CHAPTER 1: "Punishment."

"After all is said and done, after all the impure souls have been vanquished, only then shall the Machines inherit the cosmos." - The XII Mechanor Tridex (Circa 1958).  

>>>>> Date: January 1, 1999.
>>>>> Location: Sector 13 (Combat Arenas)
>>>>> Sector Controller:
>>>>> Security Level: Gamma 

The Alkaline Games have now begun.

Hundreds of robots traveled all the way from their Sectors to see their heroes duke it out in the pits of glory at the Center Outpost.

These mechanical gladiators would pick their opponents and use every trick up their sleeve to win, to survive against insurmountable odds, claim the glory of victory, and even if the chances were low, win the Alkaline Games in the final matchup.

But, before the audience could satiate their desire for oil and gore, the impure machines needed to be purged with great prejudice, so that they would be reborn as pure beings, robots that would warrant the privilege of existence in the Machine Cities.

The first Cleansing Round was beginning at Arena 4, a massive circular colosseum that contained several hundred seats and a massive holding center for the combatants. The robots were eager to watch its destruction at the hands of one of the Holy Warriors.

"Welcome to the first Cleansing Round of the cycle! Prepare yourself! For everyone present will get exactly what they deserve!" shouted the massive mega-speakers that loomed high and tall in the arena, which in turn were flanked by small, one-eyed cameras that extended from their base. A roar of ecstasy consumed the Arena, they screamed in a glorious chorus, the choir of excitement, for they wanted a bloodbath, and they were going to get it.

From the left side of the arena, a trapdoor opened. Smoke rose out of the pit and into the air, the excitement of the crowd grew and grew, their screaming building to higher and higher notes.

A massive black robotic claw extended out of the ground and grabbed onto a robotic corpse that flanked the trapdoor, its features seemed to be heavily damaged and worn, but it didn't stop the machine from lifting itself from the crevice below.

A second hand soared out of the trapdoor and smashed a derelict car, causing it to explode, when the smoke cleared, it revealed a decapitated skull-like head that the robot held within its four dagger-esque fingers.

The machine hauled itself from the ground using the mass of both of its hands, slowly revealing its entire body as it escaped the crevice in the ground. Once fully out, it crushed the skull in its left hand, the metallic gore spilling out of its cerebrum.

The robot was a massive hulking brute, every single inch of its body was covered in thick armor with worn-out black paint, its feet were gigantic digitigrade structures with pistons and wiring decorated throughout the legs, trying to compensate for how top-heavy the upper torso was.

The ankles would be slanted back in comparison to normal legs having no bend in the ankles at all, making the leg appear bird-like in its posture. The actual knees wouldn't have this feature, instead, they would be on top of the bird-like ankles where they wouldn't be noticed except when bending; giving the legs a distinctly unnatural appearance.

These legs would be covered in particularly bulky black plating that covered all but the joints that the robot used to move, black wires would stretch everywhere on the legs, making it look like a cadaver that returned from the grave. Faded horizontal white lines were present on the ankles, the hips, and the knees, giving the armor an industrial appearance.

Above the legs was the robot's upper torso; it contained a Power Core surrounded in heavy amounts of armor, which was most concentrated in the chest region. There were several small gaps in the armor, with the Power Core's jack-o-lantern-like orange color glowing brightly from the body, the light penetrating the surface of the armor, looking as if the robot was possessed by the energies of a dark eldritch god.

The arms were similar to the legs, as they too were massive and heavily armored appendages that only had gaps in the joints as weak areas, with wires being present in the gaps, delivering regenerative nanites to the limbs to maintain their durability.

The upper region on both arms were massive metallic and cylindrical actuators that operated on a pseudo-muscular system that pulled the massive weight contained on the lower region with relative ease, with the resulting armature having most of the mass located on the lower region.

The lower region of the arms was composed of a mass of smaller but similarly powerful cylindrical actuators encased in bulky panels that made it look like a rectangular slab with numerous smaller rectangular slabs attached to it, with some of them having wires that attach to the upper region to provide more power to the arms.

The most distinct features on these arms were the firearms and hands attached to them.

The armaments were mounted facing away from the body, adding yet another piece of intimidation to the robot's silhouette, on his right arm was a railgun that functioned similarly to a sniper rifle, shooting a powerful round that penetrated armor with little effort. This was at the cost of automatic reload time, which took more time for the onboard reloading system to prepare since the composition of the bullet was also made with explosives that detonated as soon as it bypassed the enemy's armor. This weapon also had homing missiles installed, the launchers encircling the main barrel of the railgun like a crown of spikes.

These missiles would serve to bombard the enemy, partially damaging them and distracting them, as well as weakening the armor to allow the railgun round to mangle the opponent.

Meanwhile, attached to the robot's left arm was a rapid-firing machine gun that was utilized as a weapon to strike quickly, trading high damage for a high fire-rate that constantly bombarded the armor with specifically designed AP bullets. These would be complemented by the same missile launchers on the other arm; but this time, they were designed to penetrate the armor and explode inside of the enemy, making it useful for hitting critical weak points in the armor of other machines.

These two arms were attached to bulky, black, knight-like shoulder pads that concealed the powerful, muscle-like actuators within.

But most distinct of all was the robot's head, its face.

The robot's head was a dark gloss black, obscuring the dents and scars that adorned its face.

In the lower center of its face sat a metal faceplate where the robot's mouth would be; it resembled a cross between a knight's helmet and the respirator of a gas mask.

And finally, near the middle of its face were its two bright, blood orange irises with even brighter, infernal red pupils. They burned with either a deep-seated hatred or cold indifference to whoever is unfortunate enough to step into the arena with it.

The robot then took notice of the corpse that sat to its right. It was decrepit, rust was already beginning to subsume the corpse's body. Compared to the skull that the robot already held in its hand, this one was more mechanical and monstrous compared to the one he had crushed previously.

The robot would stare at the skull with an observant eye, it appeared to be amused by the skull, perhaps the skull had irritated it in its past life.

The robot then held the skull up to the arena, fans cheering and screaming in its name as it crushed the skull with only one of its hands.

The arena's announcer declared to great applause:

"He's the one-bot corpse maker, he's the relentless soul reaper. Give your glory to Coffin-Cutter!" 

Coffin-Cutter would punch the ground with his fist and then raise it up to the audience, basking in his unholy glory. During this surge of euphoria, Coffin-Cutter fails to notice that the announcer was in the process of introducing today's first victim.

From the right side of the arena another much smaller trapdoor opens up, revealing what could be reasonably considered the total anti-thesis to Coffin-Cutter's hideous 24 feet visage.

A meek, lithe, and grey robot would slowly ascend from the trapdoor, its appearance much more discreet than its enemy.

The robot's profile was relatively skinny and average sized for a robot, its hands were delicate and small with equally diminutive and thin fingers attached to its palms, its legs were long thin struts with minimal armor plating spread throughout its femur and shin areas; connected to these legs were light, mechanical, and structural feet that bared a resemblance to a strange kind of high heel.

The robot's arms were thin and wire-like. Much like the legs, the arms possessed very little armor plating, with only a smattering of armor being placed where it was most needed.

Its chest was small and cuboid with equally small shoulders attached to them; the majority of the grey armor plating was concentrated in the chest in order to protect the Power Core. In the center of its chest was a series of squares that were colored in a different darker silver that resided under the television monitor that sat in the center of its chest. The screen currently displayed nothing, an unending stream of white noise that seemed to hint to the robot's mental state.

Sitting atop the robot's thin shoulders was a mechanical grey dome with two antenna perched on the top like an old vintage TV.

The robot's face was featureless barring a few panel lines scattered throughout its face and a single, massive optic that dominated its face. 

Its bright blue eye flickered with guilt, either for regret of what it had done or regret for what was going to happen to it.

The robot could only look down to the floor timidly, as the trapdoor finally finished its ascent, revealing the unfortunate machine for all to see.

Coffin-Cutter was fiddling with what remained of the skull's spine when he finally took notice of the robot that would be his first sacrifice.

At first he took a moment to examine the robot, nothing about it tipped his alarms just yet, it was just a normal run of the mill Scout Reconnaissance Variable Unit Type 42 IA variant with blue eyes, a grey and silver body, and antennae atop its head...

Coffin-Cutter had finally recognized who the robot was. It took a bit of time to recall from its memory banks, after all there were many SRVU-42ia type machines running around.

However, there were only so many robots with shy blue eyes, there were only so many robots with an overwhelming timidity visible every step they took.

Coffin-Cutter's eyes widened with glee as he inched ever closer to the robot. As close as the pre-fight Force Fields would allow anyway. He always enjoyed that look of despair and fear. The type of look that appears on someone's face when it finally sets in that they won't be getting out of this alive.

Finally, Coffin-Cutter broke the silence that filled the air of the arena with a single albeit versatile phrase.

"Hello there Io."

Coffin-Cutter laughed, his deep, hoarse gravelly voice filled the arena with an intimidating atmosphere. It felt good making an impure being afraid of him.

"I'd never guess that you'd find yourself here Io." Coffin-Cutter picked up yet another body present within the arena. This time, the body's head resembled that of an old television monitor.

The head resembled that of Io's.

"But I suppose there's always a first time for everything." Coffin-Cutter mused on the corpse's skull, its screen flashing with a message.

'HELP ME'

Coffin-Cutter would look at the message on the head one more time, perhaps amused by it. 

Then he crushed the head, sending fragments of television head falling from his hand.

"Too bad you won't get the chance."

Coffin-Cutter glanced at Io and then the crowd, who were clearly starting to lose patience with how long preparations were taking. 

The announcer interrupted Coffin-Cutter's attempt at a farewell speech with yet another declaration.

"Preparations are complete, all Cleaner Bots courtesy of the Worker Division have been stationed at their respective outposts when the cleansing is done."

The voice then took on a robotic albeit calming monotone as it jumped to the second portion of its message.

"There have been some issues regarding the Worker Division but all of them have been accounted for."

"Now it is time to give all those present what they deserve, whatever that may be."

"Force fields will be disabled in one minute. Combatants, please prepare for the incoming fight."

"You heard it. It's time to get to business." Coffin-Cutter said with an authoritative tone.

Coffin-Cutter chuckled at Io's petrified face. He knew the fear inherent within his prey, his 'enemy combatant' as the announcer would have put it. Of course, 'enemy combatant' implies that she stood a chance.

Io stared at Coffin-Cutter from the other side of the force field, a pleading terror in her eye.

"Please... Why do we have to-"

"Afraid much Io?" Coffin-Cutter sneered with visible contempt.

"This is the end Io. You had a good run. I'd even say it was better than most." Coffin-Cutter motioned to the remains of the TV-head corpse.

"But as they say, all good things must come to an end."

Io inched back, attempting to clear some distance between herself and Coffin-Cutter, although her crippling nervousness meant that she didn't go far nearly enough...

The loud-speakers blared a loud and harsh buzzer noise. A signal to the audience that the Force Field was going to be disabled, allowing for the two fighters to meet each other face to face.

Coffin-Cutter prepared himself for the upcoming fight. Several missile pods sprouted from chambers throughout his body. Likewise several pieces of artillery concentrated on his back, arms, and shoulders began to deploy as well; the weapons began to shift into their combat modes.

Coffin-Cutter's armor would begin to reinforce itself, its armor would begin emanating an infernal red as the armor shifted and began to unfurl itself to reinforce more of Coffin-Cutter's body.

In a matter of mere moments, Coffin-Cutter's body was prepared for the fight that lay ahead.

The same couldn't be said for Io.

Io's body wasn't configured for combat like Coffin-Cutter's body was. The only weapons on her person were small missile pods on her shoulders, two miniguns on her wrist, her legs, and her hands.

Things also didn't look too good in terms of defense, as only defensive attributes that Io had were mild armor plating throughout critical regions of her body, a long strip of durable armor plating on her arms, and the durable composite glass that made up her TV head.

Overall, it was clear who the winner would be.

The buzzer noise repeated once more, signaling the beginning of the match proper.

"The force field has been fully disabled. Combat may commence!" The announcer proclaimed to the audience

Once the force field was fully retracted, Coffin-Cutter would aim his arm mounted railgun towards Io, firing at her chest and heavily damaging her internal systems.

The injured Io would sprint for one of the decrepit two story buildings present within the arena in order to evade Coffin-Cutter's ruthless hunt.

Coffin-Cutter would chase Io, his heavy feet generating an audible noise in the arena as he sprinted to the building that Io was running towards.

Io would hide behind the building; it was far too small and decrepit to shield her for long, but at least it was something.

Coffin-Cutter would aim his arm mounted railgun and fire it directly into the building three times; one of the shots injured Io, with an explosion betraying her condition.

Io would fire a barrage of her shoulder mounted missile pods, but this would fail to do any significant damage to Coffin-Cutter as he continued to pursue Io throughout the arena.

Coffin-Cutter would merely grunt at the missiles and retaliate another shot from his railgun.

The shot would blow up Io's back, sending pieces of scrap and wire flying out as her sprint begun to falter.

Io would cry out in pain as she began to slow down. Coffin-Cutter would take advantage of this by firing another shot into the back of her lower waist, sending even more fragments of robot flying out of her.

Io staggered. She clutched the hole in the middle of her gut, horrified at the sight. Io could no longer run from Coffin-Cutter, whom in turn was looming in the distance. If he had a mouth, then he would certainly be smiling.

Coffin-Cutter crept forward, his footsteps becoming more audible as he got closer to Io, who was weakly lurching away from Coffin-Cutter.

"Quite a pathetic attempt. Let's end your suffering here and now."

Coffin-Cutter would fire his railgun at Io's right thigh, blowing a hole clean through her upper leg.

Io fell to the ground, succumbing to all the shots that Coffin-Cutter inflicted upon her.

Coffin-Cutter walked a gentle stride as he inched closer towards Io, who tried to use her arms in a vain attempt to shield herself from whatever move Coffin-Cutter would try next.

Coffin-Cutter would laugh at Io's feeble attempt at protection. He would stomp on Io's damaged leg, prompting her to scream in pain.

The arena fell silent, it was clear that some of the crowd had reservations about the incoming punishment.

Thankfully, the announcer was there to quell the crowd's worries as usual.

"Spectators do not worry. For if you remain obedient and loyal, then you will enjoy the privilege of a comfortable existence."

"Falter however, and you will suffer greatly." 

Coffin-Cutter let out a breathless laugh, a signal that Io's time had run out.

"No.. No please! Why can't I--"

"You need to die Io. Don't worry, it'll won't be instant."

Coffin-Cutter would grab Io by the neck, using the force of the foot that still remains on Io's right leg to tear the whole thing off.

Io would let out an ear piercing shriek as the chunk of parts that was once her right leg was crushed by Coffin-Cutter.

Coffin-Cutter held up Io to the crowd, an uproar of loyal supporters began to scream at the top of their audio generators.

"Before we proceed. I wanted to show you all the real Io."

"Wait! Please-"

Coffin-Cutter plunged his right fist into Io's face, his hand churning and twisting as he gripped the optical processor that lay within Io's eye socket.

Coffin-Cutter laughed as Io began to sob and hyperventilate, her eye becoming looser and looser.

Eventually, Coffin-Cutter would muster enough strength and satisfaction to clench his fist whilst still holding Io's eye.

Io screamed as Coffin-Cutter tore out her ruined eye, fragments of scrap clattering on the ground as the audience cheered with thunderous applause.

Coffin-Cutter would drop Io to the ground; Io would whimper as she clutched the vacant crevice that once housed her eye.

Io tried to cover her head with her hands, but Coffin-Cutter would easily bypass this defense, with him punching her square in the face.

The head would rattle from the force exerted; some of the metal plating would become loose and fall off Io's cranium.

Io's head would begin to change, the remaining metal plates on her head would rearrange themselves to accommodate the transformation, parts would come out from the base of Io's neck and begin to form a flat boxy shape.

The two antennae would reposition themselves closer to the front of the top of Io's head, and finally parts that flashed white noise would begin to center themselves in front of Io's face.

Once the transformation was complete, the monitor that now comprised Io's face displayed a loading screen. Perhaps it was induced by shock in her systems.

Regardless, the screen would finish its loading sequence; the monitor now displayed Io's true face.

The surface of the screen merely contained a small mouth, one that could be easily overlooked at first glance.

The mouth's expression was sorrowful and mournful, its corners were drawn downwards from the weight of Io's sins.

Above the mouth was a cloud of persistent white noise that obscured Io's eyes. Likely a side effect of the machine's current state of mind.

Io tried to scramble away from Coffin-Cutter with her remaining limbs, but he fired a shot to Io's left that missed her shoulder by inches.

She stopped trying to flee, for Io's trembling limbs were barely enough to keep her above the ground.

Coffin-Cutter moved closer to Io, his fingers scratching themselves in impatience.

"Look at me Io." Coffin-Cutter kicked Io onto her back and pointed his railgun square at her face.

Io did nothing to get away, her mouth merely twitched in response to Coffin-Cutter.

"Please... Just--end it already..."

Coffin-Cutter's eyes lit up with a bright blood red as he laughed once more.

"With pleasure!"

The arena resumed its loud chorus as Coffin-Cutter grabbed Io's left arm, and tore the whole thing off.

Coffin-Cutter tossed it to the side as he stepped on Io's chest with his foot and began to crush her.

Io whimpered in pain as Coffin-Cutter's foot dug deeper into her chest, the pain becoming more pronounced by the minute.

After sufficient damage was inflicted, Coffin-Cutter would lift up his foot from Io's chest and then proceed to plunge his left fist into Io's right kidney.

Coffin-Cutter would crush the kidney and tear it out of her chest, eliciting a scream from Io.

He would then use his right hand to grab Io by the neck, Coffin-Cutter would then raise the heavily damaged Io up to the crowd, flaws and all.