Pairing: Jake English x Brobot
Warnings: Violence, and um... robot x human stuff...?
Word Count: 569
Authors Notes: Probably not my best work since this was a music drabble request on my tumblr, but since it's canon and I actually like it a decent amount I thought I'd upload it to here. Please review~!


The dull throbbing in his jaw returns full force as metal smashes into him, sending him flying into the air before he is clipped by a tree and tumbles back to the ground in a heap of dust and tree twigs, pistols scattering about the ground beside him. His lungs burn from his exhaustion, hands groping the ground for his weapons before they finally find them, the cool grip of the metal handle coming back to him as he bounds back up onto his feet. He doesn't bothering to look where he goes, he just dashes senselessly into the thicket of the forest even more, and he can hear it; the hissing of high-powered jets encircling him, hidden by the trees. But that doesn't stop him, not bothering to stop and listen or to look about, he just wills his legs to move faster and farther despite bleeding from more than just flying into tree tops, thanks to that blasted robot of Dirk's.

This lack of attention he shows to his surroundings is really the cause of the next blow he takes unfortunately. A full force kick to the side sends him skidding across the ground before he finds himself diving head first into the lake. Once more his pistols are lost in the thicket, and Jake thinks as he drags himself up on the bank of the lake that this time he probably won't be getting them back soon enough. And he's right; as he lies there with what feels like a broken rib or two, a shadow is set upon him before he feels his wrists seized, pinned down by the ten tonne force of robotic limbs. At this point, he is unable to move in protest lest he wants to cause pain to himself, so he simply curses the familiar robot who lingers above him, his own face—plagued with dirt and sweat, and the odd cut here and there—reflective in those damned red shades he wears.

Soaked to the bone, his body temperature still feels warm and in turn exhausting from his chase, one he expects to span nearly half the island. What he also expects is Brobot to start feeding him shots any minute like he was no doubt programmed to do, and so Jake closes his eyes tightly, jaw clenched as it's ready for the contact of the metal fist it is quite familiar with already. But it doesn't happen, the punches don't start flying like he suspects, and instead feels the cool touch of Brobot's hand set upon his stomach, pushing the wet shirt up to replace with its hand that trails up and down his torso, shivers sent bolting through his body. Green eyes snap open in alarm, Jake craning his neck to see what in the ever-loving fuck this robot was doing, but suddenly finds him gone. His wrists now released as he is left alone, bloody, bruised, and soaked upon the bank, but most of all confused at what exactly had just occurred for those mere seconds that had just passed.

He tries to sit up but the pain that shoots through him is too much to bear, causing him to flop back on the ground. With a strained sigh, he barely manages to see the clear blue sky through dirty, cracked lenses.

And as he lies there, he can't help but wonder again, what the hell just happened?