Romans & histoires Allura Vox Machina

The black aluminum box felt heavier than it should have as Ava walked back down the gallery hallway. The metal was warm against her palm, a solid, tangible piece of evidence that throbbed with a faint, rhythmic vibration every time a data packet passed through its internal controller. It was a parasitic physical node, an unauthorized clone machine that had been sucking the marrow out of her marriage while she was left out in the cold. She pushed the study door open.

“Let them replicate it. I already moved to the next phase.” Ava narrowed her eyes. “Which is?” Lucien pressed a button, and a cryo-pod lit up. Inside was another version of Alma. But younger. Prettier. Sharper. And her eyes were open. “She’s not a clone,” Lucien said proudly. “She’s a mirror. Every memory, every instinct, every drop of pain Alma ever felt copied, filtered, and rewritten for obedience.” Ava stepped back. “This is psychotic.” “This,” Lucien said, stepping closer, “is the future.”

Why did he build such a big house if he had no one living here with him? Flaunting pervert. Allura finally reached a room, and noticed it was the only room on that floor whose door was closed. She walked towards it, and with no bad intentions, she opened the door. But her eyes widened, seeing a woman laying on the bed. She thought she disturbed that person's sleep, so she immediately thought about closing the door back, but then noticed all those machines beeping, which were attached to that woman. It startled Allura. What was happening here? Who was she?

Alive. For the first time since everything was lost. There was no distance between them. Samuel,” Adrian whispered. The orb pulsed. Once. Like a response. Behind him, the systems roared. The Blue Moon hung heavy in the sky above, its unnatural light pouring through the chamber, syncing with the machine in violent, rhythmic waves. Elara’s voice came from the console, sharp, focused. “We’re entering final compression. Once the bridge forms, there’s no reversal. Adrian didn’t turn. “I didn’t build this for reversal.

The visions shattered like glass, leaving them back in the dark, groaning sub. "We’re here," Elara breathed, her forehead pressed against the viewport. Below them, the bottom of the trench didn't look like rock. It was a sprawling, geometric city of white light. In the center sat the Resonance Engine (the massive alien machine designed to rewrite the planet’s DNA).

I lay on the concrete, gasping, my skin steaming as the warehouse’s cold air hit the warm slime covering my body. Above me, the hum of the warehouse was deafening. It wasn't the rhythmic heartbeat of a story; it was the sound of a **Machine**. The sound of thousands of cooling fans preventing the human brains in these vats from overheating as they dreamed for the Aethel-Corp. "Subject 01 is on the floor! Area 4! Move!" The voices were closer now. Heavy boots thudded against the concrete, echoing like gunshots.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 The world was upside down. Smoke curled from the van’s engine, smelling of burnt rubber and ozone. Maya’s ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that competed with the rhythmic pulse of the progress bar flickering at the edge of her vision.

Lucian turned as they passed him, his lips curving faintly, as if he’d expected nothing less. ‎ ‎The ramp shuddered as it lifted. Marek lunged, shoving Ayla forward. Her palms slapped the steel, slick with condensation. She hauled herself up, chest burning, vision narrowing. Behind her, Marek’s boots slammed against metal, his hand shoving her higher until she tumbled inside. ‎ ‎The hatch hissed. The cavern howled. ‎ ‎And the world tilted as the machine surged forward, engines igniting with apocalyptic force.

she stammers. "Knife and Dagger, All types of guns, Rifles, I've used a sword once, ooooh a crossbow, basically anything though. I don't discriminate." "O...O...Okay, that's all I need to know. Welcome to RBMS, Miss Collins." "Oh please, call me Ava, oh and might I recommend a job change; You're not cut out for this," I state before I'm dragged by the hancuffs on my wrists and taken out of the room by the guards.