Disclaimer: I don't own Medabots

A/N: Hey, just a little information I thought some people might want: 1) this is, when you get right down to it, an OC story, 2) the T rating is basically to be safe, although there is some language and violence, and 3) I have never actually seen the second (or third, depending how you look at it) season, so anything that happens there will not be in here (if it is it is by coincidence). Thank you.

Chapter 1

One of the walls to the house had been totally destroyed and a fire had begun to spread throughout the entire building. The entire street resembled a war zone, all the houses in similar forms of destruction. Screams could be heard in the distance, along with the sound of running feet and machines.

Other houses in the area had already caught on fire when a gust of wind came, turning the fire in the one house into a blaze. The sky had a reddish tint, from the fire or the setting sun anyone who had the time to look would have been unable to tell.

Two women came out of the broken wall. One was an elderly lady, the other much younger. From their faces, one could tell they were related, most likely mother and daughter. The younger woman was clutching something large and blanket wrapped, which she handed off to the older woman.

"Mother, quickly, take Sarah and go hide," the woman pleaded, pushing the older woman away from the house.

Clutching the two year old to her, the older women stumbled forward then turned around. "But Umeko, what about you? And Tom? You two must come, before those...those machines get you," she choked out the last words, her fear beginning to overcome her.

Umeko gave her mother another push away from the burning house, gentler this time. "Do not worry Mother. Tom and I will be fine. We have to see if we can do anything for Rambot and Hop. All you need to worry about is getting yourself and Sarah to safety."

Umeko's mother gave her daughter a look of disgust. "Why do you two worry about those robots? They're the ones who started this, them and the rest of like them, suddenly going berserk like that. Leave them and get Tom. Then we can all go."

Umeko smiled sadly at her mother. The older woman would never understand how she and Tom felt about their medabots. Her father had, but he had died the year before. If only he was here, she knew things would not be so difficult with her mother at that moment.

She gave her mother a quick kiss, then leaned down to give her sleeping daughter a quick peck on the check as well. Luckily the girl was somehow sleeping through all the chaos. "Tom and I'll catch up with you once we take care of Rambot and Hop. Until we meet back up, I want you to take care of Sarah." Umeko glanced behind her, back at the burning house. She could swear she saw something move in the flames.

She turned back to her mother, urgency in her voice. "Go. Now. We'll all see each other again, I promise." With that, Umeko rushed off into the burning building. Her mother watched for a brief moment as her only child disappeared behind the flames. She then turned and ran, the sleeping child clutched in her arms.

Eight Years Later:

Sarah sat in front of the television and glanced over her shoulder. Her grandmother shouldn't be home for awhile. Hopefully enough time to catch at least most of the America verses Japan match. Checking over her shoulder again, as if her grandmother would materialize out of thin air, Sarah turned on the television.

The blond ten year old sat excitedly on the couch, watching the screen light up. She then quickly turned on the channel that her grandmother had forbidden her to watch. It would only be broadcasting news on the World Robattle Cup until the event was over, something that Sarah's grandmother hated.

"….You for watching this match with us, Channel 29," the American announcer's voice came over the speakers. Sarah quickly turned down the volume to a whisper. Just what she would need was for all her careful planning to be ruined by her grandmother to come in and hearing the robattle because the volume was too loud.

"Well, today is the day that we find out who will be facing our current world champions, Team Kenya. The winner of this match goes on to face them in the finals and is one step closer to being crowned champions." Sarah listened eagerly. She had been unable to see any of the tournament so far, even over the internet, what with her grandmother tried so hard to keep her away from anything doing with medabots and all. She had heard a little about what was going on from her friends at school, all of whom knew about her grandmother's hatred for the battling robots.

"Now, now, Ed. No assuming that Kenya's going to win. They haven't even had their match with Team Iceland yet," the other announcer's voice came over the television set. Sarah watched as the screen showed the crowded stadium. The stands were packet with both people and medabots, all looking exited to be witnessing the event first hand. Sarah sighed. She could only hope that one day she could be in those stands, or better yet, one of the medafighters the people had come to watch.

"Just sayin' what everyone is thinkin'. Anyway, if we're placing bets on who's making it to the finals, I must say I've got my money on Team Japan. Most of them may be kids, but they've got some powerful medabots. At least one of them can use the medaforce, so there's an extra bonus right there." Sarah listened eagerly. Her friends had mentioned this medaforce thing when telling her about some of the past battles. From what she could tell it was some kind of super powerful attack. Her friends hadn't known much, and they had been able to explain little about it. Apparently it was something you had to see for yourself.

"Come on Ed, good ol' Team America has a bit more experience under its belt. I think they have this one in the bag," the announcer paused. "Well, we'll be seeing soon folks. Both teams are going to be entering the stadium any second now." The camera view had switched from the stands to the robattle ring in the center of the stadium. Sarah could see a man in referee uniform and large grey mustache standing near it. In the background, Sarah saw a number of men who resembled police officers, something she found very odd. Her attention was draw from the oddity when the announcers began to talk about the teams again.

"So, for all of you people who've been living in a box and don't know who is competing in today's semifinal match, let me inform you. For Team America we have Joe Swihan, J-Girl, and Glen. All will be robattling with Wigwamo." Sarah waited impatiently to get to the Japanese team. Even if she had been living in a box when it came to the tournament, she knew who was on the American team and all about their Medabots. Wigwamo, specialty speed, NTB type, blah, blah, blah. She wanted to see the Japanese Team. They were the mystery to her, and when it came to medabots, she hated mysteries. The fact that two of the team members where her age and one never seemed to use the same medabot only increased her interest.

"For Team Japan," came the other announcer's voice, "We have Ikki Tenryou, battling with Metabee, Koji Karakuchi, battling with Sumilidon, and finally, Space Medafighter X, battling with Arcbeetle."

Sarah watched as Team America entered the stadium. Then came the moment she had been looking forward to. Team Japan was just about to enter…A car door slammed in the driveway. Shoot, just when things were going to start.

Sarah dived for the remote control and turned off the television. She was picking up a book she had left out in case this happened, hoping that her grandmother would suspect that she had been doing little more then reading the entire time she was gone.

The front door opened and shut and foot steps came in the direction of the room Sarah was in. The ten year old pushed her glasses back up her nose, for they had started to slip down in all the excitement. Sarah opened the book and began to mimic the act of reading, although none of the words registered. She was too scared that she would get caught.

An elderly lady walked up to the doorway, holding a large grocery bag. She was of medium height and looked like a thin person who had gained some weight in their old age, her face wrinkled. The wrinkles were not the kind of a grandmother who smiled and made cookies however. They were the kind that came to those who had a tendency to frown. Those, along with the horn-rimmed glasses added to the sever look on the woman's face. The look of severity was added to by an unwrinkled blouse and long skirt, both in muted colors. A pair shoes that could only be described as "sensible" completed the look.

"Hello Grandma. How did the shopping go?" Sarah greeted her grandmother, hoping her guilt did not show.

Her grandmother frowned. "Fine. I ran into Miss. Yolen while I was there and we talked for a bit," she replied. She gave Sarah an appraising glance. "What have you been doing while I was gone?" she inquired in the voice that all caregivers use to extract information from the young.

"Nothing much. Just reading this book." Sarah held up the book in question. Her grandmother simply narrowed her eyes.

"Oh really." Sarah's grandmother walked over to the remote that Sarah had thrown back onto the coffee table. Too late, Sarah realized the one mistake she had made. In her haste, she had been holding the book upside down. And her grandmother would find out what channel Sarah had been watching because the girl had also forgot to switch the channel before turning the television off.

Sarah's grandmother pressed the power button and watched grimly as the screen came to life.

"And there they go. Look at Team America. Starting off with a swift attack, right from the-" the rest of the sentence was cut short as the television was switched back off. Sarah looked sadly at her grandmother's back. She hadn't even gotten to see any of the robattle, even a little glimpse just then because the old woman had been standing in front of the screen. And she knew she would still be punished.

Slowly, Sarah's grandmother turned around. Her face had become clouded with rage and when she spoke, her voice shook from the suppressed anger.

"Sarah," she began, "how many times must you be told? Are you stupid? Should I maybe say it in Japanese?" Sarah shook her head, knowing that her grandmother just might start reprimanding her in the language of her grandmother's childhood, which Sarah had learned at a young age.

"Well then, let me repeat things for you slowly," her grandmother continued. "You are to have nothing to do with those wicked machines. They killed your parents and they corrupt minds and they are dangerous." Sarah just nodded in agreement, while, in her heart, she knew her grandmother was wrong. Medabots were peoples' friends. They were wonderful and there to help. Sometimes things went wrong, but that was no reason to act in the way her grandmother was.

The old lady had finally come to her verdict. "You will go to your room right now. No dinner for you tonight. Before that, I want you to bring me down that laptop of yours. I don't want you to be watching that medabot junk over the internet."

"Yes Grandma," Sarah answered meekly. Luckily, she had suspected that if she was caught her grandmother would give her this punishment. It was a favorite of her grandmothers. So, Sarah had eaten a large lunch and snuck some food up to her room. She would not go hungry and her grandmother would think that she was being taught that anything to do with medabots led to bad things.

"You'll understand one day Sarah," her grandmother said. "When you do, you'll thank me."

Yeah right, Sarah thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. With that, she trudged up the stares to her room. Her grandmother came up a few minute s later to collect the laptop Sarah had "forgotten" to bring down.

Six Years Later:

A slender girl of sixteen peddled a bicycle in the slight light of dawn. The long blond hair not trapped under a helmet flew behind her. She rode like someone with much experience on a bike, but little with the terrain. Her long, jean covered legs pumped the peddles that her gym shoe covered feet were squarely placed on. Light hazel eyes glanced through a pair of glasses at the sidewalk in front of her. The weather was still warm, so she was wearing a brown T-shirt to complete her outfit. A used backpack was secured into a basket on the front of the bike.

Sarah glanced at one of the street sings she sped past. Good, she was going the right way, towards the high school.

She sighed as she peddled the bike, an old but sturdy contraption she had been ridding to her various schools since she was eleven. She had hated the bus when she was younger and her grandmother had eventually allowed her to travel to school on the bike. She had finally gotten a drivers license over in America during the summer and it was valid here in Japan, but her grandmother refused to let her get a car. Or drive one for that matter. After she had done the driving needed to get a license, Sarah's grandmother had stopped allowing her granddaughter to drive. Another of her crazy schemes to keep her granddaughter from medabots, Sarah figured.

So, here she was, peddling a bike to her high school, early in the morning to make sure she had enough time to get there and not have to worry too much if she got a little lost. And why was she worrying about getting lost on her way to school? Because, her grandmother had moved them yet again and she was going to yet another new school.

They had moved to Japan about two years ago. Those first two years had been spent in the suburbs near Tokyo, the summer vacations during her ninth and tenth grade years being spent in America in some of the places she had once lived. During those two summers, she had learned to drive and get a license; an effort that Sarah was beginning to believe had been a total waste.

Before they had moved to Japan, Sarah and her grandmother had moved around the States a lot, roughly every two years. Sarah suspected it was another of her grandmother's schemes to stop her from having anything to do with medabots (efforts that had been, like the license, a complete waste). So, after already having a rather unstable childhood, her grandmother had decided to make things in Sarah's life even more chaotic by moving them both to Japan, the county of the old woman's birth.

Since Sarah was a relative, she was technically a citizen, so the only problem they had faced in moving had been in getting Sarah's dog into the country. Once that issue had been settled, they had moved into a suburb near Tokyo and Sarah had begun school there. The teenager had hoped they could stay there until she had finished high school. At which time she could finally get away from the old coot and live her life the way she wanted.

That never happened however. The Incident, as her grandmother referred to it, had happened just before they had left for America on vacation. When they had gotten back, Sarah had been informed that they were moving. Again.

And now she was heading for yet another new school, this one already a week into things. And she had to get up extra early, not only to find her way there, but because her grandmother had picked a house out in a wooded area a little way from the town, leaving Sarah with an extra long bike ride if she wanted to get to school on time.

Sarah hoped that once she got a pattern down, she wouldn't need to get up so early. She needed her sleep, especially if her late night escapades continued. She yawned, thinking about the piece of luck that had happened when they moved to the new house.

Sarah had been out, checking the local woods with her large mutt, Rembrandt. A reasonable distance from the house, they had found a little building that resembled a shed. When Sarah had inspected it closer, she could tell that no one had been in the building for years. By some random stroke of luck, the building had still been in a rather good condition, despite the weeds that grew around it and its obvious age. The door had been locked, so Sarah and Rembrandt had headed back to their new house.

The next day, the man who had sold the house came over while Sarah's grandmother was away. He was in a hurry, so he had dropped a key off with Sarah, saying it belonged to an old tool shed that was a ways back in the woods that was actually on the house's property. When asked why it was so far from the house, the man had said it had been built there because one of the previous owners had liked to get away from it all and build things.

When the man had left, Sarah knew the key was a sing. If it belonged to the building she had found, that meant her grandmother had bought a lot of property. And if that was true, chances were she planned to stay in the area for awhile. It also gave Sarah an idea. She pocketed the key, and did not tell her grandmother about it later that day when she had come home from singing Sarah up for school.

That night, she had waited until she thought her grandmother was asleep. She then set up her bed to look like she was still sleeping in it and gotten dressed. When that was done, Sarah had crept down the stairs, followed by Rembrandt. The two of then had snuck out the back door and headed quickly for the tool shed. When they had reached the door about twelve minutes later, Sarah had paused. What she planned to do could get her in more trouble then she had ever been in, except maybe when the Incident had happened. But if she did go through with it, she might just be able to do what she wanted to.

Deciding the risk was worth it, Sarah had slipped the key out of her pocket and shoved it into the keyhole. A brief moment of depression when the key would not turn was followed by joy when some added pressure caused the door to unlock.

Entering, Sarah found the tool shed actually had working electricity, a welcomed surprise. Even better, the building was the size of a small bedroom, had two large tables, one each on the walls to her left and right, and, to top everything off, those same walls were already set up to hold a plethora of tools.

Sarah was overjoyed. The tool shed only needed a bit of a cleaning, and the place would be perfect of what she planned to use it for.

What she planned to use it for would be the difficult part. What she planned to do was turn it into a low scale version of a medabot mechanic work shop. She could bring all of her carefully hidden medabot notes here. And the walls were the perfect place for all of her equally well hidden tools and medabot repair supplies. If she got lucky there would be a local scrap yard that would sell old medabot parts for cheap. If she could get her hands on those, Sarah knew she could make them as good as new. And if her luck kept, she might even be able to build her own medabot.

Over the next couple of nights, Sarah got the shed ready for her purpose. She cleaned the place up and brought in her tools and notes. She did not have many notes to bring over because she often put any medabot notes she had onto a flash drive. It was easier to hide from her grandmother that way.

Last night, Sarah had finished setting the place up and had gotten home in time to get a few hours of sleep. And now here she was, exhausted because she had needed to get up before dawn to get to school.

Sarah looked ahead and saw the school in the distance. Putting on an extra burst of speed, she reached the gates, a sing overhead proclaiming the school's name: Riverview High School. Once on the grounds, she dismounted the bike and took her helmet off. Dropping the helmet onto her backpack, Sarah pushed the bike further onto the campus, looking for a bike rack. She spotted one near the entrance. Not one of her favorite places to put a bike, but better then having nowhere to lock it up at.

Sarah locked up the bike with a new chain, then pulled a hair brush out of her backpack. If riding a bike for years had taught her one thing, it was that she always suffered from terrible helmet hair. She gave her hair the few quick swipes it needed to look presentable, then had a look around.

There were a few sings that some other students were already in the building, but Sarah could still tell she was insanely early. Oh well. The principal had requested that she get to school early so she could go over her schedule and such. She just had to hope the principal got to school as early as she had.

Sighing, Sarah stuffed the brush and helmet into her backpack. The helmet caused an odd lump, but she had nowhere else to put it until she got a locker. Sighing again, Sarah swung the pack onto her shoulder and trudged into the building.