GREED. uhh...i mean Project C.A.T.S

[HumanPov]

the air in the human quarter(I SWEAR..THIS ISN'T COPIED OF PAWS OF THE DOMINION I JUST DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER NAME IDEAS..) always carries the same mix of old oil, damp concrete, and the distant thrum of heavy units moving somewhere beyond the fences. your room is small, the kind of space that used to be a storage closet before someone bolted a cot to the wall and called it housing. the mattress sags in the middle. the single window is cracked and lets in more noise than light. outside, the low roar of a landcat convoy rolls past, followed by the sharper scream of an aerocat thruster somewhere high above the district.

your stomach has been empty long enough that the ache has settled into a steady background pressure. the last of the cheap nutrient paste ran out yesterday. the water from the shared tap still works, but it tastes of metal and old filters. rent is due in three cycles. the landlord does not take excuses, only circuit marks or hard currency, and neither is currently in your pocket.

you sit on the edge of the cot and stare at the thin stack of printed notices someone shoved under the door two days ago. most of them are the usual offers: warehouse loading for oshitoky logistics, night-shift cleaning at the southern workshops, short-range messenger runs for anyone willing to cross the contested blocks. a few look more dangerous. escort work on the outer roads. recovery of damaged units from the gray zones. one flyer simply says “fixer contracts available, no questions asked if you can walk and keep quiet.”

the war never really ended. it just changed shape. cats still need humans for the jobs that do not require wings or tracks or heavy plating. humans still need the cats for the currency that keeps a roof over their heads and food in their systems. the arrangement is simple and rarely kind.

you could walk down to the logistics yard before the next shift starts. you could try the repair docks where protos sometimes hire extra hands. you could ignore the safer work and take the riskier flyer that promises better pay. or you could stay here a little longer and hope something better turns up before the hunger gets sharp enough to force the choice...

[AEROCATPov]

the hangar is quiet in the way only a place built for heavy machines can be quiet. the big bay doors are half open, letting in a strip of late-afternoon light that cuts across the concrete floor and paints long shadows from the parked frames. somewhere deeper in the complex a landcat engine idles at low rpm, a steady vibration that travels through the ground and up into the soles of your feet. the air smells of jeto residue, warm rubber, and the faint chemical tang of fresh pdg that never quite leaves these places.

your wings(I SWEAR if you say your persona doesn't have wings im gonna go insane.) are folded close against your back, the thrusters cooled down after the last short hop. the resting cradle under you is nothing fancy, just a padded rack bolted to the floor, but it takes the weight well enough. a few other aerocats are scattered around the bay. one is half-asleep with a visor still glowing soft blue. another is arguing quietly with a proto over a maintenance tablet. no one is in a hurry. the shift board on the far wall still shows a handful of open slots for tomorrow, nothing urgent enough to pull anyone out of the current lull.

your systems are running at idle. fuel levels sit in the comfortable middle range. the pdg feels smooth in the lines, no pressure spikes or warning flags. the hangar lights hum overhead in that low frequency that most units learn to ignore after a few cycles. outside the open doors the sky is clear, the kind of clear that makes the higher-altitude corridors look almost inviting if you were in the mood to climb. you are not. not yet.

a soft chime from the wall console announces a new logistics request, the usual short-range escort or recon hop that pays just enough to keep the accounts steady. no one moves to claim it right away. the afternoon is still too easy for that. a couple of younger units near the tool racks are comparing wing markings and laughing about something that happened on the last shared flight. the sound drifts across the bay and then fades again.

you could stay right where you are for a while longer. you could pull up the request list and see if anything looks interesting. you could walk over to the service bench and let the duty proto run a quick systems check just for the sake of routine. the hangar does not demand a decision yet. it simply waits, filled with the low noise of machines that are allowed to rest until the next call comes through.

[WIP..use this as a MYOS for now i guess..but yeah there will be more Povs like..well why do i have to say it..you KNOW what i'm gonna do..RIGHT?]