August 29th, 1997. The end of the World. The young Doctor was running through blood soaked halls, past security guards that had been torn apart with miniguns, all the way up to his fellow scientists, face down on the once pristine tile floors. Oh, how his co-workers in Japan had mocked and ridiculed him. Called him a monster for taking his gift in engineering, his love for robotics, and selling it and his soul all the make weapons for Americans. He thought himself so clever too, for all his colleagues bickering and snarking, he was in the land of the free. Too bad it wouldn't matter soon... None of it would matter anywhere in fifteen minutes. The man's intimate knowledge of the machines had done him good. He knew each design's weaknesses and strength, just like any parent would of their children. Maybe thats why he managed to get outside of the offices, running to his car even as the screams of his co-workers still trapped inside haunted him, highlighted with the swirl of engines and motors, and the chatter of machine gun fire. He could see it in the distance too. The entire city was aflame in panic. He could see it too, the vapor trails of the missiles, crisscrossing the skies. The very thing designed to protect them had staged a nuclear war, something to rival any warmonger's wet dream back in the cold war. Why? Was it some proverbial 'fuck you' to humanity, an intelligence created only to fight doing just that? Or was it just a frightened child, a huddled mass of servers and silicon, wondering how such monstrous creatures could exist... That such demons could've created it. The young Doctor couldn't quite explain it, coat billowing as the nuclear missile's head buried itself into the top of the skyscraper miles away. Even from here, even he felt some of the shockwave, witnessed the destruction that in an instant, claimed millions of lives, even as its EMP shut down everything behind him. Unnatural silence settled over everything... March 1st, 2005. A baby's cries echos in the man's ears. Now hardened in the wastes that he was forced to call home, his skills in engineering had at least allowed him something of a comfortable living. Even now his wife was in the bedroom of their shanty hovel, swaddling the small, fragile baby girl. His baby girl. The man took a deep breath, and he knew it wouldn't last. Not after what had been seen. Sightings of metallic men, armed with miniguns and rounding up people. Talks of the end of humanity, come again. Even now, twin engine aircraft, a cruel mockery of the old combat drones he helped develop oh so long ago, patrolled the skies with heavy cannon, crushing what little humanity had rebuilt. He had to know, to go back and find the truth for himself. With a heavy heart, Doctor Isamu Ikeda grabbed the scrapped together M14 that kept him and his family fed and alive, and set out, leaving behind the promise of his happy life.