Scarlie Alterson scooped up the last plasma - filled sphere, loading it quickly inside the pouch that dangled from his neck. With the lock of the purse tightly secured in place, he rushed towards the door and twisted its knob vigorously, worried that the guards might catch him if he stayed inside the room any longer. As soon as the door cracked open , he dashed towards the outside and ran down the hall at full pace. He curved right and started down a flight of stairs. He jumped the last three steps when a loud buzz cringed all around the hall. Scarlie stopped dead in his tracks; they have raised the alarm. Scarlie sprinted towards the outdoors, the wind breezing onto him; distant footsteps from his chasers behind clearly audible. A bang was heard and time seemed to freeze for a second.

A new pain surged into Scarlie's right shoulder. He still kept his pace nevertheless but he now had a hand over his shoulder, preventing blood from dripping. He rushed towards a minute empty passageway between two steel walls. He crawled so as he could fit in the way though, he still kept his hand on his shoulder. The passage gradually expanded as Scarlie went deeper so he eventually stood up on his feet. He released his hand from his shoulder and plucked out the bullet; it did not go so deep fortunately for him.

As he went down the way faster, blood dripped so his tracks were not covered. He soon arrived in a deserted place with nothing at all except for a tall gray tower that stood on its bare structures. He rushed towards it and placed a hand upon a glowing box that was attached to one side of the wall facing him.


"Troop 4 here. Mission Recovery No. 233 completed. Asking for permit to enter and report back to Chief."

The steel doors flung open and the warm breeze inside flew away. The familiar room was filled with people typing away data in their laptops, whispering into their GFVIII headphones (Generation Force Version 8) now and then. A broad man with clumsily parted black hair wearing a NTIII Armor (New Tech Stage 3) rose up and saluted Scarlie with two fingers; he did the same. The man walked towards him.

"Congratulations sir. Will you now please give me the spheres? So that we, the B5, can finally finish project 6.9?"

"No need for formalities, Gavor. Besides, I won't need it. Just get to finishing the plasma guns okay?

"Yes sir!"

Scarlie opened the bag and grabbed hold of four medium-sized glowing balls; its contents swirling around the space it was held contained. He raises all of them up, looking at the fantastic but dangerous marvels before handing them to Gavor's awaiting hands. He nodded and ran off to a distant room, leaving his forgotten empty
chair which Scarlie took the initiative to seat on. He studied the new data that his comrades have input. 

"Arek has put Boro in prison. Skekal, the right hand of Arek, reported
that a rebel broke into the plant of the top-security headquarters of the robots. Heh, that's me....Hm....Wait, what's this!?"

"The robots have gathered more forces, ranging from terrified humans
to micro-sized VLW spiders (Venom Less War)."

"Damn. They have the spiders. Ugh....they're one step ahead of us."

Scarlie sighed and pushed himself up. He curved right after taking the path Gavor took and ended at a door with another security box. He once again placed his hand over it, said the same words and entered the quarters of the Chief. The place was the same as it always has been; light bulbs flickering on and off, old stuff sitting in the corner from centuries ago like rusty swords, busted fans, little pieces of paper, led-less writing materials and clothes that was clearly fashioned before scattered along the bamboo floor. How the Chief manage to discover all these antiques, he did not know. Only one fact was clear and that was the man having a great  liking to outdated paraphernalia. 

"Chief, may I come in?"

"Go ahead Scarlie. I'm in the C-Room." a cold voice replied softly.