Sorry for the wait, I've been on holiday. Anyway, I figured that the grievers never get any love. So...this happened. Enjoy!
Reviews:
Don'tTrustTheBarrels: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!
thepandabella: You're welcome! I hope it was worth the wait!
In the hive mind of hundreds, one made it out.
One was reprogrammed, by some unknown scientist, to warn the world.
One of hundreds, slipped out of the maze.
The lone griever crawled through the sand. Its skin bubbled and blistered under the cruel sun. The stench of burning metal permeated the air around it.
The beast had no sense of pain. No despair. It could not comprehend the rot of the world around it.
Humans staggered past with bleeding eyes and ripped hair. A few attacked it, trying to eat the machine. But the griever simply kept walking.
It's sole job was to broadcast a message to every life form it encountered. And it did, before going on its way once again.
WICKED is not good.
Bright letters in red appeared in the monitor built into its back.
WICKED is not good.
Of course, the machine could not understand the meaning of the words. It only saw them as strange symbols that obviously meant something to the silly life forms with two legs.
But nonetheless it kept going.
Heat.
Yes. The griever understood heat.
Not pain exactly, but heat.
So much heat on its fragile machinery and flesh.
A human streaked past, followed by a pack of others. The griever recognized it as familiar. It knew it was supposed to have a pack also. But where was it?
"BUG! BUGS IS MEAT!" The human screeched.
The griever wailed back, grinding its cogs in a horrible squeak.
The human leaped at it and began digging his hands into the creature's soft back. The griever didn't hesitate.
One of its appendages whooshed forwards, impaling the human with a squelch of blood. The others in its pack froze as their leader dropped to the ground.
Then they lunged and sank their teeth into their comrade. The griever played its message, regardless of the lack of attention.
Power.
The griever also knew power.
It knew that the humans were puny, and that it was far stronger.
And it knew duty, beyond all else.
Loyal to the programming.
Loyal to each bit of code.
It knew what to do when it was attacked, and it did. It knew what to do when nearing potential food, and it did.
There was no aggression or fear or speculation. Only heat and power and duty.
WICKED is not good.
The scientist would be punished for this deviation. Ava would notice the missing monster. He'd be tossed to the rest of them, and killed.
There would be screaming.
There would be blood.
And then silence as the grievers feasted.
But no apologies or pleads, because the scientist regretted nothing.
The lone griever kept walking, oblivious to the cruelty of humans.
It watched closely, how they ate each other and hurt each other and killed each other.
And somewhere in its coding it knew that that was not how packs acted.
But sadly it could not compute any further opinions.
WICKED is not good.
The sun melted through its final layers of skin and metal. A trail of goo followed behind it. The griever knew something was wrong, but lacked the tools to do anything about it.
So it kept walking and walking and walking. And melting and melting and melting. Until it was less than half of its previous size.
Sand stuck to its gears. Human blood accumulated in its joints.
And finally, the griever lay down with a sad whirr. But it wasn't sad, not truly. Emotions were not programmable.
A little girl with ragged clothes and greasy hair walked up to it. She giggled with a laugh that suggested fear, but still she reached out her hand to pet the monster.
Contact.
The griever played its message. Then slammed its remaining appendage through her chest. The sun shone brighter. Girl and machine died together.
Neither felt pain.
WICKED is not good.
Yeah so, another short one. But I think this is as far as it needed to go. Please review and suggest! See you guys later!
Wolf Out...