against him. Fifty broken drones were now stacked up against the kerb. Each one a medal for each year of training that led to this glorious moment. His masterpiece after five decades of study. If only there wasn’t blood streaming from his right shoulder.
The last drone from the main body of attackers’ drops to his knees and with a light bump from Moe’s hip, falls limply to one side to join his comrades in the afterlife. A large number of drones from the swarm remains but they now just stand there watching.
Moe stands with his arms outstretched inviting them to come forward but they hold position. They all know what’s coming. He knows it too and as his hands begin to shake he holds up the rifle to take aim.