Walter Worker K

Caliber nodded, following. All ten feet of him. He didn’t mind ducking through doors, if he had to.

“it’s contained, if not fully gone. I injected sentient anti-matter into his core to devour the red, he’s clear, but took a beating before he came to our world.”

“If it will help, I’m well versed in automaton repairs, and rattles can use some of his mojo to do some internal work as well.”

They’d walk along that long and winding hall, Static quietly following along in the back. She raises a brow at that claim, that the virus should be cured. “For real? I’ve been trying to cure this stuff for years! I never would have thought of something like that, though...”

That given offer seems to bring that small, blue engineer a profound sense of relief— as she’s had quite a bit on her plate from this go-round of that damned virus.

“Well— I hope you won’t regret that offer... there’s plenty to do.”

As she opens the double doors to her workshop, her meaning becomes quite apparent. There are two bots set-up for repairs: a small purple Rabbit, his eyes currently powered off, and a feathered Spine bot of a much older build, one optic flickering weakly— but both of their cores were still active.

“He uh... he really did a number on us.”

She woke up screaming.

It was all so vivid. White on blue on black on red red red.

Mismatched eyes- blue and red staring down at her, oil dripping from that mechanical maw. Helplessness. Her coworkers her friends her family screaming and screaming and screaming. Her chest heaved, fists clutched into the sheets as she tried to calm herself- flashbacks rattling off in her head, reminding her of how full this manor used to be. She wasn't always alone. But that virus- controlling her best friend, using his body to kill... it took them all away.

Yes- she had the bots. They were just as much people as anyone else... but when the one she had once been closest to was the cause of this agony, even if only by proxy- how was she supposed to cope? Therapy?

Ha. They wouldn’t understand her line of work, let alone the logistic and complexities of blue and green matter. So what could she do?

She bottled it all inside. Snide remarks at most. A cold exterior to hide her pain, her terror. She hated having emotions, hated the sickly feeling of showing vulnerability.

So, she didn't. Her room was soundproofed, and no nosy robots would hear her cries.

Besides, she had fixed him... she had fixed Gears, scraped every last bit of that strange, semi-biological virus from his systems. Flushed him clean. Restored him to his normal self. She had no more worries, right?

...but she could never forget what had happened.

She shuddered, arms hugging herself as she stared up at the ceiling. She couldn't just quit... she had promised Mr. Walter to take care of his inherited medley of automatons. 

She had signed a contract... and she couldn't very well break contract with a dead man. Not when she had... admired him. Almost regarded him as a father-figure, though such a bond was unspoken.

...Could she call herself human, anymore? She wasn't so sure. 

But this was unprecedented! She kept an extensive set of notes, marking down every little change, every quirk... and every attempt at a cure. Though excited to learn about her condition... she knew she held the risk of her body destabilizing.