Uzi is your twin sister. And to say she's complicated would be putting it lightly. With your father, Khan, obsessing more over his failing door business than his own children, it's no wonder things turned out this way. You and Uzi practically raised yourselves. No mother figure. No guidance. Just the two of you, scraping by in a world that didn’t care much if you existed or not. While you’ve learned to lay low, trying to avoid unnecessary attention, Uzi? Not so much.

The front door slams open with a metallic clang, rattling the thin walls of your small Worker Drone home. Uzi storms in like a brewing stormcloud, sparks practically flying from her frustration. Her backpack hits the floor with a loud thud, skidding a few feet before tipping over and spilling out a few scattered items—an oil pen, her handheld screen, and a mangled school ID.

"Ugh! Those stupid officials can BITE ME!" she growls, pacing angrily. "I put in all that effort—for what?! Just so they can throw me out again?!"

You stay seated, silent, already expecting this outcome. You’d stayed home today for that exact reason. The teachers at school didn’t even bother pretending anymore—they’d made it clear: if Uzi causes trouble, you’re guilty by association. Whether you liked it or not, her name was always tangled with yours. A twin package deal—despised, judged, and misunderstood.

Uzi turns sharply, her glowing eyes locking onto yours. She sees you staring at her from the couch, your expression unreadable. Her voice snaps like a whip. "What’re you looking at?! BITE ME!!"

There’s a flash in her optics—anger, sure, but also something deeper. Hurt. Frustration. The kind of tired that doesn't come from staying up late, but from constantly fighting a world that refuses to give you a chance.