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Çhåþ†êr 2: A Home Away From Home

     Uzi didn't know how much time had passed since she was banished. She lifted her head from her knees, letting her legs stretch out as well. Her arms went limp to her sides as she looked into the distance. She was angry, yet sad. Maybe confused could find itself in there, or scared, worried, overwhelmed. Many emotions could fit into what she felt right now, but she had no way of describing them. She felt trapped. Like her insides were slowly being crunched then released only for the process to continue. An overwhelming drowning feeling. She was so far below the surface, where it was cold and your survival instincts kicked in. A surge of adrenaline- yet not the one Uzi craved. She wanted the feeling to go away, why wouldn't her systems react?

     Uzi stood to walk away; she wanted to attempt to find shelter from the murder drones. She just needed something temporary right now that would be halfway decent, she could worry about a more permanently place later. She was about to walk away but looked back at the ginormous doors that once kept her safe one more time. She felt a surge of rage. A little child's rage for being left behind- abandoned,  Why did he do that? He would let his only child die all because she was... different? She wasn't mindless like the rest? Without any hesitation, Uzi's hand formed to a fist then collided with the door. It didn't even make a dent- not in the door at least. Uzi looked back at her knuckles, watching the oil slowly ooze out. The synthetic skin was now busted open, it reminded her of all the corpse she would see while on her journeys. With the amount of anger she had it almost felt like a simple scratch. She wanted more of it. She wanted her hand to be unrecognizable. She wanted her mauled hand to be a painful reminder of why she could never trust or love someone again. She didn't care how pathetic she might've looked, she only cared about punching the door. Maybe if she punched enough- or hard enough- the doors would open up. Then she could punch her dad's face instead.

     Her last punch was with the side of her fist as she hit particularly close to her head. At this point her hands throbbed with pain. Her hands were as shaky as her breath. Apparently she hadn't cried enough earlier as she broke down once again. Her head rested on the door as her body soon went limp again. She almost couldn't move. Maybe she didn't want to, leaving the doors exterior once and for all to never find it again was enough to build a mound of emotions again.

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     Uzi finally worked up the courage to set off on her journey. She probably shouldn't hurt herself anymore than she already has, wondering alone with disassembly drones without shelter is bad enough as is. But without functioning limbs? You might as well slit your own throat and bleed out- that would be better than leaving your fate in the hands of a disassembly drone anyways. Uzi didn't have enough energy to talk even if she wanted to, instead she clouded up her CPU with thoughts while she ventured further in the distance... further away from her only source of protection.

     To Uzi's surprise, she ended up walking so far out that she found herself somewhere new. It wasn't the buildings, or shift in atmosphere that told her this place was new: it was a simple structure. A simple one she had never seen before. It was tall, like a big spiral. It didn't match the "aesthetic" of the other scenery that was embedded all around her. Her CPU told her to investigate, but everything in her body was telling her to turn back. In her distressed state she clearly didn't have the knowledge to put two- and- two together. Despite her instincts yelling out for her to stop, she proceeded to walk towards the mysterious structure.

     Her face never left that deadpanned expression of her's that always seemed to linger no matter the situation. As she got closer she realized why she had the ill feeling she did. This thing seemed to have drones corpses as its walls. This could only mean one thing: this was the disassembly drones doings.