Kara's hand plunged into the smooth metal back of the drone like a hot knife through butter, the metal caving in without a fight.
She grabbed a handful of its insides and yanked back, revealing a tangle of wires and circuit boards. The drone kept babbling nonsense, though now with a clanky, garbled edge.
Then, the skin on her fingers split perfectly, hanging down to reveal the metallic skeleton beneath. Her metal fingers danced through the drone's guts, twisting wires and tinkering with its innards until the uncensored voice seized, and the red light blinked out forever.
When Kara pulled her hand back, she held a small metal cube—the programmed component that gave the drone its purpose and loyalty.
She tossed it away like it was a used condom, turning her attention to Kaisen with a sultry smile. The skin on her fingers reattached seamlessly, as if they had never split in the first place.
