Since it could remember, it always had this burning hatred inside of it.
Why? People asked it, and the little robot was confused for a moment. It also did not know why it just hated those creatures in front of it, their cameras and their speeches.
"The Megabot of DOOM loathes your mere existence, pitiful insects. What insolence of you to question Bolthammer the Childeater. Prepare to be eradicated from the surface of this wretched planet. "
It answered out of instinct, and felt its anger burning like flame when they chuckled and laughed at it. Shouldn't they kneel in front of it out of fear? Shouldn't they scream and beg for its mercy? Had they not seen its mighty, godly power?
It lunged at the fire-proof glass case, and its voltmeter head collided with the hard surface, sending it spawling and falling onto the floor of the container with a thud.
Those men in white coat out of the container were literally shrieking with laughter at that moment. One of them, with a camera in his hand, walked to the glass case. He carefully raised it to a suitable position, but did not proceed to take a photo.
"Your mockery spelled your doom. I shall remove your sickening flesh from your body, limb by limb for daring to slander Lord Evillon the Mighty till the ground is soiled with your blood."
It attempted to climb up in the most dignified manner, but its legs were not cooperative, causing it to stumble and spin around in circles like a broken wind-up toy.
Then the camera flashed, and it was stunned. Something had been captured by that device, but what was it? Why did it feel fear? A great and powerful being like it should never feel such pathetic sensation!
"Cut your chicanery, sly creature. Release me immediately so Patheticon the Gurglemost could shatter you and your devilish device into a million pieces, and burn them to ash with my wrath." It bellowed in an angry monotone, dripping with hatred of all living beings.
The photographer simply put the camera back into a case with '978' written on it, and walked out of the room.
...
Its case was put down on the floor of the storage unit, and after it had already yelled out threats after threats at the two people carrying the container, they finally left.
Everything was quiet again.
It disliked this silence for some reason. When those vulgar creatures were not around, its anger and hatred could not be vented, and those sensations just burned like red, hot metal. Maybe it just did not want to question the origin of such hatred.
It had thought of a reason. Those filthy bags of flesh were just too disgusting for a higher existence like it, and their very sight sparkled the anger within its heart. That was the most logical and perfect explanation, was it not?
However, when it tried to dig deeper into the sensation, driven by mere curiosity, something was stopping it from doing so. It felt that its own hatred did not really belong to it at all, and the vastness of such emotion...scared it.
It should not fear! Fear was only found in puny weaklings like those creatures that imprisoned it, and it looked down on them for having pathetic feelings. Why should it be scared of its own wrath? It should be glad!
No matter how hard it tried to rid such thoughts from its mind, it could not deny the fact. So it just crawled up, folding its leg in front of its chest and sulked.
With no warning, the door suddenly slided open, and another being was out of the door, accompanied by two guards. They simply waited until the strange brass robot was in the room before shutting the door, leaving the two mechanical man alone.
"Who dares to enter the realm of Pesterbot, Scrouge of a Thousand Words? Identify yourself so I may sing damnation upon you as you die." It pointed its wrench at the brass robot, who was curiously observing it at that point in time.
"Wow, chill. I mean no harm, and I'm like, just staying here for a while before they b-bring me to my new room." To its satisfaction, this much more complicated-looking automaton seemed to be spooked by its threat, and took a step back.
"I-I'm Mr. B-Brass." As the robot turned its arm and head, it stuttered as if in extreme discomfort. Even in its container, it could hear several parts of the other robot's brass body clicking and churning in a rather awkward manner.
"Worthless heretic, born from a cursed master. Your suffering was a mere result of daring to steal -" It stopped abruptly, for it could not comprehend what it had just said. Where did those words came from? Of all the damnations it had given to those creatures, why had it chosen 'heretic'?
"Strange. Y-you talk like one of those church guy. Do they also try t-to jam every metal things into you? " The automaton questioned, uneasily fidgeting at parts of its torso. The small robot was still too confused in its own thought to say anything, so Mr. Brass continued.
"Y'know, those hooded folks who think you are parts of their g-god be-because you are like me," the robot noticed it staring at several strange metal parts that looked quite out of place on the golden brass structure, and lowered its head.
"Church of the Broken God, I-I think that's their name. T-then they flip out when you want to go and t-try to merge you with other stuffs? Still have some remains of their machines left in me. I-it really h-h-hurts."
It did not answer. Something about those words the other robot had spoken was familiar, but what could it be? What did it have to do with its own mind?
Its own hatred echoed inside its small body as the robot spoke of the church. However, it could not understand the reasons, just like the sudden urge that arose when it glanced at the strange metal embedded in the brass. To embrace them. To be with them.
Everything was suddenly so deep and senseless, far beyond its understanding. But it knew that some desires had been waken by those words, and as it tried to reach into the sensations within itself, it could hear them.
To be whole. To revenge. To rid the filth of flesh.
Until the brass automaton had lost interest in it, until the other robot was escorted out of the cell by guards again, until its own case was also carried away, it stayed silent, feeling those thoughts as the rest of the world faded to black.
...
It is finally whole.
It stands, far above the ground, the greasy oil rain drenching its body. It breathes out hazy smoke that stretched for hundreds and hundreds mile on the land, cleansed of the sin of flesh.
Flowers and trees of clockworks bloom in the soil, their clickings mixed with millions and millions of other machines' sound. They sing, for the foolish cruel god who played with their lives for its own selfish desires is gone. They sing, for like those human that it had taught, they feel the love and glory of it, being blessed by the sacred metal.
The ground, once housing the lowly form which its hatred resided in, was torn open. Rusted machineries, its faithful servants that had fallen dominate the landscape, but they will rise once again. The rain washes away their rust, healing their broken bodies slowly. Their god is whole, and with the life from its blood, they will also be made whole.
It looks into the full moon above it, white, pure, untouched by the smog. And it laughs.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
"The Doomweaver Who Mounted The World shall obliterate you with the power of the Broken God!"
It could not quite understand where those words came from, like before. However, the shock and traces of fear in that scientist's eyes when he heard its response was priceless.
It laughed to itself as the man left the room as quickly as possible, without a word.
Author's Note:
This one-shot about 1370 and 629 is really full with reference. First the "1370 is the hatred of the Broken God" secret head canon of the author, the image filmed by 978 (Desire Camera) when they took a photo of 1370 with it, and finally, the tale Rough Beast were all featured more or less in the story.
However, Mr. Brass has some Church of the Broken God machineries left in it is my mostly personal head canon. Anyway, you probably need to read about this Group Of Interest for better understanding.
And 1370 is still an idiot, despite having the hatred of a broken deity in it.