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They fight on the ruins of the past.
Their cars crash in whirlwinds of lead and flames, their rockets do
not know how to miss, and six barreled machine guns cut armor as if it
was butter. Their mad drivers are the best, and their cars are
masterpieces of art, created for battle and show.
They fight in the shadows of the cities, in fritted fragments of
ancient capitals, destroyed by nuclear blasts, in Coliseums, covered by
oil and gasoline. Crowds hail them, their images fly on neon panels in
the sky, and satellites which were military some time ago, transmit
their battles to all over the world.
They are the relics of the last war.
Their eyes – replaced by optical sensors, saw the rise of nuclear suns
above the states of the past and dozens of local conflicts smashed the
world into pieces. Through smoke and dust they watched on orbital
cities received some part of the mankind, and on stars of new war
lighting in the sky. Without any fear and hesitation they fought in
wars of the deserts and served for Barons of roads – new masters of
burnt Earth.
Fought – and won.
Their battle cars were perfect, their armor was heavy, and engines
didn’t know what tiredness is. Fire of their weapon carved the way to a
new order. They defended, they gave hope… but now there’s peace, and
there’s no need in them.
They were too mad… their nerves directly connected with guidance
systems, their hearts equipped with hydraulic boosters and adrenalin
generators, their bones armored with titanium and wires run through
their muscles… closer to their cars than to the humans, they could only
fight and win – and were unable to stop.
And now they have what they wanted to.
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