"This… Can't be where it ends… I forbid it!"
It was but in the early hours of a frigid winter morning, that a research facility in the regions of the eastern tundra had uncovered an ancient technology, and had inadvertently awoken it. It seemed to be a robo, nothing more, nothing less – deactivated at that. It was even shackled to the stone floor like a feral beast, condemned to remain there for eternity and a day. But, as mentioned, the exploration team had dispelled any notions its imprisoners had of it remaining captive in its bitterly cold cell. The thing in question was roughly thirty centimetres high, a height considerably tall for a robo. It seemed as though it was a small, human-less suit of European knight armour, but coloured a blood red, the trimmings gold. Its right hand carried a broadsword of a similar colour scheme to the armour, the blade as long as its wielder's upper body was high, and the handle approximately one-and-a-half times as long as its hand. The robo (or robo-like being) had no projectile weapons of any sort – but it seemed any attacks, from either conventional weaponry or robos, simply bounced off of the armour. Thus, it stood to reason that it had no weapons to be used from a distance, because it had no need for them. Raising its blade to the researcher's throat, a robotic, distorted voice spoke to him from within the ghostly armour.
These were the last things heard by the man, before his throat was slit upon the snowy wasteland.
"…And that concludes my report on the Lightning Sky series of robos."
Daniel Smith, age fifteen. A student at Midheart High School, he was renowned for his knowledge of custom robos, to the point where some had insinuated he was an android with a database in place of a brain. Though this was not true in the slightest, one would not be blamed for thinking so, what with his cold and calculating attitude, and computer-like mind. Standing at a height just above average for his age, Smith was in possession of a build that had no discerning features, unless you count the fact it was slim – to a healthy extent, of course. Though, there was one vaguely distinctive feature about his build, but he himself often failed to remember he had it – broad shoulders, the kind that made finding shirts that fit him well a pain. His hair, a black as dark as possibly natural, was in an unusual style – a moptop, but with his left eye left uncovered. The hair covered may have covered only one eye, but the black-framed, rectangular spectacles that adorned Daniel's face trumped both, yet the pair of glasses was itself trumped by the hair, at least over the right eye. The eyes in question were an oak brown in colour, or at least, that was what was said to be the case. In actual fact, nobody had ever seen his right eye, and nobody had come close. He always refused to let anyone see it, and there wasn't a soul who would ask his parents. Few people knew him well enough to ask his parents comfortably, and the few who were knew better than to pry into matters he would reveal of his own accord. He was dressed in the type of white shirt you would see in a school uniform, though lacking the tie, and he had refused to tuck it in. His legwear was a pair of navy blue denim jeans, the entire outfit being rounded off by a pair of dark brown lace-up shoes, the type an office worker would wear. Daniel trudged back to his seat without a further word, sitting back at his seat in the far right corner of the room, awaiting the next pupil's report on their robo model of choice. Daniel had no real care for the Lightning Sky series, as he found them too difficult to use, and far too easy to be taken out by someone half-decent at prediction. He had simply done it because it was the first result of an internet randomiser. This was his typical school day – work, present work, do more work, get bored, do work anyway. In short, it was nothing to write home about.
As the day ended at the usual time of ten-past-three, Daniel's winter coat was tossed on, a simple matter of an insulated black coat, suited for the chilling winter temperatures. The sky was layered with a crowd of ominous grey clouds, a sight typical of the season, though there was no rain forecasted for that particular day and area. Robo battles were dotted about the grass, the contestants fighting to show off, train, test new parts, and a multitude of others. The teen had no interest in the activity at that point in time, however – he was cold, and had set his heart upon brewing a mug of hot chocolate, rather than brewing trouble. He was competent at custom robo – by no means was he the best, but he knew how to put his knowledge to use. Though it was cold, and it was winter, snow was yet to fall upon the land – but this was in his favour, for it hindered not his trek home. The house he occupied was a distance about twenty minutes from the school, assuming traffic was not horrendous, and that he travelled at a consistently moderate pace. Daniel had a phone typical of others his age – what with all the added features such as a camera, music player, etc. The radio function was thus utilised as soon as the earphones were put in, and the news was sounded to the boy's ears. The voice of a female newsreader was what reached him.
"…In other news, the research team in the eastern tundra has gone missing. Dispatched a few months ago in order to excavate and perform an on-site analysis on the relic that was supposedly buried there, contact has since been lost with them. Oh, wait, hold on… Hrm. It seems that one of the team has been found, but he has died. According to officials, he died when he wandered from the basecamp, and his supplies ran out before he could make his way back with the others, and he died soon after. A more detailed report will be issued later. Officials have refused to reveal his identity, and the family is yet to be informed. And now over to our on-site correspondent, at the press conference. Mike."
"Yes Anna, it appears that-"
Daniel changed to an OST collection he had downloaded. The last thing he wanted to hear was about members of an expedition dying, under circumstances he found incredulous and, ultimately, nothing more than hollow excuses.