You are a drone.
A fast and light model.
Your small Air-Lithium battery gives you a full hour of flight when previous models with their LiPo batteries would get 15 minutes at best.
Still you have no time to lose.
Carpe diem is your motto, or would be if you could actually think.
You are small, you don’t have many “brains” to save weight.
Your heaviest part is a FLIR camera, even when its a small model.
An operator punched a path on his keyboard for you to follow.
GPS data, waypoints for your MAVlink autopilot.
A PiZero model-20 board does computer vision with an OpenCV script.
You are to stop if you spot a certain pattern.
A certain thermal signature.
Hiding in the terrain bellow.
And when it happens you call your big brother.
See ya at the charging station…
You are a drone.
Not a regular one though
You wont find yourself in a toystore.
Nor your parts on the average electronics store.
Your hardware is propietary, most of it comes from mil-spec drones.
You’re heavy duty, 6 spokes with powerful motors each.
Unlike your small and nimble ‘cousins’ doing recon you are not very silent, you make a sound like a lawnmower when you fly around.
A lumbering flying beast.
You almost sound like an actual helicopter, like the ones your creators like to fly.
You are fully autonomous, you don’t need to be deployed by anyone, you don’t need waypoints.
Your more advanced processors only need target data relayed by the other smaller drones that need to be programmed.
You make your program on the fly, only need weather and wind data from the servers through a 6G connection.
You are expensive.
You are called a “heavy lift unit”, models like you do all kinds of things: from sending ammo to troops in the middle of a mountain to delivering medical supplies to rescuers in disasters areas.
But you don’t get a glamorous job like that.
Your cargo is a big red polymer bin full of liquid connected to a sprayer.
You’re to deploy the liquid in a specific set of coordinates.
But not just dump it.
You have to use your infrared illuminator to spot certain shapes on the ground.
And then spray them.
You have tons of autonomy, plenty of those square Air-Lithium batteries inside your frame.
But you can still run out of the liquid you carry.
When that happens AND||OR some of those shapes get away from your range you have to call in.
>unit returning to base
You are Tim, you work for a biopest control company. Really a code name for “fluffy exterminator” but since ‘fluffy’ its a sort of trademark fluffy factories don’t want that associated with pests and the people who kill them. They don’t want their talking abominations to be put in the same box than roaches and rats.
You are sitting in your van in the middle of fucking nowhere, literally the sticks way outside the city. The company you work for won a bid to keep the nearby crop fields and the highway free of those fluffy fucks. They shit up the fields ruining crops and spreading disease, they cross the roads at any time causing accidents, and they breed like a biblical plague so if left alone it only gets worse.
You can’t simply lay traps around, those could hurt the wildlife.
The real animals.
So its back to basics, back to the days of hunting. You are kinda like a starved Chinese after the ‘great leap forward’ disaster in the 1950’s running around with a stick trying to kill the birds that are eating your grain. Well you’re not starving but you are running around with a stick, though a carbon fiber reinforced one.
So you rely on a combination of tools, from sprays to nets.
But you rarely use those.
For range all you got is a portable DEW cannon. The tech was originally made for riot control but it was deemed too dangerous. So now its being used to take out fluffies at a distance.
The thing has computer vision: when it detects there are no humans in the area it lets you shoot. There’s a viewfinder with a red square that represents the path the waves will cover.
Any fluffy within the square its fucked.
They wont burn, they wont comically burst into flames.
Once you pull the trigger they just stop, tumble over screaming with vapor emanating from them.
What the DEW does is burn their skin, they get 3rd degree burns all around, the foals even get internal burns.
The fluff stays intact, its eerie.
When you pick them up is when you can tell the damage the DEW makes: their gums and tongue are almost cooked, their eyes glassed since the radiation burned their retinas.
If you opened one of those fluffies you would see its boiled from the inside out.
However most of the work is done by drones, 4 recon drones and a big one for attack.
You’re really the last resort.
Because humans don’t run on batteries…yet.
“Huh? another alarm?”
You check your phone.
Its a notification from the servers.
“Guess the big guy ran out of spray, time for a hunt” - you say as you click the link on the notification which opens your HERE maps app and tells you where you have to go.
A small grass field near Route 22.
You are a blue pegasus colt.
Wuv mummah! wuv chiwpie bruddahs and sissies!
You are already a big babbeh, you can eat nummies instead of miwkies.
Huh, gwassie nummies nu gud nummies! - says your pink unicorn sister.
Nu wowie babbehs! smawty sez next bwight time hewd goes to hoomin’s wand wewe awe bewwie nummies!
YAY! BEWWIE NUMMIES!
They mean the raspberry farm that’s 100 meters from the field. There’s a road in the middle, the “black rock”, and a chunk of your herd would most likely die crossing it.
But you are still a foal and don’t know that, maybe not even the smarty knows else you would all be crossing now at night when the traffic its next to zero.
Yus! hewd git bestest nummies in bwight time! - says the smarty.
Wa am dat? - you ask
Buzzy munstahs? huuhuu nu wan tiny huwties!
Nu! am big stoopie buzzy munstah!
You seen them before, flying out in the distance.
But never so close.
It hovers on top of the herd, many get scared and run around. Mares cover their foals and tuffies pathetically stand up and wave their hooves on the air…
GIB MUNSTAH WOWEST HOFFIES!
…as if they could even reach the drone.
Yus! munstah am scawed an’ weave hewd!
Yay! smawty am big smawty!
The herd celebrates their victory against the weird flying munstah. Foals start their weird ‘dance’, bigger ones run around while adults hug each other.
The terror is over…or is it?.
It only takes a while and you hear it…
You look up…
BIGGIE FWYING MUNSTAH!
NUUUUUU! HEWP FWUFFY!
Its a bigger munstah than before, it has more arms and makes way more noise.
Art by @Fluffus
Though the weirdest part is its large red tummy.
Humpf! smawty nuh afwaid of dummeh buzzy munstah! toofies gib munstah sowwiest hoofies agen!
Yus! - says one of the biggest toughies standing far from you.
As it stands on its back weggies the big buzzy munstah starts spraying wawas on the toughie and the other fluffies near it.
PFFFFF! WAWAS BAD FO FWUFFIES!
Weid wawas, nu taste pwetty!
NU CAN BREATHE!
You are scared.
The adult fluffies that got the weird-wawas are screaming and trying to puke but they can’t.
DAWKIES! NU CAN SEE! SEE-PWACES HUWT!
Foam comes out of their mouthie-places.
Nu daddeh! babbeh gib huggies! huggies make evewyfin’ bettah!- says a tiny filly
You see it waddle towards the shaking stallion.
Bestest huggies!- says the filly
But after a moment.
It got soaked in the bad wawas too
Art by @Fluffus
And now is going through the same pain the big fluffies did.
WUN! WUN FWOM MUNSTAH! - you scream
But its useless, it keeps spraying other groups of fluffies.
NU MOW! NU MOW! EEEEEEEEEEEE! - screams a mare before going into seizures.
The munstah is too fast, it moves in any direction and sprays its meanie wawas on any fluffy it sees.
Neee wun! wun to bwack wock!
NUUUU! BWACK WOCK AM BAD! METAL MUNSTAHS!
NU CAWE! - you say.
You run as fast as your tiny legs were designed to move. Other big colts and fillies follow you and so do adult stallions and mares that manage to outrun you.
You look back to see if the big flying munstah is following you.
Its just flying, mere drops of the bad wawas dripping from what you think is its mouthie-pwace.
It simply leaves, disappears into the darkness of the night sky.
You turn around…
FWENDS! MUNSTAH AM GONE!
But they are too far away to hear you.
Just then you see the lights: a big metal munstah!
…but it didn’t run over your friends, stopped right in front of them as they reached the black rock.
And a hoomin stepped out! maybe he comes to help you all? give the flying munstah forever sleepies?
But the smartie had other ideas…
DUMMEH HOOMIN! DIS AM SMAWTIE AN’ HEWD LAND!
“Fucking predictable, like a broken record…” the hoomin says
He then takes a thing that your tiny brain tells you its a ‘sowwy stick’
He hits the smartie right in the muzzle, teethies flying around, its jaw broken and hanging from its fluff.
“Oh shut up faggot!”
The hoomin hit the smartie so hard in its head that it breaks into pieces and its brains splatter all across the black rock.
Nuuuuhuuuu! tuffy fwuffy hatechu! HATCHU! kiww hoomin!
The sorry stick hit the toughie’s tummeh, it made bad wawas with booboo juice and fell to the ground, weggies still kicking from the pain of its broken ribs puncturing all of its tummeh sketties.
NUUU KIWW SOON MUMMAH!
You see the rest of the fluffies running on a straight line across the black rock.
“Run all you want you shits…” said the hoomin while going back to his metal munstah.
“…you cannot escape!” he said as he came back with a much bigger blockie-looking sorry stick.
He brought it next to his face and pointed it at what was left of the herd.
You heard a weird noise which you didn’t know came from the capacitors and coils inside the thing.
Then another weird sound.
It was an electric discharge sound, but your brain can’t even comprehend what electricity is.
For you its all hoomin magic.
HUWTIES! SU MANY HUWTIES!
The entire hewd just fell on top of the black rock all at the same time.
They looked fine but steam was coming out from under their fluff.
As you get closer while hiding between the tall grasses on the side of the black rock you get a better view.
The fluffies facies are all contorted in pain, their mouthies dried, their eyes white.
Your fellow foals, the colts and fillies…they look awful, ribs showing, as if…they were dry on the inside.
The hoomin leaves his magic wowest huwties stick inside his metal munstah and comes back with a stick that has a hook, and on his other not-hoof he has some black trashie baggies.
“Worst part of the job…” he says
“…is having to pick you retards up…”
After grabbing the smartie and the toughie he goes for the otha fwuffies, the ones killed with his hoomin magic.
He first grabs the forever sleepies soon mummah.
“Damn this fat cunt is heavy!”
Y hoomin sez su many bad wowdies? - you think
“Oh fucking nasty man!”
You are frozen at the horrible sight: the soon-mummah’s speshul pwace was so dry it broke apart and the babbehs feel out.
They were all bloated and round.
And white! their eyes were open and almost coming out from its tiny heads.
Steam came out of them…
“Damn they got cooked alive while inside the bitch! better take some pics for the guys” - said the hoomin, laughing as he took a black boxie from his blue not-fluff and made some click-noisies with flashy lights.
You cry, you cry so much your cheek-fluff is matted with your tears. You stay hidden not even making a peep as the bad hoomin munstah keeps grabbing your friends.
…and putting them in the trashies.
He then takes another black boxie that makes blippie noises and talks into it.
“Yo operator you there? it’s Tim”
“Hey Jose here, so how did it go?”
“Big herd, nowhere near mega tho”
“Can see that, the big drone ran out of fluffycide real quick”
“Roger that, it did take out like 2/3rd of the shitrats”
“Good to know, can you clean all yourself? we don’t have anyone else on the area”
“Bruh…alright, but I better get a bonus for this”
“That’s corporate, but I’ll see what I can do, over”
“Thanks, over and out”
The hoomin went back to his metal munstah, put your fluffy friends with the trashies on the back, then got some weird green-light thingies with straps, put them on his face and walked into the grassies where your herd used to live.
“Night vision shitrat cleaning! awesome way to spend my saturday night…” - the hoomin said as he picked up the other fluffies that got the bad wawas.
You stay hidden as the hoomin munstah takes all the fluffies, your entire herd, back to his metal munstah.
He then goes inside the munstah which makes scary vroom-noisies and leaves through the black rock.
Its finally safe.
You are alone now.
You get to see another bwight-time.
You get to find other fluffies.
Rebuild your herd.
You don’t even hear it comming.
Just the sudden pressure around you.
The huge weight on top of your body.
Something giving you the wowest huggie huwties ever.
The sharp thing burrowing into your neck…
And the last thing you see is your booboo juice coming out of your mouthie-pwace and splashing the big black rock.
You are an owl.
Bubo magellanicus to be precise.
You don’t care about what humans do.
You don’t think about it.
All you care is getting enough prey to eat and stay alive.
You don’t know what these weird colored things are.
They just showed up from nowhere.
The humans make them, then throw them away.
You don’t mess with the humans, they are very very dangerous. And millions of years of evolution told you you shouldn’t mess with other bigger predators, don’t even get near them.
This human massacred all the furry colored things, the things that look somewhat like the rodents your kind has been hunting since the dawn of time, and took them all away.
You think you are shit outta luck having to look for worms yet again.
But then you spot one of the things crawling next to the road.
You take a dive.
Evolution gave your wings special feathers that make you silent.
And you land on the thing, your powerful talons burrowing into its particularly soft flesh.
It makes one of its godawful screams, no other prey out there makes such an awful sound.
You learned to kill these things fast, otherwise you might end up deaf.
You take a chunk out of its neck and it bleed out.
As it dies it releases all the shit it had inside. It deflates to almost half it size.
It sucks, between the shit and the fluff there’s so little meat left. First time you got one of these you thought you won the lottery…until you got a beakfull of turds and hairs.
But hey, it beats going hungry…