[ WP ] In a post-apocalyptic world , two survivors cross paths and join forces . However , they do not speak the same language .

There it was again, that strange slightly mangled figured figure atop the dust of our once great civilization. 
 
 There was something odd about him. Anything which survived the apocolaypse at this point was never anything good in my previous experience, people not willing to do anything to survive rarely do. 
 
 Three days I've spotted him now amongst the lingering dust of warfare, with the sun's taunting rays showing flashes of a happier life long gone. Through the shimmers he saw Sophia, his family, and everything he held dear. As quickly as it all appeared however, the wind rudely interrupted by filling his mouth and eyes with dust; tears always snapped him out of it. 
 
 Now the cavernous expanse of man's worst creations devoid all. No green lush, no moisture in the air, just dust and the stench of varying types of decay. 
 
 With the fall of order, came the creation of utter chaos. Without our world's maintenance staff, our ability to rebuild quickly lay in tatters before we even had a chance to. 
 
 Who was this damn guy? Or what was this damn thing? His stance seemed... Forced, lacking any sort of fluidity yet somehow maintaining a constant speed. Fresh tracks seem to indicate I'm being followed too it seems, tomorrow though, I'll be seeing what this fuckers made of. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 [ Observation ] The sun struggled its way through the ominously black skies, lazily hanging there scorching the flesh of those meatbags unlucky enough to be caught underneath holes in the ozone layer. 
 
 Luke quickly managed to regain control by slapping his head. Going from coma patient in the normal world to fucked up half android version of himself in what must have been hell, was n't it? 
 
 [ Mission ] Target is 200 metres and closing. 5 kilometres per hour. Armed. Nearest cover exactly 14 full paces North West. 
 
 Luke groaned as his bodies control was ripped from him again. When he focused hard enough, he could gain slight control over something, but then... 
 
 Shit! 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 `` Gotchya! You sneaky little fucker. Ca n't just be following a man around now.'' 
 
 There was ice in the words, as his prize lay dangling like a fish in front of him, questions raced. 
 
 `` Who are you? What in God's name are you?'' 
 
 Luke sniggered at his choice of wording, not hell then, yet he would still find no mercy or salvation here. 
 
 With all his effort his mouth opened, only to produce a short, sharp crackles. 
 
 Michael stood on, whilst he may have heard robotic noises, the sound of screaming would never leave him...
