In which world-weary gentleman is not believed.
The sounds of the Autumn Ball drifted through the McAllister Estate. The region's most influential among High Society gathered at the hillside manor and partook of dance, debate, fine wine, and excellent company.
Lord Trevor Files had grown up attending these celebrations. He had been from a neighboring estate before he left to see the world... such as it was. The militia at the borders mostly kept it away, but there was madness beyond the walls. Society never recovered from its Great Collapse. Generations later and the people of the world were still fractured and steeped in chaos. All of that time his family had been hiding behind its walls and its pomp, and its parties. They imagined their bluster was important as the world burned down around them. It was a tempting dream though, and he did rather miss the hors d'oeuvres.
He had spent the evening trying to talk sense into his former colleagues, hoping that his perceived station amongst them would add enough clout, but none would listen. He was furious, but didn't let it show. He knew how poorly they looked on emotional outbursts, but their resources could be invaluable in bringing dignity to the outside world.
He saved the most difficult conversation for last, Lady Lidia McAllister herself. When they were both children, she would be the only reason he agreed to attend these functions. Memories of her blonde curls, sparkling brown eyes, and her predilection for purple would often comfort him during those years away. Now, like him, there were streaks of gray in her hair, and her eyes sparkled a little less, but her dress was as purple and as beautiful as he imagined it would be.
Her face lit as she saw him and she greeted him as an old friend. They exchanged pleasantries and began filling each other in on what they've been doing all of these years. They both left a lot out. As the conversation went, he tried to steer it.
He told her how bad it was beyond the walls. She was skeptical.
He told her how much she could help. She was dismissive.
He told her how the world was broken. She was irritated.
He told her how much she didn't understand. She was indignant.
He begged her. She asked him to leave.
* * *
Trevor stormed through the grounds until he came upon a small rose garden with a bench overlooking it. The moonlight shone upon flowers that were curiously still in bloom, despite the late hour and chilly season. Kneeling, he examined a blossom which was a deep violet at its base but shifted through hues of vivid amethyst and ended with lavender at its tips. First tracing his fingers along the petals and down the stem, he broke the flower from its home and sat with it upon the bench.
Lord Files breathed deeply the aromas of the garden an loosed a slow, sad sigh before reaching into the breast pocket of his coat and pulling from it a small brass box that had upon it a few switches, knobs, and a speaker. He flipped one of the switches and spoke into it “Deploy the Assembly.”
* * *
Colonel Jasper stood by a window of McAllister Manor's dance hall, hoping to avoid as much socializing and frivolity as possible when he heard a shrill whine which chilled him. He spun to look up and out of the window in just enough time to see the fiery rocket before it struck him.
The entire side of the hall exploded, filling the room with flame and glass. Screams of the panicked guests instantly filled the building. Before anyone could make sense of what had just happened, figures began marching through the wreckage from the outside. The smoke and dust obscured them, but they were metal, and leather, and cables, and flesh. They were men and women... once. Now they were automatons. Parts of them had been augmented, other parts replaced. There was no expression on their faces as they received their orders from plates soldered to their skulls. They poured through and began taking hold of the guests, dead and alive. The ones who struggled were injected with something from a needle attached to the arms of the invaders. Once drugged, they passed out.
Several of the manor's guards took defensive position by the door of the hall and began a counter assault. They were armed with automated slug-shooters and impressive aim. The enemy, the Assembly, started taking damage. A shot from one of the guards blew an arm off of one, but it continued marching forward, unphased by its damage. Another lost its leg but it still crawled toward the nearest unclaimed body. Being quick learners, the guards removed the heads from several of them before they noticed more coming in from all around. They kept firing until their ammunition was spent and they were overwhelmed.
The staff attempted to flee, but were cut off by more of the Assembly who had entered through other parts of the building. In less than five minutes, everyone at the McAllister party had been captured or killed.
* * *
Lord Files walked back to the manor. He watched impassively as the automatons carried their targets single file back to the armored transport that was waiting just past the woodline and walked passed them into the dance hall through the hole the missile had made. There was a woman kneeling next to one of the fallen drones. She was wearing a cap, dress, and apron, with a red cross on her caplet. He imagined that her clothes were likely white at some point in their existence, though the uniforms of every Flesh Mechanic he had ever seen had been dingy and stained with grease and blood. She was clearing away broken pieces from the hip of a drone that had lost its mechanical leg. There was an intact leg lying next to her. Trevor glanced around and saw that the spare leg had likely come from a nearby drone he saw that was mostly destroyed, but neatly missing one leg. It all still turned his stomach a bit.
The woman noticed him, stood quickly, pulled down her surgical mask and saluted crisply. “Warden Files!”
There was a slight curl at the corner of her lip that made Trevor think that there was something she was finding terribly amusing but was trying not to let it show. “At ease, nurse.” She relaxed her posture and resumed her work. A flash of purple out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. One of the Assembly was carrying out Lady McAllister. “You, drone! Halt!” Trevor raised his hand and the creature jerked to a stop. Warden Files stepped carefully through the rubble to examine Lidia. She was breathing and her pulse was strong. He turned to the nurse. “This one is not to be processed. She has vital information.”
The nurse saluted, barely even looking up this time, much less standing. “Aye, Sir!”
He was glad she had left her mask on. They would have been pretty if it weren't for what they did, and it unnerved him. He turned back to Lidia and paused for a moment before he slid the rose he had picked into her hair.
