Murder Drones Oc Maker Novels & Stories

Valerius growled, preparing to release his protective mist. But it's not magic. It was the thermal sensor of the Vanguard Inner City Security Division's "Black-Widow" micro combat drone squadron. The drone's red eyes are not a curse, but rather a mini-sized nuclear-powered target locking laser. Before the ancient Alpha could even summon his arcane shield, a merciless barrage of hyper-velocity rounds shattered the concrete beneath his feet. As the mechanical swarm descended for the kill, Valerius realized with chilling dread that in this new metallic era, technology was the ultimate apex predator.

“There—node memory. Most of it’s fried, but if Edda pushed commands through here, echoes might still exist.” Liora gently touched the cluster. “Can you get me into its backchannel?” Ines blinked. “You want to hack a dead drone.” “No,” Liora corrected. “I want to make it talk.” Back at the safehouse—an abandoned printshop Varian had used years ago—they placed the drone’s stripped core onto a metal table. Ines cleared space for her hasty improvised rig: cables, cracked monitors, a portable power cell humming with unstable energy. Bram paced. “Feels like we’re about to resurrect a demon.”

Kiran said seriously. “Go where? Where is he?” Malachi almost yelled at him. “His name’s Blake Cannon now, he was in Chicago but now he lives on a farm in Epworth, Iowa,” Kiran said and his hands shook with either anger or excitement. “What did Death show you?” “There are people after him. We were in his house, there were guns shooting everywhere and he gets hit, maybe five or six times but he’s still fighting back but there’s too many of them, he’s going to die, Dad. I saw him die,” Kiran said, emotion swimming in his blue eyes.

Dorian's drone slipped through the ventilation shaft. Chassis the size of a thumbnail. Six infrared eyes blinking red in the dark. Rotor whine suppressed to a whisper thinner than mosquito wings. It skated an arc along the ceiling. Hovered in a corner. The camera lens constricted, focused, locked on. The feed transmitted back. Selene held a syringe. Murky green venom still rolling in the barrel. The gash across Cain's chest tore from shoulder to sternum. Peeled-back flesh. Ghastly white bone beneath.

he disclosed in detail. “Can the drones be intercepted ?” Jax quizzed. “No. The drones are programmed to self destroy themselves and when these bots are intercepted then they roll a series of balls before they decimate their existence,” he explained. “What are those balls ?” Jax interrogated. “They are baby bombs but they contain shards of glass and silver so the interceptor can be killed,” he answered. “How do you contact a ghost communicator ?” Jax grilled. “That’s not how it works, Sir. In this trade, there is minimal communication between the stakeholders. The request is made through mindlinks. This way no human can barge into the cartel,” he earnestly answered.

The roar of the Southern Council’s "Reaper" drones drowned out the wind. High-intensity floodlights cut through the shattered windows of the manor, turning the dusty foyer into a strobe-lit nightmare. "They’re using thermal dampeners," Victor shouted over the noise, pulling a compact, high-frequency pulse-emitter from his belt. "They aren't here to negotiate, Draven. They’re here to harvest."

The predawn light was a sickly grey as Sarah Vance pulled her black SUV to the curb three houses down from Dr. Miller’s residence. Her phone buzzed in the center console a secure line. She swiped it open, the voice on the other end a low, digital hum. "Drones are up, Sarah," Tyler’s voice crackled through the speakers. He wasn't there in person; he was miles away in the command center, watching the heat signatures of the neighborhood. "I’ve got eyes on the entire block. The 'Grey Team' I hired is in position. They’re professional, clean, and they don't leave fingerprints."

A grin spread across her face. "Our newest treasure." Darren immediately crouched beside the container for a closer look. Everything about the drones appeared far beyond anything he had ever seen before the apocalypse. The craftsmanship alone was astonishing. Even before the world collapsed, technology like this would have been considered cutting-edge. "They look incredible," Darren admitted. "And they're not just for show," Ivy replied proudly. "These little guys can scout, track targets, launch attacks, and provide surveillance." Darren's eyes widened further. Ivy nodded.

I craved the suffocating weight of his obsession because it was the only thing that made me feel solid in a world of ghosts. "He’s watching us, isn't he?" I asked the shadows. The humming in the rafters grew louder, more mechanical. A small, black drone, no larger than a bird, descended from the darkness. It was made of the same matte obsidian as Dante’s arm, its single lens glowing with a lethal, indigo light. Leo stepped back, pulling a white pulse-pistol from his belt. "Stay back, Ivy! It’s a Moretti scout!" The drone didn't attack. It hovered inches from my face, its cooling fans whirring like a dying breath. A speaker on the bottom crackled to life.

His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, the only betrayal of the storm building within him. “Subject: Deceased. Adrium: Not detected.” The lead drone emitted a short, shrill beep, and the others responded with a synchronized retreat, lifting upward like vultures denied a feast. In seconds, they were gone, vanishing into the smog above the ruins. Tunde exhaled slowly. His eyes flicked to the crate. The shard glowed faintly in the shadows like a heart still beating.