"You want a cup?" I asked, pouring a mug for myself.

"Sure. I've never had it before, so-"

"You've never had hot chocolate before?!" I spun around to face him.

He shrugged. "I had to pay for my crimes somehow."

I chuckled, turning back around, and pouring another mug. "Yeah, well, I think you'll like it." I picked up the two mugs, handing one to Cryptor. "And if you don't, then that just proves you don't have a heart."

"Then… for science?" He raised his mug.

"For science." Our cups clinked as we each took a careful sip.

"Well… I'd say it's good." He commented, looking down at the liquid.

"Oh! I forgot the best part!" I placed my cup down and grabbed the bag of marshmallows sitting on the counter. I sprinkled a few in his mug as he looked down at them in curiosity.

"What are these for?"

"They float!" He looked up at me in confusion. "It's fun." I rolled my eyes, turning to pour a third mug for Mr. Borg.

"Definitely don't get it. Maybe I don't have a heart after all."

I dressed both mine and Borg's mugs with marshmallows and picked them up. "Well… maybe half a heart."

"That seems to be the droid standard."

We walked out of the break room in onto the main floor where Mr. Borg was working.

"How's it going?" I asked, walking towards him.

"Oh, just fine." He called back to me. "The arm should be off the line soon, and then we can try it out."

"We got you some hot chocolate." I reached past him and set it on his desk, finally grabbing his attention from the computer screen.

"Oh! Good thought. Especially with the snow outside."

I turned to look at Cryptor, setting his mug down on a table in order to pull out a chair. Seeing him maneuver the world with one arm was so very strange. It wasn't the disability that was odd to me- I worked with Mr. Borg every day. But it was the person who it was attached to. It was this strange dissociation of the character as a whole that had plagued me since I met him.

"How is the weather?" Borg broke my train of thought. "Any sign of improvement?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Cryptor responded, sitting down.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't last too long. I'd hate to have you both stuck here overnight."

Borg took a last sip of his cocoa before returning to his work. I walked over towards Cryptor, joining him at the table as we waited for his new arm to be completed.

"So, what's your deal?" He asked as I sat down.

"My deal?"

"Yeah. I feel like I've been talking about myself nonstop since I got here. What about you. What is it that makes Miss Drew Peterson tick?" He took a dramatic swig of his chocolate as I fiddled with the rim of mine.

"That's a good question," I sighed. "I wish I had an answer for you. There really isn't too much to me."

"There's got to be something though." He pressed.

"I'm a student at Ninjago Tech, majoring in engineering, landed an internship here my sophomore year, they've since hired me, and now I work here." I looked up at him. "That's the story."

"Where'd you grow up?"

"Ninjagan Suburbs."

"Siblings?"

"Only child."

"Hobbies?"

"I play a mad game of sudoku."

He leaned back in his chair. "You really weren't kidding, were you?"

"I bore myself sometimes," I smiled.

"Well, you're working at Borg industries, your life is bound to get more interesting now."

I sighed. "Yeah, today has definitely been interesting."

"It's ready!" Mr. Borg called from across the room. "The arm is ready! Let's see how it works!"

Cryptor and I glanced at each other before getting up. This main room wasn't directly housing any of the machinery, but the completion conveyor belt ran through the room. We all made our way to the edge of the track, waiting for the new limb to make its way into the room. When it did arrive, it was quite plain. Simple titanium metal work, extremely simplistic design. Borg lifted it from the belt, carefully examining it before handing it to Cryptor.

"You'll attach it using this locking mechanism at the end," Borg explained. "If you position it right, your body should automatically be receptive to it."

Cryptor gingerly lifted the new forearm, and aligned it with his current upper arm, before carefully sliding them together. There was a small spark and short buzz, and his arm began moving as one cohesive piece. But his expression was still puzzled.

"How's it working?" Borg asked.

"I don't know," Cryptor thought. "It's not responding to my impulses. I don't know if there's a little bit of a delay, or if it's not receiving all of my signals, but something is definitely off."

Borg sighed, looking down at his work.

"Well, that's alright. First one off the line is never quite right anyways. It might be the transmitter chip." He returned to the computer, looking at his designs. "Oh, do you mind if we plug you into the system real quick? Just to make sure it's not a software compatibility issue?"

"Sure." Cryptor slipped off the failed forearm as Borg handed him a wire. He inserted the wire into a port hidden on his chest, just beneath the hem of his shirt.

As he did, the whole room grew brighter. Literally- the lights on the ceiling intensified, to the point of hearing an audible buzz. We all stopped, shielding our eyes to look up at the light.

"What the hell?"

The buzz grew louder, and I was worried the bulbs may begin breaking, before they all suddenly dimmed again, back to their original luminance.

"Well…" Borg began. "That was strange."

"You think… that's was the weather?" Cryptor asked.

"Let's go with that." I responded.

"If so, that certainly doesn't bode well for the rest of the day," Mr. Borg commented. "Well, it doesn't look like Cryptor was the problem." He returned to his computer screen. "Why don't you go back up to the top floor and run a system diagnostic. Just to be safe."

Cryptor hesitantly removed the wire from his chest, all of us half expecting the lights to freak out again. But nothing happened.

"Sounds good. I think everything should come up fine though," I assured him.

"You keep on saying stuff like that." Cryptor sighed.

"You want to see for yourself?" I shrugged, turning to leave as I could hear his footsteps following me.

"All of this just doesn't sit right with me," he shook his head, catching up with me as we exited.

"I wouldn't worry. After the nindroid invasion your dad has put countless security protocols in place-"

"Hold on," He stopped me. "My dad?"

"Well…" I stopped. Mr. Borg certainly referred to him as his son. Did Cryptor not reciprocate this? "I mean, you were built in his factory, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I was also based on the blueprints of Zane, altered by Pixal, under the orders of the Overlord. If we tried to assign family relations to all the people who made me, we'd be sitting here all day."

I pressed the elevator call button as we continued to argue. "I guess, but that seems a little harsh to cut him off like that."

He sighed. "Look, it's all much more complicated when you're a nindroid." He explained as the arrival tone beeped. "It's just better not to get attached."

"Well maybe you should," I countered as we stepped in. "I think getting attached is pretty fun."

He rolled his eyes as I selected the floor.

My finger sprung back at the surprising jolt of pain the button gave me.

"You good?" he asked.

I shook my hand out. "Yeah. Must have just been some static electricity or…" I glanced at my finger seeing a visible drop of blood oozing its way out. "…something."

Cryptor glanced over my shoulder, seeing what the button had done. "I don't think that was static." He crouched down in front of the panel, examining the button as I was left staring at my finger, my head going into a daze.

"There's a tiny hole in the center of the button. Looks like something was poked through it."

As I listened to him my vision started getting hazy. Blurred. Darker… and darker…

"Drew…? Drew are you okay?"

…and black.