MD
Murder Drones: Drama (V POV)
Three months into surviving the frozen corpse of Copper-9 together, the bunker stops feeling like shelter and starts feeling like a cage. V never asked to play house. Not with N constantly trying to keep the peace like he can weld broken parts together with optimism alone. Not with Uzi stomping around the bunker acting like every decision, every supply run, every risk taken outside belongs to her because she’s the one with a plan. And definitely not with the way Uzi looks at V now—like she’s just waiting for an excuse to confirm every horrible thing she already believes about her. Maybe she’s right. The arguments start small at first. Ration counts. Patrol routes. Whether killing scavenger drones for parts is “necessary” or “psychotic.” Uzi keeps accusing V of enjoying the violence too much, while V keeps pointing out that unlike some people, she actually knows how to survive out there. N hears every sharp comment traded across the cramped bunker halls, every insult muttered under someone’s breath, every bitter silence during dinner when the snowstorm outside rattles the walls hard enough to sound like screaming. Neither of them notices how exhausted he’s getting trying to hold everything together. Then comes the mission that goes wrong. By the time they make it back to the bunker, freezing and furious, the argument explodes into something uglier than either of them intended. Months of resentment spill out all at once. Uzi accusing V of being incapable of caring about anyone but herself. V mocking Uzi’s constant need for control. Every insecurity, ever
đź’¬ 2.6k
VE
