Chapter 3 Greensteel and Ghosts
Chapter 3 Greensteel and Ghosts
Five years until Aloy's Proving – Kansas
POV: Rion
The air hit me like a punch to the sinuses—dry, bitter, and dust-heavy. I staggered as I stepped through the breach in the facility wall, out into the wreckage of a world that hadn't waited for me.
Kansas was gone.
Not in the sense of being wiped off maps or forgotten in history books, but in the bones of the place. The steel skeletons of once-mighty buildings jutted out from the rolling green hills like the remnants of some ancient war machine. Nature had consumed everything that wasn't bolted down. Trees had split through highways, their roots choking the cracked asphalt. Deer wandered through what used to be parking garages, picking their way around rusted-out vehicles. The horizon itself looked like someone had run a wire brush over the past and erased it.
I stood there for a moment, absorbing it all, feeling the weight of it press down on me. The stillness was suffocating, the air thick with the ghosts of what had once been. No distant hum of traffic, no shouts, no busy machines grinding away. Just... emptiness.
I took a slow breath and let it out, watching as the fog of my breath mingled with the dust. The undersuit handled the chill fine, clinging to my skin like a second layer. My revolver rode heavy at my hip, its cold steel pressing against me as if reminding me of its purpose. The Focus buzzed to life, its map overlay flickering across my vision. It was basic, just a terrain readout, no markers, no details. I'd have to build my own data layer from scratch. No big deal. I had time.
Step one: don't die.
Step two: find a better vantage point.
Nearby, a winding overpass loomed. It was half-collapsed, held together only by the remnants of steel beams, rust, and probably divine duct tape. High ground. I needed it. I started the climb, boots crunching against old glass and creeping moss, the sharp sound of my steps cutting through the silence like a warning.
I activated my Parkour skill, the motion flowing into my muscles like it was always meant to be there. My body felt lighter, more fluid. The rocks and twisted metal beams became mere obstacles to be overcome, and I navigated them easily, vaulting over a car shell and scrambling up a tilted slab of freeway. The high ground was as much about safety as it was about perspective. I needed to see the landscape, to understand what I was dealing with.
The view didn't disappoint.
Stretching before me was a sea of rusted farming gear, half-buried in the earth as though the world had given up on it. In the far distance, what was once a thriving city lay dead—Wichita, probably or maybe Newton or Hutchison. The skyscrapers were little more than hollowed-out shells, their skeletal forms looming like tombstones in the distance. And moving in the distance...
Movement.
The Focus zoomed in, targeting something just now trundling across a shattered stretch of old highway. Its bulky frame swayed with every step, the familiar dull green paint job peeling like sunburned skin.
"Oh shit," I whispered. "That's a Protectron."
But not just any Protectron.
DESIGNATION: Agricultural Groundskeeper Unit – Model AG-11 "Greenthumb"
Manufacturer: Faro Automated Solutions – Civil Works Division
RAU CLASS: Repurposed Autonomous Unit
Original Function: Lawn care, botanical maintenance, and ecological reclamation
Current Status: Corrupted – Subroutines unstable
Directive: EXTERMINATE INVASIVE GROWTH
Stability Rating: "Photosynthesis is Treason"
Its top half was a classic Faro-built Protectron—dome head, buzzsaw arm, torso bulk. But the lower half was the real kicker: dual rotary mower blades welded to a tracked base that churned grass, weeds, and concrete alike.
I watched it shred a shrub with obsessive precision, then spin in place to incinerate a moss patch with a burst of acid mist from its other arm. My Focus pinged a hazard warning. Its systems were glitching. Bad.
"Bro," I muttered, "you're literally a homicidal lawnmower."
The machine stopped and turned.
TARGET ACQUIRED: Unregistered Bioform – Suspected Invasive Root System
It let out a high-pitched whine as the tracks spun in place, chewing through debris. "PLEASE STAND STILL WHILE I BURN YOU ALIVE," it announced.
I dove behind a rusted sedan as acid splashed the road behind me.
I popped up. BANG. Shot to the dome. Crack formed.
Didn't slow.
BANG. Coolant port. Hiss. Stumble.
"Alright, Bob the Butcher—let's do this."
I grabbed a steel bar and charged. Martial Arts perk kicked in. My body became a weapon.
CLANG. Hit the chassis. It reeled. Another hit. Another dent.
I ducked a buzzsaw swing, drove the bar into the vent, and twisted.
The Greenthumb wheezed, twitched, and slumped over—rotary blades still whirring down.
Silence.
I stood over the broken machine, panting, heart pounding like war drums in my chest. Its dome-head sparked as it convulsed once more, then finally stilled. The faint stench of scorched chlorophyll and acid mist still clung to the air. Its buzzsaw arm lay bent and twitching at an angle no tool should ever bend.
"Photosynthesis is treason," I muttered, reading the last diagnostic line scrolling across my Focus. "Yeah? Well treason just got decommissioned."
I crouched beside the wreck, running a quick scan. The Focus highlighted several viable salvage points, and I wasn't about to let them go to waste.
[LOOT ACQUIRED]
Cracked Power Cell (Mid-grade)Scorched Wiring BundleFlora Hostility Modulator (Damaged)Rotary Mower Assembly (Functional)Acid Dispersion Nozzle (Partially Clogged)
All bagged and tagged. The Nanoboy 3000 absorbed the items with a series of clicks, cataloging each under sub-system tags for crafting and reverse-engineering. The modulator in particular stood out. Could be useful later—assuming I didn't accidentally turn myself into mulch testing it.
Still catching my breath, I gave the busted Protectron one last glance. Greenthumb had been a Faro Robotics unit—one of the few civilian-service bots that survived the Old World. But like everything Faro touched, it eventually went wrong. Real wrong. Now it was just another hazard waiting in the grass.
I stepped away from the remains, letting the shadows of the ruined overpass stretch around me. The world had changed, but the ghosts of bad engineering still lingered.
"One homicidal lawnmower down," I muttered, adjusting the revolver at my hip. "And it's not even noon."
The Focus buzzed again. I tapped the side of my temple and a new scan overlay shimmered into view—multiple signatures ahead. Machines. Utility bots. I braced myself.
Time to see what other nightmares the Old World left behind.
......
I walked to the edge of the overpass, peering out at the landscape below. The world stretched before me, broken but still alive in its own way. The ruins of Wichita loomed to the south, half-swallowed by trees, as if the Earth itself was trying to reclaim its own. Skyscrapers rose like hollow tombstones, silent sentinels to a past I could barely comprehend.
In the far distance, a faint wisp of smoke rose into the sky. A campfire? Or maybe a firestorm? Either way, it meant life. Or at least motion.
As I scanned the landscape, the Focus pinged again. This time, it wasn't a lone machine.
TARGET ACQUIRED: Cluster of Utility Units – Designation: "Household Helpers"
The Focus pulled up the specifics: Model T-12 "PlumberBot," Model C-45 "PaintMaster," and Model R-28 "CleanSweep."
I raised an eyebrow. "Utility bots? Guess the apocalypse really does have a sense of humor."
I squinted, spotting the trio moving toward the nearby ruins. The PlumberBot's long mechanical arms scraped against the pavement as it awkwardly tried to twist a wrench into the valve of an old fire hydrant, the rusted metal around it groaning in resistance. Every twist of the wrench seemed to get it nowhere. The bot was overheating, its small jets of steam hissing with each futile attempt to repair the stubborn hydrant. It jerked and clanked, its internal systems glitching every few seconds, as if caught in a loop of desperation.
I couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Looks like it's trying to fix a hydrant that's long past done. Just trying to make progress, huh?"
Meanwhile, the CleanSweep, completely oblivious to its fellow bot's plight, was now in a state of panic. It began whirring around in circles, sensors flashing as it observed the scene in front of it. The bot's systems clicked in and out, and before I knew it, it was full-on incinerating the grass, the ruined walls, the fire hydrant—the whole area around the malfunctioning PlumberBot—as it perceived every bit of dirt and decay as a threat. It let out a loud mechanical screech and activated its flamethrower.
"No, no, NO!" I muttered under my breath. The CleanSweep had gone full berserker, and now it was setting the whole area ablaze.
Just as CleanSweep's flames reached the PlumberBot, the spray of fire caught the PlumberBot's metal frame. Sparks flew, and with a violent jolt, the PlumberBot's malfunctioning systems overloaded. A jet of flame shot straight into the PaintMaster, which had been aimlessly spraying a nearby wall. The sudden flames caught the bot's paint canisters, and a bright flash lit up the area as the PaintMaster exploded in a brilliant ball of fire.
The shockwave sent me stumbling back as debris rained down. Both the PlumberBot and the CleanSweep were engulfed in the flames, their mechanical systems shorting out in a blaze of sparks and twisted metal. The explosion from the PaintMaster sent a violent ripple through the air, and within moments, all three bots were reduced to a pile of smoking, mangled wreckage.
I stood there, mouth slightly agape, as the smoke cleared.
"Well, that escalated quickly," I muttered. "Guess I don't need to deal with them anymore."
As I wiped the sweat off my brow, I couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. "Three malfunctioning robots in one go? That was one hell of a way to clear the field."
The ground suddenly rumbled beneath my feet, causing me to stumble. The sound that followed was like something scraping against stone—huge, heavy, and unmistakably familiar. It sent a chill down my spine.
I turned sharply, eyes scanning the area.
A manhole cover nearby began to shake. Dirt and debris shifted around it as if something enormous was pushing against the lid from below. My pulse spiked.
The cover exploded upward, flying across the street with an ear-splitting screech. And then—
A massive, scaled hand reached up from the darkness below, claws scraping the concrete.
A Deathclaw.
Its glowing yellow eyes met mine for an instant, and I could see the hunger in them. Massive and terrifying, its jaws snapped open with a growl that shook the air.
Without thinking, I spun on my heel and ran. The last thing I needed right now was to test my luck against a Deathclaw on my first damn day out.
My legs burned as I pushed myself faster. I didn't dare look back. The sound of its claws scraping the ground behind me was all the confirmation I needed that I wasn't running fast enough. But I couldn't stop. The streets were uneven and littered with debris, but I weaved through it all, using every ounce of Parkour skill I had left. I heard it behind me—its growl echoing off the buildings, its footsteps thunderous and relentless.
My breath came in sharp gasps as I rounded corners, cutting through alleys, not daring to slow. The town's ruins seemed endless. The skeletal remains of buildings loomed over me like jagged teeth, and the quiet streets felt suffocating. But behind me, the rumbling footsteps of the Deathclaw grew louder, the ground shaking with every heavy step.
I ducked into a collapsed storefront, hoping the rubble would mask my presence. I crouched low, holding my breath as I listened. The Deathclaw's growls faded, replaced by its massive claws scraping against the concrete. It was close. Too close. I dared not make a sound, praying it wouldn't notice me.
I waited, heart hammering in my chest, eyes wide with adrenaline-fueled fear.
Suddenly, I heard it—an unexpected sound. The familiar whirr of machine parts grinding, followed by the unmistakable crackle of gunfire and explosions.
The Deathclaw's growls shifted into a snarl of irritation, and I could hear it growling louder, as if something else had caught its attention. There were other sounds now—clanging metal, sparks flying, and the whine of malfunctioning bots. It sounded like a whole other fight had erupted.
I cautiously peered around the corner, careful not to expose myself, and my eyes widened as I saw the Deathclaw launch itself at something moving in the distance. More machines—robots, perhaps—were rushing toward the massive creature, seemingly drawn into battle with it. Their movements were jerky, uncoordinated, but they were enough to distract the beast.
That's when I realized—this was my chance.
I didn't need to wait around for the Deathclaw to get bored. I bolted from my hiding spot and sprinted, not looking back. The sounds of the fight behind me began to fade as I put more distance between myself and the chaos. My legs burned from the exertion, but I didn't slow down.
The streets of the town twisted and turned, but I found myself running through a series of back alleys, dodging over wrecked vehicles and through crumbled doorways. I kept pushing, not stopping, just in case the Deathclaw had caught a whiff of my scent and decided to chase after me again.
I made it across town in what felt like an eternity, the thundering sound of the Deathclaw's confrontation with the machines echoing in the distance. By the time I reached the other side of the town, I slowed my pace, panting and gasping for breath. The wreckage of the once-thriving city seemed quieter here, the ruins spread out in eerie silence.
The only sound now was the faint roar of distant conflict. The Deathclaw, it seemed, was far too busy tearing through robots to care about me anymore.
I took a deep breath, letting the tension in my shoulders ease. For now, at least, I was off the hook.
I couldn't afford to stay here long. The world had no shortage of dangers. But for the moment, I allowed myself a few seconds to rest, leaning against the side of a broken building and wiping the sweat from my forehead.
"Well, that was a close call," I muttered, my voice barely a rasp. "Deathclaw? Check. Exploding bots? Check. That's enough excitement for one day."
I wiped my forehead and glanced around, my mind already planning the next step. One fight down, but I couldn't get complacent. In a world like this, you had to be ready for the next battle at all times.
Taking one last look back toward the distant sounds of the fight, I turned and walked deeper into the unknown.