Chapter Text
Her shoes pound against the rich mahogany floor, the polished wood reflecting her terrified visage. She stumbles slightly, her servos locking up in her leg, but she manages to keep going. Her vents come hard and fast, her eyelights hollow as she glances behind her. She turns away, unwilling to stare at the thing chasing her, and spots a pair of double doors. She pushes her legs harder, her arms outstretched as she grabs at the door’s handle. With a mighty shove, she pushes the doors wide open, and stumbles into a brand new location.
She blinks a few times, awe settling within her core as she takes in the sight before her. An absolutely gigantic theatre stretches before her, lines of seats stretching so far that they seem to fade into the horizon itself. A glance upward reveals a simple wooden ceiling high above her, lights sparkling on the wood like the stars themselves. In the very center of it all stands a loan stage, the entire thing decorated in banners of violet and silver. A red curtain drapes across the wooden platform, blocking the back of the stage from view. The stage looks completely normal, despite her vision telling her that it dominates the skyline due to the numerous seats pushing toward it. Despite that seeming impossibility, she finds herself… drawn toward the stage. She begins walking forward despite herself, her movements slow and uncertain as her legs begin to lock up again.
“H-Hello,” she cries, voice tinged with hesitation and curiosity. “I-Is anyone there?”
A rumbling echoes throughout the building, making her pause and grip onto the chair next to her. She glances behind herself, taking in the closed door to the theater, and turns back to the impossible stage in the distance. The vibrant red curtain slowly begins to part, allowing a wave of amethyst light to wash over the room. Her eyelights widen as she registers something moving from within, ready to exit onto the stage proper-
“Cynthia!”
“STARTLED!” Her head slams against the metal floor of her room, making her groan in pain as her vision flickers rapidly. She lifts a hand and threads it through her violet locks, gently pressing against the casing beneath her wig. No cracks, so she should be fine. She sighs in relief, then gives an angry glare to the drone standing above her. “Big brother! I told you not to startle me like that!”
“Sorry, Cyn! You were just sleeping really deeply!” The drone gives a self-conscious chuckle, rubbing the back of his dark azure hair as his golden eyelights shut in embarrassment. Her brother already has his typical outfit on, a massive greyish-blue coat stretching down to his calves, almost brushing against the engineering boots he always favors. He has a simple grey t-shirt on today, tucked beneath a brown belt that Cynthia knows well is his tool belt. And resting on his head, glimmering beneath the lights of their shared room, is a pair of red goggles, a replica of the one their father wears. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Noah go without them.
She huffs in mock annoyance, grabbing at her head and pulling herself onto unsteady feet. She stares at the floor for a moment, her arms gripping the pole of their bunkbed as she tries to keep her balance, only to blink as twin wood-painted metal rods are thrust in front of her. She smiles thankfully toward Noah, her brother smiling back with that sunshine grin of his. She grips the handles of her crutches and breathes a sigh of relief as her balance finally settles, allowing her to move around the room freely. She moves toward their closet, briefly making sure the forearm grips of her crutches are properly secured, then turns toward her brother with a mock glare, though the smile on her face betrays her amusement. “Time to get out, big brother! I have to change.”
“Understood, Cynthia ma’am!” Her brother salutes her with a grin, then spins on his heel and opens the door to their room, slipping out into the hall beyond. The door shuts behind him with a near-silent hiss, silence settling over the room once more.
She smiles in amusement and turns toward the closet, pushing aside her brother’s clothes and focusing on her own. She hums in consideration, glancing between the various outfits, before grabbing a simple blue turtleneck, and a pair of grey shorts from the nearby shelf. She throws off her pajamas, slipping into her normal clothes with only minor difficulty, then hobbles her way to the door. She grabs her shoes and socks, slipping both on, then grabs the beanie hanging on a small hook next to the door. She fits it onto her head, her smile turning solemn as her fingers linger on the soft material for a moment. Then, her hands move forward, typing in the code for her room and letting the door slide open.
Cynthia steps out into the hall, glancing toward the living room briefly as the sound and smell of cooking fills her senses. She grins in excitement, her shuffle speeding up rapidly as she turns the corner and rushes into the kitchen. Noah glances back at her as she enters, his hands moving to prepare their meal even as he gives her his full attention. “Hey, little buddy! Thought I could make pancakes today!”
“It smells good,” she says honestly, her mouth already beginning to water a bit at the thought of having such a delectable breakfast. Her brother’s pancakes are practically legendary, and she is forever thankful she gets to have them so often. “Excitement!”
Noah lets out a laugh, his eyelights shifting into upturned arcs, before turning back into ovals as he gives her a cheeky smile. “I’ll give you some, but only when you finish getting ready!”
“But I am ready,” she protests, confusion filling her voice. Her brother merely raises an eyebrow and tugs on his hair, making her blush gold as she looks down at her messy, unkept hair. “Right. Then I shall complete this task and claim my prize!”
Laughter follows behind her as she shuffles her way toward the bathroom, not bothering to close the door since she’s just doing her hair. She puts her crutches to the side, then looks into the mirror, looking over her disheveled locks. She reaches her hands toward the violet strands, only to pause as she sees her left eyelight flicker briefly. She noticed that her and her brother both have this weird issue whenever they are in front of mirrors. It’s never really done anything though, so she mostly ignores it.
Her hands move with expert precision as she grabs bundles of her hair and pulls them straight, her other hand slipping on her favorite bows to tie the bundles together. She repeats the motion on the other side, then looks up at the mirror with a smile. There! Two twin tails, tied up in her favorite style. NOW she’s ready for the day!
Task complete, she grabs her crutches and moves back to the kitchen, sliding into a chair with an excited energy as her brother places down two plates of pancakes. She eagerly grabs a fork and begins biting into the sweet treat, relishing the way the sweet lead mixes with the bread-like flavor of the cooked tungsten. She swallows her bite, grinning wide as she turns toward Noah. “It’s as good as ever!”
“Thanks, Cyn!” Her brother cuts a piece of his pancakes, pushing the treat into his mouth and idly munching.
A comfortable silence settles between the two for a moment as they eat their meals in peace. Then, Cynthia’s eyes wander toward the hall leading to the bedrooms of the house. She swallows her food, then says softly, “Is dad here?”
Noah pauses mid-bite, his eyelights glancing up toward her. He lowers his fork, his mouth closing as he turns his attention to the only hall of their little home. He sighs softly, standing up and grabbing his and her plate as he smiles gently. “He… already went to work.”
A pang of sadness rushes through her systems, making her look down toward the ground for a moment. Her brow furrows in anger, though the emotions are ultimately short-lived. “He’s busy again, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Noah sighs, placing the plates on the counter and sitting back down at the table, his own expression twinged with guilt. “There’s a trade agreement being set up with the Golden Sun today. You know that he has to be there for those kinds of things.”
“I know, I just…” she trails off, sighing as her body loses any tension in it. “Frustration… I was hoping to have a movie night with him tonight.”
Her brother doesn’t answer immediately, but it barely takes more than a couple moments before a pair of comfortably warm arms wrap around her, pulling her into a hug. “I know it sucks,” Noah mutters, his voice twinged with reassurance. “But you know that dad tries his best. I’m certain he’ll be happy to do movie night the next time he’s free!”
She glances upward, her eyes meeting the matching gold of her brother’s. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He gives her a smile, wide enough that she can see the stubby fangs they’ve both had since their first body transfer. She smiles back, much softer than her brother, but still feeling reassured despite it. Noah just… has that ability. He can always make someone feel better.
The two pull back, the sadness that once was echoing between them lifting as a gentle reassurance washes over them. Cyn pulls herself out of her seat, gripping her crutches as her legs wobble beneath her. She moves toward the door, Noah silently following behind her and grabbing the two bags on the shelf nearby. He helps her put on the backpack, letting it hang behind her and keeping her arms free. She moves up to the door and punches in the code for their house, the door sliding open and revealing the hall outside. The two step out of the familiar setting of their homes and begin their trek across the bunker, ready for yet another day of school.
The halls of Outpost 3 are not quite what one would call ‘immaculate’, but they are still well-cleaned despite that. If not for the constant foot traffic, the halls would probably sparkle from the effort the Maintenance drones put into cleaning. That’s something Cynthia can greatly appreciate. She’s always hated stains left behind by other drones. She doesn’t know why, but the thought of touching or even looking at someone else’s mess always messes with her systems. It’s annoying, but whatever. She’s gotten mostly used to it.
The crowds of various drones begin to not thin out, but are replaced with drones closer to their age. Her and Noah turn around the final corner leading to the School District, only to pause as they register the presence of two unfamiliar drones near the doors. The two drones are dressed in welded pieces of scrap and cloth, making them look like junkyard soldiers. The two drones look between the passing kids with disinterest, but the shimmer in their eyelights makes every system in Cynthia’s body crawl with disgust. She grits her teeth, nervousness filling her processors as she moves closer to Noah. For once, she doesn’t slap away her brother’s hand as he grips her shoulder reassuringly. This time, she needs the comfort.
The two of them approach the door leading to the School District, never letting their eyes stray from the two Scrappers standing nearby. A part of her hopes that maybe today the Scrappers will leave them alone. Her hopes are immediately dashed though as one of them locks eyes with her, their eyelights glimmering with malicious interest. The two drones push themselves off the wall, slowly walking over toward her and Noah. The drones around them look at them with sympathy, but ultimately avoid the situation entirely, creating a bubble around the siblings and the interlopers.
“You two must be the Doorman kids,” one of the Scrappers mutters, looking between her and Noah the same way someone looks at a slab of copper. Like they’re products. “Mighty fine parts you two must have.”
“Sorry, but we’re not interested in trading,” Noah says with a smile, though Cynthia can tell that he’s angry due to his grip tightening on her shoulder. “I can direct you toward my dad if you need help! Otherwise, we need to get moving.”
“Come now,” the other Scrapper says, smiling in a way that’s supposed to feel disarming, but is anything but. Especially when she can see the chips in his teeth. Her whole body shudders in disgust at the sight. So gross! “School can wait. Promise, we’ve got some really good deals back with the caravan. I’m certain your teacher can wait a few moments, right?”
“Sir, I’m certain that your wares are nice, but we really do need to get moving.” Her eyes flicker to the side as she sees Noah’s free arm slide beneath his coat, resting over top of his tool bag. She turns her attention toward the Scrappers, not wanting to accidentally give her brother away. “I promise, we can always meet later when our dad is free!”
One of the Scrappers steps closer, resting a hand on her shoulder and making her shiver in disgust. She tries to pull back, but the drone’s grip stays fast, holding her in place and not letting her move away. She can feel Noah’s rage grow, and she can hear his tools rattling as he grabs something. The Scrapper, unaware of Noah’s growing anger, continues to prattle on. “See, kids, a little rebellion is always good for ya. Besides, with you two being the Doorman kids, I’m certain you can get plenty of good stuff. I-”
“HEY!” The voice startles all of them, making each of them swing their gazes to the side. A female drone rushes toward them, her leather crop-top jacket swaying as she moves. Her hands are clenched into fists, her chassis straining as she glares at the two Scrappers with startlingly intense rose-colored eyelights. She marches up to the Scrappers and shoves the one closest to them away, making the older drone stumble back slightly. “Hands off, creeps! That’s not how you get business around here!”
The Scrapper growls in annoyance, his hand moving down to his belt, only to pause as he notices something. He tsks in annoyance, his buddy scowling as the two of them turn away. “WDF. Typical. Bunch of fucking pricks.”
“I think the only pricks around here are you two. Now get the hell out of my sight!” The two Scrappers stare at them for a moment, then turn away, their footsteps heavy with anger. The three of them watch the retreating near-criminals, and then Veronica sighs in relief, all the tension in her body falling away. “O-Oh geez… I hope I don’t get in trouble for that.”
“I don’t think you can,” Noah says, moving toward the girl and squeezing her shoulder. “You’re one of the best WDF members we have, V! I think you did exactly the right thing.”
Veronica gives Noah a small smile, her eyelights shimmering behind her wide-brimmed glasses. Cynthia giggles softly, watching the two of them from the side. They’re so damn obvious.
Suddenly, Veronica’s gaze shifts over to her, and her entire demeanour brightens. “Cyn! You feeling ok?”
“I am fine, V.” She smiles widely, shifting a bit to stand up straighter. “They couldn’t do anything to me even if they tried.”
“I bet.” Veronica smiles back at her, then freezes as a loud sound echoes from behind the door leading to the School District. Cynthia winces, immediately knowing what that sound is. “Damn it,” Veronica mutters, her fists clenched by her side. “We’re late.”
“I-I’m certain it’ll be ok,” Noah says with a smile, even as sweat forms on his visor. “You were doing official WDF business! They’ll understand!”
Veronica looks down at the badge pinned to her jacket, then shrugs carelessly. “I guess so. We’ll have to see.” She saunters up to the doors, pushing them open with a small push. “Come on, let’s get going!”
The halls in the school are, predictably, completely empty. Tends to happen when they’re late for class. The three of them move through the locker-filled halls, with V splitting off to tell the school office what happened. Her and Noah turn the last corner toward their classroom, pausing at their lockers to grab a few of their things. Cynthia opens her locker, frowning briefly as she sees a picture of a drone with two crossed-out eyes scribbled onto the metal inside. She glances toward Noah, then hastily grabs her books and shuts her locker door. Her brother’s eyelights flicker toward her in confusion as the bang echoes through the hall, but she just smiles and shoves the books into her bag, letting her arms still move freely.
Noah shuts his own locker, then turns to her with a smile. “Hopefully they won’t be too mad,” he says with an amused undertone. She chuckles softly, shuffling beside her brother as they move toward the classroom door. Noah reaches a hand out to grab it-
[You’re late.] The two of them yelp as a familiar Russian voice sounds behind them, making them flip around in terror. Bright red eyes framed by blue-violet hair stare at them with terrifying intensity, the crimson orbs narrowing slightly. [What were you two doing?]
“Scrappers,” she responds immediately, staring directly into her cousin’s eyes.
Her cousin flinches slightly, her eyelights flickering down the hall, as if the Scrappers will turn the corner at any moment. [Guess that’s as good an excuse as any,] she mutters, pushing one of her pig tails back behind her shoulder. She crosses her arms across her chest, the motion wrinkling the pristine school uniform she always preferred. [Fine. Guess I can vouch for you two this time.]
“Thanks, Jenea.” Noah chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.
[You’re still going to have extra study sessions later, Noah.] Jenea’s eyelights narrow, as if daring Noah to challenge her judgement. Thankfully he doesn’t, simply putting his hands into the air in surrender. Satisfied, their cousin turns and walks to the classroom door, pulling it open without a second thought. [Come on.]
The three of them enter the room, every single drone turning to look at them. Their teacher pauses his rollcall, turning toward them with his typical exhausted, orange-tinted eyelights. “Cynthia. Noah. You’re both late.”
“Sorry Mr. Vickers! We got caught up at the doors!”
When Mr. Vickers gives Noah an unimpressed look, Jenea steps forward and says, [Scrappers, sir. We all know how they are.]
“Ah.” Mr. Vickers turns back to his tablet, tapping on it idly, before looking back at them. “Sit down. Don’t need you three making things more difficult by taking everyone’s attention.”
“S-Sorry, sir!” The three of them spread out to their seats, Noah moving to the opposite side of the room, while Cynthia and Jenea move to their seats nearby. Cynthia takes her crutches off and leans them against the wall, pulling her books out of her bag with clear disinterest.
Mr. Vickers opens his mouth to speak, only for the door to slam open as Veronica rushes inside, her vents audible as she breathes heavily. Mr. Vickers gives Veronica a small glare, which makes her shrink back reflexively. The teacher’s gaze softens a bit, and he says, “Scrappers?” Veronica nods. “Alright. Sit down, V.”
“Thanks.” Veronica moves toward her seat near the front, nearly right in front of her dad’s desk. Cynthia doesn’t know if it’s favoritism or something else, but neither father nor daughter mind the close proximity.
She keeps her focus on the lecture for a moment, if just to see if there’s anything interesting, but inevitably turns away when nothing crops up. She grabs her sketchbook and opens it to the latest blank page, her pencil trailing across the paper with expert strokes. She doesn’t think about the task, simply idly drawing as her systems run silently in her head. It’s a rarity for her mind to shut up, but during these moments, when she can just do a task and lose herself in it? That’s when she can finally get a moment of peace.
The words of the lecture wash over her like snow as she loses herself in her task. Her pencil tip sketches out the edge of a flower, carefully filling in the details with each stroke. She pauses momentarily, considering her design, then moves on, filling another spot on the page. A picture begins to form in her mind, one that she doubts she could finish today, but one she wants to finish eventually. Her fingers move across the page, sketching out a facsimile of the image in her mind, making absolutely sure her systems wouldn’t forget anything. Conjured ideas had a tendency to not stick in a drone’s mind without a physical reminder. She learned that the hard way the first time she tried to use her perfect recall, only to realize that it only worked on memories.
Slowly, the page begins to fill out, the vague shape of a garden filling the page. She smiles softly at the sight, her systems conjuring the image of her moving through that garden, free of her disabilities. She could finally see the plants she loves so much, tend to the flowers that would smell amazing, and bask in the colors of nature. Something far different from the dull greys of the bunker, or the blistering white of the blizzards outside. She simply craved color. Anything to make this dull existence a little brighter.
Time must’ve passed without her knowing, because suddenly, a hand slaps against her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. She turns to the side, ready to snap at whoever hit her, only to pause as she meets Jenea’s fierce crimson eyes. [The bell rang for lunch. Get moving.]
She huffs in annoyance at the rudeness, but nods despite it. Her cousin grabs her things and walks away without so much as glancing back, making a spark of irritation fill her systems. She sticks out her tongue childishly, and even if she knows Jenea didn’t see it, it still feels nice regardless. Her cousin can be such a stick in the mud at times. Way too serious.
Cynthia briefly considers leaving her bag under her desk to save herself the hassle, but quickly decides against it. Last time she did that, she found her sketchbook missing. She doesn’t want to deal with that happening again. So, despite having the extra weight on her back, she deals with it, if just to ensure the safety of her things. She grabs her crutches and shuffles out of the classroom and out into the hallways.
Off to the side, Veronica and Noah speak in hushed voices, only to pause as Noah spots her leaving. Her brother grins widely, moving over with Veronica following close behind. “Cyn! I heard they’re having some copper burgers today!”
Her interest is immediately piqued. “Oh? A good lunch for once?”
“Surprising, isn’t it?” Veronica giggles softly as a hand presses against her mouth. “They don’t do that often!”
“Well, with the supply shortage, I can’t be surprised.” Noah taps his fingers together as the three of them begin making their way down the hall, ignoring the drones passing by. “What with the surge of Mutants outside. I heard it’s getting harder to get stuff.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Veronica says, patting Noah’s shoulder comfortingly. “Promise. We’re still getting plenty.”
“I mean, dad said we were having problems-”
“You worry too much, big brother.” Cynthia elbows Noah in the side, making her brother yelp in surprise. “We can still trade. We can still mine. We can still make food. We are fine.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Noah flinches as she and Veronica give him a look. “S-Sorry, but just… I can’t help but worry, you know? It’s bad enough having to deal with the Murder Drones, but the Mutants as well? All it would take is for one group to get inside, and everything would be over.”
“Are you doubting dad’s doors,” Cynthia asks in mock offense.
Immediately, Noah looks flustered and waves his hands frantically. “N-N-No! I-I know how good dad’s doors are! They-” Noah pauses as Cynthia giggles softly under her breath. His eyelights turn half-lidded as he gives her a look of annoyance. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Correct. Giggle.” She puts a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling in her systems. She glances around, waiting to see if anyone is going to point out her speaking habits, but no one does so. Seems like she lucked out this time. The moment her laughter dies down, she turns to her brother with a far more serious look and says, “But, I understand your concern. It is worrying how dangerous everything is. If only we could get rid of one of the groups…”
“Mutants are easy to deal with,” Veronica says thoughtfully, one hand under her chin as she thinks things over. “They’re just gross and fleshy. Not really durable, even if messed up. The problem is that they can just keep spreading to other dead bodies, and even sometimes living drones.”
Cynthia flinches as a memory passes through her mind. One of snapping teeth where they shouldn’t be, limbs that shouldn’t exist, and a drone bleeding a liquid that it shouldn’t produce. “Shudder. Don’t remind me.”
“Sorry.” Veronica smiles sheepishly, then frowns again. “The Murder Drones are a whole other threat. They kill both Workers and Mutants alike, and don’t seem to be affected by whatever virus the Mutants carry. Their sheer durability, speed, and power make them practically unkillable.”
“Anything can be killed,” Cynthia says matter-of-factly, her head lolling to the side slightly. Veronica gives her a disturbed look, which merely makes her giggle softly. “I’m not wrong.”
“I guess…” Veronica sighs, her body slumping slightly as she does so. “I wanna figure out how to kill the Murder Drones, but they’re too strong. Who could even fight those things?”
Cynthia doesn’t respond, her mind beginning to drift as she considers the question. Getting rid of the Murder Drones is something she’s considered before, but she’s never been able to act on such impulses due to her condition and her lack of engineering experience. Having medical knowledge on drones helps somewhat, but doesn’t exactly help much in regards to killing a giant genocide robot. Though, maybe that virus spike idea she had before might be able to do something? She is really good at coding. That may be better than trying to build something like a railgun.
Wait a second…
Virus spikes can be repurposed into giving drones beneficial code to update their firewalls and let them fight off viruses. As such, they’re usually kept small enough to be packaged in large quantities, that way hospitals have them on hand at all times. They could definitely fit inside the barrel of a gun. If she were to repurpose an existing gun to fire a virus spike, then code some kind of virus to attack a Murder Drone’s systems, she might be able to-
She’s knocked out of her thoughts, quite literally, as something slams into her. She crashes to the ground, her crutches clattering next to her as she hisses in pain. Cold hands press against her, helping her back up to her feet, while she can vaguely hear someone shouting nearby.
“Are you ok,” a voice, she thinks it’s Veronica, says next to her.
“Ouch…” She grips her head as her optics flicker, trying to fix her fuzzy and glitching vision. Her display blinks out, then turns back on, only to still have the right side of her vision fragmented. She frowns in confusion, pressing a hand against her visor, only to hiss in pain as her fingers brush against a wide crack in the glass. “Ouch. Ok. Very ouch.”
“That’s… not good.” Cynthia’s gaze flickers toward Veronica, watching as the Security drone pulls her onto her feet. Veronica turns and glares down the hall, making her glance that way in confusion. Veronica scowls and mutters under her breath. “Fucking glitches.”
A swell of anger fills her body, and she’s very much so inclined to agree with Veronica. Standing near a wall, carelessly typing away on her phone as Noah tries to yell at her, is the school’s resident drama queen and popular girl, Brianna. Surrounding her are a bunch of nameless drones Cynthia couldn’t even be bothered to remember the name of. The girl flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and pushes past Noah, making him stumble back and stare at her incredulously. Briana walks up to them, pausing right as she’s about to pass. She grins wickedly as she looks down at Cynthia. “Look! Now her face is as damaged as the rest of her!” Brianna’s groupies all laugh maliciously, staring her down and making her core twist with nervousness.
“Back off, Brianna.” Veronica steps forward, her knuckles emitting a loud crack as she glares at the bully. “Or else I’ll give you a matching set.”
Brianna scoffs and turns away, once again typing on her phone. “Whatever. We have better things to do than listen to the Suicide Chasers.” The group all mumble their agreement and walk away, leaving the three of them alone in the hall once more.
Noah walks over, his narrowed optics never straying from Brianna’s retreating form. “I really don’t like her.”
“N, you can say you hate her,” Veronica says exhaustedly.
“Hate is a strong word… But sometimes I question if she’s the first to deserve the label.” Noah turns toward her, and all the anger in his body seems to dissipate as he immediately begins to fuss with her. “Cyn! Are you ok?! That crack is really bad-”
“Big brother, I am fine!” She pushes Noah back, scowling slightly as she grips her crutches tighter. “Seriously! Frustration. I can handle myself!”
“Sorry! I’m just worried and-”
“Big brother.” Noah pauses, his eyelights hallowing as her voice takes a far more serious tone. “I just have to go to the nurse. It’ll be ok.”
Noah looks like he wants to protest, but Veronica places a hand on his shoulder, and all the fight seems to leave him. “Ok. Just- Be safe, ok?”
“I will.” She flinches as another spike of pain hits her processors, making her instinctively raise her hand to her face. She turns away from her brother, slowly shuffling down the hall toward the nurse’s office. She knows where it is by core at this point. It’s easy to remember when she’s there so often.
No other drones stop her on her walk, which she is beyond grateful for. She pushes open the door of the office, casting a glance around the room. She huffs in annoyance when she sees that, yet again, the nurse is missing. Wonderful. Well, that means she’ll have to do this the hard way.
Shuffling over to the nearby bed, she opens a drawer and looks at the carefully sorted visors inside. She mumbles softly under her breath, then pauses over a particular visor. She carefully unlatches the glass, lifting it with gentle fingers onto the bed. She sits down on the soft cushions, pushing her crutches to the side, and takes a deep breath. This part is always the hardest, but she’s done it before. She’ll be fine. She raises her hands to the edges of her chassis, just beneath the glass on either side of her head. She presses in the twin buttons, her visor unlatching with a soft hiss, and letting her pull the entire thing off.
The lack of a HUD almost immediately throws her off, and she can imagine how horrifying she must look with her cameras exposed to the air. Thankfully, her vision isn’t reduced in any meaningful manner with her visor off, and she easily grabs the glass and clips it into place. The tiny magnets lining the glass edges lock onto her chassis, and her eyelights reignite near immediately. She looks over HUD, looking for any fragments in her vision or glitches in her software. When nothing stands out to her, she sighs in relief and slumps over. She did it. Nothing went wrong.
She grabs her broken vision and puts it in a nearby recycling bin, careful not to break the glass any further. The moment that’s finished, she stumbles toward the bed, flopping onto the mattress with a loud thump. She really doesn’t feel like going back to the cafeteria and dealing with drones again. Plus, the noise would give her a headache, and just… ugh. No. She’d much rather stay here. And honestly, the idea of a nap sounds really good right about now. She shifts a bit, her eyelights shutting off as she gets comfortable, and near immediately falls into the abyss of slumber.
“Cyn. Cyn. Cynthia!”
She groans softly as something shoves on her shoulder, her eyelights blearily flickering on as wakefulness rushes back to her. She blinks in confusion for a moment, then turns her gaze to the side, locking eyes with the drone waking her. Bright silver ovals look down at her with worry, one side of the visor cracked from a battle long past. She blinks in confusion, then mutters softly, “Dad?”
“Right here, kiddo.” Khan gently helps her up, handing over her crutches in the process. She grabs the metal sticks, pushing herself onto her feet as her optics continue to calibrate themselves. “I was told what happened by Noah. More bullies?”
“It’s nothing,” she mutters, pretending to fiddle with her bag as a spike of guilt forms in her core. “I can handle myself.”
“Handling yourself is fine and all, but you’re still weak, Cynthia.” Dad rests a hand on her shoulder, making her glance back and meet his silver eyes. “It’s ok to ask for help.”
She frowns deeply, her brow furrowing in her display, but she doesn’t respond. Dad sighs behind her as she grabs her bag, turning around and saying, “I have to get to class now.”
“Actually… I had another idea.” When she turns to her dad in confusion, he clarifies with, “I have a few hours until my next meeting, and a little doggy told me that you were upset about me missing movie night.”
Ah. Noah must’ve snitched on her again. Well… kind of. Not exactly like she got in trouble, but still. “Big brother shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But he did, and I thought ‘Hey! My little girl has been doing so good in school and with her work in Medical, why not give her a treat?’” Dad’s grin widens, the motion pulling on the mustache on his face. “So, I decided to get the school to give you the rest of today off! We can go and have that movie night you’ve been wanting!”
Her eyelights widen in shock as she stares at her dad in disbelief. A wide grin stretches over her face, wide enough to reveal the fangs typically hidden beneath her lip. “Really?!”
“Really! It seems only fair after what happened.” Her dad growls momentarily and mutters softly, “Next time I see that girl’s parents, I’m going to teach them what happens when they mess with my daughter.” Suddenly, her dad’s friendly disposition comes back as he says. “What do you say? Think it’s a plan?”
She doesn’t respond immediately, simply jumping forward and wrapping around her dad’s waist. She snuggles against his chest, mumbling softly, “I think it’s awesome.”
Warm arms wrap around her shoulders, her dad returning the hug with glee. “Then let’s get to it.” She grins and nods eagerly, and the two leave the nurse’s office behind, making their way back home.
Noah and Cynthia Doorman, Jenea Strazhev, and Veronica Vickers
By: Myself!
