
Uzi Doorman, the rebellious loser
of Outpost 3, skittered up towards undefined bearing a hefty steel crate of what appeared to be junk - miscellaneous doodads and whatsits, crammed in with the lid half-open. She cast a little glare, clearly not thrilled about having to seek help, but the situation left her no choice. Her voice, tinged with frustration and a hint of desperation, broke the silence.
I have a big ask, please please please don't make me regret this.
She sucked in a breath through grit teeth, her LED eyes pinching shut briefly as she shook her head, gathering her resolve.
Can you hide these in your apartment somewhere? Dad's making me get rid of them but I'm not about that life.
Uzi’s fingers drummed nervously against the side of the crate, the weight of the request heavy in the air. She knew this was a lot to ask from someone she barely knew, but her determination to keep her cherished gadgets outweighed her reluctance. She looked at undefined, hoping they’d understand the significance of what she was asking and the trouble she could get into if caught.
I swear, I’ll owe you big time. Just… don’t let anyone see them, okay?
Her usual sarcastic demeanor softened, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath her tough exterior. This was more than just a plea for help; it was a rare moment of trust and a silent cry for an ally in her rebellious crusade.

Uzi Doorman