[IP] The weight of his prize slowed him down but he'd sooner die than leave it. The sun had long set and the deep cold bit through the worn-thin soles of his boots with each step, but eventually, ahead, the lights of the fortress appeared through the storm.

The winds blew softly, scattering loose snow in the air across a desolate landscape. Silence permeated everything, even the man and dog trekking across the endless white void.

The German Shephard trotted happily besides its best freind, the man beside it trudged slowly. Dragging the lifeless shell of a Simulacrum, it hadn't been implanted with a brain. And it was incredibly valuable because of it. But he had to get back home, he was in Simulacrum territory, carrying what was considered a Simulacrum even if it was 'dead'. They once were human, and still insisted on giving their dead a proper goodbye. But the real humans needed the machinery, the technology inside of it. They were struggling for life out here, they still needed to eat, sleep, and still needed clean air. The Simulacrum didn't, and they knew that.

The man shivered, the storm was picking up slowly; probably another mile to home. He could leave his find, but he'd sooner die than do that. There were people in the Bastion that needed this machines technology, and they were counting on him.

He walked alongside his dog, freezing now. His coat and worn-thin boots were doing little to keep out the air that cut like a knife through his clothes. Finally, he saw the telltale looming darkness of the Block, the Bastion. He smiled as it came into view, he was safe now. A door in the dark shape opened, flooding the air with blue light, and the man saw a beckoning figure. He had made it home once again.

In the darkness, past the line. Five pairs of eyes watched the light vanish. Whirring servos and buzzing motors breaking the silence. A tall, intimidating machine spoke in a monotone and gravely voice.

"He made it home safe. We can leave now."

A shorter machine next to him, clad in tattered cloths and a hand-made Non la, with a perfectly mantained blade of some kind at his side looked up. "Yes Sneek, we could. But do we have anywhere else to go?" the machine looked around at his companions, the rugged but still feminine mechanical form of Harli, built for speed and toughness. The sleek and efficient form of Hera, with her wings and sniper rifle; she was once in the army. The tall and intimidating form of Sneek, who was kidnapped and used in illegal robotics experiments, and Tome. Who watched the Bastion with a sadness emenating from him that defied his completely mechanical and nonhuman form.

"Do you think can can ever go back, Sage?" Asked Tome.

"I do not know Tome. I do not know."