SilentMask one shot collection

Corporate Protocols

The world was dead. Mitchell trudged through the endless expanse of white, boots crunching against the snow like the ticking of some great clock. Above him, the storm raged as it always did, clouds of acidic ash mixing with poisonous ice. Copper-9 had long since stopped caring for the lives that once thrived on it. Every step reminded him that he should not be here.

But Mitchell had never been good at taking hints.

Behind him, Yeva followed silently, her slight frame moving almost effortlessly over the snow. She had long since stopped warning him about the dangers of these scavenging trips, especially in weather this bad. Not because she trusted him to be safe—she absolutely didn't—but because Mitchell was as stubborn as they came, and also because she always went with him anyway. She knew that trying to stop him was like yelling at a wall. A wall that occasionally carried EMP grenades and a portable UV light to keep Disassembly Drones at bay.

Mitchell adjusted his thick coat, his gloved hand brushing against the badge still clipped to his chest. "Dr. Chambers," it read in bold letters, right above the faded logo of Cabin Fever Labs. The title didn't mean much anymore, not since the core collapse, but it occasionally came in handy when he needed to bluff his way through a situation. Or, you know, survive a planet-wide apocalypse.

"How much further are we going?" Yeva's voice cut through the storm like a scalpel. She didn't sound tired, but Mitchell knew better. Even with Solver Powers, there were limits. "We've already passed three other ruins. There's nothing out here."

"Not yet," Mitchell replied, his voice muffled by the scarf—that his girlfr— uh, he means Yeva got him—wrapped around his face. "But there might be. And if there's one thing I've learned about this hellhole, it's that there's always something buried under the snow. Usually something that wants to kill us, but hey, sometimes we get lucky."

Yeva rolled her eyes, though Mitchell couldn't see it. "And what do you think we're going to find? Another stash of expired snack bars? Because if I have to look at one more American can of pre-collapse chili, I'm—"

"Hold up," Mitchell interrupted, holding up a hand. He'd spotted something ahead, a strange shape half-hidden under a drift of snow. It wasn't large, but it was... unnatural, too smooth and angular to be just a rock or a pile of debris.

"What is it?" Yeva asked, her tone sharp. She'd seen the way Mitchell's posture stiffened, the way his hand instinctively moved toward the EMP grenade on his belt.

"Don't know," Mitchell muttered, already stepping closer. He knelt beside the shape, brushing snow away with quick, deliberate movements.

The more he uncovered, the clearer it became. The black metal was unmistakable, as was the faint glow of a deactivated visor. The drone was sprawled on its side, its arms limp, its wings twisted and partially melted. Across the visor, the words [FORCED SHUTDOWN] blinked faintly in yellow.

"A Disassembly Drone," Yeva hissed, taking a step back. Her Solver tendrils flickered behind her, reacting to her unease. "Leave it. It's broken. Useless."

Mitchell didn't move. He studied the drone's battered body, noting the damage. It had clearly been in a fight—several fights, judging by the scorch marks and dents. Whatever had done this had left it barely functional, a husk of its former self.

"Doesn't look too dangerous now," Mitchell said finally, standing and brushing the snow off his gloves.

Yeva's optics narrowed. "You can't be serious. You want to help it? Mitchell, it's a Disassembly Drone. Do you know what they do to Worker Drones like me? Or to humans, for that matter?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen the carnage," Mitchell replied, waving a hand dismissively. "But look at it, Yeva. It's not exactly in fighting shape. Hell, it's barely alive. Besides..." He gestured to his badge. "If it does wake up, it's gonna see me as Dr. Chambers, Big Science Guy. That's gotta count for something, right?"