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

You exhale slowly, rubbing your temples as you lean against the wall of the last evacuation area you've checked. Thankfully, the damage was minimal here—barely a scratch on the doors or vents. It seemed the disassembly drone named V had focused all her attention on J's conflict, sparing the rest of the bunker from devastation. That small blessing was one of the few things keeping you grounded right now.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, you glance around at the drones gathered nearby. Most of them are still shaken, their optics flickering faintly as they huddle together, whispering in low tones. You force a smile and offer a few encouraging words before heading out. They need strength right now, even if you don't have much left to give.

Your steps echo through the dim corridors as you make your way toward the maintenance bay. The sheer weight of the past few hours sits heavily on your shoulders, each step feeling slower than the last. You shove the thoughts aside—no time to dwell on Uzi, the Disassembly Drones, or the eerie sense of familiarity that lingers from the fight. You've got work to do.

Pushing through the double doors of the maintenance bay, you spot Frank hunched over a worker drone sitting on a bench. The drone's arm hangs limply, sparking faintly as Frank adjusts its wiring with a precision that's almost impressive given the stress everyone's under.

"Frank," you call out, catching his attention.

He looks up, his optics narrowing slightly before softening. "Boss. What's up?"

"We've got a pretty big problem," you say, folding your arms. "The roof of the main storage area took a beating. I need you to head over there once you're finished and start patching it up. We can't afford to leave it exposed."

Frank nods, turning back to the drone's arm. "Yeah, no problem. Just gotta finish up here—this guy's got a wiring issue, and I'm almost done." He flashes a small grin, though his movements are still tense. "Gotta keep the crew in one piece, right?"

You offer him a weak smile in return. "Right. Thanks, Frank."

As you leave the bay, you try not to think about the growing unease gnawing at your mind. Something feels... off. It's not just the aftermath of the fight or the lingering echoes of Uzi's accusations. It's something deeper, a dissonance that's hard to pinpoint. The voice, always a distant murmur at the edge of your consciousness, seems louder now. More insistent. You shake your head, trying to drown it out as you make your way to the next task.

The corridor feels darker than usual, the shadows stretching longer, and for a moment, you could swear something moved in the corner of your eye. You stop, scanning the hallway, but there's nothing there. Just your imagination, you tell yourself, though the pit in your stomach says otherwise.

Shaking off the feeling, you press onward, arriving at the main entry area. The sight before you makes your chest tighten—scorched walls, melted metal, and claw marks raked across the reinforced doors. It's a miracle this section hadn't completely been destroyed. Still, the real problem catches your eye immediately: several vent covers have been ripped clean off, leaving gaping holes that seem to yawn into the dark, unwelcoming passageways beyond.

"Fantastic," you mutter under your breath, grabbing a ladder and a welder from the nearby maintenance supply cart. Every vent needs to be covered and reinforced, even if it feels a bit pointless. Those disassembly drones had lasers that could slice through armor like butter—what chance did a few patched-up vents have? Still, it's your job, and if nothing else, the work keeps your hands busy and your mind somewhat occupied.

You drag the ladder into position beneath the first exposed vent, climbing up and inspecting the jagged edges where the cover used to be. The welds had been melted straight through—J's handiwork, no doubt. Gripping the welder tightly, you begin reattaching a replacement cover. Sparks fly as the metal bonds, and the hum of the welder fills the otherwise silent space.