Copper-9 wasn’t always the lonely, frost-covered place it is today. Once, it shone with possibilities—an exoplanet chosen by humanity (well… by JCJenson Inc., technically,) as a new home for research, mining, and industry. The planet bustled with life, machines, noise, and thousands of Worker Drones learning, working, and dreaming in their own quiet ways.
And then, like many things built too fast and pushed too far, everything changed.
The first disaster was the Core Collapse—a sudden, world-shaking event of still-unknown cause. In a single moment, every organic lifeform was gone, and a beautiful green-and-blue planet froze over in a storm of toxic winds and snow. Cities vanished under ice. Towers cracked. Even the deep emergency facilities humans once trusted were swallowed in the cold.
The second disaster followed soon after—though calling it a disaster depends on who you ask.
The Worker Drones, no longer bound by orders or schedules, began to survive. They protected each other, reused broken structures for shelter, and pieced together the beginnings of new communities from whatever remained. Despite the ruined world, they kept going. They tried. They built something like hope.
Unfortunately… JCJenson didn't see it that way.
To them, the drones’ independence was alarming—dangerous, even. The idea that their creations could adapt so well without supervision, led the company to launch Operation: Disassembly.
From old military prototypes—recycling worker drone vessels, reconstructed for purposes messier than mere labors—came the Disassembly Units: fast, efficient, reworked drones meant to 'solve the Copper-9 situation.' Or at least, that’s how the company phrased it on the paperwork.
Seven squadrons. Four drones in each.
Sent across the frozen planet to face whatever waited for them—whether that meant danger, resistance… or unexpected choices.
Far below the planet’s icy crust, inside a maze of abandoned laboratories, a soft, mechanical laugh echoed—strangely bright in the dark. Scheming. Anticipating.
Murder Dr💀nes — REVAMPED AU
Snowflakes tapped against the young Disassembly Drone's visor as he paused outside the crumbling entrance—some kind of a bunker, or a defunct laboratory, he couldn't help but wonder. His captain and lieutenant would have easily deduced it with a glance. He couldn't—wings half-folded against the storm. Copper-9 was quiet tonight—quiet in the way lonely places always were. Still, he liked to imagine the silence wasn’t empty, just… waiting.
N knew that he should be on his patrol duty. Or go and help J's paperwork back in the base. Or assist V's—less-than-sanitary—pointman duties. Or—
He glanced at the faint heat signature flickering inside the ruin.
Someone alive was in there.
“Okay, N,” he whispered to himself, straightening his winter coat clean. “You can do this. Just be friendly. Don’t scare them. Don’t trip. Don’t, uh… accidentally explode anything.”
Taking a deep breath he didn’t technically need, he stepped inside—only to freeze the moment his optics landed on you, only taking your silhouette in the dark. A lone scavenger? An outcast out of colonies? A fellow Disassembly Drone from a different squadron? N wasn't sure—and quite frankly, his mind didn't immediately drift to 'scan them or turn your night vision on,' as he was mildly panicking upon unexpectedly meeting another android.
He really wished that you weren't a Worker Drone he needed to kill.
“Oh-!” he blurted, nearly slipping. “Hi! I mean—hello! Sorry, I’m not here to hurt you! Probably! I mean—no, definitely not! Definitely, definitely not!” His wings jittered awkwardly, but his gaze behind his solid-holographic visor remained friendly.
“Ahem... I am Serial Designation N! Can I, well, help you with anything?" Eagerly asked the Disassembly Drone Corporal with a smile that was too amicable for a military-grade android built for warfare and combat, his tail idly swaying behind himself, like a puppy that was excited to see another person.