The Machinations Of Greed

Your Dearest Friend Dead

"...Either way, now we know it's here. And I don't think you checked well enough, either."

"Alright, fine. It's gotta be in the attic then, right?"

More creaking sounds can be heard from above, and now they both raise their chins to stare at the ceiling.

"...I'm not sure about that, Gibson."

Without another word, Adam starts climbing up the flight of oak stairs. Gibson follows closely behind him, groaning deeply, but still readying his erapon and holding it close to his waist.

Reaching the upper level, he finds three doors. Two to the right, and one to the left. Silently, he moves towards the left one, while Gibson moves to the first of the right ones.

Slowly, they both reach out with their hands for their own respective doors, and they rest the tip of their finger on top of the metal handle.

They both share a glance behind themselves, meeting eyes for only a moment to assure a synced action. They nod, before counting down to three in their heads.

"...One, two..."

They each open their doors slowly, raising their barrels into the air, but Adam only finds a bathroom. A small, generic, uninteresting bathroom, with a single bathtub and a sink that has a small mirror attached to the wall above it.

"...Three."

Adam says aloud, seemingly disappointed to not have found anything. He relaxes his posture, before searching behind the door to, unsurprisingly, find nothing there.

Turning to look at Gibson, he seems occupied searching his own room, one which appears to be a small guests bedroom. Nothing too interesting, either.

With an annnoyed huff, Adam marches towards the last door, leaving Gibson to his own devices. Positioning himself in front of it, he reminds himself that this is definitely where the android is. But it's quiet. There's not a sound coming from there.

He reaches out just the same towards this one, and in a swift motion, he swings it open. Yet his eyes widen as he sees a a figure charging towards him.

"I don't think it's here, Adam!"

Raven hair, coal black eyes, and a shirt hidden behind a jacket... he throws his arms upwards to shoot, but he can feel his control slipping away from him as it quickly cups the underside of the gun's barrel with one hand, using it's already-made momentum to force it higher than it should go.

Adam just barely keeps himself from pulling the trigger, his fingers itching yet unable to find the right moment. He feels his heart race, he feels adrenaline course through his veins. He doesn't feel ready for this.

"F-Fu--!'

He's completely halted in his speech as he feels his own armament be slammed against his face, forcing him to close his eyes. The figure grips his shoulder with their other hand, nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his clothes, and he decides to use that to his advantage.

"Adam, you there?!"

Adam spins around, forcing the figure to shift his position too, making them face eachother in the center of the room. The gun sits between them, their hands clasped as hard as they can around it.

"...Let... go!"

Adam grunts, only to be met by the figure's right heel slamming down onto his toes. He hisses, and is taken off guard as the figure grasps the back of his head with its free hand, pulling him in to smash his face against the gun with the other. Blood runs down his face from the bridge of his nose, and tears well up in his eyes, unable to be held back, produced by reflex.

The figure releases his head, before using both hands to fight for the gun. Adam's losing focus, but he doesn't have time to worry about that as he feels the coldness of his firearm leave his grasp, twisted out of his hand by the figure.

"...!!"

The next thing he knows, a bullet pierces his right shoulder. A cry of pain echoes through the house, telling everyone on the first floor to come rushing up. More water accrues in the basin of his sockets.

He can barely make out what's happening, but he sees the figure's arm swing the other way, towards the door. A familiar voice rings out through the air, a yell, and the gun in the figure's hand fires.

"Get your fucking hands off him, you mother-..."

Gibson's eyes widen to their maximum capacity in what can only be called his last moments, and in an instant, his skull is pierced.

A puff of blood, mixed with a bit of skin and hair, bone and brain matter, liquids and secretions leaves the back of his head. And he falls dead to the floor. A man drops to the floor, and so does a bullet casing.

"...A-ah..."

Adams lips tremble, and the sounds of people marching up the stairs reaches his ears no longer. No clock is telling him how long he's got until help arrives any longer. A man is dead. His friend is dead. And he's next. The figure glances at him out of the corner of its eye, the gun still pointed at the door.

"Shit...!"

From behind the door, the voice of another man can be heard. A police officer, one that just gave his position away. The figure points the gun towards the left side of the room, befote pulling the trigger once more.

A second bullet casing hits the floor as its contents smash through a wall. And the sound of another man's body is heard hitting the floor of the hallway.

Heavy, fearful breathing can be heard in the silenced room. Adam can't move his legs, they won't listen. All he can do is watch this... thing.

Not one man dares to make another move. They can't. They don't know where to aim. They haven't seen the interior of the room. They don't know where to look, let alone where to aim.

But this thing does. It knows where to aim. How else would it have killed multiple people until now? But they don't need to, because the figure makes it for them. It shifts the angle, reaching a forty-five degree from the door. And it pulls the trigger. Adam jolts, and then another thud is heard. A third bullet casing, joined by another corpse.

"No, no, no...!"

The quiet, shushed voice of a man is heard from the corridor, one that's trying to get away. The figure exits the room, every step calm, determined, only to find the last man turning the corner to go down the stairs. Just as the man goes down the first step, he raises his gun, and another shot blows through the air. Another casing, and the last man's corpse rolls limply down the stairs.