Of Blood and Oil

by Nyrandrea

Summary:

The little stray cat had brought salvation to the robotic inhabitants of the Walled City in their darkest hour, now it was time for them to return the favour.

(Takes place after the events of the game, so there will be spoilers!)

Notes:

Okay so since the devs mentioned the cat is inspired by one of their own (Murtaugh), I've decided to give him this name so I'm not just calling him cat, feline, tabby all the time.

Chapter 1: The Attack

A lone tree, surrounded by intertwining vines and flowers that little insects danced around as if they were celebrating the purpose that it gave them; to spread its seeds and have life thrive in yet another cycle.   

No sign of them here either.   

Murtaugh paid the insects no mind as they angrily buzzed around his ear as if to chastise him for trespassing. He circled around the tree once, twice, three times just to make sure, sniffing every inch before finally giving up, granting the bugs their wish as he turned tail and left. 

Perching on the edge of what once trapped an entire civilization, the little ginger tabby washed his face as he watched the robotic inhabitants below living their daily lives, taking time to face the sun and appreciate it for a few moments before going back to whatever task they were doing. 

It had taken them a while to accept that the Outside was even really a thing that existed. Most of them had still to leave the city; only a handful had dared to step a foot out of what had been their sanctuary—their prison—for their whole lives. A stubborn few even had to be coaxed out of their homes, but with the cat’s presence—and persistence—they finally stepped out. 

A little furry pest, they had called him, but there was a fondness in their tone. 

The Outsiders had started building a few settlements outside the city, with Momo and Clementine heading the project while Doc provided some technical know-how every now and then, his main priority being making up for lost time with his son. Zbaltazar didn’t provide much help physically, but made sure his fellow companions took some mindful breaks, with a little persuasion. 

Murtaugh took it upon himself to teach the robots how to hunt as they seemed clueless on how to feed themselves properly. They were interested, if not a little fearful when he brought them live prey, encouraging them to make the killing blow. 

 At first it was thought that perhaps the cat that they had grown to trust was about to betray them and eat them like the Zurks had done, but a little explanation from Doc about how organic predators worked had put them at ease. Though they would still take pity on whatever poor soul was dropped at their feet, and would usually try to release them, much to Murtaugh’s annoyance. 

Without B-12, there was a language barrier that neither species could overcome, which would often result in crossed-wiring as the cat would try and make sense of their garbled sounds and vice versa. Eventually one would get tired of the other and leave; this became more and more common until it was decided there wasn’t much point anymore.  

The robots had their own lives to rebuild and families to raise, and Murtaugh had to find his own, so he had decided it was time to leave. 

He hadn’t travelled far though, only wandering a few miles outside the wall as he felt somewhat compelled to stay. Ever since birth he had always had his family watching his back, and B-12, through his own strange ways, had kept him safe within the walls of the city. This was the first time he had truly been alone. 

All the more reason to find them. 

The last time he had been with his own kind was when they were on the outskirts of the wall, yet there were no scent trails or marks to follow. It was as if they had completely vanished off the face of the earth. 

Just how long had he been trapped inside? 

The cat flicked his tail a little. No, they wouldn’t just leave the territory like that. They wouldn’t abandon him. Unless there was a pressing reason. They always kicked the competition out, and their competitors were fierce, especially during the winter when prey was scarce. But they always managed to get out of a scrape with their rivals fleeing with their tails in-between their legs. 

 So, what could have driven his family out? 

Getting up and stretching, Murtaugh decided to do another patrol. They were always on the move; perhaps he had just missed them. 

There wasn’t even time to react when jaws sank into his flesh. 

 

---

 

“A little more to the left,” Clementine called out, beckoning to the poor construction crew worker as he heaved a massive sheet of metal that would act as a roof to one of the many houses they were building next to a lake they had found near the outskirts of the city.  

She remembered that night well. They had just stepped out for the first time, wandering amongst the trees that towered over them like buildings when they stumbled upon it. The sun dipping itself into a massive body of water as its fiery glow blinded them before sinking entirely. The color reminded her of the little outsider. 

The sky eventually darkened, the stars started to appear, and there was a moment of anguish and panic that they were trapped inside the city again and their escape was some kind of cruel illusion, but Clementine was the first to realize that these were real stars. She laid there all night, completely mesmerized by the very thing that used to strike dread into her hard-drive. 

“How about now?” The worker drawled out in a bored tone. 

“Little more.” 

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, y’know,” Momo piped up from behind, flinching when she gave him a sharp look. 

“What would you know about perfection, with that ugly garb?” Clementine snapped back, instantly feeling guilty when he put a hand on his chest in mock offense, a broken heart lighting up his screen. 

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just...we only get one chance to get this done right.” 

“And plenty of time to do it,” Momo replied, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Besides, I think my hat is quite fashionable.” 

“I wasn’t talking about the hat.” 

“We shouldn’t rush, is what I’m saying,” Momo nodded and waved the worker off for a break, and the guy didn’t need telling twice as he rushed off to his poker-playing buddies. 

Clementine hummed thoughtfully, gazing off towards the lake. 

“Did you ever think we’d make it out?”  

“No,” Momo admitted. “Not until that little furball showed up.” 

She huffed a laugh. “After everything we tried. The sacrifices we made. All it took was a cat and a tiny drone to save us all.” 

“You sound disappointed,” Momo noted. 

“No. It was impressive, just...,” she sighed. “I don’t know. Thought we would have played more of a part.” 

“Speak for yourself.” 

This time her laugh was genuine. 

“Say, you haven’t seen the little rascal about, have you?” Momo asked, looking around his feet as if the cat would magically appear. 

“Not recently. Why?”  

“Haven’t seen him for a while now, that’s all. Used to visit me quite often. Interrupt my work. Try to knock my hat off.” 

“Maybe he was trying to tell you something,” Clementine said, smirking when he looked truly offended this time. 

“I haven’t seen the little one either,” a gentle voice chimed in from behind, both robots turning to see Grandma, sitting on the ground with her legs crossed and hands busy. She had insisted on joining them on their project, offering kind words of encouragement and repairing the worn-out safety vests of the workers when they were on their breaks.  

“The last time he visited, there was...an uneasiness about him.” 

“How do you mean?” Clementine prodded. 

“He would make those cute little sounds and when I talked back, he seemed reserved, almost agitated. Even when I tried to stroke him, he would swat at my hand and then leave. It didn’t hurt but I was concerned for the poor dear, he was always so friendly,” Grandma shook her head as she knitted absent-mindedly.  

“Yeah, I noticed that too, he’d leave whenever I started talking to him,” Momo said as he put a hand up to his chin. “He must not be able to understand us without that drone of his. I wonder how Doc is getting on with transferring that data.” 

“I’m working on it,” Doc’s voice turned everyone’s heads as he and Seamus walked towards the group, with the former carrying a pair of fishing rods and a sloshing bucket. 

“Uh-huh, I can see that,” Clementine directed an unamused look at the pair. “What do you plan on doing with those?” 

“What kind of father would I be if I didn’t take my son fishing at least once during my life cycle? Besides, our ancestors would keep them as pets. An aquarium, I think it was called, fascinating stuff...” 

“ Anyway, even with the drone, we couldn’t understand him ,” Clementine pointed out. “And we didn’t act all sullen and depressed about it, so what gives?” 

“I... I think it’s more than that,” Seamus timidly added.  

All eyes silently turned towards him. 

“Do you guys remember the way I was? When dad disappeared and I was...alone?” 

Seamus awkwardly rubbed his arm as his father looked away, there was a moment in which he raised a hand to comfort his child, but decided against it. The topic was still raw for both of them. 

“I do,” Momo nodded. “It was a difficult time for you. You didn’t leave the apartment for months and when you did, you wouldn’t talk to any of us.” 

“Right, now the cat’s acting the same way.” 

“So... you’re saying... the cat misses his dad?” Clementine asked. 

Seamus rolled his eyes, as much as a robot could. 

“Well, maybe not his dad per se, but he lived on the Outside before he was trapped in the city, right? Maybe he had other cat friends or family or something.” 

“Seamus, cats are relatively solitary creatures,” Doc tried to gently explain. “In fact, in ancient times, there were these exceptionally beautiful cats called ‘Snow Leopards’, who would spend their entire lives isolated on...snowy...mountains...,” Doc trailed off as his son’s screen warped into an angry shade of red.  

“Solitary or not, everything has a family, right? Our ancestors, us, even the snow leopards,” he shook his head as red changed to blue. “Look, I just...I just know, okay? And the fact that he can’t understand us without that little buddy of his probably makes him feel even more lonely. And loneliness leads to frustration, see what I’m getting at?” 

“Then perhaps he went off to find his family?” Doc tentatively offered. “Maybe he even found them! Probably why he hasn’t returned for a while, too busy off doing...cat things.” 

“We should check up on him,” Seamus said. “Just to make sure.” 

“Look,” Clementine put her hands up. “It’s a nice sentiment but we have to be smart about this, we’ve barely been beyond the wall and who knows where the cat is or what else is out the—” 

“I quite agree, Seamus,” Momo interrupted, resulting in bewildering looks from all around. 

“What?!”  

“Really?” Seamus gaped. 

“Momo...,” Clementine warned, though he took no heed. 

“Come now, where’s the brave Clementine who defied all the rules and recklessly put herself in danger at every given moment?” 

“ That Clementine had nothing to lose back then. But now we have a future to build, for the generations to come.” 

“Which wouldn’t have been possible if not for our furball friend, no?” 

“He has a point,” Grandma spoke up. “If not for him, none of us would be here now, where our ancestors once basked in the sunlight and sang under the stars.” 

“I... I agree,” Doc added, finally finding the courage to put a hand on Seamus’s shoulder. “If not for that cat, I wouldn’t have been reunited with my boy. We owe it to him to remind him that...we’re his family too, language barriers be damned.” 

“Dad...” Seamus didn’t need to say any more as both their screens lit up with hearts. 

“Then it’s settled!” Momo said, though everyone still looked to Clementine for final confirmation. 

“Suppose I did say that he’s one of us now,” she submitted. “Fine, but I’ll go look for him. Everyone else can finish off building here.” 

“Not without me, you’re not,” Momo chided, a newfound air of confidence about him. 

Clementine smiled. “You really have gotten braver, haven’t you?” 

“And what about me?” Seamus shoved his way in. “I want to come with you.” 

“Son,” Doc took him by the shoulder. “How about you help me finish restoring the drone’s data to its new body? That way the little one may have one more friend to return to.” 

With a determined nod, Seamus let his father lead him back to their lab, Grandma started knitting a blanket with new-found vigor and even a few construction workers that had been listening in started putting together a new house from spare metal, one that was far too small for any robot. 

With a small smile, Clementine and Momo made their way towards a small opening of trees towards the lakes edge, where Guardian had posted himself. Inside or out, he still took it upon himself to be their first point of protection. 

“Hey,” Clementine greeted, earning a small nod in return. “We’re gonna head out for a little while.” 

“May I ask why?” Guardian enquired. She knew he wouldn’t try to stop them, but they would still need a good reason should they attract anything dangerous towards their camp. 

“The little orange cat,” Momo replied. “We were starting to get a little worried about him, you wouldn’t have happened upon him by any chance?”  

Guardian nodded. “A couple of days ago. Wandering amongst the hedgerows, seemed to be heading up the pipes near the wall.” His fingers tightened around his staff. “I have seen other beasts up that way. My database came up with the term ‘Dogs’; quite big but seemed easily scared off by my presence. Still, be cautious.” 

“Will do,” Momo nodded, though his confidence had waned a little, as noticed by Clementine. 

“Not too late to head back,” she offered as they walked. Secretly—and ashamedly— hoping that his fear would get the better of him. 

“No. I promised myself to stop being like this. Besides, if what Guardian says is true, the little fellow won’t last long on his own.” 

Clementine made a noise that resembled something of a snort. “Please. That cat was more resourceful than all of us combined. He’ll be fine.” 

“That may be. But he had help, from us and that drone. He must be awfully frightened if he’s completely alone out there. Wouldn’t you be?” 

“Well then, let’s just hope he found his buddies.” 

Momo nodded, before turning to her again. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

And she never would. 

Notes:

Oooooh don't we all just hate a cliffhanger? :)

Don't worry, second part should be up soon. I've only played through the game once (will probably do a second playthrogh when I'm emotionally strong enough again :') ) so apologies if some of the characters aren't quite right. Let me know what y'all think!

Chapter 2: The Rescue

If Murtaugh had been granted one small mercy, it was that the attack was swift. In a moment of frenzy, he managed to wildly rip and tear at anything he could, a stray claw hooking into something soft and wet, forcing his attacker to let go and retreat with a whine.  

He took his chance and launched himself up into a nearby pipe, scrambling inside as fangs snapped at his heels. Panting, the cat peeked down to see a pack of dogs—all three of them a different breed—snarling and barking up at him. The largest of them, an Akita, had blood trickling down both her chin and left eye.  

Clearly inexperienced, if she was attacking a cat. 

Oh, the irony. He was the one about to die, alone in some rusty old pipe. Perhaps it would be best to offer himself up as food now, at least then his body wouldn’t rot; such a waste. 

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it as he gazed into their crazed eyes, no doubt his blood was driving them wild. Did these mongrels kill his family too? Did they rip and tear into his brother and sisters' flesh while he remained oblivious below? He hoped not. It would not have been a painless death. 

Murtaugh lowered himself and tried to reach his head over to his side to clean the wound, but the strain was too much, and so he opted to lay down and rest, hoping that the brainless beasts would cease their barking so he could at least be at peace if the time came. 

When the time came. 

He had made sure to remain by B-12's side when he perished. A scientist he had called himself. The cat wasn’t sure what that term meant, but he was familiar with humans. They had been a companion to cats in the ancient times, even going so far as to take care of and clean after them. His very name had been passed down the generations from his ancestors; bestowed upon them by a human.  

Though a bit bizarre at the time, it had been comforting that B-12 had carried on that tradition of being a friend to his kind, even if through a different, tinier form. And the other robots—who seemed determined to carry on human customs and strange quirks—had been kind to him. Most of them, anyway. 

Murtaugh wished for someone to be here with him now. To silence the dogs. To clean his wound. To offer comfort as he passed onto the next realm. He and his companions had often wondered about what was beyond death; his sisters imagined wide open plains with shady spots for sleeping in the middle of sunny afternoons and enough food to fill your belly ten times over. His brother thought it was a passageway to the ancient times, where they would be waited on paw and tail by their human companions, with head scratches and all the furniture to sharpen their claws on. 

Well, whatever awaited him, he hoped B-12 would be there to guide him on his way. 

 

---

 

“Wonder how that damn cat even manages to jump and climb the way he does,” Clementine grumbled as she and Momo scaled the wide pipes that lined the outside of the walled city. “He always made it look so easy.” 

“Yes, he’s quite a uh... nimble little fellow, isn’t he?” Momo gasped, digital sweat running down his screen. Clementine was inclined to mention his lack of need for air, but decided to focus on the mission at hand. 

“Maybe Doc was right,” she continued, trying not to yelp when she lost her footing on some wet moss. “He probably found his friends and ****** off.” 

“Language!” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Momo chuckled. “Well, even if he has moved on. Suppose it would be nice to see what other wildlife there is around these parts. We could suggest to Doc to take his son bird-watching because holy **** we’re so high up.” 

“Language,” Clementine mocked with a waving finger. “But yeah, would be nice to explore a little more of our world. Always wondered where that postcard was based at. Haven’t seen any beaches or palm trees out here yet.” 

“We could try and find it,” Momo suggested. “Take the gang on a road trip.” 

“Look at you talking in slang.” 

“Yes, well, that’s what living in the slums does to you.” 

Clementine made it to the top first, leaning over and offering a hand to Momo, barely managing to heave him up onto the platform as he rolled unceremoniously onto his back. 

“Trust me, Midtown was a lot worse,” she said, deciding to slump down next to him for a short break. “At least nobody stabs you in the back down in the gutters.” 

Momo hummed. “Did you ever find that fellow who sold you out?” 

“No. But when I do, I’m gonna make him wish he’d never been programmed.” 

“I’m...I’m sorry.” 

Clementine turned to Momo, a question mark flickering on her screen. 

“For what? You weren’t in on it were you?” She half-joked. 

“Of course not, but...maybe if I had found you all sooner, you wouldn’t have had to endure all of that nonsense. Seamus would have been reunited with his father quicker. All if... I hadn’t given up.” 

The robot looked away with a soft whir, his hat obscuring most of his face as he hugged his knees. A comfortable silence fell between them as Clementine allowed him a moment. She wasn’t the type to sugar-coat things just to make someone feel better, but she also wasn’t about to let Momo wallow in self-pity. 

“And... you also would have died,” she finally decided to say. 

“What?” 

“Think about it; if you had been all macho-brave and tried to get the transceiver working by yourself, you would’ve been Zurk chow.” 

“Ah, well, I suppose—” 

“And we all barely made it through the sewers. What chance would you have had?” 

“Geez, thank you, I feel so much better now,” Momo deadpanned. 

“If you’d let me finish,” Clementine fully faced him now, forcing him to look at her. “If you hadn’t met that cat, we would have lost you, and no amount of freedom is worth that.” 

“Huh...,” Momo smiled. “Guess we really do owe that furball a lot, huh?” 

“Yeah, guess we do.” Clementine gave the other robot’s shoulder a firm shake before standing up and stretching her joints, some movement in the nearby bushes catching her eye as she did. 

“Uh...speaking of furballs...” 

Momo followed her gaze, gaping as three cats slowly wandered into view, staring at the pair of mechs with wide, cautious eyes. 

“Look at all those different fur patterns...” Momo whispered in awe, giving Clementine a quick glance. “You don’t think they could be—” 

“They must be,” Clementine muttered back, kneeling down to make herself more approachable to them. “But then...where’s...?” 

They both shared a worried look, all kinds of scenarios racing through their RAMs when a soft paw interrupted their thoughts. 

The smallest of the trio—a black cat—tentatively pawed at Clementines foot and raced off before she got a chance to raise her hand. Another—mostly white with a few ginger markings—did the exact same to Momo, mewing as it did. 

“They seem pretty curious about us,” Momo said, holding his hand out palm-up to the last of the trio, who edged close enough to sniff before making haste back to its’ siblings. 

“Or maybe they’re trying to tell us something,” Clementine countered, observing them closely, noting that their tails lashed around wildly, the way they pawed at the ground and the desperate tone to their yowling as they trotted down the path, glancing back to the robots every now and then.  

“They... do seem distressed about something,” Momo muttered. “You don’t think it’s those ‘dogs’ Guardian mentioned?” 

“If it is, that means furball might be in trouble, come on!” 

Clementine didn’t even give Momo a chance to retaliate as she raced off after the cats, but judging by the matching, albeit clunky, speed of the footsteps behind her, she didn’t have to worry about him bailing out on her ever again. 

 

---

 

“Could you hand me over that—” 

“Soldering Iron? Here ya go.” 

Doc didn’t even look up from his work. He didn’t have to; he could hear metal scraping together as Seamus crossed his arms for the upteenth time, no doubt muttering something about being useless, so he added a, “Thank you, son,” every now and then in an attempt to keep his spirits up. 

“Is this really all I can do to help?” Seamus asked, throwing his arms up this time to spice it up a little. “I feel like a glorified assistant.” 

“Not to worry, my boy,” Doc reassured. “I’ve saved you the best task for last. Just need to...ah hah! That should do it!” He exclaimed as he shut the storage compartment on the lifeless husk that laid on their table, illuminated only by a nearby lava lamp. 

Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he couldn’t help but notice the robot’s body was in dire need of a good clean up. The poor chap had been left rusting for a good few thousand years, and its limbs were a bit mis-matched, with a blue leg here and green arm there. But it was the best they could salvage in the time they had, and as long as the data was transferred from the main network; that was all that mattered.  

“Would you like to do the honours?” Doc asked, stepping back from the console to let Seamus in, briefly hovering over his shoulder and pointing out which button it was to activate the machine, much to the younger robot’s annoyance. 

“How about we both do it?” Seamus offered, bitterly adding, “That way you can make sure I’m pressing the right one.” 

Completely missing the sarcastic tone to his son’s voice, Doc jumped at the chance, placing his hand over Seamus’s as they pressed it together. 

The rusted robot jolted up with a kick-start as sparks flew from the wires attached to its head, a red exclamation mark flashing on the grime-covered screen before flopping back down onto the table with a thud. 

“Oh, damn it all!” Doc threw up his arms, kicking the console the robot was attached to. “I really thought we cracked it this time...” 

“Wait, dad, look!” Seamus pointed at the monitor as it lit up with a long bar that started filling up slowly. Doc quickly checked the robot’s screen, whooping and yelling with glee when it showed the same diagram. 

“Ha! We did it, my boy!” 

“You did it,” Seamus corrected with a somewhat forced smile. “All I did was hand over tools.” 

“All you did,” Doc said, grasping his son’s shoulders. “Was push me to keep going, even when the damn thing seemed impossible. Just being here by my side was enough to give me hope that we could achieve the impossible and bring someone back online.” 

All Seamus could do was stare up at his father, so he took the initiative as he did when they found each other that fateful day, and embraced him. 

“Thank you, Seamus. Thank you for never giving up on me.” 

Staying silent, the younger bot was quick to hug his father back. Neither could ever forget the pain that was inflicted, but they knew it was time to look to a better future, together. 

‘Transfer Complete.'  

 

---

 

“Come on, Momo! Hurry up or we’re gonna lose ‘em!” 

Clementine had tried her best to keep up with the dashing cats as they pressed forward with no intention of stopping, all while slowing down enough so as to not lose Momo who seemed to be practically choking on their dust. 

“I’m...I’m trying! These joints were not built...! For running!” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” she groaned. 

As the cats suddenly decreased their speed to a trot, Clementine had to screech to a halt as to not trip up over them, grabbing Momo as he nearly face-planted. 

“Why...why have they stopped...?” Momo asked, gratefully nodding to Clementine for breaking his ungraceful descent. 

“Dunno...,” she murmured. “They look frightened. See? Their ears are folded back.” 

“Have you been taking lessons from Doc or something?” Momo quietly joked. 

“No,” she huffed back. “Unlike some people, I’m actually observant.” 

That shut him up, and as she turned back to the cats, she noticed they were crouching amongst some bushes, the foliage camouflaging them perfectly. 

“Come on,” she urged, taking Momo’s arm and pulling him down to a crouching position. 

“I-I don’t think we’ll fit in there—” The robot tried to protest, but to no avail as Clementine held up a finger to her screen. Eventually, he complied. 

Pulling a few stray leaves out of the way, Clementine followed the cats gazes towards a small pack of large growling quadrupeds. They were mean looking; with muscled, scarred bodies and long muzzles lined with canines that were built for shredding. 

“You don’t suppose they’re friendly?” Momo piped up. 

Clementine ignored him, and focused on one dog in particular that was pawing at its eye, whining, and then rubbing its face against the concrete ground—smearing it with a red liquid of sorts—before focusing its attention up towards something. 

“There,” she pointed out. “They’re looking up at that pipe.” 

“You don’t suppose...?” 

She nodded. “Certain of it.” 

Momo glanced down. “I hope he’s alright.” 

“Not likely,” Clementine said, matter-of-factly. “That dog there, it’s wounded. 

“Oh? So... the little furball must have attacked the beast in self-defense and scampered up that pipe. What a clever fellow!” 

“Yeah, but not before sustaining an injury. Look at its mouth; covered in that red stuff, but there’s no cuts or anything, and if you look at what’s dripping...from the pipe...” 

Momo was completely bewildered at this point.  

“How do you even know all this stuff? Wait. Why are we just sitting here talking about it? Our friend needs help!” 

Before Clementine could even react, Momo blew their cover and let out what should have been a battle cry but sounded more like a wailing screech. Whatever it was, caught the dog's attention, and unfortunately, they started snarling at the charging—and flailing—robot. 

“Idiot...!” Clementine hissed under her breath as she watched Momo get easily overpowered by the pack, using his arms and legs as make-shift chew toys. 

“You guys stay here,” she ordered the cats, though judging by their stances, they had no intention of moving. 

Grabbing and pulling off a nearby loose pipe, Clementine dashed in, shouting and swinging the pipe around while trying to make herself look as big and scary as possible in the hopes that the dogs would get the message and leave. It had worked on the Zurks only a handful of times. 

“Go on, get outta here!” She yelled, pulling one of them off Momo and giving it a—as gentle as she could—kick to send it on its way. It seemed to work, but not without the biggest one knocking her over to give the others time to run away. They locked eyes for a moment, before the dog snarled and bolted. 

 If robots could breathe, there would have been a sigh of relief then. 

“Oh my God...!” Momo gasped as Clementine begrudgingly gave him a hand up. “I thought I was gonna die!” 

“Then why the Hell did you charge in like a crazy maniac?!” 

Momo took a moment to think, his answer being a half-hearted shrug. 

“I honestly don’t know. I just felt like I had to.” 

“Just...,” Clementine shook her head and pinched the edge of her screen. “Don’t ever do that again, please?” 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fi—” 

“But no can do.” 

“What?!” 

“No time to argue, come on, give me a boost!” Momo beckoned her over towards the pipe. 

“No,” Clementine stormed over and forced his hands to cup together. “You give me a boost. You’ll just fall over.” 

Without giving him time to object, Clementine lodged her foot into his hands and hoisted herself up just far enough to see into the pipe. Narrowing her digital pupils, she could just about see a little orange bundle curled up into itself. A surge of relief flowed through her circuitry, only to be replaced with instant dread as she noticed patches of red, matted fur along his abdomen. His breathing was labored and shallow, and those usually bright olive eyes only managed to just about crack open. 

“Oh no...”  

“What’s wrong?” Momo asked, alarm in his voice. “Is he...?” 

“Alive. But it’s bad,” she said. “Hold me steady, I’m just gonna...” 

Reaching in and slowly wrapping her hands around him, the cat hissed weakly as she pulled him out. 

“I’m sorry, little guy, bear with me here...,” she gently whispered, her core breaking at every little yowl of protest he made as she tried to get a good grip on him. “Okay, Momo, easy does it...!” 

Managing to hit the ground without dropping the cat, Clementine lowered his limp body to the ground and beckoned to Momo for his hat without giving him any time to process what was going on. 

“C’mon! Give me the damn hat, Momo!” She barked when he didn’t react, causing him to flinch and quickly comply. Moving quickly but gently, she picked up the feline and settled him into the straw kasa cone before motioning again. 

“Your shirt too, we can stem the flow long enough to get him to Doc.” 

Without any sort of quip or one-liners, Momo handed it to her and helped to lift him slightly as she wrapped it around his small body and tied it into a knot. It seemed to work. At least for now. 

Trying not to jostle him around too much, Clementine lifted the make-shift basket and swiftly made for the camp, Momo silently at her heels. She didn’t need to look behind her to know the other cats weren’t that far behind them. 

“Hang on, little outsider. You’ve got a lot of people relying on you right now.” 

As if to answer her, the cat let out a barely there “Mrrp..!”   

It was weak, but she appreciated all the strength it took him.    

Notes:

Plot twist turns out there's gonna be 3 parts because my brain keeps adding things <8)

Chapter 3: The Surgery

‘Rebooting...Rebooting...’  

Waves of nausea came in the form of neon red ‘Error’ messages and loud, muffled voices coming from all around him. There was a subtle awareness of who he was under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to some previous life. One filled with love, anger, riots, denial and eventually...acceptance. 

“W-w-wh-whe—?” 

“Hold on, I think he’s coming to.”  

Taking a moment to analyze these memories as they whizzed around at a dizzying rate. Some were composed as if reading them from a fairy tale book, others were of violent and impulsive decisions in a bid to survive. In another moment they were gone, leaving no trace. 

“Whe...w-where— zzzzz —” 

“Ah...damn voice-box is glitching, let me just...”  

A sharp sensation jolted him up, and suddenly the messages were gone; blinking, he found he was in a dark, musty room covered in old, paisley-patterned carpets, shelves with the odd knick-knack, old computer technology and posters with...cows? 

“Where am I?” B-12 finally managed to ask. 

“Oh good, you’re not gonna break down on us after all,” a familiar deep voice said. 

A heavy clap on the shoulder that nearly dislodged his arm forced B-12 to look up, blinking again as a pair of robots stared apprehensively at him, one of them—wearing a long white coat and odd-looking goggles that seemed to sprout wires—started to closely examine him. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“I... I don’t know,” B-12 answered honestly, to which the other nodded. 

“That’s to be expected. It must be awfully strange, to exist in a new body. But give it a few days and you’ll be as right as rain, as the humans would say.” 

“Humans...” 

That’s right. He was human once. Had a family. Then there was a sickness that spread amongst them. A plague. 

“Do you...remember us?” The other robot asked. He was sporting a fashionable red gilet jacket and pastel coloured hat. He had a nervous disposition about him. 

“Hold on. Searching database...” 

The two of them shared a wary look as B-12 went silent for a few minutes. 

“Ah. Yes. That’s right. Seamus and Doc, am I correct?” 

Visibly relaxing, they nodded. 

“Yeah! You and the orange cat saved pops and brought him back to me!” Seamus excitedly explained, earning a surprised look from Doc at the outburst, to which he shrivelled back down. “Sorry, just...we never did get to properly thank you.” 

“No, you’re right, son,” Doc said, bringing the younger bot in for a little one-armed hug. “We’ll never be able to show our gratitude enough, but...” He turned back to a bewildered B-12. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll help you settle into a comfortable life here. If you need anything at all, you need only ask.” 

“I... well... thank you, I appreciate that,” B-12 nodded, before adding, “Here, as in...?” 

“The city,” Doc clarified, holding up his hands when B-12's screen flickered into one of shock-horror. “Or! The Outside! Since the city has indeed opened up, thanks to you.” 

That was a relief. And as B-12 gazed over to the window to see sunlight pouring in along with the curtains swaying along to a soft breeze, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. He had done it.  

No. They had done it.  

That’s right. The little cat. His companion. His good friend. The best he could have asked for. 

“Where is he?” B-12 asked. “Did he make it out?” 

“The cat?” Doc asked; B-12 nodded. “Yes, he did, you’ll be glad to know. Still visits us every now and then though...less frequently, as of late.” 

“He’s been acting pretty strange,” Seamus said, awkwardly rubbing his arm. “I think he’s trying to look for his family.” 

Family? B-12 had never even thought of that. He had talked about his own plenty during their harrowing journey, but not once had he bothered to ask his companion if he had any.  

‘What a terrible friend I was.’   

“I wish to see him,” B-12 suddenly announced, attempting to swing his legs from the table to the ground and stand up. He just about managed the former, but his rusted legs creaked and groaned before buckling. Luckily, Seamus and Doc managed to catch and steady him before he collapsed, and softly coaxed him into sitting back down. 

“Apologies, but you’re in no fit state to be walking around,” Doc stated. “It’ll take you at least a few days to adjust to your new body, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stay put for the time being.” 

“But I need to see him,” B-12 reiterated.  

“Clem and Momo have gone out to find him,” Seamus tried to reassure. “When they bring him back, I’ll ask if he can visit you.” 

“If they bring him back,” Doc corrected as he went over to the monitor and started typing, missing the furious look Seamus aimed at his back. 

“Ignore him,” the younger bot said. “He’s pessimistic at the best of times.” 

“What was that?” 

“Uh...nothing! Just...checking vitals,” Seamus blundered, suddenly grabbing B-12's arm and pretending to examine it, much to the latter’s utter confusion.  

“...That’s what I’m doing.” Doc said, giving him an unamused stare. 

“Can’t be too safe, right?” 

Before they could argue any further, the door burst open as Clementine made a beeline for Doc, carrying Momo’s hat in her arms and rambling incoherently while everyone stared at her in shock. 

“Clementine, calm down,” Doc tried to coax, somewhat succeeding when her trembling lessened a little. “Now, what’s wrong?” 

“You gotta help us, I-I think you’re the only one who can.” 

Doc glanced over Clementine’s shoulder to see Momo standing in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically glum and... without any clothes. What on earth had happened out there? 

“Well... hat repairing isn’t really my forte; you’d be better off going to Grandma. Also, where’s your shirt, Momo? Did something happen? Are you alright?” 

“Oh my Go- Look inside the hat,” Clementine urged, tipping it so that he could. As he did, his digital eyes widened and his demeanour changed as he took her shoulder and muttered a sullen, “Bring him here,” guiding her from the lab into the living area, sweeping the coffee table of any magazines and junk before sitting on the couch. 

“Set him down.” 

B-12 watched Momo as he followed without a word, Seamus wasn’t far behind, though not without giving B-12 a quick reassurance that he would be back in a minute. Then he was alone. He could hear mutterings, an outburst, and then silence for a moment that was broken by the loud clunking of someone pacing. 

The way they were acting. The frightened, jitteriness of the usually calm Clementine. How depressed Momo looked. B-12 could only come to one conclusion: his friend was in there. Probably hurt. Or worse. And all he could do was sit here and wait, listen and pray to whatever God was still out there that he was going to be alright. 

B-12 slowly brought his hands out, rotating them as he closely looked at them for the first time before clenching them into fists. 

Utterly useless. 

 

---

 

‘Utterly useless!’  

Doc’s hands shakily hovered over the orange bundle that was laid out on the table before him. There were huge gashes along his flank that ran deep and he was barely managing to stay alive through short, sharp breaths; there was no time to waste. But the robot was at a loss as to what he could actually do. 

“So, what are you gonna do?” Clementine asked, echoing his thoughts. 

“I... I—well...” 

All eyes were on him. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. 

It took everyone in the room a few moments to let that sink in. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Clementine yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert on these things?” 

“No! I mean yes, I might know a bit more about organics than the rest of you but I don’t know how to fix one!” 

“You’ve repaired us thousands of times,” Momo finally spoke up. “Can’t you just...do the same to him?” 

“It doesn’t work like that!” Doc snapped back, a pang of guilt hitting his core when Momo flinched back with his head down, it was almost akin to how Seamus sometimes acted.  

“Organic lifeforms are a lot more...frail than we are,” Doc tried to explain, getting up from the couch to pace up and down the room. “I can’t just stick a screwdriver into him and call it a day.” 

“What about that red stuff?” Seamus spoke up as he knelt down to place a hand near one of the cat’s wounds, instantly withdrawing it when a weak growl warned him off. 

“Blood,” Doc said. “It’s...what oil is to us. Basically, they need it inside of them in order to stay alive.” 

“Guess my shirt was useful for something after all,” Momo weakly joked, taking Doc’s place on the couch. He reached over and tentatively brushed a few fingers along the little outsider’s cheek in a bid to comfort him, only continuing when there was no objection this time. 

“Well, what can you do then?” Clementine demanded. 

Doc ran a hand through his wires as thoughts and ideas raced through his RAM, so much so that it threatened to overheat and combust at any given moment. 

“His wounds need to be cleaned first, preferably with rubbing alcohol in order to get rid of any infection that might set in,” Doc said, turning and leaning over the cat to examine him. “I’ve watched old videos of human doctors stitching up patients with a needle and thread in order to encourage natural healing over time but...” 

He looked over at the little outsider, everything truly feeling hopeless for the first time since being trapped in that little house surrounded by Zurks. 

“But...?” 

“I don’t have any of those things,” Doc muttered, shaking his head. “Not the alcohol, nor the needle and thread, not to mention the lack of skill. What kind of idiotic scientist doesn’t even have the basics, eh? And now, our goddamn saviour is going to die because I can’t do diddly squat to save him!” 

Before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist against the wall, not even caring that he made a dent or the way everyone was suddenly on guard. 

‘Useless...useless...useless...!’  

“Dad,” Seamus gently cut in. “I think I might have an idea.” 

Doc steeled himself for a moment and brushed away his pride and insecurities, nodding at his son to continue. He would take anything at this point, self-pitying could come later. 

“If it’s skill with a needle and thread you’re after, there’s only one person we can call upon.” 

Clementine was the first to catch on. “Grandma? Good call but would she really have the nerve to do something like this? It’s a pretty grim situation and she’s... well...” 

“Don’t underestimate her,” Doc said. “She’s a kind soul but dependable when the situation calls for it. Besides, I can talk her through the process.” 

“I’ll go get her then,” Seamus said, not even waiting for permission as he strode out of the apartment with new-found purpose. When this was all over, Doc made a mental note to tell him how proud he was, no matter the outcome. 

“I’ll swing by the bar then,” Clementine announced. “Jacob’ll probably have something we can use to clean the wound.” Stopping at the door, she mumbled, “Stay strong, little one,” before disappearing into the street. 

Feeling a tad bit more hopeful, Doc checked the cat over one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and reassured a still depressed looking Momo that he was doing good by providing comfort; noting that scratching that spot behind his ear seemed to yield the most promising results. 

It wasn’t much, but Momo took his task seriously nonetheless. Even if they couldn’t save their friend, at least he would know he was loved in his final hours. 

Nipping into the lab to grab a few medical utensils that would assist with the surgery, the older robot almost jumped when he saw B-12 slumped over with his head gripped in his hands. He ran over to check on him, mentally slapping himself for neglecting to do so when the other bot sat up suddenly at the noise. 

“Can I go and see him now?” B-12 asked, desperation in his voice. 

“He’s...not in a good way—” 

“Please.”  

With a sigh, Doc nodded. 

“Of course, let me help you up.” 

 

---

 

Murtaugh wasn’t sure what was taking so long. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening at all, actually.    

The last thing he remembered was that ripping pain, the thrashing, and crawling away into a dark, mold-encrusted pipe to die as the hounds bellowed at him for blood. 

Then...he remembered something trying to lift him; perhaps one of the dogs had gotten to him? But there was a tenderness to the way they carried him. There was a familiar smell too. A few, actually. Of rusted metal and musty old clothes and... the scent trail. His clan. 

Had he found them? Or was his death-riddled mind playing tricks on him? 

They did say that your entire life played out before your eyes when it came to an end. 

His had been a short but rich existence. Although the manner of his death would be sorrowful, the proof of love and the bonds he made were enough to make a good life. The journey he had with B-12 and freeing an entire civilization; he had earned his stripes and then some. 

So why was it taking so long? 

A sharp pain shot through him as something cold and hard touched his wound. His limbs were too heavy to strike out, so all he could do was plead for them to stop. They did, only for the same sensation to start rubbing along his cheek; the touch was strange, albeit a lot more comfortable, so he allowed it. 

Whatever this thing was, it was trying to soothe him in his last moments. Murtaugh was appreciative of this and the fact that he wasn’t alone, and normally he would have conveyed this feeling through purring. However, not having the energy for it, he opted to lean into the touch instead as it started to rub behind his ear. 

Oh, that felt good.  

Cracking open an eye to see if he had truly passed on after all, the cat was blinded by a bright light and blurry figures surrounding him from all sides, forcing him to screw his eye shut again. His ears twitched at the bizarre yet familiar garbling that echoed through his already buzzing brain.  

They were...these were his friends. 

Had they come for him? 

But they had all been so scared to even set a foot outside. It had taken him weeks just to coax them out of their homes. Yet they cared enough for him to venture out and save him from the jaws of death; the thought filled him with new-found affection for his metal brothers and sisters. They were a strange lot, but he considered them family nonetheless. 

That was until the burning began. 

It was only a trickle at first; a little sting. It grew hotter and hotter until it felt like lava was being poured into his wounds as some form of brutal punishment. Murtaugh wanted to scream and get away from whatever hell was being unleashed upon him, but his dry, raw throat could only muster a pitiful whimper.  

The noise seemed to work as the blazing sensation suddenly ceased, and the being that had comforted him before seemed to go into a sort of overdrive, whispering soft static into his ears while rubbing their weird metal paws all over him. 

Murtaugh was almost about to forgive them when he felt a pinprick and something tugging and pulling at his wound. Not quite as painful but definitely not a feeling he was a fan of. 

Was this some sort of cruel punishment he would have to endure for the rest of time? What had he done to deserve this? Deep down, he knew there must have been a good reason as his companions would never hurt him intentionally, but right now he just wanted whatever was happening right now to just stop.  

The hand returned, this time scratching under his chin in a bid to apologize. 

He would forgive them, one day. 

 

---

 

“Apologies for being so blunt, but is there any chance you could speed this up?” Momo asked with a concerned look. “He looks so uncomfortable.” 

“I am aware, but you cannot rush a procedure as delicate as this,” Grandma replied as she kept her laser-like focus on the surgery she was performing, her nimble hands working through the stitches with utmost precision. Doc provided assistance by chiming in every now and then along with cutting the wires and making sure the vodka that Clementine had provided was soaking into the wound properly.  

“Ah, yes of course. Apologies again.” 

“It doesn’t help that you’re all staring.” 

Momo was taken aback slightly; he had never heard Grandma talk in such a blunt manner. She had always been so sweet to him and the others. 

“She’s right. I know it’s tough but if everyone could step back, we would appreciate it,” Doc said. “Apart from you, B-12, of course,” he added, to which the latter nodded gratefully, continuing to reassure the cat as much as he possibly could through comforting words and gentle touch. 

Clementine was already hanging back, opting to keep herself busy while Seamus only stepped in now and then to hand his father some tools or re-soak the alcoholic cloth that they were using to dab the injuries. 

That only left Momo. 

The robot stood there, tapping his fingers together as he tried to think of something that he could do to help with the situation. Some of the others had offered their assistance; Guardian had left his post to gather herbs in the local forest that would help with the healing process, Elliot had donated the poncho that the cat had given to him to help with his shivering, muttering that they needed it more than him right now. Even this strange group of robots from Midtown had offered to put together a playlist of ‘totally groovy’ music to cheer the furball up while he recovered. 

It was uplifting to see everyone come together to help this strange little creature that had saved them all. 

But it also left a bitter feeling in Momo’s core. Was he really this hopeless? He supposed his hat and shirt had played a part in saving their furry friend, but that had technically been Clementine’s idea so it didn’t really count. 

A faint shuffling from the doorway interrupted his gloomy thoughts as he turned to see...nothing. But there had definitely been a noise. Seeing as everyone else was busy, Momo took it upon himself to check it out. 

Stepping out into the cold night—so much brisker without clothes—he looked up and down the street with a question mark on his multi-coloured screen. 

“Hello?” He tentatively called out. “Is that you, Guardian? You were awfully quick!” 

Nothing. 

Though Guardian had a tendency to quietly sneak up on people—being a martial arts expert and all—he wasn’t one for pulling pranks, especially during such dire situations as this one. No, this was something else. 

Momo jumped at a sudden clattering that came from a nearby alleyway, and stared with wide eyes when a random can came rolling out from the darkness. 

Oh, well that wasn’t a good sign.  

There had been rumors of a few stray Zurks managing to escape the mass culling that the sun had brought upon them by lurking down in the sewers and coming out to hunt at night. Doc had managed to re-create his Defluxor and it was in the process of being mass-produced by Neo Corp to finally solve their pest problem once and for all. In the meantime, there was a curfew. 

So, it would probably be best to shut the door and pray that they can’t chew their way through it. 

Momo shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for cowardice! Not when he was trying so hard to show the others that he had changed. He had thrown himself at those terrifying beasts earlier today, was he really gonna let a few Zurks scare him now? 

Grabbing a nearby glass bottle and slipping out, Momo steeled himself for a moment before turning the corner and raising the bottle to strike. 

Only to drop it when three pairs of wide doe-like eyes stared back at him from the shadows, scarpering as the bottle crashed onto the ground.  

Furball’s family! 

“Wait!” Momo pleaded while kneeling and holding out his hands. “I-I’m sorry, little ones! I thought you were a pack of Zurks! Please...” 

They stopped to gaze at him from a distance. 

“Please come back,” Momo tried again. “Your friend— our friend—he’s...he’s really struggling in there right now and...,” the robot put his hands together. “We’re trying everything we can to save him but...” 

The robot slumped and sighed. 

“What I mean to say is... my friends are the ones trying everything. I’m just...hoping he’ll make it. Fat lot of good that’ll do, eh?” 

The felines had slinked away from their hiding places and were sitting there watching him with tilted heads. Probably judging him. 

“We are attempting to comfort him but you three can communicate with him in ways we cannot, so, please...,” Momo held his hand out. “Won’t you come inside?” 

Before he could even finish, two of the cats had already dashed past him to get into the apartment, with the black one only stopping briefly to rub her head against his hand and mewing. 

Momo was completely gob smacked. “I... y-you’re welcome...?” 

It seemed that the operation had been finished while Momo was out as by the time he returned, Grandma was washing her hands of dried blood while Doc carefully wrapped guaze around Furball’s stitches and lifted him from the table to the couch, jumping and almost swearing when three yowls sounded out from around his feet. 

“So you found them,” Clementine observed, handing Momo a brand-new white shirt. 

“In a manner of speaking,” he said, scrutinizing the lack of colour on the garment with a frowny face. 

“Good work,” she praised with a smile. “We’ve done everything we can, but I think having his own kind around will give him the best chance.” 

His core swelling with pride, Momo decided to chance his arm. 

“This was really the best you could find?” 

“Don’t push it.” 

The robots gathered around the couch as the three cats jumped up and curled around their sibling, washing him and rubbing themselves against him. The room almost seemed to vibrate with their purring; with a weaker pulse joining the other three. 

“Such a beautiful sound.” Grandma said, a heart lighting up her screen. 

“He seems really happy,” Seamus noted. “That’s a good sign, right pops? That he’ll make it?” 

Doc responded by wrapping a tired arm around his shoulder. “I hope so, Seamus. I really do.” 

B-12 said nothing, merely opting to place his hand on top of the cat’s head, looking up when Momo immediately followed suit. 

“He’ll make it.” 

Clementine joined them. 

“Yeah, he’s a tough little guy.” 

“I believe in him,” Seamus reached over, as did Doc. 

 “A remarkable specimen!” 

“And a friend to us all,” Grandma finished. 

Unbeknown to them, Murtaugh’s purring only grew in strength as he snuggled into the warmth of his companions, both organic and metal. 

He was alone no more.   

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

I was gonna just have one more chapter as an epilogue and leave it there but I'm honestly enjoying writing this so much that I kinda wanna have future chapters dedicated to each character helping the cat recover to give them a bit more time to shine (Guardian trying some meditation with him, B-12 opening up, Doc and Seamus with their self esteem issues and some Momo shenanigans etc)

But I'm not sure if that would be adding too much and I should just leave it as a short,sweet package? Tell me what you guys think and I'll see what the general consensus is :)

Chapter 4: The Guardian

Guardian had been the one to stay by the little one’s side that night. He had urged the others into getting some rest after the harrowing events they had endured that day. Especially B-12, as he needed extra maintenance and a few updates just to keep himself online. He refused, of course, but the threat of shutting down completely again was enough to get him to begrudgingly comply, though not without the promise of at least being close by to his friend. 

His wish was granted, and as he powered down in Doc’s lab, the rest had taken to their respective apartments, with Clementine crashing at Momo’s while Doc and Seamus opted to escort Grandma back; no doubt she had convinced them to stay. 

A soft trill snapped Guardian out of his thoughts, his head swivelling to the source of the noise. One of the cats—the white one—stretched out and licked his brother’s head before dropping down from the couch to cautiously approach the robot. 

He merely observed, making no move as to not startle the creature while he sniffed him. 

The feline made a strange expression then; his mouth hanging open for a few seconds before he promptly left to scratch some nearby carpet. 

‘What on earth was that all about?’ Guardian wondered. 

He liked to think that he was more in touch with nature than the rest of the Companions. Unlike the others, he had taken the time to go further out into the wilds to explore them and take in their awe-inspiring beauty; from the shrill chirps of the tiny, colourful creatures that darted through the skies to the grandeur of the huge trees that loomed over them all. 

The Outside was so wildly wonderful, and he wanted to learn all about it. Even the strange quirks of the creatures that called it home. 

Another cat seemed to take her brother’s cue and strolled over to join him. The pair groomed and greeted each other before making their way over to the door, scratching at it and yowling to be let out. 

“Where are you going?” Guardian couldn’t help but ask as he got up, hesitantly putting a hand on the door knob. 

They stared at him blankly as they waited, the black cat mewing at him as if to tell him to hurry up. 

He frowned. On one hand he couldn’t keep them trapped here against their will. On the other, he was afraid they would just leave and never come back, which would stress out their friend—and in turn—the other Outsiders. 

His hand dropped. 

This seemed to anger them as the pair of them started yowling louder and circled around his feet, threatening to awaken the orange cat from his slumber. 

That couldn’t happen; he needed to rest if he was to recover fully. 

“Alright, fine,” Guardian conceded, but not before walking to the couch to grab his staff. “But I will escort you to wherever you need to go, unless you would like to end up like your sibling.” 

Satisfied when there was no protest, he checked over the ginger tabby to make sure he was comfortable—luckily the calico seemed content to stay by his side—before finally opening the door. 

Guardian wasn’t prepared for the sheer speed of these creatures as they darted out the door and made a beeline for the exit. Thankfully, years of martial arts training permitted him to keep up with them, but only just. 

A short sprint and elevator ride brought them to their location: the Outside. The cats made their way through the slumbering camp and into the maws of the forest. Guardian had never walked through it during the dawn of a new day, and it was quite the spectacle to behold. 

It seemed to be the dominion of the feathered ones as they sang in a unionised chorus, their voices echoing through the whispers of the wind as they rustled the leaves of the trees around them. There was something so other-worldly about it; an old earth rekindled as the daylight unwrapped the hues of the world. 

It was truly magical, but they weren’t here to admire the sights and sounds. 

Wait, why were they here? 

His answer came in the form of a dead feathered one that one of the cats carried in their jaws. 

Ah. 

Guardian had forgotten about the organics need for constant sustenance. And the fact that it had to come from other organics just seemed...tragic. Doc had touched on it briefly, about how some organics could rely on plants for their nutrition, while others relied on flesh. 

It reminded him of the Zurks. 

He shook his head. No. These were complex, beautiful animals that had a lot of love and intelligence to share, not mindless pests that devoured anything that so much as looked at them funny. Besides, there was a delicate balance to nature; one that required all creatures to play their part. There couldn’t be one without the other. 

So, if his friend needed organic flesh to survive, then so be it. 

While the cats hunted, Guardian gathered a few Valerian flowers and Golden-seal roots to assist with the little outsider’s healing. He had tried showing it to one of the others who had taken an interest in what he was doing, who then promptly gagged and walked away. 

'Rude.' 

A faint rustling nearby caught Guardian’s attention, and he swiftly set down his ingredients and picked up his staff, taking slow and steady steps towards the source. Ignoring it wasn’t wise, and running away would trigger a hunt if this was a predator, and there was no way he was risking the little ones’ safety out here. 

Crouching into the bushes, he parted the leaves to reveal a pack of dogs. The very same that had been prowling the outskirts of the city the other day. 

And judging by the infected eye and bloodied jaws on one of them, the ones who had nearly killed his friend. 

A strange sort of sharpness jabbed up from Guardian’s core and threatened to burst free from his chest. It startled him. Was he scared? No, he couldn’t have been; he had learned to master his fear years ago. So, what was this...emotion that boiled inside of him? 

The red hue of his screen made him realise: anger. 

He was furious . That these horrible beasts that had mauled his and the Companions’ very dear friend were just sitting there lounging around like they hadn’t done anything. There was a raw, primal urge to just charge at them and swing wildly. To shout and scream at them for inflicting such pain and agony on not just the little one, but all of the Companions. 

A loud squeal was the only thing that stopped him from pouncing. 

There was something small crawling near the injured dog, upon closer inspection there were a few, actually. They were barely bigger than her paws, and were awkwardly crawling along the ground with their eyes screwed shut and whining at her for something. 

She obeyed them immediately, laying down and exposing her belly to them, to which they latched onto immediately. 

Guardian’s eyes widened; those were her children. 

They...seemed to be feeding off of her. Gaining nourishment. And in order to provide that to them... 

The robot glanced down to the black cat that had lingered to his side, a dead mouse in her jaws. Her emerald eyes held no malice as she watched them, no hissing or yowling; no urge to get revenge for what they had done to her sibling. 

She merely walked off with her prey. Feeling ashamed, Guardian followed. 

 

---

 

The orange cat was awake by the time they returned, and unfortunately seemed desperate to get off the couch to greet them. 

“Ah! No, you stay there,” Guardian coaxed, rushing over and gently easing him back down into a lying position. “You mustn’t move so much; you could undo all of Doc and Grandma’s hard work. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” 

He was answered with a deafening, drawn-out yowl. 

‘Oh goodness.’  

Mercifully, he was silenced with the promise of a meal that was unceremoniously plopped down in front of him by his siblings, which he greedily started to tear into. 

Guardian smiled at the sight. It was so relieving to see the feline growing so rapidly in strength. The others would be overjoyed too, whenever they awoke. 

Doc probably less so, given the mess that was being made on his couch. 

Guardian got to smashing and mixing the herbs he had gathered in the forest into a sort of paste, stirring them in with a touch of water before presenting the medicine to the feline when he had finished his meal. 

Dabbing his mechanical finger in, he offered a small dollop of the green goop to the cat. 

“Here, this will make you feel better.” 

Curious, he reached his head over to sniff and—like his sibling had done before him—gagged and turned his nose up at it. 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” 

 The tabby stared at him, flicking his tail. 

“These herbs will help you heal.” 

A slow blink. 

“Please?”    

Determined to have the final say in the matter, the cat lifted his leg and started to groom himself down below.  

Guardian would have been offended if he wasn’t so impressed with the flexibility that was being displayed in front of him. Glancing around, he noticed the other cats were in similar positions as they licked their fur, the barbed hooks on their tongues acting as a sort of brush. 

An idea popped into his RAM. 

“Alright then,” Guardian finally conceded, putting the medicine away. “If you will not accept my gift, then perhaps there are other ways we can accelerate your recovery.” 

This seemed to catch the feline’s attention as his head snapped up with an inquisitive “Mrreh?” while Guardian started getting things ready by setting a large rug onto the floor and fiddling with the radio until he settled on a channel that had the closest thing to relaxing music. 

“Now,” Guardian started, kneeling down in front of the couch. “In ancient times, Martial Yoga was the discipline of Vedic warriors, and to this day aspects of warrior nature remain in yoga practice, both on the physical and spiritual level.” 

Though the cat couldn’t understand him, he seemed to be paying particular attention to what Guardian was saying. His olive eyes trained on him and his head bobbing to the side every now and then as the robot explained. 

“You’re at the earliest stage of recovery, so you mustn’t overexert yourself,” Guardian held up a finger as if he were gently explaining rules to a child. “But a little bit of exercise should do you a world of good, yes?” 

The orange tabby sniffed his finger and started licking it. 

“Alright then.” 

Keeping a mental note to wash his hand as he knew where that tongue had just been, Guardian gingerly wrapped his arms around the feline—taking care not to touch the area wrapped in bandages—and placed him onto the carpet before lowering himself down into a downward dog position. 

“Now, we’ll start off with something easy, and seeing as you’re already on four legs, you’ve got the first position down,” Guardian said, checking to see if the cat was still listening. Satisfied that he was, he continued. 

“Now, lift your right arm off the mat and kick your left leg out to the right to hover, then return to your original position.” 

Despite having rusted, mechanical joints, Guardian performed the action as elegantly and fluidly as any human would have done in the past. He prided himself in his ability to overcome the limitations of his physical body, he only wished the others—like Momo—would do the same. Hunting Zurks would be a lot easier if he had more able-bodied allies. 

Turning his head to the cat, he nodded.  

“Go on.” 

Mewing, the cat lifted his paw. 

“The wrong side but okay, good start.” 

Deciding that was enough, Guardian was treated to a barrage of trilling and head-butting as his friend walked up to him—still in the downward dog position—and weaved between his arms and legs before leaping up onto his back. 

“I—hey! I told you not to overexert yourself!” Guardian chastised with an angry face. “Now please, get down from there!” 

He felt soft paws walking up and down his back before settling into a sitting down position, one leg kicking up as he started grooming himself once again. 

‘What cheek!’  

“I will not tell you again!” Guardian warned, trying to reach his hand behind his back to—as gently as he could manage—ease the cat down. 

He wouldn’t budge, instead opting to tuck his legs in as he settled himself down, much to the robot’s impending distress. 

“You’re not coming down, are you?” 

The other cats started to take an interest in what was going on and joined their sibling in his takeover of the yoga session, bumping their heads and flanks against him, attacking his shawl and being generally all-around nuisances before he finally admitted defeat and laid face-down on the ground, letting them walk all over him—figuratively and physically. 

Despite all of that, Guardian couldn’t find it in himself to get mad at them. 

Even after such a tragic event, these animals were rolling around and playing without a care in the world. There was no lingering malice or sadness, no hate for the ones who inflicted such pain on them. They were just happy to get their friend back. 

And so was he. 

“Compromise,” Guardian offered, earning the attention of his feline captives. “How about we try something else? I think you’ll like this.” 

 

---

 

Doc and Seamus were the first to return. Leaving his son to reveal if their efforts had been enough, the scientist went to call on the others, muttering something about Schrodinger's cat. With a shaky sigh, Seamus expected the worst when he opened the door to the apartment, only to be welcomed to quite a peculiar sight. 

Guardian was sitting in the middle of the room with his legs crossed and the orange cat curled up in his lap, the other three splayed out in other parts of the room like the couch, the shelves and the table. A strange smoky mist wisping from small sticks that were dotted about the apartment and swirled gently around the room. 

If Seamus could breathe, he would have been choking. But the cats seemed completely entranced. 

“Ah, hello Seamus,” Guardian greeted, opening his eyes as sunlight streamed through the open door. The cat shifted a little in his lap, looking less than pleased at the sudden intrusion. 

“Uh...hi,” Seamus managed back with an awkward wave. “What’s...?” 

“Our friend here needed some calming down,” Guardian answered, easing the agitated tabby with long, smooth strokes along his back; it seemed to work as a soft purr started to emanate from him.  

“So, he’s—?!” 

Guardian nodded. “Alive and well.” 

Seamus’s screen lit up with an ecstatic expression—quite a rare sight—as he practically threw himself down next to Guardian to look over the furry bundle in his lap, warping into a heart when he was greeted with a happy trill. 

“Oh, that’s amazing! I knew you could pull through, little one!” Seamus exclaimed, reaching out to pet him behind the ears. “Wait until the others find out!” 

“Find out what?”  

Both robots looked up to see Momo and Clementine come through the door, followed by Doc. Momo was the first to notice them and—like Seamus—nearly tripped up as he clumsily flew to Guardian’s other side. 

“Look who’s still in the land of the living!” Momo cooed as he tickled the little cat’s chin, nearly squealing when he was rewarded with loud, needy purring. “Who’s a brave wittle boy? It’s you! Yes, you are~” 

Ignoring the completely bewildered looks from the others, he gestured to Clementine, who was standing back with her arms crossed and a fond smile gracing her monitor. 

“Come over and say hi!” 

“I don’t want to crowd him...” 

“We already are and he loves it! Come on!” The robot pleaded. 

Rolling her eyes, she walked over and shuffled in between Momo and Seamus, using the back of her hand to gently stroke a single, outstretched paw. 

“I’m really glad you’re alive,” she said. 

The cat responded in kind by licking her hand. 

“What Clementine means to say is she woves you to the moon and back!” Momo continued his baby-talk, not even caring about the murderous look being directed at him. “Yes, she does~ Ow!” 

A whack upside the head was enough to shut him up as Doc shooed them all away to check the cat’s vitals, nodding in satisfaction when everything came up normal before addressing the others. 

“Now, I know we’re all happy that our very dear friend has made it through the night but that’s not to say he’s fighting fit just yet. For the next few days, we’ll all have to keep a very close eye on him, make sure he’s consuming well, getting enough rest, not to mention getting those stitches out...” 

He trailed off, a nervous tone lingering in his voice, but he snapped himself out of it before anyone noticed. 

“And! Do not let him touch the wound; it will get infected. He may try to take the stitches out himself but with a constant change of gauze, that hopefully shouldn’t be a problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure B-12 will be wanting to see him.” 

Pausing at the couch to gaze at the small animal remains smeared on his couch with a question mark, the scientist shook his head. 

“I’m not even going to ask.” 

Watching as Doc made his way into the lab, Guardian savoured his last fleeting moments with the cat before he would inevitably have to leave. It was a shame but alas, the city wasn’t going to guard itself. And his friends were here now to take over, he was going to be well looked after during these next few days; it was the least he deserved, given all that he had done for them. 

“Did you hear that, little one? You’re going to be just fine.” 

Looking up with those big bright eyes of his, his friend slowly blinked at him before burrowing his head further into Guardian’s lap, twisting his body and stretching out his legs as he settled once more for a nice, long nap. 

‘Oh, little one. If only you knew.’    

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

 

Notes:

Ok SO I have decided to keep things going with each Companion (core cast) playing a part in kitty's recovery (and vice versa *wink wonk*). I don't really have a set plan in regards to this so my question to you lot is would there be anyone in particular you would like to see in the next chapter? Momo? Doc & Seamus? Clementine or B-12? Should Grandma have her own chapter? Any others I haven't mentioned? Let me know!

Chapter 5: The Companion

B-12 hadn’t stopped reprimanding himself since the moment he came back online.  

Not only had he been a terrible friend to the little outsider during their journey by not asking him about his family or where he had come from (not that he would have gotten much of an answer due to their language barrier, but still!) but now he had failed him again by being the very last one to wake up and find out how the feline was—if he had made it through the night. 

Thank the ancestors he had. 

Remarkably, the orange tabby didn’t seem to hold it against him as he treated him as fondly and with as much adoration as he did during their travels. Trilling and bumping his head against his hand until he got what he wanted in the form of a head scratch. It was an odd sensation; of fur brushing up against his metal digits, but it was one he was all too glad to experience. 

“Despite everything, you really haven’t changed, have you?” B-12 muttered fondly. 

“Mrrrrh?”  

“Do you even recognize me?” The robot asked, his tone melancholic as he cupped the cat’s face gently in-between his hands. 

“You probably can’t understand me without my translator,” B-12 said. “But I do hope you know it’s me.” 

“Rrrrehh!” was his answer as the cat rubbed his head deeper into his palms, a strong, hearty purr emanating from his throat as he aimed a slow, loving blink at the mech.  

B-12 smiled. “I’m glad.” 

Rubbing his thumbs in a slow-circular motion against his friend’s cheeks, B-12 glanced over to the other room, where he could hear Doc busying himself with sorting the lab back into what he called ‘organised chaos’, complaining that Seamus had tidied it up too much.  

“Excuse me?” B-12 gingerly called out, flinching when, along with a clattering crash, Doc swore loudly before popping his head through the doorway. 

“Yes?” He inquired sweetly, as if nothing had happened. 

“S-sorry, did I...?” 

Doc held up a hand. “No, it’s fine. The ol’ wires are just a bit frazzled today,” he said, tousling his own tangled cables as if to make a point. 

“No doubt,” B-12 politely answered. “I was just wondering if...,” he trailed off, not wanting to inconvenience the scientist more than he already had, but continued when he was gestured at. “Would it be possible if I could— we could— go outside for a little fresh air?” 

Doc made a frowny face at the suggestion. “I don’t know... technically you don’t need air. And you’re in no fit state to go wandering off, neither is he,” he said, nodding his head to the cat, who—as if to prove him wrong— dropped down from the crouch with a light thud and stretched himself before scratching the carpet with newfound vigour. 

Both robots gave him a surprised look, with Doc shaking his head and grumbling something about getting a scratching post. 

“Fair enough, I stand corrected,” Doc admitted. “Which, I’m afraid, is something you cannot do at the moment. Not without help.” 

“Yes, I understand,” B-12 nodded sadly. “It’s just...I promised the little one that we would see the Outside together, and given how terribly I have done with my promises so far, I just...thought...” he trailed off, his downtrodden expression pixelating into a broken heart. 

As if to really sell the performance, his friend rubbed against his leg, mewing with a catch in his throat, making it sound as miserable and broken as possible. 

“Oh, for the love of— fine,” Doc said, throwing up his arms as he caved in to their little pity party. “I won’t be able to help you—I have far too much to do— but...if I recall correctly, the soft ones would use long sticks—canes—to help them walk if they had any difficulty. 

‘Yes,' B-12 had wanted to say. ‘I remember that.’  

“Let me see here...” Doc muttered as he rummaged through an old dusty cupboard, before pulling out an old broom. “Ah. This should suffice for the time being.” 

Breaking off the bottom, Doc handed it over to him. 

“Go on, take it for a spin, as the ancestors would say,” the scientist said, putting a hand to his chin in thought. “Wonder why they spun things...?” 

Knowing not to take the old saying quite so literally, B-12 tested his make-shift cane by tapping it on the ground to make sure it was stiff and sturdy. Whether it would be strong enough to take his weight was another matter... 

Feeling absolutely no pressure at all from the two pairs of eyes diligently trained on him—with Doc’s hands twitching at his side, no doubt ready to spring into action should the worst happen—B-12 took a non-existent breath and hoisted himself up. 

Though he could feel no pain; the way that his knee joints creaked and popped was not at all pleasant, and the way his arm shook as the stick took the brunt of his weight wasn’t lost on him either, there was no way he was going to be able to hold out. 

‘I really am sorry...’ B-12 thought as he screwed his eyes shut. ‘I have failed you yet again...!’  

A soft vibration next to his knocking legs made him look down, the orange cat looking right back up at him with knowing eyes as if to say, “You’re strong. You can do this.”  

Nodding back, B-12 forced a leg forward. 

“Hey! You’re doing it!” Doc exclaimed. 

“I am?” B-12 asked as he looked down; another leg moved forward, one after the other, with his friend winding between them with every step. “I am!” 

“Remarkable!” Doc cheered with a punch to the air. “B-but!” The scientist started, his excitement instantly withdrawing. “You might want to take a break; you wouldn’t want to undo all your hard work!” 

“No.” B-12 shook his head. 

“No?” 

“Sorry Doc, but I want—I need— to go Outside. I need to see it now. With my own eyes. With him.” B-12 said, crouching to pet the cat as he trilled in agreement. 

Doc waved a nonchalant hand; who was he to argue? 

“Like I said before: that’s fine. Just...make it back by dusk, eh? We haven’t brought you both back from the brink of death just to lose you to the Zurks.” 

B-12 nodded, and turned back to his friend. 

“Might we take a little pit-stop along the way?” 

 

---

 

Arriving at his old apartment had been less...poetic than B-12 would have wanted. 

The abandoned house, after so much quiet and reflective time, had discovered the company of wildflowers that had sprung up when the sun poured through, bringing a little bit of brightness to what was still a depressing looking apartment. As if to combat the gloominess, that same jovial tune was somehow still playing on loop; it left a hollow feeling inside him, like a husk. 

Speaking of which... 

Hobbling into the room where it all began, B-12 stared at all the blank monitors that enveloped the room, the ones that he had used to guide the cat to the secret lab. The one he had hidden away from prying eyes in a last bid to escape his fate.  

Bending down, B-12 picked up the head of the lifeless body that was slumped next to the pod. His head. Of his lifeless body.  

That’s right. In a last-ditch attempt, he had tried to transfer his consciousness into this Companion to preserve his own life. 

And there were many more pods like this dotted around the city. 

“You don’t think...?” B-12 looked down to the cat, who was pawing at one of the levers. 

Chuckling, B-12 set down the robot's head and gave it a light pat. Solving this world’s mysteries would have to wait until another day. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

“That’s right,” he said, idly testing the lever for himself. “You were the one who freed me from the network. Twice, actually.” 

Moving on, B-12 followed the cat around the apartment—dolefully noting how sluggish and slow the usually spry feline was—until they reached the cabinet that had once held their favourite backpack. 

“Do you miss it?” He asked, amusement in his tone. 

“Mrrrah!”  

“I thought so,” B-12 agreed. “You were flopping around so dramatically when I put it on you, I thought we might never escape the apartment, never mind the city.” 

“Ehhh.”  

“Oh, hush now. We got through it, didn’t we? Just one of many hurdles that we faced together, hm?” 

Ignoring his creaking joints, B-12 sat down on the carpet next to him, pinching and smoothing out the long, hard whiskers that sprung out from his muzzle. Unlike the tabby’s soft fur, they were sleek, and sharp to the touch, almost like a porcupine’s spines. The motion almost put B-12 into a sort of trance, only stopping when his friend decided that was enough by batting his hand away. 

“Apologies,” B-12 said with a pat on the head, which was received a lot better. “I never had cats in my past life, which I wholeheartedly regret now. My wife was more of a dog person.” 

“Meh!”  

The robot held up his hands in defense. “My wife, I said! Not me. I... didn’t even like dogs that much. I don’t think I liked any animals at all, really. How times have changed!” He said with a sudden smile, which disappeared almost as quickly. 

“I-I miss her. And the kids. Two daughters, I think we had. Adopted. The plague...it...affected our reproductive organs first. There was a sudden decline in birth-rate. That was the beginning of our demise.” 

With a sigh, he chuckled dryly. 

“Here I go again, talking about myself. When will I learn?”  

The cat—lying at B-12's feet now—said nothing, but blinked slowly at him. Though they couldn’t understand each other through words anymore, those olive eyes bore right through his metal shell and latched onto B-12's soul, giving it passage to a kind of warmth and understanding that no language could ever describe. 

“Thank you, my friend.” 

 

---

 

Stepping onto the fresh grass that sprouted from the earth for the first time was a much more euphoric experience than the apartment had been. The rolling fields that were just outside the walled city were like a green sea with white-dew-foam crests that rose with the sunlight and swayed with the wind. Perhaps when the Companions settlements expanded, the tops would be neatly trimmed, and she would be quiet as harbour waters, flat and calm.  

But for now, mother-nature was as joyous as the waves; natural and wild. 

To say it made B-12's core race with exhilaration would be a severe understatement. 

“It’s... beautiful ...,” was all B-12 could manage. 

His feline friend seemed less bothered by the grand vista and opted to raise his head and sniff the sweet scent that the fresh rain often brought as small droplets gently pitter-pattered from the gray heavens above. 

“Oh dear,” B-12 muttered, raising a hand to catch a few splashes of water. “Come, we best make tracks if we’re to avoid this downpour.” 

Going as fast as the stick would allow him, B-12 made his way towards one of the nearby camps as the other robots took shelter—though grateful to be under the sky, they were still wary of the unpredictable elements that she wrought upon them sometimes. Especially when it came to the electricity that bolted from the heavens and unfortunately frying a few poor unsuspecting souls. 

Glancing down and concerned to see that his companion wasn’t weaving between his legs, B-12 turned back to see that he actually hadn’t budged at all, sending B-12's RAM for a loop. 

“What on earth are you doing?” The robot asked, gesturing at him to come. “We mustn’t stay out here.” 

Completely ignoring him, the cat merely sat and raised his head with his eyes closed, as if he were actually enjoying getting wet. 

“What kind of cat are you?!” B-12 exclaimed, completely exasperated as he hobbled back to his friend to glare down at him, eventually breaking down into a bemused smile as he shrugged. “You’re so strange, you know that?” 

“Mreh!”  

“Fine, but only for a little while,” B-12 conceded, lowering himself onto the softening mud. “After that, we’ll have to dry off, preferably before we get an earful from Doc.” 

“Ehhh...”  

“Then it’s a deal.”  

As the raindrops fell with a steady rhythm, B-12 mirrored his companion and faced his screen up to the blossomed clouds, closed his optics for a moment and imagined each splash soaking into his skin, the wind tousling his hair and the damp soil beneath his curling fingers, soothing in its coolness. Hearing their laughter, he opened his eyes to see his children playing and splashing in the mud in their brand-new wellies, beckoning at him to join them. 

A presence rose at his side, a woman—the most beautiful he had ever saw—ran over to them, her auburn hair swaying as she grabbed one of them, swinging the child in circles as she squealed with joy. They all turned to look at him, holding out their hands with beaming smiles. 

And he took them. Grasped at them. Never wanting to let go. 

They jumped, they laughed, and they fell back onto the rain-soaked earth, not caring about how many washes or detergent it was going to take to get all the dirt and muck out. 

As the sun broke out from the clouds, they all reached out to try and grab a piece as the light escaped from their fingers.  

He reached up. 

And just like that they were gone. 

Blinking and rotating his still outstretched hand as the sun rays bounced off his metal fingers, B-12 sat up—mud and stray grass blades sliding off his chassis—and looked down at the orange cat, who hadn’t left his side throughout his...daydream? Hallucination? 

“What happened?” The robot asked, hoping to get some kind of clarification from his only witness. 

The cat sneezed. 

“I see.” 

It was...the perfect memory. One of such intense feelings of happiness. The last time he had ever experienced such an emotion as a human. His other memories had been fleeting, but he was determined to cling onto this one and store it in his RAM to play out like an old movie reel whenever he needed to. Of this, he was certain.

Grateful that nobody else had seen what he could only imagine was an ungraceful display, B-12 stood up and brushed himself down, noticing only then that his walking cane was still on the ground. 

“I... what?” B-12 breathed as he lifted up each leg and hopped on it before kneeling down and touching his companion on the head just to make sure he was indeed still in the realm of reality. 

A head bump confirmed it. 

“Unbelievable...” B-12 muttered in amazement. His legs were still creaking a bit too loudly for his liking, but he could walk. Just like that. “Quite a day this has been, huh?” 

As if the sky itself had been listening to him, colours of all kinds arched into the bold, blue sky, stretching as open hands reaching for the sun-kissed rain. From the vivid red to the regal purple, it was like a doorway in which all around them was home, a place where robots and organics could be free and safe. 

With a smile as bright as the rainbow, B-12 bent down to pick up his best friend, and held him close to his chest, his fingers combing through wet fur and chin resting between two flicking ears. Feeling content for the first time in centuries. 

There were words he wanted to say that could convey such happiness; of how grateful he was for this little kitten dropping into his life and changing it for the better. For being given the chance to have a future in this beautiful, heavenly place they could call home. 

“Mrah!”  

“You said it, friend.” 

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

Notes:

Little bit of reminiscing never hurt nobody C,:

Anyhoo, I will /attempt/ a Zbaltazar chapter next as the poor lad hasn't gotten much attention but I am uh kinda struggling to come up with something so it may take a little longer.

Chapter 6: The Meditator

Zbaltazar, having been in a constant state of transcendental meditation for the past decade, had reconnected to the world in a way that nobody could even dream of. Since his body had lost the ability to move and withered to a motionless husk, he would not let the same thing happen to his RAM, and so he sought out divine peace within the digital space of the network. There, he found open connections that would allow him to truly blossom from within. 

And yet he had been the last to find out about the city opening up. 

All it took had been a rough shaking of the shoulder to sever those connections that he had cherished for so long, but as he went to snap at the perpetrator, all twelve of his screens glared at...Clementine. 

She was alive. 

He had been so desperate back then to pull her in for an embrace and tell her how grateful he was that she had finally come back for him, only managing to do the latter, much to his sorrow. 

Appearing tormented herself, she performed the action for him, digging her face into his neck and apologising over and over for taking so long, that she hadn’t meant to abandon him and she would do everything in her power to fix him up, so help her God. If only he could forgive her for what she had done.  

“I will never leave you like that again, Zar,” she had said, and he believed her. 

With great effort, Zbaltazar slowly reached up his heavy, rusted arm and placed it upon her back, telling her there was nothing to forgive. 

Though they could not cry, Clementine had that day. As did he. 

It was a memory he would cherish forever. 

Dozens of construction workers had been called upon to finally move him from Antvillage, which had been all but abandoned. The only residents now were migrating birds that had settled into the massive tree-house, for which Zbaltazar had been grateful—he didn’t want this place that had been so kind to him to wither and die like the rest of the city had. Like his body had. 

He had been moved to a settlement just outside the wall, near the lake. Given a modest but cozy little house that overlooked the great body of water, but was still close enough to the city that he still had a connection to the network; the best of both worlds. 

Despite that, he had been finding himself meditating without the need of the digital space as the sounds of the world had him drift off; from the gentle lapping of the water to the birdsong that whispered with the wind and the stars that blanketed the night sky—the intranet had nothing on the real thing. 

And it was all thanks to the little outsider. 

So of course he had offered to look after him while he recovered. 

“Are you sure?” Momo had asked during their call. “Doc’s performing maintenance on B-12, Clem’s helping out with the building again and Seamus has volunteered to help around the bar. So... it’d be a huge help if you could keep an eye on him, just for the afternoon, mind you!” 

“Of course,” Zbaltazar said. “It’s the least I can do, but might I ask...” 

“Hm?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hey! A guy can have a job!” Momo exclaimed, looking completely offended. 

“He can,” Zbaltazar smirked. “But that’s not what you have.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“I have eyes everywhere, Momo. I know what everyone is doing at any given moment.” 

Momo grimaced. “That’s just creepy.” 

“I jest,” Zbaltazar chuckled. “You’re just lazy.” 

“That’s it. I’m hanging up now!” 

“Make sure to bring the little one’s friends, I would like to meet them.” 

Momo made a face as the connection cut, but he knew his friend would comply with his request. He worried about Zbaltazar being on his own, and would often visit under the guise that the others had put him up to it, bringing playing cards and other mind-numbing games that usually threw him into a fit of frustration by the end of the night.  

Doc and Seamus had visited a couple of times too, with the scientist poking and prodding at him to get his dead limbs working again, often appearing deflated when nothing would work. Zbaltazar would tell him it was fine, and that he had made his peace with it, though it fell on deaf audio receptors as Doc vowed that he would never give up, while Seamus could only offer a meek apology on his father’s behalf. 

Even Grandma had come over once, worried that he might be catching a cold out here in the wilderness and draped a large. beautiful poncho over his frame. Zbaltazar adored it, and insisted she stay for a cup of hot oil, which she unfortunately had to pour for herself—even though she didn’t mind, it still hurt that he couldn’t even offer common courtesy towards his guests. 

The only one he had yet to see was Clementine. 

He thought back to how reserved she had been that day he had been moved from Antvillage. Her usually bright soul and... colourful attitude were muted and dull as she talked sparingly, never looking at him directly. It frightened him. 

Zbaltazar was as forbearing as robots came; he trusted the universe to bring the right people and circumstances into his life at the right time. But even he was starting to lose his patience with her. She was his best friend, his partner in crime, his wingbot. 

So where was she? 

As if the stars had aligned to answer his beckoning call, there was a faint rapping at the door.  

“Come in!” He called out, his dozen screens lighting up with happy faces until Momo let himself in. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Zbaltazar said, his usual one-eyed expression replacing the monitors almost instantly. 

“No need to sound so disappointed,” Momo replied, looking equally unamused until he lifted the furry bundle that was currently content within his arms. “Look! I brought everyone’s favourite kitty cat!” 

“So I see.” 

“Aaaaaand—drumroll please—his wittle kitty cat fwiends!” 

Completely ignoring him, the other cats got to sleuthing around the small house straight away, sticking their noses and claws into every nook and cranny possible. Zbaltazar didn’t mind, in fact he welcomed it—he was happy for something to get some use out of the vacant, dusty furniture. But there was one thing he just couldn’t stand. 

“Why are you talking like that?”  

“Talking like what?” Momo asked dumbly, like he didn’t know what he was doing. 

“You were replacing certain letters with w, and your voice went up in pitch, like you were trying to make yourself sound more endearing.” 

“Whaaaat? No.” Momo said, freeing an arm to wave him off. 

“There you go again.” 

“I think you’ve finally lost your marbles, friend,” the robot gave him a look before holding up the orange cat by his armpits, jostling him lightly as he said, “Has Zbaltazar lost his mawbles? Yes he has! Yew betto go help him out~” 

With a mew, the cat held out a paw to touch Momo’s screen, resulting in an instant heart. 

“There, see? He said he’s gonna help you out!” He said, letting the tabby down to join his friends. 

“He didn’t say anything.”  

“He didn’t have to!” Momo countered. “Me and him we’ve uh...got a special connection. Like you and your internetuniversewhatchamacallit.” 

“Digital space.” 

“Yeah, that. My point is...we don’t need words to communicate.” 

“Uh huh,” Zbaltazar decided to drop it there, instead he went straight in for the kill. “What’s with the plain shirt?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

Zbaltazar chuckled as Momo fiddled and pinched at the white garment with a frown, mumbling about giving it a make-over before he turned the door handle, giving the group a half-hearted wave and saying he’d be back later to pick them up. 

“Wait!” Zbaltazar called out before he could stop himself. 

“Hm?” Momo’s blinked at him. 

“If you see Clementine, could you ask her to contact me? Phone, visit...Hell, I’ll even take a hand-written note at this point.” 

Momo gave him a sympathetic look. “She still blames herself for what happened to you, y’know.” 

“I do. But she shouldn’t punish me for it,” If Zbaltazar could flinch, he would have at how harsh he sounded. “Just...tell her I miss her. Please?” 

“I will. I promise.” 

With that, Momo was gone. 

“And then there were...five,” Zbaltazar counted, his eyes following the different cats as they climbed over his screens, scratched his couch and sniffed at his limp form. 

“It’s alright, I don’t bite,” the robot reassured. “I am physically unable to do so.” 

His attention focused on the little outsider, who was attempting to nip and lick at the freshly wrapped bandages around his flank, growling unhappily when he couldn’t reach the still-healing wound. 

“Hey now, you shouldn’t be doing that,” Zbaltazar chastised. “Doc would be pretty mad if you reversed his efforts. Besides, to heal a wound you need to stop touching it, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Apparently, he did not, as the feline continued his assault on his own body. 

A few tugs at his head wires brought the robot’s attention back to the other three as they attempted to climb, chew through and attack the cables attaching him to the main network by holding them hostage and kicking at them with powerful hind legs. 

“Hm. Boredom is nothing but the experience of a paralysis of our productive powers,” Zbaltazar said, hoping to inspire the young cats into stopping their heinous crimes with his words of wisdom, frowning when none of them took any notice. 

“Then perhaps a distraction will suffice.” 

His screens suddenly lit up with dozens of images; mostly of locations around the outside world that Zbaltazar had gathered from the intranet, making it an achievement to travel there one day with his fellow outsiders when they finally escaped from the confines of the city. With... 

His idea seemed to be working as four sets of eyes suddenly focused on the pictures, and any thoughts of bad behaviour were a thing of the past. 

For about five seconds. 

“No, no, no, no...” Zbaltazar muttered as they lost interest and immediately went back to wreaking havoc. In a last-ditch attempt, he tried something different.   

A clap of thunder roared as streaks of lightning forked across the dozen or so screens and lit up the room, resulting in even more chaos as there was a mixture of leaping, hissing and confused yowling at this sudden indoor thunderstorm. 

“Ah! Sorry little ones! I didn’t mean to scare you...!” For the first time in a long time, Zbaltazar panicked. He hadn’t felt like this since the Zurks had taken away his mobility; these creatures were under his care and here he was frightening them all to near-death! 

“M-maybe this will work...?” 

In a crackle of static, the violent storm was replaced with a vast, calming blue with shoals of shimmering scales that danced and weaved below the sun-topped waves. Forests of kelp swayed with the currents and rocks were bejewelled by pink-crusted barnacles.  There was something about the deep blue that seemed so far away from the rest of the world; without the distractions, the noise, the pollution, Zbaltazar felt his RAM free simply to dwell and float like those strange pink blobs with the ribbons. 

Thankfully, he seemed to be forgiven as the cats slowly gave up their defensive postures when curiosity got the better of them as they inched a bit closer to watch, even going so far as to paw at the screen to catch the fishes, their lips twitching in frustration when they failed. Zbaltazar made a mental note to get some for them the next time they visited. But for now, everyone seemed content enough. 

All except for the little outsider. 

“What’s the matter?” The robot asked when the cat sat in front of him, looking at him intently. “Are you not interested in watching the ocean? If you listen closely, the voice of the sea speaks to our souls.” 

“Mrrrr?”  

Zbaltazar frowned; as much as he was fond of the little one, he really did wish he could directly understand him instead of having to interpret those noises he made. Though admittedly, that desire probably went both ways. B-12 had explained it to him once, how all the cats could hear were a series of beeps and mechanical noises. He imagined it must have been quite annoying. 

The cat softly bumped his head against the hand that held one of his heads and started pawing at it as if to swat it aside. He paced then, and made something of a miserable noise when he tried to climb into the robot’s lap, only to give up and yowl when it was obvious there was no room. 

“Ah...” Zbaltazar realized. “I’m...sorry but I have limited mobility in my arms; Zurk venom. Frozen up most of my body when Clem and I were attacked in the sewers. It took a great effort even to set the head in my lap like this.” 

The orange tabby seemed to consider this for a moment, before vocalising his displeasure again. 

“Can’t you just lie next to me? Perhaps we could meditate together.” 

The yowling only got louder, even causing one of the cats to turn their attention away from their fake prey for a moment to check if their sibling was actually in distress, turning back when they realized he was only being a massive drama queen. 

“You’re really not taking no for an answer, are you?” 

“Mreeeeeeh!”  

“You must get it from Momo,” Zbaltazar grumbled. “Or Clementine, she can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be.” 

Melancholy tinting his voice, the robot made a decision to try and move the head from his lap so that the cat could take its place, if only to get their miraculous little savior to shut up . 

Metal arms trembled and rattled as they slowly and rigidly lifted—as if there was some unseen force weighing them down—his stiff, rusted fingers barely managing to wrap around the head as he eventually lifted it and set it down next to him. 

“T-there...” Zbaltazar breathed, feeling mildly proud of his accomplishment. “Now you can...” 

Apparently, the ordeal he had put himself through had taken so long that the little outsider had curled up next to him and fallen asleep. 

“...climb on in.” 

Cracking open an eye, the orange tabby trilled at him, taking a few moments before his eyes widened when he realized the now vacant lap and wasted no time in putting it to good use as he circled a few times, settling in with a hearty purr. 

“Hah...are you happy now, your highness?” Zbaltazar mocked, though to no avail as the purring only got louder. “Hope it was worth all my hard effort. I do not go to such lengths for just anybody, you know. You should be honoured.” 

“Mrah!”  

The sweet little noise that vibrated throughout his body almost made Zbaltazar melt. Almost. 

“Well...the honor is all mine.” 

Managing to lift a hand to the cat’s back and co-ordinate the closest resemblance to petting—it seemed to keep the little one happy enough—all seemed right in the world until the shrill beeping of an incoming transmission interrupted them. 

Zbaltazar blinked. It couldn’t have been Momo already? He had only left a short while ago. Unless something came up. There was a part of him that selfishly didn’t want to answer the call, to just let it ring out and continue with his little furball therapy session. 

But who was to say he couldn’t do both? 

With a sigh, he answered the call. 

“Yes?” 

“...Zar?” 

And he was so glad he did.  

 

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

Notes:

Cat when he sees Zbaltazar's lap: it's free real estate

Clementine's up next!

Chapter 7: The Fighter

Clementine prided herself in being able to hold her nerve, even during high pressure situations, which made her the perfect candidate for dangerous missions and impossible circumstances. 

Even so, she was finding it difficult to hide the tremble in her voice as she spoke to Zbaltazar. 

“...Are you still there?”  

“Hm?” 

“I said that Momo has just came along to pick up the little ones.”  

“Uh huh.” 

“I think he said he’s coming your way with them.”  

“Cool.” 

The screens behind Zbaltazar’s limp form frowned. “Are you feeling quite alright, Clementine? You’ve barely said a word.”  

Clementine didn’t even look up at them, her eyes focused solely on Zar himself. The way he hunched over looked so...painful. Then again, he couldn’t feel anything, could he? She couldn’t imagine what that was like, to have no control over your own body to the point that thinking is the only thing you can do all day. Trapped in your own RAM with all the time in the world to hate the one that left you like this. 

“...You detest me, don’t you?”  

That snapped Clementine out of it. 

“What?! Of course not! Why would I?” 

She didn’t even mean to sound so panicked, to sow the seeds of doubt into Zbaltazar’s head. But it felt like the more she opened her big mouth, the further into the rabbit hole she dug. 

“We haven’t spoken since I got out. You have rarely looked at me since this call began. And judging by your vacant expression, I highly doubt you have listened to a word I’ve said.”  

A silence fell between them as Clementine struggled to come up with an excuse. 

“If...you don’t want to be friends anymore...”  

“No! I do!” 

“I would hold no ill will towards you.”  

“Ugh! Why are you like this?!” Clementine finally exploded. 

“...Like what?” Zbaltazar cautiously asked, like he was tentatively stepping around a bull in a china shop. 

“Like...that ! So forgiving! You should be mad at me! Why aren’t you shouting...blaming...hating me?!” 

Clementine sighed in defeat. 

“Would it make you feel better if I hated you?”  

“I don’t know...maybe?” 

“Then I hate you.”  

Clementine frowned. “Say it like you mean it, then I might believe you.” 

Zbaltazar let out a hearty chuckle, forcing a small smile out of her as he did. 

“You got me,” the limp robot said. “But how can I blame you when you already do so much of that for me?”  

She turned away. 

“Clementine, it was only circumstances that made me like this. Bad luck. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Such is the way of things.”  

“But it was me that forced you into it!” She argued. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be...” 

“Still like this. Because nobody forced me into anything. I wanted to go, Clem. We both knew the risk.”  

“But you’re the one that’s had to live with the consequences.” 

“In every single thing we do, we are choosing a direction. Our lives are a product of choice.”  

Clementine huffed, trust Zar to get all philosophical on her. 

“Please stop punishing yourself,” he said solemnly. “And me.”  

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair on you.” 

“It’s water under the bridge,” Zbaltazar said, a lighter tone to his voice. “So, will you be able to come over for a visit tomorrow? I can show you my crib, as the kids would say.”  

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

Zbaltazar waited a moment, like he was expecting a quick-witted remark at his expense as Clementine had a habit of doing in days gone past, frowning when it never came. 

“Right, well, I look forward to it then.”  

A knock at the door made Clementine frown as Zbaltazar smirked at her from the monitor. 

“Good luuuuck~” the robot sang before ending the call. 

“Good luck with wha—” she threw up her hands when the connection cut. The rapping at the door continued, growing in strength and frequency. 

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Clementine shouted as she made her way through her messy apartment. Though she was in the process of building a home outside, she couldn’t bring herself to leave Midtown just yet. The place was...charming, in its own unique, sleazy way. 

“What...?” She trailed off as she swung the door open to a beaming Momo cradling the little outsider, who looked as fed up as she did. 

“...do you want?” she finished. Narrowing her eyes when that big, stupid grin wouldn’t leave his screen as he rocked the feline back and forth. 

“I’m not in the market for adoption,” she said, moving to shut the door and groaning when his massive foot prevented her from doing so. 

“It’s just for an hour!” Momo exclaimed before pausing to think. “Or two. Puweeaase?” 

She gave him a disgusted look. “Just for that, absolutely not. Besides, I got stuff to do.” 

“So do I!” 

“Like....?” 

“...Stuff!” 

She rammed the door against his foot. 

“Ow! Okay, okay! I maaaaay or may not have lost the other kitties and need to go find ‘em with Guardian’s help.” 

Clementine face-palmed, shaking her head. 

“What? He’s insanely good at tracking.” 

“I-I don’t even—God, fine I’ll take him. Give him here,” she finally caved in, holding out her hands to take the mewing furball. “You better pray that you find them.” 

Momo waved a dismissive hand. “Ahhhh, I’m sure they probably wanted to go back to Zbaltazar, you shoulda’ seen it, there were colourful fishes all over his monitors!” 

“Right,” she said, absent-mindedly rubbing one of the little outsider’s paws with her thumb. 

“Yeah!” Momo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you two patched things up yet?” 

Clementine raised a digital eyebrow. “There was nothing to patch up. We’re fine.” 

 “ Right , right...” Momo nodded as he wrung his hands together before swiftly moving on, bending over slightly to wiggle his fingers at the cat. “Now yew be good for auntie Cwemmie, okay? Such a pwecious wittle—Ack!” 

Slamming the door in his face, Clementine smirked as she carried her new tenant to the window, who in turn angled his head up to give her an unamused look. 

“What? He deserved it,” the robot defended herself as she set the cat down onto some musty pillows. “Nobody calls me auntie Cwemmie and gets away with it.” 

“Mrrrr?”  

“Okay, except maybe you,” she said, looking around the apartment to make sure Momo hadn’t magically snuck in to witness what she was about to do. “Because yew are such a cutie patootie, aren’t ya?” the robot cooed with a big heart as she gently massaged his furry cheeks. “Look at that wittle smushy face!” 

She could see why Momo did this now, but the attention didn’t last long as a shrill beep came from her pocket, instantly snapping her out of baby-talk mode as she answered it. 

“Yeah? What’cha got?” 

...

“Awesome, I owe ya one. Whereabouts did you say again?” 

Grabbing a pen and paper, she hastily scribbled down an address. Gently shooing away the onslaught of attention seeking as those same furry cheeks rubbed against her hand as she tried to write. If it were any other situation, she would have relented, but this was too important to miss. 

Hanging up, she took the little outsider’s face again, looking him straight in the eyes. “Now listen closely, I’ve gotta go...run an errand. So, you’re gonna be staying here yourself a little while—hey! Pay attention...!” she tried not to give in to his cute charms as he started licking her fingers.  

“I’ll only be away for a little bit, in the meantime you take a nap or somethin’, Doc said you gotta rest, right?” 

Before the orange tabby could get a word in, Clementine swiftly made her way out of the apartment and looked down at the piece of paper as she walked the neon-lit streets of Midtown, striding with new-found purpose. 

‘I’m comin’ for you, Blazer.’  

 

---

 

Much like the rest of the city, Midtown had been mostly abandoned, with a scarce few residents like Clementine only staying because they still had some work to attend to. Most had decided to try and move their businesses to the settlements beyond the wall, and judging by the empty buildings and shuttered shops; they had succeeded. 

The city was golden in the light of eventide, as if it was nurturing some happy memory of times passed. It left a somewhat bittersweet feeling in Clementine’s core; pride that they’d finally freed themselves of a life dictated to them by drones and walls, resentment that it meant some traitorous sleazebags had managed to slip through the net. 

Until today. 

Rounding a corner into an alleyway, Clementine scanned the immediate area, frowning when only a few rats came scampering out the dumpsters as she double- triple -checked the address that was given to her. 

Crap. Had she been duped again? Was everyone out to get her these days? 

Seething with rage and preparing to add another name to her hit-list, the rev of an engine and blinding headlights revealed a dump truck heading her way, stopping mere inches away as the driver killed the engine and leaned out the window. 

“Hey buddy, can ya move outta the way? ‘Less you wanna be turned into scrap.” 

He stopped suddenly when he realised who was in his way; pixelized sweat beads running down that familiar blushing face. 

“If anyone’s gonna be getting turned into scrap today, it’s you,” she bitterly replied. 

“What...? I-I don’t...Look, If I’d known you were g-gonna be here...” Blazer stuttered as he got out of the truck. 

“What? You wouldn’t have come?” 

“N-no. That’s not what I meant,” the older robot said, fiddling with his Hi-Vis vest as he struggled to come up with the right words. “C-Clem. Look, I—” 

A smack to the face shut him up instantly. 

“Do not call me that. Only my God-damn friends get to use that name. Remember that? When we used to be friends? When we had each other's backs and didn’t rat each other out?!” 

Blazer retreated with his hands up defensively as Clementine backed him up against the hood of the truck. “I’m sorry, okay?! I know what I did was—” 

“Terrible? Awful? Downright unforgivable?” 

“All of that!” Blazer conceded, nodding vigorously. “But I was desperate for money; I... owed these guys and I didn’t see any other way to pay ‘em back.” 

“What was it you said? You valued money more than friendship or camaraderie?” 

“I valued my limbs! The b******* were gonna harvest me for parts if I didn’t cough up the cash!” 

Clementine faltered a little. Blazer had never mentioned anything about debt when they were working together. He had always seemed so focused on the task at hand, maybe a bit too focused now that she thought about it. 

She shook her head. “But you didn’t care what would happen to me or the little outsider! You threw us to the wolves! Didn’t you care about that?” 

Blazer avoided her hard gaze. “Not at the time, no. I was just relieved that I was finally free of my burden. That I could walk down the street without constantly looking over my shoulder. I... I didn’t care what happened to either of you.” 

The robot flinched as Clementine angrily raised her fist. 

“Now, hang on! I’m not finished!” He said, sighing in relief when the impact never came. “When the city opened up, when I saw the sky for the first time, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that you and the little furball actually managed to free us all.” 

Clementine stayed silent. 

“It made me realise that...this was my chance to finally clean up my act and get a proper job, try and lead somethin’ of a normal life. So... here I am.” 

“A trash collector,” she deadpanned. 

“Waste Collector,” he corrected. “Pays decent and... I feel like I’m actually doin’ something useful. Suppose the city’s a bit like me in a way; dirty, unlawful but with a bit of TLC could become somewhat decent again.” 

Besides the terrible analogy, Clementine was almost envious of Blazer. How he managed to scrape his way out of what would have been certain death, seeing the error of his ways and bettering himself for it by providing a service to the city that would seem redundant to most. 

“I’m actually glad you came this way, Clem. I know it’s a cheek to ask but...I was hoping you might forgive me.” 

A memory crossed her RAM—of Zurks piling onto Zbaltazar as they crawled out of the sewers, escaping the bloodshot gazes that yearned for their deaths. 

“Not a day goes past that I don’t regret what I’ve done.” 

Zbaltazar’s body was heavy and limp as she dragged him into Antvillage, his head twitching and glitching as venom coursed through his circuitry. 

“I know I’ll need to carry these mistakes with me for the rest of my life.” 

Her core threatened to burst as she embraced him one last time. 

“But I think I can be a better person, if you’ll let me.” 

Not even daring to look back, she climbed up the pipes to Midtown, knowing full well that she was never returning for him. 

“Clem...?”  

Clementine saw nothing but red. 

“No...” she muttered. “No, you don’t get to just make those choices and expect everyone to just forgive you. Why should you get a second chance when Companions who are twice as brave, loyal and actually value your friendship are forced to live with the consequences of your actions!”  

Picking up on the tension and intensity of her voice, Blazer didn’t even bother struggling when she grabbed his vest and shoved him against the truck with so much force that there was a groaning pressure of metal being pushed upon metal. 

“You don’t deserve a normal life. You don’t deserve friends and you sure as hell don’t deserve any more chances when you’ve had time and time again to make up for what you’ve done. You...have been nothing but a failure over...and over again...!” 

Clementine’s grip slackened as her fists shook with...fury? Resentment? At who? Blazer? 

Or herself? 

It was only then she realised that Blazer’s eyes had wandered down. 

“Hey!” She shouted, her hardened resolve returning in full force. “Eyes up here when I’m talking to you!” 

“Uh...we uh...have company...,” was all Blazer could stutter as he pointed a shaking finger behind her. Following his gaze, her eyes fell upon the little outsider. He was just...sitting there, watching. 

“How long have you been there?” Clementine demanded, making sure to tighten her grip on Blazer should he use this chance to slip away like the snake he was. 

“Mreh eh?”  

“Ugh. Whatever. Just...go back to the apartment, okay? I’ll be...finished here soon enough.” 

Turning back to Blazer—who was still practically sweating—she took a moment to decide what to do with him. She could just beat him up and get it done, but that just didn’t seem like enough. She wanted him to suffer, to pay—to really pay —for betraying her trust like he had.  

It seemed the little outsider had other plans. 

“W-what’s it doing?” Blazer nervously asked when the cat started winding between their legs—more notably Blazers. Purring and rubbing his head against the robot’s shins, affectionately curling his tail around the ankles and gazing up at him, slowly blinking. 

“He’s...forgiving you.” Clementine realised. 

“What?” 

“You got trash in your audio receptors?” She snapped. “I said he’s forgiving you. Though I’m not sure why.” 

“I... really?” Blazer asked with a question mark as he looked down. “Even after all that s*** I put you through?” 

“Mrah!”  

“...Thanks.” 

Clementine observed the scene; the calm serenity of it all. The way her little recruit seemed so in-tune and understanding of Blazer’s genuine remorse and letting go of the negative emotions and memories. Moving on with whatever positives remain. Is this what Zbaltazar meant when he asked her to stop punishing herself? 

“...You can go.” 

Clementine released Blazer and shuffled back with her head hung low, fully expecting him to take the opportunity and scarper back into the dumpster truck, maybe even try and knock her down for good measure. 

Instead, he closed the gap between them and hugged her tightly. 

Blinking in shock, Clementine stiffened at the contact, instincts screaming at her to push him away in case he had a hidden knife and was intending to literally stab her in the back this time. 

“I’m...so sorry .” 

He was trembling ever-so-slightly, but she didn’t return the hug, and after a moment, pushed him away at arm’s length. 

“I... don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you did,” Clementine said. “Justice and integrity are... important to me, and you broke those principles.” 

Blazer looked down, holding his arm. 

“But...my friend once told me that forgiveness brings the liberty to heal the heart, the soul and mind. That it’s a chance to begin anew and... break the shackles of self-loathing,” Clementine paused for a moment. “So... I’d like to try.” 

Blazer nodded appreciatively, bent down to place his hand atop the little one’s head in silent gratitude and hopped back into the truck. He didn’t leave right away, instead tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as if he was deciding on something. 

“Do you...want a lift back?” He finally asked. 

She was about to refuse when the little one let out a massive yawn and laid down on his side as if he was preparing just to fall asleep in the middle of a cold alley. The pitiful sight brought a small smile to Clementine’s screen, but it made her realize that nightfall was starting to creep in. If she walked—carrying a heavy lump of fur, no less— the remaining Zurks would be prowling about before she got back, looking for an easy snack. 

So, she swallowed her pride and nodded. 

“Then hop on in,” Blazer said, opening the other door for her. 

“Come on, little guy,” Clementine gently prodded with her foot, frowning when the furball didn’t budge. 

“Meh!”  

“I’m not picking you up.” 

“Eh eh...”  

Only moments later, she was hoisting herself up with one hand while the other had his highness tucked under her arm, settling him on her lap when she managed to climb into the seat. 

“Fussy l’il thing, ain’t he?” Blazer said as he pulled out of the alleyway and into the moonlit road. 

“You would be too if you had been nearly ripped to shreds,” Clementine bluntly answered. “No small talk, eyes on the road.” 

“You uh...got it, boss,” Blazer stammered as he shut his trap and focused solely on driving. 

A small part of her wanted to keep snarking at him, chastise him for every little bump and instruct him on how to actually drive. But instead, she spent what little energy she had left stroking her little charge, his purring soothing her shot nerves and lulling her into sleep-mode as the white-gold moon ascended into the black heavens. 

Perhaps one day, Clementine would be able to forgive herself too. 

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

Notes:

Cwemmie's lap has been conquered!

Anyway, check out the previous three chapters because they now have some really pretty art by General! (along with links to their art blogs go look at it right nao :D ) *edit - they've done art for this chapter too I'm getting spOILED ;,D

And apologies for the wait but my brain's been sloggin' so I'm trying to take it a bit slower as to not hinder the quality of the remaining chapters. :)

Doc & Seamus next!

Chapter 8: The Scientist & His Son

Doc hadn’t always been a particularly patient robot, especially when it came to his work.  

The little outsider had been returned by Clementine in the early hours of the morning like he had requested, accompanied by an incredibly nervous looking waste collector. The two of them had promptly handed over the sleeping feline over before Clementine demanded to be taken beyond the wall to visit Zbaltazar, with the worker meekly arguing that he had a job to do. 

He was silenced with a well-aimed glare. 

Before they left, Doc asked if either of them had seen Seamus. 

His core clenched up when they shook their heads, but Clementine promised they would look for him, despite her friend’s(?) protesting. Doc quietly thanked them and took the little outsider into the apartment, lowering him on the white-draped table and arranging his medical utensils for what was probably the twentieth time. 

The orange tabby didn’t seem to take notice of the tools that were meant for him, yawning and immediately curling up with his paws over his face to signal that he was to be disturbed no more. Doc couldn’t help but smile at the little gesture. Despite their language barrier, he had been learning to read the cat’s body language; a flick of the tail, the hypnotizing slow blink, that strange vibration that emanated from the throat. It was all so... fascinating. The way that two completely different species could communicate without words. 

No doubt the little outsider had learned a few of their quirks too. 

But this wasn’t the time to indulge in scientific curiosities.  

He had stitches to remove. 

Doc fiddled with the perfectly lined utensils again. He could do it by himself, between the vids and Grandma’s shared wisdom, he had a pretty ample idea on how to perform such a simple surgery. But the complications ran through his RAM like a movie reel, from the wound not closing to there being a potential infection and not to mention the little fellow probably wouldn’t be too happy with being poked and prodded at, and would probably try to run away. 

He needed Seamus. 

The boy had been spending more and more time away from him lately, coming up with reasons to go out and stay out. But none of them made much sense; Grandma claimed she never saw him, despite him saying he was helping her out with her new clothes business. Guardian was confused when Doc tried to talk him out training his son for guard duty, saying that Seamus had never approached him for such a task. 

Jacob had been the only reliable witness, but the suggestion that Seamus was helping out at the bar was immediately shot down; he would only come in and get drunk, then leave with some sort of device, exclaiming that he had finally found his true calling. 

To say Doc was worried was an incredibly severe understatement. 

His transceiver barely got past one ring when he slammed his fist on the answer button.  

“Clementine?!”  

“We’ve got him,” she said, raising her voice against what sounded like a struggle in the background. “Damn idiot was trying to fight Zurks with his bare hands.”  

“What?!” I-is he...?” 

“Fine, just really drunk, we’re pulling up now, prepare yourself.”  

The connection cut off, but not before a pair of headlights shone through the apartment. Doc’s hands shakily combed through his head-wires as Clementine opened the door and led a barely-able-to-walk Seamus into the living area. One light push was all it took to have him sprawled out face-down on the couch. 

Doc could only stare as his son attempted to push himself up, shouting incomprehensible slurs at Clementine as she crossed her arms and shook her head. 

“Found this next to him,” Clementine said, handing over a Defluxor. “It’s outta juice.” 

“T... thank you,” was all Doc could manage to say. “If you hadn’t been there...” 

He couldn’t even begin to dread what could have happened to his boy. 

Clementine put a hand on his shoulder with a knowing look, gave it a silent pat, and let her hand slide off as she left him to it, demanding her still-dazed friend to get back to the truck as the door closed behind them with a soft click. 

The cat was awake now, sniffing at the outstretched wiggling fingers that were sluggishly attempting to pet him. 

“C-come ‘ere pretty kitty... you’re *hic!* so soff....” 

When the inconvenienced tabby made no move to get any closer, he waved a dismissive hand. 

“Ah , screw you...” 

“Leave him alone, Seamus,” Doc intervened, holding up the powered-down Defluxor. “You mind telling me how you got your hands on this?” 

Seamus took a moment to look at the gun, his digital pupils squinting and blinking lazily as if he were trying to find the meaning behind some complex art piece.  

Finally, he said, “I don’t hafta explain myself to you, old man. You’re not *hic!* my real dad...” 

Doc stared at him in disbelief. 

“What on earth are you talking about? I built you with my bare hands!” 

Seamus sneered. “Science e-experiment gone wrong, am I right?” 

Doc flinched. “Seamus...!” 

“Why did you build me? Huh?”  

Doc’s screen lit up with multiple question marks as words couldn’t even begin to express how confused and hurt he was feeling right now. His son—his own child—was questioning his very existence; the invisible mark of failed parenting. 

“I-I... because ...I love you, son.” 

The scientist flinched when Seamus barked out a bitter laugh, slapping his knee as he finally managed to get himself upright. 

“How can you *hic!* love something that doesn’t even exist?!” 

Doc stiffened and clenched his fists as his son laughed at him. Laughed at all those years of raising, loving, sacrificing for him in whatever ways were necessary to try and give him as good a life as possible. 

“You didn’t sacrifice anything,” Seamus suddenly said, an angry aura about him. 

Doc blinked. Had he been thinking aloud? He did have a bad habit of doing that. 

“Ya think?” Seamus said as he shakily got to his feet, holding out a defiant hand when Doc went to help him balance. 

“Y-you only cared about your...your science s*** and getting to the f****** Outside. I was just...an additional thing in the way, an ‘add - on’ to your central theme of *hic!* other passions to revolve around.” 

“But Seamus,” Doc tried, taking both of his son’s shoulders in an iron grip. “I tried to be better for you. I was so desperate to get to the Outside because I wanted to give you a chance at freedom!” He exclaimed, cupping Seamus’s face. “And look at us now! We succeeded!” 

Seamus looked at him, his stare cold and unfeeling before his head dropped onto his father’s shoulder. 

“You...you left me.” 

Doc nodded, wrapping his arms around Seamus as his body started to tremble. “I was...so alone ...!” 

“Shhh...I know, I know....” Doc whispered, easing his son back down onto the couch before his legs could buckle from under him. “And I’m sorry for doing that to you, it will never happen again. I will never leave your side, Seamus. I promise.” 

When he received no answer, Doc eased his son away from his shoulder, only to discover multiple Z’s scattered all over his screen as he snored. With a weary sigh, the scientist gently laid his boy on the couch and grabbed a nearby blanket to drape over him and lightly tapped his screen against Seamus’s head in a gesture of a goodnight kiss.  

Despite his protests of being too ‘grown - up’ for such a thing anymore, Doc still enjoyed sneaking one in every so often. 

But now there was a bitter-sweetness to it. No matter how much Doc had tried to convince Seamus about how sorry he was for his prolonged absence, they would always loop back around to the subject in one way or another. 

And so it continued. 

Doc sighed and collapsed into a nearby chair, hastily rubbing his hands up and down his screen in a bid to stay awake on the off chance that Seamus would suddenly shoot up and go AWOL again; he couldn’t allow it, not when he had nearly lost him to the Zurks this time. 

They would have a talk about it when the boy sobered up. 

Doc blinked as something rubbed up against his shins, glancing down to see the little outsider looking up at him. The robot smiled wearily. 

“Ah, apologies little one but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer for your procedure,” he said, adding, “You’ll probably be glad to know.” 

He received a slow blink in response; a sign of understanding. 

Without another word, the robot tapped his knee as a silent invitation, which was immediately accepted. 

He took the tail-end of his white coat and draped it over the feline as a make-shift blanket as he had done for his son numerous times in the past—when he was smaller—resting one hand over the cat’s back while he used the other to prop up his own head, absent-mindedly tapping a finger against his screen as he watched Seamus sleep. 

“What am I going to do with him...?” 

“Mreh eh eh...?”  

Doc smiled, giving the little one’s back a few soft pats. 

“I’m sure you’ll have it all figured out, eh?” 

At least one of them did. 

 

---

 

Seamus vowed to never take another drop of alcohol ever again. Sure, he had made that promise dozens of times before but this time it was for real. 

Groaning and putting a hand to his pounding head, he longed for the sweet embrace of death when a sudden pressure landed on his chest, nearly making him leap and swing at whatever was trying to make his wish come true. 

Luckily, he missed as he opened his eyes to a familiar orange face. 

It took a few minutes and several blinks for his blurred vision to clear up, but his audio receptors were working a little too well as they picked up the little outsider’s mews at a bombastic level. 

“Oh God...” Seamus mumbled as his head fell back onto the arm of the couch. “ Please stop...” 

“Mrrrr?”  

Not seeming to get the message, Seamus was gifted with a barrage of headbutting and purring as the cat continued to mew and paw at his miserable-looking screen for attention. 

“Okay, okay...” Seamus finally relented, lifting a lazy hand to offer a scratch behind the ear, which was accepted wholeheartedly. 

“Ha...you sure are chipper this morning,” Seamus said with a small heart, his faculties semi-returning. “Sorry if I was an idiot last night, I didn’t say anything horrible or stupid to you, did I...?” 

“Not to him, no,” a new voice interjected, nearly making Seamus jump (again) as Doc entered the room with a hot mug of oil. “And it’s the middle of the afternoon, by the way.” 

“Right. Thanks,” Seamus took the cup with a forced but quick smile, the cat jumping down as he sat up, only now realising the blanket that slowly slid down to his legs. 

He frowned. “You uh...didn’t have to do that.” 

“No, I did,” Doc answered, not fully looking at him as he busied himself. “You are my son, after all.” 

Seamus looked down. Last night was hazy, but he remembered being at Jacob’s bar, ordering round after round to numb himself for what he was about to put himself through. He had stolen his dad’s Defluxor a few days ago and had been using it to blast whatever Zurks who had decided to slink out from the sewers at night to hunt. It felt good. Like he was serving out justice to the many souls that had been hurt or killed. He fancied himself as an anti-hero of sorts— ‘Zurk Zapper – Bane of the Blood Suckers.’ He was so proud of that name after his fifth drink. 

Then the Defluxor stopped working. 

It was all a blur after that; there was a bit of punching, he fell over at one point and thought he was a goner until some mean bot dragged him into the back of a dumpster truck and sped off. Then he must have dozed off, and now here he was with his own father barely able to look him in the eye. 

“Look, if I said something...” Seamus started. 

Doc waved him off. “You just had a bit too much to drink, you didn’t mean it, I know the score.” 

Seamus flinched at his father’s tone, at how cold and unfeeling it sounded. 

“But what I don’t understand is...” Doc sighed and turned towards Seamus; his expression heartbroken with a depressing blue hue. “How you could be so reckless , risking your own life like that! And for what? To kill a few Zurks?” Lumbering over to sit next to Seamus, Doc wrung his hands together nervously. “Just...try and explain it to me because I really don’t get why you would put yourself in so much danger.” 

Now it was Seamus’s turn to look away. “I-I dunno...to feel useful, I guess? Like I was doing something that really mattered?” 

“Mattered?” Doc echoed. 

“Right, like... Clementine’s the bad-a**, Zbaltazar’s the mindful one, Momo’s the glue that sticks the group together and you...have all those awesome scientific accomplishments. Not to mention that cat being the one to friggin’ open up the entire city!” 

They both looked down to see said cat currently licking his private area. 

“...Okay, that’s gross,” Seamus grimaced. “My point is...the name ‘Outsiders’ means something. And in a world as vast as this one... I... I want my name to mean something too, does that make any sense?” 

Of course it didn’t. In reality he was just being selfish and a burden on other people. On Jacob, on his dad...even himself with these damn hangovers he had to keep enduring. 

“Yes.” 

Seamus looked up. 

“Yes, it does make sense,” Doc clarified. “Why do you think I put myself in danger by venturing out of the Slums?” 

“To...try and help free us all?” 

Doc huffed a laugh. “That was part of the reason, but really, I only wanted...for you to be proud of me. To...admire me, I suppose.” 

Seamus watched as his father hunched over, placing his arms on his knees and linking his hands together tightly, staring at the floor as his confession spilled out. 

“When the opportunity arose, I took it without thinking of what might happen to me. This was my chance to get my Defluxor to work, to give us a fighting chance against the Zurks and to carve my name into the history books. I wanted you to look at me and think ‘wow, my dad did that!’”  

Doc laughed again, but it came out more like a pitiful wheeze. 

“I didn’t bet on getting stuck in that little house for so long, or what kind of mental damage my prolonged absence would inflict upon you.” 

Seamus shuffled uncomfortably as Doc finally straightened up and faced him. 

“I thought I was doing it for you, but really...I was doing it more for my own selfish purposes.” 

Seamus couldn’t take it anymore; the heartfelt confession, the intensity of his father’s stare and the deafening silence of the room as it awaited an answer of any kind. 

“...Like father, like son then I guess?” Seamus offered with an awkward smile and half-hearted shrug. 

This time the laugh was genuine. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right!” Doc said with a hearty slap to the shoulder. “Though I’m not sure if a lack of self-worth is a particularly good trait to have.” 

“Well, for whatever it’s worth ...heh...I’m proud to call you my papa.” 

Seamus mirrored the heart that flickered onto Doc’s screen as they reached out and held each other for what seemed like an eternity. 

“And you, my son, will forever be my proudest accomplishment. Your name means everything to me, and the others—we all care so much about you.” 

Their tender moment was short and sweet as a furry bundle wedged itself between them, yowling and demanding their attention towards each other to be diverted to the little outsider, and so they obliged. 

“Now, if you’re feeling up to it, Seamus,” Doc started as he gently scooped up the little orange cat into his arms. “It’s time to take these stitches out, and I’ll need your help.” 

Seamus stuttered. “M-my help? Dad, I’m hungover as hell, I don’t think I can—” 

“You can , my boy. I’ll need him still for the procedure and, unlike last time, he has grown in strength and I doubt he’ll enjoy what we’re about to do to him,” Doc said as he gave the unsuspecting tabby a light jostle. “I’ve seen the way you are with him; he trusts you. So, I’ll need you to hold him down for me, keep him calm, if you will.” 

The younger bot rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about it. His head was still pounding and he didn’t fancy spending the next hour getting hissed and swiped at. But the little outsider was counting on him, and so was his father. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t —let them down. 

Standing up and giving his screen a light slap, he nodded. 

“I’m ready.” 

 

---

 

The operation had been a short but incredibly intense experience. 

Like Doc had said, the little outsider was not happy at being forced down onto the table by metal hands while his wound was poked and prodded at by sharp tools, and he made sure to let his displeasure be known with his lashing tail thumping against the table and the occasional hiss, though the claws had yet to come out. 

It didn’t take long. 

“C’mon, now...it’s okay...” Seamus tried to shush him with a little pat to the forehead. “You’re being so brave...!” He retracted his hand at the last second as the little outsider decided that was a touch too many and swiped at him, his little paw needles barely grazing his fingers. 

It didn’t hurt but yowzer this little guy was quick. 

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Seamus,” Doc flashed him a reassuring smile. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” 

“Naaah,” Seamus waved a hand before returning it to the cat’s side. “He just hurt my feelings, that’s all.” 

A pitiful growl was the only apology he was going to get. 

“I know...I know...you didn’t mean it,” Seamus cooed, adjusting his hold so that the legs didn’t have quite so much freedom. 

“I’m almost done here...” Doc mumbled as he adjusted his goggles and took a hold of the knot at the top of the stitch and gently pulled upward, sliding the scissors under and snipping the thread. With more words of reassurance to the little outsider, he carefully pulled the broken stitches away from the skin and put them to one side before checking the healed wound. 

“No signs of infection...the wound seems to have closed up nicely, still a little red but with just a bit more time, I think he will make a full recovery!” Doc exclaimed with a fist-pump before he went to get the remaining gauze to wrap around the healing area one last time. 

“What was that ?” Seamus asked, completely bewildered. 

“What was what?” 

“That...thing you just did—this,” Seamus freed a hand to copy the fist-pump. “I’ve never seen you do that before.” 

“Oh, that...uh...” Doc did it again, albeit a bit more awkwardly this time. “It’s just what I do when I’m excited; whether it’s a scientific breakthrough or...performing surgery for the first time,” the scientist shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish. “It’s...silly, I know.” 

“No, no, it’s cool,” Seamus reassured.  

“Well, maybe you’ll be doing it yourself soon enough,” Doc smirked as he went into the lab and brought out two Defluxors. “Because you and I are goin’ huntin’.” 

Seamus had to double-take as he finally let go of the little outsider, who scrambled away like there was no tomorrow. 

“I’m sorry, what ?” 

“I said—” 

“No, I heard what you said but...why? Just an hour ago you were trying to convince me to not go after the Zurks.” 

“Well...” Doc pondered. “The mass production of the Defluxor by Neco Corp is almost complete, so eventually everyone will have one of these babies,” he said, proudly lifting the gun over his head. “So, I figure we’ll show ‘em all how it’s done. Besides, I want revenge on those nasty little buggers too, for keeping me away from you for all those years.” 

“Yeah, it’s totally not to keep an eye on me, right?” Seamus deadpanned. 

“That too, but we can make it like a little father-son activity, huh? As long as one of us is sober.” 

“No promises.” 

“Ha! That’s the spirit, son!” 

“What about him?” Seamus nodded to the corner that the little outsider had bundled himself into. 

“Ah, well, he’s still healing so someone will still need to keep an eye on him, I’ll ring around. Grandma seems quite keen for company at the moment, or perhaps Momo can finally take a turn.” 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Seamus said as he squatted down in front of the feline, reaching out and rubbing his metal fingers together in a bid to ease him out. 

“No, I suppose not,” Doc sat back on the couch as Seamus managed to pull out the begrudging feline and brought him over to join them, consoling him into settling down on his lap. The orange tabby submitted, but the usual display of affection was all but absent. 

“Judging by those folded back ears, I’d say we have a lot of making up to do,” Doc observed, slowly holding his hand out, palm up, in a silent bid of an apology. 

There was still a hint of distrust in those olive eyes as he edged his little pink nose over to sniff—probably making sure that Doc wasn’t holding anything sharp—before rubbing his cheek against his fingers; all was forgiven. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” Seamus muttered in amusement. “Just one sign of affection and he’s your best friend again.” 

“Ah, you forget, my boy,” Doc said. “These creatures are brave and incredibly resilient. Organics have an inspiring way of moving beyond past traumas and living life to the fullest.” 

“Huh, guess he’s kinda like us then,” Seamus hummed, joining Doc in scratching the little one’s other cheek. 

“Yeah,” Doc agreed, draping an arm over his son’s shoulder and smiling. “Yeah, I suppose he is.” 

As Seamus returned the gesture, both bots spent the rest of the afternoon pampering and acting on the whims and wishes of the little outsider to get back into his good books, all the while enjoying their precious time together. After all, there is no other relationship quite like that which can and should exist between a boy and his dad. 

 

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

 

 

Notes:

Haha I love a good father relationship :')

Gramma's next!

Chapter 9: The Grandmother

Grandma had been more than delighted when Doc had called to update her on the little one’s condition, telling her that their strenuous efforts had paid off and that he would make a full recovery, and she jumped at the chance when asked if she could take him for a short while. 

She had never felt so useful during her thousand-year lifespan. After the four-hundred mark, things got a little bit boring as her joints stiffened little by little and left her unable to do the activities she used to participate in; there were a lot of skills under her belt:  from construction labour and weight lifting to planting and singing. She could do it all with years and years of experience, until her body said no more. 

Doc had offered to upgrade her, replace her, erase her. She knew he meant well, but she refused to let any part of her go, these limbs had been with her since the day she was built, and they would be with her until she died. 

And so, there was only one skill she could continue to hone without limitation: knitting. 

It was her one true love. 

She thanked the ancestors for allowing her to keep the mobility she still had in her fingers, granting her a skill like no other: to nimbly weave old fabrics left by the soft ones into brand new sweaters, hats, gloves, trousers; breathing fresh life into them and bringing warmth and comfort to many robots across the walled city. 

And that love, passion and skill had brought the little one back from the very brink of death. 

“Mrah!”  

Speaking of whom... 

“Mreeeeeeeeeeeeh!”  

“Oh dear, looks like someone’s feeling a lot better!” Grandma said with a warm smile as Doc approached her shop with the little outsider in his arms and a small army of cats meowing and weaving between his legs, causing him to clumsily stumble a few times. 

“And I see you’ve brought all your little friends!” 

Practically flying out of Doc’s arms, the orange tabby trotted up to her with his eyes bright and tail held high. 

“Eh eh eh eh!”  

“Hello to you too,” Grandma greeted with a heart, bending over to gently stroke him as he bumped his head against her hand, trilling and purring before rounding up the other cats who had been cautiously watching from afar and herding them over to her as if to introduce them. 

“Oh, now aren’t you all such sweet little children?” Grandma cooed as she held out her hand for them to sniff, which seemed to be enough for them all to instantly fall in love with her as they started rubbing against her, rolling over and exposing their bellies and scratching her carpet. 

“Hah, they seem to like you!” Doc observed. 

“Yes, they do,” Grandma politely replied, holding her tongue on pointing out the fact that he was stating the obvious. 

“Well, of course they would. You saved the day after all!” 

“We all did,” Grandma corrected. “Without your expertise on surgical procedures, he would have been as good as gone.” 

Doc blushed at the compliment and rubbed the back of his head shyly. Such low self-esteem, that one. It was a shame, really. That he forced himself to live in his father’s shadow, but hopefully time with Seamus was filling in that old wound. 

“By the by,” Doc started, drawing Grandma out of her thoughts. “Would you happen to have a spare garment that the little outsider could use?” 

“Nothing that would fit him. Why?” 

Doc knelt to beckon the orange cat over to him. “His wound is healing nicely, but...” Gently guiding the cat to face his side towards her, Doc pointed at the slightly ripped bandages on his flank. “Unfortunately, the repairing process that the skin undergoes seems to be agitating him as he keeps nipping and scratching at it.” 

“Oh, I see...” Grandma hummed, concern lacing her voice. 

“I’ve replaced the gauze a few times but I’m starting to run out, so perhaps something a bit more durable might be needed,” Doc explained, before suddenly looking sheepish again. “But if you don’t have anything, then I’m sure I can—” 

Grandma held up a hand to silence him. It was all that was needed to reassure him that she would make something. 

“Thank you,” Doc nodded. 

“Of course,” Grandma smiled. “Anything for my favourite grandchild.” 

“Ah, well, technically and biologically he’s not—” 

Doc was quickly silenced as Grandma gave him a look. 

“Uh...well...why not make something for all of your...grandchildren, that way nobody gets left out!” Doc swiftly offered. 

Her smile returned. “What a wonderful idea. Shall I make one for Seamus too?” 

“That... is also a tremendous idea!” Doc exclaimed. “Could you perhaps make two? Have the colours bright and maybe embroider “Zurk-Zapper” on the front in big, bold letters? O-only when you have the time, of course!”  

Grandma was taken aback by the sudden bizarre request, but nodded anyway. She had done stranger things. 

“Then so it shall be! Be sure to give the poor lad my best,” Grandma waved Doc off as he practically skipped down the street, excitedly mumbling something about having matching costumes. 

Shaking her head in bemusement, Grandma got to work right away as the cats settled down for a nice afternoon nap under the warm sun. Leaning back in her rickety old chair, she closed her eyes as her fingers worked on auto-pilot, allowing her to enjoy the sweet summer breeze. Being a robot, she couldn’t smell, but the wind soothed her all the same. 

“Hey! There you are!” 

The shrill, metallic voice suddenly snapped Grandma out of her blissful relaxation as a familiar old robot hobbled his way over to the shop’s entrance, supported only by a wooden walking cane that was as old and gnarled as he was. 

“Ah, Heptor,” Grandma bitterly greeted. “How nice to see you.” 

Heptor was one of Grandma’s oldest friends (if she could even call him that) and a constant thorn in her side. Like her, he was one of the oldest models in the city, and had also stubbornly refused to have his parts replaced, even if it meant he would be stuck in a chair for the rest of his life. Thus, he spent most of his time up in the rooftops with nothing but an old couch and a lantern for company. He often said he preferred them to the annoying inhabitants down below. 

Grandma was the only reason he ever ventured down to the ‘loathsome filth-infested' streets. 

“Nice to finally see you,” Heptor snapped back. “I’ve been coming by for days now only to see the shop was closed! You know how hard it is to get down here from them rooftops?!” 

“I know you always like to remind me.” 

Heptor huffed. “So where were you? You know this hat gives me gyp every four months! The hole’s opened up again.” 

“Seems to be every two months now,” Grandma countered. 

“Yeah, well, your RAM must be acting up; can’t tell the time no more.” 

“My RAM is perfectly functional, thank you.” 

“You ain’t answered my question.” 

“I already told you that I’m in the process of moving my shop to the Outside.” 

“This again?” Heptor all but snarled. “I told you goin’ out there’s a bad idea. It’s too dangerous ...!” 

 “It is not,” Grandma sighed. “Clementine has graciously offered to build me a unit near the lake; it is honestly quite beautiful. Which you would know if you bothered to move that rusted behind of yours out of the city.” 

“My—?! How dare you!” 

“Shhh!” Grandma hissed, lifting a finger to her screen before gesturing around her. “You’ll wake up the little ones!” 

Said little ones were already awake and staring at the intruder from all sides of the room, who gasped and flinched back at the sudden attention. 

“There are more of ‘em?” His bitter tone gave way to something more curious for but a brief moment. “Hmph! You starting a zoo or somethin’?” 

“What did you want , Heptor?” 

“Ha! I told you there was somethin’ wrong with your RAM! Already said I need my hat fixed.” 

“That’s not why you’re here.” 

Once again, Heptor flinched, and his eyes wandered for a bit while he tried to think of something to say while Grandma patiently waited. Finally, he took off his hat and held it out. 

“You gonna fix it or not?” 

Grandma made something of a disappointed sound before resuming her knitting. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No!” She repeated. “I am already working on something very important.” 

“Tsk! What could be more important than a valued customer that has been returnin’ here for more than a century?” 

“The little one, of course,” Grandma replied, not even looking up at him as the old robot’s screen morphed into an angry shade of red. 

“You’d rather make somethin’ for that rat instead of helpin’ me?! The only friend that’s stuck by and looked out for ya for all these years?!” 

Grandma’s hands stopped, and the whole room silently watched as she untangled her fingers from the thread and needles, carefully placed them to the side and stood up to face Heptor with an unchanging expression that made even the cats a little nervous as they picked up on the rising tension, their ears and tails flicking as they watched with bated breath. 

“Heptor Mcslade, you are no friend of mine.” 

The old man was stunned for a moment, seemingly unable to process the fact that she had used his full name like his mother used to when she constantly scolded him as a child; the hurt on his screen was painful to look at. Regardless, Grandma continued. 

“A friend would be supportive of what I’m doing, not try and hold me back,” she said, trying to appeal to his better nature, which she knew was in there somewhere under that hardened, bitter front that he liked to shield himself with. “We finally have our freedom and the last thing I want to do is stay and rot away in this place.” 

“This place holds a lot of very dear memories,” Heptor replied, trying—and failing—to hide the wobble in his voice. “For me at least.” 

“And for me!” Grandma agreed. “But it’s time to make new memories in a vast, beautiful world that awaits us, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Heptor paused to think, and Grandma was hopeful that she might have finally gotten through to him, but staying true to his stubborn nature, he simply turned his back on her and hobbled out of the shop. 

“I’ll take my business elsewhere.” 

A part of Grandma wanted to get the final jab and shout after him that there was nobody else on this earth that could fix that stupid hat of his, but her sorrow overpowered the resentment she held for that sour old bot. 

Shaking her head, she made to move back into her chair and perhaps try to continue what was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon of knitting with her little friends. 

Only for it to be interrupted again with a loud crash and yelling from a nearby alleyway. 

It was only then that Grandma realised there were only three cats in the shop; the little outsider was missing. 

Oh no.  

Going as fast as her rusted legs could take her, Grandma rounded the corner and was greeted with the ungraceful sight of Heptor sprawled out on the cobblestone and shaking his fist at the little outsider as the orange cat hissed back. 

“Oh, little one!” Grandma gasped as she went over to the frenzied feline to check over him. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“What are you fretting over him for?! I’m the injured party here!” Heptor yelled at her from the ground, groaning as he tried to reach out for his walking stick, mumbling a gruff thanks when Grandma slid it over to him with her foot. 

“I’ll have you know this child has been through a very traumatic time recently!” Grandma said, not taking her eyes off the tabby as she lifted him into her arms in order to calm him down. “You could have hurt him!” 

“He was the one tryin’ to trip me up, windin’ between my legs like a damn furry snake!” 

“Was he rubbing up against your legs?” Grandma asked, her screen lighting up with a question mark. 

Mirroring her, Heptor eventually replied with a meek, “...Yeah?” 

“Well, that’s his way of being friendly towards you, he was probably attempting to bring you back to me so we could patch things up, the thoughtful little dear,” Grandma cooed as she rubbed between his ears, earning her a small purr as the cat continued to glare at the downed robot. “You probably got what you deserved, shouting at him like that.”  

“I’m...sorry.” 

Grandma was sure her audio processor had short-circuited then. 

“What was that?” 

“I said ...!” Heptor almost shouted, but managed to calm himself mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. For shoutin’ at him...and you.” 

“Well,” Grandma hummed, not really sure what the appropriate response was. Heptor had never apologised for anything during his thousand-year lifespan. Obviously, something was bothering him. 

“Can you stand?” She finally asked. 

“Just about,” Heptor groaned as he pushed himself off the ground and stumbled around for a few seconds, using his stick to regain some resemblance of balance. Grandma’s keen eyes noticed his right foot hovering ever so slightly. 

“Your foot...!” 

“Is fine!” Heptor finished suddenly. “Just...twisted it a little is all.” 

“Hm,” Grandma hummed as she turned to make her way back to the shop. “You’re welcome to return to rest it a while, I can’t imagine trekking up to the rooftops will do you much good.” 

“With...them?” Heptor nervously enquired, looking over her shoulder towards the cats that had gathered at the shop’s entrance to watch the commotion.  

“I can call Doc instead, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take a look,” Grandma suggested sweetly, smirking when Heptor waved his hands frantically. 

“That...! Will not be necessary. Mad man’ll try and dissect me probably...,” the old bot grumbled. 

“Well then. Come along.” 

Gently shooing the cats back into the shop, Grandma settled back into her chair with the little outsider on her lap while Heptor cautiously stepped around the barrage of meowing felines that tried to greet him while he lowered himself on the snuggler opposite of her. 

“Noisy l’il rascals, huh?” Heptor commented as one of them tried to rub against his shins as he edged away. “You...stop that now...!” 

“They’re just displaying their affection for you; their vocalisations are a way of communicating. It’s almost like music, wouldn’t you agree?” Grandma said with a heart as she softly stroked the purring little outsider who rolled over and exposed his belly to her, lifting his paws to tentatively tap at her fingers. 

“Oh, look! Do you think he is trying to pet me back?” 

Heptor smiled briefly at the sight before turning his head away and frowning when she looked over at him. 

“How am I supposed to know? Not a cat whisperer or anythin’.” 

Grandma hummed and smiled back. 

“...What?” 

“I think I know why you don’t want me to leave.” 

Heptor’s screen suddenly started sweating as he tried to look anywhere else but at her. The signs had been obvious all along, but Heptor was the sort of robot that would rather be dead and buried six feet under than display any kind of signs of weakness. Grandma had dealt with his type before, and they always ended up alone. 

“You would miss me, wouldn’t you?” 

Heptor’s silence said it all. 

“You know, running a business all by myself will undoubtedly be quite difficult. I might need a big strong bot to assist me.” 

Heptor sneered. “Don’t patronise me.” 

Grandma reached out, putting her hand over his. The sudden touch had Heptor frozen on the spot as she looked at him—no, through him. Like she was staring directly into his aching, outcasted soul. 

“I’m not. It takes a certain kind of strength to admit when you’re lonely,” she noticed how the word made him flinch, but continued when he didn’t pull away. “I might have the Outsiders and the little ones and... even you, my dearest friend, to help me from time to time, and the smiles on customer’s faces makes my job worth it but...” 

She trailed off, looking down. 

“Life can be...isolating at times, especially at our age. Wouldn’t you...agree?” 

Grandma blinked when Heptor’s other hand slowly slid on top of hers and held it tightly. 

“I do agree...Beatrice. I do,” Heptor said with a small smile. 

Nobody had called her that name in...she didn't even know how long. To everyone else, she was just...Grandma, the sweet old bot who loved to make clothes for everybody. Nobody had even bothered to ask her for her real name. But still... Heptor had remembered.

“Well, never in all my years did I ever think I would hear those words.” 

“May as well keep goin’ then,” Heptor sighed. “I would...very much like to be by your side. Inside, Outside, whatever side...I’d be proud to spend whatever time I have left on this earth...with you.” 

Grandma was lost for words, so a brightly lit heart was going to have to do.

Heptor mirrored her as they gazed into each other’s monitors, but it wasn’t long before the grizzled old bot had decided that was enough sappiness for today. 

“Just hope nobody starts calling me ‘Grandpa’, they’ll be gettin' a kick up the backside if they do.” 

“I don’t know...” Grandma said, putting a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I think it suits you.” 

Before Heptor could object, he nearly jumped when his lap was suddenly occupied by the black cat, her emerald eyes blinking up at him slowly as she curled up on his trembling knees. 

“W-what’s it doin’?” Heptor asked, holding up his arms as if he would suddenly combust if he touched her. “What do I do?! Go on! Git’!” He tried waving her off, but to no avail as she stretched out and relaxed instead.

“Heptor, you have been graced by the presence of one of my grandchildren, please show a little respect,” Grandma chastised, before showing him what to do. “Long, smooth strokes, like this. Don’t press too hard or you’ll hurt her. Just run your hand down her back, nice and gentle.” 

Copying her movements, Heptor’s trembling fingers eventually relaxed as he combed through the cat’s ebony fur, pulling him into a sort of trance-like state. 

“Huh...I get it now. Does feel kinda nice,” Heptor gasped as a soft purr started emanating around the room. “Oh! You hear that? That means she likes me, right?” 

Grandma couldn’t help but smile. 

“That’s right, and now she’s your grandchild.” 

Heptor huffed at the sentiment, but didn’t argue.  

Although it would probably take a good, long time. With enough care and affection, Heptor would learn to open up more freely without fear or ridicule. After all, between the earth and the sky above, nothing could match the force that was Grandma’s love.   

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

Notes:

That last line was so cheesy I'm sorry xD

Next up is Momo! (Penultimate chapter! :Oc )

Author note - Decided to name the chapters as to make it easier to go back to any in particular

Also there's art for Doc & Seamus in the last chapter by the lovely General! (go check it out it's heartbreaking :,)

Chapter 10: The Artist

Momo’s tendency to get himself into sticky situations was hardly anything new as the clumsy robot had an oddly specific habit of having mischief follow him around like a shadow. Because of this he always kept a transceiver on hand should he need to call on any of the others for...assistance, which was more often than not as wherever Momo went, trouble would be sure to follow 

But this was just ridiculous. 

“In my defense!” Momo held up an upside-down finger to an unamused Clementine as he swayed gently from the tree branches that his foot was trapped between. “I really, really, really needed to get these flowers.” 

“How did you even get up there?” Clementine asked, crossing her arms. “You can’t climb.” 

“Well turns out I can, actually,” Momo countered, quietly adding. “It’s just the getting down that’s the hard part.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

“Those cats made it look easy! Now can you please help me down? I feel kinda woozy; think the oil might be rushing to my head.” 

“Not before you tell me who those flowers are for,” Clementine said with a smirk. 

Momo made something of an insulted snort as he put a hand to his chest in a dramatic manner, though the theatrical display lost its lustre as he slowly started spinning around. 

“I’m a strong, independent robot! I don’t need no significant other!” 

“Then why is your monitor suddenly looking so depressed?” 

“I’m hanging upside-down in case you haven’t noticed, I’m actually...smiling!” 

“Uh-huh, sure. You know you could have just...picked the flowers that are on the uh...y’know, ground ?” 

“Ugh! Everyone knows the best flowers are up in the trees, now are you gonna help me down or—oh s***!” 

Momo screamed as the branches suddenly snapped and freed him from his prison, only at the cost of his life as he tumbled down ungracefully from the treetops. Luckily, Clementine was on hand to break his fall, the smaller robot grunting as she caught him bridal style. Both of them blinked for a moment before Momo looped his arms around her neck. 

“You...are a lot stronger than you look,” Momo said before being unceremoniously dropped to the ground, landing on his rear-end with a thud. “Hey! I was complimenting you...” 

“Quit whining and get up, Doc sent me to tell you that it’s your turn to take care of the recruit. Finally .” 

“As I’ve said before, I was busy!” Momo said as he easily caught up with her quick pace within a few long strides, pulling out a bundle of multi-colored flower petals from his pockets as they walked. “And now my plan shall finally come to fruition!” 

“You gonna tell me who the flowers are for or...?” 

“They...are for me!” 

Clementine deadpanned, stopping to put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh, now that’s just sad.” 

“Hey!” Momo wrenched away with an angry face. “There is nothing sad about self-care! Besides, they will be put to practical use.” 

“How so?” Clementine prodded, genuinely curious now. 

Momo closed his eyes and turned his head away. “That’s for me to know and you to find out!” 

Clementine waved a dismissive hand. “Do what you want. Just look after the little guy and don’t try and palm him off to anybody else,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger. “Everyone needs to take their turn.” 

“You offend me,” Momo replied, putting on the flair of dramatics again. “I would never abandon my itty-bitty baby when he needs me!” 

“Say that again and I’ll punch your lights out,” Clementine warned. 

“Whatever you say Auntie Cwemmie .” 

That was the day Momo ran faster than he ever had before, leaving behind a trail of flower petals as each clumsy step got him farther from the furious fists of death that relentlessly pursued him. Thankfully, there was a cat waiting for him back home who would save his sorry behind once again. 

 

---

 

“Okay it was really nice seeing you again Clementine but I gotta go now byyyyye !” Momo rambled as he finally managed to reach his apartment after a long chase, slamming the door shut and triple-locking it to make sure Clementine couldn’t get in. 

Though by the sound of that thudding, he feared that she might just crash through it by sheer will anyway. 

“Mreow?”  

Jumping at the sound, Momo clutched his hat and pulled it out in front of him as a sort of flimsy shield as he cowered before the murderous femme that was about to slowly and painfully end his life. 

Then he realised; Clementine didn’t meow. 

But he knew who did~! 

“Oh, thank the ancestors!” Momo exclaimed as he shoved his hat back on and landed on his hands and knees in front of the little outsider, who flinched back at the sudden movement and craned his head towards the still-thumping door, his eyes wide and ears pricked. 

“Listen, you gotta help me!” 

“Open the door Momo or I’ll f****** kick it down!”  

“Hey! Uh...the cat! I’ve got the cat in here!” Momo shouted back, suddenly yanking the feline up from the ground and holding him out towards the door by the armpits as if to ward off the evil that was a vengeful Clementine. “You wouldn’t hit a guy with a cat now would you?!” 

The pounding died down, and there was a pause. 

“Fine. But when he’s gone I will kick your a**.”  

With that, she was gone, and the apartment settled down into a comfortable silence again as Momo held the cat close to his chest. 

“Phew!” Momo sighed in relief. “That was a close one. Guess that means you’ll have to live with me now.” He said, setting the cat down onto a nearby rug and holding out his hand.  

“High-five for teamwork!” 

Although the little outsider couldn’t emote like the robots, the look in his unamused eyes and folded back ears said it all. Opting to ignore it, Momo gently grasped his little paw between his fingers and pressed it against the palm of his other hand to imitate the action. 

But the little outsider had other plans and swiped at his hand instead. 

“Hey!” Momo pulled back, grasping his hand and feeling absolutely heartbroken. “I didn’t know how else to get her to leave, I wasn’t actually gonna use ya as a shield!” 

He was answered with a lashing tail and low growl. 

It was time to pull out the big guns. 

“Does my wittle baby boo think I betwayed him?” Momo cooed, his high-pitched tone earning the attention of the feline. “Cuz I would neva’ do such a howwible ting! Come here so I can make yew wove me again...!” 

The robot patted the carpet, and it was enough to summon the orange tabby close enough to him that he could reach out and start massaging him behind the ear. 

“Yeaaah, that’s the spot, huh?”  

A steady vibration of purring only grew louder and louder until it was echoing throughout the entire room as Momo pampered the kitty with belly rubs, chin scratches and back strokes until there was nothing but a content bundle of fur melted onto the floor. 

“Ha! Works every time,” Momo said, feeling pretty proud of himself. 

As the little outsider curled up to sleep, it was only now that Momo noticed a rather familiar looking jumper that he was wearing. It was black and lined at the edges with a light gray.

“Hey, looks like that little vest you used to carry that drone in,” Momo said, pinching an edge and rubbing his fingers against the material. “It’s so soft, did Grandma make you this?”  

The cat sneezed. 

“Huh! Looks good on ya!” Momo nodded in approval, though as he peeled the garment from the bottom of his flank, it revealed a sight that made Momo’s core sink a little. 

The bandages from the cat’s wound were gone, and a bare patch of pale pink skin revealed the healing tissue that still looked a bit too raw for Momo’s liking. It brought him back to that day, of feeling helpless as the little guy fought for his life. 

“Feels so long ago now, huh...?” Momo said, a little more sullenly. “If it were up to me, I’d probably never let you outside ever again.” 

A soft, scratching sensation brought Momo out of his slump as a rough tongue licked his hand—the one that had been swiped at. 

The robot smiled and patted his head. “But you’re a free spirit, bud. You can just do whatever you want and don’t let anybody ever tell you otherwise.” 

Slow-blinking at Momo, the cat lowered his head and stretched out; the signal for an impending nap. Leaving him to it, Momo went about his own business of dividing the flower petals he had gathered earlier into their separate colours, from blazing orange to deep purple, and ground them using the Mortar and Pestle that Guardian had so kindly let him borrow until they were nothing but a brightly coloured paste. 

He scraped each colour onto a wooden painting palette that he had found in a nearby dumspter and laid out the blank canvas that was the white shirt that Clementine had given to him a few days before. 

“It’s time to finally make you into something wearable,” Momo said with such venom in his voice that it would make a snake jealous. 

He had tried. Really, he had. After mourning and throwing away his old clothes, Clementine had said that maybe it was high time that he wore something that didn’t look like a holiday postcard had thrown up on it, but Momo refused to dress up in some plain-looking old garb. That wasn’t him! He was bright! He was colourful! And this god-damn shirt wasn’t about to turn him into some kind of boring, clinical pencil pusher! 

No offense to Doc. 

“Take...that!” Momo declared as he threw a splotch of yellow at it with a paintbrush. “And that!” 

After several minutes of intense yelling and paint throwing, Momo glared at the shirt as if it had directly insulted him. With how ugly it looked; it may as well have. 

“What is wrong with you?” He asked it, pausing for a moment to let it answer. 

Obviously it didn’t. 

“Oh, what was that? You wanna tussle? Because I am this close to throwing you out of the window!” Momo exclaimed, pinching his thumb and index finger within an inch of each other. 

Still no answer. 

Slumping next to the splotchy material, Momo sighed and rubbed his screen with paint-covered hands, completely at a loss as to what to do. He had achieved his mission on getting rid of most of the plain white, but now it just looked like a jumbled-up rainbow. There was no personality to it, no rhyme or reason, just...pure chaos. 

“It’s not your fault,” Momo said, petting a sleeve as if to comfort it. “I thought being an artist would be pretty easy but...” He glanced down with a frown. “I’m no good at it at all. Where the hell do these mad-bots get all their inspiration from anyway?” 

“Mreh?”   

Momo glanced back up at the little outsider as he strolled over and sniffed the palette out of curiosity. 

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” Momo asked as he reached over and offered a soft pat. “I was just—oh, hey! You probably shouldn’t...!” 

Too late. A paw had already been dipped into a fuchsia blob and was well on its way to the canvas as the cat padded over to the shirt, leaving behind tiny little pink paw prints on the wooden floor. 

Momo was mesmerised. 

He had seen the underside of his paws before—'toe beans’ the ancestors had called them—but there was something about the print that they left behind that was so damn adorable . And now...they were all over his shirt. 

“You...are such...a genius!” Momo praised, taking the cat’s face between his hands and rubbing his thumbs over his furry cheeks, smearing them with paint. Not that he seemed to mind as he purred and closed his eyes lovingly at the attention. 

“Okay my little protégé! Let’s try a different colour!” 

The inspiration that had eluded him before suddenly started rolling through his RAM in waves like a dream coming to life; as if his very ancestors were passing down their culture and language to him, a healing power that pulsed throughout his circuitry. 

So this was what inspiration felt like!  

He had taken a leaf out of the little outsider’s book and abandoned his paintbrush completely in favour of his hands, using them to paint out different shapes such as what he had seen from the Outside like trees, flowers and birds, as well as adding tiny Companion faces, more specifically the Outsiders.  

It was like a family portrait! Only...a bit messier. 

“Now for the pièce de résistance !” Momo announced as he oh-so carefully drew out the little outsider, glancing at him now and again just to make sure he could get every feature juuuuust right. He knew when he had perfected it, and pulled back to admire his work. 

It was about as basic as a cat face could get. 

But to Momo it was his masterpiece. His magnum opus. Nothing else would ever match the artistic quality that he had achieved here today. 

“Whaddya think?” Momo said as he picked up the shirt and shoved it on, making sure to point out the prominent ginger cat on the right side of his chest. “Like looking into a mirror, right?” 

“Mrah!”  

Gasping and putting a hand to his face, Momo was almost brought to tears by his little friend’s words, it warmed his core up and raised it into the sky like never before, as if someone had finally recognised his worth. Even more so when the orange tabby started rubbing up against him, smearing paint all over his ankles. 

“Oh my God, thank you soooo much!” Momo all but screeched as he swept the cat up from the ground and pressed his screen against warm fur as he cradled the feline in his arms like a baby. 

“And I couldn’t have done it without your help wittle guy,” Momo cooed as he tapped the little outsider’s pink nose, brandishing it purple. “Cuz’ yew are such a good wittle artiste!” 

And he wasn’t just saying that; the little paw prints truly did add something special to his new favourite shirt. Added a certain zing to it. A bit of pizzazz. A touch of glamour. 

Like he knew what the hell he was talking about. 

“Now for the not so fun part,” Momo dramatically sighed as he brought the cat over to the sink and turned the tap on. “Everyone would kill us—Clementine literally—if they saw you like this. Though I gotta say, pink is definitely your colour.” 

“Mreh eh eh?” The little outsider replied, looking up at him with those big oblivious eyes of his. 

Momo prepared himself and frowned down sadly at the multi-coloured cat. “I’m sorry, little guy. Just be brave now, like your papa Momo!” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the eternal struggle of catching an orange bundle of fury as he practically bounced against the walls and evaded Momo’s clumsy hands like a ninja. After all, Hell hath no fury like forcing a cat to take a bath. 

Seeing no other plausible options, Momo called for back-up. 

The robot cried and begged for his friends’ forgiveness when he opened the knocking door, revealing a scorned looking Clementine with her arms crossed and eyes fixed on the rainbow feline. 

“It’s bath-time,” she simply said, and slowly bent her knees and spread her arms as she prepared to charge into battle with the little beast while Momo could only watch on helplessly from the couch. 

With a yell and a hiss, both robot and cat charged at each other.  

---

Beautiful fanart done by the talented General! ~ Go check out their Tumblr and Instagram!

 

Notes:

Yes Clementine just vibe-checked a cat (and won)

Only one more chapter to go my guys! Can't believe it! :D

Chapter 11: The Stray

Murtaugh hadn’t planned on staying with his robotic friends for quite so long. His wounds had fully healed weeks ago, and there was a part of him that wanted to move on, to wander the world that stretched out beyond the walls. He was a wild cat after all—a stray—and strays, by nature, kept drifting until their time came to an end, never looking back. Always moving on. 

But something would just keep... stopping him. 

Every time his clan made their way to the outskirts of the city, he would get an itch. And no matter how much he scratched behind his ear, it would not cease until the touch of a Companion eased it, the cool metal causing the tingle to magically dissipate. The same thing would happen to his clan-mates; a sore paw here, an upset stomach there. 

And so, they would stay for a little while longer.  

Thankfully, his siblings didn’t seem to mind, as they had gradually grown accustomed to the strange grooming rituals of the robots, even going so far as to seek it out on occasion. 

Misty was the first to come around to their ways. Having her black fur stroked by that strange old grouch—Grandma’s mate, Murtaugh assumed—had been an enlightening experience for her. She worked on melting through his bitterly defensive barriers and claimed him as her own. The others knew not to seek pets from him without her permission. 

His other sister, Poppet, took a little longer. Being a Calico, her spunky and assertive personality meant that she wasn’t one for constant attention-seeking. However, she had enjoyed the company of the meditating Zbaltazar and his many windows of the ocean. Though not being able to catch the delicious fishes had been a mild annoyance—one that was easily rectified with soft words and gentle pets. 

His brother—and the unofficial leader of their clan—had been the wariest of the strange metal people. Their tall bodies and front-facing screens and long, flat claws had given Bailey reason to believe they were some new breed of new predator that they hadn’t discovered yet, and he didn’t fancy sticking around long enough to become their next meal. Though he had been grateful for the robots taking care of Murtaugh, he was eager to move on from this strange place. 

However, a little time spent with Guardian slowly changed Bailey’s perspective. The way the robot looked out for his fellow clan-mates and protected their territory was a trait he admired in these tall beasts, and one that was reminiscent to how Bailey defended his own family. Maybe staying for a while longer wouldn’t be such a bad idea, just so he could learn a thing or two to help defend themselves when they did go back out into the wilderness. 

Because they would go back. Eventually. 

 But Murtaugh had business to attend to first. 

Wandering around the city to visit each and every one of his friends had become something of a routine nowadays, and one he was all too happy to repeat with precision timing. His siblings would follow sometimes, with Bailey occasionally marking a piece of territory until the entire walled city was practically theirs. 

But alas, Murtaugh would be making the journey alone today, and he honestly preferred it this way. He loved his brother and sisters but he couldn’t deny that having the robots’ sole and undivided attention was something he craved ; he had more than earned it after all. 

Under his cracked pads the summer rain was a blessed relief. The cat walked with a little stiffness; his muscles ached where the dog had bitten him. His fur had eventually started to grow in through the bare patch of skin, but he had refused to take off the jumper that Grandma had so lovingly made for him. It was a part of him now, of his life, of his very soul . Just like her and the other Companions. 

Murtaugh decided to visit her first, to show his appreciation for what was probably the hundredth time, he had lost count at this stage. She didn’t seem to mind though, and the feline relished in the attention that she showered over him, much to Heptor’s mild annoyance. The old man seemed to make her happy, but Murtaugh was observant, and would always be on hand to put him back into his place with a hiss and a swipe if he ever dared to make her upset. 

Satisfied that everything was in order, Momo was next on the list. Though he still hadn’t quite forgiven the big clumsy oaf for betraying him with the bath situation, he was still the very best at giving affection. One chirp was all it took to have the robot upon you in an instant with honeyed words and gentle touches that would light up even the most miserable of days. Whenever Murtaugh’s wounded muscles ached, he would go straight to Momo for a daily massage. 

 The language barrier had been an issue as it actually took the feline a few tries to convey the discomfort he was in, but once Momo got the idea, his hands would work like magic and melt away the aches and pains into pure bliss . It was a gift that Murtaugh would exploit until the day he died. 

That same gift kept the feline there for a few hours until he eventually moved onto Doc and Seamus, and it didn’t take much detective work to figure out where they were currently residing. He raised his nose to sniff the wind as it brought along a tint of singed flesh and the distant sound of metallic yelling and cheering that steered him towards the underground sewers.  

The pair of them—donned in matching jumpers and long, flowing capes—were using Defluxors to weed out the remaining Zurks that had tried to hide themselves away into the various nooks and crannies that the sewers offered. But the infamous ‘Zurk Zappers’ would leave no stone unturned in their battle against the blood suckers. Father and son whooped as the oversized bugs exploded, shouting slurs and displaying their middle digits to them—in a show of dominance perhaps? Murtaugh wasn’t quite sure, but they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, and that was all that really mattered. 

With a content trill, the cat moved on. Guardian still took his position as seriously as he had when they were still trapped in the city, though he would occasionally abandon his post to a trainee in favour of visiting the forest.  

This was one of those days, and when Murtaugh approached him in a clearing, the robot made a show of keeping the cat hidden behind him as he emptied a bucket of fish onto the forest floor: an offering, but for who? His answer came in the form of his attacker, her movement was slow and concise as her eyes were trained on Guardian, who kept his staff low but ready to strike should she get any ideas. 

 Murtaugh’s hackles went up as the Akita and her pack started feasting on the mouth-watering pile, but she seemed to pay him no mind, instead focusing her attention on three scrawny pups that bounded after her from the thicket. He calmed down almost immediately upon seeing them, now understanding that the attack hadn’t been one of blind rage but a desperate need to nourish her family. Still, Murtaugh hoped that he wouldn't be needed for that purpose again, and that this would be the last he would ever see of her. 

On the outskirts of the city and edge of the lake was Zbaltazar’s home, where he and Clementine would spend most of their time together these days. It took a little while, but they eventually worked their way through their difficulties (though Murtaugh hadn’t been sure of why there had been such complications in the first place, he could only pick up on so many emotional cues after all, and the whole ordeal had confused him to no end) and overcome their differences at last. 

Whenever the cat would visit them, they would either be playing through a card or board game of sorts—which would immediately be tampered with so their sole attention could be focused on where it should be: on petting him. Other times they would chat all night until the sun rose, or just spend time in each other’s company without saying a word at all—something that Clementine seemed to struggle with as meditation was not her thing. However, Zbaltazar was a patient being, and with enough practice she was practically becoming one with the universe. Though her paper-thin patience was still something to be desired 

As was her situation with Blazer. 

Murtaugh could understand her reluctance to trust him after the backstabbing in Midtown, but even he could tell she was absolutely milking her ability to blackmail him into chauffeuring her around here, there and everywhere. There was a part of him that was proud of her; she truly had the mind-set and attitude of a sly feline. The gruff robot didn’t seem to mind so much, perhaps even going so far as to be enjoying her company, bossy and cynical as she may be. Perhaps one day she might be able to put her pride aside and they would be able to call each other ‘friend’ again. Murtaugh could only hope. Blazer wasn’t a bad person, despite what he had done, not really. Call it a cat’s intuition. 

And Murtaugh’s intuition was always right. 

B-12's location had been harder to pin-point than the others. Ever since regaining the ability to walk, he had developed a habit of wandering the outskirts of the city; never straying too far but just enough to enjoy the freedom of the new world that he had opened up. His scent was one that Murtaugh had to take time to re-learn, with the new body and all. 

Regrettably, the cold breeze of the early evening brought it down to him from the top of the wall, no doubt the robot was gazing down upon the city from up there, but it would mean quite the lengthy climb for a small creature such as himself. Luckily for B-12, Murtaugh was an incredibly loyal cat. 

For his friend, he would go to the lengths of this very Earth. 

A path of stone rose ahead in rugged perfection, the light of the moon playing over the grey rocks as if it were the fingers of a pianist upon gentle keys. The trail had been worn down by robots seeking to enlighten themselves by looking out over the grand vista of what was once their prison to give them the strength and new-found purpose to lead their lives anew. To make the most of their second chance. 

As Murtaugh suspected, he came upon B-12 at the top of the wall, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling and humming a strange, distorted tune. It was a foreign sound; one he hadn’t heard from the other robots—not even the guitarist (who had yet to move from his usual spot)—perhaps a song from the ancient times? 

Approaching his back, the feline announced his arrival to B-12 and settled down next to him, who in turn instinctively reached out and started rubbing the spot behind his ears without even looking at him. Neither said a word to each other as they sat and admired the constellation of lights that spread out below them. Soft music drifted up from the streets, along with the aroma of stale gasoline and a still-bustling vibe despite the city being half empty at this point. 

B-12 said something, but Murtaugh flicked the static noise away with his ears and offered a “Mreh!” in return. Of course, it deeply saddened him that he couldn’t understand his dearly beloved companion anymore, but the same affection was there, in tone and the blatantly obvious love hearts that the mechs constantly aimed at him. A slow blink was all he could offer back, but they seemed to appreciate it all the same. 

That was what kept Murtaugh and his clan bound to this place, it wasn’t his itch, or Misty’s paw hurting, or Poppet’s upset stomach, or even Bailey’s claim that age was starting to slow him down. There was always an excuse to stay just a little while longer because they were all too proud to admit that they liked it here. They liked getting scratched behind the ears, they enjoyed the endless attention the robots showered upon them, and they loved sleeping upon the laps of the Companions; there was something about them that provided warmth and security despite how cold and rigid they could be. It was like they were specifically made for cats. Perhaps by the ancestors? 

Who knew, but Murtaugh had made it his sole mission to sleep upon every single one that existed on the planet. A task given to him by the napping gods themselves. 

On that note... 

Yawning and stretching out in an incredibly-not-obvious-way-at-all, the feline slinked into B-12's lap and curled up into it, purring when a cold metal hand descended upon his back and naturally began stroking it, like the pair had practiced this very gesture a hundred times. 

They very nearly had. 

Like a king upon his beloved throne, Murtaugh proudly overlooked his kingdom, his clan’s territory, his home . And upon his robots, his people, his clan-mates, his family . One that was of blood and oil, of beings in his life that wanted him in theirs and accepted him for what he was. The ones who would do anything for him and show him the kind of unconditional love that he deserved. 

The kind of love that everyone deserves.   

Notes:

And there we have it! I think I've probably experienced the entire range of human emotions writing this story, and it was a challenge since I usually only do the occasional one-shot due to my lack of attention span, so I'm pretty proud I was able to finish this!

So I wanna say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported my little fic, from those who have been there from the beginning and the ones who binge-read all in one go. To the folks who leave a comment on every chapter and y'all who leave a silent kudos; I appreciate all of you. :)