A/n: Had this idea in the middle of one of my uni lectures I think (yes, I was trying to listen :P) . Anyway, I think I've done a few Random backstorys before, but this is somewhat… different. So you'll just have to read it to find out how. And thanks to Scarab Dynasty for semi-betaing/telling me whether if was a half decent fic. :D

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Ace Lightning. Who do you think I am! (hides)

Moment of Weakness

The labs were empty and everyone had probably gone home. Even the workaholics seemed to have decided to call it a night, going home to catch a few hours sleep or at least to power up. The only sound Random could hear was the quiet hum of the air-conditioning vents; his wheel clicking over the tiles was even louder.

The sound of the electricity rushing through his body and pounding in his ears seemed the loudest. What he was about to do was probably highly illegal. But then, what choice did he have? He couldn't live with what he was turning into. The process that had started with one wrong decision, one moment of hesitation and weakness, now seemed to be turning him more and more into something he didn't want to be.

They'd seen the war machine as it made its way across the outlands. It came with one purpose in its mechanical mind: to destroy anything that crossed its path. In the outlands this wasn't much of a problem – there was nothing much to destroy. The fact that it was making its way towards the Lightning Knight headquarters was.

He'd come with Ace and Sparx. They were to destroy it before it got too close. The problem was that the war machine was literally a beast of solid metal, anything vulnerable buried deep within the layers of metallic skin.

"We'll try take out its fuel lines," Ace had decided after looking at it through his binoculars. "That should at least stop it so we can get in and shut it down for good."

"Right, well let's go already!" Sparx had said from her perch on the Lightning Flash.

"Wait…" he'd called out just before Ace took to the sky. "If we hit the fuel lines we might ignite the fuel and take out the whole thing..."

"Well," Sparx had said, "that would work."

"… and everything within a two Kryllian mile radius."

"Oh."

"I didn't think those war machine fuel was all that flammable?" Ace had asked.

"It's not really. But there's still the risk a blast of lightning might cause a chain reaction."

"Any better ideas then?"

He'd held out his hand and Ace threw him the binoculars. "There's always another way…" The beast moved jerkily across the wasteland, framed in the binoculars field of vision. He'd seen a flash of light at its left shoulder.

"Heads up!" Ace had shouted.

To adjust from looking through a pair of binoculars back to your normal field of vision took just under a second. A war machine hyper-electric missile travelled at 300 Kryllian miles per second. He didn't need to do the calculations to know that almost-second took up any chance he had of flying out of the way.

Random let himself into the programming laboratory, having to fiddle to get the door open with his left hand, and then shove it open with his claw. He'd never noticed until recently that doors were left or right handed.

He switched the lights on with his mind. After he'd had the damaged parts of his body replaced with mechanical versions he'd seemed to have the ability to control machinery in close proximity to him. The doctors said it was something to do with having to control his own mechanical parts. It wasn't supposed to extend to other machines though. If anything, it was the one thing he didn't mind about being a cyborg.

He did, however, mind just about everything else which had occurred because of it. Flying had become impossible; his metal wheel was much too heavy. A metal claw was practically impossible to use for anything that required any degree of accuracy. It didn't help that he was right handed either. The hunk of metal had never been designed to be used for anything other than bashing things. That probably had something to do with the fact that bio-mechanics had never really been strongly developed by the Knights. It seemed a little odd for such a technologically advanced society, but it was generally accepted that flesh went with flesh and machine with machine. But it was the only option they'd had left. The whole operation had felt like something of a rush job to Random. He'd been too damaged to have his legs and arm replaced by anything organic, they'd had to resort to mechanics. Of course the mechanics they'd used had never really been intended to be used on a Knight; he was left with a half-guessed job, of which practicality had never been thought of. Unless the only practicality they had been considered was smashing an enemy apart.

And it was all because of that one moment of weakness. Because he was too scared that some machine would explode. The possibility was low, he knew machines, and he'd known it was low. But he'd still hesitated, listened to that twinge in his gut. At first he had thought that it was caution, perhaps his subconscious telling him there really was a risk. But now he knew it for what it had really been: Fear.

And Knights were not supposed to fear. "Do right, and fear not!' It was never intended to be taken so literally though. Fear was always there. It would show up inside of you every once in awhile. The point was it shouldn't come out and interfere. But Random knew he'd let it. For only a second, but it had cost him almost everything.

Random looked at his claw, snapping it slightly. He would make himself as strong as the metal which was now a part of him. He looked at the workstation in front of him, and then picked up one of the vials sitting neatly next to it. Flipping it around in his left hand until it was properly orientated; he applied a slight pressure to the outside. The vial beeped, and a small, sharp piece of metal extended from it. Random shoved the needle into his right arm, just above his claw. It beeped again and began to fill with a blue substance. When it beeped again, Random removed it. Then stopped and looked at it. The stuff swirling around inside was him. Or at least the stuff that defined him. Did he really want to change it? Did he want to change it like this? He stared, transfixed by the swirling blue. He'd been modified. He was now half machine. But this stuff hadn't changed. He suddenly had a feeling in his gut, a feeling telling him not to do this. And then he recognised it as the same he'd had before.

Random gritted his teeth and glared at the vial as he felt his stomach twist. "Coward…" he growled. This thing contained his weakness. That was the problem with fear; it would always be there, even when you suppressed it. Waiting to rear up in your moment of weakness and destroy you. Perhaps 'do right and fear not' should be taken literally. It was why he'd come into the labs when no one was around. To remove his weakness. No fear meant no hesitation. And without fear you could be strong.

He shoved the vial into the computer in front of him. It connected itself into the specially designed slot. Seconds later his programming, read directly from the sample in the vial, appeared on the screen.

Random went to work quickly, removing and modifying everything weak. And if any weakness tried to get into him again, his programming would destroy it. He would not let weakness hurt him again. All the time he did this, he ignored the thing telling him not to. It would go away soon.

And then he was done. He pulled the vial from the computer and looked at it again. It still looked the same. But now it contained a version of himself that contained no weakness. Still the feeling remained. For the first time in weeks, Random questioned his interpretation of it: Was it really fear? Or was he really not supposed to be doing this?

I'm letting me weakness stop me from saving myself, Random thought. I'm not going to continue living as this coward.

Random shoved the vial into his arm. It beeped quickly, telling the user they were using more than the necessary force. At first he didn't feel anything, just the prick of the needle. And then he felt the knot in his stomach disappear. He no longer cared that what he had just done was perhaps dangerous. His weakness had been destroyed.

The overhead lights flickered on. They were only automated. But it meant that people would probably already be wondering around the labs, trying to get back to work, or at least to wake themselves up first. Random had done what he came to do. He placed the almost empty vial in the matter disintegrator, and switched it on. The device whined as it built up the energy to reduce the vial to its atomic components. Random didn't wait for it.

If he had he might have seen the leftover blue being slowly replaced by a black thread that seemed to wind its way through it, relentlessly replacing anything that it deemed weak. More than half of the blue had been replaced when the matter disintegrator finally obliterated it.

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