This next section is long, but has a fight, a rest and a little detail on what the hell is going on! Enjoy :) - Mudkip Gales whip up, lashing the fresh wounds. Papers zoom in the air, flying to new heights over the large wasteland. I shiver in the rain, freshly wetting my well-watered clothes. Fallen streetlamps channel the floods along the pathways, over the blocked drains and down into the flood plain below. Explosions still settle over the escalated warring planet, the horizon continues to light up, the sun shall son fix this though as morning is sure to approach. Striking in the dark is a lot more fun, time to dash. Sprinting up to the vehicles. They spot me too late as I come within metres, eyes raging with a tidal wave already ploughing through tossing cars as though insects. Hand outstretched, the open street foams just a second behind me, pace increasing with power. I feel their hearts race in time with my furiously rapid steps, guns raise, the whole frame coming out in slow motion. The energy behind builds, bullets spray un-aimed, high-pitched shrieks bellow in front. All to no avail. I stop suddenly, no warning to them. Water flushes over me, a small hole opens up around me as the mini tsunami crashes past. It collides with the cars and people, they are blown into the walls, crushed under the extreme pressure. It washes straight through, moving houses off their foundations in one humongous rush of power. The wave reaches half way up the side of the houses until it collapses and floods uncontrollably into the city. A large aircraft whizzes overhead, the same heavy, low reverberating noise booms above. It waits a few seconds, possibly scanning, then moves on deeper into the dirty roads. Two jobs in one night, there must be something going on here; usually there is just one mission a week given to me, just a task once in every seven days. Maybe this could be the counter strike that the Machines have been anticipating for, though it is late. I would be surprised to find more than fifty Humans in one area, even if they have their own secret island; there would be more to take into account than what most expect. All those things they used to take for granted. Farming, healthy fluids and especially disease, with hygiene at its lowest, even my super strong immune system has gained the occasional odd sniffle. The increase in attacks must mean they are finding ways around these problems. Humans seem to be able to cope with anything, adapt to new times and climates within the space of even just weeks. Starting the second walk back, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be Human with them. The troubles, the pain. What makes them go on? Life can’t be easy so why do they insist on surviving? Maybe I’ll ask next time. I sometimes talk to the victims before execution, trying to find out what they know about the current state, any plans. Then I kill, they think betrayal but I see the irony, they unfortunately don’t have time for this. Not so much a shame. I glance around down town, smoke burns in the drizzle. Times for Humans are rough, outside the city hunting Zombies swipe more victims than Machines do in untouched cities. Although Humans made up stories on Zombies before their actual arrival, Zombies are not dead people who come back to life through disease or mutation. Machines first arrived, origin unknown, even for me. But when they came, they came secretly. Several countries were targeted, some think that a terrorist created them, but I doubt it. The machines kidnapped random people. All around the world, several Humans were dragged into darkness, then the Machines ‘processed’ them. Stones replaced thoughts, the brain squeezed along the rock. The heart too shared space with the stone. They keep order over the body, demands drilled in their heads. They became drones, simple killing devices. Zombies, as they are now called, cannot infect through biting, in fact it is extremely rare for them to use teeth, especially as they have talons that grow out an inch that have heavy resistance. Still Human, just with alterations to suit needs. A mouse squeals, running out from a black dustbin. I almost chase after it but it phases me. I ignore it and carry on, shop now in sight. The streets empty, city population: one. Nothing has changed since my short absence, stacks of junk pile high, untouched. Blood stains still splat the wallpaper. Walking up the stairs, I feel a draft behind. I look back slowly, the windows just in sight, but nothing else. Slowly backing upstairs, my mind focuses on sleep. Resting is essential for fighting, I have to be in good shape to be of use and that includes being on the ball every time. The fireplace lights up. The glow suddenly brings me round; I must have started dosing. Did I start it? I get up out of the chair, aware of anything that moves in the room. I sense danger, my brain squeals alarms but it has been a while since anything has had the fortune of making a challenge against me. I look around cautiously, not carelessly just in case. Without warning the fire breaks free of the glass and spits straight at me! I instinctively force water at it before my legs burn leaving me soaked. Nothing does that but one. “So you found me then?” “Didn’t want to leave you waiting.” He quips. Fire. ...
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 08:46:42 +0000
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