*Disclaimer* I do not own Hasbro. Don't sue me.
Blood and Steel
Death: Can there ever be enough? The stagnant odor of burnt and decaying flesh has brutally devoured my five senses for the past two weeks. The smell is so repulsive I just want to puke in the nearest ditch. God, what have we become? This war has branded its mark of tragedy across this entire planet in the form of mass murder. The killings could have been prevented if one person refused to press that crimson button. A button baptized in the blood of millions of innocent men, women, and children. The exact same blood is what I see; it is all I can feel.
The sticky, clammy ooze latched onto anything it touched, like burrs that stick to your clothing and your hair when one ran through forests. I crave to wash this organic substance off of my dried and cracked skin, but alas, all the water has been contaminated. I do not want to risk being poisoned just to wash off a little nuisance. Survival is all that matters right now. All the groundwater is useless to the population of humans lucky enough to survive the holocaust. As are wild and domesticated crops. Everything is dead, it seems. Even the handful of survivors I have miraculously found. We have lost everything. Our homes. Our loved ones. Our sanity.
We are all slowly, going insane.
The trauma of the last twenty-four hours, hangs over our heads like a dense morning fog that blankets valleys in a chilling, moist embrace. The trauma will remain in our hearts for the rest of our lives. "Armageddon", as it has been dubbed since the dawn of humanity, will remain affixed to our souls until our corpses rot in the radiated soil that now graces the land with its uncontrollable fury. It is hard for me to believe only two weeks ago I was relaxing inside my home, curled up next to my fiancé watching the evening news. Never did I expect it to be the last time I felt his touch on my hands, felt his heart beat in time with mine, and felt his lips press against my skin and say, "I love you". Everything I thought had meaning, simply vanished when it happened: The war with the machines.
This world can be so unfair at times I do not have words to describe how frustrating it can be. But we, as a race, deserved this ending. We were selfish, power-hungry fools who thought we could control this planet and our future with an iron grip. How wrong—no, how stupid could humanity be? Now, our punishment has been delivered. The survivors scattered across this planet constantly live in fear. Fear of radiation seeping into the remaining fresh water and undamaged soil used to grow the little seeds we have managed to scavenge. Fear of animals that have mutated into horrific, man-eating freaks of nature from overexposure to radiation. And last but not least, fear of the iron giants that have caused this unnecessary destruction on this planet. They are now trying to finish what the humans had unintentionally begun: Extermination. They view us as insects that do nothing but get in their way, and because of that, we deserve to die. Who am I to argue with that logic?
Their presence had gone unnoticed by humans for thirty years, until one of the "good" robots deserted their comrades, and led their sworn enemies to Earth. The Autobots –at least, that is what I believe they are called- were marked with an insignia of a stoic, blood red face. They swore to protect humanity if the other malicious mechanoids were to arrive on Earth. At first, their efforts were praised by the humans for saving their planet from being conquered from the first few attempts made by the ones marked with insignias of purple, angular faces. We allowed our minds to believe their immense strength and wisdom would save us in our hour of need. Their presence instilled a false sense of security within our tiny imaginations. We were found out the hard way what ignorance cost.
Our lack of common sense almost caused us to be eradicated. When the robots bearing the purple insignias arrived with an entire armada at their disposal that is when we knew our faith in the thirty or so robots with red insignias was misplaced. The humans were slaughtered in two weeks. The combined efforts of the world, and the Autobots were no match for the stronger, the faster, and the smarter enemies. As a last resort, the humans employed tactical nuclear strikes in the areas where the machines with purple crests were known to be located at. One of the cities slated for total annihilation was London, England: The place where I have lived my entire life. Well, had is more appropriate now. London is a wasteland of twisted metal, disintegrated concrete and mutilated bodies.
One of them is Jack, my fiancé.
My life has been ruined by a war the humans were never involved with; a war that has effectively killed our planet and eighty-percent of its population. As I write my short synopsis of the past weeks, I am surprised to see there is still a group of humans and "friendly" machines out there that still believe they can win this war of attrition. I think they are all insane, but somehow I ended up becoming involved in the Human and Mechanoid Resistance Unit, or HMRU for short. But if the casualties continue to pile up like they have been in recent days, there will be no resistance left. Unfortunately, that is the least of my concerns. In the relics of London, there is something out there hunting the last of the humans. I do not know what it is, but whatever it is, people have perished because of it. More and more people have disappeared every night. I fear I may be the last person in London. If this is true, then I will be next. I have tried to take my mind of this subject every day, but I have failed.
In the final hours of my unimportant existence, I have pondered why I have lived this long in the first place? Had I really been that lucky? Did I really have the skills needed to survive? Why? If I have survived this long -and if someone as scared and weak like me can survive this long-, there must be others out there in the world. Or have we all died? I do not know, nor do I care anymore. I have given up.
I want Jack back, I want my old life back, and I want everything to just stop. The end! That is all I want right now: An ending. What is this? I think now I know how these last few pages of this blood stained book will be written. The ending to this sad little story comes straight from a macabre piece of literature. Remember when I said earlier that something was hunting the humans in London? Well, it just found me and I think—.
Quite different from everything I usually do. I don't know why, but I really like writing morbid stuff... .
This was influenced by AHM (All Hail Megatron).