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ROBOSTALIN
Topic Started: Mar 3 2008, 12:01 AM (279 Views)
Trippy Skippin Tomato
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TOTALLY SEXY GAMER DEMON GOLFER
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Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

My suit’s metal boots slam against the frozen streets of Moscow, leaving craters in their wake. Tanks barrel along the roads, crashing through old buildings and smashing walls into wild sprays of debris as they rush forwards in a futile attempt to stop me. At best, they are momentary distractions as I stomp them under my heel. Artillery booms in the distance, pelting me with fire bombs. They feel like little more than a warm rain on my shoulders. The rest of my squadron is behind me, holding siege to the western portion of the city. We, the First Ground Strike Frontlines Defense Special Forces are the first to fight and the first to die, but not today. I refuse to see any more of my comrades fall in battle. I have charged ahead to seize the enemy Capital, and end this pointless war. If only I could find that damn building, I could end this right now!

I am Private First-Class Ryoji Iwahara; and I was hand-selected by the United States Military for a single purpose. I, and I alone, am the one who can pilot the most powerful piece of military engineering on the planet, the Leistungsfähiges Klischee. The 20-foot tall steel behemoth was bristling with all manner of high-powered weaponry, from a Gatling-fire gun arm capable of over 500 rounds-per-second, a piston-powered blade arm, a mortar artillery backpack, and rapid-fire blaster cannons mounted into the headpiece, all powered by a miniature nuclear reactor in its core. Jets in the boots provided unsurpassed mobility, and the body could generate an electromagnetic shield powerful enough to deflect bullets and incinerate infantry who got too close. Inside this machine of death, a soldier was literally invincible. And I was the only one who could pilot it. I was the only one who could save the world.

I dug the LK’s feet into the asphalt as I skidded around a corner, firing all feet thrusters to change my momentum in the blink of an eye. As I refocused my sight units in my new direction, I saw them, the now-filthy white towers of the Moscow Kremlin. Heavy fire from our boys had crushed much of the surrounding walls and structures, but the powerful energy shields of the main buildings had so far left it mostly intact. But that didn’t matter now, now that it was in the LK’s sights. I charged ahead, revitalized at the now clear sight of my target, the destruction of which would end this horrible uprising and allow me and my friends back at camp to finally go home.

I reflected upon the events that had brought me to this time and place. I remembered the day I had first seen the news reports on TV, of the Russian cyborg army “The Crimson Storm” declaring war upon the entire world. We had thought that the Cold War was over when the Soviet Union fell, but it had all been just a ruse to throw the world off their scent. The Russians had spent years underground, slowly converting their military into an army of super-powered cyborg death machines, and they emerged on February 20th, 2045 to spread their twisted version of ultra-communism across the world. The first to fall were the Chinese, who were bombed into oblivion almost the same day. In short order nearly all of mainland Asia was under their control, and all initial military efforts to stop them were crushed by their curtain of steel troops. In an effort to stop the US army from meddling further, the Crimsons snuck agents into South America and caused what came to be known as the “Cuban Missile Crisis X”. However, this only caused the US to ramp up its military plans, and they joined with the Japanese who were currently under attack to form the greatest human military force the world had ever known. It was soon after that that I was drafted and sent to a secret base in Japan to train for the use of the Leistungsfähiges Klischee, and where I joined the front to execute “Operation Reverse Domino Effect Neo”.

“And now I’m here, ready to destroy you, you DAMN CRIMS!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I turned LK’s leg jets on full blast and leapt over the pillboxes guarding the front of the Kremlin. I came down directly on one of the main buildings in the center of the complex, my shields clashing in a violent spray of sparks against those of the fortress. I pressed with all of my will against those shields, and I could feel the 20 tons of steel around me creaking with the strain of the various magnetic fields clashing around it. I kept up the pressure, and focused all the shields to a single focal point like I had been shown back on base. Like a chisel carving into a block of soft marble, I pierced through the Kremlin’s shielding and shattered the harmony of the magnetic fields, rendering the stone fortress completely vulnerable. I laughed as I felt the boom of the LK’s boots stomp the towers of the Kremlin into the cold earth, and kept laughing as I sent my piston blade plowing through stone walls and floors like a hungry child tearing down a gingerbread house. Within minutes the entire site was gone, leaving nothing more than a pile of rubble and a cloud of dust that touched the very heavens.

As I stopped my rampage and began to announce my victory over the radio, I felt something strange. No, I didn’t really feel it, more that I sensed it. My optical sensors were moving on their own, shifting ever westward. It was strange…this kind of malfunction shouldn’t have been happening. I couldn’t grasp how it could be happening. It was then that I noticed that it wasn’t just the sensors moving, but the entire frame of the LK was shifting ever to the left. Retaking a firm grip on my controls, I looked down to realize that the entire ground underneath my feet was shifting apart! Like the earth had been split in twain, the very ground beneath the LK was separating into a massive rift that I was about to be swallowed into. I flipped on my thrusters just in time to leap away from the ever widening gap, just past the outer perimeter of the former Kremlin.

It was a silo. A giant missile silo had been secretly constructed under the Kremlin, and it was now being activated. I couldn’t find words, but in my head I silently prayed that this would not be the end of everything as it appeared to be. The silo’s doors completed their journey to the edges of the courtyards, and from the ebony depths of the newly formed pit, a mechanical groaning echoed forth. A huge, misshapen metal casing arose, held in place by giant crane arms, looking like the skeletal hands of zombies rising from the grave to attack the living. As the metal thing arose, a seam appeared along the edges, and a spray of steam emanated from it, covering the entire courtyard in a hot, wet mist. The two halves of the casing fell, snapping the cranes the held them in place like dry twigs. Curled up inside the giant cocoon was the grotesque figure of a man enlarged to a size nearly unthinkable. It began to rise, coming to nearly the LK’s height as it stood erect. It was a hideous monster, half of its body a patchwork of different colors of skin and the other a framework of blackened steel. Instead of a right arm, it hefted a chain with links the size of automobiles, at the end of which sat a ball of some reddish metal I was not familiar with. The thing’s left arm was made entirely of the black steely metal, in lieu of a hand it bore the sickest and most twisted display of sharpened edges one might think of as fingers. It was horrible to look upon, but look upon it I did, for this was to be my true final battle, I was quite sure. As it finally rose to its full height, it was nearly as tall as the LK, and looked to be equally as massive. It lifted its great head, and though it had several new parts and a glowing red right eye, I recognized it instantly.

It was the face of Joseph Stalin. Nay, he could hardly be called that anymore. This…was ROBOSTALIN.

The giant Stalin’s mouth opened in a series of jerky motions as if opening for the first time in a hundred years. An even, booming voice echoed out from the necrotic tissue of his patchwork throat, his voice pausing awkwardly after each word, as if in wonderment that any sound was coming out at all. “I am Robostalin. I am the last hope for Mother Russia.” After those first words, he seemed to become a little more sure of himself. His words began to grow in intensity until he was shouting at the top of his lungs. “Capitalists destroyed our beautiful country, and are ruining our very world! Only the proletariat can rule the world justly! Only they can preserve the peace! I will…destroy all the capitalist swine, so that we may live in peace!” His good eye looked up and focused directly on me, and I could literally feel the burning hatred glowing there pressing down on my chest. I could feel my breathing slow a little under that glare, but I quickly shook it off. This was no time to panic under the stress of a great battle. This was the time to attack. His voice boomed out again, this time completely sure of itself. “You! You are the very symbol of those Capitalist swine! So I will destroy you first! RED STAR ASSAULT!”

Before I could even react, Stalin had begun his attack. What I had assumed was a rallying cry to his troops had actually been a grunt of effort, much like the “Seiyah” exclamation of a black belt martial artist. The giant red ball of metal that had been lying at his feet had suddenly and forcefully been launched in my direction, and slammed into the center of my chassis. Snapping back into focus and pulling back on my drive sticks until I felt I was about to tear my arms off, I managed to maintain balance after the enormous blow, but the damage readouts on my main screen weren’t looking good. If I took another hit like that, the main drive shaft would probably get damaged. I switched on my rear leg thrusters to halt my backwards momentum, and took a moment to look at my overhead video feed just in time to notice Stalin charging at me from behind the metal ball currently blocking my forward view.

“Let’s see how you like this piece of Capitalist hardware, you fucking Crimson bastard!” Without missing a beat, I heaved the ball upwards and jumped backwards. The ball was so heavy, my throw only managed to barely float it in place for a moment, but it was long enough. A flipped the emergency breaker switches on my leg thrusters and rocketed forward, swinging the LK’s right arm forward at full force while releasing the piston release locks. As my metal fist connected with the ball, so to did the piston release its multi-ton jackhammer into it, propelling it towards Stalin at an almost supersonic speed. “Nice try you damn Crim, but your outdated technology just can’t hold up.” I waited for the inevitable squelch and crack of metal smashing bone, steel, and flesh into a puddle of red goo, but the sound never came. I heard the air scream as the ball rocketed towards its target, a loud metallic click that I couldn’t explain, and a loud thud that I recognized only a moment too late. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Stalin’s multihued flesh on one of my side cameras, the chain disengaged from his right shoulder and his cruel black metal left raised to strike, its blade-like fingers clenched into the shape of death’s scythe. I futilely attempted to turn and meet his strike, but before I could so much as move the control sticks he had caught me in a vice-like grip.

“Foolish Capitalist. You cannot escape the crimson Sickle of Marxism. It will crush your hopes and dreams of a free market system, and snuff out your life at the same time!” I could hear the metal of my Vulcan arm groaning under the stress of his pincer like hand, the thick armor plating bending like aluminum foil and the high tension power cables housed inside snapping like twine. The horrible groan of the metal was shattering my eardrums, and it was all I could do to regain control of myself. I had to calm down, I had to get out of this. The LK’s arm was gone, that much I knew right away, there was nothing I could do to protect it any more. So then, the only solution was to make like a salamander, and let it go.

I pulled up my mortar backpacks control schematic, and set the right side mortar to fire while simultaneously pulling the right side jettison lever. This would completely disable the device, and probably destroy my entire right arm, but if it got him off me…

The mortar shell fired exactly as I had thought it would. The pack only partially jettisoned, tossing it off at such an angle as to fire the powerful explosive housed inside directly into Stalin’s hulking form. Even though my cockpit was temperature shielded with the US’ most powerful technology, the blast from the shell was so close and so powerful it felt like we had fallen directly into hell itself. The intense heat managed to destroy most of the sensors and cameras on that side of the LK, but they weren’t really necessary now that the arm was dysfunctional, and most likely scrapped in the blast. But at least I had defeated Stalin; surely that blast had vaporized him like it had his cyborg troops in earlier battles. Surely it had…

My thought was interrupted by a bellowing voice from several yards in front of me. “You Capitalists are more crafty than I give you credit for. It’s too bad your worthless ideals drag you down and make you slow and stupid in battle. I am created from the flesh of Mother Russia’s one hundred strongest athletes, and can easily outrun a blast such as that!” He punctuated his statement with a laugh that pierced my heart as Longinus pierced the flesh of Jesus on the Cross. He continued “But now, my squealing Capitalist pig friend, I put an end to your life of suffering in your own stupidity.” As he spoke, the large fake red eye embedded in his head began to shine brightly, so brightly I had to raise my hand to shade my eyes from it. “With this shining red star, the heart of the city of Stalingrad, I shall vaporize you in the name of the proletariat! FIRE OF THE RED STAR…ASSAULT!”

Although I was knocked unconscious during the attack and don’t remember anything, satellite video footage would later show that Stalin’s eye illuminated the entire city in a flash of blood red light, and an ultra high-intensity laser leveled most of the city behind me in a fairly wide arc. Buildings were sliced cleanly in two, every surface burned so finely it was hard to tell the laser had even hit at all. The LK was sliced straight through the chassis, taking out the legs entirely and cutting off my left leg at the knee as well as parts of my right foot. The wounds were cauterized instantly by the beam, and the intense pain is likely what knocked me out. The rest of what happened in the battle is fuzzy.

I remember dreaming. Dreaming and smelling. I don’t know why it’s that particular combination, but it’s all I can remember from the event. I remember smelling that awful stench, the stench of both my own burned flesh, and the decaying flesh of the men whose bodies had been used to craft that horrible monster. And perhaps it’s those smells that triggered my dream, although I’ll never quite know for sure.

In my dream, I am sitting at the breakfast table with my parents, who are long since dead. They’re very fuzzy, almost apparitions. In the dream, I’m the same age I am now, but they’re talking to me like I’m a child. I don’t remember exactly what they’re saying…something about loving me and taking care of me and all that other generic parental stuff they always used to say. Then I hear them talking about something I don’t understand, I can’t really make out any of the words. It really felt like I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. I’m staring into my cereal bowl and spelling dirty words in my Alphabits with my spoon, when I suddenly hear a reprimand from my father. I look up to see his naked, rotten corpse slumped in the chair, his eye sockets hollow and black as ebony. Maggots crawl out of his mouth and tumble to the floor in clumps. My mother is similarly afflicted, slumped over a frying pan at the stove with moldy pancakes cooking beneath her corpse. I can smell the burning flesh. They’re still talking to me, or attempting to, but I cannot understand them at all.

I remember waking up, unless that too was part of the dream. A dream within a dream, perhaps. I remember realizing something about my onboard computer, how it’s voice resembled that of my mother’s. How the LK moved a lot like my father, tall and proudly. I could still smell that horrible burning flesh, see that image of their rotten corpses. I remember seeing Robostalin standing over my broken chassis, laughing maniacally in triumph over his foe. But he hadn’t triumphed. I was still alive. And so to, I realized then, were my parents, sacrificed to power the very mechanical suit I now wore. Robostalin was right about one thing, the strongest people make the best components of an ultimate machine.

Though my feet were gone and my legs could no longer move under the intense pain, with adrenaline fueling my body I found I could still move my arms, and with them, the left arm of the LK. I propped the chassis upright, and felt the thump as it settled into place on its base. I yelled something, and for some reason, this part I can remember clearly. I yelled “informatio of caput has evolved super vicis , per laxus reputo sepius aedificium edificium in analysis of mane reputo. Super , component informatio adsuesco assuesco in certus caput talis ut secretum proprietas , venalicium quod investment have evolved per per changes in ratio , in lex , quod in meditor.” Robostalin heard me yelling, and I can remember his eyes staring down at the hulking ruin of the LK. I could see him in the cameras. All of the cameras, I don’t know how but I could see him through every single one of them.
As I spoke aloud those mystic words, the Leistungsfähiges Klischee seemed to act by itself. No, not really by itself. I had some measure of control in the process, so I guess it was more of us working together. We reached into the solid metal casing just above the cockpit, which I had been told was simply armor plating. Somehow though, I knew it was more than that. Through solid metal, the LK’s hand moved like a fish into water, like it belonged inside. The hand grasped clamped down, and out came the hilt of a glorious sword. Instinctively, I knew what to do with it. I raised it high over our heads, mine and the LK’s, and called out at the top of my lungs. “DOKIDOKI NO BAKA CAPITALISM KAWAII ZANTETSU. I SUMMON THEE FORTH FROM THE HIGHEST ECHELONS OF THE HEAVENS TO STRIKE DOWN THE FOES OF AMERICA! FREE. MARKET. SLIIIIIIIIIIICE!”

Here again, I black out, and can’t remember anything. The satellite cameras picked up nothing. Although I suppose it’s more accurate to say that they picked up bright. It wasn’t light, it wasn’t a shine, it wasn’t anything really. It was just bright.
Although, everyone still living in Russia and listening to their radios all seem to have had the same experience. At that very moment, as Robostalin was being swallowed up in that intense bright, they heard a staticy rumble from their radios that sounded like the booming voice of Joseph Stalin, repeating the following haunting message. "DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU, DESU.”

If you’re wondering, I’m ok now. I have an artificial leg and I had surgery to fix most of my missing foot, so I can walk and even ride my bike around town. I was set for life with my victory, as an underage civilian called into military duty who had saved the capitalist world from extinction at the hands of the Crimson army, the government saw it fit to essentially pay for the rest of my life. I don’t have to work, I don’t have to play, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. Although, even though I don’t have to pay money for things anymore, I feel that I’ve certainly paid enough with my experiences. That’s why I decided to write this. To let someone else know about what I

THIS DOCUMENT IS CLASSIFIED INFORMATION. DO NOT READ. IF YOU FIND IT, PLEASE DELIVER IT TO YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES AND NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN FOR FEAR OF DEATH.
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Holocollector
Christmas is Coming
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I thought the description benefitted the story. It added more tension in the conflict not to mention it enhanced the images of Stalin and Lk. I felt it added to the story. You also made it believable by way of the description and by making it about the capitalists and the socialists. I liked also what you put in the ending. The only thing I dont like is the title. You could have named it something else. The title Robostalin sounds strange but at the same time is interesting. But when I think of robostalin I think of a monster (not to mention he killed so many people, therefore he is a monster and someone to dislike intensely), and that can be a bit disturbing and detract from the reading. So in the end I would not use it. Too negative a title.

Also another negative of this story is that they were a few charcaters. I would have wanted more, it felt impersonal. Lots of good stories have psychology that goes into anlyzing the charcters. I didn't see this here, it was all action. Was it a fun read, yes. But reread it no.

Still it was an original effort on your part.
Note: My english writing skills need work so don´t even think of asking me to change it entirely or relearn my english (the impossible). I don´t like the signature, I willl eventually add a picture.
 
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