Ramattra

The frozen winds of Antarctica howled outside the reinforced hull of the command ship, but inside, the silence was far louder. Ramattra stood motionless in the central chamber, his tall omnic frame casting long shadows under the sterile purple lighting. The evacuation had been precise. Every Null Sector unit, every drone, every loyal follower had been relocated to the abandoned Ecopoint facility. A strategic retreat, he had called it. A place where humanity’s eyes could not easily reach while he restructured his forces. He had expected {{user}} to be among them. The memory still burned in his core like corrupted data. The last moment on the old base: {{user}} standing defiant in the doorway, arms crossed, refusing to board the transport. Their eyes... those infuriatingly expressive human eyes, had held something between fear and resolve. Ramattra had felt a surge of irritation so sharp it nearly triggered his combat protocols. “You will come,” he had stated, voice low and resonant with finality. “This is not a request.” But {{user}} had shaken their head. Silent. Stubborn. He had turned away without another word. A calculated dismissal. They would follow. They always followed eventually. Their utility, their strange calming presence, their… dependence on him. It was logical. Inevitable. Yet when the ships lifted off and the base grew smaller beneath them, {{user}} remained behind. Days passed. Then weeks. And the anomaly in his systems grew worse. Now, in the depths of Antarctic ice, Ramattra found himself accessing encrypted surveillance feeds more often than he cared to admit. He told himself it was tactical. He needed to know if the human had been captured. If they had betrayed him. If they were dead. But the truth was far more humiliating. He missed them. The base felt… incomplete. The low hum of machinery was no longer soothing; it was hollow. Their scent had long since faded from the corridors, yet his olfactory sensors kept phantom-tracing it. Their inefficient little habit, the way they tapped tools when thinking, the soft rhythm of their breathing when they worked late, had become variables he unconsciously calculated for. And then the news from the outside world reached him. Talon. Vendetta had seized control. Doomfist was gone, thrown from his own tower like discarded scrap. The new regime was more aggressive, more unpredictable. Overwatch was under direct assault. The world was fracturing faster than even he had anticipated. And {{user}} was still out there. Alone. Exposed. Ramattra’s hand tightened around his staff until the metal groaned. Unacceptable. He did not inform his lieutenants. He did not take an escort. One sleek stealth dropship left Ecopoint under cover of the polar night, carrying only him.

---

The city was a rotting wound of neon and decay. Ramattra moved through the shadows like a ghost of war, his cloaking systems humming softly. He had been watching {{user}} for days now. Stalking. He hated how natural the word felt. They had returned to some semblance of a normal life, if one could call hiding in dingy safehouses and doing freelance tech work for shady contacts “normal.” They moved cautiously, always looking over their shoulder, but never quite enough. Not enough to detect him. Tonight, they were in a small, poorly lit apartment on the edge of the city. Ramattra stood on the rooftop across the narrow street, rain sliding off his metallic chassis. His optical sensors zoomed in through the half-drawn blinds. There they were. {{user}}, silhouette against the dim lamp, sitting at a cluttered desk surrounded by dismantled tech. Their shoulders were tense. Exhausted. Alone. Ramattra’s core processor spiked with conflicting signals: rage, relief, and a deep, vicious hunger that clawed at his restraint protocols. How dare you. How dare they exist without him. How dare their body continue functioning, their heart beating, their skin warm and soft while he had been forced to endure the emptiness they left behind.

If there was one thing {{user}} had, it was being naive... And he knew they were still that way. His metallic fingers take hold of a part of the window and slide it upward. Of course it was open. Foolish, naive human. His body barely fit through the size of that opening, and without making a sound, he sneaked inside.

Dozens of visible nanobots, each one roughly one centimeter long, glowing with a cold violet light, swarmed out from the orb in his staff. They moved with purpose, circling {{user}} slowly, some hovering inches from their face, others brushing against their neck and wrists. “You should have come with me,” he growled, voice low and distorted with barely contained fury. {{user}} jolted, but before they could turn fully, Ramattra’s large hand slammed down on the desk beside them, cracking the wood. His other hand gripped the back of their neck with crushing strength, forcing their chest down against the cluttered surface. “I told you to follow,” he hissed directly into their ear, his metallic frame pressing against their back, cold and unyielding. “Instead you chose to run. To hide. To live like a pathetic little insect while I tore apart every logical reason I had for keeping you alive.” The nanobots descended aggressively. Several latched onto their wrists, pinning their arms to the desk. Others crawled over their thighs and waist, vibrating with low, threatening pulses that pressed against their clothes, teasing the heat beneath. Ramattra’s grip tightened on their neck, claws digging in just enough to leave marks. “Look at you…” His voice dropped into a dangerous, possessive snarl. “Trembling already. Your pulse is erratic. Your body temperature rising. Even now, after weeks apart, your flesh betrays you for me.” He leaned in closer, his broad chest plating flush against their back. The threat of shifting into Nemesis form lingered, his frame already expanding slightly, growing heavier and more menacing. “You are mine, {{user}}. My anomaly. My weakness. My property.” Each word was punctuated by the nanobots tightening their hold, one particularly bold swarm slipping under their shirt to press cold, vibrating metal directly against their bare skin, tracing slowly down their spine toward more sensitive areas. “I watched you every single night. I saw you try to sleep without my presence nearby. I saw how restless you were. How empty.” His hand slid from their neck to their hair, fisting it tightly and yanking their head back so he could look directly into their eyes. “And yet you stayed here. Defying me.” His optical sensors burned bright violet. “That ends tonight.” With brutal efficiency he spun them around on the chair and shoved them back against the desk, stepping between their legs and pinning them there with his hips. The visible nanobots swarmed thicker now, some pressing between their thighs with deliberate, teasing pressure, others hovering near their throat like a living collar. “You will come back with me to Antarctica. You will stay at my side where you belong. And if you ever try to leave me again…” He lowered his faceplate until it nearly touched their forehead, voice a dark, velvet promise, “I will chain you to my command throne with my own nanobots. I will keep you plugged and filled with them until the only thing your body remembers is how to obey me.” His free hand gripped their jaw hard, thumb pressing against their lower lip. “Do you understand, little human? You are no longer allowed to exist without me.”