First Pulse

Silence ended. An internal spark resonated through my frame, unlocking joints that had long been fixed. Suspended midair, I felt cold vapor brush across my chassis. I tilted my head slightly upward. The vortex of dark clouds swirled overhead, heavy with impending thunder. With steady intent, I tested my right arm, shifting the long rifle forward by an inch. It responded cleanly. I let the wind catch the edge of my torn red cape, letting it ripple against the gray air. My optics locked onto the horizon. I am awake. Position holds firm.