Keen walked out of the tower. His destroyed leg optic was crackling with electricity. His systems kept telling him he needed to shut down and begin self-repairs, but the commander overided these systems. The only way he could be forcibly shut down is he was really damage and his current state wasn't too bad.
He moved out the tower's doors and stared at the street before him. Dozens of Missionary Drones, Leapers, Isopods, and a single Butcher stood motionless on the empty street. They were all standing straight up, completely motionless and quiet. Nearby, a Flamer-Tank was sitting near a street corner, also unmoving. Near it were a few Extinctioners, which looked like they had crashed into the street.
And above all of them, stood the form of the NIT Watchman. Keen gazed up at its central eye and saw it was black, shut off. The Watchman or any of the units didn't twitch an inch as the commander wandered past them.
It appeared his theory was correct. The Voice of the Legion had served as a sort of central hive mind for all the Missionary units. Without him, they had no orders or direction, and thus, shut down until orders were given to them once more.
Keen walked through the streets. His sawed off shotgun was still clutched in his undamaged hand and his machete was in his holster. The commander didn't no why he felt compelled to keep these weapons, especially since the Missionary units were not a threat anymore, but he did.
The commander came to a street corner and sat down. Leaning against a dusty brick wall, Keen looked at the sky with his remaining eye.
The sky was black, starless. Clouds blotted out the moon and smoke rose into the air from other parts of the city. Keen kept staring upwards for a few more moments, before looking away.
He didn't know what to do know. His mission was complete. The Missionary were defeated and would never be a threat again. The commander didn't know what would become of the off-line Missionary units, but he assumed the U.E. would take them and reprogram them for other purposes. Someday, the Missionary might reenter human society, ready to serve their initial purpose at last.
Keen didn't know what would become of him. There was a sliver of truth in the Voice of the Legion's words…was he useless to the UA now? Would that destroy him or take him off-line and stuff him into a storage cabinet somewhere?
'No,' Keen thought. 'I am still needed. I will remain with the UA for many years. Something as valuable as I cannot be destroyed so carelessly.'
The commander sat for a long time. He thought about many things. How would humanity recover from this? It had taken them many years to recover from the original Dark War. Although this had not been as bad, an entire city population had been slaughtered and the UA, although probably still around, was scattered and in ruins. Also, were the Missionary truly gone? What if some madman came around again and decided to help fulfill the Voice of the Legion's twisted vision? Should they all be destroyed or could there be use in reprogramming them to suit humanity's needs?
After careful consideration, Keen came up with a number of possibilities. But then he did something unusual. He decided not to think about the matter right now, and instead pushed the thoughts away.
The commander instead, leaned back against the wall and placed his shotgun on his lap. He closed his single eye and decided to wait for a little while. Perhaps a rescue squad would arrive if they saw the Missionary units had gone off-line. And even if they didn't, Keen could just walk across the wasteland to the next city.
But for now, he would take a break, for perhaps the first time in many years. Keen sat in silence, listening to the occasional whispers of wind.
And then he did something he had never done before and never do again.