CHAPTER 5

1 dashed down the halls of the bunker, the exacto knife clutched tightly in his right hand. Behind him he heard 15's heavy footsteps as the bigger stitchpunk gave chase. This only spurred 1 onward, mostly from fear and desperation. He didn't want that guy catching him because he knew if he did he was in for a world of hurt and he wasn't about to let that happen. He was getting out of there, one way or another.

"Stop" 15's voice shouted behind him. "Get back here now!"

1 ignored him and kept going. He saw a fork in the hallway just ahead and went right. The other stitchpunk did the same, staying close behind him.

1 swore. How was he going to get out of here with that guy on his tail? He would have to lose him. But how? His optics darted around, trying to spot a way to ditch his pursuer. Suddenly they fell on a swinging chain with a hook. He changed course and ran over to it. Once he was close enough he jumped onto the chain, making it swing away from the tall stitchpunk.

15 stopped in his tracks and watched him with wide eyes. 1 reached out and tried to grab onto a ledge but the chain swung back before he could. He yelped in surprise and held on tightly to the chain. It flew back at 15 who's optics widened the closer it got to him.

Before he could move the chain slammed into his face which a loud THUNK! 1 watched with wide optics as 15 stepped back, a dopey expression on his face then collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Well it looked like he'd taken care of one problem after all.

The stitchpunk let the chain go and landed on the floor. He turned from the unconscious doll and took off down the hall. "Good riddens."

The stitchpunk had nearly reached the stairs to the second floor when he heard footsteps clanging down the metal hallway toward him. Instantly he ducked behind a column and rested his back against it, holding the knife to himself. He held his breath and listened.

Two females walked were walking down the hall. One was brown with tan colored thread for hair and the other was blue nd green and wore a hood. They were in deep discussion.. About him.

"I don't think he does know after all," the one in the hood was saying. "I was with him earlier and spoke with him. He didn't sound like he knew what we were talking about."

"He was probably pretending not to know to trick you into helping him get away," the brown female stated. "If the boss says he knows something then he knows something."

"But what if 10 is wrong?" the blue one questioned. "For all we know we could be making a serious mistake."

"I don't know," her comrade said. "Either way I think; 10's being a little too hard on him. I mean he's old. All that beating could break him or worse..." the rest of their conversation faded as they turned a corner and walked away.

1 sighed in relief. They hadn't seen him. He moved away from the column and headed down the hall, in the opposite direction.

His feet echoed off the metal floor as he walked. For once he wished his creator had made him like the others. There were many disadvantages to his design and the more he had to go through this thing the more he came to realize this. Being the "prototype" was never easy. He paused a moment, listening. For a second he thought he heard movement somewhere down the hall but he wasn't sure. It had been so faint.

1 wasn't taking any chances. The stitchpunk gripped the knife, moving forward at a much slower pace. It would do him no good to be ambushed, not after all the trouble he'd gone through just getting out of that cell.

He reached the end and peeked both ways. Nothing. the hall was empty. Good.

Sighing in relief 1 stepped into the hall and started sneaking as quietly as possible down it. The further along he moved the heavier his weapon seemed to get. He hefted it up, holding it in both his hands. No way was he going to drop it. He needed it in case he was attacked.

Why oh why was it getting so heavy?

Suddenly it slipped out of his hands. He gasped and grappled for it but was unable to stop its progress to the floor. It hit the metal with a loud clank.

1 stood still, listening. he knew somebody had to have heard that. It had been so loud. It probably had alerted the entire building that he was free. Then why was he standing there, staring at a knife? He should be running before they barreled down on him.

He quickly grabbed up the knife and dashed down the hall, no longer caring how much noise his feet made. Behind him he heard someone shout and then footsteps. He put on a burst of speed, taking off down the hall. He realized instantly the knife weighed him down but he wasn't going to give it up. He needed it.

Something slammed into his legs, knocking him to the floor. He yelped and kicked out, his foot making contact with someones face. There was a yelp then his legs were free again. He scrambled to his feet and took off, not looking back.

"The first is loose!" someone shouted. "Stop him! Don't let him out of the bunker!"

More footsteps. He took off in a different direction, heading away from them. He couldn't get caught. That was a death sentence.

Suddenly he entered a large room. It was full of wooden crates which told him this was where the supplies for humans were kept. The box of rotten apples told him that. He heard a noise behind him and ducked between two boxes. A few seconds later a group of stitchpunks, all colored differently came into the room. The tallest one, a slim dark purple female with a 16 on her right shoulder looked at the others and commanded. "Split up. He can't have gone far."

The others nodded and took off in different directions.

1 waited a few moments then got out of his hiding place and headed back toward the door. He sighed.

Suddenly a figure stepped out in front of him. He started at it. This one was much smaller than the others he'd seen. She was black with red stripes and wore a hood. "4?" he asked, staring at her in shock.

No it couldn't be 4. She was at the church and this one had her own number. A white 21 on her right thigh.

Suddenly she blinded him with a series of flashing lights coming from her optics. He yelped in surprise and put up his hand to shield his eyes from the flashing lights. He stepped backward. The female came toward him, her optics still flashing.

He winced, trying to cover his eyes. He was so focused on doing this he dropped the knife without realizing it.

The female, seeing this, attacked, rushing toward him, her optics still flashing. She kicked at him,. knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard but was blinded once more when he tried to get up.

"Stop!" he yelled at her, shuttering his optics to shut out the light. "Stop it!"

"Okay, 21! Enough!" a voice called.

The female stopped and stepped back.

1 shuttered and unshuttered his optics trying to get the flashes out of his vision. He couldn't see anything but lage rainbow colored after images.

Two figures ran forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet. 1's vision cleared and he found himself staring into the face of 16. She grinned at him. "Hello, cutey," she said, grabbing his face and making him look her in the eyes. "Did you actually think you'd escape us that easily? We haven't finished playing with you yet." She brought her face close to his, grinning sadistically. "I wouldn't want you leaving so soon, not until we have our own fun."

He didn't like the way she'd worded it and tried to jerk away from her. "I would never have fun with you." he managed to growl.

She frowned. "Such a shame." Her hand rested on his seam, her index finger imploringly running over the threads keeping it shut. "we could have had a lot of fun."

Then she slashed him across the face, tearing at the cloth with her needle sharp fingers. He grunted, turning his head away form her.

"Take him back to his cell," she ordered the others. "and this time make sure he can't get free!"

0000

7 and 5 sneaked close to the bunker and managed to get a good look at all possible ways inside without being spotted. Once they finished scouting they regrouped and discuss what they intended to do.

"Most of the ways in seem to be locked or guarded by a security system," 5 told 7. "It's going to be hard to get inside."

"I know," she consented, looking back at the bunker. "We'll have to wait untl dark before we can try sneaking in. Night will make things easier... I hope."

5 nodded. "I hope so too, otherwise..."

7 put up her hand to silence him. "Let's not consider that option," she advised. "We have to get in there and we have to find 1 and bring him out alive." she looked at the building. "There is no other alternative."

0000

1 was once more laying on the floor oh his cell. Not only were his wrists tied but his ankles were as well, this time with a sharp razor wiring that cut into his fabric. He'd been blinded again so he couldn't see which way he'd been taken back to the cell and thus still didn't know his way around the building. .

He didn't care about any of that. at the moment He didn't even care about the tears in his fabric from being brutally beaten. All he could think about is how unfair the world was and why he had to be cursed with such bad luck. Half of him wished they'd gone after someone else instead of him and the other half didn't want this to be bestowed on anyone.

What would the others think if they saw him now?

The door opened behind him and someone stepped into the room. "All right, Onesie, time for round two." someone grabbed him and lifted him off the floor. This time he wasn't forced to walk. He was carried to the room and flung into the chair where he was once against tied to it before he was left alone with the deep voiced doll.

"So, 15 tells me you tried to get away," that deep voice from before spoke up now "Mind explaining why you would do such a foolish thing?"

1 didnt reply. He was too focused on the spikes digging into his fabric from the razor wire. They were making him uncomfortable. Maybe if he tried shifting..

"Well? Are you going to answer or do I have to start hitting?" he heard a lighter flicker on. "Or would you rather I use the flame again?"

"N-no," 1 stammered. Anything but that. "You don't have to do that."

"Then you better answer the question, old man."

"Why else would I try to get out?" he asked, his anger overcoming his fear. "You took me against my will, forced me to walk all night, then bring me here and ask me questions I don't have the answer to-"

The flame hit his arm again and he screamed.

"That last part is wrong." the speaker told him. "I KNOW you know the answer to my question."

"Please.. I don't know!"

"You must really like fire," the speaker commented. "Shall I burn you again?"

1 flinched and tried to pull away when he felt the heat of the flame get closer. "No, no I don't!"

"Then tell me where those blue prints are!"
"I DON'T KNOW!"

"WRONG ANSWER!"

The fire hit his arm again.

1 screamed, jerking away from the lighter. Another pair of hands grabbed him and forced him to take it. His tormentor kept it there for about ten seconds then pulled it away. 1 slumped forward gasping in pain. Hadn't they done enough?
"Boss, why don't you just let me deal with him?" 16's voice spoke up. "I'll get him talking."

"Patience, my dear, you'll have your fun in due time."

"Why not now?" A whine entered her voice. "It's obvious he's not going to tell you what you want to hear."

"Oh, he will. Leave us alone for a moment. I'll let you know w hen you can come back."

"All right, boss." footsteps then a door opening and closing.

1 was now alone with the stitchpunk with the deep voice.

"I'm surprised you haven't broken after all that," he began. 1 heard him pacing. "Most people would have opened up by now but you... you're as stubborn as they say. I wonder why you don't just tell me? Are they that important to you?"

"I don't-"

"Don't say it again!"

1 fell silent.

"Maybe something else would help motivate you." the speaker walked behind him. "Maybe if you actually saw who you were dealing with it would jog your mind."

He felt a jerk on the blindfold. It came loose and fell off. He blinked in the sudden light.

"Hello, 1." said the voice.

1 looked toward the speaker and stared, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Aside from a light blue glow brightening up his squinted optics, he could have been staring at himself!

"What's wrong, 1?" the look alike asked, lighting a small charcoal cigarette from a pack he took from inside the folds oh his small leather jacket. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

1 looked horrified. "Who- who are you?"

"Call me 10," his look alike said. "Or if you prefer, your replacement."

"R-replacement?"

"That's right," 10 said. He made a face. "I was made to take your place if you happened to... have an accident." he put the stick in his mouth. "I guess you could say I'm a clone."

A clone? This wasn't making any sense. Stichpunks couldn't be cloned.

"Oh don't worry, Onesie. I have no intention of taking your place," he said, looking back at him. "I've got other things on my mind right now. Besides." he blew out a cloud of smoke. "I already have my own group of stitchpunks to "protect" and they're much better than your band of wimps."

1 said nothing.

"Anyway, let's get back to the subject at hand." 10 rested his hand on the back of the chair and leaned toward 1, invading his space. "I want those blue prints and I know you know where they are."

"I don't," 1 told him. "Why can't you just accept that."

10's face darkened. "Because I know you're lying."

"I'm NOT lying!"

10 shoved his cigarette into 1's face. "Enough with the games! Just tell me already!"

1 winced and jerked back.

"I don't see why you can't just tell me," 10 pressed. He put up his right hand and gestured with it. "If you did this will all end. I'll let you go and have my men take you back to your little church, no more harm done. Maybe I'll even have 14 replace the burned fabric as well. I'm pretty sure you'd want to look like your old self when you get back, instead of a piece of scrap cloth."

1 still didn't reply. Even if the man said he could have him fixed up to perfect condition and had him carried back on a down pillow and with a procession he STILL wouldn't be able to tell him anything. Why couldn't he understand this?

"I'll ask again," 10 said. "Where are the blue prints? If you don't answer me I will have 16 come in here and have her way with you." he smirked. "I'm pretty sure you don't want that."

No he didn't. Maybe he should just lie. It might keep him alive a bit longer if he did. No, he couldn't do that. 10 might be able to tell that he was being dishonesty.

"No?" 10 started for the door. "All right. Have it your way."

1 stared after him. The door opened and 16 stepped in as 10 stepped out. She grinned as she walked over to him.

"I guess you're all mine now, big boy." she walked over to him and patted his torn cheek. "We're going to have so much fun!"

0000000

7 watched the sun beginning to set over the horizon. During the day she and 5 has hidden in the brush, avoiding the security system and the guards that would pass by the windows every once in awhile. She was welcoming the dark.

Once it was dark she could sneak inside that bunker, find 1, and take him home. back to everyone, back to her... she shook her head. Where had that thought come from?

"7," 5's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked at him. "I think I found a way in."
She nodded, picking up her spear. "Lead the way."

5 led 7 through the dead brush and toward a small broken window in the side of the building. It was at ground level because it led into the basement. He looked at her. "See that hole over there?" he asked, pointing. "I think we can fit through there."

She went over and knelt down, looking at the hole. "Yes, I think we can fit through there." she looked back at him. "Let's go."

7 entered first. She jumped down and landed easily. The female stitchpunk looked both ways, listening intently. She heard and saw nothing. They were ok for now. She looked up at 5. "Clear."

He climbed down through the window and landed beside her. "Which way should we search first?" he asked.

She pointed toward the door on the other side of the room. "That way."

0000

10 returned an hour later. By then 16 was finished her own interrogation and ready to leave. The stitchpunk looked at her then at 1 who looked even more damaged than he had previously. Parts of his fabric were torn and his seam was partly open. 10 could a faint green glow from inside. "He tell you anything?"

16 frowned. "Nope," she replied, folding her arms and making a face. "I did everything I could to make him tell me but all he kept saying was he didn't know." she touched her own seam. "and screaming isn't very invigorating."

10 shook his head. "He's much more stubborn than I thought." he glanced back at 1 who seemed to be unconscious. Either that or he was a very good faker. Maybe he was merely exhausted. "Well take him back to his cell and close him up. I don't want to see more of him than I have to."

"All right." she went over to do so as her leader followed.

He stood in front of her as she sewed the older stitchpunk up. 1's optics clicked open and he stared at 10 through tunnel vision. He looked completely worn out. "Those blue prints must be very important if you still won't tell me where they are." he leaned toward him. "Well you're going back to your little room now. I hope by the time I send for you again you will have some answers for me or things will only get worse for you."

1 didn't reply. He was too worn out. He merely stared up at his look alike. 10 frowned. He didn't like the way this prototype was staring at him.

Thankfully for 1 16 finished closing the seam and got up, looking at 10. "Okay, he's ready."

10 turned away from them both. "Good. Now get him out of here."

One minor note:

10's frame tends to over heat under great stress. The "cigarettes" are made of charcoal and keep his inner workings from over heating. They act nothing like real cigarettes.