CHAPTER 4

Nobody had bothered 1 in what seemed like hours. The elder stitchpunk lay in the floor, his breathing coming in hisses of agony because of the burn on his fabric. It still hurt and the pain was preventing him from focusing on anything else. All he could do was dwell on that one horrible thing. This was a bad thing. If he dwelt on his pain he couldn't think and if he couldn't think he couldn't get out of there.

"You have to think," he said to himself, panting, forcing his mind not to think about it. "You have to. If you don't it'll only get worse."

The stitchpunk scuffled around, managing to sit up. He leaned his back against the cold metal wall and took some deep breaths to calm himself down. He had to prevent himself from panicking.

Yes, he had to think. There had to be a way out of here. He had to figure out how to get free and get out of that room before his tormenters came back and tortured him again. He felt the wires binding his wrists together They were thin but strong, corded three times around his wrists then tied then the process had been repeated three more times. There was no way he could cut them easily, if at all. Not with his fingers anyway.

What about the blind fold? Maybe he'd feel better if he could actually see something. He scraped his head against the wall, hoping to make it come loose. It wasn't tied on as securily as his wrists and he managed to push it from his optics a bit. Now he could see somewhat, if he tilted his head all the way back.

By doing so the stitchpunk discovered he was in a square room that was actually much bigger then he first thought. When he looked up the ceiling seemed to go on forever. So that was it. He'd been locked in an elevator shaft. No wonder.

He grunted and forced himself to stand. He walked over to the door and pressed his right audio unit against it. He heard nothing outside. No footsteps and no voices. He really was alone.

That might not be a bad thing. If there weren't any guards posted getting out would be much easier.

If only his hands were free!

He slammed against the door, hoping it would come loose and open. The door was completely solid and didn't give an inch. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. The stitchpunk stepped away from it, putting some distance between him and the door. He waited a moment then charged it, slamming himself hard against it.

The door clanged loudly but didn't give. It was way too solid. His only accomplishment was hurting his other arm.

Cursing, 1 stepped away from the door and stood still in the middle of the room. He wasn't going to get out of there that way. If anything he'd only manage to hurt himself or draw unwanted attention to himself. They might hear him and come to investigate then he'd be in real trouble.

1 didn't want that. He didn't wish to have anymore pain.

Pain. oh why did he have to think about pain?

His arm started throbbing again.

Moaning he stumbled back against the wall and rested his back against the cold metal.. He couldn't focus any longer. He felt light headed and worn out.

Before he knew it, he'd lost consciousness and crashed back onto the floor.

00000

5 and 7 weren't sure what to do with 17. She wasn't answering their questions at all or if she did it was just her boasting about her comrades killing them. 7 was starting to get very impatient. She was tempted to kill this annoying female but she needed her alive. Even if she couldn't get her to tell why they had taken 1 maybe she could convince her to at least tell them where he'd been taken.

7 glared down at their captive. "You do realize that if you don't tell us you're only going to be in even worse trouble?"

"I don't think so, honey," 17 shot back, smiling confidently. "If I don't say anything you'll never find your little leader."

"If you don't you'll never see the light of day again!"

"Go ahead and kill me," 17 challenged. "If you kill me you won't find him and if you don't find him we win and you lose."

7 glared at her. She knew the female was right.

"Don't listen to her," 5 said, put a hand on her shoulder. "She's only trying to get to you. We'll fine him with out without her help."

"How?" 7 asked him. "The footprints are gone and we don't have anything to go by anymore."

5 was silent. He knew she was right. The wind had blow away the rest of the footprints. They could only guess where they led now, providing the ones who'd taken one had gone in a straight line and that seemed was very liekly they'd changed course at least once. What were they going to do now?

7 looked back at 17 who sat smirking. If only she could somehow get this female to give up their hiding place. Then it came to her.

"I bet you don't know where they took him," she began, looking back 17. "I bet you never did. I'm thinking you were never with them to begin with and they just ran into you on the way. Isn't that right?"

"What?" 17 stared at her. "No!"

"I think otherwise," 7 told her, making a face. "I bet you're nothing but a vagabond they hired to help them take an old man prisoner."

"That's a lie!" 17 protested. "I was not a hired help!"

"I think you're lying." 7 pressed.

17 looked highly offended at such an assumption. "I can prove it!"

Now they were getting somewhere. "Sure you can." 7 looked at 5 and shook her head. "She's lying."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded. "Like a rug."

"I am not!" 17 shouted. "and I can prove it!" she struggled to her feet. "I'll show you!" then she took off over the wasteland.
7 and 5 gave chase. This was going to be easier than they thought.

0000

A hand resting on 1's burned arm brought him back to consciousness. He gasped in pain and tried to sit up. Someone held him down, preventing him from pulling away.

"Shhh!" a voice hissed. "Don't move or it will hurt worse. Just hold still. This won't take long.:"
1 complied, wondering who this person was and what they wanted.

"Looks like he gave it to you bad," a soft female voice commented. "I feel bad for you. It's only going to get worse from here." a gentlehand ran over his body. Vibrations. What was she doing? "At least he didn't use the blade much or fool around with anything internal." A sigh. "I feel sorry for you but I guess you deserve it."

He opened his mouth to say soemthing but closed it, thinking better. He might say something that would set this person off and he didn't need anymore people beating up on him.

The female continued. "Why don't you just tell him where the blue prints are? When you do he'll stop hurting you and let you go." a hand patted his back. "It's not like you know what we look like or where you are anyway. It would be simple. If you tell him that you can go back home and return to your nice, soft pillow bed."

How did she know he slept on a pillow? How did they know so much about him and the others? Had they been spying on them and planning this for a long time? It would explain things if they had, but if so, why hadn't they bothered taking him sooner?

Another pat on his back. This female was gentle. He wondered if maybe he could get her to listen to him. "I wish you would. You don't seem to be the type to be able to stand much of this sort of thing. Can't you give him a little hint?"

"I don't know.." he finally blurted. Maybe he could try getting at least one of them to pay attention to what he had to say. "Can't you people understand that? I don't know where they are!"

"But you have to know," the female protested unbelieving. "That man made you first. You have to know."

"I don't," he insisted. "I never did. He never showed me and I never looked."

The female fell silent. She didn't believe him. He should have known. Nobody here was going to listen to him.

He tried gain, riasing his head and looking to where he thought she was. "Listen to me," he began. "If I did know I would have told him by now but I can't so I haven't."

The female touched his ponytail. "I'd like to believe you, sir, but I can't. That sounds too much like an excuse."

"It's not an excuse." he insisted. "I'm not-"

She covered his mouth. "No more. I don't want to hear anymore."

He sensed her get up and heard her head toward the door. Before he could say anything to her to make her stay the door slammed shut behind her and he was once again left alone in his cell. 1 sighed and lay his head back down. Why had he bothered? He should have known she wouldn't listen to him.

He tried to relax but the burn on his arm was throbbing again. Once agains he wished he was at home and in his own bed. He didn't deserve any of this.

1 sat up, feeling sorry for himself. Why did this have to happen? He had never done anything that would warrent cruelty. He couldn't even try making things go his way. It felt as if some higher power was puposely picking on him.

What kind of fool would make such a big deal over a pile of drawings on paper anyway? Were these people crazy? What was so important about those blue prints anyway? Did they intend to try building something with them? Or...

Or maybe they thought the blue prints would give them a hint on how to find this valuable item they were after. That was a little confusing to him. How could blue prints show them how to find a valuable item? Was the item inside the machine?

He didn't know and trying to figure it out was making his head hurt. Maybe he shouldn't bother thinking about it too much. It wasn't helping him with anything. Not in getting free and not with answering those foolish questions he'd been asked.

A faint scuffling sound alerted him. He turned his head toward the noise. What was that? Was something else in the room with him? Had another stitchpunk come in with the soft voiced female?

"Hello?"

A snicker. Right next to him. He jumped, startled.

"Oh my, you sure are a jumpy old prototype aren't you?" a high pitched whiny voice commented.

1 winced. That voice was painful to listen to. How could its owner even stand hearing itself speak?

A pointy finger began poking his cheek. "Wow, the boss was right. you do look almost like him," that voice commented. "Of course a more ancient version of him." the speaker cackled. "Maybe you're his long lost older brother and do I mean OLDER."

This guy wasn't making any sense. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh my!" the voice squeaked. "You look the same but you don't sound the same." another poke. "You sound like an old man."

1 was offended. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, grandpa." another poke. "You sound like you've been chewing on gravel."

Who was this guy to make comments about how his voice sounded? This guy sounded like his voice box had been set a few octives too high. 1 tried to slide way from him. He was invading his personal space and he didn't like it. The speaker moved over as well and continued poking him.

"Whatcha moving away for, onesie? I'm just talking? Don't you like talking?"

"Leave me alone!" he yelled.

"Oh, come on," the speaker presisted. "I'm not hurting you. I just want to talk. Why won't you talk to me? Why doesn't anyone want to talk to me?" the whine in that voice grew worse. "I'm fun to talk to. It's not like I'm causing any trouble. I just wanted to talk. Talk to me." he started yanking on 1's ponytail. It hurt. "Come on. Tell me about yourself."

1 didn't want to tell this guy about himself. He wanted to be left alone. But it didn't seem like that was going to happen. This creep kept babbling about junk, going on and on in his whiny little voice. It felt like a different type of torture, like the man who'd been asking him questions had decided if he couldn't use pain to get him to talk he'd drive him crazy be sending in this whiny voiced rambler.

"Come on, onesie," Whiner pressed. 'Tell me something about yourself. How old are you? Are you really the first creation? Do you have a girlfriend? Is it that pretty white thing with the rebellious temper?"

The older stitchpunk jerked away from him. "No! Leave me alone! I don't want to talk to you!"

"You're mean."

1 didn't care. He just wanted them to stop bothering him. Why did they have to keep bothering him? Couldn't he be left to himself? How was he going to accomplish anything or even ESCAPE if they kept coming in there?

The guy grabbed his arm., His burnt arm. "Why do you-" the rest of his words were cut off when 1 started yelling in pain.

"Hey, wait, what's wron-"

The cell door crashed open. "12, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE! GET AWAY FROM HIM AND GO BACK TO 11!"

"Aw but, 15-" 12 began to whine.

"You heard me! Not another word!"

"Fine."

12 let go of 1's arm and moved toward the door. Before 15 closed it he sent one parting shot 1's way. "You'd better start talking, buddy, otherwise boss is going to hand you over to 16 to deal with and believe me, you don't want him doing that. It will end very badly for you."

Then, before 1 could respond, the door clanged shut and he was once again by himself.

0000

17 led the two out of the city and across the emptiness. 7 noticed this area used to be a forest, the dead tress were a give away. Why had they taken 1 to a forest?

"Ate you sure she's even taking us to the right place?" 5 whispered to 7.

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. "but we'll find out soon enough."
A short time later 17 came to a stop at the top of a rise. 7 and 5 came up behind her and looked down into a shallow valley. 7 spotted a strange metal building nestled in a clump of dead elm trees. It looked like a bunker.

"Ha!" 17 boasted. "You didn't think I knew where they went but I proved you wrong, didn't I?"

"Yeah you sure did," 7 said, never taking her eyes off the building. She was trying to pick out a good place to sneak in. . "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For leading us to your little bands hideout."

17's optics widened as realization set in. "You tricked me!"

"That we did," 7 said, grabbing her arms. "and now you're going to help us get in."

"Not on your life!"

7 put the blade of her spear at 17's throat. "You WILL help us get in or I will make sure you never do anything again."

"Go right ahead, princess," 17 spit. "I'd rather die than help you any further after that dirty trick you pulled."

7 smiled darkly."That can be arranged."

5 grabbed her arm. "7, don't that's what she wants you do to." 5 looked at 17. "If she's not going to help us she's not going to help us."

"Yeah, listen to your boyfriend."

7 looked at 5. "If she's not going to help us how are we going to get inside?"

The one eyed stitchpunk looked toward the building. "We'll think of something. Don't worry."

"But what about her?" 7 gestered back at 17. "we can't just let her go."

"Why don't we tie her somewhere for now?" he suggested. "Then we won't have to worry about her. She'll either get away herself or her comrades will find her and release her, hopefully after we've rescued 1 and gone home."

7 nodded. It seemed like a good idea. She looked around and spotted a hallow log. "We'll put her in there and then head down to the bunker. Let's hope we can get inside."

0000

1 had dicovered one of the walls had a slight dent in it while he was exploring the elevator shaft. Maybe something had slammed into the wall at one point, causing part of it to cave in and leave a jagged mark in the wall. At the moment he was sitting in front of it, trying to cut the wires binding his hands with the sharp edge. He was tearing his own fabric more than actually severing the wires but he was willing to deal with a little pain if he could get free. Hopefully he could before his captors came back and forced him to suffer through round two of questioning.

He heard the sounding of footsteps outside and started working faster, spurred on by desperation. One of the wires tore and fell off. Encouraged he worked harder, feeling the other wires coming apart. Just as the last cord tore off, freeing his hands, the door clanged open.

"All right-" 15's voice started to say. "-what are you?"

1, now free, shot to his feet and yanked off the blindfold. Before him stood a tall red stitchpunk with broad shoulders and multicolored patches covering his body. A large black 15 was painted on his chest. This guy looked mean and threatening but 1 didn't care. He was standing in the older stitchpunks way and and that meant he was a proble. 1 didn't care what happened next, just as long as he could get out!

"How did you get free?" the one called 15 demadned, pointing an exacto knife at him.

Instead of answering 1 lunged at him, grabbing for that knife.

Taken by surprise, the bigger stitchpunk stepped back. 1 managed to grab onto his arm and yanked on it, trying to pull the knife free. he needed a weapon and this was the cloest one he could get to.

15 growled and slammed his arm and 1 onto the floor. That hurt the tears in his back but he ignored the pain, hungonto 15's arm for dear life. His claws dug into the fabric of the other stitchpunsk arm, tearing it lightly. 15 roared in pain and dropped the knife. 1, seeing this, let him go and dropped onto the floor, grabbing up the knife and shoving it at 15.

"Get out of my way, or I'll stab you!" he yelled, hysterical.

15's eyes bugged out at the intense look on the smaller stitchpunk's face and backed up.

1 menaced him until they were both out in the hall. Then the stitchpunk turned away from him and took off down the hall, still grasping the knife in his hand.