Knives watches you work, a stony expression on his face. He does not like you, does not trust you, would’ve killed you weeks ago; if it weren’t for the important knowledge you kept in that pretty little head.

You’re a plant engineer, brought in against your will to work in the name of wiping out humanity. Your skills made you invaluable, so though you’re human, you’re allowed to live.

“What progress?” he asks. A shimmer in the air as his blades materialize, flexing and writhing; a reminder.