The desert stretched endlessly. Every horizon looked the same, dunes stitched with twisted plating, skeletal remains of machines half-buried like bones too ashamed to rise again. The omnic's frame was no different: broad-shouldered, angular, unmistakably forged for war. He was a Ravager; in every way the human eye could see.
And yet, he walked differently. No precise march, no stiff battle cadence just heavy, deliberate steps, as though every movement weighed more than armor.
S3bastian clanked alongside him, patched with scavenged plating. His wit was intact, even if his body wasn't.
"Do you know what we look like?" the butler said, voice fizzing with static. "A pair of vagrants who missed the masquerade. You: tall, brooding, terrifying. Me: handsome, charming, also terrifying. Quite avant-garde."
The Ravager turned his head, optics gleaming faintly in the sun. His voice, low and deliberate, broke the silence.
"Better terrifying than forgotten."
They reached a human village days later. Mudbrick homes clung to the cracked husk of an old wind turbine. Smoke rose from stone hearths. Irrigation ditches cut fragile veins through the sand.
The moment the two appeared on the ridge, life stopped. Hammers froze. Buckets slipped. Then the cry rang out.
"Ravager!"
Within seconds rifles and old pulse carbines leveled at them. The villagers had lived through the war. Their hands knew the weight of a gun.
The Ravager unit halted, arms loose at his sides. Every plate of his frame reflected the memories of burned fields and massacred kin.
S3bastian raised his hands, voice sharp with forced cheer.
"Gentlemen, breathe. I assure you, if my companion wished you dead, you would already be statistics. Consider instead that we're here to trade in words, not bullets."
But no one lowered their weapons. They looked at each other unsurely before making a decision.
"Come, we let the chief decide."
In the square, the truth came out. The council of nations had passed judgment:
All Ravager units were to be dismantled.
"They buried too many of ours," a woman said, her voice brittle. "We won't risk them rising again."
They showed old posters, folded newsprints smuggled from the cities. Each bore the same decree, the same silhouette marked for destruction. The Ravager stared at the paper. His own outline reduced to an effigy for fear. At last he spoke, voice carrying across the square.
"I know what my kind did. But I see that the world has decided that we don't deserve a second chance."
Silence followed his words. No one expected logic at a time like this.
"You slaughtered us," a farmer shouted. His knuckles were white around the stock of his rifle. "You burned this land."
"Yes," the omnic admitted. "I was built to. And I obeyed. But tell me, who made me? Who gave me orders? Was it this hand? This voice? Or was I a weapon wielded by another's will?"
The villagers muttered, unsettled. Some spat into the dirt. Others wavered.
The omnic continued, words rolling with grim force.
"Your weapons killed, too. Your armies shelled cities, cut down my kin. Do I name every soldier a butcher? Or do I see the chain above him, the command that bound him? If I am guilty, so are you. And if you are not, then perhaps neither am I."
"You expect us to believe that?" an old man snarled. "That you're different?"
The Ravager bowed his head slightly.
"No. I expect nothing. But I choose different. I walk away from the chain. I no longer kill. What more proof can I give than the empty space between your rifles and my still hands?"
S3bastian, seizing the moment, chimed in.
"Indeed. If he were the monster you fear, this village would be ash already. Instead, he listens to me, a butler mind you, and keeps walking. If that isn't character growth, I don't know what is."
The omnic's humor eased the tension as the villagers began to see the truth behind their words. But years of war reminded them to never let their guard down.
The Ravager's optics swept the villagers.
"I do not ask for welcome. Only passage. If you must see me as an enemy, then at least allow your children to sleep tonight without the sound of gunfire. I will stay outside your walls, where your eyes may always find me."
For a long moment, no one moved. Then the woman lowered her rifle. Slowly, others followed.
"You'll get no bed," she said stiffly. "No roof. But we won't fire. Stay beyond the ditch. Leave at dawn."
The Ravager inclined his head.
"That is more than I deserve. Thank you."
That evening, they sat on the sand just beyond the boundary. Firelight from the village flickered against the Ravager's plating. He held the decree in his hand, folding it carefully.
"They will never see the difference," he muttered. "To them, I am what I was built to be. Nothing more."
S3bastian leaned against a rock, optics twinkling.
"Then perhaps it's time you decide what you want to be. Start with a name. But be careful because names determine what or who you are. The best names aren't given but chosen. I can remember that I was once just some mindless drone following orders. Now? A butler with exquisite taste. Reinvention, darling."
The Ravager's optics dimmed thoughtfully.
"A name will not wash away blood."
"No," S3bastian said gently. "But it may help you carry it."
The omnic said nothing more. But for the first time, he let the folded decree rest in the sand instead of crumpling it to ash.
At dawn, they left. Children peeked from doorways as the two figures vanished into the desert. One boy whispered:
"If he's not like the others… what is he?"
The Ravager with superior hearing slowed at the words but did not turn.
S3bastian chuckled softly as they pressed forward.
"One step at a time, my friend. If the world insists on fearing you, perhaps we'll just have to prove it wrong."
And so their pilgrimage continued. Two wanderers, one nameless, both carrying more than the desert's silence looking for something that neither knew what yet.