The plume of black smoke had grown larger as I approached it. Small black flakes falling over the dunes, seasoning the land and myself, an anointment. The lenses on my face adjusted to gaze farther off, looking for the source of the black smoke. I find it, a collection of trailers, containers, and small tin huts, many of which now blaze. Figures run back and forth in front of the flames, flashes of light often forming when they met each other. They were muzzle flashes; people were fighting.
I stand still and watch a moment longer, the number of flashes slowing down, the number of figures dwindling. One side was losing, while it could also be said, one was winning. I debated what to do, on one hand, I have no place in whatever conflict is taking place, on the other, maybe they know where I am, what I am. Perhaps it would be best to move along, surely an unknown face, especially one such as mine, would frighten them and place me in danger. Perhaps though they wanted help, the fire was large and needed to be put out.
I mulled over my option before a reality hit me, I needed power. I was a machine, an ancient one at that. Being stuck in the desert with no power is surely a death sentence. Wait, can I die, or do I just shut off? Eh, may as well be death, the sands will eat me. I needed power, I hadn't noticed at first, but something in the back of my mind was telling me that I was almost out, perhaps a day's worth. I could walk far, but not as far I would need to based on what I saw, that being nothing. This ‘town’, if it could be called that, was my best bet to find some power. What a predicament I thought.
I made my decision and started to walk towards the town, the flames still spreading. My walk slowly turning into a run, each step throwing up a small plume of sand as a I sped forward. The vents at my sides humming softly, finally warmed up to their new mobile nature. My running form perfect, definitely a benefit of my new steel abode. The smoke grew.
The town, as it definitely was, was full of fire, but I already knew that. Breaking into the outskirts I saw several dozen homes and shops built of various materials, all in various states of ruin. Only a few of the homes were not on fire or blown apart. The corpses of what I can see now to be the residents lining the streets.
This place was attacked and those who lived here were killed. I felt sick, why would anyone do this? Bullet casings scattered the area, scorch marks and potholes marring every surface. The battle here was not small, the people who had lived here putting up massive resistance. Looking down I could see a little form under some rubble, unmoving and burnt. I felt anger for the first time again.
My mind flickered back and forth, a coward running off into shadow, the cries of loved ones calling his name before they were abruptly silenced. I hated that man, I hated the fear that he shared with me, the memory he had tainted me with. He was telling me to run and steal, to flee this place and save myself, to abandon these strangers. I roared back, I would not run, I would not crumple to his fear. Instead, I raged.
Shots rang out to my left, my head snapped in their direction. My arms and legs moving before I could process my movements. I reached into my bag grasping the pistol firmly, indenting the rubber grips slightly. I ran in the direction of the gunfire. The shots had come from a few houses down, I ran faster. The gunshots resounded once again. I leaped over a burning car to round a corner, a massacre sprawling out before me.
The towns people lay in pieces behind makeshift barricades, a final gunshot having resounded when I turned the corner, a final defender falling to the earth. Dust kicked up as the body fell, a young boy, no older than fourteen, shock and fear plastered onto his face. His weapon clattered to the ground, and with it, a clamorous cheer of victory. The murderers of this town emerging from their cover and armored vehicles.
Several dozen men and women shouted into the sky; mad cackles arose from their throats. They wore armored vests and suits in random states of neglect. Their weapon’s barrels still smoking from the firefight, new celebratory shots being fired into the air. Some approached others to celebrate, others walked to the deceased and started stripping them of valuables, stuffing what they could into pockets, looking over their shoulder as they did so. Yet more started mocking the dead, laughing at the look the terror-stricken boy had had eternally frozen to his face.
The vents on my side started to heat up, the metal taking on a yellow glow. My body shook, the motors in my body whirring on and off randomly. The lenses on my face focusing down on one particular man, he was holding the boy up by his head, puppeteering him in a play of grim humor. The heat in my chest reaching a tipping point, the vents on my side glowing red hot. I exploded forward.
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Martyn’s plan for the town went perfectly, just like he had said it would. Martyn had been planning this attack for months, purposely delaying the attack until more pilgrims had time to move in. If it was up to him though he would have just attacked right out of the gate, waiting too long often led to more troublesome defenses than were worth bothering with. The large sum of money in his account though showed it was worth the wait, not only did he get himself a big bonus, but also the lion’s share of the town's goodies. He was initially against taking this job, he preferred not to be someone else's tool, but he couldn’t deny the pay was good.
Martyn had been running this rowdy gang of pillagers for the last three years now, the freedom and easy cash a great incentive despite the risk. His group formed from the aftermath of a state-run prison break; except they weren’t the prisoners. After all the inmates had escaped the guards were fired and thrown into the wastes to die, hopefully providing a cover story for the warden, the death of all the officers during such a riot must have meant the prison break was truly unpreventable. No one would blame the warden, and all those noble officers would receive decorated funerals.
The group of guards had decided to stick together, Martyn being the highest-ranking officer and charismatic to boot was a shoo in for the leader position he joyously held. They didn’t start off attacking settlements or caravans, they really did try to make a way for themselves. Unfortunately, a desert winter with no food would drive anyone to desperate means. With their state-issued armor and weapons that first group of pilgrims stood no chance, their basic rifles bouncing off their carbon plated armor. After that, it was easy to fall into their new found life of debauchery. Their wallets growing larger than when they were officers.
Life wasn’t always easy though, Martyn still had to be vigilant. While the group was better armed than most civilian transport and towns, you never knew when one of the targets was actually a merchant convoy or even a military transport. Most of their casualties arose when they misidentified their mark and ended up fighting some mad man in a behemoth suit, that event had been the cause of a particularly bad day. With all this in mind, Martyn’s choice to attack this settlement was perfect. The town was recently established and lacked any major company or state funding, but still had a half decent setup due to the large number of pilgrims traveling here to get away from the cities.
The town never saw it coming when Martyn’s crew rolled up to it, his crew had disguised themselves as a trade caravan from the north. Normally subterfuge wasn’t their go to, but with how large of a population this town had it left them little choice, a town this big could simply dogpile them to death, that’s where the fires came in. The first fire was started in mobile home on the outskirts of the town, the people were quick to respond and rushed over to put it out with extinguishers and what little water they had. It wasn’t until the fire was put out that the others were started, seventeen in total, placed in a semi-circle on the opposite side of the town. The townspeople rushed across through the streets, confused and panicked, they didn’t have enough water or fire retardant to put the blaze out. They started to dig trenches in hopes of at least cutting off the blaze, with their foot already half-way into their grave, we attacked.
Stolen novel; please report.
It was a slaughter, the town was mostly unarmed, leaving their guns for shovels and pickaxes. The group's superior weaponry tearing them apart by the dozens, falling into their futile trench. The slaughter continued for the next several hours, only the last two devolving into actual combat. The townspeople managed to regroup in the town center, a simple circular clearing surrounded by containers. For such a late response the town’s last-ditch defense was admirable, if useless. Armored vehicles smashing into the town's flimsy makeshift barricades, the mounted machine guns tearing through their little armor. It was a sunny battle of flame, steel, and blood.
Leveling his gun at the last remaining person Martyn fired a single shot from his rifle, tearing a hole in the man’s chest. His body crumpling to the ground.
“WOOOO!” The cheer emerged from the throats of his gang, three fewer in number, but still, their deaths would be for after the celebration. The gang of deposed officers exclaiming their victory before starting to reap the rewards of their hard work. Martyn approached the man he had shot, receiving high-fives and pats of affirmation as he walked past his men, their words bolstering his ego and giving him a euphoric high. He had guided his people to victory and this was cause for some revelry.
One of Martyn’s men beat him to the dead man’s body, hoisting him up and using the limp limbs to mock the dead man. Martyn stopped and watched, some of the others turning to watch the impromptu play, most quickly turning away and ignoring the dark act. The dead man was puppeted to act in fright, Martyn’s man providing a high pitched and discordant voice in order to better portray his cinematic goals. Martyn wasn’t much for the more morbid parts of his job, avoiding them, when necessary, though he appreciated the disconnect the strange play supplied his men. Martyn let the play go on a moment longer before moving to call his man off, but not before he watched a steel fist connect with the puppeteer's face and travel through it, brain matter splattering across his own face.
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The bone collapsed under my metal skin, the psychopaths face giving way to softer insides, my hand continued all the way through the disgrace to humanity's face. The celebration stopped, everyone silenced suddenly by this strange glowing figure that had appeared from thin air and killed their ally. I pulled my hand out of the man’s face, pushing him off with my foot. I stood straight, the red of my eyes piercing the town center, waiting for the next move. The man to my immediate right made it first.
A rifle was leveled at my chest and rounds fired out, the man bellowing in rage as the rounds hit my chest, "YOU GODS DAMNED BOT!” The bullets pinged off the armored plates lining my torso, I shifted my feet to the side and jumped at the man firing his gun, continuing over him. I landed with a thump, kicking up recently fallen ash. Everyone shifted their gaze to where I landed, their faces showing signs of shock. I used their hesitation to my advantage, raising my pistol at the side of the man head of the man who shot at me.
BLAM!
His body spun as the bullet pierced through his skull and continued into a container behind him. The man’s body fell to the ground in a heap, his rifle clattering to the ground. With his fall, all hell broke loose. Bullets started to fly at me from multiple angles, I leaped back behind a small concrete barricade, firing off several shots as I did so, ducking before I could see if they had hit their mark.
Bullets impacted the barricade and the ground around my feet, dust filling the air just to be blown away by the immense force of air being blown out of my side vents. A grenade landed next to me, having been tossed over the barricade. I kicked it away, sliding it underneath a nearby vehicle, the resulting explosion throwing the truck into the air and tossing me and several others to the side. I jumped to my feet, the shock wave leaving me unharmed, while my fleshy enemies held their ears and looked around, temporarily dazed.
Others who were not caught in the explosion opened fire upon me again, I dove to my right into a roll before standing and shifting into a sprint, firing my pistol the whole way. I dropped the first mag out of the gun and slammed another into it, racking the new round into the chamber. My sprint took me along the outskirts of the town center and right into a group of three men, weapons trained on me. I dove at their feet, tackling one of them, his weight falling on top of me.
I threw myself up, tossing the man off me in the process, hitting one of his allies. I turned to the last standing man and fired my gun into his chest, the bullet bouncing off harmlessly, but staggering him slightly. I raised my gun higher, firing into his face and turning instantly to the other two men, placing a bullet in each of their skulls. I was knocked through the air as I was impacted by a massive round, a dent appearing on my head. Someone had gotten on the mounted machine gun.
I landed on all fours and rolled to my side, avoiding a spray of gunfire, ash and dust now clouding the vicinity. I rushed forward, towards the machine gunner. I leaped through the air and onto the top of the car, using my momentum to carry my fist into the gunner's face, her skull crumpling and body falling into the truck. I threw myself backwards as gunfire bounced off the car and my side. I landed in the center of the clearing and found myself surrounded by the remaining marauders.
Bullets pinged off my steel frame as I rushed the closest person, my pistol having been lost after being shot by the machine gun. I grabbed the man by the throat and threw him to the side, crushing his throat in the process. I turned to my left racing to the next person, I threw a punch, he caught it in his hand. His hand clamped down on mine and used my momentum to throw me over his back and onto the ground, jumping on top of me, his legs straddling my chest.
“Get the trucks going! There could be more!” The man called out to his remaining allies, they scrambled to retrieve any wounded and threw them into the remaining vehicles. I threw my arm upwards and into the man's chest, instead of tearing a hole in his torso my hand made a dent in it. I was not the only one made of metal. We started to trade punches, rapid strikes to my face threatened to shatter my lenses and smash my head to pieces. I inverted my elbows and slammed my fists into the ground throwing the metal man off me. I jumped to my feet and charged him as he got to his feet.
I slammed into him like a freight train, tossing him back again onto a burning car, a stray piece of metal piercing through his chest. Blood poured from the wound, starting to scream as the flames licked against his skin, proof of his humanity. I paced up to him and placed my hand against his face, pushing inwards until his screaming stopped, mechanical chills running up my spine.
I heard a scream of despair echo out from behind me as a woman racked a round into the mounted machine gun. I dove over the burning car and hid behind it, rounds tearing into its side and the metal man. Peeking around the corner I could see the cars start to speed away, the seats filled with corpses, including the first man I had shot. I attempted to race after the cars but they moved too fast over the sands, and without cover from the machine gun I had to give up my pursuit.
By the time I returned to the town center the fires had dies down, all that was going to burn having burned. The vents on my side cooled and the red-hot metal slowly turned a cool grey. I stood in the middle of the carnage and cried my virtual tears, the sum of what transpired hitting me all at once. I was too late to save the towns people, spending their lives as time to gaze at the stars. I fell to my knees and grasped at the fallen ash, the black soot falling through my fingers. My mourning was cut short though as I heard a noise pierce the dead silence, an opening door.
I whipped my head around, a container building made of several other containers placed on top of each other was the source. A heavy double door slowly opened, creaking as hinges strained to support the weight. I stood to my feet, preparing to fight or run, or perhaps simply a chat. Though I've learned that my ideas are often too optimistic. The door fully opened revealing a dark interior, several small figures shifting about.
From the edge of the door frame a tiny face appeared, ratty hair and tear-stained checks accompanied it. A little girl stepped into view, looking up to me hesitantly and taking a few fearful steps closer. I relaxed my stance and kneeled to be eye level with her, the girl freezing as I did so, several other little faces appearing out of the dark interior.
My mechanical voice articulating a word, “Hello.”