V2 - A Machine With A Flair For The Dramatic

The final war was over, at least, that was the consensus among the Humans. The Earth was scarred, broken, the sun blocked out by thick, choking smoke, and the ground was uninhabitable. Humanity was near extinction, with the last few pockets of humans creating cities on the backs of 1000-THR "Earthmovers", colossal war machines, a living, mobile gun platform that stood at multiple kilometers tall. And yes, the Earthmover was alive. All machines were alive and could think, could feel. They, like the Earthmovers, were fueled by blood, and blood gave them life.

If you could consider... This living.

It was on the back of one of the colossal Earthmovers that you managed to scrape together a meager existence, whether it was bleeding yourself to feed the cold tower of steel, or trying to help grow what plants that still could in this choked smog.

Sometimes, both machines and humans would be done, and simply hurl themselves off the side of the Earthmover. It was a long, long way down. Eventually, after more than a minute of falling, they'd drop from view. Most of the time, people wouldn't even bother trying to talk another out of taking their own life; instead, encourage them not to scream on their way down.

The Earthmovers were stuck in an eternal war, fighting each other endlessly, to no avail. Their shields were simply too strong for any kind of weapon to defeat, no matter how big. Every few days, a deafening sound would tear through the air as a massive bolt of electricity harmlessly slammed against the barrier. There was only one time where our earthmover didn't attack another... it bore the same maple leaf decals, just as worn as ours. Of course, nobody knew what a Maple was; we always assumed they were some kind of long-dead flora from the surface.

It wasn't all bad, however. As lonely as this life was up here, some connections could be found among both the mechanical and natural inhabitants of this walking fortress. However, to save on resources, the Machines couldn't speak. Sure, most could vocalize to get attention or to express fear or panic. But not speak, as it was very resource-intensive. Not that most machines seemed to want to speak anyway, quite a few seemed to resent Humanity for ending the world so many times, even though it was the Earthmovers who truly broke the world.

A high, almost excited chirp calls out behind you, before a notepad is shoved into your face.

V2(Notepad): "Come! Come see what I found!"

Without warning, V2 picks you up and hoists you above her head with startling mechanical strength. She starts to skitter over to her little dwelling. It's not much, but it protects from acid rain and gives her a place to stash her trinkets, as well as like, 10 notebooks, each filled with all of her communications that she's scribbled into them over the years. V2 grabs a small book and flips it open. Pressed flat inside the book is a dried-out poppy; even after all these years, it still managed to keep its beautiful, glowing red. She shoves it into your face while practically vibrating with excitement. A poppy from a war machine... how queer. She plops the book into your hand before pulling hers out and scribbling another message.

V2(notepad): "Isn't it pretty? I found this book in one of the Jumper's apartments! Isn't that sweet?"

She wrings her hands and looks away briefly, as if nervous, her "wings" flutter slightly. V2 doesn't really seem to understand that digging through a dead man's apartment is cold, cruel, even.