Peter sighed and leaned against the railing of the crow's nest. Being on watch was always boring, especially tonight. The thick fog of the swamp swallowed up everything. The familiar hum of the ship, the idle talk and gentle snores of the other pirates, even the soft light of the lantern above his head was somehow dulled. The stench of the swamp coated the back of his throat and made his eyes burn.

The swamp wasn't entirely awful, though. The quiet coupled with the soft rocking of the ship was nice. And from this height, it was like he could almost touch the bright, gleaming stars. The stars had always been there to guide the Red Queen. Peter affectionately patted the ship as he hunkered down for the longest watch of the night.

Shouts woke him. Peter rubbed at his eyes and leaned out of the crow's nest, squinting into the night at the torches quickly making their way closer from afar. Something wasn't right. It shouldn't have taken Logan and the others this long to return. What was slowing them down? Was someone injured? Peter wrinkled his nose. They no longer had a medic aboard and it had fallen to him to sew up the last guy. That had been disgusting.

He rang the alarm and the quiet ship blazed to life. Crew members ran around shouting to each other, manning plasma cannons and preparing the ship for take-off. Peter tried to ignore the uproar below, keeping his eyes trained on the torches racing their way closer.

Suddenly, Logan's gruff voice shot through the commotion. What the hell? Peter looked downward and sure enough, the first mate had burst onto the ship. He was already barking orders and shoving people aside to make way for the others. They were struggling to carry something.

Peter rang the alarm once again and leaned out of the crow's nest, pointing at the torches while shouting down below.

"Hey, we have a problem!"

One by one each torch went out as the enemy reached the edge of the swamp and broke through the trees. They gathered in the clearing that the Red Queen was now rising high above; their roars and shouts almost drowned out by the ship's thrusters as it climbed higher into the sky. After the Red Queen was out of range of any weapons, the engines calmed and the sails billowed from the breeze as the ship sailed across the night sky, away from danger.

Crew members slowly left their battle stations and headed back to the barracks. Lights dimmed. Only a few stragglers remained. The ones who had carried the object aboard were now crowded around it, obscuring it from view. Metal glinted in the light. What was that thing?

A door opened and light flooded the deck as the captain stepped into view, her eyes blazing almost as much as her fiery red hair.

"Take it to the cells - quickly."

A sailor seemed to be saying something to the captain. She frowned and waved them away.

"Follow me then."

The pirates nodded and carried whatever it was down into the cargo hold, swarming around it like a shield. Peter leaned out of the crow's nest for a better look, his curiosity winning out over his fatigue.

A bloodied hand suddenly gripped Peter and he squawked, ripping himself from its grasp and pressing himself against the opposite side of the crow's nest. The hand pawed at the air before clawing the inside wall of the crow's nest, struggling for a foothold.

"Give me a hand!" Grunted Logan as three blades sank into the crow's nest and he heaved his upper body over the wall, attempting to throw a leg over the side.

"Damn heights." He muttered, looking green as he glanced down.

Peter grabbed the medical kit. "What have you done now? And let's head down to the deck before you skewer something else."

The first mate nodded, already disappearing from view in his haste to reach somewhat solid ground.

Moments later, Peter was sewing up Logan's arm as the man clenched and unclenched his hand. Peter watched how the blades seemed to glow under the lantern's light.

"Do you think if I prick my finger sewing you up I'll get cool powers?"

Logan slowly retracted the metallic blades and wiggled his fingers, slowly flexing his forearm. "Wouldn't bet on it. Get some sleep. If you hadn't been sleepin' up here, we wouldn't have busted our asses to leave so fast."

"If you hadn't taken so long I wouldn't have fallen asleep." Peter retorted.

"We're here now." Logan held up his arm. "Thanks, kid. You're getting better at this."

Peter groaned. "I don't want to get better at this."

"Get some sleep. I'll finish your watch. "

"Thanks, Logan!"

Peter jumped up and headed down below. He never argued when sleep was involved, but he was not going to the barracks just yet. Whatever had been brought aboard had to be something special. The crew wouldn't have reacted the way they had otherwise.

He jumped off the ladder's last rung and looked around. Luckily, only a handful of sailors had left the ship and even after all the other boots had trampled through the hall, bits of swamp muck were still visible. Peter followed the muck down to the cells and slowly crept past them. Why had the captain changed her mind about putting it in here and where was it now? What was it?

By now he could hear the heavy footsteps of the crew and followed them to the loot vault. What the hell? Why were they putting it here?

Peter peeked around the corner of the wall he was hiding behind and sighed. He couldn't make out anything. The crew's legs were in the way. A dull thud echoed down the hall and Peter froze when he heard the captain's voice.

"Don't drop it, you idiots!" She hissed.

The men picked it back up and finished carrying it into the room, the door falling shut behind them. More sounds came from the room. Soon enough, the door swung open and the men filed out. They headed the way they had came, towards Peter. He scrambled to his feet and silently flew down the hall, hiding behind a few crates.

Once they had left, Peter walked around the corner and quietly slipped some lockpicking wires from out of his shirt collar. Even as a maintenance worker, Peter wasn't trusted with all the keys to the ship. So, naturally, he had gotten creative. After a few moments, the door clicked open and Peter winced from the sound. He quickly slipped inside and shut the door, flinching from the harsh noise inside the silent room.

Now he could finally find the source of all the secrecy. Peter blindly felt his way around in the darkness looking for the lightswitch. He sighed. So maybe their ship wasn't the most high tech out there but a bare light bulb dangling from the ceiling - in the middle of the room - was ridiculous. He'd have to do something abo-

Thud.

Peter groaned and picked himself up from the floor. Now that he was convinced he wasn't injured, he was worrying about what the hell he was covered in. He wrinkled his nose as he felt the sticky, gritty substance that was smeared across his body. It was smelly too. He sighed. It would take him forever to get the smell of swamp muck out.

He reached up and angrily yanked the light switch and the small room was illuminated by dim, flickering light. Peter squinted around the room in search of his prize. Which, of course, was what he had landed on. No wonder it had hurt.

Sprawled amid the loot was a man covered in moss and swamp muck. Peter leaned closer for a better look and wiped away more of it, jerking away after realizing what lay before him. Wires pushed their way through mangled synthetic skin and hung precariously, exposing more wiring beneath. Grimy metal had peeled and scraped away to reveal strong hydraulic muscle.

Most robots Peter had seen were faceless metal skeletons that completed simple tasks, assembling things and assisting in exploration or combat. Other robots he had seen, home aide robots, were plastic robots who assisted the elderly and disabled. Creators had given them two green lights for eyeballs. Peter shivered. It was creepy how they stared through him. He wasn't aware robots like this, so carefully crafted, existed.

He hadn't expected the man's face to be so real, even as mangled as it was. Not that he could see much of it. His eyes trailed down to the robot's rusted chest and he began scrubbing at the dried mud with his sleeve.

Pausing, Peter carefully wiped away more filth and slowly a few letters were revealed. Finally, he could get some idea as to what the mechanical man was used for or at least who made him. Maybe the company had parts he could barter for?

Squinting at the faded lettering, Peter slowly traced it with his finger. W4D3. He'd never heard of it before. He shrugged and began inspecting more of the robot.

The science behind some of the parts was above Peter's level of intelligence but he recognized a majority of them. He also realized that over half of the parts were damaged in some way. Whatever had happened to the machine must have been traumatic. The high-tech robot looked pitiful.

Peter was intrigued. His fatigue morphed into bubbly energy as he thought of what to fix first. He wiped muck from the man's chest and pried it open to gauge the extent of the damage. A bath would probably be a good idea. Then Peter could really see what he was working with. Some of the muck could have clogged something somewhere too. And the joints probably needed to be oil-

"I thought you were going to bed."

Peter froze.

"What are you doing here, boy?"

"Nothing."

He could feel the mutant's eyes staring through him at the machine. Peter swallowed. He felt like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Well, inside the chest cavity of a robot but that wasn't the point.

"Just wanted a peek.. " He mumbled. "I wasn't planning on doing anything."

"Well, you got your peek." Logan said gruffly, hauling Peter up by the arm and steering him towards the door. "I don't want to see you near it, at all. "

Peter was released and shoved down the hall.

"Get some sleep. I'll finish your shift for the night. And I don't fall asleep on the job." Logan gave Peter a knowing look as he shoved Peter towards his room. Peter huffed and walked down the hall, slamming his door behind him.

He sighed as he brushed bolts and wires off of his bed and settled in. The night's events had left him feeling more drained than usual and even his exciting discovery couldn't keep him from dozing. As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamt of the mechanical man among the other treasures in the vault.

Peter couldn't understand why he kept doing this. It was innocent curiosity in the beginning, that was all he really knew. When he wasn't busy cleaning up after the crew or repairing yet another part of the ship, he found himself sneaking down to the vault more and more often. It was like he had become obsessed with the mechanical man, cutting meals short and losing sleep to work on his fascinating new project. It had gone on for months now.

Today was the day. Well, night. The night he would see if the long hours, burnt fingers and stress were worth all the trouble. He had one final part to add, the hydraulic pump he had borrowed from the vault to modify. The device wouldn't be missed amongst all the other treasures and gadgets. It was for a good cause. Otherwise, the robot couldn't move. He was relieved he had managed to salvage the robot's old battery pack. It would've taken him almost a year to save up for even an outdated model.

Peter climbed down the ladder and groaned. They had entered the tropics and their cooling units were not working. It was hotter in here than outside. But, that did make his job easier. There would be less people walking around to notice anything suspicious.

Peter walked past sweaty sailors headed above deck and blended into the bunch headed farther down below. Here, they split ways. No one would head down to the vault right now. If the ship was an oven, the vault was a furnace.

He waited for the group to head farther down the hall before peeking around the corner. Empty, good. He swung out into the hallway and made a beeline for the vault door, bending down to pick the lock. A symphony of groans startled him so badly, he dropped his wires. Peter looked down the hall where the sailors had headed. No doubt they had realized how hot it was in there.

Peter felt guilty. Really, he did. Maybe he had let things go around the ship when he was secretly working on his project, important things, like the ship's heating and cooling units. The units were a pain that constantly spluttered off and on and it looked like they were staying off for the night. It was going to be a pain to fix them now that he had neglected it for so long.

The crew would have to live with the heat until morning. Peter nodded to himself. He was too tired to, 'work out his priorities,' as the captain had put it. Besides, he had found a high-tech robot! Clearly, everyone needed to get their priorities straight.

He picked his wires up from off the floor and quickly picked the lock, slipping inside the vault.

Peter crept over to the machine and glanced down at the device he held in his hand. Sneaking in to take the pump had been quite the challenge but Peter had done it. He didn't fit the device into place just yet though. Instead, he took one last look at the unconscious man.

If Peter hadn't seen him in this worse-for-wear shape, he may have never known the man was a machine at all. The synthetic material looked and felt like real skin and did an excellent job of hiding the machinery beneath. He even had pores. There were a few freckles here and there, scars too. Peter ran a finger over one. The older scars seemed to be sewn by someone better with a needle than him - not that he was very good with one anyway - and a few newer ones were crudely sewn, more like his own handiwork.

He had did his best to smooth things over but the mechanical man would never be quite the same. Skin was still scraped away in some places with no synthetic material left to fix it, leaving wiring exposed to the elements. Other areas had melted away leaving singed and blackened flesh around the wounds. It was obvious to anyone as to what he was now.

Peter stepped forward, prying open the machine's chest. Rust made it difficult to open. He hooked up the pump and checked to make sure the battery pack - below the pump - was functioning properly as well.

He watched as the pump got to work and Peter slid the cover back into place. He took a step back and contemplated. Would this being have any memories of where he came from? What was he like: a dangerous machine or more human-like as his design implied? Had he been turned off or was the unconsciousness from trauma?

The last two questions had been prevalent in Peter's mind the entire time he had been working on the machine. To help keep his mind off of it, he had taken to talking to the machine as he worked. Nothing serious, just tidbits of daily drama he had endured.

Peter waited. Nothing was happening, not even a quiver. The pump and battery pack seemed fine. What was going on? He wiped sweat from his brow - smearing rust and whatever else onto his face - as he tried to ignore how anxious he was.

Maybe the robot just took a while to boot up? He had never seen a machine like this before, so, why not? The crew had found him all mangled in the swamp and it had taken Peter weeks to clean out most of the muck. It had seeped everywhere it possibly could. If that had been him, Peter wouldn't have wanted to wake up either.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and tried to ignore the rapid beating of his heart. This couldn't be it. He had worked too hard on this robot for it not to work. The dimly lit room seemed to spin and his chest hurt. He rested his head in his hands.

He needed to calm down. Panicking wouldn't solve anything. Peter breathed in deeply before slowly exhaling, over and over again. Slowly, the pain in his chest ceased and he focused on controlling his erratic heart rate instead. It seemed to echo in the silent room.

Wait. Peter leaned over the machine and slowly pressed his ear against the warm metal. Thump. He grinned. The pump had been accepted and the man was booting up properly.

Peter watched as the machine slowly came to life. The whirring reminded Peter of the whirring of the machines in the control room and in this moment it was music to his ears. Eyes flicked open. The whirring died down as blue lights flared where the robot's irises were located.

Joints groaned in protest as the man sat up stiffly. Peter reminded himself that he'd need to oil those later.

The man looked around, silently taking in his surroundings. He didn't seem to have noticed Peter yet. Peter had envisioned this day many times while working on the machine into the wee hours of the morning. Elegant greetings and witty conversation were thought out to the tiniest detail for when he would first talk to the robot. But as Peter's luck would have it, everything left him in a flash and he stuttered out a soft, "H-hello?"

The robot's eyes immediately locked onto Peter's face. With an unreadable expression, he rushed towards the boy, grabbing Peter by the shoulders. Fingers dug painfully into Peter's skin as he shrank back when the mechanical man opened his mouth. Peter braced himself for the worst.

"Gah mar olt odren toul!"

"Wait, what?" Peter stared at the robot's equally confused face.

"Bloah gof dorls!" The man yelled again, releasing Peter to clutch at his own throat. "Glor torgue lont? Folron tren welrs!"

"Woah, calm down a minute," Peter said, rushing towards the confused robot. The robot leapt back.

Peter took a tentative step forward and the robot moved backwards again, still muttering nonsense to himself. The odd game continued until the robot backed into the wall.

Peter closed the distance. "I just want to help. Your audio device is glitching." He explained as he slowly reached forward and yanked the cover piece off the robot's throat.

Then, he plucked the small device from the mess of wires that spilled out, inspecting it while dancing out of the robot's reach. One of the wires was broken, another disconnected.

Peter had plenty of odd bits left from the repairs he had done earlier. So, he went to the hiding place he kept the items in and sorted through it, quickly pulling out a replacement as the robot trailed closely behind him. He hummed to himself before he turned and ripped the messed up wire from the robot's throat, and hastily plugged in the new one, sliding the device and panel back into place. He took a step back.

"Tada! Test it out?" Peter asked, hands on his hips as watched the machine expectantly.

"Testing?"

When the robot heard his fluent speech, he was elated. He walked around the room picking up and naming various objects while adding different trills and lilts to his voice, occasionally talking low and gravelly. The boy did good.

Peter chased after the mechanical man, quickly putting things back in their places.

"Hey! Stop that!" He snapped, his mind racing to think of a name for the robot.

He paused and watched the mechanical man parade around the room. What would he call him? Did he even have a name? Peter noticed the worn and faded lettering on the man's chest as he passed the boy with a piece of heavy machinery in his arms and a crown on his head. W4D3.

"W4D3, huh?" Peter thought aloud. The man already had a name.

"Wade!"

"Hm?" He turned to look at Peter, having been entertaining himself by staring around the room.

"Your name is Wade." Peter confirmed. "Right, Wade?"

"Yes."

Peter looked around the room, not sure of what to say. He hadn't thought he would get this far. Somehow he had and since Wade was up and running, a new question was running through his mind: now what?

Peter had no idea what he should do with Wade at this point. He could keep him hidden? Maybe the robot could live freely when they got to the next port? It was only a day or two away, depending on the weather. However, Peter didn't think that was a good idea. It was hard not to notice how different Wade was from everyone. And, Wade had been rebooted for no more than ten minutes and he already looked antsy.

Peter's line of action was decided for him as the door swung open. Peter and Wade's heads swivelled in sync as the two stared at the intruder in the doorway. Logan stared back, eyes wide. His mouth open and closed several times as if he couldn't quite think of the words he wanted to say and he was covered in sweat. He looked like a madman. This was bad.

"Peter. What the fuck is it doing awake?" Logan finally spluttered, glaring at the both of them.

"What's awake?" Peter asked, moving in front of the large robot as if that would make him invisible. "Nothing's awake. I'm sure you're just seeing things again. What have I told you about-"

"Shut up! I told you not to touch it. That it could be dangerous and what did you do? You turned it on!" He snarled.

Peter backpedaled, colliding into Wade and pinning them both against the wall as Logan loomed over him. Logan couldn't actually loom over them, due to his lacking height, but it still had the same effect on Peter. Wade looked confused.

Logan stepped closer. "We need to shut it down."

"No! I-I mean…"

"And why shouldn't we? It may be actin' nice now but how long will it stay nice, boy?"

"If he was dangerous, he would've attacked the moment I turned him on!" Peter argued, "I'm one-hundred percent positive he's good."

Logan walked past the two and dug into an old trunk in the corner.

"If you're so sure, you won't mind wearing these." He lifted up a pair of bulky, metal anklets. "They're linked. If either one of ya goes too far from the other, you'll get zapped until you're back in range or until you pass out."

Peter looked at the items warily as they were held out to him. Logan couldn't be serious. He grabbed the clunky, ancient technology out of his grasp and put one on. He turned to look at the robot.

Peter fixed the other anklet onto Wade. Standing back up, he turned to look at Logan. "How far is the radius?"

"Dunno." Logan shrugged, "Guess you'll have to find out for yourselves."

Peter glared at Logan's back as the man left the room. Wade had been quiet the entire time which Peter kind of expected. Most robots couldn't understand emotions.

"Whatever." Peter turned to look at Wade, "Well, it seems we're going to be joined at the hip from now on, so we need to lay down some ground rules. "

"Joined at the hip?" Wade cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"It's a figure of speech. It just means we're going to be stuck like gl- it means we'll be together a lot. You can't leave my side. Anyway, we need ground rules because I've never lived with a robot before. Unless you count some of the crew, anyway."

Peter grinned, glad he didn't stay in the barracks anymore. He sighed when he noticed that Wade still had his head tilted to the side. Jokes were pointless.

"Ground rules: Where I go, you go. Except the bathroom, you wait outside. Since I just saved you from getting shut off, you can help me with my chores and whatever else I need you for. And, right now, I need to sleep so hurry up." Peter said as he left the room.

After Wade had followed him outside, Peter locked the vault door and headed down the hall with Wade close behind him. Peter opened his door and was greeted by a blast of hot, tropical air to the face.

He sighed and walked inside before glancing back at Wade. He was huge. Wade nearly filled the doorway. The robot entered the room, making it seem much smaller than it already was.

It was once a storage room, half the size of the small cabins high-ranking crew occupied. Peter looked around the room and started clearing away what he could, desperate for more space. Where was the behemoth going to sleep?

Crash.

Peter whirled around and there was Wade, sitting next to an outlet while looking expectantly at Peter.

"Now is the designated time for humans to recharge. I must also recharge." The robot tried to twist around and contort his body, feeling around blindly for something. "I need assistance to reach my charging port."

"Stop that or you'll ruin all my hard work." Peter sighed.

He walked over and unclipped a large power cord from around the robot's waist and leaned over to pry open the rusted cover hiding Wade's charging port. Peter tried to slap Wade's hand away as the robot reached for the cord.

"Don't mess with that, or you'll go blind."

The robot removed his hand. "I do not believe I can go blind from such an action. You, perhaps."

"Who's the robot expert here?" Peter demanded.

"I was unaware you were."

Peter scowled and plugged the robot into the wall to charge. The robot pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms as Peter cut the light off.

He shuffled to bed and paused before looking in Wade's direction. Nothing could be seen. Good. Satisfied that the robot wasn't looking - and couldn't see anything even if he wanted to - Peter peeled off his filthy, sweaty clothes. Then he felt his way around and slipped under the covers, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Peter burrowed deeper under his covers, not ready to leave their warmth to head outside. Rolling onto his side, he tried to muster up enough willpower to leave the nest of blankets. He wrapped a blanket around himself and sat up in bed, yawning as he let his feet touch the floor.

The cold, wood floor had a way of shocking him awake. However, not as much as the icy blue eyes that were looking at him. Peter shivered and slowly stood up, letting his eyes adjust to the early morning light. How long had the robot sat there staring at him like that?

Peter grabbed a shirt off the floor and hunted down the rest of his clothes around the room. He could feel the robot's eyes following him. He finally paused as he grabbed a sock dangling from his workbench, a few feet away from Wade.

"How long have you been awake?" Peter asked.

"I have been awake for one hour and fourteen minutes."

"So you've been staring at me for that long?" Peter sat down and hastily put on the pair of mismatched socks he had found. Anything to feel less naked. Creepy robot.

Wade shook his head. "I was monitoring your vitals. For example, your heart rate has suddenly increased."

"Oh."

"Also, earlier a woman requested you 'get your lazy ass to the mess hall,' or she would eat your toast and 'make you clean the bowsprit.'"

Peter gaped. Toast was the only edible thing Cook was capable of making. And, cleaning the bowsprit was one of the most dangerous jobs aboard the Red Queen. The captain wasn't serious, was she? Regardless, Peter wasn't risking it. He jumped up and grabbed his shirt before remembering the robot was still in the room. Wade was still staring at him.

"Turn around."

"I cannot. I am still plugged into the wall."

Hmm. Peter glanced down at himself. Even wrapped in a blanket and wearing boxers, he felt naked. It was the robot's fault. Wade's constant staring made Peter feel as though he were being analyzed. Which, for the record, he was.

"Then look away."

The robot briefly looked away before turning back towards him.

"No. Look away, Wade! Y'know, longer. I just need a minute or two." Peter mumbled, blushing because he had already started to emerge the blanket.

"My sensors are damaged. I cannot gauge measurements of time."

Peter sighed and looked around the room. He needed to think quickly. Toast was on the line. He pointed at a few bolts and screws scattered on the floor.

"Separate those by size."

Wade leaned down and focused on his task. While he was busy concentrating, Peter darted over and unplugged the machine before heading to his bed and scooping up his clothes. He pointed to his bed as the robot looked up.

"I have fin-"

"Make my bed." He demanded.

Peter grinned as the robot walked over. This was cool. He waited until the robot had stripped the bed to make sure Wade was distracted. Satisfied, Peter wrapped the blanket tighter around his torso to guard against the cool air and slipped on a pair of jeans.

Metal fingers suddenly clamped onto Peter's shoulder. He shrieked but before he could pull away, the room swirled and blurred and suddenly he was on the floor. He rapidly looked around the room before focusing on the robot standing behind him, faced away from him and towards the bed. Peter scowled when his dazed brain finally realized what happened.

He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head. Only now did the robot speak.

"Your heart rate is erratic. You are frightened."

"No! I'm not frightened." Peter huffed. "I'm pissed! What was that for?"

The robot cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I do not understand. Which of my actions has caused you to be 'pissed?'"

Peter groaned. He silently fumed as the robot shook out the last blanket - the one that had been wrapped around Peter - and finished making the bed. How could he even begin explaining what the robot had done?

"You don't just steal something someone is using!" Peter yelled.

"I needed it to finish my assigned task. Removing it from you was necessary."

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Apologize. You know how to do that, don't you? It's when you say sorry for doing something you weren't supposed to do or didn't mean to do."

The robot still looked confused.

"This will make you feel better?" He asked.

Peter nodded.

"I am sorry I removed the blanket from your body. You are exceptionally light and I did not know you would spin-"

"Like a top." Peter added.

Wade looked confused but continued. "- and fall down. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I wasn't frightened." Peter grumbled as he grabbed his coat. "Come on, before we miss out on toast." He said as he threw open the door and headed towards the mess hall.

They were out of toast.

Peter groaned and sat down next to the other crew members. Wade sat down next to him.

Logan glanced at Peter. "Don't look so glum, kid. The toast was burnt anyway."

He held up a piece of toast as proof before pointing at the far end of the table at the captain.

"She wants to talk to ya. Don't make her wait."

Peter nodded and shoveled a few bites of gruel into his mouth. The stuff was disgusting but he needed the energy. As he got up, Logan turned to look at him.

"If you aren't gonna eat your oatmeal, I want it."

Without hesitation, Peter handed his tray over to the mutant. That was oatmeal? Honestly, he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He motioned for Wade to wait with the others, walked over to the captain and sat down. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he stole a peek at the captain.

Her fiery red hair seemed less bright and was frizzy, sticking up in different directions. Freckles stood out more than usual against her skin and she looked tired and sweaty. However, the look she gave Peter was still as intimidating as ever. She glared at him from across the table while munching on a piece of toast.

"You fixed the robot."

Peter nodded.

"You fixed the robot, neglecting your responsibilities aboard the ship and putting everyone's health and safety on the line."

He nodded again, less enthusiastically.

"The heating and cooling units are broken, one of the thrusters has overheated and three sailors collapsed from heat stroke/exhaustion this morning. Everyone else is miserable and half out food supply is in danger of spoiling. "

Peter slumped farther into his seat.

She gestured around the room at all the sweaty sailors and other crew members rushing around the kitchen with food in their arms. Was that a ham? Cook was holding out on everyone, Peter decided.

The captain picked up a piece of blackened toast from her plate and pointed it at Peter. He watched it crumble away, avoiding the her glare.

"You are responsible for this. When we reach Port Genosha, you're staying aboard and fixing the mess you've made. All of it. And, since you've decided that all your responsibilities aren't enough to keep you occupied, you can clean the mess covering the bowsprit."

"But that's Francis's job! Why can't he do it?" Peter whined.

The captain's eyes flashed and Peter gulped. He realized too late what a mistake he had made.

"His leg is broken." She snapped.

Peter knew Francis well enough to know that he would take any opportunity to avoid work - especially cleaning the bowsprit - but now didn't seem like a good time to point it out to the captain.

"And, he's not the one sneaking around at night fixing up potentially dangerous robots! He didn't get to make the choice to abandon his responsibility. It was decided for him. You made your choice so stop acting like a child and take your punishment."

Looking away, he sighed. "Yes, Captain."

"Good. And as for the rustbucket, "She nodded towards Wade. "I'm holding you accountable for anything he does. So you better keep a good eye on him." She waved him away.

He walked over to the group and sat back down by Wade, trying to avoid thinking about his new chore. Everyone else politely pretended they hadn't just heard Peter get chewed out by the captain, pushing their food around, avoiding eye contact, staring at nothing. All but Francis, who was smirking. Wade was oblivious.

This was going to suck.

Peter stood close to Wade. A rope was thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of soapy water in his hand, as he tried to use the large robot as a shield from the cold gusts of wind.

"This isn't that bad. It could be way worse." Peter said.

Wade wasn't convinced. From the way everyone had reacted earlier, this was bad. The boy was clearly terrified. He just was good at hiding it for a human. Wade listened as Peter continued trying to rationalize the situation.

"It's my punishment, so I have to do it. It's just cleaning the bowsprit. Just me, crawling my way across an algae-slicked post to clean the rigging and not die in the process. Piece of cake." Peter gripped the bucket tighter.

He sighed and set the bucket down, tying one end of the rope around his waist and the other around the base of the bowsprit. Then, he picked up the bucket and carefully climbed onto the post to begin his chore. Wade didn't know what to do, so he decided to wait at the bow for the human to come back to him.

Peter wriggled slowly along the wooden post, algae sticking to him and cold gusts of wind pulled at him as he inched forward. Even over the wind and sounds of the ship, if Wade focused his sensors well enough, he could hear several muttered and fairly colorful complaints coming from the boy. Most were directed at the crew and himself, but others were directed towards some mystery man for having given Peter to the pirates' care.

Wade knew if he had been the one out there on the bowsprit, he would have already fallen to his demise. He was too large and clunky. The post was slippery, and Peter had nearly fallen multiple times. Wade had lurched forward at each occasion.

After awhile, Peter wriggled towards the bottom of the post and paused a moment to wipe sweat off his forehead. That was when he slipped for the last time.

Peter let out an indignant squawk and Wade lunged forwards to grab the human but wasn't fast enough and suddenly he was gone. The rope pulled taut and Wade heard a dull thud from below. Peter had hit the bow of the ship.

Wade leaned over the railing, straining the ocular lenses in his eyes to see past the fog for a flash of color amid the gloom. He needed a sign, any sign, that the boy was still attached safely to the piece of rope that was now whipping in the wind.

Wade jumped when a slime-covered hand gripped the bow of the ship, quickly followed by another, as Peter climbed. Wade grabbed the boy's arms and helped heave him over the edge of the bow and onto the safety of the deck. Peter unfastened the rope and leaned against the railing.

"I told you it would be easy." Peter wheezed, letting go of the robot's arm and smiled apologetically at the large smear left behind. "Sorry."

Wade looked at Peter oddly before turning to watch the clouds. Even covered in sea slime and panting from his near-death experience, there was something about the human that made Wade's hardware go haywire. When the boy looked at him with that quirky half-smile, the hydraulic pump in his chest seized. He was confident it had never done that before. The malfunction only lasted a second but the drop in pressure made his head spin and limbs weak. It was weird.

Suddenly, the grappling hook collided with Wade's chest, jarring him from his thoughts. Wade gripped the rail to steady himself and tried to ignore the metallic clang ringing in his ears. He looked around wildly for the source: Peter.

"Wade, I'm fine," Peter said gesturing to himself. "You don't need to be so worried. Now c'mon! I heard Cook made something edible today. I don't know if you eat or not, but…"

Wade tuned out Peter as the boy walked ahead. His hair was a mess and if Wade lifted the dirty shirt off of Peter's back, he was fairly certain he would find a bruise blossoming from where Peter collided with the side of the ship. He couldn't calculate what was to come in the days ahead but knew it couldn't be too bad if this human were involved.

Peter stepped into the mess hall and sighed. The stench of Cook's food mixed with the smell of unhygienic pirates in a noxious tango. Thankfully for Peter, he had become immune to most odors the ship had to offer. Now, if only he could get rid of his sense of taste when it came to eating Cook's meals.

He looked over at Wade as they hopped in line. The robot seemed unloaded by the smell and didn't get a tray. The mess hall was nearly empty which made finding Logan and Francis easy. Everyone else was hiding from the heat in the barracks.

"Peter." Logan greeted as they sat down. He watched as the robot sat down.

Peter nodded in reply. He wrinkled his nose before tossing a piece of algae clinging to him onto the table and looking over at Francis.

"Hey, Francis. You're normally the one who cleans the bowsprit. How do you do it? Is there a trick or somethin' that makes it easier?"

"Luck."

Logan smirked and pointed his spork at Francis. "And it ran out."

"What do you mean?" Peter leaned over the table and noticed Francis' bandaged leg.

Ouch.

So that was how Francis had broken his leg! Peter hoped he didn't have to do that chore ever again.

Besides, he completed his punishment. How much worse could it get?