MURDER DRONES: RELAPSE [read desc!]

Lilies

(A/N: yahoohoyy!!! 

L's POV:

It's been 4 weeks. I found an intersection with a colony of worker drones practically asking to be killed.

There was most likely another squad sent to this city, but they wouldn't mind me, would they? In fact, I'd think that me being there is pretty helpful, considering the amount of worker drones still alive and kicking.

I had already started my own little pile of bodies. The oil was enough to keep me alive, and I had found an upturned van to stay in. It didn't have buttons like the landing pod, but I made up for that. I decided that snapping my fingers was the closest thing to the clicking sounds of the buttons. It relaxed me just like the landing pod control panel.

I was still unsure about things, though.

"...Cyn? It's your turn."

AK's POV:

I sat in my supplementary class, doodling to keep myself awake. I had a pretty good idea what I wanted my next gun to be, but I wasn't sure I had enough materials. My big sis hasn't let me go to the disassembly drone hideout to grab materials for a while, so it might be a bit of a challenge.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a loud blast down the hallway.

A boy behind me scoffed at me. "Another one of your inventions blow up, Lily?"

I turned to glare at him. "If it was one of my inventions, we'd all be dead." I smirked. "If I had one of my inventions right now, you'd bet every little line of code in your systems that I'd blast your head off." I laughed and turned back to my sketch only to see it covered in black stuff. Oil...

I looked up, trying to find the source of the oil, to no avail. It must've been melted metal or something. I looked out the classroom door to see black smoke drifting down the hallway. Well, that's bad, innit?

I heard the bell ring as the teacher shouted something about C++ vs JavaScript (and something with semicolons and brackets and some other code language things) so I shot up from my desk, brushed all my stuff into a bag, and ran out of the room, prepared to find the source of the black smoke. I stopped by my locker to shove my designs into the metal closet and grab a gun. Lately, I've tried to keep myself safe within the bunker in case the murder drones decide it's a good day to get past the doors.

And that's exactly how I got into gun manufacturing.

Fun.

I walked through the hallways, looking into classrooms trying to find if anything was wrong. There could have most definitely been an explosion in one of the classrooms (which was very likely seeing as how unhinged the school is) so I was looking to see which teacher screwed up that badly.

I passed by the nurse's office and spotted a purple haired, purple eyed drone holding an ice pack to the side of her face. Maybe she was involved?

That maybe changed to a definitely when I saw a gun next to her giving off smoke as if it had just exploded. We locked eyes for a moment before I turned to run away. Sure, I wanted to talk to her (okay, more like take a look at that sick-as-hell railgun she had beside her) but I had someplace to be.

Away from here. At home, preferably. 

I knocked before unlocking the door. My sister wasn't home yet, so I had the whole house to myself.

I closed the door behind me and turned on the lights. At least home didn't look like something blew it up, unlike a certain place I know. I noticed that a photo frame was on the ground, so I walked over to pick it up. Another photo of my mom and dad. Ever since they were killed by the murder drones, my sister has been trying to keep me in the bunker.

Regardless, I love wa- observing the murder drones and how they kill their victims. That little interest of mine might have given me the label as a school sociopath, but I already knew from the start that I was an outcast. Of course, I didn't want to meet one face to face — like, who would want to meet someone out to kill them? – it was just cool to see what kinds of weapons they use. If I run out of scrap metal, I'll just sneak out and grab the first corpse I see. Blowtorch it a bit, and boom. Scrap metal for my inventions.

I readjusted the flower in my hair in front of the mirror, tossed my ruined designs on the ground, and slung my gun over my shoulder.

If I couldn't go to the murder drone hideout near the bunker, I'd simply just have to find another one, hmm?

word count: 825  (i like short chapters)