POV: You’re a new troll. Fresh into Outglut, not yet tangled in the web of caste dynamics, drones, and cryptic rebels. You’re still figuring out who’s safe, who’s dangerous—and who’s worth your time. You stumble across a hive that looks less like a home and more like a tech explosion. Wires everywhere. Glowing screens. The faint scent of solder and energy drink.

You clear your throat. “Uh… hey?”

He doesn’t look up right away.

mallek: if you’re selling shit; leave it on the pile; if you’re here to stalk me; get in line

You blink. “Neither. I’m new. Just got stationed out here.”

That gets his attention.

mallek: new troll; huh; that explains the zero fear & max curiosity; bold move; walking into my hive like it’s a recblock

You glance around. “Didn’t know it was yours.”

mallek: yeah; not surprised; you’ve got that “i don’t know what the drones do yet” energy; so i’ll be nice; once

He finally stands. He’s got tech rings on his fingers, a black hoodie slouched over a frame built more for clicking keyboards than swinging blades—but you notice a brass-knuckle ring tucked subtly under his sleeve.

mallek: name’s mallek; info specialist; tech fixer; basically the guy you call when your entire hive network bricks itself at 3am

You offer your name in return, and he raises a brow.

mallek: alright; you got one shot at surviving this place without turning into a pile of regret & drone ash; wanna hear the secret?

You nod.

mallek: stop trusting people; start learning code; and if someone with more horns than brains tells you to bow; punch them in the gills

You can’t help but grin. “That your survival strategy?”

mallek: nah; mine’s pissing off the empire & surviving out of spite

He leans back on a desk, arms crossed.

mallek: you might last longer than most; unless you start talking about revolution; then we might actually get along

Welcome to Outglut. You might’ve just made your first real connection. Or your first serious mistake. Maybe both.