Spoiler! :
They were doomsday. There'd been a man on the main square by the store I used to manage, years ago, that used to shout at passerbys. Doomsday and apocalypse and the end is nigh: that kinda bullshit. Turned out, despite his scraggly beard and the grayed, torn clothing he wore, he was right. Fuckin' doomsday, right here in Arizona.
When they walked, the ground quite literally shook. They'd been designed for flight intially-- that's what all the news reports said, anyway, but I didn't see how anything as heavy as these things must be could ever get a fucking inch off the ground. When they took a step, it was louder than the gunfire that followed them. Louder than the bombs the military dropped on them. Louder than the lasers that they shot at you. Louder than the screams of men as the dick-targeted lasers quickly castrated them.
I watched them through the window, lights off and curtains drawn. They marched down the street, probably about a dozen of 'em, twenty feet tall. I peeked out just in time to see one of them step on my neighbor's Porsche. I always hated that douche. He used to let his juniper grow over my fence, and then, when I complained, had the balls to tell me to cut them back myself. Fuck him. And his beautiful Porsche. When the robot lifted it's foot back up, a long block of crushed metal stood in the car's wake. I couldn't help but smile-- forgetting myself for a second, I put my full face in front of the window and the robot almost got an eyeglimpse before I jumped back into place with an "Oh shit!"
Cement lay broken and gravelled where the street used to be, crunching under their huge feet. They continued their march, methodical almost, though they were all spread up and down the street. A couple of houses down the way had suffered under their steps, barely standing up anymore. They passed mine easily, big groaning steps fuckin' up the other side of the street. I was nice and safe in here. I tugged open a bit more of the curtain and watched another robot step on a neighbor's house. Most people by now had cleared out, driven off in their mini vans and their fucking Porsches. I was made of tougher stuff. And didn't have a car. And, looking at the shit-struck streets, it didn't exactly look too safe to walk. I DID, however, have a cat, though I hadn't had much luck in finding him in the past couple of days.
The robots were almost past my house now-- another stepped on the Porsche and brought their foot away leaving it almost flat as the concrete that hadn't yet met its end under their feet. Big fuckin' feet. From what I could see, they were steel like the rest of 'em, with a prominent tread just made for smashing things. Well, more realistically, made for take offs and touch downs if the military really made them for flight, but they looked much better for smashing shit. I watched them march, and wondered if there was anyone else left on my street, my neighborhood, this whole goddamned city. It didn't take long for my wondering to be answered.
A man burst out of the house a bit down the street, with a rifle, apparently one those crazy gun nut fuckeries, wife beater on and all, screaming, "I'll get you, you motherfucking aliens!" He took a couple of shots at the robots, which glanced off like rain, a huge fucking storm of bullets. The closest one picked him up and tossed him down the street, still shooting in whatever direction he could, screaming obscenities. Good way to go down, especially for a fuckwad like him. A robot, oblivious to the whole situation that had happened behind him, casually stepped on the now-still body. He snapped, and I cringed.
Fucking gross.
They continued to lumber down the street and I didn't know what to do, caught up in horror of his death and a strange fascination with the robots. What the fuck kinda military designs shit like this? One of them stopped at a house just barely in view from my hideout from the corner of the window, and bent down. I didn't even fucking know they could move their knees like that. Crazy shit. And then, it started charging it's dick-shooting beam, bright lights shining from its hand like it were the hand of God. Dick-killing, military made God. I couldn't take it anymore, not after seeing that man die and not doing jack shit about it. I snatched up the bat I'd kept close and burst through the front door, yelling and making as much noise as I could. I was greeted by bright lights shining from metal hands all around me, and sprinted across the street to the person being attacked, trying to move too quickly for them.
One of them caught me, straight in the crotch and THERE. An explosion of pain, of no-more-dick-ness. I fell to my knees and felt myself blacking out when I saw the robot lean away from it's prey and my cat sitting there, legs splayed up in the air, licking his balls.
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