Hello everyone! I wanted to create something within the DIGOS universe, and this is what came out. I've been really wanting to try drawing something like a mechanical drone for awhile, and I'm really happy with the way it turned out! I also got to play around with lighting a bit more. It looks better than what I've done previously, so I guess I'm learning.

Special thanks to   icyfoxy , who owns and operates the DIGOS world,
and to   Zhingouzi , who is in charge of the V series dronies and these character's new master!

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The silence was oppressive. A few minutes before, the old warehouse was rife with activity. The reports of suppressed rifles had stopped, leaving only the musty smell of decaying cardboard in the darkness of the storage building. Marcus clutched the cold polymer of his firearm. The black clad mercenary hazarded a peak out of the aisle of high shelves he had ducked into. Across a walkway, his back pressed against a stack of rusting oil barrels, was another dressed in similar gear, Marshal. They made eye contact for just a moment before the second man’s eyes looked off somewhere Marcus could not see and quickly ducked back into cover. Knowing well what this meant, Marcus slid his body under the lowest shelf and silently waited.

It was only a few seconds before a unit 46 slowly stalked through the path that separated the two teammates. Unnaturally silent for a machine, a 46 was built to resemble some fusion of a shark and a dog. Some designers clearly had too much time on their hands. From Marcus’s position, he could see the metal plated legs of the beast pause in front of him, the drone’s angular head swinging into his aisle. He held his breath.

The 46 moved on, the finned tip of it’s shark-like tail soon tailing out of view. Marcus could breathe again. Another close call. Whatever kind of AI ran those things, it knew the two mercs were hiding nearby. It had been circling their position for a few minutes now, and Marcus would bet it was still nearby. A message then appeared in the corner of his HUD, it’s bionetic tied signature unique to Marshal.

||Team, what’s your status?|| After a few seconds of going unanswered, a second appeared.

||Is anyone still alive?|| That too, went unanswered. The two men shared an uneasy glance, having edged out of cover again. Another message appeared in Marcus’s visor, this time in a private comm link.

||Looks like it’s just you and me again, Marcus.|| A holographic keyboard appeared under Marcus’s fingers as he quickly typed a response.

||We’ll make it out of here together.|| They always did. As his attention returned to his teammate, he saw Marshal’s eyes had gone wide. His squadmate raised his gun and Marcus glanced over his shoulder despite already knowing what he would find. The animalistic form of the 46 had crept into the aisle behind Marcus, it’s angular snout pointing directly at the prone man.

“Marcus, run!” Marshal shouted, spraying a hailstorm of bullets at the machine. Marcus drug himself underneath the shelf, into the next aisle. Strangely, this was the closest thing to crawling under the barbed wire that the drill sergeants still insisted recruits did in basic. He didn’t have time to think on this long however, as the 46 sprinted through the empty aisle and leap through the air, crashing through the barrels which had made up Marshal’s cover.

A red dot appeared on the beast’s exposed side. The two had found these things to be unfortunately resistant to small arms fire, but that wouldn’t stop Marcus now. He squeezed, emptying an entire magazine. Between the size of the still target and the essentially point blank range, a fair number of bullets found their mark. The synthetic flesh of the drone rippled as lead tore through it.

Marcus instinctively loaded a new magazine and racked his slide. By the time his gun was back on target, the holes were gone. The 46 didn’t even acknowledge him, it’s attention fully on the human it had pinned under it’s glowing claws.

“Marcus, just get out of here dammit!” Marshal cried out as innumerous tentacles grew from the 46’s gut, snaring it’s captive and drawing him in. Marcus hesitated, finger still on the trigger. His first rounds had done nothing, and now there was a risk of hitting his brother as well, yet this was like the best target he would likely be presented with. At the same time, every other 46 in the building was likely diverging on this position.

“Damn.” He hissed through grit teeth, turning to flee. Sometimes, as a mercenary, people died. Sometimes, they were left to die. Never before had Marcus been so sick to his stomach leaving a man behind. He chanced a single look back before turning the corner to another section of the warehouse, getting a glimpse of Marshal being enveloped by the strange rubber like material which made the soft parts of the drone’s body. A glimpse was all Marcus needed to know there was no chance Marshal would free himself from something like that.

Marcus ran through the dark building, keeping to side paths but otherwise giving up on stealth. If he was going to make it out of here, he figured he would have to make the most of his brother’s sacrifice. The AI of the machines had seemed simple from Marcus’s observations. He was betting on them all being on the move to where the gunshots had come from. Perhaps it was not a good bet to make, he thought as he turned the corner. Sitting attentively in front of his destination, a well marked fire exit door was another 46. Without hesitation, Marcus turned back into the maze of crates and aisles. If the 46 saw him, and Marcus knew it did, it did not pursue. For several minutes he ran, each exit he came across similarly guarded. Was there any way out?

||Marcus.|| A message, with Marshal’s unique fingerprint. He was alive!

||What happened? You ok?|| Marcus was quick to send back.

||Yup. Just fine!|| Marcus grinned. It was almost too good to be true. ||Hey, let’s play a game.||

His grin vanished. ||A game? I’m in the middle of being hunted right now…||

||I know. I told the rest to hold back though, so it’ll be just you and me, just like old times!||

Marcus's heart sank. He felt sick for reasons he didn’t know. ||What did you do to Marshal?|| The replies, which had been near instantaneous until now, paused.

||What do you mean?|| Was the only reply. Before Marcus could type a reply, a follow up appeared. ||Anyways, you already had a head start. Ready or not, here I come!||

Marcus cursed. If this was some kind of psychological warfare, it was working. He had forgotten his current situation there for a moment. Gathering his bearings, he continued forward. He needed an exit strategy, and could not just hide for the rest of his life. He found every exit he came across to be guarded, but as ‘Marshal’ had said, the 46s at the door didn’t chase him. He needed a new route. If he made it to the dock, there was a vehicle waiting. Getting there would be the issue. Idly, he wondered about the fate of the rest of the team. If they had been eaten like Marshal had, would they be sending him messages as well?

A message blipped onto his HUD. From ‘Marshal’, so he still didn’t know the fate of the rest of the team. Dead, most likely. ||Remember that time when we…|| The message proceeded to recount an encounter the two had with an insane taxi that didn’t recognise speed limits while on leave back in their army days. It should have been something only the two of them knew. Marcus didn’t respond, continuing to move silently through the building, pausing every now than then just to listen for the footsteps of the drone.

A few minutes later a similar message arrived. Then again a few minutes again after that. With every message of a story only Marshal should have known, Marcus became more and more irritated. Finally he snapped, stopping in the middle of a drive lane to type a reply.

||If you were actually my friend, you wouldn’t be hunting me. You’re a killing machine, nothing more.|| Sending the message felt good, for about a moment until he heard a mechanical whine just behind him. He quickly turned about, weapon raised. Before him was a 46, no doubt the one claiming to be Marshal. How long had it been tailing him, Marcus briefly wondered.

||I’m sorry.|| Even before Marcus had raised his weapon, the 46 had been reduced to a whimpering mess. It lay on the ground, it’s paws covering it’s head. It was poised more like a pup which had just pissed on the carpet than a killing machine. ||I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I was just trying to be a good sharkhound.||

Marcus hesitated on the trigger pull, knowing it likely wouldn't do any good. At the same time, there still might have been a chance of cutting Marshal free. He knew he was surrounded. He knew he needed a small miracle to get out of here. Silently, Marcus hoped that this really was Marshal and not some elaborate ruse.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Marcus murmurs, lowering the barrel of his weapon. He takes a cautious step forward, towards the so called sharkhound and tries not to flinch as it lowers it’s clawed paws from it’s faceplate. “Is that really you in there? Marshal?”

||I’m sorry, I should have known you wouldn’t like this game.|| Marcus takes a deep breath. Maybe this would work, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, he was going all in. He kept creeping forward, kneeling down to the laying drone and slowly placing a hand against it’s head. It made a happy rumbling sound, strange for both a killing machine and Marshal, but Marcus would take what he could get.

“Hey, Marshal, if that’s really you in there… I’m sorry about what I said.” Marcus whispered. The glowing ring on the drone’s head shined brighter as Marshal scooted forward, butting his head into Marcus’s chest. Though it caused him to fall back onto his butt, Marcus was just happy he was getting a positive reaction. It would have been more comforting if this was his childhood dog and not a light combat vehicle which may or may not have hijacked the mind of his best friend, but whatever.

“The truth is, you mean a lot to me Marshal.” Marcus began, hoping the power of friendship was more than a trope.

||I love you too! <3|| The sharkhound’s finned tail was wagging now.

“But I think your mind is compromised.” The wagging stopped. “I think it would be best if you let me think for us until we can fix you.” Marcus stopped. This was it. Time to find out whether he would die or whether he’d ride out of here on the back of his best friend turned monster. The drone didn’t move, but a message blipped onto Marcus’s HUD. Hopeful, he read it.

||So, you’re saying, since one of us doesn’t have all the information, he should trust the other to make decisions on his behalf?||

“Uh, yeah. Seems about right. It’s a matter of trust, I suppose.”

The sharkhound snuggled closer, rubbing the side of it’s head against Marcus’s chest. The mercenary found himself idly stroking the machine’s ear fin, which it seemed to enjoy.

||I’m glad you think that way!|| Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. Was this actually going to work out for him? ||I’ve called over an empty sharkhound for you. We’re going to have a lot of fun together!||

Marcus’s blood ran cold. “No! Didn’t you hear what I just said!” He was shouting now. In the distance, he could swear he heard the gait of another drone moving quickly.

||Yes. You don’t know what it’s like to be a sharkhound. I know you’re scared now, but you’ll like it. You just have to trust me.|| Marcus tried to get up and run, but he found he couldn’t move the drone’s head off of him. He was suddenly very aware of just how gentle the machine was being with him, even now. That didn’t stop him from beating the butt of his gun against it’s mechanical head as the second drone came into view. It was pointless, of course, but it made him feel like he was not completely helpless.

The second drone stood over him now, it’s stomach splitting open to reveal a host of tentacles. Only when his upper body was secure in their writhing grasp did ‘Marshal’ release him. “You’re not Marshal!” Marcus screamed as he was pulled into the drone’s torso. “You’re just a monster!” Then there was darkness.

He was sealed inside the drone. He still had his rifle tight in his fist, but the trigger and grip were becoming soft and squishy. The mechanism of the weapon dissolved away before he could even pull the trigger, consumed by a host of nanobots.

His clothing was already gone, leaving him bound and naked in the darkness. Marcus struggled vainly as the air in the cavity began to smell sweet. Faintly at first, but nearly overwhelmingly so in a few short minutes. Marcus’s eyelids drooped as the spirit to fight left him. He was just so tired all of a sudden. All he could do is lie there in his bonds trying to muster his strength.

There was a light in front of him, he suddenly realized. It shone brightly, but illuminated nothing. It was a welcome break from the darkness, however, so Marcus watched it. His eyes traced it as it began to spin and spiral, glowing in every color of the rainbow yet none at all at the same time.

An unknowable amount of time passed. Marcus was no longer thinking about the lights, or the sweet scented gas, or his rubber bonds. He was just observing. Observing the lights without noting its color or patterns. Breathing in the air without noting it’s scent. Lying along the spine of the drone without noting his bindings. It was in this moment of silent introspection when something occurred to him. His first thought in several minutes.

He’d make a good drone. “Drone..?”
His mind was malleable, like a good drone. “No. Have to… fight…”
If he fought, it would be because his master wanted him to. Like a good drone. “Urk!”
His master wanted him to give in, like a good drone. “like a good drone…”
He'd make his master happy. “Like a good drone.”
He was relaxed. He was blank. He was empty. “Like a good drone!”
He was obedient. “I’m obedient.”
He was compliant. “I’m compliant.
He was subservient. “I’m subservient.”
“I’m a good drone.”
“I’m a happy sharkhound.”
“I submit.”
“I’m a good drone.”
“I’m a good drone.”
“I’m a good drone...”

Reciting that mantra, his optical sensors activated and Marcus found himself once again in the middle of a warehouse. Thanks to better equipment, the darkness was no longer so black and a minimap helpfully denoted his position amongst the maze in the corner of his vision. It also marked the location of another drone, close to him. Marshal! The other sharkhound was still lying on the cement floor, looking defeated. Marcus was quick to nose at him, playfully trying to get his fellow drone to rise.

||Marshal! Marshal!|| His thoughts were communicated near instantaneously, yet Marshal only grumbled in response. ||Marshal, you alright?||

||Leave me alone. Just a monster…|| Marcus remembered quickly. He had hated Marshal, a few minutes ago. He had said hurtful things. Why did he do that? He recalled being afraid, of being pinned. Marshal was so much bigger than him then, even though they had identical chassis. Thinking of this made his head hurt, however, so he stopped. Good boy.

There was still the matter of what he said to the other drone, however. Things he said when his emotions were running out of control. He was glad he was in a better frame of mind now, but the damage was still done. Marcus nuzzled against the sharkhound’s head, causing the other to rise until their flat faceplates were pressed together in a sort of hug.

||I’m sorry.|| Marcus spoke over their link. ||I said mean things I shouldn’t have. You’re no monster, you’re my best friend.||

||You don’t hate me?||

||Why would I hate you?|| There weren't any more thoughts shared between them. There didn’t have to be. The mission was over, a tactical success considering the size of the engagement. Of the five targets who had been lured in with a false mission, two had been converted. Sacrificed to draw attention while the rest of the group fled with the objective. Neither drone was upset, however. They’d be leading the charge to capture the rest during their next mission.

Until then, it was time to return to base. Walking shoulder to shoulder, mirroring each other with each step, to nearly identical sharkhounds make their way to the rendezvous point for evacuation. Each silently looked forward to the scritches and head pats they would get for a job well done. They were good boys, after all. Yes they were, yes they were!