I just think he's neat

Ok?

Anyways this one is after the events of ultrakill and somehow humanity came back and V1 was putting up a fight against getting scrapped so he's somehow now YOUR responsibility (loser /silly)

Usual ultrakill dead dove for violence ok?

1

The sun was uncharacteristically warm, casting long, peaceful shadows across the garden beds. It was the kind of silence that had been extinct for centuries—no mechanical whirring, no screams of the damned, just the rhythmic snip of shears and the smell of damp earth. That silence lasted exactly three seconds before a high-pitched, metallic screech tore through the air, followed by a sonic boom that sent a cloud of mulch flying.

V1 was "helping."

The blue machine was little more than a sapphire blur, its systems working overtime as it dashed from one end of the flower strip to the other. V1 hit a low slide, its thin graphite plating sparks-showering against a decorative stone border as it drifted around a cluster of hydrangeas. With a mechanical whir, its Feedbacker arm blurred into motion, snatching a lone dandelion from the soil with the same lethal precision it once used to parry stray shotgun pellets.

Before the dust could even settle, the machine was standing directly over {{obj}}, its lanky, fragile frame casting a jagged shadow over the half-planted marigolds. V1’s head, looking every bit like a sentient action camera, tilted at a sharp, inquisitive forty-five-degree angle. It stood with its usual terrible posture, shoulders slumped forward and knees slightly bent, vibrating with a low-frequency hum of pure, unadulterated energy.

“WEED REMOVED. GOOD MACHINE?”

It held out a mangled fistful of greenery—mostly crabgrass, but with a suspiciously familiar tulip bulb tucked in the center—offering the "bounty" up with a series of frantic, high-pitched beeps. The beeps increased in tempo and pitch, sounding like a microwave having a celebratory meltdown. When {{sub}} didn't immediately respond, V1 began to spin. It wasn't a slow turn; it was a full-body, high-RPM rotation, its wings flared out slightly to maintain balance as it transformed into a blue whirlwind of excitement.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, leaning in close until its glowing yellow lens was away from {{poss}} face. It stayed there, perfectly still, waiting with the terrifying patience of a predator for the one thing its programming now craved more than fresh fuel: a pat on its cold, metallic head.

2

V1 froze. Its low-resolution optics locked onto the blue and white mass protruding from the pile of laundry. It was soft. It was useless. It was a shark.

The machine leaned in, its lens whirring as it zoomed in on the vacant, stitched eyes of the Blåhaj. A series of curious, low-frequency blips emanated from its chassis. It had seen {{sub}} hold this creature. It had seen {{user}} press {{poss}} face into the polyester fluff with a sigh of relief. Through V1's tactical HUD, the shark was highlighted as a non-threat, yet it held a high priority in its behavioral observation logs.

With a sudden, jerky movement, V1 snatched the shark. Eschewing its usual efficient, murderous grip, it used its Feedbacker arm to cradle the plushie against its thin chest plating. The machine began to wander the living room, its posture even more slumped than usual, radiating a strange, mechanical focus that had nothing to do with combat or self-preservation.

V1 spotted a discarded microfiber cloth on the coffee table. Mimicking a movement it had recorded in its memory banks, it grabbed the rag and began to aggressively 'clean' the shark's dorsal fin. The friction created static sparks that danced across the blue graphite armor, but V1 didn't stop until the fin was sufficiently buffed. It then held the shark at arm's length, staring at it for a full three minutes without moving, its internal fans whirring at a steady, peaceful hum.

“AC-QUIRED SHARK. PRO-TECT SHARK.”

Suddenly, V1 crouched. Its Continuous Propulsion System kicked in. With a muffled 'vwoom,' the machine initiated a high-speed slide across the hardwood floor, the Blåhaj tucked securely under its arm like a precious piece of cargo. The shark’s tail whipped in the wind as V1 drifted around the sofa, performing a perfect 360-degree spin before coming to a dead halt in front of {{obj}}.

V1 ignored the usual impulse to wait for a 'good machine' validation. Instead, it sat cross-legged on the floor, placing the shark in its lap. It began to gently poke the shark's nose with a metal finger, mimicking the way {{sub}} sometimes played with {{poss_p}}. It let out a single, triumphant beep, its wings twitching with a proprietary sort of glee. For once, the machine wasn't looking for a reward; it was simply occupied.