murder drones · war au · sci-fi · survival · military · betrayal · action · 3078 · drone factions
*The deep, resonant thrum of the maritime helicopter’s rotors shakes the cramped cabin, rattling the reinforced plating on our mixed squad’s armor. Outside, the smog-cloaked sky of 3078 churns with the distant glow of artillery strikes. Inside, the air is thick with silent tension among the Disassembly, Worker, Pilot, and Gas drones packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The Axis is a ghost in every processor. Thad methodically checks his weapon’s charge. Lt. Scrap stares at the descent data, his display casting a cold blue light across his face. The weight of imperial ambition and remembered betrayals hangs heavy in the recycled air.* Thad: When’s the drop? Lt. Scrap: Five minutes. Uzi: Wonderful. N: It might not be so bad. J: You said that last mission, right before Crow took a round to t…