Murder Drones: Perfect Organism | Aliens Vs. Murder Drones

Chapter 20

As Henick and his eclectic group traversed the dimly lit corridors of the colony, their banter echoed off the walls, injecting a much-needed dose of levity into their perilous journey.

Henick, the embodiment of Southern charm, led the way with a lighthearted grin. "Y'all ever seen a mess like this back at home? This is almost as bad as thanksgiving at my in-laws'" he quipped, his drawl carrying a hint of amusement.

Whistler, his nerves frayed to the breaking point, glanced nervously around. "Only in my nightmares," he muttered, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Kennedy, the resident goth, rolled her eyes at Whistler's comment. "Nightmares? Please. This is just Tuesday for me," she deadpanned, her sarcasm as sharp as the blade sheathed at her side.

Palms, his demeanor as cool as a cucumber, chuckled at Kennedy's remark. "Well, aren't you the poster child for existential dread. Anyone ever tell you how much of a joy you are to talk to?" he teased, his voice dripping with dry wit.

Fischer, lounging against the wall with lazy indifference, smirked at Palms. "Hey, someone's gotta keep it real around here," she retorted, her grin playful despite the gravity of their situation.

"Hey, Henick, think they got sweet tea in this place?" she quipped, flashing a grin that could light up a room.

Henick chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Fischer, sweetheart, if they got sweet tea here, I'll eat my hat," he replied, his laughter echoing down the corridor.

"Well are you gonna put barbecue sauce on it, sugar?" Fischer replied with a fake southern drawl.

Whistler, ever the picture of nerves, glanced around anxiously. "Can we focus, please? I'd rather not end up as alien chow," he interjected, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Kennedy rolled her eyes at Whistler's comment. "Oh, come on, Whistler. Where's your sense of adventure?" she teased, her deadpan delivery punctuated by a playful smirk.

Palms, always the voice of reason, chimed in with a smirk of his own. "I think I left mine back in the last corridor, along with my will to live," he quipped, his tone dry as dust.

Fischer, ever quick on the draw, shot back with a grin. "Well, looks like we'll have to improvise then. Ooh, let's play a game!" she suggested, her laughter ringing through the air. "Okay, I spy with my little eye..."

* * *

Khan's meticulous examination of Uzi was starting to get on her nerves. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, feeling like she was under a microscope.

"Seriously, Dad, I'm fine," Uzi insisted, trying to brush off his concern. "Just a few scratches, nothing I haven't dealt with before."

But Khan wasn't convinced. He continued to fuss over her, checking for any signs of injury with a persistence that bordered on obsessive.

Meanwhile, N found himself lost in thought as he watched Uzi from across the room. Lizzy noticed his gaze and sauntered over, her curiosity piqued.

"So, spill it, N," Lizzy began, a mischievous glint in her optic. "Are you and Uzi, like, a thing?"

N's visor flushed with embarrassment, and he stammered out a response. "N-no, we're just friends. We hang out sometimes, that's all."

But Lizzy wasn't buying it. She could see right through his awkward facade.

"Come on, N, don't play dumb with me," Lizzy teased, nudging him playfully. "I've seen the way you look at her. You've got it bad, buddy."