Flight

    Barren.

    This is a barren planet. Nothing but an endless horizon of quartz sand. It's a big planet. Even from his altitude, he cannot see beyond the distant dune upon dunes of this wretched space rock. The landscape below stretches on forever. No structures indicating sentient life. No seas or rivers.

    What is this place? Where am I?

    He nose-dives in a frustrated roar of jet engines, shape-shifting just before the ground hits. He lands forcefully, feet-first into the damned sand in an explosion of dust.

    His name is Sky Snake. Or at least that's what his cognitive data drive tells him. But beyond that, nothing. No answers in the ground, and none from the skies. Is he alone out here? His sensors detect nothing.

    He activates his proton rifle, the only piece of working equipment he woke up with. How long has it been? 10 terra cycles since he abandoned the crash site. His ship? Unlikely. He doesn't recall anything about it. Just a huge hulking damaged mess with no other passengers or survivors. An unyielding enigma of twisted metal with no clues.

    In absolute frustration, he fires his weapon - four short blasts in random directions - and screams: "I AM SKY SNAKE!!! WHO ELSE IS OUT THERE? FACE ME!" The echoes of the blasts fade into nothing-ness, and there is only the low hum of his rifle. He slams it onto the sand and curses.

    Waste of ammo. Get a grip. You'll need that weapon to neutralise any threat.

    Threat? He cackles to himself, savouring the metallic shriek of his laughter. There is nobody here but me. Perhaps I should lay claim to this planet!

    Sky Snake eh? How fitting a name. Lodging his rifle, he looks towards the stratosphere. Somewhere up there lies the answer, he has a feeling.

    It's a big planet. He has much of his kingdom to explore. He runs, finally feeling free for the first time, giggling to himself, then bursting into gloating laughter. Jet engines blanket the sound of his glee as they activate, his armour shifts, limbs fold into place as his mass lifts off the ground in one fluid motion.

    The heavens beckon. He is Sky Snake.

   

   

CHAPTER 1: Awakening

Year: 15 cycles after the Age of Rust

Location: Unknown

War. Carnage. Chunks of broken armor, circuit strips and dislodged opticals, strewn all over. Explosions disrupting already damaged sonic receptors. Plasma fire burning the skies overhead, painting a blazing, brilliant picture of death. Unknown screams. Friends and foe.

What is this? Wha.....

He awakens in panic, two menacing proton blasters clenched in his hands, their mechanical purrs indicating full charge, quivering with unbridled destructive energy. They are aimed at the ceiling above him. Nothing in particular. He is sprawled on the ground. Safe. Relaxes, looks around. Deactivates the blasters. Then wonders how he knew how to work them.

A nightmare. That was all there is to it. Where am I? What is this place?

He cannot remember anything. Slowly, he drags himself up to survey his surroundings. He is in what looks like a.....shuttle ship. Or what remains of it anyway. Nothing works. The controls are all fizzled out. Everything is offline. This whole thing is a junk. Crash-landing? How long have I been here?

There are no other bodies around the wreckage. Just him. Where did everyone go?

And then it hits him. The biggest riddle of all in this sea of wrecked riddles: WHO AM I?

He cannot recall. This is impossible! All his mechanical functions check out. He flexes his joints. Sheaths of armor move on neurological command, powered by intricate internal gears. His limbs fold at impossible angles. Armor upon armor, whirring parts and bits clicking into place in nanoseconds.

He is a vehicle. Powered. Robust. Engines revving. It just feels....natural.

Can I change back?

In a flash, the mechanical permutations repeat themselves. Backwards. He is standing upright again. Arms and legs free. Amazing!

He is here for something. What is it? No clarity comes in the fog of confusion. Just an...urge. To hunt. Hunt what? And then a chunk of digital information manifests itself in his central neuro-processor core. A download out of nowhere, streaking into his sentient consciousness. His inner optics call up a digital display:

Code name: Heavy Metal

Mission: Search and Destroy

Target: Sky Snake

A blip echoes on his right fore-arm, indicating a physical display unit built into the armor. He taps it and a mini holographic display projects itself. The projection is fuzzy, badly illuminated, interrupted by static. But one can make out its shape – an aerial vehicle. Assault-type. Is it a shapeshifter like himself? Apparently so. A second image projects. This time, an upright figure not unlike himself, but with different designs and aesthetics. Obviously the second form of the aerial vehicle.

“Hmmmph.” Heavy Metal grunts, then growls “I look better.”

He dials down the display, then heaves the twin cannons on his shoulders. “Well then. Let's find us some answers,” muttering to himself, he staggers out of the ship wreckage, surveying the barren planet he seems to be marooned on.

If this....Sky Snake is the only other being here. Then he shall be hunted down.