Disclaimer: I do not, and will never own Vandread.

Author’s Note: This is just the prologue, and it will be kinda short. It does have significance, otherwise why would I put it on here. Further explanation in the first chapter.

The Perfect Weapon

Prologue: Last Stand

Location: Last Remnants of the Confederate Fleet. Two years ago.

This was his last stand. The faceless enemy attacked without provocation, and wiped out everything in their path. Everything in their path included half of the Confederate fleet. In a swift series of battles, the fleet was battered and forced to fall back to their last defensive position. It wasn’t long before they would be completely overwhelmed, and annihilated. Countless in number, the enemy ships and machines tore through the Confederate forces quickly.

Trapped inside the close confines of his cockpit, the pilot was struggling to do several things at once. His humanoid combat machine could not hope to stand up to this enemy for very long, but he was not afraid to die. Ever since he started training, he knew that his life could be easily discarded and thrown away, but he did not want to die uselessly. If anything, he would go down with all his weapons blazing, hopefully taking several enemies with him.

He watched as another Confed ship collapsed in on itself and exploded sending out a shockwave that he could feel through his machine quite a distance away. He himself was standing on the ruined hulk of a similar ship, waiting for the time to make his last stand. Holding one rifle in his machine’s right hand, he starting firing, picking off some of the smaller, robotic units with precision shooting. It came down to the point where he had to eject the dorsal magazine from the gun, allowing the empty clip to drift away, snapping another in its place.

Using his machine’s left hand, he cocked the anti-armor cannon slung underneath. Taking aim at a cube carrier, he fired the heavy, armor-piercing slug. The shell penetrated the awkward looking vessel, coring it then exploding, tearing it apart from the inside out. He didn’t have much time to take satisfaction in his kill, as a large number of cube-type units rapidly closed with him. Switching his rifle to automatic fire, he started to blaze away at the enemies, taking down at least five before he ran out of ammunition.

Cursing under his breath, and threw the now useless gun away, drawing a sword from its location on the machine’s back. He immediately used his thrusters to get clear of the debris, and then charged within melee range of the enemy. Using the double-edged weapon, he sliced threw another cube, careless of the damage he was sustaining from the others surrounding him. He slashed his way through a few more before an unseen blast severed his machine’s right arm, and taking the sword with it.

Screaming his inarticulate rage, he slammed his machine’s left fist into another of the cube-like enemies. Little did he know that another blast smacked his machine in the back, rendering the thrusters there useless. Another shot tore the bottom half of his machine off, sending the legs spiraling off in different directions. The next shot took off his machine’s head, rendering his visual sensors useless.

It was then that something exploded in his cockpit, engulfing the entire right of his in flames, if only for a couple of seconds. Burning pain screamed throughout his body as he was flash-burned. The visor of his helmet seemed to explode, sending plastic everywhere. One sharp piece slashed directly into his right eye, depriving him of it’s use. Not that it mattered now, as he knew he was very close to death. He could not feel the entire right side of his body, and didn’t even bother to fight against the encroaching darkness. As the last of the Confederate forces were wiped from existence, he finally succumbed to death’s cold embrace…

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There you have it, the prologue. The first chapter will be up before long.