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51 Scene 1 : The Discovery

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Roaming the desolate lands where the only abundant resource is sand and rust, comes a wanderer. This wanderer isn’t looking for some form of tranquility, nor is he looking for a way to restore the world to its former, great self. No, he is looking for a way to fill his pocket with fat loot. His frame was tall and lean. His face drooping as if it was being pulled into the ground, and the mop on top of it was as black as a tar pit. The tan rags on his character stretched all the way down to the knees, covering half of his old jeans . In his pack, a map. The bony hand clasped for the guide inside, and proceeded to roll it out. “Alright, let’s see here.” There was some difficulty reading it, due to crimson stains splattered about. “Aw, geez Boss, I appreciate your handiwork, but couldn’t you keep it off the goods?” The map wasn’t even in good condition to start with, seeing as it was presumably  written by a child, and looked as if the slightest breeze could rip it to shreds. The only thing that still remained untouched on the map was a giant number 51, written in black. The bandit was barely able to make the directions to follow. On the street he was walking on, he was supposed to turn right at the remains of a stop sign. After that, keep heading forward, there he would find whatever “51” is. Perhaps it was some rare, untouched vault full of loot, or perhaps it was a peaceful village, full of easy pickings for his group, or maybe it was some red herring that was written by an old fart who had his head smashed in by a lead pipe one too many times, but who knows?

Eventually, he found the remains of the stop sign, and turned right accordingly. At first, there was nothing, and then more nothing, and then even more of nothing, this went on for what felt like hours. After a long period of time, little technicolor bumps started appearing in the distance. Relieved that there was something more than sand in the area, he had thought to himself that he has finally found his destination. Unfortunately, for him, he was quite right. Those small bumps eventually took shape of human bodies, perfectly still. He walked up to them, and investigated a group of bodies. Each body had holes, and charred parts all over. Some of them were far older than others, with decaying organs, or only skeletal remains. Even on the most recent corpses, dismemberment was common, and you could see what was probably bone at one point. This circus of death puzzled the bandit greatly. “What the-” Before he could even finish his sentence, a small whirring noise was heard in the distance.

The noise began to get progressively louder, until it was almost on top of the raider. A quick look up showed a small, flying robot powered by what would liked an exhaust pipe. The flying metallic mystery formed a small grey sphere. Near the front of this shape was a bright red light surrounded by a black rim. These features gave it the appearance of a giant eyeball.  “Trespasser detected, opening fire.” A monotone, metallic voice spoke from above. Hearing this, the bandit quickly shielded himself with one of the bodies, barely able to avoid the swarm of bullets coming his way. While this ever persistent hail of bullets was making quick work of the meatshield, the thief took out his hand cannon, and aimed his shot. *CLANG* It connected with the aforementioned thruster, which coincidentally had shared the underside area with it’s built in machine gun.

“Damage status : critical, thrusters and weapon disabled.” Sputtered out the robot. The bandit dropped the hunk of meat that was once a man, and retorted “Glad to see I didn’t damage your voice box.” Glancing at the robot, he could tell it was abnormal. The fact it looked so polished, and didn’t appear defective, unlike other robots that roam the wasteland. It’s speech was clear and it worked seemingly fine, (well, did work) without a single glitch. The fact that the bot had an actual gun attached onto him was quite an oddity as well. Sure, the crazy chef bots were dangerous, but they were merely armed with small knives and sometimes a rolling pin. But this thing was different, it had been fully armed – with a machine gun nonetheless! He decided to take it back with him to base. While he was beginning to pick up the flying eyeball, it declared one lasted message. “Further security dispatched, have a nice day!”

The scoundrel grabbed the eyeball and held onto it like a Christmas present. A faint engine noise could be heard from a distance. This one was far heavier, and powerful. At one point, squeaky wheels began to accompany the motor. One last noise joined the two man band. It was a faint whistling, but while the squeaks and the engine were still quite distant, and on the ground, the whistling came from the sky, and was approaching fast. As the punk looked upward, he saw a missile coming directly towards him. A quick sprint into a leap was all that could be made before the explosive crashed into the sand, sending all the nearby bodies and send particles careening into the sky. The delinquent had barely managed to avoid getting annihilated. Debris had lashed at him, resulting in several bleeding cuts. He bounced back up, grabbed the flying bot, and quickly ran towards the opposite direction. Turning his lean head to see if anyone – or anything was pursuing him, he saw nothing a giant chipped board that carried two digits : 51.

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51 Scene 1 : The Discovery