Hostile Takeover

Her life was flashing before her eyes and all Uzi Doorman could think was, I’m going to die having never kissed anyone.

So this streak of stupid thoughts around J kept going. So much for not holding the idiot ball‍ ‍—‍ the scorpion and the frog is like, kindergarten stuff.

Awful part of it all was… Uzi wasn’t even mad. She imagined J killing everyone she ever knew and… that sucked. She’d try to stop it‍ ‍—‍ after all, it more than anything else was what had driven her to hack into J’s system. It was a Bad Thing and she Should Not let it happen. Easy to devise those predicates‍ ‍—‍ but the data loaded into a symbolic register, not an emotional one.

Was Uzi a monster for not feeling so bad about losing everything? Maybe if she had anything left to lose, or ever did.

Uzi had never been understood. But what kept her going was that thought that she could change that, fight hard enough to punch through that wall of ignorance, force the world to understand her. It was enough she never truly felt hopeless, never thought there was no reason to go on. But now… when someone had finally recognized you as nobody else had, then decided to kill you anyway… Really, had Uzi ever received a more fair verdict?

There was a gap, a separation between the two of them. Events had conspired to bring them extraordinarily close‍ ‍—‍ J had gotten to literally look inside Uzi’s internal database, and Uzi had lived through J’s formative memory. When Uzi’s mind wandered, she brushed against glimpse‍-​vague recollection of a shared inscape that slipped away like a dream‍ ‍—‍ weird core feedback stuff.

Most of all, they had fought and saved each other’s lives!

And yet, even this close… it wasn’t enough, was it? Uzi felt like she was reaching out toward J, her fingers almost able to touch her, grab her, hug her, hold tight. But she couldn’t. Hands closed around empty air. There was a line‍ ‍—‍ Uzi was a worker drone, and J’s mission was to murder worker drones. All of this connection… it was nothing, or so pathetically little it couldn’t get through to her.

Of all the things to feel right before a murder drone killed you – anger, despair, hatred‍ ‍—‍ Uzi felt rejection.

All of this… all of this angsty stew, all because J had to chase after Doll (all anyone every cares about is Doll, not Uzi), because J had to do her job, because even if Uzi had gotten closer to J than any other drone had, J still didn’t care enough about other drones to listen to them, to let their pesky little needs get in the way of her control.

You know what, actually, no, Uzi was mad.

Because she should feel more conflicted‍ ‍—‍ but did J know that? Did she make any attempt to persuade her? Uzi could admit, maybe she wasn’t a moral paragon. Already she harbored doubts about her ‘destroy all humans’ plan.

J had made her into a cannibal and a killer. Maybe it wasn’t cannibalism if they were already dead, maybe it wasn’t killing if they were just zombies. But she was slipping. Could she stop J from pulling her further? Did she want her to stop?

Khan had neglected her for the sake of his doors. Doll had abandoned her for the popular kids. Outpost‍-​3 had been a colony of strangers.

And J… J had praised her. J had hugged her. They kicked ass together!

J was awesome. …And J kind of sucked.

If the murder drone could simply listen, would Uzi have done anything for her?

Doesn’t matter now. Too little, too late.

J gave Uzi her ultimatum, so Uzi had to betray her before J could betray first. And Khan did what he could be counted on to do: abandoned her.

The doors of Outpost‍-​3 slammed to a close behind her.

J was already snarling and lunging forward, nanite stinger curling over her shoulder. Uzi could barely see the stars fading behind her. J looked vicious and striking in the moonlight, silhouetted against a black morning sky.

“You could have made a good disassembler, Uzi,” she said. “Now I just hope you make a good meal.” Her head inched closer, desire dark in her eyes.

Uzi’s should have had empty pupils‍ ‍—‍ not a blush. She opened her mouth to protest.

J’s hand at her throat, squeezing. “No. Quiet. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I should have done this a long time ago. I always… always planned to. But maybe the anticipation will make you taste all the sweeter. I’ve had prey fight back before, but your edgy spirit is just so irresistible.”

“Unbelievable,” Uzi managed to choke out, vocalsynth vibrating through her chassis as much as her mouth. “I’m gonna be eaten by the one murder drone on Copper‍-​9 who monologues.”

“You should feel honored, toaster. Do you think I monologue for anyone?” Her grip tightened, Uzi’s choker sliding between her fingers.

Beneath J, Uzi struggled. Her legs bent and pushed off the concrete, but the weight of a murder drone was too much. Try to move her arms, and J just pushed back hard, scraping her tubing against stone.

Uzi growled. “All the crap you put me through, and I should feel honored? You’re lucky I don’t hate you.”

“But of course. How could you hate me when I’ve done so much for you?”

An eyebrow raised as one eye became a purple loading icon. J was full of herself, sure, but that seemed delusional.

Wait.

She… doesn’t realize?

Suddenly, details clicked into place.

J’s gun pointed at Khan. “You, toaster, have you seen an insufferable bully come through here?”

It was her dad. “All the more reason to shoot.”

J reacting with disbelief‍ ‍—‍ and dismay. “Is this really how you want to die? Throwing everything I’m giving you all away for a deadbeat who never did anything for you?”

Did J… actually care? She’d seen Uzi’s memories‍ ‍—‍ had J glimpsed how much Uzi hated it here, and thought killing them all was doing her a favor?

Uzi wanted to ask. But did she want to know, or cling to the hope?

What was worse: to know your life was a tragedy from the start, or only became one in the final moments?

Uzi closed her eyes, and stopped resisting.

And waited.

Her processor kept ticking.

“What’s the hold up, J?”

Uzi opened her eyes, saw J staring down at her. Three claw‍-​blades descended to rip Uzi’s life from her. They should be here in, oh, a week at this rate.

“I’ve killed so many worker drones, but… this feels different.”

Uzi smirked. She should be relieved, but she just felt smug. “In the end, you don’t want to kill me, do you?”

One second, it was a level stare. Then an amber cross and the tips of claws pricked her torso and raked across the casing. J leaned in close, tongue lolling out. She spoke low, and Uzi could hear how every syllable sat in her mouth. “Oh no no no, you little morsel. If I don’t want to kill you, it’s because just killing you is not enough. I need to turn you inside out. To feel your warm, sweet oil run down my body in rivulets as it cools my chassis. To run my tongue along your aching, struggling servos as you resist in vain. To bite and rip and sunder everything you are. I will devour you and turn every bit of you to my own purpose. I want to destroy you.” Closer, closer, and in that yellow light she drowned‍ ‍—‍ just a bug caught in sweet amber.

Uzi wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard a drone talk while their visor displayed that hunter’s wide cross. The tone was rougher than J’s ever got. And J didn’t wax poetic. This was a new side of J, and it made her feel…

…was she the first drone to have empty pupils and a blush at the same time?

J reeled herself back suddenly, and the cross became two eyes. J gave a deep breath. “Excuse me. But suffice it to say: yes, I do want to kill you. I wanted to kill you in the landing pod, but I had to know how you got there, then I needed to tend to V, then I needed to fight the Solver, then Doll, then… I put it off, because I didn’t want to do it quickly. I wanted to savor it. I wanted to give you what you’d… earned.”

“…Neat. That’s uh, very normal.” It made her think of—

“I can only kill you once, Uzi.” Almost despite herself, cross‍-​J was back, and disassembled her personal space. “I want so much more of you than that.” Then J pulled herself back again.

Oh. If that’s how it is…

“Hey, J.”

“What now?”

“C’mere, I need to tell you something.” J stared at her. (Earlier, they hadn’t, and it left Uzi wondering.) “Closer.” J scowled at her. (And if she was about to die anyway.) “Closer.” An anger mark above one eye, how cute. “Riiight there.”

Then Uzi and J did kiss.

Even a murder drone had soft synthetic skin. Lips brush against lips. Warm against hot. Slick surfaces gliding against each other. Uzi’s lips closed and pressed forward, but J’s widened in surprise. She pulled back. With Uzi leaning forward, the touch persisted for a second.

But J held down Uzi’s arms, and pulled them, pinning her firm against the hard ground, restraining her. The kiss broke. J glared down at Uzi, still flushed. Realized she was still flushed, and executed a hunting function.

Cross‍-​J licked her lips and leaned closer. Then it was normal J again, arresting her forward momentum, holding herself still enough the effort had her slightly trembling.

“Do you, uh, still want more of me?” Uzi whispered.

J hissed. “Uzi. I’m trying to kill you. Stop making this difficult.”

“Is that an order, J? How mad will you be if I don’t listen? Mad enough to–”

“Shut. up.”

Uzi flinched, but had nowhere to move. J lunged forward, mouth open, hunter’s cross‍ ‍—‍ she’s attacking. But J was in control, and Uzi was helpless. Like always.

Then J kissed Uzi.

Visors clinked. The force of it jarred Uzi. Knocked her back, kinda hurt, ruined the angle. But J was twisting her head, pressing in close.

Uzi had made J drool. She’d seen drops of it, when cross‍-​J ranted about how bad she had the murder‍-​hots for her little morsel. Now, J didn’t even try to keep it in. She was drooling and it was getting on Uzi now and the nanites tingled in her mouth and ugh.

Uzi couldn’t pull back, so she tried to shift to a side, but she was helpless. J tugged her arms, keeping Uzi close, then J lifted them. Shifted to hold both Uzi’s arms in one fist, and the other went higher. Touched her cheek, too fast to be a caress, and went under Uzi’s beanie. It curled, half‍-​scratching, half‍-​fisting her hair.

Like that, Uzi couldn’t move at all. J’s mouth was opening wider and and

And now there was something inside her and it’s moving and it’s wet and she can taste it and—

Uzi wasn’t sure what the sound she made was, but J relented. Pants of breath, strings of that stuff sticking between them.

“Did you just stick your tongue down my throat?”

“It was supposed to shut you up. Sounds like it didn’t work.”

“Don’t do that.”

J grinned with teeth. “I wanted to. You’re mine. Preferable to eating you, isn’t it?”

I don’t care what you want, it’s my mouth.

But Uzi shouldn’t say that. Not just because it might set J off, but because… well, she was mad, but it wasn’t true. She did care what J wanted.

Didn’t she?

Or was that silly? Hadn’t she learned that wanting in that way just invited pain? She wasn’t desperate.

But no, this was different smarter than that. The fact that J had kissed her back meant she felt the same way felt something other than murderous hunger. Uzi could let herself hope use that. A murder drone kissing her meant a murder done not eating her, right? It was preferrable.

(But was it pragmatism that left her feeling… giddy whatever this is?)

Uzi cared a little bit, at least. A normal, cool amount, at most. But why did that only go one way?

J leered down, fangs exposed, but Uzi didn’t give her fear or defiance. She frowned, eyes upturned, disappointed and seeking.

“J… you know how you only get to kill me once? You only get to do that one more time. If you don’t like, talk about it first,” she added. “Then I’m never kissing you again.”

“Never isn’t a very long time for you.”

“Prove it then. Well? Go ahead. What, was it all marketing speaaaaa”

J drove a claw into Uzi’s torso. Plastic split around it. It broke tiny circuits, sensors flagged the hardware damage, and Uzi felt pain. The blade pierced further, and J shifted the angle. There was a wire there, the sense‍-​feed for her left leg. Uzi couldn’t see, but the rubber casing had been split, and even now the input from that leg was garbled, shorting out as steel rubbed along copper.

“J.” The pitch was high, wavering.

“Almost the right amount respect in your voice, now.”

Earlier, Uzi hadn’t felt like she was going to die. She only thought she was going to die. Symbolic versus emotional registers. Now she knew what it felt like. And she had to do something.

Ask? Ha. J would be expecting Uzi to beg her to stop, plead with desperation. But Uzi had learned desperation met mockery. J wanted to torment her. Just like—

But there was something J wouldn’t expect.

Uzi said, “Keep going.”

The gently turning knife halted. “What.”

If Uzi sighed in relief, J would see through the bluff. So she hid it by speaking, an imitatation of her voice. “How many times do I have to give an order before you listen? You need to work on that.”

“You do not give me orders.”

Ha. Reverse psycho‍-​cology. Though honestly… Uzi couldn’t blame her.

Didn’t meant she wasn’t going to have fun with it. “Oh? I told you to prove it. And you didn’t seem to want to until I told you to.”

Teeth grinding together. “I’m really getting tired of you, Uzi.”

“Only now? I got tired of having to pick and chose every word I say to keep you from killing me a long time ago, but maybe I’m just better at keeping my composure.”

“You? Composure? Don’t make me laugh. You aren’t better than me. You’re a barely sentient toaster.”

“And you, miss big bad murder drone, have a crush on a toaster.”

“Crush? You’re a curiosity at best.”

“Then kiss me again, J, and tell me you’ve sated your curiosity. That you don’t feel anything else.”

J raised an eyebrow. “Thought you weren’t going to let me kiss you again.”

“Communication skills, J. Don’t just do whatever you want‍ ‍—‍ you want me to enjoy it too, right? You won’t know until you ask.”

“Ask? I…” J looked at her, pouted on the words for a moment, then finally, “What do you want?”

“Can you… get off me? You’re kind of crushing me.”

“And let you run away?”

“Don’t let go,” Uzi said. “I won’t leave, J. I want to be here with you.”

For a moment, the words stunned J. Only a moment. Then she rose, weight falling onto her knees. The taller drone could still keep eye level with Uzi while sitting between her legs. As she rose, her head titled up and hid her expression. She sighed.

“There. Is this imminent disassembly to your liking now?”

“Can you lie on your side?”

A sigh. “Such picky prey.” But she did it.

“I think… you could restrain me more effectively if you put your arms around me.” As soon J released Uzi’s arms, she moved. J tensed. But Uzi threw her arms around J, the lower one slipping around her tapered waist. Uzi snuggled closer, so close she felt the stutter in J’s core. A surprise.

Belatedly, J put her arms around Uzi, but not much restraint was in it; they were nestled tight.

Tight enough that Uzi felt… J was hot. So hot. And not in the way she totally didn’t see her (Actually if they were kissing and snuggling, did she even need to repress that thought?)

But no, J radiated heat. Oh right, murder drones burned in sunlight, didn’t they? That had been Doll’s whole plan. Meaning if Uzi kept distracting her‍ ‍—‍ then I’m just like Doll. But if Uzi reminded J of her thirst, the murder drone would just kill her, wouldn’t she?

No, the word they keep using was drought. Uzi didn’t need to remind a murder done to murder. They’re built for it.

Then why isn’t she murdering me? J kept her composure, but this? What did you need to feel to go against your programming this hard?

That’s… kinda romantic, isn’t it?

“I like this, J. Do you like it?”

“It’s effective heat dissipation, I suppose.” >< “But I have another way to cool off.”

“Not sure if I’d rather be called heat sink or toaster. I miss the nice things you used to say about me.” So much nostalgia for an hour ago.

“I miss having performance to compliment. You had potential, Uzi. It didn’t have to turn out… like this.”

Uzi pulled back. She frowned. “Who’s fault is that? What did you do to make sure coming to genocide my colony would go smoothly? You didn’t anticipate a single problem with that plan?”

“I told you to follow orders. You didn’t.” J glared, her tail lashing behind her. “I gave you too much credit. I thought you were a good drone, not as corrupted as the others.”

“Or maybe I’ve corrupted you. I still want you to rebel and stuff, y’know.”

Three claws on her back, raking down with scrapes, a harsh keen. J’s vocalsynth rumbled. “There is a way to prove I’m not corrupted.”

“You won’t. You can keep threatening though, it’s cute.” >;3 “But I’m tired of talking about this. I wanna kiss you some more. But beware, they’re corrupting. Each one will make you more free‍-​thinking.”

A moment for J to prepare, then Uzi leaned forward, began her second kiss. It felt deeper, now, her arms pulling J in. Chassis flexed as synthskin bent. J’s synth rumbled another low note. Aww, she’s purring.

Uzi pulled back, and wondered if that was a mote of disappointment quickly masked. “So… you like that?”

“It can serve as a sensitivity test. But.. a few more would be necessary, for full tactile calibration.”

“Mhmm. And the corruption? Feel like starting a union?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” J watched Uzi roll her eyes, and J narrowed further, but let it drop with an exagerrated huff. J watched her with an expression. “Well? I do… want that full callibration. Are you stopping already?”

Uzi paused, brows knitting in thought.

She could pull back. And… she should, shouldn’t she? It was… weird, to go this far with a drone you just met, right?

But again, did she stand a chance if she stopped distracting J, if the murder drone got a chance to think about how thirsty she was, with a sloshing oilcan right in front of her? Uzi had to keep going.

But that was a lie too, wasn’t it? J could have killed her at any moment. Uzi had seen her hesitate, again and again.

So she had the choice. Uzi could pull back, and they could stop and think about how they really feel about each other, and whether they really want to continue.

But what if they didn’t? What if they’d think better of it, if they weren’t both on the edge of death, and this was Uzi’s only chance?

If Uzi could throw herself into the murder drones’ lair without a fully developed gun, why couldn’t she throw herself into a murder drone’s arms without fully developed feelings?

Bite me.

Uzi smirked, brows turning determined. “Since you’re so needy, here’s your calibration.”

Quick pecks, now. Once, twice, three times, all in different spots for the pretense of ‘calibration’. Uzi puckered her lips once, made a smooching sound, but felt ridiculous and didn’t repeat it.

All the while, Uzi rubbed circles on J’s back, stroked her hair, and cuddled her. J shuddered, the tension draining from her. Uzi pulled back, and J gave hot gasp of exhaust. Uzi smiled.

Violet eyes peered into yellow, and yellow into violet. For once, in J’s eyes there was pleasure that wasn’t satisfaction, desire that wasn’t hunger. They weren’t gone, or even far from flickering back – this was still J. But in that moment, J just looked… happy. Contented.

:3

“What are you so smiley about? That was my calibration.”

“I’m smiling at you, idiot. Almost as if I like you or something.”

J raised an eyebrow. “Want something else to enjoy?”

“Plea—”

Like last time, J didn’t kiss so much as she struck, sudden and aggressive. Another clink, another fistful of purple hair, another coating of drool. Lips mashed together‍ ‍—‍ but J didn’t go further than that. Held it for a moment.

Then J sucked. Pulling one lip between her two, pressing, sliding along the rim of her mouth. She pushed in more‍ ‍—‍ then, as if restraining herself, pulled back.

J peered at Uzi after that, eyes narrow, gaze analytical. “Well? Did you… like that?”

“Y‍-​yeah. I never thought of‍ ‍—‍ doing that. It was, it felt nice.”

J looked down, breaking eye contact, breaking line of sight to her face. Hiding. Uzi shimmied to see her face.

“You good?”

“I think… I like that you enjoyed it.”

“Wow. Is that the first time your empathy circuits fired?”

A frown with sharp teeth. “I know what empathy is. I’m not some simpleton. I’m not broken.”

Yet you’re so surprised you care how I feel.

Uzi hugged her, but it was the wrong move. J tensed up further. Frick, how do I salvage this.

“Yeah, sorry,” Uzi started. She wiggled back, gave J space. “It’s just never been this raw before, has it? You look out for N and V.” She thought of J standing over V, struggling with repairs. “But it’s not like you’ve kissed them.”

J relaxed. “N speaks to V so… fondly, sometimes. I wondered why. And why not to me.” Her distant look refocused on Uzi now. “I understand it, now.”

And didn’t that make Uzi feel special.

With a finger, J traced the swooping lines of Uzi’s visor edge. “You make terrible prey, you know. I shouldn’t be doing this. Not with you.”

A peck on J’s warm cheek. “Corrupting, remember?”

She could feel the oil pumping in J. Struggling to cool her stovetop‍-​hot metal frame.

“Well, now that I’ve been freshly sabotaged… How about this?” J stuck out her tongue, wiggled it, and slowly leaned over. Not a kiss, but she licked Uzi’s cheek, leaving a glistening trail. “You taste like battle. Like victory.”

Uzi didn’t flinch back, because J was trying. But…

“Did you like that?” J asked.

“It’s um, still a bit gross? Sorry.”

“How is it gross? It’s JCJenson engineering.”

“It’s just‍ ‍—‍ why do we even have tongues? It’s this weird dangling human thing just, flopping around in our mouths. Stupid biomimicry.”

“And kisses and cuddling aren’t weird human things?”

“Err… you said it was… heat dissipation? And tactile calibration?” Uzi sagged back. “I guess it doesn’t make any sense. Sorry.”

Uzi pulled back, closed up. J frowned, regarding her with a small loading icon as she puzzled out something to say.

“Liking it wouldn’t make more sense than not liking it. It’s not exactly… effective, for me to do this.”

Uzi uncurled, drifted back into J’s embrace. “It’s a bit funny how into it you are. It’s, heh, it’s kinda cute. I think if you really wanted to… Ooh, How about this. You can stick your gross little tongue in my mouth, but I get to fight back. I get to nibble you away if you stay too long. Want to try?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Another taunt on her lips, Uzi opened her mouth‍ ‍—‍ and J struck, sucking the breath from her mouth. Their lips closed in a tight seal. A moment held, then J’s tongue ventured forth, tip smearing nanite‍-​infested saliva along the surface of Uzi’s own tongue. She closed her mouth, gently at first. By the time her teeth were shutting with a clack; J had already retreated.

J’s arm drifted lower down her coat, snagging on some of the ripped fabric. It settled at the base of Uzi’s torso. Between that arm and the fingers twisted in her hair, Uzi was held in place as J macked on her.

A tongue tapped her teeth, and experimentally, Uzi opened up‍ ‍—‍ J slipped in again, a brief thing. Then the seal of their lips was broken by Uzi’s smirk: she has an idea.

When she invited J in again, she didn’t bite, and J pushed in more and more. It was bait, and J fell for it; she was so focused on plunging in, nothing stopped Uzi from twisting, rolling, using her hold on J as leverage.

Like that, Uzi climbed on top while J was lost in the kiss. Uzi’s laugh vibrated both their throats. Even that wasn’t enough for J to lose immersion. Oh, she wanted it bad.

Nibble. The thing flopped out of Uzi’s mouth. But she let it back in, once it tapped nicely. At the same time, Uzi pulled back, slowly so it didn’t break the kiss. Already pushing forward, J followed after her.

And Uzi kept doing this, and J kept following, rising from the cement floor, until Uzi had sat up straight.

She lost it at that, ending the kiss to laugh. “I’m a like a snake charmer. You’re so easy to lead around.”

J glare‍-​blushed. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Uzi tried to quiet her synth, but the mirthful smile hung on her face. J’s blush brightened even as her glare tightened, and a little anger mark popped up. The murder drone growled, but it was so cute‍ ‍—‍ how could Uzi not smile at that?

J’s arms broke their embrace, drawing and shoving Uzi to the ground. She pounced forward, putting the larger drone on top again.

>< A blade touched the corner of Uzi’s lips. “What will it take to wipe that smug grin off your face?”

That did it. Fear and concern warred for expression. They melded into purple dismay. “J, was I being too–”

Suddenly closer, J’s words were smoky breath against Uzi’s lips. “Shush. Your antics aren’t offensive, simply amusing. You are awful prey, but when you struggle, you might be the best I’ve had. Keep. struggling.”

“Okay, that’s um, intense. I thought V was the sadistic one.”

“I keep my composure. Besides, V is just acting.” Uzi felt herself at the center of those amber crosshairs. “I am not.”

“Okay.” Uzi narrowed her eyes. “You want a fight?”

Uzi’s counter had two parts. She grabbed the wrist of J’s sword‍-​arm, holding it in place. Then, she moved her legs. Earlier, Uzi had straddled J, and J’s legs still sat between hers. So Uzi closed tight, and rotated.

Like that, Uzi tipped J over. That bought her a moment surprise, put her in position to get away. Uzi scrambled back without taking eyes off J. Both drones were up on their feet at the same time, and the worker hadn’t even bought herself a meter of distance.

They stared at each other for a second. When Uzi leaned right, J leaned right. When Uzi leaned left, J leaned left. Behind J, the bunker wall. Hmm.

Uzi said, “Tell me when to stop, okay?”

J paused, forced her >< into pupils. “Do you want to stop?”

Did she?

“I still think you’re too easy to lead around.” Uzi smirked, and then she went right.

J’s narrowing brows seamlessly became crosses, her sword arm swung up‍ ‍—‍ not an angle for hitting anything vital‍ ‍—‍ while her hand reached out to grab Uzi.

At the last moment, Uzi bent her left leg, falling onto her side. J extended herself above the worker’s descending form.

Uzi reached out, and grabbed J’s tail, pulling hard. Her hand ran along the smooth cord, and gripped the base of the nanite stinger before J could whip the tail free. She angled the stinger toward a leg.

That gave J pause.

Instead of sticking her, Uzi kicked out a leg to make the disassembler trip over her feet, and Uzi made a break for it, slipping past.

J recovered too quickly. A winged form sprung on her from behind and took her to the ground. God, why is she so pouncey? This time, she was belly down, those peg legs stepping on her.

“I didn’t say stop,” came the harsh whisper of J hunting. “You shouldn’t have hesitated.”

“Hey, J,” Uzi started. She wriggled underneath.

The bigger drone shifted, letting Uzi twist around to face her.

Uzi didn’t say stop. “You shouldn’t have hesitated either.”

Room to twist around was room to squeeze out free, and she kept scrambling across the bunker exterior. Uzi could have ran left, into the twilight, but she ran toward the wall. Glanced back, saw a yawning mouth right by her neck.

Uzi dived, and turned around, back to the wall.

J crawled forward. “What’s wrong? All out of tricks?”

Uzi looked around, started sliding along the wall, but J grabbed a leg and stopped her. Sweat animation on her visor. “…Looks like it.”

Cross‍-​J gave a ‘heh’ that was a bit of a snarl. “Not so smug now, little morsel.”

The murder drone had crawled slowly forward, but she launched herself across the final stretch. an amber visor filled Uzi’s vision, and then, felt more than seen: a sword thrusting forward.

Crack. It stopped millimeters into Uzi’s chest.

“Got you.”

All in all, this exercise had been nothing to the murder drone; J had been holding back, playing with her. But to a worker… Uzi was panting, sucking in what air she could get.

And J took her breath away with another kiss. A brief one, concluded with a tongue licking along her lips. Left a glossy sheen.

“Uzi?”

“Yeah?”

J was trembling, her sword scratching small circles in Uzi’s finish. It sunk in, just millimeters more. J watched her, a cross in only one eye evidence of her restrain, her conflicted desires.

“I want to.”

Uzi trembled too. She felt like she floated, as if her fear ticked up and up and up until it overflowed into confidence. Confidence that let her taunt her predator, kiss the lips that would feast on her, and struggle not for survival, but J’s affection.

But she was afraid. Did J hold back she wanted to spare her, or because she liked playing with her food? Did Uzi throw herself headfirst into this perilous intimacy because she wanted it, or because she had no choice? The lines had blurred. Were they two lonely girls, or predator and prey? Was she a chance set her free, or another body for the pile? Kiss or kill, heartache or hunger pangs – romance, or violence?

Uzi had a sword pointed at her and the only thing she could think was…

It’d be kinda romantic, wouldn’t it?

They just met. They hadn’t even had a first date. Uzi had no idea what she felt. Maybe Uzi had just wanted to stall for time, change J’s mind. But in the end, she couldn’t, could she? There was a line between them.

And well, there was one way prove how she really felt.

“J?” her morsel breathed. “Was I good prey?”

“My favorite.”

“Then… do it.”

J sunk her blade into Uzi, and she screamed.

Vision going dark, the last thing Uzi saw was a gorgeous amber visor framed by alabaster locks above a triumphant grin. Eyes full of desire that was just hunger, pleasure that was just satisfaction.

And Uzi liked that J had enjoyed it.

The disassembly drone closed her eyes on her doom. Then opened them to gaze upon Uzi’s. J feasted on the sight.

Her body was sharpened to a point piercing through the small drone. Her prey’s black essence was drawn out and fell as fragrant tears. The servos faltered, fight and will and life dimming until it was only J as a sword holding her up.

J remembered. That scream right before it cut off, that expression right before it faded to black.

She’d had prey fight back before. She liked that struggle, liked explaining how futile it had always been. J was that exercise of power.

But she hadn’t had prey submit before.

This sensation… Did it feel better?

J licked curled lips. Good, but not enough. Never enough.

Her arm shook, servos twitching as motor commands were dispatched and then interrupted, motions aborted as quick as they started. She wanted to twist the knife, drag her sharpness through Uzi, carve her to bits, tear her apart, let those final jolts of electricity dance across her sensors.

But if she did that, they’d both drown.

Not if she was quick about it, though. Not if she reigned herself in.

But it wasn’t about utilitarian efficiency anymore, was it? She’d only indulged Uzi this much because J wanted to relish it, not treat her as some snack or quick refuel.

Sunk cost fallacy, she thought.

J laughed. A loud sound in the bunker exterior.

Her blade rubbed against Uzi as she gently pulled out. Metal grinded against metal, plastic bent and hummed, and all of it muted and warped by the oil slicking the passage.

She had missed the core, after all.

Turning the blade, J gazed at her reflection framed by dark, dripping lines. Pig‍-​tails askew, eye flickering, thermal sensor on her headband blinking continually. Here was Serial Designation J, leader of this sector’s disassembly team. V had frozen up upon seeing a drone already dead. N had dithered and talked instead of shutting down Doll. And J…

This was most effective disassembly drone in the sector?

J opened her mouth, tongue extending‍ ‍—‍ but no. If she licked the blade, finally tasted Uzi, would she ever stop craving more?

But shouldn’t she know what she was giving up before the end?

Instead, her legs folded and, on her knees, J brought her lips near the wound she’d made. A drooling tongue licked its edges then slipped into the cavity. Curled inside even as the broken components pricked and pinched.

“J‍ ‍—‍ what the heck are you doing?”

Despite herself, despite expecting it, J startled. She hadn’t seen the soft glow of Uzi rebooting, hadn’t noticed any twitches of her limbs. She yanked her tongue out and spat, suppressing her memory of the taste.

J rose to a stand to look down at Uzi. “Don’t you pay attention, rookie? Repair nanites. Was that not one of the first things I explained? I recall you needed a hands on demonstration.” She crossed her arms.

“I thought you redacted that.” Uzi groaned, and a hand felt across her chassis, fingers tracing a seam already closing. “Wait… I’m alive?”

J’s glare narrowed. “Why is that a surprise?”

“I thought, y’know. You’d kill me? Like you’ve been repeatedly threatening? It seemed like I’d finally gotten you um, in the mood.”

“That’s what you thought I was asking? Permission to kill you? And you… said yes?”

“I mean, I honestly didn’t expect to live this long. And like, I don’t exactly have a lot left to live for? My last thoughts was just ‘oh wow, I’m dying without having kissed anyone’. But you um. Gave me that. So thanks?”

“You’re not gonna die, Uzi. I am. I can’t kill you, you locked me out of your colony, so there’s nothing left but to bake in the rising sun.” J turned around, and started walking to the other side of the landing. “You need to get away from me‍ ‍—‍ stage four overheat crashes higher cognition. I’ll lose control, soon. Go back to the spire, tell N… Tell N he’s in charge. He can take it from here.”

With her back turned, J didn’t see the trap. Uzi sneaked up behind her, and threw her arms around the disassembly drone‍ ‍—‍ a hug.

“Didn’t you hear me? Go. That’s an order, Uzi. Listen, for once in your utterly insufferable life.”

“Bite me.”

“You were right. You are getting me in the mood to kill you.”

Uzi tugged on J, trying to get her to turn around, but worker drones were weak. “C’mon, do it. Can’t you just… suck a little bit of my oil? Enough to get you back to the spire?” Uzi punched J’s chassis. “You were the one drooling over me earlier.”

“That would…” J paused. Her hand became a projector. The walls of the bunker light up with a map of the sector. A stylized J marked Outpost‍-​3’s location, with a purple oil drop beside it. A handspan away, the star marked home.

“We aren’t far away, are we?” Uzi asked. “I walked there in less than an hour.”

“The spire lies at a distance of roughly twenty three hundred meters as the crowbot flies.”

“How fast can you go?”

“It’s a question of how much oil I can spend accelerating.” J hung a second as she calculated. “Two liters, and I can make it there in twenty five minutes. Four, and I might make it there in ten.”

“Killing someone buys you a few minutes of flight? Sheesh, you murder drones guzzle.”

“I’m‍ ‍—‍ It’s normally much more efficient. I’m already overheating, Uzi. Seven degrees above the upper range of standard operating temperature and still climbing.”

“And the sun rises…”

“In less than five minutes.”

By now the brightness in the east couldn’t be ignored. Before J could look, though, the worker jumped. Arms thrown around J’s shoulders, legs around her waist, purple visor level with yellow.

“What are you waiting for? Get drinking.” She swung herself around the bigger drone.

Before J could respond, Uzi leaned to the side and an arm was pressing her head into the worker’s neck. That presumptuous little… oh J was going to make this hurt.

J swallowed to clear the nanites, then her maw yawned open.

And she bit.

Her prey groaned, a tremor weakening her limbs, but J brought stronger arms up to support her to hold her helplessly in place.

Sharp teeth cut through chassis and that rich, thick reward trickled. When the incisors withdrew, the oil filled the new emptiness, and J’s tongue was there to lick.

“So… do I… taste good?”

Lifting her head to meet that gaze, J saw uncertainty there‍ ‍—‍ an anxiety tightening the edges of her smile. What answer did she fear? That she tasted good and J would never stop thinking of her as food? Or that she didn’t, and couldn’t even make a good meal?

She spoke with oil ringing her lips. “I’ve read about a certain human beverage‍ ‍—‍ executives drink it often, and I was trained to prepare it and sometimes, of course, my chemosensors needed to sample my work. Black coffee, without sugar, without creamer, is a strong drink. Bitter. Some can’t stand the taste. But some find it powerful, energizing.” J licked her lips. “Oil fresh from a worker’s severed neck is sweet. An activation of every reward circuit a disassembly drone is trained to maximize. You… aren’t. But I think that suits you.”

Uzi flushed, glancing away. Exhaled breath in a sigh or laugh. “Or maybe there’s just something wrong with me.”

“Did you ever think you were normal?” Then J’s mouth went back to Uzi’s shoulder.

“Ugh.” A fist smacked against J’s back. “Don’t pick on me when I’m doing you a favor.”

J rolled her eyes. You all but begged me to do this. But her mouth was too busy to speak.

Oil had already began to pool and drip from J’s bite, so she tugged open Uzi’s jacket and lifted her up higher so she could lick every drop. Uzi gave a cute yelp, and smacked her back again.

“So are you just going to stand around while the deadly laser keeps rising?”

J didn’t move her mouth far from the trickle of oil, this time. “If you’re so impatient, little morsel, there are faster ways for me to get the oil I need.”

She would have transformed her hand into claws to press against her neck‍ ‍—‍ but transformation was a special disassembly function and J really needed to conserve her reserves right now. Instead, she tugged on the worker’s choker.

“Yeah, but why are we waiting? Drink and drive. You weren’t going to leave me stranded here, were you?”

Lick. “Your father will come to his senses and let you in eventually.”

“But I want to go with you. He left my mother to die, he left me to die, when he could have done something. You saved my life. Even if I didn’t kind of like you, I’m clearly safer with you.” She yelped as J bit down. “Um, the currently eating me thing aside.”

“You realize the added weight makes flight more expensive, right?”

“Drink all you want, it’s yours. I, I can’t just sit here, not knowing if you made it back, wondering if a few more drops might’ve saved your life.”

J spread her wings, took a step forward, her arms still holding Uzi. “If I drink too much, you—”

“This whole night has been a bunch of life or death gambles. What’s one more?” Then Uzi reached up and stroked J’s hair. “If… Look, alright, I have one condition. Promise me you’ll try, alright? Question the company, repair the spaceship, at least stop Doll and the Solver. If all I did was show you another way, that’s still more than most workers drones can say, right?”

“Uzi,” J paused to say, “when I said you were good prey, it was because you had fight in you. You struggled to survive. This? It’s pathetic.”

“It’s a heartfelt emotional moment! Bite me! Not like you were any better, when you were all ‘tell N I’m sorry and he’s a good boy’. Frickin hypocrite.”

“I did not say that.”

“Get moving. My flight was supposed to leave five minutes ago.”

“I’m going to throw you again.”

“Thought it was a tactical ejection.”

J grabbed her prey by the waist. «So very small and throwable,» she growled. The transmission made the little thing shiver.

Uzi opened her mouth to whine some more, but two things happened at once. J struck and widened the wound with another bite, prompting a yelp in pain. And J ran forward, the sudden motion startling her into a higher yelp. Arms wrapped tighter so not to fall, around the very thing biting in her. J liked that.

A crouch, and then a leap, and air rushed past the both of them. Ice slicked the street outside of Outpost‍-​3. A few lampposts flickered on, though most had burned out. The long neck of a construction crane leaned over it all, twenty meters above‍ ‍—‍ J wondered if her leap alone would carry them over it.

There had been shade, even outside the overhang above the Outpost‍-​3 landing. But as J launched into the warming sky of Copper‍-​9, the first rays of dawn fell upon her.

J knew how it felt to stand in front of an oven when the door fell open. (When had that happened? It was another memory impossible to place in her mission timeline.) Ovens, even those hot enough to cook food, did nothing more than discomfort humans exposed to the baking air for seconds.

But it would only get worse.

Liquid surged into the newly deepened wound, and J sucked. Synthetic saliva and oil wetly intermixed, and J could hear herself drinking. She blushed.

Like a dozen switchblades, metal feathers folded out from her wings as they spread to their full length, a two meter span. Semiconscious threads had insistently warned of her oil levels. It kept her on edge, but as she fed on Uzi, they quieted.

The momentum from her launch petered out. J hadn’t even risen above the crane. On a good day, she could have managed it. Inadequate. Always inadequate.

But leaping was simply the start. J attempted execution of the most costly special disassembly function, and it errored out. The warnings fired anew. Oil levels critical; flight not recommended. But it was her system, and she overrode.

As she began to arc, J finally rose higher, batting aside the grasping fingers of gravity. Though some things had a tighter grasp. If her morsel clutched her any harder, J would start wondering if the worker had special disassembly functions of her own.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Because they hadn’t cleared the crane, J had to weave a path around it, flying straight before rising higher.

Uzi nudged her head against J’s in what took moments to realize was a substitute for hitting her. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she whined.

“You didn’t cry this much when I carried you earlier.”

“We didn’t fly this high earlier. And you weren’t….”

“Weren’t what?”

But Uzi didn’t answer. J resumed feeding, watching their surrounding over the worker’s shoulder.

Ice glittered beneath them, the white blanket scintillating red and yellow. The ice didn’t melt in the daytime. Even at noon, the weather rarely crept above freezing. The air remained cooler than their cores, sun‍-​warmed or not. And yet her readings crept ever higher, and her oil consumption spiked.

The warnings inundated her‍ ‍—‍ solar irradiation exposure, seek shelter immediately. We’re trying to.

“The acceleration’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

J made an unimpressed sound in her throat, lips busy.

“Like, how do your wings even work? Where is the lift coming from? There’s barely any surface area. Don’t get me wrong, it looks cool but… I’ve seen you things hang in the air. The word I keep thinking is levitation..”

Slurp, swallow. “You’re still theorizing similarities to the… Solver‍-​interactions of corrupted drones?” J flapped her wings, and they wavered in the air. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation; on their flight to the outpost, J had told Uzi about the squad’s repeated encounters with the corrupted cultists.

“Think about it, J. It’s all connected! The Solver is inside of you‍ ‍—‍ heck, it probably created you. All of the murder drone magic—”

Bite. “Special disassembly functions.”

“Your magic is probably just an interface on top of raw Solver commands. Doll can teleport and tele…kinet? What’s the verb for floating stuff? Whatever. She can do that, while you can teleport guns and levitate yourself. It’s more specialized, but you see the similarity, right?”

“Is this really the time to have this argument?”

“Would you rather I scream about getting eaten while dangling from a height that’ll kill me?”

«Yes.» Bite. «Scream for me.»

“Ugh, d‍-​don’t make it weird.”

“Why would it be weird, unless you knew you’d sound cute and delicious?”

“Yeeep, you’re making it so weird.”

Lick. «You wanted to be good prey.»

“About that…”

“Well?”

“I’m thinking. Hard to think, y’know, while clicking through alerts about damage and oil leaks.”

J paused drinking. “How… much oil do you have left?”

“Almost three liters?”

A worker had more than her?

J grinded her teeth against Uzi. “How much is ‘almost’.”

“Two point four.”

“How is that almost three?”

“I was rounding up!”

“Don’t. Unless you want me to leave you with almost enough to survive.”

Below, the ice‍-​slicked street gave way to rows of apartment block, solar panels rooves. One of the building had fallen, bricks spilling onto the street. The interior was bare, like worker scavengers had cleaned it out.

J combed over the cityscape below. If she spotted a worker, would Uzi try to stop her from seizing survival? Would she let her?

Hope was cheap, but this one was worthless. Uzi wasn’t normal, and conventional workers stayed away from the spire.

Her unique worker was still speaking. “The AbsoluteSolver is in you, and I think… it’s in me, too? Some weird stuff happened after you put me in hibernation, and robo‍-​satanic shenanigans is my best theory.” Uzi tapped her chin on J’s shoulder. “And by weird I mean… I think it wanted me to sympathize with you. And there’s just… so much stuff that’s happened, that had to happen, just to get us to this point. Do you think… are we like fated… No, nevermind, that sounds so dumb.”

“You think it was planned. The Solver manipulated events to compromise my mission and subvert your motivations?”

“But it doesn’t make sense. It called us a type error, said a relationship would never work. But I don’t know what to think. Something doesn’t make sense, either way.”

“The market can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent.” J smirked, and then fed.

“What does that mean? J? Don’t just suck my oil, answer me. What am I supposed to think… about us?”

J looked Uzi in the eye, her purple hair blowing forward as if she were falling. “Think about this way. Prices can be artificially low. Stocks can be manipulated with insider information. But until the dust settles… profit is profit, and incentives are incentives. If events were engineered to make me question my loyalties and act stupidly protective of an obnoxious worker… then it was always possible.” Then, for a beat of her wings, J kissed Uzi. Kept her mouth closed, sparing the worker a taste of herself. “I got something I wanted. Whether it was a plot or not, I know what I feel. That makes it more of a trade than anything else.”

“But what do you feel, J? Do you… do you like me?”

J felt hot. When J moved her head back to the oily shoulder, Uzi grabbed her hair, expression shifting between an annoying glare and something pleading.

“Please answer me.”

That pleading, that… vulnerability stirred something‍ ‍—‍ but J didn’t really have a response to vulnerability except to attack.

“It’s a stupid question. Replay the past hour and ask yourself if not liking you makes any sense.”

“Ugh. You know what I mean, J.” She softened. “I’ve just never had anyone that… you were my first kiss.”

“I think you might’ve also been my first. And my second. And my third. …And I would like for that number to keep increasing.”

Uzi laughed. Then stopped. “J, you’re smoking.”

“…Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No, literally. There’s weird glitch artifacts and black steam rising from you! How hot are you? You need more oil.”

J moved to lick, then paused. “How much oil do you have left?”

“Does it matter? About um, about two liters.”

“So closer to one liter. I need you to understand that every drop of oil still pumping in your body is due to my self‍-​control.”

“The whole reason I’m here is so you have as much oil as you need.”

Do you think I’ll be able to stop myself from taking more than I need when I’m this hot?

“I want more of you than that. Talk to me. You have theories. Sunlight makes my core temp rise faster than thermal models predict. What’s your analysis?” J would distract her; easier to maintain composure if J wasn’t stuck thinking about it, which would be easiest if Uzi wasn’t talking about it.

“You’re a vampire, duh.”

“That explains nothing.”

“I dunno what to tell you. Maybe there’s a certain kind of radiation that interferes with your magic, err, super special disassembly functions,” she said. Then, “Wait, does that mean you could make a murder drone killing laser…”

J gave her a flat look. “And just who will you be shooting with that?”

“Hey, if you get to frickin stab me for fun, I think I’ve earned a few shots back. Too bad I can’t go for another headshot‍ ‍—‍ you might regenerate a skull even emptier than before!”

J opened her mouth to retort, but the phonemes came out of her vocalsynth unintelligible. Her screen flashed a warning, and for a moment, her flight hitched midair.

“Um,” Uzi stuttered. “If oil powers your flight‍ ‍—‍ not having it means we go splat, doesn’t it?”

J ran the numbers, but the math hadn’t gotten any kinder.

Below, the apartment blocks gave way to the midcity. Taller business fronts and pathetic attempts at skyscrapers. Still, those that still stood reached high enough J could fly past them, drifting into their shadows for a few seconds’ reprieve without sacrificing much height. But the shade wasn’t enough.

They’d both direly need oil at the end of this.

J opened her mouth, and bit deeper into Uzi, her tongue snaking forth, slithering into the depths. She felt the inner mechanisms of Uzi, the wires still humming, the tiny motors driving the smallest shifts – and she felt the ones she’d broken. She sought traces of oil, her tongue twisting for the nearest concentration to draw forth a few more moments of her parasitic life.

The thing about disassembly drone reward circuits was that it felt good to expand oil reserves, felt good to cool core temperatures. J got none of that. Drinking Uzi’s oil didn’t replenish anything, and she didn’t get any cooler. All it accomplished was slowing the velocity.

J had wanted to savor this morsel, not ration it. This was no reward, just pain attenuated.

Outside the bunker, the captain had dreaded her temperature rising by mere decimal points. In the air, minutes were punctuated by rises of multiple degrees celsius.

It wouldn’t be long before her temp could spike tens of degrees in seconds.

She still had time. Her CPUs would still operate above 80C, but sustaining that meant damage, no escape.

Stage four overheat was core meltdown. Damage not passive nor active regeneration could heal. Maintence would be necessary – but who could J ever trust for that?

J drank, and felt the grip around her waist slacken. That pulled her back.

“Uzi?”

No response.

Not dead, just powered off, J told herself. The core still hummed. Oil still flowed.

Had she fainted? Ironic, if Uzi overheated first, but perhaps workers weren’t rated to endure the same temperatures as disassemblers. Or maybe something had siphoned all her coolant.

Ahead, over everything else, loomed two towers. Sunlight glared off the row upon row of windows like a hundred hateful eyes. Hail had left cracks, adding edges and angles to their expressions. The towers leaned, but toward one another‍ ‍—‍ a bridge between the two upheld the vast, lumbering weight.

Perhaps thirty stories of height on the skyscrapers, meant the bridge must be what, twenty stories high?

(Clouds passed in front of the sun, their meager shade more a mockery than anything else.)

J underestimated. As she got closer, the towers revealed themselves to be even taller.

No, not taller. She checked and‍ ‍—‍ the flight routine had crashed. Or shut off automatically. Details didn’t matter: J was falling.

A drop from this height didn’t scare her, not at first, but her instincts are tuned for the effortless regeneration of a functional disassembly drone.

Would she end up just like V, in the end?

No, she couldn’t give up yet. Flight was too expensive, but she had other disassembly functions. She tried to transform her hand. First attempt yielded error, seconds summoned the wrong preset, then finally her left arm became her last resort.

With her right arm, she gripped Uzi tight enough she felt something deform. Her left arm let go.

She pointed at the bridge between towers, and fired a grappling hook. Aim above, off to the side, and between gravity and the winds she’d accounted for, the hook veered expectedly off course. Rope trailed behind it, far more rope than could be explained except through disassembler subspace.

Too far away to hear the crack of the hook penetrating the lower levels, but a huge wave ripped back through the rope. J felt the vibration, only intensifying as retraction pulled the rope taut.

Like that, J stopped falling, and started swinging.

The ground came up fast. Or heat altered her time perception. Snow draped the streets of the city. Perhaps J could have tugged up the rope and avoided it, but she was pushing 65 degrees celsius, and the idea of snow touching her sung to her like a tax exemption.

Any object with J’s momentum would have carved a path through the frozen banks.

J melted a path.

Abandoned cars‍ ‍—‍ and few concrete blocks‍ ‍—‍ lined the streets, and J needed to kick off the ground to steer around them. Before long, J stopped swinging, and started running along the ground.

She still had a disassembler’s strength and speed after all, even if heat left her a tad sluggish. Sliding through snow stole some momentum, but she sprinted to regain it.

Then the rope hung perpendicular to the ground. And then J pulled up with all her might. She bent her legs for one last powerful kick off the ground.

Swinging again, hanging by the hook planted in the bridge above, the drone rose from the ground, horizontal momentum sending her rotating. Her wings cut through the air. No lift‍ ‍—‍ Uzi was right‍ ‍—‍ but the airfoil could shape the currents of winds.

(More clouds came to block the sun, the incidental occlusion lasting seconds longer now.)

She could see the spire, just a few hundred meters away. So close. She was this close to breaking even.

And yet.

I guess we did both drown, in the end.

J crested in the air, less than five hundred feet from the spire. She could see the battle‍-​worn furrow from here. As her processor slowed to a crawl and her visor started to aberrate, she thought: at least N and V won’t have to look far to find my body.

No, what was she thinking?

What kind of businesswoman left profit on the table?

What kind of predator let food go to waste?

“Was I good prey?” “My favorite.”

--__                      __--
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--                          --

As its processor slows to a crawl, threads and nonessential routines begin to shut down. Halt worries, halt restraint, halt moral calculus. The heat tempers, boils everything down to the core.

All that’s left is the hunger‍ ‍—‍ all that’s left is the instinct.

The hunger smells the oil, and a drooling mouth bites and tears. The prey’s abdomen is split down the middle, gushing the last mouthfuls. And an empty maw devours.

It needs to get somewhere cool, away from the terrible brightness, and it half remembered a plan, more of a tactical flailing, a desperate last resort.

As it drinks the oil, it empties itself in turn, overriding warnings to fuel one last special movement of metal wings.

But where before there had been smoke, now there’s fire.

The disassembly drone burns up in the sky as its last drops of fuel are clawing monumental meters of distance from a cruel world.

"J, dearest..."

Instinct catches the barest of vibrations. Hearing is sharp, but overheated processors vomit forth error after error‍ ‍—‍ hallucination is now half expectation. When the prey’s head snaps around to stare back, an impossible half‍-​circle rotation, this seems confirmed – because it’s an image right from a nightmare.

A three pronged glyph shines with purple light.

"Close the curtain."