I'm going to write a story. Enjoy. Prologue May 20, 2120 The word. The pain it brings. Death. What was death? A fleeting dream? A hell with no escape? What was life? Were life and death really different? No, I thought. No, they are not different. I live. I continue to live. I escape from death, but not family. No, they did not. Is life really reality? Or is it just an illusion? Death is a blessing. Life is hell. There is no point in life. Yet, I continue to live? Why do I live? Why, you ask? You accuse of being a coward. I breathe, and I walk. I walk for it seems eternities, past the smoldering ruins, past the corpses of rotting flesh. War brings upon great dangers. War brings isolation. Yes, isolation. That is why you are here, my companion. You keep me company. You are my only company. Without you, I am incomplete. You may ask me this: Why do I spend in solitude? Why not go to my loved ones? I tell you this: They are dead. All of them. I am alone. Alone with you. Smoke rises from the ruin that lies in front of me. This place- what do you call it? These so called "humans" call it Washington DC. They call this a Capitol? How pitiful. They set up all these defenses, and yet it still gets crushed. Humans are primitive. All they care is to destroy. Rebuild and destroy. But I rise above the humans. I serve a far greater power. No. No. No, I must not think of it. I must leave. I can hear it coming to. Goodbye.