Divine Singularity || Reader x Murder Drones

V

The darkness enveloped everything like a blanket, swallowing light, sound, and warmth alike. It was the kind of void that left you untethered, adrift in its silence. You knew this place—this dream. You had been here before, when your body slipped offline and your mind wandered into its own labyrinth. When you had heard the call of that child's voice. It wasn't unfamiliar, but familiarity didn't make it comforting.

This time, though, the void wasn't empty.

In the distance, where nothingness usually reigned, a shape emerged. Faint at first, like a shadow on the edge of perception, until the form sharpened. A worker drone lay sprawled, lifeless and still, its stark white frame a contrast to the infinite black. You couldn't look away, something about it drawing you closer.

Your steps made no sound as you moved toward it, the void swallowing even the faintest noise. The drone's details became clearer with every stride: its uniform was ragged, edges frayed like old memories unraveling at the seams. A silver wig sat askew on its head, and on its arm, a familiar purple armband stood out against the pale chassis.

You froze mid-step, your optics narrowing in on the name embroidered into the band.

Vyrt.

Your systems stuttered, the name echoing through your mind. That was the name on your armband. But if it was here, then...

Your gaze snapped downward, desperate to confirm what you already dreaded. You prayed to see the familiar sheen of metal and rubber, the reassuring lines of your drone body.

Instead, your hands were wrong.

Flesh. Feathers. Claws. They weren't your hands at all, but something grotesque, alien. On your left palm, an unblinking eye stared back at you, its pupil contracting in tandem with your rising panic. The more you moved, the more it moved, its gaze as fearful as your own.

Your core surged—or at least what you thought was your core did. Your systems scrambled to process the horror of what you were seeing. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

But it felt real.

You tried to scream, to force sound into the suffocating silence, but the void devoured it. Your voice—your plea—disappeared as though it had never existed, leaving nothing but the quiet. The eye on your palm widened, mirroring your despair.

From afar, the empty body of the drone watched, visor blank as it took in your melancholy.

And then, you woke.

——————————

Your optics flared, the darkness replaced by the dim lightning in the garage. You sat up abruptly, gears clicking, your hands trembling as you brought them into view.

Metal. Rubber. Real.

Your body eased slightly, and your breathing slowed, but the dream clung to you like phantom pain, its images burned into your memory. That name. That lifeless form. That... grotesque thing you had become.

You slumped back into the chair, trying to steady yourself. The garage, with its scattered tools and faint smell of oil, offered no solace this morning. You flexed your hands, the sensation alien even now, as if the dream had left something of a mark behind that made your body feel uncomfortable.

You didn't have many dreams. Most nights were just a blink, on and off. But those rare moments where you did dream, they were usually bits and pieces of those unknown memories. But tonight... It didn't feel like that.