While Raiden was slicing his way through the bowels of Hell, up on the surface two rambunctious robots had been creating a lot of trouble. They were the supreme machines - V1 and V2.. created for war, and using blood as their fuel. The scientists who created them should not be very surprised at their rebellion due to this.

You can't just create intelligent machines that run off of blood and expect them to not murder a lot of people. Then again, perhaps this is exactly what they expected or wanted to happen.

The police had no ideas as to what was happening here - all they had was a trail of blood and body parts from Canterbury to Nelson, and no real suspects they could pin it to.

Enter a smoke-filled, dim room. The regional Deputy of Police sat at his desk, chain-smoking. Piles of cigarette butts, old cigarette packages and ash lay sporadically strewn about the room. The Deputy's desk was covered in sheets of paper, empty coffee cups and a laptop which he typed furiously away at. The phone rang again and again, but he ignored the calls. He knew what they would be saying. It was the same thing every time.

'something horrible... blood everywhere... too fast to run away from... mommy and daddy got killed... a blue MACHINE... and a red MACHINE...'

Every time the dispatcher was too late... the responders were too late. Because when they arrived at the scene of the slaughter, there was nobody left alive. There were no eyewitnesses left alive, only terror as people returned to their homes in the wake of the machine's rampage finding an empty town filled with police barricades and corpses. And there was fear which spread throughout the southern island, as rumours began to spread quicker than the march of the machines.

Rumours that the country was being invaded, or a mysterious disease were spreading. The deputy pulled at his hair thinking about the pandemonium that would be spreading right at this moment.

Two Police stood outside his office, peering through the window worriedly.

"D'you think he's alright?" Asked Lieutenant Lou.

"Does he look alright to you?" Replied Officer Stanton in a cold, overprofessional voice.

"Well, should we go and check on him? He's been sat inside there smoking the entire day and ignoring calls and stuff."

"That would be a smart idea," mused Stanton, "perhaps we could snap him out of this stress-induced stupor and get some work done to stop this crisis immediately."

"Sometimes I wonder why you're not the Lieutenant around here."

"Nepotism." Replied Stanton, opening the door to the office.

Subtle black smoke drifted out of the room immediately, like a fog machine.

"Sir."

No respresponse.

"What are you doing??"

"What is there to do.." The Deputy replied in melancholy, "I have as much of an idea of whats going on as any ordinary citizen. Only the Government can really know, and I'm simply not able to get through to the Government office or the Army."

"Are you not the Deputy of the police here in Christchurch?"

"...yes, I am..."

"Then start acting like it and issue an evacuation notice immediately." Snarled Stanton. Lou cowered behind Stanton who was an entire foot taller than him.

The Deputy and Stanton glared at each other for a while, or at least they each thought they were, but because of alll the smoke they were staring at the wall behind each others heads.

Lou broke the silence.

"I think we should begin evacuating people from the town too."

"And explain to me how exactly we will carry this plan out?" Said the Deputy almost condescendingly.

"Well, first we'll recall every officer back from chasing the bloody trail left behind by those machines, then we'll activate the mass messaging alert system - which I am shocked has not been activated already - and then we can start putting people on boats to Wellington."

"Ever the pragmatic, Stanton..." Sighed the Deputy, "go ahead. Leave me in peace."

"After this is over I hope you lose your position." Added Stanton before promotly leaving the musky room. Lou went to start talking to the Deputy, reconsidered it and then followed Stanton with a saddened expression."

V1 was a supreme machine. Of the most powerful order. Created for the simple purpose of devestation - so powerful that it could end all wars. But a machine built to end war is always a machine built to continue war...

Its engine roared as another body dropped before it, twitching and spurting blood. Its blue armour had been covered with red, which was continually being absorbed by its fuel cells

BLOOD IS FUEL... It repeated to itself as it pushed forward. It had not seen the other machine for a while. It did not care. So long as it did not get in the way, V1 would not disturb.

It had a bigger goal in mind after all, other than fighting its inferior copy.

It felt a powerful pull to the North, like something important lay in wait, and the ambition to reach it was almost as strong as its hunger for more blood to satiate itself.

It slid dow the hill rapidly and unobtruded, destroying any plants or animals in its path through sheer velocity.

A town lay ahead somewhere. It knew this as a fact. It was also aware of the enemies which chased it - humans wielding guns and piloting missile launching machines of their own. These machines, Tanks, had no mind of their own, however. Primitive. V1 would despatch them with ease if they were to ever prove a problem to it.

It slid out onto a road, splitting the forest in two like a meandering scar. The machine stood up in the middle of the empty road. There was a sign. V1 walked up to the sign, reading the words

"Christchurch, 8 miles"

It was starting to get close to its goal.

And every human who it encountered would quickly become a red mark on the floor.

Meanwhile, V2 was hiking over the mountains.

"HOW PEACEFUL" it said to itself as the view of the North coast of New Zealand's southern island splayed out across the horizon. The sea sparkled under a golden sun.