Title: His mission

After The BRAIN is destroyed, the world begins to settle once more, everything heals and life begins to grow. One of the fallen gets a second chance to revive what was lost in battle. But can he succeed?

I Still Own Nothing!

_-_-_Part 2: Reawakening_-_-_

The world seemed all to bright for his liking, it was the kind of dull brightness that you had from waking up in the middle of the night, even the littlest amount would hurt your eyes. This wasn't really a problem as the figure didn't have the plural of 'eyes'. But he could still feel brightness and warmth that he wasn't used to at any time in his life.

A small click sounded as the sound of a shutter opened, closing quickly from the blinding light that came from all over the place. The creature who it belonged to groaned as gears whirred around inside of his small frame. He felt the ground and used it to turn himself over, he was now somewhat sitting up and fully feeling the discomfort of what seemed like a sea of wetness beneath him, and even though it felt out of place, the first thing he found truly odd and the first thing that confused him was that he didn't feel like he was floating around anymore, he felt solid, he knew it was an odd description of it, but that was how it felt, and after a while of trying to think of any other ways to describe the feeling he knew that whatever he was thinking of could wait, first thing he had to do was open his eye, which would be easier said than done.

It was forever since he did that and the lack of use made his eye hard to open, but after he got the shutter to open, he had to spend a few minutes on it, opening it and closing it repeatedly to get the unused mechanics to work again, and it wouldn't be easy. After it seemed that his eye was working again, he sat up and lifted one hand to his face, rubbing the large covered area over the left side of his face, sighing. It was after that, that he noticed something was off. There was color, it was bright, and the air didn't seem covered with the stench or cloud of death. It seemed clean, new. And it was at that moment he realized what was out of place. Staring down he held up his metal hands, moving his fingers around he began to breath faster, he knew it was wrong, he shouldn't be here, this wasn't right.

Standing up in a hurry the fifth stitchpunk fell back. There was a splash and the feeling of wetness became worse. He looked down, it was water, he was in water, and alive, no longer dead. This wasn't right, he died, he remembered dying, and he even remembered becoming free again after dying! But he wasn't dead; he was here, sitting up waist deep in water, looking around at a world unlike the one he knew before, It was alive, it was starting to look like the paintings he had seen before, there was life in this world.

He stood up, the whirring gears in his chest causing him to shake; he looked around frantically, looking for anyone to help him at all, what had happened? Why was he alive again? Where were the others? Was he the only one to be alive again? All the questions began to overload and he ran as fast as he could to the place that he remembered last, the graves.

_-_-_

It was hard to find, the world was so new to him now, it was almost like this wasn't the world he used to live in, but it was the same, the same destruction, the same debris, the same dead machines. But now it was new, brand new. He knew he had to find the others, he had to find them, and he had to find them right away. He just didn't know where to stop. He closed his eye and continued to run as fast as his legs could take him, his thoughts clouded his head as he made his way to where he was freed from the metal grave he and the others were held in. He didn't know if his legs would be able to hold out much longer, his legs seemed to creak from not being used for so long, and knew he needed a new way to find them. Soon he was yelling, his voice box gave out rasping sounds at first, the water clogging it, causing him to spark a bit and he almost fell over from the small shock, but soon the running had helped to drain the little machine, and although he was still damp, he could now call out into the new emptiness.

"H-Help! Anyone…7!? 9!?"

His voice echoed off of the buildings, he didn't know if anyone was here or if they would even be able to hear him. He hoped for a response, prayed for it, he felt an ache in his body, he needed to find someone, 9, 7, 3 and 4. They had to be here, they couldn't have left, he didn't know what he would have done if they did.

---

After half an hour of running his legs finally gave out, causing the stitchpunk to fall face first onto the ground, it was an all too familiar feeling that made him panic as he held the left side of his face. Flashbacks to the time when he first smashed his head against the ground as a result of an explosion causing him to panic, all he could think of was when he lost his eye, and in his panic he could even feel the pain that he felt when it happened. After he calmed himself a bit, his whole figure started shaking from the pain and fright. He looked around and then looked at his legs. He had torn the material on his knees, and it was beginning to hurt. He looked around and panted, he couldn't move, he was too tired, His whole body pained he didn't know if he would have enough energy to call out for anyone.

He saw he was close to the graves, he could see the sticks that once held the fallen numbers on burlap material. Holding his face still he yelled out once more, though there would be no answer to his call. He would choke out a dry sob, he couldn't cry, it wasn't something he was made to be able to do, all that could form from it was the sound and the shutter of each shake from his broken body.

After a minute he was forced to slow his sobbing, he heard movement. Terrified he used one of his arms and his feet to try and move himself out of the open. He knew somewhere in his mind that there were no more machines left, but he couldn't think straight. He was finally able to drag himself into a small corner under a broken car; leaning against the wheel he held his chest now that he wasn't holding his head anymore. Shaking he tried to quiet himself, but the shaking made small gears move and they made a small noise. He could hear the sound of movement getting closer. Whatever was out there could hear the gears in his chest. Clenching his eye closed he tried to pull himself into hiding farther.

All too quickly did the sounds stop. He held himself strong and didn't move, now wanting to make any more sounds and attract more attention to himself. But soon he heard another type of sound. The small sounds of clicking. The sounds were as if a shutter was closing and opening at high speeds, and then he heard the second set of clicking. It was all so familiar. Opening his eye he groaned and weakly stood up. Leaning against the tire for support he limped around the side and looked at the two figures clicking and communication to each other. He knew it was them and he couldn't believe that he would get to see 3 and 4 again. His body racked another sob and his gears began to make the whirring sounds again and that caught the others attention.

They both jumped back and fell over their faces showed a deep fear, as if they had seen a ghost. And it was technically true. This was a ghost, they knew it was, after all, it couldn't be anything else they watched him die, and they saw him fall. But here the other was, alive, looking terrible, but alive. The injured figure limped a few more steps before they both got up and ran to him, grabbing him and holding him tightly as they seemed to shake as much as he was, their eyes clicking and frantically flashing to try and talk to him even though they knew he couldn't understand their way of communicating. They didn't know how in this world the other was here, his gears and voice working, his body moving. They were confused, it opened up too many wounds as they remembered and the pictures of the other dying flashed in their minds. It pained them to hold onto him, but they knew they couldn't let him go; they wouldn't risk him leaving again.

Both 3 and 4 were shocked when the other pulled from their tight embrace. Smiling to them, the 'ghost' moved to rub 4's shoulder, pat 3's head, they smiled at the all too familiar greeting and then looked up at him. He had a pained expression on his face, but after a second it turned to relief. They looked and smiled each putting a hand on both sides of his face, feeling the burlap and spare cloth patch. They shook as their gears went into over drive and the fallen pulled them into his arms.

"Thank you…thank you for finding me…" he shook; his body finally getting to relax, he knew he was safe, he knew that wherever the other two where, they weren't too far off. He still couldn't move, but after a minute, he knew he didn't want to, neither did the twins, they held snuggly to his body as if they were waiting their whole lives for the moment they could see the other once more.

---

Night would fall and the three of them were still together, unmoving. Excitement, fright, hope and a whole mess of indescribable feelings erupted, leaving them thanking whoever brought the fifth stitchpunk back to them, but also thinking, going through all their cataloged memories to figure out if they had ever read or saw how it was even possible.

Soon though another would be on the street, searching for the twins, using a light staff as 9 used to have. The seventh gasped when she found where they were. She dropped the light and the glass shattered as it hit the ground. She backed up; shaking her head in disbelief she turned and ran back to where the last four lived. She needed to get 9; this was something that she never expected to see she needed him for this, this wasn't supposed to happen, something must have been wrong. He was supposed to be dead, but there he was. The fifth stitchpunk alive, holding the two small twins to himself. What scared her most was that it looked like the other didn't even die, but he did, and now he was here. Questions filled her mind but only one was the most important. How was it possible?

_-_-_

So little dialogue. I had trouble writing this as I had trouble thinking of reactions for 3, 4 and 7. Even though I know 7 wouldn't run for others and would just try and pull the other back herself, remember, 5 had been dead for a year and after the epic send off of their souls she didn't expect to see the other back as if nothing had happened; thus her shock. I hope it was alright otherwise, and I hoped it was enjoyable to read. Part 3 should be up as soon as I write it, and within the next chapter, things will be explained farther into how 5 got his soul returned to him.