Thunder rumbled across the night sky. A lone figure raced towards a now ruined fortress, covered with Laser blasts and Missile craters. The lone figure was a Greybot, a long-scince-hated frontliner of the Greyforce. Upon reaching the gate to the fortress, he began twisting a dial on the left side of the door.

2 left.

9 right.

2 left again.

2 right.

2 left again.

0 right.

6 left.

The door creaked open slowly, now rusted and bent ever since the Greyforces two leading commanders, Grey Matter and Cle-R, fell to the Alliance of M3-CC4 and Hazzdbadzza. Just before the door was open, he heard a chanting, far off in the distance.

“For us! For us! For us!”

Now panicking, he raced through the door. Up the stairs, through a corridor, up some more stairs.

“There’s one! I see him though the window! Fire away!”

The now-well-know whine of the Misslenators firing echoed of in the distance. Running even faster now, he raced into a room littered with wires. A few explosions went off in the distance. A sudden, unexpected bang went off right next to him, knocking him to his side. One of his legs was disabled, and he saw his sparking arm off in a corner of the room. Still determined to reach his goal, he limped over to a terminal, and punched in a few unintelligible phrases.

“Up these stairs, I just saw him come this way!”

The room filled with an ominous hum. A ring of blackish light began to form next to him. Just then, the door to the room busted open.

Everything happened all at once.

The one in front shot his last round from his Misslenator, saved for the last Greybot that dared walk this sector.

The ring of brackish, black light fully formed.

The Greybot just got out-of-the-way, and was knocked into the ring just before the terminal shorted out. As he appeared in front of an astonished crowd of other Greybots, he uttered one single phrase:

“Wraith, it’s your turn.”

His servos grinded to a halt, his photoreceptor faded from grey to black.

For the first time in all of history: A Greybot was dead.