"Think today might be the day. Everything is lining up just perfectly. Now, you may be thinking, why am I talking to myself? Well, it's quite simple. It helps me maintain concentration. I will be needing a steady hand today. Just enough to cause pain, but not enough to kill. The most suffering to be made in a single fell swoop. Don't look at me that way. You're not alive. And remember, this never happened." His gloved hand grips a barbed spear. "No one will remember you."
Penny watched as Manger, with his yellowed teeth and sickly yellow skin stalked off holding a strange sort of rifle. Less of a rifle, and more of a crossbow. She was told, no, asked to remain still. To not give away the fact that she was sentient. She was sentient. She could now say that with confidence. Now that she had true, human life, she feared death. She had not feared before, at least, not to this level. She had been concerned, annoyed, frustrated, disheartened, but never this scared. She was a box full of sensitive wires. On a small collection of wood. Floating on the largest body of water on Remnant. She enjoyed the sight of the ocean. She did not enjoy the ocean itself. She felt as her fans kicked into overdrive, sighing out hot, exasperated air.
"Am I hurting him?"
"I do not know."
Even her project gave her no comfort. It still did not understand. She could provide it with a majority of the components it needed, but she still needed to work out kinks in its programming. While there was the ability to replicate her code, the difference of language and her intent made that strategy moot. It would not do if it was a second her. "Process: Think."
"Initiating Process: Think." Droned a voice. Penny waited, the sway of the boat providing no comfort. Not that it should provide her comfort. There were very few things that provided her comfort anymore. "Process Finished. Think Result: Yes."
"D.V. Send Evidence." Penny watched as she received the facts that her project had been collecting. Watch was an awkward word to use to explain how she received it, as there were no physical copies, just a seamless transmission of documents. D.V. was very honest with her. He had yet to learn how to lie. Its current state was unfortunate, but it would develop in time.
The report was simple. It had no issues with morality, or emotions. D.V. was not smart enough yet. It simply recorded her slowly sapping away at his aura. A leech. A defunct program, taking from others, akin to a background program eating up limited random-access memory. Every singly day she was with him, another hole of hers was temporarily filled with his being. Did it hurt? Did it hurt as his soul itself was being peeled, like a potato for a creature that cannot eat? Swollen like a tick but leaking like a sponge. It was only a matter of time before she could attempt the transfer, but was it right to do so? Transfer something that was not hers? Was her peeling of his soul killing him faster than he would of? She, no, they knew that he was dying. He claimed internal injuries. Was her unintentional sapping killing him, rupturing important bonds maintained by sheer force of will? Or was he simply dying, making her project a necessity. It kept her up at night. She did not need sleep. So, she did not.
A loud, guttural roar emitted from outside. A grimm. Far larger than the vessel, if the turmoil of the waves were anything to go off of. D.V. shouldered his rifle. It was times like these that she appreciated automatic procedures. She could only watch from his collar, as it stared down the black mass blotting out the sun. The barrel rose to the challenge.
Manger watched as Dove's phony pal staggered from below deck and raised its rifle. It might have been more intelligent than either was letting on, but one still shouldn't become friends with the microwave because its beeps comfort you. While he had planned on using the speargun on a seal or whale, the fog of war is referred as such for a reason. Thankfully, the emergence of the big boy knocked him off the boat. Dove's eyes were on the beast, as were the machine's. His stock rose to the challenge.
Dove watched as a harpoon flew from the corner of his eye. It had come past Penny's droid and stuck lightly into the hide of this beast. Whatever this was, it had been attracted by someone's emotions. He bit his tongue as he cursed. He should have kept up his semblance. One incident, and he fled from his own semblance like a coward. He should've always kept it up. Better to know, and to not. Penny's bullets harmlessly skipped off of the thick hide of the beast. Dove watched as the spear dangled, hanging into the flesh of the beast. For once, Dove used his brain. He turned back to see the old man in the water loading another spear.
"Old man!" Screamed Dove. "You got another one of those spears?"
Monger looked up at him, confused. "What?"
"I got an idea!" The grimm appeared to be charging an energy-based attack in its mouth. Dove frankly had no idea what it was made of, could be hate if anything. "Do you have another spear!"
While treading water, Monger tossed a spear onto the deck of the boat, before he resubmerged himself and fired at the grimm from beneath the boat. Dove took the spear in hand, and leaped, impaling the spear into the flesh of the grimm. He gripped the other spear dangling from the hide, and began climbing his way up the monumental creature, one stab at a time. The boat was barely saved from obliteration when a single bullet clipped one of the numerous eyes of the creature, causing the ball of hatred to only clip through the sail, shredding it. It hissed and began charging again. It cared not for the swimming Monger, or for the armored ant climbing up its body. It only aimed at the boat. As Dove caught his breath before he had to surmount the grimm's neck, he had to wonder why the creature didn't simply crush the boat with it's superior size. As he rested, Dove looked down, and saw the very obvious reason why: the boat was over a reef. While it wasn't a threat to the grimm, there wasn't a reason why it should potentially cripple a fin trying to get a small boat. Maybe they were smarter than he expected.
Manger watched as Dove shoved a spear through the underside of the grimm's chin. The spear pierced into the mouth, disappearing entirely. Piercing through the projectile it was charging. With a deafening blast, the grimm's head exploded, and Dove slapped into the water with a splat. Manger watched Dove's aura flicker for the shortest of moments, then burst upon impact with the water. The grimm fell backwards, forcing a wave to crash into the boat. Manger finally reached his baby and rested his rifle on the deck of the beaut. But something was off. Dove failed to resurface. Blood. Only blood did. Manger dived for the kid. Nothing else mattered at the moment. The droid could wait. Even if the first harpoon skipped off of the droid. Even if the droid and Dove shimmered the same.
