Buildingtools tossed and turned all night, yesterday was difficult. They woke up when everything was pitch black still, sitting up on the edge of their bed, warm air blowing on them from the vent. They were dehydrated, the break room was 6 halls over, they could wake everyone in the building up by tripping over something.
They snatched a flashlight, stood up and went out. The dark halls made them feel uneasy, they stayed on high alert even though they knew it was silly to. There was nothing there. The worst thing that could appear at this ungodly hour is a random Biograft patrolling, and after they state who they are they should register as a construction worker.
A vent covering dropped behind them, they turned, shining a flashlight in the trespassers' faces, they were Playgrounders, though Btools didn't notice that at first; and they took off without reporting the intruders. They finally entered the break room and getting that plastic cup of water that they deserved.
Scripter was working on that little doodad in his quarters, just enough light from the monitor's screen to illuminate what he's doing. He was rewiring it, adding a few more chips and stuff, testing it and immediately being zipped over to the spot where he pointed. The only side effect of that is a terrible headache.
(got motivation to write, probably will make that separate book about scripter and btools' childhood in a moment)
YOU ARE READING
Horrible faction.
Fanfictionphighting oc stuff hooray, there also may be a bit of swearing. this also contains a few headcanons of mine please don't ship them
