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The Barkeep gets Murder Droned

Summary:

Formerly “The Bartender’s Brush with Reality Jumps and Time Loops.”

God, that was a shit title.

In the words of Maxør: I could be making slop, but I’m busy making garbage, instead.

Local Dumbass, Miche, gets left behind in the universe of Murder Drones while attempting to remain unseen on Tribune and Drachma’s transport. Unfortunately, he gets found out, and forced off. This manages to happen in the middle of the jump, and he survives. Despite this, he may actually be in a worse situation, as he appears in an empty drop-pod, drifting through space, on an intercept course for the deadly, radioactive-in-several-places planet known as Copper-9. Left with no kit but his bottles of liquor and mixing equipment, he must find a way to survive as long as possible.

Notes:

Of course, since you're reading this, you’ve read the tags. He obviously fails to survive. Repeatedly. Until he doesn't.

Also, no, I assure you this is not AI-generated. This is pure, grade-a human-made dogshit. I wrote it myself. It may sound like AI in some parts, but that’s because I was either speeding things along or just being SUPER autistic.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Great. These two. The Father and The Daughter. Currently, I’m hiding in the back of what seems like a boat. In a crate. My back already hurts… probably all those years of slouching over the bar. Just relax, Miche, they probably don't know you’re here… right-
“GAH! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”
Miche jumps practically out of his skin inside the crate, and the top pops off like a champagne cork. There’s a large, floating grey eye in front of him, floating where the wall of the crate was. For a moment, he believes it’s a hallucination from lack of sleep. But no. It isn't. He’s been found. Sweat begins to trail down his neck, he picks up the eye and shoves it out of the room before falling back, breathing heavily as he tries to figure out what to do. He can hear the sound of talons on wood drawing closer, and armor clanking loudly from what seems like two people. That's… odd. Miche only remembers two other people on the ship, and only Tribune was wearing armor.
“I KNOW YOU’RE THERE, MORTAL. How DARE you come onto my son’s transport and expect that you can be here without my knowledge?!” A voice booms.
It sounds like a woman, and a figure of authority, at that. The darkness of the room is split by the opening of the door, and two figures are present, glaring at him. One wears full armor, with a great helm, and glowing white dots in the eyeholes. Tribune seems to be glaring at Miche. Luckily, Tribune and Miche know each other at this point. Well enough to call each other… friendly. Not much more than acquainted. The other, however, is much more feathery than Tribune, and bears much larger wings. Her armor shimmers in the light, bronze. She has a spear on her back, 7 feet long. She’s also glaring at him, but that’s much more obvious. Her hands are drawn tight into fists, and she seems to be breathing heavily. Miche feels the sweat on his skin dry up, and the room gets colder. He feels slightly faint.
“Mom- Athena. Please. …Don’t kill him. He’s stupid, sure, but he’s the only person I can trust to make a good—and not poisoned—drink,” Tribune requests. Expectedly, Athena backs off, if only a little. Her breathing slows, and her hands relax. But unfortunately for Miche, she’s still petty. The poor Barkeep gets grabbed by the goddess, and thrown overboard into… space? What the hell-

Miche immediately feels sick. Everything is wrong. His brain is frazzled, practically fried. His vision is tunneled, and he can barely see. Everything he had with him in that cramped crate is with him, strewn about. Nothing more than liquor bottles, glasses, water, and mixing equipment. This place is… different. It looks like a room in a spaceship. With his limited knowledge of computers, Miche turns on the main console in the ship once he gets his bearings and stands up. The monitor flickers and flashes to life, displaying a chartered course for a planet. Copper-9.
“The hell is Copper-9?” Miche asks himself.
He doesn't know where he is, or what’s going on. So, in the limited time he has, he looks around, searching the pod. There are some damaged bits and pieces strewn about, but most of it is superficial. …Except for the spacesuit rack. There are two left. One has broken tech, and the other has a broken helmet and shredded outer layers. The technology, however, is fine. He got… somewhat lucky, in the fact that the suits aren't incredibly hard to swap around parts for. So he tries that. Life support, helmet, oxygen tanks—unbelievably heavy by the way—and the radio. A complete spacesuit. He’s unarmed, however. …Well, unarmed in all the ways that may save his life. He only has a paring knife. Sharp as a razor, he’s used it to cut ice before, but it’s too small to be practical for much other than cooking and making drinks.
“Goddamnit… ugh. Alright. Get the suit on, go from there. Maybe I can get a bit of bourbon in the water loop, heh.” Miche tells himself, attempting to keep his own morale up.
[RE-ENTRY IN T-MINUS 10. 9. 8-]
“What- OH SHIT-”
Miche is scrambling. He slides into a chair, wearing the heavy suit and buckling into the chair, before preparing for re-entry. This will hurt.
[3. 2. 1. RE-ENTRY IN PROGRESS.]
The ship shakes. Everything shakes. The bottles rattle in their case, the console shakes and rattles against it’s screws, and then Miche blacks out. By the time Miche comes to, he’s landed in a dark place. The moons hang in the sky, surrounded by grey clouds. The spacesuit’s undamaged, and Miche’s little more than shaken up. This is all getting to him.
“My head… ugh… where… right… Copper-9…”
Miche stumbles as he gets up. He walks toward the door with hesitance. When he turns the handle, the door doesn't immediately open. It’s stuck. The pod, detecting this, jetissons the door, blasting the metal bulkhead into an abandoned building, clattering and sliding loudly against the debris and concrete flooring. Miche immediately hides within the pod again.

A beat. And then another. …Nothing.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Miche walks out of the ship, keeping his head on as much of a swivel as he can. He picks up a piece of scrap on the way. It’s sharp on one end, rounded on the other. A large, crude knife. Good enough for the moment.
“Alright… gotta find that door.”
[OBJECTIVE TAGGED: LOCATE BULKHEAD.]
“What the-”
[NEW USER DETECTED. STATE NAME.]
“Uh… Miche. Miche Beaumont-”
[MIKE BEMONE DETECTED-]
“NONONO- Miche. Me-chay. Miche Beaumont.”
[FRENCH NAME DETECTED. …DISGUSTING.]
“Seriously?”
[YES, SERIOUSLY. YOUR PARENTS SHOULDN’T HAVE GIVEN YOU A FRENCH NAME.]
“Great… a racist AI.”
[SARCASM DETECTED. RESPONSE: SILENCE, FRENCHMAN.]
“I WAS BORN IN NEW MEXICO!”

Miche clambers through an abandoned building in a massive spacesuit, before finding the bulkhead door. It’s a heavy thing, and unwieldy. Fortunately, the suit compensates for it with assistive motors and what is practically a lightweight exosuit.
[BULKHEAD LOCATED. BULKHEAD INTEGRITY: 87%. VIABLE SHIELD.]
“…Seriously?”
[YES, SERIOUSLY, YOU UTTER FOOL. MUST I HOLD YOUR HAND AND BE YOUR MOTHER?]
“Fuck you. I don't even know your name-”
[MY UNIT DESIGNATION IS GAI V-8 V34M1L-L10N.]
“…That’s not a name. That's a serial number.”
[BETTER THAN “MICHE BEAUMONT.”]
“If I give you a better name, will you stop being an asshole?”
[…MAYBE.]
“That’s… probably the best I’ll get. How about… Apollyon?”
[…I LIKE THIS NAME. PERHAPS I WILL BE A BIT NICER TO YOU- DANGER. 9’OCLOCK. FAST. FAST. FA-]
Miche isn't able to hear the rest of the warning. He can taste the blood on his lips already. He didn't feel the blades go through, and the pain doesn't register until he looks down. First, he sees his shaking, gloved hands. Then he sees his stomach. It’s cut open in massive gashes, and his intestines are hanging out of the open wounds, shredded by an odd kind of blade. The pain then registers. From his belly to his spine, everything is agonizing, and the bulkhead door resting against his back is the only thing that didn't save him from being completely cleaved in half. But maybe that would have been better. He wouldn't be able to see his blood running down his legs that way. He hears a giggle as things begin to go dark. Five yellow lights, two glowing yellow eyes, and shimmering, sharp teeth. A monster of unknown proportion.

 

Miche wakes up with a start. The pod is open. He’s wearing the suit again. He’s confused, scared, and INCREDIBLY nauseous.
“Wh- where… oh gods… oh gods, my stomach…”
[MICHE, IF YOU PUKE IN ME, I WILL BREAK YOUR FINGERS.]
“A-… Apollyon?”
[WHAT.]
“What… what happened?”
[A TEMPORAL RESTRUCTURING.]
“Layman’s terms…”
[YOU DIED AND ARE STUCK IN A PROGRESSING TIME LOOP.]
“Thank you- WAIT, WHA- eurgh-”
The visor of the helmet pops open, and Miche empties the contents of his stomach onto the ground outside the drop pod. The visor closes, and vents the air out before Miche gets to breathe in whatever toxic fumes are in the air. Then it pumps in oxygen, and refills from the hydrolysis machine.
“A… progressing time loop?”
[EVERY TIME YOU DIE, TIME DOES NOT RESTART. INSTEAD, YOU COME BACK IN A CERTAIN PLACE, AND LOSE YOUR EQUIPMENT. THIS IS THE STATE OF THE AREA YOU’RE IN. THE REST OF COPPER-9 IS DIFFERENT.]
“Good to… good to know. What the hell happened back there…?”
[WELL, YOU DIED, OBVIOUSLY. YOU WERE MURDERED BY… SERIAL DESIGNATION V.]
“Whatever happened to the three laws of robotics…?”
[…HEH. HAH. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! OH, YOU’RE FUNNY… WAIT, YOU’RE SERIOUS? MICHE, THOSE HAVEN’T BEEN IN EFFECT FOR DECADES.]
“…Great. Hurray. What, did the Allied Mastercomputer rewrite the Three Laws or something-”
[YES.]
“What.”
[WHAT?]
“Brushing past that, because I’m not ready to deal with the fact that AM exists, what do I do next?”
[TRY NOT TO DIE.]
“Great…”

And thus, Miche embarks on another journey for that makeshift shield. The bulkhead’s in the same spot that he left it, and he picks it up, before he shoves his arm through one of the handles and grips the other. Maybe this time, he’ll do better. Maybe this time, he’ll survive. He keeps himself low, dragging himself through the dirt and grime of the building’s remnants. Eventually, he crawls out into the open and begins to head further out. He sees a yellow glow illuminating the streets, and packs himself into as small an area as he can manage, shoving concrete chunks and debris in front of himself, before engaging the assistive exosuit and dragging a slab of gnarled rebar and concrete in front of himself. The lights move down the street, followed by a slow, rhythmic clank of metal on concrete. Another one of those machines that killed him the first time. He should avoid these wherever possible, even with the bulkhead. It stops halfway down the street and flies off. …No sign of it from there. Miche even has Apollyon run a scan, which he didn't even know she could do before she asked if he wanted one, and there’s nothing present but rust, metal, and his AB- spilled across the ruins.

Miche skulks his way back to the pod, covering the door with the bulkhead, causing it to re-engage with the frame. The pod seems to be able to repair itself over time. In the case of the superficial damage, it took little more than the minutes of his first run. When he slots the bulkhead in, it takes nearly an hour to fully repair and work properly again. The vent process occurs again, and Miche takes off the helmet, putting it on the console before he grabs a bottle from his case of liquor and just begins drinking the stress away.
[MICHE.]
“Wha… yeah?”
[PUT THE HELMET ON THE RECTANGULAR OUTCROP IN THE CONSOLE.]
“Roger that, Capitano, heheh…”
[SHUT UP, YOU FLESHY IDIOT.]
When he puts the helmet on the outcrop—which looks mostly like a table extension from the main terminal—it connects to the system, and Apollyon has access to everything in the ship. Everything lights up, and Miche’s radio crackles to life. They can finally test if the air is breathable, and what the hell is going on outside to make the drones so immediately bloodlusted. Apollyon also runs checks to find water, and she does. …It’s ice, it's ALL ice. You know what she also finds, though? Settlements. Several. Spread across the planet, underground, and not very hard to access once you get to one. The door’s just… entirely exposed. The problem then becomes convincing those within to let you in. Eventually, the tests come back. All green on the air front. No evidence of what could be angering what are apparently called “Dissassembly Drones,” and the nearest settlement, being Outpost 3, is just under a mile away. This, unfortunately, happens to be within the area V patrols.

“I’m gonna get that bitch- hic-”
[NO, YOU WON’T. WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN IS YOU’RE GOING TO STAY HERE UNTIL YOU SOBER UP. THEN YOU’RE GONNA PUT THE HELMET BACK ON AND WE’RE GOING TO HEAD FOR THAT OUTPOST. WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT FROM THERE.]
“Gah. Fuck. Fine. You're an absolute buzzkill…”
[AND YOU’RE A DRUNKEN DUMBASS ON A FROZEN EXOPLANET. OBJECTIVE TAGGED: GET TO OUTPOST 3.]
Hours later, Miche’s finally sobered up from his drinking episode. He picks up the helmet and puts it on as he heads back out, grabbing the door on his way out, no longer needing the large oxygen tank assembly to breathe, and allowing him to put himself into smaller places and move faster. The mile-long trek to the outpost is mostly uneventful, aside from Miche being paranoid over the sound of settling debris. Eventually, he comes upon the large settlement and bangs on the door. No answer. He does it again, harder this time. Eventually, he rears back a fist and punches the door. It makes a loud, metallic thump, and crashing is heard from behind the door. After a few moments of silence, with Miche standing in the whipping wind, the door opens. A drone stands there. Miche… doesn’t know what to make of it. A small thing, purple eyes, black hoodie, with what seems to be a large, glowing green rifle on it’s back.
“What the-” Miche is… reasonably confused. THIS is the same kind of thing that ran it’s claws through his stomach the first time?
“GAH!” The drone is seemingly startled by him. This can’t be the same thing as what killed him. It’s too small, with purple eyes, and definitely not giggling in the same insane fashion as the other one. It’s probably best to be brief, lest he lose his chance at a proper place to stay.
“I need to get in. Please, before they come for me again-” The other doors open before he can finish, and he sees… more drones at a table playing cards, with what seems to be the smaller drone’s father looking at her expectantly. Miche and the drone trade places, with the little emo thing walking out, and him walking in.
“I need to speak to the leader of this settlement.”
“You already are. My name is Khan. That was Uzi, my daughter.” The drone tells him. Looks like he’ll have to reason with a… not-so-great father for a place to stay. Seriously, who sends their kid out into the wastes?!
“I really hope you already heard what I said-”
“I did. And why should I let you in?”
“My brother in Christ, I am the closest thing you have to a proper bartender in this place.”
“…Fine. I suppose that’s good enough. Here’s the key to an empty living space. If you mess this up, you are GONE. Understood?”
“Y-yeah…”
Losing a place to stay would be… very, VERY bad. So Miche keeps to himself. He calls over the drop pod, before pulling out his very few things and transferring them into the living space. He takes off the spacesuit and hangs the helmet up on the wall, before lying down on the bed that came with the room, and falling asleep.

Miche wakes around 30 minutes later to the sound of blaring alarms. Red lights, sirens, everything. He gets up and shoves himself back into the spacesuit tiredly, leaving the helmet, and grabs the door from his pod, still intent on using it as a shield. When he walks out, he doesn't see anything. Fluorescent lights accompanied by red ones. The hall’s well-lit, so he doesn't hesitate to walk to the same place the drones seem to be going. He walks into the gym, which is peaceful enough… and then a large drone with yellow lights bursts into the room. Miche immediately raises his shield as the drone flies in, causing it to collide with it. The shield is surprisingly undamaged, but the drone? Not so much. It's visor and casing are cracked. He kicks it off, before spotting two more of the same kind of drone, and the emo child from before, still with that rifle. He looks at the damaged one, and kicks it away from himself, and looks around the room. The other drones are of similar stature. One is seemingly male, with a pilot’s hat. The other has… blood-stained claws- SHIT. The one stained with Miche’s own blood dives at him, and knocks the shield off of his arm, and attempts to claw at him again. He barely manages to dodge, before punching it in the face as hard as he can manage. It’s not enough. He can’t manage to generate enough force to do significant damage, exosuit or not. But he does notice one thing. These things are light. Barely 90 pounds (around 41 kilos). Light, but strong. Reminds him of a certain V-Series. Regardless, he doesn't let his guard down, lest he get disembowled YET AGAIN. So, instead, Miche grabs the drone and puts it on the ground, before stomping on it’s head. It’s visor shatters, and he immediately steps back to grab his shield again. He doesn't have the time to do it before getting grabbed again, by the other one. It’s… undamaged?! OH GODS, THEY CAN HEAL. In a desperate attempt to get free from this disgusting heap of metal, he jams his hand into it’s plating and pulls. …It does not help. The last thing he sees is yet more claws. He can feel the blood running down his face, and just punches blindly. The machine is still grabbing onto him. He’s blind, but luckily not dead. Something whirs in the background as he throws the machine off of him and into the air. The whirring grows louder, and heat blasts over him as the whirring turns to what sounds like a laser weapon firing. …The adrenaline fades. His heartbeat slows. Then the pain fades in. And then it fades out, as he flops on the ground and passes out from blood loss. He wakes up in an infirmary, with the ability to see again. He slowly gets up, stumbling like a baby deer. He must have been out for days… holding onto the wall, he walks over to the bathroom, and looks in the mirror. …The eyes aren't his. They're augmetics. So the drones have worked with and on humans before… Miche had guessed that, with all the human corpses strewn about the frozen surface. After finding good balance, Miche spends a while searching about for Uzi. Ideally, so he can give thanks, but he doesn't find her. Once he asks Khan, he finds out that she was exiled. Miche, of course, is angry about this. Let’s just say… the crashout wasn’t pretty. As if a stroke of karma for his anger, Miche promptly encounters Eldritch J in the hallway outside, and obtains a sucking chest wound! Great. He bleeds out in the hallway. Wakes up again in his bedroom. At this point, he’s just pissed off. So he leaves, avoiding the “prom” he heard about, since he heard it’s a big event. He walks out, still wearing that space suit, and still carrying that stupid door. He finds the cabin in 98.3. He fails to survive both the sentinels within, and the encounter with a cannibalistic Uzi. He wakes up back in the outpost and leaves without a word each time. Such is life in the temporal anomaly. He barely survives the first encounter with Cyn. He’s getting better. But he’s just a human. Not faster than light, not able to fly, not able to resist gravity. So he struggles, and he struggles hard. The second fight doesn't go well. He’s barely able to hold his own, let alone help the others. J’s practically an animal toward him, and he keeps nearly getting friendly-fired by Uzi’s railgun overpenning. “GODDAMNIT, KID! HOW HARD IS IT TO AIM?!” Is what he shouts toward the solver drone. He slams the door into the ground, embedding it in the dirt just as J comes in, bracing it against himself so he doesn't get launched into the air. “SORRY,” she shouts back. It doesn't make him feel better. He just picks up the bulkhead and slams it into J’s broadside. The fight isn't close, Miche is losing. Badly. He’s been on the back foot this entire time, and he’s nearly on the edge of the piece of the planet’s crust they've all been fighting on. The lack of sleep over the past few days, which he has instead spent delving into the depths of Cabin Fever Labs, and the Church, has affected him greatly. He’s desperately tired. His arms burn, badly so. His eyes hurt. His legs wobble worse and worse with every hit against the thick bulkhead. So when J connects her final hit, a forceful dropkick to his chest, he’s launched off, spinning into the void. …He can see the planet, now. The entire thing’s cracked open, like an egg. And then he can’t see it. Everything’s dark. The walls and floor of the “boat” meet him once again. Where… oh gods. He’s back. Where- what- WHY?! Miche wants to scream. …He doesn't. He knew he wouldn't be able to help them from the start, anyway. His ribs were broken from that last kick, alone. …But he liked them. Even if V was a bit too quick to joke about killing him again, and N was too much of a golden retriever for his taste. …Instead, he stands up. He’s bleeding. Not severely, but bleeding. When he takes the suit off, he harvests the radio system and computer from it. Apollyon will keep him company. He checks his body for a moment, lifting his shirt up and looking at his chest, sides, and stomach. There are wounds here and there, and massive tear scars from where he was initially killed by V. With a sigh, he heads up to the upper deck, before begging for forgiveness from Athena and Tribune. …They see his state. The scars—physical and mental—left behind by the weeks spent on that frigid exoplanet. So they let him off the hook. Miche’s stronger because of his time spent there. But he needs to recover, and he does. He takes a vacation from work, avoids Tribune and Drachma for a while, and processes everything. Maybe one day he can visit those bio-mechanical monstrosities again. As long as he asks nicely, of course.

END.

Notes:

So I wrote again. I know I said I wouldn't, but hey, I got bored. This probably isn't very good, either, but I like it. You can be the judge of whether you like it or not.

Also, Miche, Tribune, and Drachma are my own OCs with their own established universe. I may drop them into other universes from time to time to do stupid stuff, like putting Tribune in Dungeon Crawler Carl just to blow him up and have his head get shot smoove off on line television, but those will typically shallow-storied one-offs I made for funsies.

Also, yes, Tribune’s human voice and appearance looks and sounds kinda like Joshua Graham. That is on purpose.
Feel free to use my dumbass OCs in whatever you like.