Backbone

NOTE. This is Shifter's story. As such, (knowing me), expect graphic violence in a grimdark universe. That said, enjoy.

The wheel of fate turned, but the robot didn't look.

Deep within the bowels of an industrial wasteland, there were men. Well dressed men. Men in labcoats. Women too. They were inventing, creating, and manufacturing one, and only one, robot. A single robot to do their bidding. A simple robot with a sharp face and a sharper wit, wrapped in prosthetic skin to look like the average citizen. He was given everything that the perfect assassin should have. Professionalism. Good looks. Charm. They didn't know what they created at the time. None of them would've guessed it really. They had achieved, through their flaws, to create a perfect being.

Then they tossed him in the dump before he could be turned on.

On being dumped, he came to life, oddly enough. He woke to an unpleasant world of dirt and filth, and when he got to town, he found that the dump was better. Shifter's first hours alive were his worst, if only because he was experiencing life for the first time. With his two functioning legs, Shifter went everywhere, examining every nook and cranny of his new existence, as well as the people. The place that he chose to live in (for now), was a huge city of epic proportions. A monster of a society with war in it's own streets. A casual thing that revolted the robot. All the violence and death for some unknown reason felt... wasteful. Shifter fixed this by looting the bodies, grabbing something to wear while he was at it.

Staring up at the strange monoliths of this alien culture felt odd, to say the least. Almost as if he was looking at life through something else's eyes. So he pondered, walking around in a dead man's red overcoat and white pants with five dead men's wallets. He knew already the power of money, as well as other rudimentary things his lovely creators had installed into his head before dumping him, but he had yet to truly form opinions on things. To grasp at reality. It was an unfortunate thing that would be remedied in a few moments, when several bullets plunked off his head, leaving behind nothing but three holes in his fake skin on the side of his head, exposing his metal skull. He soon turned around to see what had shot at him to see a man in armor with a huge rifle, and what's more, he was still shooting at dear ol' Shifter.

Shifter looked upon the assaulter, towering above the robot like the buildings just had, except buildings looked less threatening. Shifter just kept walking on, ignoring the man that was shooting at him, right up until the man drew a knife and tried to stab him in the back while Shifter kept walking, without a care in the world. Now no more, as Shifter had grabbed the arm mid-motion, getting on the arm and delivering a metal leg to the assaulter's metal helmet, knocking him over and his rifle from his loose grasp. Shifter managed to grab it as it was still falling, land himself facing away from the man, turn around and shove the barrel into the left eye. Of course, he unloaded.

Irony, that man worked for those that created him. Imagine their surprise when they saw their robot kick serious ass and walk off with the man's rifle and combat knife. The mean streets seemed to suddenly get a lot nicer as a crowd had grouped around the body, Shifter still walking away casually. He knew nothing of everything, but he had his first real taste of blood... and although he really didn't care for it, it suited him. He soon pawned off the rifle and got some extra scratch that he spent on two katanas. Two red katanas, one made of silver and the other some sort of red metal. This would be how he could tell his left from his right for several years

Shifter walked these streets for years, getting money for his various assassin services, purchasing several fancy, custom tailored suit with his hard earned money and a storage device to hold it. He needed no sleep and he finished every job. He was fulfilling his programming, much to his own chagrin, simply because this work bored the snot out of him. He wanted something new. Something challenging. Something to break the monotony of killing for those too lazy or incompetent to do it themselves. He became tired of his life already.

So he became a night guard.







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Not focusing on the world, focusing on the character. As such, this intro sucks. Get over it.