PROLOGUE
I have always feared the past, the stories of man and machine fighting to the death, nothing to gain or lose from the outcome of their bloodlust. "They were just stories," my grandmother would tell me, stories that mimicked what once was of our history books, our timelines, and our documents that gave every description of what we were and never will be again. But now all those things were gone too. The books were burned by the religious factions, the aspiring government leaders, and those with their hearts shattered, not wanting to cry anymore or mourn for something that they once had. No one seemed to care for the past any longer. The search for ancient scripts became more like a hobby to any wandering philosopher trying to decipher the world. It was no longer a necessity. The beginning of humanity was now, as it seemed and it felt that way too. Cities sprawled about the lands, ruined by ancient wars. Trees lay on their sides, scorched by demonic weaponry. Soil was hardened, grained like needles that pierced your skin during a strong wind. Everything was barren and even the falling tears of millions couldn't bring life back to the earth. There was one place, though, that was different from any other. This place always seemed to call out to the world, answering all of life's mysteries. I felt at home here, at peace with myself, knowing that somehow it was all connected with how the world was today. At the same time I feared this place, for it smelled of death, however coming here was the only way to survive. I could have been a farmer, growing the Sand Weed to feed to herder's cattle. I could have been a blacksmith, crafting the finest weapons with my hammer. Or I could have been a merchant, like my father, selling the finest wools to those in need of clothing. But no, I was neither, nor did I want to be. This was my life, where riches were promised to those still left alive at the end of perilous journeys. It was never the adventure I wanted, just the money, enough to bring home so that I could feed for another day. And perhaps, maybe it was also because I felt the most comfortable doing it.
The Junk Hive was quieter than usual today. I walked along the edge of the digging site as my team dug mercilessly. Being point guard was never safe, but I was always told I was the best shot among us all.
"Zino! What's our status?" Captain Cornin called out to me.
He was a large man, maybe in his forties, standing tall below me with a roaring voice. He wore all sorts of drabs to hide his stocky exterior and what more, his guns. Rugged and dirty from head to toe, you wouldn't think him much of a leader, but his brain always ticked and his voice always boomed for attention. He was more than the man standing before you.
"All clear, sir!" I called back down to him, barely turning my head so that I could keep my eyes to the distance.
He ran up the steep incline, his leather boots clanking along as they crunched metal and alloy. The winds picked up, blowing his garments opposite of his body, exposing his black stained metallic armor.
"I want you to scout up ahead. Vazer will secure this point. I just want to make sure we aren't being spied on. You know how those Scavis can be sometimes.sneaky bastards." He told me with his hoarse voice.
I bowed my head, understanding my order and ran off from his sight. My plasma rifle slung around my shoulder, the butt of the gun beating fiercely at my side as I sprinted behind walls, rocks, and anything else to seclude me from the enemies view. The Junk Hive was a grave yard of metal, rock, and human bones. Each turn turned into a maze, forever winding. Beyond these catacombs, towering spikes surrounded the entirety of the Hive like distant mountains, once able to touch the heavens, but no more. The dangers were not just of our competitors either, but also of the natural and super natural. Winds blew at unimaginable speeds during the night, causing metal and rock to shower all those unsheltered. After the storms cleared all that would be left would be scattered parts of a corpse. Lightning storms caused horrible damage to our equipment, leaving our weapons and satellites down for hours, making us defenseless. Then there was the super natural, the worst of all the dangers the Hive had to offer. Stories of "GhostBots' were heard throughout the towns. Pieces of metal would rise from their graves fully constructed, bearing monstrosities of weapons able to kill whole squads with one blow. Thankfully I had never seen one in all my travels, but the stories haunted me nonetheless.
I crept along, my leather boots creaking and gnawing on the metal scraps below me. The sound of nothingness was still prevalent. Even the winds no longer howled. For a few short seconds, time ceased to exist. It was then that I heard it wisp by, a busy bee hurrying forward to find a crop of pollen. This was no ordinary bee, however. I caught only a glance, but sure enough I knew what it was.
A Scavi Detector.
Detectors were small flying orbs able to go at high speeds, but they were still slow enough to be caught by the human eye. Anything they detected, non robotic or non creator they would instantly send back a transmission to their home base, allowing for some unwelcome guests.
I wasn't about to let that happen.
I ran, beating my legs as fast as they could go, punching in codes into my transmitter, hoping that my Captain would hear the distress call before it was too late. I needed to nab this thing before it reached our home point. I had to take it down. Readying my pulse rifle I aimed to the sky, trying to catch glimpse of the tiny orb. I followed the buzzing sounds as I aimed, charging the rifle to full. Even if I didn't get a direct shot, the power of the rifle would spread enough to knock the thing to the ground. Junk and rocks became more and more of an obstacle as I ran through the thick of the catacombs. I couldn't waste this shot clearing my path, though. The time was now. I leapt off of one of the walls to my right and grabbed hold of a towering iron poll. The poll groaned as my weight suppressed it down, churning it towards the ground. Before it sent me with it to the depths below I flipped up, landing my feet on the slender rod and slid forward, my hands still steady and my aim still high. The Detector still whistled forward, but with a quick pull of the trigger I silenced it forevermore. The plasma burst from my rifle, colliding into the orb with a thunderous crack, shattering the tiny menace into a hundred pieces.
If my distress signal didn't reach my Captain than that certainly did. But the double edged sword shown brightly this day, for our enemies saw it too. I rushed to my team, hoping they were readying for departure.
When I got there, sure enough the Rollers were ready to go and my team was all packed up.
"Zino, get your ass over here right now! We've got company!" Captain Cornin boomed at me.
I didn't hesitate to listen as I dashed towards the Roller, leaping into one of the passenger seats. The heavy vehicle whirled itself around at an almost impossible speed with Vazer at the wheel. He was always a good driver, but seemed to excel at it at the moment of danger. The rest of the team piled in the back, clutching their guns as the car bashed into the ruin walls, scattering debris everywhere. I held on tight, hoping Vazer's driving wouldn't kill us before the Scavis did. I would rather die on a battle field than in the hands of reckless panic.
"Damnit Vazer, slow down! You're gonna' get us killed!" screamed Gyro from the back.
"The hell I won't till we get out of their sights!" Vazer replied without looking back.
I smiled. Vazer never was the one to ever listen. Ever since we were kids he would always --- suddenly the rear of the Roller was struck hard. I grabbed hold of one of the safety bars above the door. As I reached up I had the urge to look outside. With a quick motion I stuck my head out of the entryway.
A twenty four inch claw nearly missed my skull as it scraped the sides of the Roller.
Scavi Riders. The Zeron Cult was known for their Scavenger Squads. Red Robed and without mercy these humans would ride upon two legged, eight foot tall monstrosities. Guns weren't used by these fierce warriors. All they needed was the speed and deathly, sharp claws of their Metallic Lizoids, which could tear any human in half with a simple flick of the wrist.
They were head butting the rear of the Roller, trying to tip it on its side.
Captain Cornin rang his orders, "You pansies, get your asses out from back there and send those bastards back to the scrap heaps!"
All at once the team jumped from their seats, sending plasma towards the oncoming riders. I joined them without hesitation. My rifle echoed along with the others, sending a few riders to their backs, leaving their steeds helpless and confused.
"Aim for the legs!" Gyro cried.
"I'm having Lizoid legs tonight!" a voice from the side screamed. I couldn't point out which of my team it was.
I aimed for the knees of one of the Zoids, knocking its leg off. It sprawled to the ground as its rider flew through the air, hitting the top side of the Roller. There must have been at least twelve surrounding the vehicle. Their speed was unmatched, but it seemed as though they were holding back for some reason. I couldn't understand why they hadn't torn the Roller in half by now.
I shot another, crippling it. It fell to the ground and split in half, exploding violently. The rider burst into flames, lifting his hands to the sky before collapsing to his death. Suddenly, the riders stopped advancing and turned around. The men cheered for this glorious victory, but I stayed silent, shocked by what I just saw. I knew we should have been dead. There was no questioning it, but the morale of the men was so high there didn't seem a reason to bring it up. I simply sat back down in my seat and unfastened my rifle as we passed through the edge of the Hive, contemplating why I was still alive, trying not to cry.
I have always feared the past, the stories of man and machine fighting to the death, nothing to gain or lose from the outcome of their bloodlust. "They were just stories," my grandmother would tell me, stories that mimicked what once was of our history books, our timelines, and our documents that gave every description of what we were and never will be again. But now all those things were gone too. The books were burned by the religious factions, the aspiring government leaders, and those with their hearts shattered, not wanting to cry anymore or mourn for something that they once had. No one seemed to care for the past any longer. The search for ancient scripts became more like a hobby to any wandering philosopher trying to decipher the world. It was no longer a necessity. The beginning of humanity was now, as it seemed and it felt that way too. Cities sprawled about the lands, ruined by ancient wars. Trees lay on their sides, scorched by demonic weaponry. Soil was hardened, grained like needles that pierced your skin during a strong wind. Everything was barren and even the falling tears of millions couldn't bring life back to the earth. There was one place, though, that was different from any other. This place always seemed to call out to the world, answering all of life's mysteries. I felt at home here, at peace with myself, knowing that somehow it was all connected with how the world was today. At the same time I feared this place, for it smelled of death, however coming here was the only way to survive. I could have been a farmer, growing the Sand Weed to feed to herder's cattle. I could have been a blacksmith, crafting the finest weapons with my hammer. Or I could have been a merchant, like my father, selling the finest wools to those in need of clothing. But no, I was neither, nor did I want to be. This was my life, where riches were promised to those still left alive at the end of perilous journeys. It was never the adventure I wanted, just the money, enough to bring home so that I could feed for another day. And perhaps, maybe it was also because I felt the most comfortable doing it.
The Junk Hive was quieter than usual today. I walked along the edge of the digging site as my team dug mercilessly. Being point guard was never safe, but I was always told I was the best shot among us all.
"Zino! What's our status?" Captain Cornin called out to me.
He was a large man, maybe in his forties, standing tall below me with a roaring voice. He wore all sorts of drabs to hide his stocky exterior and what more, his guns. Rugged and dirty from head to toe, you wouldn't think him much of a leader, but his brain always ticked and his voice always boomed for attention. He was more than the man standing before you.
"All clear, sir!" I called back down to him, barely turning my head so that I could keep my eyes to the distance.
He ran up the steep incline, his leather boots clanking along as they crunched metal and alloy. The winds picked up, blowing his garments opposite of his body, exposing his black stained metallic armor.
"I want you to scout up ahead. Vazer will secure this point. I just want to make sure we aren't being spied on. You know how those Scavis can be sometimes.sneaky bastards." He told me with his hoarse voice.
I bowed my head, understanding my order and ran off from his sight. My plasma rifle slung around my shoulder, the butt of the gun beating fiercely at my side as I sprinted behind walls, rocks, and anything else to seclude me from the enemies view. The Junk Hive was a grave yard of metal, rock, and human bones. Each turn turned into a maze, forever winding. Beyond these catacombs, towering spikes surrounded the entirety of the Hive like distant mountains, once able to touch the heavens, but no more. The dangers were not just of our competitors either, but also of the natural and super natural. Winds blew at unimaginable speeds during the night, causing metal and rock to shower all those unsheltered. After the storms cleared all that would be left would be scattered parts of a corpse. Lightning storms caused horrible damage to our equipment, leaving our weapons and satellites down for hours, making us defenseless. Then there was the super natural, the worst of all the dangers the Hive had to offer. Stories of "GhostBots' were heard throughout the towns. Pieces of metal would rise from their graves fully constructed, bearing monstrosities of weapons able to kill whole squads with one blow. Thankfully I had never seen one in all my travels, but the stories haunted me nonetheless.
I crept along, my leather boots creaking and gnawing on the metal scraps below me. The sound of nothingness was still prevalent. Even the winds no longer howled. For a few short seconds, time ceased to exist. It was then that I heard it wisp by, a busy bee hurrying forward to find a crop of pollen. This was no ordinary bee, however. I caught only a glance, but sure enough I knew what it was.
A Scavi Detector.
Detectors were small flying orbs able to go at high speeds, but they were still slow enough to be caught by the human eye. Anything they detected, non robotic or non creator they would instantly send back a transmission to their home base, allowing for some unwelcome guests.
I wasn't about to let that happen.
I ran, beating my legs as fast as they could go, punching in codes into my transmitter, hoping that my Captain would hear the distress call before it was too late. I needed to nab this thing before it reached our home point. I had to take it down. Readying my pulse rifle I aimed to the sky, trying to catch glimpse of the tiny orb. I followed the buzzing sounds as I aimed, charging the rifle to full. Even if I didn't get a direct shot, the power of the rifle would spread enough to knock the thing to the ground. Junk and rocks became more and more of an obstacle as I ran through the thick of the catacombs. I couldn't waste this shot clearing my path, though. The time was now. I leapt off of one of the walls to my right and grabbed hold of a towering iron poll. The poll groaned as my weight suppressed it down, churning it towards the ground. Before it sent me with it to the depths below I flipped up, landing my feet on the slender rod and slid forward, my hands still steady and my aim still high. The Detector still whistled forward, but with a quick pull of the trigger I silenced it forevermore. The plasma burst from my rifle, colliding into the orb with a thunderous crack, shattering the tiny menace into a hundred pieces.
If my distress signal didn't reach my Captain than that certainly did. But the double edged sword shown brightly this day, for our enemies saw it too. I rushed to my team, hoping they were readying for departure.
When I got there, sure enough the Rollers were ready to go and my team was all packed up.
"Zino, get your ass over here right now! We've got company!" Captain Cornin boomed at me.
I didn't hesitate to listen as I dashed towards the Roller, leaping into one of the passenger seats. The heavy vehicle whirled itself around at an almost impossible speed with Vazer at the wheel. He was always a good driver, but seemed to excel at it at the moment of danger. The rest of the team piled in the back, clutching their guns as the car bashed into the ruin walls, scattering debris everywhere. I held on tight, hoping Vazer's driving wouldn't kill us before the Scavis did. I would rather die on a battle field than in the hands of reckless panic.
"Damnit Vazer, slow down! You're gonna' get us killed!" screamed Gyro from the back.
"The hell I won't till we get out of their sights!" Vazer replied without looking back.
I smiled. Vazer never was the one to ever listen. Ever since we were kids he would always --- suddenly the rear of the Roller was struck hard. I grabbed hold of one of the safety bars above the door. As I reached up I had the urge to look outside. With a quick motion I stuck my head out of the entryway.
A twenty four inch claw nearly missed my skull as it scraped the sides of the Roller.
Scavi Riders. The Zeron Cult was known for their Scavenger Squads. Red Robed and without mercy these humans would ride upon two legged, eight foot tall monstrosities. Guns weren't used by these fierce warriors. All they needed was the speed and deathly, sharp claws of their Metallic Lizoids, which could tear any human in half with a simple flick of the wrist.
They were head butting the rear of the Roller, trying to tip it on its side.
Captain Cornin rang his orders, "You pansies, get your asses out from back there and send those bastards back to the scrap heaps!"
All at once the team jumped from their seats, sending plasma towards the oncoming riders. I joined them without hesitation. My rifle echoed along with the others, sending a few riders to their backs, leaving their steeds helpless and confused.
"Aim for the legs!" Gyro cried.
"I'm having Lizoid legs tonight!" a voice from the side screamed. I couldn't point out which of my team it was.
I aimed for the knees of one of the Zoids, knocking its leg off. It sprawled to the ground as its rider flew through the air, hitting the top side of the Roller. There must have been at least twelve surrounding the vehicle. Their speed was unmatched, but it seemed as though they were holding back for some reason. I couldn't understand why they hadn't torn the Roller in half by now.
I shot another, crippling it. It fell to the ground and split in half, exploding violently. The rider burst into flames, lifting his hands to the sky before collapsing to his death. Suddenly, the riders stopped advancing and turned around. The men cheered for this glorious victory, but I stayed silent, shocked by what I just saw. I knew we should have been dead. There was no questioning it, but the morale of the men was so high there didn't seem a reason to bring it up. I simply sat back down in my seat and unfastened my rifle as we passed through the edge of the Hive, contemplating why I was still alive, trying not to cry.