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Edited by Snowgist: 10/9/2014 1:04:57 PM
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The Fourth

Hi everyone! This is my little attempt in writing inspired by the game :) I’ve started playing last week and decided to write a short 'fun-fiction' story about the past of one of my in-game characters. The beginning of the game is open for interpretations, so why not to try :) Also I beg your pardon previously – English is not my native language so I suspect my text to be full of mistakes – excuse me for them. [b]The Fourth[/b] [spoiler] It was a time of the blossom and feast and joy. It was the Golden Age – the age of divine and living miracles. But the decay starts within the core, and every candle has its own shade. Something terrible is going to happen – and no one knew it. She was one of many, the golden toy among the other things. There were plenty of them – sophisticated automata, created to protect and serve and entertain. She was able to do many things, but her purpose was to entertain, mostly. The Sisters. That was the name she and her foundry-mates were given by people. She has no name, only an item letter ‘C’ and number ‘4’ marking her place in the line of other. Her appearance was Indistinguishable from her sisters’, golden surfaces and thin eyebrows. The face was an emotionless mask. The Creator of The Sisters had his little foundry-shop, where he worked on his machinery. Every machine was a miracle itself: a thoughtful and beautiful artifact, almost a living creature. The Creator has been selling The Sisters to rich people. Every Sister was specific, some of them could sing, or dance, or play music, even compose some motives. The others could teach, or entertain it’s master with a delicate conversation. And all of them, of course, were the perfect bodyguards, war-machines, fast as lightning or golden arrows of ancient Apollo god. C-4 had many talents, but the Golden Age was full of divine, so she couldn’t do something extraordinary. The Creator’s shop was usually full of people trading and debating about the prices and goods. C-4 was exhibited near the entrance as a funny staff, meanwhile her shop-mates – the Fifth, the Sixth and the Tenth served as a walking model (semi-sample of Creator’s mastery and luxury) – she has been serving as a fortune-teller machine from the old times. Everybody could drop a coin into the plasteel box, and the golden virgin immediately told them the truth about his or her next day. And most of the visitor’s were usually satisfied with her predictions. Not many of them believe it, though. One day she said about blackness, the shade, that should consume the candle. No one understood her, and The Creator decided to check her schemes to avoid the possibility of sim-concious mistake. Whether that was a mistake, or not, she was removed from her place near the entrance and appointed to water the master’s garden and keeping the house clean. She had never argued with The Creator. None of The Sisters had. The Collapse stroke at once, a fire from above, a crack on the surface of the world. Hundred years of previous glory flickered in one heartbeat. The people flow from all over the places in a vast hope to survive. Billions died at the very first hour. An endless grief spread its black wings upon the ruin of the Golden Age. The Creator was in a great hurry. He was already packing his own clothes in a big plastic bag, when he saw one of his creations staring at him with her amber eyes. ‘I’m to leave now’, he said. ‘Keep the foundry till I return’. ‘Don’t’, С-4 said and it was the first time she disobeyed the order. ‘Get out of my way!’ The Creator shouted and left the house. C-4 ran after him, but he was too fast and had already driven with his car. The sky above was full of dark boiling flame of the void, hunting, searching for consume and smash and disintegrate. C-4 looked around and spotted a small old-fashioned car by one of the master’s client. She was making her way among the current of another refugees. The city they leaved was on fire. Black smoke curled in the hot air. The flow was running until the horizon. Then there was the strike, like a fist of giant meet the ground in rock-crashing impact. The air shivered with the wave of power. The stream of cars before mounted up and around, burning. C-4 ran out of the car and covered her head with her hands. She ran forward through the crowd of crying people and crimson flame. The ground quaked under her feet. She found him near the edge of a hole made with one of the explosions, his car smashed with the impact, his body seemingly untouched. The Creator was pale, his eyes closed as if he just got to sleep. She kneeled near and took his head covered with blood into her hands. The last presage came true. Another blow came from the blackened sky. An aeon later she heard the voice and it was the call she couldn’t resist. [/spoiler]

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