, letting it clang shut behind her. The noise reverberated along the snow-laden corridor, disturbing the delicate crystal flakes. They crunched and crumbled under her boots, the noise making a pleasant tingling sensation run through her wires. After around 5 or so minutes of painful walking, she reached the med-bay, automatic doors sliding cleanly open in front of her. She was greeted by the usual spotless counters, white walls, shiny equipment and fresh minty scent.
“Amy! In again, I see?” A friendly voice called out, and Amygdala turned her neon green eyes to the left of the room, spotting a brunette drone sitting behind a computer.
“Hey Tawnie!” She grinned. “Got my casing cracked during some training.”
Tawnie rolled her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head.
“Take a seat, we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
Amygdala nodded, lowering herself into a cheap plastic chair, twirling a strand of her magenta hair. Tawnie got up and walked through a hinged door, and in her place soon came an all too familiar face. Amy’s core lurched, and she fought the instinct to lunge for a weapon.
“Hey, P.” She greeted, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice, ignoring the violent thumping in her chest cavity. The Disassembly Drone smiled politely at her, posture stiff and tail swaying anxiously. She knew it was hard for him, all the staring and fearful muttering behind his back, but it was hard not to panic at the initial sight of him.
“Cracked casing, eh?” He asked, blinking as she nodded. “Right, one second.” P strode over to a grey cabinet on the wall, pulling the doors open with a creak. Pulling out a small vial of silvery goop, he returned, handing her the vial.
“Pour that over the cracks, this should close them up quickly.”
Amygdala nodded, taking the vial and popping the cork out, letting the diluted liquid nanites pour out onto her casing, watching as the cracks fizzed and sealed up. She handed the half empty vial back to P, who put it back into the cabinet, shutting the squeaky door.
“Is anyone going to oil that door?” Amy asked, tilting her head.
“At some point, other tasks keep coming up.” P explained, turning back to her. She nodded, standing up and stretching, grateful for the absence of pain.
“Thanks P.”
“No problem.” He replied, loosening up slightly. “You should be good to go.”
Amy nodded, giving him a small two fingered salute, before turning and walking out of the sliding door.

Turning left, she continued down the corridor, heading towards the cafeteria, looking forwards to a refill after her intense training session, when the world was bathed in red.

Chapter Text

Her audio sensors rang as the breach alarm blared through the colony, core lurching in her chest. Taking a second to recollect herself, Amygdala dashed through the corridor, swiftly reaching the assembly point, which was already full of at least 30 other Worker Drones. She could spot P amongst the crowd, handing out weapons and defences to those who needed them. When he reached her, he handed her a pistol, giving her a slight nod before moving on, being sure to keep his tail above the heads of the others to avoid an accident in the panic. Making sure it was correctly loaded, she lowered her hand to her side, pointing the barrel to the ground. After about 3 minutes, the loud voice of Guillaume - most of the colony just called him Gill - the commander of the WDF of Outpost-9, rang out across the room.
“SILENCE! Everyone, calm down. Team Theta, take this-” He threw a MPE - Magnetic Pulse Emitter - to Makava, who caught it in one hand. “-and put it into the storage room, be ready, Team Omicron, position yourselves at the entrances and exits to the storage. P?”
The Murder Drone looked up.
“Go with Team Theta.”
P nodded, tail swaying as he moved over to stand next to Makava. With one last nod from Gill, the two teams hurried out of the room, Amygdala practically buzzing with excitement and fear as she stuck close to Makava.

They soon reached the storage room, the alarm had stopped, but the red lights still flashed. Amygdala, P and the rest of team Theta slipped into the storage room, Team Omicron stopping and readying their weapons outside. Makava flipped a switch on the MPE, waiting for a second before a light on the top turned green. The team shuddered as their body adjusted to the sudden pulses, and Amygdala noticed P twitch slightly.
“Alright everyone, positions.” Makava murmured, the team of 5 spreading out across the room. Amy ducked down behind a steel crate, clutching her pistol tightly. She knew she was only allowed small firearms, but she felt uncomfortably vulnerable. It was in moments like these that she realised the thrill of being ‘alive’.

The team hid in silence for an agonisingly long time, before a loud creaking came from above their heads, dust dancing to the floor. The team’s heads snapped up, and everyone tensed. The hand clutching her pistol began to shake with anticipation. A loud grating sound came from above, followed by a loud clang. A gust of wind and a blur of metal announced the arrival of the disassembly drone.

It was short in stature, silvery-blonde hair hanging in curls around its face, pointed legs announced it as a female. The Murder Drone’s bladed wings were spread wide behind her, serrated claws twitching excitedly. After a brief scan of the room, it paused, straightening, cross flickering slightly, evidently confused at the apparent lack of workers. Its tail lashed angrily, a low growl escaping its throat.

On the other side of the room, P scraped the tip of his tail across the concrete floor, catching the other Murder Drones' attention. It spun around, a large grin plastered onto its facial plates. Lunging forward, it raised its claws, slashing at thin air. Startled, it staggered back, staring around the room. Another scrape off to the right. Another lunge. Thin air again. The Murder Drone charged around the room in a fit of rage, lunging at the slightest movement. Closer and closer to the back right corner.

As the Murder Drone jabbed at the air with her tail, Makava, Tristan and Ursa - who were perched upon the beams crisscrossing the ceiling - released a thick steel net upon the Disassembly Drone, trapping it before it could react. Screeching in fury, the clawed bot slashed at its confines, trying to break free as the Worker Drones rushed forwards to pin it down.

Amygdala found herself holding the Murder Drone’s head down, pressing its visor firmly against the ground. It snarled and jerked its head back, dagger-like teeth snapping inches away from her hand. Amy scowled, gripping its hair and slamming her pistol against its visor, a jagged crack splintering the glass. The yellow hunting cross flickered as the Murder Drone hissed in pain.

Once the drone was reasonably secured, P hurried over with a taser-like object, ramming it into the Murder Drones neck and flicking a switch, several alternate waves of electromagnetic pulses running through its body. Screeching in agony, the drone writhed, tail jabbing at P, but he blocked it with his own. After not too long, the Disassembly Drone let out a glitchy wail, before falling limp, visor dark.

Sighing in relief, Amygdala and the rest of the team got up off of the Murder Drone, vents working to their maximum capacity to keep them cool. After making sure that it was unconscious, P scooped up the Disassembly Drone, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Right, Ursa, tell team Omicron that everything is fine, Tristen and Kit get that alarm switched off, P, you know what to do with that drone, Amygdala, with me.” Makava instructed, pointing at all the drones in turn. Amygdala felt a swell of pride well up in her CPU, but she quickly pushed it down, nodding proudly as she strode up to Makava’s side.

As the team parted, Makava scooped the MPE, pocketing it before clicking his fingers at Amygdala, the youngster practically bounding after him.

After a short walk back to the assembly point, and when they got there, they found Gill talking to Anakin, his number two. Waiting until they finished their conversation, Makava and Amygdala stood silently. Around a minute later, Akakin nodded at Gill, standing and striding out of the room. Gill turned to them.
“Did everything go well? Any casualties?”
“None,” Makava replied, giving a slight nod. “The Murder Drone has been detained.”
“Good, good.” Gill hummed, staring into space for a moment, before snapping sharply into focus.
“We still need someone to guard it though, and since P will undoubtedly have other priorities, I thought Amygdala would be fit for the task, if you agree, of course.” Makava suggested, ignoring the gawking expression the mentioned gave him. The young drone felt Gills piercing lavender eyes boring into her own, a small shudder running through her spinal wires.
“Well…If you believe that she is fit for the task, so…I see no issue, if she doesn’t mind, of course.”
Amygdala felt her core leap into her throat, making it go dry.
“I-i, well, I suppose I don’t mind-”
“Wonderfull!” Gill beamed, patting her roughly on the back. “Not many are willing to stay in the same room as a Disassembly Drone - other than P - longer than 5 minutes, especially youngsters like you!”
Amygdala grinned hesitantly, nervously twisting her fingers nearly to the point of snapping.
“No worries! I, uhm, just want to help..”
That earned herself a nod of approval from Gill, and a slight grunt of acknowledgement from Makava.
“Right, come with me.” The latter instructed, turning and walking briskly out of the room. Amygdala waved slightly to Gill, - who gave a reassuring smile in return - before hurrying after her mentor.

Chapter Text

Guarding a caged Murder Drone, Amy found, was rather boring. Especially a Murder Drone that was half conscious and heavily sedated. Said half conscious and heavily sedated drone was currently curled up in a tight ball, limbs twitching occasionally, but making no other movement. Amygdala shifted her grip on the handle of her pistol, index finger grazing the trigger. She pulled her finger away quickly, not wanting to waste any bullets. She knew how to reload a gun, but had no spare ammunition to hand. She tensed as the Murder Drone rolled over, but was disappointed when it stilled again. Amy lent back against the wall with a disgruntled sigh, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. Her feet tapped rhythmically on the floor, mimicking a human song she had heard a while back. Murder on the Dancefloor or something along those lines.

She had no clue how long she had been sat on this old crate, but she found herself wondering if a bullet through the visor was enough to kill a Murder Drone. It probably wouldn’t, they could produce repairing nanites at a freakishly fast rate, sealing up minor wounds almost instantaneously. Huffing irritatedly, Amy glanced back to the Disassembly drone, feeling frustration pulsing in her core. She scratched the smooth metal of the gun, sensory pads on her fingertips picking up the coldness of the firearm as she turned it over in her hands, praying for something interesting to happen.

The Robo-Gods must have heard her, since the Murder Drone in front of her finally stirred properly, a low groan leaving its voice box as it slowly raised itself into a sitting position. Amygdala tightened her grip on her Pistol, core thrumming excitedly. The Murder Drone tried to push itself onto its feet, but the magnets on its head made it woozy. With a loud crash and a yelp, it fell onto its stomach, hissing angrily. Chuckling, Amygdala stood up and approached the struggling drone, crouching down and tapping the nozzle of her gun against the bars.

“No use struggling, those magnets aren’t going anywhere.” She grinned, jumping back in surprise when the Murder Drone lunged at her, its chassis clanging against the side of its confinements.

“Calm down! I was just saying..” She huffed, brushing herself off.

The Disassembly drone growled in response, slinking back into the centre of its cage. Amy huffed, tapping her feet against the floor as she took in the drone’s appearance in closer detail. Its hair looked surprisingly fluffy, and a soft blonde instead of the normal silver of Disassembly drone hair. However, it’s tail, optic sensors and ‘eyes’ were the typical toxic yellow. It was wearing what looked to be a dark grey tracksuit top with lighter grey fluff. On its left arm was the Disassembly drone armband, but the writing was too small for her to make out. Deciding to try her luck, Amy opened her mouth and spoke.

“Hi, I’m Amygdala, what’s your name?”

To her surprise, she got a gruff response back.

“I’m Serial Designation B…”

Amygdala blinked in surprise, not expecting a response.

“O-oh. Hi B! It's nice to meet yo-”

“Get these magnets off.”

“What?”

“Get these magnets off my head.”

Amygdala frowned.

“I’m not supposed to…”

The Disassembly Drone looked sharply up at her, tail lashing.

“I don’t care. Get them off.”
“Why?”
“...It hurts…”

Amy blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect a Murder Drone of all things to admit to being in pain. Granted, the only interactions she had with Disassembly Drones - other than fighting - was with P, who would rather self-destruct than admit discomfort. On one hand, only 10 minutes ago, B was planning to massacre her entire colony, and deserved no sympathy whatsoever. On the other hand, she could feel pain, just like Amygdala could, just like Gill could, just like every Worker Drone on Copper-9 could…

“Don’t make me regret this…” Amygdala warned, slowly placing her Pistol onto the stone floor, reaching an arm through the bars in the cage. B narrowed her eyes, but slowly edged towards Amy’s hand, tilting her head forward. Biting her synthetic tongue, the Worker Drone’s fingers grasped onto the smooth metal of one of the magnets on B’s head, slowly prying it off, setting it down onto the floor. Amy made quick work of the other 3 magnets, making a small pile on the floor. The second they were all off, Amygdala jerked her hand out of the cage, wary of B’s teeth.

Letting out a sigh of relief at the fact she still possessed all of her fingers, Amy smiled, looking back at B, who shook her head, probably to clear it of static.

Taking this as an opportunity to get a better look at the Murder Drones armband, Amy glanced down at B’s upper arm. The armband read;

P/N: CYN-MYKX

DISASSEMBLY DRONE

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

S/N: B-0X0100110

“What are you looking at?”

B’s voice startled Amy. The Worker Drone blinked, flushing with embarrassment.

“O-OH! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I was just looking at your armband.”

“Ah, alright.” B nodded. “Anyway, thanks for taking the magnets off.”

“Ah, no problem. Just so long as you don’t try to break out and eat anyone.”

B rolled her eyes, nodding reluctantly, reaching up to pick at her teeth.

“So, you got any family here?”

The casual question caught Amy off guard, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” B shrugged, picking at a bit of wire between her teeth with a steel claw. “Just curious.”
Amygdala eyed her suspiciously, scanning over the Murder Drone’s face. Sighing, she shrugged.

“I’ve got my mother and father here, that’s it..”

B nodded, tail dragging over the floor of the cage with a dull scraping sound.

“Are they nice?”

“I suppose.”

“Do they like you?”
“I think.”
“Do you have a home?”
“Yes.”

“Is it big?”
“Sorta.”
“Is it comfy?”
“I guess.”
“Do you have your own room?”
“Yes.”
“Is it-”
“CAN YOU STOP ASKING ME ALL THESE STUPID QUESTIONS?!” Amygdala exclaimed abruptly, eyes narrow with poorly hidden irritation. B’s own eyes hollowed in surprise at her sudden outburst.

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

Amy sighed, forcing a strained smile onto her face.

“It’s fine…”

The two sat in deafening silence after that, B tracing patterns with the needle end of her tail, Amy watching absentmindedly, static building in the corners of her vision as fatigue washed over her CPU. Sighing, Amygdala’s head drooped forward, her hands clinking against her visor as she dragged her fingers through her hair, the magenta strands snagging on the rubber ball joints. Her foot tapped on the floor in some halfhearted attempt to keep herself entertained, but she soon zoned out to the rhythmical tapping. B looked equally as bored, but tried for a conversation.

“Soooo, could ya let me out?”
Amy’s head snapped up at that, eyes hollow with shock.
“What?! Absolutely not! Do you have any idea how Makava, or even Gill, will react to that?”

When B cocked her head, Amy sighed.

“Makava is my mentor, Gill is the leader of the WDF…”

“Ooooh..” B nodded, before shrugging. “They don’t have to know.”

Amy eyed her warily, staring into B’s digital eyes. Seeing no hint of deceit to anything similar, she sighed, smacking her visor to clear the static from the corners of her vision, before pushing herself to her feet. She slowly shuffled over to the cage containing the Murder Drone, crouching down next to the lock. Her mind briefly flashed back to what Makava had told her before leaving her alone in the room.

“Under no circumstances whatsoever will that Murder Drone escape, understood?”

He had handed her the key for some reason, before walking wordlessly out of the door. Biting her ‘lip’, Amy slowly pulled the silver key out of her pocket, slowly pushing it into the lock, twisting it to the right. A click announced the cage door as unlocked, and the worker drone tentatively pulled it open. Before the poor worker could comprehend what was happening, the cage door flew open, sending her skidding across the floor. A heavy weight came crashing down onto her chest, eliciting a sharp outtake of air from Amygdala’s vent systems as a low growl rumbled above her head. Quaking in fear, Amygdala reached up, trying to push the weight off her chest. This was it. This is the end. Fooled by a Murder Drone that she had naïvely felt sympathetic for. Well, there could be worse ways to die. Bracing herself for a burning pain, a bright flash, anything that could signal the end, she turned her head away and squeezed her digital eyes shut tight…

Nothing came.

Risking a glance up, Amygdala squinted her eyes open. Above her, sat patiently on her chest, was B. Not looking at all murderous. On the contrary, she looked positively beaming.

“You should see your face!” B snickered, jumping off as Amy swatted her away.

“That was not funny.” Amygdala muttered, standing and dusting herself off. B shrugged, scratching at a small bit of dirt that had wormed its way into the rubber ball-joints of her fingers. Calming her racing CPU, the Worker Drone let out a vent of tense air, watching B. Once she had finished, the Disassembly Drone straightened, nanite injector swishing behind her as her LED’s met Amy’s.

“So, now what?”
Amy blinked.

“Now what, what?”
“What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you stupid?” B deadpanned, glaring at the Worker. “What. Do. We. Do. Now? Not that hard to understand, no?”

Amy didn’t know why it took her so long to process this. Perhaps it was because a Murder Drone, her kind’s literal predator, was asking her what they should do instead of tearing her to shreds, but she just couldn't comprehend an answer.

“U-uh…I don’t know…What do Disassembly Drones do when they aren’t…uhm…” She cleared her throat. “Hunting?”

“Oh, not much. Sit around or sleep during the day, night is mostly hunting. We spar every now and then, have a few territory scraps, nothing interesting really.” B shrugged as if she thought her life outside of genocide was boring.

“Wait, ‘territory scraps’?” Amy asked, cocking her head. “You guys have territory?”

“Yeah, it's the only way all of us get enough food. We were all designated a district when we landed, and we’ve kept to those ever since.”

Amygdala nodded along with the explanation, chewing the plastic casing around her mouth.

“How many other Disassembly Drones are there on Copper-9?”

“How am I supposed to know? I never count at the meetings.” B grumbled

“Meetings?” Amy pressed. “What meetings?”

“Every 6 or so months all the Disassembly Drones meet in the largest spire - the first one, it was built for the purpose of meetings - to try and settle disputes, compare kills, anything really. There is an agreed truce at the meetings. If any Disassembly Drone attacks another, everyone else turns on them until they calm down. Or are too badly injured to continue their attack. Whichever comes first. Oh, and the slaughter of  Worker Drones is also forbidden at the meetings.”
Amygdala really perked up at this.

“What, Worker Drones attend!?”
“Sometimes. A while ago one wandered in by accident, and since there were no rules on the matter at the time, it was decided from then on that no harm would befall Worker Drones in the meeting Spire, since if there was one and it was attacked, the Disassembly Drones there would most definitely start fighting for it, therefore breaking the truce, so...” B trailed off.

“But has there ever been one actually attending?”

B hummed lowly, tapping a claw against her chin in thought.

“...Yeah…There was one last time. A purple thing, can’t remember its name. It was with...who was it with…..I think it came with N…Either N or M, too similar to remember a difference. Don’t tell M that I said that though, he’ll rip my head off…” She shuddered, before smiling again. “The purple thing had a good fighting spirit, it was quite funny. It kept trying to bite any drone that went near it.”

Amygdala let out a small snort.

“Interesting….”

B nodded in agreement, chuckling.

“Do you Worker Drones have meetings?”

Amy nodded.

“Once a month in a different colony each time. Talking about that, the next meeting is here!” Amy grinned widely as she realised this. “That’s gonna mean I can attend! Only experienced drones are allowed to leave the colony for the Meeting, but if it's at your own colony then you can attend. YES! I’ve wanted to go for ages!”

B watched as Amy practically vibrated with excitement, eyes glowing brightly as she rocked on her heels. Once the Worker Drone had calmed down, B repeated her previous question.

“So, what do we do?”

Amy thought, before picking something random.

“Well…What about snap?”

Chapter Text

“YOU’RE CHEATING!”
“WHAT, HOW?!”
“YOU HAVE FASTER REFLEXES THAN ME!”
“THAT'S NOT MY FAULT!”
The sound of bickering rang out across the room, bouncing off the walls and amplifying it at least 20 times. B’s tail thumped furiously against the ground, lips drawn back in a snarl as she was berated by the Worker.
“Can’t you turn them down or something?”
“What do you mean ‘turn them down’?!”
“I mean can’t you slow down your reflexes? There is NO way that you’ve won every single game fairly.”
B scoffed, folding her arms.
“Well, how about YOU turn YOUR reflexes UP?”
“I can’t!”
“WELL I CAN’T TURN MINE DOWN!”
“WELL THAT’S STUPID!”
“WELL SO IS BEING UNABLE TO TURN YOURS UP!”
Their bickering continued for quite a while, before footsteps made them fall dead silent.
“Quick, get back in the cage!” Amy hissed, collecting up the cards and shoving them under the crate she had previously been sat upon. B scrambled up onto her feet, peglegs tapping on the ground as she dashed back over to the cage, slipping inside and shoving the magnets back onto her head. Amy hurried after her, quickly closing and locking the door. Hearing the entrance to the room creak open, she swiftly jumped on top of the cage, legs hanging down over the side as she stuffed the key into her jean pocket. A few seconds later, a short, stocky drone entered the room, followed closely by P. Amy didn’t remember the short drone’s name, but she was sure she had seen him around the colony at some point. He had glowing cyan eyes and short brown hair, slicked back underneath a faded teal hardhat. Amy felt a sense of power radiating from him, and she didn’t dare raise her hand to wave to P. The two strode wordlessly over to the cage, and P gave Amy a sharp look, the girl quickly jumping down to the floor, backing away from the 3. P gave her a short nod, before turning to the short drone accompanying him.
“So, Jakov, what do we do with it?”
The now introduced Jakov narrowed his eyes, scanning over B, who narrowed her own eyes in return. Suddenly, his eyes flitted over to Amy, an accusatory glint in them.
“You, girl, out.” He snapped.
Amy bristled at being talked to like that, but that withering stare quickly sucked all the confidence out of her. Nodding meekly, she cast one last look at B - who gave her a microscopic smile - before slipping out of the door. Sighing, she straightened her jumper, before strolling off down the corridor, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her eyes drifted aimlessly as she walked, sliding over the chips and dents in the metal walls of the colony, the clumps of snow that had been kicked to the sides, the-
Thump
Amy felt a weight crash into her and a sharp pain shoot up her arm as she fell to the ground, yelping in alarm.
“OH MY ROBO-GOD I AM SO SORRY!”
A hand suddenly wrapped itself around her throat, and she found herself being dragged roughly to her feet, staggering at the force of it.
“AAH! SORRY SORRY SORRY!”
A burning pain flared along her arm again, and Amy let out a choked scream, pulling back and falling to the floor again. She grasped her arm tightly, feeling an unpleasant warm sensation trickling through it. Pushing herself hurriedly onto her knees, Amy stared down at her arm, seeing a large wound blossoming oil down the metal. A hand suddenly grabbed her around the wrist tightly, yanking her to her feet once more, almost sending her into the wall.
“Are you ok?! Oh I'm so so sorry, I REALLY need to look where i’m going…Oh no, your arm! I am SO SO sorry!”
Once her shaky systems had managed to calm down slightly, she pushed a warning of damage on her right brachium out of her visor, looking up to see a drone with deep berry-blue hair and bright candy-red eyes staring at her with a panicked expression.
“Wha-”
“It’s all my fault! I should have been looking where I was going, especially holding a knife! I don’t even know why I was holding a knife, I just was! I’m so sorry, you should go get that check out. Oh please don’t hate me, I didn’t mean to stab you…I’m Corrie by the way, two r’s, you know, in case you need to know who to avoid…”
Amygdala stood there, blinking blankly.
“Uh….I’m Amygdala, but pretty much everyone calls me Amy…I uh…Don’t hate you I think-?”
“Really?! Are you sure? I just stabbed you, how do you not hate me!? Oh nevermind, don’t answer that, thank you!” Corrie beamed, bouncing on her heels. Very quickly, the concerned look returned.
“Oh, you should probably get that wound checked out…Hey! Can I come?”
“Oh, uh, sure!” Amy grinned - albeit slightly nervously. Face practically split open in a wide smile, Corrie grabbed her arm, dragging her down the long corridor, footsteps echoing loudly as Amygdala practically fell after her.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the Medbay, the automatic doors sliding open and the usual sights and smells flooded their sensors. The same brunette drone sat slouched behind the computer, yawning widely. When she had finished, her eyes flicked up, spotting the two new arrivals.
“Oh, hey Corrie! Back again Amy?”
Amy chuckled nervously, giving Tawnie a small wave.
“Hey Tawnie! I kinda accidentally stabbed Amy with a knife. Don’t ask, ok?”
Corrie squeaked, shoving the magenta haired drone forwards - almost knocking her to the ground - before turning and fleeing from the room.
“What’s up with her?”
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s always like that!”
“What, stabbing drones and all?”
“No no! Well…Sometimes…But she’s often quite anxious, don’t worry about it.”
Amy nodded, not quite reassured by Tawnies words.
“Anyway! Let's patch that arm up!”

A short while later, P stuck his head out a door to chuck a small vial to Tawnie, who popped the lid off and poured the silvery goop that Amy had been given earlier, which quickly sealed up the gash in her arm. Nodding a thanks, Amy stood up and exited the Medbay for a second time that day. Checking her internal clock, she realised with a lurch in her core that it was now 11:35pm. Spinning to face the other way, she sprinted down the corridor, leaving a trail of disturbed ice crystals in her wake.

When Amygdala finally wrestled her way through the returned bustle in the corridors and arrived back at her house. The mechanical door slid open with a slight creak, revealing the room within. Amy expected to hear her mother or father’s voice demanding to know where she had gone, but the entrance hall was empty. As was the bathroom, her bedroom, her parent’s bedroom, the living room and the kitchen. However, after another quick check of the kitchen she spotted a pastel blue sticky note on the fridge door. It read;

Out to get some stuff
Behave!
<3

Smiling softly, Amy retreated into her room, the door sliding shut behind her. Arms reaching to the ceiling, Amygdala yawned and stretched, allowing the tension of the day to leave her body. A small beeping drew her attention, and she turned her head to see the little silver and orange robo-bug climbing about within its cage, chirruping loudly.
“Hey Syntax.” She smiled, poking a finger through the bars, allowing the roach to poke at her finger. Unlatching the small pin that kept the door shut, she opened the cage and gently pulled the bug out, grabbing a small packet of scraps before walking over to her bed, allowing the bug to run up her arm, perching on her shoulder as she dug out a small lump of metal from the bag, holding it up. She smiled as Syntax took it between his - well, she assumed it had a gender - front legs, starting to nibble at the small meal. Time passed as Amy watched Syntax clambering over her limbs and in her hair, before a bright call make her perk up;
“Honey, we’re back!”
Amygdala carefully locked Syntax back in his cage, before hurrying out of her room, launching herself forwards and wrapping her mother - Melina - in a tight hug.
“Oh! Hello there!” Her mum smiled, wrapping her free hand around Amy’s shoulder. Her father - Kael - chuckled, ruffling her hair as he passed. Grinning brightly, she released her mother and dashed into the main living space, helping her parents unpack the oil and canned food. Ever since whoever it was had discovered how to transfer organic food into energy, there had been several farms set up throughout the Outpost, providing a good source of fuel if they were suffering from oil shortages.
“We met Makava on our way back.” Her mother smiled, casting an azure blue glance at her. Amy froze, grinning nervously.
“O-oh, did you?”
“Mhmm…” Melina smirked. “He says you’ve been improving slowly, but improving nonetheless.”
Amy nodded slightly, unsure about if she should look pleased or guilty at this.
“So…when we were out, we decided to get you this!” From one of the bags, Melina pulled out a large slab of dark chocolate, holding it out. Amy stared at it for a few seconds, before grabbing it, beaming widely.
“Thaaaaaaaanks!” she grinned, dashing off to her room. Melina rolled her eyes, smiling as her daughter shut the door behind her, soon followed by the unmistakable sound of a wrapped being energetically torn off.