A tall, metallic figure approached a flattened structure that submerged into the earth. As the door opened to the building, it rubbed their hands together in giddy. Bunkers were found less and less these days, so finding one that never went online might as well have been hitting the jackpot. Sure, a few bots had probably looted the place, but none had quite the trained eye as Optic. As they walked down the stairs, the hum of electricity could be heard.
This struck Optic as odd, finding an offline bunker with power that had never been recorded. Optic grabbed scrap metal as it walked, occasionally finding dismembered appendages which would be sold for a hefty bonus.

As Optic walked, the bunkers walls seemed to tell a story. Burnt metal and shrapnel littered the sides of the bunker and inactive turrets lay motionless on pedestals. The black spherical cameras on the sides of the tall android’s head looked over the scene with curiosity. Optic continued down the gruesome hallway, eventually finding a small figure crouched by a light. As Optic approached, they realized the figure wasn’t crouched at all and was in
fact just that short. The rectangular droid stood tending to some plants, with a small sapling sprouting from a crack in its head. Small patches of green moss littered the frame of its
body. On the end of each arm was a tool, a hose on one and shears on the other. After a few moments, they turned their square head, and two small yellow lights looked up at Optic.

“You have not been shot? I find this news quite surprising.” the small robot said, as it continued to tend to the plants that lay in front of it.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Optic replied.

“No, it was a simple observation. All who have entered before you now lay as rubble and yet you, an unimpressive scouting vessel, walk in with no scratches on you.”

“I must be special.”

“Do not kid yourself. The turrets must have finally run out of ammunition.” The blocky figure sneered.

“How should I address you, moss-covered android?”

“Trim will suffice.”

“I am Optic. It is sufficient to meet you, Trim.” Optic looked about for a while, retrieving as much scrap as their storage compartments would allow before returning to Trim. “Your assistance is required, bot.”

“I am already doing what I was programmed to do. Whatever job you have is not worth my time.”

“Do you not realize the treasures that lie at your feet? With all this metal I could go to Forge and purchase/acquire? whatever I want!”

The conversation was cut off as alien radio waves filled the air. A look of understanding was shown in Trim’s posture as it turned to Optic. “You know what? I will take you up on that offer if we aren’t scrap in five minutes.” With that, the sentries whirred to life and pointed where Optic had originally descended. Suddenly, explosions rattled the bunker as uninvited bots descended the steps and launched themselves towards Optic and Trim.

~ ~ ~

A lanky android with burn marks around its mouth roared, “Listen up, oil drinkers, I will put it bluntly: this mission will leave you like scrap. There is no intention of grabbing our corpses, as oil reserves are ninety-seven percent depleted. All the remaining oil is heading up to command. Lieutenants and the like are sending their crews on wild chases to get materials. We either raid this bunker or we fail trying!” With that, the party of metal men
jumped from the helicopter they had arrived in. Once landed, they dusted themselves and tightened the springs in their legs. The signal was given over the radio and the group jumped through the air, into the bunker.

~ ~ ~

As the turrets rattled off rounds, Trim quickly plucked the packets of seeds it had been collecting and started to waddle against the wall. Optic followed closely behind, taking in the sight of bots exploding into fireballs. “They must be oil drinkers; I am surprised any
of them still have power. I always thought they would look more disgusting based on the things you hear about them, but they do not look that different. Sure, they have a tube coming out the top of their head and have blackened mouths, but—”

“—Keep quiet, would you? I personally value my consciousness,” Trim snapped as it shuffled against the unlit side of the bunker.

“With all due respect, I do not think they are here for you. What could you possibly give them?”

“I reside here. They will want my information, and my programming will not allow them to have it, so they’ll rip me open and dig through my head.”

“You don’t have to be so graphic,” Optic muttered, climbing out of the bunker to see the helicopter above their heads. The vastness of the desert surrounded the bunker, though
this was the normal state of things. Occasionally, a crater would show itself upon the earth or an old ruin of a building could be seen, but the world was dry, lifeless. The helicopter paid no heed to the two androids as they walked out into the oblivion. “We are going to Forge’s shop,” Optic chimed as they walled.

“I did not ask where we were going. I was glad I was not going to have to listen to gunfire for a few hours, but if I must listen to you, this may be worse.”

~ ~ ~

The turrets had rattled on for hours, emptying shell after shell into the invaders. A lone figure lay in the corner, oil covering its body. It had managed to weld the holes, but it
had lost most of its oil in the process and was feeling static buzz about in its head. The gunfire stopped and the turrets clicked: they were out of ammunition. It was a brutal scene. The entire battalion lay on the ground, littered with holes. The lone survivor crawled across the floor, ripping into the chassis of a soldier and drinking from its oil supply. It went from body to body, ripping them open and taking whatever gas it could get. Next, it
looked at its Lieutenant and ripped free its memory. The soldier had always wondered what the grand plan of the war was. As the bot inserted the memory, an emptiness filled every inch of its body. The Lieutenant had never known why they fought; it simply followed orders. This sent rage through the machine, and it started to rip at the fallen soldiers and attach their pieces to itself, forming Compound.

To be continued…