Painting the terrain of a desolate wasteland was a single track of footprints, each step crunching the sandy flooring beneath it. C13, an adolescent cyborg, had been running for what felt like weeks. Losing track of time, he relied solely on his navigator which projected that his destination was a mere three days away. Grains of sand stung his face as his short messy hair flowed in the wind, it was almost long enough to cover his eyes. He had not stopped moving since his initial departure, a perk of having a cybernetic body.
C13 was a lone surviving fugitive tasked with seeking out a mysterious haven north of the weapons manufacturing plant owned by Cynder Technologies, informally known as ‘CynTech,’ where he was stationed. The conditions there were cruel and inhumane, clearly intended to take advantage of the persistent workflow made possible by cyborg technology. Workers there were treated like robots. However, despite their physical abilities, C13 and his past comrades still bore resemblance to their human predecessors in appearance and in mind. Bodies of both willing and unwilling test subjects underwent numerous augmentations, from ocular implants to burn-resistant layers of synthetic skin. Cyborgs were effectively immortal beings, gods amongst men, inferior to only those who had full digital control over them.
Flashes of his short time at the facility haunted C13, especially his name or lack thereof. His identity was a mere product number. His life prior to his augmentation was a blur. He was no one, just another cog in this horrid society he had the misfortune of being born into. Since becoming a cyborg, C13 had always portrayed a cold, reclusive exterior. However, his true feelings remained ever-present beneath it all. He hated how Cynder Technologies treated cyborgs, but he wouldn’t dare stand up to them for fear of termination.
“This is my opportunity to make up for all those cowardly moments back at CynTech,” he thought to himself.
With every passing second, he envisioned his attack on their headquarters. The bodies of the guards laid out on the lobby floor. The golden lettering of the “CynTech” logo on their jackets, stained in blood. The thrilling climb up the flight of stairs and finally, the confrontation with Sylas Cynder.
“It’s over, Sylas. Don’t bother with any final words, you haven’t earned that opportunity.” C13 stood confidently across the room from his adversary. “Now DIE!!!” he exclaimed, and with the single strike of a blade, the cycle of exploitation would end, a tyrant usurped by his own creation.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Unfortunately, those scenarios were entirely hypothetical, he could barely stand toe to toe with the janitor, let alone one of CynTech’s guards. His plan was nothing but a pipe dream. Alas, he continued his search for the haven disgruntled at the reality of his aspirations.
The howling wind around C13 grew louder and louder as he pushed forward. Sensing danger, C13 slowed down to analyze his surroundings. It was then that he noticed he was about to run head first into a sandstorm. He had never dealt with one of these; he assumed stories about them were exaggerated. After all, he was one of many highly advanced cyborgs, surely some sand couldn’t slow them down, he thought. The wind, however, was growing stronger and it was getting increasingly harder to run at his previous pace. Slightly frustrated, he decided it would be best to find cover and just wait it out. While the land in its entirety was rather vacant, there were a few boulders and abandoned structures in the near vicinity. C13 quickly ran towards what seemed to be an old house or hideout that had been destroyed long ago. There was barely a roof, but any amount of shelter was better than nothing.
As he entered, C13 immediately noticed the old squeaky wooden floorboards and a small staircase where he gladly took a seat. Perhaps he could rest, he thought to himself. Any CynTech guards that may have followed would’ve given up by now and the oncoming sandstorm would clear up his footprints. C13 laid back against the steps of the staircase and closed his eyes.
“Hmm, maybe I should name myself after old man Ace back at the factory.” he muttered under his breath, “Nah, that’s too on-the-nose.”
As C13 smiled and began to doze off, a creaking sound abruptly halted his long desired nap. Something or someone was definitely nearby. Peeking through the side of his eye, he noticed a hooded figure standing next to him on the other side of the staircase railing. His eyes were barely open, but as they widened, he noticed one distinct feature; a golden symbol on the person’s sleeve. It was unmistakably the logo of Cynder Technologies.
His breathing slowed and his body tensed up, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Overcome with anxiety, he struggled to formulate a plan. He slipped his fingers into a pouch on his waist and slowly pulled out a pocket knife. The person hadn’t moved an inch, seemingly oblivious to C13’s presence. If there was any time to attack, it would be now. C13 bottled up his emotions and prepared to lunge at the person, but before he could make a move, they raised their hand. C13 froze in his tracks and the person turned towards him.
“At ease.” they said, removing their hood and unveiling a warm, welcoming smile.