The landscape, frigid and barren, strewn with corpses, yet not a drop of blood to be found. Instead, a thick slush of black liquid seeped in the snow, staining it a deep grey. All of the corpses, that of Worker Drones lie, as frozen as the environment around them, their visors either black as their blood, or displaying that 'Fatal Error' message, showing they still had power, stuck between life and death, in permanent pain, twitching limbs making themselves known. Slowly, a worker approaches the spire, hat tilting slightly. Their limbs clearly shaking like there was no tomorrow. Gentle clicking sounds off from the distance, sign that prey has been located. The Worker, blissfully unaware of it's imminent demise. It kicked at the broken limbs before starting to walk back to it's bunker, right as a figure lands behind it. Claws gripped it's head like a child to a toy, as the neck strained to keep the body from being pulled off by gravity. Sooner than it thought could happen, it was suddenly tossed into the spire, optics damaged lightly, giving everything a light blur to it. The drone, eyes shifted into that X, mercy at the back of it's mind as hunger claimed it's body for the short while in which this execution happened. A blade, sharp as a knife, lands it's point on the Worker's chest, who's shaking leads to their coat ripping lightly. The sword stuck there as a branch out of a tree, as the drone approached, tail swishing like a hyper puppy's. After an excruciating amount of time, in which the drone stared at the helpless worker, mouth drooling lightly as it smelled the fear emanating off of the smaller, frailer drone's body. Finally, a claw snatched an arm as the sword pierced the Worker's chest, not hitting s vital area, but enough to cause the worker to buckle in pain, coughing a light amount of oil up. The drone smiled, baring it's fangs as the arm got ripped off, being drank of it's oil by the beast. The Disassembly Drone then bit the Worker, like it was a vampire, sucking the oil out, like a child with a straw. The Worker struggled with all it's might, but it was in vain. It's oil being drained at a rate which meant it's core overheated fast, optics glitching as their struggles fizzled out. The predator removed their fangs from the worker's neck, tossing the drained shell aside like a child, done with it's toy. Not caring to wipe it's mouth, the Disassembly Drone walked into the spire, smiling gently.