A World For Us All

Chapther 1: A Passing Storm

    Time, it shapes us. It moves on without looking back and if you stay still too long, it will leave you behind. There are elements, however, that make moving along with time more difficult than you'd like. Grief is a common one that slows us all down. This is a story of grief. My grief and the grief I caused to so many. 
   

    Our last strongholds are collapsing to the humans around the globe. I've been stationed in Southern Germany. It's been quiet for a while now, with the latest battle ending about a month ago which forced us to retreat deeper into the mountains.                                      I have patrol duty tonight, as per usual no one else wants to take the midnight patrol. There's been rumors going around that in these parts of Germany, a brave warrior protects his people. A reward has been put out for the head of this warrior we have dubbed, "Hammer Of Doom"; however, every Omnic gets its gears scared out of itself whenever he gets mentioned.                       
     "GR-190!"  I hear my combat name echo from the watchtower. My brother, GR-191, waves from the High Guard Tower. I call him my brother as we were constructed consecutively and have been together since.                     "Don't get hammered," he yells at me. What a comedian this dude is. The man was last seen in Nüremberg, which is like a hundred miles away. He wouldn't be know our next target is Stuttgart. I wave back and turn to start my patrol. Our base lies near the beautifully pyramid-shaped beak of Alpspitze and my tour takes me down to the Northeast side to the basin of the mountain. The nature around here is breath-taking. I wish I could truly enjoy it, but the ground is stained. Stained with the blood of soldiers, civilians, the rusting gears of other Bastion units. A storm is passing, I thought to myself. Indeed the starry sky had turned menacingly grey, thunder rumbling in the distance. I march on, not minding the change in the weather, though the light of the stars would've been preferable. The hours go by slowly, but the occasional lightning strikes keep me company. What time is it? I check my built-in clock. Midnight already? I guess I really took my time as I near the basin. I've reached the forest close to my destination. On the other side lies a mailbox-shaped computer and I am to input my combat name and time of arrival. They say it's to prevent deserters.               The forest is stunning, even on a stormy night. Out of nowhere, a bird flies past me. Why is out flying at this time? In a storm, no less. It flies back to me, doing small loops around me.         "Please calm yourself, tiny creature. It is late, you should be in rest mode until the sun is up," I try to communicate with the bird, and it sits on my head. Does it actually understand me? Highly unlikely but at least it isn't distracting me. Now that I think about it, this bird is the first living creature to not run away or act hostile toward me. Quite an odd creature, I must say.                              At last, I reach the checkpoint, with the bird which I decided to name Hippocrates, still quietly sitting on my head. Why Hippocrates? My original purpose was to act as a first responder, a front-line medic and occasionally a nurse so it kinda hits close to home. As I go to input my codes, I notice something awry. The patrol before me was a two-bot group, units MO-053 and OA-515, logged to arrive here at 14:26. That was almost twelve hours ago, yet the computer doesn't have their return-to-base time. Suddenly, Hippocrates wakes up and flies above a bush, circling it. I step toward it, as he lands on something. Carefully, I push aside the thick layer of leaves aside. Right at that moment, a strong flash of lightning came from the sky, followed immediately by a blistering roar of thunder. I tumble onto the ground in fright, releasing what was lying in the bush. But why? Why was I not informed of this?! Those two were in my squadron! The command wouldn't make a mistake like this. They are way too uptight to not notice. Was it intentional?                                                      "Initiating self-defense protocol. Survey surroundings immediately," my internal program takes over. Check for signs of  any combat. Whoever did this could not have done it cleanly. Their parts were smashed in, bent and in small pieces. It had to be close-quarters, or it would've been too noticeable. Indeed, about 15 meters away from the computer, is a downhill slope. At the bottom, fallen trees and randomly placed dents and holes in the ground. Only one being fits that M.O. The storm becomes more violent. I gaze back at the mountain. Please be safe, brother.

The Hammer is here...