Rusty

In the beginning, Rusty was created right when the Worker Drones were beginning to get on their feet as a species. Things were great, and he often found himself playing outside amidst the snow and human skeletons with his friends. It was a simple, if happy life. Naturally, wen the Disassembly Drones showed up, things took a turn for the worse. Rusty was around his preteen years at the time, and barely got away with his life.

With his family and a few close friends by his side, it became a race against time to create a space for them to live in. Rusty was in charge of actually *finding* a place for them to live in, thanks to his extensive explorations with his friends.

The group began their trek, running away from the carnage at the heart of Copper 9, with Rusty's family in the lead.

After a long talk amidst a barely-working fire, Rusty came up with an idea. Among the evergreen trees and tall-standing mountains, there was a crater. They could flush out a cave and make a temporary camp for anyone who happens to come near. After some questioning by the group, Rusty decided to name it Bunker Deca. Not for any reason, just because it sounds cool.

First, though, they actually had to get to the place. That was easier said than done. The entire way there, though, Rusty wouldn't shut up about the idea. He would talk relentlessly while he cleared out paths on the forklift he managed to grab on the way out. For a while, aside from the occasional drone run-in, they were fine.

That was, until they reached the foot of the mountain. A squadron appeared before Rusty and his group- they were melting, metal falling over their black visors and wings turned into meshes of seared iron. It didn't take an hour of calculations for Rusty to realize someone was going to die in this fight. As the rest of the group grabbed their makeshift weapons, and prepared for their final fight.

Rusty swung at the first Disassembly Drone. They were able to dodge easily, sinking its teeth into his neck and shaking Rusty about. His screams of agony made his group stop for a split second before continuing their attack. Rusty was thrown against a tree, back cracking.

Before it could jump on him, his father got in the way. He went to thank him, but before he could, a pair of claws sunk into his father's stomach and ripped it clean out. The Disassembly Drone feasted on his dad's body right on front of Rusty.

Caught between another drone's teeth, Rusty tried to fight back. It held onto his arm with an iron grip. He tugged, pulled, and yanked, until all of a sudden, his arm pulled off with a sickening sputter of oil. That one drone feasted on it while another group went to kill him. The adrenaline kept him from feeling any pain as he raced away, the three drones turning into a melted pile behind him, slowly but surely.

With his plans of building that bunker effectively foiled, Rusty began to wander alone, returning to his hobby of mapmaking. It was all he could do to keep himself occupied as he explored. Fear kept a vice grip on him, scaring him into silence for the next 6 or so months.