Murder Drones: Born from ashes

Chapter 19 : ''Father?''

A lone bomber drone stood in the bathroom. The tiling of the floor shattered and fractured long ago. The mirror was destroyed, being detached from the explosion as the cracks raged across the wall. A purple beanie cap insulated her head, a javelin rocket camera replaced half her visor, a black jacket wrapped her torso, with the right sleeve rolled up to reveal her red prosthetic arm. The bomber drone leaned over the sink cabinet, staring into the hole that seemed to go down forever. A radio hung by its electrical cord which clung to the edge of the cabinet. The shell of the machine was horribly dented in, the small red LED on top of the machine signaled that it was on. Uzi heard a faint hissing noise from the radio, looking down as if to diagnose the problem before realizing that the radio broadcast was working as intended. Today was August 12th, 2041, and she knew nothing else. No progress on the Long Pause, no statements from officials, no recap of yesterday's events, and nothing new. No place was quiet, Copper9 forever screamed into the void.

Uzi walked from the bathroom, her head slumped forward, bobbing as she shuffled through the hallway. She looked to her left, seeing the large hole in the wall, the posters, documents, and machine parts scattered the floor or flew out into the streets, which were populated with hundreds of bodies shuffling up and down the city in complete unison. She made her way into the kitchen, numerous bomber drones laid dormant against the walls, the refrigerator trays and containers were splayed across the floor. The bomber drones had feasted upon the chilled oil canisters, and were now sleeping away their brief moment of pleasure. She dropped herself onto a chair, looking at the square patches on the wall that had their pigments protected by photos that once stood there. She knew each square, except 1 new square was present. The pigments were still faded, the only evidence of this new photo was the sharp square that remained untouched by oil that sprayed on the wall.

Uzi saw a little bag that was sitting against the fridge. She knew it wasn't her's, machines can't write, they can only kill. She opened the door, feeling her heart cry as the light of the bunker streamed through the doorway, then leaving

–

"I only want one very, very, very simple thing from you guys! It's a simple transaction!"

J cusped the chin of another worked drone, lifting his face up to hers.
"Where is the key?"

The worker drone didn't break from his deep spell of nausea. His body boiled for oil, and his mind was slowing to save itself. J smiled, shaking his head around as if the answer would come falling out. The drone felt pure fire, treachery rattling in his brain. He could feel his eyes bleed, jaw threatening to fall off, and all that croaked from his mouth was a moan.

"He's overheating! Leave him alone!" screamed another drone, in a burst of anger. J stopped, spinning around while slamming the drone's head against the pavement. Pieces of plastic bounced from the impact, his body still twitched. J faced the voice, the drones all recoiled at once.

"Who's overheating?"

J pistol whipped the worker drone, tearing the rubber from his face muscles. The drone fell over, oil surfacing beneath the thinner layers.

J's visor was engulfed in pure rage. She whipped out her gun, aiming it at a child. The boy tried shuffling back, the worker drones nearby backing away or trying to offer themselves. The bomber drones ripped the drones away, those who resisted were bitten.

"One,"

"Two,"

"Three"

J pulled the trigger, a loud boom rang through the bunker, the small pile was torn apart. As the people screamed in horror. She turned around, the snide look plastered across her shallow face.