Romans & histoires Orb Drone Ball

The drone broke through the ballroom air like a bullet made of silence. Its hum sliced through the chatter, the clinking of champagne glasses, the murmurs of the elite. Heads turned. Eyes lifted. The polished crowd of reporters, players, and executives froze as the little machine hovered above the stage lights, its red lens blinking — recording, revealing, judging. A faint voice cut through the noise. “Is that… a drone?” someone whispered. Then the projector flared to life.

“Shit, you’re right. Climb the walls?” “Do you have your nano grip mods?” “No. Didn’t expect this kind of a mess. Especially in 14K territory” “Even if we did, the plans said these buildings have shock spikes on their roofs. We won’t be able to handle that” Sol searched around for anything they could use, a distraction of some sort to force the Cohens to leave their post. She feels a rustle in her jacket’s left pocket, quickly digging in she pulls out a small cube that changes the shape the moment it falls on her hand. Sprouting four legs and a rotor at its head, the drone’s visor buzzed and stared inquisitively at Sol as it eagerly bobbed up and down, ready to take its new orders.

I answered. The drone buzzed closer. I could almost feel the air displaced by its rotors. The light flickered, and something flew through the doorway: small, cylindrical, blinking red LED. “Now!” I roared and threw myself over Sadira. The device bounced twice on the concrete, then exploded with a blinding snap. For a moment the world turned white. Not light—cheap, burning magnesium glare severing both sight and sound. My ears filled with a deafening underwater hum.