Words: 5,111
Before we begin, I would like to thank Riot64813 for all the help. This literally could not exist if not for him, so thanks to him, and I hope you all enjoy our little story.
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A warm glow filled a bedroom, the comforting orange illumination coming from a table lamp, showing off only a few feet around the room, the rest of the room shrouded in darkness, not gifted by the glow. Golden locks covered a young boy's eyes, the view stuttering between the locks, left arm feeling numb. With two figures in his hands, body weight was pressed hard against it. The paint rubbed away, showing the base plastic colors underneath. Bed creaking out whenever he'd shift his weight, trying to get his arm comfortable, the only other noise being random 'swoosh' and 'pow' noises popping and shushing out the boy's lips, giggling quietly to himself after one had fallen against the bed, 'defeated' in his mind.
A new noise broke through, thunderous stomps breaching the silence of the barren halls. Figures posed, bent out of shape slightly, small hands clenching tightly as the steps grew louder. They quickly grew quieter as they passed his door, sinking deeper into the halls. His grip loosened every so slightly on the toys in his hands, wooden frames creaking out once again as he tried to get comfortable. A loud boom howled through the halls as a door was slammed open.
'What did you do?'
'W-What? What's wrong?'
A slight hum played through the boy's mind, the melody inconsistent, the exact memory of how it went not entirely prevalent in his mind. It was an old song; He doesn't quite remember where he heard it from.
'Don't you try and play dumb with me.'
Grabbing the figure, he began fidgeting with the articulation, curious to see how far back he could take the limbs. Bending the leg backward, crossing the arms over the chest, putting it in some sort of sitting pose. Now with a new question, he began his best to count the points of articulation. Is 9 points good or bad? 9 is a lot so surely it's good. He gulped the excess saliva build up in his mouth.
'I-I-I... I d-'
'You speak when I ask a question! Now answer, what did you do!'
After sitting up for a moment, the boy grabbed the pillow under his head and rested under, taking a few moments to build up the 'next scene.' The figures seemed to tremble slightly as he grabbed them next.
'I-I'm sorry! It was an accident. I-I swear.'
Oh no, I'm stuck! Someone please help!
A faux voice rang through the young boy's foggy mind, one of the figures now wedged underneath his pillow, the upper half of the figure sticking out the 'debris.' The second figure 'flew down from the sky' and landed next to the trapped one. It... slipped from his hands. Quick to pick it back up.
'...I don't think you are... Not until you truly learn the consequences of your actions.'
'Wh-what are you-!? Wait, w-wait, please! No! I'm sorry, I-!'
What seems to be the problem?
A deeper voice spoke in the boy's mind; the figure began to blur, his vision growing slightly hazy... for some reason. Not able to make out the details quite as well.
I'm stuck! Oh please help, someone!
The 'trapped civilian' pleaded, a prideful laugh bumping through his mind as the figure walked over to the debris.
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Murder Drones: Unforeseen Consequences (V X Human Male Reader)
FanfictionWhen Y/n was a child, around the good ol' ripe age of 4-5, he and his parents were forced to move into the Elliot Manor, the father being old friends and a co-worker for Elliot's business. He was quick to befriend the owner's daughter, the two quick...
