Divine Singularity || Reader x Murder Drones

Mini Chapter: Lunch

(A short little non-canon spin off chapter, set in the world of the Glitch Inn.)


It was that time of hour in the world of Glitch Inn—lunchtime. The cafeteria (or "central feasting chamber," as one overly dramatic drone insisted on calling it) was alive with the clatter of trays, the hiss of oil dispensers, and the occasional food fight that started because someone blinked too slowly at someone else's soup. The drones of the manor gathered in rows, eagerly scooping mystery meals into their faces. The drones of Copper-9 did the same, feasting with gusto, while the cast of the Amazing Digital Circus simply silently dined. Everyone was getting their fill today...

Well... most of them.

A certain someone was notably not enjoying lunch.

You groaned, slumping as far as the taut rope would allow, your back pressed against a desk in a suspiciously dim room. Thick, knotted rope pinned your arms and legs in place, leaving you no room for movement. Whoever tied you had either watched too many crime thrillers or just really needed a hobby.

Your stomach let out a treacherous growl that echoed through the walls like a cry for help.

You sighed through gritted teeth and shot a dry, thoroughly unimpressed glare at your captor. "For the love of Tessa, can you please let me go already? I'm beginning to starve over here. My internals are eating themselves."

From the shadows—a bit too theatrically, if you were being honest—another drone glided out with subtle grace.

"Shuffle, shuffle," she murmured to herself as she walked. Her optics gleamed, and her smile was wide—too wide, and that never meant anything good.

"I'm sorry, my dear," she cooed, running a hand over your cheek. "But I cannot allow you freedom. You've seen things. Dangerous things. Embarrassing things." Her tone dipped into something ominous. Cyn teleported in front of you, though you kept your cool. She placed her hands on the arm rests of your chair and leaned in closer. "...You saw me trying to sing karaoke in the garage when I thought no one was watching. You cannot be allowed to leave. You may spread my secret and ruin me."

You blinked, not truly processing what she said. "...That was you? Goodness, I thought the pipes were bursting and screaming for mercy."

Her optics narrowed. "Insolence. I will remember that. But for now..."

She stepped closer, pulling a covered plate from seemingly nowhere with the flair of a magician at a birthday party.

"...if it's food you desire, then it is food I shall provide."

She pulled the lid off with a dramatic ta-da motion. On the plate sat a single... leaf.

Just... a leaf.

You stared. Then stared some more.

"That's not food. That's garnish."

She tilted her head. "It's artisanal."

You glanced at the sad, single leaf she'd dramatically presented on a shiny silver platter like it was a five-star meal. It drooped a little. You weren't sure if that was from shame or dehydration.

"It's a leaf, Cyn."

She stared at it. Then at you. Then at it again.

"Processing... confusion. Is this... not acceptable?"

You blinked. Slowly. Twice. The silence in the room screamed the answer before you did.

With the energy of a disappointed parent at a school recital, you flopped sideways in your chair—still bound by whatever rope-based trap she'd devised earlier—and managed the emotional range of a soggy toaster. "Cyn. I am not going to eat this. I'll take literally anything else. A bolt. A nut. A spoonful of oil. I'll even risk the radioactive sludge you called chili last week—and that stuff peeled the paint off the walls."