There was light. A glimmer. A beacon which cut through the abysmal darkness. And he awoke. And he struggled to comprehend, his surroundings and his own self. [i]How many eons had he spent beneath the sand?[/i] A shudder passed through his body, as the vagrant wanderer accepted breath into his chest once more. Senses returned in staccato bursts, brining sounds, and serene visions of rugged mountains with arms rising towards the crimson heavens. But when his vision cleared, the faintest hints of revelations began to show themselves and the vagrant wanderer remembered the truth about the mountains. [i]Not mountains, mausoleums.[/i] The wanderer realized then what had wakened him. The building’s façade had collapsed, exposing him to the harsh environment of the Martian tundra. He arose quickly, now aware of the roaring dust storms that waged war to the firmament. But fear did not grip the vagrant wanderer. He limped forward, worn joints struggling to adjust to movement, and as the full light finally fell upon him, so too did the full truth. [i]Mausoleums indeed.[/i] Half concealed fossils jeered at him, buried skulls forever locked with eerie rictuses. The memories returned to him in flashing glimpses. [i]Men and women turning from the skies...[/i] [i]Seeking refuge beneath the sand…[/i] [i]Their monuments becoming their graves. [/i] The vagrant wanderer fell to his knees, questioning the nature of his survival. He dropped his head into his hands, but could not weep. [i]Machines cannot shed tears.[/i] He fought to strengthen himself, and, at one last realization, he steeled himself and ended his lamentations. Darkness surrounding him once more, EXO-0481 sat down against a wall. Arms on his knees. Eyes to the sky. His creators had once descended from the heavens. They had toiled through war, and famine, and death. They would return. And they would reclaim.