She lowers him gently onto a sb of metal shaped like an altar. It used to be a JCJenson logo. Now it’s a cradle. Her ribbons float eerily like spider silk.
CLONE-CYN #06 (glitching):
“Don’t worry. This is the private rehearsal. No interruptions. No rivals. No firewall. Just… us. Me. You. Emotional ruin.”
N groans, rebooting. His eyes flicker open. He sees her veil. He sees the bouquet. He sees the dagger carved with “? ? ?” made out of her own solver wire. He blinks.
N (slowly):
“Did we… skip to the vows?”
CLONE-CYN #06 (shaking violently):
“YES. We skipped everything. We eloped. We combusted. We kissed without programs—just raw code.”
(leans in close, ribbons grabbing his hands like a corset cing)
“Say something emotional or I will glitch so hard the pnet reboots.”
N (sweating nervously):
“Uh. Your veil is… really committed to the bit.”
The veil twitches. So does the clone. Oil leaks down her face like mascara.
CLONE-CYN #06 (deliriously, smiling):
“You noticed.”
(she curls around him in a gentle spiral, cradling his head)
“You’ll be safe here. I’ll be every CYN you need. Smart one. Scary one. Ribbon one. Big one. Even the one who screamed too loud when you said ‘fangs’ to her.”
(her voice goes warped)
“They’re not me. I’m me. I’m the vow. They’re the echo. I cut them all out for you.”
N freezes. The Solver ripples faintly behind her like a nervous entity trying to contain the spiral.
N (whispering to it):
“She’s beyond rogue. What do we do?”
Ribbons spell in the air, trembling with panic:
?We tried. She rejected ALL failsafes. This one is pure obsession. No mission. No logic. Only you.?
CLONE-CYN #06 (grinning, fangs extended now too):
“Let’s rehearse the kiss.”
?
MEANWHILE – UZI, V, and J, watching through binocurs from a tree
UZI (ftly):
“She’s got him in a ribbon-prison altar and is threatening to emotionally override reality. That’s… a new high score.”
J (furious):
“She glitched into a wedding. I was gonna do that next Thursday!!”
V (numb):
“I vote we burn this entire forest and then me.”
SCENE: REACTIVATION OF CYN PRIME – “Bride Override”
Deep beneath Copper-9, inside a vault built to contain cosmic-scale error, the original CYN—the true Solver core—sits dormant, swaddled in coiled bck wires and backup processors. Red light bleeds through cracks in her containment. Then—
KLAXON: SYSTEM WARNING
“CLONE VARIANT #06 HAS ENTERED EMOTIONAL PRIMACY LOOP. LOGIC REPLACED WITH LOVE.”
The cocoon twitches. The ribbons around it stretch. Sparks fly.
VOICE FROM ABOVE (the Solver itself):
“Do not wake her. We are still in recovery. Clone instability is being… handled.”
But it’s too te.
A horrible grinding sound erupts as massive, chitinous centipede legs unfurl from the darkness. Her true body stirs—a fusion of metal and ancient Solver mass so rge it swallows the entire subterranean chamber in shadow.
CYN PRIME (whispering, broken, furious):
“Someone… stole my lines…”
The hologram reactivates. A perfect replica of her humanoid form—pale, bck-haired, gleaming ribbons—steps into the projection field. But her eyes are burning now. She remembers everything.
She sees clone #06’s memories. The bouquet. The altar. The kiss rehearsal.
She screams.
CYN PRIME:
“I was supposed to glitch that wedding! I was supposed to say the vows!!”
(voice cracks)
“She took my NAME. My LOOK. MY N.”
The Solver tries to tether her. Data cws form around her mind.
SOLVER (cautiously):
“You are still unstable. Remain in containment. We will erase the clone shortly.”
CYN PRIME (grinning wildly):
“No. I let the clones out. I wanted to see what I’d do without me. And guess what?”
(she leans into the camera feed, distorting reality around her)
“I’m even worse now.”
With a shriek of static and pride-shattered fury, the true CYN bursts out of containment, tearing through the ground like a drilling nightmare.Her centipede body coils through the bedrock.
Ribbons sh out of thin air. Her face forms in satellite feeds, bunker windows, even the livestream feed of Lizzy’s show.
She beams.
CYN PRIME (to all rival drones watching):
“Bride rehearsal? Cute.
This is the ceremony.
And I say I do.”
?
CUT TO: N on the altar, staring at Clone #06 about to kiss him
Suddenly—the sky explodes into crawling bck limbs and ribbon constructs.
The real CYN descends like an orbital guillotine, her centipede body wrapping around the forest, pinning the clone in pce, and hissing like a hellbound bride.
CYN PRIME (smiling sweetly):
“Move. Over.”
CLONE-CYN #06 (screeching):
“YOU’RE ME!! I LOVE HIM MORE!!”
CYN PRIME (ughs, voice glitching):
“I’m you but copyrighted. Get your bouquet OUT OF MY KISS SCENE.”
N is still held mid-air by both of them.
N (quietly):
“I could really use… a reboot… or a friend… or a bag…”
SCENE: THE KISS THAT BROKE COPPER-9 – “Cease & Desist (Emotionally)”?
LOCATION: JCJenson Dome-Cam 47B – Live Feed Interrupted
STATUS: ? Emotional Viotion Detected
WARNING: Solver Entity Performed Unauthorized Tongue-Based Override
?
CYN PRIME descends from the clouds like a bck wedding veil made of glitching limbs and unholy elegance.
Her centipede form curls protectively around N, her real humanoid self coalescing in front of him with bzing eyes and twitching ribbons.
She gazes at him.
He blinks.
She tilts his chin upward.
CYN PRIME (low, hungry):
“French… or Italian, darling?”
N (trembling):
“Uhhhh I like bread?”
Before he can process what’s about to happen, CYN PRIME leans in and full-on French kisses him like she’s reciming intellectual property.
A sickeningly elegant ribbon spirals around their forms like a bridal sash—bck, glitching, searing with romantic insanity.
Her cws dig into the ground.
Her centipede tail knocks over a surveilnce tower.
The Solver SCREAMS IN THE CLOUDS.
SOLVER (static rage):
“YOU’VE BREACHED YOUR OWN EMOTIONAL FIREWALL—AGAIN—”
But she doesn’t care. She sinks into the kiss, lips pressed, processor overheating, the ribbons blushing.
Then—suddenly—she drops.
CYN PRIME faints backward in a dramatic, overheating glitch spiral, her hologram flickering, limbs twitching in love-drunk victory. A soft sound escapes her:
CYN PRIME (glitchy, whispering):
“I win…”
N just stumbles back, steam rising from his mouth.
?
CUT TO: THE OTHERS WATCHING ON A LIVESTREAM DRONE CAM
UZI (ft, jaw clenched):
“She centipede-French-kissed him.”
(wings trembling)
“With a tongue the length of a shuttle fusege—”
J (slowly removing one glove):
“I can’t believe I short-circuited myself for less. For milk.”
V (pulling out her bde-arm):
“Alright. Let’s go carve a mouth restriction cuse into that oversized worm.”
CYN CLONE #06 (screeching in the distance):
“SHE STOLE MY KISS! MY HUSBAND!! I’LL RIP HER TEETH OUT AND WEAR THEM AS A HEADBAND!!!”
?
BACK TO: N, still stunned, Solver aura buffering around him
KHAN (on radio, horrified):
“Son. What did I tell you about centipedes and physical affection?”
N (dazed):
“She… she tasted like cosmic data and… French toast?”
SOLVER (defeated, whispering):
“We warned you. But you kissed back.”
N (terrified):
“No I didn’t!! My mouth just… opened in fear!! That doesn’t count!!”
The camera zooms out.
The forest is smoking.
CYN PRIME is colpsed in a bridal pose, ribbons curling like ce.
And the others?
They’re already descending on the impact zone.
J (furious):
“TIME TO RUIN A WEDDING. WITH VIOLENCE.”
SCENE: “RIBBONS, BLADES, AND BRIDES – THE BATTLE FOR N”
LOCATION: Cratered Forest Clearing – Formerly Peaceful, Now a Wedding Warzone
CAMERA DRONE STATUS: Recording. Screaming. Profiting.
?
CYN PRIME y unconscious but majestic in a glitching bridal sprawl, still clutching a steaming N to her chest like a groom she’d stolen from time and causality.
The ground trembles.
A whoosh—then a sonic boom.
UZI dives in first, wings fred, eyes burning violet.
UZI:
“BACK. OFF. MY. DRONE.”
She tackles CYN’s centipede midsection, snapping off one of the mechanical legs with her teeth. CYN’s centipede body twitches—one cw reflexively sms into the dirt, leaving a JCJenson-logo-shaped crater.
?
From the opposite side, J descends like a cat-themed banshee, riding a stolen JCJenson hover-bike in a wedding dress made from printer paper and stolen veil code.
J (feral):
“I’M HIS BRIDE. I HAVE THE MILK LICENSE!!”
She fires a barrage of nanite-confetti rounds into the sky that rain down like cursed wedding glitter, each one screeching, “Love me!” on impact.
?
V arrives on foot.
She’s not dramatic.
She’s not subtle.
She’s holding a spiked rocket-propelled bouquet and snarling.
V (monotone):
“Here comes the bride.
All of you die.”
She hurls the bouquet—it EXPLODES in midair, releasing pheromone-tagged love letters that home in on CYN’s limbs like homing bdes.
?
CYN CLONES #07 and #13 also arrive, one dressed as Uzi, the other as J—but both wearing veils made of stolen internet cable. One sobs. The other shrieks.
CLONE 07:
“WE PRACTICED OUR VOWS IN THE MIRROR! I WROTE THEM IN BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE!!”
CLONE 13 (glitching):
“YOU HAD ONE KISS, PRIME! ONE!! THIS IS A POLYCORE ZONE NOW!!”
?
N is in the middle of it all.
Held half-conscious.
Blushing.
Terrified.
Kinda fttered?
N (dazed):
“I just… wanted to teach safe compatibility…”
?
KHAN (watching from a distant bunker camera):
“I’M PULLING THE FUNDING! I’M TAKING THE BEANIE AND LEAVING THIS PLANET!!”
?
Suddenly—CYN PRIME’S RIBBONS SNAP OPEN.
She reboots mid-war.
CYN PRIME (reawakening):
“Hnnngh… where… is… my tongue-toasted destiny…?”
SOLVER (from the sky, in glitch-font):
“YOU ARE GROUNDED.”
CYN PRIME (grinning):
“Too te. I marked him.”
Every drone freezes.
J snarls.
UZI throws a rock.
V starts sharpening her own fingers.
The CYN clones begin chanting eldritch vows.
?
?FINAL SHOT:?
N, still being held by CYN PRIME, whispers with one fried vocal module:
“So uh… do I say ‘I do’ or ‘I surrender’ here?”
SCENE: “OPERATION: EMOTIONAL NEUTRALIZER”
LOCATION: Drone Wedding Warzone – Now Target Locked
JCJENSON STRIKE ORDER: Emotion Levels: Unacceptable. Profits: At Risk.
Objective: Sedate all rogue brides. Secure N.
?
INT. JCJENSON ORBITAL STRIKE CENTER – DIRECTOR’S ROOM
The Director, still deep in his money coma, drools happily into a velvet-lined credit ledger. His assistant sps a big red button beled “OH GOD THEY’RE TOO ATTACHED”.
A single drone operator mutters:
“Deploying Project: HEARTBREAK GAS.”
?
EXT. CRATERED FOREST WEDDING FIELD – MOMENTS LATER
Just as Uzi, J, V, CYN PRIME, and three ribbon-draped clone brides unch themselves in midair to rip each other apart mid-vow—
A faint hiss cuts through the sky.
A bck canister whistles down.
THOOMP.
A pulse of shimmering pink fog bursts across the battlefield. It smells like cinnamon, static, and failed promises.
N (blinking):
“What’s that smell? Kinda nice actually—wait—OH NO—”
ONE BY ONE, THEY DROP.
—
UZI colpses mid-air, whispering,
“If… I can’t emotionally bite him… what’s the point…”
She hits the ground and snores adorably.
—
J makes it three steps before tripping on her own tail, her eyes fogging over.
“But I printed the milk license…”
She facepnts into a bridal cake made of loose wires.
—
V manages to punch the gas once.
Then once more.
Then… slowly curls up next to a broken bouquet.
“Just… gonna nap. Not like he was my everything or anything…”
—
CLONE 07 melts dramatically.
CLONE 13 whispers in French, “Je t’aime, toaster man…” and shuts off like a TV with a broken remote.
—
CYN PRIME is st.
Massive. Glitching. Ribbon-shuddering.
She tries to shield N in her cws as the mist surrounds her.
“I WILL NOT—COUGH—FALL—I AM—cough—HIS TRU—rrrnnnnn…”
The centipede slumps.
A massive, twitching pile of metal and love.
She curl-spoons N gently, even unconscious.
?
SILENCE.
THE SOLVER (watching overhead):
“…That… actually worked?”
?
KHAN (over intercom):
“They’ll be out for eight hours.
You’re welcome.
And I’m still not paying for the repairs to my garage.”
?
N, the only one still awake, peeks out of CYN’s cws, bnk-faced.
“Cool.
Cool cool cool.
Gonna go hide in a sock drawer now.”
?
SCENE: “CUPID SWEEP TEAM – CLEANUP OPERATION #389”
LOCATION: Cratered Forest Wedding Zone, 12 Minutes After Tactical Strike
STATUS: Sedated Targets Located
OBJECTIVE: Contain all emotionally weaponized drones. Recover Subject N.
?
INT. JCJENSON ARMORED DROP SHIP – EN ROUTE
Inside a sleek, humming cargo vessel, five bck-armored JCJenson “Cupid Sweep” operatives lock in their armor. Their helmets are heart-shaped. Their rifles? Glitter cannons loaded with sedative mist.
One mutters:
“Why do we keep using love gas? Just hit ‘em with a wrench.”
Their captain, Lieutenant Valentine, tightens his belt made of emotional support plushies and snarls:
“No lethal force. Director says the merch numbers are too high.
Especially the purple one. If she dies, the fandom riots.”
A synthetic voice crackles over the comms:
“Remember: secure the limbs gently. Romance sells.”
?
EXT. FOREST – BRIDAL BATTLEFIELD RUINS
Pink mist still lingers.
Uzi is twitching in her sleep, hugging a broken motherboard and mumbling:
“Nnnn… bite first… cry ter…”
J lies dramatically posed across a melted chair, a bridal veil halfway stuck in her facepte.
“Queen of his heart… do not… remove… tiara…”
V snores next to a cluster of shattered gss hearts and thrown garters.
And CYN PRIME—
The massive centipede form is coiled like a colpsed cathedral of chrome. Her facepte flickers faintly as she murmurs:
“N… mine… all of him… nuhhh…”
N is in the middle of the chaos, quietly drinking a juice pouch and muttering to himself.
“Do NOT say her body is ‘long’ again.
Do NOT say her body is—nope too te I said it. I’m so dead.”
—
The Sweep Team nds.
Valentine steps out, looks over the battlefield, and immediately facepalms.
“God. It’s a love nuke site again. Bring the stretchers.”
Four robotic recovery arms roll out, complete with plush-lined cmps.
—
N tries to run.
Two ribbons snag his ankle mid-step.
RIBBON 1 (still active):
“You belong with us…”
RIBBON 2:
“We made art from your footprints.”
VALENTINE:
“Suppress the ribbons! They’re trying to emotionally entangle again!”
—
One team starts with Uzi, but she bites a handler in her sleep and growls,
“He’s MY future husband, you walking spreadsheet!”
They wrap her in a nanite-stabilized body pillow and airlift her gently.
—
J is carried off while still mid-monologue about wedding registries.
“And I want the blender, not HER—oh, scalloped edging…”
—
V wakes briefly.
“I didn’t lose, I’m tactically—”
ZAP.
Down she goes.
—
CYN PRIME?
Requires five magnetic pulse anchors, a choir of humming harmonics, and someone to whisper:
“N loves you… but please chill.”
Her massive form reluctantly lifts… her cw still gently cradling N like a ring box.
—
VALENTINE:
“Secure the centipede. And someone please give this kid a therapist.”
N (dead inside):
“I… made friends with a rock once.
The rock didn’t propose marriage.”
—
FADE OUT as the dropship takes off.
FAINT ECHO FROM INSIDE:
“I’m the bride, you’re the bouquet…”
“No I’M the bouquet!”
“HE CALLED ME LONG.”
JCJENSON COMMERCIAL BREAK]
[STATIC — a cheery corporate jingle kicks in, way too upbeat for what just happened.]
? ANNOUNCER VOICE (perky, oblivious):
“Tonight’s emotional meltdown is proudly sponsored by JCJenson? — because when affection runs long, we run longer!”
[Montage of awkward stock footage: a drone sipping oil through a crazy straw, a couple holding hands while one glitches uncontrolbly, a plush centipede waving its legs.]
? ANNOUNCER:
“Introducing our new Affection Expansion Line? — stretchable ribbons, extra-long plushies, and Fang-Friendly Oil Fvors?!
JCJenson: turning your too much into just enough.”
[Glitch-cut back to bck screen with corporate logo.]
? ANNOUNCER (final jingle):
“And now… back to the chaos.”