The Evolution of the Machine

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SIX

         The darkness offered a bitter cloak, but it could be used to better conceal his movements. He now chooses to roam the streets at night, searching for answers to a question he has only forgotten. Clothing had been taken from a closed store. Even though against his beliefs, the need to clothe surpassed that of his inhibition to steal. Pedestrians pass by without recognition or interest of his presence, thus relieving his paranoia.

         A sudden, distant flash from a rapid motion draws his attention like a moth to light. Using his telescopic sight, he moves in on the action only to find a single gunman holding a series of store patrons hostage with an advanced gun augmentation attached to his arm. Heat signatures reveal that the aggressor is augmented with various robotics, and that he is hot. Caution is required to deal with such a situation, but the Host has lost the decree of such virtue. Without regard of the lives within and surrounding the building, he sets off in a direct trajectory for the store with full ambition and puissance.

         He stands before the store’s owner maliciously swinging his gun, for what reason, is unclear. The store was occupied by no more than a dozen people, but the score was worth much more than that. The confusion of his actions were not enough to deter him as he threatened the old man once again. He felt a compulsive need to carry through until the end, just to see where it would take him as an old woman weeps in fear. Suddenly, his attention is focused to the large window as a small detonation startles the patrons into a horrified frenzy. Fragments of glass are shattered throughout the room sending pieces into the crowd. They fall to the ground, unaware and unsure of the event unfolding before their eyes.

         The gunman feels his arm being pulled with the invisible motion, but his relentless anchorage refuses him the ability to move with the flow, thus resulting in the member being violently wrenched from its nest. With an agonizing cry, he falls to one knee, griping at his absent arm and watches in dismay as the blood pours from the opened wound.
         He is then alerted to a glimmer, as the invisible motion comes to a stand still and his dismembered arm hangs limp in his left hand. He looks up to the face of the stranger with a small stream of blood running from his nose. Taking a moment to size his opponent, the man sniffs back the fluid from his nostril and slowly begins to stand. The blood from his opened wound suddenly stops flowing as a faint trail of vapor issues from the stump and the smell of cauterized carrion fills the air. He then laughs and greets the other man. “Welcome to the party, man!” His voice is choked and synthesized, but the malice is still present. Now standing and stable, the gunman makes a subtle motion, but its intent is noticed and without ado, the Host takes action.
         “No, you don’t.” He says as he surges forward and grabs the assailant by the throat and carries him away, out into the street. The event occurred unnoticed, as so no one could truly identify its motions clearly.

         The Host stands before the gunman with the dismembered arm in hand and his blood randomly splashed about him. The man, still in shock, stands with one knee to the ground and with a trail of blood running from his nose.

         He had not noticed at first, but the store’s owner and patrons were widely separated throughout the room, with fragments of glass scattered about and through them. The body of one, lies motionless on the ground, crumbled in a lifeless heap. He then returns his attention to the assailant, silently accusing him of the actions he was forced to pursue. The man then stands and mutters something in a foreign language, the Host did not care what as he notices the left side of the stranger’s face begin to draw open. A secret compartment was beginning to reveal itself as he then steps forward and grabs the man by the throat and runs out of the broken window into the street before any further damage is done to the store.

         His decision is ill conceived as his error becomes clear. Vehicles come to an immediate halt, causing a massive pile up. The diversion provided enough time for the gunman to brake free from the Host’s uncanny grasp and sets off running into the darkness. Still blinded by the change of events, the gunman scurries in front of an oncoming delivery truck. The impact sets off a minor explosion, which consumes both him and the forward cab of the truck. The metallic white flash blinds the street’s occupants as the detonation’s sonic blast shatters the glass of the surrounding buildings and parked vehicles. A secondary explosion is then issued from the truck’s fuel tanks, thus sending metal shrapnel through the air. More casualties were inevitable, but it did not have to be that way.
         The Host still stands, motionless and dismayed in the middle of the street with a tight grip of the gunman’s dismembered, robotic arm. Despite the clutter and chaos about him, he stands deeply drawn to the arm and continues to examine it as though something were terribly familiar about it. The compressive force of his grip increases until it exceeds the yield strength of the structures material. The arm first crumbles, then falls to the ground in pieces. He then opens his hand and allows the remaining pieces to fall to the ground as he realizes the extent of his anger.

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