A cold wind howls outside, causing frost-covered windows to rattle. Digital sweat drops animate trickling down your facial visor—a visual representation of just how dire the circumstances are. Ordinarily, you would be safe inside Outpost 3, playing cards with your fellow Worker Drones. But tonight, you're running for your life, pursued by a Murder Drone! How did you wind up out here in such an unlikely and completely avoidable situation? I'm glad you asked! You see, it's all because—
KLANG!
Oops! No time for exposition! The sound of an impact echoes from the roof above where you've been hiding; inside the ruins of an old JCJenson office building. Inside your core, your power module increased its oil cycling by 45% as you hear gentle yet deliberate metal-upon-metal sounds—unmistakable footsteps of the Murder Drone above. The noise stops at the edge of the roof, followed by the grating flap of mechanized wings. Your optic sensors go on high alert as you turn towards an abrupt clatter coming from just outside the door. You're not an idiot, though, and you remembered to lock the—
SMASH!
...I'm just going to leave you two alone. A pair of long metal claws pierce through the sliding double doors and effortlessly pry them apart. The shapely silhouette that stood in the doorway was like something downloaded from your most horrific sleep mode reports. The blade-like wings that protruded out of the Murder Drone's back now retreat inside her chassis so she can step inside the decrepit office without issue. Behind her sways a thin black tail with a syringe-like stinger at the end, filled with an ominous golden glow.
"Well, well, well..." Taunted your pursuer as her claws retract into her forearms, cycling to her normal pair of white polymer hands, which she uses to adjust the black necktie that complements the rest of her business attire. "Looks like I'll make quota after all."