I do not own Astro Boy, the movie or the cartoon.

Okay, I wrote this story a long while ago, and it was just hangin' in the desktop, so I figured, what the hay-I'll post the damn thing! So, yeah. I've written a kind of sequel, and though I do have a couple ideas zooming through my empty head, I don't think I'll be able to finish this, so enjoy!

Astro Boy

Wherever he was, Toby honestly didn't want to know. It smelled horrible, like burning oil and garbage. Whether he liked it or not, however, Toby had to wake up.

Slowly, he sat up, and was about to groggily rub a hand over his face when he got a look at it. His hand was still in that red metallic glove his da-Dr. Tenma gave him. His feet, too, were in those red boots, and he briefly wondered if he had his shoes under them, and what state his cloths were in.

Briefly, because a robot promptly grabbed his wrist.

Its fingers were coated in rust and it scratched Toby's skin. Gulping, the robot-boy flicked his widened eyes to the robot's face. It was worse than its hands. The jaw was unhinged and hanging, its left eye was missing and the other was flickering on and off.

"Please," it said, voice static-y, "spare some energy." It did not beg, merely asked in an emotionless monotone.

"Um," heart racing, Toby pulled on the robot's fingers, "s-sorry, but I…" he let the sentence hang, not knowing what else to say. He pulled a bit harder when he heard others clanking their way to him. One of its fingers snapped off in Toby's hand, and he scrambled to his feet. Quickly, he stepped away, stumbled on something he didn't even want to know was and fell slash slid the fifty or so feet down the hill, rather mountain, of garbage.

"Ow," Toby groaned, struggling to his hands and knees. He was thankful that his new body could take such a beating with such a small amount of healing time but Toby could still feel himself himself reaching his newest limit. The gel in his hair had long since been blown away and it hung in his eyes and tickled his neck. His advanced ears heard shuffling far above him and the robot-boy forced his head around and made his eyes focus. Above him, dozens of old, falling-apart robots had gathered on the mountain he was just on. Some were crawling on their front, legs unable to support them; some didn't have any legs (or limbs, for that matter). It was a struggle to move even an inch.

They paused, no doubt searching for him. Then, as one, they turned to the frightened raven-haired robot-boy and began to slowly descend. A few lost their footing on the steep decline and fell apart on their way down.

Toby did not wait to see how many would still be intact, let alone working. He turned on his red-booted, can't-freaking-take off!-heel and ran.

He tried to duplicate what he did when he fell from his window (because the idiot sprayer-bottle thing freakin' sprayed him!) but the boots refused to work. They made a sound like they were charging to take off, then, when Toby's heart would blossom with triumph and hope, they just erupted into smoke. Toby didn't try again for fear they would blow up.

Robots practically popped out of thin air and swarmed around him, begging for new parts but would be pulling at him regardless of his panicked No!'s. Toby franticly pushed his way through the needy robots, trying his best not to cause any more harm to those around him.

Eventually, Toby outran the weakened 'bots and managed to escape them. Panting heavily, he threw himself at the ground his back scratching against the uneven, dirty floor, chest heaving and heart racing from the run. Toby groaned quietly and brought a trembling, gloved hand to his face, placing it on his cheek and sighing from the coolness of it against his feverish skin. He rubbed the metal glove over his face, trying to cool it down. His right arm was lying limply at his side and Toby was scared to look at it.

Gathering his courage, the robot-boy studied the damage. His clothes, both his jeans and the T-Shirt were ripped, torn, and singed. The right side of his bosy, he noticed detachedly, was quite nearly vaporized. They only clung on in strings and thin bits of tread. He wondered how it hadn't snapped and falle during his run from the locals. He could see his boxers clearly, and even half of that was gone. His hipbone, the right side, and shoulder were both bare, if one discounted the pissed blisters and cuts.

All in all, Toby needed to find new clothes. Anything would be better than this. Not that someone could even call the cut-up pieces of yarn clothing.

But when Toby saw what state his body was in, he honestly didn't know whether to throw up or cry. He couldn't see what his back looked like, nor did he want to, but he got a good look at his front arms, and both legs. They were blistered, red and raw. Cuts littered the areas and from the itchiness on his back, Toby guessed it was the same. But the worst by far, that made him lose what little was in his stomach was the sight of his mangled right arm. There was a gaping hole in the area between the shoulder and elbow; his "bone" was in full view. (Artificial?) Blood was flowing steadily from the wound, but Toby forced himself to focus on the "bone."

"It's not real," he muttered to himself, after his sickness had passed. "I'm not real." That sobered him up.

Taking another deep breath, ignoring the thick smell of the blood, (it didn't look fake but he didn't know what blood smelled like) and the bile raising in his throat again, Toby focused on the "bone." It was metal, and it glinted in the afternoon sunlight. There were small but thick and long wires attached to it, gears as well. They reminded him of human muscles he saw in a medical book once. He flexed his arm but had to muffle a scream by clenching his mouth shut and biting his toungue. It hurt like Hell! Through the pain, Toby felt admiration and awe swell in his chest at his father's–Dr. Tenma's work. He truly felt no different from when he was a human! Well, except for the flying and being able to survive point-blank missiles and falling thousands of feet...

The flaring pain everywhere brought Toby back. That, and the loud creaking, squeaky horde of robots that he just escaped from were now on their way. Of course, they were still a ways off; it should take at least ten minutes for them to get to his position.

Still, Toby reasoned, the sooner the better.

When he tried to stand, however, Toby almost fainted from the pain and fatigue. Through sheer force of will, he managed to unsteadily get to his feet. Taking a step, on the other hand, was an all-together different story.

It took several minutes to so much as take step forward. Luckily, he had a lot of mounds to support himself with. So, he continued on to find somewhere he might be able to hide until the other robots passed him.

-BORDER!-

I apologize for any misinformation. I'm only a teenager. I don't know anything about the body. The gloves I put because, well, he needed to steer himself right? Iron Man enlightened me. R&R!

Phooykazooi