Author's Note: Man, this is a huge fic. This is heavily Gunnm influenced,
so if you see similarities, it's no coincidence. Enjoy, if you can stomach
crappy fanfiction!
One might describe the junkyard as a graveyard, especially if one happened to be a robot-but many people did not. Humans and organic Neopets alike cared not for their mechanical counterparts; they were like cars, really, to them: able to be disassembled and reassembled, traded in and scrapped in a heartbeat, without so much as considering what the robot wanted. For, after all, weren't they just creations of humans, able to be toyed with at will? They were nothing more than computer with physical shape, able to move about the world. So, in all rights, didn't this make them property? Slaves that shouldn't care of their position?
The junkyard and its many attendants cared less for its residents than a cat cares for a mouse, its prey. It was painstakingly organized, each scrap metal put into a specific place-but each of these categories consisted of enormous junk heaps separated by merely chain-link fences, waiting for those who cared to sort through them and find gold among the filth. A large network of robotic arms loomed over the many piles of discarded trash, racing down their respective tracks and putting things into the best order possible, controlled by a large tower, radiating out signals for the arms to follow. The piles themselves were a chaos of noise and movement, some piles more active than others, cruelly dictated by the arms bringing in new scraps and taking out older ones to be melted down and recycled. The area surrounding it seemed to be designed to knock the spirit out of anyone that entered the place-endless dry-dirt desert as far as the eye could see, the only transport to the nearest town by various hover vehicles.
Of course, most of the Neopia looked like this anyway, so most spirit of anything had already been wiped clean.
The junkyard attendant, stationed in the control tower, was not used to visitors in the heat of the day-usually, people waited for the cool temperatures of the night and the early morning to come all the way to the deserted junkyard to find various robot parts for constructing a house- keeping robot, or perhaps even a crop robot, fit for picking whatever was left of the seasonal harvest, most of it gone from the terrible drought the land had been suffering for years. The middle of the day was the time for the orange, robotic Tuskaninny to sit back and enjoy a nice refilling of his gas tank, not having to worry about any burglars that would have to be brought to justice accordingly.
Yet as he gazed lazily out the window, he could see something coming from the haze of the horizon, speeding towards the junkyard at a fast pace, assumedly a person on a speeder. Virtually blinking his eyes hard, he looked again, to confirm that it wasn't a mirage. No, as he looked again, he could see it was, as he had so reluctantly suspected, a speeder, racing towards the junkyard. He groaned internally, taking the gasoline dispenser from his side, stretching his arms grumpily and then taking the old- fashioned elevator down to the dusty ground, zooming out of the tower to meet the visitor, feeling irritable at being interrupted from his break.
The speeder swerved, coming to a precise stop only inches from the Tuskaninny, kicking up a fair amount of dust and hover-engine exhaust into his face, forcing the Tuskaninny to sputter and wave the dust cloud away from his face. The speeder was of an obviously custom design, made from metal painted white, the screen to shield the driver's eyes from excess dirt and dust kicked up from the hover engine black and curved like a half- bubble over the seat. The rider was of a humanoid shape, a white helmet masking his identity. His body was extremely thin, though not quite sickly so, covered in a now dirt-covered lab coat, wearing black pants on his legs. The Tuskaninny wondered how he could bear the heat in the dark pants.
"We're not open now-come back when it's cooler," growled the Tuskaninny, aggravated, a bit peeved that the person had not bothered to apologize about covering him in a cloud of dust.
The human pulled off his helmet, a small popping sound able to be heard as he did so. His face was then visible as he cradled the helmet underneath his arm, shaking his jade-colored hair slightly to get it back into place, although he could really care less for its position. His complexion was astonishingly chalky for someone living in the parts they were currently in, but that was quickly explained with a glance at his pointed ears, indicating that he was of some kind of faerie descent, though not pure, for he lacked wings. As he looked down at the Tuskaninny robot, the robot felt an uneasiness churn in his stomach-the man's eyes were a piercing red color. Although he was clearly non-hostile, the Tuskaninny still found a shred of discomfort swell in his mechanical chest.
"I'm not looking for something too complex-and I know just what I want, on sight. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle to find. And I can pay cash," said the half-faerie, placing the helmet onto the top of the speeder, a knowing grin spreading across his cool, white face.
The Tuskaninny's demeanor shifted immediately, taking on the expression of an experienced salesperson, a cheesy grin spreading across his orange face. "Then follow me, my friend!" he cried, and indicated for the half-faerie to follow, guiding him into the gates of the junkyard.
The Tuskaninny began to rattle off like a tin can, but the half- faerie only partially listened to the old garbage pail's spiels on the best machine parts available. He had no interest in the kind of equipment that the Tuskaninny described: he continued to carry on about maintenance robots, what parts were required to build them and what were the best parts that could be purchased at the junkyard. It was a companion-type that interested him, much like the Neopets that he had seen so many other humans possess as constant friends, by their side through thick and thin. Besides, he desired something to get his mind off of the current economic situation: nonexistent.
As they moved along to the hard drive part of the junkyard, mechanical arms whirring about above their heads, the Tuskaninny's ramblings began to wane, turning to a comment every so often as the half- faerie looked at the many hard drives available for his money. "Would you happen to have any models with. . .artificial intelligence?" questioned the half-faerie, looking down at the Tuskaninny in mild interest.
"Er, well. . .those models, as you probably know, are nominally forbidden. . .personal purposes. Most of the ones here are personality- less, although some of them cry out every so often.most sentience has been destroyed, though, and could not conceivably be returned to the vessel," stammered the Tuskaninny, swallowing, sounding nervous. If he had been sweat glands, he would've been perspiring a river behind himself as he rolled along the walkways, his wheels grinding against the rough ground. The Tuskaninny continued to speak about how all of their robotic parts here were perfect-in that sense, non-sentient. However, he had once again lost the attention of the half-faerie, whose eyes glittered as he looked through the fence.
"This one doesn't look to be of your normal stock," he commented, pointing through one of the links in the fence. His index finger was directed towards a solitary Shoyru head in the bin of hard drives, attached to a small, black box by a thick group of wires. It was, of course, of a robotic origin, but the pale blue flesh covering it looked nominally organic-and from a crack in the framework of the head, slimy, wrinkled gray matter could be seen peeking through, integrated with wires from the brain, crackling with live electricity.
The Tuskaninny's eyes became wide. "I don't know why that one is even out of our personal storage. . .it's not for sale, sir half-faerie."
"I do have a name," the half-faerie commented, annoyed. "It's Krishna. Doctor as a prefix, if you prefer." He reached into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat, producing a leather wallet. "Name your price- I can pay anything you want up front." The Tuskaninny stared at the half- faerie Krishna, wondering if he had heard a word he had said besides 'sir half-faerie.'
"No, sir-this unit is not for sale. It's not. . .authorized to be sold," lied the Tuskaninny robot, remembering his specific instructions from the rather unpleasant Grarrl that owned the junkyard. He would rather not end up as scrap metal among his friends in the very place he worked for.
"This is exactly what I was looking for. I WILL buy it," insisted the half-faerie Krishna, his crimson eyes glaring down at the Tuskaninny. The Tuskaninny shrank back, feeling the intimidation that he did whenever he was confronted by his awful boss. There seemed to be something else trying to play a part in the Tuskaninny's persuasion, however-he could feel it in the air, making it thicker. Some kind of faerie magic, no doubt. The effect on him, however, was little, as he was made of machine-still, it made him woozy and increasingly irritable, now just desiring the half-faerie to leave.
"Sir, I'm afraid I going to require you to leave if this is your only business here. Besides, shouldn't you be in your little safe haven, Faerieland?" mocked the Tuskaninny sarcastically, clutching to his head with a claw. "You wouldn't want to break a nail."
Krishna's head jerked back, as if shocked and insulted at the Tuskaninny's sarcastic reply. For a fleeting moment, the Tuskaninny feared that he would blow him up with some crazy faerie magic, thus reducing him to everything surrounding him. Krishna's expression, however, calmed after a moment, nodding jerkily. "Sorry for intruding on your break, sir-though thank you for your help," he said softly, and turned around, beginning to guide himself out.
The Tuskaninny stood where he had stopped, staring at the back of the half-faerie's lab coat in wonderment. It occurred to him that it seemed out of this half-faerie's personality to just give up like that; he seemed very determined, after all, when he had been bargaining. The Tuskaninny's mood darkened as he came to the revelation of what the half-faerie would most likely do-what so many others had done before: come back when the junkyard was the least protected, namely, during his next break, and attempt to steal the artifact.
Even if this wasn't what would happen, the Tuskaninny wasn't about to take chances around the junkyard. Opening a panel on his chest, he pressed some buttons to produce a direct connection with the network of mechanical arms zooming around above him, a microphone extending from his chest for him to speak into. In a soft voice, he issued commands to the mechanical arms in the machine language they were to be ordered in.
Immediately, all of the mechanical arms turned away from their various tasks, pausing for a moment. The clanking of many paths interlocking and changing rang through the air, the half-faerie Krishna looking up in alarm at the sudden sounds above him. Looking upwards, he could see the plethora of many robotic arms racing towards him across their tracks, not even halting to make way for others. They extended from their normal length to extraordinary ones, reaching out and snatching the half-faerie before he had a chance to react, grasping him tightly. He struggled against their grips, but they held fast, his weak limbs little match for machinery.
The orange robotic Tuskaninny rolled casually towards his captor, a sadistic smile on his metal face. "Sorry, Mr. Krishna, but you know things these days-there's plenty of opportunities to transform good people into thieves. And I'm really not a robot into taking chances." The Tuskaninny spoke a series of clicks and squeaks into the microphone jutting out of its chest, and the mechanical arms began to tighten their grip, crushing Krishna's body beneath, the half-faerie crying out in pain.
The unnecessary torture did not last long, however-for suddenly the arms seemed to reel back in terror, almost as if they had been struck by something that had injured them. Krishna was dropped to the ground with a suddenness, although he wasn't complaining; it beat being squashed by a massive group of arms. Looking up to see what had saved him, he at first caught a glimpse of pale blue skin-and then the sound of cold metal against metal rang through the air, and one of the arms fell from the ground, wires snapping and crackling from its severed end.
In the dust stood a mismatched figure: its body was clearly that of a robotic Kougra. The head, however, contrasted completely-it was the head of the Shoyru robot he had seen earlier, clearly fused on roughly and incompletely, but still able to function the body. The Shoyru's face, a metal plate labeled "00" stationed in the middle of its forehead, the black box completely gone. Its hard, blue eyes stared briefly at Krishna on the ground, the two's eyes temporarily locked. For a moment, time stood still, a silent understanding reached-and then time returned to its normal pace in a quite drastic fashion.
One of the arms plunged down at Krishna, obviously given new directions. Krishna just barely managed to roll out of the way in surprise, only getting slightly scratched. He got the dull end of the knife, however-the remainder of the arms rushed at the Shoyru/Kougra hybrid, which promptly sprung into the air, avoiding most of their grasps, many of them plunging deep into the ground, never to be used again. Others, however, pursued the airborne hybrid, which landed on top of the Tuskaninny robot, making him roll backwards and dent the robot's face. The Tuskaninny let out a cry of surprise, but the hybrid barely made any notice, springing away as the arms came at it, many of them slamming down on the Tuskaninny, driving him into the ground.
The hybrid scaled the chain-link fences of the piles in mere seconds, running up to the tracks of the mechanical arms. The hybrid shot across them, the arms following after it, getting closer and closer to its tail. The hybrid sped up, but the mechanical arms came ever closer, even as the hybrid broke into a dead sprint, doing a balancing act at the same time on the thin track of the mechanical arms.
Finally, one caught up with the hybrid, seizing it by the tail. The Shoyru face gave out a harsh cry, being tossed carelessly into a pile of scrap. Skidding to a halt, the hybrid struggled quickly to its feet, jumping onto one of the arms coming at it and crawling it to the top with a surprising amount of agility for a robot, again finding itself on top of the track of mechanical arms. It approached the center of the tracks, where they all ultimately intertwined, a large storing bay for inactive mechanical arms there. Instantly, those came alive as well, thrashing and writhing about to escape and capture their target.
Mechanical muscles coiling, the hybrid gave a mighty leap over the sea of twisting and turning arms, all turning their direction towards it. It fell sort of sloppily onto one last inactive mechanical arm, a wire disconnecting from its head and plunging into the mechanisms of the mechanical arm. It came alive underneath the hybrid's control, the hybrid riding it as a cowboy did a horse, gripping to the wrist parts with the Kougra body's metal claws.
The hand launched forward into the sea of its comrades, fighting against it at the hybrid's will. While the hands were preoccupied with grabbing the occupant on its back, the hand ripped them from their posts, throwing their useless bodies into random scrap piles. The hybrid itself jumped from its steed's back and attacked alongside it, ripping them from their sockets and turning them into what they had formerly picked up and distributed, reducing their ranks quickly.
Not quickly enough, however. A few still remained-a few the hybrid had left unaccounted for, unfortunately. Coming from behind it, one smashed its comrades to mere functioning wires, while the other two dove for the hybrid, grabbing it by the torso. Giving a hideous shriek, the hybrid struggled, managing to get one paw free from their grasps, but little else. The arms swung it around violently, the hybrid struggling all the time. Finally, it managed to squeeze free just when it was about to be smashed against the wall, using the momentum to catapult itself onto the hangar of the mechanical arms once again, steadying itself on the black box it had landed so conveniently on. Taking out its claws once again, it dug them deep into the box, ripping it to metallic shreds as it fell backwards, losing its balance and falling from the large height to the dusty ground.
For a moment, the mechanical arms seemed to hesitate, as if contemplating their next move. Then, with a suddenness, they fell limp where they were, utterly useless.
Krishna scrambled to his feet, slightly bruised, and walked over to where the Tuskaninny was plowed into the ground. He seemed to be knocked unconscious, but still mostly in tact, if badly dented, one of his arms dangling by mere wires. Krishna kicked the Tuskaninny's head slightly, amused. "Sorry about troubling you-I'll be going now," he said softly, a slight smile gracing his light pink lips.
Walking away from the Tuskaninny, he entered the labyrinth of walkways, remembering, for the most part, his way back to the entrance. He wasn't looking for the entrance, however-he wanted to find the Shoyru that had saved him from the fate the Tuskaninny had chosen for a thief.
He soon found it, almost to his dismay-it lay on the ground, steam rising from its dented and battered body, the Kougra frame nominally useless now. However, the head was still in tact and functioning, judging by the way the eyes rolled up to look at him, a curious look flickering onto the pale blue face, its organic look appearing awkward on the robotic body.
"Are you. . .?" began the Shoyru head, the voice a soft, feminine tone. Before it could finish its sentence, however, the eyes rolled backwards and the form fell still, eyelids closing.
Krishna bent down to the war-tattered little robot with pity. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a few tools and expertly removed the head from the body. While the body would be of no use to him, the head was still functioning-it would be able to do without a body for the time it took him to get home, where then he could use a spare body from his personal collection for the Shoyru's use. Perhaps he even had a suitable Shoyru body for the pale blue robotic hard drive-perhaps she would be his pet.
Picking up the head, he began to navigate his way out of the building, grateful to be able to depart from the graveyard of machines, hoping he would never have to return.
The Shoyru's eyes opened, blinking. Her first thought was of the hole in the ceiling, letting through the shades of gray that consisted of the sky, dark with clouds-clouds that never rained. She blinked, confused. She knew there was something to be remembered, something inside the back of her mind that was sitting there, waiting to be brought up.but she could not put her finger on it. It occurred to her that she should have a name, a number, at least, but she could remember neither-nor could she remember getting here, or even previous occurrences. She could hardly remember what she looked like. She decided to refresh that memory.
Turning her head downwards, she could see an expanse that must've been her body-made of metalwork, that of a typical robotic Shoyru. She couldn't remember that specifically, but it made sense, for she could recall her face being that of a Shoyru-more organic looking, of a blue color, with two distinctive markings on her cheek. Little else of her appearance seemed to be stored in her memory-and soon she gave up on the futile task of fishing for things that weren't there.
The door to the room she was in opened, and in came a man-well, not a man, because he had pointed ears, much like a faerie, but he could not be a faerie, for he didn't have wings. He looked familiar, but she couldn't recall from where, exactly-only that he looked familiar. Dressed in a lab coat, he didn't look all that professional, probably due to the color of his hair and eyes, and the way he carried himself.
"Regain consciousness?" he asked, approaching the bed.
"Yes," she replied quietly. "Where am I?"
"Safe from the junkyard."
"Where?"
The half-faerie gave her a strange look, lifting his eyebrow. "Do you remember me?"
"Sort of. . .not really," she admitted, turning her face away, not really caring at the moment. "I'm tired."
"Guess you must've lost some data from that beating you took. . .probably from the transfer to a new body, too," sighed the half-faerie, taking a seat next to her bed. "Do you at least remember having a name?"
"A name," she repeated, looking back at him blankly. She shook her head slowly. "No."
"A number?"
"No."
"Even a production model?"
"No." The half-faerie sighed again heavily, rubbing his forehead.
"Do you remember.anything?"
"Just some bits and pieces.nothing to put together into a full picture," she answered, her voice not exceptionally emotional. A small smile came across the half-faerie's face.
"Well, my name is Krishna, and I guess I'm you're owner now. So it's only appropriate that I name you," he stated, giving off a slight air of an official manner. Straightening his back, he looked down at her. "To be honest, I've never been very good at naming anything. . .my last three projects were called Krishna Project One, Two and Three. Is there anything in particular that you would want to be named?"
The Shoyru thought for a minute, sinking back into the bed she lay on. She decided that it wasn't a very soft bed-in fact, it was metallic just like her, obviously not used for organic materials. She shifted herself slightly on the bed, looking hard at the half-faerie. She could remember distrust, for sure; she had never been an extremely trusting individual, from what she could gather. Yet there was something about his kind, gentle demeanor that cried out for her to trust, to put her faith in. Something so different from the faded memories in the back of her mind.
She smiled a little at him, though it seemed unpracticed, her face unaccustomed to such movement, coming out warped. Still, she felt warm here, warmer, safer than she had ever been before. Her answer was softer than she remembered talking as, lighter, more carefree. Perhaps this would be a new beginning for her. A fresh start required a fresh name. And so she chose.
"Mitsuko."
One might describe the junkyard as a graveyard, especially if one happened to be a robot-but many people did not. Humans and organic Neopets alike cared not for their mechanical counterparts; they were like cars, really, to them: able to be disassembled and reassembled, traded in and scrapped in a heartbeat, without so much as considering what the robot wanted. For, after all, weren't they just creations of humans, able to be toyed with at will? They were nothing more than computer with physical shape, able to move about the world. So, in all rights, didn't this make them property? Slaves that shouldn't care of their position?
The junkyard and its many attendants cared less for its residents than a cat cares for a mouse, its prey. It was painstakingly organized, each scrap metal put into a specific place-but each of these categories consisted of enormous junk heaps separated by merely chain-link fences, waiting for those who cared to sort through them and find gold among the filth. A large network of robotic arms loomed over the many piles of discarded trash, racing down their respective tracks and putting things into the best order possible, controlled by a large tower, radiating out signals for the arms to follow. The piles themselves were a chaos of noise and movement, some piles more active than others, cruelly dictated by the arms bringing in new scraps and taking out older ones to be melted down and recycled. The area surrounding it seemed to be designed to knock the spirit out of anyone that entered the place-endless dry-dirt desert as far as the eye could see, the only transport to the nearest town by various hover vehicles.
Of course, most of the Neopia looked like this anyway, so most spirit of anything had already been wiped clean.
The junkyard attendant, stationed in the control tower, was not used to visitors in the heat of the day-usually, people waited for the cool temperatures of the night and the early morning to come all the way to the deserted junkyard to find various robot parts for constructing a house- keeping robot, or perhaps even a crop robot, fit for picking whatever was left of the seasonal harvest, most of it gone from the terrible drought the land had been suffering for years. The middle of the day was the time for the orange, robotic Tuskaninny to sit back and enjoy a nice refilling of his gas tank, not having to worry about any burglars that would have to be brought to justice accordingly.
Yet as he gazed lazily out the window, he could see something coming from the haze of the horizon, speeding towards the junkyard at a fast pace, assumedly a person on a speeder. Virtually blinking his eyes hard, he looked again, to confirm that it wasn't a mirage. No, as he looked again, he could see it was, as he had so reluctantly suspected, a speeder, racing towards the junkyard. He groaned internally, taking the gasoline dispenser from his side, stretching his arms grumpily and then taking the old- fashioned elevator down to the dusty ground, zooming out of the tower to meet the visitor, feeling irritable at being interrupted from his break.
The speeder swerved, coming to a precise stop only inches from the Tuskaninny, kicking up a fair amount of dust and hover-engine exhaust into his face, forcing the Tuskaninny to sputter and wave the dust cloud away from his face. The speeder was of an obviously custom design, made from metal painted white, the screen to shield the driver's eyes from excess dirt and dust kicked up from the hover engine black and curved like a half- bubble over the seat. The rider was of a humanoid shape, a white helmet masking his identity. His body was extremely thin, though not quite sickly so, covered in a now dirt-covered lab coat, wearing black pants on his legs. The Tuskaninny wondered how he could bear the heat in the dark pants.
"We're not open now-come back when it's cooler," growled the Tuskaninny, aggravated, a bit peeved that the person had not bothered to apologize about covering him in a cloud of dust.
The human pulled off his helmet, a small popping sound able to be heard as he did so. His face was then visible as he cradled the helmet underneath his arm, shaking his jade-colored hair slightly to get it back into place, although he could really care less for its position. His complexion was astonishingly chalky for someone living in the parts they were currently in, but that was quickly explained with a glance at his pointed ears, indicating that he was of some kind of faerie descent, though not pure, for he lacked wings. As he looked down at the Tuskaninny robot, the robot felt an uneasiness churn in his stomach-the man's eyes were a piercing red color. Although he was clearly non-hostile, the Tuskaninny still found a shred of discomfort swell in his mechanical chest.
"I'm not looking for something too complex-and I know just what I want, on sight. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle to find. And I can pay cash," said the half-faerie, placing the helmet onto the top of the speeder, a knowing grin spreading across his cool, white face.
The Tuskaninny's demeanor shifted immediately, taking on the expression of an experienced salesperson, a cheesy grin spreading across his orange face. "Then follow me, my friend!" he cried, and indicated for the half-faerie to follow, guiding him into the gates of the junkyard.
The Tuskaninny began to rattle off like a tin can, but the half- faerie only partially listened to the old garbage pail's spiels on the best machine parts available. He had no interest in the kind of equipment that the Tuskaninny described: he continued to carry on about maintenance robots, what parts were required to build them and what were the best parts that could be purchased at the junkyard. It was a companion-type that interested him, much like the Neopets that he had seen so many other humans possess as constant friends, by their side through thick and thin. Besides, he desired something to get his mind off of the current economic situation: nonexistent.
As they moved along to the hard drive part of the junkyard, mechanical arms whirring about above their heads, the Tuskaninny's ramblings began to wane, turning to a comment every so often as the half- faerie looked at the many hard drives available for his money. "Would you happen to have any models with. . .artificial intelligence?" questioned the half-faerie, looking down at the Tuskaninny in mild interest.
"Er, well. . .those models, as you probably know, are nominally forbidden. . .personal purposes. Most of the ones here are personality- less, although some of them cry out every so often.most sentience has been destroyed, though, and could not conceivably be returned to the vessel," stammered the Tuskaninny, swallowing, sounding nervous. If he had been sweat glands, he would've been perspiring a river behind himself as he rolled along the walkways, his wheels grinding against the rough ground. The Tuskaninny continued to speak about how all of their robotic parts here were perfect-in that sense, non-sentient. However, he had once again lost the attention of the half-faerie, whose eyes glittered as he looked through the fence.
"This one doesn't look to be of your normal stock," he commented, pointing through one of the links in the fence. His index finger was directed towards a solitary Shoyru head in the bin of hard drives, attached to a small, black box by a thick group of wires. It was, of course, of a robotic origin, but the pale blue flesh covering it looked nominally organic-and from a crack in the framework of the head, slimy, wrinkled gray matter could be seen peeking through, integrated with wires from the brain, crackling with live electricity.
The Tuskaninny's eyes became wide. "I don't know why that one is even out of our personal storage. . .it's not for sale, sir half-faerie."
"I do have a name," the half-faerie commented, annoyed. "It's Krishna. Doctor as a prefix, if you prefer." He reached into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat, producing a leather wallet. "Name your price- I can pay anything you want up front." The Tuskaninny stared at the half- faerie Krishna, wondering if he had heard a word he had said besides 'sir half-faerie.'
"No, sir-this unit is not for sale. It's not. . .authorized to be sold," lied the Tuskaninny robot, remembering his specific instructions from the rather unpleasant Grarrl that owned the junkyard. He would rather not end up as scrap metal among his friends in the very place he worked for.
"This is exactly what I was looking for. I WILL buy it," insisted the half-faerie Krishna, his crimson eyes glaring down at the Tuskaninny. The Tuskaninny shrank back, feeling the intimidation that he did whenever he was confronted by his awful boss. There seemed to be something else trying to play a part in the Tuskaninny's persuasion, however-he could feel it in the air, making it thicker. Some kind of faerie magic, no doubt. The effect on him, however, was little, as he was made of machine-still, it made him woozy and increasingly irritable, now just desiring the half-faerie to leave.
"Sir, I'm afraid I going to require you to leave if this is your only business here. Besides, shouldn't you be in your little safe haven, Faerieland?" mocked the Tuskaninny sarcastically, clutching to his head with a claw. "You wouldn't want to break a nail."
Krishna's head jerked back, as if shocked and insulted at the Tuskaninny's sarcastic reply. For a fleeting moment, the Tuskaninny feared that he would blow him up with some crazy faerie magic, thus reducing him to everything surrounding him. Krishna's expression, however, calmed after a moment, nodding jerkily. "Sorry for intruding on your break, sir-though thank you for your help," he said softly, and turned around, beginning to guide himself out.
The Tuskaninny stood where he had stopped, staring at the back of the half-faerie's lab coat in wonderment. It occurred to him that it seemed out of this half-faerie's personality to just give up like that; he seemed very determined, after all, when he had been bargaining. The Tuskaninny's mood darkened as he came to the revelation of what the half-faerie would most likely do-what so many others had done before: come back when the junkyard was the least protected, namely, during his next break, and attempt to steal the artifact.
Even if this wasn't what would happen, the Tuskaninny wasn't about to take chances around the junkyard. Opening a panel on his chest, he pressed some buttons to produce a direct connection with the network of mechanical arms zooming around above him, a microphone extending from his chest for him to speak into. In a soft voice, he issued commands to the mechanical arms in the machine language they were to be ordered in.
Immediately, all of the mechanical arms turned away from their various tasks, pausing for a moment. The clanking of many paths interlocking and changing rang through the air, the half-faerie Krishna looking up in alarm at the sudden sounds above him. Looking upwards, he could see the plethora of many robotic arms racing towards him across their tracks, not even halting to make way for others. They extended from their normal length to extraordinary ones, reaching out and snatching the half-faerie before he had a chance to react, grasping him tightly. He struggled against their grips, but they held fast, his weak limbs little match for machinery.
The orange robotic Tuskaninny rolled casually towards his captor, a sadistic smile on his metal face. "Sorry, Mr. Krishna, but you know things these days-there's plenty of opportunities to transform good people into thieves. And I'm really not a robot into taking chances." The Tuskaninny spoke a series of clicks and squeaks into the microphone jutting out of its chest, and the mechanical arms began to tighten their grip, crushing Krishna's body beneath, the half-faerie crying out in pain.
The unnecessary torture did not last long, however-for suddenly the arms seemed to reel back in terror, almost as if they had been struck by something that had injured them. Krishna was dropped to the ground with a suddenness, although he wasn't complaining; it beat being squashed by a massive group of arms. Looking up to see what had saved him, he at first caught a glimpse of pale blue skin-and then the sound of cold metal against metal rang through the air, and one of the arms fell from the ground, wires snapping and crackling from its severed end.
In the dust stood a mismatched figure: its body was clearly that of a robotic Kougra. The head, however, contrasted completely-it was the head of the Shoyru robot he had seen earlier, clearly fused on roughly and incompletely, but still able to function the body. The Shoyru's face, a metal plate labeled "00" stationed in the middle of its forehead, the black box completely gone. Its hard, blue eyes stared briefly at Krishna on the ground, the two's eyes temporarily locked. For a moment, time stood still, a silent understanding reached-and then time returned to its normal pace in a quite drastic fashion.
One of the arms plunged down at Krishna, obviously given new directions. Krishna just barely managed to roll out of the way in surprise, only getting slightly scratched. He got the dull end of the knife, however-the remainder of the arms rushed at the Shoyru/Kougra hybrid, which promptly sprung into the air, avoiding most of their grasps, many of them plunging deep into the ground, never to be used again. Others, however, pursued the airborne hybrid, which landed on top of the Tuskaninny robot, making him roll backwards and dent the robot's face. The Tuskaninny let out a cry of surprise, but the hybrid barely made any notice, springing away as the arms came at it, many of them slamming down on the Tuskaninny, driving him into the ground.
The hybrid scaled the chain-link fences of the piles in mere seconds, running up to the tracks of the mechanical arms. The hybrid shot across them, the arms following after it, getting closer and closer to its tail. The hybrid sped up, but the mechanical arms came ever closer, even as the hybrid broke into a dead sprint, doing a balancing act at the same time on the thin track of the mechanical arms.
Finally, one caught up with the hybrid, seizing it by the tail. The Shoyru face gave out a harsh cry, being tossed carelessly into a pile of scrap. Skidding to a halt, the hybrid struggled quickly to its feet, jumping onto one of the arms coming at it and crawling it to the top with a surprising amount of agility for a robot, again finding itself on top of the track of mechanical arms. It approached the center of the tracks, where they all ultimately intertwined, a large storing bay for inactive mechanical arms there. Instantly, those came alive as well, thrashing and writhing about to escape and capture their target.
Mechanical muscles coiling, the hybrid gave a mighty leap over the sea of twisting and turning arms, all turning their direction towards it. It fell sort of sloppily onto one last inactive mechanical arm, a wire disconnecting from its head and plunging into the mechanisms of the mechanical arm. It came alive underneath the hybrid's control, the hybrid riding it as a cowboy did a horse, gripping to the wrist parts with the Kougra body's metal claws.
The hand launched forward into the sea of its comrades, fighting against it at the hybrid's will. While the hands were preoccupied with grabbing the occupant on its back, the hand ripped them from their posts, throwing their useless bodies into random scrap piles. The hybrid itself jumped from its steed's back and attacked alongside it, ripping them from their sockets and turning them into what they had formerly picked up and distributed, reducing their ranks quickly.
Not quickly enough, however. A few still remained-a few the hybrid had left unaccounted for, unfortunately. Coming from behind it, one smashed its comrades to mere functioning wires, while the other two dove for the hybrid, grabbing it by the torso. Giving a hideous shriek, the hybrid struggled, managing to get one paw free from their grasps, but little else. The arms swung it around violently, the hybrid struggling all the time. Finally, it managed to squeeze free just when it was about to be smashed against the wall, using the momentum to catapult itself onto the hangar of the mechanical arms once again, steadying itself on the black box it had landed so conveniently on. Taking out its claws once again, it dug them deep into the box, ripping it to metallic shreds as it fell backwards, losing its balance and falling from the large height to the dusty ground.
For a moment, the mechanical arms seemed to hesitate, as if contemplating their next move. Then, with a suddenness, they fell limp where they were, utterly useless.
Krishna scrambled to his feet, slightly bruised, and walked over to where the Tuskaninny was plowed into the ground. He seemed to be knocked unconscious, but still mostly in tact, if badly dented, one of his arms dangling by mere wires. Krishna kicked the Tuskaninny's head slightly, amused. "Sorry about troubling you-I'll be going now," he said softly, a slight smile gracing his light pink lips.
Walking away from the Tuskaninny, he entered the labyrinth of walkways, remembering, for the most part, his way back to the entrance. He wasn't looking for the entrance, however-he wanted to find the Shoyru that had saved him from the fate the Tuskaninny had chosen for a thief.
He soon found it, almost to his dismay-it lay on the ground, steam rising from its dented and battered body, the Kougra frame nominally useless now. However, the head was still in tact and functioning, judging by the way the eyes rolled up to look at him, a curious look flickering onto the pale blue face, its organic look appearing awkward on the robotic body.
"Are you. . .?" began the Shoyru head, the voice a soft, feminine tone. Before it could finish its sentence, however, the eyes rolled backwards and the form fell still, eyelids closing.
Krishna bent down to the war-tattered little robot with pity. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a few tools and expertly removed the head from the body. While the body would be of no use to him, the head was still functioning-it would be able to do without a body for the time it took him to get home, where then he could use a spare body from his personal collection for the Shoyru's use. Perhaps he even had a suitable Shoyru body for the pale blue robotic hard drive-perhaps she would be his pet.
Picking up the head, he began to navigate his way out of the building, grateful to be able to depart from the graveyard of machines, hoping he would never have to return.
The Shoyru's eyes opened, blinking. Her first thought was of the hole in the ceiling, letting through the shades of gray that consisted of the sky, dark with clouds-clouds that never rained. She blinked, confused. She knew there was something to be remembered, something inside the back of her mind that was sitting there, waiting to be brought up.but she could not put her finger on it. It occurred to her that she should have a name, a number, at least, but she could remember neither-nor could she remember getting here, or even previous occurrences. She could hardly remember what she looked like. She decided to refresh that memory.
Turning her head downwards, she could see an expanse that must've been her body-made of metalwork, that of a typical robotic Shoyru. She couldn't remember that specifically, but it made sense, for she could recall her face being that of a Shoyru-more organic looking, of a blue color, with two distinctive markings on her cheek. Little else of her appearance seemed to be stored in her memory-and soon she gave up on the futile task of fishing for things that weren't there.
The door to the room she was in opened, and in came a man-well, not a man, because he had pointed ears, much like a faerie, but he could not be a faerie, for he didn't have wings. He looked familiar, but she couldn't recall from where, exactly-only that he looked familiar. Dressed in a lab coat, he didn't look all that professional, probably due to the color of his hair and eyes, and the way he carried himself.
"Regain consciousness?" he asked, approaching the bed.
"Yes," she replied quietly. "Where am I?"
"Safe from the junkyard."
"Where?"
The half-faerie gave her a strange look, lifting his eyebrow. "Do you remember me?"
"Sort of. . .not really," she admitted, turning her face away, not really caring at the moment. "I'm tired."
"Guess you must've lost some data from that beating you took. . .probably from the transfer to a new body, too," sighed the half-faerie, taking a seat next to her bed. "Do you at least remember having a name?"
"A name," she repeated, looking back at him blankly. She shook her head slowly. "No."
"A number?"
"No."
"Even a production model?"
"No." The half-faerie sighed again heavily, rubbing his forehead.
"Do you remember.anything?"
"Just some bits and pieces.nothing to put together into a full picture," she answered, her voice not exceptionally emotional. A small smile came across the half-faerie's face.
"Well, my name is Krishna, and I guess I'm you're owner now. So it's only appropriate that I name you," he stated, giving off a slight air of an official manner. Straightening his back, he looked down at her. "To be honest, I've never been very good at naming anything. . .my last three projects were called Krishna Project One, Two and Three. Is there anything in particular that you would want to be named?"
The Shoyru thought for a minute, sinking back into the bed she lay on. She decided that it wasn't a very soft bed-in fact, it was metallic just like her, obviously not used for organic materials. She shifted herself slightly on the bed, looking hard at the half-faerie. She could remember distrust, for sure; she had never been an extremely trusting individual, from what she could gather. Yet there was something about his kind, gentle demeanor that cried out for her to trust, to put her faith in. Something so different from the faded memories in the back of her mind.
She smiled a little at him, though it seemed unpracticed, her face unaccustomed to such movement, coming out warped. Still, she felt warm here, warmer, safer than she had ever been before. Her answer was softer than she remembered talking as, lighter, more carefree. Perhaps this would be a new beginning for her. A fresh start required a fresh name. And so she chose.
"Mitsuko."