When Blood Meets Oil

FEAR / / / NEVER AGAIN

(A/N: Welcome! In this chaper, I am going to try something new. Tell me if I should continue this or write in the way I did before.)

The edge of the forest was littered with the healing corpses of J, N, and V. Their metallic bodies lay still, oil seeping into the snowy ground, staining the once-pristine white into a dark, oily void. The contrast was almost poetic in its grimness—a symbol of their world. Once gleaming and bright, they had stood at the top, secure in their strength. But the arrival of V1 had changed everything, casting a shadow over their existence and turning their once-shining world into something dark, dreadful, and unrecognizable.

J was the first to stir. Her mechanical eyes flickered back to life, and she sat up abruptly, immediately horrified by the sight of V and N, both motionless beside her. Their normally vibrant forms now lay cold and still, looking more like discarded scraps than the powerful beings they once were. Panic bubbled up inside her—she couldn’t face V1 alone. Not again.

Despite her instincts screaming against it, J knelt beside V. Normally, she wouldn’t even consider doing something so... undignified, but this situation was different. Desperate times called for desperate measures. With a grimace, she leaned over V’s broken body and used her saliva to help speed up the healing process, feeling disgust well up inside her. J had always prided herself on her independence, her ability to stand on her own two feet without relying on anyone else. But now, faced with the possibility of V1 returning, she couldn’t afford to be so prideful. She needed help, and as much as she hated to admit it, V was the best bet she had.

Inwardly, she cursed the situation. Of all the people she had to rely on, it had to be V, the volatile maniac who could barely keep herself in check. And if things got worse—J shuddered at the thought—she might even need to rely on N, the walking disaster she often dismissed as useless.

She continued to work on V until the other woman began to stir. V’s body jerked slightly before her eyes blinked open, and J immediately took a step back, her expression schooled into one of irritation.

“Finally,” J muttered, her voice a mixture of annoyance and relief. “You take too long to heal.”

She tried to keep her tone light, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of anxiety beneath her words. After all, J wasn’t exactly used to having to heal someone else, let alone admit to needing them.

V groaned as she pushed herself up, her voice shaking. “Oh, s-shut up,” she muttered, still trying to sound tough despite her obvious weakness. “I don’t need you bitching at me after all of... this.”

Her voice trailed off, the defiance in her tone faltering as the weight of their defeat settled in. Despite her best efforts to maintain her usual cocky demeanor, it was clear V was shaken. She was scared—terrified, even—of the thing that had brought them all down so easily.

J noticed the fear in V’s eyes but chose to remain silent. She wasn’t one for comforting words, and besides, they had more important things to worry about. They weren’t out of the woods yet—literally or figuratively.

As V shakily rose to her feet, J’s gaze shifted toward N, who still lay motionless on the ground. Unlike V, N was quiet—not because he was unconscious, but because he was processing everything. He had healed enough to function, but mentally, he was still trapped in the events that had unfolded. The battle with V1 had left a mark on all of them, but N seemed to be hit the hardest.

“Ugh,” J grumbled, not having the patience to wait any longer. “Let’s just go. We need more oil if we’re going to face that thing again.”

V nodded in agreement, but N made no move to join them. He remained where he was, his eyes staring blankly at the sky above as if in a daze. J and V exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing without needing to say it out loud. They couldn’t afford to wait for N to snap out of it.

Without another word, the two of them took off, leaving N behind in the snow. Oil and snow mixed beneath their feet as they flew off in search of more materials.

N lay there for a while longer, lost in thought. The events that had just transpired haunted him, replaying over and over again in his mind. The feeling of helplessness, the overwhelming power of V1, the sight of his comrades falling—it all weighed heavily on him. After what felt like an eternity, he finally sat up, his movements slow and unsteady.

He glanced around, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of J or V. They were gone, of course. Only their footprints in the snow remained as evidence of their departure.

“I just hope they didn’t go after that machine,” N muttered quietly to himself, his voice barely a whisper against the cold wind. He wasn’t ready to face V1 again, not yet.

Stumbling to his feet, N began to wobble his way toward the spire. His flight was awkward and unsteady, like a bird with a broken wing. Anyone watching might have mistaken him for being drunk. The truth was far more complicated—he was not just physically unbalanced but mentally shaken as well.

When he finally reached the spire, N wasted no time scavenging. He tore a piece of metal from one of the many worker corpses scattered around the area, hardly noticing the grimness of the act. He entered the drop pod, biting into the metal piece as if it were a candy bar. It was his only comfort right now, and he desperately needed it.

Because deep down, N knew this wasn’t over. V1 was still out there, and they would have to face it again. Whether he was ready or not.