Warnings: Morally Ambiguous! Reader, Confinement, Alcohol Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use (not by either Nefarious), Mentions of Body Modification, Authoritarian Behaviour, Violence, Implied Death, Emotional Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.
Word Count: 4195
At a time when most organic beings surrendered to their weariness, robotic citizens powered by batteries and self-sustaining engines wandered the streets like wayward souls awaiting Charon's ferry. Even the downtrodden and most obscure areas of the city, the type of places one would travel to find a fight or vanish, were dripping with neon signs and enormous television screens that sang the praises of their emperor. His angular face stared back at every passerby, and the absence of darkness inflicted a sense of surveillance no matter how far from the tower you walked.
Rivet descended from the rooftop of a mechanic shop like a superhero from the comic books of old. The black surface of her helmet displayed a blue smiley face, which ceased as she removed it to expose white fur and large, pointed ears that were not unlike those of a fennec fox. "I had to blow off Le Fer to make it, so you better not double-cross me," she teased with a lighthearted chuckle that implied the situation was more of a fun trick to her than the potentially fatal risk it was to you.
The rebel dropped a handful of silver balls that were the perfect size for a game of ping pong onto your palm, her fingers lingering on yours as if ensuring that you kept them. A symbol of the revolution -- a 'V' that mimicked the shape of Lombax heads -- was imprinted on the side of each one. You were not certain whether it was a deliberate insult or a grievous oversight, yet Rivet patted your hand as if thinking it a gift.
Seekerpedes, the aerial guard dogs of Nefarious City that had all the grace of a whale swimming in the ocean until you noticed the extra legs and mandibles that threatened to bite like a saltwater crocodile, glided overhead as a reminder of your entrapment.
A melody that paramours danced to in the secluded night echoed in the alleyway, a mere whisper to your ears but a flourishing attraction for the cabaret down the street.
"Electric shock grenades." Rivet offered a wink, seemingly unaware of the malevolent thoughts that poured into your mind without restraint. "In case you need to deactivate a few bots." This explanation merely encouraged your hateful fantasies to grow, but allowing yourself to believe that a collection of pocket tools could dethrone him was a celebration of naivete that reality would jump to disprove.
You had begun to pull your hand away when Rivet tightened her grip. The Lombax flashed a smile that she expressed with great hesitancy -- both for fear of a poor reaction and given the hordes of Troopers patrolling the city -- that was equal only to her determination for you to see it, but her next words were an even bolder declaration. "You'll always have a seat on my ship."
* * *
When you snuck into the throne room to behold a slouching robot with an oblong head prancing to the desk, there was a brief thought that the emperor had undergone some sort of physical tragedy in his conquest and decided to postpone it. The voice that revelled in the splendid acoustics, however, was raspy and sitting on the cusp of giddy. A quick examination of the gold statue upon which you idled behind furthered your skepticism about announcing yourself, but the intruder spotted you with an ecstatic gasp.
He looked with the euphoric relief of someone who had reached the end of a maze after hours of stumbling, overwhelmed by familiarity and a sense that the trials that delivered him to the other side had all been worthwhile. The texture of his metal was much darker and more compact than that of the emperor, and the dim light provided by the giant monitors behind him cast a thick shadow across his body.
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