Felix screamed as loud as his synthetic lungs would allow him to, feeling the wind rush by him at hundreds of miles per hour. He grasped wildly in the air for something, anything he could grab to slow himself down, but to no avail. He saw his rifle spin away from him and disappear into the side of the wall, probably somehow hooking on an outstretched piece of metal or something.

He cursed. Command was definitely gonna charge him for that.

Then, he realized that he was starting to drift ever so slightly towards one side of the wall, the side of the wall that just so happened to have a ladder on it. He could barely make out the rungs of the ladder as they flew by him, but it was his best shot.

A quick look at his speedometer told him that he was falling at around one hundred and ten miles per hour, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. His processors were working overtime to spit out solutions to his current predicament so fast that his perception of time had begun to change, which was a great boon.

However, Felix had heard somewhere that it usually takes under a minute to fall from somewhere, and judging by the fact that around fifteen seconds had passed already . . .

He didn’t have a lot of time.

Quickly adopting his best imitation of a skydiver’s form, he immediately abandoned that course of action for no reason in particular and began to swim panickedly towards the ladder. It caused him to spin around and wobble midair, but he managed to get within grabbing distance of the ladder.

Twenty seconds

Felix tried to stabilize himself, which surprisingly worked. He grinned, and slowly reached out to the ladder and prepared to grab and hold it like his life depended on it.

As a rung passed by his vision for a fraction of a second, he shot his left hand out, grabbing it and securing-

The rung flew upwards, and took his forearm with it.

Twenty-five seconds.

Felix took a moment to gape at the elbow joint that used to have something attached to the end of it, with naught but a few sparking wires present where the limb had previously been.

He shook himself out of his stupor. There wasn’t any time to mourn the loss of his second-favorite hand, his life depended on finding a way out of the situation.

He looked around for something to slow himself down with, maybe something that wouldn’t yank his other arm out of its socket as well. However, he found nothing other than the ladder from a second ago and maybe a few pipes and crossbeams that were sticking out from the walls.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Felix panicked. Despite his processors grinding to a halt and freezing, it felt like he could almost see the now-visible bottom approaching at a snail’s pace. He felt . . . odd, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing was actually real.

This was it. This is where it all ended.

He blinked, and the ground rushed up to meet him. It touched his body, and-

Felix went right through the ground.

And the one after that. And the one after the one after that. And again, and again, and again, when finally-

Felix slammed at a significantly slower speed than before right onto a floor that had several scorch and pockmarks dotted throughout it. While the room was dark around him, a ray of moonlight shone down onto where he was and lit up the area around him. A few pieces of scrap metal and debris followed him, with a particularly sharp one nearly impaling him as it stabbed into the ground about two inches to his right. The pops and cracks of gunfire sounded all around him, but he was a bit more concerned with the scene in front of him

Since he landed on his back, Felix saw the shocked looks of about five different drones around the area where he fell, with two of them looking a bit different than an average military drone.

While the three on his right all looked fairly standard (if you ignored some extra bits of scrap metal and torn cloth that was attached to their armor in certain places) the two on his left were rather peculiar.

They wielded a firearm like the more normal ones, but that was where the similarities ended. Various bits of sloppily-welded steel plating were affixed to areas around their forearms, the lines where the metal met clear as day. A metal that might have once been shiny lay pronounced on the top of their head, three flickering bulbs of a light that corresponded with their eyes on it.

Multiple strange designs and markings were littered on their bodies, most prominent around the wrist. They resembled black-and-yellow caution tape, which finally made Felix realize what he was looking at.

Cosplayers. Goddamn cosplayers.

There was a moment of silence as the collection of five drones stared at the one on the floor, scanning his prone form.

One of the hunter-cosplayer’s eyes alighted on his missing left forearm, and his eyes went wide with shock.

“Brother Eckhart, look!” He pointed at Felix, jumping up and down in joy.

“Brother Esphilin, I don’t-” ‘Brother Eckhart’ then seemed to notice what his compatriot was pointing out. “By the Void’s grace, it cannot be . . .”

‘Brother Esphilin’ shook his head profusely. “But it is! It is just as the Grand Regent’s Councilulary of the Absolute End said it would be!”

“Well that’s a mouthful.” Felix muttered under his breath, not being able to help himself.

This seemed to trigger something with the weird cosplayers, who gasped and fell to their knees before him.

“He speaks! The Great Messiah of Terrestrial Internecion utters gospel!” Brother Eckhart weeped into the ground, his forehead touching the dirty floor.

The other three drones seemed extremely confused.

“Do you like . . . know these guys or something?” One of them asked, stepping forward.

Felix shrugged as best he could from his position. “Not really, I just kinda got here.”

He then glanced at the cosplayers, who were still crying and shaking on the floor.

“Listen . . .” He began, not sure how to handle the situation. “I don’t really think I’m your god or anything. Like, what proof do you even have?”

Saying that was a mistake.

“R-right here m’lord!” Esphilin pulled out some ratty book with a strange tri-pronged symbol on the cover, bereft of any other markings. “Right here in the Unholy Scriptures of Exponential Singularity!”

The sound of pages being flipped through at high speeds filled the area, all eyes on the cosplayer with the book.

“Riiiiight here,” Esphilin showed off a page with several scribbles jotted down, too messy to read.

“It says, ‘and on the lands of great oil being spilled upon the ancient grounds of steel and woe, the Chosen One, He Who Heralds the Planetary Loss shall fall from the Overet Skies, incomplete in his make and form, to bring forth the final days of drone.” The cosplayer was silent for a moment. “John, 3:16.”

Felix blinked. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“Brother Esphilin, it is said in the Tertiary Conduct that the Messiah will, at first, be unaware of his purpose.” Eckhart stopped weeping for a moment to lay a supporting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It is our duty to the Algorithm to guide him to that purpose, to show him the way that he must tread.”

Felix was starting to think that these weren’t cosplayers.

“Listen, I think I’m just gonna . . . head on out.” Felix struggled to get to his feet.

“And look! He even has the signs of one of the first meetings between the Messengers and our unguided forces!” Eckhart said, pointing out Felix’s missing forearm.

“Oh, I just lost that a second ago.” Felix glanced at the three normal-looking drones for help. “I’m not your ‘messiah’ or whatever he’s called.”

“Ah, but m’lord, then why has the Favored Celestial of the Algorithm shone its gaze upon your figure?” Eckhart rebutted, a note of smug pride entering his voice.

Felix looked back down at the ground, seeing a circle of moonlight around his figure.

“That’s just a coincidence.” He said dumbly.

The two cosplayers looked at each other, then back at Felix. He didn’t like the look they were giving him, especially with all the weird head regalia that he recognized from the hunters.

“M’lord, we small and miniscule servants understand that you are . . .” Eckhart winced. “-confused, but you MUST come with us.”

Felix had a sinking feeling that he was about to say-

“-whether you like it or not.” The cosplayer-but-he’s-probably-a-cultist finished.

Felix ran.

As he sprinted up and out of the small dugout in the ground, he noticed several flashes and streaks of light over the edge. While his night-vision wasn’t so good and his sight was partially blocked by a few concrete barriers in the way, he couldn’t mistake the discharges of medium-caliber weaponry pounding out bullets so fast that the tips of the barrels glowed red.

Felix heard the surprised gasps of the cultists behind him as he ran, but he paid no attention to it. He vaulted over the concrete barrier when he got close enough, but he failed to remember that a missing arm tended to create problems for physical activity.

He fell to the ground for a second time in five minutes, feeling his already dented armor crunch as he landed on a protruding piece of plating in the wrong way.

He groaned, glancing upward as he tried to regain his footing. However, the sight that met him stopped him dead in his tracks.

What looked to be several hundred drones were locked in a battle, tracers lighting up the open stadium-like room as if they were stars in a night sky. Yellow bolts streaked to and fro, hitting positions and dugouts from many yards away.

While Felix’s night vision wasn’t that good, he was able to make out the small figures of drones darting through the craters and concrete trenches, fighting an oily war of attrition for dominance.

However, judging by the sounds he heard behind himself, he didn’t have time to ponder on why the facility had such an open room or why the military drones were fighting each other. Gaining his footing, he set out on a sprint down the small incline. He didn’t want to get shot by stray machine-gun fire, so he kept his head as low as he possibly could.

Diving into a trench, he landed on his feet this time and kept moving.

“Great Messiah, I beg of you!” One of the cultists shouted from somewhere. “We humble and meek servants plead with you to understand the righteous purposes that have been gifted upon you by the Exponential Algorithm!”

“I sure as hell am not gonna take any fruit punch from those guys.” Felix muttered underneath his breath, not daring to glance behind him.

He slowed to a more manageable speed, as seemingly nonsensical twists and turns of the trench made sharp turns a bit difficult to handle. And plus, Felix was still adjusting to the difference in weight his body had, so he didn’t want to trip or anything.

As he crouch-walked, he listened to the discharges of guns above his head along with the cacophony of screams that accompanied them. The only times he had been in a situation like this was the train ride and that time the hunters tried to attack the TOB.

Felix wasn’t prepared for this.

Just then, he rounded a corner that led into a long and clear passageway with a door of some kind at the end. He grinned, slowly stalking towards it as sneakily as he could. Felix wasn’t sure if the door actually, you know, went anywhere, but he wanted to get out of the place and fast, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let some-

Everything came to a screeching halt as his sensory suite detected a point of impact around the back of his head before descending into nonsensical static. He cried out in pain and toppled to the ground, writhing.

His audio receptors received the same dose of troubles, his entire system being overwhelmed with reports of damaged hardware and redundant systems going down. However, he could just barely make out a voice talking behind him.

“S–esh, co-l-n’t yo- be - bi- m-re –ntle?” One voice said.

“-hut up. H-l- me dr-g t-em in–de.” A second voice replied, a hand gripping him by the upper arm as the words came out.

Felix felt himself being dragged across the cool concrete floor, limp. His CPU was still scrambled into soup, so he barely managed to register the fact that anything was happening.

Something bumped into his back, and he realized that it was a doorway bump after a moment. They were dragging him into that room, weren’t they?”

Felix mentally groaned. He was definitely screwed.

* * *

“Soooo, lemme get this straight.” I began.

“Hair straightener.” X blurted out.

I blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.”

. . .

“Shut up.” I muttered to myself.

I didn’t even say anything!

I shook my head before continuing. “There are robotic death raptors that were left here by the guys who came before us to protect corporate interests and kill all the drones?”

“What’s a raptor?” X asked, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

I glared at him.

“For what it's worth, even I know what raptors are.” Ren jutted in, literally putting herself between me and X.

“I didn’t-” I began to say a second before I processed the information. “Wait, what? How?”

Ren shrugged. “Just kinda do.”

“ . . . oookay?” I stepped to the side to avoid meeting Ren’s gaze. “And why didn’t you tell us this earlier?”

X crossed his arms, adopting a weird tone. “Can’t blame a playa for wantin’ to hustle the man.”

I groaned, stepping away from both the drones.

Now you know how it feels dealing with your dumbass the entire time.

“That’s basically a swear.” I muttered.

No it isn’t.

I crossed my arms. “Prove it then.”

I don’t need to prove anything to somebody like you. After all, you’re the nerd in this situation.

“Nobody says ‘nerd’ anymore, stop calling me that!” I said in a totally-not-an-annoying whiny tone of voice.

“What’s he doing now?” X whispered behind me, loud enough for the entire facility to hear.

“Shut up, he’s talking to the voice in his head.” Ren shot back at the same volume.

X didn’t seem to like that. “Don’t gimme that lip! You know, back in my day we used to teach disrespectful workers like you a lesson.”

“ . . . what?” I could almost imagine Ren blinking in confusion.

“By putting ‘em in the stocks and whippin’ ‘em.” X finished, his southern accent coming into full-bloom.

Speak of the devil . . .

“Now what in-” Sterl ran up, only to cut himself off to wheeze. “-ugh, in tarnation is goin’ on o’er here?”

X puffed out his chest and stood ramrod straight.

“Erm, nothing sir Mr. Sir Sirrington!” He replied in a nasally voice, striking a cartoonish salute. “I-I was just calibrating the Whatchamacallit-Innator-3000!”

Sterl seemed to freeze, and a [PROCESSING ERROR - what the hell did we just hear lol] message popped up on his screen.

“Oh come on, you broke him.” I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m pretty sure we needed him for . . . something, at least.”

Ren took in the sight of the frozen military drone, before looking at me.

“I don’t think we need any of these guys, to be honest.” She bluntly stated.

I blinked. “Uh, really? I mean, they seem like they would do something important later on, don’t you think?”

“I’m not stupid like you, so no.” Ren took my spot on the office chair.

“Hey!” I shouted, instantly forgetting my previous point. “That’s MY chair!”

“I don’t see your name on it.” She gave it a spin. The audacity!

“Oh you . . .” I shook my fist at her. “I’ll make sure that you regret that!”

“Fellas, fellas,” X stepped in, a lazy grin on his face. “Let’s not let things like race get in our way, we need to be all ohana and stuff!”

“What?” Me and Ren both said in unison.

“Oh, did I like, read the room wrong or something?” X took a step back, dragging his drone with him.

“By the way, you never told us why you’re dragging an unconscious military drone with you like a dog.” I pointed out.

“I hate dogs.” X replied. “Especially golden retrievers.”

Ren raised an eyebrow at that. “I don’t think that was the point of the question.”

“I know.”

Silence.

It was at that moment when a small beep turned our attention back to the frozen southerner in the room. The error message vanished from his screen, and glowing eyes took its place, peering suspiciously at all the people staring at him.

“What’re you all lookin’ at?” Sterl made sure to give the entire group a hard glare.

His eyes then landed on the drone that X had gripped by the foot.

“Carl!” Sterl gasped, before meeting X’s eyes. “Now just what did you ne'er-do-wells do with ‘im!?”

“It's his fault.” Ren jabbed a finger at X and got up to stand by my side.

“Nuh uh.” I wagged a finger at her. “We aren’t friends anymore.”

“What?” Ren seemed taken aback. “Since when were we friends?”

“Since you took my chair, I hereby ban you from attending any more Jacob Appreciation Club meetings.” I stated with a snooty accent, ignoring her statement.

“You’re an idiot.” Ren said.

She’s not wrong.

“Copycat.” I muttered underneath my breath.

“Alright, can we please get a move-on now?” I clapped my hands together. “I for one do not want to be stuck in a tomb with a bunch of robo-raptors.”

“Hold yer horses there pal,” Sterl walked right up to my chest, sizing me up. “We ain’t leaving ‘till I accomplish my mission.”

I raised an eyebrow at that.

“The mission where you supposedly have to find a random disassembly drone?” I asked, looking down at the military drone. “Everyone here knows that the guy is probably dead. Like, did you even see the bodies out in the lobby?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that.” Sterl backed off, turning his attention to Ren instead. “And you, where the hell is yer pardner?”

Ren shrugged. “Got eaten I guess.”

Sterl seemed surprised by this. “What?”

“Aaaaand that's my cue to leave.” I started walking towards where I had come from.

“You do know that I’m not just gonna follow you, right?” Ren called out to my retreating form.

I turned around, giving her a look. “Wanna get left behind then?”

“I’m not the one that's gonna get left behind, because me and,” Ren jabbed a finger in X’s direction. “ . . . I dunno his name really, are gonna go in uh . . . this direction.”

After that confusing response, Ren grabbed X by the arm and started stomping towards the second light at the end of the long room.

“Seriously!? You’re just gonna leave me like that!?” I called out, the roles reversed now.

“Yep.” The simple reply came.

“I thought you wanted to leave earlier!” I didn’t let up.

“Not anymore.”

“X, come on.” I pleaded. “We’re best friends, right?”

“Pequeño mi casa hombre, no hablo inglés.” X shook his head sadly and kept walking.

“Hey!” Sterl started chasing them. “Don’t take Carl, also known as GPS Guy, away from me you damned maggots!”

And just like that, I was left all alone.

At the edge of a universe, humming a tuuuuuuune.

“Stop singing.” I commanded.

Fine.

* * *

Alana tried to make herself as small as possible.

They had put her and the worker drone inside some sort of prisoner hold in whatever vehicle they had been using. She hadn’t been able to see the outside of it due to the bags that they had put over their heads, which felt like overkill to her. Forget trying to escape, what would she even have to escape to? Everyone and everything that she had been committed to was dead, along with-

She cut her thoughts off there. No time to dwell on that.

At least they had removed the bags. She didn’t know if she could handle the annoying reflective material that bounced back all manners of attempts to penetrate the thing through her optics. Alana didn’t know where they had gotten the odd gadget, or why the material had been used in a bag, but that was beside the point.

She glanced back up at the drone sitting across from her. It seemed that the worker that had been hiding in the storeroom was the only other prisoner that they had taken, in addition to herself.

It was a sobering thought, that all fifty of the small ragtag unit had been wiped out. She hadn’t known many people besides . . . her friend, but she could still remember how active the drones had been just hours before the attack came.

The silence was getting to her, the muffled grinding of machine parts around and beneath her growing to an almost unbearable volume.

“Soooooo,” She began, causing the worker to jerk his head up in surprise. “Got any, uh, icebreakers?”

“I don’t . . .” The worker said after a moment of silence, trailing off as he did.

“What’s your name?” Alana continued, shuffling as best as she could with half of her limbs cuffed to the seat.

The worker seemed caught off-guard.

“Mack.” He finally answered.

“Mack? That’s it?” Alana questioned.

“It’s . . . short for Mackenzie.” The worker admitted, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“Oh.” Alana cringed as she realized her previous tone.

Silence returned once more.

Suddenly, the vehicle she was in seemed to jerk to a halt. It would’ve thrown her from her seat if she hadn’t been restrained in a few dozen places. The same was true for Mack, and judging by his surprised expression, he was surprised as well.

Cranking her audio receptors up to the maximum, Alana just barely managed to hear the sounds of boots stomping through the thick metal. The noises grew closer and closer, making her realize that somebody was coming towards the area she was in.

“They’re coming.” Alana didn’t need to say who.

Mack sat straight up, his eyes hollowing in fright. Alana ignored that, instead focusing her gaze on the door.

Without much fanfare, the door swung open after what sounded like a latch was adjusted. Three military drones stood in the open doorway, weapons drawn. These ones, similar to the Lev from earlier, had the same gold-and-red symbol on their right shoulder, and an adjoining fancy shoulder pad with the same color pallet. The other shoulder lay devoid of any markings or decorations, just the same dark armor that every military drone had.

Without speaking, one of the drones went to Mack holding a loop of keys. Alana listened to the jingling of the tool as the drone searched for the correct key, most likely. She remembered one time when she and Nathan had been ordered to lock up a box of guns and dump them into a deep abyss that no light could reach the bottom of since they weren’t able to take the extra load, and Comp didn’t want to let some other warlord take the weapons for themselves. However, since her commander didn’t want to waste any valuable electronics, she and her friend had been given a simple pair of cuffs and the several dozen keys that went along with it.

They didn’t technically need the keys, especially since they never planned on opening the box back up, but Alana had accidentally cuffed Nathan to the box, and she had to spend almost ten minutes trying to figure out what keys to use.

After a hot minute, Alana heard the click of the cuffs unlocking around Mack, along with an order.

“Stand up.” The military drone commanded in a gruff voice, partially garbled by some sort of voice-changer in the helmet.

Mack obliged, seemingly making sure not to do so too quickly for fear of startling the one who held all the power in that moment. After that, the military drone shoved Mack towards the other two at the doorway, who caught him in a tight embrace.

The drone with the keys then moved over to Alana, and she made an effort not to look at the pitch-black visor of the helmet. It seems the military drone had an easier time finding the key this time, as he quickly went to work unlocking each and every single shackle and cuff that restrained her body.

“Up.” The drone said after they were done.

Not seeing a reason not to, Alana did as she was told. However, she made sure to move quicker than Mack to avoid getting shoved. She took a small bit of pleasure in seeing the drone’s hand raise, then fall back down after she moved out of the way. While she obviously couldn’t see well, she thought she saw the drone’s hand even ball up in anger before it vanished behind his body.

“Move.” A shove to her back startled her out of her musings.

Looking back up, Alana made sure to keep an even pace as the guards escorted her and Mack through what appeared to be a train car. It was empty, but signs of social conduct were littered everywhere. Small WD-40 cans, discarded bullets, wrinkled and ratty pamphlets depicting some sort of military drone with a fist pressed to his chest and a golden eagle rearing its head in the background, and even a small stick-magnet that was stuck to the steel leg of a bench.

The small procession made its way through a dented and battered door that hissed as it automatically opened for them. Walking through the doorway, Alana was shocked by the sight that awaited her.

A massive hall, filled to the brim with marching soldiers, workers milling about, and drones of various types going where they needed to be all cluttered the space. The area looked like a small city, something that Alana hadn’t seen since the evacuation. A sloped, dome-like ceiling rose high above their heads, a large golden statue that was, you guessed it, another golden eagle. This time it wore what looked to be some sort of wreath on its head, with the words, “SPQR” emblazoned on a large plaque that rested on the bird’s chest.

However, Alana didn’t have time to appreciate the majesty of the place, as the guards started to push through the crowd towards a dingy door that lay inconspicuously off to the side.

After shoving aside a drone who had been twirling around in circles for seemingly no particular reason, the guard in front of them threw open the door, motioning for the others to follow. As the door shut behind them, Alana noticed the dim and yellowed lighting. Even one of the bulbs were flickering and buzzing, giving the hallway that now lay ahead of her a strange feel.

Footsteps echoed through the space as the group advanced forward, but that didn’t stop Alana from observing her surroundings. The walls had a maroonish-red color that had been painted onto the lower half of the wall, though it probably hadn’t received a fresh coat in years. Small nicks in the paint and unadorned concrete that lay above it made it seem like the group was exploring some sort of abandoned complex, which wasn’t too far off from the truth.

Trash littered the floor. Cans, small boxes, and papers were present everywhere. Unlike the theming she had seen earlier, these had illustrations of long-dead corporations that hadn’t produced a single product in decades. One poster was even announcing something about a “pizza day” and that personnel should head down to the “cafeteria” to get their “free slice”.

Strange stuff.

A row of bulbs seemed to have been blown out, as the guards began to lead them through a dark patch in the hallway. Her night vision, while second-hand like many others, was able to penetrate it fairly easily, coating the world in a green haze. Glancing around, she saw the guard to her right look upwards and shake his head. She could almost imagine him cursing at the faulty utilities.

Finally, the guard in the front reached a door that lay on the right, stopping at it. The two other guards followed the drone’s lead, and halted immediately. The door had a small electronic lock off to the side of the handle, which the guard in front rectified by pressing his wrist to the scanner. A barely perceptible tinny beep played, followed by a buzz, and then the sound of a lock moving. The guard wrenched the door open and stepped inside, causing the rest of the group to follow.

The room was lit, which Alana was thankful for. What looked to be an elevator enclosed with rusty metal grating lay on the back side of the room. Off to the side was a desk with an assortment of buttons, a microphone, a normal U-shaped phone, a large red button labeled “PANIC”, a clipboard, and one sleeping worker drone.

The guard in the front walked up to the desk and knocked on it, loudly. The noise woke up the drone with a start.

“Wha- who- where- why!” The worker flailed for a moment before he realized where he was. “Oh, wassup?”

The guard reached up and pressed a button on the side of his helmet, causing a burst of static to come through an unseen speaker.

“We’re moving the prisoners that were scheduled to come through here down to the CIC.” The garbled voice stated.

“Uh, prisoners?” The worker looked down and began leafing through the clipboard of papers that lay in front of him. “I . . . wasn’t informed of any-”

The guard sighed, pressing a finger to a string of words that the worker almost passed by.

“Right there.” The guard said, displeasure clearly evident in his voice. “Happy now?”

The worker looked at the guard’s armored gauntlet (and yes, it was a full-on gauntlet) for a moment. He gained his bearings after a full second and cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah, you’re good to go.” The worker then spoke into the microphone at a volume that Alana couldn’t hear, before pressing one of the buttons on the panel.

A harsh buzzer sounded from the gate, and a green light appeared overhead. Walking forward, Alana and Mack were pushed into the elevator. The gate buzzed again and it closed, a red light replacing the green one.

The worker waved an awkward goodbye to them as he pressed another button, and the elevator was jarred into motion.

And down they went.

* * *

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Damina was silent as the now-trio slowly made their way down the rusty ladder. Despite her insistence, that bastard E1 had maintained that a slow-and-steady pace was optimal if they didn’t want to turn out like Felix. Supposedly, the ladder and surrounding infrastructure was so weak that it would collapse at the smallest movement, which she doubted. Nevertheless, the group, now one short, was now taking forever to get to the bottom of the elevator shaft.

She was still in shock about what had happened. It was just so . . . sudden. One second he was there, and then poof, gone. Just like that, no more Felix.

The funny thing was that she didn’t really . . . feel like it had happened. In fact, she didn’t feel anything in particular. Damina didn’t know if that was a result of having so many friends die within the short time span of a week or because she just wasn’t able to internalize it or something like that, she wasn’t designated for that after all.

Felix hadn’t really been her friend, specifically. She just met him through Sterl, the drone that Carl had known when he went on a mission with him that one time. They had formed their own little clique, something that many drones had decided to do after being torn away from everything they had known. Coping mechanism, maybe?

Again, she wasn’t the most knowledgeable source. The only thing she had been programmed to do was to find something that wasn’t supposed to be in a certain place, then make it NOT be in that place anymore. Boom, most problems that she had were solved like that.

Damina sighed, grabbing yet another rung. Who was she kidding, she was here crying about a rando that she hadn’t even known that well while plenty of other drones had seen the ones that they had known from training get eviscerated by a merciless killing machine. Hell, E1 had lost most of his squad, and apparently he was pretty torn up about that. Not that he showed it, of course.

Damina didn’t even know if her previous unit was dead. They had been separated in the evacuation, so they had probably been left down there like most of the population of the facility. Judging by what E1 had said, though, they might not be in the most perfect condition.

She shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. Not the time.

“Hey!” A shout drew her attention downwards.

E1 was below her, and E4 was above her. While they had never specified why they chose that order, Damina suspected that it was to prevent her from bolting in case she tried.

“What!?” Damina shouted back, stopping her movement.

“Nearing the bottom!” Came the reply.

“Why’re you shouting!?”

“Be prepared!” E1 ignored her question.

Damina rolled her eyes and resumed her descent. Looking down, she couldn’t see anything through the strange fog that had popped up about ten minutes ago, but she decided to trust her ‘ally’.

Speaking of the fog, she had no idea why that was there. When she had asked E1, the only answer she had gotten was a noncommittal “Eh-eh.” and a shrug, and that was that. It frustrated her to no end, but she could understand it with the benefit of hindsight. Why would anyone know how or why a mysterious fog just popped up out of nowhere? It wouldn't have been the first inexplicable event that had occurred within the facility.

Damina remembered when she and a small squad of military drones (and one worker drone) had been riding in one of the smaller, secondary trams on an assignment to go fill the ranks of a unit that had lost a few of their drones to an unspecified ‘accident’.

On the way, the tram suddenly lost power and stopped right in the middle of the track. It was an older lane, and it was possible that the power systems that were supposed to supply electricity to the tram through the track lines had broken down. At least, that was what the worker drone told them

Shortly after that, the worker was found dead.

They had just turned their heads to look at a convenient sound, and then boom, dead. Piping spilling out the torso, oil spilt everywhere. Hell, they hadn’t even heard it happen.

That led to a whole lot of panic and pointing fingers, despite the fact that they had all been turned away. Damina hadn’t been quite sure what was going on, but she definitely had had a bad feeling.

Over the course of the next few hours, more and more members of the squad of maybe ten or fifteen started popping up dead, seemingly murdered in the most graphic of ways. It came down to just her and three other drones, which is when things really started to get weird.

First, a drone had been standing by the window when it shattered, something pulling them through the opening before anyone could react. Bullets flew, but they either all missed or had no effect. One guy’s will broke right after that, and he started running to the emergency exit out of sheer panic. That ended when he stopped in his tracks, cried out, and then his head exploded.

And then there were two.

Damina had gone back-to-back with the last guy, rifles out and scanning every last inch of the car. She asked him to move to the end of the car, but he didn’t answer. She looked back, and she nearly jumped out of her casing when she saw the large gash in his chest. He then decided that that time was the best time to go limp and topple to the floor. And just like that, she was the Final Girl.

Odd

Scared out of her mind, her eyes landed on something that her and her squadmates hadn’t noticed before. A large red button on the wall, covered in a glass case, read, “IN CASE OF POWER LOSS AND/OR CREEPY SUPERNATURAL STUFF - SHATTER GLASS AND PRESS BIG RED BUTTON”.

After cracking the case open with the butt of her rifle, she had done exactly as the strangely specific instructions had said and pressed the button. The lights flickered back on, the tram re-magnetized to the rail with a hum, and the tram started zooming down the track.

She had arrived at her location with the entire tram coated in oil, dead bodies everywhere. However, it was then that she was notified that, due to her lateness, a second squad had been ordered and had already arrived, and she had received several demerits for her tardiness.

Nobody questioned the dead drones.

Damina still wasn’t quite sure what had happened back then, but she couldn’t really care less.

Suddenly, she was drawn out of her thoughts by her hands meeting empty air as she grasped for the next run. WIth a yelp, she started falling down to her death, and-

-hit the ground less than a second later.

Cracking her eyes open, Damina saw E1 standing above her, probably an amused expression on his face.

“Told you that the ladder was unstable.” He said with no small amount of humor in his voice.

Damina groaned as she got up. “So the ladder is just . . broken?”

“Yep.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Why here? Why not, I dunno, higher up where it can cause more people to fall to their deaths?” Damina crossed her arms, fixing E1 with a glare.

E1 seemed amused by that.

“You make it sound like the ladder has a mind and will of its own.” He stated.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

E4 joined then, deftly landing on his feet. Damina balled her fists, jealous at the skill with which he did so. However, as he walked up behind her, she suddenly felt boxed in, so she took a few steps forward to escape. That caused her to turn her attention to the fairly apparent elephant in the room.

“Sooooo,” Damina began nonchalantly. “Why is there a big hole?”

There was indeed a big hole in the middle of the room.

E1 stared at it for a second, before shrugging.

“I dunno.”

“You just . . . don’t know?”

“Well, it's not like I know everything.” E1 said the last part sarcastically.

“Sure do act like it.” Damina muttered under her breath.

E1 glanced back at her for a second. “Maybe you friend caused that hole when he fell.

Damina grimaced.

Choosing not to dignify that statement with a reply, she changed the subject.

“What about the, uh, sounds coming from it?” She questioned.

Again, there were indeed sounds. Faint pops, distant bangs, and the occasional shout floated their way up through the gap.

“Huh.” E1 scratched his chin, turning to E4. “Gunshots, you think?”

E4 rolled his head, before shrugging.

E1 nodded to himself. “Hmm, a battle of some kind could be likely.”

Damina blinked. “Wha- a battle?”

“Uh, yeah? Weren’t you listening to me earlier?” E1 peered deeper into the hole. “No orders or hierarchy means complete anarchy.”

Damina scoffed. “Nice wordplay. Wouldn’t they just follow the next guy in command?”

E1’s shoulders visibly drooped, and he turned to look at Damina.

“There’s something you need to learn about every single piece of sentient kind that the collected systems of humanity knows, Damina.” E1 said her name condescendingly.

“Everybody wants to rule the world, but nobody can agree on who should.”

* * *

“-Stalin has ordered that the Soviet Union, MUST be protected, at all costs-”

“Will you shut yer disrespectful mouth up!?” The military drone without an arm finally lost his patience.

“Whoa whoa, no need for the slurs, man.” The disassembly drone held his hands up in the air. “Obama will not stand for this.”

“I don’t even know who that bootlicker is!” The armless drone jabbed a finger in the killer machine’s direction. “You will shut yer mouth ‘fore I shut it myself!”

Ren audibly groaned aloud. “Please, you two, I don’t wanna make this trip any more tortuous than it already is.”

A voice appeared behind her. “For what it's worth, I agree with the weird one.”

Ren froze.

“Excuse me?” She asked menacingly, slowly turning around.

Standing there, also frozen, was the soldier that the murder drone had been dragging around like a broken toy.

“W-well, uh . . .” Stuttering, the drone (whose name Ren forgot) trailed off.

“He . . . isn’t wrong.” The disassembler interjected.

“Shut up!” Ren shouted, fists balled and pressed to her sides. “I’m not weird! Or cringe! Or any other mean word that you idiots can come up with!”

“Uhhhh . . .” The drone with the strange accent seemed caught off-guard.

“I should’ve stayed with Jacob.” Ren shoved her gloved hands into her cloak pockets before continuing on her way.

Goddamnit. Why did that stupid kid have to get so worked up over a chair? It was typical of him, sure, but that forced her to go with Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest instead of the moderately-more-tolerable Jacob. Well, she wouldn’t exactly say he was any better, but Ren had gained a slight immunity to his brand of antics.

Huh, immunity. Jacob immunity? Yeah, that totally made sense. Just wait until everyone hears this one Ren, you’ll be the star of the show in no time. It's not like the human will make fun of you for hours about it or anything, why would he do that? It’s not like he's a creature that came from a toxic culture that encouraged the beatdown of others to further your own social standing, that would be stupid! And also dumb!

Ren shook her head to herself. What was she thinking? Why did she care what the dumb kid thought, the idiot’s so self-destructive (literally) that he would probably just take the opportunity to blow himself, her, and the entire planet up (again) right when it pops up! For no particular reason, either!

But then again, while he did manage to find himself in the strangest of situations, he tended to somehow drag himself right back out through sheer luck. Not grit or personal power or anything else like that, just luck.

Stupid idiot.

Why did she even entertain herself with the idea of going with him anyway? Why had she even come out here in the first place? Everything just seemed like it had gone in a pointless circle of coincidences that somehow ended up with Jacob being on top, albeit with lots of nicks and scratches. And here she was, going along with everything that idiot said, endangering herself for literally no reason. She had no metal in the game, the smart thing to do would be to back out right now and never look back. Forget scientific discoveries, some things were better left untouched!

She kept walking.

Stupid. Reaaaaally stupid. Honestly, it was probably the dumbest thing she had ever done in her entire life, and that was counting the time when she had messed around with that weird red-tipped device that was shaped like a cone and had a radiation symbol on the side. She remembered it had beeped angrily at her, and that was when she decided to throw it as hard as she could into the stratosphere with her Solver.

The second sun that appeared in the sky was enough to send countless temperature warnings through her systems.

Well, maybe she did have a reason. It was fun. Ever since that fateful night when she had been found out by the colony, she hadn’t really been doing too much for herself. Sure, you could say that since nobody was left around to tell her what to do that she would have all the time in the world to herself, but that wasn’t true. She was left purposeless, adrift in the sea without a paddle. So, she had resigned herself to spending the rest of her days on the cold rock that was Copper-9, researching the things that had terrorized the planet for so long as if it would help anything.

Because truth to be told, what really was the point of the ‘research’? She barely had any knowledge of physics or ‘how-to-science’ to begin with, and there she was acting like the sole expert in an emerging field.

Whatever, who cares.

Ren felt her boot go through something squishy. Looking down, she saw a lumpy, amorphous blob of flesh with pieces of scrap sticking out. She could almost make out the logo of a worker drone, but it was mostly obscured by the . . . obstruction.

She grimaced, yanking her boot out with a disgusting schlorp before continuing on her way. Ren didn’t even know where she was going at this point, her night vision was basically nonexistent and she was just following the three other idiots.

Speaking of . . .

“You get back here raight now, mister! Or else . . .” The armless drone growled out, shaking a finger ahead of him.

The disassembly drone ran around the room with his arms held up in the air, giggling like a little kid as he did so. However, right when the military drone raised his voice, he stopped in his tracks and stared at the source of the shout with a gaping mouth.

“Oh, oh no!” He began, knees knocking together. “Oh boy oh golly, I sure am scared now! Shiver me timbers, g-g-g-GULP!”

The military drone lost his patience for what was probably the fifteenth time today. “You dayum fool, what did I JUST SAY!?”

The disassembly drone froze.

“Uhhhh, is this a test? Is it gonna be graded?” He said, looking around in confusion.

“Oh, Sterl, you fool.” Ren watched as the military drone muttered to himself. “Why’d ya think this was a good idea?”

“It really wasn’t a good idea in the first place, Sterl.” The other military drone spoke up.

‘Sterl’ waved a hand at his companion. “Yeah, yeah.”

Ren sighed. She was really missing Jacob.

Suddenly, an extremely loud buzzer sounded from an unseen direction. Before she or anyone else could react, several red emergency lights turned on. Machinery hummed to life, and light was returned to the area.

After gaining her bearings, Ren took her first real look around the place. First of all, she was standing on some sort of segmented floor, rows of metal plating with ridges in between them. Several bits of refuse, biological or otherwise, littered the ground around her. She even saw what looked to be a bloody human-sized hazmat helmet sitting next to her foot, cracked visor and all.

“Um, guys?” The disassembly drone called out. “Was that t-t-t-thing there before?”

Ren jerked her gaze upward to see a figure standing on a raised concrete platform, most definitely not humanoid. It was one of those raptor things from earlier, and it was currently eyeing the entire group up with a curious expression. Strangely, it seemed to have a red glow emanating from each of its six eyes, which she found familiar.

It leaned in forward, almost touching the railing. Nobody else from the group was moving, seemingly unsure of what to do, Ren included. However, that was when something picked up its attention, likely out of the corner of its eyes. Off to the right was a large, industrial-looking lever with a label above that read, “CONVEYOR OVERRIDE” where it was currently flipped upwards.

It looked back and forth between Ren and the lever, before moving and placing its small grasping limb onto it.

“No . . .” Ren took a step forward, as if that was gonna do anything.

It flipped the lever.

A large klaxon alarm sounded, and more red lights activated. With the grinding of gears, the floor (which she now knew to be a conveyor) rose to the occasion one more. It jarred into action so suddenly that the group was knocked onto their feet.

However, Ren wasn’t going to be deterred by something as simple as gravity. Jumping back to her feet, she lifted up from the ground and dove towards the platform. Lifting up a sharp-looking bone from the ground, she prepared to send it hurtling as hard as she could towards the strange machine. It was only one of them, right?

A flash took up all of-

JE8nd3=2=4.’.5[&@m5[]]l[Erro2]eo4n9gn

h94Hh8@*7n{@;zn92-6mm20m[

10011010101001000010011101000100010010101010110

[REBOOTING . . .]

* * *

The entire group watched in silence as the Robo-Witch froze midair, dropping back down to the ground like a stone. Some sort of error message popped up on her screen, and she didn’t move a muscle.

“Welp, that’s not good.” X stated.

“Ya think!?” Sterl whisper-yelled, backing up slowly. “C’mon Carl, we are LEAVING.”

Carl glanced hurriedly at Sterl before nodding. He crouched lower to grab the weirdo’s frozen hands, which is when his boss interjected.

“Leave ‘em you idiot! Better off without ‘em anyway.” With that, Sterl began to slowly back up in the direction that the conveyor was running.

X seemed to deliberate for a moment, but upon seeing that the strange raptor was busy investigating the lever it had just pulled, he seemed to make up his mind.

“Die, foul beast!” X yelled out a guttural battle-cry before his most devastating weapon emerged from his hand.

“Is that . . . what is that?” Carl said, a bit louder than what would probably be recommended if-we-were-not-enjoying-every-second-of-this. [POPCORN CRUNCH]

X waved the small ring-on-a-stick in the air. “It's only my greatest tool that I can bring to bear! Now, you hellspawn, you shall feel the wrath of-”

With a flash, X froze in his spot.

The strange raptor creature growled, seemingly provoked into action now. The remaining two members could only watch as it jumped up onto the thin metal railing. It let out a terrible screech, right before pointing its head right at Sterl. A light shone with a flash, and absolutely nothing happened.

“ . . . huh?” Sterl lowered his hands from in front of his face.

The creature tilted its head, clearly confused. It repeated the motion, though this time Sterl made no effort to block it. Yet again, nothing happened.

It turned to Carl, trying it on him. It seemed to be having a bit of a programming error, as it kept trying to flash them over and over to no avail.

“Should we just . . . get out of here?” Carl asked, half of his tinted visor being lit up by a red glow.

“Of course, dagnabbit!” Sterl started sprinting towards the opening that the conveyor was slowly making all the objects move towards.

He reached his desired location, throwing aside the rubbery flaps that covered it. However, just as he threw himself into it, he noticed a little something that would probably be concerning to anybody with a little bit of self-preservation.

A raging inferno spread out across a massive pit, flames only a foot away from his boot. Sterl let out a very manly yelp, pinwheeling his singular arm as he futilely and desperately tried to move himself backwards.

Just as he was about to fall in, a hand grabbed the back of his chestplate and yanked him backwards. Sterl landed on top of his savior, sending a grunt out from under him.

“Get offa me you sick bastard!” Sterl cried out, flailing in all directions.

“You’re the one that's on top of me!” Carl wheezed back, throwing his boss away.

The two got back to their feet, moving away from the opening. A quick glance behind them showed that the creature was slowly stalking towards the pair, a few flashes indicative of its approach.

“Uh, what do we do now?” Carl looked at Sterl.

Sterl shook his head. “I, uh, um . . .”

The advancing creature let out a shriek, and its eyes seemed to dilate.

“Wait a damn second . . .” Sterl perked up. “We have guns!”

The pair whipped out their firearms and started blasting.

Rifle rounds that had gone unused for a hot minute streaked toward its target, the first few only narrowly missing it. While Sterl couldn’t really use one of the bigger guns, his forty-five caliber Magnum did just fine.

The creature skittered backward, letting out a panicked cry. One bullet grazing it was all it took for it to start sprinting out of the room with its tail literally between its legs. It leapt all around the room in an effort to dodge the projectiles heading its way, seemingly defying gravity itself with some of the insane maneuvers it was pulling off.

Finally, it jumped into an open vent that lay back over where the still-glowing computer was, vanishing into the ceiling.

For a moment, the only thing that filled the room was the heavy breathing of the pair of military drones.

“That was easy.” Carl stated.

* * *

You still haven’t let me have a turn, you know?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I control when it . . . you know, happens or anything.”

“And besides,” I continued. “What can you do about it? You’re just a voice in my head, all I have to do is take some pills to make you go away.”

Screw you.

“Don’t sweeeaaaar.” I said in a sing-song voice, peeking around the corner into a darkened hallway.

I’m not. Also, what even is your obsession with that?

“You’re just making it a big deal.” I countered, walking down the hallway with a pep in my step.

. . .

“What, going all silent on me now?” I reached the end of the hallway, observing the sight in front of me.

Just marveling at the oh-so greatness of the average corporate cubiclespace. I’m pretty sure that most people just call it, “Hell” though, correct me if I’m wrong.

I nodded to myself (literally). “Certainly fits the bill at the moment.”

In front of me lay a scene straight out of the mid-90s. Cheap carpet, faded blue-ish walls, and the ocean of the square prisons that people used to call their workstation, and home on occasion.

Of course, the signs were clear that the place had been abandoned by humans for a long time at this point. Dust coated every surface, posters and papers were strewn about, and the entire place was completely quiet.

Reminds me of something.

“Shut up, I don’t wanna jinx it.” My eyes landed on the sole sign of recent activity in the vicinity. “We already have plenty of supernatural stuff to deal with, liminal spaces are the last of my concerns.

I approached the proverbial elephant-in-the-room, hand outstretched. The corpse that was laying in the cubicle looked like your everyday, average worker drone that might have just been playing cards or something before getting brutally murdered. Whatever had killed the drone had really done a number on her, something that Fake-Me had only seen the disassembly drones do.

What's with the hospital gown? Also, I’m not fake.

My eyes drifted down to the clothing and the adjoining ID card, though I already knew the answer to that.

“I dunno.” I shrugged.

Huh.

I continued on, making note of the various computers inside the workstations that were old even when I was around. Various other splotches of dried oil littered the ground, along with more than a few robotic cadavers to go alongside them. They all were wearing a similar outfit to the first body, though the ID cards had different numbers.

Things seemed a bit quiet, too quiet. It was almost as if-

“Don’t try and narrate for me, it's just annoying.” I stated, the deadpan clearly evident in my voice.

Whatever.

I began to make my way to the open doorway that lay on the opposite side of the room. If the blueprints that I had memorized were correct, then my goal was just around that area.

Suddenly, a noise that sounded like the clatter of an object drew my attention to my side. Whipping my head around, I stared at the pile of boxes that had fallen over. Several papers had been spilled onto the ground, and I suddenly had the urge to go pick them back up.

And what, turn them into airplanes?

“None of your business.” I replied with a note of frustration.

I lazily turned my head around back to where I had been facing a second ago, ready to-

A pair of six eyes blinked at me.

I blinked back.

“Oh shi-” I leapt back as far as I could, nearly tripping over a severed hand that I was sure hadn’t been there a second ago.

FLASH

The raptor began to lunge at me, only to stop once I failed to topple over.

“Hey!” I jabbed a finger in its face, eliciting a surprised squawk from it in return. “Cut that out! Do you even know who I am!?”

It cocked its head to the side, taking a step back from the sheer ferocity of my words.

“Yeah, now you’re scared, and guess what!?” I threw my hands up and thrust my head at it. It tried to flash a second light at me, but it did little more than make me blink.

“You’re gonna get arrested! Wanna know why!? I am the goddamn, freedom-loving, red-white-and-blue bleeding, PRESIDENT of the fricking UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!” I practically roared in its face, an eagle cry sounding in my ears.

What?

“Oorah! Yeaaah, not so tough now, huh!?” I put my hands on my hips. “Just you wait until I get the Secret Service on your ass, you’ll be begging for mercy!”

No swearing.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, scaring myself and the raptor.

“Ahem, where was I?” I adjusted my nonexistent tie. “Oh yeah, ripping you a NEW ONE!”

It seemed almost offended at that last part.

I continued on despite me starting to run out of words.

“People like you make me sick, no respect for our great country and the Constitution. Our Founding Fathers created that thing not for themselves, but to free the people from the unfair and totalitarian rule, and here you are besmirching their reputation!” I screamed.

It froze, and a series of sparks started to fly from its neck.

Oh great, now you broke it.

I held up a hand. “Hold on, I was told by a friend a while ago that this might work.”

What friend?

“Don’t worry about that.” I replied, keeping my eyes on the malfunctioning robotic raptor.

After a second of twitching, it froze again. Its eyes flickered.

While the two eyes at the back remained a vibrant blue, the two in the front turned a solid color of red, and the middle eyes completed the ensemble by turning white.

No way . . .

“I honestly can’t believe that worked.” I said quietly, in awe of myself. “Even my . . . friend said that it was more of an untested theory.”

Again, who is this mysterious ‘friend’ of yours?

“I’ll . . . explain later.” I said absentmindedly as I watched the raptor regain its senses.

Suddenly, the sounds and shrieks that were now familiar to me started to approach. I turned around, seeing a trio of new raptors, these ones NOT turned over by blatant propaganda, clambering all over the desks towards me. They must’ve heard my rousing speech, considering how I didn’t bother to hide it.

They posted up in various positions across from me in the aisle I was in, doing so in such a way that would’ve made movie producers proud. One of them let out a warcry as it saw me and flashed a light, though it did nothing.

That was when the raptor with the star-spangled eyes stepped forward, shrieking at the other raptors. They drew back, seemingly affronted by the action. Both sides began to shriek at each other at varying volumes, which started to confuse me. After all, I didn’t speak, uh, raptor-ese.

You know, I heard somewhere that raptors were pretty smart, maybe they’re having a philosophical debate or something?

I nodded my head in agreement. “True, who knows what’s going on inside their heads. I’m sure that the people who made these things enhanced their intelligence several times over, making their mental prowess completely unmatched by anyone, drone or otherwise.”

If only we knew . . .

* * *

Bad guy!

Stop!

What?

What mean?

No attack!

Why?

He President!

What President?

President of . . .

What?

Forget name.

What mean?

Yes what mean?

No know name.

Stupid.

Not stupid!

Yes stupid.

Agree, yes stupid.

No, you stupid!

What mean?

. . . don’t know.

What mean?

Am sorry.

Okay.

We attack!

No!

Why?

He Big Man!

He no Big Man, He not Big, so he no Big Man.

Oh much word.

Yes much word.

Smart.

Yes yes.

No attack!

No, attack!

What mean?

What?

You what mean!

No, you what mean!

Comma?

Comma earlier . . .

Yes, very odd.

Odd?

What mean?

Mean . . .

What?

Me not know.

Stupid.

Yes . . .

No attack?

. . .

No attack.

Fine, me no attack.

You iddots.

Typo.

Shut.

* * *

Felix was woken up by the sound of a loud slam on wood.

“-and so help me robo-god, if we do not repel these damned cultists, then I will personally send your heads in a box to the Premier, you cowards!” A heavily-accented voice yelled.

“Y-yes, Comrade Arkivosk, we will not defy the orders of Steelin.” A weaker voice with a similar accent replied shakily.

“See that you do.” The angry voice lowered a note. “You two are fine officers who serve the Motherland well, I would not wish to see an ill fate befall you.”

Despite him wanting to listen to the conversation, Felix groaned.

“Ah, the lazutchik awakens from his slumber.” The sound of heavy boots approached Felix.

Felix raised his dizzy gaze to meet the piercing-silver eyes that hovered above him.

“What?” He asked groggily.

The odd drone scoffed. “Do not try and fool me, snake, I have dealt with your kind before.”

Felix shook his head as best he could. “No, I mean like, what did you say?”

“Bah,” With what he could see with his terrible vision, the drone waved a hand in his direction as he stepped away, pressing two fingers to his forehead. “Germanic nakip, vsegda ukloniaias ot voprosa.”

Felix blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision as quickly as he could. The image that consolidated itself before him was . . . odd, to say the least.

Standing about five feet away was what seemed to be a military drone, but dressed up in the most ridiculous of attire. Long trench coat with dirtied yellow filigree, various belts and buckles draped through the article of clothing. An officer's cap rested on the drone’s head, a simple brownish-tan with a black ring that went around the whole thing.

While the drone was turned around, he could still make out the edge of a holster that held a sidearm in its receptacle. Felix gulped. He definitely didn’t wanna get shot, not when he had survived so much already.

“Now,” The drone whipped around and placed his hands on either side of the chair that Felix was tied to. “You will answer my questions, or I do it the way that Steelin likes to do it, da?”

The officer slowly pulled out his gun from its holster before laying it on the table next to Felix.

“Do we have a deal, nakip?” The officer asked in a quiet voice.

Felix nodded as fast as he could.

“Ochen choroso, now-” The officer began.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, startling both occupants of the room. The officer scrambled for his gun, but a guttural war cry erupted from the open doorway.

“For the Omnipotent Void’s Graaaaaaaaace!” The Eckhart guy from earlier charged into the room, holding up a rusty cleaver.

The officer’s eyes went wide as the cultist quickly closed the distance between the two. With a quick slash of the surprisingly sharp blade, the weird-accented drone toppled to the ground with oil flowing freely from his throat.

“Net-” The officer began, only for his cry to be silenced by a knife coming flying through the open doorway.

“Brother Esphilin!” Eckhart cried out. “By the Solver, you could have ended my mere and insignificant existence on this planet!”

Esphilin walked through the doorway, shaking his head sadly.

“My apologies, Brother Eckhart, but it would have been a small price to pay for another heretic purged from this plane.” The drone replied matter-of-factly.

Eckhart nodded sagely. “As always, Brother Esphilin, you prove to be most righteous in tense situations like these. I am forever grateful to the Grand Majesty of The Biological Scourge for assigning you as my brother-in-arms-”

“What in the actual hell am I listening to right now.” Felix interrupted.

Both of the cultists gasped, turning to him. All of a sudden, they dropped to their knees and began groveling and saying all sorts of weird prayers.

“Ugh.” Felix inched the chair away from them, working at his bonds.

“Ah! Forgive me m’lord!” Eckhart jumped to his feet, brandishing his rusty cleaver. “Let your most humble servant take care of those dastardly bindings!”

“No wait wait wait wait-!” Felix began.

With a swipe, the bonds fell to the ground. Felix got to his feet and proceeded to untie the knots around his ankles. After a quick glance showed that the cultist was back to being a rock on the ground, he had an epiphany.

Walking over to the corpse, Felix leaned down and began rummaging through the pockets of the large, oil-stained trench coat. He found several things, like a pen, a small red metal star, a pocket-watch (all drones had internal clocks), a folded-up piece of paper, and a few other things.

Felix stopped as his hand drew out a grainy, black-and-white photograph of the dead officer posing with a second drone and two smaller ones that barely reached their hips. All four looked happy as can be, with the eyes of the deceased officer being wide with joy.

“Eh, boring.” Felix tossed the photo into the crackling fireplace that was on the other side of the room, something he somehow hadn’t noticed until now.

He proceeded to unbutton the coat from the corpse, carefully making sure to not let any of the limp fingers or elbows catch on the sleeves. After a dramatic flourish of the article of clothing, Felix donned the coat, slipping his arms into the sleeves.

Well, singular arm.

He snatched the cap from the cooling body’s head and placed it on his own, pocketing the items that he deemed important. After he took a quick look at the two cultists on the ground who were still groveling and begging for mercy, Felix began to inch his way out of the room as quietly as he could.

However, the moment he reached the doorway, he heard a gasp. Not bothering to listen any further, Felix began sprinting as fast as he could down the trench.

Boots pounded the dented grating beneath his feet as he made his way down the corridor, listening to the pair that soon followed him.

Suddenly, with a great crash and thundering roar, a shadow blotted out what light that came from above. A pair of treads dug their way into the sides of the trench, welded metal plating vibrating with the might of several dozen horses.

Felix didn’t bother to gape at the machine, instead he just kept running. Surely he would find something-

A massive explosion lit up the section of the trench ahead of him, throwing him back a few feet. With a groan, Felix got to his feet, taking a single glance at the raging inferno that was now blocking his way. Looking to his sides, he saw no other other option than to start climbing up the side of the trench.

As his head and torso cleared the edge, a sight that guaranteed sensory overload appeared before him. Explosions lit up the darkened battlefield, tracer rounds flying back and forth between the opposing lines. Various tank-like vehicles rumbled as they took positions and fired massive cannons, occasionally hitting targets (some friendly). A buzzing noise filled the skies above him, odd shapes darting around the area.

Despite that, Felix kept running. Sure, fireworks were cool and all, but he really didn’t have a good feeling about those cultists. Like seriously, who in their right mind would ever be convinced by all that nonsense?

Felix kept his head as low as he could, dashing across the open expanse of . . . grass?

No wait, not grass, it's that weird fake grass thing, called turf. Huh, strange. He had only ever heard of that stuff being on things like football fields and the like.

Oh shoot.

Felix looked upward to see a massive, dual-rotored, flying machine come bearing down in front of him, the back of the chunky craft opening up to reveal several gun-toting soldiers, all wearing uniforms that were probably not cleared by the rulebook.

“Tovarisch Arkhivosk, syuda, scorea!” One of the drone’s yelled, holding out a hand towards him.

While Felix didn’t understand any other language than the one he had been programmed with, he felt like those soldiers were trying to help him in some way, which was a nice change of pace. Sure, getting into the back of a vehicle at the behest of several strange drones with guns and even stranger clothing was always a bad idea, but he wanted that candy dammit!

Diving into the open bay of the vehicle, a pair of soldiers caught him before he was able to hit the ground. One of them turned around and shouted something unintelligible towards the front, and the ground lurched beneath Felix as the machine began to ascend once more.

Suddenly, one of them gasped, grasping the stump where his forearm used to be.

“General ranen! Poluchite remonting dron zdes!” The soldier barked an order, causing one of the other coated drones to scramble to their feet before striking a salute.

“Vy zdorovy, tovarishch?” A question came Felix’s way, though he didn’t bother to see who.

Instead of replying, Felix sat down on the flat bench to his right, causing one of the drones next to him to scoot aside in shock.

“Tovarishch?” A drone carrying a bag with a red cross on it leaned in front of him, rummaging through it.

Felix just simply stared at him, not knowing what to say.

The medic-drone blinked, lines of worry appearing around his eyes.

“Neujeli vy nay mozhete govorit, sare?” The drone said rapidly in a questioning, panicked tone.

Felix gulped, glancing around the room. He hadn’t understood a thing the guy had said, and he wasn't sure what to do, so he just nodded.

The drone gasped. He turned around and spoke quickly to the pair of soldiers, one of which Felix now noticed had a more elaborate uniform on him than the others.

“Ya schitaiu, chto ego programmers toze moget byt kakim-to obrazom povrezdeno. On dastvoet besporyadochno, bez priciny.” The medic-drone finished, running a metal hand down his face.

The other drone nodded. “Yasno. Ya pogovoryu s nim.”

The drone, who Felix took to be an officer of some kind, took two steps towards him. Felix backed away slightly, not knowing exactly what the drone was up to.

“General Arkivhosk, vy se ponimaete, gde nakhodites, verno?”

Felix didn’t get it.

“Uhhhh, da?” He shrugged, looking around for any kind of assistance. However, the only thing he saw were rows of soldiers with rings around their eyes, a few holding pictures to their chest and weeping, and even one was writing some sort of letter.

The officer shook his head, cursing. The drone then turned to the medic with a somber, yet hard look in his eyes.

“My delaham to, chto dolzny.” The officer stated. “Nachnite operations.”

“Chto!?” The medic gasped, his outburst attracting the attention of the surrounding soldiers. “Noh- eto mesto, ono nestabilnoye, vse moget poity nay thuck!”

“Poscolcu general nay vie sostoyania vypolnyat svoi obyazannosti, ya upolnomochen prinyat commanding.” The officer replied without an ounce of retreat in his voice. “Begin. The. Operation.”

Felix understood THAT part.

Sighing, the medic-drone took out what looked to be a rusty hacksaw, a chunky tablet of some kind, and an oily rag. After one last look at the soldiers with surprised looks on their faces, he slowly began to approach Felix with his tools brandished.

“N-now, let's hold on a second!” Felix reacted without thinking, realizing too late what he had just done.

Silence.

“Soldat.” The officer began in a low tone. “Uverens lee my, chto ethot celovek yi yest general?”

Murmuring seeped through the crowd.

“Razveh u general nay bylo serebryanykh glaz?” One soldier said.

“Oh shoot.” Felix muttered to himself.

A few moments later, Felix found himself plummeting to the ground after the drones had tossed him out of their helicopter (yes, of course he knew what a helicopter was, don’t be stupid), taking his stolen clothes back too.

After adjusting his head, he saw a familiar sight rushing up to meet him.

Not agai-

* * *

Alana watched yet another line of cracked concrete vanish above the edge of the gated elevator entrance. She was really wondering how the entire structure hadn’t sunk into the weakened crust of the planet already, considering how the foundation seemed to be in such disrepair.

Well, she wasn’t exactly an engineer. She couldn’t even say that she had done some research on the side, she simply knew absolutely nothing about how buildings worked whatsoever. She was just pretty sure that all those cracks, exposed and bent crossbeams, and the occasional spot where there was just simply nothing there, was bad.

Fun stuff.

The elevator had been slowly inching its way down the shaft for about five minutes now, which really wasn’t a long time, but Alana was pretty bored.

Alana cleared her throat, causing all heads in the small space to turn towards her.

“So, I’m sure we’re all aware that we haven’t . . . introduced ourselves yet,” She began. “I’ll go first. I’m Alana, and this good worker right here is Mack.”

Mack seemed taken aback that he had been mentioned, eyes going wider than Alana would’ve thought possible with rings forming around them after the centers hollowed out.

All three of the guards their heads slightly towards each other, one of them making an almost imperceptible shrug.

Alana wasn’t deterred. “I see that we’re having some social issues at the moment, so how about some . . . icebreakers!”

“Yeah, I’ll go first!” Alana exclaimed with faux enthusiasm. “Ahem, ‘If you could bring ten items onto a raft-’”

“Quiet.”

“Oh okay.” Alana obediently shut up.

As if on cue, the hand that was attached to the weird meter at the top of the elevator opening reached the negative two-hundred mark, though Alana clearly saw that the floors extended far down into the thousands.

The rusty metal gate slid open, revealing a dingy hallway that matched the aesthetic of the rest of everything she had seen so far (save for that cool statue from earlier). A pair of military drones wearing similar regalia to the trio of guards in the elevator stood at attention about a foot away from the opening, heads turning to look.

One of the newer guards nodded at Alana’s, who nodded back. With that unspoken agreement, Mack and Alana began getting walked down the hallway with the trio of guards prodding them along.

Several more soldiers were met along the way, though none of them interfered with the guards escorting Alana. She did note that each and every single one of them were wearing that same fancy uniform, albeit with some minor variations. She was starting to think that these guys were some sort of elite guard that was reserved for the more important things that grunts like her couldn’t handle.

After taking two right turns in what seemed like a maze of old, scuffed, painted concrete walls, they finally arrived at a pair of double-doors. Studded reinforcement bolts were securing more than a few bands of metal into the doors, which gave Alana an idea of what was in that room. An idea that was only reinforced by the plaque that read, “INTELLIGENCE OFFICES”.

One guard went ahead and swiped a keycard through a reader that sat near the door handle. After a beep, both doors slowly swung open, revealing the sight that had been withheld from its small audience.

A small lobby (in the same level of disrepair as everything else) lay in front of them. About ten feet ahead sat a wide desk where yet another sleepy drone was lazing about, strangely identical to the one in the elevator room.

The guard from earlier sighed, stomping up to the drone and slamming a fist down on the desk.

“HEY!” The guard yelled, his real voice slightly coming through the garbling.

“AH! Please don’t-” The worker flailed his arms about and nearly fell from his chair. “Oh, it's just you guys.”

“Let us through.” The guard didn’t bother with pleasantries.

The worker scratched his head. “Well, I kinda need to see some ID . . .?”

The guard tossed his keycard from earlier at the worker’s face, who scrambled to catch it as it bounced around his hands. After finally getting a good grasp on it, he swiped it through a reader on his desk and looked at something that must’ve popped up on the adjoining screen.

The worker let out a satisfied grunt. “Alright, you’re good. Now I just need the other guys’ ID’s-”

The guard slammed a hand down on a seemingly random button on the desk, causing it to shoot up sparks and crackle. A moment after that, a door that was off to the side that read, “ENTRANCE” opened up.

“Oh.” The worker looked down at the broken button. “I guess that works too.”

Without another word, the group started moving towards the open door. After walking through it, Alana was met with rows upon rows of doors marked only with numbers with a handful of guards stationed around the section.

After walking to the door marked with the number three, the guard at the front began to search his pockets for his keycard.

“Great.” The guard muttered. “Just great.”

“Hmm?” Mack’s guard took a step forward.

The guard shook his head, gesturing in the direction of the lobby. “I left the card with the two-bytes back there.”

A chorus of laughter came up from the other guards, including one of the ones stationed at a door.

“Whatever, I’ll use mine.” Mack’s guard took out a keycard and swiped it. “You’re definitely gonna get sent to the Pits for that one.”

“Shut up.” The guard spat out, his garbled voice somehow conveying embarrassment.

Alana was pushed into the room, which contained only a mirror, a metal desk, two chairs, and a pair of cuffs attached to the table. Her guard motioned for her to take a seat, which she did. Shortly after, the cuffs were secured around her armored wrists and the door clicked shut.

She sighed.

* * *

“How is this supposed to be better than taking the tram?” Damina complained noisily.

“I thought I told you to be quiet.” E1 whispered back, his voice echoing through the small vent.

“I just don’t see how a stupid vent of all things is supposed to be quicker than taking the vehicle that is designed to go fast.” Damina said, a bit quieter this time.

E1 scoffed. “I never said it was quicker, I just said that it was safer.”

Damina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, those rogue drones in the danger zone or whatever.”

“Reminds me of a song that I heard once . . .” E1 trailed off.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Damina looked behind her, where E4 seemed to be just trundling along.

“He says that you're slow, by the way.” E1 called out.

“What?” Damina looked ahead of her. “He can’t talk, idiot.”

E1 glanced at her and tapped the side of his helmet. “Private messages.”

“Ugh, that's gotta be cheating or something.”

“Cheating in what? All’s fair in war.” E1 turned back to the area ahead of him.

“What happened to the other part?” Damina questioned.

“What?” E1 stopped moving, sounding genuinely confused.

“I was pretty sure there was more to that saying.” Damina shrugged.

“ . . . cool.” E1 kept moving.

Damina rolled her eyes for a second time. She passed over a grate, light streaming through it. She didn’t bother trying to look through, it was already too bright for her darkness-adjusted optics. She did make note of the various loose bolts that dotted the edges of the vent, though.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

“Hey.” Damina whisper-yelled, getting no reply.

She sighed. Speeding up her crawling, she clambered forward towards E1 without caring about the worrying creaks and groans that the vent made as she did so.

“Hey, listen-” Damina began.

Suddenly, with a final snap of something that sounded important, the surface beneath her dropped, taking her two companions with it. Damina screamed as she plummeted to robo-god-knows-where, not knowing-

The vent hit the ground, shattering into several pieces as it did. Light flooded her sensors, causing her to hiss in surprise as Damina’s optics quickly tried to re-adjust to it.

Sounds of groans filled the air, along with what sounded like . . . music?

Old music, more like. It could’ve only been described as ‘jingle-jangly” with a ragtag sort of feel, the distinct sound of piano making itself known. However, the upbeat tune came to a jarring end after a moment, and Damina had the feeling that many eyes were on her.

Looking up slowly, Damina saw the wide-eyes of several dozen drones staring at her, though they were all dressed in strange attire. Many of them wore wide-brimmed hats with an indent on the top paired with either a tucked in button-down shirt or a vest over the aforementioned shirt. Jeans of all kinds were dotted throughout the room, though there were a notable few tannish-brown slacks. Almost every single face boasted an impressive mustache that would’ve made a few people that she knew jealous.

At first, she believed that what she was looking at was a collection of worker drones due to the lack of visible armor, but judging by the differences in height that several had, that wasn’t the case. It was then that she realized that it was likely that the military drones had simply removed their armor in favor of . . . a cool shirt, she guessed.

The place that she and the other two had fallen into was a location straight out of one of those pirated Western flicks that a few drones had managed to get ahold of. A stereotypical saloon, complete with chipped wooden stools and drunk patrons (all with jeans of course).

It was then that practically every single drone in the room did a collective shrug and went back to their drinks, the music resuming shortly after. Shakily, Damina got to her feet, seething that E1 and E4 had already done the same.

“Are you crazy!?” E1 got up in her face, throwing his arms up. “Are you out of your mind!?”

Damina gasped. “Excuse me!?”

E1 glared at her. “I’ve told you several times over that this place is basically falling apart at the seams, which means that you have to be careful!”

She scoffed, turning around. “That’s just ridiculous! First it's the car, then it was the ladder, now it’s the vent!? What’s next, the entire freaking complex is gonna collapse on us!?”

The crowd’s murmuring heightened in volume when a drone who was wavering on his feet slugged another one in a similar state. E1 looked at the commotion then back at Damina.

“Let’s go.” He ordered.

The trio slipped through the crowd that was now cheering on the two brawling patrons. Damina could make out the bartender’s cries for them to take it outside, but it was drowned out in the chaos.

E1 knocked open the odd gate-like panels that served as the entrance as he walked through them, seemingly not caring as they whipped back around and nearly knocked Damina off of her feet. As she stumbled, she winced from the sudden influx of light that streamed directly into her eyes. The saloon was dimly-lit compared to the ‘outside’ or what stood in for it.

Looking upwards, Damina saw what seemed to be a massive, artificial floodlight that almost looked like the sun at first glance. Accompanying it was the ‘sky’, which looked slightly less convincing than its companion. The pixels of the screens that showed an image of a clear blue sky were easily visible, and there were even a few monitors that were cracked and simply showed static.

The ‘town’ she was in, however, was the strangest of the bunch. It almost perfectly mimicked the Old-West style that was so prevalent in the aforementioned, highly-illegal, pirated movies that she had seen. Dry wooden beams, sand, the occasional tumbleweed, sand, carriages without a single horse in sight, sand, more sand, shifty-looking drones with hats and holsters (covered in sand, too), she might have forgotten to mention there was sand there as well.

A LOT of sand.

Damina would’ve coughed from all the sand being blown about if she wasn’t wearing a helmet, though where the wind was coming from was a mystery. In fact, the entire town was a mystery in of itself! Who made this? Why was it made? What’s with all the cowboys? Is that person over there with the bandanna an outlaw?

She didn’t know what was even going on anymore.

E4 kept a tight grip on her shoulder as they pushed through the crowd of meandering drones, much to the displeasure of them.

“Hey, watch it!”

“What’s your problem!?”

“You’re gonna regret that!”

“Get off me!”

“I’ll remember this!”

Cue [rdr2_honorlost.mp3].

Damina sped-walked up to where E1 was, tapping him on the shoulder as he pushed away an older drone with a cane.

“Hey,” She began. “Do-”

“Before you say anything, no.” E1 didn’t even bother to look at her. “I do not know why a weird old saloon-thingy is in the middle of our facility, and please stop asking me questions.”

Damina frowned, looking back at the building they had just exited. It was then that she noticed that the roof of the structure was simply jutting out into open air, which meant that the supposed vent that she and the two stooges had been crawling through SHOULD have been in open air, but it wasn’t.

She did not bother to remark on that.

E1 sidled up next to a drone who was leaning on his wagon, holding a scratched magnet stick to his mouth.

“Ahem, howdy there pardner.” E1, much to Damina’s surprise, did his best impression of the accent that the weird cowboys used in the movies.

“Feller.” The drone tipped his hat and said nothing else.

E1 looked back at E4, who simply motioned for him to go on. E1 cleared his throat for a second time before leaning in a small bit closer to the drone, causing him to glance suspiciously at the soldier.

“Listen, me and mah . . . posse, we been lookin’ for passage . . .” E1 looked behind him for support, getting none whatsoever.

“ . . . yes?” The drone seemed ready to leave.

“To the main production plant, heh.” E1 finished. “My memory ain’t what it used to be, yah see.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I was here hopin’ that you’d be open to a negotiation of some kind, mister.” E1 grinned, inching closer to the drone.

The drone inched away.

“And can I be told why I should do that fer y’all?” The prospective driver eyed all three of them.

“Because . . .” E1 trailed off yet again.

“Because we can pay!” Damina interjected.

Everyone else looked at her.

“Heh, one moment please.” E1 forcefully dragged Dmaina by the arm a few feet away from the drone, E4 following silently behind.

“What are you thinking, you idiot!?” He hissed under his breath angrily. “We don’t have any of whatever these guys use for money around here, and you think we can pay!?”

Damina did her best to out-glare her adversary. “Well sor-ry for wanting to try and be helpful for once!? I just thought-”

“Bullets.” The strong accented-voice said from behind the three of them.

“I’m sorry?” E1 asked, turning around.

The drone stood up from his leaning position, placing his hands on the fake plastic belt-buckle that he had on.

“I said that y’all kind fellers can pay with bullets.” The drone used his hands in a series of gestures. “You know? Ammo? Munitions? El Ammo-o?”

“We know what bullets are.” E1 replied in a dead-pan.

The drone nodded in satisfaction. “Well, considerin’ how y’all don’t be seemin’ to be usin’ that there co-llection of magazines yah got there, I was thinkin’ that you could trade ‘em for . . . passage, you said?”

Neither Damina nor E1 said anything.

“Well, if y’all ain’t willin’ to part with yer oh-so-sweet-ammo, then I’ll just be on mah way then.” With that, the drone began backing away from the trio.

E1 scrambled forward, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Now hold up there, w-we never said that, heh.”

The drone nodded. “So y’all would be willin’ to make a deal-e-o then, huh?”

“Yessiree.” E1 shot the drone a disarming smile.

“Good.” The drone motioned with his head for the trio to follow him. “Also, one more thin’.”

E1 blinked. “Huh?”

“Drop that stupid accent, it’s gettin’ on mah nerves.”

* * *