Steve withdraws quickly, rotating away and flicking the blood from the tip of the blade with the momentum of the spin as the rest of the drones stop and stare at their fellow knight falling to his knees.
He’s clutching at his metal breast plate, gasping for air, then limply slumps forward onto his face. They each look up at Steve enraged. Horrified that one of their own was slaughtered right beside them. As if this kill was a personal insult of some kind.
He notices that these drones look different. More aggressive, more organised. But smarter too. As if they knew exactly what they were here for. And it wasn’t to recruit him into their pack. This was a hit squad.
He steps back as the uncertainty from their new