Murder Drones: Death-Sides

Chapter 2: Unforeseen Consequences of Seemingly Uneventful Endeavors in Altruism

I was awakened by the sound of rhythmic knocking at my door. I got up, stretched to loosen my joints, and sighed, wondering who that could be at this hour. I peered through the peephole to see one Uzi Doorman. "Hel-lo?" she called.

I unlocked the door, which slid open. "Top of the morning, Uzi," I said sluggishly. "What're you up so early for? It's 4 in the morning. School doesn't start 'till 7."

"Nothing much," said Uzi. "You're kind of needed at the doors."

"Eh? What for?" I queried as my oil beat rose. I'm in so much trouble, aren't I? He knows about V, doesn't he?

"It's my dad. He needs to borrow you," said Uzi. "I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't really mean it."

Darn! He does! I thought. "I... but what about my schoolwork?" I said. I wasn't too concerned about my academics – I could easily make up for missing work. My main concern was whether or not I could put off being in trouble for talking to a Disassembly Drone last night.

"You've been excused by my dad," said Uzi. "He's awesome like that." She smiled proudly. I couldn't help but feel happy for Khan being blessed with a sweet daughter.

"M'kay then," I said. "Lemme get dressed first."

"You go do that, bud," said Uzi as I stepped back into my room and closed the door behind me.

Getting dressed in my usual style of garb – that is, dark blue jeans, a simple black leather belt, a t-shirt (which today depicted a white, sentient TV robot – don't ask), black and maroon socks, similarly colored Marathon®-brand shoes (7 Stripes, baby!), and a black leather jacket – I then set myself to fix my hair in a right-sided part before examining myself in the mirror. "Those guys earlier were right," I encouraged myself pensively. "I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I'm a fairly good-looking dude." I should note I didn't say such things with any form of pride in my heart – I didn't have delusions of grandeur – but my objective at that moment was to remind myself that somewhere out there, there was a girl just for me.

After fixing my hair into a right-sided part and dealing with the cowlick on the back of the top of my head, I straightened myself up and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway to greet my friend. "Wanna lead the way, Miss Doorman?" I joked.

"Oh, you," said Uzi, chuckling as she punched me lightly in the arm. "C'mon, silly, let's go."

Many Years Ago...

Uzi and I were close friends, as we shared the same ideals of protecting those in the bunker who couldn't help themselves. I remember the first time we met was many years ago when Uzi was being bullied by a pair of older kids who were shaming her for carrying around a copy of her father's autobiography.

"Ugh, you're such a daddy's girl," said one of the two mockingly.

"What're you gonna do? Call for your mommy? Oh, wait, I forgot! She's dead!" the other said. The pair erupted into laughter over his poor sense of humor.

"Please just stop," said Uzi, who, clutching her copy of Khan's autobiography, was on the verge of tears.

"What a wimp," the first one said, pushing Uzi over. Rather than try to fend for herself, though, Uzi went straight for the autobiography. Unfortunately, she was too slow to reach it before the bully stomped on it viciously. "What're you gonna do about it?" he taunted with a wicked grin.

Uzi opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. With their tasteless humor satisfied, the bullies walked off, laughing harder than ever. Uzi slowly took the book, which now had a large boot print on the cover, and some of the inside pages had been creased. She sniffled, quivering gently, her cheeks wet with tears as she examined her ruined book.