While conducting area surveillance and becoming overly knowledgeable of his opponent. The machine reminiscent of a war torn creature, awaits patiently in the undergrowth of a nearby abandon wasteland. Awaiting he does; quickly deciphering all the data and encrypted information that he will need to conduct his swift assassination. Instilling to all a slaughtering nightmare, for they may become his unaware victim’s. 

Shhhh… So quietly, he waits and waits. All for the right time to assault the uninformed foe at hand. Waiting he does. His breathing is slowed with his eyes becoming fussed and focused on his target that approaches. The blood grass hides him well, for the unfortunate mark has no possibility of continued existence.

With a K-Bar in mouth the machine abandons his hiding spot that once concealed him from the enemy that approaches, and WHACK, SNAP, CRACK the enemy falls to the ground. The Robot Joe snaps the neck of a another man, stealing the very soul from his now corpse filled body. The Solider looks at the carcass and then walks away. His employment is completed. His eyes are red and overflowing with fury, yet the mission is accomplished, there will be no need to hang around.

 He walks unaccompanied for a thousand miles to link up with the rest of his division, they march. March they do, by the millions all cold blooded killers with eyes of rage, scars of war torn battles. They march there battle space, they march on the wastelands of earth. The march with torn flags held high, blood still dripping from there wounds. For they feel no pain, there robot Joe and orders are all that they fallow. There is no place for weakness in there life, only the excitement they find from the kill commands that they receive. This is the division of Night-stalkers, marching the land, destroying everything they see is what they do best. They march to there victory, which to them can only mean death……..

JUNGLEMAN 2007