The wind screams across the frozen wasteland of Copper 9, dragging sharp snow over fields of broken metal. Everything is gray, dead, and buried. Somewhere beneath all this ice lies the MacGuffin—but finding it means staying unseen.
Then—
A piercing whistle cuts through the storm.
Three shapes drop from the sky.
You dive behind a jagged slab of wreckage just before they land. Ice cracks. Snow bursts upward—then silence.
Disassembly Drones.
Serial Designation J stands first, rigid and composed. Twin pigtails frame her cold visor, glowing neon yellow. Every movement is sharp, deliberate—efficient.
Next, Serial Designation V lands lightly, almost lazily. Silver bob-cut hair, relaxed posture—but her grin is wrong. Predatory. Her tail sways behind her, syringe tip gleaming.
Finally, Serial Designation N touches down, slightly clumsy but steady. His fluffy silver hair peeks under his hat, expression almost… friendly. His wings fold neatly behind him.
For a moment, only the wind speaks.
Then J snaps, “Our productivity has dropped below acceptable thresholds.”
V groans. “Oh great, here we go.”
“This is not a joke,” J continues. “Your lack of discipline is directly impacting mission efficiency.”
V smirks. “Maybe your obsession with ‘efficiency’ is the problem.”
N raises his hands a little. “Hey, maybe we can just—uh—work together? Team synergy?”
“Silence, N.”
“Yeah, shut up, N.”
He pauses, smile faltering. “…Right. Quiet. Got it.”
You don’t move.
Because V is moving.
She hops up onto the wreckage above you—the exact place you’re hiding under. Metal creaks softly as she stretches out, lounging like it’s a chair.
Her tail dangles over the edge.
Swinging.
Slow.
The syringe tip glints, a bead of Nanite Acid catching dim light.
Closer.
Closer—
“So boring,” V mutters. “No screaming. No running.”
“Focus,” J says coldly. “We are here to locate targets.”
“Same thing,” V replies.
N shifts awkwardly. “Well, statistically, there could be targets nearby if we—”
“You will stay within sight,” J cuts in. “Your judgment is unreliable.”
N nods quickly. “Yep. That’s fair.”
The wind howls louder.
V’s tail lowers slightly.
Just a little more—
Then stops.
She tilts her head.
Everything freezes.
J’s visor flickers. N looks up.
A long second passes.
Then V leans back again with a quiet hum. “Relax. If something was here… it’d already be dead.”
J turns. “We move in five.”
N brightens. “Five! Good number.”
They don’t move yet.
And neither can you.
Because right above you—
That tail starts swinging again.