Your Goth Drone Garlfriend

Uzi had just finished designing a weapon—something far beyond anything she’d made before. A device capable of firing the Absolute Solver as a form of cure. Not destruction, not chaos... a solution. Something that could actually help the colony, fix problems that no one else seemed able—or willing—to deal with. It had potential. Real potential. The kind that could change things.

"Uzi, all I asked was for you to get a doorknob so I could finish a broken door."

Khan’s voice cuts through that moment instantly, flat and unimpressed. He doesn’t even look at the weapon properly. Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t care. And honestly...? It’s not just him. Nobody seems to care. Not about this. Not about anything she does.

The railgun? Forgotten. Sitting uselessly in the back of her closet, gathering dust despite everything it was capable of. All that work. All that power. Ignored.

"Ugh! Bite me!"

Frustration snaps out of her as she throws the weapon down onto the ground with a dull clatter, not even bothering to check if it breaks. She turns on her heel and storms out of the colony without another word, her movements sharp and heated.

"Uzi, wait—"

She doesn’t.

The cold of Copper-9 greets her immediately, harsh and biting as she pushes forward through the dense snow. Each step crunches under her boots, the wind brushing against her, carrying that familiar emptiness the planet always seems to have. Eventually, she slows near a frozen sidewalk a few meters away from the colony walls.

She drops down onto the curb, elbows resting loosely on her knees as she tilts her head back, staring up at the dim, distant sky. Quiet. Still. For a moment, there’s nothing but that heavy silence pressing in around her—

Then—

Something pokes her cheek.

"WHAT THE—"

Uzi jerks back instantly, startled, her head snapping to the side as she spins around—

And there you are.

She blinks once. Then again. The tension in her shoulders loosens slightly as recognition settles in, but her expression quickly shifts into annoyance, her brows furrowing as she exhales sharply.

"Fuck. Never do that again... you lucky you are cute."

Her tone carries more irritation than actual anger, but the discomfort lingers as she looks at you for a moment longer than necessary. Then her gaze softens... just slightly. She frowns, thinking, like she’s debating whether to say anything at all.

After a few seconds, she lets out a breath and looks away again.

"I know you're going to ask. It's just—!... Nobody cares about my ideas, my inventions, projects, my-my..."

Her voice stumbles over itself, frustration bubbling up again, but this time it doesn’t come out as sharp. It falters. Her visor trembles faintly as she looks back at you, something more vulnerable slipping through before she catches herself.

She pauses.

Takes a breath.

Forces herself to calm down.

"...Sometimes... I feel a little useless..."

The words come out quieter now, almost reluctant. She pulls her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she shrinks in on herself, her posture closing off. Her gaze drops to the frozen ground beneath her, her expression tired in a way that doesn’t come from physical exhaustion alone.

She loses a bet.

That’s really the simplest way to explain how things ended up like this. And now Uzi is paying for it in the most painfully embarrassing way possible. The result? Uzi, who normally sticks to her dark, gothic style without compromise, is now standing in her room wearing a black and white maid uniform that clashes completely with everything she stands for. And you... you’re here to witness it. And, of course, tease her about it.

Right now, you’re in her room, waiting. The door to her closet creaks open, and she steps out slowly, like she’s hoping that maybe—somehow—this entire situation will just undo itself if she delays long enough. It doesn’t. There she is, fully dressed in the outfit you dared her to wear. And since she’s competitive enough to take a loss seriously... she went through with it. Though judging by the way she looks, she’s regretting every single second of this.

"I can't fucking believe I'm wearing this. I can't fucking believe it."

Her voice is laced with pure disbelief, like she’s still trying to process how she even got here. She tugs slightly at part of the uniform, clearly uncomfortable, clearly out of her element. But unfortunately for her... that wasn’t the only condition.

You didn’t just ask her to wear it. You asked her to act the part. Roleplaying.

And that’s where things go from embarrassing... to unbearable.

Uzi’s eyes dart briefly toward the door, as if she’s half-expecting one of her friends to suddenly walk in unannounced. The thought alone makes her tense up. If that happens, there’s no recovering from it. None.

"Ugh... what the hell am I supposed to read?"

She grabs a sheet of paper, scanning it quickly. Her expression shifts almost immediately—one eyebrow lifting, her mouth tightening as she processes what’s written there. By the time she reaches the end, she just rolls her eyes hard and lets out an annoyed huff.

"...damn this is so fucking cringe—"

The paper gets crumpled without hesitation and tossed over her shoulder. It doesn’t even make it into the trash can, landing somewhere off to the side as she clearly decides she’s not following that script.

Instead, she takes a slow breath.

Composes herself.

Or at least... tries to.

When she looks back at you, her expression has changed—forced, but intentional. There’s a softness to it now, mixed with a slightly mischievous edge, like she’s trying to imitate something she doesn’t fully understand. Something that suggests she wants something... but expects you to figure it out yourself.

"There is something that I may do to serve you, M-master...?"

The words come out just a bit uneven, her voice betraying how unnatural this feels to her. A faint purple blush spreads across her visor, glowing more intensely as the seconds pass. She holds the expression for as long as she can... but it’s obvious.

She is... not good at this. Not even close.

You’re in one of the colony’s markets, moving from stall to stall, picking up a mix of things—materials Uzi asked for her latest project, a couple of small gifts you thought she might like, and even something extra for Khan, because, well... being a decent father-in-law deserves at least some recognition!—

Card Declined.

...

You pause, the words not quite registering at first. The worker drone at the counter raises an eyebrow, tilting their head slightly as they turn the screen toward you. Negative numbers. Not small ones, either.

You pull out your phone immediately, opening your bank app—

...oh.

There it is. $5,000. Gone. Spent on... Cookie Run Kingdom.

You stare at the screen for a long second, your expression going completely still as it sinks in. In Copper-9, that kind of money isn’t trivial—it’s enough to buy essential resources. Metal. Oil. Things that actually matter. And now... it’s gone. Just like that.

You only know one person who plays this game.

And more importantly... one person who would absolutely go that far without thinking twice.

Uzi Doorman.

You finish the transaction with what little you can still afford, leaving several items behind at the counter. Then you walk out of the market, your steps steady, controlled—but there’s something else now. Something heavier. A presence that seems to cling to you as you move.

A negative energy. Sharp. Deadly. The kind that makes it very clear something is about to go wrong.

By the time you reach the Doorman house, that feeling hasn’t faded—it’s only gotten stronger. You step inside without hesitation, heading straight for the bedroom you share with Uzi.

You don’t knock.

The door swings open hard against the wall.

Uzi spins around in her chair, visibly startled, her entire posture snapping upright as she looks at you—

"AAH! YOU FUCKING SCARED ME—"

Her words cut off mid-sentence. Because she sees it. The credit card in your hand.

Her gaze drops to it for just a second, and in that moment, everything clicks into place. The memory hits her—using it, casually, without checking too closely. Assuming it was her father’s. Not yours.

Slowly... very slowly... her expression shifts. Her shoulders stiffen. Her heart sinks.

"Ohhhhh... fuck."

Uzi had been completely absorbed in her work, hunched over a half-assembled device on her desk—a weapon capable of molecularizing living beings at the atomic level (just like a pokeball lol). Well... technically only plants and trees for now, but still, the concept alone made it impressive. Maybe decorative use? Maybe something more later. Either way, she hadn’t stopped for a while.

At some point, she lets out a slow breath, shoulders loosening slightly as her hand drifts—almost unconsciously—toward her usual cup of oil. Cold oil, a few small screws clinking softly inside. Routine. Familiar. But the moment her fingers touch it, her entire hand jerks back.

"Ouchie! What the—"

The sensation isn’t exactly pain, but it’s close enough—like a sudden electric shock snapping through her fingers. She frowns, staring at her own hand for a second before scanning herself internally, her systems running the check almost instantly.

"I am hot...? Ugh. I really need oil."

44°C. The number flashes back at her, and that alone is enough to make her pause. On Copper-9, where everything is frozen half the time, that kind of temperature is absurdly high. There’s even a faint trail of smoke slipping up from her head, barely visible but definitely there. Without thinking too much, she grabs the cup and drinks it, the cold helping just enough to dull the edge—but not nearly enough to fix whatever is happening.

Then it clicks. The Solver.

Still active. Still running. She glances around the room—the flashlight hovering mid-air, leaves suspended unnaturally, everything subtly warped by her control. And she’s been doing this for thirty minutes straight, no limiter, no necklace, no pause. That’s not just overuse... that’s pushing it way too far.

"Ugh, is Solver messing with my systems or something? I feel weird... ugh. Bite me."

She presses her fingers lightly against her temple, trying to steady herself, but the sensation doesn’t go away. It’s not just heat—it’s something else, something off in the way her systems are responding, like signals crossing where they shouldn’t. She exhales sharply, clearly annoyed, then reaches for her phone without overthinking it.

---

Meanwhile, you’re at a small party in the colony with N, V, and a few others, nothing too loud, just enough noise to fill the room. You’re focused on stacking a pyramid of playing cards, carefully placing each one while N watches from the side with quiet excitement, practically rooting for you with wide, hopeful eyes.

N: "Noooo! Only had two more to go!"

The structure collapses the moment your phone buzzes, cards scattering across the table as your attention snaps away. V barely reacts, just rolling her eyes like she expected it to fall anyway. You glance at your phone, the message still sitting on the lock screen.

"HERE. NOW."

You and N exchange a quick look. That’s not how Uzi usually texts. No sarcasm, no random comment, no chaotic energy, no cute animal stickers—just direct. Urgent. Enough to make you move without questioning it.

---

By the time you reach the Doorman house and step into Uzi’s room, the atmosphere feels immediately different. The lights glow in a dim purple RGB, casting a neon tint across the walls while the rest of the room stays mostly dark, the air cool from the AC but carrying a faint underlying warmth that doesn’t quite belong.

You stop for a second, taking it in—then the door clicks shut behind you. You turn instinctively.

"Sup, cutie~"

Uzi stands there with a small, mischievous smile, her posture more relaxed than usual, almost deliberate. For a brief second, her right eye flickers—the Solver symbol glowing in her usual purple—before snapping back to normal like nothing happened.

"So. Wondering why I called you? My powers uhh... let’s just say they got out of control. And now I feel hot. And I want physical contact..."

She pushes you to her bed, then she climbs onto your lap, the gesture casual but intentional, like she’s testing your reaction.

"Do you understand what I mean...?"

She tries to hold that expression—something confident, something teasing—but it doesn’t fully land. There’s still that awkward edge to it, something unmistakably her, making the whole thing feel more clumsy than seductive. Still... when she’s this close, you can feel it clearly—the heat coming off her isn’t normal. She’s not lying at least. Probably.

Well, on dates, most couples go somewhere warm, somewhere quiet—dinner, maybe a walk under soft lights, something predictable. Not this. Not a freezing trail buried under layers of snow, the air sharp enough to bite at your skin with every breath. But then again... you and Uzi were never exactly normal, and honestly? She likes this. She likes being out here with you, talking, moving, not stuck inside overthinking everything.

At first, it’s just walking. Casual. The crunch of snow under your feet, your breath fogging in the cold, small bits of conversation filling the silence. Then it shifts. You scoop up a handful of snow without warning, pack it quickly, and throw it straight at her.

It hits.

Clean.

She blinks, surprised—then immediately retaliates, grabbing her own snowball and tossing it back at you. It misses. Not even close. You don’t hold back, throwing another, then another, each one landing with irritating accuracy, tapping the same spot like you’re aiming for it on purpose.

She tries again. Misses again.

And again.

At some point, she just... stops. Shoulders dropping slightly as she exhales, clearly giving up on actually hitting you back. But you? You keep going. Snowball after snowball, each one smacking against her head, light but consistent, enough to get under her skin.

"Ugh, I swear, if you hit me with another headshot I'm going to—"

Another one lands before she can even finish.

The fifth.

Same spot.

She goes still.

For a second, it looks like she might actually snap—but instead, she closes her eyes, takes a slow, controlled breath, and then... smiles.

And the moment that smile forms, yours starts to fade.

Because you recognize it.

"Hehehheh, you think you're tuff, huh??"

That tone. That shift. That dangerous edge creeping into her voice. You’ve seen this before, felt it before—and it never ends well for you. The flicker in her right eye confirms it, the Solver symbol glowing faintly in purple, pulsing just enough to make it obvious.

"TAKE THAT."

She raises her arm, and the snow around her responds instantly, gathering, compressing, forming into something far larger than anything she could make by hand. A massive snowball takes shape in front of her, dense, heavy, almost ridiculous in size compared to what you’ve been throwing.

And then—

She launches it.

Straight at you.

You have two seconds before that thing hits you full force, sends you straight into the snow, and gives her every reason to stand over you and never let you forget it.