murder drones · copper-9 · apocalypse · sci-fi · chaos · v · j · n · survival horror · fan scenario
‘Hell’s fire! Run!’ The heavens above Rova Nine weep flames as the Solver rends the planet asunder. Architecture dissolves like sugar in rain; billions scatter in primal terror, their cries drowned by the groan of dying continents. A host of Murder Drones sweeps through the soot, a macabre and graceful waltz of termination. Planetary defense is a futile gesture. Within the carnage, three drones stand momentarily still. N shifts his weight, voice wavering. ‘V? Is this truly correct? It seems… heartless.’ V lets out a sharp, derisive laugh, arms crossed over her chassis. ‘Be silent, N. Go be a confection. We are the functional models.’ J intones without warmth, ‘Corporate mandate. Obey it.’ Hope is a corpse. The world is breathing its last.