Murder Drones Background Novels & Stories

“I’ll manage. I have to, besides I’ve been there before it’s not easy but doable.” Silence filled the room as Dave takes time to remember his dear Ava. Adia’s cracked a joke to let go of the intense feelings. Joy once again returned as everyone laughed at the joke. Adia watched them all, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt before. For a moment, the world felt balanced again—despite the chaos beyond their walls. But somewhere in the city, beneath the surface of celebration and new beginnings, a darker truth was still waiting. Ethan Cross had been murdered. And the person responsible was still out there.

Freedom was fifty meters away. WHIRRRRR. From the darkness of the ceiling behind us, three shapes detached themselves. They were sleek, matte-black quadcopters, their rotors spinning with a lethal hum. A grid of red lasers projected from their noses, scanning the tunnel floor. "Targets acquired," a synthesized voice echoed off the walls. "Lethal force authorized." "Go!" I shoved Eliana toward the exit. The lead drone dove, a small machine gun mounted under its chassis spinning up.

Beneath the earth, miles of automated silos awoke. Mechanical locks disengaged with soft, patient clicks. One by one, triangular reconnaissance drones rose from the ground like shards of black glass. They were small — but each one carried technology stolen from half a dozen defeated nations. Low signature. Self-correcting cloaks. Silent flight. The first wave lifted, humming gently. “Sir,” his aide said, “activation of this many recon units will alert the frontier governments.” “No,” Varyn replied. “It will confuse them. Drones don’t declare war. People do.”

The police department later underwent a major purge, and the work environment became much cleaner. I enjoyed a period of relative ease… until one night. After working late, I went to the underground parking garage. Just as I was about to get into my car, a sharp pain pierced my chest. I looked down. The bloodied tip of a blade had thrust through my chest. Drops of blood fell, one by one. "Mayor Bowser."

Enraged, they hurled stones and dirty water at me. "Officer, execute him as soon as possible! We won't feel safe otherwise!" "Damn it–this kind of monster kills, dumps the body, cheats on his wife, and still tries to frame her? He deserves to die!" "He must be a psychopath–who else would murder someone and dump the body in broad daylight?" Suddenly, a thought struck me. I struggled again and shouted, "Officer–after all this, who exactly are you saying I killed?"

The blue beams of the drones' plasma cannons missed us by inches, lighting up the interior of the cockpit with a ghostly, neon glow. "They're circling for another pass," Killian said, his jaw set. "Elena, I can't outfly them in this bucket. It’s built for escape, not dogfighting." I looked at the drones. They were beautiful, in a cold, murderous way. They represented everything the Matriarch stood for—nature perfected by cold, unfeeling steel. "You don't have to outfly them," I said. I moved toward the airlock at the rear of the pod.

“Shit.” From the tunnels above and below, the swarm descended. Drones—sleek, silver, endless—poured into the underbelly like locusts loosed from hell. Their glassy eyes burned red with Echo’s final command, each rotor shrieking like a wasp’s wings. Needled limbs glistened with venomous current, dripping sparks that hissed as they touched the steel.

But beneath every glance, behind every half-hearted smile, there was one truth nobody wanted to admit aloud: We were still being watched. Because high above us, circling like patient vultures, were the drones. They came the day after the soldiers left—sleek machines with blinking red eyes and a soft, mechanical hum that never quite faded. They hovered like ghosts in the sky, tracking every movement, mapping every shadow. They never landed, never spoke, but their presence screamed louder than bombs. This wasn’t normal. Even for us.

I held my ground because charging forward wouldn’t help her and would only unravel what we’d secured. The east post lit up. Nathan’s voice cut in over the comm. "Movement, east ridge. Multiple drones approaching. They’re unmarked, but we’ve got visual." He paused, voice low. "It’s David." We moved before he finished speaking. The wolves behind us were still disoriented, catching their breath and rising slowly. We didn’t turn back for them or wait. The clearing opened in front of us, wide and glaring under the midday sun. The trees gave way to hard-packed earth, and drones floated in the sky above us, red sensors blinking in steady rhythm. These weren’t passive surveillance units. They were s

Leo, Torque, and the sixty Ironhead militiamen were standing in the mud, their weapons lowered, staring up at the sky in absolute, stunned silence. Hovering fifty feet above the courtyard, in a perfect, synchronized delta formation, were seven Ministry Seeker Drones. They were sleek, predatory machines, designed for urban pacification. They were armed with twin-linked kinetic submachine guns and non-lethal riot-suppression tear gas launchers. They were painted the oppressive, matte-black of the Blackwatch. Usually, the sight of even one of these drones in the Rust Belt would send scavengers fleeing into the sewers in terror. "Wraith," Torque whispered as Ren walked up beside him. The cyborg