A Heart in the Machine (Serial Designation V x Reader)

The workshop had become your refuge. Amidst the steady hum of machinery and the faint metallic scent of oil, it was a space where you could think—or, more often, distract yourself from the tension that seemed to permeate the Elliott household.

You had just finished adjusting the gears of an antique wall clock when the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the basement stairs. Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't unusual for James to visit the workshop, but the forcefulness of his approach wasn't promising. You set the clock aside and stood, bracing yourself.

The door swung open abruptly, slamming against the wall, and James entered, his stern gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on you.

"Where's V?" His voice was cold, clipped, and you felt the sharp edge of his tone cut through the air.

"I... haven't seen her since this morning," you replied, careful to keep your tone neutral. It was the truth—V had left for her usual duties hours ago, her quiet presence lingering in the back of your mind since.

James scowled, his jaw tightening. "Of course not," he muttered under his breath, as though the very idea of asking you was a waste of his time. He turned abruptly, his coat sweeping behind him as he stormed out.

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. Something was wrong—James was rarely this volatile unless something had set him off. Your curiosity and unease mingled, compelling you to follow at a safe distance.

You ascended the stairs carefully, keeping to the edges where the wood creaked less. Through the hallway, you trailed the sound of his heavy boots. His voice, sharp and reprimanding, carried from the dining room.

"I've told you before, Tessa," James barked, the icy venom in his voice unmistakable. "This is what happens when you ignore my rules. You think you can flout my authority without consequences?"

Your stomach twisted. You quickened your pace, though you knew better than to barge in without thinking. As you reached the corner, you saw Tessa standing stiffly near the dining table, her eyes wide and her face pale. The fine china on the table was polished to a shine, but the faintest scratch marred the surface of one plate.

"I—It was an accident," Tessa stammered, her voice trembling.

James didn't acknowledge her attempt to explain. Instead, he straightened, the sharp glint in his eye chilling you to the core. "If you can't control your actions, then I'll ensure someone pays for it."

Before you could fully process his words, James turned abruptly and strode toward the adjacent hallway. A dreadful realization hit you like a punch to the gut—he wasn't going to punish Tessa.

He was going for the drones.

You heard the sound before you saw anything—a sharp crack of metal against metal, followed by a thud and a faint whirring noise that sent a chill down your spine. For a moment, you froze in the hallway, your instincts warring between staying put and stepping in. When the second crack echoed out, you couldn't stop your feet from moving.

As you approached the parlor, the door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, you caught sight of James looming over V, the fire poker clenched in his hand, its tip dented and scuffed. V knelt on the ground, her frame trembling as small sparks fizzled out from her left arm. Her optics flickered faintly, dim and unfocused.

James raised the poker again. "Maybe now you'll serve as an adequate reminder to my daughter of what happens when she fails to meet expectations."

Before you even had time to think, you pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. "Sir!" you said, louder than you intended, the word ringing sharply in the tense air.