Reap What You Sow #amwriting

Task: A character is holding a blue object. What are they thinking?

Response:
He shook it again. It gave off a low menacing hum which he felt deep in his bones - the kind that say 'stop ratting the damn ball'. Abruptly, the humming stopped and he realised he had been clenching his jaw, and his buttocks. He forced himself to relax and put the ball back on the table, looking up at his colleague.

'So, what is it, and why does it make me want to chew off my own arm to get away from it when I pick it up?' 
      'I don't know Paul, that's why we called you in. We found it attached to one of the drones we brought down last night. No markings on the drone either, and we haven't been able to track down the signal to find the operator yet. It's fucking weird though, right? We wondered if, maybe it was something... you know, one of the projects your team had been working on?' Amanda left the sentence hanging, hoping Paul might give something away - she knew his team had some advanced tech projects boiling away in their high security labs. It seemed a reasonable guess that this small blue ball might be part of their work, and if so, he might want it back before it fell into the wrong hands.
      'nope, not mine' Paul was hunched over the ball now, face just a few centimetres away, but not daring to get too close, trying to get past the luminescent glow which was coming off the surface to see if he could make out what material it was made from. 'Where'd you say it came down?'
      Walking over to a large map table, Amanda pinpointed an area about 3 miles from their base. That was bad news, the drones were getting closer every week, finding ways through their forcefield. Paul spun back to the object, horrified realisation written across his chiselled face
      'shit, Amanda, we have to get that thing out of here, now. It's how they've been breaking through our field - and now....'
      She realised immediately what he was implying and made a grab for it. Every muscle in her body went rigid as she fought to attach the object to another drone. The humming had becoming louder as soon as Paul approached with the controls, his fingers struggling to work the remote. As he lifted the drone and it's assassin passenger into the air, his nose started to bleed. Amanda started puking in the corner. The drone was almost at the open window, the humming had become deafening, the glass beakers and cupboard fronts were splintering, the fluorescent bulbs had blown, and the room was plunged into the gloomy light cast from outside. The ball and the drone had just made it to the window when Paul's body gave up, throwing him to the floor in convulsions. 
      The light from outside was being blocked now, and as Amanda fell to the floor, ears bleeding, bile still streaming from her mouth, she saw them. 1000s of them. Hovering menacingly on the drones which she had helped to create. And she had let them in. The irony wasn't lost on her as she passed into unconsciousness.