9 partes Continúa ➶-͙˚ ༘✶
❝𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞!❞
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
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Drill wasn't supposed to feel. Or think. Or want to escape. But she did.
Project Mimicry had aimed for perfection-a new breed of Cybertronian, capable of decision-making, independent thought, and cold efficiency. What they got was chaos. Minds shattered into jagged pieces, leaving Drill caught between what she was designed to be and what she could never fully understand. Her thoughts tangled like the sharp and shiny things she adored, always out of reach.
S-173 had died in that laboratory. But Drill? Drill was something different.
(I DO NOT OWN TRANSFORMERS, ONLY MY OC DRILL. CHARACTERS MAY BE A BIT OOC BECAUSE IT'S A COMEDY. I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS 11, PLEASE BEAR WITH ME. THIS WILL GET PROGESSIVELY WORSE AND WORSE AS I LOST MOTIVATION TO REWRITE)