Skye City: The Darkness of Emmilyn

Punch Bag

Woken by a thumping and screeching, I fling open my eyelids to see Eugene climbing off the scraped floor tiles, near the door to the showers. Scoop runs across the sleeping quarters and flying kicks him in the chest, stumbling. The service droid tumbles into a wall, scratching the cream paintwork, then lies flat on his back. I gawp, horrified as Eugene places his spaghetti arm across his face.
'Please, sirs, don't hurt me,' the service droid pleads, seemingly afraid to stand, and the boys howl with laughter. I sit upright with a migraine, squeeze my eyes shut, and re-open them to confirm I am not imagining things.

'What the hell are you lot doing? Leave the poor droid alone,' I say, tempted to instruct Eugene to fight back and kick their arses.
'Why? It's not like it has feelings and the stupid thing is no use anyways,' Smig says, wielding a broom he has found from somewhere. Big tough guy needs a weapon against a submissive foe.
The boys slowly approach their victim like feral dogs ready to pounce, or more like crazies ready to pounce. Scoop cackles, then knee-drops Eugene who does not flinch, but the bullying idiot rolls around the floor, clutching his knee. Now is mine and Bex's turn to cackle. Nice one, karma.
'Ow, you broke my leg, stupid droid!' Scoop says and then he stands on his 'broken' leg. Eugene climbs to his feet and backs away from his attackers, but his escape is blocked by a bunk. He holds his spaghetti arms before his face as Smig swings the broom at his cylindrical metal head. The handle breaks in half and Eugene whimpers, 'Please, sirs, no more.'
Oscar bounces on his toes, ready to strike metal and sustain his own well-deserved injury, but I jump out of bed and grab his wrist. I will beat these idiots up myself in a moment.
'Enough! I like Eugene. You boys scare me, sometimes,' I say and Oscar's lips flap.
'Okay, we'll leave the stupid robot alone. Damn thing's near indestructible, anyways.' Smig casually swings his pointed broom handle so I keep a safe distance to avoid being speared. 'If only the combat droids were as well-built as the stupid service droid. Not a single one of 'em is working...'
'Actually, that's not entirely true,' Eugene says.
'What do you mean?' Smig says, almost in a whisper.
'One of the Powell HG manned combat mechanoids is still operational,' Eugene says as though he is psychic. Maybe robots can read each other's minds or something. I actually have no idea how modern technology works.
'Did you say manned combat mechanoid?' Smig's eyes light up as though he is eager for a joy ride.
'Oh no, Smig, you've been drinking. That's not a–'
'That was yesterday, Emmi. It'll be fine... Eugene, lead the way! Oh, and I apologise for the beating. It was nothing personal,' Smig says, but 'yesterday' was hours ago and the boys clearly have not sobered up. I am not even certain they have slept yet.
Eugene leads us through the corridors into the armoury where intact mechanoids stand in rows, and I cannot imagine what could have rendered most inoperational without leaving a scratch. The service droid approaches a green mechanoid which stands eleven foot tall, and Smig eagerly follows as we watch from the safety of the doorway. This game could so easily go horribly wrong.
'Do you know the activation code?' Smig says.
'Yes, it's frilly knickers!' Eugene says and the gang giggle.
'These rebels certainly have a sense of humour,' I mutter as the mechanoid hums, then its shoulders jut outwards and its limbs fold as it curls into a ball. The glass dome of the cockpit rises, revealing a single seat, several levers and a dashboard covered in lights. I could swear Smig has a bulge in his pants.
He unhesitantly jumps into the cockpit and a harness automatically restrains him, then the glass dome slowly closes and the mechanoid stands tall. The rest of us take nervous steps back into the corridor in case Smig hits the wrong button. This mechanoid is like a sasquatch on steroids wearing body armour, wielding a rocket launcher and machine gun. Sadly the pilot lacks the intelligence and judgement of a sasquatch.

'Do you even know how to operate this thing?' I say.
'How difficult can it be?' Smig yells from the cockpit, and the mechanoid flings out its foot, kicking the hapless Eugene. The service droid flies through rows of mechanoids, cracking the concrete wall and I cover my ringing ears. 'Holy shit, that was fun!'
'Okay, let's keep a safe distance from the idiot in the giant robot,' I say, and the mechanoid approaches the dented service droid who is struggling to stand, and kicks him again. Eugene smashes into the wall, worsening those cracks, and lies motionless, making strange sounds with his voice. Poor robot.
'Okay, let's open the shutters,' Smig says and the shutters automatically roll up, revealing the body-littered industrial estate. The snow is shallow now, meaning the corpses and severed limbs are more visible and numerous. Since the memorial, I had been tuning out the dead, pretending they were not surrounding our sanctuary. Suddenly the hardened side I developed when we cleared the building, crumbles, and I shudder as the mechanoid ventures into the open.
'Oh, Dynah, where are you? I so wish you were here to keep the boys in check,' I say.