Bob was pissed.

He was walking rather quickly through the forest.

His forearm stung also where a branch had scraped at him.

The forest didn’t even give Bob fantasy vibes or anything it was just as if he had gotten lost on a trail or something. Maybe he felt that way because he was, in fact, lost.

Literally, he didn’t think he could be more lost.

On the another note, Bob wondered if a group of wood elves would suddenly appear or something, aiming their bows at him, he would've found that really cool.

Although anyone could've done he needed the help after all…

Bob needed to piss.

Stomping on the jeuvenile herbs that grew close to dirt surface, Bob continued, his pace fluctuating from a brisk march to a more relaxed saunter as his calves began to ache. This all to show that, ultimately, even though his surroundings blurred as he paced forward:

How could he pace himself if he had no destination?

Perhaps he was just tiring himself out? Such thoughts had frequently crossed Bob’s mind, paticularly as he had nearly tripped on fine dirt for the third time consecutively.

But No.

Bob was not a creature of sloth.

When had he ever not given the utmost spirit and panache in whatever activity he had set his mind to, that was, the principal of Bob Earnest.

Especially in a time when his life could possibly be in danger, he would, keep his head down and walk.

Embarrassingly, when Bob stopped, he was breathing a bit faster than he would’ve liked. However, more importantly, Bob stopped and began to scan his surroundings for the first time after...

Treasure Interface Item: The Nuke Cooldowns:

days:hours:minutes:seconds:miliseconds

(Nuclear Missle Strike)261,873:23:05:49:892 Abilities: Nuclear Missle Strike

Nuclear Missle Strike

Summons and targets a Nuclear Missle towards a target area

Ability cooldown: 261, 874 days

... an hour of walking.

Catching a bit of a breather was not something Bob found he had done very recently prior and dark spots played upon the untamed, homogeneous vegetation he apathetically scrutinized. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen going to his brain, but Bob felt as if the plants around were glaring at him; as if to perhaps to remind him that there were miles of them and only one of him.

There was no civilisation to protect him out here.

Bob was startinng to feel a bit uneasy, very much so as he hadn’t forgotten what his objective was. He just didn’t have any idea how he was supposed to go about finding a “Grand Treasure”. He supposed he would need to make an alliance with someone else and go from there.

But first, he would need to find a good bush.

“Oh that’s a good one”

Bob spotted a good bush sized a bit to the side of where he was standing. It was a pretty berry bush with nice crimson spheres hanging from fern green leaves and although Bob was famished he reckoned they weren’t worth the risk, plus he really needed to relieve himself.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

…He unzipped his trousers.

In situations like these Bob tended to whistle.

…but as he was a bit short on breath his gaze merely began to float up eyeing the thin canopy with a bored look.

A grey wispy pillar stood like a phantom in the distant blue sky, the lone thin outline seemingly so alien to all that Bob had seen in the last hour or so. Bob’s pupils dilated as he stood there, silently, staring at a smoke trail in the sky rise. He stood there for quite a while trying to understand what it meant,

----------------------------------------

Pensively, Bob trudged through the foliage. When he saw the smoke- for that moment, he was like a kid on Christmas- his heart erupted like fireworks and Bob had to stifle the urge to rush forward in glee, even though right in front of him was the brambly bush he had urinated on.

Bob supposed he was caught with his pants down.

The nearly-thirty guy checked the smoke; he was getting close.

Bob had to cautious, he didn’t know if the smoke was a trap or something, meant to lure him in , after all, if this was a competition there could only be one winner- the idea sounded unnatural in Bob’s head, however, he had to be cautious, he had to be ready, he could be attacked.

As he walked through the forest Bob also realised that the trees were getting further apart, soon Bob could see though the gaps in all the green and he could see a clearing.

Bob walked past the boundary where the trees petered out. The area he was in was an elevated ridge overlooking an enclosed valley that might’ve looked picturesque. However, rather than being covered in velvety verdure, till the faint mountains in the distance, all Bob could see was an endless field of stumps.

However, that wasn’t the weirdest of it, sitting in the middle of the dead valley like a flower in a desert, stood a tower.

Not a normal tower, no, it was a lone obelisk: brass and copper and pipes and cogs and steel, all of it, pumping a thick black smog skyward: something ripped out of a some steampunk fantasy.

Bob took a step forward and then he took a step backward, he didn’t look at the tower for very long, his eyes were quickly darting.

Much to Bob's panic, almost immediately after he exited the cover of the trees a rumbling cacophony metal and steam began to blast in Bob’s surroundings. He almost jumped, looiking around him frantically.

Bob turned his head. It was coming from the right.

Tucked away, at the edge of the clearing, sat a giant getting up. It was made from a brownish metal with pipes and valves dotting its body: an automaton.

All metal, it lifted itself up slowly, but a pair of bright yellow lights found themselves rising metres higher than Bob’s head and with a large puff of steam, it silenced its rumbling.

The giant began to walk towards Bob.

It wasn’t extremely fast at first, unfortunately though, it wasn’t exactly moving at a snails pace and within a few seconds Bob wasn’t sure he could outrun it for long.

He might not have to though, why did it have to be an enemy, it could be friendly, right? Bob wasn't a violent person he shouldn't have to fight, right?

Yeah, it could’ve just been cutting down the trees or maybe it was gonna give Bob a clue.

Bob eyes were locked at pistons that brought the machine ever closer, each step caused a high pitched whistle that sent tremors through him; a drop of sweat rolled down Bob's forehead.

No. He had to run. Bob had to run. But when he tried. He found that he couldn’t. His whole body was painfully tightening coil that couldn't spring.

With his muscles locked all that Bob could was stare at the twin yellow cones of light foretold of his own death- but it wasn't the end yet

...

“AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” Bob wasn’t the one who screamed.

Out of nowhere a woman jumped out of a bush somewhere behind the automaton. As she ran forward she starting firing a machine gun... a machine.

“DIEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

A screaming black leather jacket with dirty blond hair and a machine gun saved him, spraying and praying toward the metallic golem.

It turned away from him and began marching to her. Bullets bounced off the metallic exterior of the automata adding to the deafening harmony coming from the gun and the just as ear-splittingly, the woman’s own vocal cords.

As the spray time lengthened , the accuracy of the shots began to visibly degrade and a few bullets whizzed right by Bob’s head; it didn’t help that the giant was getting close to his mysterious saviour.

“wait” Bob spoke lightly under his breathe, though it could be argued whether such a faint cry could actually exist within the great maelstrom of sound he was in. Regardless, it was all for nil, or was it, as by some stroke of fate once of the bullets pushed one of the valves on the monster (pop).

A sun of scalding steam exploded from the thing sending a blazing wave of heat washing over Bob, and for a few hot seconds reddening his skin. All whilst Bob just stood there trying to process the events that transpired. as a ferocious humidity began to settle on him.

Ignoring the high temperature and even more ferocious, Bob decided to get a closer look, rather than standing there waiting to get attacked and saved. Kneeling over the grass sat the giant, a large portion of its brass body melted in. Bob looked at the immobile form of the automaton and then at the figure through the steam.

An outline in the mist of an explosion, there woman was standing still, posing almost as if she was basking in her triumph. No scratch that. She looked like she was definitely basking in her triumph.

Noticing the guy’s gaze she looked in his direction.

“What’s up”