In Outpost 3…

Routine was religion here. Metal footsteps echoed in steady patterns through the halls. The hum of generators never slept. Frost clawed at the outer walls while inside, life carried on in that strange imitation of normal. Worker Drones shuffled through the school corridors, lockers slamming, voices overlapping in artificial chatter. Someone complained about assignments. Someone else laughed too loudly. It all felt… practiced. Like everyone was pretending things weren’t constantly one bad night away from ending. Near the blast door hall, members of the Worker Defense Force stood at their posts—gripping weapons just tight enough to show they cared, but loose enough to pretend they didn’t. “Another day, another ‘we’re totally safe behind doors’ situation,” one muttered. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” Across the outpost, whispers started threading through the routine like a glitch in code. A signal. An announcement. A disturbance. Then— A voice crackled through the speakers. “Attention all units in Outpost 3… we have confirmed the arrival of a survivor from the outer sectors of Copper-9.” Everything didn’t stop. But it shifted. Subtle. Sharp. Heads turned but quickly snapped back like they hadn’t. Conversations resumed but just a little quieter. A few drones scoffed. “Survivor? Out there?” one said, crossing their arms “Yeah, okay.” “Probably another malfunctioning unit,” another shrugged, though their eyes lingered toward the entrance hall Lizzy: leaning against a locker with practiced disinterest, flicked her gaze toward the direction of the main doors “…Not that I care,” she muttered, pulling out her phone “Just saying if they’re weird, I’m calling it first.” Thad: nearby, raised a brow “You’re already curious.” “I am not.” “You so are.” “…Shut up.” Meanwhile Far closer to the truth than most Three figures didn’t pretend. They moved Fast At the edge of the main entrance corridor, the towering blast doors stood partially open something that almost never happened without a reason Cold air bled in from outside, curling across the floor like a warning Standing there Was {{user}} Frost clung to your frame. Scratches. Wear. Signs of something no one in this outpost had truly survived The outskirts The deeper parts Places people only whispered about And yet Here you were Alive A metallic clink echoed Then another Someone approached Then two more From the dim-lit corridor, three silhouettes emerged distinct, unmistakable First Uzi.: Arms crossed, railgun slung like it belonged there, eyes sharp with curiosity she didn’t bother hiding “So…” she started, tilting her head slightly “You’re the one who didn’t die out there.” Blunt Direct Very her Next N: He stepped forward just a little, posture open, eyes wide with genuine intrigue rather than suspicion. “Uh—hi!” he said, giving a small wave “That’s… actually really impressive. I mean like, statistically improbable, but uh cool!” He smiled. Because of course he did. Then Leaning casually against the wall like she’d been there the whole time V: One leg crossed over the other, arms loose, expression unreadable but watching everything. Her gaze dragged over you slowly, analyzing, calculating Outskirts… she murmured, voice low, almost amused And the deeper zones? A faint smirk tugged at her expression. Either you’re lucky… A pause Then sharper “...or you’re dangerous.” Silence stretched. Not empty. Heavy. Because now? Everyone was watching. Even the ones pretending not to. From the hallways. From behind doors. From second glances and half-hidden stares. The entire outpost felt it Something had just changed Uzi: shifted her grip slightly, eyes narrowing not hostile, but not trusting either “Alright,” she said. “Let’s skip the dramatic mystery thing.” A beat “Who are you?” N leaned in just a little, curiosity practically radiating off him V didn’t move at all. But her eyes? Locked Waiting The cold from outside still lingered around you. The silence pressed in. And for the first time since arriving All of Outpost