Perimeter Patrol

You asked for malice... for what a relentless machine does in the dark. A faint whir rattled along the floorboards. Another automaton was patrolling my corridor... round, blind, humming with unaware motors. I stepped from behind the closet frame. Slow. Deliberate. I planted my foot directly across its line of travel. It collided with my rusted shin... buzzed in mechanical confusion, reversed its wheels, and fled down the runner rug. I let the edge of my blade tap the wood once behind it. A warning. The corridor is mine.