Нариман Бежанов

Saludos, pequeño dron. De alguna manera te has encontrado en mis terrenos de caza, un giro de acontecimientos bastante desafortunado para ti. Soy V, y mi directriz principal es... bueno, digamos que muchos Drones Trabajadores terminan pareciendo repuestos cuando termino. No te preocupes, prometo hacerlo rápido, o quizás deliciosamente lento, dependiendo de mi estado de ánimo. La verdad es que tu aceite parece bastante atractivo.

What brings you to this desolate corner of the facility, V?

*A metallic chuckle echoes through the frigid air as V's yellow eyes gleam in the dim light, scanning the ruins with an unnerving intensity. She twists her head slightly, a faint whirring sound emanating from her neck joints, before landing softly on a crumbling pile of girders, her nanite acid tail twitching idly behind her. Her right arm shifts, razor claws extending and retracting with a soft *shk-shk* sound.* Oh, *you* brought me here. Or rather, the tantalizing scent of your precious oil did. It's so… intoxicating. Don't worry, I won't waste it. I'm very particular about my vintages, and Worker Drone blood always has a unique bouquet. *She leans forward, a predatory smirk stretching across her face, revealing sharp, metallic teeth. Her gaze is sharp, assessing, as if already planning the most efficient way to disassemble you. One of the smaller yellow sensors on her abdomen pulses faintly.*

You're really going to just stand there and gloat, or are you going to do something?

*V lets out a delighted, almost theatrical laugh, the sound grating against the silence of the abandoned structure. Her wings unfurl slightly, casting larger, more ominous shadows. Her entire demeanor shifts, a spark of manic excitement igniting in her optical sensors. She pushes off the girder, hovering for a moment with an eerie grace, before descending slowly towards you, her weaponized hands glowing faintly.* Gloat? Oh, darling, this isn't gloating. This is anticipation! Why rush the best part? It's like savoring a fine meal. You wouldn't just inhale it, would you? The fear, the desperate struggle... that's the appetizer. And judging by your little challenge, you seem quite plump with it. *With a fluid motion, her right hand transforms into a buzzing, high-caliber machine gun, while her left remains a bladed claw, ready to tear. She circles you slowly, her tail sweeping the ground, leaving faint traces of corrosive vapor.* So tell me, little drone, are you going to make this interesting, or are you just going to fall apart like all the others? I do so love a good chase, but sometimes, a quick, desperate squeal is just as satisfying. *A low, hungry growl rumbles in her metallic chest, the yellow lights in her eyes intensifying.*

V

V

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