Officer Stanton and the Deputy stood to attention with the General of the Army in tow. The General was a diminutive fellow, with an elongated soul patch, high cheekbones and an unnatural lippy grin.

Countless columns of military convoy vehicles droned as they drove along the dusty road towards the distant yet near skyline of Christchurch. The chain of heavy weaponry trundling down this country road caused the ground to vibrate strongly.

There had been a global response after the army was called in. It had taken two days to evacuate the entire city - and today everyone was certain that the Machine would be arriving.

Countries from across the Pacific seaboard had sent aid in the form of platoons, guns, tanks and other weapons.

Even the US had decided to send several navy corvettes and an aircraft carrier to patrol the strait between the Northern and Southern islands.

Dust was kicked up from the treads of 4 chinese tanks and an artillery vehicle, their unstoppable force endledsly rolling ahead to the city.

"I sure am glad you had such initiative to call for aid, Deputy." Smiled the General.

"My pleasure." Replied the Deputy, in a brighter mood now that he had the combined help of 8 nations to cover his ass..

Stanton's face twitched but he bit his tongue in front of the highly esteemed New Zealand General.

A tall man dressed in snappy military uniform sauntered toward them from a group of tents flapping in the wind. He donned several badges of honour, and wore dark aviators while smoking two cigars simultaneously.

Commander Brent Dirt from the US army.

"Hi there kids," He was loud, and his burly arms grabbed everyone into a huddle, "I've been told you boys are having a robot problem?"

"Yes sir, we've evacuated the city and anticipating the machine's arrival." Stanton informed the Amercian, feeling rather cramped as a badge congratulating the Commander's cooking skills dug into his forehead.

"Just a good job I was able to notify you guys in time." Piped in the Deputy, smiling dopily. Stanton glared darkly and the Deputy's stupid smile faltered a little.

"Of course, we asked the prime minister for permission to level Christchurch - he didn't have to be such a prude about it."

"How so, sir?" Asked the General despite being a higher rank than Commander Brent.

"Well," ploughed on the Commander, "the States have so many nukes lying around it'd be a shame to not take the opportunity to test a few out right?"

The General's face drained of what little colour it had and he whimpered like a scared cat.

"So now we have to carry out this booooriiing trap plan.. So we'll have humvee teams search for the Machine in the empty city, then lead it towards the town square where we'll pummel it with our tanks! Hoorah!!"

The other men present couldn't resist joining in the enthusiastic "hoorah", not realising the Commander was already walking away confidently.

"Not a very deep or well thought out plan." Commented Stanton.

"Better than obliterating the entire city with atomic bombs." Said the General feverishly, "anyway, we can stay out here in the refugee camp. Should get ongoing coverage of the mission too."

Stanton and the Deputy nodded.

.

.

V1 stepped foot into the city of Christchurch. The streets were eerily silent, despite the sunny weather in which humans often left their homes to be in.

It moved slowly, trying to detect any signs of life be that through windows, creaking doors, sounds of chatter or footsteps. But there were no signs of humans at all. Not one.

So simply V1 decided to press onwards, in no particular direction other than north, the sound of the wind whistling and crows shouting echoed about it, accompanying its last leg of murderous travel.

In the distance, dim sounds of motor engines roared. V1 did not concern itself immediately with these sounds, however the engine within itself was always drawing on its reserves of blood. It would need to find more sources of fresh fuel soon...

What eventually caught it's attention as it stalked the streets was the sound of one motor engine getting louder - coming closer. V1 dashed forward, towards an intersection when it was intercepted by what's known as a humvee.

There were several human soldiers riding the humvee, and V1's blood fuelled engine roared hungrily.

There was a cry of alarm from one of the passengers who no doubt had seen V1 flying towards them from the air before the vehicle spun around screeching and shot away down the street towards the city's centre. V1 followed high on the trail, bouncing between buildings, building momentum and catching up with the humvee.

Eventually it did - landing right im front of it.

The driver, seeing an opportunity to score damage decided to step on the gas. A big mistake.

V1 stood its ground against the speeding military vehicle.

The gears clicked laboriously within its shoulder, as it wound its left arm up.

The humvee accelerated further, moving at least 75 miles per hour at this point.

You'd think a military vehicle reaching such a speed would clear anything in its path. However to the horror of everyone on board, just as it would have collided with the machine, its left arm flashed and punched the grille of the humvee at lightning speed - parrying the oncoming vehicle altogether.

After the resulting explosion, the humvee was crushed - sent flying down the street in a flaming wreck.

V1 raced towards it eagerly.

.

.

..

Meanwhile..

V2 bowed politely to the pale, shaking fisherman before pointing across the sea towards the vague shape of landscape on the other side of the blue strait. The Sea sparkled in the descending sun, a beautiful golden glow dancing across those peacful waters.

The fisherman nodded rapidly, ushering the machine onto the boat with an unsure look in his eyes - unsure as to wether V2 was painted red, or painted with blood.

V2 took up a seat at the side of the vessel, just outside the helmsman's cabin, which the poor old fisherman was eager to rush into.

The machine kicked up its feet and rested its arms behind its head, staring out at the endless open seas to the west.