[18:44] Cy MPPA was completely and utterly alone- at least, he thought he was, anyways. A cold, deep ditch of a trench, littered with the refuse and aftermath of a bloody conflict- viscera, mechanical and organic alike, littering the blood-muddled dirt, staining the war torn terrain a ghastly crimson red... he had to be here. It was his job- he kept the vaults safe, safe from the vicious opposition that wished to hurt the people that made him- really, he just didn't want to see anyone get hurt.

Nobody told Cy about how war would actually work, however. He's only been deployed for a week, and, despite his training, comparatively advanced armor, and lethal vault-provided weaponry (that is to say, a well-made trench bayonet, and a worn rifle), the AI felt reluctant to do what he had been trained to do- he was told about the enemy, and the atrocities that they'd bring to his home, but nobody told them that they were people. For the first few days, Cy relied on his firearm(s), but... hearing the enemy scream after being shot didn't feel right. It was a slow, grisly fate- one rarely died from a single bullet in this time of augmentation and uparmored bodies. For Cy, the only 'nice' option was to make it painless- if they weren't screaming, they had to be just sleeping, right?

It's what he told himself. It's what he told himself again, again, and again, until the poor AI had recieved a reputation as a masked, armored beast- either someone augmented past the point of organic limitation, or, a synthetic war machine brought forth from the gates of hell itself- he didn't know that, of course. He was just guarding the front line; and the front line was exactly where Cy found Thundersnapper...

Most people didn't look like snapper. Most people used scavenged, crafted guns, pipes, knives- things that couldn't get through armor like Cy's. Most people didn't have red hot jets, still cooling from a recent battle- most people didn't have a titanic hammer. He looked dangerous- of course he did- as interesting as the augmented alien looked, it was Cy's duty to protect the homefront, and, with a moment's hesitation, the AI surged forth from a dark, bloodstained alley of the trench; he was inches away from perforating Thunder's visor, but, a single, reflexive cry made the apparently unyielding synthetic hesitate.

Was this a person? He was absolutely terrified- he could've just shot him. If he wanted to, he could've kept going; why was his first instinct to stop? Cy cocked his head at Snapper, and held himself in place, the tip of his blade millimeters from piercing his lightly plated neck... a single hole in the bot's visor flashed orange as Cy attempted to put a question mark onto his screen- it was supposed to defuse the situation, but, all it did was set his single "eye" aflame with an orange, furious glow- in human terms, he was a metallic cyclops. "...Why are you screaming?"