Murder Drones : Born From Ashes REDUX

We are Always Right

 J dug her fingers beneath the plastic chassis of the Bomber Drone she lifted him up and made the wall form a spider crack. Plate sized shards flake off the wall to reveal the gritty concrete.

"What do you MEAN he got away?" she growled through the foam in her mouth.

The Bomber Drone hacks out a splotch of nanite slurry onto her. J stared through the mixture and began carefully wrinkling the material. Smoke sizzles from her methodical pressure. The Bomber Drone stutters as it feels pain for the first time. J whips her hollow stare around like a SecuEye Battle Cam towards the rest of the Bomber Drones behind her.

"You mutts got answers, tell it now! Do it or you're all working until the next daylight cycle!"

–

V watched the rest of the Bombers search one another for an ounce of courage.

"Of course. Stupid machines." She grumbled. The newbie scrolled through the stats while J continued her rave-

"Ah!" The second in command roared in horror. V ducked beneath the legs of the undead army like a Tiger through the forest. She leapt onto the stage and primed her thighs to activate her weapons.

J staggered back for dramatic effect. The nanite repaired HAM radio tied around her waist kept perfectly stable as the hunched over body swung towards V.

The cheek muscles around the Disassembly Drone's face had melted in wrinkly oval windows into her gleaming fangs. The circles in her visor were screen tearing in ways V never thought possible. Her teeth gritted with unfiltered rage as she frantically pulled back her coat and touched her shirt covered chest.

"M-my..." J's knees lowered her down further. V walked over and reached to comfort her superior.

"Hey..." V said in a convection heat type voice, "are you?"

J's glare was enough to make the machine back off. It was enough to vacate the entire parking lot.

–

J did a thermal scan, to ensure the two of them were alone. She looked at her only set of clothes hanging on the window sill; aside from her armband, that was the standard ID system. She didn't know how to clean herself, it wasn't company mandated for her to know it anyways. She thought of N, he knew how to clean clothes like no other member of their unit.

"It's just not fair," She sniffles. Her cold fingers quiver against the red shell of the radio talk piece, "How do these bastards keep getting away with it?"

"What happened?" Command asks, her synthetic fire caresses her naked body.

"Someone got away."

"No point in dwelling on such things."

"But it was one drone! One stupid, Worker Drone! This scrawny, insignificant... LOSER! I bet it uses pronouns like she or something. I lost to her! She shot me- she shot us! She damaged the radio! I almost lost you!" J chokes on the last sentence and hugs back the radio.

"What did she look like?"

"Purple hair, beanie cap, standard ULU uniform... We're more advanced than they are. They're still using box magazines, c4, like animals! And this army N created, they're all useless! And my, my... My Jensenware poly fiber model D dress shirt! It was a gift from JC Jensen to me! It's what they are, they spit on everything we fight for!"

"They lack discipline, I assume?"

"L and the Managers used to train the Bomber Drones every 3 months. It worked like clockwork. They obeyed us then. Now that N neglects his duties were all weak!"