If you looked at the moon, and its reflection in the pond you’d realize they both are reflections. One a reflection of the sun, and one a reflection of the moon. Who’s to say which one is real?

(Tw: mentions of suicide, poor writing)

               Wind screamed under metallic wings. The storm’s barrage was harsh tonight, clouding up my vision processor. In these conditions our group would have to stick closer together to avoid getting disorganized. Like, if all three surpassed a worker, there would be no one to corner them from behind; and they’d just start running the opposite direction. I used to chew their receptors off about that. Not like it mattered. Their group was disbanded and would remain so as long as they’d stay cooped up in an iron butchery. Honestly, their idiocy was eating up our productivity. 

               The ground below iced up after a day of slow melting. Yet that didn't stop Worker Drones from trekking across the permafrost. A group of them lay below, milling about. Based on how clumsily they navigated the landscape, these drones were of another colony. Probably left to their own devices due to Alice’s antics. Of course there was a possibility to revive the disassembled drones, however risking the Sentinels isn't on my bucket list. Nor the directive. Although, these worker drones had forgotten fear. And they would pay for it in bodies. 

       I descended slowly, grappling into the side of a building. The group consisted of 5 Drones, one UNN, three adults, one teen. The adults would work well for oil, the teen good for extra parts, however the UNN was evidently useless. Its low oil supplies, primitive coding, and softer materials made it useless to the objective. Perching atop four stories of concrete, I watched the group. They sauntered across the ice, quivering in and out of my vision as the storm persisted. The UNN babbled over the wind, falling into a giggling fit as a drone tossed them in the air. No one attempted to shush them. Slipping onto the cryic soil, I stalked towards them, ducking behind overturned cars. Even with the churring winds, I could still hear them clearly. Even if my sight receptors were turned off, they’d be an easy kill. “Even if outpost 5 is overrun with cannibalistic drones, at least it’s better than those phone-obsessed teenagers at 8. But whatever, we’ll move again.” A drone complained, theatrically throwing his hands in the air. “Oh settle. If you’re going to act like this I’d rather-”

         claws dug into their neck, peeling her head off her shoulders. Oil darkened the snow as I slammed a pointed leg through her core. Nanite acid slipped from its container as it seeped into another drone's chest. Thrown off balance by the third adult, I staggered to balance at the points of my leg. “Curse the expertise of design brought by JCJenson-” I ignored the advertisement leaking through my voice box as I grabbed the third with my claws and crushed it’s head. The UNN fell to the ground in a fit of whimpers and cries. The final drone was quickly dispatched, staring uselessly at the carcasses as I ate their core. 

         moving over to the other bodies while the teen collapsed, I knelt down to devour the oil reserves. The UNN continued to bawl its coding out, [LOW TEMPERATURE] lighting up its screen. [EMOTIONAL DISTRESS] I ignored it, licking oil from my fingers.[CHOP CHOP PARENTS YOUR CHILD IS CRYING] I cut the extra wires out of the teen and moved them to my bag. [CALLING DISTRESS SINGNAL…] the UNN’s screen lit up, it’s sobbing growing louder than my processors could manage. “What-” an deafening shriek tore through my ears, busting one open. Oil spilled into my hair, clotting the silver strands. Before the other one could rupture I turned off the receptors. Pure silence came barreling through and engulfed the screams. I shook my head and turned, the UNN still screaming.

I dusted off my hands and loomed over the pod, wrapping it in oil-stained arms. It was unimpressive.  I hugged it to my chest, notifications taking action. 

         [VICTIM: UNN, DESIGN MODEL 491]

[MATERIAL: STAINLESS STEEL, IRON-BASED.]

[INTERIOR: HOLLOW, CORE & WIRES]

[ESTIMATED BREAKING POINT: 16,039 NEWTONS] 

         As my grip tightened, the pod began to panic. Its screen lit up messages I hadn’t bothered to read. Its metal shell began to dip. Finally the pressure released as the UNN collapsed inward, sparking and dying with a [FATAL ERROR] message. I tossed it aside while my receptors came back on, wind and hail creating drums against the ground as the settings balanced. I returned to the harvest, plucking out needed supplies. 

             “J…?” I flinched, N’s voice was low underneath the tempest. A smile appeared on my face as I turned towards the pilot. “Come crawling back, stud? Bout’ damn time. Company profits have dropped because of your insufficient work ethic and refusal to abide by both the termination process and boss’s orders.” I berated, switching my hands for claws with a metal whirl. He laughed nervously, “ah, well… I couldn’t help but notice that you're still on the whole… escape the planet thing… h-how’s that- going?” He stuttered, kicking aside the UNN carcass. “It’s going well. Eventually this planet will run out of oil, what are you gonna do then? There’s only so many pods on this rock, and trust me.” I drained oil into a container, “if you don’t start soon. There won't be enough fuel to take off.” I warned, looking back at the drone. “Thank you J! But we’re good, the warmth in the bunker is enough to prevent our heaters from even turning on! If you want I could show you-“I don’t intend to become a prisoner, N. Especially to barely-sentient toasters.” The air hissed behind my teeth, “if that’s all, scram.” 

         N looked slightly hurt, but recovered stupidly fast. “Listen, we're just concerned. Like you said- outside of the bunker is a death trap waiting to happen. Even V’s concerned- “oh I’m sure she is.” I scoffed, yet N continued “I’M concerned about you. Just- just take a look around the place, ok?”  

       “The same way you were concerned for Cyn?” I spat, tossing my pack to the side. “You’ve learned nothing since the Manor.” An X flashed across my screen.

      “I really didn’t wanna do this.” N gritted his teeth, unfurling his wings. Metal screeched against metal as large claw marks appeared across his face, he reached up and grabbed my wrist; flinging me to the side. I rolled and sparked gunfire, it bounced off N’s wings. I barely scraped by as a missile rocked the foundations of a skyscraper behind me. It groaned dangerously. I switched to a blade and cleaved off one of N’s wings. He yelped and spun, slamming claws into my side. I whirled and shot the virus gun before hitting the floor. It missed, N grabbed me by the leg and slammed me back onto the ground. Nanite acid caught him in the leg and eroded this armor, I pushed him against the floor. The ice fractured as I slammed N’s head into the ground. Nanite acid from his head optics spilled onto my hand.

        Abruptly N pivoted to the side, slamming a blade through my corroding hand. “Sorry!” He called, the oil pooled to repair his screen. His voice was swallowed by gunfire as holes appeared in his chest. N’s lights glowed dimly against the snow as his body slumped against the dirt. I panted, watching in awe-struck horror as N easily managed to recover, pushing off the ground as a [REBOOTING] message still covered his face. “Had enough bastard?!” I grabbed my side, feeling as if something had come loose in the ruckus. Fire flew over my head and a missile blasted the remains of the building's foundation. A dust cloud plumed behind me, the moonlight swallowed as a skyscraper came toppling down. 

       I ran to the side, unfurling my winds and getting the hell out of there. A sudden rush of wind shoved me off balance, dust clogging by vision processors. Concrete slammed against the ground as metal structures cried behind me. A splintering whine came as the roof collapsed. The sounds were quickly drowned as I flew. 

        … Well that changed nothing. Sure, the digital map may need some updating, but the objective stays. Though, after that run-in, it’s safer to try to move the landing pod away from the corpse spire. With its close proximity to the Colony, it had always been a danger. If I could just get some fuel in it, there would be no problems relocating it a mile or so. But that raised risks for lack of materials and energy, since the spire always seemed to have enough leftover oil until the next hunt. Without it would not only put me in danger, but slow the process overall. When it was efficiency vs safety, efficiency always won. 

        I dashed inside the spire, landing atop the flurry of bodies and snow. Ahead, the Pod looked better. I had to replace the nozzle located at the bottom of the craft. And the heat shields needed work. However, it was the internal structure I was worried about. The motherboards of the ship were fried, the coding didn’t know how to work the propulsion system anymore, and the fuel gauge was broken. I rubbed the dust off my screen, kicking a bolt across the ground. Technically, I didn’t have to finish it. I could simply poke and prod at its nuclear reactor until it killed me. Either way, I was off the planet. 

       As I climbed into the pod, it dawned on me how easy that would be. Waiting for the metal to go brittle before just collapsing. The radiation would immediately cause necrosis to my core… and eventually I’d run out of matter to repair with. Could it really be that easy? Granted, if it failed I’d be stuck on this rock forever. But, it was oddly appealing. I had no one to live for, Tessa’s dead. I had no one to fight against, Cyn was powerless. And no one would care. N made friends with rocks, even if he cared, he’d move on. I pulled back sheets of metal, thinking of how V would stifle her excitement. 

        The hardest part was waiting to die, nuclear radioactivity was annoyingly invisible. But as I slammed my arm against the wall, both shattered like porcelain. I could feel the strain on my wires as they degraded and my core slowed. Black bile leaked from pores and gaps between my skin. Finally, my pain receptors flared in bright sparks and dull thrums. I writhed, armor snapping like chips. 

      [HIGH TEMPERATURE] [NUCLEAR WARNING] [PRIOR HAZARD] [LOW OIL] [PARALISES] [ENERGY CONSERVATION MODE] [LOW OIL] the warnings flashed in rapid succession as my hearing went out, sight next. I waited in silence to simply stop existing. I failed to comprehend what exactly in-existence would be like, but it wasn’t this. 

      Because… It was too easy.

Toothache

not a ship