Sure enough, our client seemed to think yelling at us would be more effective than actually doing something. I had to drag him down before some stray attack would end up striking him in the face. That's how all villains come about, after all. "John you twat, you ought to keep your head down!" I scolded at him, looking around the swamp for any other commotion while ensuring he was enjoying himself. Well, at least make him feel like paying us in the end. I had no idea what was going on out there, and I didn't want to know. Surely John didn't want to either.
- - -
No, no, no. You know, I rarely feel anything. Emotions? Something our ancestors thought were useless, trying to erase such things like a taboo. Sure enough, that ended well for them. It was 'logical' to engage in mutually assured destruction, and for what? Scientific advance? It doesn't take a robot to figure out that just didn't make sense, and I AM one.
Well, was. When the world was young and charred, simple beings of bells and keys were considered Pokemon. I suppose I can't deny the fact I'm also a Pokemon.
"Milloon, that place is the literal representation of a pit of death-"
"But we gotta explore that place down there!" Dear Liberty. I just realised why I've been regretting everything I've done for the past millennium. Sure, Miles got in trouble a lot and he was just a hunk of metal at the time, but DEAR GOD HE WAS NOT AS ANNOYING AS MILLOON! I regret everything just by being near Milloon. Every second, he would ramble on about some ridiculous thing, such as going on a quest to save a princess, or nuking the world again. Was he infected with malware or something? In this little cabin, every little jar collected over the years seemed to have cracked just from the very frequency of his voice. "It's gonna be fun! We get to fight monsters, ghosts, vampires-"
"For the last time. There is NO such as thing as ANY of the aforementioned you confounded-"
And then, it occurred to me. Somehow, over the voice of Milloon's shenanigans, I realised I had missed Miles. I was... a broke dick piece of shit drill. What have I done? I've left myself in a mess, forced to listen to the innocent yet broken voice of Milloon. Miles was probably crying while I tried to truly relax. But as a soldier, you know two things: desertion gets you shot, and you can never relax. For once, I felt... guilty.
With that in my mind, I thought of a plan to escape. Before long, I had charged the cannon on my back, a yellow hue enveloping the room before leaving a mere hole in the wall. And the melted remains of a Porygon, sending out sparks and oddly physical numbers.
"Sorry 'bout that." I whispered, not really giving a damn as I left the cabin. He was too annoying for me to care about. As I rolled in my old rusted tank treads, I looked behind to see the world I was leaving behind: a cabin, a disused silo and remains of a bomb shelter. I saluted them all in one go before leaving, hearing sand crackle under my treads before officially entering the ocean.
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