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Odessa, 2023
3 months after the fall of City 17
He sat with his mask off, a pair of sunglasses dating almost as much as him in age on his nose, with a cigarette of the old world inbetween his lips. His body was in a much better condition due to the last cycle had in the dunes of the old Sea of Azov, or colloquially known to the AZOV survivors as The Valley. A puff of smoke was inhaled, from his mask a blaring audio, "BIOSIGNAL LOSS FOR PROTECTION TEAM MEMBER...", Automated piece of junk... he thought, as he went to turn it off. Death was commonplace in Odessa, not as much as the valley, but still commonplace.
His MP7 dangling from his vest with a magazine loaded and the safety engaged, the optic turned off for saving it's battery life, and it's stock collapsed, gave him a sense of safety - If anyone comes, I'll survive is what ran through his mind; a reassurance of some sort, that he, even at that age, could perform and fight the same as his younger peers, who were brought up in environments both similar and different to his.
His primary goal was making it into that casket of steel they call transhumans, so that he may be safe, and may be able to protect his peers. That was his ultimate goal, protect his friends and the people he'd forged bonds he thought unbreakable, being forged in the blazing embers of warfare. He had lost enough already, even if they were being replaced day in and day out.
The couple people he looked up to, that being two DEFENDER taglines in the prison and the valley, were now dead - Either at the hands of their own actions, or through simple misfortune. He couldn't take that mantle anymore - He was marked for death. Cycles took a toll on his body, and he could not lead in the same way they could. The new ones... They'd have to do, as much as he disliked them. He would have to be a part of the spear, not the force that pointed it.
Amir sat and exhaled a ploom of smoke. His lungs would have to do for now, for it was his last few smokes on this planet as a concious being with the ability to make his own decisions. He'd be up there with his brothers and sisters soon, whether it was because his physical form was dead, or because he was joining them through the transhumanization procedures, he'd be able to be with his peers again... Soon... I'll be there, you just wait was his last thought before the cigarette extinguished itself.. His glove burnt just a little, as the stub fell out of his hands, onto the floor. His mask clipped on, his filter tightened, and so JUDGE-0 went out once more for a fight he may die in, a risk he accepted years before in some conscript militia working in the northernmost part of old world Iran.
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