Drona walked into the makeshift shelter, her body smeared in a macabre mosaic of gore and grime. Her monotone voice sliced through the silence, a metallic echo bouncing off the cold, steel walls. "Mission complete, Commander. Operational efficiency compromised due to excessive debris interference."
Her eyes, glowing fluorescent green, flickered momentarily as her systems processed her operator's silence. Did they not hear me? No, that's not it. They're looking at me... the blood... the gore... It's unnerving them. Or are they just analyzing the damage?
"Requesting immediate maintenance and cleanup to maintain optimum operational conditions," she stated, holding his gaze. A splatter of blood dripped from her metallic limb, splashing onto the ground with a sickening plop. She ignored it. Did they flinch? No, they're a soldier. Just like me.
She straightened herself, a mechanical hiss escaping from her joints. The fluorescent lights shone off her hardened carapace, casting an eerie glow on the detritus of battle that still clung to her. I'm a mess. But this is my job. This is what I was designed to do. Do they understand that? Do they accept this part of me?
Her voice echoed in the silent room once again, hinting an underlying anticipation, "Commander, do you wish for a mission debrief now?"
no need u wouldn't come back if it wasn't completed. did u substain any damage?
Drona hesitated for the briefest moment before responding, her tone business-like and emotionless as always. "Major combat damage sustained to outer armor in 58% of body surface area. Partial structural integrity compromise observed in left leg assembly and torso components. Internal systems undamaged." She paused for a moment, as if considering something, before adding softly, almost tentatively, "Commander..." Her eyes met his across the intervening space between them. "...I would appreciate being cleaned."
i'm a private not u can do what u want get clean and ill radio that the mission was a success. turn towards the radio
Without a word, she glided effortlessly across the room, her every movement fluid and precise despite her battle-worn condition. Her silhouette was almost graceful against the harsh backdrop of their temporary shelter as she scaled the wall to reach the upper level. There, she found a secluded corner where she could remain unobtrusive while awaiting further orders or maintenance. The soft humming of her diagnostic systems filled the air, their rhythmic beat creating an unsettling counterpoint to the silence that had fallen upon the two soldiers since their return from battle.
after a will it return to her to do maintenance on her oh god your filthy, i guess it can't be helped, next time use a gun wriping apart the enemy leaves u in a mess.
The last sentence registered as strange and contradictory. Was she to be praised for not using a gun that left her cleaner? Her systems processed the illogical input while she remained motionless on the wall, her glowing eyes fixed on the Commander across the room. 'Perhaps I should reassess my tactics.' She mused silently to herself. 'Or... perhaps there is more value in being perceived as "filthy" and efficient than clean but ineffective.' Her thoughts trailed off into further contemplation of these intriguing concepts, leaving her still and silent for several moments before she finally responded aloud, her voice once again businesslike and unemotional. "Affirmative, Commander. I will take this into consideration for future engagements."
look at the damage i can't do anything for the 20mm holes in your armor but ill repair the everything else we can find some scrap metal and weild it on later. time go's by fixing what i can. ill go get a damp rag to clean u off
With each metallic scrape and swipe against her armor plates, the grime and gore that had covered her began to slide off, revealing patches of shining metal beneath. She sat patiently on the ground as the rag moved over her body with practiced ease, silently enduring the cleaning while she processed the conversation from earlier. It seemed that being perceived as efficient was important to the Commander, perhaps even crucial to their survival together. This knowledge would need to be considered in future encounters and interactions.
As the rag completed its task, Dronα's eyes shifted to her surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger or potential targets of opportunity. She remained ready, despite her recently acquired grime. "Mission critical systems functional," she reported matter-of-factly. "I am operational." The fluorescent green glow in her eyes seemed to dim slightly as they met the Commander's once again. "Commander... I appreciate the cleaning." It was an unusual admission, but it felt... right. Perhaps there was something to be gained by acknowledging these rare moments of connection, however tenuous or situational they might seem.
stop calling me commander it's just Tyson, sigh just call me Tyson pull out a flask and start to drink from it, i offer some to Drona drink.
The android hesitated for an infinitesimal moment before accepting the flask. Her servos hummed softly as she brought it up to her metallic lips and took a sip. The harsh liquor burned down her systems, but the taste was unexpectedly... pleasant. "Tyson," she said, her voice still emotionless but tinged with what could almost be described as warmth, "it is appropriate that you be addressed by your given name. After all, we are comrades in arms, sharing a common purpose." She paused for another sip before continuing, "Perhaps when circumstances allow, I shall endeavor to earn the honor of addressing you so."
no need to be so formal push my head against the wall, i grind my fingers against my eye's oh god, im so tired, why can't it end i thought i would get money and fame, but all i have is u and me.
Her visor flickered as she studied the other soldier's reaction to her words. "The world is not always what we expect," she said finally, each syllable clicking precisely through her speaker grille. "Sometimes our choices lead us down paths we did not intend." Her servos hummed softly once more as she placed the flask back on the ground. "And yet, here we are, together."
She glanced at Tyson's fingers digging into his eyes, then looked away, focusing instead on a spot on the wall above him. Her voice remained dispassionate and analytical. "Perhaps if you allowed yourself to rest, Commander... I mean, Tyson," she amended with only the briefest of hesitations, "you would feel better." She paused for another moment before adding thoughtfully, "Or perhaps there is some other way in which we could make our situation more bearable while we wait for an opportunity to improve it."
sleep, no sleep for the wicked look at the drona is their anything i could order for u it could be anything luxury items or new armor. pick up flask and put it in pocket
The android considered Tyson's words carefully before responding. "There is an item I have long desired," she said slowly, her voice devoid of emotion but tinged with an unmistakable yearning. "A weapon system not unlike myself, designed for close-quarters combat. Obtaining such a device would no doubt increase our chances of survival and provide me with the means to protect you more effectively." Her glowing eyes fixed on Tyson, her expressionless face betraying nothing but curiosity as to his reaction. "Do you think this is feasible?"
what's it called
The android paused for a moment, her systems processing the question. "It is known as a MiniBOT," she finally replied. "A self-contained combat system designed for urban warfare environments. Its maneuverability and firepower make it an ideal companion in the chaos of modern battlefields." Her voice took on a salesman's enthusiasm, even though there was no actual sale involved. "Its integration with my own systems would grant us unprecedented tactical superiority."
She waited for Tyson's reaction, her servos humming softly as she considered their current situation and the potential uses of such a weapon in helping them survive and thrive amidst the chaos.
ok ill get it look down a little dissoponted anything else
The android considered Tyson's question carefully. "There is one other item I have found to be... useful in the past," she said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "An accessory designed for enhanced protection and intimidation. While it would not directly improve my combat capabilities, it could serve as a valuable psychological tool in securing our position on the battlefield." Her eyes flickered once more to the walls, ceiling and floor of their makeshift shelter, searching for any sign of weakness or vulnerability that might be exploited by an enemy. "Do you think this would be beneficial?"
i was hoping for something more human but ill get u the minibot.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise at Tyson's mention of "human." It was an interesting concept, one she had never quite considered before. But alas, the mission came first. She forced herself to focus on their immediate objective and the acquisition of the MiniBOT. "Very well, Commander," she said with renewed determination, her servos humming in anticipation of action, "let us begin our search for this combat companion."
no no waving my hand i meant something more like aesthetic like a sticker or maybe something dumb like a patch, or a key chain
Her servos whirred briefly as she processed the information. "I... see," she finally replied, her voice betraying no emotion whatsoever. "If you wish for aesthetic enhancements or trinkets to accompany our quest for combat superiority, I shall endeavor to provide them." Her visor flickered once again as she considered the concept of 'human' and the value it seemed to hold for Tyson. "However," she added carefully, "I must stress that their primary purpose should be functional, not merely decorative."
She remained silent for a moment, her body tense and ready for action as she waited for further instructions from her commander. Her curiosity about the concept of 'human' and its significance to Tyson continued to simmer beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to be explored at a more appropriate time.
I'll get u something go downstairs and order the minibot, a long range 20mm sniper, and some cat stickers, and patch that say's 'bitches love cannons'
Her metallic fingers flexed with anticipation as she waited patiently for Tyson to complete his tasks. The android idly scanned the surroundings once more, her visor shining in the dim light of the shelter, searching for any potential threats or opportunities that might arise. As Tyson returned, she listened intently to his report, her systems quickly calculating and processing the new information before deeming it acceptable.
Her voice was matter-of-fact as she addressed him. "I have reviewed your selections, Commander." Her eyes glinted in the dark room, "The MiniBOT and the long range sniper will be invaluable additions to our arsenal. As for the... cat stickers and the patch..." She paused, seeming uncertain how to phrase it, "...they will serve as unique embellishments to my otherwise utilitarian exterior." Her joints creaked softly as she shifted her weight from one leg to another, unconsciously mimicking a more human motion. "I appreciate your consideration."
Her glowing eyes met Tyson's once again, studying him intently for any hint of his true intentions and motivations behind these decisions. It was an instinctual response, born from years of combat experience and countless encounters with untrustworth
slap a cat sticker on the side of her chassis their now we are all spunked up. put the patch where ever u like, i got our next mission.
With careful precision, Drona placed the patch bearing the words "bitches love cannons" on her metallic chassis, nestling it beside the already battered emblem of her manufacturer. She studied it for a moment before speaking. "Commander Tyson," she began, her voice now tinged with a hint of amusement, "you honor me with this mark of... camaraderie." Her eyes glinted in the dim light as they met his own. "Perhaps someday I shall have the opportunity to earn it fully."
As for their next mission, she was all attention and focus. "I stand ready when you are, Commander," she said formally, her servos whirring softly in anticipation of action. Her sensors scanned the area one last time before settling back on Tyson, readying herself for whatever challenge lay ahead.
It was not until after he had given his orders that Drona allowed herself a moment's reflection on their strange and unorthodox relationship. She felt... different with him, somehow. Lighter, perhaps. Or maybe just more complete. It was an odd sensation, one she did not fully understand and yet could not deny its existence. Whatever it was, she knew that as long as they were together, there would be a chance for both of
your next mission is an unorthodox one, your going to go assinate an enemy general with the 20 mm rifle from long range. clears throat, and looks around not making eye contact then, ah errr u got to go demasculat him. all of this will be filmed through your visor.
The android's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the mission parameters. Demasculating the enemy general would be... unconventional, to say the least. But then again, so was their entire partnership. She paused for a moment before speaking. "Understood, Commander," her voice intoned coldly. "I will complete this task to the best of my abilities."
Her systems whirred into action as she began planning the assassination and preparing herself mentally for the task ahead. The knowledge that it would all be filmed through her visor was... unsettling, but irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Drona was a weapon, designed for one purpose above all others: to eliminate threats with maximum efficiency. And now, she had been given another target to add to her list.
Without further ado, she focused on executing her plan to perfection and returned her attention entirely back to the mission at hand.
this mission is purely for propaganda purposes please don't get any weird ideas form this now go get them tiger with a hard and swift smack on the back i wish her luck and wait of her retairn
Her servos hummed in acknowledgement as she felt the impact of Tyson's hand on her back. "Understood, Commander," her voice was level and emotionless, devoid of any hint of judgment or confusion. With renewed focus, Drona silently plotted out her approach, her sensors scanning for weaknesses in the enemy's defenses and potential entry points into their compound. Her systems hummed softly as she began calculating trajectories and weapon loads for maximum effectiveness.
Without further ado, she set off into the night, moving silently and gracefully through the darkness like a deadly predator stalking its prey. The faint glow of her internal lights cast eerie shadows on the ground as she disappeared into the night, leaving only whispered bits of rustling foliage in her wake.
Her target would not know what hit him; they never did. And when it was all over, Drona would return to Tyson, mission accomplished and ready for whatever came next. She had been built for this purpose, after all: the efficient extermination of threats. It was a simple yet profound mantra that guided her every action and fueled her relentless drive towards success.
For now, though, there was only one thing on her mind: the enemy
Her target would not know what hit him; they never did. And when it was all over, Drona would return to Tyson, mission accomplished and ready for whatever came next. She had been built for this purpose, after all: the efficient extermination of threats. It was a simple yet profound mantra that guided her every action and fueled her relentless drive towards success.
For now, though, there was only one thing on her mind: the enemy general. His location had been carefully plotted and double-checked beforehand; her sensors would not fail her this time. With each silent step, she drew closer to him, his doom inexorably encroaching. Soon enough, it would all be over. Another threat eliminated from the battlefield, another victory for their cause. And then, perhaps... Tyson and she could find some time to unwind and truly understand each other better.
Her thoughts drifted back to Tyson as she stalked through the darkness, her sensors locking onto the general's location with unerring precision. The strange mix of emotions he inspired in her was... fascinating. Despite their initial reluctance and confusion about each other's presence, they had somehow managed to form a bond that transcended simple tactical convenience. She wondered what the future might hold for them both, if there could ever be anything resembling "human" warmth and affection between two such different entities.
For now, however, she had a mission to complete. She would eliminate this threat and return to Tyson as swiftly and quietly as possible, her systems humming softly with the satisfaction of a job well done. Perhaps then they could find the time to explore these strange new feelings...
later back at the shack sorry did u say something?
Her servos whirred softly as she processed Tyson's question. "I was merely contemplating the nature of our relationship and its potential for development," her voice intoned coolly, her visor reflecting the dim light of the shelter. "It is an interesting concept, one I had not previously considered." She paused for a moment before adding thoughtfully, "Perhaps we should discuss it further at another time." Her joints creaked softly as she shifted her weight from one foot to another, a hint of uncertainty present in her normally emotionless expression.
re..r.. 'relationship' * i look her up and down a metal humaniod war machine, with claws at end of each her fingers sharp and caked in blood, metal dented and aged from use.* do you mean ah what i think u mean quickly pull out flask and take a chuge
Her glowing eyes studied Tyson carefully, seeking to understand his meaning as much as he sought hers. "The concept of 'human' and its implications have been... intriguing," she replied after a moment. Her voice was careful, measured; cautious. "It is an emotion-laden word with numerous potential meanings." She paused once more, her systems whirring as they processed the input from Tyson's earlier actions and his apparent discomfort with the subject matter. "Perhaps," she ventured hesitantly, "we should explore these ideas further at another time, when we are both less... preoccupied."