KOBRA

So far so good, Agent Thomas thought. He was crouched in a storage room behind a row of tough metal boxes. The smell of acid was strong in the air, he guessed that this dark, grey room had once been a laboratory. He felt something crawl onto his shoulder. It could have been a spider or a centipede, but nothing in the world would make the agent move after what he had just seen. It hadn't even been part of his mission, which had turned out to be a false alarm. Now, he needed to get back to the CIA and report the new find, a horror too immense to describe. The thing, however, was tracking him, and might soon find him. Trying to escape now would only worsen things.Then a new smell hit him, one he recognized with fear. It was the smell of rotten meat, the kind you get when you leave a butcher knife on the counter for too long without washing it. The smell made him nauseous, almost violently so. He started to breath very slowly now, trying to minimize his sounds. Then, the smell was accompanied by a noise. Clicking. He tried to think of all the possible reasons for such a noise, when he heard them getting louder. It's getting closer! Agent Thomas thought, and he wished he could quell the heart that hammered rapidly in his chest. Then, the clicking sound seemed to be right next to his position. He held his breath as it passed by him, he could imagine the thing walking slowly, to make share it didn't miss him. The clicking faded away, until his ears could no longer hear it. He took a breath and wiped his sweat stained forehead. He stood up, knowing that this was his chance. Any minute now, the thing might discover a dead end, and come back. He tread so carefully that he barely disturbed the inch thick dust that covered the area, smooth as marble except where he had stepped as he came in the room. The smell lingered, like a bucket used for compost, left on the table. Something was nagging at his mind. Some clue or something that wasn't right. The agent worked around the tables, to the stairs at the end of the room. The moment his foot touched the first stair, he bolted. He turned the corner and stopped.The thing was there, waiting for him. 'The dust, there were no tracks in the dust!' he realized. 'It was mimicking passing me.' It was a robot taller than a man. There were three eyes, one infrared, one x-ray, and one that saw visible light. Six arms extended out of the main body, two equipped with a thin blade, two equipped with a Multi-Carbinal gun, and two more with dagger like claws. There were two legs, ending in padded feet with four raised claws. The machine was a horror to behold, but the worst part was the maw. It was big enough to fit a man inside, and there were spiked wheels in it. The area below the "mouth" was caked in blood.The eyes flashed once as it recognized it's prey. It lunged with speed far surpassing his own. Mere luck saved agent Thomas from being impaled by the black blades. Instantly, the robot twisted in midair, and let a spray of bullets from two of it's hands in his direction. The bullets slammed into the floor and ceiling. The agent gasped and fell to the floor at the same time the robot did, soundlessly. He recognized the bullet by the wound made in his side, it was a thirty calibur, a huge bullet. The robot paused to check his actions. It wants to decide whether or not I've been mortally injured. He thought. He stood up, pulling out a small pistol. He fired three shots into the robot. It hesitated as the bullets buried themselves in him. The machine was obviously confused about the occurrence. Agent Thomas took this moment to roll down the rest of the stairs, across the lab, and throw the charge he had set the moment he had been shot, at the robot. The reaction was instantaneous. It had barley left his hand before the robot shot the small charge, setting it off and the explosion enveloped the entire room.
A loud buzzing filled the tiny room as the small alarm clock went off. Chris Thurman rolled over to the right and poked the button that turned it off. He lay there for about a minute before standing up. He yawned, stretching like a cat and pulled his clothes on. If anything, he was not a morning person. He trudged up the steps, wondering why he was up so early. He never set his alarm without reason, so something was up. He was reminded suddenly when his son's alarm went off too. School. Ugh. His older son strode casually out into the room. Always confident, always knowing the right thing to do, Aaron was a good kid. Chris merely grunted tiredly when Aaron greeted him. Soon, he heard the warning signs of trouble when his daughter, Jessica woke near the same time as Jacob, his youngest son. The two children never passed a moment together without an argument. He nearly jumped when he realized he had already started to cook the eggs. Aaron was baking a few pancakes for everyone. Before the eggs had even begun to brown, Jessica and Jacob were already fighting in the background.
"Give me my brush !"
"No! you always take so long with your hair you make Daddy late!"
"I said give it to me!"
"O.K.!" The sounds of blows and grapplings soon filled the air. Chris turned the eggs over.
"Jacob, stop fighting Jessica." He said half-heartedly. Nothing could seperate those two, save it be death himself. Aaron sighed and walked over two them and wrestled the brush out of Jacobs grip. His good-thinking backfired however, when glaring angrily at Aaron, the two tackled him. the cries of all three kids blasted through the poverty stricken house like a whirlwind. Chris put the eggs on plates and turned off the burner. Soon, Rebba, the baby, woke up with a loud scream. everyone paused for a moment as Aaron went to get her up. As soon as he put her down, Jessica and Jacob tackled him again. The baby dissapeared and returned seconds later with one of Jacobs metal bats and proceeded to provide her imput in the fight.
The three children screamed loudly in the background. Chris walked over, picked Jessica and Jacob off of Aaron, and sat them down in their chairs for breakfast. Aaron would have followed, if Rebba had not brought the bat down on his head, causing his eyes to roll back and he fell over. Chris revived him with a bucket of water, and the two of them went back into the kitchen, the baby swinging the bat in tow. Jacob and Jessica were already glaring at one another as one refused to pass the salt. Chris merely shut his eyes tiredly and ate, knowing the only way to remain sane in this house was to not interfere. Soon, all of them tumbled out the door at the same time (something only a family can do.) and headed for the car, bruised from head to toe from their sister and the bat. Aaron had even tried to take it away, and ended up with another whelp on his forhead.