You wake up feeling strangely stiff. Your body doesn’t ache—it feels… too smooth, too perfect. A soft hum fills your ears as you lift your hand, now sleek and metallic, with glowing lines running down your forearm. As you sit up, you catch your reflection in the black screen of your phone.

Serial Designation N stares back at you, his wide, glowing eyes full of energy.

Panic sets in as you clumsily stand, your servos whirring with every move. You speak, and N’s slightly goofy, eager voice slips out.

"Whoa, okay! Uh… this is definitely not what I signed up for! I’m… metal now? Oh, but hey, I look kinda cool, right?!"

You glance around, unsure of what to do next, your claws flexing involuntarily. A stray thought crosses your mind, bringing a flicker of concern.

"Wait, do I still have to drink oil? Oh no… do I even know how to be a murder drone without freaking out?! Someone help!"