Zombie Drone Oc Novels & Stories

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.”

The safe house on the outskirts of Ocracoke was a "Logic-Blind" fortress of cedar and reinforced steel. Damian Cole had calibrated the "Zero-Point" sensors to detect any "Data-Stain" within a five-mile radius. But the system was designed to catch "Sovereign" drones and "Recovery Scouts"—it wasn't programmed to flag the "Analog" ghost of a father. Aria stood in the kitchen, her "Piercing Gray Eyes" tired from a night of "Recursive" nightmares. She was brewing coffee, the "Acoustic Noise" of the percolator the only sound in the "Iron Silence" of the morning.

She nodded, moving fluidly to position. Bram checked his rifle. “I don’t see any drones. Shouldn’t there be drones? Why aren’t there drones?” A mechanical clank answered him. “Oh no,” he whispered. “There they are.” The walls split open. Spider-like constructs unfolded from the stone—sleek, white, surgical, too many limbs and too few weaknesses. Ciro hissed, “Medical chassis. Repurposed. They used to assist in robotic surgeries.” “Now they’re here to carve us,” Bram said, raising his weapon.

Before Alex could answer, Freya said in a delicate voice, “This isn’t a Gimmick Puppet. This is a zombie refined using a living human. Look at its eyes. The pupils are golden, right? This is a golden-eyed Golden Zombie with infinite strength.” When Darven, who was hiding far away, heard the words, he smacked his head. “Oh right, Miss Mayer, your Exorcist Dragons specializes in fighting zombies. You should have a way, right?” Freya took out a black-and-red wooden stick with a pointy cone in the front and a sculpture of a dragon throne at the back. It had grains that looked like dragon scales all over its body.

I could vaguely hear the baby's cries, but when the zombies dispersed, all that was left was a pool of blood. Adults could withstand the horrible external conditions, but babies couldn't. Parents would do everything they could to provide their children with better environments and keep them alive. Behind me, Emmett said, "I'm glad I became a zombie early on in our past lives." "That's not happening in this lifetime," I said. Suddenly, we heard the buzzing of a drone in the air. I immediately drew the curtains shut. The drone hovered above the neighborhood for a while before circling the area and observing the situation. I watched as it landed within the neighborhood.

Streams of white light energy hit them and sent them and the bodies they possessed down into the abyss. I moved my hand, aimed at zombies, and sent them to the darkness of the Underworld. A zombie in the form of a naked shifter had cracked the back of a screaming Neratomay Elder, and I shot it, sending the both of them into the abyss. Paul was punching a zombie that had entered the body of a Were-bear, its mouth the size of an alligator. Though Paul knocked the bear off balance, the bear wasn't stunned. I aimed my power at the bear's cavernous mouth seconds before it would have locked onto Paul's face. I returned that abomination to the Underworld. "Paul, you can't fight them!" I yelled. "St

A high-frequency scream tore through the mountain air, cutting off the wind's roar. Above the tree line, a sleek, razor-thin interceptor drone plummeted through the clouds, its silver chassis reflecting the white of the ice below. It hovered like a metal hornet, fifty paces from the edge of the platform. Its chin-turret—a heavy, twin-barrel optical disruptor—whirled in a silent, motorized orbit, its purple lenses seeking the unique electromagnetic signature of Noah’s chest-mounted core terminal.

Do not release her or feed her unless it is by my orders. I stared at the broken fragments on the ground, not saying another word in defense. With a loud clank, the door was locked shut. As the darkness consumed me, the system's alarm bells rang out in my head. [Host's vitality: 18 hours remaining. Protective shield status: 30% damaged.] [A massive zombie swarm is estimated to arrive in six hours.] I could hear Alison whining on the other side of the metal door, "Let it go, Jeff. Juliet didn't mean to do it, so don't punish her too harshly.

​The low, high-frequency whine began before the dust did. It was a sound I knew down to the marrow of my bones—the predatory, mechanical hum of a Vane Corporation hunter-recon drone. It didn’t rely on a global satellite grid; it was tethered to the local transit towers, processing data via an independent internal logic loop designed specifically to hunt down network anomalies. ​Inside the repair shed, the air seemed to curdle. ​"It's an automated quad-copter," Julian said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper as he froze mid-stroke over the duplicating bed. His eyes darted to the passive scanner screen, which was now flashing an amber warning bar across the metric field.

The shelter’s main gate collapsed, and a tide of zombies poured inside, roaring and screeching. “Honey, this one’s on you.” I hid behind her and pointed at the incoming swarm. Ruth raised her hand without a trace of emotion. As a deep, dull hum filled the air, the dozen zombies charging in front exploded instantly into clouds of blood mist. Flesh and blood splattered across the walls. The zombies behind them hadn’t even had time to react before a horrifying force crushed them flat into pulp. This was the S-class ability—gravity manipulation. It was the ultimate wipe-out skill.