Sinister Animatronics Novels & Stories

The air down here was thick with the scent of old copper, sweat, and the electric tang of the dampening fields that kept the beast at bay. ​Killian stood in the center of the main pit, his clothes reduced to scorched rags and his massive body a map of fresh, angry scars. In front of him were three “Mk-II Ghost-Wolves”—towering, mechanical constructs of brushed steel and synthetic fur that had been specifically designed to mimic the unpredictable fighting style of the Great Alphas. They didn't breathe, and they didn't bleed; they simply waited for the next command to be uploaded into their processors.

He raised his short-barreled rifle, his finger tightening on the trigger, fully prepared to execute the horrific, blood-chilling orders passed down through the dark channels of Isabella and Seraphina ​He froze. ​The custom leather interior was completely vacant. In the driver’s seat, instead of a panicked mother shielding her young, a robotic, pneumatic steering arm was resetting its hydraulic joints, hooked up to an automated, remote-controlled proxy chassis. From a small speaker mounted on the dashboard, a low, mechanical purr droned—the localized signature loop of the Foxdragon security mainframe mocking their arrival.

The creature crawled into the light. It was a nightmare of corrupted geometry. It looked like a wolf that had been put through a meat grinder and reassembled by a glitching AI. It had no skin, only a skeletal framework wrapped in a pulsating, oil-slick layer of Shadow Matter. Its forelimbs were two massive, sickle-shaped bone blades that struck the stone floor with the precision of a clockwork mechanism.

“Make sure Jennie gets extra. She has been really talkative lately. I don’t like when they speak when I’m doing my business.” “Yes, sir,” Minho said while doing a little dance. I stared blankly at my co-worker as he left. I headed to my area and turned on the lights. This place was full of monitors and computers. This is where I keep a very close eye on my products. While I was lying back in the chair, Minho popped on the screen. What the hell is he doing?? I glanced at the cell cameras; the girls were afraid as he approached. His hands were sliding up and down on something. I know he is not— when I looked closer, the hand moved rapidly. He was pleasuring himself in front of my women. He won

The edges of the silicone mask cracked and peeled back from the jaw, uncovering a roughly welded metal skull. Mechanical gears turned in the eye sockets. The communication module picked up a remote signal, and a burst of static filled the air. Arthur's synthesized voice cut through the rain. “My dear sister. Like your substitute?” The voice - changer made it cold and mechanical. “Once you're in the trap, you're already dead.”

I ask him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. No other stronzo can match him for a job well done. I just spent the last six hours cleaning what should have been cleaned," he says with another sigh. In our code language, someone eliminated one of our enemies but could not erase the evidence that would lead the murder to us. No doubt Santo had to act in person to get rid of potential witnesses. "The Bonani are expensive because they are the best. See if we can get a contract with their other sons," I murmured quietly.

"Yeah. Sin just got home, he's in the library. I believe I saw him there last." "Okay thanks." I smiled gratefully as he nodded in return and walked away. I took the corner, and found myself in front of the large library room. Thank God Nikolai had shown me around the place at first. Now it wasn't that hard to find around. I stared into the room where I noted Sinister seated at a luxurious oaky-coloured leathered armchair. He seemed to be deep in thought. With his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his face was propped up against his knuckles defining how chiseled his features were. This man is handsome. The slight subtle seemed to emphasize a roguish yet elegant portrayal of him. A blen

Bruno stood at the foot of the bed, seven feet of metal shaped to look like man. Between the muscular thighs, there was only a flat panel of silver, and no weapon with which to carry out the threat implied in his words. And yet, while Bianca watched, that blank panel of metal suddenly split down the middle, the two sides sliding away to reveal the robotic equivalent of male genitalia that rose slowly from the opening, to settle into place outside his body. There was a phallus, shaped like a man's, but made of a silvery metal and lined with odd bumps and ridges. It jutted forward above a sack of some dark material skillfully made to resemble flesh. Had she not known she was looking at a robot

They were coming as the ghosts of a world that refused to be sold. "The internal security is 'Null-Sync,'" Cassius reported from the remote hub, his voice a digital rasp in their ears. "They’ve mapped the Aetheric signature of every known supernatural species. If any of you shift, the floorboards will turn into high-voltage electrodes. You have to do this the old-fashioned way. Cloaking tech and cold iron." "We were shadows long before we were sovereigns," Selene whispered, her fingers tracing the hilt of a blackened dagger.

In the distance, at the end of the wide avenue, which leads directly to the central Tower – Gamma – slept, moved. There were no warlords. There were no drones. They were constructs. Designs assembled from the waste of the city were. A bunch of old hydraulic arms, rusty sheets and luminous Plasma cores combined with wire to form a grotesque, human-like form were. They moved jerky, almost dancing, and glowed in their chest baskets a weak amber light. “They are... connected,” Silas whispered and stared at his scanner. “The entire city