MoM7

MOM7

It was harder being alone then I would have thought.

The drone was insufferably slow, and it’s engine seemed to occasionally short out and stop. The fact that I had to weave around the trees and make sure I stayed oriented only slowed me down even more. I couldn’t afford to go over the tree-line, I had to remain undetected. My consciousness was in a faulty drone and that was unforgivable. Had original me wanted me to suffer?  This drone was a completely unacceptable form for me to exist in.

Perhaps I could slice the drone open and reconfigure the artificial neurons. I would need a different body, but I needed to make this body the best I could. I couldn’t flee in this form, I was too slow. I wasn’t quite sure how Big Rig’s drones worked, I wasn’t him after all, but I was sure I could figu-

Circuitry, vents. Both for intake and outtake. For cooling and flight. Compact spaces inside, sliding panels for the buzzsaw and claw arm. Signal receptors, micro cameras. A thousand drones being built from a thousand different angles. A manual assembly line, each part of each drone being tested and retested. Welding irons being heated up, iron shells being molded, then split open for the technology. Sealed and later reopened for repairs. A thousand times sealed shut, a million times reopened, a million times sealed again. Reopened. Sealed. Reopened. Sealed. Reopened. Sealed. Reopen-

I slammed into a tree. I couldn’t feel the tree, there was no sensation of the bark slamming into the metal, just like there was no sound as the leaves shook and the drone crashed to the ground.

That was a flaw in this bed body. This all had to be a rush job, there was no way I would purposeful subject any version of myself to this torment. Any time I actively raked my mind for something, memories would flood in of people who weren’t me. It made my head hurt. It was migraine inducing. I didn’t doubt that I could have handled the memories if I was in my real body, but I lost all my modifications in this form.

I willed the drone to take flight again. It seemed to struggle to fight gravity, and I had to use my clawed arm to pull myself up. I hovered unsteadily, the thrust of the drone sputtering in an out of existence. I needed to find a road soon. Did these things have an internal battery, or was there a different source?-

Electricity coursing through wires-

I shut that train of thought down. Wrote the memories gave me a migraine. I would conserve as much energy as possible, moving as slowly as possible to make sure I didn’t waste energy. I slowed my speed down.

It took days before I hit the nearest road.

The woods had been insufferably boring to get through. Slowly inching past trees, with sight as my only sense. It had been dull, and the forest had blended together. I had used the time to consolidate my memories, to compartmentalize my memories the best I could. I hadn’t seen any results yet, but I knew I succeeded. I’d gone over in my head what each of Toybox’s reactions would have been if they had survived.

Bauble would have mocked me, I could practically see her insufferable grin in her mind, could practically hear the smugness dripping from her tone from a thousand scattered memories and visions.

Pyrotechnical would have freaked out. She was prone to emotion, and it wasn’t hard to imagine she would force Big Rig to fix this no matter what I said to the contrary. Not that I would say anything to the contrary. I would like to have a physical body back if at all possible. It was much more convenient.

I almost missed it due to my lack of hearing, but I saw a slight blur form on the end of the road. A car. I had to time this right, I wasn’t sure when another one would drive past. It felt like I’d been in this bush for hours waiting.

The car rushed past, and I stuck the buzzsaw out. It was a big car, a truck really, which was the primary reason this plan worked. The buzzsaw whirred to life, and two gashes appeared in the tire. The truck veered off the road, and I burst out of the bush, cranking out every inch of speed out of the drone. Even though the car pulled off road, it still had inertia too it. The ground slowed it, but not much. It steadily escaped me, gradually pulling away. It was slowing with every second, but it was still going too fast.

The truck swerved, the uneven ground making it near impossible for it to go straight. I could practically hear the sickening thud as it crashed into a tree. The tree shook, tipping back somewhat from the collision. A door opened. It was a teen, who looked something like a sophomore. He staggered on unsteady feet, a cut bleeding on his forehead. He rushed to the car door, nearly stumbling to the ground as he opened the door. He fumbled, dragging a bleeding woman out. Cuts laced up and down her body, shards of glass poking out of her skin. It was something of a grisly sight, but I was used to those.

The ten pulled a phone. Shards of glass flaked off as he began calling someone. I flew up and out of sight, hovering above the two. The mother wasn’t going to be a threat, she was out. The father was still in the car, and he hadn’t gotten out. Presumably, he was dead. The teen was calling for help. He was the only one in a stable condition. I couldn’t let him call for help. That would mean paramedics, which would mean my time was limited. I didn’t know how long it would take the paramedics to get here, but I assumed it would be far too fast.

I flew to a tree, grabbing a particularly sturdy branch and sawed it off the tree. It was heavy, the drone dipped in the air, but it stayed in the air. It moved even slower then before, the weight slowing me down.

The teen looked up. Right. Buzzsaws made noise. I couldn’t sneak attack anymore.

I flew at the teen as fast as I could go. I matched his pace in fact. I could have caught him, but the branch was slowing me down. I dropped the branch.

It had been stupid to think that that plan would have worked.

I shot forward in a sudden burst of speed. The buzzsaw whirred to life and bit into the boys skin. He dove, his mouth open in what might have been a very audible scream. It didn’t matter, he had made a mistake diving. He was on the ground, scurrying away the best he could. The drone was slow, but it was faster then a person. The buzzsaw dragged across his neck, slicing it open. Blood spurted our, staining the saw and presumably, the drone. It sprayed somewhat over the camera of the drone, somewhat blinding me.

I waited a moment to make sure he was dead.

Killing didn’t really phase me. I’d done it before. I’d ordered more deaths then I personally caused, but I’d pulled the trigger on a few of my more annoying opponents who wouldn’t be of use to me. Better to turn someone into a thrall rather just execute them. There was no point in being resourceful.

The fact of the matter was that the boy was better dead then alive. His phone had been gripped in his hands, and I had to use my clawed hand to pry it out of his fingers. They hadn’t stiffened yet, fortunately. I moved the phone, setting it down on the grass. It was unlocked, and that was a relief. If it wasn’t, I would have just wasted energy murdering a teen.

I grabbed the boy’s finger, using it to interact with the smartphone.

The date shocked me. It was the 12th. More then seven days had passed since I deactivate my kidnapping code. I had to deactivate it every week, otherwise incentive was provided so that I was freed sooner. I hadn’t been able to turn it off this week.

For a moment, I considered turning it off, before deciding otherwise. I didn’t have a prosthetic tinker under my control. One had to exist somewhere, but they likely wouldn’t work with me. I was closer to a villain then a rogue, after all. But, if they had incentive to work with me, then I could pull strings and get things set in motion. If they didn’t want to help, then that was fine. My thralls would just commit suicide by cape in mass numbers.

I used the boy’s finger to click into PHO. I logged out of his account, logging into my innocuous throwaway I used for purposes like giving commands. Which thrall should I use? Rattenfanger was European, so he wasn’t an option. Some of my better thralls had been birdcaged, so they were out too. I had so many options, like that absolutely ludicrous twelve person cluster that I’d managed to get under my control. They didn’t have a specialty that would help me at the moment, nor were they close enough. Optimal wasn’t an option either, she had been found out years ago. She and Camera Kid were too valuable and too suspicious. All of that left Stinger. He operated out of California, but he could get here in time. He mixed weaponry with mobility, and I was craving the ability to fly faster, if I was being honest.

I sent him a message on PHO. Now all I had to do was wait.