Murder Drones: Death-Sides

Chapter 3: E'rbody's Got Problems

"Hey, did you hear that?"

V froze on the spot. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had become careless in her advance through the frigid wasteland. She glanced over at the drop pod and saw the shadows of J and N peeking out to see what the disturbance was. Seeing as how she had nowhere else to go without giving herself away, V decided to chuck the smashed arm away from her position.

N and J looked in the direction of the thrown arm. "Okay, there was definitely something there," said N.

J sighed. "Our constructive coaching session can wait," said J, her arm retracting into a submachine gun. "We need to have plenty of fuel in the tank if we're gonna take on the defect and her pet Worker Drone. Let's get moving, Synergistic Liability."

"Uh, J? Can you please not call me th–" N began to whine.

Without warning, J pointed her gun at N's right foot and shot him. V winced at this sight; even though N was an occasional airhead, she couldn't help but feel bad for him. As N hopped around with his wounded foot, "N, you're worthless and terrible, and if the company allowed it, I'd straight up kill you myself! Don't you forget that. Seeing as how you are the weakest among us – bar V, after recent events have revealed her to be even more defective than you – I shall call you whatsoever I please, and if I one day deign to call you something worse than the current moniker I am giving you, you will submit accordingly. Got it?"

"O-okay! Sorry! Thank you!" N said, still wincing from the pain.

V couldn't help but feel sorry for N. I wish to point out that her remorse didn't just exist in remembrance of N's poor foot but rather because he didn't understand he was fighting for the wrong side. Genesys' words rang in her head: "...if we can get you to join the good guys, who's to say we can't get, say, N on our side, or even J?" Despite her belief in Genesys' cause, she couldn't help but doubt whether or not N would join them, let alone J. As N and J flew off (with N flying away a little haphazardly), V decided to shelve these doubts for the moment so she could get the blade.

Meanwhile at the Bunker...

I fell back into my chair, sighing as Lizzy leaned on the table for support. Lizzy and I had toiled and troubled for an hour over the guard for my weapon. Our efforts resulted in the successful procuring and attaching of a functional guard to my hilt. "Whew," Lizzy huffed. "Do you... think that's... a good enough... guard?"

"If by that, you're asking if it'll keep me alive for a single encounter with a Disassembly Drone, then I think so," I answered as frankly as I could. "Y'know, if I wasn't under the threat of dying in a glorious battle in a few hours, I'd decorate it. Make it look nice, you know?"

"Why?" Lizzy simply inquired.

"Because if I'm gonna kill or be killed, I want the tool I'm using to be nice," I answered.

"No, I mean why is that stopping you from making your sword?" Lizzy specified.

"Well, I need my rest," I responded. "I want to save my energy up as much as I can so I can be in tip top shape when the time comes."

"I see," Lizzy said, her breathing leveling out.

Suddenly, the pair of us heard a pair of indistinct voices from outside the warehouse. Glancing at each other, we silently agreed to quiet down to understand them. One voice belonged to Uzi, and the other pertained to a young woman with... an unmistakably thick Ukrainian accent.

"Oh, budʹ laska [please], Uzi, can't I speak to him? I'll be tviy naykrashchyy druh [your best friend]! Tak [Yeah]?" said the Ukrainian voice.