/I know I made that first chapter rather serious for the characters, and I'm sorry! Hopefully I can have them act more like themselves as I addapt to writing them./

Even though the majority of the robots had had to learn to survive, there was one stupnik among them that unquestionably only survived because of his brother, Scratch. And that bot was Grounder.

The small pudgy robot was at present making tracks through the dense forest, opticals stretched wide in worry.

"Scratch!" The badnik yelled in a low voice, looking left and right as his caterpillar tracks crushed all foliage under them. Although obviously worried, Grounder was quite fed up with his brother. Every week he went missing for an hour or so, and then wandered back into 'camp' as if nothing had happened.

"Scratch if you don't come back..then I'll drink your oil rations myself!" He paused, lower lip protruding on his flexible and very expressive face. After hearing nothing he decided to continue to threaten,"And I'll enjoy it to!"

Still nothing, and Grounder sighed angrily. Scratch had been distant lately, and the badnik was not happy about that. The robot rooster was the only one that would protect him from his own stupidity and faults while no other robot seemed to be able to tolerate him.

Of course, Grounder did not refer to himself as stupid. He more liked to think along the lines of being 'intelligence challenged'.

A twig snapped, but to one alone in a forest it sounded like gunfire. The green bot jumped about a foot, drill bit arms waving, and giving an over-exaggerated howl.

"Oh, calm down! It's just me, you sap!" Shoving a large leafy plant out of his path, the familiar form of Scratch came through the brush. A wide, almost sheepish grin came over Grounder's face before his brow furrowed and a look of pure malice came over him.

Rolling over to his brother slowly for affect, Grounder then hit one of the bird's metallic legs as hard as he could muster with his sharp, pointy nose. While Scratch yelped in pain and jumped back, the fat green bot just scowled. Mood changes were quite regular with him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, you chicken you!" Insult wars were quite popular for the two. Whoever won was the one who had the better comeback.

"Why can't you just be normal and hang out with everyone at camp!?" The taller badnik stalked angrily past Grounder, towards the direction of said position.

"Because they don't wanna!" Grounder complained, wheeling around to follow,"They say they don't wanna 'babysit' me. Whatever that means! I don't need nobody to sit on me."

Scratch rolled his eyes. Almost ten years, and Grounder still couldn't seem to find any friends besides himself. Sure, he got along with others, but 'hanging out' was completely out of the question. As well as that, the AI's in the camp seemed to form groups, even though the whole of them acted as a pack. It happened quite naturally. Swat bots with Swat bots, service bots seemed to clump well, but Scratch, Grounder...and occasionally Coconuts, a small badnik modeled after a chimp, would stay in their own odd group.

A good ten minutes of walking -and rolling- brought the two to their destination. A clearing almost perfectly centered in the middle of the dense forest. Poor shelters were built in it, made mostly from the foliage around them. The robots didn't have many materials to use, and thus the huts had to be regularly re-built.

Several bots could be seen zipping to and from each spot, being busybodies. It was important to keep yourself busy out here, for a theory of the AI's was that if you stalled, you died.

"...And besides that, you don't seem to like me anymore either!" Grounder had finished his speech and Scratch had hardly heard a thing of it. The rooster gave an annoyed glance down.

"I do like you, Grounder! I just need my own personal sometimes."

Grounder seemed to find offense in this,"But you hate being alone! You said so yourself only five years or so ago!"

"Ergh..." And this was the reason he liked some privacy. Scratch was the said to be the smartest of the badniks (which was not saying much for the whole lot of them) and took unfortunate pride in it. He would brag, and scoff at others supposed stupidity when he was not better off himself. He also would enforce his need of thinking space even if all he did was take a recharging power nap.

By then the two had gone to the largest of the huts, not to mention the most impressive of them all. Being some of the oldest badniks to come to this forest had its bright sides. Scratch had had lots of time to learn how to make a structure that lasted and could weather storms. Once he had achieved this he decorated, as usually there was not much else to do. Soda cans and other shiny pieces of metal or garbage hung from strings around the entrance, putting a much needed color on the hut, as it was mostly wood brown and sick pale green.

"Maybe if you tried, oh I don't know, being a little less stupid, then people would like you more!" The robotic chicken had to duck to get into the entrance and then sat down in the dark inside, picking up some large dry leaves that the robots used as paper.

The inside was also decorated with smears of maroon paint made from berries all over the well put together walls of large leaves and the occasional thin sheet of scrap metal.

"Hey...was that an insult?" Grounder frowned pointedly.

"No...I was being nice! Now give me a pen."

"Aw, your so sweet, Scratch!" Tounge sticking out the side of his mouth, the now happy robot fished a pen from his inner compartment, as he never seemed to run out of them, and handed it over.

Scratch started scribbling on the paper. He couldn't read very well, couldn't write recognizably, but he was a decent artist. Years of boredom had done the least for him.

"Watcha drawing?" Grounder looked over his shoulder wonderingly. Grounder still couldn't read, write, or make a piece of art that could be identified. The only thing Grounder was decent at was the construction of other robot's huts.

The rooster held the sketched plan out of Grounder's view.

"None of your business, junk pile!" He had a nasty habit of insulting his brother extensively,"Now go do something else."

Grounder scowled, starting to obediently tread away. He'd find out later anyways when his big brother was sleeping. Scratch had never been a light sleeper.

As the badnik rolled out, several small assistant bots gave him an overly cheerful greeting as they shot by. It was always important to them to keep their spirits up. After all, tragedy was a regular thing at camp and it was hard to cope with the loss of less fortunate others.

"Hmph." He folded his arms uncomfortably, listening to Scratch start to cackle inside. Sometimes Grounder could swear that the chicken had finally popped a piston.