The time of day: 1200 military standard time.

The date is July 2nd, 120 GA. The second day of the war initiated by the Chinese and U.F.E. nations against the sovereign United States of America.

Total account of deaths registered; 860. Both sides of the warring nations.

Total accounts of injured soldiers; 0. Both sides of the war issued a no survivor policy despite the outburst from their morals department. Democracy did not win this round in the game of life.

A world was in its infancy, the baby cradle just about to break open from the newest player on the battlefield. The one known as the man who first made the AI’s, John Hiltz.

Who is currently resting inside a U.F.E. authorized vehicle, a Scorpion-7.

Traveling along the war streaked pavement, the tank hovers forward, the debris underneath not even worth the effort to move. The bombs coming from the east now play out their lightshow in front of John and his hacked-up servant, Seven.

Literally, right in front of them.

The crater made by the bomb that fell in front of Seven causes it to use more energy to lift itself above the hole and keep an even level for the body of John to rest upon. With enough time and momentum, Seven enables its thrusters located along the edges of its propulsion engines. This allows the passage over the crater possible.

“That’s enough there, Seven. Remain on standby, I will continue on foot.”

The tank pauses in its cruising, the debris on the road now moving off of the road due to the current of electricity rebounding off of the pavement.

“That is not what you programmed into me, Hiltz sir. I do not believe I am able to comply with your command.”

“Then stay 50 feet behind me at all times, and await further programming.”

“Yes, Hiltz sir.”

The two AIs of different origin exchange these words with one another, and John hops off the turret head of Seven.

Upon landing, he then ignores Seven, placing his feet forward with every step. In the distance, the White House can be seen despite a blue hue surrounding it.

“Hm, an energy field. That wasn’t there when I was alive. I should be able to overload it however.”

John examines and remarks on the change to the White House’s security and protection systems. He continues to stride forward, and brings up his list of weaponry he equipped on his body. Looking it over carefully, he chooses the ones most appropriate to the situation of facing against many enemies.

Using his sensors, he picks up numerous life forms and electrical pulses, signifying that the road ahead was literally dotted with many humans and machines alike.

“Looks like the government used an idea I thought of first, and actually implemented it. I have to applaud them for picking through my brain.”

John remarks on the machines dotting his sensor. These machines are actually very much similar to him, just simpler, and less remarkable then himself.

He initiates his weapon systems, and the black discs with blades in them begin to spew out of his back, half a dozen in a matter of seconds seem to appear from his back, and the armor covering him doesn’t lessen anymore, as his body has created more nanobots to compensate for the lack of armor.

The discs then begin to stack up on top of each other, shrinking and compacting, until it forms only a hilt. A massive energy reading comes off of John’s sensor, and he picks up the disc hilt, it automatically engaging upon his metallic touch. A blade made of the Varisum alloy extends out of the hilt, glowing slightly.

A beam of energy manifests around the blade, and adjusts itself to his size. Seeing as he was at the height of almost 7 feet, the beam blade extended to 4 feet in length, at least over half his height. More discs come out after he touches the hilt, but only come up to a total of three. These three discs begins to rotate, until the blades within can only be seen as one, single mass.

These discs continue to float next to him, one next to his left arm and shoulder, and one just behind his right shoulder. These were a defensive and offensive mechanism, and could be moved according to John’s command.

He stands there, in the middle of a road to the White House, with three forces of war fighting to determine a victor. Two allied with each other, and their enemy being the U.S.

John smiles inside the wall of machinery he encased himself in, in his little programming room he designed himself. It was only a room with programming as wallpaper, but he still had a nice view as he could just float in his little space.

Personally, he was glad the lightsaber worked, as he was a little skeptical if his brain would fail to create something a dozen of brilliant minds couldn’t make. But with the blades from the discs acting as a convertor for his energy system, he was able to extend his reach even further.

The downside was that this blade could only extend to a maximum of 6 feet at its thinnest. And when the energy goes off the end of the blade, it could only zap others or die off.

John begins a slight jog onto the battlefield, his saber in his right hand, and a palm full of energy in his left, with discs covering the rest of his sides.

His black, but lined body makes a first appearance in this war of the Galactic Age.

The stage of this battle only needs him to begin his waltz of peril.

Of course, he doesn’t forget to turn on his emotion display on his visor.

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“Hold position! The higher ups are sending in the birds!”

A yell rings out and over a trench line, plasma bolts flying over the heads of multiple soldiers. Their blue uniforms signify their alliance with the U.F.E., their boyish faces now seeing the frontlines of a war started by their country.

Holding onto their plasma rifles and pistols, the boyish men fear for their death. But this fear keeps them in places as the sound of whistling objects can be heard from above.

“They’re the birds! Duck and cover, those are the big ones!”

The commander of this little trench groupie yells out to the cowering soldiers.

The commander heeds his own advice and takes cover too, as the whistling becomes more apparent. The plasma cannon in their little nest lies out in the open, but knowledge of where the bombs may land prevents some chance of it being destroyed.

*Boom**Boom**Boom*

The sound of the bombs hitting their potential targets reaches the ears of all the troops in the trench easily. The commander’s yells no longer reach the young soldiers, but the message is clear to them.

Take out the deserters.

Using their rifles, they prop themselves out of the dirt and look over the edge of the trench. Each soldier holds an authentic and mass-produced plasma rifle, and so the chances of a misfire and potential casualty is low.

But the soldiers do not shoot.

The commander is puzzled at their noncommitment for the good of their country and the world, and begins to get angry.

“You bloody bastards best start shooting or else-”

“Sir, there is no chance of firing at any deserters.”

The commander is stumped at the automatic response from a nearby rifleman, and he quickly pulls out an augmented scope to see the situation the soldiers see through their own scoped rifles.

“What in the Queen’s fucking womb could that be?” (AN: For those who don’t understand, look at how America was made.)

The question the commander posed went unanswered for only a few minutes, as the younger officers and troops had to think of a response to his question.

“Sir, with all due respect, I think that’s a demon.”

“There is no such thing as a demon. Get your head out of that bible of yours.”

“But sir, how would you explain that?”

The commander gives no response, as he lifts a finger up to his helmet and the connection to the airstrike command center.

“Give us another run in the same exact location, Beta Squad 8’s location. Over.”

“I’m sorry Beta 8 leader, why do you need another strike? Over.”

“Cause there is some sort of super-”

The commander’s voice stops as he receives a blow to the head, a big hole through the center of his head. Steam comes from the melted flesh and metal, as he falls over, instantly dead. His beardless face relaxed and drool slipping out of his mouth.

“Beta 8 leader? Hello? Damn, we lost them, call for-”

The line cuts as the operator on the other side cuts the connection. The soldiers in the platoon look down in shock at their commander’s demise, and as soon as another soldier is shot through the head in the same exact way, the rest of the troops send out a quick burst of cover fire in a panic and slip back under the edge of the trench.

They could only hope to survive for the next message on the recall point. They gripped their rifles in fear, and some even muttered to the God of Christianity.

--------------------

The U.S. sniper could only look through his scope as the airstrike from the other forces across the road lays waste to his comrades laying support for those trying to make it back to their trench.

The bombs of plasma light up the ground, the comrades of his now no longer among the living. Only the AIs survived the blast, due to their metallic bodies and the quick response to the warnings they received on their scanners.

The sniper hits the floor he is on with his fist, grinding it against the floor in apparent anger. He grabs the stock of his rifle, and with one hand reaches into his pocket for an attachment for his scope.

An optics nerve cluster.

This cluster allows the scope to auto adjust itself to pick out the highest threat level on the battlefield. With a click, it attaches itself to the end of the scope, and he allows the rifle to adjust itself to a target.

He looks through the lens, and the cluster finally picks out the most dangerous opponent on the field. He looks up from the scope in shock, and quickly does another check on the scope to see if the cluster malfunctioned.

In his sights, a black, glowing lined humanoid robot walks along the road, the pavement behind the robot showing scorched footprints in the ash of his comrades. A huge faceplate is shaped like a V, and on it an emoticon can be seen smiling.

On both of its shoulders a disc hovers, spinning fast enough to show a blade filling the entire middle of the hole in the disc. This same disc also hovers around his left arm, not spinning as fast as the other two discs.

In its right hand though, is what astonishes the sniper the most. A blade of what appears to be plasma or some other energy is manifested to the exact looks of the Star Wars lightsaber, something the public knew as a failed project in the United States.

“What the hell… is this a new Chinese weapon?”

The sniper mutters to himself, and loads a cartridge into his rife. He looks down the scope, and adjusts the aim slightly to have the mask of the ‘Chinese’ robot in the center of his scope.

He readies the trigger, and fires.

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*Bzzt*

The sound of a disc hovering next to his face makes John look at his visual sensors, picking up the shot of a rifle in his radar system. The plasma shot was aimed directly at his faceplate, and was intended to be a direct hit by the sniper who shot.

But this was blocked by John’s disc, the one hovering on his left shoulder. The Varisum alloy blades were spinning at such a high frequency, allowing almost instantaneous movement and the ability to absorb any form of energy directed at the blades, which also caused a makeshift vacuum in the air surrounding John, as the very air itself was a form of energy.

The only problem with this system of defense was that it couldn’t handle the energy absorbed, and so John has to manually release the energy by redirecting it in a different direction. John issues a command for the energy to be released to a close target.

The left shoulder disc lets out a small laser in the direction of the right shoulder disc, and that one absorbs the energy, allowing some time for John to pick one of the life signs out on his right, far from the road in a trench.

He allows the energy to release, and one vital sign disappears from his sensors. No time is given for the sniper as John initiates an attack towards the sniper.

He raises his left hand, the disc floating near his arm spinning to the front of his hand, close to his palm. The disc begins to slow down in rotation speed, and a small light concentration along the lines of John’s arm shows a transferring of energy from the disc and body.

The blades in the middle of the disc suddenly disappear and reappear in the center of the disc, the concentration of energy now showing a visual effect on the small Varisum cylinder sticking out of the center of the disc.

The concentrated light in John’s arm disappears, and the tip of the cylinder lets on a slight, blue glow.

Then it is gone, no sound reaching any human ears for miles as the bullet of energy travels at a pace faster than the speed of light. John’s sensors pick up the sign of a successful release, and the disc reforms into its original shape, going to just above his left arm.

Then the sonic boom occurs just seconds after he releases that weapon function.

The vital sign on John’s left disappears.

John continues to walk forward, despite the recent attempt on his body. But he stops when his sensors pick up objects bigger than him coming from his right, just a little further away then the humans in the trench.

“Shit, did they call in air support because I shot that guy?”

John mutters to himself, while he turns his head to get a look of what aircraft he would have to shut down in order to get to the White House and exact his revenge on the President.

Chopping its way through the air, a relatively semi-truck sized chopper appears. There are two rotors on its wings, and it very much resembles the S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft from the marvel comics Charles always read, no matter how dirty and torn those comics were.

John turns off the power to the lightsaber that saw no action, and reabsorbs the nanobots used in the weapon. He disengages his auto defense system, and the three discs attach themselves back into his body.

John begins to use his sensor to examine the weak points of the incoming aircraft, the gears in his head turning. He looks towards his foot to see if anything of use could be used against a bigger machine then him, and a piece of pavement uprooted from the ground takes his attention.

If the soldiers had decided to look at John, they would have seen the shining lines near his head shining ever more brilliantly.

Using his machine strength, he lifts up the piece of debris the rest of the way out of the road, and heaves it onto his shoulders. The suspension in his arms takes the weight of the pavement, the width of the thing making him raise it above his metal head.

Adjusting his aim for the prediction of where the chopper will be and tosses the pavement with all his might towards it.

Using a slight electrical discharge, he puffs the dust off his hands, and continues his walk towards the White House. Off to his right the piece of road strikes a rotor straight on, crushing the turbine within and causing the rotor to malfunction.

Smoke rises from the wing, and the helicopter begins its final descent to the battlefield.

A big explosion occurs behind John, and on his sensors the life signs of a dozen disappear with that explosion.

Quickly shifting into his Gaia Form, he zips off to the capital, leaving in his dust a very lonely tank named Seven.The Induction of a RecruitAn Unusual Time... And Place------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author here, I won't release anything else until Valentine's Day in America, as I have the best chapter for that after this one. A little comedy, and a shocking discovery involving the United States...