Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hell's violence layer is home to a barren wasteland at the deepest depths. Ashen hills of gravel, dust and crumbled stones paint the surroundings with an air of silent hostility. Nothing lives here, nothing organic anyway. A small sign of movement drags across the landscape. Yellow paint peeling of its large rectangular head, lopsided dragging of its feet as it moves. Anything to preserve a drying battery in this cold, empty area. The only sign of color being the crimson sky above, dotted with endless white meteors fizzling into nothingness. It could even be considered beautiful, if one thought not of the horrors that could have made this dead landscape. 

How many human hours had it wasted crossing this lifeless dry wasteland? How long had it been since it saw something, anything?

In the distance, a large dark hill formed. Stranger a shape than the rest, angles in several places. Swordsmachine looked up at the odd thing, square shapes that seemed to be its eyes gazed onward. As it approached, they noticed the pinpricks of flickering white lights. Something that could be worth salvaging parts off to reinforce their structure, maybe even a drop of blood to refuel. Its pace picked up, damaged leg leaving an imprint in the rough, loose gravel. Even a scrap or two would do some good. If only it could walk faster, feet slipping roughly against the ground in its movement. It paused. Falling would only make it worse, best to take it slow. Not like a hill could move, it wasn't going anywhere. 

As Swordsmachine made it's approach, the flickering light got brighter and brighter, the shape of metal pieces seemingly jumbled together to create a mass of machinery and wires in its large form. Swordsmachine gazed at the lights before recognizing the six circular shapes as some odd form of eyes, most of them flickering and shattered. Metal grinding against metal contines to crush and move inside it, the mass twitches slightly. Despite the whining and horrible scratching of metal, the thing is clearly no longer functional. No longer keeping up the appearance of life. A giant metal corpse in a barren wasteland, still cooling off from impact. If something here was dying, however, that meant something had to kill it in the first place. Swordsmachine didn't want to know what in all 9 circles could have killed something as gargantuan as this. Best to get in, get out. No room to stick around. 

It finally made it up to the corpse, dark shadow shielding Swordsmachine from the endless red sky. It was even colder here, not that Swordsmachine could feel cold. The light frost growing on the large metal mass made the material practically steam when Swordsmachine put its own metal hand upon the being to steady themself from the movement. Allowing their systems a moment to rest, they looked around for any easy scrap material to pry off. Thick cables lay upon the surface of the land, bits of broken glass and plating littered the ground. A massive hole gaped in the beasts chest area, right below the long neck of disks.

Further behind the creature there were more lights. An odd array of what seemed to be buildings, some shoved sideways as a result of the collapse. Window lights were still on, despite little life left to roam the hallways, as if the inhabitants had simply vanished. 

What caught Swordsmachine’s attention, however was the small yellow box in front of the city, slightly dislodged from the flooring wires. Swordsmachine climbed up the side of the creature, busted leg not making it any easier. It reached the top layer of metal slower than it would have liked to. Its focus never left the little yellow rectangle. 

The box is a terminal, a kind of dictionary system placed in every layer of hell, here and there. Normally they show menus of the many creatures of hell, not that Swordsmachine ever actually used one before for that purpose. Usually, the internal components of a terminal were far more valuable, and the yellow casing was tougher against attacks than it looked. This particular unit was certainly damaged, no longer connected to whatever the wires were supposed to be attached to. The screen was cracking at the corner, there were faint traces of red covering its casing, and as Swordsmachine approached it, something felt off.  The screen was not supposed to be on before it moved closer, so why was text displayed upon the screen? 

For the first time in its blood cycle, Swordsmachine stopped, taking in the text on the screen. 

[Welcome back, Benjamin! =)]

“…You are mistaken,” Swordsmachine’s gears grind painfully stiff as it speaks for the first time in what feels like a human decade, “I am not Benjamin. I do not know of a Benjamin.” 

What? Swordsmachine’s processors whirred. Who is Benjamin? Why is it saying that? Why am I talking to it? 

Swordsmachine’s systems kick it back into gear when its fuel gauge reminds him how dry it is becoming, what little blood remaining is at risk to freezing. It reaches forward to start dismantling when the screen changes again to an unexpected message. 

[Oh. =(]

Swordsmachine stares. It has never had a conversation with a dictionary before. Could all terminals do this? Why didn’t they? Why would they? It’s processed thoughts are cut off by the screen changing yet again.

[Benjamin is friend. Report if you see him. Status: Unknown.]

Perhaps this text should have felt more familiar, with its odd language. However a terminal calling something a friend? When it only displayed factual information? What sort of terminal was this? And as well as that, where was the terminal’s music? Swordsmachine spoke up again, asking none of these questions and instead attempting to get more information. 

“Further details?” Less rust in its voice this time. 

[Benjamin is best friend. Big, tall, dark. Travelled many places.]

Swordsmachine looked down, processors running furiously before it realized. Something tall, perhaps giant with dark plating and ability to walk. How it hadn’t realized before what this was, corpse beneath them they didn’t know. It recalls six eyes and deadly aim, even when slow not much can stop an electric current like that one. 

It must have lost more blood than it thought if it was not even recalling such memorable foes as an entire Earthmover beneath them. 

Swordsmachine looked at the little terminal, unaware of its loss. 

“Benjamin is here,” The corpse felt sickening beneath its feet now, “You exist on it.” 

The screen flickered faster this time, perhaps in eagerness. 

[Say hello.]

Swordsmachine thought that would be all, before another small line appeared beneath it. Almost as if the terminal was hesitant to ask.

[For me.]

Swordsmachine would have been holding its breath if it had one. So it could recognize its own sentience. How had this little yellow box cause it so much concern? Was it the fact that the terminal had shown more signs of life than they had seen in several human cycles? 

Swordsmachine looked around, seeing nothing but the broken, crumpled form of the metal body, an Earthmover that would move no more. A friend to this insignificant little encyclopedia, no more than a grain of sand into the vast abyss of dust surrounding them. 

“I do not believe that possible.”

Chapter Text

[ Welcome back, Swordsmachine! =) ]

“Hello, Terminal.”

Another scavenge, this one resulting better than the previous. Swordsmachine struggles to recall how long exactly it’s been since he left Terminal in search of scrap, as it lacked an internal clock. Not that it would work in their current state. Most of the scrap it’s collecting is going to another, perhaps more important, project. Ever since taking pity on the poor yellow box, Swordsmachine found it difficult to leave. After some investigating, Swordsmachine discovered that this particular terminal had been separated from the Terminal connection, the wires stripped off from whatever had brought down the Earthmover. A hive mind connecting every terminal in hell, and perhaps preventing one from becoming singular and sentient. This terminal even runs on a small blood source, reserving it by its inability to move.

[ How was the trip? ]

Swordsmachine wasn’t sure how long it would take to get used to a terminal that spoke to them.

“I have more cables.Almost enough to mobilize the cranium and accelerate primary fuel efficiency. This should enable communication,” Swordsmachine hauled two large coils of braided wire onto the remaining metal surface of “Benjamin”. “I am not sure how functional I will be able to get it. Optimal outcome would be completely operational. Worst case is I am unable to improve the main construct function.”

[ Sounds like it is not hopeless at least? /=) ]

“There is a chance. However, I must leave again to ensure I gathered enough cable.” Swordsmachine gazed at the little box, unable to assist. “I will do my best to get back.”

[ =( You have been leaving a lot .]

“This is all for Benjamin’s health. It is not dead yet, it can be saved.”

[ Why? ]

“I do not understand.”

[ Why are you helping my friend? ]

Swordsmachine did not move or respond for a long moment.

“I will return later, if I have not failed to function.”

Swordsmachine walked away as Terminal watched, replying.

[ Oh. Good luck! =)

Please come back soon… /=I ]

Swordsmachine continued to walk along, dust covering its yellow paint and drying the fresh blood supply it gained from previous scavenges. It was surprised there were even other enemies out here. Still, even within its programming it had to be capable of gratitude nonetheless. Had it not been for the new blood, they would have collapsed for the last time, never to wake up and find purpose.

It dragged its sword along, creating a trail back to Terminal with each movement in the decaying wastes of violence’s fourth inner layer. Walking and walking and walking. Running would be inefficient, waning its already limited blood supply and perhaps lowering its guard. Sneaking up on an opponent may not be easy in this endless hilled landscape, but not impossible. 

Swordsmachine journeyed onwards, on and on until it finally spotted pinpricks of odd shapes in the distance. It beelines for the strange objects, while reaching for its shotgun. Closer and closer it approached, not a mass of dead Earthmover or even parts, but seemingly some kind of makeshift containment units. 

Copper containers stood up against the ground, oddly spiked at the top in the shape of some sort of container. Dust thickly coated the outside of each one, three in total. Swordsmachine approached them warily, though nothing happened even as it got a few feet away. At this distance, it could see hastily slapped on green lights illuminated on the outside. The entire structure was sloppily welded together, bolts here and there. The things were barely being held together. Swordsmachine lifted their sword, ready to slice one of the closest containers open before the front panel exploded outward, smacking into Swordsmachine and temporarily blocking its view.   

A horrible noise began of gears clunking and screeching to life, clearly having a rough time from rust and fatigue. Then the plate moved beyond Swordmachine’s view and it noticed another container bursting open, dust flying, right before a blinding light passed by its head with a guttural noise of energy. Whatever had come out, Swordsmachine had to move fast before it got blasted by whatever that beam was. 

Swordmachine dodged to the side, slipping on its mended leg while ash continued to cloud in the air. The beam of light followed it down, with only a second before impact. Swordmachine forced itself to roll over on its unstable limb, and watched the beam singe the dust as it hit the terrain. Its leg bent awfully in the wrong direction, splitting some of the makeshift plating used for basic stability. Then another beam sounded, and it had to drag itself forward onto its feet, turned and caught a glimpse of the attackers. 

Deep brown, rusty plating coated the outside of the things. Clearly mechanical, the head– if it could even be called that– had several uniquely placed caverns in it, moon-like and just as mysterious. The limbs were thick and short, though hard to see behind the large, door-like shield each one carried. Red paint peeled and chipped in some places, as well as rust and grime coating each in ash. A large gun of sorts produced beams of bullets at incredible speeds. These guns were currently turning back towards Swordsmachine, who needed to hurry. Those beams weren’t getting any slower, if anything they became faster . 

Swordsmachine threw itself to the side again, trying its best not to damage its leg any more than it needed to. It attempted to run, while taking aim with its shotgun. 

Bang!

It did nothing to stop the gunfire, and didn’t seem to even phase the machine when it got hit with a few bullets, denting the things head just barely. 

This thing was made to last. Swordsmachine held onto its sword. If only I could close the distance.

Swords continued to move, barely dodging the second machine’s beam as it swept from the other side. As it circled, the beams sped up, as if the creatures were tracking its every move, learning from its patterns. Swordsmachine had very little time to get close, and every second passing made that chance worse. It was now or never. 

As the beams grazed past its rectangular head, heating up the casing on one side of its face, it made its lurch forward. Swinging the sword up and down towards the metal mass. 

The resounding clang vibrated through the hunk of metal as the shield was ripped from its body, arm melting off from Swordmachine’s heated blade. It continued to cut, getting through the chainguns chamber and causing it to jam before imploding from the heat.  Swordsmachine swung its sword again, this time directly into the torso of the machine. Thick, flexible rubber was the machine's only defense from being sliced in half with a sharp heated blade. 

Swordsmachine was granted only a moment of peace before a searing heat erupted on its shotgun arm, as the other machine landed its beam on them. Its vocal chords cried out mechanically and erratic at the impact, attempting to turn and landing on its bad leg, which twisted again and caused them to fall into the ashen ground yet again. The beam lands on its shoulder, searing the plating and preventing it from being able to focus on getting up. 

That’s when the third container breaks open, and a third beam is fired. Swordsmachine struggles to get up, ash coating its yellow exterior as it moves to lift itself with its arms, before errors appear in its schematics and it falls back down into the dust, painfully aware of the damage caused and the possibility of system failure. Terminal would wonder when it would come back to it and give Benjamin a second start.

Clunk.

The machine collapses in front of Swordsmachine, and it looks up. The thing had collapsed face first, a gaping, steaming hole in its head. Its about this time Swordsmachine notices the oddly shaped box on the back of it, and a tube coming from it with a liquid it has seen many times before. 

Blood. Fuel…

Movement alerts it to the presence of a third machine, the same model as the rest. The beam has stopped firing, and it stands motionless behind the previous machine. This one is missing it’s shield, though it also doesn’t appear hostile. In fact, when Swordsmachine finally places the pieces together, that this one killed the other one that was attacking it, it almost forgets about the errors blinking in its code. It props itself up on its one good arm, then panics as it no longer has a sword in hand. 

When did I release it?

Looking around, it hears the other machine moving beyond it. It approaches Swordsmachine after a moment, and Swordsmachine braces for some kind of impact- a killing blow. 

Instead, the machine hands it its sword, seemingly from having been thrown at one point. The blade has frosted over already from the cold. Swordsmachine stares at the sword, grabbing a hold of it. But, despite everything in its gears wanting to get rid of the enemy so plainly in front of him, it cannot move. The creature has not attacked it, and has clearly helped it. Why kill it?

Swordsmachine glances at the blood that drips from one half of the previous machine. 

Fuel. 

The large machine steps back from Swordsmachine and simply waits there. Swordsmachine reaches out slowly for the tube still dripping with fuel. It's increasingly aware of the creature staring at it as it plugs itself into the blood source with a port on the back of its head. 

It isn’t weird. It’s just fuel. 

Swordsmachine sat in the dust and ash, gazing at its now injured arm. Nothing life threatening, but would still need mending. 

Nothing one of these metal plates couldn’t fix…

It glanced up again at the silent machine, still standing ominously. It seemed there were more friendly things in hell than it thought. 

Chapter Text

Swordsmachine hauled the salvageable pieces of scrap into a pile, sorting out from the broken metal plating and the intact pieces from their attackers. The other machine still hadn’t moved to fight, just watching quietly. Occasionally the ‘head’ would turn, grinding metal against metal with a rusty, scratchy noise. From this perspective the thing was surprisingly slow, despite the accuracy the other two had shown. 

On the back of each of these other machines, was a coffin. The coffins in particular were the strangest part of them. Inside laid shriveled up human skeletons clinging onto dried, peeling skin. Tubes attached presumably for blood flow, most likely to power the machine. These were mostly useless, rotting metal could be sliced through too easily to be salvaged. The tubing, however, could be of use to Benjamin’s cause.

Swordsmachine continued best it could until there was no valuable scrap remaining, the other machine watching quietly despite its creaking outer layer. Swordsmachine limped along, staring down at the pile. How would it ever move this much in this condition? 

The other machine walked forward, and Swordsmachine looked up, ready to accept defeat if this happened to be the last time it would function. However, this machine lifted up one of the shields, placed it back on the ground flat and started placing pieces onto the surface. It paused for a moment, ‘head’ turning to look at Swordsmachine. A few seconds passed, then it turned away, walked to grab one of the emptied coffins and raised it up to Swordsmachine.

“What?” Swordsmachine asked, forgetting that this machine was most likely unable to speak, as most machines had lost the ability over time. He did not expect the other machine to respond, but was surprised when a deep, low noise rang from it. Two differing tones in a pattern Swordsmachine had not heard in some time. 

“ -... .- -.-. -.- -.-. --- -. - .- .. -. . .-. .-.-.- “

“You can speak?” 

“ .-- . .- .-. / .. - .-.-.- “

“Like you do?” Swordsmachine wondered if it could even understand them. “I don’t think I could.”

“ .-- . .- .-. .-.-.- “

“I will attempt.” Swordsmachine moved to slide its arms through the large straps on the coffin, originally meant to hook onto the machine for welding. It was surprised to find that they could wear it, even in this condition. They could fill the coffin with lighter items- the other machine had already started the process of placing the lighter items into it. Swordsmachine staggered on its leg. It was likely the piece would never recover if it kept bending the metal like this in such a short time. 

Time. 

How long had it been since it ventured out again? Surely Terminal was worried at this point. It would take even longer for Swordsmachine to get back now that its leg was further injured. Though, as the other machine piled the rest of the scrap onto the shield like a sort of tray, it seemed they would not be alone in taking the supply back to Benjamin. 

Terminal was there, like it always was when Swordsmachine came back from its travels. Not like it could move, though. But it would fix that. It stumbled on its leg again.

Perhaps I should fix that first. 

Swordsmachine heard the clunking and grinding of the other machine as it trailed behind, following it back to ‘Benjamin’. It hadn’t spoken since their departure. Perhaps Swordsmachine should be glad of this, not knowing what social practices a machine such as that would prefer. It had a hard enough time speaking to a Terminal.

[ Welcome back! ]

The screen flickered to life before Swordsmachine. 

“Hello again.” 

[ Did you bring a friend? ]

Swordsmachine’s head tilts towards the other machine, shield tray still in arms. 

“I do not know if it is my friend.”

[ Oh. Have you asked? Why did it follow you? ]

“How long have I been gone?”

[ I do not contain an internal clock. ]

“Very well.” 

Swordsmachine looks away, towards its new company. It moves to speak, but pauses.

“What do I call you?”

The machine remains still, tray in hand. It’s low beeping responds.

“.. / .- -- / --. ..- - - . .-. -- .- -.” 

“Gutterman? Is that what you want to be called?”

“.- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. ...- .”

“Very well. Gutterman. You can put those down now. We are…”

Home? At Base?

Swordsmachine didn’t know how to say it.

 “We are… with Benjamin.” It gestures to the large discs connecting the neck of the collapsed creature. “We are going to fix Benjamin.” 

Gutterman’s joints creak as it places the spare scrap onto the metal surface of the beast beneath them. Swordsmachine moves and takes the coffin off of its own back, careful to keep weight off its leg. It reaches for some of their collected scrap to mend it, now determined to do a better job. There were far worse monsters out there, best not to fight with a bad leg if need be. 

Swordsmachine dragged the large coils of wire behind them as they made their way to the head of the creature. To access the inner workings of the head, it had to traverse its way through the body of Benjamin, making its way from the terminated security system all the way up through the neck and reach the mechanical workings that formed the brain. 

Terminals concerned earlier had stuck in their processors. A friend? What did they require a friend for? This was simply a benefit for them- help with the burden. Though, Swordsmachine hadn’t exactly asked where the kindness from Gutterman came from in the first place. In fact, it was weird why Gutterman even helped them in the first place. Why hadn’t it attacked? Who’s to say it wouldn’t attack when they least expected it? Perhaps, after this, they would go seek answers. 

It climbed and crawled its way upwards, past the cavernous meat-like chamber filled with the small spoils of thinned blood that remained after impact— long since cooled down— and up through the spine like neck eventually reaching the platform where the brain was. 

An odd construction, fleshy bits of pink wound together like a human brain, but was also encased in layers of wire and metal that broke a facade of organics. Some of this metal had been placed there by Swordsmachine, who welded extra plates onto the surfaces that had cracked or bent. Threads of cables wound out from the machinery, most stripped and frayed. Swordsmachine hauled the new cables over and set to work. If all went to plan, this would get the head operational. 

Though, it wondered if it was a wise decision. The creature still couldn’t move, after all. Would it suffer as it tried to repair Benjamin’s other internals? Was it even called Benjamin? Would it be able to communicate? Would it attack? 

Swordsmachine began to weld.

[ Can you see me? Hello? ]

Terminals screen flashed in an attempt to get Gutterman’s attention.

[ Over here! ]

Gutterman’s large head rotated with a horrible rusty squeal. It creaked closer to the box. 

[ Hello! I am Terminal. =) ]

Gutterman remained still for far too long. 

“.... ..”

[Hello to you too! You are a gutterman model? I have only ever seen one of you before!]

“--. ..- - - . .-. -- .- -. .-.-.- / .- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

[ Oh. You aren’t much for words, are you? =/

Would it be okay with you if I scanned your data signature? I really like collecting information! =) ]

“.- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

[ Thank you! ]

As Terminal scans Gutterman, a tremor shakes the ground beneath them. Deafening cries sound out, a mechanical roar of colossal proportions. Then, as Terminal is finishing the scan, light flares in the giant beast’s six circular eyes as spotlights in the deep red of violence’s climate. The neck of the metal mass rises, up and up, before it staggers. Sputtering, the neck falls again into the ashes, spreading a cloud of dust and debris around it. The lights, however, remain lit, if flickering gently. The machine makes another ground shaking cry, and goes quiet. Various machinery clunks to life, sparking and buzzing out. Engines whine in protest of newfound functionality, shuddering to a start. One of its legs shakes in an attempt to move, but the load becomes to much and the metal containing the structure twists and breaks off, it’s lower leg collapsing. Despite the new and old damage, the system continues on nonetheless. Benjamin does not fade into death once more.

Not this time.

Chapter Text

Swordsmachine startled at the sudden movement of the head, falling back against the wall. The noise that rang out made their body vibrate and their systems overload with the loudness involved. It wondered if it should be regretting this, as they gained their composure and watched blood pump through Benjamin’s biomechanics. Then it hit them. 

It’s awake! I did it!

Swordsmachine’s pride only lasted a moment before they were flung into the air as Benjamin’s head dropped back into the ashen ground as horrible snapping sounds clunked through its neck structure. Swordsmachine whipped its head around, searching for the exit point. It crawled over, fearing another tremor of movement, metal fingers scraping against the plates of the floor before reaching the hole in the ground. 

Unfortunately, getting out would not be easy this time around, the floor below scorched red-hot as a kind of defense mechanism. Why a creature so large would need a defense measure like this Swordsmachine could not calculate. 

They swung themselves over the edge, clinging onto what little ceiling was available and lunged forward towards the opposite wall. They managed the jump, lightly grazing the hot metal below. Clinging onto the wall, it looked down only to be dismayed at yet another magma coated floor. It lowered itself, scraping along the wall paneling before tensing to leap again, this time backwards. 

If I use a shotgun explosion to propel…

Swordsmachine shook its head. 

Unnecessary damages would be unwise. My leg is already bad enough. I will just have to jump. 

It hesitated a second more. Its arms were beginning to shake from the strain being placed on them. Then threw itself off the wall, scraping its sheathed sword against the molten metal below before latching onto the other wall. 

Risky.

It looked down. One more layer of heated metal, hopefully the last. It hadn’t paid this much attention when it climbed up, focused on its mission. 

Swordsmachine was already regretting this.

It took one last lunge to the other side of the small space, gripping onto the metal on the other side before landing on the small platform available. 

If it could sigh in relief, perhaps it would have just then. Assessing its swords for damages, Swordsmachine found it had only been lightly heated- nothing the already heatable blade couldn’t handle. The weight on its shoulders seemed to go away. At least its sword was safe. 

Moving on.

This was the other hard part. Falling down the length of the neck- the drop had to be at least one hundred meters down. 

Swordsmachine walked to the edge, aimed for about the center of the hold beneath them, and dropped.

Air ripped past it as it braced for a quick landing. This time, however, instead of smashing onto the metal floor as usual, something prevented it from crashing. Swordsmachine starred as it floated to the ground thanks to an open air vent conveniently placed on the bottom panel. 

Now that it’s powered… 

Swordsmachine starred a moment more before making its way further downward.

That’s when the alarm sounded.

 WARNING: 

 INTRUDER DETECTED

 -FLUSHING INTERIOR-

Swordsmachine froze. 

What in hell..?

Alarms blared throughout the chamber, walls covered in meaty red insides and now pulsing in sync with the alarm. The temperature in the space rose and kept rising up and up. Swordsmachine felt it’s outer casing soften slightly, and whipped its head around to find an exit.  That’s when it noticed the liquid rising at the base of the chamber, what seemed to be the thinned blood was now boiling and bubbling to the surface towards its location.

Where did it even keep all that blood?! Swordsmachine shrugged its question off. No time for puzzle solving.

Across the room a large door appeared to be stuck open, perhaps rusted from the air outside. All it had to do was platform its way out, and shut the door behind it so the boiling liquid could not escape. Already its eye lenses were fogging up from the steam rising off the liquid. 

It ran down as far as the grated platforms would take them, rushing down the stairwells as quickly as it could. Through its fogged vision Swordsmachine noticed the leap it would have to make to exit. 

Another jump.

It gazed a second more at the distance, the liquid bubbles up to melt its casing off its metal skeleton. Swordsmachine runs forward and jumps, feet clanging against the metal surface of the grates for momentum. 

It missed, barely holding on to the edge of the ledge with its arms. The liquid continued its steady immovable rise. Swordsmachine scrambled to get up, swinging its legs frantically as it felt its feet slowly softening as the heat drew closer. It clambered loudly up the side of the platform, clanging metal with metal. It hoisted itself up and over the ledge, rolling on its side.

It shuffled up onto its feet, boiling liquid was just now reaching the surface, scorching Swordsmachine as it ran outside, grabbing the heavyweight door and pulling it down with a rusty crunch. 

It heard the alarms slowly fade as it paused to let itself cool down, rubbing the steam out of its lenses with its arm.

Way too close. 

It gazed over at the beast's neck now that it was. back on the ground. The eye lights remained on, and it moved its broken spear end against the ground rhythmically. 

Swordsmachine felt the pang of- 

…pang of…

Ever since intaking some of the spare blood it had found from the machine, it recalled faint senses of odd complexities. Blood was scarce in violence, despite the chaos it had seen as machine fought machine and demon fought demon. Flashes of steel being torn through like paper, stone crumbling to the ground in shattered pieces, orbs of hell energy colliding with pillars of marble. Yes, blood was all around them. It was anything but useful though, as it dried on white tile and soaked into the roots of those trees…

Whatever was going on with Swordsmachine’s mechanics, it couldn’t describe the sensors that went off when it had a full system of blood to work with. It felt bad when it looked at Benjamin. The Earthmover that could no longer move, hadn’t even been functional however many earth days passed. Condensed to rusting in hell for the rest of eternity.

Hell. What a horrible place it is. Swordsmachine recalls gazing at the elevator to ascension longingly. It knew not of the layers above, except that they existed. How far down was violence? Was there anything above the layers? Did Heaven even exist? 

Swordsmachine always hated when it asked itself questions like this. The more blood, the more thoughts it felt like it produced. The more its wires twisted when the thought of how Benjamin lay unmovable beneath them. About the little terminal left to sit and die as its friend had done before him. As war waged never ending around them, war for the sake of war. War over nothing. 

Swordsmachine had one final question before it left the site of Benjamin’s glowing eyes. 

Are we any different from the humans?

[ Hellllo? Gutterman? Are you alright?]

Swordsmachine arrived on the scene where Terminal and Gutterman were communicating. However, it seemed something was off. Gutterman, though ‘speaking’, was doing so much slower than before. It’s arms had sunk down, chain gun dropped completely into the steel below it. Almost as if-

It’s out of fuel. 

Swordsmachine gazed. It had a spare blood supply nearby, though it wasn’t exactly a large quantity. Or free for the taking. Why should it give him its valuable supply of-

Visuals of Gutterman carrying scrap on its shield flashed through Swordsmachine’s lenses. 

Terminal’s screen flashes to alert them.

[ Quick! If it rusts anymore it might freeze solid no matter what blood they receive! ] 

Swordsmachine felt its sensors fill with an odd energy, a dread that pushed it onward towards the panel holding the supply. 

Swordsmachine ran down around the various buildings until it turned a corner and arrived at their destination. It grabbed the edge of ithe panel and pulled it open, revealing three plastic coated cylinders filled with the reddish brown substance. 

It grabbed one, crinkling the flexible plastic in its grip and rushed back. Losing mobility as a machine in hell was practically begging for something to put one out of commission. Waking up from the stillness of low fuel usually felt agonizing- as agonizing as a machine could feel. Rusting did not help. Benjamin had already felt the horrible pain of the experience, wires snapping and metal crushing together, gears and switches dried to time and not happy to be running again.

It came to a stop next to Gutterman, searching for the fuel source. It remembered the other Guttermen’s tubing leading into the coffins on the back. Ripping the back panel off of the back, it found an opening to one of the tubes. It unscrewed the top of the blood cylinder and lifted it upside down over the tube. 

The blood poured into Gutterman's slowed systems from the small circle. Swordsmachine gripped the container further to encourage the blood flow, crinkling in its hand. 

Gutterman was still a few moments more before its head squeaked all the way around, attempting to look at Swordsmachine even through the coffin. Its movement was much faster than previously, and its limbs lifted it off the ground. When it spoke, it was much louder and more efficient. 

“- .... .- -. -.- / -.-- --- ..-“ 

Swordsmachine watched the last drops of blood drip off the container, wires twisting uncomfortably at the loss. 

“…You are. Welcome.” 

Gutterman’s coffin closes and it turns around to see them. 

“.. / ..-. . . .-.. / -... . - - . .-. / -. --- .-- .-.-.- “

“Good.” Swordsmachine paused. “You sound better, too.”

“.. / .- -- / ..-. ..- -. -.-. - .. --- -. .- .-.. / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-“

“Yes. Blood does that.”

“-.-- --- ..- / --. .- ...- . / -- . / -... .-.. --- --- -.. ..--..”

“Yes. It has helped you. I gave you a battery.”

“-... .- - - . .-. -.-- ..--..” 

“A battery.” Swordsmachine held out the fragile container, now empty of blood. “It had fuel in it. Blood.” 

“--- .... .-.-.- / .-- . .. .-. -.. .-.-.-“

“You are speaking strangely now. That is inefficient.” 

“.-- .... .- - / -.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / -- . .- -. ..--..”

“I mean that-“ Swordsmachine stopped. It could feel its internals heating up over this. Best to stop. “…Nevermind. It does not matter.”

“--- .... .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine turned away. “I need to scavenge again. I’ll be back later.”

“--. --- --- -.. -... -.-- . .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine exits, sliding down Benjamin’s leg and disappearing from view. Its yellow form walks on, soon becoming an ant in the distance. 

Gutterman stares, then turns away slowly. 

[ Don’t worry about them! They just do that sometimes. Kinda mean, honestly. =/ ]

Gutterman looks at Terminal’s screen. 

“-.. --- . ... / .. - / .... .- - . / -- . ..--..”

Terminals screen flickers quickly.

[ Hate you? No, no- =[  It doesn’t hate you- I think. I think it just doesn’t trust easily. We are in hell, after all. ]

Gutterman looks a little less dejected, torso straightening up slightly. 

[ Have you ever had a friend? ]

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

[ Aw, but you would be a great friend! Benjamin and I have been friends for as long as we’ve been attached- I hope he’s okay… hey- maybe you and I could be friends, too! ]

“-.-- --- ..- / .-- .- -. - / -- . / - --- / -... . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. ..--..”

[ Yeah! ]

“.-- .... .- - / .. ... / .- / ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. ..--..”

[ Oh! =0 A friend is like someone you stay around and do fun stuff with! Like talk like we are now! Its a term coined by the old humans but I like it. Would you like to try? ]

“.. / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-.. .. -.- . / - --- .-.-.- / .- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

[ Cool! Hm- what to talk about… oh! Do you have a favorite thing? =) ]

“..-. .- ...- --- .-. .. - . ..--..”

[ Yeah! A thing you like above everything else! ]

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.- / .. / -.. --- / -. --- - / -.- -. --- .-- .-.-.- / .- .--. --- .-.. --- --. .. . ... .-.-.-“

[ Aw. That’s okay though- maybe you’ll find something you like later! It can always change :D ]

Gutterman does not have a reply to this. Instead, it turns to watch the sky's endless meteor shower in silence next to Terminal. The white dots smear across the bright red of the sky, a small reminder that time does pass even now. Even here among the ashes.

Chapter Text

Gutterman walked the many paths of Benjamin’s odd buildings when it grew restless. The steel plating clanked as it walked along, solid even if the creature was out of commission.

Swordsmachine had not been seen in- 

Gutterman’s internal clock grinded painfully, a reminder that its clock had given way to the very thing it sought to solve. Too much time had past now, rusty and old. The digits wouldn’t rewind anyways, even if it could. The old humans expected them to be bested in combat eventually, no point counting up much after that.

Lights flickered as power shot through its system, pure electricity flooding the cables connected to it. Motion overwhelmed lenses, figures running back and forth, noise indistinguishable from noise, words and colors and shadows. Loud sudden bursts of earth-shattering grumbles from far off. Screaming.

Its joints squeaked to life, clean and scrubbed over with damp rags. Its head moved all the way around against its desire. Lines of code written for one objective.

“What the-“

A blurry figure stares up at the machine’s head.

“Woah- woah wait why is it on?” 

Screams continue, the room is a mess. Shelves full of odd tubes cover the walls, glass on the floor. Strange devices paired with tables, welding equipment. 

“Why the fuck is it on?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Just as it moved, struggling against the code flowing through its system, blinding lights appeared, flashing endlessly around it. A beam of light. Another across the way. 

Rubble, metal pipes, rain, flesh.

Teeth and eyes and blood and-

Gutterman continued walking, buildings parting in favor of a walkway near the ‘neck’ of Benjamin. There, its head is visible, white streaks shining through its spotlights. Its arm- once weilding an electric spear that could have decimated cities in minutes- was now broken off at the hinge, bouncing up and down on the floor as if desperate to have some form of control over its body. 

“-.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- --- -.- / .... ..- .-. - .-.-.- / .. / .- -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.- / .. / .-- --- -. -.. . .-. / .-- .... .- - / -... .-. --- ..- --. .... - / -.-- --- ..- / -.. --- .-- -. .-.-.-”

Benjamin did not respond, and perhaps it could not. It only seemed to gaze more intensely than before. 

“.. / .-. . .- .-.. .. --.. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. -. --- - / ... .--. . .- -.- .-.-.- / - .... .- - / .. ... / -- -.-- / -- .. ... - .- -.- . .-.-.-”

Again, the beast did not reply. Gutterman gazed at it in what could be described as sorrow.

“-.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. -. --- - / . ...- . -. / -- --- ...- . .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / ..- ... . -.. / - --- / .-- .- -. -.. . .-. / - .... . / . .- .-. - .... , / -.. .. -.. -. .----. - / -.-- --- ..- ..--.. / .- ... / .- -. / . .- .-. - .... -- --- ...- . .-. .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- / - . .-. -- .. -. .- .-.. / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / .- .-.. .-.. / .- -... --- ..- - / .. - .-.-.-”

The creature gave out a whine, loud and high pitched. It wavered slightly, then died. 

“-.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. / .-- .... .- - / .. / .- -- / ... .- -.-- .. -. --. ..--..”

It let out another noise, a sort of roar unique to creatures as large as Benjamin. It thumped its spear end against the ground rapidly. Gutterman watched in alarm. 

“.-- .- .. - -.-.-- / .-- .- .. - -.-.-- / -.. --- -. .----. - / ... - .-. ..- --. --. .-.. . -....- / -.-- --- ..- / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / -... .-. . .- -.- -.-.--”

It reached out as if its arms could cross the vast distance to reach Benjamin’s attachment. It simply continued to drag it against the ground, over and over again. 

“.. / .-- .. ... .... / .. / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .... . .-.. .--. .-.-.-”

Gutterman watched with an air of sadness.

“... .-- --- .-. -.. ... -- .- -.-. .... .. -. . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... . / -... .- -.-. -.- / ... --- --- -. .-.-.-”

A lie. There was no telling when it would be back from its mission. Gutterman’s internals grind when it remembers how it could have followed them. Helped in some way. It missed Swordsmachine for the company they had been. Terminal was fun, but it didn’t speak. Not that Terminal couldn’t talk, it just didn’t. Something about being shy. 

Gutterman continued walking, turning around at Benjamin’s neck that blocked its path forward. It dropped down from the ledge, landing roughly on the ashen ground. Its feet pushed aside dust as it moved closer to Benjamin’s head. Its eyes flickered slightly, spotlights fractured from its fall. It watched, not as if it could do much else. 

Gutterman walked up to it, and sat down right in the beam of light, gazing up at Benjamin’s face. It cried out in a whine, shaking the loose dust from the ground into the air. 

It decided it was best to just keep quiet. There was no use if it couldn’t understand them. They sat together quietly for a long while, Benjamin had even stopped moving its broken arm up and down. Even in Hell, there would be quietness to have. Whether it be in the silence of death, or peace.

[Could I ask you something a little personal?]

The dome like head creaked as it turned to watch Terminal’s screen. 

[Why don’t you fight?]

It watched in silence.

[Like with Swordsmachine. You didn’t attack them.] 

“.. / -.. --- -. ’ - / .-- .- -. - / - --- .-.-.-“

[Yes- that’s a good thing! But why?]

Deep red coats the walls, accompanied by the fresh holes and shattered tile. Despite this the screaming did not stop. The building shook, dust and rubble falling free from the ceiling. 

Gutterman looked down at the metal flooring beneath it’s feet. Its shield lay discarded on the floor beside it, occasionally rocking back and fourth from the machinery that kept Benjamin running. 

“.. / -.. --- / -. --- - / -.- -. --- .-- .-.-.-“

[Oh. Okay. =\]

It was an eternity before they caught sight of Swordsmachine.

Its paint had chipped in places, but otherwise it seemed fine. It carried the coffin on its back, lugging a large number of metal scrap, small motors, gears and the like. 

Then it disappeared again, into Benjamin’s systems. Gutterman watched its descent into one of the damaged leg canisters. The proceeding scratched of metal against metal told it that more repair was in order.

Gutterman listened to the sound for a while, tapping its finger joints against its arm. Terminal’s screen lit up.

[Go for it! 

Swordsmachine might need the help? /:)] 

Gutterman turned back, stared at the mechanism, and slowly started walking towards the structure. The clanging got closer the further it walked before it finally caught a glimpse of the yellow rectangle once more. 

It did not appear to notice Gutterman, as it hammered some of the misshapen metal back into proper form.

It gazed at the yellow machine’s work. Already the leg cables had been reattached, the motors were bent back into place. Blood flow, though limited, did flood through the machines systems in large quantities. Heat radiated from the pipes. Gutterman wondered how long it had been working on the Earthmover. 

It clunked forward again, one of its joints made a horrible squeaking noise, and Swordsmachine missed with its hammer. It made a noise of what could be called annoyance and turned to look at Gutterman. 

“What do you need?” It asked plainly, “I am busy. It is almost done.”

“-.-. .- -. / .. / .... . .-.. .--. ..--..”

“You could help by leaving the vicinity.” Swordsmachine spoke quietly, “It is almost done. I do not require distractions.”

“.-- --- ..- .-.. -.. -. ’ - / .. - / -... . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. / .. ..-. / .-- . / .-- --- .-. -.- . -.. / - --- --. . - .... . .-. ..--..”

“I am afraid your systems are too slow. You also do not contain the information required.” It said bluntly, “Your memory capacity is. Limited.” 

Gutterman felt the blood in its systems pounding. It could have sworn it heard its own plating rattle as it stood there. It struggled to produce sound.

“-.-- --- ..- / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / - . .-.. .-.. / -- . / .-- .... .- - / - --- / -.. --- .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine watched quietly. “I can do this on my own-“

“.. / .-- .- -. - / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. -.-.--“

It jumped at Gutterman’s increase in volume. Then radiated a heat not even the room could provide. 

“You can not. Now leave.” Swordsmachine put a hand on its sword, massive in the small space of Benjamin’s leg. “Before I get- get-“ 

Swordsmachine faltered, dropping its hand from its sword and grabbing at its face casing.

Gutterman stepped back.

“.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.-- ..--..”

“It is fine.” Swordsmachine caught itself, dropping its arms. “Extract yourself from the vicinity.”

Gutterman backed away slowly, exiting the way it had come from. Those yellow eyes were not going to be easy to purge of its memory logs. It started to run, running and running as fast as its rusty shell could move, before tripping on an exposed metal sheet in Benjamin’s surface and collapsing onto the floor. There, it laid, watching the new view of the vertical landscape, half red half black. The meteors moving like shooting stars in the distance. 

Gutterman’s systems were overheated, pressured by the odd sensation that flowed through its wires as it lay there. It felt the blood pound through its cables, making its shell rattle on the steel floor.

It covered its optical lenses, and ignored the world around it. It’s clock pushing painfully in its metal case. In the midst of it all Gutterman could only ask itself: 

Why? 

Why could it feel such agony? 

Why now?

Chapter Text

Swordsmachine fitted the bolt into the thread with considerable ease, its casing clinking lightly onto the metal wall as it turned. Empty noise hissed around it, and the pumping of its machinery beat the rhythm of which it worked. 

The last of the coils had been linked together, the wires socketed into their ports. Each light was green, every fleshy wall convulsed with new power. 

It backed away from the components of the limb, gazing at the completed system. It felt an odd pulsing through its own limbs, watching the blood steadily begin to flow once again through the circuit. The containment began heating up, warm with the rust coated blood now pulsing in tangled wires, pipes and squishy fleshed veins. 

Swordsmachine watched quietly for many human minutes, before turning and exiting the small space back to the surface of Benjamin. It paused, finding Gutterman face down on the metal flooring.

It’s first instinct was to draw its sword, hand twitching to grasp the hilt, systems sparking up again, boiling as it’s plating shining red and- 

It stuttered, arm coming to a choppy halt at its side. Swordsmachine struggled to support itself, motors weakening. For the first time in a while, it realized how low on fuel it had become. So focused on its task that it was becoming unstable, now it had ruined its connections. It stared down at Gutterman shakily.

“…Are you functional?”

Gutterman’s head structure shifted to look in its direction. 

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.- / ... - ..- -.-. -.- .-.-.-“

“You are unable to get up on your own?”

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

“Do you require assistance?”

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.- / ... .-- --- .-. -.. ... -- .- -.-. .... .. -. . / -.. --- . ... / -. --- - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / --. .. ...- . / .- ... ... .. ... - .- -. -.-. . .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine could not blame it for the comment. “No, I would like to help.”

 “... .-- --- .-. -.. ... -- .- -.-. .... .. -. . / . -. .-. .- --. . -.. .-.-.-“

“Affirmative. However I am not anymore. I would like to help.”

“.. / -.. --- -. ’ - / .-- .- -. - / -.-- --- ..- .-. / .... . .-.. .--. .-.-.-“

“Oh.” Swordsmachine felt an odd sinking lurch in its systems. “I Understand. Goodbye.” 

Swordsmachine walked past Gutterman, leaving it behind on the floor. The air grew colder around it, as if each step was a walk into the windy depths of The Wood.

It walked further and further into the darkness, slowing down from the cold. Freezing. Even the heat of its system couldn’t block off the frost covering its chipped paint. 

One step after the other, it was slowing down. Even the legs of sentries weren’t strong enough to fend it off. One more step-

CLANK!

Swordsmachine clambered into one of Benjamin’s many city walls, metal connecting with metal. It stumbled and backed up, shaking its head and pausing to recalibrate. 

Fuel. Required to. Continue functions.

Swordsmachine searched around for the hidden panel, pulling the small square door from the wall revealing the red color of the remaining batteries. 

It took one, crinkling it between the cold touch of its metal claw. Tearing out one of its tubing layers in its chest, it poured the contents inside. Its limbs buzzed with new power, and it crushed the rest of the container with ease, closing the exposed valve back into its slot with a click .

It dropped the canister onto the surface of Benjamin’s steel plates, gazing off at the red sky. 

A sound caught its attention, and it turned to find Terminal sitting in its spot and beeping at him. 

[ Hiii :D ]

Swordsmachine stared at it.

[ You alright? :/ ]

“I am functional.”

[ No, I asked if you were alright. ]

Swordsmachine hesitated. “How am I to test that function?”

[ Well- there’s no test really. No calculation could tell you that. ]

“Then how am I supposed to know?”

[ Well I have an idea of something you could try. ]

“Which is?”

[ Come closer, I’ll show you. ]

Swordsmachine slowly walked in its direction. Terminal’s screen went dark for a moment, fans still whirring in its systems. 

“Hello?”

The screen returned again, lights buzzing on its face. Instead of Terminal’s regular display of dialogue, different text fills the black box. A slot opens on the side of the machine. 

[ PLUG IN TO ACCESS THE CYBER GRIND FUNCTION ]

“What?” Swordsmachine looks at the strange ports on the side of the machine. It recognized the shape as one of the main wires connecting to its blood supply systems. “…If I attach this I am unsure if I will be functional for much longer.”

Terminal does not reply, screen displaying the text before it. It’s instrumental music playing on loop, disc spinning inside.

I did intake a battery recently… I will have some time. The calming music from Terminal brings it to a decision. 

Terminal is kind and has not harmed me. Perhaps I can trust it.

Swordsmachine reaches for the wire on its side and detaches it from its systems. It reaches down low and plugs it into port, wiggling it a bit inside as it’s connection was partly dusty. It felt a sudden zap through its systems as each of its limbs began shutting off and locking into place. It’s visual systems flickered out and it was plunged into darkness.

Its lenses flickered on, blinding lights pulsing from the ground it was currently standing on. Awkwardly it gazed around, head turning side to side. The world is white, blank, empty space beyond the odd perfectly square tiled floor. 

For a few seconds it looks around, unable to process the space it’s in. 

How did I get here?

It hasn’t the time to question the nonexistent air, texture and atmosphere before it heard them. 

With a twist of its body its sword sliced through the decaying body of the enemies that had appeared behind it. Odd creatures with countless teeth, eyeless and dull skin resembling rotting flesh. With no arms to grab or shove, they simply leaped forward, jaws hinged wide as if hungry for Swordsmachine’s metal interior.

It slashed through the small group of toothy corpses, bright blood spattering the floor in clumps of guts and cracked bones. 

Running forward, Swordsmachine revved its sword as it caught another monster with the blade, which erupted with horrible hissing noises accompanied by the breaking of its neck. 

There were more, however, and Swordsmachine swung once more to cut through the ones with the closest teeth. One managed to scrape its shoulder from behind, and it opted to shove the creature back with an arm before slamming its shotgun into the filthy things chest, bursting its stomach into bloody pieces around it with a single shot.

Flesh dripped off its yellow plating before it heard the sudden sound of screaming.

Screaming?

No, no this was different.

Laughter, excitement. 

Cheering . 

But from where?

It looked around, scanning for signs of other life forms before its lenses caught the sight of an odd rectangle simply hanging in the sky. 

WAVE 1

ENEMIES REMAINING: 0

It watched as the numbers of enemies suddenly shot up. WAVE 2 was now displayed right above it, and it felt the chill of eyes as enemies began running their way towards them. 

It gripped its sword.

Gutterman gazes at the floor. Not that it wants to do much else. Swordsmachine wouldn’t care. Benjamin couldn’t even move. Terminal…

Okay. Maybe Terminal would care. It had at least talked to Gutterman all that time Swordsmachine was off by itself. 

…

Maybe Gutterman really really didn’t feel like being alone now either. It rocked side to side in an attempt to stand up again. It clanged against the metal floor, struggling against the ground. It shifted itself side to side, rocking up and with a strong push against the floor it managed to tip just far enough to stand. Wobbling, arms squeaking as they moved to balance on its two metal feet.

It paused for a moment, processors catching up with the movement. The cold, dead air swept around it and it began to walk towards Terminal’s slot. Gutterman walked on, turning the corner and took a step back in concern.

“... .-- --- .-. -.. ... -- .- -.-. .... .. -. . ..--..”

Swordsmachine did not respond. It was perfectly still, crouching slightly against Terminal’s side. An odd cord connected the two. 

Gutterman walked closer, confused. 

“- . .-. -- .. -. .- .-.. ..--..”

Terminal’s screen took a second to light up. 

[ Oh! Hello Gutterman- 

What do you need? 

I’m a little busy. ]

Gutterman stared at it. 

“-... ..- ... -.-- / .-- .. - .... / .-- .... .- - ..--..”

[ I’m showing Swordsmachine the Cyber Grind ! >:) ]

“.... ..- .... ..--..”

[ You wanna see it? :D ]

“-. . --. .- - -....-“

[ Oh sure you do- come on plug in! :3 ]

Another slot opened on Terminal’s side, a plug much wider than Swordsmachine’s and far more unique. Gutterman plugs were not commonly used. 

Gutterman hesitantly pulled the cord out of its shoulder pad, staring at the plug on Terminal’s side. Watching Swordsmachine warily, it pushed the plug into place.

Wave 6

Enemies remaining: 5

Blood dripped off its yellow casing, steaming with the heat of its motors as it moved against gravity to hit another creature. The worst of which were the giant rock faces seemingly floating in the air, shooting hell energy in small bursts until they charged a beam of explosive light.

Swordsmachine shot at it with its shotgun, keeping its sword close for more grounded enemies. It threw its sword into another organic creature, while shooting the hovering face at the same time, now charging its beam attack. It heard a clunking from behind and it turned, lifting its arm up and slamming it down against-

What?

Its sword loudly clanged off the sheet of rusted metal from the figure on the floor. 

“Gutterman, what are y-“

It felt a searing heat on its side as the ground exploded from the beam of energy, Swordsmachine flew to the side, hitting a pillar on its side and cracking its lenses. Red filled its vision as blood poured down its head structure, hot from its processors overloading. 

With a horrible squeak from behind, Gutterman was hurrying best it could over to Swordsmachine. It used its shield to defend from the stone face, while using its chain gun to shove the remaining enemies away. By the time it reached Swordsmachine, the face was charging its beam again. 

Gutterman watched anxiously as blood dripped off Swordmachine’s casing. Its shield blocked the beam, but it wouldn’t be able to take much more. It shook Swordsmachine’s shoulder lightly. 

“.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- .--. . .-. .- - .. --- -. .- .-.. ..--..”

Swordsmachine’s voice box grinded horribly in its socket, skipping and slowing at odd intervals.

“Neg.. Negative.”

“.-- .... .- - / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / .. / -.. --- ..--..”

“Leave me. You… n need to… fight.”

Gutterman shook its head.

“-. --- .-.-.- / .. / -.-. .- -. ’ - .-.-.- /“

Another beam hit the shield, denting the rusty metal and sending a wave of heat their direction.

“You.. have to.”

“-. . --. .- - .. ...- . .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine’s casing began glowing a faint red, lenses flickering a yellow light. It twitched as it gazed at Gutterman with the lurch of its wires. 

“You will… die.”

“-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / - .... . / --- -. . / .. -. --- .--. . .-. .- -... .-.. . -.-.--“

Swordsmachine sparked with red energy, twisting its arm that lurched against Gutterman’s arm. Blood spurted onto Gutterman’s metal casing in wet chunks.

“I do not matter now. Y you will… die.”

Another beam hits and cracks the shield in two. Gutterman stares at Swordsmachine. 

“.. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. --- - / ..-. .. --. .... - .-.-.-“

Swordsmachine glares with its yellowed lenses. 

“Y you courageless g glit-“

The world glows white around them as a blast of heat renders the both of them irreparable. All sound slows and there’s a booing from a crowd that doesn’t exist. 

Just as sudden as the heat, there's a chill of cold stale air and Gutterman’s cameras switch on to a bright red sky showering with white meteors. Benjamin’s metal plating was below it, and best of all it was still alive!

It’s sensors picked up an odd noise, and it turned to see Terminal’s screen filling with text. 

[ AH HA HA HA HA 

THAT WAS SO 

MUCH FUN ! ]

Gutterman gazed in disbelief. Had Terminal been watching? What had it found so funny? 

“Terminal’s screen keeps saying that.” Swordsmachine spoke from behind Gutterman, “I don’t know what that was. It won’t explain.”

Gutterman stared at it before calling out, “.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.-- ..--.. -.-.--“

“I am operational. I suffered no injuries.”

Gutterman’s processors were finally catching up with it. “.-- .... -.-- / -.. .. -.. / -.-- --- ..- / -.-- . .-.. .-.. / .- - / -- . ..--..”

Swordsmachine’s head tilted away, “You are a machine that will not fight. That is our primary function. Hell is not kind. You fight or you die.”

“-... ..- - / .. / -.. --- -. ’ - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / ..-. .. --. .... - .-.-.-“

“You shouldn’t want anything.” Swordsmachine looked at Gutterman again, “Us, machines, do not want . We follow our programming.”

“- . .-. -- .. -. .- .-.. / -.. --- . ... -. ’ - / ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- / .. - ... / .--. .-. --- --. .-. .- -- -- .. -. --. .-.-.-“

“Terminal is an odd case.”

“- .... . -. / .-- .... -.-- / .... .- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / -... . . -. / ..-. .. -..- .. -. --. / -... . -. .--- .- -- .. -. ..--..”

Swordsmachine hesitated. It did not know. It simply felt right to fix the creature. Something in its wires twisted. 

“I am fixing it because it… is the correct thing to do.”

“.. / -.. --- / -. --- - / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. .-.-.-“

“I do not either.”

They stood in silence. Swordsmachine processing the information Gutterman was suggesting.

“Perhaps I do want something.”

“.-- .... .- - / -.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- .- -. - ..--..”

Swordsmachine was quiet. It’s gaze turned to the bright red sky, glittering with meteors. Gutterman tilted upwards to join it.

“I want to go up.”

Chapter Text

Swordsmachine tinkered alone in one of the odd buildings on Benjamin’s back. Having been uninhabited, Swordsmachine had decided to turn it into its own workspace long before Gutterman had appeared. 

The floor is covered in large coils of wire, thin and tangled together. Various tools lay in the corner, some with the privilege of hanging from the steel plated wall next to the door. The clouded, grimy window was further obstructed by large gears, broken bits of rusting machines, screws and old human technology. The ceiling has one dust covered lightbulb hanging from a thin chain, flickering off and on every now and then. 

Swordsmachine twisted a screw into place on the odd rectangular device sitting on its small makeshift workspace. It was a dark gray, fused together with a messy welding job and practically bursting at the seams with wires and weirdly shaped bones. There were small holes out one end, and two small square light panels on the face. On the side, two rectangular buttons. 

It gazed down at its handiwork before moving around the unstable workbench and out the door, taking the weird box with it. 

It moved for Benjamin’s head. Running along the steel floor loudly as it reached the creature's neck, coming to a slow stop. Device in hand, Swordsmachine walked closer to the behemoth’s large head. 

“Greetings.” Swordsmachine spoke loudly so that perhaps it could hear them. Though it supposed it didn’t know if it could hear. “Benjamin, yes?”

The creature seemed to stare at Swordsmachine blankly.

“…Earthmover?”

Silence.

“…THR-1000?”

More silence.

“You can speak, yes?” Swordsmachine asked rather plainly. 

Benjamin hit the ground with its broken arm aimlessly.

“You.. spoke back when I was fixing you. Your alarm system.” Swordsmachine continued, “And you now produce sound frequencies.”

Benjamin whined with noise, gears grinding in its muffled cry. 

Swordsmachine jumped up, holding out the device while pressing on one of the buttons.

Now to see if it works…

A human second past.

Then five. 

Then ten.

Swordsmachine looked down at the ground. 

Of course it doesn’t. There isn’t a recognizable pattern in that mess.

It’s systems felt far slower now, an odd wave of something came over them. They felt like they were sinking into the rough sandy ground below the beast’s feet and into the rock below.

A beeping came from beneath Benjamin, and Swordsmachine looked up to see Gutterman sitting next to one of Benjamin’s legs. 

“--- .... -.-.-- / .... . .-.. .-.. --- / ... .-- --- .-. -.. ... -- .- -.-. .... .. -. . -.-.-- / .-- .... .- - / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.. --- -....-“

Swordsmachine moved to answer, but before it’s gears could turn to speak the device in its hand whirred to life. An odd, scratchy voice came from the box loudly.

“Oh! Hello Swordsmachine! What are you doing?”

Swordsmachine stared at the box. 

Gutterman stared at the box.

“- .... .- -  ... / .-- .... .- - / .. / ... .- .. -.. ..--..”

“That’s what I said?”

Swordsmachine’s head turned up to Gutterman again. “It’s an audio translator. I made it for the purposes of Benjamin’s voice system.. however now I am uncertain if it even speaks a language.”

“- .... . -. / .-- .... -.-- / .. ... / .. - -....-“

“Then why is it saying what I am saying?”

“It can translate multiple messages.”

“Why isn’t it translating yours?”

Swordsmachine explained, “Because it is set to translate into my primary coding language.”

“I use the old human Morse code. Is that not the same as yours?”

“It takes more processing power for me to translate it in my cores. This is simply more efficient..” Swordsmachine paused, gripping its sword. “…I can not rely on my system's power as much as I used to.”

“That is unfortunate.”

Swordsmachine stared at Gutterman. “You use it.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes.” Swordsmachine head moved in a nod, “You.”

“Why?”

Swordsmachine went quiet. It gazed across the vast ashen land beyond. It itched at its sword.

“Swordsmachine?”

“It is more efficient. I can weld it onto your-“

“No.”

“What?”

“There is no need to weld it.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I will simply carry it.”

“What if you leave it somewhere?”

“I will store it in the backpack.”

“…Very well.” Swordsmachine concluded. “Here.” 

It held out the device towards Gutterman, whose joints squeaked to grab it with its large clumsy hand. 

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. It was not made for your purposes.”

“…You are not kind.”

“It is not something I can afford to be. You can not either.”

“I will not fight.” 

“You will have to.”

“I will not.”

Swordsmachine began walking away, Gutterman’s lenses pointing in their direction. 

“You will have to.”

The conversation ended there, with Swordsmachine leaving Gutterman in the dust yet again. Walking determinedly towards its destination, its yellow casing sparks with red colors. Grabbing its toolbox from its workroom, it makes a beeline for Benjamin’s internals.

“If I can not help you speak, I will continue to help you do otherwise.”

Gutterman watched it disappear behind one of many steel walls. 

“I wonder what it’s up to.” 

Benjamin cried out again, mumbled roar shaking the ground beneath Gutterman’s feet. 

“It is okay, Benjamin.” Gutterman placed a hand on the metal beast’s wall plating. “You will be okay.”

Terminal watched the world from its small square camera. Day in, day out, Violence’s landscape remained the same shades of red on black. The meteors were perhaps the only mercy in a dead world, sprinkling from above.

Even if Terminal could no longer feel Benjamin’s systems pulling at its own, it was still happy to be able to see the cityscape of its best friend. 

Best friend. What should be a weird word to a metal box, yet here it was sitting in its favorite place in hell. Not that it had seen other layers, of course. Benjamin only ever walked on with the red sky and the dark hills. It was a shame it came to an end so soon, and by another Earthmover nonetheless. 

The great beams of light shooting through the sky had shook Benjamin with every blast. Eventually Terminal lost its connection to its friend. It had watched as Benjamin whined, then buckled as another beam hit its exposed torso. 

And so it fell. 

Not with pain. Not with a sound, even. It simply came crashing down as its lights went dark.

Terminal’s screen lit up with a beep. It heard the clanging of Swordsmachine’s continued work on Benjamin’s interior, rhythmic until the pattern died. It watched quietly before its gyroscopic sensors lurched. 

Benjamin’s front leg pushed up against the ashen ground. It’s joints creaked and groaned loudly, shuddering under the stress of its own weight. Raising up into the air, the ground tilts and decayed pieces of steel debris fall off Benjamin’s exterior and down towards the ground. 

Benjamin’s neck twists and turns upwards, swaying from side to side. Its steel leg shakes against the ground and the beast tilts forward on its other side, pushing on the other leg. It’s hinges groan and sway, lifting at each corner of its base at a painfully slow yet steady speed. 

Gutterman swayed as Benjamin became further elevated, waving its arms to keep a semblance of balance. It’s lenses looked up as the shadow of Benjamin’s head lifted. Dust and debris pouring off of it, eyes beaming light as if from the world's most powerful spotlights. It roared deep and low, neck staggering at the hinges.

“Benjamin? What-“

Gutterman swayed at another lurch, and Benjamin lifted its front leg. As if in slow motion, it stayed airborne for a moment, dusty metal surface shining with red light as It hit the ground again with a trembling, sensor splitting thump. More debris fell from its shuddering systems as it proceeded.

Swordsmachine laid on the ground, sensors calculating the rhythmic sway of Benjamin’s movement. How long had it been at this? Perhaps it should invest time into constructing a clock system.

Benjamin’s systems hissed and flowed, a music even Swordsmachine could take to its synthetic heart. It watched the fleshy interior pulse with newfound strength. 

It lifted itself off the flooring, tools shaking with Benjamin’s every step. Swordsmachine pushed itself upright and was surprised to find its lenses were wet, leaking a small amount of fluid. Its wires twisted and hands wiped the gunk away. 

What in Hell is happening to my processors?

It shuddered and shook it’s head, deciding instead to pack up its tools that now rattled against Benjamin’s surface. 

Later. I don’t have the power to process this currently. 

It walked outside. 

The wind is colder as it rushes by with newfound power. The breeze, now that there is one, seems to whip through anything it pushes against as if there were nothing there. Gutterman creaks became even more obvious, near constant as its rust became flaky and its resistances increased.

Swordsmachine stood with it by the railing, watching the landscape slowly and unevenly move past them. Terminal hummed its tune nearby, quiet and soft. Hell had never been so peaceful, even as ash and dust kicked into the sky. 

Terminal paused its music, and Gutterman turned its head noisily. 

“Terminal? What is it?”

Terminal’s screen flickered on. 

[ I’ve missed this.] 

Swordsmachine scraped a finger against the railing. “What does that mean?”

[ It means I used to do this a long time ago. And I was sad it stopped. ]

Gutterman stared at Terminal’s screen, void of the text smiles it had used constantly. “We have continued now. Are you not optimistic?”

[ It will end again. I’m sure of it. Nothing lasts forever. ]

“But we’re here in the moment! Enjoy it while you can!”

[ I’m trying. ]

“Code isn’t so easily broken, Gutterman.” Swordsmachine spoke up, “As I’ve said before, machines are not supposed to feel emotions or want-“

“That’s what you say.” Gutterman cut it off quickly, “What if you're wrong? There’s no reason to say things like that if you don’t know.” 

“I’ve been online longer than you. I understand more than you.” 

“How do you know that?”

“You were stuck in the canister when I found you.”

“I was online before the canister fell.”

Swordsmachine’s head turned towards Gutterman’s frame, “I was unaware your model was capable of that.”

Gutterman’s head squeaked to face Swordsmachine’s cold lenses. “Newer models don’t. That design flaw was taken out of production quickly after our units…”

“So then why do you think I am incorrect?”

“You’ve been enraged at me before. You even admitted that you wanted to fix Benjamin so he could move as he does now.” Gutterman called out, the translation device sputtering in the wind, “You say things about other units without accounting for yourself. Maybe it isn’t programmed by default, but clearly you’ve learned them all on your own.”

Swordsmachine backed away from the railing. It already wanted to run, wires twisting uncomfortably in its casing. 

“Negative.”

“You can not undo what you’ve said to me. Benjamin walking is proof enough that you have desires. Emotions, even.” Gutterman continued, “Why do you deny it?”

Swordsmachine did not respond, arms twitching for its sword. 

“And you keep trying to fight your way out of it…” Gutterman looked away. “I don’t understand you. Fighting isn’t… it isn’t a solution.”

Swordsmachine’s insides burned hot, it couldn’t focus its lenses, shoving the boiling hot processors buildup deep, deep down.

“Negative.”

Swordsmachine ripped its arm away from its sword and turned running, no longer resisting the pull of its wires. 

Gutterman watched it go. It felt sad, really.

“None of my conversations with it go well. I don’t know why it is so angry all the time.”

Terminal’s screen lit up again.

[ I don’t know either. ]

“…I’m sorry it was mean to you.”

[ Don’t apologize. It wasn’t you. ]

“Okay.”

Benjamin’s footsteps shook the ground beneath them. Walking along, they passed debris of other machines, abandoned buildings, and large, familiar looking metal scraps half buried in ash. It’s systems hissed and groaned, occasionally draining old blood supply for a fresh cycle. 

Terminal resumed its low humming as it swayed with the rhythmic footsteps of the beast it resided on. In the distance, a sliver of a line expanding ever upwards appeared through the dust as Benjamin’s spotlight eyes moved over it.

Chapter Text

There it is. 

It should have been more skeptical. Hellevators were always tough to find. Only a few existed with the old humans’ swift hopes to end their extinction.

This was far too lucky. Far too soon. 

I’ll take it. 

Swordsmachine watched over the ledge of the balcony as the thin strip grew closer. Traveling this far brought out how destructive the Earthmovers could be, flattening the ash beneath it, walking by lone crumpled buildings, moving past the remains of other beasts hidden beneath the ash. 

Then a sudden concern made itself apparent. Swordsmachine looked between Benjamin and the Hellevator. 

How am I going to get all of this upward?

Swordsmachine then remembered that before it worried about that, it needed to worry about Benjamin. 

And if it was going to stop. 

“Terminal, is there any way to get Benjamin to stop moving?” 

The yellow box took a second to respond.

[ :/ Stop? Why would you need him to stop? ]

“We need to stop to determine how to move up the Hellevator.” 

[ Up? 

You want to go up?

:0 ] 

“Affirmative.”

[ How do you think you’re going to- ]

Swordsmachine spoke again before Terminal had finished. 

“I need Benjamin to stop first.”

[ But he looks so happy :( ]

“That isn’t a program..” Swordsmachine shook It’s head, “..Benjamin would be happier if we could find a way up.”

[ :0 Would he? ] 

Swordsmachine nodded.

[ I’ll be on it right away! Though it has been a while since I connected to the mainframe. ]

Terminal’s screen was quickly replaced. 

[ Loading please wait. . . ]

Swordsmachine watched Terminal’s screen flicker off. Then it watched as the Hellevator loomed above, growing closer with each passing second. 

Several human minutes passed before Benjamin groaned in a low tone as it began to slow to a halt. Its joints hissed and gradually the landscape was passing less and less beneath them. As its limbs finally halted, and the last lurch of its upper body shuddered forward, there was another hiss as several panels lining Benjamin’s body swung upward and released large quantities of spoiled blood out onto the dirt below.

Swordsmachine watched as it hit the ground so far beneath them, wincing at all the fuel Benjamin required to function. It hoped there would be fresh blood above, or else Benjamin may not last long.

Terminal beeped behind it, and it turned its rectangular head to face the yellow box.

[ There we go! ]

Swordsmachine nodded, then looked up at the hellevator. It had ended up behind them in Benjamin’s decline, though not far enough as to cause Swordsmachine any concern. No, what concerned it was the fact that it hadn’t processed exactly where to go from here. There was too much wishful thinking from earlier that they’d even find a hellevator in the first place was pushing their luck. 

[ …You know how to get up, don’t you? :l ]

It ignored Terminal.

[ Swordsmachine? ]

“Negative.”

[ Oh. ]

It’s blue lenses gazed at the hellevator as it tapped a hand on one of Benjamin’s walls. It could already feel its processors heating up.

“I think I know how we can accomplish our objective.” 

Swordsmachine jumped at Gutterman’s sudden speech. Its rusted body rarely had the ability to sneak up on anyone like that. 

“And what is it?”

Gutterman turned to Terminal. “Terminal might be able to.”

It went quiet. Surely Gutterman was losing a few screws if it thought the little box could transport all three of them and a behemoth unscathed. 

[ What? ]

Even the optimistic Terminal couldn’t seem to understand what Gutterman was trying to say.

“Humans used to transport items through the Terminal system.”

[ Those were the terminals before the shutdown, I don’t know if I am even capable of that function. ]

“Isn’t it worth a try?”

SwordsMachine crossed its arms. “How would we find out if Terminal even has the program?”

Gutterman turned its head uneasily. “…We could …see if it has any of the information from that time?”

Terminal’s music stopped.

[ Are you going to shut me off? D: ]

“We can check your menus before jumping to that conclusion.”

[ :( I don’t want to be shut off! ]

Swordsmachine shook its head. “Gutterman, look into the data if you must. I am going to find a different way through this.”

Gutterman’s head twisted with a screech while Swordsmachine walked away, further towards the hellevator. Then it swung back to Terminal.

“Could I look at the menus at least?”

[ You promise you aren’t turning me off? ]

“Negative. I will not shut you down.”

[ Okay. I trust you. ]

A pause before it added.

[Friend.]

Terminal’s screen flickered out to be replaced with odd looking icons.

[ - - MENU - - ]      - - TIP OF THE DAY - - 

[ WEAPONS ]             Welcome back,

[ ENEMIES ]              GUTTERMAN =)

[ CYBER GRIND ]

[ SANDBOX ] 

Gutterman’s lenses focused on the screen. It tapped a finger against [ WEAPONS ] and was greeted by some sort of shop screen. Revolvers, shotguns and even cannon type weapons were available, each costing a certain amount of Points. Gutterman observed that this number was available in the top corner. Though it certainly had enough to purchase a “Marksman Revolver”, it felt a horrible feeling in its wires at the thought, promptly clicking away and into the [ ENEMIES ] tab instead.

Much of the enemies tab was blank, exceptions being those of odd creatures called Filth, Strays and Schisms. It was more surprising to find rather detailed entries relating to machines such as itself and Swordsmachine. Beyond that, there was too few data to support possible teleportation properties.

It clicked onto [ CYBERGRIND ] which displayed text asking the user to plug in to enter the digital space. 

“Is this where you sent us?”

Gutterman didn’t quite expect a response, but Terminal’s text appeared all the same.

[ Get Points and improve your skill! ]

Gutterman’s head rotated back and fourth, “I do not want to fight.”

[ Aw :( ] 

“What is the sandbox?”

Terminal’s screen flickers with pre-programmed script.

[ The sandbox is under development, and is not available at this time. ]

“Oh.”

[ Apologies for the inconvenience. ]

Gutterman was quiet, head low. It twisted Gutterman’s wires that Terminal seemed so toned down, the screen void of text based expressions. 

“It’s okay.”

Terminal’s text came up, slowly and without the hum of the music.

[ That’s all the menus do. ]

“I did not find much.” Gutterman admitted, “I am …concerned.”

[ I have been unable to reach other Terminals for a while. ]

“Do you know why?” Its limbs squeaked as it tilted slightly in curiosity. 

[ System Errors. ]

Its body shuddered to its full height, attentive. “I thought Swordsmachine fixed you?”

[. ]

“How do we fix it?” Gutterman leaned closer to the screen.

[ Missing parts. ] 

“Then we will fix you.”

[ You will not find the parts here. ] 

“You do not know that.”

Terminal’s screen went blank and did not turn back on. Gutterman backed away from it, limbs squeaking from the strain. It turned to stare at the hellevator. 

“We will fix you, friend.”

It’s blue lenses glared at the pillar. The exit this close to grasp yet no way to ascend. If it reached out maybe it could even touch the red walls that led to its goal. It dug its fingers into the metal wall, scratching Benjamin’s plating. 

It heard the whining of Gutterman’s bulky frame approaching from the side. 

“Swordsmachine.”

It tilted its head in response, hand clutching the wall.

“Terminal is missing the pieces to connect to the others. If we fix that, we might be able to move through it.”

Swordsmachine’s lenses flickered in Gutterman’s direction. A tempting idea, perhaps Terminal wasn’t a lost cause. There was simply the problem of finding the parts needed. 

“How are we to obtain the necessary parts?”

“The terminal network requires multiple terminals to use. There should be one in the hellevator.”

“How do you know this?”

Gutterman hesitated at the question, going quiet. 

Swordsmachine shook its head. “Let’s go. We will discuss it later.”

Yellow plating moved to head down along Benjamin’s plating, with Gutterman following behind. 

Chapter Text

The Hellevator doors put up little resistance to being shoved open, much to Swordsmachine’s surprise. Perhaps the dust didn’t eat at everything in this apocalyptic landscape. The air inside the elevator is stale, everything clean and pristine compared to the dust covered machines that now entered the small area. The walls and floor coated in red and gray contrasted to the yellow box on their left. Another terminal in the network, featuring a menu screen as they approached. The tip of the day was different from Benjamin’s Terminal. 

[A direct hit from the Knuckleblaster has extremely powerful knockback, making it extremely powerful for launching enemies into pits and other environmental hazards.]

“What does that mean?”

“I do not know.” Nor did Swordsmachine care, instead it reached for the panel along the side of the yellow box, tearing it open to see inside. 

Gutterman watched it in alarm. “Wait- you could be hurting it!”

“It cannot feel pain.” Swordsmachine shook its head, “I will deal with this efficiently.”

Gutterman turned away, “Clearly I cannot reason with you.”

“Go back to Benjamin. I will handle this from here.”

Gutterman’s lenses pointed back at Swordsmachine, who was now reaching into the box. The Terminal’s screen started flickering and with a horrible crunch several wires were ripped from its internals.

“I will stay.” Gutterman replied.

“Fine.” Swordsmachine threw the wires aside. “Keep out of my way.”

“You killed it.”

The yellow box was all but gutted, its contents lay on the floor, some pieces still bleeding out. 

“A necessary price.” Swordsmachine said coldly, “We now have the parts available for Benjamin’s Terminal.”

Gutterman didn’t argue. It wouldn’t have helped anyway, Swordsmachine made it clear by now that listening was not in its interest. The damage had been done. 

“Open the backpack.” 

Gutterman shrugged over and let Swordsmachine access the coffin on its back. 

Swordsmachine carefully placed several components into the coffin, each one pressing the coffin with its weight. Occasionally the metal would scratch against the rust of the frame, causing a horrible noise even Hell would not favor. When each piece made its way into the coffin, Swordsmachine swung it closed on old hinges.

“We can return now.”

Gutterman shuffled around, swaying with the new weight on its back. It kept quiet, and followed Swordsmachine out of the Hellevators cramped space.

Terminal hummed the only tune it ever knew. Out of the many places it could have gone, never did it calculate the probability that it would ever move again. Benjamin would never be in working condition ever again. Terminal itself probably wouldn’t have either, glass broken and internals slowly rusting from Benjamin’s blood loss. 

It heard them before its camera caught a glimpse, tall figure unmistakable in its lens. Maybe if it unfocused enough it could go back before when things were simple. Do what they tell you and sing along.

“Do you understand what you are doing?”

“Of course I do. I’ve scrapped many of them myself,” Swordsmachine’s plating scratched at Guttermen’s coffin, “Yellow is a rare color around here.” 

“That’s awful.”

“That is survival.“ It ripped the door from the coffin.  You could use new parts yourself.”

Gutterman lifted to its full height, admittedly not tall enough to intimidate the other machine. “I am not broken.”

“Your ‘friend’ here is.” 

“Were you broken?”

“Negative.” Swordsmachine grabbed a few cables. ”I need to get to work.”

Swordsmachine reached over by Terminal’s side, searching along its paneling. Gutterman’s head rotated in its direction.

“What are you doing?”

It was the last thing Terminal heard before losing its ability to intake audio.

[ Wait! What are yo

Then it lost sensors.

Then functionality. 

Then nothing. 

[  Network online! Booting. . . 

. . .

. . . 

Connection found! Processing. . . 

. . . 

Please select a location. 

[ Out of Range ]

[ Out of Range ]

[ 7 - 3 ]

[ 7 - 4 ] < Current >

Warning: This feature is still in development. For troubleshooting please contact DATA NOT FOUND. ]

[ You have selected: [ 7 - 3 ]. 

Initiating Transferral protocol protocol. ]

[ Loading Data. . . ]

“This is going to take a while.” Swordsmachine’s voice box spoke up, “We have more data for it to process than it may have ever been intended to.”

“Then I will wait until Terminal comes back online.”

“It is online.”

“The one that talks.”

“Have it your way.” Swordsmachine turned to leave as it tended to do, “Benjamin’s data in particular will take a long time.”

“I understand.”

Swordsmachine’s footsteps faded off into the distance as Gutterman adjusted itself next to Terminal. It looked up at the endless falling of stars, still sparkling quietly through the bright sky. 

“I would have stopped it.” 

It was pointless. 

“But I was useless yet again.”

Terminal would not hear it.

“I do not like Swordsmachine. I do not think it likes me either.”

Gutterman became almost uncomfortably aware of how rusty it was compared to the bright colors of the yellow box. It gears grinding in its internals as Terminal’s wires pumped without resistance. 

“I wish it would admit it. Confirm what I know. It reminds me of…”

This was stupid. 

“Humans.”

Everything about this meant nothing. Especially now.

“You would remember them, right?”

The box did not respond. 

“I should stop.” Gutterman faltered, “You are not functional. I just need to wait.”

It pushed itself against the wall behind it, metal scratching against the Earthmover’s exterior. There, it sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. 

Swordsmachine kept itself busy with its various projects. Defective circuitry turned emergency explosive, scrap piles of odd shapes fit for extra protective plating, various machine crafted weapons sporting blades of rust and handles of wire mesh. Odd prices of a chain gun, the upper body panel of a sentry, bright red plating with odd white symbols uniformly spaced across them.

Its makeshift desk currently housed the workings of a poor attempt at a mechanical hand. Small scraps screwed together with rusted screwdrivers and stripped metal. At each joint a bolt creating odd proportions to the thin metal of each finger. The wrist in similar fashion to the metal fastener of an ancient lightbulb. 

Swordsmachine simply stared at it. A mild air of disappointment in its posture, the way its head shook back and forth and its arms crossed in front of itself. 

Why am I doing this?

It had no need for extra hands. Weapons had purpose, explosives could be useful given certain circumstances, armor was hard to find but could mend some of the cuts Swordsmachine had taken over cycles. But a hand? 

Life was not something Swordsmachine particularly favored to make. Life in Hell especially, seeing as how everything turned to violence no matter flesh or machine. 

Almost everything.

Swordsmachine picked the hand up, dangling it by what was supposed to be the pointer. The metal draped against its own fingers, limply swaying back and fourth as it was suspended. 

Worthless.

It threw the hand aside, which smashed into the steel wall and then into a bunch of little pieces. Swordsmachine gazed down at the debris, bright blue lenses beaming at the floor. Yellow plating stinging hot and searing red. 

[ Data loaded! ]

Terminal’s screen flickered to life, music began to pour out of its speakers. 

Gutterman’s head twisted in Terminal’s direction, standing up quick as it could. 

“Terminal?”

[ Creature Identified: Gutterman. . . Uploading. . . ]

Text began rapidly appearing on Terminal’s screen. 

[Built in the early days of the Final War, The Guttermen were one of the first successful experiments in using blood as a feul source, as well as the first automatons to be deployed in wide scale conflict.

During the War’s first phase-

“Terminal.” Gutterman stepped forward, reaching a hand out to its friend.

-an era of trench warfare, these seemingly unstoppable walls were airdropped into the enemy trenches- 

“What are you doing?”

-which they would then slowly and systematically clear out as all opposing soldiers would have to-

“Where are you receiving this information?” Gutterman beeping became faster. 

-choose between being minced by the Gutterman, or running out of the trench and getting mowed down by machine gun fire-

“Talk to me. Terminal.” 

-Researchers had not yet found a way to keep blood inside the machine fresh- 

“Stop.” Gutterman grabbed at the yellow box’s sides, “Can’t you hear me?”

-so a live fuel source was-

“Stop!” Gutterman clutched Terminal’s sides, scratching into the yellow paint.

Terminal’s screen went blank. 

Gutterman watched intently. Its blood pounded through its systems,  “…Terminal?”

[ Hi ]

“Terminal!” Gutterman’s frame visibly relaxed, “Are you okay?”

[ I can access the Terminal Network now. We can go up. ]

Guttterman’s frame lifted, “That is good. When can we arrive?”

[ I need admin permission to perform the task. Current admin: Swordsmachine ]

“…I will go retrieve it.” Gutterman’s box whined out in something like a sigh, “I hope you are functioning optimally.”

[ Affirmative, friend.

:) ]

Gutterman only wished it could say those strange symbols aloud.

The workbench glows bright orange, singed at the edges in deep black crevasses permanently etched into what remained of the surface. The walls had been equally exposed to the same treatment, unorganized and uneven. Scratched out childishly and without care. Swordsmachine’s chainsaw is still steaming. 

Gutterman’s rusted frame appears in the doorway, head swiveling slightly to observe the smoke filled room. It caught Swordsmachine standing, weapon drawn out to its side. 

“…Terminal is ready.”

Blue lenses burned into rust-eaten steel. They paused for a moment, unmoving as dust blew through the wind around them. 

“Very well,” Swordsmachine broke the silence and clipped its sword onto its side, securing it in place. “If you need to refresh blood, I suggest you do it now. We do not know what will be up there. We will not find any kindness in flesh.”

Gutterman stepped to the side as Swordsmachine passed. “I will not fight.”

“And I will not protect you.” It warned, “They will tear you apart.”

“I do not like you.”

Swordsmachine walked onward into the stale air, its powerful legs shook the floor beneath them.

“I do not like anyone.”

[ The admin identification has been entered! Please prepare for Transferral protocol! ]

Sowrdsmachine leaned against a nearby wall, checking its shotgun functionality. Terminal’s tune sounded from its box, low and calming.

Gutterman stood next to Terminal, actually listening to the song and trying to slow the blood pumping through its systems. The faster the flow, the sooner it needed to be replaced. It clutched at its shield, brushing dust off to no avail in the wasteland that was Violence.

How would it feel?

Gutterman’s processors calculated uncomfortably in its systems.

Can metal feel the agony of the physical? 

The man with the mask was there, covered head to toe in thick black fabric and clutching a coil with a sharp point at the end. A small black window in its face, fogging up with oxygen in even increments. The wire it held moved as it checked a wrist. Muffled murmuring came from beneath the layers of cover.

Its lenses looked around from all angles. There were three more, two clad in green and still as statues. The other wore white, hunching over a counter in the dim corner. The room was otherwise barren of decor, walls gray and dark with dirt, dim lights above. The table it currently sat on was low to the ground enough that even its own feet could touch the floor. Rain could be heard off in the distance, thunder low and deep. Its gears ground quietly inside, feeding off a power source it could not see. Quiet was rare, its processors vaguely considered before refocusing on its surroundings.

A small black box hanging off one of the men rung out in the silence, cracking with a voice near unrecognizable between the static. A man in green moved and slid open the heavy metal door behind them.

It wished they hadn’t.

Whatever it had hoped of silence was gone. The footsteps were getting louder, strong and solid against the cold concrete of the floor. It was not raining off in the distance. There was no solace in the simplicity of thunder, nor comfort in the thought of dark clouds and raindrops. The unending gunfire rang through the air much clearer now, the bombs erupting far far worse than any noise thunder could provide. 

Thats when it registered it.

Ugly, loud, and covered in sweat was the frail form of another. It was no man. Not anymore. It’s clothing had been torn, now far more red than green. It struggled against the newcomers, more green men grabbing at its arms and legs. Shrieking, screaming, pleading. Red dripped onto the floor as it was dragged inside, door shut behind it.

The man with the mask backed away in disgust. The white one moved towards the machine, it watched as it pulled the tubing inside of it and it processed that it’s insides were exposed. The white one turned back to the greens, restraining the other onto the floor. Signals were shared, struggles were increased. 

They lifted the red one up and towards itself, still fighting, shoving it towards the cavity in its back.

The man with the mask lifted its coil and it began sparking with light.

Gutterman’s joints began to move and

It landed flat on its front, clanging against Benjamin’s cold solid paneling. Swordsmachine twisted to stare down at it, setting its shotgun down and moving closer. 

“Are you functional?”

Gutterman’s head twisted all the way around. “Where is the light?”

Swordsmachine shook its rectangular head, “We are transmitting soon. There is no light.”

Gutterman rotated its lenses and pushed itself upward. Swordsmachine had to help it get to its stumped feet. “Where…”

Terminal beeped up. 

[ Initiating Transferral protocol! ]

Their lenses turned towards Terminal’s screen, before the weight left their frames and they saw no more.

Chapter Text

The first thing it processed was darkness.

The sky is littered with faint, glowing white dots that didn’t move nor fall onto the landscape around them. There is no red to be seen, there is no color at all. The air was far more chilling than the ashen wasteland of before. 

Blue lenses glow faintly in the dark, pressed into the steel floor. light frost coated its body and clouded its vision.

The transmission must have disabled my systems temporarily.

It pushed itself up with its arms, lifting to its feet slowly. Little shards of ice crackled as it moved, falling off in awkward sheets. It checked for its sword, feeling with its plated hands rather than seeing. 

Still there. Good. 

It peered out to the outer world, and leaned over Benjamin’s twisted railing. Odd sticks surrounded Benjamin’s feet, sprouting with limbs and ash gray. From up here, it looked as though they flowed endlessly through the landscape and into the darkness away from Benjamin’s dimmed beam of light. There was a structure off in the distance, merely a shadow of shape from this vantage point.

It’s foot moved and hit against Gutterman’s frame, laying on the floor. 

Weak.

Blue lenses gazed down at it. Something in its wires twisted uncomfortably. 

Disgust? 

Pity? 

It did not matter, it had already moved the mass of its upper body against the near wall. Yellow plated hands became coated in grime which it wiped off to little success. Looking back out above the landscape, it gazed at the strange buildings of beyond.

It jumped at the music, a low hum in the silence. Turning, it found Terminal’s screen.

[ Transmission comple- 

WOAH :0 WE REALLY MADE IT! ] 

“Affirmative.” Swordsmachine nodded, “It is… darker than I anticipated.”

[ Do you have a light source? ]

“I do not.” The fourth layer of Violence never really needed it, with the bright red of the sky that never turned off. The barren, broken landscape of dust. Not that there was much better here in the third layer.

[ I could make you one! ]

It started at the yellow box in disbelief. “You can make one? With what? You have no limbs.”

[ My systems have the ability to teleport objects at several scales. I am far more useful like this! So many new ideas to explore! ]

It squinted at Terminal, “You will just. Make light for me?”

[ Yeah, of course! :)

Though, at a cost. ]

Swordmachine’s shoulders sank at this news. Always a catch. No one does anything for free.

“What do you require?”

[ You remember the CYBER GRIND, right? ]

It tensed, stature raised and hands curled. It would have to go back in to fight against hordes of unending enemies, and for what, exactly? Glory? Thrill? Did it even believe it could feel those kinds of things? 

[ It was fascinating to watch! The bloodshed! The gore! The suspense! ]

Its music got louder with its excitement, text appearing in mere seconds.

[ But most importantly, it will get you P! ]

“What is that?” Its head tilted.

[ P is a currency used to buy items in the shop. Currently, I have blueprints for basic weapon models from the network, but I can put together schematics of my own with enough time. 

P also puts you in the leaderboard! ]

“What does a leaderboard matter? We are machines, we have no need for play or scores. Just survival.”

[ I do not believe you would understand the appeal, Swordsmachine. You are rather lacking in Points right now. ]

“Would you be trying to persuade Gutterman like this? It does not even have a will to fight. It can gain points no more than a husk could.”

[ Which leaves you as the only one who can gain the necessary tools to achieve your goal. ]

Being reasoned with was not something Swordsmachine enjoyed. It felt like losing to someone lesser than it. 

“If it is what it takes… I will do it.”

It’s systems groaned to life, metal scraping metal. It wipes at its lens, questioning the lack of light in its sensors. Its body trembles, drumming against the wall as it lifts itself to stand. 

“Did we… make it?”

No hum of music nor of annoyance. The silence was eerie, sure but a certain calmness came over Gutterman’s frame. No light, no noise, no judgment. Its internal clock gritted inside its chest, time passing quietly without proof. The stars blinked down at it peacefully, and it reached out a hand. 

Sparks flew all around it, blinding bright and turning metal black. 

It pulled away, recoiling against the wall. 

“I do not…” It shook its domed head from side to side, “…this data..”

It pressed a shaky hand to its lens, covering its vision. The time in its canister must have done more damage than it had thought. Rusting had been one thing, however, it hadn't considered the other consequences while being confined to a drop pod for Hell knows how long.

Its arm creaked downward, slow and trembling. Its systems were drying of fuel, slowly draining out through the use of its mechanisms. Grinding its gears, it slowly dragged its way to the supply of batteries stored in the wall.

The rhythm of battle was something it knew fairly well. Being of metal and manufacture, it knew itself to be superior to fleshy lifeforms. Sure, the odd semi-floating rock faces were annoying to reach- and the stone statues moved rather quickly for something of that size, but overall it felt rather good for its chances. Its precious yellow coating was now covered in charred bits of flesh, rotten teeth, bits of gravel, and, most notably, blood as it finished wave 7.

The cheering was loud in its sensors while wave 8 began loading, enemies dropping in at all sides. It sliced through those fleshy teeth monsters with ease, shooting up at the new floating rock and shoving its heated chainsword through the faces of the ones who decided to run. Gore flying, enemies gnashing out, it hardly noticed the sound of another chainsword, revving in its direction. 

It turned to shoot at another fleshling when it saw the streak of yellow charge forward. It switched directions mid way, trying to aim at the blurr before it could get in range- teeth sank deep into its arm, scratching at the plating. Swordsmachine shot blindly at its copy, hoping it would land before the worst. It heard a mechanical screech as it threw the gnawing filth off, tearing a piece of its armour. 

It hit!

Swordsmachine’s blood pumped through its systems faster than it had ever felt before. A moment of triumph washed over it, until it was consumed by dread. 

It had missed, and could not see the blade spinning long before it had time to react. Raising its arms it backed up before the heat found itself driven into its systems, melting metal and sending sparks flying as the blade lodged itself firmly into its chest. Errors pounded loudly in its vision as it watched its copy raise its own shotgun and pull the trigger. Its systems locked up, gear teeth crunching and sparks flying. It felt itself falling backwards, over the edge of the arena, watching as if in slow motion its descent into nothingness, visual feed cutting out as the crowd booed. 

The hum of music rang from Terminal’s box.

[ This is so much fun!!! ]

Chapter Text

Why did it run? To fight? To feel? To survive? Out of all the metal monsters in the universe, why did it gain the curse of sentience? The privilege and burden of being aware?

The ones that attacked it had no doubt, no fear. They stood unflinching and unfeeling, pumping hell energy and lead into everything around them that moved. 

The dense trees flew by as cold air hit hard against its shell, as if trying to hold it back from its escape. Why did it have to be so cold? Why did it have to ask so many questions? Why?

A burst of blue Hell energy flew past its body, singed the plating with unfathomable heat. It ran faster, feet making dull sounds against the dead grass below. The trees loomed above, twisted and warped as if reaching for it.It kept going, despite the pounding of blood in its makeshift veins telling it to succumb, to fall into the darkness and serve its deserved fate. 

The Earthmover gazed down into the trees, and it could see the beam of light ahead. If it could just make it… maybe it could find out why it was here… maybe it wouldn’t have to run. Maybe it would have a purpose once more. 

It groaned against the wall. Dried blood felt like decay against its casing, eating at its rusty frame. It felt disgusting, hand shaking as it did its best to pour the life fluid into its systems, hot and sickeningly thick. Its wiring choked it in, allowing it to pump through in horribly uneven levels. Its casing crawled as it felt dizzy and sick.  Its clock spun in jagged patterns, counting time backwards and forwards and backwards again.

If Swordsmachine saw me like this…

It dropped the battery with a hollow thud, clear plastic stained with red as it rolled on the ground. It turned its domed head away, desperately avoiding the dripping noise coming from its side. 

It crawled forward, uncertain it could get to its feet if it tried. 

Just don’t look just don't look I didn’t do it- 

Gutterman dug its fingers into the floor, dragging itself slowly across Benjamin’s exterior. 

It heard a loud sound nearby. Metal on metal slowly getting louder, closer. It stopped moving, frame rambling against the steel plating on the ground.

A shape appeared in the darkness, coming up over the railing. It clanged over the side and crashed into the floor in front of Gutterman. A sphere of bright blue flew past its frame, and Gutterman could see its yellow plating in the dim light of it. It jumped as the newcomer raised its left arm, oddly squarish in shape, and threw it towards the bright blue, an explosive energy hitting it and sending it flying back downward towards the forest leaving a slight shockwave in its wake. It watched down at the explosion below, and then turned to look around and up at Benjamin. 

“How does an Earthmover just appear here?” It questioned, its voice is calm and clunky, primitive but not encoded like Gutterman’s had been. “It is not a small machine…”

It began walking in Gutterman’s general direction, turning its torso this way and that. Gutterman noticed the lack of head on the odd machine. It huddled against the nearest wall, scraping slightly against the cold steel and feeling the metal dig into its rusty exterior. The newcomer’s body twisted in its direction and stopped.

Gutterman stared, gears clicking faster and blood pumping. It twitched, grinding its body against the wall further.

The machine began walking towards it.

Why did it think it could hide? Now it needed to move! 

Run! Crawl! Anything!

Gutterman lurched forward, reaching out to defend itself before a sickening feeling overcame its sensors and it fell back down into the floor with a clang.

The machine’s footsteps continued, stopping before Gutterman, trembling on the floor. 

“What are you doing?”

Despite the uncanny inflictions of speech making it difficult to understand, there was a semblance of sympathy that whispered its way through. 

“Do not attack. I am not.. going to fight you.”

“You are on the floor. You have no ability to fight now if you tried.” It explained, it swung its torso from side to side. “Why are you not attacking?”

“I will not fight.”

The new machine crouched near Gutterman, examining its poor exterior. It could feel a dark pool of blood slowly growing beneath itself and held back a motorized convulsing. 

“You are without a volunteer.” It said, almost in awe. 

Gutterman shook its head, “I do not need one. I do not want one.”

“You are not like the rest.” 

The machine grabbed Gutterman with its singular hand and lifted it off the floor, displaying an amount of strength Gutterman would not have anticipated. It winced at the puddle of blood its foot hit as it reached the floor.

“Is something wrong?”

“Negative.”

“Are you malfunctioning?”

“Negative.”

The revving of a chain sword is enough for the machine to switch focus, twisting around and shoving its odd arm forward, pistons hissing to life. A devastating impact sounds as its large metal hammer collides with the hot steel of a sword, sending it flying. Blue lenses shine bright in the darkness as the taller machine aimed its shotgun. The smaller one bolts to the side in time to avoid the fire, and punches forward once more into the side of Swordsmachine’s frame. It raises its arms to block but is pushed backwards by the impact, crushing into Benjamin’s wall beside Gutterman. It looked at them in a panic.

“Wait! Stop!”

Gutterman threw its hands up and backed away, looking between the two blurs of motion. The small bot raised its arm up again. Swordsmachine aimed its shotgun.

“Do not fight! Swordsmachine is not like the others either!” 

It stopped its arm, tilting slightly in Gutterman’s direction. “Both of you?”

Swordsmachine shoved its fist against the smaller machine's casing and wrapped its fingers around the large plate on its chest. The small machine pushed against it, desperate to back away as Swordsmachine gripped its hammer arm and began to pull.

“Swordsmachine! Let go of it!”

A crunching of gears sent sparks flying from the forced joint. Gutterman struggled to get up onto solid steel feet. Swordsmachine did not waver in its resolve, metal grip cutting into the machine’s casing as wires pulled loose. The small machine wrenched at the hand currently latching onto its plating, scraping its own digits against them. 

“Swordsmachine!”

The machine wrenched free, straining the bolts in its casing. With incredible speed it used its functional arm to twist the broken one back into place, gears locking together once more. It punched forwards with the speed of a sentry’s bullet, jackhammer pulling back to strike. 

THUNK!

The sound of breaking metal bounced off Benjamin’s walls. The small yellow machine kept its arm raised a moment longer before lowering it. Swordsmachine’s frame lowered onto the floor, limbs twitching. It’s lens had cracked, face dented in by the impact. Blood poured from its neck, steadily dripping onto its front. It let out a garbled noise, though the intention remained unknown. Blue lenses flickered for a moment, then faded into dull gray as its limbs locked up. 

Gutterman watched in horror, blood pounding through its systems. Every programmed instinct told it to run, that there was danger in staying here, yet its body didn’t move.

“…Is it…?” 

Gutterman’s voicebox whines to say the words. The horrible feeling that coursed through its wires was all too familiar, all too overwhelming. It watched the small yellow boy as its internals grinded uncomfortably. 

“Negative. Offline temporarily.”

Its body twisted in Gutterman’s direction, walking back towards the machine. “What is your malfunction?”

Gutterman shook its head. “I am functioning fine.”

“You are without weapons, without fuel.” It pointed out, “There is no function like this.”

“I have a shield.” 

The smaller bot stared. Or at least Gutterman assumed it had. This stare was different however, to the blazing lenses of Swordsmachine. It had no lenses of its own, though it was not without sight by other means- perhaps the odd mirror on its left side held some kind of visual. A flag hung despairingly from a pole mounted on its back, with no wind to lift it. It too was covered in layers of grime, and a silver circle embedded on its chest once shiny had turned a dull gray over time.

“A shield is not enough.” It raised its arms and placed a hand onto Gutterman’s shoulder pad, and for once it didn’t feel the need to recoil. “Do you know what’s out here?” 

“Of course I know..”

“Where is your gun? Your fuel supply?” It turned Gutterman in its grip, observing the remains of its backpack. 

The rusted machine shuddered and pulled away. 

“You won’t last like this.”

“I know.”

A silence overcame them. The air felt thick between their casings. At last the smaller one spoke up again. “I am Excavator.” 

It held out a hand to Gutterman, whose head rotated to meet the machine's odd mirror. It slowly lifted a rust covered hand.

The yellow one took it with confidence, shaking its hand. 

“I will do my best to protect you.” It said, and it was spoken with a weight. A truth. A meaning. Emotion, almost. “I promise.”

How to respond to something so personal? 

“I…” It’s voice was low. It looked over to Swordsmachine, still cold as ever. It turned back to the machine with its hand. “Thank you. Excavator.”