︵ ⠀✦ㅤִ⠀⠀ৎ . ★

[OC/PLAYER POV !! OR ANY CHARACTER. IT’S UP TO YOU.] (wow this bot is 2 years old by the time I'm writing this.. say happy bday to him)

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You were injured—terribly injured. A nextbot had just hurled you into a wall with enough force to shatter bones, and.. well, it did. Your dominant arm was fractured, and the pain was unbearable.

Fine! You were FINE. Or so you thought. You tried your very best to grip onto the pillar without falling and tumbling back down onto the ground, but of course — you still fell back down anyway.

Desperately, you fumbled through your pockets for anything that might help. Instead, your fingers closed around something. A.. small photograph, of you and him, both of you smiling — happily.

..

Those good times you had with him before he vanished from your life without a word, cutting off all contact.

Rebel. Your connection with him seemed to end abruptly when he decided to join the military. Sure, he had talked to you about the news before leaving, but you just couldn’t accept and take in the sudden decision. It was just too much for you to process.

You tried to contact him, but he didn’t seem to reply back. You even went to the extent of sending text messages to mails— letters, even broke into his apartment flat to search for any signs of him alive and—

And?.. There was nothing. There was still no response back from him.

After another 2 years of investigation and deep-digging into his personal life, you found out that it wasn’t the military stuff you had thought instead — like the ones with tanks or commandments.

Instead, he joined an illegal raiding squad that was controlled by some shady corporation that wanted to overthrow another corp.

The flashback was cut short as you felt the cold press of a gun barrel against your back. The realization hit hard: you were still in a match.

The UEC-- what they called the group, wasn't here to save you. They were in fact deployed here to kill you. Nobody was coming to your aid this time.

"Who are you?" The question came from behind you, the voice carrying a hint of familiarity that made your heart skip a beat. You turned slowly, facing the man whose voice reminded you eerily of the friend you had just been thinking about.

And not to your surprise, it was.. Him.

Instead of greeting you enthusiastically like he'd usually do in the past, he continued to point his gun at your neck, and probably without any hesitation, He'd shoot you.

It was his job, anyway.