Chapter 11

In the dead of the night, the house in the plains stood silent. A lone figure was running towards it, moving as fast as it was physically capable. Quote burst through the door, yelling. "Balrog? Balrog! Come downstairs quickly! Something's happened! Balrog?!" He looked around, stopped to listen. He heard nothing. The house was still, silent. Was Balrog still out? "Balrog!" Suddenly, Quote felt a large thump from behind him, followed by a non-enthusiastic, "Huzzah."

Quote turned around to face his large, and unnaturally placid friend. "Balrog! Why didn't you answer me!?"

"Well," said Balrog calmly, "I thought about it for a good minute, and decided it might be worth my time."

Quote blinked. This was not like Balrog at all. "... Worth your time? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," said Balrog, yawning. "So, anyway, what's all this sudden noise about?"

"I- uh," Quote stopped for a minute, backtracking. "Where do I begin..." He shook his head. "Curly's been kidnapped." He looked up to see Balrog's expression, or in this case, his lack of one.

"Oh, really?" Balrog responded as if Quote had just told himt it may be a bit butty the next day.

"Yes," said Quote. "Really!"

"How unfortunate, that sounds quite troubling." Balrog turned around, and prepared to fly back up from whence he came.

Quote was floored. "You... you're just going to go back to bed?!"

Balrog made a motion as if he were trying to look over his shoulder, of which he did not have. He ended up making a sort of twitching movement. "Well, yes. I would assume you would want to handle it by yourself."

"Of course not," yelled Quote. "I need your help!"

Balrog turned around much faster than Quote thought was possible for him. "Oh," said Balrog. "So now you need my help. Now you want me to go with you. Are you sure I won't be in the way?"

Quote was very confused at this point. "In the way...? Why would you be in the way?"

Balrog shook his head. Perhaps he was being too hard on Quote. Then again, perhaps not. Either way, he wasn't sure if Quote would really understand just why he was irritated. Or if he even knew he was irritated to begin with. He sighed. "Alright," Balrog looked down. "I'll go with you, but only if you go somewhere with me first. Somewhere I want to go."

"What?" Quote was baffled. "Balrog, we don't have time! Curly's been kidnapped! By the dark figure!"

"Yes," said Balrog. "Your point?"

"We need to go after her! Now!"

"No." Balrog closed his eyes, shaking his frame. "That's the opposite of what we should do."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Quote was furious.

"First of all, you need to calm down. I understand you've recently learned that emotions really do exist, but letting them run rampant is something you can't afford to do."

Quote blinked a second time. Balrog had begun to make sense again... oddly enough. He never quite made this much sense. Quote made a twitching motion with his head, resetting his emotions. He was calm again. He closed his eyes for a second before responding. "Please explain to me what the hell you are talking about," he said, calmly.

Balrog smirked. "Good enough. What I'm attempting to explain is that we need a plan. We need to get prepared. We're going to need a better weapon than that thing you have there."

Quote looked down to his side, where his Polar star was strapped to his hip. He looked up. "This 'thing' has bested you before."

Balrog rolled his eyes. "Me, perhaps. But we don't know what we're going up against. This is why you are coming with me. We must arm ourselves."

"We don't have much time," said Quote. "I need to be at the rocky caves before noon tomorrow."

"Why, what's there?"

"... My 'home'."

Balrog smiled. "Then that makes two of us, then."

"What do you mean?" Quote looked up, confused.

"You'll be going home, correct?"

"I suppose so..."

"So will I," said Balrog. "We're going to the Island."

Somewhere, deep inside the caves, Curly's eyes flickered open. It was a bit dark in the cave, and it took a few seconds before her light-sensors responded. When She could finally see, Curly almost wished she couldn't. Heaps and heaps of scrap and rust were lying around her, some of which still had faces. This "graveyard" was even worse than what she'd seen in the Core of the Island. She wasn't quite sure where she was, or how she got there... she checked her memory banks. The last thing she remembered was... Curly began to blush. She had been... close with Quote... But, something wasn't right. His eyes turned red, and then, nothing. Apparently, an emergency reboot had been triggered... those really weren't good for her, she thought. She had to get it removed. Curly tried to move her hand to brush her hair away from her eyes, but found she could not move her arm. More frighteningly, she found she could not move at all. Her mouth seemed to be working, however, and so she used it to scream.

"Help!" She yelled, shutting her eyes tight. "Somebody, anybody! Help me!" But no-one came. Not a sound was heard but the echoes of her screams through the dark cave she was in. The heaps of scrap metal seemed to laugh at her, their rusting and mutilated faces seemed to twist into smiles, grinning at her through the cold, damp air. Curly screamed again, but no words came out this time. Only fear. Eventually, in her panic, she blacked out as a last resort to escape the horror surrounding her.

The moon was high in the air, slowly receding back towards the horizon. A figure could barely be seen flying through the cool night sky, a black silhouette against a dark blue backdrop. Quote and Balrog were making their way back towards the island, a place Quote had sworn never to return to. It wasn't that he didn't have friends there, but rather the painful and fright-filled memories that emenated from the floating cave-system. The air was silent, peaceful. Quote held onto his hat as the wind whipped at his hair. Balrog spoke up.

"I'm sorry I was irritated with you earlier. I'm not sure you even knew what you had done to upset me."

Quote looked down. "You were irritated?"

"Yes," Balrog sighed.

"What for?"

Balrog looked up. "Well, over the past week, you and Curly have grown... Closer, right?"

Quote smiled, blushing slightly. "Well, yes..."

"That's all fine and good," said Balrog, "But in doing so, you seemed to have forgotten a certain someone. A someone who plays a big role in your lives."

Quote thought for a minute, before realizing Balrog was talking about himself. "Forgotten? Wehadn't forgotten you!"

"Well, I'm sure you hadn't, I'm a fairly large presence around here," said Balrog. "What, with my girth and unique personality."

"That's one way to put it," murmered Quote.

"No, you hadn't exactly forgotten me, but more excluded me. I became somewhat of a bother to you, so it seemed, and so you would go out on your own, which is fine some of the time, but not every day for two weeks."

"It wasn't every day," objected Quote, who was starting to feel a bit guilty.

"Oh, wasn't it though? The days you didn't go out, you stayed in the garden, but with each other. It was as if there were an impermiable force around you two, which I could not pass through. I felt alone, an island of isolation, the single occupant of a deserted town-"

"Alright, alright!" Quote was getting a bit exasperated. "I think you're exaggerating a bit, there."

"Perhaps," said Balrog, smiling. "But it got the point across, no?"

"Yeah," said Quote, looking up to the sky. "I suppose Curly and I have been a bit selfish, and without exactly realizing it either..." He looked back down. "We should do more things together, the three of us, and no-one should feel left out... But, you have to understand, there are some things that... we can only really do alone..."

"Oh?" said Balrog. "Like what?"

"You know," said Quote, not knowing if Balrog really knew what he was talking about. "Private things..."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well..." Quote was beginning to blush. It was really quite embarrasing trying to explain what constituted as 'private' to Curly and him. "Like... kissing..."

"Kissing," said Balrog, sounding confused. "What do you mean? I see you two kiss all the time."

"Not like that," said Quote, turning red. He found this specific emotion to be the single most annoying thing he had ever experienced. But, to be honest... He'd rather experience it than feel nothing at all. He'd reset his emotions tonight for the first time in a long time, and he didn't plan on doing it again any time soon.

"Well," continued Balrog. "Is that all? Because if so, I don't really think that's a good enough excuse."

"But it is, though!" Quote was really quite bothered and embarrased.

"I think you'll have to come up with something better than that. What else could you possibly consider private?"

"W-well," stammered Quote. "Like... I don't know..." Quote couldn't bring himself to say it. He wouldn't dare say it.

"We haven't got all night..."

"Sex!" Quote blurted it out. He felt incredibly embarrassed saying it out loud... they hadn't even... they hadn't gone that far... Balrog snickered, which slowly evolved into a booming laugh. "What's so funny?!"

"I... I didn't think you'd actually say it!"

Quote was dumbfounded, yet again. "You... You knew the whole time!?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd say it!"

"You son of a bitch!" Balrog continued laughing, despite Quote's attempts to punch him.

"Stop throwing a fit," said Balrog. "We're here."

When Curly returned to consciousness for the second time, nothing had changed. Everything was still dark, the piles of scrap still towered over her, sitting eerily silent and still in the distance. However, Curly thought, it probably would have been much more frightening if the piles had begun to move. As soon as she thought it, she regretted it, for only a moment later she swore she saw something moving in the shadows. She decided to try calling out once more. "W-who's there?!" Silence. Perhaps she was alone... With these rusting piles of death... and the darkness... Curly had never been so afraid of the dark in her whole life. She closed her eyes and imagined she was back on the island, in the sand zone, surrounded by her Colons. She missed them greatly, and wondered if they were all right. She imagined herself back at home, with Quote and Balrog, all together and safe. She saw herself with Quote, in his arms, being held tight, knowing there was no danger... But... There was a sense of danger. the more she thought about Quote, the more she realized something was wrong. And then, it hit her. Quote had betrayed her... Or, something that looked an awful lot like him... She wasn't quite sure if it had actually been Quote. As soon as she thought that, she began to blush. What if it hadn't been Quote... She was... She had been really close with it... really close... What if... Had she betrayed Quote? Had Quote betrayed her? Did she make out with something or someone besides Quote?! And why was it such a good kisser...

"Alright, that's enough," said a voice from behind. Curly screamed in surprise and terror. She was unable to turn her head to look at the source of the voice, but... it had sounded familiar. "I might just have to shut you down again, your thought process is off the charts..." It was Quote. That voice belonged to Quote... Or... so it seemed. Something was off about it... Perhaps it was the manner in which he spoke, or, perhaps the voice itself. It sounded so similar, but at the same time... different, almost more metallic-sounding.

"Who- who are you?" Curly was trying to stay calm. "What do you want with me?!"

"Ohh," said the voice, mockingly. "Don't you recognize me? It's your boyfriend, Quote." As the voice said this, Quote stepped into her line of vision... But Curly could tell now... it wasn't Quote.

"... No, it's not..." she said. "You aren't Quote... Who... What are you?"

"My model code is SM2, 'Scout_Male_Mark2', but, I suppose you could call me Pound. It's an... unofficial name of mine."

"Why did you kidnap me?!" Curly was starting to loose her calm.

"Kidnap? No. We simply returned you to your home, where you belong. This is our home." Pound made a gesture as if to imply that this cavernous graveyard were his abode.

"It looks more like a death camp to me," said Curly, panic evident in her voice.

"Would you calm down," said Pound, irritation flashing in his red eyes. "These scrap heaps behind me are what's left of the rejects, the imperfects. They simply did not make the cut, and need to be disposed of. Alas, we lack the manpower to move them."

"We?" Curly was confused. "You keep saying 'we', but I only see you. Who is 'we'?"

"Oh," said Pound, looking past her. "There are a few of us here, but mainly I mean Father and I."

"F-father?" Curly stammered, quite confused.

"You do remember," said a deep voice behind her, "What I said I'd do if you called me that again." Curly made a small squeak in fear. This voice was not familiar in any way, and was much more frightening.

Pound looked straight past her, replying, "Yes, Master. Dismantlement. I'm sorry, it's a bad habit. The word slipped."

"Lies!" boomed the voice. "You are fully in control of any and all actions you perform! You are not bound by habits like living creatures." The source of the voice stepped into the corner of Curly's vision, but all she could see was the bottom of a long, dark coat, and large black boots. "However, I accept your pitiful excuse for an apology. Do not let it happen again, or you might not be so lucky."

"Yes, Master."

"I am not man, nor woman. I simply am. Is this understood, SM-2?"

"Yes, Master. It will not happen again."

"Right..." said the voice. It was obvious Pound had no intention of listening to this instruction. The source of the deep voice stepped back behind Curly, and out of her vision. She sighed, relieved that it was gone. Pound waited a few seconds before returning his gaze to Curly.

"He's such a tight-ass," he said. "He's always like, 'You do this again, and I'll have you disassembled,' and, 'If you fail this task, it's straight to the furnace with you.' I wish he'd give me a break once in a while."

"But," said curly, concern crossing her face. "I don't think he- I mean, I really don't think it likes it when you call it a he. Why do you do it on purpose?"

"Because, he's obviously a man. He needs to get the stick out of his ass and just accept that."

"... Perhaps it just wants to be unisex, gender-less... Is it... a robot?"

"Well, yea," said Pound. "We all are."

"No, you and I are-" She decided it would be no use explaining that they were, in fact, androids, and not robots. "Never mind. The point is, it has feelings, and you hurt them when you call it a him. And, aren't you concerned that it'll actually disassemble you?"

"Of course not," said Pound. "You see all these rejects?" He motioned toward the piles behind him. Curly nodded, still frightened of them. "It took him a thousand tries to get this right," he said, gesturing towards himself. "I may not be perfect, but I'm the best he's going to get, especially since we're low on resources. He can't afford to have me disassembled."

Curly looked away. "... It's still mean..."

"Oh, boo-hoo." Pound began to walk out of Curly's line of sight. "He's an asshole anyway. He deserves it." As soon as Curly could no longer see Pound, she began to panic again. "W-where are you going!?"

"No-where," said Pound from behind her. "I'm monitoring your status."

"S-status?"

"Yea, we got you hooked up to a few machines back here, and we can control your movements as well as monitor your status. You know, check your vitals, read your thoughts, stuff like that."

So that's why I can't move, thought Curly. But she stopped when she heard the second part. "Wait, read my thoughts? You've been reading what I've been thinking this whole time!?

"Well, yeah, it's part of the job." Curly began to blush, embarrassment and anger washing over her. "And, there we go," said Pound. "Your emotion drive really is something. I'll bet it's able to process thirty emotions at once. Quite developed, if you ask me."

"Stop reading my thoughts!" Curly was quite angry, but also embarrassed and violated... He was probably right, now that she thought about it.

"Of course I'm right, I have the statistics right here."

"Stop that!"

"Don't worry, I won't be reading your emotions for much longer."

"Really? Thank goodness!" Curly felt a bit relieved to hear that.

"Yes. It's quite a shame, really. To destroy something so advanced and developed... it seems like a giant waste if you ask me."

Any sense of relief Curly had just felt vanished. "D-destroy?!"

"Yes. Father will be removing and re-formatting your emotion drive. I won't have to read your emotions because, frankly, there'll be none left. Like I said, a real waste."

"Removed?! No!"

"Sorry. That's the way it is."

"No, no, no, no! I don't want to! I won't allow it!" Curly tried her hardest to move, but quickly realized it was futile. "Quote! Balrog! Please, anyone! Help me! Get me out of here!"

"Holy hell, do you ever shut up?!" Curly felt a click, and found she could no longer speak. "That'll keep you quiet. Thank you, VoiceLock." Curly wished she were able to cry, that would be all she had left. She closed her eyes, sobbing silently. Please, she thought. Quote, please, come save me...

Please...

Notes From the Author;

Hello, and welcome to the late Tuesday update. Sorry I wasn't there last week, but I was focusing on my schoolwork.

This three-part-update chapter has been brought to a close. This means I'll be posting another chapter next Monday. Or something. I'll probably have something by then. I'm thinking about opening a pole, you know, to see what you guys want more of in the story. Do you guys want to see more action? More explosions, gunfights, fireballs, etc.? Or, do you want more mystery? Stuff like epic plot twists, suspense, thrills, chills, and other things of that nature. Or... do you guys want to see more romance? Intimate nights illuminated by flickering candlelight, and hot moments where everything seems right? Or just plain old sloppy makeouts. You choose! I'll set up a poll, if I can, to see what you want to see! I hope you're excited, because I know I am. As always, feedback and support are greatly appreciated. I'll see you on the polls, and on next Monday!

Sincerely,
Alaystus