15th Surgery - Rise of the Cybermoo
As midnight strikes, the doors of the factory slam open. Fran limps out the door, a delirious smile on her face. Her face is covered in cuts and laceration. Her clothes are cut and torn all over, stained with blood from every part of her body. One of her ankles is clearly broken, and the other leg doesn't look good either. Worst yet, her arms are both gone. Her shirt is tied off at both stumps, both soaked with blood. Around her waist, a small metal container is slung there with some cord. She wobbles as she stands there, looking up into the sky.
"Improve all the cows by Friday...completed..." She then collapses to the ground.
There is silence...and then a slowly building clomping of metal on the stone ground. From the factory emerge two lines of tractor cow cyborgs. They stand over 7 feet tall and they are....monstrosities. There is no common design-lines between them, each made up of different ratios of meat and metal, each with parts in different places. These abominations of nature are horrid, looking like nothing alive or dead. With the conditions in the factory, some of the flesh bits have even begun to decay and putrefy, and yet these mechanical horrors, these affronts to man, God and nature march on.....to the fields....to begin tilling the soil, and to other parts of town to assist in the manual labor that has been putting the populace in so much danger. Some remain in the factory, working the assembly lines.
And Fran lays in an expanding pool of blood as they march on.
"Improve all the cows by Friday...completed..." She then collapses to the ground.
There is silence...and then a slowly building clomping of metal on the stone ground. From the factory emerge two lines of tractor cow cyborgs. They stand over 7 feet tall and they are....monstrosities. There is no common design-lines between them, each made up of different ratios of meat and metal, each with parts in different places. These abominations of nature are horrid, looking like nothing alive or dead. With the conditions in the factory, some of the flesh bits have even begun to decay and putrefy, and yet these mechanical horrors, these affronts to man, God and nature march on.....to the fields....to begin tilling the soil, and to other parts of town to assist in the manual labor that has been putting the populace in so much danger. Some remain in the factory, working the assembly lines.
And Fran lays in an expanding pool of blood as they march on.