Chapter Text
Uzi could just feel something was different with herself. Beneath her casing down to her core, it was gnawing persistently at the edge of her consciousness—not enough to take her full attention but just present enough to set her teeth on edge.
Hand propping up her chin, pencil tapping almost soundlessly against the desk, Uzi wasn’t listening to the teacher’s endless monotone monologue.
It wasn’t important anyway; it was their last month before graduation, and ‘specialty training’ started for their class with assigned duties or selected jobs; nothing he’d be yapping about held much weight.
After world-ending drama, murdering drones, blah blah blah, BORING things were the new norm again. A little different, now that she wasn’t the same angsty teen outcast pushing everyone away in a silent bid for attention.
Of course, she was still pushing people away, but only the idiots trying to cozy up to the idea of an Emo Ghost Witch Goddess, which she totally was now. There were a few she wouldn’t push away, though—her mom, dad, Thad, V (ugh), Lizzy (double ugh), and…
Her Boyfriend.
That new title for N still made her feel beyond giddy.
The question asked while they were falling together was a last-ditch Now Or Never confession to her crush—not that she thought they’d lose!—but dying with a clear conscience sounded a lot better than wondering if they were just in this together or Together together.
No, whatever homework Mr. Vickers was actively assigning was doomed to be forgotten. Instead, her processing power was spent in thoughtless staring, only interrupted when her gaze shifted to the tall Drone to her left. (No, she wasn’t staring. Shut up.)
The internal clock ticks away. It's clear when the dismissal bell is close that classmates are quietly trying to put their materials away, bags slung on their shoulders, and tensed up in anticipation of freedom.
2:58... 2:59... 3:00… The tension is palpable as all their internal clocks tick over, only Vickers blabbing and the room’s clock ticking on in agonizing lag; ten seconds past 3:00 is finally when that shrill buzz frees them.
The room jolts into action with a collective sigh, with friends turning to chatter and others racing out the door.
Usually, Uzi is with that group looking to get out of that Torture Chamber of Boredom as soon as possible. Yet today, her stuff is still spilling over her desk. Her notebook is open with spiraling shapes and pointless doodles.
“Uzi!” His chipper voice snaps her out of her empty thoughts. “Got any plans today?”
Pencils and notebooks get swiped into her bag as Uzi’s eyes meet his as he bounces on his heels. Robo-God, how he still had so much energy would forever surprise her.
“Mhh, not really.” Uzi hums, shouldering her bag as she flashes him a rare smile. “How about you?”
“After the sun’s down, V and I were going out for the night. You down?”
Despite residing in the bunker now, the two Disassembly Drones didn’t spend much time inside unless they were sleeping or hanging out to avoid the intense weather.
But the bunker was… uncomfortable.
There were nearly a thousand drones, with room for three times as many, and they still found a way to make the bunker feel cramped. N and V weren't the only ones feeling that way, either. Uzi felt the open skies and whipping wind call to that part of their neural clusters none of them fully understood.
His words made her want to drop everything and race for the doors. Instead, she shoved that thought away, pushed away from her desk, and slipped her hand into his.
“Gotta stretch your wings?”
“Heh, something like that. School’s fun and all, but spending time with you without so many others sounds… funner?”
N tilts his head, and she can’t stop the huff of amusement as the pair walk out of the empty classroom.
Some students linger for after-school activities, Thad throwing them finger guns, followed by his gaggle of Sports Jockeys, as the group takes off to some sports-ball practice. V and Lizzy talk and pointedly ignore the B-listers as they vie for a lick of attention.
She barely spares them a glance before they turn the corner and exit the education annex.
She only responds once they’re in an empty hallway. “Yeah, sure. But probably gonna fit in a recharge nap ‘til then.”
“Ooh! Room for one more? Your bed’s comfy—” Ombre blush flashes on Uzi’s face at his offhand flirt, and she reflexively smacks the back of her hand against N’s thigh with their joined hands.
“Dude! You can’t just say that out loud!” Uzi’s complaint is met with laughter at her embarrassment, squeezing her hand and pulling her hand a bit to urge them faster.
“But it’s true!” N practically sings, “Let’s go!”
Her grumblings of edginess and maintaining her image fall on deaf audials, and the ten-minute walk to the Uzi’s residence passes in the blink of an eye.
The front door automatically unlocks as the sensor recognizes their identifiers and opens with a thunk. Uzi wastes no time in dropping her bag next to the door with a tired groan. The nap was an idea to kill time earlier, but now she feels practically nonfunctional and sluggish.
She moved to her own housing unit a month after they saved the world because she did not want to be present for her parents' second honeymoon phase or whatever.
And thank Robo-God for that. They liked N enough, but when she lived there, they insisted on stupid rules as if they could dictate any part of her life. Nope, Uzi was an adult and GOD! Nobody could tell her what to do.
N hummed, moving to the kitchen to reach for their stash of oil canisters as Uzi opened her door and turned her room lights to the dimmest purple her eyes could register.
She wasted no time shrugging her hoodie off and crawling up her lofted bed to flop face-down into the black duvet.
Her whole body relaxed with a quiet groan. The door opened again, and Uzi turned her head to watch N silently walk in with two mugs topped with oil. N gave her a gentle smile, and her gradient eyes softened in appreciation.
The Disassembly Drone sits beside her on the bed.
He took a sip from his mug while holding hers out. With an appreciative trill, Uzi twists to sit on her rear, taking the mug in both hands and leaning back against the mound of pillows as she takes a deep drink.
Liquid, tongue-achingly sweet and warm, hit her tongue with an appreciative warble. Being dependent on oil bothered her a lot more, but being served like coolant in a cup made her happy to pretend it was such.
Since eating that singularity, her burning thirst for oil has been at an all-time high. Before she knew it, she was staring at the stained bottom of the mug and pulling away with a deep vent.
N preferred to savor it, only drinking a few sips before taking hers and setting both mugs on her bedside table.
So thoughtful, barely letting her lift a pinky before anticipating her wants. Their eyes meet. N shifts to sit cross-legged before her, back straight, tail hanging low and swaying off the bed with interest.
“Nap time?” His head tilts.
Uzi hums in affirmation while tapping the side of his leg with the toe of her right boot. He responds by lifting her leg to his lap, happy for these acts of service he wanted to provide.
Fingers pulled the lace of her boots out of their knots, digging between the crossing pattern to loosen the fit enough for him to slip her socked foot free.
He placed her foot against the mattress before pulling her left leg in and doing the same, both boots hitting the floor with a solid clunk.
N’s visor eyes flick up to meet hers, limb still in hand as he leans down and raises her leg to press a kiss to the inside of her knee right above her sock.
Fuck, she could feel the pixels of blush burning against her screen as his lips met her leg again at the front plating of her thigh, N’s body rearranging to crawl closer as he made his way slowly up Uzi’s sitting form.
Uzi's leg is left in favor of taking her hand in his, kisses peppering from her hand light to the inside of her wrist and elbow that sent pleasant tingles down her arm segments.
By the time he's pressing kisses to the exposed parts of Uzi’s chest plate and neck, leaving delightful buzzing in her circuits, he’s shifted to laying on top of her.
His limbs ended up carefully distributed to keep his weight from truly crushing or hurting her.
N’s hat gets knocked off as Uzi's arms drape around his neck and find their place in the trench coat's wing openings. She just wants to feel the slight dip of his wing ports and brush her fingers along the plating—smooth, repetitive motions.
With that, N coos contentedly against her neck, head lowering to rest with his cheek pressed against her chest. The sounds of her oil flowing and Uzi's core’s whisper humming were nearly drowned out by the ever-present thumping of her parasitic heart.
His arms wrap to curl against her sides, and her legs squeeze gently at the body between them.
Uzi couldn't help the rattling of rarely used vocal cords, which became near-silent with each breath as she practically melted against the mattress. N was eager to respond in kind, his purr practically vibrating his chest with its intensity.
The sound of the Bunker’s noisy ambiance and their bubble of serenity feel too fragile to break. One by one, N’s true eyes blink out, except for the visible spectrum bulb, which only dims.
15:23_//DD_SDN// Get some rest, Uz. <3
15:23_\\WD_UZI\\ mkay… <3
N dozed, letting a few of his processors run idly to alert him of dangers that didn’t exist in their Bunker, and Uzi’s core thrummed in contentedness at his protectiveness. Not that she needed it, but it was nice…
Her eyes drooped, purr changing in pitch as she felt her systems shift to idle mode…
“C’mon, time to rise ‘n shineee—”
Mnhhh. Nooo...
“Uziiiiii—” that dreamy voice whines. “The sun’s about to go down!”
Let it, yeah… Screw that sun or whatever…
A snort, something poking her face, gets batted away. “Don’t get grumpy with me; I thought you wanted to go outside?”
“Mmhmm...” She mumbled, covering her optical input with a hand and wiping the static away with a yawn. “Five more minutes' good.”
“You ‘n I both know five minutes means five hours in Uzi language.” Poke. Poke. Pookeeee.
Her hand dropped to let her properly glare at the stupidly cute face beaming up at her, chin resting below her core and tail shifting the duvet with each poorly contained wag. She sent off a quick system command:
C:\>Time
The current time is: 18:55:10.36
Bleh. He was right.
N’s finger was still pressed to her cheek, and she lunged to bite the offending digit. Predictably, he pulled back with a laugh before she could make contact, rising on his palms to arch his back with a stretch, armored plates popping and shifting.
“Rude,” Uzi grumbled.
“What would be rude is letting V sit at the door waiting for us,” N smiles. “ You know how she gets antsy.” He sits back on his heels and puts his hat back in place.
“We coullllddd let her be antsy and rot in bed together instead?” Uzi raised a brow with a grin of her own.
“As much as I’d love that, she just messaged; she’ll be out front in fifteen, right when the sun’s down.” A pause. “And if I don’t check around, I might explode.”
Uzi sighed in exaggerated defeat and sat up. “Booooo. I like you better in one piece.”
“Awww! I like me better in one piece, too! Let's me do stuff like this—”
He leans in to steal a quick kiss, two kisses, three—
Sure enough, V leaned against the securely shut Door Three, arms crossed and claw tapping noisily against the 13-inch solid metal plating.
“You’re late.”
“Oh, bite me! By two minutes!”
“Hi, V!” N chirped, bouncing on his heels in poorly contained energy. “No Lizzy today?”
She shakes her head as Uzi presses the NFC unlock key to the panel. “Nah, her dad insisted it’s Scrabble night and is holding her hostage for the foreseeable future.”
The door opens with a shuddering clunk , and Uzi makes a point to tell her dad it needs attention when she sees him later as they move to Door Two.
It was a smoother opening, revealing two WDF members posted— more like hanging out —with a pack of antifreeze between them to bite back against the dropped temperature this close to the outside.
With the nearby Murder Drones effectively tamed, the Bunker's only real risk was raiding or rogue Worker Drones, unknown Murder Drones far out of their territories, or the rare Sentinel that made its way to the surface. The Door Guards were nothing more than armed greeters to the few Drones that dared to test their chances.
The two guards barely stopped their conversation, only glancing to shoot a quick message to update the Bunker's active headcount and slapping a hand against the final door’s mechanism.
With a beep, the door cracks open—and in floods, a temperature drop and rush of snow cold enough to make three sighs in appreciation and the two grumbles of complaint.
The bunker felt fine with its recycled air, but nothing beat the crisp chill settling around them to lower their higher body temperatures further.
Uzi and V are half a step out before N leaps out, deploying his wings to race into the air. Unfortunately, he sprays the Guards with snow one last time before the door can entirely shut, their shouting complaints swallowed by the metal shutting and N’s chirped apologies in a pitch they couldn't decipher.
At least V had the self-restraint to ensure the door was shut before deploying her wings and taking off with a simple kick-off, her feathers rattling in a mid-air shake.
N shot by like an excited puppy with zoomies, fast enough for the displaced snow to shoot out of his trajectory and rumble the air.
V rolls her eyes, something fond in the twitch of her face, and doesn’t bother with a verbal response as she rises higher and takes off.
19:18//DD_SDV// Going South Sect 7-9 check
19:18//DD_SDN// Have fun!
19:18\\WD_UZI\\ k
Just because they didn’t have to hunt as much anymore doesn’t make their presence disappear. Their squad’s territory covered roughly a 20-kilometer circle radius from the Spire, or 500 square miles, broken up into 12 sectors of 40 miles each.
They used to split it three ways for hunting and patrol, cycling through each sector every few days to keep the Worker Drones coming. The split into two Disassemblers made it a bit more work, but more Workers poured in as soon as they noticed the lack of Death From Above.
That was all land instincts demanded to patrol for any Disassembly Drones encroaching on their territory, vagabond Workers too stupid to travel through the night, or structural damages they’d help take down that posed a flight risk.
‘Course, there were many more damaged buildings just waiting to fall. Another worry for the future—
FWOSHH ! Her partner flies by fast enough to stumble her forward from the air pressure, arms pinwheeling.
“ACK— N! Watch it!”
Flesh explodes from behind as her wings and tail deploy as a counterweight, just enough to steady her before something slams into her from the back, and she's swept off her feet so fast her internal gyroscope briefly goes unresponsive. The ground gets further away by the second as the desolate landscape scrolls by faster than she could process—
“Too fast—TOO FAST—!” Uzi shrieks through the wind, which dares to attempt to steal her beanie.
Far too cheery, N lets out a “Whoops—!” The stop isn't instant; that'd only serve to cause a system purge (never fun mid-air), and he gave his wings a rattling flap as he readjusted his hold on Uzi.
Stubborn as hell, though, she grumbled and wiggled until she fell from his grip, her wings slicing through and catching on the windstream to keep her afloat. Their pace was much slower than his previous robo-zoomies, but he quickly matched her speed as she rode the breeze, a few feet behind her to follow her lead.
“Sorry! I just wanted to fly with you,” N chuckled. “I got excited. It's been too long since we've had some time to ourselves.”
“Cringe,” Uzi teases, keeping her face forward to hide her pleased smile.
N shoots back without hesitation. “I’m your cringe.” His voice trails off into a loving warble, and she sputters and shoots forward to preserve her dignity.
Unabashed laughter rings out behind her.
Easy silence falls as the Drones coast on the wind, both watching the grounds below with only the wind whipping by her audials and the hum of N’s wings behind her.
It's over half an hour before either of them makes a sound.
N’s tail twitches, and he speeds up a fraction to catch Uzi’s attention. “Ah, didja wanna go scavenge for a bit? We’re near the Sector 1 perimeter; dunno if you’d be up for strengthening the borderline since it's kinda boring.”
He wasn’t wrong; it was interesting to watch the first few times following as he coasted low and slow around the edge of their territory, tail flicking to send sprays of acid falling every few yards to mark the ground. Still, by now, it was another monthly task.
Years of doing so left small holes across the building infrastructure, melting the metals and cement into a physical border only visible from a coasting altitude. Even from this distance, her solver-boosted olfactory senses could pick up the barest wisps of bitter, acrid, stale Nanite Acid that marked the edge of their territory.
Uzi could now detect the most minute differences: J’s unfamiliar and weakest, V’s sharp and tart, probably the last along this path, and covering N’s stagnant and citric sour.
Uzi shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll take a look around.”
With a salute and a beaming smile, he tilted his wing to veer left, once again making that chirrup; Love you!
She fights back the blush as she squeaks out the same ping in reply, quieter, but the happy twitch of his retreating tail lets her know he heard.
It sucks being left to her own devices, but she knew N would be fretful and restless until he knew their territory was reinforced once more.
Uzi twitched her wing up to bank, spiraling and dropping in altitude to get a closer look at the ground below as she coasted towards the direction of the Spire. She would put some distance between herself and the acid tickling her nonexistent nose.
It seemed no Drones would head to this area; the sparsely broken windows and undisturbed snow piled to almost the third floor made it clear anything on the lower levels were lost until the stupid cold(er) season thawed those top layers.
For now, Uzi swooped close enough for her wings’ clawed hands to catch on the textured exterior close to a weather-worn window of a highrise.
Scaling the side of the building fell to those mindless subroutines, capable of finding the small places for her claws to dig in and hoist herself to the gaping opening.
If her hunch was right, this was either a business office or—
Glass crunches underhand as she hoists herself into a dining room.
Residential it is.
It's not bad, at least. The fancy furniture promised expensive gadgets for her to dismantle or play with. She was running low on decent computer storage for her ever-growing media collection, and the bunker always needed raw materials.
Uzi retracted her wings but kept her tail out, idly positioning it above her shoulder and activating the array of purple eyes.
It was a lot of data to process, but she was less likely to miss anything.
A silent command intensifies the glow of its mouth, acting as a flashlight as she stands and wipes glass shards off her clothes.
The room had a standard dining set for six, white furniture on white floors, and pasty beige walls— yeesh . The only pop of color came from the withered dark red of long-dead flowers she didn't know the name of and generic shapeless blob photos—blegh, minimalism.
Through the arch into a living room—with a mess that made the occupants look like they'd stepped out momentarily and weren't expecting guests.
Frankly, if she weren't so apathetic to those fleshbags, she'd feel bad for how many of these frozen moments she's interrupted.
The ceilings were high and cut into the second floor where the bedrooms were situated.
Her solver activates with a flash of violet. It locks on to a dark backpack dropped near the front door and upends its contents before letting it fly to her waiting hands.
Remotes, wires, and even a few unopened packs of different batteries (score!) were all shoved inside.
Most of it was excellently preserved. No scavengers would dare climb this high; it was rare to find so much! Maybe she should come to this sector more often. They'd make a killing by looting these goods for resale or trade.
Drawers upended, cabinets torn into; it isn't until she reaches the upstairs bedrooms that something aside from the mindless task ticks over.
There are three rooms upstairs, each with washrooms and stuffed closets. The first two are open and airy and light, a primary bedroom and a guest room, maybe, but the last one must've belonged to the family's black sheep.
This door had a stereotypical “KEEP OUT!” sign that had her rebellious streak instantly wanting to push on, so in she went.
It was the smallest of the three, with dark blue walls and white floors covered with dark rugs.
Not to be out-emo’d by some long-dead teen, but the room's owner clearly had a passion for the macabre.
Droopy black candles dribbled down to stain the wood of a dresser, ancient CDs were stacked around, and even an actual bean bag chair! Dozens of band posters lined the walls in patches, and pitch-black curtains blocked out the moonlight that fought and failed to filter in.
Clearly, some humans had decent taste in decor. A few purple lights, and this could easily have been mistaken for her bedroom!
With an appreciative nod of respect to a fellow outcast, Uzi started digging.
If the drawers were correct, the room's occupant was a boy, probably late teens? The clothes would certainly fit N if he wanted.
But for herself, most of these would be too big for anything more than loungewear or closet filler to make it look like she'd wear anything but the same fifteen outfits she’d been cycling for years; In the bag, they cushioned the precious electronics looted so far.
By that point, it was stuffed full, and she still had four drawers and a whole closet to go through! Oh, she'd definitely be coming back.
It was nice up here. She didn't realize how much the endless buzzing of the Bunker wore on her auditory inputs, but here, it was blessedly silent. No fluorescent lightbulbs hurt her eyes, no indiscernible chatter to be heard through the walls.
Only her and her thoughts.
The occasional murmur of wind could barely be heard from downstairs, and if she closed the door, she doubted it'd be audible from up here.
Uzi’s internal GPS recorded the coordinates. She sets the bag by the door and takes in the dark space with a hum of something .
The bed is unmade, messy, and dusty, but it's bigger than her own loft setup and tucked into a corner.
Maybe... Could she fit it into the closet? It'd be a tight fit, but—
23:52//DD_SDN// Uzi?
23:53//DD_SDN// You in range?
The notification startles her out of thought enough for her tail’s jaw to chatter uncomfortably.
Shit, how long had she been wandering the house? It didn't feel like 4 hours had passed. Guh, maybe geeking out over a new untapped goth source made her freeze or something.
23:54\\WD_UZI\\ yeah didnt go too far. found some cool shirts 4 u very emo. places untouched i think
She sent him the coordinates.
23:54//DD_SDN// Can't wait to see!! ETA 2357
With that, she closes the door, and in afterthought, a flash of purple locks it from the inside.
That felt… better . Securing her tiny sanctuary. It's not that a locked door would do anything to stop a determined enough drone, but whatever.
She's halfway down the stairs when she feels the building's air pressure change, and the fuzz of N’s propulsion kick up dust and debris.
“Uzi?”
He must've landed in the dining room.
“Here, N!” Uzi calls out as she shoulders the bag and quickly meets him at the entryway.
It could stay her little secret for a while longer.