My name was Julius once. That was Before. Before they collared me and dragged me into their forge, to serve their Omnissiah. The strapped me down, and put me to sleep. My last sight was one of them, once a man, leaning over and extending a saw.
I was transformed over those months. The monsters taught me how to shoot, how to fight, and how to pray. At the beginning there were 100 of us, all collared citizens, thieves, workers, and homeless. At the end there were only 16.
At the end of my indoctrination, I entered the ceremonial hall. I expected ceremony, music, parades. All I received was a needle in the back. When I awoke, strapped to the table, I only knew the monsters as "master".
My memories of then were fuzzy. I suppose their machines did their job. I remember marching under a red sky, to the monsters' great landers. I remember being the last one standing of my clade, duelling the enemy champion atop a fallen Titan. I remember the monsters approving me, and then the table again.
I remember my mace slamming into the renegade tank, shorting out it's systems.
I rememer lying in a pool of blood, my legs and arm torn off by the tank's secondary weapons. I remember being dragged to the rear, and then the table again. My weapons flashed as they ripped through armor like paper, my new body spinning and striking almost involuntarily. I howled praise to my masters', the monsters' Machine-God.
I can no longer stand. The fallen battlesuit has killed me, even as I killed it. My mask has been cracked, exposing my face and machine-ridden brain to the sky. I suppose I am lucky to remember my life, even at the end, but in truth, I do not want to. All hail Mars indeed.
The broken machines, the emotional suppressors and enforcement circuits, desperately try to regain control, but I can still see the monsters for what they are. The red-robed monsters that took my life and my family. The monsters that threw the lives of their slaves into the maelstrom to recover some scrap of ancient data. Their Omnissiah, monster-god, passively watching them go further and further in pursuit of knowledge.
I can still see the sun, even trapped under the fallen battlesuit. The sun emerges from behind a cloud. The brightness hurts, but I cannot close my eyes. The monsters took that as well. I stare at the sun, unblinking, as the flames of the fallen mech begin to consume me, dragging my broken body in like a riptide. As I burn, the machines the monsters put in me begin to fail. My heart begans to slow, and I cannot breathe.
My last sight is the cog-shaped sun.