Prologue
It was mid-morning in the Jones household. The master of this household, Alfred F. Jones, was waking up and heading to the kitchen at the lovely hour of eleven. Though usually an exuberant fellow, Al was not a morning person. Sleepily pouring himself a bowl of Coco Puffs, he turned on the living room television, which the kitchen overlooked.
Some old beloved cartoon droned quietly in the background as Al half watched and ate his cereal. Everything was as it should be and the nineteen year-old was at ease.
"We interrupt this program for an emergency broadcast!"
Al looked up from his breakfast at the rarely heard statement – at least for this channel, it was Cartoon Network for crying out loud!
"Science fiction writers would have a field day; killer robots are terrorizing major cities! Is the robot apocalypse actually happening?"
"…oh shit."
"I've been informed that this is happening all over the world. Everywhere, AIs are becoming self aware and attacking. We advise you to –"
The news broadcast was cut off by a baseball bat smashing into the T.V. set. Alfred narrowed his eyes and glared down at the demolished electronic.
"It's game time."
YO! Heh, sorry this is super short, it's just the prologue. Anyway, I wrote this at, like, two in the morning because I couldn't sleep…. Ja, robots are my apocalypse of choice. I don't own CN or Coco Puffs….damn, I want some Coco Puffs now…. You can choose whatever you like, but personally, I think Al is watching Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends… *coughifitwasstilloncough* An….ja, I should probably be working on Compound, but, but….MEH.