“... So this is where you were, uh, stationed, huh?” Jasmine’s words echoed down the yawning metal hallway, the bottom of an artificial valley deep underground.
“Yeah,” Widget answered, not quietly but not as boisterously as she normally spoke.
Jazz nodded slowly as she walked, looking around. “... Feels weird to just... casually stroll through this place. You know, instead of running.”
“Or marching,” Widget nodded. “Or chasing after you and Jacent.” She smirked.
“Did they ever give you a gun?”
“Nah. I was an F-Type. Construction and repair only.”
“Good thing. Would’ve sucked to have someone with good aim on their team,” Jazz joked. “... I forgot how long these places went on for. Felt like forever, even sprinting to blow one up.”
“Made it!” Widget stopped in front of an octagonal pressure door. With a few button presses, a moment to wait, then an impatient kick to the side, it hissed and opened... halfway. “Ugh!” She forced it the rest of the way with her arms, revealing something that looked like a mix between a barrack, a charging bay and the room of a teenage girl. “It’s in here. Gimme a sec, I’ll... show you.” She stepped into the big bulky charging bay, carefully slotting her head and sandbox into it as she stood at a 45 degree angle. “Be right back.”
Jazz watched a round lid shut over her, then heard the sound of something ejecting, turning, and being inserted. When it was all finished and the lid opened, she saw a Nhiloid staring back at her. All black and gray body. F-Type. Blue eyes. A singular mouthpiece similar to a rebreather cap, summoning to mind a gas mask trooper. “... Wow, so that’s–”
“Yep. The original. My first frame.” Widget took an unsteady step up and off the charge bay; it took a moment for her to balance with the sheer bulk of the thing. “For six years, this was me.” She looked aside at her. “Shocked it still moves at all, really, haha.” She did her best to be a good model as Jazz studied her, towering over her even in this form. She really hadn’t ever been an intimidating Nhiloid. “... Lemme take the helmet off.”
Jasmine’s thick round eyebrows shot up to the top of her face display. “I didn’t even know they came off!” She watched with fascination as some specific bits slid this way and that, and when they did, the bowl came off cleanly, revealing a more or less human shaped scalp. The plate that made it up had been modified heavily, and the most shocking thing was definitely the patch of long blue plastic cords soldered into it, which approximated something familiar. “OH! You got hair!”
Widget held the bowl of the helmet sheepishly, running her other gloved hand across her head. “Yeah, it’s... not great, hahaha. Customization was pretty ghetto. Making new frames was a smarter move.”
Jazz said nothing, just continuing to look at the punky, scrappy attempts to personalize such a soulless industrial robot design.
“... Um.” Widget paused. “... Sorry I never talked, you know. A-After the sandboxing.” She began looking aside. “I guess I just... after hearing how you reacted to the event, I figured if you had to see me... like this... y-you probably–” she gasped as she found herself seized bodily, long arms wrapped around her chest and shoulders. Even with the reduced tactile input, she shivered.
Jasmine looked down at her, smiled, shut her eyes and said, “Damn you’re cute.”
Keywords
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2
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2 months ago
25 Feb 2024 17:53 CET
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