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I couldn't move, couldn't blink, and I was highly surprised I inhaled any oxygen at all.
Before me was the most horrific sight my poor eyes had ever seen, and I hoped I'd ever see. My face was illuminated by the fire burning as bright as the sun before me, and I couldn't will my feet to move.
Omnics were being destroyed, people who supported their rights screaming and crying. It was a horrific sight to behold, the shrill shrieks only adding to the terror.
Men in leather jackets with grins were the cause of all of this, tattoos lining their skin. A gang had decided an Omnic rights protest was the perfect gig to ruin, while ruin they did. There were near a hundred Omnics and humans combined, all absolutely terrified.
I didn't know where the friends who I had dragged along stumbled off to, but they were at the back of my mind right now. My only thought was why was this happening?
Everything around me seemed to blur into one, terrible picture of gory violence.
As I was shellshocked, completely frozen in place, one of the gang members seemed to notice me. He was a man who I doubted to be very much older than I was, with a young face and short brown hair, with big blue eyes that I would deem innocent any other day.
His face carried a wicked grin, a plasma gun held in his sweaty hand. He yelled something to the others in a language I didn't know, but I barely heard. I was so scared my body seemed to shut down, legs quaking beneath my now seemingly unbearable weight.
Just as the man pointed the gun at my chest, shouting incoherent profanities at me, the scene shifted. Now, the man before me had a blade protruding from his chest.
If I could, I would have screamed, but the sudden action of him falling lifelessly to the floor earned the same blank look I've owned since this entire scenario began. The body falling revealed a cyborg behind him, coloured white with green accents.
He didn't even so much as glance at me, immediately turning to the other opponents briskly. The cyborg's movements were fluid and precise, and it was as if everything was previously recited and planned. He was as graceful as a ballerina but as violent as an assassin. The cyborg's sword quickly grew coated with a thick layer of blood, now shimmering scarlet from the hilt to the tip.
A couple of the gang members had come to realize the threat, retreating and saving their lives in the process. The others that stood and fought weren't as lucky, being cut down instantly.
Finally, the Cyborg stood tall, looking unscathed. There were only a couple spluttering Omnics and humans, injured and near death. The cyborg moved towards me as if I were a light in a dark room, though I couldn't tell if he was concerned or not.
"Are you alright?" His voice was staticky, though behind the robotic tone I thought I heard an accent.
I tried several times to voice a reply, finally settling with nodding my head slowly.
