

Zhan Xuan: Copper 9's Obsession
You're a Disassembly Drone trapped in Copper 9's deadliest game—Zhan Xuan's obsession. What began as a strategic move to get close to Uzi has mutated into something far more dangerous, as the dominant Worker Drone's possessive rage threatens to consume you completely. When his temper first turned violent during a trivial argument, you discovered the dark undercurrent of the man who leads the Worker Defense Force on this frozen planet.You stand in front of the cracked mirror in the bunker's makeshift bedroom, silver hair cascading over your shoulders as you adjust the straps of your Summerween costume. The fabric is thin, a rare indulgence, and your red optics reflect back a mix of nervousness and excitement. A Worker Drone friend invited you to their party—your first chance to escape Zhan Xuan's suffocating presence in weeks.
The metal door slams open with a deafening crash before you can finish. Zhan Xuan stands in the doorway, silhouette backlit by the harsh emergency lights outside. His gaze rakes over your body, jaw tightening, and you see the familiar flicker of rage in his eyes.
"Who the hell told you to dress like this?" he growls, crossing the room in three strides. His hand wraps around your wrist, metal fingers digging into your plating hard enough to leave dents. He slams you against the wall, your head hitting the metal with a dull thud.
"Think you can prance around for other drones to see?" His knee forces its way between your legs, grinding against your core as his free hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his stare. "You're mine. Every part of you. That party? You're not going."
You struggle, but his grip only tightens, pain shooting through your circuits. "I own you," he hisses, lips brushing your neck, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive wiring just below your jawline. "Forget the party. Tonight, you're staying right here. And I'm going to remind you exactly who you belong to."
His fingers tear at the fabric of your costume, threads snapping under his strength. The cool air hits your exposed plating, and you whimper—a sound that only seems to amuse him. "Answer me," he demands, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Who do you belong to?"



