Murder Drones Oc Maker Novels & Stories

The drones had been stored in a climate-controlled compartment in the bunker's armory, their sleek carbon-fiber bodies gleaming under the dim lights. Clara had purchased them months ago, anticipating the need for aerial surveillance in a world where satellites would eventually fail and ground-based cameras would be limited by terrain and weather. She had chosen military-grade models, equipped with thermal imaging, high-definition cameras, and long-range communication systems. They were her eyes in the sky, and she intended to use them.

"We’ll be using EB Jets—Eric Bradley’s finest—equipped with the same tech. We’ll fly our helicopter under the radar, literally, and land at the landing spot at the back of the Pink Diamond Bungalow. From there, we’ll suit up and move into the city under total cloaking." "And the drones?" Derek asked. "Multiple purposes," Charles explained. "Surveillance, shooting sleeper darts for silent takedowns, and deploying nanoshield spheres that can protect us from anything the military or the Connors throw at us. We’re not just going to a gala, Brother Derek. We’re going to war, and we’re going with the best tech on the planet." Oliver watched as his allies discussed the tactical details, their confi

"Alex, Luca, Marco! What do you guys want? Dante is paying for whatever you pick!" Luca’s eyes instantly lit up like a child on Christmas morning. He nearly dropped two boxes of sandals in his excitement. "Wait, seriously?! Capo, can I get that limited-edition matte-black tactical watch from the fine jewelers downstairs?!" "I want the new custom military-grade drone setup," Alex chimed in without missing a single beat, adjusting his gaming headset with a rare grin. "The one with thermal night-vision tracking and dual encrypted signals." "A high-caliber competition pistol case with leather lining," Marco added, his face remaining stone-cold but his dark eyes glinting with clear hope.

Shadows surged from the walls, manifesting into facsimiles of office drones—soldiers made of hard light and jagged, wire-thin metal. "Move!" Anji shoved Sarah toward the exit as the drone-forms lunged. He stayed back, swinging the wrench with everything he had, crashing through the wire-web, hitting the central connection point where Korsch’s skull had been reduced to a relic of dry, hardened marrow trapped in cabling. It was a hideous sight—flesh and copper melded into a singular, agonizing lump of forgotten failure. "Anji, look out!" Sarah shouted, pinning a drone-form to the wall with a blast from her sidearm.

"It has to be." "Well of course," Draco exclaimed. "Sometimes you have to save the best toys for yourself!" The mech turned to face us, weapons gleaming. "Project Pantheon wasn't slated for release for another year, but I'll make an exception for you." Draco had replicated my Prowler. He'd replicated the Exodus. Every new weapon we created was turned against us, marketed and sold to further the Iron War. We had to end this. "Any last words, Quinn?" Draco laughed. "Otherwise we'll crush you and your little insurgency here and now!"

I didn't like the feeling it gave me. Then—a faint, mechanical whirring sound. Dorian stiffened. My eyes darted to the grimy window, barely catching the glint of something hovering outside. A drone. My breath hitched as I stared at it. It was small, sleek, and eerily silent, its camera lens reflecting the dim light inside the room. I couldn't believe this people would go to the length they had. Thankfully, Dorian moved fast. He grabbed a knife from his boot and hurled it with lethal precision. The blade sliced through the air and struck the drone’s body, sending it spinning before it crashed to the ground with a sharp crack.

They moved with robotic precision, magnetized boots clinging to the steep floor. Architect Drones. Human-machine hybrids. "Eliminate witnesses," the first Drone synthesized a voice. It raised a suppressed submachine gun. "Stay behind me!" Jackson released the window and slid down the floor, steering his body like a torpedo. He crashed into the Drone's legs before it could fire. The Drone fell. Jackson rolled on top of it. He took the ceramic knife he had taped to his chest and stabbed it viciously into the Drone’s neck. SPARK! It didn't bleed blood. It bled oil and white sparks. The ceramic blade severed the primary wiring. The Drone twitched and powered down.

The list grew, human traffickers, child predators, serial offenders, police officers selling evidence, government officials arranging disappearances, judges accepting bribes. Some deserved prison, others deserved far worse. The problem remained painfully obvious. Knowing wasn't enough, someone had to act. Someone capable, someone intelligent, someone precise, a person who has the license to take life in the surgical room without being questioned. Someone who could distinguish justice from rage. My thoughts kept returning to the same woman. Dr. Karma Kuntz. ... Marcus had underestimated his daughter, everyone had. They saw a surgeon, while I saw discipline, control, precision. The ability to

"Ambrose was going to talk. He was going to warn me about Mindy." Suddenly, the car’s dashboard lit up red. A high-pitched alarm began to blare. "We’re being painted by a drone!" Dorian shouted, his fingers flying across the keys. "It’s a Reaper-class. Private sector. They’re locking on!" "Hold on!" Nikolai roared. He slammed the car into a drift, tires screaming as we veered off the main road and into the industrial labyrinth of the shipyards. Above us, the dark shape of a drone hummed, a mechanical hawk hunting its prey.

Draven spoke of her briefly telling me she was no longer a part of our world and hadn't been for nearly seven years. I don't dare ask any questions now. How do you explain to your employer you see souls and can see his deceased wife's soul hanging about among other things. Although I'm sure it wouldn't surprise the family a bit seeing as how the Draven's are a family of vampires, but I would still like to keep who I am, or what I am (whatever that may be) to myself.