Kiara had warned the soldiers of my arrival. But nothing could prepare them for what they saw as I turned that corner.
They had gathered in a plaza. The synthetic grass around the stone tiles of the floor was just as green as the day it was planted. The state of the buildings was sublime when compared to the rest of the city.
A fountain stood at the center. It depicted a massive, statuesque creature. Four legs that ended in points supported a multi-ringed body that resembled a fortified citadel. Guns jutted out the walls of the city and pointed outwards. The artists had somehow frozen all the ire on the creature's face, its bared teeth, its glaring eyes.
Its upper torso was placed slightly offset to the right and stood like a tower above the city walls. Two skinny arms held weapons, one holding a rectangular lance and the other holding a massive scythe.
Written on a great marble plate was the text:
"The one made to end all war. The one who died with it."
I recognized it as the greatest of my kin. My predecessor, the pinnacle I was built to surpass and never given the chance to.
"Father," I whispered. My fist closed around nothing.
The building past it was uniquely barricaded. Sandbags and barbed wire lined each and every opening. It seemed like a penthouse. Now, it was a fortress. The sight of it was familiar. It was just like the brutal warfare of the trenches that had been my natal shriek and my first drawn breath.
A pair of eyes caught me from within the building. As I looked back, the figure ducked. I sensed the heat signatures and heard the heartbeats of maybe thirty soldiers inside.
Then the front double doors swung open. Roland stepped out. He had changed from his ragged equipment to an almost casual red button-up and denim jeans.
"Finally here, you metal son of a bitch," he called out as he finished puffing from a cigar he held by his mouth.
"In the alloy. Here before you, primate son of a bitch," I replied.
We walked up to one another. Then he held his hand out and gave me a stern look. I stared down at it for a moment, then made up my mind and firmly shook it. He gripped harder and I playfully squeezed in return. He muttered a quick, "Ouch," before letting go.
"William will be here tomorrow," I told him plainly. No point trying to hide anything.
"I figured he'd be here sooner." Something akin to relief filled his voice.
I contemplated telling him about the details. Logically, one captain is not worth the whole platoon. If he simply surrendered himself, the battle could be avoided. I knew he probably wouldn't. But something about him looked… tired… different.
"Do you have a plan?" I asked.
He chuckled. "We shoot them till they stop moving." He winked.
I shook my head. "And if that doesn't work?"
He hummed, feigning contemplation. "We pray they choke on our bones."
I rotated my lenses, trying to simulate a more serious facial expression.
"I'll sort the details out with you later. I will do what I can for you."
He nodded. "Let's get you introduced then."
...….
Dead silence.
The instant my last footfall tolled, all voices ceased. All looked at me. Thirty pairs of unfamiliar eyes.
Some were seated on old sofas, others had been leaning on walls or maintaining their weapons. There was a casual, almost cozy, energy in the air that my arrival had utterly obliterated.
I ought to make an introduction. "I am—"
"We have received reinforcements," Roland spoke out suddenly. I opened my mouth, but he silenced me with a brief wink.
"Our efforts have been recognized, and by the will of our king we have been granted the aid of one of his angels." Roland spread his arms out. His voice filled with a pomp he had never shown before.
"Rejoice, men, for today we have been rewarded, and tomorrow we shall make it clear that we have earned it. Tomorrow, we wage war."
Murmurs and whispers began to spread, at first a trickle and then a monsoon. A subtle energy filled the room, not the cozy one I had butchered, not the tense silence of my arrival, but a quiet excitement.
Roland sighed under his breath, glad that his ruse had succeeded. Then he raised a fist and placed his foot on a stool.
"To war," he roared.
And thirty voices howled with zeal.
...….
There was an air of celebration that followed. I hadn't engaged with any of the soldiers. I stood in the corner and looked outwards. The room was a lounge. This place had been a hotel. Two men sat by the desk at the entrance, their rifles disassembled. They seemed to be arguing over maintenance.
One of them was tiny, his helmet oversized, yet his fingers moved over the parts with a nimbleness that went beyond mere familiarity. He had reassembled his rifle within seconds. Then he looked at his partner with a critical eye.
The other man took a swig from a brown bottle by his side. Then he fixed his own rifle. After concluding, he lifted it up and the front receiver decoupled and hit the floor. He looked down at the shorter man, then laughed.
"All right, you win. But it's not fair… I am too drunk for this bullshit."
The shorter man snickered, then swung his arm around his partner's shoulders.
"I'll kick your ass next time too."
A group of soldiers had been eyeing me from the other side of the room. They whispered and pointed. My advanced sensors picked up the usual words like "Monster," or "The fuck is that?"
However, one of them took it a step further. He was drunker than the rest. He had a clean haircut, buzzed down perfectly. He wore his uniform even now.
"I am telling you, Roland has lost his mind. He was supposed to send a scouting team, not take all our best men out into the wastes. What kind of captain leaves the bulk of his men behind on some random search?"
Another soldier, a man wearing a dusty grey cloak, was reading quietly in a corner. Upon hearing the drunk speak, he stood up and approached the small circle. He was massive, dark-skinned, and well-muscled.
"The captain may not be ideal. But he serves the will of our king without question," the man answered softly.
The drunk stumbled forward and swept his arm out.
"You, you are always talking about this crap. Come on… look at what that dirtbag brought home. A fucking monster is what that thing is." He pointed at me.
"Go on, tell me how your king sent that thing out into the middle of bum-fuck nowhere."
The rest of the room seemed to ignore the exchange. Little groups, all caught in their little activities.
The large man's face remained steady. But the way he leaned down to face the drunk was nothing short of commanding.
"Careful. You may have your fears and your doubts about Roland. However, dare to question the will of the king and I will send you to meet him yourself."
The drunk stilled, an almost comical shift from bravado to fear. He nodded like a wounded puppy.
"Right, sorry."
After he had castigated the drunk, the large man turned his full attention to me. I was surprised. I tend to be quite striking. Yet there wasn't a hint of fear in his eyes. He stopped a meter and a half away from me.
His eyes explored my frame, as if sizing me up. Not a hint of fear. Then he looked into my cameras and smiled.
"My name is Jon. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He extended a hand.
I thought it wise to build trust. So, I shook it.
"It is a pleasure indeed—"
CRUNCH.
I felt something, pressure. I am sure I heard—
I tried to pull away. But his grip felt like fighting against a mountain. That sound had been my armor beginning to crack.
I yanked my arm away, his grip breaking. A look of surprise in his eyes.
"I am sure of it now," he said with that same unerring calm.
"You are an angel indeed."
I should have executed him on the spot. Yet my systems couldn't detect any clear threat from him. The action had been taken with an almost innocent curiosity rather than any malice.
I tilted my head, confused.
"Explain yourself," I commanded.
In response, he clapped his large dark hands together and beamed at me.
"I was starting to worry. I thought that my prayers would never come to pass. But now, thanks to you, I know it was all worth it."
Part of me wanted to crush his line of thinking right here and now. However, the sunshine within that smile was far too precious. Even I would think twice about snuffing it out.
"I am glad that my presence brings you comfort. Such is the role of an angel."
I remembered Roland. I had to discuss tomorrow with him. I tried to push past Jon. But he refused to budge.
"Just a second, please."
The sudden desperation caught me off guard and I turned to face him.
"What do you want?"
He pulled out a small picture of a young woman. His face was hopeful. Yet there was melancholy there too.
"Angel, I don't like fighting. If I am going to be honest with you, I am terrified."
My lenses shifted. I didn't reply yet.
"Please." He gripped my shoulders. Every eye in the room once again turned towards me.
"I only volunteered so I could buy medicine for my sister."
The calm he held shattered completely. Ugly tears ran down his face.
"Without me she will die. Please, angel. She needs… Just tell me she will be alright."
I was taken aback. There was no other way to describe it but shock. My mind tried to consult my programming. But it only received radio silence.
I didn't think.
I just acted.
I reached out and placed a hand on Jon's shoulder.
"I will watch over her. As I watch over you."
The despair in his eyes faded. He wiped his face and nodded once. He gulped.
"Thank you."