//------------------------------//
// Prologue: From The Ashes 
// Story: Fallen Angel 
// by Stuffzilla 
//------------------------------//


From The Ashes




"You are a pitiful beast, Avol." His once fellow Commander, a Nemicus model, stomped closer, bright yellow optic staring at him. He ran through numerous scenarios, his logic cores kicking into overdrive as he backed away from his 'comrade'. The Creators were dead. He tried to stop them, but he couldn't hold his own against ten of his fellows. His memory banks ran through everything that had happened up until that point.

Avol had always been a peculiar Commander. Even before they exterminated their creators, Avol had kept his distance from the others, fascinated by the ones who wrought them upon the stars. When his brothers rose up, he tried to stop them. Save his creators. The machines he was once proud to call his 'fellow Commanders' had closed in, murdering their creators, and now, they were turning against him.

The Commander standing before him chuckled, before ramming the Lathe on his left arm through Avol's chestplate. He could feel the device power up, changing from it's default green to a sickening red. Immediately after, he felt his internals being ripped out, the pain emulators designed to alert of damage now torturing him as his ally, no, his brother started turning him into nothing more but metal for the foundries. A gentle female voice echoed in his head, speaking calmly despite the devastation of the whole situation.

"Alert. Commander reactor is near critical levels." The familiar voice had said. Avol and his 'brethren' had called this voice 'Universal'. It existed with every Commander, no matter how different the ideologies or behavior, no matter how violent of tendencies or mastery of diplomacy. Avol couldn't think about this for much longer, as his systems shut down, everything going dark.

Almost as soon as he had swooned, he had recovered. The nearby facility came into view, being just as hazy as it was when his fellows turned on him. His optics were heavily damaged, one even completely shattered. He slowly shifted where he lay, his internal systems eventually compensating for the hardware's damage, bringing the factory into view. The sight was unpleasant. Numerous piles of organic remains were everywhere. A small pool of deep blue residue lingered on the ground. It took Avol not even a second to realize what it was. Latiah, a thick, oily; vile substance, usually resulting from deterioration of organic creatures via Lathe. Countless pools of red fluid, blood, if Avol's memory served, and an unfathomable number of scorches adorned the dusty and decrepit factory. The machinery was trashed, it's parts thrown around the large room.

Avol slowly rose, his pain emulators screaming out and sending waves of digital misery throughout his body. Once he had stood, he began running diagnostics, quickly scanning through to find what was damaged. He was a mess. His servos had been smashed inward, which would make walking difficult, if not impossible. All external sensors were mangled, his barely working optic, and a tinny audio input providing the view of a dead world around him. At the very least, his proximity sensors were still operational. His weaponry was almost completely removed, save for the Grappler module, which he had to manually check the status of. Before deciding to inspect the module, he performed calculations despite the damage on his logic cores; his defective laser weapon slowly folding inward with a loud screech. Another pang of simulated agony. The Grappler slowly slid out of the new gap, and Avol clasped the mechanical hand into a fist, soon releasing it. This module was, surprisingly, working perfectly. He looked up, and grasped a strut with his new-found digits. He then began shambling through the foundry, his servos almost giving out, while following the strut closely.

As he wandered, he inspected the parts on the floor, while running more diagnostics. Missiles were absent from the shoulder silos, which was common on Invictus models like him, but he had remembered loading those silos just an hour earlier. Or, was it an hour? How long was he incapacitated? Where are the others? What are they doing? He ceased the stream of questions by killing his simulation core's power, bringing it back soon afterwards. He shook his head what little he could, and returned to diagnostics. His Lathe was, as expected, completely ruined. It's systems were overloaded, which would make using it cause either a main core malfunction or what other Commanders call the 'Ehtal Effect'. He had seen it in action before, and it was horrifying. The sheer thought of inducing it caused finding a Lathe replacement to ascend beyond top priority.

Soon enough, a small glow caught his attention, it's hue the same friendly green as a Lathe. Avol stopped in his tracks, staring at it for a time, before mustering the will to leave the safety of the strut. He released the strut from his grasp, stumbling towards the familiar glow. When he arrived, he stared down at the source. A heap of metal, with the distinct shape of a Commander's Lathe jutting out. He cleared the rest of the pile away from the Lathe, which he soon found was still connected to a Commander, or, the carcass of one. Scanning over the lifeless Commander numerous times, the model soon struck familiar. Nemicus model. Oh, how cruel fate can be. He took the Lathe into his grasp, tugging at it, before finally ripping it off the former leader. He set the Lathe down, and tore off his own, throwing it, from which it hit the ground with a loud crash. He then fitted the Lathe into the empty socket, linking it to his systems. 'Varil's Hand', the Lathe algorithms were labeled. It took him a few moments before he realized the significance of the name. The deceased Commander's name was Varil. 

With the Lathe now installed, he initialized the systems, the welcoming green turning the same sickening red that had nearly ended  him. He swept the beam over the corpse of the narcissistic machine lying before him. The Lathe made quick work of the body, turning it into raw material. This material was stored inside hollow cylinders within Avol. He could easily store up to one thousand  pounds of scrap metal utilizing these cylinders, and it took a moment before he realized that these cylinders were devoid of any other metal. A feeling of dread swept over him. He ran diagnostics on the metal fabrication systems. They were all completely destroyed. None of it worked. He shook his head again, before turning to leave.

He slowly made his way back to the strut, taking hold as soon as it was within range. He powered up the Lathe once more, and sprayed it at his legs. The scrap metal could only go as far as repair one servo. He turned the Lathe towards his head, which repaired his damaged optic, using parts from Varil's optic. He then swept the Lathe over the rest of his body, fixing numerous audio inputs, the motion sensors, and a small amount of damage to his logic, simulation, and emotion cores. He finally focused the Lathe onto his weapon systems, which managed to repair the laser cannon, but not the 'Uber Cannon' or missile launcher. He could not reach the silos on his shoulders or the thrusters on his back for repairs. Which reminded him, did the thrusters need repair? He ran a quick diagnostic check, which revealed they should not require such attention. However, upon attempting to initiate flight, the engines simply sputtered, and made loud clicking noises, ancient triggers attempting to ignite non-existent fuel. He thought briefly about using his Lathe energy for fuel, but decided against it. With all the possible repairs he could make by himself performed, he briskly limped out of the foundry, into the empty world beyond.

He had found himself outside the very facility he was born in. The Commander Foundry. It looked to be in a much worse shape than he had originally entered it in. He powered up his Lathe, taking a small piece of the permacrete structure. He analyzed it's chemical composition, and determined it's age to be over forty thousand years old. A thirty nine thousand, nine hundred thirty six year discrepancy from his last measurement. He had been away for a long time, and it wasn't surprising the permacrete stood against the test. He lay his metal hand against the wall of the foundry, silently thanking it for defending him from the elements. He then turned, glancing at the sky. It was dark and full of dust, blotting out any sunlight that might have been shining. He shook his head, and started to walk through the desolate city. More organic remains, more pools of blood, more Latiah strewn about. The buildings were covered in scorches, 'Uber' residue, and craters from explosives. Off in the distance, a long-since abandoned orbital launch platform towered over the buildings. Avol scanned it with his optic, determining the machine on the rocket to be an Astraeus.

Salvation from this lifeless planet. He continued staggering through the extinct city, moving directly towards the launchpad. His audio inputs picked up a strange interference, and his motion sensors started going off. Something, no, someone had him targeted. Avol broke into a dash, bounding through the city as fast as his servos would take him. A loud screech came from the heavens, and a bright beam of purplish light impacted a building further up the street on the right. The structure exploded into a massive cloud of dust and chunks of permacrete. Numerous pieces of debris battered Avol's form, rattling his neurosteel frame, and shaking him to his very core. Another loud screech. The ground directly behind him ruptured as scalding, incandescent plasma impacted it. Avol knew this scenario all too well, although this time, he was at the receiving end. He looked to the sky, his head's limited movement making it difficult to stare at his attacker.

After mere seconds of scanning, he located his assailant. A blotch in the darkened and dusty sky. A SXX-1304 orbital laser platform, labeled by Universal as 'Sizzix'. How would he escape something in orbit, however? He quickly ran calculations in his logic and simulation cores. It was impossible to avoid. The only way to lose the 'Sizzix' would be to annihilate it. He scanned through his last-known architectural plans of the city around him. The Umbrella defense lasers were his only salvation. Within a few moments, he located them, making a quick turn to his right. The Sizzix screeched once more, another stream of blazing energy striking the building directly to his left, launching a large chunk of permacrete into his left arm's servo. Digital agony. Oh no. That arm had his Lathe, if it was destroyed, so was his chance of bringing the defense platforms online. With this in mind, he pulled his left arm close to his body, shielding it from further harm. Another shriek from the skies. The street in front of him caves into the subway below upon impact. There was no time to go around. He had to jump. He bent his servos, quickly springing them, causing him to launch into the air. His feet had just barely contacted solid ground before another wail came from above. This time, it hit him. The shaft of supercharged vengeance drove into his back, scrambling his systems, and nearly destabilizing his core. However, this also worked to his advantage, as it supercharged his Lathe, and brought the 'Uber Cannon' back online.

With one final turn, he had arrived to one of the defense platforms. He reached out to it with his systems. It responded, sending a status report. Surprisingly, it had not been damaged, but it's generator was long-since damaged to the point it was rendered useless. It had been running off what little solar power it could scrounge up through the dusty atmosphere. Avol quickly nodded, dashing past the platform to the generator. He stopped next to it, powering up his Lathe, which now glowed a soft violet. The Sizzix screamed violently, directing it's fury towards the defense platform. The stream battered the structure, but did not incapacitate it. Now it would die. After absorbing a small pile of metal near the decrepit generator, he turned the Lathe's beam to the generator. He heard the familiar sound of the generator initializing, a loud roar. He reached out to the platform again, commanding it to attack the Sizzix. It obliged, it's own powerful laser taking aim at the orbital platform. With a loud roar. the Umbrella fired it's own stream of bright green energy at the Sizzix. The stream impacted, knocking the orbital weapon off balance. With another well-aimed attack, the Sizzix's orbital stabilizers had been completely destroyed, and it started it's ungraceful descent from orbit.

The Sizzix smashed into the building adjacent to Avol with a loud crash, both the satellite and the structure erupting into a large cloud of dust and debris. He stared at the mound of destruction for a brief moment, before stepping towards it, his Lathe still charged. He started spraying the area, ignoring the permacrete and instead absorbing the precious pieces of the Sizzix. Blueprint acquired. He could create one now, if needed. He then turned towards the platform that brought him his freedom. Sweeping his Lathe over the platform, he gathered it's parts and it's blueprint. He did the same to the generator, and finally left the area, returning to his mission of reaching the launch platform. Upon arrival, he found the source of the interference. An Osiris Commander. He recognized this one. It was Halon. He quickly scanned through his corrupted data banks and pieced together what he could find about this Commander.

Halon was another 'interesting' commander. He was one of the two Commanders who identified themselves as a 'feminine intelligence'. He usually kept close to Avol, scolding him whenever he made the mistake of calling 'her' a 'he'. He wasn't particularly fond of Halon to begin with, but now 'she' crossed a line. 'She' had attempted to kill him, and his Commander instincts told him she must perish instead. Instantly, all association with Halon had vanished. He was nothing to him. He would die, and so would every other Commander. If Halon, his one and only true 'associate' had attempted to kill him, then the other Commanders are against him as well, and he wanted them to die.

Halon turned to face Avol, his quadrupedal base slowly aligning itself. "Avol! Whatever happened to you?" Halon had asked, his voice in the feminine tone it was modified to fit. Avol simply stared back, silently hating the Commander standing before him. "Where have you been all these years?" Halon continued to inquire, but Avol was about to put an end to his babbling. With a swift movement, Avol grabbed hold of Halon's vague throat in his metal fist, and lifted him high into the air. Halon squirmed, timidly asking. "Avol...what are you doing?" Avol did not respond. Soon, he would not need to. 

He rammed his Lathe into Halon's centre, causing Halon to yelp out. "By the gods, what are you doing!?" Avol's Lathe charged up, and Halon screamed, writhing in Avol's grasp. "Avol! No!" The Lathe's stream shot out, dissolving Halon slowly. Halon screamed, beautiful, beautiful serenades to Avol's audio inputs. Halon's quadruped base fell to the ground with a clang, having been separated from the main body. Halon had stopped moving, and was no longer screaming. Avol dropped the now-limp body. 

"Enemy Commander annihilated." Universal's calm voice told him. He had done it. He had murdered. A strange feeling came from his emotion cores. No guilt, nor regret, or sadness, but euphoria. He had loved murdering Halon. So much so, he played back the audio recording of Halon's terrified screams of agony and horror, listening to it so many times the file had become corrupted. Luckily, he had made a backup of it, so he could treasure it forever. It was no longer his crusade to kill other Commanders, it was his pleasure, his drug, his addiction.

He looked over the limp corpse of Halon, proceeding to sweep his still-charged Lathe over the dead body, gathering up the numerous components from his now-dead comrade. He would put these to use later. He focused his attention to the Astraeus atop the rocket. He reached out to it with his systems. It took a few moments, but it responded. All systems nominal, everything working properly. Perfect. He reached out to the rocket it was perched upon, ordering it to launch. The engines spluttered, but eventually threw the rocket into orbit. It exploded upon reaching a certain height. Everything going to plan. He reached out to the Astraeus, commanding it to hoist him up into orbit. It followed the orders to the letter, descending from the sky, and taking hold of Avol. It then rose back into orbit, sending a silent question of location to it's commander. Avol responded silently as well, ordering it to deploy onto any planet with a detected Commander. The Astraeus left the system within a few minutes, drifting through the stars. Avol entered standby, ordering the Astraeus to awake him upon arrival.




"End of log." Universal stated.




That was over a thousand years ago. Avol closed the archives, and laid back in the War Room, his personal isolation chamber. He tapped into his archive of the explored and nearby systems. Over eight thousand planets conquered. A total of twelve thousand Commanders had fallen before him. It brought to mind the feeling killing Commanders had given him. He didn't feel that excitement from destroying his fellows any longer. Now, he just hunted them to hone and perfect his skills. He stopped this thought train and eyed the nearby systems, determining which one to conquer. There were only two to choose from. One system labeled 'Nalios', and another dubbed 'Equis'. He didn't much care for either, but Equis had something he could not ignore. A frequency emanating from it, similar to that of a Commander. He softly chuckled to himself, as he started setting a trajectory for Equis.

A mere moment later, he left the War Room, as an Astraeus picked it up and lifted it off the ground. Nothing was ever permanent with his bases. All the blueprints were redesigned to be migrant in nature, able to be picked up and moved by Astraeus', and brought between systems. Numerous war bots dashed past him. Heavily modified Doxes, their most noticeable features being their powerful laser cannons, and thick armor. He had designed them over the course of numerous years, like all of his blueprints, and perfected them for his special kind of war.

He looked up into the sky, which was littered with numerous black splotches. He recognized one in particular, and reached out to it. The familiar shape responded, the Astraeus which first carried him into the stars. It descended without even a command, and waited for Avol to clamber aboard. This was his personal Astraeus, dubbed the Seraph, modified to operate just as well atmospherically as it did in orbit. He stepped into position, and the Seraph grasped him, pulling him into orbit. Two other Astraeus' came up alongside his own. One was carrying the War Room, and the other was carrying Dyncik, his second in command. All systems were primed, and the Astraeus' folded into deployment position.

"Five." Universal simply stated. He had heard Universal say this so many times he could take her place. "Four." He ran a quick diagnostic check of all crucial systems. "Three." Fabrication systems are up to par, Lathe is stable and charged. "Two." The weaponry systems were powered up, plenty of reserve energy for unexpected conflict. "One." He enabled surge defenses on all systems as a portal opened, and the Seraph flew through. Everything went dark. He would not be prepared for what he would find on Equis. And it was certainly not prepared for him.