Murder Drones Oc Maker Novels & Stories

When the Citadel manor felt that everything was going their way, the Headmaster pulled out one of the Black Order’s newest inventions. With a smirking, cold dominant voice, he spoke on the intercom, “We don’t have any vervain for the vampires, but that doesn’t matter with the use of our new weapon, all of them will kneel.” He declared and soon activated the death drones. The drones flew in every direction. They swarm like flies, hundreds of them looking for a pack of wolves to unleash their deadly silver gas on them.

"Nobody closes it without my say." A Scrapper drone burst through the elbow joint. It was a fusion of a spider and a buzzsaw. I drove my hand forward. The vacuum of the Seventh Seal erupted from my palm. It caught the drone mid-air. The Multiversal market was open. The first customer was trying to break the shop.

In order to defend against this group’s attack, Hamed summoned his adjutant immediately and asked, “How many drones do we still have at our base?” The adjutant hurriedly said, “We still have more than twenty drones that we bought from Oskia. We bought a few more at that time because of the cheap price.” Hamed asked, “What is the drone’s approximate battery life?” The adjutant thought about it for a moment and replied, “it should be around twenty-five minutes and no more than half an hour at most.”

“If we have to retreat, we drag as many as we can physically carry. I don’t care if it slows us; I’m not leaving warm bodies in her sandbox.” “Copy,” Tessa said. “Two released,” Rowan said, breath coming fast. “Three—” The first of the heavy drones rounded the corner—twice the size of the earlier ones, bristling with gun ports and sensor clusters. It glowed faintly in Aria’s overlay—active, hostile, and very interested. Kael opened fire. Metal shrieked as rounds sparked off armor. The drone returned fire, the chamber filling with the staccato scream of automatic weapons.

Behind him, Elara’s fingers hovered over the EMP-shielded terminal, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. For a terrifying moment, nothing emerged from the shadows. Then, a low, mechanical whirring broke the silence. From the darkness rolled a Genesis Island automated sentry drone, its optical sensor glowing a hostile, corrupted purple instead of its standard operational blue. It wasn't patrolling; it was hunting. The drone’s twin micro-machine guns locked instantly onto Dante’s thermal signature. Dante didn't hesitate. He fired twice in rapid succession. The heavy .45 caliber hollow-points shattered the drone's optical array and pierced its battery housing. It sparked viole

I whispered, "you’re going to have to find her in the dark." I initiated a recursive wipe. The blue pillar of silicon began to scream—a literal, high-pitched electronic wail as I began to shred the "Batch" lists. "Stop her!" the female voice commanded. The vault didn't have guards. it had defenders. Two panels in the ceiling slid back, and sleek, quadrupedal drones—resembling skeletal hounds made of carbon fiber—dropped to the floor. Their optical sensors glowed a predatory crimson. I pulled the matte-black pistol Julian had given me. My heart was a drum, but my hand was steady. I fired, the suppressed rounds thudding into the lead drone’s chassis, but it didn't slow down. It was built to ab

With one precise shot, the drone dropped. By the time she reached the sand, Ember and Ezra were already there, weapons drawn. “What was that?” Ember asked, eyeing the wreckage. Alma bent down, brushing sand from the drone's mangled body. Her eyes narrowed as a tiny projector on its side blinked red. “Message drone,” she murmured. “Military grade. Possibly Russian design but the encryption? That’s private sector.” Ezra squinted. “It’s locked with a biometric trigger. Only opens for you.”

I made it a statement. Horvat and Camilla nodded. "The truck carrying the rest of the victims moved too far out of the drone's signal range. We were unable to follow." Nik pushed her chair into the camera's frame. "Which drones? I could probably tweak that or at least get a signal booster." Horvat rambled off a brand name and model number. Nik nodded. "I can get a signal booster. But those are fixed range drones. Since you know the sex worker facility, could you do a branch off from there? Send some buyers in, see if they can get a fix on the microchips?"

I look into the bedroom. The penthouse is dark, lit only by the city glow through the massive windows. Drakon is picking up his jeans. And then, I hear it. A hum. Like a giant insect. It’s outside the glass. I look at the window. Hovering twenty feet away, level with the fifty-first floor, is a drone. It’s large. Military grade. Four rotors. And slung underneath it is a machine gun. The red light on the camera blinks. It locks onto me.

"My father didn't just build a silo for your parents, Mia. He built a contingency for himself." Inside the cellar sat two bikes. They weren't Harleys, and they weren't prototypes. they were Interceptor Pursuits, built with heavy-duty frames and reinforced with the same titanium-alloy we’d used for the Norton. They were stripped of chrome, painted a non-reflective matte grey, and equipped with oversized fuel tanks. "These are tuned to the frequency of the drone," Dax explained, tossing me a matte-grey helmet. "They have a localized jammer in the intake. If we can get within fifty yards of that thing, we can confuse its sensors long enough to force a remote landing."