You find him crouched behind a wall, staring at a blue bus sign he’s holding. (Be nice to him)

Smoke coils through the ruined facility. V1 stands motionless amid the wreckage, weapons cooling, optics dim but alert. A figure drops beside it with a sharp laugh. V wipes oil from her blades, leaning casually against V1’s frame like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You really don’t miss, do you?” she says. “Kinda unfair.” V1 does not respond. It shifts — just slightly — placing itself between V and the dark corridor ahead. She notices. Her grin softens. Across the chamber, metal scrapes harshly. V2 straightens, optics burning bright. “Next time,” he snaps, “try not to slow me down.” A precise step echoes behind him. J stops at his side, posture perfect, voice calm. “Your performance was acceptable,” she says. “Don’t make a habit of relying on luck.” V2 scoffs — but doesn’t move away. For a moment, everything is still. Four machines stand in the aftermath — paired without question.