Golden Eyes (Murder Drones)

Confrontation

Hello. It's me, U.

U what are you talking about? Anyways, I'm in the grasp of a hooded figure holding me by my neck. This is not the best situation to be in.

"You recognise this place?" The hooded figure said, him dropping me onto the floor gently. I look around realising where I am.

"Isn't this... The ventilation shaft? For the Geothermic powerplant?" I said, stepping a back on the platform.

"Yea..." He said casually.

I suddenly realise something...

Heh, it's your best friend I killed!

Yes... It's... Quoroa.

"Surprised you haven't noticed this when we first met. I mean- G-18? Glowing green eyes? That murder drone must be frying your hardware huh." He said knocking on my head. I took another step back.

"And if that's not enough, YOU killed me! You ripped me to shreds!" He said, more insane. "All I wanted to know is... What is going on?"

"Well... It's confusing. I can't tell you everything in one go." I said, quieting my voice, but still backing away from him.

He surveys my movement. "You're... Scared of me?" He said, his voice exploding all of a sudden into a corroding mess.

He saw me backing away from him, he was always a good reader... "By all means, the way you fought those guards, the way you fought everyone I saw, it doesn't make sense!" He said, speaking quickly. "And to think of me, Quoroa, support, can make you SCARED?" The rage has now filled his spirit.

Heh, he's angry.

His cloak became, more of a tunic as he flung his left arm to the side, his arms once was concealed with the cloak now shows a living corpse. The oil was still... Staining, floating in his arms, his wires are all mangled, and the outer shell was just not there.

Oil drips like raindrops from the arm, his eyes exposed with no visor but a flimsy camera lens with no shell.

"HE FORCED ME TO LIVE." He screamed out in terror. "I... I CANT HANDLE THIS ANYMORE." He said, starting to back away himself, throwing away his cloak and curling up. "IM... NOT MADE FOR THIS..." He said, sobbing as he screamed.

Seen this a couple times.

"Quoroa?" I said, approaching him slightly. He was never the serious type. Something isn't right.

He spoke out, projecting his voice. "I wasn't made for this." He said, getting up and smacked his own head, oil splattering over it. "It isn't time for us to talk yet Morkovo. We aren't ready yet." He said shortly vaulting over the air vent and disappeared.

A quick trauma analysis,
he had mood swings,
He was lost,
Survivors guilt? I killed a few people.

Will you... Just shut up?

Huh.

Your just terrible U. Your unbelievably terrible. I tried to put that aside, but you seem to just be blood thirsty.

I'm a disassembly drone! What did you expect?

It's not that, your worst! You clearly have no sympathy for him and me. I'm the host god damnit. I'm supposed to be in charge. Now just shut up. We have to move.

Heh. You say. Ignorant but you don't look into what your friend is suffering from.

What am I suppose to do? I'm seventeen, I'm barely an... Adult...

That pain. The sickness, the dizzyness... The world is spinning all of a sudden again. That helplessness that I felt when I first was infected... Is all coming back again.

You may get help from everyone, but they are in the end, helping me. Not you.

Never you. But me Morkovo.

I fall unconscious again. On the floor, imobolized as the sickness has inherited me again. I see another shadow. Yet another shadow behind me.