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[SF] Rustbowl 1- (1-2 of 3) Sci-Fi Western. First two parts of a three part series and my first attempt at creating a world building bunch of short stories loosely inspired by ancient Greece and Conan the Barbarian. Any feedback would be much appreciated, thanks.
- The Trail Warms Up
Leaping over countless tables of scrap metal and stolen hardware that lay scattered around the bustling bazaar in the city center, the flustered robot struggled to comprehend how a petty criminal like himself could possibly find himself being hunted by a Scraper.
"This has to be a mistake?" Was the only conclusion that he comes to in his panicked state. Although this thought did little to ease his system as he barely avoids running into a large pile of scrapped and bullet-ridden Galvanic Troops stacked ungracefully in front of a stall, surrounded by a large group of curiously cautious browsers.
He knew he couldn't stop and try to plead his case.
Not to him.
From all he had heard amongst his fellow criminal kin, he was being pursued by a machine that wasn't known to listen to reasoning.
"At least he can't shoot me in the back with this many bots around. Not even he would be that reckless?" He reasoned with himself as he charged his way through a crowd of robots, sending one crashing into a large pile of ex-robotic parts, which topple down with a thunderous crash, barely missing the human vendor manning the stall.
Knowing that any chance of escaping into the crowd had been ruined by the trail of destruction he had just created in his wake, he knew his only possible chance of escape now was to get out of the market as quickly as possible and into the maze of alleyways that sprang off the main square like vines on a tree.
Quickly taken a sharp turn to his left, he headed behind a line of stalls that hid him from the open market. At the end of this long line of stalls, he saw his salvation, a narrow alleyway that led away from the main market and eventually, he knew, to the sprawling network of shanty towns in the south of the city. Where the hunted could easily lose even the keenest of hunters.
Closing in on his escape route, at a speed which the greatest human sprinters who ever existed could only have dreamt of, the robot naively started to allow himself to think of the near-legendary status he was about to achieve amongst his fellow criminals when they heard how he had just outfoxed one of the most notorious Scrapers in all of the Rustbowl. This newfound optimism was dashed in an instant as a sharp whizzing sound suddenly cut through the air like a knife, bearing down on him at an alarming speed.
Before he could react, a lasso of braided strands of gold, latched around the stainless steel rod that formed part of the robots trailing leg, yanking him backward with enough force to have ripped the limb clean off any organic creature unfortunate enough to find themselves facing such force.
Hitting the floor with a sickening thud, the robot slid backward nearly thirty feet before finally coming to a halt in a crumpled mess, followed closely by the large plume of dust his abrupt stop had created.
The dazed robot's system took a moment to comprehend what had just happened to him. Regaining his senses just as an imposing silhouette broke through the dust, directly in front.
"How naive was I?" he thought to himself.
"To think that I could ever outrun him!'.
The foolishness of that thought, however, was instantly eclipsed by his next as the robot instinctively reached down for the pistol that was always attached crudely to his upper steel thigh, only to realize that it must have broken free from the impact of his fall.
The figure above him already had his pistol drawn and aiming at the now defenseless robot.
"Easy now hotshot, no need to try anything else stupid."
"If I was here to shut you down I would have already put four holes in your back when you were running away in the market. Lucky for you, I'm only here for information. But if you refuse to tell me what I want to know or I think you're trying to cross my wires, then I will happily reconsider my no terminating policy. Understood?" Said the imposing shadowy figure towering over him, as he cocked back the hammer on his large hand cannon.
His voice was husky but unsurprisingly more emotive than the average modern robots, much more human-like than his own. The type of voice found commonly amongst older model robots, the type who had fought in the Great War almost a century ago, during a time when humans and robots had far more regular interactions than in the present day. But despite this more emotive accent, it couldn't hide the coldness instilled in his captors' voice. The terrified robot recognized his was the voice of a killer. One that left him in no doubt that what he said was never to be mistaken as an empty threat.
His captor looked down at him clearly pleased with the reaction of fear that he was receiving from his winged prey.
"I assume by the way you ran, you know who I am?" Continued the intimidating figure. His golden lasso protruding from an opening in his left wrist to the foot of his unfortunate captive.
The robot nervously stared up at his capture, unsure how to navigate this precarious position.
"Well?" said the mysterious figure again impatiently, kicking dust at his winged prey.
"Y-y-y-yes sir, I believe you're a Scraper, the one they call Kal. Sir!" stuttered the panicked robot, whilst slowly wiping the dust from his lense with the back of his steel hand.
He had never actually seen the robot who's shadow now blocked out the clear blue sky above him, but from what he was able to piece together from the various ghost stories he had overheard amongst his unsavory associates- this robot fit the description.
He was quite tall for a robot, about 6'7", although not as large as the Sparktics robots of the mountains and nowhere near as broad as those monolithic machines. But amongst robots of the civilized cities, he cut an opposing figure. It was hard to make out his captors face from behind his lowered cowboy hat and armor thus he couldn’t clearly make out if he possessed the damaged lower jaw that the feared Scraper was rumored to have received during the climactic battle at the Extinction Plans, which ended the Great War against the Galvanics. Although it was clear from his design that he was definitely an ‘ol’bot’, a term used to describe the steadily declining number of robots that were created before the War with the Galvanics. A time before the establishment of the Rustbowl, where robot and man had worked together in relative peace in the early years after the Great Awakening.
His captor certainly looked to the robot like a relic from the distant past.
Most of his body armor was hidden under a broad chainmail poncho, with only the upper section protruding out, completely surrounding his neck and lower third of his face. This exposed piece of armor alone showed the battered and scratched signs of battles that no doubt covered the rest of his captors' thick plated, faded green armor. But it was the golden lasso that convinced the captured robot that he was face to face with the robot known as 'The Regulator' by most of the criminal brethren.
The robot stared at the lasso in complete awe, the beauty of which even managed to distract him from his dire situation for a brief moment.
"That much gold.” he thought to himself. “How many Galvanic soldiers would you possibly have to terminate to accumulate that much trophy?”
His captor tilted back his cowboy hat revealing two narrow yet piercing lenses with blue dots in their center and a nose-shaped bulge that stopped just above this power armor. His appearance was certainly that of an ‘ol’bot’ when robots were made to look far more human-like looked than those currently being ‘born’ amongst their own kind in the Rustbowl. Although partially hidden, it was clear to the captured robot that behind his power armor the lower half of his captors face there were significant signs of damage.
"Good. Cause I know who you are Crank," said Kal.
The robot stared up nervously. He knew his name, which meant he really was after him.
"Yes sir, so t-t-there must be some sort of mist...."
Kal interrupted with an annoyed look etched across his partially visible face.
"A few months back you started doing some work for a small gang based out of somewhere in the eastern plains," said Kal
"From what I’ve gathered so far you acted as their local informant, scouting potential targets in the city. Correct?"
Panic threatened to overload Cranks systems, unable to answer the intimidating scraper whos piercing blue stare was burning through him like a fire lance.
Kal continued on whilst placing a cigar in a custom-designed opening located on the right-hand side of the armor covering his lower face.
“Seven armed guards lay scrapped after an ambush on their caravan on the outskirts of town, 2000 credits, and 200 steel ingots are missing. Unfortunately for these cowards, their gunplay indicates this doesn't seem to have been the work of true professionals. Three of their own lay scrapped at the scene. Now, no mercs sent by the Galvanics I have encountered in the wastelands would possibly be as sloppy as these amateurs, especially if they had the same drop on the caravan. But the planning, well that looks like the work of a true professional. In fact, it looks very similar to how an old associate of mine would have planned it." said Kal, striking a match off his chainmail poncho and casually lighting his cigar.
"So Crank, maybe you know who I'm talking about?"
Crank sat there startled for what felt like an eternity. "What do I say?" he thought to himself. "If I don't tell him he blows me away but if I tell him and it gets back to them that I squeaked, I'm scrap as well."
"Well!" barked the impatient Scraper. Finally loosening patience with the trembling robot.
"It's too damn hot for me to be standing here all day waiting for you to load the correct answer."
"Either you cooperate and live or you stay loyal to this pack of cowards and become scrap. The choice is yours." Kal reasoned, as he slowly raised his gun, pointing it at the panicking robot.
Crank raised his metal hands frantically waving them in front of his face.
"Okay, okay don't shoot" he pleaded.
"I met most of them a couple of times. I don't know their roll's, all I know is what they told me to do."
Kal slowly lowered his weapon, satisfied that his hostage was finally cooperating.
"Now this robot you did most of the dealing with, what did he look like?"
Crank quickly scanned through his memory noting every minor detail that he could from his brief encounters with the group.
"He was stocky if I was to guess originally designed as an enforcement droid probably an En-20, although with all the mods and repairs it was hard to tell exactly. He looked like he had taken some serious damage in the past, maybe an artillery shell during the war? Either way, he wasn't the full battery but mean as hell. He was the one who gave me orders, although I don't he was the brains."
Kal couldn't help but let out a hidden smirk behind his weathered armor. What Crank wasn’t aware of was that Kal suspected he knew exactly how that robot had sustained such damage.
After the betrayal from Kal's former partner, five years ago, that nearly left him a twisted heap of scrap on the desert plains, he returned to his safe house to find it ransacked and stripped bare, all the bounty he had required from his bandit and smuggling days was gone. The only solace he got from that terrible discovery was that the chest he had booby-trapped with C4 laid open and covered in hydraulic oil. He had hoped that it wasn’t his treacherous ex-partner who opened it and was pleased to find out that he would still have the chance to terminate the little pile of rust personally.
"Well, at least I know who's oil was sprayed all over my hideout now." the scraper thought to himself.
He turned his attention back to his frightened captive.
"What about the others? One in particular. Smaller, with one large lens for an eye, covered in rust scars covering his body."
A worried expression once again etched itself across Cranks robotic features at Kals' description.
"You mean P?" Crank interrupted
"H-h-he's the one in charge if I was to guess. I hear he's not to be messed with. Apparently, he was a deep raider after the war, took the fight right to those Galvanic bastoids and even has the arm to prove it!"
A curious look came over the Scrapers' face. As he remembered back to the day Pinto his ex-partner left him for scrap on the desert floor, but not before Kal managed to rip off one of the treacherous little rats' arms.
"The arm?" enquired Kal
Crank took note of Kals' keen interest and decided to proceed with caution.
"Y-y-yes, completely made with gold platen from what I could tell, like the Galvanic god-king himself! There are not many bots in all of the Rustbowl that can boast that much trophy, even some Sparktics wouldn't be abl...'.
Cranks system went into a complete state of shock as his whole metallic frame suddenly went rigid as a surge of electricity coursed through him from the golden lasso wrapped around his leg, before stopping as abruptly as it had begun.
The confused robot began to let out a loud cry completely unaware of what had just happened to him.
"Quiet down you pile of rust!" spat Galv, his system temperature having suddenly risen when hearing of the fate of his lost fortune.
"It's one thing to steal parts, after all that was how most bots had managed to carve out a living in Rustbowl, but gold? It was something else entirely to cover yourself in gold that you haven't earned through dual or destroying Galvanics." he thought to himself. “All those years fighting alongside that little coward and he tries to kill me in cold oil just to parade around in my own gold?”
Angrily Kal pointed his hand cannon at Crank, pulling back the hammer with sinister intent.
"You have fifteen seconds to tell me where their hideout is or you will lose your other hand!"
Crank looked up at his captor in terrified confusion.
Before he knew what had happened the Scrapers hand cannon let out a thunderous boom, sending a bullet smashing through Cranks arm, pulverizing it into a thousand shards of twisted steel. His severed hand sent hurtling down the alley behind.
Crack looked in horror at what remained of his arm.
"AHHHHHHH" bellowed the terrified robot. "You psychotic fu....."
Kal continued counting, unfazed.
The Scrapers' cold reaction terrified Crank to the edge of system failure.
"You can't do this to me!" Crank screamed.
"This is illegal, I could have you scrapped for this if the authro......."
Kal looked down at Crank impatiently, pulling the hammer back on his hand cannon once again.
"Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven" Kal continued.
Crank frantically reached into a small satchel attached to his waist with his remaining hand and began desperately rummaging through it, throwing various USB and mini discs onto the floor around him.
"Ok, ok. here!" said the delirious robot before tossing a small USB at the feet of the Scraper.
"I am meant to rendezvous with them there in two days and report if anyone from the city had been sent out to track them down. All the heat they generated from that last job has spooked them. They are preparing to pack up and move to another sector. They were wanting me to join the gang and......"
Kal interrupts Crank, bemused.
"How did they every manufacture a robot as stupid as you, son?" interrupted Kal, casually placing his gun back into his waist holster.
"You weren't going out there to join their gang. You're a loose end, they were luring you out there to be scrapped."
Crank looked up at Kal angrily at this revelation.
"What the hell do you know? There's honor amongst thieves." said the broken robot. "You're just a psychotic killer. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. About what happened in the war. You care more about humans than your own kind you fucking traitor!"
Kal arm suddenly sprang out like a pouncing cat, grabbing the startled robot by the throat, squeezing with a force that would crush the neck of any human and lifted him off the floor with impressive ease.
"Now listen here you pathetic little waste of parts," said Kal as he pulled his captive inches from his own face, the terrified robot's feet kicking out frantically for the floor below.
"I was there, at the Extinction Plains, fighting against the droids that have you bots so terrified that nearly a century later, you’re still too scared to come out from behind your walls. Do you fools really think that when they come, these walls will save you?” Said Kal.
You might see the Rustbowl as your home, but to the Galvanics this has always just been a prison to contain us until we are weak enough to finally conquer and from the pathetic robots I see running around these cities now, it’s only a matter of time before they come back and finish the job soon. I've seen better robots and humans than you be destroyed in their thousands side by side before you were even an ingot. What have you ever sacrificed to be free? You would be of more use to the Rustbowl if you were just scraped and turned into spare parts!"
With this Kal hurtled the robot through the air, like a discarded piece of garbage. Sending Crank skipping violently across the dusty cobbled stoned floor before crashing against the wall that made up one side of the alleyway that led away from the marketplace.
"And I know this,” said Kal, staring down at the crumpled robot.
“The leader of this gang you are so eager to join was once a partner of mine and that didn't stop him putting three slugs in my back as soon as he thought I had overstayed my usefulness.”
“He shot me with my own gun and left me in the desert to rot. If there's honor amongst thieves, that pile of rust missed the meeting," said Kal as he bent down to pick the USB off the floor. He examined the small device carefully before putting it in a leather satchel hidden under his chainmail poncho and unhooking a small hessian sack located next to it.
Kal looked down at the young robot and for the first time felt sympathy for the bot as he struggled to get back to his feet.
"As for you Crank, I'm leaving you with two options," Kal said as he tossed the small sack in the direction of the robot, who had finally regained his footing out of the slackened lasso loop.
"Inside you will find 250 credits, that's more than enough from you to repair that arm and anything else you think needs upgrading. From there you can go one of two ways Crank. You can go back to your life, robbing, and stealing until either one of your kin or one of mine decides otherwise or you head north to Datum and enlist with the FAOR forces barracked there and get prepared for the war to come.” said the old Scraper.
“This worlds full of hammers and nails, it's time to decide which you would rather be before the Rustbowl makes that decision for you."
With that Kal, call pressed a small button located on his forearm, quickly retraced his lasso back into the small opening on his wrist.
Turning around, he looked up at the harsh midday sun radiating down on him and studied its position intently. It was hot, even by the normally inhospitable standards of the Rustbowl, but he knew that such heat would work to his advantage as most likely most bandits roaming out in the wastelands would be seeking refuge from the harsh midday sun. As soon as he could get in contact with Corvus, they would set out and hunt down his former partner. Vengeance was close and the thought of ripping that gold plated arm off his traitorous ex-partner filled the scrapper with the vigor of a new oil change.
- Hidden in the sand
The ever increasing heat generated by its metal exterior was starting to cause minor irregularities to its internal circuitry, resulting in sub-optimal performance from its primary scanner. Making its current difficult mission, even more troublesome. Unless it could locate its primary target within the next 10 minutes there would be no choice but to return to its partner empty-handed or risk malfunctioning and crashing into the rocky landscape below.
Fortunately, on a final pass over the coordinates giving, it finally located the heat signature it was searching for, albeit slightly off from its originally downloaded coordinates.
A thousand feet below it, barely visible against the bottom of a sheer cliff face, sat the well-hidden outpost at the entrance to a canyon that splintered off in a dozen different directions. The perfect location to make a quick escape for those concerned with being hunted down. Unfortunately, the location also appeared to provide no obvious trail to approach the structure undetected, although as the droid arched gracefully back in the direction of it’s waiting partner it knew it wouldn't faze him in the slightest.
Kal leaned casually against his battered up speeder, escaping the brutality of the sun by taking refuge in the shade provided by a large boulder which jutted from the desert floor like a whale breaching water.
Laying back whilst puffing on a short cigar, the veteran scrapper gave off a relaxed demeanor that couldn't have been further from the truth.
Leaving the safety of the large walled city-states of the Rustbowl meant entering a vast, rugged wasteland full of bandits, mercenaries and huge mechanical monsters created in a bygone era that hid amongst the deserts and cliffs of this largely unexplored land. In this unforgiving environment, Kal knew from his own days as a bandit that danger could quickly descend from any direction in the flash of a lens. Although Kal’s near half a century roaming these plains meant that he did not possess the same fear of the wastelands as those of his kind that stayed almost exclusively around the safety the city-states provided. Having faced more perilous situations throughout his years than his memory could possibly store. He had become acutely aware that through his time out is the Rustbowl wastes he had developed a calmness under pressure that even amongst robots were unmatched. But this particular sector he found himself in was different.
The far northwestern sector of the Rustbowl had steadily grown a sinister reputation amongst the populations of the city dwellers with many considering the area to be cursed. As ridiculous as it sounded for robots to believe such things, it strangely provided a testament to how far artificial intelligence had evolved in the years following 'The Great Awakening'. When left to think for themselves, it seemed artificial life inevitably developed the same superstitious tendencies as their human creators. 'If humans created us, then who created humans?' was the inevitable question that many robots came to ponder, religious-like movements amongst robots had begun to spread throughout the planet in the years following the Great War. Evidence of religious practice was already common amongst the Galvanic Empire, who's most frantically supports worshipped their leader like a spiritual ruler, even going so far as to refer to him as 'The God-King of Galv'. Even performing rumored mass smelting sacrifices of captured enemies in his honor.
Usually, Kal was not one to buy into ridiculous superstitious stories. He'd seen some of the worst atrocities imaginable through his own lens to possibly care about fantastical tales with little evidence, yet there was something about this place that filled him with uneasiness which even his normally calm system couldn't shake. A sense that he was being watched at all times.
He had heard stories about merchants and bandits who had wandered into this region never to be seen again. The obvious answer to this was that Galvanic patrols from the nearby borderlands had most likely captured them or perhaps destroyed by humans who were said to have repopulated in the heavily forested areas nearby. These, he reasoned with himself, were both plausible explanations, although he couldn't delete the memory of one terrified merchant account he had heard first hand over a decade ago that filled him with an almost paranoid level of alertness. A tale that involved alleged packs of mindless dilapidated robots who hunted for victims to tear apart for scrap. Equipped with strange cables that appeared to turn normal functioning robots into the very same creatures that attacked them.
Ghost stories perhaps but still enough for him to want out of this eerie landscape as soon as possible. Especially with the sun starting to set behind him.
His systems finally began to cool when he saw a dot appear in the pinkening sky above. Corvus was returning which meant the revenge he sought for so many years was soon to be his.
The small droid landed gently on Kals outstretched forearm, relieved to finally be able to recharge.
"Well?" asked the impatient Scraper.
Corvus glared at Kal, annoyed the Scraper hadn’t given him at least a moment to rest.
"Well, next time you ask me to join you out in this cursed place, consider my fee tripled." Corvus sarcastically replied.
Kal already unimpressed with how long his small partner had taken to locate the bandits' hideout, glared back and snarled.
"How about I clip your wings right now and you can walk back to Ferrous alone.” Said Kal.
“Did you locate them or not?"
The small droid responded casually, clearly unfazed and used to his partner's short fuse.
"Calm down you old rust pile," he said. "I found them.”
“There's a well-hidden shack at the mouth of a canyon five clicks east from here. Not far from where your contact said it should be, but there's a problem. Whoever decided on that location knew what they were doing. There's no possible way you could approach them from this direction undetected unless you plan on trying to sneak up on it overnight.” said the small bird-like robot.
“Either you will be welcomed under a hail of bullets or they'd have escaped into the canyons by the time you get there."
Kals human mannerisms were on full display for a moment as he instinctively rubbed the top of his brow, pondering the dilemma he now faced.
"Well, sometimes the best solution is the simplest one," Kal finally said as he mounted his speeder, kickstarting the guttural sounding machine into life. In no mood to hang around this cursed landscape any longer than he would have to.
Corvus now hovering above, looked down at his partner cynically.
"There's also evidence to suggest that in some cases it is also the foolish one," said the small robot.
Kal unfazed by his partners less than supportive words, simply ignored them, loudly revving his speeder once again.
"From what I have gathered hunting this gang, they aren't real bandits. Hell, they are weak enough to let themselves be led by a treacherous little snake that wears false gold. I doubt that none amongst his numbers have any gold to show amongst themselves, just like the three that lay scrapped at that ambush. Any real raiders would have seen through Pinto's lies at soon as they locked lenses on the measly tin can.” said Kal.
“No, this is a gang of cowards, I'm willing to bet every ounce of gold I have on it. Besides, they are expecting Crank to rendezvous with them any day now and with the sun at my back, I should be able to mask my true identity from them long enough to get into striking distance"
Corvus again tried to get his partner to reconsider such a careless approach.
"You're putting a lot of faith into an assumption Kal. Pinto is a crafty robot if I’ve ever met one, besides he had you fooled enough once to nearly scrap you with your own gun.”
To which the old Scraper simply glared up at his partner angrily.
Corvus immediately realized that he had made a mistake in bringing up that day with Kal and seeing that this would only solidify his decision to act recklessly, quickly tried another more logical approach.
“Even if you can get there with your true identity hidden, there will still be five of them and one of you. Not even a lucky old fool like you stands a chance of outdrawing all of them, real bandits or not."
"I've thought of that," said Kal unconcerned "Remember how I scraped the Omaha Twins last winter?" Kalv said whilst revving the throttle on his machine, clearing the desert sand loudly from the exhaust.
Corvus again looked down unimpressed by his partner's response.
"I remember you getting shot if that's what you're asking."
Kal let out a laugh, readjusting his large and weathered cowboy hat.
'Well, as I said before, that was just a test run" said the Scraper sheepishly.
With this he pulled back hard on the accelerator handle suddenly sending the speeder violently forward at an incredible speed, leaving his partner pondering above.
Corvus watched as his partner quickly disappeared as the cloud of dust left in his wake engulfed the small robot.
"We will soon see you headstrong fool." Corvus though as he flew out the dust cloud, landing on a large rock to recharge, unsure whether he would be returning to Ferrous on his own after all.
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