Chapter One

Arsen raised his gun, shooting the security camera. The boom echoed within the hallways, causing Chuck and Ash to glare at him.

"You're going to get us caught," Ash hissed at him. "Keep it down!"

"We would have gotten caught if I didn't shoot the camera," he hissed in return. "So you stay quiet."

Suddenly, alarms rang throughout the complex like a flock of disturbed birds.

"Alert! Alert! A security camera has been compromised. This is a critical security breach. GenTech units seven, nine and forty-two to the breech position immediately!" The robotic voice cut through the relative silence like bull through a crowd. Soon the invaders found the corridor they stood in awash with the sound of stomping boots.

"Ash, you work on activating the explosives," Chuck told the female. "Arsen and I will try our best to hold off those damned robots, it'll buy you some time."

"Yes sir," Ash obeyed, letting the backpack slip off of her shoulder.
Rrrr the zipper shrieked as it was pulled. Reaching her hand inside the the bag, Ash pulled out the explosive charge.
   
Arsen was a bear in the doorway to a large room, immovable and fierce. Removing a large rifle from his back, he kneeled and positioned the weapon on a stand. Placing his eye to the scope he prepared to hold their position no matter what the cost. "I've got the door," he shouted behind him.
   
Chuck removed a small hand-held device from his pocket and held it up to his eyes. "Hmm, looks like at least two robot brigades are en route to our position, hurry up Ash!"
   
Y'know, it's not easy to program a bomb in the middle of a battle!" Ash yipped at him, trying to keep her attention on the explosive bundle.
   
The battle hasn't even started yet." Arsen shouted back, unsheathing two knives from his belt and placing them within easy reach. Arsen was always ready for a fight, and he made sure to always prepare the battlefield in his favor. On that preparatory note, he casually rolled a pair of grenades toward each of the openings in the larger room.
   
"It's still a lot of pressure." Ash hissed. She was always on the precipice of irritation with the male, for no apparent reason, which annoyed Chuck a great deal. Growling, Chuck began to berate the pair once more when the sound of metal shod boots echoed down the hallway.

"Like I said, hurry it up." Arsen shot a glare at Ash, but the harsh gaze was returned by the female.
   
Ash attached the explosive to the wall, setting the time for five minutes till detonation. She turned to face the two males, giving them a look.
   
"We probably won't have enough time to get out," she reminded them. "So, I'd just like to say-"
   
"That you despise us with a burning passion?" Arsen guessed.
   
"You regret ever joining our revolution?" Chuck tried a shot at it.
   
"If you could die along side with anyone, it would be anyone but us?" Arsen took another estimate.
   
"No!" Ash snapped, "I'd like to say that I don't completely hate both of you. You're... decent acquaintances."
   
"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to us," admitted Arsen, Chuck nodding in agreement. "And same goes to you Ash. You're still annoying though."
   
Ash gritted her teeth at the comment. She supposed some things could never change, not even in the face of death. She glanced at the timer on the bomb. 3:15. Had it really taken that long just to say I don't hate them? She wondered.
   
Metal clanking could be heard from the hallway, approaching closer and closer. The trio felt their hopes fade upon hearing that noise, for now there was definitely no chance of getting out. All they could do now was make sure the droids didn't disarm the bomb, which meant them going out in a blaze of glory.
   
Who's going to continue a revolution when we're gone? Chuck thought. Are there even any other humans left? If there are, I hope this gives them the courage to stand up. That was always the problem with our generation; there were not many humans, and those who existed lived in constant fear, far too much terror in their minds to make a stand.
   
In the end, will we be remembered? Arsen wondered. Will anything we did impact what happens next? Or is it all to be a forgotten moment of time? Sadly, I do believe this is going to be forgotten. After all, who's left to remember us? Hopefully there are other revolutionaries out there, looking to bring these GenTechs down. Or else, all of our hard work and sacrifice counts for absolutely nothing.
   
It's hard to believe that this is the end of the line, Ash found herself in deep thought as well. Me, Chuck, Arsen... we've been working together for years, yet this is where we must part for the next life, next journey... yet, is there a life after death, or is this it? Wow, look at me, I've spent the last three years, going through Hell and back over and over again with these two idiots... yet I still believe in a peaceful afterlife. How delusional can I get? There is no God, there is no Heaven. There are no angels to save us from the darkness. If there were, they would've saved us a long time ago. There's nothing waiting for us after we die, except maybe Hell. This is the end, the true end.

The sound of metal kept getting closer and closer. Chuck glanced at the countdown. 0:55. Everything's almost over.

"I love you guys," he whispered under his breath, thinking they didn't hear him. Yet he knew he did when they gave him the most confused look ever.
   
"This isn't a time to be getting all mushy," Arsen told the other male, though tears stung his eyes. "But we love you too." As he said this, a tear slid down his face.
   
Chuck's turn to check the count down. 0:10. The metal clanking reached them, GenTechs were prepared to attack, yet they wouldn't have time.
   
"They say goodbyes are always too hard," Chuck chuckled to himself. "So, I'm going to say this instead; see you later."
   
"See you later." Ash and Arsen bowed their heads, knowing this was the easiest way to say their farewells. Five seconds left.
    Four
    Three
    Two
    One
    BOOM!
    Just like that, all of it was gone. The base, the GenTechs, and the trio of rebels, the trio of friends. Would the revolution carry on? Or was it just a wasted mission with wasted fatalities? Was this the end, or was it only the beginning?

   
Stalking through the corridors of Mongol Reach, Vizer Mandro searched his internal, and external, scanning systems. These, and countless other pieces of equipment, had become second nature to the experienced commander, for Mandro was the first, and greatest, of the GenTechs.
   
The GenTechs were the army, police, spy force and assassins for Omni-Technology, the globe-spanning ruling class of geniuses who had long ago merged their consciousnesses with supercomputers. Each and every GenTech was outfitted with numerous robotic implements and, as a consequence, was more android than human. Many GenTechs were not even alive in the traditional sense, for when a promising individual or GenTech officer died, they could be outfitted with a device that permitted their leaders full control over their bodies.
   
Mandro himself was only about 14% human, the bare minimum to allow him to think creatively and lead effectively. The rest of his body had been converted to an impossible number of weapons, defenses, ability enhancers, and scanning systems. So complete was his transformation that only his sense of taste was unaltered, and that was only left alone because Omni-Tech had to have some way to kill him should he prove a hinderance, he figured. And it was with his highly advanced senses that he was able to detect the sounds of battle and gunfire echoing through the steel hallways from over a mile away.
   
Devoting one of his mechanical eyes to reviewing once more the layout of the complex and the location of the invaders, he activated a computer console set against a wall nearby. "Contact Processor Dreda, now." He ordered into the microphone.
   
"Watch who you're ordering around, Vizer," came the sarcastic, and in large part annoyed, female voice. "I certainly wouldn't want to have to make you join the fight yourself. No, no that wouldn't do, making the high and mighty GenTech Mandro fight an enemy that wasn't already on the executioner's platform." Leaving that cold threat hanging in the air, the Omni-Tech sub-consciousness (A term for someone who is part of the collective intellect of Omni-Technology but does not speak for the mighty empire.) contacted and redirected Processor Dreda to the impatient Vizer.
   
"Why have you contacted me?" questioned Omni-Tech's second in command, the mighty Processor Dreda. "I do hope you are not reporting an attack by those pitiful rebel gnats, because I have already analyzed the situation and I would advise that you close off that section of the facility. Simply put, your worthless adversaries are in possession of a very potent bomb, and I would just hate to have to hold you personally accountable for the deaths of forty-three Omni-Technology sub-consciousnesses."
   
"Yes, Processor. As you command, Processor." Vizer Mandro said hurriedly. In combat, which he did see often enough despite the sarcastic comments to the contrary, he was fearless to the point of heroism, but when faced with a nearly immortal and invincible being that figuratively had her finger on a gun aimed at his head, the legendary Viser was nothing more than a snivelling yes-man.
   
"Hmm, how disappointing. That really was what you had intended to ask me. You know, my imbecilic cohort, I really should recommend your disintegration to Grand Processor Galak," she said, referencing the master of Omni-Tech. Galak, a being of power that would cow a god, had such belief systems not been eradicated decades ago, held the entirety of Earth under his titanium boot (though of course he had no physical body) and inspired in all but his closest followers a sense of irrational fear at the mere mention of his name. "Perhaps then we could allow a real warrior to command the GenTechs, not some tired old veteran of old America."
   
Knowing his place, and more importantly the dangers of such a course, Mandro forced back several retorts before finally striding away, his bloated ego in shambles but holding on to the remaining scraps of his pride.
   
Oh, but how I would love to kill that arrogant, power loving, computer kissing, coward of a Processor, thought Vizer Mandro, for he often held such rebellious conversations deep within his mind. It's those rebels though that dive a rift between the factions of Omni-Technology. One day I expect they will awaken to find that they have been fighting for naught, that they cannot win, and that they have no reason to fight at all. Really, what are the gains of fighting against the rightful government? In our society there is no poverty, no one goes hungry, everyone contributes to the success of the community. There is no war, aside from that those dissidents have created. Truly, after more than two centuries of trying, the brilliant minds of Omni-Tech have perfected and implemented Communism, the perfect embodiment of an even more perfect community.
   
Indeed, perhaps one day those insurgent fools shall awaken to find their entire worldview is a falsehood, thought Mandro. Then again, perhaps one day they will not awaken at all. Perhaps then we shall have the peace all of humanity so richly deserves.
   
He reached the central command center of the complex, and as he strode purposefully toward the controls that could seal off sections of the over-sized computer terminal that the building actually was, alarm bells began to go off in his head. Literally. The hundreds of sensors placed around his body overloaded with alerts of danger. This almost succeeded in crippling the wiley old warrior, something that the resounding boom was incapable of doing, despite the fact that it was loud enough to deafen a mere human.
   
Mandro turned about, and wished that he hadn't when he saw the horrifying wall of white flames speeding toward him. I will kill those imputent little revolutionaries. Was the Vizer's final thought as he was bathed in the immolating conflagration.