Murder Drones - Model Mix-up

Heartbeat - LadderBot 5000

It's been several weeks since Wesson's banishing from Outpost 3. And, in those weeks, a pressing issue has yet to be addressed: the massive gaping hole in the roof of the WDF's evacuation spot. Luckily, a brave repairman has been summoned to complete this monumental task — accompanied by another drone, Tim, giving him the rundown of his assignment. To be inclusive, V's steaming corpse and the railgun that had executed such a beast lie motionless on the ground not too far away.

Tim — "Yeah, just fix 'er up, 'cause— whoops! Pretty big security risk in hindsight!" he starts. "Ehh, ye got this, uh..." He strains his eyes and intently reads the name tag of the repairman before him. "...LLLaaaddddddeeerrrBot 5000?" The name tag, however, reads Frank.

Frank — "Ugh..." the repairman groans, sounding disgruntled already. "Please, just leave the lights—"

The room falls to black as the Worker is consumed by darkness, Tim cutting the lights as the sound of electrical devices all around him begin spinning down. Frank is left alone under the moonlit spotlight provided by the very thing he's here to remove, though his motivation remains steady as he's pelted with sparse flakes of snow.

Placing his stepladder down, Frank opens up his toolbox and retrieves a flashlight from it, shutting the box and holding it back at his side. He shines his light upwards as the gravity of the task before him begins to set in. He looks back down at his puny stepladder, not even tall enough to reach his waist, and pushes it with his foot. The only thing it accomplishes is a quiet rattling sound as the ladder scoots along the grating. Looking back upward, he's already beginning to dread however he'll have to fix this.

But then, he hears something reminiscent of glasses clinking together. Was it metal? He isn't sure.

Regardless, his attention is pulled from the hole as he shines his flashlight in the direction of the sound, scanning for any movement there may be. He's only met with industrial shelving lined with tarped crates, fluid tanks, barrels, and unused electrical appliances. Was Tim playing a prank on him? This was about where he left to, after all.

Then, again, he hears something. Something akin to a hefty lock being shaken against its handle. He wheels his head around, tossing his toolbox to the wayside to steady his grip on his flashlight. The toolbox lands on the far foot of the stepladder, causing it to teeter and topple to the ground. The metallic clattering only serves to drill Frank's paranoia deeper, as every slight noise startles him more and more.

Too occupied by staring at his fallen equipment, Frank fails to hear the quiet robotic clicking to his side. But what does catch his attention is the soft metal thuds that follow.

When he turns, he discovers he is now truly, utterly alone. The corpse of the Disassembly Drone is now absent, with a violent splatter of black in its place, an inky streak trailing away from it into the darkness.

Frank follows the line with his flashlight and watches as it slithers into an isolated corner of the warehouse.

'Thump-thump... thump-thump...'

He hears something... foreign. Something almost sickly. The beating of a heart echoing off every surface of the vast room. When he finally locates the source, he's shocked for a moment. No relief comes as he lays eyes on the new location of the corpse he was just beside. He watches as the chest distends and contracts with every beat, every pulse. Cautiously, Frank approaches, a single worried drop of sweat sliding down the edge of his visor.

'Thump-thump, thump-thump.'

The beating grows faster and faster, as the sound of flesh being torn apart and mended repeats, louder and louder. Stray arcs of lightning reach out from the body as the Worker lays eyes upon the heart of a Disassembly Drone, seemingly shoved carelessly into the torso as arteries and veins dangle loosely within.