Fishing, as it turns out, is as uneventful and calming as it was all these hundred years ago. As minute went by after minute, the steady bobbing of the floater nigh lulled me to sleep before the faint twitch of my rod alerted me to something. My whole body jerks a little upwards involuntarily, the thrilling feeling cascading from top to toes as I cut with my both arms in an upwards ark sharply.
The rod bends as I encounter fierce resistance, such fierce in fact that I have to stand up and bend my knees to avoid being dragged head first into the unwelcome waters below. Whatever it is on the end of that line -it is strong... Yet not strong enough. Step by step and crank by crank the line is dragged back, and with it- my prize. At a first glance it looks like a... carp? I spend a second marvelling at the glimmering rust-tinged scales and it thrashes, almost getting away.
-Ah , you!
I grab it by its tail and violently thwack its head against the concrete, then again and again until it stills in my hands, its eyes lidded with blood and head slightly dented. "If someone were to look at me right now they would probably think I am unhinged." I think to myself, teeth bare in primal satisfaction. Now, it would be nice to fish here for some more, although... I do not know if I can afford it right now.
Taking out a dedicated container I put the fish in there, closing the lid carefully. Taking a sideways glance I sigh in exasperation, already having spotted machines creeping up the farther visible part of the concrete river ramp. I have to give ground or fight... Considering I have my munitions reloaded I might as well give it a shot. Something tells me I would need G's aplenty. Might as well scavenge some parts while there are only three of them. I hesitate a little, having decided to take a good look at them before I engage.
They are approximately two hundred meters from me, currently carefully going down the ramp, hand in ugly hand. Something... completely uncharacteristic of what was supposed to be and artificial lifeform bent on total destruction. Yet here they are, trying their best to climb down to the water below, their oily palms clasped together. Such a simple gesture, yet... my heart is aflame with rage. "How dare they mimic us". Childlike innocence does not belong within their hollowed, metal husks, plain and simple. That seals the deal for me, as I cannot allow them to take what is ours, even if it a simple gimmick like that.
At around a hundred meters I slow to a crouch, my luggage sans my batteries and wrench temporarily set aside on the slope. I made sure to stuff them into a large dent on the ramp's surface -they are not going anywhere. I do not know what spurs me to approach these things without hesitance, be it my rage or the fact that I have survived encounters with worse odds.
They spot me when I am within the killing distance. My pistol's effective range is 50 meters and lower, and they are currently halfway to the river. My smirk is nothing but malicious as I target the head of the biped that is currently at the top of the machine chain, trying to balance himself and hold onto his stubby comrade at the same time. A quiet and brief, almost indistinguishable hum could be heard as the shot powers up in a microsecond and connects in a bright orange flash.
The machine tilts its head and grates out something incomprehensible from this distance and picks up its pace, the fake gesture of amity briefly forgotten- it lets go of the stubby's palm , yet the latter is stable enough to not tumble into the waters below and hold onto its comrade further down, also a stubby. My second shot connects as well, hitting a vital ocular component and rattling its spherical dome with a beautiful grey puff of a microexplosion of circuitry. At this point they are coming towards me, each at their own pace. I backpedal a meter or two, then fire again, missing both of my shots. "Shooting on the move is NOT a great idea." I think to myself as I see them close the distance rapidly. Thankfully, the stubbies are slower than their bipedal sibling, so after a reload I take a careful aim at him again.
"That is a third of my ammunition gone, I have to stop moving and take time aiming... No matter how intimidating they look."
The hase of rage lifted, cooling my head with fear. By the time I reload and raise my weapon the biped has nearly closed the distance. The following two shots better hit or I risk having to turn my back on these bastards and temporarily abandon my catch.
The battle for a fish in full swing as I steady my feet and take a stance not unlike one on the shooting range and scorch the biped with two consecutive hits. It loses control, head exploding, raining metal shrapnel and bits of wires a short distance around itself, then, to my immediate regret, rolls downhill into the river. It has not yet reached the waters below as I have to open fire again, with two shorter machines nigh within a swinging distance. I turn on my heels and scatter parallel to the river, rapidly gaining ground on my less mobile enemies, then take a careful aim at the one to the right. Low on ammo as I am, I cannot afford not using head shots.
A loud splash somewhere down the slope signifies the regrettable loss of valuable components. I cringe inwardly at such waste, yet my aim does not falter as two shots evaporate a sizeable portion of the rightmost enemy's head. It barely functions at this point, stumbling and barely finding its footing on the treacherous terrain, yet its comrade continues forth, undeterred. Regrettably for it, I have a pair of functioning, bending legs, therefore nothing stops me skittering away like a naughty child and pepper it from a distance with my last battery.
It only takes me two shots to explode its head and send it careening, disturbing the fishes with a big splash. It takes a dive, and so does my mood- I can kiss those components goodbye, too.
"I cannot afford losing the last one. That means..."
I sigh wearily, holstering my pistol and pulling out a wrench. I have to let it get out of the halfpipe ravine and then take it on in close combat to possibly scavenge it. I have two shots left just in case I fail to kill it, which is a likely probability. Even with is head scorched and partially melted, it could still break my chest cavity with one swing. "Ugh, what lack of ammo does to a mother..."
We move upwards, one after another. I could hear it clutter and stutter behind me grotesquely, making me involuntarily pick up the pace. I reach the slope and take a few steps back, allowing it to pull itself over the slope's curb. It pushes itself upwards, both arms straining to get its disproportional body over the last obstacle between itself and the enemy. A prime opportunity.
Closing the distance between us with a step, I let the heft of the wrench go behind my back and square off, then swing forward with all my might. I hear the satisfying sound of the air being parted with something heavy, then one sounding as if I had struck a stack of pots. My arms dull as wrench meets steel and the impact force resonates into my hands. Oh, that hurt me, probably. The machine's worse off though. With a whine of servos it slumps and falls face first.
-Phew.
I let out a slow breath, resting my weapon at the fallen Machine's side, using its warm hull as a cushion. I take a glance downwards, noting the absence of other two enemies. Probably taken by the river. "Along with my reward and any chance to scan them for kill confirmation. Fuck!" On the other hand, it seems like I have finally gotten the hang of my weapon - I nailed somewhere around six headshots in this battle, as well as have hit the target more times than I missed it. A marginal improvement to how my fights have gone so far.
I prop my chin with my wrist as I scan my surroundings for more targets, my gase shifting to a more melancholical one as it appears that none are in the immediate vicinity. I pop out the half-depleted battery out and take a look at it, then sigh yet again. Half the fun of a fight won is immediately gone after one realizes they have to recharge all the shit they fired. Now, the first few hundred swings may have been exciting, but if I have to take an hour and a half to reload each battery all the time I will get nothing done.
I have to diversify my arsenal. A wrench is a solid addition, as well as a shovel. I need to keep stacking the deck in my favour in order to survive. "Probably find an android butler to crank all the batteries for me. Hopefully once I have scavenged enough I would not need to waste hours after combat to reload them all." Now, having virtually infinite ammunition is great, what is not great is that my arms are tired all the time. I probably need to look into this.
A brief break concluded I hop off the freshly slain enemy and begin to wander in its insides with my trusty screwdriver. My reward for fifteen minutes of careful scavenging? A single code 15. My disappoint is immeasurable. On the bright side, 12 parts I have identified as "G" are now in one of my pouches. If only I knew some prices in that Resistance Camp place I would know when to stop risking my life against these bastards. No reason in delaying the obvious though, I engaged these Machines, I now have to recharge. "Here comes the boring part..."
Crank...
Crank...
Crank...
It takes little time to gather my meager belongings and scramble upwards the giant halfpipe-like slope that makes this river's bed. The little dents and inconspicuous holes make it not as challenging as it might seem, and so I ascend, my pistol hefted at the ready and fish container in the other. Whatever is the stand-in VI for the bunker nowadays is going to have a field day analyzing this.
"Maybe they will give me something special in exchange. Before they turned me into a tuna I heard that surveyors and biologists would be paid well."
I walk the ruined precipice like an armed businessman, always on the vigil for anything that moves. It is, frankly, quite taxing to be constantly vigilant. It grates on your nerves, makes you see things that are not there, cause your finger to drift towards the trigger all the time. Thankfully, no Machine crosses my path (and I am not stupid enough to find more trouble) this time and I make it safely.
A few more minutes and yet another ride downstairs, as well as all procedures necessary, I stand before the interface panel at the Comms. Upon my entrance I unpack my freshly-caught fish and put it in the Interaction Port. Not just by flopping it right on the panel- that would make the buttons greasy. Upon my approach an even larger section around the port itself extends forward, providing a convenient socket for the container I carried on my person.
[Your input in wildlife fauna is appreciated, Vanguard. It will take a small amount of time to process the gathered data. Once you provide us with four more samples you will receive a reward.]
Now, it is fun and all, but in my opinion my virtual friend is being too stingy with supplies. "Perhaps I could bargain a bit..."
-For the record, VI: I can barely fulfill those parameters without having reliable supporting elements. Considering the urgency of my task and the fact that bunker's integrity had been compromised, I would be in a much better position to help were I to have an SGS-configuration drone. Lend one to me in good faith and it will make my mission much easier.
A long, tense pause follows as I stare at the monitor. Having a Scanner-Gunner-Scout by my side would increase the odds of every activity I would partake in. The thing is essentially a small brick with a hover and an integrated camera-sensor, powered by two medium batteries, one of which it uses to power its microengines and software, and the other is dedicated to scanning and gunning. If I were handed an assist visor it could highlight the target for me, aligning my pistol with the target, as well as scan any miscellaneous items I may find.
Beyond the whirring in whatever internal circuitry and mechanism the mainframe is comprised of I glimpse nothing. Then, it speaks again:
[Granted. Equipment construction in process. Collect your equipment in Armory in 20 minutes.]
This is nothing short of a breakthrough. With a drone by my side, I may finally concentrate on the tasks set ahead of me. "I might actually fish without turning my head left right and backwards 180 degrees, every ten bloody seconds." They will only take 20 minutes to construct the thing as well, that means shower, meal and some sleep. To be frank with myself I would rather take a nap and unpack the goodies later. Tomorrow and the day onwards will be the time I give my new toy a spin. Considering I run into these rusted abominations every time I want to go anywhere I am confident I will have to fight for my life again. "What a riot."
The melodic waves of morning alarms snap my eyes open the next day. I went about my usual routine, except this time my mood is a bit livelier- the fish that has, apparently, been analyzed and therefore served its purpose was being served literally - on my plate, synthesized vegetables and all. Salivating. Despite our best attempts at making bunker food less deliberately miserable and more desirable, the taste of real fish brings a quet tear out of my eye, as well as an urge to go to the Pipe River again despite having decided to scavenge in the Car Graveyard that Jackass's team has shown me.
I settle down in the Armory with a notepad and a pencil to make notes about the amount of parts I collected. The answer was...Not bloody enough at all.
"If I were to dedicate myself to longer journeys in a limited window of time, sitting on my ass cranking back spent batteries will close the window during which the Machines will inevitably repopulate the place and I would have to fight another of their patrols without having progressed at all. I have...I have to get into fights deliberately and avoid hitting the enemy machines in the head if I am to scavenge the most valuable parts to exchange them for batteries. On the other hand, taking them out with headshots will be a safe but more tedious option. I do not yet have ammo to slam shots into their most bulky parts. Melee with more than one of them is practically a suicide..."
Slow and steady it is. With a sarcastic chuckle I open my locker to collect the SGS unit and put it in my backpack after connecting it to the PDA on my wrist. I will deploy it sparingly, because GUESS WHAT, it also runs on batteries. Granted I could turn it off and pluck the batteries from it in a desperate situation, but I would rather have a second set of "eyes" on the scene, as well as another gun. Its shots are less powerful yet take much less from its battery, giving it staying power and... the annoyance factor. Rather have them chase it than myself.
Gear ready and last checkup done I take a ride on The Elevator of Dullness into the great scary Aboveground. A cautious peek outside once again reveals that nobody still gives a wet fart about this place and is not planning devious ambushes on my ass any time soon. Their loss, frankly. Pistol at the ready and eyes habitually glued to every suspicious outline I embark on my journey to dig into century-old garbage and fight century-old foe for bare necessities.
"Fuck my life. Well, on the other hand I could have been turned into salt or died in a last stand somewhere. In my humble opinion, being terrified means having a sense of tanger, or so I thi... Are those Machines?"
Indeed, a patrol of two stubbies and a biped. Standard for these parts it seems, it is not the first time I am seeing this type of Machine platoon configuration.
They have not spotted me yet, therefore I decide to hide myself on a second floor of a destroyed apartment block. Would give me a vantage point against them as they pass my position, as well as a chance to haul ass if they overrun me - I am sturdy enough to jump from the second floor and not break an ankle. As an another precaution I unpack my little drone and set it to overwatch-retreat mode at the staircase leading to the room I am at.
The moment of truth comes in a few minutes- I let them past me and put my pistol to work to the biped's head. The bright orange beam immediately gives away my position, the metal uglies swerving on the spot and homing their little angry eyeballs on my half-prone form peeking at them over the ruins of a wall. I hit my target hard, however, as a small explosion sets the biped's head circuitry ablaze, sparks picked up and carried by the blowing wind as something in its form goes rigid and stiff.
It moves towards the set of stares as if it barely has power to control itself, limbs carrying it towards the target with deceptive laziness. It is that surprising slowness that makes me lead it too hard and whiff my attempt to ruin its jar of a head and it passes trough the doorframe, covered from my fire. Its bipedal friends move after it swiftly, yet not swift enough to avoid my vengeful fire. I spray the two visible enemies with a shot each, barely scoring a glancing blow on both of them.
I do not waste time on a profanity as I back myself against the concrete barrier of the wall. I have time to reload and train my pistol on the doorway when something comes rushing in. I suppress a knee-jerk reaction to heat it up like an oven as I recognise that it is too small to be an enemy and just the size of a drone gliding backwards into the room, its tiny weapon port ablaze with laser fire. It scurries backwards and left, directly over the railing and out into the street below, three pursuers on its tail.
They almost dash after it and off the second floor when the lead notices me and points its metal pole of an arm at me and grinds out a noise. Enough of a que for me to unload into its metal dome and make its head fume. It goes immediately limp and falls right in the doorway making it way harder for the other machines behind it to traverse its corpse and get to me.
My position secure from their rush for a few seconds more, I give in to my urges to add to my body count and unload the rest of the battery into one of the biped as it pushes onwards in a frenzied attempt to get through the now cramped doorway. Its haste proves to be its undoing as I take my time to align my pistol with its bowling ball of a head and melt holes in it with two consecutive shots. It falls onto its dead comrade in a tangle of metal limbs, completely obstructing the doorway. The last remaining foe gives the improvised barricade a few rough shoves, yet is quickly persuaded to rush after my drone after it finally hovers into a position behind him and scores two cheeky shots at the back of its round head.
"This is certainly lighter on the load with a metal bud of my own..."
Passes through my head as I reload for the last time and prop my gun onto the crumbly concrete, aiming for the head of the Machine chasing my annoying metal hover around the pavement. Pop after pop I peel its head like an orange with three consecutive shots and it finally breaks down, splayed upon the dull grey of the road below. I am vivid with glee upon the sight. No sweat, no frantic melee to preserve ammunition - I have popped all three of them with one shot remaining and barely worked up a sweat.
"It is definitely better to have a battle buddy. How have I not thought of requesting one sooner?" I think to myself as I sit down in the corner's welcoming shade - the sun is certainly persistent today in its desire to fry my head inside its helmet. With the only traversable exit piled up like that I am as safe here as beyond a reinforced door. "Might as well make myself comfortable and replenish my ammunition reserves before I make it to the Car Scavenge Bonanza..."
In an hour's time I am back on my feet, with my back a little straighter and my pouch 11 G heavier. Four freshly-plucked Code 15s, as well as three Code 17s parts have also been added to the little toolbox I now carry in my backpack. A rich haul, to be put parallel to my previous ones. Expected, even, when you are not throwing explosives and swinging wrenches around, more of these delicate components are preserved.
"I could definitely get used to this new development. After I am done earning myself additional ammo, perhaps I may sniff a way into that Resistance camp the androids were talking about."
The thought of being surrounded by more of Jackass's people is intimidating. Despite obviously having developed sensors they have not sussed out my true nature. Perhaps the mere notion of me being more than a human facsimile is highly improbable to them. "Or they refuse to believe." That implies development of critical thought and such trait as doubt. To expect such thing from an artificial life form is a novelty, yet a novelty I must account for. My alibi is holding up for now, but how long will it last and what will they do to me if they find out? I suppose I will know the truth eventually. I do not delude myself into thinking that I may fool them for long.
Closer to both of my goals, I venture forward. It is yet a long way to my destination, but, despite new weight added to my supplies, my steps are somehow lighter.
Been awhile, hasn't it? I have finally caught my muse by her delightful curves. The work will continue and will not end without an end, ha-ha.
Edit: made the text more readable for people having trouble with it.