Cannon fodder

Lanky legs swing forward, snapping needles and smearing car oil over metal joints. It took a moment to notice a bolt rifle in their outstretched arms, dysfunctional and empty of ammunition. It continues to walk down 14th street, information flowing in circuits in 1s and 0s. Smog choking out the sun, a raspy, static voice echoes from their voice box.
"What a beautiful day."
Before sputtering and falling over, lying in the mud once more.