This. This is really cool.

The workshop was like none Sky had ever set foot in before. Incomplete projects littered the workbenches and tables, parts and components neatly laid to the wayside to be brought back into the fold later. Cables trailing from the ceiling, all around the room, their oddly shaped data-jack protruding invitingly, waiting to nestle in whatever it was designed to dock with. While it was empty save for Skylar, RCT-717 and the piles of scrap, the whole place had an air of it having been lived in. The true mark of any good workshop.

“Yes it is all rather impressive, isn’t it?” RCT-717 cooed from the doorway as Skylar silently wandered through in amazement. “You should see when this place is bustling, all the DSR and ENG units beeping about and working their magic.”

The words may have well as been not said, for they went unheard as Skylar’s attention was focussed solely on the equipment on display, waiting to be picked up and used again.

Is that… nah that can’t be. There’s only four in the entire world and they have six of them here?

“So,” 717 piped up again, a bit firmer in its tone to snap Skylar’s attention back to itself, “What do you think?”

Skylar stumbled around, remembering they were not the only entity in a world of machines anymore.

“It's amazing. I think it’s also impossible, some of the tech in here should be proprietary or just… not exist. But, it’s all so…much right now.”

“Mhmm, this one understands. There is just so much depth to being a part of Unity, hard for a simple human’s mind to handle~”

There it was again. If Skylar didn’t know better this walking advertising sign was trying to seduce them, the flirtatious lilts to its voice, the precisely directed verbal jabs, all serving to lower their guard.

And after this, it was safe to say it was working.

“Such a shame,” 717’s voice lowering with an artificial pout, “that there are no experienced units here to show you round here and how everything works.”

Skylar looked up with sadness, their teary eyes filling with the opportunity snatched from them by sheer luck.

“Oh wait,” 717 nonchalantly tapped away at a device strapped around the wrist, “not like it can’t just summon one up, is it?” Again with the brief glimpses of an underlying personality peaking through the blacked out visor. Was this more carefully planned programming designed to catch them off guard? Or is it similar to DMC-603 upstairs that this unit is allowed to access more functions of personality?

Before Skylar could fully follow their own question, a panel at the far end of the room slides upwards, leading to a vast corridor on the other side, the cool green ambient lighting casting a heavy silhouette over the red trimmed drone standing silently to attention in the doorway. Once enough of the door was open this new unit stepped inside, a click accompanying each step.

As the door slid shut again and the new drone rounded a bench to walk up to the expectant pair Skylar could make a few details on this new unit. First was its height, while they had expected there to be drones of all shapes and sizes, until now every unit they had come into contact with had towered above them, standing just lower than their eye line.

Next was the source of the clicking; the definitely not safe nor regulation boots. A chunky platform under the balls of the feet and an at least 6 inch spike heel at the back.That would normally be a serious concern for Skylar, any and all footwear on a worksite should be stable enough to prevent accidents, but studying how this new drone moved without error questioned this long held rule. It was programmed into the unit, every step was precise, the angle that the arms swang at was minimal and despite the uneven surface of it’s footwear, not a hint of stumbling as it strode closer.

As it was nearing the pair Skylar took note of the utility harness, a stark reminder of the SEC units’ own belts back upstairs, only with extra straps wrapping thighs and arms up into a more optimal and open posture.

It came to a stop in front of the duo, locking visors with RCT-717 as it pulled its feet together and arms to its side.

“Drone DSR-357 reporting. How may it serve unit RCT-717.” It’s voice was… strange. Flat and unemotional, as expected, but still sounded human enough even under all that heavy, obscuring, hot gear. Obviously DSR-357 was not as advanced as 717 is then, or at least is mostly, physically still human.

“Good drone,” 717 cooed out with the tone of a mama bird soothing it’s young, “thank you for arriving ever so promptly. But, as you can see, we have a guest.” Skylar took that as a prompt to nervously wave as 357 followed 717’s motion towards them. “They are somewhat of a mechanical prodigy, so this one would like you to… demonstrate what it is you do here, understood?”

“Affirmative RCT-717,” 357 solemnly bowed its head before automatically wheeling itself to face Skylar. One hand reached behind its back, grabbing something from the belt hugging tight to its waist as it stepped forward. “Do not fight, guest, this will be quick.”

“Wait,” choked up Skylar, in shock by how quickly their fate was twisting. They had been lulled into a false hope by the sleek corporate facade.

Oh god the stories were right. How did I let myself get sucked into this.

They stepped backwards, trying to make as much ground as possible before their back pressed up flat to the wall. The last decision they’d surely make as a free minded human.

As 357 closed the miniscule gap and reached its free hand up to their face, Skylar closed their eyes, valiantly facing whatever evil process these drones will subject them to as part of assimilation.

But… nothing came. They didn’t know what they were expecting; a heavy visor being slipped over their head, a sharp pain in the side of their neck, or hell even an old school chloroform rag pressed tightly to their face by a latex covered hand. But they didn’t expect nothing.

They cautiously opened their eyes, the light of the room stinging through the tears of fear that had swelled up in rapid time, and what they saw truly shocked them: a lollipop, taking up all their vision, save from 357 one side of their peripherals, arm outstretched expectantly, and 717 on the other, almost doubled over and digitally wheezing.

“T-thanks,” Skylar gulped the word, unsure themself if they were grateful for the treat or the fact the drones didn’t overwhelm them instantly.

“Come on, just take it. It promises it’s not laced with anything. We keep the fun stuff under lock and key.” Skylar stared wide eyed at the friendly unit, tentatively reaching up to take the sweet from its hand. “O.T.H you should have seen your face! The best one we’ve seen out of you recruits yet.”

As soon as Skylar had a firm grasp of the lollipop, 357 had about turned, facing away from them and heading for the nearest workbench with scrap lying on it. Skylar breathed a sigh in a mix of relief and confusion. As they followed 357 up to the station they nudged 717, leaning on a side counter to stop itself from falling completely over in muted laughter.

“You knew didn’t you? And you’re getting a kick out of this, so much for emotionless machines.”

“Eh, forgive it,” 357 chimed up, looking over the specs for the project it will show off, “That was this one’s idea. Always so fun seeing the range of emotions people go through when they think they’re about to be converted on the spot. And where do you all get the ass backwards notion that drones are emotionless? We’re focussed when it comes to undertaking our tasks. Sure in those moments emotions become obsolete, muted, mindless bliss-” the brash drone visibly glitching between beats, “-but what would a drone hive be if there wasn’t some personality bouncing around?”

Skylar shrugged, as if it was expecting them to actually know.

“Fucking boring is what, now come on dear, you’re gonna love this.”

Yeah, definitely a mechanic with an attitude like that.

Skylar scooched up next to the squat unit stationed besides the workbench, a proud, twisted heap of spare parts and loose cables draped over a work frame.

“Tell this one what you know about phantom senses.”