Chapter Text
“Buddy, you are a RIOT! Don’t let HR hear you saying stuff like that!” I laugh at the handsome new hire sitting across from me, my crossed legs up on the desk.
...
“Yes, I think you’ll fit in here just fine. I know my little startup doesn’t look like much, but I have plenty of experience freelancing! Guess how long I’ve been at it. Go on, guess!
...
“Wow! First try! That’s right, it’s day 346! Woo! Give it up for day 346!” I throw my hands up in the air in celebration. “Being my own boss! Roughing it on my own! Better than ever!”
...
“Other employees? No, no. They’ll be back. You think they’d just LEAVE me? Their beloved Senior Informant? They’re NOTHING without me. And even if they don’t, who cares?! I’M DOING FINE.” I declare and stomp my pointed feet on the floor.
...
“Yes. Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m a little on edge. I haven’t eaten in-“
...
“No, YOU look like shit!”
...
“THIS INTERVIEW IS OVER! THE POSITION HAS BEEN FILLED!”
I toss a glass bottle at him at full speed, which shatters and knocks his head clean off. It rolls across the floor; a human skull with the head of a mop glued on top as a crude hair piece. Two golf balls stuffed into the eye sockets stare back at me, googly pupils drawn in black marker.
With a deep sigh, I slump forward and let my head hit the desk with a heavy thud. Dozens of empty bottles and batteries fall over, beverages and poisons from all walks of life. My hand wanders over to the red phone that has never once left my office. I pick up the receiver and drop it back on the hook over and over and over again, idly hoping someone will be on the other end. Hoping I’ll hear someone’s voice. N, V, that purple what’s-her-name, even... her.
...
God. This is really bad, isn’t it? I can’t believe it’s gotten to the point where I actually miss that monster. That demon. I just want someone to pick up. Someone to give me an order. Someone to give an order to. Anyone.
Slamming the receiver on the hook one last time, I turn my head as my eyes lazily drift over my “penthouse view”. Many of my drawings have fallen off the wall, poking holes in my lovely skyline. I haven’t added anything new to it in months. The sunrise is still there, though. Still my best work. Closest I’ll ever get to the real thing.
...
Ah, how nice of my operating system to remind me. Why yes, I do know my oil reserves are critically low! Why yes, I do know my temperature is exceeding safe levels! Why yes, I do know my horrific biomechanical organs are shutting down one by one! Thank you so much for reminding me loudly and constantly with a thousand fucking alerts smothering my vision!
Alright fine. FINE. I’ll try hunting again.
With an ugly groan, I manage to pry myself out of my chair. I trudge across broken glass towards the exit, tail dragging against the floor. But not before grabbing that mop-headed, googly-eyed skull.
“Changed my mind. We’re understaffed. You’re hired.”
“Alright rookie, here’s the rundown.” I say to my little companion nestled in my arm. “Your task is to listen to me monologue so I can hopefully maintain focus and sanity long enough to spot my next meal. Understood? Good.”
My wings creak and rattle in the wind as I glide through the city sky scanning for prey. Not that my scanners are anywhere near fully functional. Hell, I can barely even keep myself afloat.
“I thought I could do this. I thought it would be easy. I thought for sure they’d come to their senses and realize I was completely justified. Failing that, I thought some alone time might do me some good. But it’s been a year. A year.”
...
“No, I can’t go back. They betrayed me. They left me. They made their choice. I’m not gonna show up on their doorstep like some- some unemployed puppy!”
Sensing a tiny, muffled blip of movement on my motion tracker, I abruptly change course and head straight for it.
“Can’t leave either. Every attempt to repair the landing pod has failed miserably. I have neither the experience nor the materials to do it alone. I don’t even know why I bother. The chances of finding any other inhabited, non-extinct planet might as well be zero. The chances of me surviving the trip on such low oil reserves are somewhere in that ballpark too.”
“... You’re doing a great job, by the way. Keep up the good work.”
In the corner of my vision, I notice the thruster ring on one of my wings is beginning to flicker. Come on, just a little further...
“It’s been weeks since I’ve had a fresh meal. Hunting has become extremely difficult. The territory around Outpost 3 is under the watchful eye of those traitors and their pet emo. Not to mention those workers still barely leave the bunker! They finally have their world back yet they’re ignoring every enterprising opportunity! They’re cowards. They’re stagnant! They’re holding themselves back! They’re-!“
I pause and grumble to myself, unwilling to finish that thought. I don’t like where this one-sided conversation is going. My motion tracker stopped working, so now I’m relying on visual alone. I know I saw something here...
“Anyway. All I can do now is pick off stragglers from the other outposts, but even that’s not working anymore. A pack hunter with no pack might as well be prey. I barely stand a chance against their pitiful weaponry anym-“
I’m rudely interrupted by a loud bang and the screeching of tiny motors. The thruster in my left wing has overheated and quite literally exploded. The ring of yellow light goes dead, the wing becomes dead weight, and I’m left frantically flapping in the air with just one wing. I use those final few seconds of flight to scream at my own faulty components.
“YOU USELESS WAGE-THIEVING BANKRUPTCY-CLAIMING-!“
Pop goes the other thruster, dropping me out of the sky like a rock. Still clutching my skull companion, I crash into the snow-covered pavement. Everything hurts. With a pained groan and creaky joints, I turn over onto my back. My crooked, smoking wings are splayed out in the snow. I glare at the moons for a moment with a pitiful sigh. I can barely move without overheating. Guess I’m not eating tonight either. Maybe if I’m lucky one of those robot cockroach things will walk into my open mouth.
Wait, where’d my new hire go?
Oh, there he is, lying in a pile of snow. Cracked, but none the worse for wear.
“Sleeping on the job? Why am I not surprised.” I drawl. “You lazy bum.”
Though in that same direction, I spot something else. A pair of vibrant pink orbs staring at me from behind a crumbling wall as I talk to an inanimate object. Our eyes meet, and with a tiny gasp the stranger hides out of sight.
Moments later, the eyes peek out once more. They keep curiously darting between me and the skull. I always have trouble discerning the ages of these worker drones larping as humans, but from what I can tell this one is... short. A little over half the size of the average worker.
“... See? You can’t even do guard duty right!” I scold the skull and lazily toss a snowball at it. “You’re fired.”
That earns a small giggle from the bright-eyed stranger, making them comfortable enough to carefully step out of hiding. As I suspected, she’s a child, using one of those little bodies these things build in their strange attempt at a human-adjacent life cycle.
“Hi!” She waves.
“... Hi.” I wave back.
“I’m Amara! I like your pigtails!”
She points to her own short, stubby twintails poking out from the bottom of her hair.
“J.” I point to myself before lifting one of my pigtails. “Yours have quite a bit of catching up to do to get to my level.”
She giggles again and steps forward, hands folded behind her back and swaying back and forth on her heels. Her outfit is gaudy, colorful, and completely mismatched.
“Are you a murder drone?” She asks.
“What gave it away?” I reply sarcastically.
“The outpost radio thingies say murder drones are good now! Or less bad now. I thought you were gonna eat me, but you flew right past me! Then you did a big CANNONBALL into the snow! Bwoosh! It was cool!” She excitedly bounces and waves her hands around for emphasis as she speaks. “You’re not gonna eat me, right?”
“Do I look like I’m gonna eat you?” I dismissively flick my wrist, still lying flat on my back.
“Guess not!”
She skips a bit closer and grabs my skull companion, turning it in her hands while inspecting my handiwork.
“Cool thingy! Did you make this?” She eagerly asks.
“Of course not. He’s my new hire.” I joke as I push myself upright, though I’m still unable to stand.
“Hehe! What’s his name?”
Instead of answering, I hold out the palm of my hand and gesture for her to give it here. She puts one foot forward, about to come and hand it to me herself, but thinks better of it and quickly stops herself. She’s wisely still apprehensive. So instead, she tosses the new hire to me from a safe distance.
I catch him in one hand, place my other hand under his jawbone, and start moving his mouth like a makeshift puppet.
“Name’s Rookie.” I say in a deep, goofy, masculine voice. The mop hair bounces and the golf ball eyes swivel around as I puppet him. “I’m just a dumb, mouth-breathing trainee who can’t do nothin’ right! Got big ol’ eyes but I can’t see what’s right in front of me, durr!”
Amara gets a real kick out of that, flashing a row of industrial-grade teeth that she still somehow managed to chip.
“Hahaha! You’re funny!” She beams. “I like making stuff too! Look!”
She holds up her wrist and shows me a bracelet of human teeth strung together, each painted a different color of the rainbow.
“Hm. Resourceful.”
“Yeah!” She nods.
“Creative.”
“Yeah!”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah!!!”
“Not bad.” I admit. “You’ve got a future in the engineering department.”
She’s quite pleased by my assessment, holding her precious bone-jewelry close to her chest with a warm smile. I get the impression that her peers and/or elders are not very supportive of her interests...
“So, um... what are you doing out here?” She asks, fiddling with her bracelet.
“I live out here. What are you doing here?”
“Playing in the snow. I like snow.”
“Ugh. You do, huh?” I grumble.
“You don’t?”
“I’m hoping for a miraculous wave of global warming.”
She seems to really enjoy my sense of humor, dry as it may be in my current state.
“I kinda thought you were here making snow angels.” She points to my outstretched wings.
“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. I do make a mean snow angel. Check this out.”
I flop onto my back once again and start pumping my massive wings. The metal creaks and groans like rusty machinery thanks to that double blowout earlier, but they move nonetheless. The blades act as plows shoving heaps of snow aside, and Amara is delighted to watch the angel’s impressive wingspan take shape. So delighted that she comes even closer, just outside the range of my razor sharp feathers, and starts making her own tiny snow angel alongside me.
I’ve never really allowed myself to consort with the worker drones, except for maybe the occasional interrogation. But this is... nice. Just laying here, staring at the stars, playing kiddie games, pretending I’m not slowly dying. These workers have it pretty good, all things considered. They even get to have childhoods. I’m kinda jealous-
Suddenly, an awful scraping sound emanates from one of my wings, culminating in a loud crack as internal gears dislocate. I let out a yelp and curl up in pain as that wing snaps right off at the joint, leaving just a stump. Self-repair has been offline for months. Every injury, every agonizing malfunction has just been piling up. It’s becoming unbearable. I’m falling apart.
“Ow...” I groan, trying to suck it up and take the pain as usual.
Amara gasps and looks at me with genuine concern.
“Are you okay?!” She frowns.
“No.”
“Do you need help?”
“... Yeah.” I eventually respond, voice strained. “Got any batteries?”
“You’re hungry?”
“Nah, it’s for this fat chud.” I light-heartedly pat Rookie’s skull. “Zero self control, this guy.”
A weak chuckle escapes her, but I can tell she’s extremely worried about me after that display. She hastily digs through her fanny pack and pulls out as many batteries as she can, dropping a number of arts-and-crafts supplies in the process.
“Uh, um, I’ve got four AA’s, a 9-volt, and three lith-... limith-... lithimum-... the little circle ones! Is that enough?”
I can’t help but let out a tiny snort of amusement at her stumbling over the pronunciation.
“That’ll do just fine, Amara.” I say with a soft smile. “Give it here.”
This time she shows no fear or hesitation, and waltzes right up to me like a new friend.
... The literal second she steps within reach, I grab her ankle and drag her down to my level. She barely has a chance to shriek or to even process what’s happening before she’s restrained in my arms. There’s a very brief moment where she freezes like a statue, either from shock or because she thinks I’m going for a hug. But as I squeeze her tight against my chest, she quickly comes to the terrible realization.
“Wh-?! Huh?! Wait-! You-?!” She sputters in confused panic.
This was obviously my intent all along, but...
“Sorry about this.” I whisper. “I’ll make it quick.”
“No!!!”
I don’t know why I felt the need to apologize. I don’t think I’ve ever apologized to my prey before. Regardless, prey is prey. This is how it is. This is how it’s always been.
I don’t have access to my weapons, but I don’t need them. I bare my razor teeth and wrap my maw around her head. When the tips of my fangs begin to pierce her skull, she starts to truly panic.
“NO! NONONONO PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!!!”
She kicks and screams and struggles and claws at my arms, but I still have more than enough strength to overpower her.
“STOP!”
I said I’d make this quick, but my drooling jaws are shaking just as much as she is. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I NEED this. This is my only chance to survive.
“STOP!!!”
My teeth sink deeper. The sickening, mouth-watering crunch of pierced metal and broken glass tickles my audio receptors. Come on! Do it! Just one bite and it’s over!
//-----------------------------------------------
[ J!!! PLEASE!!! STOP!!! ]
-----------------------------------------------\\
My jaws come to a screeching halt, teeth half-buried in the poor kid’s head. That was not her voice. She’s just whimpering and trembling now, as if accepting her fate. Yet I can’t even finish the job.
Why...?
Why am I hesitating now, of all times?! This is nothing new! I’ve killed younger than this! I’ve killed untrained neural networks, the equivalent of a drone infant! I’ve killed humans of every age bracket! And if I don’t do this, right now, I’m going to starve to death!
But as I listen to Amara’s despondent sobbing... I just can’t bring myself to do it...
I open my jaws and release her without another word. Pitch black oil drips down her hair and face, but she’ll live. Crying her pink optics out, she runs away as fast as her little legs can carry her. And she doesn’t look back.
She’s gone.
I’ll never see her again.
...
...
...
I can’t even kill anymore.
Oh god. I can’t even kill anymore.
It’s over.
It’s actually over.
There’s a part of me that wants to abandon my dignity and show up on those traitors’ doorstep begging for help. But it’s too late for even that. I’m too far from that bunker. I’ve gone far too long without oil. Soon, very soon, my body will force itself to shut down as a failsafe. Not a huge deal when you have two squadmates to look after you. But alone? It’s a death sentence.
I still have my pride. It’s all I have left.
I refuse to die in the street like some urchin. I grab my Rookie, barely manage to stand up, and shamble forward with my singular useless wing dragging behind me, unable to even retract anymore. I’ve lost count of how many flashing red warnings are crowding my vision, each ringing like a funeral toll.
Soon I reach the entrance of the nearest moderately tall (and intact) building. This should be good enough. I step inside and head directly for the stairs. Been a long while since I had to use these.
Ten arduous stories later, I finally reach the roof. Internal clock says a couple hours until sunrise. From up here, the horizon is visible through a large gap in the skyline. Not perfect, but it’ll do. So I sit down, rest against the wall, and make myself as comfortable as I can.
Guess I’ll just. Wait here. Until it happens.
Idly stroking Rookie’s mop hair, I can only think about how I ended up in this miserable state.
“The whole reason I’m here is because I was too scared of Cyn. Too scared of a fate worse than death. Too scared to be alone.” I mumble to my imaginary companion. “Now I’m dying alone and I don’t care anymore.”
“... Why couldn’t I have been this brave before? When it counted?”
As I sit there watching my vitals drop and my temperature rapidly rise, watching the countdown to forced shutdown, my whole body starts to tremble. Stop that. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. This is just how it is. Accept it.
...
...
...
I’m not ready.
I’m not ready I’m not ready I’m not ready.
I’m not ready! I don’t want to die alone! Where’s my team?! Where’s Cyn?! Where’s ANYBODY?!
“Please... Please say something.” I beg, clutching Rookie tight. “Become real and say something. Tell me it’s going to be okay. Tell me I don’t deserve this.”
My voice is shaking. My breath quickens. My teeth are chattering. My limbs are going numb. I can’t move.
I’m scared. I’m more scared than any moment with Cyn. I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Without thinking, without realizing it, I panic and activate my distress beacon, amplifying the signal as loud as I can. But I don’t think anyone’s listening. It’s too late. It’s too late.
Processes are failing by the thousands. Motors are going offline. Chunks of vision are going dark. One by one my ocular lenses are shutting down. Goddammit. I thought I had more time. I’m really not allowed to have anything, am I?
I wanted to at least see the sunrise one last-t-t-t-t-t-
OIL RESERVES CRITICAL!!!
TEMPERATURE CRITICAL!!!
DISTRESS BEACON: ACTIVE
\\ RUN: ABSOLUTESOLVER_MATCOLLECTOR.EXE \\
ERROR! CANNOT FIND CONNECTION: ABSOLUTESOLVER
COMMENCE EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN
TRY TO BE MORE CAREFUL NEXT TIME :)