Resistance: The Last Hybrid

Day 1

You wake up in the summer morning, the temperature feeling warmer than the day prior. Noticing the change makes you feel strange. For most of your life, you've only known a specific temperature and the decreasing rate of it—a climate where you and others like you could thrive. You look around, remembering where you are. The specific location is unknown and alien to you, but that's never been of any importance to you. Even the ability to sleep seems alien. The ability to be aware of your own whereabouts with some sense of care also appears alien. However, you brush it off and continue your mission, the only thing you can truly think about.

For years, there has been a voice in your head. The sound of the voice—the voice itself—has changed many times. From the understandable shrieks of your telekinetic, floating overlords, to a being that shares relations to your species' original form, and finally the originals themselves, stuck on their home planet. But all of those voices, that central voice, had gone silent in almost a single day. What could've caused such a thing to happen? What severed the link? Questions you've never thought of, and even now they do not plague your mind. The only real thought in your mind, the lingering voice of your master, tells you to follow one objective: win. Objectives in the past have been more complex; they were described as having a bigger purpose. From besieging human outposts to hunting down the remnants of the race you are fighting against. But now things seem aimless, the objective unspecified. Win what? Win the war? It sure does seem that way. Your race is already winning the war, but something inside of you tells you that all is lost.

You pick up your weapon, the only thing that can protect you from your enemies. The ammo clip, the last one you have, is empty. The gun's ultimate purpose is now useless. It's now only something you can use to intimidate your enemies. Even without ammunition, the weapon remains powered by its internal, limitless power source. Aiming down the sights still displays the holographic crosshair, a feature past variants of your weapon didn't possess. The current variant of your gun is more improved than the past variants, whose fire would spread the red, glowing pellets which would eliminate your enemies. Your weapon's fire no longer causes the pellets to spread, but you've rarely seen that in action, and your current situation shows you won't be able to see it again for quite some time.

You remove yourself from the ditch you were sleeping in and walk out onto a paved road. The vehicles of the enemy race lay strewn about, destroyed from the heavy war that has carried on for decades. Some look operable, but without the knowledge of handling human technology, it would be impossible to see if they do work. So, you continue down the road, looking ahead at the destruction. Besides the vehicles—of which some vary in color and size—cracks with protruding plant life litter the road. The metal railings on the sides are snapped, torn, and appear to have begun rusting like many of the vehicles around you.

At some point, you look up and see a green sign telling you what's ahead. The names of places are in a language you didn't understand, but a part of you remembers you could. The ability to remember something of a mysterious past scares you. You can remember things, but only that of your life as a soldier for your people. From the first time you stepped out of a tube to the very steps you take now. So, what were these memories of you knowing this foreign language? Even with this knowledge, you still can't understand the language. But the symbols in the shape of arrows are familiar in your memories as a soldier. The curved arrow piqued your interest, and now that was your objective: get to wherever that arrow pointed to.

After taking the road the arrow indicated earlier, you enter a desolate, destroyed town. You've walked through so many in the past, picking off the remaining humans with the help of your comrades. The horrified screams of the humans are a terrifying part of your memory. Back then it was nothing. But now it horrified you, making you wonder why. The humans in particular were unarmed, begging for mercy, pleading you to stop. But you followed your orders and terminated your innocent targets.

Many of the buildings in the town are built from brick, their foundations cement. Dozens of windows are either smashed or boarded up with planks of wood. Scorch marks and holes are littered around the town, telling the history of a past battle you weren't part of. The familiar spire, once launched from the behemoth, four legged machine your race built, was now stuck in the street, stuck in a massive crater created by its impact. You were quite familiar with the creatures that were loaded up in the spires. They had once been tiny, winged locusts that would spread your species' virus, then they were turned into six legged creatures that would spin up their victims into a cocoon, and the victims were later birthed as your comrades. Is that where you came from? Were you once a victim to your own people? If so, why can't you remember?

Another memory of this mysterious past of yours resurfaces in your mind. The shriek of a woman and the loud whistle of something coming from the sky plagued your ears. You begin to remember what happened after. The locusts swarmed your body, attacking you from every part. They invaded your mouth, nose, and ears—any place they could enter your body. Everything before and beyond was blank. The rest of your memories consisted of you plowing through cities and towns, eliminating humans left and right. Although the flashing memory of the locusts attacking you is gone, the realistic pain remains, causing you to scream. Your roar echoes throughout the desolate town with no one to hear it.

Picking up on your journey, you come across a familiar piece of machinery only your people can control. In the past it could be manned on the inside, but after your people's great defeat in a part of the world, the machine, and others like it, was turned into a drone. After inspecting it, you determine it cannot be salvaged. Many of its legs are gone, and everything else laid a mess. Red and blue wires protrude from its broken red eye. Half its turret is missing. You notice some of it is lodged into a building. You go into the wrecked building, finding two of your comrades dead on the floor. Their once golden eyes were now dark, filled with death. Their cooling packs are deactivated, another sign informing you that they are dead. On the ground lay their guns, and attached to their belts are ammunition clips. You kneel beside their bodies and ransack them of their ammo. You finally reload your gun, and apply the ammo clips to your belt.

After leaving the building, you leave the town, finding your side mission fulfilled. But the main objective is all that's left.

Time greatly passes on your journey down the paved road. The sun still remains up, now to its halfway point. The time of day never seemed to bother you until last night where you had the feeling of sleepiness. That feeling lurks behind you as you tirelessly walk down the road.

You begin to get hungry, a feeling you've felt a number of times before. You've feasted on humans and animals in the past. They all tasted the same, and they were all the same. They all shared the same purpose to your people: food and victims to expand your people's growing empire. In the past, by the time you already started feasting on human flesh, your victim was already dead. You were sometimes joined by many of your comrades, some about your height, some shorter, and others taller. The bigger ones usually had larger weapons, and the smaller ones either didn't have weapons or had small carbines.

You end up looking to the side and find a hopping animal. It's brown, almost blending in with the dead grass behind it. In a quick instant, you raise your weapon and fire a pellet, getting a successful hit on the small creature. You walk over to your victim, pick it up, and rip half of it off with your sharp fangs, the other half descending your throat. After that, you throw the other half into your mouth, swallowing it whole. The small animal was filling, and your hunger was quelled for now, but you knew it would return later at some point.

When night came, everything became dark. The moon is your only source of light. It brought you comfort to your fear of what lingered in the dark, a feeling you've never felt before. You and your comrades were always the ones being feared. The horrific screams of the victims you remember is evidence of that. But now you feel like something could attack you, end your life. You hide away in the tall, dead grass in hopes nothing will find you at night. The need to sleep plagues you once more. You lay down in the grass, becoming comforted by its softness. You close your eyes once more, slowly drifting off to sleep.