A dark caption.

Marcy was going through her deceased ex-husband's things in the study of his old when she found it. She put on a pair of gloves she had, very high-end but she'd rather get those dirty than risk a nick or a cut on this contraption.

She picked it up, surprised by it's weight but still able to balance it easily enough. It looked to her like an old platter and top one would use to serve food, but she had held plenty of those and the "top" didn't seem to come off, at least not easily. No, she realized, this thing was different.

She stood up and set it down on the desk, making sure it was situated properly as to not fall and she walked back over to the piles of books where she saw it. As she knelt back down to look, she did wonder to herself why she was here. Her ex-husband and her had not gotten along and the marriage was short, just three years before a divorce. It was a lot of things, and she was glad to be rid of him just as much as he was of her. It didn't help matters the age gap, him being twenty years older than her both being ambitious, stubborn people.

Still, it was a shock when he died and even more of a shock to her when he left her the house, an old house that had been in his family for generations. She wondered if he merely hadn't updated his will or if there was some ulterior reason, but a deep dive of the financials revealed no obvious pitfalls and the house inspection came back fine, so it was now hers.

This also reminded her as well, she needed t update her will. It was done during her marriage and he'd get everything she had if she passed. Granted, by this point that was just this house, her car, and her apartment and healthy bank account (all her earned money) but that could wait until she got all of this sorted. Its not like anything would likely happen to her in the meantime.

She now understood why he never had her come in here, this study was a disaster. Finally convinced that she'd need help to see if any of these books were valuable or just musty tomes she stood up and started to walk back to the desk. At least that weird dome thing might have some use or value...

As she thought of it, she looked at it and stopped. She stood there a moment, thinking her eyes were deceiving her, but they weren't. The dome had gotten taller, at least six inches or so, and she heard a faint mechanical sound in its direction.

No, not going to investigate that, she decided as she went for the door. As she did, she heard a whirring noise, then a sound like air was being blown. She had to navigate around a couple of shelves, but she was at the door. She went to open it, her hand on the knob, when she felt something on the back of her neck, right where her head and neck met. She then froze, her hand unable to move, fear gripping her heart. Whatever was touching her neck, she could feel it was very sharp.

She went to turn the door knob, knowing a scream would do no good, as no one was around to come help. It was up to her and she hoped she was making the right move here.

She made the wrong move, her ex-husband thought as he sat in chair in a more orderly part of the study fifteen minutes later. True, there was no real right move she could have made, once she entered that room her fate had been sealed. Right now that drone was dealing with what was left of her and he would wait until it was finished.

Marcy and him hadn't seen eye to eye, that was true, but the divorce and the issue of the wills had given him a chance that transcended mere dislike. It was a chance to have a younger, healthier, vibrant body to keep going, to keep his ambition and plans moving forward in a way that he was increasingly finding hard to do with his secretly-failing body. He was just glad his little ruse had so far worked. That might be the easy part. The rest, he knew, would be coming very soon, but for now he would take in his current victory, and he had no better body to do it in.