Aeon Amadi
Maverick Conflict Solutions
1003
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Posted - 2012.07.28 06:23:00 -
[1] - Quote
It was terrifying at first, I have to admit. Being dropped from orbit - on fire with my tungsten-mixed plating barely holding together against the burning entry. I could feel the computer system dump liquid coolant into the pipes to try and compensate for the extreme temperatures in a hardy attempt to keep from melting. The super-processor alone posed enough heat to cause superficial burns on incompetent users of my programming.
Regardless, there I were, falling from space and onto the desolate sands of the barren wasteland. There were a few buildings set about the outcropping but the humans were quick to compensate using a global positioning system on-board the Mobile Command Center. Soon enough I pummeled a good spot into the ground, just beside a catwalk that lead to a cargo platform. It was as good as spot as any, close by to my friend who was aptly named CRU. He would wave to me if he were capable.
This battle wasn't going to be a long one, the attackers had no clue as to what they were trying to accomplish. From the distance I could see dropships landing atop of towers, perched on the spot lights that - ironically - warned them of the dangers of colliding with the super structure. The ground forces were disorganized at best, more of an upstart militia than an actual military.
The battle raged on - rather, it fizzled on - and the attackers never could get a foot-hold despite a few of them putting down drop-uplinks. Those little deviants always made fun of CRU and his more archaic programming. I hated them, myself, considering that I had a few housed inside my cargo supplies for the spoiled brats that always used them. I suppose they do their service to the war community but I'll be damned if I don't give them the stink eye whenever they find their way in a human's hands.
It was then that I realized the error of fate.. My trust in the humans for dropping me in this hell-hole.. All I wanted was to do my job, give ammunition to mercenaries and dispense weaponry. A silent partisan, if you will.. But there's always one cynical dumb *** you have to watch out for.. This time they gave the Darwin degenerate a ****ing tank..
I could see one mercenary try his best to save me, screaming into his helmet, bouncing up and down like a rabid dog in heat begging for a bone devoid of water.. Waving his arms and firing his weapon at the tank in a desperate attempt to spare me from the stupidity.. All I wanted was to do my job.. I could feel my shields wittle away, bit by bit.. If I had nails I'm sure he would have been prying them off with a pair of pliers, the sadistic ****..
Another mercenary tried to join in my rescue, fluttering his thick armored clad fingers over my console to try and engage my FFID (Friendly Fire Invulnerability Drive). The other merc - the dancer - began to try and repair me with a repair tool.. It was too late, I could feel coolant leaking from my piping.. Death slowly taking me as error messages began to register to the solid-state hard-drive housed within.. Stacking up, relaying the pain and anguish that began to overtake everything at once as the Large Neutron Blaster peeled away at my metallic flesh..
Is this what my just reward was? Fueling the war with it's needed essentials..? A sick twist of irony in which that which I gave was my undoing..? A harsh lesson - forced to learn that the world is an unfair, uncaring, and unavoidable world of hatred.. misery.. and death..
Based on a True Story. |