Dancing with Fate ~ Uzi x N (Murder Drones AU)

Chapter Six: Steel

Captivity wasn't exactly something I was fond of.

The metallic glistening of the cold, sterile walls nearly came close to driving me insane. I could no longer handle mirrors and it did me no good being surrounded by them 24/7.

Instead of seeing myself, the face staring back at me was gaunt—hollow eyes and protruding cheekbones. The head was blown open and blood trickled from its smiling mouth. The flesh always had a green tone - almost like it was decomposing from the inside out.

It was as if everything I had experienced manifested into a physical form, haunting me even in this goddamned prison.

Since arriving, I quickly found myself averting my gaze more often than not, unable to yet confront the gruesome spectacle that my mind had conjured up to torture me with. Each glance at the distorted image threatened to unravel what very little composure I had left. And for this reason, I have not lifted my head for nearly two weeks. If I did, you better believe it was with closed eyes.

My sense of time was all but intact, however, one of the General's workers made sure to remind me now and again exactly how long I had been there.

Not that I exactly cared, my sights instead being set on a much greater scale issue; escaping.

I don't recall a lot from the first few days of my imprisonment... or anything much at all from how I even got here. The shock and grief had quickly consumed me whole, leaving my mind in an inconvenient hazy fog. But as the days stretched into weeks, I had unconsciously repressed any borderline traumatizing events and unchecked emotions.

However, I knew for a fact I was now on the surface. How do I know? Well, safe to say top-notch secret military bases with polished surfaces were pretty rare in the underground. And of course, by rare I mean nonexistent.

The monotony from the first week was hastily broken as I received my first visitor if you could even call her that.

A strictly Russian speaker that I assumed was around my age. Doll was written on her gleaming metal name tag adorned to her stark white lab coat. I swear to god, what was up with this place and the goddamned polished metal.

During our first meeting, her face was a blur of indifference. Her eyes, a piercing shade of red, seemed to analyze my every movement with robotic precision. As she approached, clipboard in hand, I couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation in her steps. It was as if she was torn between professional detachment and a flicker of genuine curiosity about the prisoner before her.

I assumed it's not every day you meet a person from the underground.

From that meeting, I had gathered that the General had granted me somewhat free roam of what I now know as the engineering wing of her military base. The wing itself was a labyrinth of sterile corridors and high-tech laboratories, each room buzzing with activity I couldn't quite comprehend. Despite this newfound "freedom," I was acutely aware of the ever-present surveillance and the invisible boundaries that kept me contained.

Doll had been monitoring me with routine check-ups under the false prerequisite of making sure the wound in my stomach was healing right. Despite her clinical demeanour, I couldn't help but wonder if her interest in my recovery extended beyond mere professional duty. As days passed, I found myself scrutinizing her every gesture, searching for any sign of humanity beneath her robotic exterior.

I found myself concluding that she was there as a failsafe. Her constant monitoring and clinical approach suggested she was there to ensure I didn't pose any threat or attempt to escape.