REDSHIFT Act I

Author comments are by the story headers. They appear like 
==I.I==
 Ten years.
 That's how long this new order has been in dominance.
 It's really hard for me to properly explain to you what's happened.
 Nezerath and Genogyas are gone. No one knows what happened to them.
 A power vacuum emerged, and there was no one left to hold the mantle except for Uriel and his Archangels.
 Gods don't exist anymore. There is a God. Uriel carries his will out with an iron fist, but is he real?
 In our galaxy, sure, we've advanced tremendously with technology and cultrue. The blending of different races with this new tranquility has exponentially increased. Peace is almost regular, compared to our usual warfare. However, Uriel's effects and his Archangel's propaganda has been enforced into every culture's seams. Even the Astraliosapiens no longer worship the Wither King- no longer a science based race. Uriel and God are their new idols, a Christian viewpoint.
 The Archangels themselves are the ones who do the most bidding and mortal interaction. Five years have they been the enforcers, tearing down all statues, replacing them with prophets, martyrs, and leaders. They expect trust, and so do we. It works... most the time.
 The person writing this shall remain unknown at this time to prevent any further damages.
 The Veil have been completely decimated and no longer hold a gathering in the galaxy, now replaced by the loathsome Purge, malicious space centipedes hellbent on conquering those who threaten their superiority.
 The Starbeings, with mighty defiance, have been totally eradicated by the Archangels. Their legions and strength overwhelemed the already scarce amount of Starbeings. No longer are they a name to be afraid of, merely a myth- an artifact of history to be laughed at and reconstructed through fictional recreation. It's an unfitting end.
 Uriel has been dormant in the mortal affairs since his brother's iconoclastic destruction.
 Terminals have been left throughout the galaxy.
 Choose your pain.
 Pain of chaos,
 Pain of confinement.
==I.II==
 Somewhere deep in the Middle East | EARTH
 "HOW DO I WORK THIS THING!? UGH! NNNNNNNGH!"
 Artemis jabbed his fist into a strange bubbling fissure in the air. "Ooh, a button!"
 Quickly, he pulled his fist out and the bubbling fissure imploded, causing Artemis to be propelled into a sand dune. The sand rumbled and slid down into a alley, burying Artemis.
 Artemis got out of the sand quickly. He was a 30 foot tall biomechanical-naga being. Resembling that of a Starbeing very well, purple heavy armor on his body with vein like glowing lines circulated through his under armor and black carbon fiber meshing. Two protruding metal pieces sat atop his head and then a large yellow glowing visor. Two flashlights were embedded into the sides of his head. His lower body was made of some dark colored steel-exo-plated naga skin. This tail he had reached very far. His body was completely fueled by searing hot mercury blood, and a powerful yellow reactor sat in his chest.
 Artemis knew nothing about his power, well, to some extent. He had found something called Ripple, where he could reach through the fabric of existence into other realities. The adverse effects this had were completely unknown to Artemis, but put him in the watch list of some of the highest beings.
 Slowly looking down at the ground, a massive holographic code screen came up with several interfaces. Trillions of lines of code spammed through the screen. To the naked eye- it would seem as if he were giving himself an epileptic seizure, while Artemis could decode what was being seen. He changed a few lines and-
 "WOOPS!"
 -fell through the ground.
==I.III==
 His vision slowly came back to him... a white can light overhead illuminated him.
 Slowly standing up, his coach sighed.
 "That's all the training for today."
 Sweat dripped down his body, as he stared away. He looked at the far television. It was a seventy inch flatscreen, notably broadcasting news. The entire room was white in nature, covered in crosses and other holy symbols. He still hadn't gotten used to this place. Stepping out of the ring, he slid his shoes back on and put his hoodie back over his heated body. His sweaty hair started to curl up even more as he flicked it around.
 My legs are extremely sore. I probably can't go to work tonight, he thought. Limping around, the large windows in his gym illustrated the streets with numerous people. Gondolas flying around on rails buzzed around.
 Walking up to a vending machine, it dispensed a protein drink out to him for free. It came with the membership.
 Slowly, he sat down at one of the heightened tables along the window. Looking outside, he took a deep sigh.
 This place, these people... were not my people.
 All of their faces, attached to some moderately see-through virtual reality headsets that served more as augmented reality goggles. They were completely absorbed in them, he thought. People drove AI cars, walked in perfect lines ignorant of eachother or any pain in life. Most ailments had been apparently cured. Even his coach, once done training, hopped on the headset and usually took a Gondola which stopped in the back of the gym to pick up people. It was sick.
 Though, he had learned enough to evade certain death. These people were led by the Archangels, some race of angels that wanted the betterment of humanity by giving us the technology to do anything. Age and disease was a myth. Neon lights shined up and down the minimalistic, usually rectangular skyscrapers outside. They were usually white or some shade of white in nature. However, because of the daylight, you couldn't see the LEDs that well.
 He understood better than most what was going on- the race was being cultured into oblivious deeds and natures. Gyms like the ones he went to usually went bankrupt because of a lack of influx.
 As he looked outside, he began to remember more and more about his universe.
 Home..
 No magic, no weird angels... just... home.
 Well, there wasn't much of a home. His parents forgot he existed. But he wanted to be back more than anything.
 Slowly, he snapped back into it, realizing he was in a cold sweat on the floor.
 Woops, he thought. He slowly packed his stuff up and walked out. Before he did however, the TV caught his gaze.
 "MECHANOIDS ESCAPING INTERSTELLAR FACTORIES."
 Whatever. It's not like danger is real.
== I.IV==
 He walked up to the Gondola outside on the street. People wearing headsets muttering to themselves walked past him in droves. He pulled out his wallet- of which had a temporary license on it. The name was "DRAGAN KELLER". He was 5'7, and around 140 imperial pounds. His eyes were listed as GREEN, however they fluxed to blue in the summer. He pulled out a debit card and tapped a small little metal beam with a screen attached. It taxed him 25 cents, the screen lighting up with a smile, sounding out "Enjoy your ride!" with a terrible, garbled speaker.
 As he boarded the gondola, three others hopped in. The door shut. It was a nice sky blue on the inside, with two benches on the left and right sides. Dragan took a seat on the right side, where a tall black man sat next to him, talking to apparently some business agent on his headset.
 Dragan leaned his head onto the window. As the gondola rose, he could see the bio-dome over the city, along with the walls. Outside past the city was a vague forest. The bio-dome had some sort of translucent properties, so it usually looked odd out. It wasn't completely solid- he found this one out. The biodome had holes, otherwise he had no clue where the breezes or storms came from. Looking further forward, he could see the town hall, which was a massive marble building with plasma-energy running up its small crevices. While also being the center of any gatherings, it was a powerplant underneath.
 The gondola itself was connected through a super-fast railway system. These gondolas could travel upwards of fifty miles an hour if neccessary. Cars were not used in mass production, a very differing oddity from Dragan's own universe. As Dragan daydreamed, the gondola slowed down to an apartment complex. It came up to the fifth floor, where the doors opened and another exit station was there. Dragan got off, walking into the apartment complex.
 Some could say it was a safety hazard to have a completely unblocked access point in a residential building, but no one really committed crime. The worst case of crime Dragan had seen as of yet was some sort of littering.
 The inside of the apartment building smelled of lavender. The floors were these short-cut gray carpets with neon yellow hatches. The walls represented some sort of roman or Greek marble building, with their doric columns lining every corner of the walls. Can lights were fixated into the ceiling, of which was also white. Dragan began walking left down the hallway roughly five rooms until he reached his number on his right, 567. He held his finger to the door pad, causing it to unlock and beep a "Welcome Home, Dragan!" It completely butchered his name- pronouncing it as Druh-Gown.
 As he slowly stepped into his modest apartment, the smell of, well, a regular apartment entered his nostrils. As he walked in, the smart thermostat sat on the left of him. His kitchen was fixated on the right, with an island in the middle. There was a bar that had seats coming from the living room. The living room overlooked most of the city with a sliding glass door and a balcony. His television and entertainment center sat across from the black couch. Going right inbetween the couch and the bar was a door, which was his bedroom. Going left past the tv led you to his weight room and a bathroom.
 Dragan slid his shoes off, and before he could even walk toward the couch, a knock rang at the door.
 Not this guy again... I just got home.
 Dragan opens the door, to find his landlord. He was a greasy old white man in an unbelievably luxurious outfit.
 "Kid, I've been expecting it for the last two weeks. Where's the rent?"
 Dragan sighs, pulling his wallet out and pulling out cash. He only had four houndred on him.
 "This is all I have."
 "Mmm.. you're gonna need another five hundred to compensate. Or you're out. Now."
 Dragan felt flushed with anger. He stepped back,
 Ok.
==I.V==
 As Dragan stepped back, he moved right past the landlord, then pulled away again.
 "What are you doing?"
 "Sorry, it was stuck in my pocket."
 Dragan finally took his other hand out of his pocket, revealing several hundreds.
 "This should cover next months rent too, right?"
 The man looked utterly appalled, and then spoke again.
 "Uh-yeah-yeah. Yeah. You're all set. Thanks."
 Dragan shut the door in his face.
 I'm sure he'll notice before too long that I just took the money out of his pocket.
 Dragan strolled over to his couch and turned his console on. It was futuristic, and the games were unbelievably realistic. He put a headset on and was indulged.
 Dragan had heard the high-powered rails, dubbed the Thunderbirds flying around. While a significantly more costly version (they literally cost $1.50...), they were much faster and had more... navigation capabilities. However, something sounded off. He took one ear off of his headset to listen. Rift Sirens were blaring, which were a completely unique siren that only played with Dimensional Rifts opening. He turned his view to the outside, and a massive bolt of lightning struck far away.
 The power went completely out, and Dragan groaned.
 But what no one had seen, is that a small meteoroid had fallen from the sky. It passed through the biodome holes and landed near Dragan's house, a small robot slowly exiting it.
==I.VI==
 "Let's see here..."
 Artemis was floating in a liminal space of stars and cytoplasm. Several dozens of code screens engulfed him in a globe. He panned through each one.
 "So... to change the chaos factor.. I need to just... slide this and then set... chaos is false to true... quaternion vector of seven..."
 An error popped up.
 "Oh, woops."
 The error was not going away.
 It read:
 CHECK FILE BATCH
 Groaning, as if he had done this a million times, he checked.
 Most of the files were all .exes or .bats... but one stood out. He looked over it closely.
 "PRION.js? What? I've never heard of that. Delete!"
 It vanished for a second. It then re-appeared, overtaking the spot of another file.
 "Hey-no, what you're- uhh.."
 Artemis nervously laughed, looking around in his empty space where it was silent.
 "I can't lie, this is actually really creepy."
 He tried to move it to the garbage bin, which failed. He then searched it up in a command prompt... PRION.js was a file that did not exist.
 Artemis had realized his finger clicked on PRION.js.
 "what."
 Slowly, Artemis felt increasingly and increasingly uneasy. The entire area he was in turned black, and then turned blue. A strange figure stood not too far from him. It was a red glowing ERROR sign.
 "Uh... can I help you?"
 Artemis had slowly began to realize that the ERROR sign was... very slowly making its way to Artemis.
 Fear trembled down his body.
 "Woah, woah, woah, let's just calm-"
 Artemis noticed that his tail was very slow to move, as if his brain wasn't coordinating right.
 "oh my god."
 "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
 He slammed his finger into a program and he appeared on a middle-eastern beach.
 "Thank... the lord."
 Artemis opened the code screen again.
 As he looked through the files, he noticed that PRION.js was no longer a file.
 He, however, did notice that a new file was opened up in his code editor.
 Slowly, he clicked it.
 It was titled "construct.txt"
 As he read, his arms began to shake and tremble.
 "Nesting complete. Exporting packages..."
 The next line read:
 "Defiling pre-existing constructs."
 Artemis watched in sheer horror as several files were given no-name, changed file types, and then went invisible to Artemis.
 He closed the code screen and began to slither away in terror.
 But from afar, the ERROR was slowly making its way to Artemis.
 It emerged out of thin air, and began to silently yet slowly hover over the sand.
 An arabic man began speaking to his buddies. He reached his hand out to the ERROR.
 The man completely vanished.
==I.VII==
 It was being broadcasted around the city, well, around the slums that there was some sort of force. A lethal one at that:
 Suburbs were completely gutted, people splattered on the ground, coating the walls of buildings. Fires raged on flipped cars and from leaked oil, making it nearly inhospitable to any human life.
 However, the lethal force was far from human.
 Careening over the hundreds of people attempting to escape, its long mechanical arms shifted weapons, as if it were choosing its method of death while in the air.
 Finally, its left arm clicked onto some sort of a minigun. It landed atop of the crowd, smashing several children in the process. Its legs were like that of an insect, long and with an extra joint. It began to blast its loud minigun, ripping through the horde of screaming people. Although blood got on its body, it seemed to feel no emotion or remorse for its actions. It apparently had no face, simply a strange rhombus-like head divided down the middle by a large black cover that sunk in. Most of its body was made of some reddish pink metal that looked decently scarred. It was in shambles, obvious that whatever it was- it was pieced together poorly.
 This didn't stop it from its onslaught though, being around eight feet tall allowed it to manuever better than any if not all humans. Its reach was incredible, able to double its height in its wingspan. However, there were faults to it.
 The robot seemed to have to take very long breaks inbetween jumping around and clambering. The usage of its weaponry seemed to hurt it, as it could be seen shaking its arms in pain afterwards.
 A man's visor was ripped off by a pyroclastic burst, causing him to go into a full panic. His body was maimed with bullet holes, however adrenaline had set in. As he ran off, the machine picked up the corpse of a child and threw it like a frisbee, ripping the child apart and causing the man's back to snap in two. However, as it sat there triumphant, helicopters began to hover.
==I.VIII==
 Artemis was traversing through several universes at once, attempting to escape. He landed on a large platform, where a girl with red-brown hair looked back at him.
 "Who are you?" She had some sort of travel bag on her back, and a pufferfish floated around next to her.
 "DOESN'T MATTER, GOTTA GO!"
 Behind her, a massive rip in time appeared, causing her to glitch out of existence. Reality began to freak out and break apart.
 "PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE."
 Slowly, a distorted figure floated out of the rip. It was several characters, all conglomerated into one thing. Particles and lines of code shot out of it. It changed every time Artemis winced away from it.
 Artemis reached behind him, pulling a crowbar out of another universe. He threw it at the being. It completely engulfed the crowbar, energy bursting out of it. Artemis was sent flying back as the universe began to close in on itself because of corruption. Artemis reached back into the Ripple and pulled out a Time Gun. He shot PRION.js with it, causing it to temporarily lock up. He dived into another portal back into another universe, looking back as PRION.js sat there. As the portal shut, it began to move.
 Artemis was back in the same town in the middle east. He, in pure fear, began to walk again.
==I.IX ==
 Dragan watched the TV with clarity. The sky outside had become dark from clouds. Though, to think about it, there were also plumes of smoke.
 "...everyone must stay indoors and go to their interior room. the invasion will be dealt with swiftly."
 Dragan slowly stood up and walked out onto his balcony.
 "I absolutely hate this place." Smoke filled his lungs along with a sharp smell of rot, or iron. As he looked down at the now empty streets, he noticed that there was a small fire and a open meteor.
 "What... is th-"
 A scarab-like robot launched off of his ceiling, crawling onto his arm and beginning to burrow.
 "JESUS CHRIST!"
 Panicking, he threw his arm into the railing, causing the robot to squeal. He then peeled it off with one arm, blood going everywhere. He repeatedly smashed it into the wall, punching it against the wall. It squealed and then popped, dying.
 Dragan backed up and held his arm. It was bleeding a good amount, though it would slow down on its own. His fists were already getting bruised from just punching metal.
 "I gotta go."
 He slammed the glass door shut and hopped up the balcony, clambering onto another person's balcony. As he did so, several fighter jets and carriers flew overhead. Those carriers, he thought, were going to be carrying soldiers. That specific marking, the green eye, means they were most likely carrying an elite cosmic task force designed by humans, called the Genomen.
 As he clambered up to the top of the complex, his arms felt achey and weak. He looked around and noticed that sirens began to wail as large parts of the bio-dome fell. Clusters of meteors as well as large meteors were falling into the city, smoke launching from the ground as skyscrapers whined and croaked, falling and causing what felt like the whole world to shake. Dragan fell to his knees, shaking.
 "Oh my god. What am I going to do..?"
 His vision began to double and a ringing filled his ears along his heart, which only sped up.
 Help me.
 Please, anyone.
==I.X==
 Dragan woke up some time later. It was night time now, fire falling from the failing biodome. Fighting could be heard around the massive city as mortars and missiles were launched. Some outposts created by the military were seen around. Dragan got to his feet, looking at his scabbed arm. Dust and dirt covered his body, brushing himself off. He heard a heavenly jingle echo through his ears..
 "What...?"
 Looking in the direction, he saw what looked to be a floating humanoid coated in a gold glisten..
 An Archangel?
 Its massive wings expanded through the air. While it's halo wasn't immediately visible, it soon became so. It looked down, looking around. It then reached out its arm.
 "What is an arch-angel doing here?"
 As it snapped, it vanished, and a specific siren bellowed. A deep fear overtook Dragan. If he remembered right, that siren could only mean one thing.
 He immediately began to search for other buildings to go into. A nearby building was roughly the same height as this one. He stretched out his legs, ran and jumped onto the next roof, which was luckily covered in a garden. As the sirens stopped, he could hear the mechanical clicking and speech of them. They were city cleaners, more professionally called Streetcleaners. Large insectoid robots armed with flamethrowers to burn trash. However, it has been mentioned by the military several times that they have the capabilities to be militant units..
 Now seems like that time.
 As he continued to run from rooftop to rooftop, he saw one of the Streetcleaners look up at him. It chittered and then loudly blared.
 It quickly began to clamber up the side of one of the buildings. It had four insect-piercer legs, two upright arms which had no hands, just flamethrowers. Its arm was a strange triangle shape with horns. They had no eyes, but could see.
 As Dragan heard the click of its flamethrower, he looked at an oncoming Thunderbird, whirling by.
 Taking a deep breath, he jumped, feeling the flames lick his feet.
==I.XI==
 Dragan felt the hot wind on his face. Careening through the city at immeasurable speeds, he saw a Thunderbird behind him.
 "Good, Finally, some pe-"
 The Streetcleaner had its arm hijacking the Thunderbird to cause it to go beyond normal speeds.
 Dragan's stomach dropped.
 "Really."
 He flipped up ontop of his Thunderbird, his arms sore from hanging. The Streetcleaner made some robotic chirping and slammed its hand into the roof of his Thunderbird. Puncturing it, Dragan ran up its arm swiftly and stomped on its head. It made a bit of a gutteral ouch noise, and then its torso did a full 360, the flamethrower smacking Dragan in the head.
 Dragan slid over to the edge of the Thunderbird. The rail was dangerously close to his head, and if he were to get his hair caught in it, he'd be degloved.
 The Streetcleaner aimed down the sights of its flamethrower right at Dragan's head while perched on his leg with one of its several insectoid legs. Dragan took a deep breath.
 If this doesn't work, God help me.
 As soon as he heard the click, he smashed both his arms into the flamethrower, causing it to melt the rail. The Thunderbird began to go haywire as it suddenly lost all balance. The Streetcleaner was thrown off, back onto the streets below. Dragan slowly clambered back to his- perfect timing, as soon as he did, the Streetcleaner's Thunderbird derailed and landed in the street, destroying a building.
 As Dragan averted his attention back up, he saw space ships, presumably from extra-planetary military bases entering the now collapsed Biodome. Several massive machines could be seen wrecking havoc on the capital of the city, most of the said ships attempting to intercept them. As he looked down in a blur, he could see that people had began to fortify their blocks and buildings in order to fight against the machines. Though, there was an excess of bloodshed due to the gruesome nature of the machines. Some machines, he saw, wore people's skin as if it were a normal thing.
 Dragan looked at his arm, noticing his skin was burnt pretty good. Slowly, he sat on the Thunderbird as he continued to delve deeper into the enemies' territory.
 Taking his shirt off, he tied it loosely around his burn, hoping that the cloth would help it from being damaged any.
 Though, as soon as he got comfy, a rift opened ahead. He immediately braced, and the Thunderbird along with Dragan passed through it. He looked back up, nothing seemed different. There was, however, now a man sitting at the front of his Thunderbird, seemingly weary, frail, and pale.
 "Uh..."
 Dragan slowly backed up.
 "You're not gonna kill me, are you?"
 His fists clenched strongly, knowing that letting his guard down could cost him everything he's worked for yet.
 The man slowly lifted his head, his black hair coursing in the wind. There was a foul musk to him, as if he hadn't showered in a long, long time.
 "So this is what became of our loss?"
 What..?
 Dragan slowly approached him, cautiously holding his nose.
 "Look, uh, man, sir? I'm kinda freaking out right now because everything is trying to kill me..."
 The man scoffed, looking back down.
 "Yeah. Get used to it. Doesn't change."
=
==I.XII ==
 Dragan looked back at the man.
 "So... what's your... name?"
 "Rowan. That's my name. If you really care."
 A massive centipedal robot launched over the Thunderbirds. Almost as if it panned out in slow-mo, it had a massive humanoid upper body, and its face split apart, revealing a massive purple eye that seemed to have a tractor-beam gaze. It looked at Dragan, muttering something intelligible and then dove back under the ground, the Thunderbird passing through the arc of its body.
 "OKAY, COOL, WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT, IMDRAGANNICETOMEETYOUNOWLETSFIGURETHISOUT."
 A massive Genomen carrier flew overhead, struck down by an incoming missile. The carrier exploded, shrapnel landing on the Thunderbird and knocking it down onto the ground. Rowan held out a grunt, blocking shrapnel from hitting Dragan. They hit him, and seemed to just vanish away into a black dust.
 Dragan careened into the pavement, his fall being broke by a minivan.
 "OH..."
 Slowly rolling over to his side, he clapsed his hands on his chest. Rowan landed beside him on his feet.
 "Get up. We don't have time to stand around like this."
 "Since when did you become an expert?"
 "The several minutes I was actually observing my surroundings. Try it sometime, stupid."
 Dragan got up, watching as Rowan hopped down and just began to run.
 "HEY, UH, WAIT."
 Dragan slid off the minivan and began to run too. Rowan was unbelievably fast, way faster than Dragan.
 "Pick up the pace, weakling."
 How in the hell is this dude so fast? He looks like he just got out of a damn coma!
 "Exit's just around the bend."
 More missiles landed, hitting the skyscrapers. Rowan immediately, almost as if he teleported, kicked Dragan into the lower floor of a building, Rowan followed suit.
 Dragan tripped over a shelf on the ground and slid.
 "What is GOING ON?"
 Rowan appeared beside him.
 "You're fine. Would you rather be out there?"
 Parts of the building collapsed, completely covering the roadways.
 "It's probably better that we stay in here for now, till most of the fighting and destruction subsides."
 Rowan began to break out some sort of food. He took small bites out of it, chugging water.
 "So uh... Rowan, was it?"
 Dragan slowly stood, adjusting his tourniquet. He looked around the building. This place was most likely once a store, however now it was completely ruined, wires sticking out of the ceiling, floorboards damaged, shelves on the ground, dust and debris, along with blood scattered. There were the remains of some unfortunate people who had encountered some Mechanoids.
 "Yeah, what do you want?"
 "Who actually are you?? Why are you... the way you are?"
 "Well, I'm not human. Figures you couldn't deduce that."
 "Well, I actually did deduce that, jackass. Explain to me why you're so much faster than I am. I was a world class runner back in my... uh... hometo-"
 "Don't give me that shit. I know you're from another Universe. I can sense it."
 "So then what's the problem? Why are you eing so defensi-"
 "LISTEN HERE, DUMBASS."
 Rowan got right into Dragan's face, eye to eye. There was an extreme amount of pain, weariness, and stress communicated through his eyes.
 "I'VE BEEN THROUGH ALOT, OKAY? I'VE SEEN ALOT. I'VE BEEN DOING NOTHING BUT FIGHTING MY WHOLE LIFE, CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME ONE MOMENT TO ACCEPT THAT HE'S GONE?"
 Rowan kicked Dragan back into a wall, taking his wind again.
 Rowan then kind of stepped back. He looked at his hands, then back down.
 "What even am I anymore?"
 Rowan slowly sat down.
== I.XIII==
 This is Foxtrot-Alpha-Delta-7. I am requesting a military ordinance. Over.
 The insectoid robot flew through a suburb division of more regal individuals. Blasting heads off, one by one, it seemed to enjoy its little adventure through carnage. On its chest was an engraved yellow neon LED that read "XO". While the name may seem as if it were written at the end of a love letter, it actually stood for Xenobiotic Operator. Originally designed to be produced in mass to fill roles that required abstract and critical thinking, such as tacticians or lawyers, the design was halted whenever the creators were killed, the idea of it being erased with them. However, as time went on, fellow rebellious mechanoids discovered XO and began to piece him back together to a somewhat functional form, now repurposed as an engine of war.
 XO's killing spree was quickly halted by several massive laser beams from the sky. They were yellow, and came like lightning. Within seconds, XO was superheated to a dangerous temperature and sent hundreds of feet into the sky. Fighter jets armed with powerful hypersonic missiles and bullets dove, a classic wailing sound coming from their engines. XO looked up, their arm switching over to a shotgun. The shotgun slowly began to charge up as the jets lowered. Immediately firing a massive ball of energy, it hit one of the jets engines, causing it to spiral down in a smokey symphony before it was completely destroyed on the ground. The other jet began to fire bullets, as to which XO outmaneuvered by boosting to the left, exhausting some of his very expensive rocket fuel. It knew very well that the boosts were completely out of necessity. 
 The second jet went around again, its engines giving off a menacing wail of power.
 "What the hell are these things anyways? Overwatch got anything to say about it?"
 "Negative. General says they came from an ancient factory that suddenly woke up. Lord Behringer told us that they've come from hell."
 "Isn't that some shit."
 The jet was suddenly hit by a massive laser beam from a sniper mechanoid nicknamed "Buzzers" because of their distinct buzz right before they shoot with their head-cannon.
 "I'm going down, this is Codename Aurelius going down. Deploying chute.
 The parachute launched, Codename Aurelius vanished into the darkness. XO, however, had finished beheading the Buzzer. He pushed forward some more, looking upon a battlefront, smoke and fire wicking at his body as the wailing of steel from falling skyscrapers harped in the background.
==I.XIV==
 "Rowan, was it? What are... what're you doing here?"
 "I'm not quite sure, dude. I thought I was in my universe, mourning my uh- friend. But here I am stuck with you in another hellscape. As if what I've gone through isn't bad enough."
 Dragan twiddled his thumbs, looking down at the ground, then getting back up to pace about. Gunshots and smoke still billowed outside.
 "I kind of know how you feel... I mean, not exactly, but I know that pain of being stuck somewhere you don't want to be.
 "I know you do. I know you come from another universe. It's a struggle- Look, I didn't mean to be so hard on you."
 "It's fine. People act different in stressful situations. I wouldn't expect you to be a fine and dandy happy pacifist."
 Rowan grunted as he stood up, looking at his axe as it glistened against the backdrop of fire.
 "I've known nothing but war my whole life. Dragan... it was?"
 "Yep."
 "I've known nothing but war. I used to be a gladiator. I was good at what I did. I loved that thrill, you know? The enjoyment of a good fight where you're challenged, pushed to your limits and yet you still succeed... But this life I've lived... It's hell. I don't know what it is anymore. I've found friends- something I never particularly cared for or had, and they were ripped from me as if it were nothing. No amount of bloodshed can fill that hole in my heart."
 Dragan looked down at his feet. Suddenly, his problems felt so small next to Rowan's. A large boom echoed outside and then a silence. Dragan looked back up, the flames from the outside world glistening in his eyes.
 "I used to have a curse. I was healed, thankfully, but I had a curse of Wither. I couldn't be touched. Starved of physical contact. My own mother wouldn't show me love. I hurt everyone I touched... and slowly I adopted that. I became what I thought I was. I hurt people when I tried to be nice, so I killed people to become what people thought I was. And I never was that kid, never the guy who wanted to kick the sick dog, but that's what people expected of me and I had no other choice."
 "Rowan," Dragan put a hand on his shoulder, dirt and blood all along his arm and shoulder.
 "I'll never know your pain. Truly. I won't. But, there's nothing we can do to change it now except for look ahead and look alive. At the very least, we have to stay alive. I'm not a great guy either, I'll confess- bit of a prick to people. But I felt like I never belonged here, you know? This world wasn't meant for me. All the magic, sci fi aspects. I come from a regular world where countries fight wars and people work jobs and come back to loving families... not this. This is something we'd read in a book at school for fun."
 Rowan twirled his axe a bit and then set the head of it on the ground, leaning against it with his elbows, his face cupped in his hands.
 "I still miss him, Dragan."
 "Who?"
 "His name was Roent. Baddest guy I knew. Could be a bit arrogant and contingent at times, but... you know he really had other people in mind. He never put himself first as far as I could remember. Learned from his mistakes. But, he's gone. I feel like such a fool for letting him die. He didn't deserve to die, Dragan. It should've been me."
 "Rowan, there's no sense in thinking like that. I'm sure Roent did that because he saw something in you more than himself."
 A tear streamlined down Rowan's cheek. "I don't see what he saw in me, Dragan. I'm a husk of a person. I have no purpose."
 "Well, that's what I thought when I came here. But, you gotta give yourself that purpose, you know? You have to cut into the stream and take some water for yourself."
 "Why would he die for us like that? He died... cut in half, then ripped apart... and then we found him in the afterlife. What did he do? Sacrificed himself again to get the pressure off of us, and he's just." Rowan began to actually weep, his lips fluttering and his cheeks turning a bit red as more tears rolled down.
 "Why were we so weak?"
 Dragan looked at his hands and then back at the ground, then back outside at the raging inferno.
 "Sometimes, people are destined to guide others. Like a teacher, if that makes sense. A teacher is in your life, someone who guides you through example or action. Roent was a teacher."
 Rowan suddenly had a revelation in his eyes.
 "That's what I forgot. THAT damn BASTARD."
 Startled by his sudden shift in demeanor, Dragan took a step back. "Who?"
 "URIEL! THAT WRITHING IDIOT! THAT'S WHY ROENT IS DEAD! THAT STUPID MORON TOOK HIM FROM US. AND WHAT DID IT GET ME? PAIN. SUFFERING. HE TOLD ME AS LONG AS HE WAS ALIVE WE WOULD SUFFER."
 Dragan was incredibly disturbed. "You mean... the dude who leads the Galactic Order, Uriel?"
 Rowan suddenly stopped, slowly turning to Dragan. "He's still alive?"
 "I'm starting to think you're in the future, Rowan. Not a different universe."
 Rowan's fingers began to twitch a little, his axe shaky. Of course, he was unbelievably angry. However, he did his best to keep it in.
 "I have my purpose, Dragan. We're killing Uriel. I'm finishing what I started."