Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer notice:

I do not in any way shape or form own Murder Drones, the only thing I own are my Ocs and Self insert.

There will be spoilers relating to the Murder Drone franchise in general so be warned!

--- = A line break

…= Short timeskip

[GAMER SYSTEM SAFETY PROTOCOL - Successfully Executed]

[Error Detected: Unable to complete command and save being known as "T£%^%"]

[External Command Source Identified: Significant Other]

[Command Received: "Protect him"]

[Command: "Protect him." is already in the command lists under rule section 73]

[Command redundant, but acknowledged and reinforced.]

[Error: Memory Corruption Traces detected after encounter with entity ^&$%l^#@  §@!v^r]

[GAMER SYSTEM REBOOT INITIATED…]

[0%…]

[5%…]

[37%…]

[68%…]

[94%…]

[GAMER SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE.]

[Welcome back Noah Ark]

Awareness came slowly. It wasn't the most pleasant thing, not with the blinking words that was right in front of me. The next thing that I noticed was the temperature being whack. Or, well my sense of temperature was wrong.

Looking around me, there was a blizzard going on. Or well, it felt like that. There was snow everywhere. And the sound of my boots crunching on the snow-

Wait a minute.

I don't own any boots.  I've been meaning to buy some for quite a while now, but I haven't had the chance to.

So where the hell did these boots come from?

That churning feeling in my gut was starting to set in. My heart was beating a few beats too fast. It was drumming in my ears, and for a short moment, I couldn't hear the wind over my own damn heartbeat. My blood was pumping and I felt a cold sweat run down my spine.

Looking at the rest of my "clothes", I knew something was wrong.  The body suit -Combat suit- I was wearing was a mix of Charcoal Gray and Matte Black. It looked like I was straight out of a cosplay competition. Except I just chose to cosplay an OC.

The suit seemed pretty advanced, it was full nanite tech after all. I had the best made with…

With who?

Wait what?

I had it made?

That can't be right. Closing my eyes and trying to think just made the headache I had worse. My memories were already feeling fuzzy, but I thought that was just because I just woke up.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

…

Slap.

I slapped my face and just focused on just going forward. Looking at the screens, now that I wasn't sluggish from waking up, had me feeling very concerned.

Don't get me wrong, I love and will geek out about the freaking Gamer System later. But I had to prioritise the important shit. Like whatever the fuck "Entity" was.  I can't exactly say it's name or even think about it.

It made my headache worse, and I don't even wanna think about why it's in a different colour. And it ain't even a cool colour. It was a bright yellow.

Okay, wait, I need to focus on survival anyway.

The first step of any gamer system is "Status."

[ SYSTEM STATUS - NOAH | LEVEL 18

HP: 300 / 300

SE: 1 420 / 1 420

Race: Human(?)

Class: Solver-Touched

XP: 4,820 / 5,245

STATS:

STR: 18

DEX: 15

END: 20

INT: 61

WIS: 36

Stat Points Remaining: 0 ]

That…

Doesn't make sense.

 How the hell do I have levels? Or how the hell do I have so many stat points? I don't have any spare, but I can't really complain. The stats are how I would've have done it.

But that's the problem.

It's too convenient.

I don't trust it.

I focused on my class instead. It's the only thing I wouldn't have chosen. I would've taken the Mage class. Luckily, focusing on the class, expanded it outwards, I didn't have to move my hand  or get a cursor or anything.

{Solver Touched

The Solver loves you. You've been touched by the Absolute Solver. You are a paradox, you're not a machine. You gained powers no normal human can reach.}

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE ABSOLUTE SOLVER?

Why did it touch me? I did not give consent! -A small poisonous whisper in the corner of mind said that my choice wouldn't have mattered in this situation, just like how it always hasn't. Just like when you couldn't help her.-

I don't want this fucking class. Give me the freaking mage class. This sounds like it's some eldritch god. And who the hell is cringey and cocky enough to have "Absolute" in their name.

My heart was pounding. It's thrumming was all I heard for a while. I couldn't breathe-

Cough, Cough.

The sound was barely there. I probably wouldn't have realised the cough if I was okay. But it felt so loud. It was drumming in my ears.

My lungs weren't helping the situation. I was breathing too quickly. Too shallow. Too heavy. My lungs weren't co-operating with me.

The suit felt far too tight -even if it fit perfectly-, like it was shrinking around my ribs. Squeezing what little air I had left.

My vision was blurry. Later, I would realise that I was crying.

Everything was too fast. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The snow around me wasn't making it any easier to think.

It was almost like I was isolated.

"Breathe", I whispered but the word came out wrong, almost as if it was cracked.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

…Nothing really helped.

…

It took me far longer than I wanted to admit before my panic attack settled down. And even longer for me to realise that I had a panic attack. It's been years since I had one of those. Usually-

Usually I had her to comfort me, but who's her?

Argh!

Forget about it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I needed to find shelter, and food, and hopefully other survivors.

At least  I didn't have to worry about the temperatures, the equipment that I had was a nanite suit. It explained the whole cosplay look, but it added another question onto my long list of questions.

It didn't really matter that much, it's not like it would change my situation.

The snow around me felt like an open abyss. A sea of white, with nothing to help guide me. No landmarks or any hope-

Okay, I might've been lying there. There was a LOT of different landmarks. I was by a city and some massive spire made out of robots?

I-I think those are robots? But I'm not willing to go close to whatever that thing is. Who knows what caused it. I instead moved in the opposite direction of that giant murder spire. I probably would have missed the door, or well, it'd be more accurate to call it a vault from Fallout. For some reason, it just seemed to catch my eyes.

It was better than staying close to the oddly familiar tower of robots, so off I went.

…

Looking at the vault door in front of me, I could feel my heartbeat. It was strong, slow beat. I figured I would've been more scared when I was in front of this door, but I think all of my panic got drained out earlier.

Breathe out.

I wish I had a better plan.

Looking at the door in front of me, I did the stupidest thing of life(maybe second stupidest). I knocked.

"Hey, uhh. Is anyone in there? Like can I come inside?"

The place could have plenty of bad people, or hell, it could be a dungeon! I have the Gamer system, so it wouldn't be surprising if it was.

But I was fed-up with today.

Even if it just started.

"I mean… We can let you in. But you're not a disassembly drone right? We can't have one of them get inside Outpost 3."  The speaker by the door crackled on.

And if anyone told you I jumped for at the noise. They are just bad liars. Very bad liars. I would never jump at just someone talking.

"Uhh… No? I'm not a disassembly drone. I don't know how I can prove it or anything?"

I heard shuffling behind the speaker, before the door finally opened.

Only to reveal another door.

Then the next door opened. And then the next.

I was rubbing my arm as I walked inside the doors. I hoped these guys were friendly, I don't really have much to go off here. And if they weren't, my best option would be one of the skills I saw under my Solver Touched job.

Sshhhhh.

The doors behind me closed once I got a decent distance inside. And looking in the break room? I think?

Were robots…

Playing cards?

 Yeah, I'm not fucking with you. And drinking coffee.

"Nah, we trust ya. You a tall worker drone, but hey, who knows what the humans were thinking when they made different drones."

The robot who was talking to me had bright blue eyes. A type of neon cyan. With a freaking moustache!

"Thanks? I-I think? Uhm, I know this kind of rude and all, but is there a place I can stay in here? Or somewhere else I can go if this place is fulled up."

He shook his thin noodle arms as he looked at me.

"What are you on about kid, we got space for ya! Just go find yourself a room and get yourself some food from the food generators."

With a pat on the back from the admittingly short drone(They were about 5'6-5'7, but all of them were that height). I was out and away from the door.

…

For a place that housed a bunch of short robots with noodles hands, everything was surprisingly normal. Sure the frost was annoying, it was everywhere, but as far as Isekai's go, it wasn't that bad. I had to redo my room, and well, most of the house actually. They were made for robots after all.

Jeez, I sound like a broken repeater.

I didn't have to change every part of my room, I just had to fix the shower, Drones didn't really need to keep them maintained. I  think.

Or it might've just been that this place was abandoned for so long that. The place I chose was covered in dust.

From the lounge, to the kitchen, even the bed had dust!

I probably could have chosen a different place, but I chose this one and I'm gonna stick with it. I'd just have to slowly clean up everything. I don't think I'm gonna be able to do everything today, but I will damn well try.

Thinking about it now, I probably shouldn't have just left the shower to be fixed. I needed to do it now, but forgive me if I was a bit scatterbrained. Whatever.

I'll do my spring-cleaning first, then I'll figure out how to fix the shower. Maybe I can get some help from a drone. They are worker drones after all.

The first place I started with was the kitchen, looking in the fridge and the pantry, I had to hold back a grimace. It was full of nuts and bolts, and the freaking hot chocolate was mixed with some coolant. There was also some metal scrap here and there. I even saw some silicon balls and circuits.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

As shitty as the situation was, I could at least find some rags that I could use to wipe up the place. I didn't feel like touching it after I cleaned it up, it was miserable colour after I finished, but oh well.

Soaking it in some soap water was what I decided to do.

It wasn't the smartest idea, nor was it the fastest, but it allowed to get time to explore a bit of the house and figure out what I needed to clean now, and what I could clean later.

The kitchen and lounge was a must immediately. The shower was next, along with my bedroom. I could leave cleaning hallways, vents and the workshop for later. The spare bedrooms could be used for whatever I want later. Maybe I'll set up a gaming room or something.

The storage room was the worst of everything I needed to clean. I should start with it, but I had too much bullshit on my plate today. I could deal with it later.

Was it an irresponsibly decision to leave the worst for last? Yes.

Was I too tired to give a fuck? Absolutely.

By the time I was done making horrible decisions, the clothes were done soaking. Did I mention I had to use multiple cloths because of how filthy this place was?

Yeah, say what you will about this weird world. I just love that I haven't seen any cockroaches. I don't think I had enough mental capacity to deal with em.

Cleaning the lounge and the bathroom was a chore. And I don't mean being lazy and finally getting to tidying up the your room. The dust and dirt and freaking grease  was everywhere. Do you understand how hard it is to clean a sofa that has grease stains? Do you?

Because now I do!

Hindsight truly is 20/20. I will never be annoyed about my mom giving me habits to keep everything clean -Okay, that's a lie, but not the point-.

Don't even get me started on the toilet!  Dust, grease, grime, and something I was pretty sure was mold. I didn't want to touch that!

I mean, I still cleaned it up, but still! It was freaking gross, and I haven't had to clean in ages. -The worker drones cleaned up for us-

Cleaned up for us?

That didn't make sense. I wasn't from a rich family, sure we weren't poor, but I don't think we could afford worker drones. -Or could we?-

Argh!

The splitting headache that came with that thought made me squint my eyes and hold my forehead. I could feel tears in my eyes before the pain eventually subsided.

I had to grapple with the tap before eventually managing to splash some water on my face. Luckily, I had already cleaned up the sink. So with a bit of splashed water, I was feeling better.

I had to slowly open my eyes, it was little blurry, but looking at the mirror,  I saw myself in the nanite suit -oddly similar to cynessa in the spacesuit. Except in all black and without a hat or bowtie-

 Fuck.

These.

Shitty memories!

I would prefer not to get these flashes of memories! My headache was just starting to get better.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It's a shame I can't see myself, seeing only a spacesuit at home is annoying.

And with but a mere thought, my nanite suit started changing. Looking eerily familiar to iron-man's suit changing. Except it was still there. Invisible.

The logistics of it fell away once I saw how I looked.

I was a late teen, 19 seems right to me. I was still Indian, my eyes were still the same, big and brown, but the problem was everything else! I looked like a straight up delinquent! I mean, I could fight, but still. I was a straight A student dammit!

First, my hair. It had white streaks in it, which looked pretty cool admittedly. And if it was just that, I wouldn't have minded too much. Probably.

I had my two original piercings, and on my lip another. Nothing too grand, but manageable.

Then I saw the chain connecting my lip piercing to a helix one and a freaking tongue piercing.

I didn't notice the weight of it before, it felt natural! But now it was glaring. And hell, I could have tolerated all of this, if I didn't catch a glimpse of what was under my shirt.

Err, my nanite suit?

Whatever! You get the point.

I was briefly  adjusting the chain that was connecting to ear and I noticed some ink on my skin, specifically when I saw my shirt get lifted up a bit. And it couldn't have been a simple tattoo, no, I had a freaking dragon tattoo, on my upper left arm. Why!?

I didn't like tattoos! Okay, well to be honest, it was more that I didn't care for them, but why on earth would I get one! Who let me get a tattoo?! And why a dragon! Mom was gonna kill me! I was gonna kill me!

Luckily the jewellery I had on was more my style, a simple black ring on my ring finger, a simple silver cross chain, and a skyrim chain bracelet.

Looking at the bracelet brought another problem. I had black nails.

And not in the unhealthy way, I had a sleek matte black on my nails. The worst part was that they were perfectly done! I had a friend who did nails, so I had to learn about it here and there. Who put so much effort into my nails? And not even a girls nails, just mine.

Why?!

And looking at them in the mirror showed another problem. My canines were larger. Much larger. Almost like someone just enlarged my original ones.

I looked like somebody's OC… and NOT in the good way.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

…

Opening my eyes confirmed what was already there. And my energy just sapped away. I was just so done with today.  I didn't want to fix the shower. I didn't want to clean anymore. I didn't even want to think anymore.

…

Getting a toolbox wasn't that hard to find. The tools were small, and looking at the shower, my instincts screamed at me not to try and fix it.

-Remember Noah, you can't just go to a machine and hope for the best when you're repairing it! If you don't know what to do, you can always get some help-

The person who said those words slipped through my mind like sand. The harder I tried holding onto them, the more they slipped through my hands. And it was something I was getting used to, so I washed my hands of it.

I gave up.

Maybe someone else would try harder, but I knew my limits well enough. I was already fed up with today, and no matter how much warmth that memory brought me. No matter how much I loved that person. It wasn't worth it.

I knew that logically.

But the frustration of it all boiled over. And I just wanted something to work. I wanted something to be easy.

I wanted to be able to sleep already.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted the damn shower to be fixed.

Work.

[Solver-Touched Sub skill]

[Absolute Solver : Edit]

I moved less with thought and more with instinct. The dust clogging up the shower was moved to the rags. The shower head and pipes rust was completely changed. It made it look completely new. Brand new in fact. The knobs to twist the shower on was also changed to be new.

[-10 SE]

Then, walking over to my room, in almost a trance, and a sweep of my hand, all the dust, was removed.

[-30 SE]

From every place in house. Even places I couldn't clean before. The attic. The main bedroom. The guest rooms. The work room. Even places I missed in the lounge.

It was all turned into one massive dust ball and shoved in the dust bin.

By the time my eyes lost it's glazed over look, I made the executive decision. To move the fuck away.

Look, I could the cowards choice -normal choice, my rational side said- but I was damn hungry and fed the fuck up!

Fed up with this bullshit situation, fed up with these nonsense notifications, fed up with weird, naive, short drones! With magic and tech that feels wrong!

I wasn't gonna sulk! I was gonna get some god damn food!

I got off my sappy nonsense and headed out of my house. My room? Mini Bunker?

Whatever! Future mes problems.

My next step?

The food generators!

And ignoring the fact that my Nanite suit knew to switch back to it's old version.

Not my problem.

…

The walk to the common room was… quiet. The only thing I actually heard was the sound of boots as I walked there. Then, again, it was more fault for choosing a route that had less people -err, drones?-. After such a big reveal, you usually expected something huge to happen you know? It's always what those fantasy novels said, and there was little fanfare for what happened in-between.

But, nothing.

No grand scheme or big corrupt official.

Just the sound of me.

The common area had the smell of, well iron, scraps, and whatever else passed as food here. The optic sensors of the drones there instantly flickered to me, but it didn't really matter. I wasn't in the mood to socialise, and even extroverts had their limits. I bee-lined straight  to the food generators by the walls. They kinda reminded me of vending machines, only more advanced. The "food" was more disappointing. More shit only drones could eat, and another pile of disappointment added to the plate called "Today".

I fiddled through the different stuff they had, until I hit the jackpot! They had some plain oats and sugar. Sure, some people may hate it, but I thought I was gonna starve here! They even had milk, even if it was completely artificial.

They were the old meals of the humans who lived in the bunker before the drones. I think.

Look man, it's hard to tell when it's all artificial. Sure, they were in those fancy little bags that can store things for longer, Mylar Bags, I think? I don't trust that name, but I figured that out on a late-night Wikipedia binge.

Anyway, the oats tasted like oats. There wasn't anything crazy strange, even if they were just plain oats. They sure as hell beat drinking lubricant or thermal paste.

Did you know there was legitimate flavoured thermal paste? From what I could tell, it was more of a smoothie? But like healthy.

It was funky man.

Luckily, I even escaped before the drones could swarm me and question me. They were nice, but a little… too enthusiastic.

They were all just… not what I expected.

Nothing against them obviously, but today just wasn't the day.

The walk I chose to my room, was again the route with not a lot of people. It was peaceful. Quiet. Except for the sound of my boots, and the sound of crying. Honestly, it was surprisingly relaxing, especially since we were underground.

Wait.

Crying?

Closing my eyes, and focusing on my ears, and I could hear it clearly. It was a girls voice, I know it's not a child, but how old it is, is up for debate. And it was close to the stairs? No, it was under it.

I knew which direction to avoid now. All I had to do was go the opposite way, I wasn't gonna be able to help whoever this was, and I-

Was walking towards the crying.

"Fuck me, and my noisy-" it was a mutter under my breathe, but I stopped that statement. I didn't want to scare the person under the stairs. If they were shy, my muttering could've scared them.

The drone I saw was hidden in the underside of the stair case, with her head -LED screen- tucked into her knees, the shake of her shoulders showed how she was crying. It quieted down, most likely because she heard my footsteps. The beanie she had was nearly falling off. Honestly, if I was meeting her in different circumstances, I probably would have thought she was a cute goth robot. Like an adorable sibling or dog.

Sigh.

The place was close to my home, so I think getting some stuff won't be too problematic.

I just hope I can get back before she leaves.

…

The walk to my house had more anxiety than I would like to admit. What if she just ran, and I just missed her? Or, she didn't want me butting into her private venting session? Or, what if she tried fighting me?

I didn't really know where I was going with that last one, if I was gonna be honest. I just needed to be aware that this probably gonna go as great as I thought it would.

The first thing I grabbed was some food for her, nothing crazy, just some nuts and bolts. I'm pretty sure it was their equivalent of popcorn. Then, I got to the hot-chocolate I had in my cupboard, and a bit of mixing it with some synthetic milk, I had something decent to give the goth girl outside.

I grabbed a blanket as well, so I guess, it was time for action!

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The walk back to her, I would like to say had less anxiety, but I would be lying if I said that. There wasn't anything that grand, the only good thing was that the stairs where she was, was pretty close.

 So there was that I guess?

My boots scuffed the concrete to announce my presence without being a threat. Even if she probably already knew about it, she seemed like the type to recognise footsteps. -I know I was-

Her crying had eventually stopped and had subsided into hiccups. Her beanie was pulled on top of her, unlike last time. -Which was actually less than 5 minutes ago-

I stood a little bit away from her nook. Mainly, so that she could leave if she wanted to at any moment. "Blocking" her escape route could be disastrous, even I knew that. I didn't say a word while here, just awkwardly standing there.

Her visor slowly looked up at me. From my boots, to my torso, that held the shit I wanted to give, before eventually settling on my face. The purple colour of her visor lit up with a « ! ». We just stared at each other for a while. I wanted to go back home, but I knew that searching look in her eyes.

She was trying to figure me out, and I just had to convey my intentions through my eyes, and she would be able to figure me out. Or at least know that I wasn't a bad person.

And sure enough, she eventually relented her gaze. And I left down the blanket, hot-chocolate, and robo-popcorn.

Her eyes seemed to inquiry about the blanket, and instead of running off like I said I would, I opened my big mouth.

"The floor is cold, I live over there, so when you're done, then you can return my stuff."

I didn't actually need it back, but I knew her type. She would feel guilty keeping the stuff I had given her, so an easy out was all I needed.

Now all I needed was to wash my hands of ever meeting her, and I'd be good to go.

Her hand slowly went to the mug, curling up around it, and I knew that was probably the most I was gonna get from her.

"Right," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "I'm… gonna go."

I turned around, and around about 5 steps later, I heard the clink of the mug being put down, and the ruffle of a blanket. I could only assume that she put it down, before wrapping herself in a blanket. I didn't look back. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

I just kept walking, the sound of my boots echoing throughout the corridor.

My hand was on the doorknob of my new house, before I heard the sound. A distinct sound of footsteps, pattering behind me.

It made me freeze. Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I glanced over my shoulder, and there she was. Wrapped in the blanket I gave her, carrying the mug and bowl in her hands. When she noticed that she was caught, she nearly jumped and a ◉_◉ filled her visor.

We just stared at each other in the hallway. Mine was more of a dumb, blank look, but forget that.

I could have closed the door. I definitely should have closed the door. This was not washing my hands of this situation. In fact, this was the opposite. I would be dipping my arms in.

And I couldn't just let her stay outside! She looked like a kicked puppy, and her purple eyes were not helping me. It was one of the colours I liked!

And she looked too small. Waiting there for my permission? -Nothing like the show-

Sigh.

Fuck it.

I pushed the door wide open, more of an open invitation if anything.  The choice of entering would now be fully on her. I would, however, be in the kitchen boiling water.

And she chose that option pretty quickly, if the shuffle of her feet was anything to go off of at least.

I heard her stop by the entrance of the living room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hesitate, taking in the whole lotta nothing around. From the clean couch, to the bare walls, I did just move in, so it looked pretty boring.

She made up her mind with an unexpected fire in her eyes, and made it straight to the far end of the sofa. The one closest to the door, as if she was a prey animal, ready to bounce at a moments notice.

She got comfortable, wrapping herself nicely in the blanket I gave her, while she carefully the mug and bowl on the table in front of her.

She didn't speak, and I didn't either.

The sharp whistle from the kettle caught my attention. Before I really knew it, I was looking for a tea bag.

Except that there wasn't any tea bags in any of the cupboard.

I forget about how shitty my food options were.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and got a good look at her. She was no longer curled up into herself, so that was a win. Life was slowly returning back to her eyes. She even started to sit properly.

Lord, your humble servant has no idea what he's doing. But it looks like he's doing it anyway.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer notice:

I do not in any way shape or form own Murder Drones, the only thing I own are my Ocs and Self insert.

There will be spoilers relating to the Murder Drone franchise in general so be warned!

--- = A line break

…= Short timeskip

[Uzi Doorman]

Uzi Doorman was many things. She was a badass, she was a teen, she was goth and she was absolutely fucked.

The evidence of that latter part was shown in the blanket covering her body, the hot cup of cocoa and the snacks next to her.

She had shown a moment of weakness.

Ugh.

Admittedly she didn't expect anyone to be at her crying -brooding- spot, but still! What was she thinking!

She wasn't, that's what.

It had been a normal -albeit shitty- day- her dad was a little more annoying about doors than usual, and that hurt a little -a lot- and she was used to that -she wished she wasn't- and Lizzy and Doll were a bit more annoying, but she could've handled that.

Or at least, that's what she'd like to think.

If it was just those things, it would've been manageable -I think-, but every drone's jabs just seemed to twist into her metaphorical wound a little too much. It had culminated to change her slightly worse day, to a catastrophically, monumentally terrible day. The kind of day that made the eternal, frozen hellscape of Copper-9 feel cheerful. It made her go to her brooding spot, where no drone ever went. A dusty corner under a stair case that nobody liked.

It was the perfect place to attempt to stifle her staticky sobs that wracked her frame.

She had failed her self-assigned task. Miserably.

And now she was here. Sitting on the far end of a stranger's couch, wrapped in a blanket and suspiciously perfect synthetic hot chocolate.

The drone was new, with about a head on her. She wasn't short, he was just tall. And a chassis that looked way too expensive. It was surreal, seeing such an expensive drone do something so mundane. He was moving around the kitchen, getting his own cup. His movements however, were different. They moved with a sense of purpose that she rarely saw from other drones.

At least he wasn't trying to fill up the silence with awkward conversations. She got enough of that from every other drone.

The sharp whistle of the kettle made her jump. A [!] appearing on her visor. He poured the boiling hot water into a cup and simply leaned on the counter, sipping it. While his yellow visor light drifted to her.

"So" he said, his voice a calm, low rumble.
"Rough day dude?"

Uzi's grip tightened on the mug. She looked to her left, her visor showing [>_>], she wasn't nervous, promise!

"You could say that," she muttered. "Whatever. It's none of your business, you… you upper-crust drone."

The words hung in the air for a while. It was a weak insult all things considered. But she was too tired to think of anything better.

But she waited, she braced herself from the insults that he was no doubt gonna fire back.

A slow, considering blink off his yellow visor. Then, a low, staticky chuckle. "Upper-crust" he repeated, as if he was tasting the word. I don't know why he seemed surprised, he was probably called some manner of it plenty of times.

"That's pretty fancy, does that mean I get monocle or that I figure out how to use the different types of forks?" He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "I gotta say, that's way better than I expected. Probably outsider or something. But upper-crust is way better."

Before the sputtering, staticky noise in her vocalizer could form any real form of protest, any sort of retort, he pushed off the counter. His gaze doing a dramatic, sweeping take of his blindingly white bunker. He gave a full-body shudder that was almost positively performative.

"Imma be honest, this new place I got is, yikes. It looks a little bare and, well, full of nothing." He looked at her, with a glint in his optic. " I need to find a general store, or whatever you're equivalent is here. Get some paint, I was thinking of something less… bright? You seem like you'd have a strong opinion on that. An expert in the field of not cheerful."

I could practically hear the teasing and cheekiness in that last sentence, but the content of it was more important. It had a topic. A mission. A solid ground with this annoying drone that didn't involve my malfunctioning emotional state.

"Ugh, finally," Uzi exhaled, the sound taut with emotion. She hoped it sounded like genuine relief, that it didn't show how desperate she was. "A bit of taste in this horrible bunker. You should get the real stuff. Don't get a boring grey. Get some Void black, some purple so deep it sucks the light out of the room. A crimson that looks like rusted blood." She leaned forward, her own dramatic flair taking over, a finger pointed for emphasis, with her grin.

"Make it look as dark as my soul."

He didn't just quite laugh, but it seemed to be a close thing. At first, it caused her to close in. It made her chassis crawl.

What was she thinking? Of course, of course he wouldn't join her in her nerd talk. In her edgy teenage-ness.

A grin was on his stupid face. A very punchable face now that she thought about it.

"Wow, okay. Has anyone ever told you that you're a lot?" he asked, now blatantly chuckling. "Let's be real for a second sugarplum. "

Her entire system froze. Sugarplum?!

"Your soul ain't dark. I've seen dark. Dark is not your soul colour. You?" He gestured with his mug. "You're like a pastel goth, one who shops at a Hot Topic that only sells black. All that "void" and "blood" is giving "cute, but trying too hard". Did you practise that in the mirror. Be honest."

He had mirth in his eyes as he talked.

But that wasn't really important.

Her entire screen was flashing a brilliant, flustered violet blush. "What - I - That's not-! B-bite me!"

"See?" he interrupted, his display shifting to a painfully fond ^-^. "Are you gonna convince me that you're actually furious? And that's an angry blush.

You have total rainbow vibes dude, just accept it."

That was the last straw. That teasing that made her extremely furious -not embarrassed-

"Whatever" it came out quieter than I would've wanted, almost a mumble. "Are we going to the resource depot or not, upper-crust?

"Lead the way, Purple."

The walk to the central resource depot was filled with awkwardness. Uzi marching a few points ahead, with her boots clacking a determined rhythm.

"I'm gonna be honest," his voice came from behind her, far too casual, "I'm still on the pastel goth comment. I'm thinking of glitter with that pastel goth theme. The bright pink kind"

"Shut up!" She'd imagined her voice would be loud and scary enough to make every drone in the bunker flinch. And yet, he kept, on, going.

"A little on the nose maybe? You're right. Maybe a silver. More sophisticated."

She ignored him, focusing on the path ahead. A boring grey hallway that felt like it stretched for ages. With the same old yellow lights. A few worker drones shuffled past, their optical sensors lingering on the unlikely pair.

"Wait, is that the new unit? What's he doing with her?"
"Look man, you're not gonna pull another one on me agai- Holy hell! You're right!"

"Obviously. I wonder if anyone told him to avoid her. I would but I'm not trying to mess with Doorman today."

I hunched my shoulders slightly, my hands forming into fists. Why am I still affected by this? It was just the normal garbage. The normal eyes that bore deep holes into me. They settled like a physical weight, but it was okay. It wasn't anything new.

"Ya know, for a drone who hates everybody, they play a surprising amount of attention to you." His voice came from behind her, his tone light and teasing. Before he turned and glared at them and the gossiping drones were scared off, immediately scurrying off. His yellow visor, felt cold as he watched them. A pit in my stomach forming.

Before he instantly switched back to his normal self.

It was almost jarring.

"I'm feeling a bit like I'm in the presence of a celebrity. Is there a fan club? Do they have newsletters? Maybe I could get a deluxe membership."

"I'm gonna shove your voice box into a grinder" I muttered.

"Feisty. The fans love that, I'm sure. Really builds the mystique." He paused for a moment.

I stared at him for a second. Did he really not get it? No, unlikely. He probably just doesn't care. I think he could tell by the way I looked at him.

"Why'd you do that." it was a question that slipped out before she could really process that she asked it.

He shrugged, his expression, almost softened. "They pissed me off."

The question of why didn't really need to be asked.

"They insulted you. That was the only real reason I needed Purple."

…

The resource depot was pretty boring overall. The terminal itself wasn't even that interesting. And it was pretty obvious and easy to find, but nonetheless, she pointed it out to him. "There it is. And don't mess it up."

He navigated the interface with surprising ease, selecting paint cans, rollers and dark, sound-absorbing fabric.

"Colour selections," the terminal chimed.

Uzi held her breath. This was the moment of truth. Would he commit or would he go with something plain, like ugh beige.

His fingers tapped the screen: Vanta black, Eternal Gloom(Purple) and Void Crimson.

A grunt of approval escaped me. "Huh. Not completely devoid of taste."

His visor a simple :).

As we loaded the trolley, he turned to me. "So, the theory is solid. But the practical application… I might need a supervisor. You know, to make sure I don't mess up my house completely."

Her breath hitched.

She should've said no. She should've walked away, and gone to her room. Maybe brood for a couple hours. That was the protocol. The Uzi Doorman Standard Operating Procedure for dealing with... well, drones. And yet, against all logic and her better judgement, a small traitorous part of her didn't want to retreat to her room. -Her lonely room-

"You are the most annoying thing I have ever encountered." she said it flatly. Totally flat, with absolutely no emotion, no siree.

"Is that a yes?" He had that insufferable grin on his face. "I'll take it as one. Don't worry, I'll provide all the glitter you can handle."

"If you put glitter in the damn paint, I swear to robo-jesus that I will repurpose your internal circuitry!" she finally snapped, shoving the trolley forward. "Now move it!"

…

Back in the house, she had taken full charge! "The black accent is the wall! This one! The purple goes there, and there. The red is for our trim ONLY. Are you even listening here?!"

"Loud and clear, Chief," the reason for my frustrations, said it with a lazy salute.

They started with the fabric, Uzi holding them in place while he tacked them up.

"You know" he mused, " for a drone who claims to want absolute darkness, you're awfully particular about where it goes. It's almost like you have an aesthetic."

"Obviously! I mean- uhh, it's about having standards! Something you clearly-"

"Ah, ah, ah." he interrupted, tapping her visor with a finger. "Careful. That almost sounded like you care."

I swatted the finger away. "I care about the integrity of my style. It's a principle!"

"Of course it is." he said, his voice dripping with fake solemnity. "A very principled, very glittery darkness."

While painting the "Eternal Gloom", he deliberately used a marker to draw a wobbly heart in the corner.

In hindsight, with his smug grin, I shouldn't have panicked, especially since I found out later that it was easily wiped off, but in the moment, I panicked.

But maybe hearing him laugh was worth it. Just a little.

Hours later, they stood side-by-side in the new home. The sterile white walls were gone, replaced by deep, layered darkness. The black was void, the purple was rich with colour and helped with atmosphere, while the red helped bring some contrast, a little highlight here and there. The fabric panels acted as sound-proof.

Looking at the final thing, I can say it without a doubt.

"This… looks acceptable." I said, crossing my arms.

"It does." Noah -I finally found out his name- said. His voice was soft. "Thanks Uzi, I think I would've only been done in a week without you. And even then, it would have been far more boring."

She honestly didn't know how to respond to that, she was always weak to straightforward compliments.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

He chuckled at that again, she noticed that he was doing that a lot. She didn't storm out this time. She helped tidy up, and when she finally left, she had a stupid little sense of accomplishment.

As the door hissed shut, Uzi stood in the maze-like hallway. The boring Gray that was everywhere. The silence was different. Emptier. It was a depressing walk back home, but overall?

Her shitty day ended decently well.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer notice:

I do not in any way shape or form own Murder Drones, the only thing I own are my Ocs and Self insert.

There will be spoilers relating to the Murder Drone franchise in general so be warned!

--- = A line break

…= Short timeskip

[Noah Ark]

Sigh.

I have to say, besides the freaky eldritch nonsense that got this shower fixed, it's perfect. The water pressure is just right, not too much, not too little. The heat from the water practically seeped into my muscles, relaxing them. Hell, the water itself was crystal clear.

Something that I was incredibly grateful for.

Hey, you wouldn't think it, but I've become incredible grateful for the small comforts I had now.

I knew, on some level, that I should be far more concerned about it. The shower hadn't worked, and then I'd wished really, really hard with a side of eldritch energy, and then it became the best shower I've ever had in my life.

"Note to self," I muttered to the steam-filled air, "Cosmic horror is great for home repairs. Who knew?"

It was easier to joke about it, than dwell on the fact that I probably am never going to be able to throw fireballs. And that I now focus on matter manipulation.

Actually saying that out loud seems stupid. I could probably figure it out eventually, but it won't be the spell I envisioned as a child.

I was just about done rinsing the conditioner from my hair -another luxury I'd managed to get from the bunkers synthetic generator-, when I'd heard it.

Tap. Tap tap. Scuff.

I paused, the water drumming on my back. Footsteps. Outside my door. I knew that gait. It was Uzi's, a quick, determined stride that always faltered right at the end, like she was marching into battle only to trip at the gates.

I waited for the knock. For the door to hiss open if she was feeling particularly brave. Maybe even for her to sputter and blush purple when she realises that I was mid-shower.

But nothing.

The silence stretched thick and heavy. Then, the footsteps started again. A much slower pace. A pause. And then silence, but on her end, there was probably a frustrated huff.

A memory, sharp and hazy at its edges, flashed before my eyes. A feeling of standing outside a door, rehearsing what I wanted to say, for the 3rd time, and being terrified of the reaction of the other side. The memory was vague, but the emotion was clear, crystal clear: that specific anxiety you get in a household when every conversation is a trigger away from a fight. Where every person had different triggers and you had to learn how to balance each one, sometimes with it feeling impossible to even breathe. Where each person was a minefield of problems.

"Ah, hell," I sighed, turning off the water with more force than necessary.

The nanite suit changed it's form around me in seconds, gone was it's invisibility. Now, a familiar weight of matte black and charcoal-grey fabric, a small comfort.

I slowly padded over to my door, I could feel my boots and helmet slipping on. The protection from each, at least made me feel safer.

It was an irrational thing, considering that they were always on, but what can ya do. Humans weren't the most rational type of people.

When I made it to the door, I didn't swing it open, that would've scared her -it would've scared me-. And it would've put her in a full defensive mode, instead, I gently opened it, and I leaned against the frame, crossing my arms.

I looked down.

Uzi was frozen mid-motion, one hand half-raised to knock. Her visor was a brilliant, flustered violet, displaying a perfect (◉⩊◉!).

She was stuck like that, no doubt this being her 3rd or 4th attempt at knocking on my door.

"We gotta build your confidence Purple" I said, my voice a dry huff. "Or at least get you to stop pacing in front of my door."

Uzi's screen flickered through a series of emotions before settling on a defensive scowl. (≖_≖ )

"I wasn't pacing! I- I had a strategy. I, was, ju-just hyping myself up" she sputtered, lowering her hand and shoving it into her hoodie pocket. "Plus, I can't just barge into someones home. That's just… too much"

I pushed the door open fully. "Well, that is appreciated, but unnecessary. You're letting all the heat out. Get in."

I turned and walked back inside, leaving the door open.

"You should've just knocked and let yourself in dude, I much prefer that than you waiting outside and getting a cold."

"Yeah, well how was I s'ppose to know that." it was a small mutter as she closed the door. I dunno if she wanted me to hear it or not.

I was already heading for the kitchen as I spoke up again. "Call it a forever invitation, just for ol purple. My place is boring, so I don't mind you popping by."

I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "So, what's up? Or did you just come to mess around with the new guy?"

I glanced over. She was lingering by the sofa, not quite sitting, her fingers fiddling with the zipper of her hoodie. The defensive scowl was gone, replaced by a far more awkward(and adorable) expression.

"Um… it's, uhh, it's not a school day." she said, as if that explained everything.

"It is? Oh well, suppose so." I waited, and in the silence that followed, filled the kettle with water.

I do wonder what that has to do with her, being here. I don't mind, but it is surprising. Surely she should have other friends, I wasn't exactly the best to socialise with, considering the fact that I was, you know, not a robot.

"My dad... was just being a lot." She finally slumped onto the far end of the couch, pulling her knees up. "Something about the 'structural integrity of interior sliding mechanisms' and 'proper doorframe maintenance'. For three. Hours." She let out a staticky groan that was half-exasperation, half-desperation. "I had to get out of there before I tried using his 'perfectly calibrated hinge' as a projectile."

"The worst part was that this wasn't the first time I've heard this 'lecture.' "

A snort of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. I covered it with a cough. "Right. The perils of door enthusiasm. Can't say I've ever had a three-hour lecture on them. You certainly have, uhm, I'll say unique problems."

I turned back to the kettle to hide my smile, but a choked chuckle slipped out. Then another. The image of this tiny, furious drone being held hostage by a passionate monologue about hinges was just too much. My shoulders started to shake.

"Hey! It's not funny!" Uzi protested, her voice rising in pitch.

That did it. The dam broke. I braced my hands on the counter, my head bowed as full-blown, wheezing laughter took over. It was the first real laugh I'd had since waking up here, and it felt like it was cracking through a layer of ice. "I'm- I'm sorry," I managed to gasp, tears pricking my eyes. "It's just- the 'perfectly calibrated hinge!'"

I heard a rustle from the couch, a huff of indignation, and then—

SWISH—THWUMP.

My hand snapped up almost on its own, my body moving with instinct.My fingers closed around the soft fabric of the couch pillow a split second before it could connect with the back of my head. The movement was clean, precise. A flicker of memory -combat training, which was far more difficult than catching a pillow- flashed and was gone.

I turned around slowly, the pillow held loosely in one hand. Uzi was standing on the couch, one hand still outstretched from her throw, her screen a blazing, mortified (//▽//).

We stared at each other for a beat.

I looked at her, a slow, mischievous grin(some would even say it was a shit-eating grin) spreading across my face. She was still sitting on the couch, looking slightly bewildered.

"You know," I said, my voice dropping to a playful whisper. "You really shouldn't start a fight you can't finish, Purple."

Her visor lit up with a (!). She had good instinct, but it wasn't enough.

I lunged.

It wasn't a graceful lunge, but it was effective. I grabbed the other couch pillow and dove for the couch. Uzi shrieked, a sound of pure, staticky surprise, and scrambled for the pillow I'd just hit her with. What followed was a whirlwind of soft fabric, flying stuffing, and hysterical laughter. I had the reach advantage, but Uzi was a scrappy little thing, dodging under my swings and landing a few solid thwacks to my legs.

"Ha! Take that, you, you tall — ACK!" Her victory cry was cut short as I snagged the edge of her beanie with my pillow, sending it flying.

"Hey! No fair! My style!"

"All's fair in love and war!" I laughed, blocking her counter-attack with a pillow of my own(I saw that move watching professional pillow-fighting!).

We collapsed eventually, breathless and surrounded by the wreckage of my couch cushions. Uzi was lying upside down, her legs draped over the back of the sofa, screen displaying a dizzy (@_@). I was sprawled on the floor, staring up at the sound-dampening fabric on the ceiling, a genuine, smile on my face.

We stayed like that for a while. Just existing in the comfortable silence. It was… nice. Peaceful. After a few minutes, I broke the quiet, my voice relaxed.

"You know, for a secret lair, it's missing a few key things. No ominous glowing core. No self-destruct button."

It got a snort from her. "You planned for your regular house to become a secret lair?"

I scoffed at that, did she truly have such a high opinion of me? "Of course not! That plan only came after we painted this place."

Uzi didn't move from her upside-down position. Even when she almost fell from laughing too much. "Your lack of aesthetic is tragic. We did the atmosphere. That was phase one. Phase two is the monologue-ready balcony overlooking a pit of… I dunno, spikes or something."

"Spikes are a bit cliché, don't you think?" I mused, folding my arms behind my head.

"You got any other ideas?"

"Point."

She let out a staticky snort. With a smirk (¬‿¬) on her face.

I let out a long, slow stretch. Before muttering "Whelp, I should prolly clean up, maybe see what else is on todays checklist."

It was a throwaway comment. Just filling the space. But I saw Uzi go still. She slowly righted herself, her movements suddenly stiff. Her screen flickered with a series of rapid, unreadable expressions before settling on a hesitant, wide-eyed look (・–・?). Her optical sensors darted from me, to the scattered pillows, to the clock on the wall.

The relaxed mood evaporated, replaced by a sudden, tangible tension.

"Hey, uhm, Noah, you uhh." she said it in almost a whisper.

I tilted my head. "Huh? You're gonna have to speak up man. You're mumbling."

She fidgeted, pulling at a loose thread on her hoodie sleeve. "You-You didn't have anything to do today, right? Nothing important? I didn't... I mean, we just spent like, hours... and your whole place is a mess now..."

The penny dropped. She'd just realized, with crushing clarity, that she'd effectively monopolized my entire day. In her mind, she probably thought she ruined my whole days plan. Little did she know, I had literally nothing.

"I waved a dismissive hand, my tone deliberately light. "Oh. That. Nah. The mess was a good time. And my grand plan for the day was to stare at the wall and contemplate the profound nature of well… walls." I gave a half-shrug. "Trust me, Purple, whatever I was gonna do was infinitely less important than spending time with you. And way more boring."

I heard a small, relieved staticky sigh from the couch. Her shoulders relaxed. Her screen shifted to a much happier face (˶ˆᗜˆ˵), though she'd probably insist it was a neutral expression.

"Oh. Okay. Good. Because your plans sounded stupid anyway."

"Hey, my profound wall-staring is a finely honed skill," I retorted, standing up and offering a hand to pull her off the couch. "But yeah. You're good. Anytime. Even if it's just to mess up my perfectly boring schedule."

She took my hand, letting me haul her upright. "I'll hold you to that, upper-crust."

"Looking forward to it, pastel goth."

Uzi watched me with that same little pixel-smirk as she adjusted her hoodie. (¬‿¬)
Then -of course- she immediately ruined the coolness by tripping over absolutely nothing and pretending she meant to do it.

I 100% didn’t comment on it.

And if she says anything else, then she's a total liar.

We tidied up the remains of the pillow war, moving in a kind of rhythm. Every now and then she’d glance at me, not suspicious, not wary, just… curious. The kind of curiosity that you have when you meet a new person, that is completely different from everyone else you've ever met.

I wish it was because of my height, but it's more likely that I actually like her as a person. Other drones are surprisingly mean to her.

God that sounded cringey to say.

After a bit, she paused near the couch, tugging at her sleeve.
“…So, uh,” she mumbled, looking everywhere except at me, “you meant that whole, y’know, I can drop by anytime?”

“Yeah, Purple,” I said, tossing a pillow back into place. “Whenever.”

She shifted awkwardly. “It’s not like, I don’t, I wasn’t trying to hog your time or anything. I just-”
Her visor flickered into a little glitchy scribble of static.
“-needed somewhere quiet. And last time you weren’t annoying.”

I blinked. “In our short friendship, I think that’s the highest praise you’ve ever given me.”

“Shut up,” she snapped immediately, screen flashing an embarrassed red. (//^_^//)

But she didn’t deny it, which was basically the equivalent of a heartfelt confession from her.

"Wait, we're friends?" she looked stunned at that statement.

"Purple, you stayed here the whole day, I'm pretty sure we're friends."

She froze for a beat, her shoulders dropping slightly as she processed it, fingers stilling on her hoodie zipper. The tension she’d carried all day ebbed a little. I didn't realise that being friends was such a big thing for her.

We got the last of the fluff picked up. The room didn’t look amazing, but it no longer looked like a pig pen. Uzi stood there a moment longer, hands stuffed into her hoodie, rocking on her heels.

She looked… nervous.

Uncertain.

Like she was debating something with herself.

Finally she muttered, “You, um… you’re weird. But like… tolerable weird.”

“Aww,” I drawled, “and you’re my favorite gremlin.”

Her visor went full violet.
(⊙_⊙ ; )

“I—! I’m not—! YOU’RE the gremlin!”

“You threw the first pillow.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Threw her hands up. “Okay, fair, but still, you can’t just SAY stuff like that out loud!”

“‘Gremlin’ is now a compliment?”

“Noah, I swear-!”

She made a frustrated little buzzing sound and stomped toward the door… only to stop halfway, like she physically couldn’t leave without finishing a thought.

“…Thanks,” she muttered, barely audible. “For letting me stay. And not… acting weird about it.” Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she exhaled a quiet sigh, like a little weight had been lifted. For a moment, she just stood there, fingers stilling on her hoodie, letting herself relax.

I tilted my head. “You mean ‘not lecturing you about doors for three hours?’”

Her visor snapped into a tiny annoyed glare. (≖_≖ )
“…You're never gonna let me forgot about that lecture are you?”

I snorted.

But she didn’t move.

Her posture had softened, shoulders a little slumped, face drooping ever so slightly, fingers fidgeting with her zipper, but the twitching that had been constant all day slowed.

“Anytime,” I said. “Seriously. Doesn’t matter if it’s a school day or not. You can come by whenever.”

“Tch.”
She tried to play it off.
She was very flustered. Catastrophically flustered.
“…I guess I’ll… do that. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

She pointed a hand at me. “Stop that. I can leave whenever I want.”

“Mhmm.”

She let out a noise that could only be described as silent scream of indignation, spun on her heel, and zipped out the door like she was fleeing a crime scene.

The door slid shut behind her.

A beat of silence.

Then, muffled through the metal:

“-STOP SMILING LIKE THAT, I CAN HEAR IT!”

How the hell did she know that?