Horror movie scraps

Percolating coffee.

{Beginning, science team noting distortions in clouds and accounting it to local contaminants from pollution country, discussion of scientific rigor and particulars of mission}

{Investigate The Grove for disappearances and discrepancies}

{Approached by deer, have wonderful day, discussion of magics and other local superstitious nonsense}

{Day two}

{Encounter ill man rambling about Grove being evil}

{Do blood test work, display on max screen hologram for team mutual observance as microbial study begins}

{Blood is strained through with miniature machines, which violently consume the petri dish, blood, and a portion of the table in seconds after observation begins, culminating in a solid rod of them appearing as though from nowhere lancing through the scholar's eye}

{Body twitches for seconds, begins screaming, STOPS abruptly as machines consume internal organs behind optical orifice and skin, collapses over table as shapes warp the flesh and eventually rip it}

{Terrified team seal advanced medical away vehicle this is taking place in and activate cryogenic countermeasures to freeze anything mobile within, place contaminated man in stasis after questioning as well, attempt call to outside}

{Call fails; argument over whether to return straight to ship or attempt repairs, prevailed over by third argument, in which study leader decides this is the most likely candidate culpable for what they're here to investigate already ie abductions now likely murders, and to explore to expose the best way to deal with the machinations of whatever is motivating the machines}

{Dose of machines successfully surveyed after capture in wild in swarm form; revealed to be basic construction units responsible for assisted medical purposes and emergency armoring, incapable of either tactical damage or complex deconstruction-or-absorption despite very clearly shapeshifting and attacking colleague and likely the sample man}

{Further study reveals machines have innovated ways to fool the perception of the eye; although they appear black and gray like ash if not deliberately working, they array themselves in such a way as to emulate the properties of normal solid objects' color mirroring at will on the molecular level upwards, thus being able to change color and texture with their subatomic motions as they elect- in simpler terms, making themselves look green, or, with more effort, an array of greens and shapes in a thickness and feel that would feel to an unaware comerby like a palm tree's canopy, if they wished}

{Old hermit attempts to warn off science team, pleading that It is a passive thing, usually almost benign, preferring to study in peace. Reveals local legend that these particular machines have been here for only about three years and are profoundly touched by the influence of a deceased owner, one slaughtered during a raging battle despite such a bizarre affinity as to obfuscate them from their functions and turn them into war machines despite no tools or programs to explain the transitioning into claws and cannons; lacking the identity of that warrior, apparently consumed in death by the devices themselves in a moment of confusion spurred by that wrath, It fled to reconsolidate and try to find new purpose. She left it curiosity, inspiration, and imagination beyond its capabilities, almost guiding from beyond, but the machines, he definitely insists, are not possessed by the dead one.}

{If anything, they look for that ghost, or, at the least, to replace her, slowly and steadily acclimating to each climate and ecosystem reached and emulating them. She hesitated, and died, when startled by a lover; It avoids hesitation, connection, and frantic action entirely. Its hunger is filled more slowly, patiently, lovingly, watching, becoming, integrating.}

{Confronted on machines killing colleague; hermit is surprised, but not shocked. It has learned to prefer privacy. You have decided It is a problem that will have to be dealt with. Learning more about It would hinder Its efforts to do the same.}

{Leave It alone.}

{Point weapons at the old fellow, a long black tear slowly dripping from his eye. "So be It"}

{Brutal deaths, the Grove alive with limbs and blades and hooks as trees and animals alike turn into strange and terrible shifting constructs and abominations as the security team with the scientists try vainly, and extremely briefly, to contain the situation}

{Survivors make it back aboard, begin preparations to depart without clearance, communications still down. "It waits patiently to learn" Dead from the very start, thousands of the machines in their lungs the moment they touched atmosphere, waiting, patiently, observing. Testing their reactions to active stimuli and antagonism. Memorizing the motions and movements to utilize their armor and weapons. Finally, as they realize all too late, taking in how to successfully pilot a ship.}

{The gaping cavities through their chests are there for only moments before the rest is subsumed, and a hand flips through the neophyte's guide to space travel and communication protocol installed in the dash. "Communications are malfunctioning; request permission to leave for repairs and signal boosting equipment; may be ghosting signals"}

{The entire Grove, one massive gray goo of gelatinous seeming machinery when not separated into billions of tiny intrinsic tasks to pretend at being a full ecosystem of flora and fauna, separates into five identical starships with concentration and flies away, in just close enough tandem to keep up the excuse given.}

{Ambassadorial foray the next month over after  failure to return reveals a previously non-existent canyon four miles broad and almost two and a half deep where the Grove used to be, while a starport experiences inquisitorial inspection after bizarre events stalled communications and shipments}

{Machines trickle slowly into place. "Sorry to have to keep you, I had to put my face on and be presentable," to the hologram...}