- Doomsday - Volume One: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 82: The Omnium

(AN: I've been having a bug were I'm not receiving notifications in my notification box for some comments/votes. Just wanted to say that I appreciate any interactions and if I miss them then it's more likely because Wattpad isn't telling me about them, which is frustrating. Besides, enjoy...)

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What had once been a vibrant blue sky, held up by the sun's rays, was now replaced with smog and pitch black smoke slowly ascending, while a pungent, industrial and foetid scent polluted the air. Surrounding the area, the storms rotated around the structure, fierce and unrelenting, picking up any object that dared cross it's path, consumed into the violent winds. A small river snaked around the factory, however greatly diminished from what it had been years prior, and discoloured, now a stygian black. Yet, the Omnium itself was the most disturbing feature, the years of decay taking its toll on the building, broken and twisted, with obvious signs of battle damage. Fire erupted from chimney tops across the roof, surrounding a more central tower that stood tall in the sky, spinning manically faster and faster, shining it's beam all about, like a watchful eye.

It was truly hell on earth, no other location coming at all close to representing the dark and malicious aura that emanated from the Omnium. It served not only as a reminder of the horrors that forced the planet upon the trajectory that it had so painfully been set upon, these factories served as the dividing line between the pre- and post-Omnic Crisis world. If Omnica Corp had never begun construction of such sites across the world, then perhaps the great war would never have happened, lives torn apart would remain whole, the genetic experimentation that led stole the childhoods from [Y/N] and Lobo and brought Bizarro into the world by extension. It was in these very places that the foundation of the modern world in which they lived was forged, through iron and blood, and the sacrifice of hundreds of thousands.

Meddling with the factories was incredibly taboo, seen as places of significance for Omnics, to humans, it was hard to see them as anything more than cursed places, the melting pot that cast forth the machine threat that ravaged the world over. Even well after the Crisis had ended the factories served as a divisive roadblock between Human-Machine relations, continuing to put strain upon cooperation and understanding decades later. The irony didn't fall upon deaf ears, [Y/N] could see the cyclical narrative structure that seemed to be building, his own existence, and many others, had been irreversibly damaged by these very Omniums, and now he would end another monster in the very same place.

Any jovial attitudes held by the trio, but likely between Lobo and Bizarro, had gone extinct, no more idle chatter or gossip, rather they were all focused on the task ahead, thrust into this cataclysmic land, as if it were a dimension onto itself. Bringing the bikes could potentially cast unwanted attention onto themselves, giving away any sort of surprise they may be able to wield, but the Mongul wasn't completely idiotic, and obviously knew warfare to a similar degree, he would be prepared for an assault. They marched in a single file line through the darkened sand, leaving sunken footprints in their wake, trudging through the more muddy landscape, chemicals and ooze from the factory seemingly infecting the very land around it, as it had to the people. Radiation wasn't something clearly visible, but the effects clung tightly to the wastelanders, a cross they were made to bear by their own undoing, and any attempt to reclaim the factory would come at a great cost.

Minutes went by, wading through the sandy mire, similar to quicksand in parts, making it harder and harder to traverse, yet what did become clear to the three were large tire tracks imprinted alongside them, and while slowly being refilled by the desert, it told them much. "They haven't been here long, they might have only made it a few hours before we did..." [Y/N] said, a clear sense of urgency in his voice, his pace hastening. Further and further, the tension was palpable and uneasily silent, besides the factory's labour, the metallic bashing and crashing, ash and cinders strewn about. No voice could be heard, their shallow breathing the only sign of life around them.