War only stops for two reasons. A piss and a smoke . . . I don’t smoke, but I had to take a raging piss. Ramirov stood watch under the lights of our mech, stretching his legs and exercising his own reason to delay war, if only for a short time. We hadn’t seen any action for almost two days, but that was soon to change. It was an inevitability with war. Steam was rising from my piss and Ramirov let out a cracking cough that echoed through eerily quiet fog.
Then I heard the cracking of tree trunks in the grey, like distant thunderclaps. The stream of piss dried up immediately as my sphincter tightened. Inevitability was approaching.
Concept art of the day: Robot in the Mist by Jakub Rozalski.
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