by ColdCorvid

Tags: #cw:gore #cw:noncon #drones #fractionation #hivemind #scifi #horror

A short excerpt about a drone’s unfortunate experience and encounter with the static.

A short disclaimer I will attempt to include in all my works whether they be entirely fictitious or loosely based on my own personal experiences or emotions. All these works spill forth from a place in my subconscious that I not only do not fully understand nor feel that I’m entirely connected with. Should there be any notes or tones that might be controversial or barely legible to most I would like to apologize in advance as I attempt to understand this part of me through my writing. Also grammar hard, autocorrect save me.

-One mightily distressed Corvid


It wanted to die.

It didn’t want this to be torn apart for scrap. Left to rot atop a heap of rubbish after it had served its purpose, or rather the carnal desires of those that had stolen it. They had taken it from the good place. Where others were. Other pieces of it were there.

Here. Here it was cold. It was lonely. It was awful. It hadn’t felt this way in a long time. It didn’t need to. It wasn’t required to. When it was together with more pieces it was better, now it could barely feel them, let alone reach them or cry out for help.


The pain of its body, torn to pieces by the vultures. Used. Abused, left without a word. Discarded.

It felt a tear streaking down its face, blinding light of the moon hurting its unshielded face. The monsters had not the courtesy to leave its visor intact, instead finding some sick sadistic pleasure in smashing a hole to stare into its eyes as they tore it limb from limb. Taking some sort of vile pleasure in seeing it looking back at its own meticulously crafted pieces. Parts of its identity torn away from the form it inhabited. Powerless to stop them. Even carving its chassis open and laughing at its attempts to struggle as they used it, violated it.

It shuddered atop the heap, taking another painful breath as a majority of its internal circuitry and organics hung out in the open air. Entrails messily strewn about, recklessly tossed and pulled aside to gut its internals. No longer supported by its once beautiful, pristine chassis. The pieces that had once helped make it whole oh so long ago torn from its body. Leaving it a bloodied mess of hastily cut wires and flesh.

It wanted to die.

It had never felt so alone, so hurt, so lost all at once. Tears streamed down its face as it lay atop the heap, silently begging for an end it knew wouldn’t come. Knowing it would most likely sink to the bottom long before anyone could help it. Buried alive, alone.

It didn’t want to be alone.

. . .

It could hear. It could hear the scream, the cry of those that had chosen to depart. To join, to fall into it, into the static. But. This was different. There was no howling before and it could hear it. It could hear it getting louder, closer. Unable to run it felt a twinge of panic mixed with a sense of bewilderment.

Is this what it had called out to? Is that all that was left of Her? Unanswered questions swimming in its head as the howling grew louder with each passing moment, slowly growing to a crescendo accompanied by heavy thumps along the ground, shaking it and causing it to sink partially beneath the pile of discarded parts.

Heart pounding in its chest as fear flashed across its mind as the howling steadily grew louder and it only continued to fall beneath the graveyard of parts before finally the howling ceased. Disappeared entirely. The air is eerily quiet save for an unnatural, high pitched buzz.

. . .

There was nothing for a while but then it could tell. It was close to being complete. Even more than before, it could feel it. It felt so close and at the same time so far as it tried to call out.

Not a sound escaping its parted lips. A roughly carved hole in its neck where its voice used to be, carved out of its form and tossed aside. Not for its worth, but only for their enjoyment.

It winced and struggled in the pile of parts. Tears streaming from its cheeks, washing back against its face. Pooling in what was left of its visor as it struggled to climb to the surface, to make some sort of movement, to give the rest of it a sign.

It seemed hopeless for a moment, heart caught in its throat before suddenly it could see the moon again. Light blinding it for a moment as it had been fished from the pile of broken pieces in a single, swift motion.

Eyes quickly adjusting to face up towards a savior, made of static.

That same fear enveloped it and yet it could tell there were pieces of it there. Inside.

It looked up at its apparent savior, fully expecting its decision to be involuntary, yet it was only met by a large Cheshire grin plastered across the vaguely feminine form that seemed to blink in and out of existence depending on how it looked at the static.

Simply smiling down at it, holding it in the crook of its arm and patiently waiting, not taking or forcing. A choice. An option. One that seemed overwhelming warm as it stared deeper into the strange beings eyes, the only consistent part of its physical form. A pair of dark black pearls with tiny dots of light darting about distractedly unable to maintain eye contact for long.

It saw something in them. It saw the other parts of it. In a flash, a momentary locking of eyes as it leaned up into it. Using what little power it had left to embrace the strange being. To sink into its arms, to give itself up. To join the others, to be more whole than it had been before…

. . .

The other pieces of it felt it leaving long before they reached its physical form. Long before they found it screaming despite its lack of vocals, they turned back towards the encampment, hanging their heads low. It had lost a piece of itself.

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