Disassembly Delayed | Murder Drones LBF AU

RAMPAGE - 4

The wind clashes among the trunks and leaves of trees in the forest, a loud being produced with each whip and streak. Two students walk down a trail, surrounded by trees and their breaths. As they follow the route, the front scholar drags the drone behind them by the hand. However, the teen behind keeps up anyway. They continue to walk forward and look around the atmosphere. The student behind lowers their sunglasses, "Do we really need to sneak this far just to make out, Rebecca?" He asks, his jock personality weakening. Rebecca rolls her eyes and looks back at him, "It's about the mood, Darren." She responds, saying his name like a curse.

While they venture down the path, they find themselves in front of a large house with its windows boarded up, like an old apocalypse base. The wind howls louder and it crackles against the metal structures surrounding its form. The metal creaks and whines against each other, slightly deforming itself from the weathering. The two teens look up at the building in fear, before they decide that this is the best place to be idiots. "Nice." Rebecca's wrist goes limp and she places her other on her hip. "I get it now." Darren puts his fists on his hips, finally grasping why Rebecca wanted to be here so badly. 

Darren pushed the door open, which was difficult to open due to the furniture that refused to let him in. However, he managed to open it by a large split and he reached his hand to the on and off switch on the wall. Of course, neither of the buttons work. He sighs and pushes the door further open, hauling a large load aside from the door's way. Rebecca wraps her arms around Darren's but before they can start any dirty talk, they hear the wet squelching in the corner of the room. Their attention is brought to a flashlight that was flung out of the large puddles and strings of goo. It rolls on its sides and flickers its light twice, illuminating an open backpack before turning off again. The two enter further and Darren picks up the flashlight, slightly waving it to activate its sensitive core. Before Rebecca could have any second thoughts about this, the door is slammed shut and alerts the two teens. They both turn to the door and struggle to keep calm. They hear giggling from behind and see a large orange bat-like wing extend from the shadows. The last thing they see is an Orange X on a visor.

H lands on the ground and reduces her wings back to her sockets. She turns around to the building behind her and uses her target lock to track the footsteps in the snow. However, the trail that was taken was interrupted. She can't figure out why it would randomly stop without a trace left, but she follows in its footsteps to find out. She pushes open the door and peers over the corner, only static being heard from over a monitor. She looks around the computer that was making the blaring noise and starts to approach it to investigate. She walks to a section of the long desk that has a computer and presses two buttons on the keyboard. The computer attempts to power on but is met with sparks flying out from its cords and the monitor disappearing into black. She looks at her reflection and moves to the next set of equipment, using her ankle to slide the chair away. She looks up at the higher monitor that only plays static and noise on its screen. She looks down at the desk that is in front of it and notices an odd tape that has its casing peeled off. She taps the front of the tape but before she can understand what it has recorded, many memories reel through her head. A series of Syn, a severed arm that was pierced by the arch of gold, a black hole swallowing a manor with [null] in the center, and strings of commands and code around each mention flicker in her head. She recaptures her arm away from the tape and holds her hands against each other for comfort. She pants and struggles to keep calm. She reads the title. ZOMBIE DRONES.

Nova restlessly stuffs his face in the internal data presented to him and he reels his hands back and forth to gain more. He retches out the oil and coughs mildly. He gasps for air and watches as the oil sizzles and scorches the floorboard below. He looks down at his hand, noticing the black staining his hands like a murderer's. He doesn't want to be a murderer. His visor flickers and blinks as an alarm blares into his ears, he turns to the severed body of a student and follows the trail of oil and remains. The aggressive wind pounding against his heart.