Introduction

1. Introduction

It was a day like any other.

The suns were perched high in the brown, murky sky; their dull, yet ever-present heat rippling the surface streets and landscape. A cool breeze rolled through the crackling, dry trees. Birds, small and petite, drifted along the thermals as the sound of far-off machines tinkered and clanked in the distance. Oil, thick and pungent, drifted through the air, followed by plumes of black, billowing smoke as machines went to work; mining machines excavating crystallic fusion crystals.

Through all the toils and drones of hard labour, a child's laughter rang high; the sound of small, innocent footsteps running through the throng of adult bodies. A ball bouncing in the background.

The workers parted as the young child made way over towards a couple; a human woman helping a humanoid man of blue hue lifting a crate of growing product. Surprise and alarm quickly took their faces, only to leave way for smiles as they both bent down to hug the little boy and his bouncing ball.

The man ruffled the child's hair with a strong, calloused hand while the woman, the boy's mother, gave him a concerned, yet relieved scolding finger. They asked why he was here, their darling little child; why he had ventured into the mining camp away from the settlement. Did he not know this was a dangerous place where only grown-ups were allowed?

Something in the boy's eyes sparkled, perhaps a roguish gleam, and he proudly puffed out his chest, proclaiming that he was a grown-up in every sense of the word.

Both parents chuckled and laughed, but they affirmed their joint decision and told their son to go home and await their return; the child pouting and holding his little ball close. With a slow, heavy nod the boy acknowledged his parents' orders and followed their pointed fingers back in the direction of home.

He would never be able to visit them at work!

Crestfallen and sullen, the boy walked past all the working adults and left the grown-up world, approaching a grassy knoll as he turned around, his lips still pursed in a pout. He wanted to be with the ad—wait, something was not right.

The boy brought up a hand to shield his eyes away from the glaring overhead suns, and looked far into the horizon overhead. The clouds seemed full, almost bursting with something. Shadows, dark and looming, rumbled within them and the boy thought he saw shapes. But, what were they?

Before the boy could get a better look, a light glinted from within the clouds, like lightning except… green and growing in luminosity.

Those weren't shadows…

Suddenly, the boy's eyes grew wide and he rushed down the hill, his arms waving frantically to get the grown-ups' attentions. He yelled and whooped at the top of his lungs, and some adults lifted their heads to look up at him.

But it was too late.

The shadows descended upon them, and green fire rained from the sky; bodies and debris flew everywhere.

Cries took the place of working machinery, and the grown-ups scattered like children, frantically going this way and that. But it did not matter. As the green fire fell from the sky, the thundering sensation of power overhead, the boy watched, mortified, as his parents desperately tried to reunite with him. He could see the tears on their faces, their terrified looks. They screamed at him to run, but he wouldn't leave them—he wouldn't. With ball in hand, the boy started to run himself, to run towards his parents, but again, it was too late.

A burst of green fire plummeted from the sky and where his parents stood became engulfed in unnatural verdant flames, their voices silenced as the boy was thrown back from the violent shockwave.

And that was all he heard: screams, shouts, the roar of the metal behemoths overhead and the crackling of the air as the green fire continued to fall upon the grown-ups. He could no longer hear or see his parents, and the boy did what they last told him; he ran. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, tears streaming from his face as he still clutched his favourite ball.

Everywhere the grown-ups continued to be eaten almost alive by the fire's ravenous appetite, and the boy was beginning to run out of space to run. In fact, there was no were to run as the metal beasts' bellies opened up, dropping the most horrifying, gross creatures he had ever seen.

Drool dribbled from their roaring, tusked maws as the leathery creatures landed on their thick legs; their murderous eyes falling upon the hapless grown-ups that had yet to be swarmed in the fire's deadly embrace. The only image the boy last saw were the grown-ups torn to pieces from the furious swipes from the creatures, and after one second of viewing such horrors, he only ran faster; the tears now falling out of panic and fear.

As the screaming continued, the boy found a lone, battered mining plow and he scampered towards it quickly, recalling what he always did in hide-and-seek. He rolled underneath the machine's carriage and hoisted himself up into the crawlspace near the engine.

And there… he huddled. Softly sobbing to himself as the shrieks of pain and the howls of the invaders went on, the fire raging all around. There he stayed, stayed until he could hear no more bellows, no more cries, no more anything but the fire's crackling. The rumbling sensation buzzing in the air slowly began to depart, and the shadows of the metal ships faded away into nothing; leaving the boy all alone as quickly as it had happened.

There was nothing out there… nothing, save for him. And there, in the crawlspace, did he stay, reliving the images of the massacre he had just witnessed.

The green fire, the armoured creatures, the blood, his parents….

Upon thinking of his parents, the boy did what any child would do in such a situation: he cried… and he cried… and he cried until he fell asleep, right there in the crawlspace of the vehicle.

And there, again, did he stay; all the way until the twin suns began to set and bleed into the horizon to the north. His grip, having grown weak, slackened and the ball left his possession; its bouncing startling the boy as he let out a cry and nearly clobbered his head upon an engine part.

Where had his ball gone? Had he been dreaming?

Slowly, carefully, the boy slid off the metal alcove and touched a foot upon the earth, testing the silence. When the coast was clear, he set his other leg down and the boy cautiously emerged from the safety of his hiding spot; his frightened, innocent eyes scouting the blotched, pillaged landscape that he once called home.

The green fire had died down, leaving nothing but ill craters to remain witness, the smoke mixing with the scent of blood and death to blend into a nauseating aroma. Wiping the dried residue from his eyes, the boy looked around frantically for his ball, hoping that in finding the thing it would make him feel better.

He looked around, darting from cover to cover, but his searching returned empty every time. His ball was nowhere to be found, and he was all alone.

The thought was so devastating, he suddenly fell to his knees and cried. Cried into his hands and hid his face from the destroyed world of his home. They were all gone. The grown-ups, his parents, everyone. He was all al—there came a noise, suddenly, from his left and the boy nearly jumped onto his feet, petrified with terror. Maybe the creatures were still here!

With a tiny, muffled cry, the boy took off in the opposite direction and blinding rushed head first; anything to hide! But as he took a bend around the smoldering remains of a grown-up, his body crumpled against something cold and hard, sending the boy reeling backwards and sprawling onto all fours.

A machine, yellow and black, turned around and looked down upon the boy; its face eyeless and its blackened talons extending outwards almost as if to tear him apart like those creatures.

With another yelp, this time not bothering to keep it quiet, the boy leaped onto his feet and took off again, only to run into another machine just like the one he had discovered.

And soon, more of the machines came out from the cracks and crevices of his vision. There were many, too many, and the boy could only back up and watch in horror as they began to circle around him and box him in; their talons all poised and menacing.

As the boy crawled back, his eyes riddled with tears, a shadow fell upon him and he snapped himself forward, his entire body trembling as he looked up.

A pair of eyes, alien and foreign, stared back down at him and the boy shielded himself with a cry, huddling into a shivering mass. But the creature, this one taller and more recognizable in shape, did not attack. Instead, they bent down slowly and extended a hand, filled with something, before the shuddering boy. Looking up now, his head jerking as his nerves were at their limits, the boy peeked through his fingers and saw… his ball. His beloved ball was in the creature's metal hands.

He at once rolled up from his curling position and snatched his ball instantly, cradling it like it was the most important thing in the world—and it was.

The creature, with a voice so soothing and soft, then spoke, and asked for his name. They explained, in that same, calm tone that they were out patrolling and saw the fire, and came to see if anyone was still alive. As they said this, the boy watched their metal hands open in a gesture of safety and he immediately ran into their arms, crying and pulling at their clothed chest with his tiny, weak hands.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and the creature stroked his head and told him to quiet himself, to ease his tears and calm, that he was safe now. The monsters weren't going to get him.

Again, they asked for his name and this time, the boy answered.

Warp Darkmatter, he said in his trembling, small voice, the creature continuing to stroke his head gently with those great, big metal hands. His name was Warp Darkmatter.

As the boy soaked in the warmth of the creature holding him, he watched as they pulled out something, a gun, and the boy's eyes went wide with danger as the creature eased it closer towards one of the boy's temples.

He squirmed, whimpering, but the soothing voice seemingly sang from the creature's odd mouth and for some reason, the boy felt safe; at ease. He allowed the creature to press the barrel of the gun, the cold surface sending shivers down his spine, and heard sleepily as the creature issued something rough and hoarse—a tongue unlike any other.

Rest now, the creature purred into the boy's ear. Rest now, and await your new beginning… Warp… Darkmatter…

And as the boy drifted off into sleep, his mind darkening, he looked up and saw the last thing he would ever see in this life…

A pair of red, glowing eyes… and the soft, gentle whispering of the voice within his ears.

Rest now, and await your new beginning…