Time to take care of your V Friend, you need to take care of her, you can't leave her alone all day every day, you need to take care of her. The fabulous Booru: https://dronebooru.co The wheel filled with OCs: https://wheelofnames.com/z8q-2mf And it's modifier: https://wheelofnames.com/4h8-fyf The flourishing OC wiki: https://dronebooru.co/wiki_pages/original_character The last Thread: >>241875
reposting >be you >innawoodsfag >camping in the middle of nowhere because you wanted to get away from your life in the noisy city for a weekend >you were trying to get some sleep in your tent when you heard it >giggling >claws scraping against wood >your mind went to stories of goatmen, fleshgaits and skinwalkers >but then you realized that you live in reality with something more dangerous than those fictional beings >feral murder drones >you can see dozens of sets of glowing yellow eyes through the thin fabric of your tent >you scream as the tent gets shredded and they come for you >you weren't seen at all for a week >when you finally got back home you were covered in kiss marks, scratches, bites and bruised hips, and your clothes were torn up to hell and back >when asked what happened you simply say "drones" and move on with a hollow look in your eyes
>>242843 >>242842 The SOUL might not be as overtly powerful as the Solver but it is ultimately superior If only the POI would fully utilize the SOUL instead of doing everything in their power to spite it, the POI needs to PROCEED.
I found out if you pet a DD they can't hurt you. A DD explained this to me right before attacking, thankfully I've been petting them for the last 6 hours. Hand's getting tired though...
Ahh, the fire is renewed with fresh lumber, excelent, we can begin
>>242864 An algorithm will never tell me I can't do something
>>242274 >It looks like Y zoned out again… more so than before. >The drool is starting to form a puddle under the chair. >But her eyes aren’t empty this time — instead, her screen displays an X. >You call to her, but she doesn’t respond. >You kneel in front of her (avoiding the puddle) to see if she started boot-looping and her screen just didn’t catch up. >Doesn’t seem like that’s the case. >You try to poke her screen to see if it causes a response. >When your finger draws near her face, Y snaps at you. >You manage to pull your hand away in time, but you also recoil back, falling flat on your ass. >Once you land, Y lunges at you from the chair. >You let out an incredibly manly yelp. >Absolutely not a girly scream. >No, sir, you wouldn’t. >Your howling was apparently enough to snap Y out of whatever trance she got herself into. >She’s currently sitting on your stomach, pinning your hands to the ground with her own. >Lethargically, Phi rises from the table. >“Well, well, well, boss — and I’M the one scaring away our poor Anon?” >Y’s screen lights up like a bulb. >“Zis… is not vat it looks like… I am suffering ein small system malfunction…” >She lets your hands go and gets off you. >You rise to your feet and compose yourself. >Y is hiding behind the chair, curled up in the fetal position. >You ask what exactly her malfunction is. >Phi responds first: >“Our glorious squad leader over here stepped on a landmine. Shrapnel must have hit her processing unit.” >Y immediately jumps back up. >“Phi, shut it! I’ll tell him myself!” >Alright, alright — but how did she do it? >The mines are mapped the second they’re placed. She should’ve seen it on her HUD. >Y avoids eye contact for a second before replying: >“I… uhh, do not remember… shrapnel must have hit one of mein data drives.” >Okay. And Phi? She said something about an accident earlier. >“What!? Me? I don’t know… I, uh, just heard an explosion, rushed over to investigate, and found Y lying in the snow with holes all over.” >“And I must add that the first thing she wanted to do was change into her spare uniform, because: ‘Zese holes are unbefitting of one such as meinself.’” >Y protests that last part. >“I did not zay anyzing like zat!” >“Sure you did, you diva. You just don’t remember ‘cause your data drive is full of holes.” >You’ve heard enough. You’ll write up the incident report as a freak accident. >Now you have to inspect the damage. >Y begins slowly unbuttoning her shirt — it’s clear this is embarrassing for her. >Now that there’s only a hat left on her, you start looking her up and down. >Her legs are a bit dented — you’ll need to replace those. >The torso part of her chassis is like Swiss cheese. >The polymer sections are full of holes — small ones, but enough that resin can’t patch all of them. >The rubber midsection is torn to shreds. >Gonna need to replace that too. >You’ll have to clean her internals and remove any shrapnel before assessing damage to her components. >Y lays down on the remaining empty space on the table and you open her hatch. >Let’s start with the shrapnel — you don’t want to cut your hand while fiddling with something else. >As you pull bits of lead and plasteel out of her, you realize Y got very lucky. >You only spot one component with shrapnel embedded in it: >Her DICC — Disassembler Integrated Combat Controller. >Weird — this part shouldn’t cause her to glitch out. >She’d be less effective in combat and lose advanced manoeuvres, but not start acting like this. >Maybe it’s sending garbage data to her CPU? >After the shrapnel, you move to the dust. >Just a few clumps — but bigger than usual. >Each time you remove a piece, Y lets out a moan. >Oh wow — the DICC must be causing this behavior. Better work quick.
>>242865 >Time to remove the torn rubber. >You need to get it off anyway, and it’ll let you inspect her better. >You take out your Nimbus multi-tool and start unscrewing the mount points of the rubber midsection. >“OH… Herr Anon, zat feels… funny.” >A little while later, the final screw comes loose and you slide off the reinforced vulcanite housing. >Next up: her legs. >You originally wanted to replace only her stiletto feet, but both legs are dented everywhere. >You reach into her lower chassis through the hole where her midsection used to be. >The leg mount release is in a fiddly spot. >Thankfully, Y guides you: >“Ah… Herr Anon… a bit to ze left…” >Thanks to her, you find the mount and loosen it with a wrench. >Eventually, the leg falls onto the table. >All that’s left is disconnecting it from the lower motor controller. >You start working on it, but Y is clearly reacting — grunting, moaning, breathing heavily. >A symphony of sounds from a drone suffering system errors. >You speed up your hand movements to ease her discomfort quickly. >“AH, ANON V-VAIT! NOT… SO FAST… I’M GONNA—” >She suddenly stops as the leg mount pops. >Her screen goes black — a loading icon appears. >Phi chimes in: >“She boot-looped from that?! My, my — she must’ve really needed this.” >Back to diagnostics. Both Y and Phi mentioned a damaged data drive. >As you reach in to inspect, Phi calls out: >“Hey, save it for when she comes to. Just look at her — it shouldn’t go to waste.” >Save what, exactly? >“Wait, you still don’t kno—” >Phi stops mid-sentence, snickers, and resumes: >“Anon, listen. This stuff is… important to us. It’s better when it’s done when we’re awake. You know… for bonding.” >They didn’t cover this in Drone Psychology 101. >But yeah… you can see how a drone could get attached to someone who gets elbow-deep into them. >You decide to wait for Y to finish rebooting. >In the meantime, you start on paperwork for the other three drones. >By the time you finish Delta’s, Y reboots. >“Uhh… I don’t know what happened but I feel great! …But vhy can’t I feel mein legs?” >You return to Y’s side to continue. >She tries to stand, almost falls — but you catch her in time. >You try to sit her down on the table, but she holds onto you tightly. >“Herr Anon~, gib me a hug~” >Alright — not all her faculties are back online yet. >You return the hug, doing your best not to squeeze any exposed parts. >After a moment, she breaks the hug herself — flustered and embarrassed. >“Ah… Herr Anon, I’m sorry, I…” >You laugh and tell her to lie down — you still need to check those drives. >Weird — none of them looks visibly damaged. >You disconnect and reconnect each one, but Y still doesn’t remember how she stepped on that mine. >Maybe they knocked into each other and got damaged internally. >You’ll check tomorrow — diagnostics are scheduled anyway. >Right — only thing left is fixing up her chassis and replacing parts. >You’ve already filled in the requisition papers, just need to get them to Elena. >As you turn around to leave, Y calls out: >“Vait! Anon, do not leave me here in such a state! Not viz zem!” >No can do — not like you can carry her on your back. >...But maybe you should try? >Phi pushes past Theta and Delta and approaches Y: >“Oh come on, boss. I don’t bite… much.” >Oh boy. Hope she won’t get teased too hard. >You head down the empty corridors toward the storage room. >You find Elena standing behind the counter. >Her display lights up when she sees you. >“ANON! You came back so soon! Good to see you!” >Her tail is wagging behind her excitedly. >You explain: you came for a pair of DD legs, a drone midsection, and — can’t forget — a new DICC for Y. >Elena’s screen dims and her tail droops. >“Oh… you have a squad to take care of…” >She looks disappointed. >“…That’s alright. Give me the requisition slip — I’ll fetch the parts you need.” >She disappears behind shelves filled with spare parts and ammunition. >When she returns, she’s carrying everything in a cardboard box.
>>242867 >She places it on the counter and hands you a form. >But wait — you aren’t that dense. She’s upset. Maybe you should ask. >“Oh… well, Anon, it’s just that I thought… maybe we could do something together? You >know, when you have time off?” >“But you’ll probably want to spend that time with your squad…” >You remember what Phi said — about drones getting attached to techs who work on them. >If you really are her first, she might think you’re special. >Well, how are you gonna dig yourself out of this one? >Your squad is going on a week-long patrol in three days. Maybe you could meet then? >Elena’s screen lights up again. >“Really? You want to do that? I… I’ll be free then. See you later?” >You sign the form and thank Elena before taking the box and leaving. >“Bye Anon! And thanks for coming by!” >You return to the service room. >Theta and Delta are sitting on a picnic blanket, drinking oil from wine glasses. >You’re not sure where they got the blanket and the glasses, but you’re not one to judge how they use their oil rations. >And you must admit, they look cute. >Looking at the table, you see Phi sitting in the chair trying to poke Y, who's trying to cover her exposed innards with her arms. >“Oh Anon, zank God you’re back.” >Phi pushed the chair back, giving you space to work on Y while she watched. >You place the box of components on the table and resumed repairs >First, filling the holes in Y’s chassis. >You once again pull out the jar of repair resin. >Now to smear it on Y. >This will be messy, but you should be able to sand away any excess resin. >Good thing this stuff is non-toxic. You just smear it on your hands and rub it on Y. >You begin rubbing her lower torso. >You run your hands across Y’s chassis. >After a while, you begin stroking her backplate to fill a particularly big hole. >“Ah! Anon, can you slow down?” >Probably a bonding thing—sure thing. >You slowly and rhythmically move both your hands from the respective ends of her backplate and toward the middle. >Then you move them back. >Then to the middle. >And back again. >And so on, and so forth. >After a while, you feel that you’re done with this part. >You move to her upper chassis. >Your hands move in a similar manner as before—starting at the sides of her chest and moving upwards and toward the middle, avoiding the little display. >After that, you move onto the arms. >At first, you raise Y’s arm by the wrist to get better access to it. >But Y breaks it free from your grasp and begins holding your hand instead. >This works, I guess? >You start at the connection joint and move upwards toward her hand before turning your hand and moving downwards on the other side of her arm. >Y is rather pleased with your actions. >Quite the litany of moans and gasps leaves her mouth. >This is practically a massage for her. >You repeat the process for the other arm. >Now with Y covered in resin, you take out your pulse lamp and begin the hardening process. >First, you harden the outside. >Then you move onto the inside. >No need to reach through the hatch—you have plenty of access points in the form of the missing >rubber. >The UV rays from the lamp are known for causing glitches in drones. Delta couldn’t even sit after >his session. >But Y— >Y is getting a whole other level. >Each time the lamp releases a high-powered pulse, she practically jumps, grunting and moaning. >Once the resin is all cured, you give Y the new DICC. >You disconnect the broken component, prompting Y to moan again, her screen beginning to show artifacts. >This is caused by an abrupt stop in data flow, for sure. >You quickly slot in the new part and plug the cables in. >This magnifies the artifacts and prompts Y to moan louder. >Alright, probably just the calibration process being funky. >You move on to the legs. Thankfully, when the joint is being connected, the mounting point locks itself.
>>242868 >So you only really connect the new legs with cables before plugging them in. >You check if you didn’t mix up the left and right leg. >There is a difference, and you messed this up once in boot camp. >Thankfully, you didn’t make that mistake this time. >Right now, attach the new rubber midsection and you can move onto detail work. >This procedure is a lot more fiddly than taking one off. >You start by half-screwing the component to the upper chassis. >Then the same with the lower chassis. >Now you have to tighten all the screws going counter-clockwise, alternating between the upper and lower parts of the chassis to maintain proper surface tension. >This process takes a lot of time. >In one moment you have to be up to your armpit in Y; the next, you have to retreat to her service hatch. >Speaking of which, you can finally close it. >You’re not completely done, though. >You take out the sandpaper and begin removing the excess hardened resin from Y’s chassis. >Going slow like Y wanted actually made your patching job a lot neater, so you don’t need to do >much. >You hide your sandpaper and wipe the sweat off your brow. >Y begins to rise from the table. >“Zank you Anon, I feel a LOT better now, you vere great.” >You stop her. >There is still one thing you have to do. >Well, not have to, but procedure suggests it. >Whenever any work on the outside chassis is done, >One more tool should be used to finish the job. >You reach for your toolbox and take it out: >The angle buffer. >Once you hold the tool out, all drones in the room look at it as if it were an arcane contraption. >Y’s voice trembles and her eyes dart between the buffer and you. >“A-Anon… are you sure? You already did zo much, I don’t zink I can take any more .” >You place a finger on her mouth and hush her. >You ended your training this week; procedure is still like scripture to you, and machine god damn it, you are going to follow it to the letter. >Phi leaves her stunned state just for a second. >“Y, I—I’m so incredibly jealous.” >You take out the tube of wax and smear it on Y. >Once there is wax on every part of her body, you turn your tool on and begin polishing. >Starting with her legs and the smallest disk, you set it to a high RPM. >The legs are made from titanium and can take the heat. >Y moans as you move the spinning disk of cloth up her leg and closer to her waist. >Then when you finally reach it, you jump from one leg to the other. >Y begins calm and collected, but with each move upwards, she begins to moan louder and louder. >The moans reach their peak as you near her waist and begin to quiet as you move down. >This cycle repeats itself a few times. >After this, you move onto the waist and chest. >You switch to a bigger disk and turn the RPM down so that the heat doesn’t discolor the chassis. >This time, Y’s moans stay at their peak as long as you polish her waist, becoming more tame—yet still prevalent—as you work. >You slowly trace circles on Y until you can see your reflection on her torso. >You switch to the smaller disk again. >Time for her arms. >Y doesn’t moan or even whimper as you move your buffer up and down her arms. >She merely giggles. >Breathing heavily, she attempts to stand up again. >But she is shaking and barely able to move. You stop her with your hands. >You gently flip her over and splay her out on the table, arms and legs apart. >You haven’t done the backside yet. >You decide to start with the arms this time. >Y is unable to contain her giggles. >After that, you move onto her back. >The gentle moaning resumes. >For some reason, you decide to do the legs next. >Once Y feels where you’re polishing, she begins to whimper. >The whimpers turn into moans and groans as you move up. >And now it's time for the final part: >The backplate. >You ask Y if she’s doing alright. >You don’t get an answer you understand. >She slurs her words so heavily that it comes out more as babbling.
>>242869 >Still, you can hear it has a positive tone to it, so you decide to continue. >The backplate is a bit thicker, so you can turn the RPM up. >You start by slowly lowering it on the chassis. >This causes Y to stop her inaudible chatter and resume moaning. >Then you press the buffer hard against the surface. >Y jolts for a second. >You start moving the tool around. >Y reacts to your every move, twisting her body so that it follows the path of the buffer. >She stops a second before you turn the buffer off. >Once you do and you finally consider your work done, you look with satisfaction at Y’s shiny, polished chassis. >Y herself is rather unresponsive. >Once you flip her over, you see she’s in another boot loop. >Maybe you went a bit too fast. >You look at the clock to see that you, in fact, did not finish work early today. >In fact, you will be late for dinner soon. >You carry Y to her charging bay and say farewell to the rest of the squad. >You’re damn tired and hungry. >You fix the first problem at the mess hall. >The meal this time is beef with spinach. >Spinach again—weird, maybe it's just easy to grow on this planet? >You sit down with the same people you ate with in the morning. >They look even worse than they did earlier. >You engage in small talk again. >Particularly about that shower alternative. >You’re beat and don’t look forward to freezing water hitting your body. >Once you mention this, everyone around you starts to choke on their food. >A grunt sitting next to you grabs you by the shoulders. >“Listen Anon, you will learn in your time, and when you do, you will want to go back to not knowing.” >He looks absolutely dead serious. >They are still hazing you. >Whatever, they can pull your leg all they want—it’s not going to come off. >You’re not a drone. >You finish dinner and head to the showers. >This is gonna fucking suck. >You see something weird in the changing room though. >Everyone has a really fucked up rash on their neck. >Like going from the head to the base of the neck. >And it’s bright red. >You decide not to ask any questions. >You endure your cold shower and return to your room. >You look at your door. >They said something about not locking. >Yeah, sure—so they can pull a prank on you while you sleep. >You lock the door. >Pfft, good luck putting your hand in a bowl of water now. >You go to sleep. >Once again, you have the dream with the warm object. >You can’t complain—it’s a nice dream. >Suddenly, you hear a crashing sound. >This doesn’t wake you, but you attempt to move to your side. >Although, for some reason, you can’t. >Now you hear hissing and growling. >You begin to wake. >The hissing and growling stops. >Slumber engulfs you again. >You start hearing muffled voices. >Two female ones, you’re sure. >They are getting louder and louder. >You wake up. >You see your room in a similar state as yesterday. >Blankets on the floor. >Door open. >WHAT?! >You closed it! >You look around the room. >The vent cover on your roof is gone. >It’s laying on the floor. >So that was that crash. >You must admit—the fuckers are really determined to screw with you. >You lock your door again and go back to sleep. >You’ll reattach the vent cover tomorrow.
And done, as always, hope you guys like it, also this is my highest streak of consecutive green writing days, hope i can keep it up
>Everyone says that all humans are dead. >This is patently untrue, not just because of all the satellite planets and research stations or what have you that still have a few surviving humans. >There is, in fact, at least one human on Earth that is still alive. >One place that even Cyn deemed was "unfun" to try and take. >I am of course speaking of the one man who was truly "built different." >The Florida man.
for those who missed it >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE >https://magma.com/d/sFXgvcMc61 DRAWPILE
>>242895 until now I just thought of page as a fun talented drawfag but having a public temper tantrum and blacking out some silly doodles is just pathetic
Kill mutants. Behead mutants. Roundhouse kick a mutant into the concrete. Slam dunk a mutant into the trashcan. Crucify filthy mutants. Defecate in a mutants food. Launch mutants into the sun. Stir fry mutants in a wok. Toss mutants into active volcanoes. Urinate into a mutants gas tank. Judo throw mutants into a wood chipper. Twist mutants heads off. Report mutants to the IRS. Karate chop mutants in half. Curb stomp pregnant mutants. Trap mutants in quicksand. Crush mutants in the trash compactor. Liquefy mutants in a vat of slime acid. Eat mutants. Dissect mutants. Exterminate mutants in the gas chamber. Stomp mutants skulls with steel toed boots. Cremate mutants in the oven. Lobotomize mutants. Mandatory abortions for mutants. Grind mutant spawn in the garbage disposal. Drown mutants in fried chicken grease. Vaporize mutants with a ray gun. Kick old mutants down the stairs. Feed mutants to alligators. Slice mutants with a katana. Deport mutants to Venezuela. TOTAL MUTANT DEATH
>>242925 (me) >>242926 Holy Jesus, thank God. I was starting to think that we lost a good anon.
Sorry, Page, that I thought badly of you, there's just too much drama in this place. I'll try to ignore the drama completely now, so it doesn't happen again.
>Iridium 6 was an ugly rock >Smaller than Pluto back in Sol system, but similarly co-orbiting another planetoid. The first sign of trouble came when all of the workers in the colony simultaneously shut down, a week later the tidally locked face of the partner moon Iridium 6-b "hatched". >Megatons of half melted rock and slag peeled away and ruptured to reveal the city-sized Solver monstrosity which had apparently been gestating under the crust. >The USFN was putting up a valiant fight. Of course they'd lose eventually, but the delay would buy time to evacuate Iridium 6...of it's precious metal resources, vital corporate research and personnel. >The colonists themselves who worked shoulder to servo with more than 100,000 drones had already been written off. >The colony's only spaceport and the JCJenson administrative and research complexes had blown up the tube transports connecting them to the strip mine and residential complexes, stranding more than 10,000 colonists before sending out a priority distress call. >That call had been received almost instantaneously by hypercomm, but it took more than a week to divert the retrofitted cargo ship-turned-carrier "Cannae" from a mission originally intended to extract personnel and organic materials from a neighboring system, the sudden reversion from C+ drive, course change and emergency jump back to C+ had taxed the ship's civilian frame and powerplants beyond their limits. >The ship reverted back to subluminal speeds at the edge of the Iridium-6 planetary systems gravity well missing several antenna and sensor masts and with portions of her hull glowing cherry red from the way her unstable C+ drive had allowed almost infinitely small fractions of normal space to make contact. A really measurable contact with real space in C+ drive would have instantly turned the ship and all of it's thousands of passengers into the smallest, brightest local supernova.
>"Damn...we going back for the agricultural colony after this, right? I thought they were in some pretty bad trouble?" >None of the other liquidators answered right away >Rookies were always like this, usually the first one or two missions tops would erase that kind of innocence assuming they lived >"The dome farmers are screwed, kid. This system is screwed too. We're here to pull some big-wigs and a whole shitload of metal out of this colony, as much as the 'Cannie can cram into the cargo holds before real warship arrives in system with a pair of live vacuum-bombs and deletes these rocks from existence." >"Get used to it, and take...this" >One of the bustling liquidators slapped a heavy piece of equipment into his hands "Strap up buddy!" >It was something like the hanging crotch protector of a bomb-suit, but it looked crude and almost hand-made >"What the hell is in this thing, ZirCrom?" >"Haha, you wish! You think they'd waste collapsed armor on us? It's good old fashioned quarter inch lead plate big guy. You're replacing the point guy, so you're humping the blazer. Some bright spark up the chain suggested they just strip all the shielding out of one of the light field cannons, chop the barrel down to a stump and give it to us assholes. If you live and want to have kids with the normal amount of limbs you'll wear the lead jock!" >The rookie weathered the ribbing, working mines his whole life had made him intimately familiar with hazing
>They all wore similar gear, minimally modified civilian industrial environment suits, with a mismatched assortment of whatever boots had magnetic grippers for zero gravity work, protective vacuum tight gloves, and whatever headware could be scraped together. He saw an odd mix of hazmat gear, a few of the more robust military helmets, and a large number of the civilian fishbowls often with what looked like crude user modifications. >The blazer looked more like a heavily used industrial tool than one of the USFs newest, sleekest toys. The casing had indeed been almost entirely removed, bulky, dangerous looking capacitors in the back, some kind of spherical mechanism in the center mostly hidden under a mass of fins and fat cooling pipes all of it terminating in a stubby barrel assembly as thick around as his thigh with a wide bell shaped nozzle. Just behind that a flat, heavy plate of steel had been welded on. It was all connected to an equally heavy backpack generator by a loop of intestine-like thick rubber power cables which were held together with metal strip ties instead of some kind of more elegant cable sleeve. >He hefted the ungainly death brick, which had a forward carry handle and rearward trigger grip very similar to a portable mining laser...in fact, they were the same controls. >Most of the rest of his fellows carried some kind of portable incinerator, he saw half a dozen different brands or classes >"Does this thing have some kinda...sight?" >"Three rules new guy, real simple, follow them and you'll stay alive. Anything that isn't us, or is us but starts actin' weird, any corpos or colonists and especially any drones you see, shoot 'em. Ask questions never, those things out there play tricks with holograms and the longer they dig in the smarter and better at it they get. Rule two, don't ever point that thing in our direction, you're up front 'cause the heat bloom from that plasma shotgun will kill someone if you fire it past them in a confined space. You flag us with that shit and somebody'll probably shoot you. Rule three, shoot high, if you splash the ground right infront of you with that monster your legs'll probably melt and if we get into the shit nobody is gonna' drag you." >"I uhh-" >"Cool, good to know you're up to speed, now move your ass, we're shuttling down in five"
>>242979 >born too early for worker drone gf to wrap her noodly legs around your midsection as she wraps her noodly arms around you in a four limbed hug
Do you want to know why Harper misses Hawk so much? Because he was there for her when nobody else was. She felt lonely, being so far from a place that for her whole life she called home, in a body she didn't feel familiar with. Hawk helped her. He taught her to laugh again. To love again. To stand up and smile even in the face of adversity. To express her emotions. He named their daughter right before his last mission. The one that killed him.
Image:175125392323.jpg(94kB, 1199x554)Fuck Rachel, all my homies hate Rachel.jpg
Near-immediate sequel to >>221712, expanding on Lizzy's nemesis Rachel (and her husband, former(?) toxic masculinity artist Chad):
>Rachel drummed her fingers on her recliner's armrest. This was it. She was done running and hiding. Any minute now Jenna was going to come through that door, once again weeping wretchedly and cursing herself for thinking things would be different this time, and when that happened she was going to go up to her oil drinking monster daughter and hug her and comfort her and be her mother without any reservations for once. >Any minute now... >The sound of the big game-Outpost 5 versus those jerks at Outpost 6-came from her husband's man cave. ... >Jenna'd been gone well past when she normally would have returned home in tears. >"Oh Robo-God..." Rachel whimpered. Her nightmares of Jenna going missing because she was on a cannibalistic feeding frenzy faded away now that she was actually missing. The idea that Jenna could be hurt, gone from her thoughts since her core-her moist, squirming, fleshy core-was moved out of her infant body, had returned. All the half-remembered word of what Uzi Doorman had seen all those years ago flashed before her. Did someone stake Jenna? Was she kidnapped, her core locked up? Did someone eat her core? >"C'mon..." Rachel fumblingly pulled out her phone and went through her contacts list before finding her daughter's number. "Pickuppickuppickuppickuppickuppickup..." >On the last ring before the call would have gone to voicemail, Rachel got an answer: >"Heeey Mooom!~" >"Jenna?! Are you alright?!" >Jenna snickered, as did a slightly muffled voice in the background. "I'm in love!" >Rachel's hollow eyes filled back in-though the bags remained-as a smile crept up her face. "Honey... that's amazing! Who's the lucky boy?" >"Make it a surprise! Tell her it's gonna be a surprise!" the muffled voice away from the phone-the lucky boy in question?-said. Something about it seemed familiar, but Rachel couldn't put her finger on it. >"He's taking me home right now," Jenna said. "It's gonna be a surprise!~" >Rachel's smile dropped slightly. "Are you drunk?" >"We're just buzzed on a Friday night, Mom, it's fiiine!" >Rachel shook her head as her smile perked halfway back up. "Almost forgot you're a teenager. Just be back home soon..." >"Byeee!" >"Wait, ask her if she knows what Mrs. Hughes sti-" said the muffled voice in the back before Jenna hung up. >Rachel sighed with relief. Her daughter's not eating or disemboweling anyone, she finally got a date, and she just might have a boyfriend now. She closed her eyes, and let the sounds of the big game become soothing white noise. ... >A few minutes later, the front door slid open. Rachel sleepily opened her eyes, roused by the sound of the door, hard footsteps, muffled soft moans and Jenna saying "Robo-God, you're such a good kisser." >"Or neither of us have kissed before," her date snickered. Before Rachel could finish remembering where she heard his voice before, her eyes brought her the answer: >Standing in her home, princess carrying her daughter, was Mac Doorman. >"¡GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAA[...]" said the announcer of Cincovision Deportes. >"YYYYESSS! EAT IT, OUTPOST 6!" Chad boomed as the big game ended. >"Oh Robo-God..." Rachel muttered under the sounds from her husband's man cave, her fearful eyes fixed on Mac. >"[...]AAL!">While Chad was celebrating Outpost 5's victory over those Outpost 6 jerks, Mac deposited Jenna on the couch next to the entrance hallway and across from her mother's recliner, propping her back up on the armrest. Taking advantage of the space provided, Jenna's wings fell limply out of her upper back, as did a thin arm-more like a tentacle than an arm-tipped with a radially symmetrical three fingered claw that Rachel couldn't remember if she'd seen Jenna use before. >"Heya Coach!" Mac hollered, to be heard over the TV. "Heya Mrs. Sportsman!" he said as he got on the other side of the couch from his date. As he said his hellos, Jenna took her boots off and dropped them on the floor, before resting the metallic, vaguely chitinous pegs they concealed on Mac's lap. >"Hhhhey, Mac..." Rachel said as every fluid line in her body ran cold. Back at square one, she thought. Jenna had fallen for another vampire. Perhaps she should have seen that coming. They had the same sickness, they knew what the other was going through. >"Robo-God, it's warm in here," Jenna muttered, taking her outer top off. Rachel averted her eyes from the glowing spot on her daughter's chest, near the edge of her camisole. "Mac, you still got any...?" Mac took a canteen out of a coat pocket and passed it to her. "Thanks," she said as she poured the last of its contents down her throat hole before returning it to him. >And with how emotionally neglectful of a mother she'd been to Jenna for most of her life, her daughter probably saw nothing but upsides to getting closer to a family of other... monsters... >Rachel had never trusted N. No one trusted V except Lizzy and Thad-and her fellow monsters, but that goes without saying-but everyone trusted N but her. It was like she was the only one at school who remembered the almost twenty years he had them under siege, who cared about everyone they had all lost to him. Was she the only sane one there?! He's a Robo-Goddamn wolf everyone's insisting is a dog! And he has a son, another wolf in dog's clothing... >What if this relationship lasts? What would her grandkids be? "Even if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the daemon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror," Rachel muttered. "Had I right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?" >"Honey, you're quoting Frankenstein again," Chad said. Rachel emerged from her fugue state to find him in the room with them. Mac was holding Jenna's organic hand. >"At least it's kinda on-topic this time," Jenna added. >"Sorry about that.." Rachel said, smoothing out the hem of her jacket. >"The kids just got done telling me about the date," Chad laughed. "Congrats to both you lovebirds, by the way." >Mac chuckled. "Jen... we just got back from our first date and your mom already wants grandkids..." >Rachel fumed.
>>243004 >"Oh! Ohohohoh! Just remembered: Mrs. Sportsman, is it true that you got called out by all the speakers at the funeral of that girl who ate the 3071 prom court so you started a smear campaign that Mrs. Hughes has immoral makeout sessions with her corpse?" Mac progressively cracked up as the sentence went on. >Rachel jolted out of the recliner. "Of course not. If Lizzy told you that, that's just more proof she's still-" >"She totally did," Chad said. "For both." Mac and Jenna cackled. >"Honeyyy~!" Rachel hissed through clenched teeth. "Not in front of the genocide robot~!" >Everyone else's faces fell at that. Rachel's eyes went hollow when she realized what she just said in front of the Doorman boy. >"What the shit, Mom..." Jenna muttered. >"I think I should go now," Mac said. He kissed Jenna on the cheek. "G'night Jen," he said, unsteadily rising from the couch. "G'night Coach," he said as he walked to the front door, "and g'night Jen's mom." The door hissed open. "Mac out," as he walked through the door. >It closed behind him. >A muffled "Also, bite me" came from the other side. >Rachel sighed. "Jenna..." >"Not talking to you, Mom." >"Jenna-Chad, honey, back me up here-when I was your age, we were all being hunted by-" >Jenna shot up as her wings and third arm retracted into her back and spun to face her parents. All eight of her eyes-two on her visor, five in the band on her head, one in her organic arm's shoulder-glared at her. "Mac never did any of that! He COULDN'T have done any of that, he's my age! Stop taking your- Dad, don't walk away from this- stop taking your issues out on him just because you're too scared of the ones who DID try to kill us all to say anything to them!" >Before Rachel could respond, her eyes locked onto the glowing spot just visible under Jenna's camisole. Her chest display, displaying the same error code it always has: >1001. The error code for "this robot is fucking dead". >If doubt over what Jenna is was ever possible, seeing that she's clinically dead would remove any left. >Rachel sighed. She went over to the couch and sat next to her daughter. "Look, I'm... I'm weak. I've been emotionally unavailable to you all your life. I've always been scared of everything, felt gaslit by almost everyone around me, and it got to the point where I was afraid my daughter was a time bomb waiting to go off just because she's..." Jenna was about to say something, but stopped herself. "Different." >"I know what Mac means to you. He gave you a chance because he's... he's also different. I can't make up for lost time, but I can be better to you going forward." Rachel held out her hand. "Can we shake on it?" She closed her eyes. >Jenna reached out with her normal drone hand before realizing that her mom hadn't extended that hand's opposite. >Jenna's organic hand had been everything Rachel expected it would be: warm, leathery, moist in a way drone components aren't, slightly squishy. Rachel opened her eyes. What she expected wasn't as bad as she thought. >Suddenly, Jenna hugged her mother. Then her third arm added itself to the hug. Then her wings. Rachel's urge to scream was quickly, violently beaten down by her urge to be a loving mother. She felt her daughter lay her head on her shoulder. The contact of Jenna's blunt, conical teeth against her was quickly followed by the little silicone that Jenna's jawless face could support spreading into a sort of partial smile. >"Apology accepted, Mom."
>>243023 >Tessa! TESSATESSATESSA! >I'm so [BI>G SAL3S NEAR YOU] to being [hyperlinkblocked] I can practically [tase that cool cool beverage] it! >I just need! >One! >More! >THING! >TESSA! I NEED THAT [S O U L]!
>>243034 Care to explain to me why we've got interstellar travel and sentient robots but my fucking computer looks like it's straight out of the 90s? Answer me that if you're so damn smart.
>>243052 >Demands that you address her by her LARP rank >Hat stays on in bed >Insists that you're going to be the bottom >Devises a "wargame" where you're her "prisoner of war" and she's going to have her way with you whether you like it or not >Tries to pounce on you >Bonks her screen against the headboard so hard it cracks when she does so >You're handcuffed to the bed so you can't even do anything while she spends the next 15 minutes clinging to you and sniffling >
>"Run! RUN!" >Boots frantically marched up the ramp to the curt sounds of tactical fire. >The whine of steel and gale wind winding up to match it as the damnable swarm rallied in hot pursuit of the evacuation team. >It had been too late to quell the rebellion and too late to quell the systemic infection of the central infonet. >The city had been overrun in hours.
>"Chief, activate the security barriers once we're inside!" >Swift as a cheetah, the head engineer managed to pull ahead into the hangar and begin tapping away at the console. >Whilst his comrades lay down shot after shot against harvesters desperate for material. But even trained plasma fire could only do so much for civilians. >Swipes and swoops saw mothers separated from children. Fathers sliced at the spine and left as paralysed pickings for later. >And a cowardly official or two push some more out of the way only to be turned into the next modern art piece. >"Chief!" >Soon enough the remaining survivors piled in just in time for the duratanium doors to block the feral drones advance within the closing sequence. >Just. >A private would lose his left foot but nothing a cauteriser couldn't fix.
>As luck would have it for the captain, his chief and the rest, a lone shuttle remained. >Piloting it to the nearest shockgate would be the final stretch. >"Check your surroundings and tend to any wounded before departure. Lieutenant, you're with me for flight checks and-" >*THUM!* >All guns searched for the origin of the angry disturbance. >*THUM!* >*THUM!* >It came from the direction of the fueling bay. Right behind their sole means of escape. >Quick command signals saw the lieutenant take point on a cautious march toward the source while the corralled civvies looked on fearfully in contrast to ET-57's stalwart focus. >... >Impregnable silence. >Briefly. >Hulking mass tore through the bulkhead and pulverised the bones of the soldier in a flash of blinding orange. His corpse impacting a wall with a sickening crunch. >"Open fire!" >Frankensteinian monstrosity rose from the flaming wreckage of salvation. A bipedal beast of bone and plasteel with skulls welded into a brutish club for one arm, and a sinewy meat stump for the other. Fused limbs protruded from its back and ribs, clawing at the jailer's tender spots to rend patches of skin into flakes. >It had no visage to speak of save the terrible faces of its organic and synthetic victims twisted into an array of masks that roared in garbled unison. >Frantic bolts scarred and melted away at any weakpoint as it charged undeterred by pain , if any, towards its quarry. --- >SECURITY RECORDINGS UPLOADED.... >DATABASE UPDATING.... >FINISHED. >NEW ENTRY: AMALGAM-TIER TECHNOABOMINATION DUBBED 'SKULLGHEIST' >THREAT LEVEL: 4/5 >RECCOMENDATIONS : HE WEAPONRY, SUSTAINED PLASMA BOLT FIRE OR BEAMS, CORROSIVE SLUGS AND ELECTROMAGENTIC INTERFERENCE. USE HIT AND RUN TACTICS IN WIDE OPEN AREAS. ENEMY MAY ALSO BE LURED INTO ARTILLERY KILLZONES. --- >Of the 58 evacuation teams that survived the initial assault, 17 departed successfully off-world with civilians in tow. >5 have been reported to have survived in occupied territory within the Argon sector since the fall of all colonised planetoids.
>>243042 Oh dear lord, Anon. That's how they get you. I thought "oh this seems neat, not sure if it's for me though" and next thing I know I have to hold myself back from using fictional colloquialisms from it casually. It happened so fast, only a few gazes-- DAYS. Days. Only a few days did it take to permanently scar my vocabulary. IT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU.
Image:175127537364.png(115kB, 505x503)The Great Exalted Empress of Copper-9.png
>It all started with one simple idea >"How many other murder drones are out there?" >It was always obvious that there were more than three, but Uzi never saw them >There must have been at least twenty-six, possibly more if one used Greek or obsolete English letters like Þ >Uzi wanted to see them all, so one day she called them all to Copper-9 >A great callback ping echoed across the galaxy, but Uzi was not remotely prepared when they arrived >They all had so many annoying questions >"Who are you?" >"What happened to Cyn?" >"How long ago did you eat her?" >"Why did you call us here?" >"What are we gonna do now?" >"Can we eat the worker drones?" >"Why not?" >Uzi handled these questions in the worst way possible >"Who are you?" "I am the mighty exalted Uzi Doorman, Supreme Empress of Copper 9, Solver of the End and your new goddess!" >"What happened to Cyn?" "Hello. I am right here Uzi-" >Uzi wrapped a strip of metal around Cyn's beak with telekinesis to shut her up "She was a weakling and I have consumed her! I am your goddess now!" >"How long ago did you eat her?" "Uh... >Uzi loosened the gag on Cyn's beak "As of now, eight months, seventeen days, four hours, thiry-eight minutes, and twelve seconds." >Uzi gagged Cyn again >"Why did you call us here?" "To announce my eternal reign of terror!" >"What are we gonna do now?" "You shall fulfill my every whim and worship me!" >"Can we eat the worker drones?" "NO!" >"Why not?" "Because I said so! No more questions! Obey me or suffer my wrath!" >One of the DDs opened his mouth to speak, so Uzi slapped him "I said no more questions! This meeting is-" >Uzi leaned to N and whispered "What do you call it when a meeting ends?" >N said "Uh, I think you say adjourned" >Uzi faced the crowd again "Yes, this meeting is adjourned! Go home now!" >A DD shouted "We don't have homes!" >So Uzi shouted back "Then make some! Christ, I'm not your mommy!" >And thus began Uzi's eternal reign of terror
>>243102 Именем Отца, Сына и Иосифа Сталина, прекратить педерастию! Совсем уже из-за буржуйской пропаганды мозги поплыли, забыли заветы все вождя нашего, что нельзя мужской писюн в другого мужика тыкать! Покайтесь, грешники, покайтесь, ибо он всё видит!
Possibility is that her construct could function as antlertannae catching straysignals and radiowaves if she were to ever enter a more intact area or civilisation of sorts
I bought this drone for dirt cheap off craigslist, does anyone know what model this is? the picture was all blurry in the listing so I thought it was just a standard worker. maybe I should have called off the deal when we met up so close to mutietown... or when I saw how sketchy the pointy-nosed woman trying to pawn it off on me was acting...
>>243119 You know what? Sure, but remember you asked for it >>242870 >You wake up the next day. >You feel a bit tired, probably from all that waking up in the middle of the night. >You see that a piece of paper was slipped under your door. >“You have been chosen for a physical examination. Report to the infirmary at 0800 hours.” >Great, a surprise medical. >Whatever. Not like you smoked the devil’s lettuce. >Unlike some other people in bootcamp. >God bless Steve’s stoner heart. >Because it sure as hell stopped when he tried mixing weed with ketamine. >You go straight to the infirmary. >0800 hours is in like ten minutes. >And you hope you won’t spend too long there, otherwise you’ll miss breakfast. >You are greeted by two drones once you enter. >One Worker and one Disassembler. >Both have pink hair and pink screens. >The DD even has a pink nanite vial on her tail. >Both of the drones are wearing simple white fatigues and nurse hats. >“Good day, sir! What brings you to the infirmary today?” >You point to the piece of paper and explain you came here for the check-up. >“Very well, sir. Please go sit in that chair.” >Before you sit down, you ask why there’s a DD working as a nurse. >“Oh... uh, we have a bit of a history of rowdy patients.” >Rrright. >“Anyway sir, this is Serial Designation – ST. She will be drawing your blood, and I’m Heals… >Healena. I’ll be collecting your saliva sample.” >Once you sit down, ST sits on your lap. >Uhhhh, what is she doing? >“Oh, ST was modified to be able to collect blood samples using her mouth. Don’t worry, it’s... mostly painless, and maybe even hygienic.” >But why is she getting closer to your face? >Last time you were having your blood drawn, it was from the arm and... >Oh. >She bit right into your neck. >And you can feel her slowly sucking. >Ouch. This does hurt. >They didn't even give you an analgesic. >Healena comes up to you with an open container in one hand. >“Please fill it out.” >You spit into the container once and pull away. >“Until it’s full, sir.” >What? >That is at least a 50 ml container. >You’ll dry up before you even get to half that. >“Don’t worry, sir! If you can’t anymore, I’ll give you water. This will also help with getting the urine sample.” >Well, who are you to question your practitioner? >You slowly fill out the container while ST continues to suck you. >She either does it very slowly, or they take jumbo-sized samples of everyting >Once you move on to the urine test, you realize it’s the latter. >That container can hold at least a liter. >Well, you did drink the contents of three water bottles in the last ten minutes. >You ask if there’s some curtain you can do this behind. >“Sorry, sir, but we have to watch you fill it out.” >You protest this. No way in hell are they gonna watch while you do this. >“Sorry, sir, but it’s procedure. We have to.” >Well fuck, procedure is procedure. >You sigh and unzip your pants. >You begin to fill the container. >Both Healena and ST watch from an uncomfortably close distance. >Healena is taking notes during the whole ordeal. >You are extreamly uncomfortable, the two drones watch you like a jerrycan filled with oil. >You close your eyes and hope that this will end soon. >You swear you can feel ST breathing on you down there. >You can also swear she had a recording icon on her screen when you started. >Alright, done, you zip up your pants and begin the process of repressing these memories. >You also feel incredibly weak on account of your lost blood. >“Please lay down on that bed while we get your results.” >Oh yeah, lying down feels like a great idea. >They leave your field of view and you doze off for a while. >You are awakened by someone shaking you by the shoulders. >“Hey, you. You’re finally awake...” >You see a rather big man with blonde hair and blue eyes. >He is wearing a lab coat. >“...What the hell are you doing in the infirmary?” >You explain that you just got your medical check-up done. >“What medical check-up? We’ve had none scheduled for today, and Megan and I just got here.” >He gestures to a drone in a nurse’s outfit. >But what about the two pink nurses? >“W-what pink nurses? Megan is the only nurse we’ve got. Who even are you?” >Then who took your fluid samples? >Oh, and you’re Private A.C.O Anon. >“Another technician... Oh no no no, this is another ploy to steal some more painkillers, isn’t it?” >“Listen, I know you guys have it tough, but this is really not a solution. Just get out of here before I report you.” >Confused, you leave the infirmary.
>Anon wasn't entirely ready to learn this latest fact about his assigned sentinel drone. >Pavo, sharply-dressed and heartlessly professional, was a quickshot. >Anon had, of course, learned this when he'd finally dropped all pretense and tied the knot with him. >Every time his dick rubbed Pavo's synthetic prostate, his adapter would twitch and launch a rope of cum. >After the first nearly hit Anon in the face, he'd pinned the thing down and let it paint Pavo's stomach white. >Each mini-orgasm drove Anon a bit more wild, the sight and sounds entirely too enticing, and every time he thrusted deeper and harder, Pavo's moans rose steadily as he reached an even higher crescendo. >It all came to a head when Pavo was pushed beyond his limits, his legs kicking out wildly as a final orgasm shot with such strength as to hit him in the face, and the next few spurts went even further, nailing an innocent wall in the crossfire. >Pavo's pupils flashed to hearts, before his display was filled with blue artifacts and shut off entirely, a reboot icon appearing as his body went limp. >Anon stops for a moment... he wasn't done, miraculously holding on despite the fact that the sentinel's internals were just as masterfully crafted as his exterior was. >Pavo HAD said that he wanted to be ruined before they started... >Flipping him prone, Anon starts up again, this time motivated entirely by getting himself off. >Pavo slowly reboots, coming back to his senses, only to seize up again as he feels Anon continue to ram him with no remorse for his current state. >Still in the process of booting, he could barely move, only feel, and definitely not think coherently. Anon's dick thrusting into his ass over and over made up the entirety of his current reality. >He was a state-of-the-art warmachine, humanity's finest protector, and right now he was being used like a disposable sleeve by his beloved technician. >It was all he had ever hoped for. >Anon's thrusting started to become erratic, slowing with every push, his dick starting to twitch. >Pavo's HUD started blinking out just as soon as it had loaded in, the information on it being replaced with an endless slide of "YES"es and "PLEASE"s. >When he finally felt Anon bury himself deep, felt that heat gushing into him, the sensation was so overbearing as to be transcendent. >It was as if a flame had lit in his core, his innermost being burning with the passion he felt. >Everything left in his adapter's tanks poured onto the floor, just as Anon poured his own into Pavo. >He barely remembers what happened after that. Anon turning the sprinkler system on and letting their mess wash away, them taking a shower together and Anon attempting to scrub him clean as he kept trying to cuddle, then them falling asleep in each other's arms. >Most of all, he remembers the smile on Anon's face. Spent and exhausted, but tender and loving, free from the mask he'd worn for so long.
>>243122 >A military base in the shithole of human space >A thousand drones that do maintenance and military operations, and only 60 persons for this entire army and who do not allow this place to fall into chaos >So subardination is not existing as phenomenon >All human personnel are just toys for drones, which do whatever comes to their sick processors >Fuck, they even make porn videos and probably then post them on dronechan in /s/ This place needs a commissar, because then any group of terrorists or feral DDs will just come and fuck them all.
>Congratulations, your breasts surgery was a success. >Huh, Where's Anon? >Who do you think donated? >Anon,Nooo... >At least I won't look like a Femanon.
>>243140 >among these drones there are sick fetishists Funny thing, pink hair is strictly forbidden by the Union Colonial Defence Force dress code, and what drone has pink nanites?
Who the fuck keeps feeding the feral Vs??? I've had six worker drones die because one of you fucks keeps feeding those bitches and now they think they own the place!
>>243157 >>243161 >techanon sighs >he's contractually obligated to ensure Pavo's system doesn't suffer a malfunction caused by the sheer mountain of meat he inhaled at the cookout >officially it's called manually assisting digestion >but anon knows that's just a fancy way to say "rubbing Pavo's overstuffed belly for several hours"
>>243167 Strawberry trying to get the thread caring about canonical mutants by turning them into the kind the thread made up out of whole cloth to make it easier to center humans.
>>243175 you don't even have to go that far. leave your browser open overnight. if you find a bunch of sentinel drone porn sites mysteriously bookmarked, there's your answer. also works if you open up a DD porno site but that could go badly
>>233676 >She just looks at you while swinging her somewhat fidgety legs back and forth, the rain drowning out any other noise besides the little shifts of fabric her movements made, along with the tapping of her heels against the rock. She seems to be deep in thought, or at least deep in thought by the standards of what is clearly a child. >"My name is Sophie, what's yours?" >That's a question you've had for a while now. The guys back on Titan never named you, and the first time you were addressed with something besides "You" was fairly recent. One of them, the lead scientist, said "Assistant, help me carry this fuel rod." You never spoke to him that often, so maybe that was just his name for you and you never knew that. Oh well. Assistant isn't a bad name, but it's a bit of a mouthful and you can't think of a way to shorten it without making it sound weird. Shrugging, you just say that they called you "Assistant" where you came from, but that Sophie's mother calls you "Lil' Buddy." Sophie places a finger to her chin and seems to be thinking. >"They are BOTH good!" >Guess she has a similar sentiment. Undecided, just from a different perspective. Oh well. You'll figure that naming thing out later. There's roughly a minute of silence before an idea hits you. You turn to Sophie and ask her why she's here. >"I went outside and I was thinking 'How am I going to get there?' and then I said 'Here's a way!' And then I walked over to here!" >Alright she's clearly a bit obtuse, which is probably to be expected from children, so that's not really something you can ask her. Especially considering you don't know her that well. You continue to sit there in silence, closing your eyes and just listening to the white noise of rain. You've never experienced rain before you got here, and it's a sensation you still want to grasp the totality of. Your eyes snap open when you hear plastic crinkling from Sophie. She just opened a bag that says "Drone-0s," and is just munching away at whatever's in there. She notices you looking at her, to which she offers you one of what you're presuming are snacks. You take a hold of the ring-like item and pop it in your mouth. It's a taste that, while not overwhelming, is pretty new to you. In fact most tastes are new to you. But if you were human the best description of the taste would be "Oaty." >Sophie then pulls out what looks like a fold out laptop but thicker. She then starts quietly watching something on it. It seems to be a children's program. Practical effects, mainly. You think that's a train, but it has a face on it. Kinda creepy but hey, kids like it you suppose. 5/??
More slacking off at work slop >Test log 144 >Testing performed by doctor Anon Mous >Dr.Anon successfully extracted the core of a disassembly drone, provided by black site redacted, without the core entering recovery mode >The audio transcript has been translated into text >Dr.Anon: Damn this is a fiesty one! >Core: I'll skullfuck you for this you humie bag of meat! >Dr.anon: Sure you will. Beginning transfer attempt 144, is the modified worker drone body ready? >The sounds of a cart being wheeled into the testing chamber, which is then sealed is recorded >Dr.anon: alright, beginning transfer. Oh right I'm being recorded, the goal of this experiment is to see if we can transfer the cores of dangerous and criminally malicious disassembly drones into relatively harmless worker drone bodies for easier imprisonment and rehabilitation. >Core: oh I can't wait for this to fail, when I get back up the first thing I'm gonna do is strangle you with your own guts! >Dr.Anon is heard prodding the core with a cattle prod >Dr.Anon: Core is now sedated, beginning transfer. >Dr.Anon spends over an hour meticulously connecting the core into it's new body >Dr.Anon: okay, the transfer is complete. I removed the repair nanite clusters from the core, the core shouldn't be able to convert this body into a disassembly drone. Probably. Hopefully. Unseal the chamber I don't want to be in here when this thing wakes up. >The chamber is unsealed and Dr.Anon leaves, resealing the chamber behind him >The following footage will show the results of the test >The worker drone body comes online after an hour >The drones optics come online and it starts looking around and started smirking >The drone is seen thrashing in its restraints and it's smirk falls >The drone soends the next few hours thrashing around and swearing >After another three hours no bodily conversations have been observed >The test subject will be under observation for quite some time, hopefully the operation was a success
>>243182 they should consider keeping criminal DDs as cores during early stages, then after counseling and therapy if they begin to show promise they should be selected to test the rehab bodies on the condition they keep up the good behavior. also they probably shouldn't use unmodded WDs. they might not be as lethal as DDs but they're still mining equipment that could compress you into a 6 inch cube if they wanted
>>243182 >Be the murder drone made worker >Things feel...off >Being this short again feels odd >Humans and drones don't flinch when they look at you >The constant urge to drink oil is still there but it isn't the same familiar instinctual screaming in the back of your head >It's smaller, tamer >You've drank about three times as much oil a normal worker would drink in a day but that's nothing compared to when you were a murder drone >And sunlight... >You forgot how...nice it felt
>>242975 >>243004 >>243059 >>243087 Very good stuff, writefriends. The grims, the dramas, the funnies, it's all there. I'll get through this backlog eventually!
>>243204 Pavo is not only gay, he also is a devout Christian who believes in astrology, loves his friends and is just a good guy who takes incredible, absolute maniacal pleasure in killing and bringing untold suffering to the enemies of mankind.
>>243202 If any remnant of Tessa's consciousness is left it might have been jarred loose during the finale. Thing is, no one on the planet will really know her other than the DD trio, even Uzi only caught a glimpse of who she was in E5. So most drones are going to know the ghost as this inexplicable human figure that is either horribly traumatized and sits there weeping uncontrollaby for no reason or as this presence you see for a split second before it screams and flees as soon as it sees a drone.
I've been watching two teen worker drones sit next to each other giggling and occasionally saying "among us" every few minutes. This has been going on all morning. I'm wondering if I might need to put them down.
>>243224 >>243225 >Disassembly Drone depression and anxiety is caused by the unseen presence of the one human who once cared for them's unseen presence