Sorry that this chapter is so late. I lost my Internet for a few days, now it's back on. Being without Wi-Fi really gave me the time to work on the chapter. I know I should've posted this chapter days ago, but who can you blame when you lose your Internet?

*flops back on bed* *lets out a sigh* But, ah god, I'm just glad this chapter is finally finished. *wipes forehead* Aren't we all?

It gave me the time to start chapter seven, which will be posted either tomorrow or the next day after that.

Until then, enjoy chapter six. ^_^


Pain shot through 9's body as he woke up little by little. The floor he laid on was hard, the throbbing pulsated in the back of his head like a claw daring to shoot out. He hissed in a breath, fighting back the dizziness as he reluctantly sat upright. His vision focused and he took note of his surroundings. He saw the light cutting through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Heaps of rubble cluttered most of the spaces he could spot. 9 came to a standing position, reaching out a hand to finally realize the glass that separated him from the outside. When he glanced upward he saw the brass handles, and two wooden boards leaned against the glass doors. 9 knew it was to keep him from getting out.

Memories came to him, blurred and disjointed. The last thing he remembered was being in that shop and calling out for 1. He remembered the look on his face, he remembered reaching out to him. And after that everything went dark. Now he was here, but for how long? How long would he be confined in this glass prison?

9 paced over to the other side of the cabinet. Looking up, he noticed a glass shelf above him. And another one above that one. He reached the other side, seeing nothing but dim light and a cracks on the wall. The floor was hardwood and old, rotting away.

A clang sounded, prompting 9 to look up. He saw a shape glide from one end of the room to the other. He saw a gleam in the light, and that was when he recognized its form. It was the beast that snatched him. Its glowing red eyes stared deep into him. 9 forgot to breathe. This beast's wings were different than from the Winged Beast's. Instead of black leathery wings, it had silvery blades. He looked at its talons, so sharp, so lethal. The beast's birdlike skull captured 9's gaze, unable to tear away from its glowing eyes. He finally noticed its tail. It ended with a razor sharp claw. 9 wondered what it would snatch with that claw on its tail. He did not want to know.

The beast screeched, gliding towards the cabinet. 9 fell back when its bird skull was in close proximity. Its wings unfurled, showing off their metallic glory. The beast cawed out, talons perching on the wooden boards. It tapped its beak against the glass door. It either did that out of habit, or to intimidate 9. The zippered stitchpunk crawled into the farther corner but he never tore his gaze away from the beast.

9 and the beast stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

A second later the beast spun around and flapped its wings, gliding through the air until it disappeared into the dark. 9 saw the beast's claw on the end its tail snap at the air. He let out a breath as soon as it was gone. He looked around, disappointed that there wasn't anything inside the cabinet to break the glass with. He then again thought to how long his imprisonment would be. It was a dread that latched onto him like a parasite, draining away his will to live. It was a feeling that made him hate himself, and yet, he needed that feeling to hold on.


1 gingerly stepped over a dried branch extruding out from under a brick. Ahead of him 7 and 5 walked, weapons in hand, looking at one end if the Emptiness to the next. The sky was a faint orange with some traces of pale blue, there were even some pink hues splashed on. Evening was crawling its way, and that would mean finding a shelter soon.

When word of 9's kidnapping spread, preparations to rescue him ensued. Deciding who would go was the first thing the stitchpunks started on, and it was certainly not an easy one to choose. The obvious choices were were 7, 8, and 5. 1 even offered to join them seeing how they were going to need to know what the beast looked like and where it went. But after much consideration, 8 changed his mind at the last minute, staying behind to defend the sanctuary in case a beast came to attack. 1 spoke to 6 before the mission began, describing in great detail the beast he saw. Waiting for the striped artist to finish drawing was a monumental moment for 1. When he did finish, he was taken aback to see it on paper. It looked so real that 1 couldn't register which was more foreboding. With that done, 6 also gave them a warning.

"G-Get to him on t-time," he had said, "he w-won't make it!"

It worried 1, but he couldn't take the time to process what he said, and went ahead and joined 7 and 5 and find 9.

The trek through the dilapidated town was a quiet journey. Leading 5 and 7 to the spot he last saw 9 wasn't an easy task, having to remember seeing the Skimmer fly off with him, but it was part of their mission and it had to be done.

"What else did this...Skimmer do?," asked 7, looking over her shoulder.

"It deflected a knife I threw at it," said 1, not looking at her.

"Hmm."

"I've never seen anything like it," commented 5.

"Well, you saw the sketch 6 made," reiterated 7, "we'll know what it looks like when we see it."

1 looked down at the weapon he brought. It was a sculpting hook with a wooden handle with a long, thin blade and a smaller hook on the bottom. He didn't have the sense to go back for his crossbow with all the stress whirling in him and his inability to think straight.

"What's the plan once we see him?," asked 7. "Are we going to follow him to his lair?"

"That would be the plan," said 5, "we'll have to be discreet, so it doesn't see us. And then..."

1's mind wandered, catching fragments of 5 and 7's conversation. He thought back to the moment 9 was taken. He couldn't to stop the Skimmer from snatching him up. If he could do anything to change everything, he would let the beast take him instead. If only...

He glimpsed up, interrupting 5's next comment.

"What if I gave myself away," began 1 cautiously, "as bait?"

7 raised a stitched eyebrow.

"What?," she quoth.

"1, you can't be serious," rasped 5.

1's expression showed that he wasn't joking.

"But, 1," said 7, lowering her spear, "what if the Skimmer takes you someplace else? Someplace where 9's not?"

"We have to at least try," responded 1, "I can't forgive myself for not being able to protect him."

"1, it wasn't your fault," said 5, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't know the beast would—"

"But I should've!"

"1, calm down," quipped 7.

"Don't tell me to calm down!," snapped 1, pointing his hook under her chin. The pale female stared at him incredulously, pupils wide as the moon. She didn't even have the audacity to defend herself.

1's chest heaved up and down, seeing the look on her face. The inferno of 1's fury was extinguished, and he lowered the sculpting hook, the overwhelming guilt ensnaring him. His hand dropped the hook, and 7 held him to keep him from dropping to the ground as well.

"1, it's okay," she cooed, patting his back.

There was a muffled whimper heard from the elder stitchpunk. 7 felt him tremble.

5 stepped up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," he said, "we're going to find him."

1 looked up at him pleadingly. He wanted to speak up but kept his mouth half-open. He breathed in a tired sigh, bending over to pick up his hook.

"Let's find shelter," he drawled out, walking ahead.

"But—" 5 wanted to speak but dropped the subject, following him instead. 7 walked alongside him.

Although he wanted to keep talking, 1 chose to push his petty hate side and focus on the mission.


9 gazed down at the hardwood floor. The beast had return moments ago, perched on a coat tree. It must've been asleep for it didn't move. It was better that it slumbered. 9 didn't think he could handle the beast staring down at him.

It was night. That much he knew. The light had died down hours ago. He kept himself busy by counting how many cracks were in the walls. Across the cluttered room was a doorway leading to a hallway. 9 could also see a stairwell. He was somewhere upstairs. Wherever "here" was. To his left, the window, that he just now noticed, was boarded up, but he still managed to see sunlight before night arrived. The gaping hole allowed for a view of the night. He saw stars sprinkled onto the navy abyss. Wherever the moon was 9 knew it was unhindered unlike him. He planted a hand against the glass door.

He looked up. The beast's skull head was tucked underneath its wing. 9 wondered if he should try to escape from his prison anyways. He could try to push the doors open and hope the boards would fall over. But then the noise would grab the beast's attention, and there was no telling what the beast would do to him if it saw him getting out.

It was better that he stay put.

His optics began to shut. No! He couldn't fall asleep. Not now. Not now.

You know it was your fault everything happened.

There it was again. 9 clutched his head, praying and hoping the chiding thoughts would stop.

You can't deny that it was all your fault.

"Stop," uttered 9.

You think they care about you? They only feel sorry for you. No! They hate you and they don't dare tell you when you're in their presence.

"No," said 9 to no one, "that's not true."

He crawled toward the right corner of the glass cabinet. He curled into a ball face hidden, wishing he could disappear into the glass.

You know they don't care about you. They don't even love you!

"That's not true!," hollered 9. "That's not true!"

He glimpsed up, remembering the beast. He looked over at the perched the beast rested on. Its head was still tucked under its wing. The claw at the end of its tail clasp at the coat tree's pole. 9 sighed in relief, grateful that it did not wake up.

The light flooding in from the hole in the ceiling casted shadows onto the floor, or whatever 9 could see of the floor that wasn't cluttered. The most he could see was the remains of what he guessed was a table; the legs and the top were broken to pieces. He could see other such ruined furniture. He saw a small door belonging to a cabinet. It wasn't glass but wood, its round handle still in place. In the left corner across the room was a gilded frame. He could tell there was once a portrait upon the canvas. It was now shredded to ribbons. No doubt it was the beast's doing.

You know 1 doesn't love you either.

9's head shot, optics wide.

"No!," he rasped. "That's a lie! He loves me! I—"

If he did love you, he would've done something to stop that beast from taking you.

"He tried to." 9's fingers clung to his knees. He clung to his fabric so hard that he would've tore it apart. He remembered the look on 1's face. How helpless he looked. He remembered him throwing a knife at the beast, only to have the beast throw it away with his wing.

Face it. He didn't do anything to save you.

"He tried to," insisted 9, a hand grabbing at the wall.

Even if he tried, he didn't try enough. And even if he saved you, he wouldn't want anything to do.

"That's a lie."

He only stays with you out of pity.

"That's not true."

Things would've been better off if you hadn't woken up. In fact, you shouldn't have ever woken up. You should've stayed in that room alone.

"It isn't true!"

It would've been better if your soul had taken instead of 2's.

"Stop it!"

It should've happen that way.

"SHUT UP!"

9 stood up, running toward the other side of the glass cabinet. He balled his fists, hitting the wall with all his might. He hoped with all his damnedest that he would break it.

A screech resonated. A loud rap prompted him to look up, mouth falling open when he saw the beast tapping his beak against the glass doors. Its wings were open, expanding their silvery majesty. Its red eyes glowed, piercing into 9, like he could see right through him. The tail swish back and forth, the claw snapping at anything. The zippered stitchpunk held his breath, copper fingers holding on to the glass wall. The beast's red eyes glared deep into the stitchpunk unblinkingly.

After an unspeakable moment passed the birdlike beast leaped off the wooden boards, twisting around, tail swishing. It fluttered back to the coat tree, talons testing out each stem. It finally got its bearings and it was perched, head tucked low. The tail wrapped itself around the pole, claw clamped on like it would fall if it didn't do it. It remained still, like it were a statue.

9 heaved out a breath, feeling as thought he were breathing for the first time. He cradled his head in his hands, turning around so his back was against the glass wall.

"Well, that was stupid," he said. Of course that was going to happen. What did he expect?

Satisfied?

"Shut up," whispered 9, hanging his head back, "leave me alone."

His arms fell limp, feeling like were turning to mush. The nagging pain pulsated in the back of his head. It was like a needle were about to burst through one of his optics. He turned his head, looking at the beast. He focused on the claw at the end of its tail. He couldn't pinpoint why, but there was a familiarity with it. Like he'd seen it before. He'd seen the mechanical arms on the Fabrication Machine, so there was no need to compare it with the one this beast had. To him they all looked the same. 9 thought back to the nightmares, and remembered the mechanical arms reaching out for him. He managed to escape them in every nightmare, sometimes they managed to catch him. Maybe this was what his nightmares were about. Since when did he switch places with 6? It just wasn't logical. 9 didn't know what to believe anymore. All he cared about was forgetting everything.

Maybe even forget himself.


I'm sorry that this chapter is really short. I'm guessing I'm going through some kind of writer's block. I know this chapter is lagging. I'm trying. v_v

But, geez, 9's sure going through some major inner turmoil. O_o

Well, look forward to posting the next chapter.