The title sounds like an actual title

But doesn't relate to the story or thing that I'm writing

So eh it was useless but fun to think of

I got Zepeto for some reason

I don't trust them

I have this theory: (I am not suing Zepeto develops) but I have this theory where once they take your picture and literally ANALYZE your facial features to replicate it and adding those features to your "persona".

And with that picture you took at the beginning, I think it has something to do with the government and shiz and have their first clue to TRACK you with your own picture that can somewhat help add in to their data about YOU.

Hey it's my first actual theory
It probably doesn't make sense but to me it sounds sorta eligible

Also here's a bit of a random oneshot that was inspired by that one Zootopia moment that hurt me

I gripped the gun tightly, admiring it's itching urge of pulling the trigger. Sadly, it ran out of bullets anyway, and I didn't bother replacing them. I consider this gun.. "a pretend heater."

"Ava?" A voice called. I smirked, turning around with my chair that had wheels attached to it and aimed the gun at my best friend.

"Not funny," He said, rolling his eyes.

"Boom," I pretended to pull the trigger, sticking my tongue out. "Ah c'mon, Anderson, we're basically living in hell, don't you think we should have some fun time?"

"No, there's a damn war! We don't have time to play with our little dolls and giggle!" He grabbed the gun from my hand and slammed it onto my desk. He gave me a side glance, then he quickly looked away and sighed.

"Goddamnit, Ava, reality isn't fair, you know that."

I looked down. I did know that, but sometimes I just have troubles accepting it. Even after all those bullet holes, scars and blood, I still had faith in reality. I know there's at least some good out there. I stared at his golden name tag that was pinned to his blue coat. 'Leader Anderson.'. I never found out his real name, Anderson was his "preferred" name.

"Pass it," he commanded. I was confused for a moment, then I saw the bottle of Smirnoff I drank from. I grabbed it and passed it to him. He took a long sip from it, finishing the entire bottle. He slammed it onto the table, panting.

"Damn, how long have you been here?" He looked around my room. The paint of the walls were basically peeling off; faded and dark.

"Quite a while," I said, snatching the gun back. He let me take it, not even bothered. I saw blood all over it, then sighed. "Are you bleeding?"

He showed me his hand that was practically bleeding. Actually, not just his hand. His entire right arm.

"Holy. What have you been doing outside?"

"A bunch of damn Sky soldiers were camping around, shot me like an oblivious deer. The only difference is that I noticed them first." He said, looking at me for a reaction. I only raised my eyebrow.

"But you weren't out there. You were down here playing with that gun instead of protecting your only leader." He scoffed, while I took the aid-kit and started cleaning his wounds. I added a bit of alcohol on a cotton ball and carefully dabbed it onto his wounds.

Anderson is a tough guy. So it's easy to say that he wasn't wincing or hissing at all when alcohol should've burned him. He just looked away. I started to wrap a long bandage around his entire arm and hand.

"Thanks Ava." He said, softly. He rarely said thanks to anyone, but I didn't ask questions. It felt nice to be the first person to witness his first act of kindness.

"No prob, hell, I thought our leader wouldn't get hurt at all and you wouldn't need to thank me for anything." I said, halfway finished to wrapping his arm up.

"No, seriously," he suddenly grabbed my arm in a gentle way. "Thank you. I'd be dead by now if it weren't for you."

I almost chuckled, but I decided to hold it in. "Me? How? You're the kind of person who isn't a fan of feelings or emotions. You're tough as stone." I finished wrapping the bandage and decided to set the (A/N: is it scary that my right arm just suddenly began to ache randomly) aid-kit aside.

Anderson sat on the desk, looking down and never making contact. He stared at his right arm that was wrapped up in bandage, examining it as if it was something entirely new, stretching his fingers and moving them around.

"That's the thing. I never let anyone see through me because all they'll ever see is a lost boy." He rested his arm on his knee and combed his hair back. I sat down beside him, putting the gun away and thinking.

There was dead silence between us, and I didn't dare to say anything at all, I guess it's because I wanted him to talk more about himself. But instead, I broke the wall of silence between us.

"You've been leading us, Anderson. You've been a strong and challenging leader. It's like you don't even feel any kind of pain at all.." I said, turning to him. "You've battled so many goddamn armies. All I know is that you're not a lost boy deep inside, you're... something."

He finally turned to me and raised an eyebrow. I smiled a bit, chuckling. "We don't have time to be all mushy and soft, Anderson."

"Just call me Connor. In private, of course." He said, getting off the desk and walking towards the door where a hanger held a rifle with it's strap on. Connor took it and equipped it with the gun behind his back.

"Oh, and clean those shards at the corner over there later, we wouldn't want you to accidentally get hurt by them."

"Got it," I said, getting up and putting on coat. I put on my gloves and boots, tying my hair back up and grabbing my guns.

"Ava?"

"Yeah Con?"

"First of all, don't call me that. Second, good luck out there. Try not to get yourself killed, those are real heaters out there, ya know."

"Yeah, try not to get your other arm damaged as well."

"Whatever you say, soldier."