Haban's face contorted in perplexed anguish; A Collector, here - and so soon? He scratched idly at his chest, eyes wandering between the drone, its victim, and their armed onlooker. He sat motionless as the Azurei violently succumbed to the effects of the neurotoxin and the streetrat haphazardly whipped his pistol about; Only the redirection of the officer's lucent eye betrayed the inner workings of his mind: Up.
Like lightning, it flashed with a sudden, faint understanding.
As it happened, the thunderous roar of a 6-cylindered engine would soon confirm just how rapidly the rising storm was closing in...
The sedan stopped a few meters shy of the Collector's shivering plaything, and all at once three black-clad figures emerged from within. They moved with authority and confidence, masked from identity by the tinted visors of their helms, and fortified in stature by extensive levels of physical augmentation. There was a strange, almost muscular way in which metallic coils wrapped around the skeleton and joints, exposed without its plating...yet showing no signs of tarnish - Aug-Tech unlike anything Haban had ever seen before. And though their footsteps planted heavy heels across the sand-swept pavement, a ghost-like silence radiated from about their persons, as if their presence was only a trick of the light - a mirage cast by the heat of the midday sun. . .
"IDENTIFIED, BRAHNEIAN: HABAN, ARMUN, MIRZA - OUTLOOK. REGISTERED TO. . ."
Haban's attention was briefly retracted from the sight of an Azurei being hauled one-armed into the car's reclusive interior. He locked eyes with the intimidating black ball hovering over him, slipping a hand down into his pantspocket as it whirred quietly, calculating.
". . .OUTLOOK 1_5; PLEASE BE PATIENT DURING TRANSIT. YOUR SAFETY IS OF OUR UTMOST CONCERN."
The drone tilted down towards his chin, a small hole flicking open beneath its core guidance sensors; A puff of air escaped its hollow.
The crimson glow of the officer's mechanical eye twitched in irritation, readjusting from its hyper-focused state - it trained ever-vigilantly upon the bile-bespeckled pipe cupped over the tranquilizer-shaft, and a smirk crept up around the corners of his mouth once more.
"...Bless you."
There was a time, he thought, when one serpent could find shelter in the house of another; it seemed that time was gone now.
The Collector stopped to recalculate - then, noting the obstruction, made to reverse and reload; Yet an unaccounted hand blocked its passage backward, and without warning the majority of the officer's upperbody-weight was atop the droid, clasped to it like an anchor as the pair gently descended down to the ground below. The drone's analytics-camera struggled to shutter and refocus, finally fixating on the intrusion of a small, sharp point placed on its lens. Too close - whatever it was, it was simply too close to focus on; Protocol: Distance From and Refocus On Target. The shutter made to snap shut and protect the glass behind it. . .yet the point remained stuck to its surface - and with a sudden, violent impulse, it d r a g g e d gleefully across the screen, gouging a faint, blurry trail in its wake. The point stopped, then reversed, pulling back across and holding...before maniacally skating over the scratched surface in a carnival-act of mad squiggles and repeating loop-de-loops. Haban reasserted the weight of his chest and metal hand over the droid's mouth, wheezing frantically as he scribbled the unsheathed blade about the lens and shouted: "IDENTIFIED, HAZARDOUS VISUAL INTERFERENCE! PLEASE BE PATIENT DURING MAINTENANCE - YOUR WELL-BEING IS OF OUR UTMOST CONCERN!"
A harsh, ear-splitting whistle shrieked down the alley, pulsating in a powerful, stomach-churning monotone. The sound hit like a tidalwave, causing the officer to seize upon himself in agony as he rolled off the droid, which hovered back to head-level with a sort of dazed sputter and shaking. Amidst the deafening ringing cascading throughout his skull, the ragged outlook made out a flurry of confused "ERROR - ERROR"s. Yet as soon as it had come, the noise cut its auditory rampage short, and reopening his eyes Haban caught the faintest trace of blue fade into obscurity from behind one of the strangers' visors; it was staring down at him. . .no, They were staring down at him - two of them, in fact. All too late, he realized that the numbing weight in his limbs wasn't due to a sudden oncoming bout of diplegia - and from his helpless position, he watched in horror as one of them dragged the disorderly drone into view with a singular hand, paying little heed to its incessant warnings:
"ERROR - NO TARGET RECOGNIZED."
"ERROR - NO TARGET RECOGNIZED."
"ERROR - NO TA--g--nizzz..."
The sound of a strong puff of air preceded the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, forcing a surprised gasp from the officer as it penetrated beneath his collarbone. A bitter chill crept through his blood, out through his chest...down his spine. Satisfied, the principle wraith walked out of frame, lugging the spasming drone along by their side with the same ease as if it were a paperweight.
A flicker in the shape of the Azurei caught his mind's eye; the officer went limp, attempting to track the neurotoxin as the second wraith dragged his ragdoll of a body by the scruff of his jacket across the grating pavement. Surprisingly, his left fingers were the first to go quiet - to be followed by his right toes and heel, left forearm...left arm. . .right calf. . . . . .right leg. His organic eye sluggishly relapsed to the dark as he shifted from the exterior sunlight to the dim internals of the sedan, propped up against a couple plush pillows. He stared quietly at the ceiling. . .waiting.
. . .
...
...He was staring.
...
. . .
A glimmer of red flickered out behind the retreating stranger's back, tracing the steady pace of their figure. It crawled along the open edge of the car door, sliding down along the upholstery...up a twitching mechanical knee...and finally, resting on its prize.
...The silvery fingers of Haban's augmented hand rose with a start, padding his breast in a motion not that dissimilar to an arachnid. It sniffed and scratched with uncertain legs along the scorch-marked burgundy of its host, inwards - upwards. . .
Bingo.
. . .
...Come on, you weaselly fucker...
. . .
...Just...
...A little...
...GOTCHA...
...Lucent crimson trailed after the roguish digits as they lugged pill and limb up over the side of his face despite their draining speed, intuitively slipping the two between the blurry mounds above it. The officer expelled a sigh of relief, propelling the metal palm down over the seat, away from the evidence. Once more, his gaze affixed itself to the dim ceiling above, growing cloudier by the second as his breaths drew weary. . .slow. . .
...Blessed be the lepers - for theirs is a faith unhindered in the face of great despair.
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