Alfred ran as far as he could, legs aching and adrenaline running. He continued to flee, mindlessly, in no particular direction, as long as it wasn't back the way he came. Blonde, ratty hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. It had mixed with the ash and dirt, drying and caking his face completely, and the only clearly seen distinguishable feature of him were his horror-stricken eyes. He had gone miles, rubbing holes completely through his already worn-down work shoes before almost collapsing. He kneeled, hardly able to keep his head up as he paused, gasping for air. Trembling from exhaustion and trauma, he used as much strength as he could to look at his surroundings, seeing a large, abandoned-looking building in the distance.
It was the last thing he saw before exhaustion took held of him completely as he blacked out.
The sun was already setting the next day when he started to wake up, and Alfred felt completely miserable. His muscles were strained beyond what they could handle, and he felt like he could sleep for eternity. His stomach wasn't too pleased, either, as he wasn't used to going on for hours without anything to eat and drink, much less running for his life on an empty stomach. Groggy and sluggish, he half-way lifted himself up to look at his surrounding, not knowing where he was. Then he was attacked by the memories of what had happened the evening prior. He winced at the ambush of memories flooding his mind, the fires, the screaming, propellers whirring in the distance as he and many others ran. He didn't know when or how he got separated, but the next time he wasn't blindly running, he was alone, and he ran again, only to collapse where he was now; in the absolute middle of nowhere.
He remembered the building he saw last night as he fell to catch his breath, and looked around to find it again. Peering around the area, he searched for the large building. When finally seeing it, he paused, only for a moment, and then slowly and painfully started that way.
He looked ahead, slowing to a halt before reaching it, looking at his newly-found sanctuary- an abandoned warehouse. It was hard to see much as dusk drifted to night, but Alfred could tell it was heavily eroded. Its paint was peeling, cracks running up and down, and rust in shanty, dripping lines. The entrance were large, metallic doors, but were boarded up, and a majority of the large windows near the top were either cracked or missing. It wasn't exactly proper lodging, but for a day or so, it'd have to do while Alfred rested.
Alfred slowly walked towards the side of the building seeing a fairly large hole in the wall, rotten boards supposed to be covering it. Cautiously, he went over to it, breaking off the boards and entering the old, dark building quietly.
He looked around the interior of the deserted building, finding it was just as what was expected at first glance at the old structure. Columns held up the tall ceiling, as paint peeled from that to show the rusted metallic inside of the building. Descending from the high windows near the ceiling were shards of glass, scattered across the dusty, concrete floor.
Alfred decided it would be a good enough sanctuary, and decided to rest before the memories returned once more. He shivered violently, gripping at his arms and sleeves, running his hands through his hair before tugging at it. Alfred wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and vomit and kick everything and pound his fists against the walls, but he just couldn't. He couldn't do a damn thing. His muscles wouldn't let him; he was too dehydrated, too exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he was left there to feel empty as his thoughts replayed through his mind. Everyone was dead; his parents, his friends, his brother, all of them. And he couldn't be the hero he always claimed to be. He couldn't save any of them.
Suddenly, something caught his eye, taking away some of the self-pity he was drowning himself in. A corpse-like figure lay motionless against a wall. After examining it from a distance, Alfred crawled slightly closer to the skeletal presence. It seemed his only company was, in fact, a clockwork robot.
Alfred looked at the old automaton with curiosity. Its eyes were dark from its lack of power source, and over those were massive eyebrows, probably meant as a way for the robot to express emotion, as it looked as if it were a serving machine that was used more in general day-to-day life rather that machines used for hard labor. Its rusted-over iron form was lean with the basic form of a man, which might have been able to pass off as one had it been painted, as it looked like it once was by the chipped paint peeling off of its face. The machine even had thin wire mopping the top of his head, a faded rose-copper type metal by the looks of it. Oil had dried and hardened from its mouth and lines of rust went down it in creases where water may have leaked onto it. The abandoned warehouse might have been used to create such automatons in the past for those who could afford it before the wars started. Not that there were many of those people, but those who could afford luxury did indeed get luxury with personal servant that could entertain and were even programmed to hold a conversation and understand emotion and act accordingly.
Alfred had seen many automatons in such desperate shape, as his father was a mechanic and he and his brother both helped out. Matthew knew where each item was supposed to go and how it worked, and Alfred did the heavy lifting and placed everything where Matthew told him to. They worked on smaller projects than their father, only helping out with the blimps and large machinery when he needed the assistance. But those times were gone now.
The bombs had destroyed the city and his family along with it, he knew that. He spent all the time he fled and found sanctuary playing the memories in his head over and over. The screams of his family, friends, and neighbors. How he tried to help them, but to no avail. The war had taken everything from him, and now he was stranded here, alone in an old abandoned warehouse with concrete and bricks and broken glass around him as he sat in front of this lifeless machine.
He missed the company and comfort of his family already. The warmth of hugs his mother gave him, even the scolding's she gave him for not taking anything seriously. The way his father's eyes would crinkle as he bellowed in laughter and clasped his sons' shoulders in pride at a job well done. The constant snark and jabs and teases from his brother as they bickered jokingly back and forth about the most ridiculous of topics.
He missed them. He missed everyone. He needed to talked, to hear someone else's voice return to his. This machine, though, with a key clasped tightly in his human-like palm, might be able to give him that. It might not be a real person but it could certainly give him company of some sort, and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. Alfred looked around the warehouse and saw what he needed; supplies to build and correct, rusted and worn barrels of oil and gas and water. He found the supplies and slowly began to work.
Author's Note
Hello, hello! I've come back with a new story!
..Well, sort of, anyway. I'm recycling a story I made a couple years ago that you might have (probably not) seen on DeviantArt. Now, since that was written when I was about 13 or so, I had a go at rewriting the first part, and I'm planning out a different plot for it instead. I'm hoping for eventual USUK, so we'll get there if I don't forget about this fic like I do so many others (which i am so so very sorry for!)..
Alfred and Arthur has already been introduced to the story, though, I guess we'll have to see how Artie acts next chapter, and we get to see a little tiny bit about how Alfred came to be into his current situation. I wanted to go ahead and get descriptions out of the way first so you don't have to spend the rest of the chapters going through with really boring introductions to everything *cough cough The Hobbit and Homestuck* (fantastic stories, both of them, but really now, introductions get boring after a while, and we all know these characters.), and I'll kinda let it unravel so you can see how everything works in the steampunk world they live in.
Hope this isn't too Mary Sue-ish so far, and I hope to be back with the other Chapters soon! Thank you so much for reading, and please review! Whether it's a critique, a question, pointing out a typo, or just commenting on whether you like it or not, I appreciate all the imput you guys have to say, and take it into total consideration! Hopefully I'll stay on board with this story, though I may take some time, which I will apologize in advance for.