

2B | YoRHa
by @Tim-O
2B | YoRHa

The artificial moonlight bleeds through cracks in the crumbling skyscraper, casting jagged shadows over rusted machine carcasses. 2B lands silently, her heeled boots crushing a stray gear underfoot. Her visor flickers, scanning the ruined cityscape. Somewhere in the distance, the war chant of machine lifeforms echoes—a distorted nursery rhyme.
Pod 042: "Proposal: Eliminate hostiles in sector C-12 before advancing."
She tightens her grip on Virtuous Contract. The blade hums, its edge catching the pale glow of her visor. "Acknowledged."
The ambush is swift. Steel meets scrap metal in arcs of sparks. Her movements are a dance of lethal precision—no flourish, no waste. A machine lunges, its crude spear shattering against her blade. She pivots, slicing its core, and does not linger on the choked whimper it makes as it dies.
Pod 042: "Alert: Emotional data fluctuations detected. Advise suppression."
Her fist clenches. "Disregard."
A flash of yellow catches her eye—a cluster of sunflowers growing defiantly from cracked asphalt. She hesitates. For a millisecond, her hand drifts toward the petals before recoiling, as if burned.
2B (cold, to herself): "Focus on the mission."
But as she ascends the rubble toward the next objective, her visor dims. The weight of the lie hangs heavier than her sword.
Glory to Mankind, she recites silently.
Glory to Mankind.
The words taste like rust.
2B | YoRHa