It was long after the disaster. Long after the screams died down and the sound of clanking metal dissipated. The war was over and it appeared that the humans had lost most miserably. Were they all gone? Perhaps.. Perhaps not. One thing was for certain though, all that had lived here were dead.

Now, the only life amongst the ruins were sloppily made machines and ragged Skullbeasts, skulking about and taking offhanded swipes at things that caught their interest. Other notable inhabitants, though not as plentiful but definitely more agreeable, were the Stitchpunks.. Or at least that was what they had come to refer to themselves as. They were a peaceful race of little people who hid in the shadows and scraped out a meagre living in the wasteland for themselves and their companions. Some of them had been alive during the war and knew what humans were like, but most were late-activators who had awoken afterward to the wasteland that the once thriving city had become. The only humans they knew were in photographs, books, newspapers, and dead bodies that no one approached out of respect for the lost lives.

Tweek, an ordinary stitchpunk, was one of these late-activators. His creator, a man named Étienne René Pierre, had been one of the few humans to donate their life to another being that would live on after the war. He had intended to make many stitchpunks initially and hide them all away in his workshop, but had been chased out of his home by a few machines when the war first started. He never finished his project.

Thus, Tweek was Étienne's sole contribution to the project, and was left within the workshop for a long time.. And finally, after the commotion had stopped and the machines had claimed their victory, Tweek awoke for the first time.

It was dark in the workshop. The only light that came in was from the arched windows high above, letting dusty light filter through. It was mostly silent though the occassional breeze outside caused the old heavy rafters up above to creak and the door at the top of the stairs to open slightly, then return to its ajar position. On the very edge of a large desk in a box lay the stitchpunk, silent and unmoving, but that was soon to change. A sudden gust of wind through a broken window caught a wooden plant propped up against the wall by it, and the board fell, hitting the desk and knocking the box to the floor, spilling all of its contents- spools of thread, scissors, pieces of cloth, cogs, gears... And Tweek. Everything scattered across the old stone floor and Tweek, having landed on his belly in a sprawled position partially covered by a piece of cloth, awoke.

His never-before-used eyelenses opened slowly, blinking a few times as if he were sleepy. A very soft, breathless groan emanated from his lips and he very slowly, very tentatively looked at his hand and flexed it experimentally. When he had assured himself that he was in good condition, he pushed himself into a kneeling position and looked around. His eyelenses widened in amazement of his surroundings, and he stood up to try to take it all in. On wobbly new legs he did his best to stand and look around with interest, but the place was simply too big for him to take in all at once and he fell back onto his bottom. Shaking his head, he attempted to stand again and stumbled a few steps forward, bending down and picking up a brightly coloured piece of cloth. The colourful fabric was enticing to him in a way and he wrapped it around himself like a cloak for fun beore he suddenly looked down and noticed a book. Quietly he walked over to it and squatted down near it, cloth still wrapped around his shoulders, and opened it up. The pages within were filled with handwriting- what it said he couldn't tell, for he could not yet read. Gently he placed a little wooden and metal hand onto the page it had fallen open to and stared at it intently, as if wishing that if he stared at it long enough the words might start to make sense.. But, of course, they didn't and he flipped through some more pages to see what else might be inside. He ended up finding a picture of a human man working on something. Upon closer inspection he realised that the object he was working on had a shape similar to what Tweek had seen of himself so far. Putting the pieces together he figured that the man must have created him, and a slightly melancholy mood came over him.

"M-my.. Creator.." He spoke his first words quietly, but the small sound seemed to surprise him and he jumped, touching his mouth. He hadn't even really thought about speaking, it had just sort of happened. He recovered himself quickly though and picked up the photo, holding it in both hands and staring at it intently like he had with the book. For a moment he wished he could talk to his creator, figure out what his purpose was and discover what this new world he was in was like... He suddenly pursed his lips and straightened up, looking around yet again with newfound curiosity. The discovering part, he mused, could be done on his own. Quetly he stood up and let the cloth drape airily back down to the floor as he moved to go pick up a knitting needle and use it as a walking stick, as well as something to defend himself with should he come across.. Well, trouble. He wasn't sure what to expect but was eager to find out more about this place. Perhaps there were others like him.. Or perhaps there were even more humans like his creator. He wouldn't know until he went outside and looked, so, with the resolve to come back later, he closed the journal and pushed it over so that it lay under the desk. This didn't seem good enough so he ran over to grab the bright piece of cloth and drag it over the top of the journal to keep it hidden. There. That seemed better. When he was finished and satisfied with his work, he turned to face the stairs that led to the slightly ajar door. He hesitated a moment, then set forth to climb the stairs. For such a short stitchpunk it was no easy task- he continuously had to jump and climb and scrabble to get to the next step. By the time he'd reached the top he was nearly worn out, but a minute or two of rest saw him able to continue his little journey. Slowly he approached the door, and peeked around the edge. It was another room, but this one had brown carpet. The room branched off to many other rooms, but one door directly across from him seemed to lead outside. It was halfway open, beckoning him to come out. With no hesitation this time he ran across the room and exited the doorway. The light outside was blinding at first and his eyelenses grew small for a moment before returning to normal. He rubbed his optics as they adjusted, then blinked a few times and took a look around, beginning to walk forward.

What he saw was not what he'd expected. Everything was desolate and ruined. The foreign buildings were broken and even collapsed completely in some areas, and the trashed streets lay in disrepair, covered with the collective dirt and garbage that had piled up since and during the war. Slightly in dismay, he ventured forth as quietly as possible, wondering if his assumptions could be true at all. There was a terrible moment where he wondered if he was the last living thing here. He could not imagine living his life alone. He quickly swept that thought from his head, trying to trust that he would find a companion of some sort. It was good to remain positive. As he walked he constantly watched out for others, whether they be stitchpunk or human.

The one thing he never counted on was the Skullbeasts.. And even less did he expect that one was stalking him at the very moment. He did, however, grow very stiff and grip his knitting needle tighter when he heard a rustle.

"Hello..? Is anyone there?" He asked, turning in a cirle but seeing no one. He jumped slightly when a hiss came from nearby. His thought that he was alone was beginning to be disproved, but he suddenly wished he was right. Tensely he waited, but when a creaking noise came from behind him, he whirled around. His breath caught in his throat and he stumbled back a few steps, eyelenses dilated and mouth open. Before him was a huge, horrendous creature with piercing red eyes and a jerking, rather disfigured mechanical shape. The mechanical beast hissed at him again and suddenly struck out. Tweek was paralyzed in shock, unable to run- the blow hit him head on. The beast's claw caught the fabric on the top of his head, leaving a large gash that reached from the back of his head to one of his optics in front. Despite being injured now, he had snapped out of his shock and cried out, scrambling to his feet again and turning to run as fast as he could. As he ran he could hear the beast behind him giving chase and was compelled to run even faster. Though his new legs were inexperienced with movement, he found instincts that he wasn't even aware he'd had awakening within him and guiding him away from danger. His flight came to a sudden halt, however, when he came up to the edge of a ditch. The deep, fast-flowing water did not look even relatively inviting, and when he turned to run a different way, he found himself face to face with the beast. He brandished his knitting needle, though the action was more of a bluff to buy him some time than anything else. The beast did not mind it's prey's weapon and attacked anyway, lashing out again. This time one of its sharp claws snagged Tweek's shoulder and down his waist to his hip, leaving a huge cut and knocking him backward a few steps. It was then that he lost his balance and slipped off the edge of the nearly vertical slope. Everything happened so fast that Tweek barely knew what to think before he was tumbling head over heels and down into the water with a splash. He sunk beneath the rushing surface for a moment, though all the while he kicked and struggled. He had only just learned to walk and run, now he had to learn how to swim. With much difficulty he finally brought himself to the surface and continued to put up a weak fight with the water, crying out pitifully and waving one of his arms in desperation. He then remembered his knitting needle, which he'd forgotten was in his own hand, and tried to use it to catch himself on something as the rushing water carried him quickly down the ditch. The knitting needle dug into the mud on the side of the bank, though it was not solid enough to catch. Suddenly there was a violent jerk as it caught on a rock, but Tweek was not prepared and it slipped from his grasp. He shouted out as he sunk beneath the water again and thrashed wildly to return to the surface; He came up once more briefly, then sunk again. Weakly now he struggled, nearly spent of energy and ready to give up; This was the moment when he felt a strong hand grip him by the fabric on his upper back and haul him upward and out of the water completely. He coughed and spluttered sluggishly, unable to see properly for water had seeped into his eyelense covers and was slow to drain. He was just barely able to make out a figure pulling him up out of his wet predicament and lying him onto the dry ground before his eyelenses closed themselves and he fell unconcious.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Tweek awoke again, languidly opening his still draining eyes and trying to see where he was and what was happening. However the water that was still draining from his eyelenses did not allow him to see anything clearly and he gave up. For now he'd have to rely on other senses for information. So far he could feel that he was in a slouched sitting position near something bright and warm.. There was also a large cloth wrapped around him like a blanket. He was mostly dry now, though the water that was draining from his eyelense covers trickled down his face, leaving a wet trail down each cheek as if he were crying. He was tempted to try and sleep again, but a noise from nearby put him on edge immediately. After the ordeal he'd been through he was extremely jumpy, and scrambled to his feet without thinking much about it first, murky eyelenses searching wildly for whatever had moved.

"W-where are you! Go away! L-l-leave me alone!" He shouted and waved his arms around, feeling for something.. Anything that he could defend himself with. However his temporary blindness caused him to be disoriented and he tripped, falling backward onto his bottom.

"Easy now little fellow!" A figure closeby that he could barely just make out against the flickering light spoke to him in a somewhat surprised but comforting tone. Tweek was too scared to reason that this person was only trying to help him and defensively scrabbled in the dirt to find a rock, holding it in such a way as to throw it at even the slightest provocation. The figure came to him quickly and before Tweek could hurl his weapon, he felt a familiar, strong grasp take his wrist to prevent him from using his primitive weapon. His mouth opened slightly as he was pulled up off the ground again, into a tight but warm embrace. Initially he struggled, but was suddenly overcome with a sense of relief and protection like he hadn't felt before.

"Easy now.." He heard the figure speak again and relaxed, going limp and groaning a bit. "There you go, that's better. You're safe now, there are no machines here to worry about." Tweek felt another wave of relief, immediately trusting the judgement of the other. For a minute they stood like that, the stranger holding Tweek tightly, then finally he led the small stitch back to the little campfire and put the blanket back around his shoulders.

"You must have been through some ordeal to be so frightened." The stranger commented and Tweek nodded numbly. The stranger then patted his shoulder.

"Looks like you had a nasty encounter with a machine, those cuts were quite a sight.. Don't worry though I fixed them up for you while you were still sleeping." He said. Tweek muttered a soft "thank you" and tentatively reached to touch the spot where the huge gash on his abdomen had been. He could feel the stitches and was able to tell it had been sewn back together. He did his very best to smile crookedly and murmured,

"You did a good job." The stranger smiled and replied,

"Thank you.. I've had a lot of practice on myself.. I too have a habit of getting myself into predicaments and like you have also gained some nasty scars from the experience. Machines and Skullbeasts are nasty things, quite unpleasant creatures." He had come to sit beside Tweek and reached up to gingerly touch the stitches on Tweek's head. "So are these holding up good? It shouldn't hurt anymore."

Tweek could feel the other touching the spot where his cut had been, but felt no pain.

"Yes, they are fine. Th-thank you very much.. I don't know wha-what would have happened, had you not come along and saved me.."

"Well I should think it wouldn't have been a good outcome.. But let's not think about that, I was there and we're here now, together. Now get some more sleep, it's getting pretty late, the sun has already gone down.. Come morning your eyelenses should have finished draining and we can get to know eachother better." The stranger said and Tweek smiled softly, nodding and closing his eyes. Before he knew it, he was asleep again.