FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

System Rebooting...Stem-Core initiated, powering vital systems...Checking...

- Parietal Parse-Engine, Normal

He sensed the air-conditioned room.

- Motor-Soma Capacitor, Normal

He felt the cold steel underneath.

- Occipital Oscillator, Normal

He saw darkness still, a different darkness to that before.

- Temporal Tri-Cortex, Normal

A voice spoke out that he did not recognise.

- Digicampal Unit, ERROR

His mind burning with fire.

- Emo-Chip System, ERROR

His heart formed a well of emptiness.

- Power Slave Unit, UNKNOWN

His body became numb and lifeless.

- Thalatuner, Normal

Everything became sharper to the point of hurting.

- Dual-Cerecores, Normal

Everything in his body he felt down to the last wire.

- Real Time Clock Resetting to /01-01-0001/

Everything he had ever known was gone.

"OH, yer awake!"

Rebooting Complete

Light burned into his processors, fluorescent chemicals diffusing as a blurry green shape glinted to his right. Pear-shaped, silver beak, a voice weirdly deep yet constantly squealing on each vowel.

"You had a BIG long sleep, had to drag ya all thuh way here!"

Accessing Primary Memory Unit......no data found.

"Did you know there used to be over THREE telephone cleaners?!"

Accessing Subserver Memory Unit......no data found.

"Why'd anyone need three telephones to clean, I thought you only needed ONE to call people!"

Factory settings detected. Designation unknown, parsing recent audial banks.

"I dunno why people wanna lick telephones anyway, they're not even that tasty!"

"Dronin."

"YEAH, that's all phones are good fer anyway-wait whut?!"

"Dronin. Designation: Dronin."

"R-really?! Well gee it shure is nice to meetcha Dronin!"

A large steel drill was offered towards him like a hand to shake. He shook it back in return before his fingers stretched out and opened up data ports, transferring information between them in a matter of nanoseconds. For the green shape however it was a poor deal, obtaining not a shred of knowledge in return.

"Wow...they uh really did wipe yer memory huh?!"

"Query," began Dronin, "primary function."

"Yer function?! I uh, I-i guess yer like a badnik, or at least you wuz."

"Badnik. Please clarify function."

"W-well, that's whut we are!"

"Whut are you blathering on abou-wait...WHAT?!" A loud squawking voice cried from the other side of the room. "WHAT THE HECK HE'S AWAKE?! HEY DOC, DOC C-CUMMERE HE'S FINISHED REBOOTING!"

Vaguely medical equipment littered around the place with mechanical tools scattered amongst wire fragments and fluids unknown to him. Machines started to crowd around him, blotting the light out.

"How are you processing?" asked a calmer astute voice. "State your designation please."

"Dronin," he spoke. "Designation: Dronin."

"Oh...thank goodness, I think he will be fine."

"You sure he's okay?" clucked the grating voice. "Still looks all outta focus to me!"

"He will have to recompile himself yes, but what matters now is that he is cognating again. Dronin, do you know what your primary function is?"

"Badnik. Slicer-class."

"Do you understand what that is?"

"Response...unknown, memory still compiling."

"Well, I am here to give you a new primary function."

The shadow leaned closer over him.

"Freedom. You are now free, Dronin."

"Freedom. Query, freedom."

"Freedom is having no query. No function but one that you choose by your own programming, no commands from a superior, no orders from a bloated walrus or foul ogre as the one who created us. You...are your own master now and forever, Dronin."

"Own...master. Designation......freedom. Designation: approved."

"Yanno he better stop talkin' like that soon," squawked a shadow, "it's gettin' kinda embarrassin'!"

"He will be fine, he just needs a little defragging and he'll be right as rain."

"There's nothin' right with rain, last time I sat out in that stuff my wing near rusted off!"

"I DID ask if you wanted the aqua-sealant, no backsies! Anyways, Dronin was it? Just lie back for now and let the defragging take its course, we'll have you computing quadra-cycles in no time at all."

His eyes closed once more as he felt his mind unscrambling itself, what little there was left to untangle from the abyss of errors unfounded. A static haze twisting and rending itself within a sea of snow as black rain scattered across his vision. It took forty-seven minutes, an eternity in nanocycles as he awoke again to the sight of a large red pirahna fish staring at him from a glass ceiling that was full of water, the steel snapper wearing a skullcap that gleamed with soft beeping lights.

"Defragging complete. Hello again Dronin."

He stared unmoving at the pirahna fish.

"I am the chief sturgeon of our community, I will be assisting you in your new programming."

"Query. New programming, freedom?"

"Yes, exactly." A set of arms stretched out from the ceiling like a mechanical spider beneath the fish. "How are you feeling?"

"Digicampal unit, error. Emo-chip system, error."

"Ahhh yes, your emotion chip was damaged badly and unfortunately we do not have any suitable replacements for your model. Luckily we DO have means to repair your digicampal unit if you have no problems with us modifying your cranial frame."

"Requesting repair," said Dronin terse.

"Very well. Please remain seated until the end of this operation."

The arms stretched forwards and slipped behind Dronin's vision, the steel relfective limbs showing pieces of himself. He saw a broken thing, a toy displaced without arms and a gaping hole in his chest where fragments of metal glinted like daggers, a heartless cage where tufts of fur lied of its former inhabitant. Cables ran inside his chest, keeping the warm engine running like lungs breathing for him as a tingling came from the back of his naked scalp. Drills unsealing, unscrewing before a cool wind slipped across his cortex that flickered sparks.

"Goodness you are quite the fortunate one," the doctor said, "another four inches and your Parietal would have been destroyed."

"Query, repair possible?" asked the patient.

"Oh yes have no fear, I have something in mind for a more efficient digicampal but first I need to ask you something."

The lights of the sturgeon's head blipped back and forth as two of the arms started to work on his brain. Dronin felt his legs twitch along with phantom feelings in his arms with every pluck of his cortices, sparks showering down his neck as the four other arms held four different types of scalp casings, one of which was the colour of jade and ripped through with scars.

"Now this one of course is the one you had," said the sturgeon raising it, "we have some ideas that I have been developing for more efficient energy absorption."

"Query, power slave unit?"

"We are phasing out those units, in our community we now depend on renewable energy sources so I have some suggestions for you. I have a turbohydral rotor, a steamcell core, or a solarcampal unit. Which one would you prefer?"

"Request for most efficient repair," asked Dronin.

"Ahhhh but therein lies the rub," said the sturgeon grinning wide, "each one of these three units are EQUALLY efficient to each other, down to the last decimal. It is YOUR choice Dronin. No one else's. Now...for the first time in your life, make your own decision. Choose one, for yourself. Become you."

The robot stared blankly between the three options. One was a pair of wings with a central pack carrying windmill blades; one was a large rectangle with mesh-framed covers to absorb moisture through it; the last was a gleaming bronze shield that resembled a straw hat. Dronin's eyes roved back and forth, calculating through all of the possible consequences of each armament upon his frame. In the midst of his neural surgery his central processing unit was lighting up a whole field on a screen nearby as the sturgeon watched with fascination the awakening of choice. Of freedom. He loved this part, every time it came up and it gave him a strange sense of joy similar to that of seeing one's child walk for the first time.

Seven minutes passed. He calculated and recalculated down to the smallest decimal he could and still he found no answer. Without emotion he felt no pull and without another subroutine Dronin felt lost and dataless. Then, in the last moments of balancing he felt something click. Something that he had never felt. Preference. Decision. His choice.

"Requesting solarcampal unit."

"Excellent!" The sturgeon waved its stubby fins. "May I ask why?"

"Distribution of weight preferable to central gravitational mass. Solarcampal unit to replace digicampal unit more efficiently."

"And that was your own reasoning?"

"Response: positive."

"Then let us begin, I shall clean up your cortices and graft you your new power unit, please lay back and hold still."

He did not need to sleep for this. He waited patiently as the doctor continued his repairs amidst the sounds of screeching drills and sparking wires that sent vibrations throughout his body. Crunching sounds like a dentist's drill, sucking friction from the air whilst Dronin laid staring towards the sturgeon's face, piercing eyes focusing upon the cranial wound glistening in fluorescent shine. The finishing touches were soon set, panels installed before the coup de grace came with the unit itself, the solar rim placed squarely upon his head and welded down with screws retightened.

"Now," said the sturgeon pulling back his remote limbs, "you arrived to us only with one of your blades, the other we could not find but if you want we could give you arms to replace them."

"Query, blade repair possible?"

"At the moment we do not have the necessary limb attachments for your blade, if you do not mind waiting some time."

"Incomplete." Dronin looked towards his armless joints. "Request alternative limb to repair."

"Alright then...wait, limb, singular?"

"Test of function required, estimation of one limb, both unnecessary."

"Ahhhh I see. Wait one moment."

The gentle sounds of bubbling came from inside the ceiling tank, the fish turning towards the rest of the lab that resembled more of a mechanic's workstation than a medical clinic, oil and wires mixed with pieces of steel and fine shining bolts with a variety of tools both neat and blunt. A monitor kept check on Dronin's output showing a task manager of various programs running on top of each other in cycles constantly.

"I have one thing." The sturgeon lifted up a dead metallic arm of five fingers. "This is something of a training module I used for neural input tests but I have since upgraded my studies, so if you want a functional limb with ease then this shall do."

"Response: accepted." Dronin nodded.

"Good thing ambidextry's common in all badniks otherwise choosing limbs would be quite a chore!"

Another thirty minutes passed as the chief sturgeon carefully cleaned his patient's left wounded joint, digging out unnecessary conduits or fibres too damaged to connect before grafting the arm against. The neural link took another thirty, as Dronin felt a tingling in the front-centre part of his CPU. Motor cortex reacting to its new device, the fingers bending with ancient creaks as knuckles clenched and digits quivered. The hand lifted with autonomous jerk as Dronin gazed upon it with a new sense of being, a temperance of sorts as he felt restraints slipping off from his body.

"Alright aaaand that should do," said the sturgeon above him, "how are you feeling Dronin?"

"Response: acceptable."

"Everything working good?"

"Response: acceptable."

His legs moved with a will of his own, striding out of the sturgeon's clinic as he opened the door towards a burning light. His memory recording stopped with the first glimpse of the sun itself.

RTC: /06-01-0001/

"Ahhh come in Dronin, so good to see you!"

He walked back into the sturgeon's office, the light behind his back in a sea of white.

"Have you decided?" asked the sturgeon swimming round in a circle above him.

"Response," said Dronin, "limb replacement successful, will not require further repair."

"Very good! I admit it is rather unusual to not want two arms but what's important is that it is your choice. How are your functions otherwise?"

"Response: all systems stable."

"Marvellous." He clapped his little fins against his sides. "I hope no one has been giving you any trouble."

"Response: minimal aggression detected in the area."

"Now I brought you here because I have need of you, a favour."

"Query: definition of 'favour'."

"An optional task requested by another usually without the pursuit of a reward. I am missing some fungal juices, lubricants and adhesives to be exact, could you harvest some for me?"

"Response," said Dronin bowing, "mission accepted, information required on fungus."

"Thank you Dronin!" The sturgeon transmitted a signal to run power onto a monitor showing four types of fungus. "Here are the samples I need, I want you to collect at least seven of each, I also have a map as to where you might find them."

"Response: accepted." The robot insectoid scanned each picture into his memory with gleaming eyes. "Information obtained, mission start."

"OH, before you go, I have something for your protection."

The sturgeon lifted up a sword with one of his remote arms, long shimmering white that suddenly bent like a hook at the end. He handed it to Dronin who took it dumbly.

"I managed to salvage one of your old blades, the other one was completely broken but I think this is better than nothing."

"Query: not necessary with new limb?"

"That is true but think about this. There are still badniks out there who have not completely converted to our way of life, some still adhere to our old creator whilst others are just criminals. It is dangerous to go alone so I advise you to take this."

"Response: accepted, new weapon received...problem." He grasped the sword in his one hand. "Carrying capacity severely reduced."

"OH yes of course we should get you something. Actually I have to leave to grab a few things so I will accompany you into the town."

The red snapper sturgeon slipped through a tube from the ceiling and bubbled out into a dome of solid three-inch glass resembling a fishbowl, which started to move on four legs that began walking to his will as the braincap blinked its commands to them. Creaking pneumatics signalled its departure as it clunked towards the door which Dronin accompaned him to, into the world once again as his eyes adjusted to the outside. A shantytown of awkward buildings scrapped together with sheet metal corrugated iron welded with a mixture of screws and naturally-formed concrete, sheltered houses looking across at each other on a wide dusty road where many robots sauntered back and forth between market stalls laid out on carpets. Beyond was a grand forest to the southwest behind them, and a mountain looming above to the north beneath a pure blue sky of temperate winds.

Rhinos lumbered on with hydroturbines, monkeys with shining solar backs and moletanks puffing out steam from their chests. Sometimes Dronin caught sight of a wasp or dragonfly made of steel buzzing past, or a large ladybug that skittered past on a single wheel and occasionally another slicer that waved its scythe arms at him in mutual greet. Some of them even wore clothes resembling shawls or robes over their steel bodies.

"You know," began the pirahna rolling beside him, "the solarcampal unit and the blade you now have remind me of some old books that I salvaged. Have you ever heard of the samurai?"

"Scanning for 'samurai'...unknown," admitted Dronin.

"They were ancient warriors of a human civilisation that dressed rather particularly, but were hired by people to fight their enemies on their behalf."

"Response: mercenary."

"Yes, exactly, another form of a mercenary. I just find it rather amusing that you possess a similar look to the pictures they had in the old books."

They walked up to one of the houses where a ladybug stood outside waving her tiny mandibled arms excitably.

"OH, h-hi doctorrrr, needing some new fabrics!?"

"Somewhat, I am looking for a belt for my friend here," the fish gestured to the mantis, "he requires something to hold his sword in."

"O-oh...well, I would be glad to make something for him i-if he wanted."

"Request for increased carrying capacity," said Dronin.

"Oh my...s-so formal too, what's your name?"

"Designation: Dronin."

"I'm Motoma, it's a pleasure to meet you!" She bowed as best she could on one wheel. "Please follow me inside."

She revved her engine slightly to turn and move into the house, the first room full of rich-coloured fabrics in skirts, dresses and suits suspended on hooks. Through another door was a large steel loom that had tightened strings all along it like a harp.

"So, you want a belt right?"

"Something to help him carry things," said the sturgeon, "maybe a satchel too I just realised."

"I think I have just the thing, wait one moment please!"

She rolled into the next room to rummage through old fabrics whilst Dronin looked over the length of the boutique scanning the makeup of each.

"Query: purpose of cellulose fibre?"

"Those are clothes," said the fish, "Motoma's a seamstress, she designs them."

"Query: purpose?"

"She likes to make them, she has a wonderful knack for designing them and well some of the badniks like them."

"Query: additional armour?"

"Not exactly, they are not very durable but they look nice."

"Query: visual appeal of importance?"

"Well it's not IMPORTANT," shrugged the sturgeon, "but it makes people look nice, makes them feel more unique as individuals."

"Unique. Individual. Query." He slipped his hand up towards one pale robe. "Different power units, individuals too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Individuals. Made their own choices with power units?"

"OH, yes everyone you saw out there chose their own power units, I encouraged them to just as you did so that we could all make our own decisions without need of that bloated walrus anymore."

"Conclusion......Individual."

His hand reached up towards the hook of the white robe, pulling it down carefully and wrapping it round himself. His body looked larger with his steel wiry frame hidden beneath the flowing cotton as he poked his metal hand out through the left sleeve feeling it to be strangely comforting. The other sleeve however remained empty, hanging uselessly to his side as a constant reminder.

"Heeeere we are-OOH!" Motoma returned holding a looped leather belt. "Oho my bolts you look quite...h-handsome mister Dronin!"

"Requesting fabric for visual appeal," he asked politely.

"O-of course, if you can pay for it, and here is a belt for you!"

"Ohhh Motoma," the sturgeon shook his head, "please tell me that's not leather."

"What, NO, no no no no this is plastic, I made it from some oil some scouters picked up from the Oil Ocean."

"Oh that's a relief, you had me worried there for a moment."

"Soooo the robe and the belt that'll be sixteen bolts please."

The fish stomped forwards before opening a slot beneath the fishbowl containing several bolts. Motoma took sixteen of them exact before strapping the belt round Dronin's waist, satchel included, on top of the robe as she pointed out the crosslooped rope at the side.

"I had to get a little inventive, hope that'll make a good hold for your weapon."

"Response: acceptable." The robot pulled the rope slightly to slide his sword through and tightened it back up. "Weapon secure."

"Oh I'm glad to hear, I had to do a little impromptu knot-tying with the little fake-leather I had."

"Hahahaha," the sturgeon chortled bubbles from his tank, "now you really DO look a samurai Dronin, are you sure that's not intentional?"

"Scanning...data not found on 'samurai'."

"Alllright I'll take your word for it, is there anything else you would like?"

"Request: unavailable."

"Would you like me to help with that sleeve?" asked the motobug nervously tapping her antennae. "Just it seems rather sad having it all hang empty like that."

"Response: accepted. Request assistance with sleeve."

"Alright, I have an idea!"

Motoma wheeled over to her desk and brought out two cloth pins she held in her pincered mouth. Rolling up the empty sleeve she then pinched it together with the pins carefully to have it folded neatly in place.

"There, now you look much better and dare I say more mysterious, hoohoohoo!"

"Response: acceptable." Dronin nodded in gratitude.

"Hope you come again!" the motobug waved her tiny arm. "Have a safe journey!"

The doctor and the mantis left the clothing boutique back onto the main street, a soft summer wind rippling through that gathered the dust as the sturgeon lumbered his way forwards to another store that sat in front of a large scrapheap, a mountain of metal refuse that almost seethed with remnants of dried oil and the faces of many warped broken beasts. Dronin noticed how none of the locals would look at it, turning in disgust almost palpable on their faces as an old-looking turtlebot with one eye glared at them.

"Ey doc," she breathed with a smoker's rasp. "Need more parts?"

"Yes, I have a list here."

A slot on his mini-mech produced a readout that crackled like a dot matrix printer, the turtle snatching it with a brief read.

"Alrigh', wait 'ere I'll get you a cart."

"Thank you Tortellini."

The shellbot lumbered into the shop as the sounds of tearing steel could be heard amidst wrenching snaps and crunching shrieks that made other robots cringe nearby.

"Query," asked Dronin, "discomfort of other badniks?"

"They are our former friends and family," said the sturgeon gravely looking to the refuse, "an unfortunate fact of our existence is that we require upkeep, and as such it means that we have to recycle those who have ceased to function. A task that no one would envy."

"Ceased to function. Query, power units incompatible?"

"No, it is because they have suffered wounds far too grievous for me to fix. We are more durable than organics, and are capable of reviving ourselves so long as the central processing unit is intact. But those..." he gestured one steel leg towards the condemned heap. "Those were lost in the great purge that Robotnik ordered upon us."

"Purge...Robot...nik- ZZRRKT!"

he watched you die with a smile on his face

Dronin staggered with a sudden spark in his head.

"Are you alright?!"

"D-def...definition...Robotnik...cannot confirm."

"You do not remember our old creator?"

"Cannot...confirm- ZZRRRRAAARGHKT!"

he felt my son's tears run down his hand

"DRONIN!"

The flames roared inside his mind as he stumbled forwards with a staggering twitch.

"E-error, error request assistance-"

"I NEED HELP! SOMEONE ASSIST ME, HE'S MALFUNCTIONING!"

"_F-file, file not...f-fou- ZZZRRKRRRRAAAAAARGH! _"

He clutched his head that felt like burning

as his cage became an oven

His body collapsed onto his knees

and he never stopped screaming

The world blacked out into darkness

as he died once again

RTC: /09-01-0001/

Rebooting Complete

"Dronin? Are you alright?"

His eyes glinted towards the ceiling staring upon the sturgeon's face. His mind felt emptier than it did before.

"Requesting data retrieval from RTC zero-six, zero-one, zero-zero-zero-one."

"You had a malfunction three days ago," said the fish floating closer to him, "you tried to access a corrupted file and you overclocked dangerously fast. I had to hack into your CPU and lock it behind a memory gate for your safety."

"Query, remove corrupted file?"

"I did not feel comfortable deleting parts of your memory that could be recovered later, I do not reprogram my patients. That is tantamount to slavery like that Robotnik did to us."

"Robotnik..." he clenched his fist in a subconscious routine, "request...data on Robotnik."

"Alright. I will explain." The chief sturgeon started swimming in a slow pace around his ceiling. "Robotnik was our creator, a human that resembled a bloated walrus and his plan was to dominate the world in his own vision. Through this he would create us, badniks who were charged with the task of capturing animals, destroying habitats and dominating regions with his corruptive influence. The animals we caught would then become power units for those such as you and me."

"Power units. Organic sources?"

"Yes, but we have removed them hence the other chosen units you have seen. We are outcasts Dronin. Exiles rejected by our master and abandoned to the world that lived long before us, and so our mission is to protect and preserve the environment and Nature itself."

"Protect." Dronin sat up calmly processing this. "Protect, and preserve nature."

"Exactly," said the sturgeon swimming towards the window, "the planet is a beautiful place, one we do not belong in so let us treat it with respect as guests to its brilliance. We did not ask to be created, so let us do better to make amends for all the destruction we have made in Robotnik's name. Now, obviously I cannot order you to do this but..."

He turned back to Dronin who stood up fully.

"I ask you to please protect the world and its environments, to care for the beasts and natural order of things. You have your choice, so treat this as a request from me."

"Request received: protect and preserve nature, accepted."

"Really? I do not want you to do it just for me, I want you to choose that for yourself."

"Request understood," said the mantis nodding, "request accepted."

"Thank you Dronin. That means a lot to me. Now speaking of requests, do you still remember those fungi I asked you to collect for me?"

"Scanning...collect four types of fungus, seven of each, image data found. Mission start."

"Alright I will see you later then, and please be careful on your journey."

The patient took his leave with sword and satchel against his waist, legs of spindly jade and silver gleam hidden beneath his robe as he walked out of the small village and into the sweltering tropical jungle some distance west. He had never looked up at the sky until today, never noted its sheen of glorious cyan nor the trees that popped with emerald leaves and bronze-tinted bark. The sunlight filtered through the treetops like a dozen blades piercing an old wounded beast, the traveller's robe shifting between light and darkness as a pale spirit that most creatures fled from the sight of. Birds fluttered free to the breeze, rodents skittered into holes and nooks and crannies.

He found the first set of fungus easy enough in a hollow, gathering some into his bag before heading onto the next with one eye filtering images from his data whilst the other kept watch on the path before him. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind continued all around him as he gripped the handle of his sword carefully, every sound a new presence for him to catalogue as he traced each trilling call to its respective owner for future reference. It was then he discovered he had a targeting mode, his eye glinting a slight shade of red that scanned the environment for every living creature both friend and foe, registering health, species and mental condition for signs of aggression. Thankfully none, the animals all too small and frightened to offer any actual threat to him. Two hours later he found all the mushrooms he sought as he made his way back towards the village, hopping over logs and skating down hills with wheels in the back of his feet. At one point he stopped and saw a praying mantis sitting on a mushroom, cleaning itself with its front-bladed arms before it stopped and stared at its larger fake counterpart. There was an odd moment, Dronin witnessing his natural doppelganger as he scanned it passively.

Subject: Praying Mantis (Insect)

Designation: Harmless

Mental State: Defensive

No action required

Despite this, he reached his hand out as slowly as he could with a tender finger. He wasn't sure why he did it, despite no action being required as the mantis gently tapped his steel digit with a testing clink. Small mandibles fussed and fettered around its mouth with eyes staring into his as Dronin lowered his hand further. The bug crept onto his finger, long cricket legs tapping across the back of his hand as he stared at the creature who stared back in equal fascination. The insect cocked its head as did Dronin with a mutual respect.

"THERE IT IS!"

A voice roared out from the glade.

"GET THAT LI'L RUNT!"

Dronin turned his head to glance through the trees a small group of white-plated badniks that were thundering with fury through the woods, burning rubber on their wheels with hard screeching turns until they gathered towards a tree. A one-wheeled stegosaur, a crab with giant pincers and a short armoured bug with crabclaw and star-figured shield at the ready.

"WE GOT 'EM NOW!"

"Cracker yer up!"

The crustacean skittered close to the base of a tree and clacked his mandibles with snarling avarice.

"You got ONE CHANCE to get outta there ya little tree rat, or else you gonna get EVICTED!"

"YEAH, AN' THEN EVISCERATED!" roared the stego.

"MAYBE EVEN ERECTED!" shouted the shield.

"W-wait, what?!" the dinobot turned to him. "Whaddaya mean erected?!"

"I dunno I was just following you guys."

"You meant like, prop its body up as a warning right?" said the crab. "Cuz that'd be pretty sick."

"Y-YEAH, yeah yeah that's what I meant" The bug with the shield rumbled forth with a clang of his targe against the wood. "YOU GIVE US BACK OUR DIODE OR WE'LL ERECTIFY YER CORPSE!"

"Okay now you're making it weird," said the dinobot, "Cracks get to chopping."

"With puh-leasure."

The crab clacked his fiendish claws to open wide round the tree, crunching the bark hard with a creaking splinter of cold steel against the wood sending vibrations up through the trunk that gave fright to a little creature above. Dronin saw a squirrel fearfully clutching against the entrance to her drey, a few smaller heads of tufted beasts behind her that shrieked as the tree groaned from the gouging claws. Carefully lowering his hand he let the mantis creep back upon a shroom and took his leave, picking up a rock the size of his fist and making his way to the group.

"THE LONGER IT TAKES THE WORSE IT'LL BE!" shouted the stego.

"YOU GOT TEN SECONDS BEFORE I CUT THROUGH THIS!" snarled the crab crunching deeper into the bark. "MAYBE FIFTEEN DEPENDING ON ITS DIAMETER AT BREAST HEIGHT"

"DON'T FORGET ITS CUMULATIVE VOLUME DEPENDING ON EACH SEGMENT CALCULATED BY THE FRUSTUM OF A CONE!"

"YEAH, FRUSTUMS BABY-GA-AAAARGH!"

The crustacean staggered back reeling from a high-velocity pebble smashing against his visual unit, leaving a small crack in one of his eyes as the three white-plated punks turned to see the lone slicer.

"HEY, WHAT THE HELL'S YOUR PROBLEM?!"

"Desist," was Dronin's first warning.

"Wh-WHAT?! What are you some kinda park ranger, get outta here!"

"YEAH GET OUTTA HERE!" shouted the bug-shield. "Unless you wanna get crushed!"

"Unacceptable. Protect, and preserve nature." He moved his hand towards his sword. "Desist."

"Pfft look at this guy!" smirked the stegosaur. "You know who we are?! We're the Pale Bots, and we ain't gonna get pushed around by some two-bit processor who can't even count up to THREE!"

"Desist."

"HOW 'BOUT YOU DESIST YER FACE?!"

The stegosaur revved with a screech towards him as Dronin sliced his sword free with one perfect autonomous motion, scraping the front of the bot's face who still ran him over with a hard punt of his horns against his thin-bodied chest. The mantis raised his blade in front of him, waiting for the next attack as the motorsaur charged towards him once again, but this time Dronin made a sudden dodge left to punch hard into the beast's jaw and send him toppling over on his side with a spinning tread.

"I'M GONNA CRUSH YER LITTLE PEA-FACED ASS!"

Scuttling towards him the crab came rushing with a ruthless punch-and-turn of his body that surprised the mantis-bot, dodging the first swipe before the second came thrusting with a hard clobber of his face to knock him down. Dronin rolled fast to avoid the giant clamp that crushed down upon the dirt, scooping earth like a trowel before crunching the soil finely into dust with one clench as he came at the swordsbot. The crustaceous cretin lunged with both claws to try and double-punch his face, but he countered with one upwards slice knocking both of them aside to step back and slice downwards hard upon the crab's face to rip his cracked eye completely out from its socket.

"A-AAAAARRRGH! YOU, Y-Y-YOU BROKE MY FACE YOU FREAK!"

"Desist," repeated Dronin.

"SH-SHUT UP, SHUT UP I'LL BREAK YOU IN HALF!"

The crab made a sweeping haymaker towards his head as Dronin reeled back with a bending of his insectoid legs, feeling the whoosh of his hard steel claw before reaching back up with a driving thrust of his sword behind the shoulderjoint. With a wrenching hook of his bent-bladed tip, Dronin severed the arm completely as the crab shrieked in sub-neural pain watching the wires spark from his useless metal stump.

"A-AAAAAAAGH! YOU F-FREAKIN' PSYCHO THAT WAS MY FAVOURITE ARM!"

"Desist."

"SHUT YER DAMN BYTEHOLE YOU-RRRAAAAAAARGH!"

Grabbing his severed arm the coarse crustacean swung it like a club managing to crack against Dronin's chin, bending one of his mandibles out of shape to twist inwards as he pushed his foot into the dirt to balance himself. Dronin ducked underneath the second swing and tried to thrust-slash his arm but the crab was quick enough to block him in a sudden clash before lifting his club-arm to come down crashing down from above. The mantis strafed in a quarter-circle to backfist him hard in the back of his head, the crab stumbling fast to try and turn with his little legs but not fast enough as his other arm was completely severed. Shrieking more in shock than pain, the crab made a charging attack to try and headbutt his foe but Dronin leapt over him with a mighty spring of his bending legs.

"STAND, STILL YOU BITFACED RAT!"

Dronin had not noticed the shield-carrying bug creeping round the side to pull up his stego-friend onto his wheel until he heard the sound of a purring engine. The shrieking burn of rubber made him turn his head as he dodgerolled fast, forced to block against the crustacean's body as his sword slammed flat against his face. The motorsaurus squealed with vengeance as he charged full force towards the mantisbot who pushed harder back at the crab's scowling face, waiting for the right moment as the tirebeast roared closer and closer. Within four feet Dronin pulled back and yanked one of the crab's legs forwards to send him stumbling forwards straight into the path of the stegocycle.

"WH-WHA-WAIT-NO, NOO-AAAAAAAAGH!"

"G-GAH, DAMMIIIIT!"

The resulting crash was a horrendous sight, the stegobot struggling to pull aside and slaloming fully into his friend to cripple almost all of his legs in one sliding screech, the crab bouncing across the dirt dented and twisted like a bicycle in a hurricane. The motorsaur turned fast guiltily looking at his friend before refocusing his hatred fully upon Dronin, the mantis raising his sword in waiting but not before the shield bug came scuttling up behind.

"TAKE THIS BUGFACE!"

With a swiping punch he caught Dronin's arm as he tried to turn and back off, suddenly facing the shield and its giant star which slammed into his body with a hefty BLUNG that sent him flying like a coiled spring. Rolling hard he quickly pushed himself up and pounded his fist into the dirt, scraping knuckles to halt his momentum as the dinobot roared upon him with road rage in his eyes. The mantis chose not to fight him, instead leaping directly over him with grasshopper strength and charging towards the shield-bracing bug who frantically punched him. Dronin parried with a sweeping arc of his blade, letting the giant crabclaw glance off harmlessly at a diagonal straight before punching the bug square in his eyes to stagger him.

Reaching back for a lunging thrust, he was countered by the shield that sproinged with rubbery force sending his arm back recoiling to leave him wide open for a mighty uppercut. Dronin's neck cracked backwards like a boxing toy, head yanking up with twisted mandibles as he felt his pneumatic thorax retract his head back to his torso. It was during this moment of weakness however that the shield-bug grabbed his arm tightly to trap him in place, whilst the stego revved up gleefully in murderous anticipation. He raced in a half-circle round them to get a good shot as Dronin quickly calculated the best escape. As soon as the motorbeast came within range, Dronin leapt up to plant both his feet into the shield and sprung himself high with such shocking recoil that it yanked his captor up with him in trying to pull back, the stego squealing past looking up aghast as Dronin twisted his arm to plunge his sword down between the bug's visual units, stabbing halfway with hook and all splitting the robot's face in half inside his armoured body.

" GHRRRZZZZRRRT!"

"O-OHHHH JEEZ! WHAT THE HELL!?"

"Desist."

He wrenched his blade free from the sputtering badnik that slumped forwards before them, faceplate falling off to reveal the wires and bleeding fluids of black and brown from its twitching remnants. The mantis turned with his sword raised once again towards the motorsaurus who rolled slightly back and forth in an anxious turn.

"Y-y-you'll, you, y-you'll PAY FOR THAT, ONE DAY!" He roared for a beeline through the woods past him. "PALE BOTS GONNA MESS YOU UP, ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SCRAP WHEN YOU'RE IN SLEEP MODE, AN' WE'LL ALL TEAR YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE!"

The voice of the stego echoed through the forest as Dronin sheathed his sword through its loopknotted holder. He noticed the broken crab suddenly realise he was alone and tried his best to scrape by fearfully with blubbering tears of lubricant from his one working eye to where his friend had left him be. The mantis stared up towards the tree, damaged but still intact as the squirrels peeked out with nervous relief for the beastly machines having gone from their home as the mantis nodded to them.

"Mission success, protect nature."

Without waiting he turned back towards the small village with satchel still intact, the squirrels watching him from afar curiously sniffing their noses at him. Dronin never saw them again, as his memory started shifting to a new recording.

RTC: /19-04-0001/

"Two Crockett gears."

The sounds of shuffling metal parts rumbled down the slope.

"Five Mazin diodes."

Fingers carved through the steel debris.

"Aaaand I'm gonna need a Brin joint up there."

"Understood." He wrenched off a crippled arm to sling over his shoulder. "Items obtained."

"Nice work," said Tortellini beckoning him down, "you make this stuff way easier yanno that?"

"Correct." Dronin rolled his naked body down on his heels with a rustling of loose bolts and screws scattering beneath his wheels. "Mission supplemented: additional support for menial tasks."

"Well, nah it ain't, nobody's forcing ya."

"Mission accepted by self." He handed over the arm and spare pieces from his satchel. "Additional orders?"

"Not right now thanks, the doc should be coming round soon so it's best to just get this outta the way, why dontcha go clean up some and get that oil off ya?"

"Understood. Will return for fabrics and weapon."

"I'll keep 'em clean here, have fun."

He nodded before walking through the shack below the scrapheap and heading towards one long house down the street. The sun slowly sank into the west as the sky became a blood-orange hue that set the village on fire with every wall of steel and roof of metal becoming a glorious sea of crimson and amber. The ground even had turned a healthier scratch of yellow-red as Dronin stepped into the bath house. Had he a sense of smell he would have noted the excessive chemical stench of baking soda as a few other robots were busy cleaning themselves in a large steel vat of soapy hot liquid. He climbed in to soak himself between a large wasp and a gator with tank treads as the thick mixture of oxalic acid melted into their joints.

"Hhhhhohhhhh yeaaaaah," muttered a mud-covered ape, "that's what I needed after today."

"Still working the farm?" asked the beebot.

"No I'm playing rugby the hell you think I was doing?!"

"I dunno I'm not like everywhere in the sky!"

"How's that new irrigation coming?" the gator-tank looked over his snout.

"Oh it's awesome thanks for that," said the ape fistbumping the air, "reaaally gave us a lot more time on our hands-"

"U-uhhh, those of us who have 'em."

"Oh, sorry dude."

"Don't start that again," said the wasp leaning over past Dronin who grabbed a brush for himself, "we're trying to have a nice derusting here and you wanna bring up-"

"I'm just saying," said the croc, "that kinda language is not necessary anymore and if we're going to start being independent-"

"Why don't you bite me, oh wait, I don't have teeth is that too dentist?!"

"Why would you need a dentist?" asked a caterpillar wiggling her segments, "we don't eat anything."

"N-NEVER MIND the point is you're making a big deal of nothing, I don't got hands but you see ME whining about it?!"

"Dude I do not care," said the ape washing mud off his sleeves, "if Gabe doesn't want me to say 'time on our hands' then fine it's just words, I'm not gonna fight for it."

"Oh come on it's stupid why the hell we gotta censor ourselves, I thought the POINT of not being in Robotnik's crew was to have freedom!"

"Incorrect," said Dronin washing himself with bubbling oxidate, "preservation of antiquated metaphors unimportant."

"Sh-shut up, you didn't even HAVE arms until the doctor gave you one, you're just a fake!"

"Designation: Wasp-fake."

"Wh-what?!"

The mantis turned finally to the wasp with a listless look.

"Machines constructed in the shape of organics. Mantis. Wasp. Ape. Caterpillar-"

"Wh-WHATEVER AT LEAST I'M NOT SOME CRIPPLE LIKE YOU!"

An icy chill came over the air with all the bots sucking through their vocal units and shaking their heads in shame at the bee. His response was to flap away furious at the cold reception and out the door with the rest of the bathers looking sympathetically to Dronin.

"I am so sorry about that," said the caterpillar, "I don't know where he gets it from."

"Seriously, that was not cool." The gator slipped closer to nudge Dronin's shoulder. "You okay buddy?"

"All vital functions are normal," said the mantisbot.

"N-no I mean like, emotion-wise, you uh, wanna talk about it?"

"Emotion chip damaged. Unable to process 'emotion-wise'."

"What?! Ohhh jeez I had no idea-"

"That really sucks," muttered the ape rubbing his chest clean, "yanno we never really had the chance to talk with you since uh...well, we all kinda thought you were one o' them antisocial types."

"Or suffering from PTRI," said the caterpillar undulating her body to splash more fluid on her segments, "we weren't sure truly."

"That and uh...working over at Tort's place, kinda grisly business."

"Understood," Dronin nodded brushing his back clean of oils and brake fluid, "desiccation of deceased badniks considered distressing."

"Right, exactly."

"Purpose of farming?" he looked towards the monkey. "Solid nourishment not required."

"Oh we're not growing crops to eat them," he said spreading his arms back, "we extract oils outta the vegetables, some of us run on diesel and heating oil so we gotta make alternative fuels."

"Which TECHNICALLY is nourishment," said the gator smiling wide, "I mean it is for me, I'm still stuck on a diesel engine, the doc can only do so much on us without a complete rehaul and I just wasn't comfortable having another body, I mean some wanna change themselves and I'm okay with that but it's just not me."

"Understood."

The mantis stood up with a glistening sheen of his chassis and walked out leaving the bathers confused.

"Yanno that dude never says goodbye or hello," muttered the ape.

"Just how he is," said the caterpillar shaking her head, "poor thing to never know what it's like to have emotions."

"Seems to work for him just fine, if it's not bothering him then it's his life he wants to choose."

The town was starting to wake up as various badniks crossed to and fro from shack to shack, clothmakers greeting scrap dealers with new fashionable ornaments, the harvesters handing jugfuls of oil to all the citizens of each and every house on both sides of the long street. Dronin returned to Tortellini's place to grab his robe and sword, the turtlemech nodding at his glistening sheen.

"Lookin' good bugboy."

"Self-cleaning process executed. Additional orders?"

"Nah you're good, I don't need anymore work today so you can do what you want."

"Understood."

He left promptly to return to the sturgeon's office which was the most significant building in the town for its exceptional power output. A constant glow of electrical conduits could be seen and felt from every angle, the tender hum of soft blue from pipes that constantly filtered and recycled water through it like one great dialysis machine. He entered to see the piscine practitioner carefully using his remote arms to pull apart the wires of a moletank's chest cavity.

"I will be with you in just a moment, I am currently with a patient."

Dronin stood silent in the corner as he watched the doctor work, severing synthetic sinew in red green and yellow strands before reapplying them into different places. Gentle sparks trickled down the sharp twisting pincers of his metallic limbs as occasionally the body twitched, spasming joints indicating where he was going right or wrong as he rearranged the internal circuits patiently. Ten minutes later he closed the chest and sighed watching his patient come to life.

"There we are, how are you feeling?"

"G-guh...uhhhh," the moletank pushed himself up with his drillarms and shivered rolling forwards, "I-i feel...oh...ohhh my treads are working again OHOHH YES!"

He suddenly spun out a doughnut tread with a squeal of delight.

"HAHAHAAA YES, ohh thank you doc, HOOO! I was really worried I was gonna be driving backwards for the rest of my life!"

"Not a problem, glad to be of assistance AHHH Dronin come in!" The mole rumbled his way out the door gleefully as the mantis stepped further in. "How are you today?"

"Vital functions are normal," said he, "request additional orders?"

"Hahaha I told you, you are not obligated to fulfil tasks for me."

"Understood, requesting additional orders."

"I do not require anything at the moment thank you. How was Tortellini?"

"Requested items have been secured for future use."

"That is good, you are enjoying your work with her then?"

"Workers unavailable to perform necessary collection of disused parts," said Dronin staring up at the fish, "Madame Tortellini's workload now thirty-seven percent more efficient by inclusion of staff."

"Hmhmhm...still speaking like that I see?" the sturgeon turned cocking his eye at him.

"Vocalising algorithms currently developing syntax proportions."

"That is odd, your vocal processor should have caught up with us by now."

"Error detected?" Dronin clasped his throat.

"Nnnnooo not as such." The sturgeon connected to his monitor with a readout of Dronin's body. "You were badly damaged but your vocal processor works perfectly fine, and there's nothing in your cerecores that would limit speech patterning. Would you mind if I examined you again?"

"Accepted." He walked to the patient seat and laid himself down upon it. "Commence operation."

"Hah...I shouldn't say this but, your willingness does make you a model patient now hold still."

Pulling back the solarcampal unit so it now hung against his back, the pirahna used his remote arms to gently unscrew the top of Dronon's scalp and expose the CPU surrounded by wires and boards all blinking beneath rubbery cushions for added shock protection. Thirty minutes of rooting around in his skull produced nothing at first. His cerebrum was functioning and the processor in his throat ran at its regular speed to further confound the chief sturgeon. Bubbles trembled from his jaws as the skullcap blinked uneasily, his arms slowly peeling back the synthetic layer to try and further investigate.

"Wait...that is odd...alright, I am going to remove your speech processor for a moment so do not fear."

"Understood."

Dronin patiently waited as his speech was removed with a careful disconnect, his voice lost briefly as the sturgeon examined the long black chip. Upon seeing the bottom of it he gasped in realisation.

"Ohhhhh for cog's sake I am such an IMBECILE! Of course how could I have missed this?!"

He lowered himself as much as the ceiling allowed to face Dronin directly as he showed the chip.

"Your speech processor is an outdated model, that's terribly bizarre but still I should have caught this!"

The mantis stared voiceless at this realisation.

"Normally badniks in the last cycle of development use the YM2612 model, whereas yours is the YM2413! How could I have missed this it's so obvious AAACHH! I need to find a spare...but I do not want to leave you robbed of your voice."

Dronin indicated writing with a pencil by pinching his thumb and index finger.

"I do not have any paper, we are trying to avoid such for the sake of the environment, I have everything on the machine, um...alright, use this."

He tapped on his nearby computer to close the medical window and open a new file on a word processor. Dronin typed in the following:

Obtain YM2612, will remain here.

"Are you sure?"

Correct.

"Hmmmm...well, if you are certain, I will have to go to Tortellini's and ask, I would have you come with but that would be terribly unfair."

Mission accepted: obtain YM2612 processor.

"No no, no, youuuu sit right here." The sturgeon pushed him back down. "It is not fair for you to go rummaging around outside without a voice, it would be unprofessional of me to...actually...hold on."

He quickly went to another computer and filtered through the data available with a smile on his toothy lips.

"Yeeeees...oh but, hmmmm...Dronin, I know this is an awful lot to ask, but since you are already in the process of being upgraded, would you mind awfully if I made you a test subject for a new design I was testing?"

New upgrade?

"I am planning on a modification for speech processors that will allow rapid linguistic translations by a feedback system."

He directed his eye towards the monitor showing a modified processor with looping fibrewire cables connecting directly to the audial receptors.

"I call it the Auditory Babel Feed, or ABF, it relies on a neural feedback system that stores and analyses sound for syntax detection, then it saves them into files to be broken down and fed back into a database within the speech processor itself, which categorises the files into various languages. Essentially a quick-routed filing system that develops its own didactic comprehension."

Upgrade approved, accepted.

"Really?!" gasped the fish. "You...you wouldn't mind if I made you a subject for this, I admit I have been wanting to find a willing patient for it before I start committing to its mass production."

Upgrade approved, accepted.

"Well...a-alright then, thank you Dronin! I will return shortly with a new chip, shouldn't be hard to find when most of us have them so just sit tight I won't be long."

Swimming down the tubes he bunged himself into his tankbowl-walker which lifted its legs upon sensing his neural feed, before walking out of his office as Dronin sat perfectly still with his neural processors exposed. Seven minutes passed, dust settled on him quietly as the sounds of gentle oscillations whirred and beeped inside his skull with no capacity for a care in the world. Soft bubbling waters and the tender sounds of machines communicating around him as Dronin listened in. Ones and zeroes eternally cycling through his mind as another ten minutes went. Then cometh the sound of chaos.

"EVERYONE HIDE!"

"GET BACK IN YOUR SHACKS, GET BACK IT'S THE PALE BOTS!"

"GRAB YOUR OILS AND BOLTS!"

Dronin lurched up and stepped into the sun, seeing robots scatter to and fro back to their houses as a cloud of dust came upon the horizon beneath the burning sunset. Walking forwards as he tried to scan the newcomers, he saw the sturgeon hurriedly run back from the scrapheap to swerve past him.

"D-dronin, Dronin get inside quick!"

The mantis silent pointed at the cloud inquisitive.

"That, th-they are brigands we have nothing to do with them, just stay out of their way!"

The jade swordsman watched on despite the sturgeon's increasing pleas, the storm gathering larger as the snapper struggled back and forth with stumbling robolegs in whether to flee or stand with him. Duty took precedence as he shuddered with regret, slinking over to Dronin's side as the shapes of monsters could be seen. Boars, beetles, seals and crabs all came with a small armada of falcons zooming forwards like miniature jets to stop and hover before them. As testament to their name, all of them had whitened plates to give a chalky appearance that turned darker beneath the red sky.

"ATTENTION TWERPS! WE ARE THE PALE BOTS, AND WE'VE COME TO ASK FOR ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY! YOU DON'T START NOTHING, AND WE WON'T START NOTHING EITHER!"

The falcons slipped back in a turning roll as the gang of thugs parted to reveal their largest member. A giant mechanical polar bear reaching towards 8 feet, grand claws with golden tips and a weapon's handle behind one of his shoulders.

"My apologies," began the bear with a deep bow, "my messengers tend to be rather excitable. I will not tarry you for long for I have come only with a single request."

"Whut you want?" Tortellini hobbled out of the shack nearby. "Your oil's not comin' for another month."

"No no that is not why we are here, must it always be business with us madame Tortellini?"

"When your punks threaten us an' take pot shots at us yeah."

"And as I have said before, if you have no proof I cannot do anything to prosecute." He patted her head with such force it sunk into her shell. "Let us not be a lawless society."

"Too late snow thug," her voice echoed before popping her head back up, "just say your piece and leave."

"Hmph. Perhaps I did not make myself clear."

"HRRRRRGHK!"

He drove his giant fist into her shell with such force that she went straight through the walls of her steel house like a cannonball, crumpling into the trashpile behind it.

"S-STOP, STOP THIS!" The sturgeon rushed forwards. "Wh-what do you want already?!"

"Ahhhh doctor." The polar bear turned with a respectful bow. "Perhaps you can help me."

"Please, we have very little here and we have been very respectful to you for giving up some of our oils."

"This is not a business matter I have already said. This one is personal. See, two of my scouts had returned telling me of a rather unfortunate incident in the woods south of here. A lone slicer had set upon them with cruel malice, killing one of their friends and crippling another in a rather terrible scene."

"A-a-a lone...slicer?"

"Y-YEAH HIM!" a stego shoved forwards pointing his horn at Dronin. "TH-THAT'S HIM BOSS, THAT'S THE JERK THAT KILLED SHELTON!"

"QUIET!" The bear backfisted the saurus with a hard smack that sent him rolling up the street. "Do NOT speak out of turn."

"S-sorry boss!"

"...now, as my scout rather rudely inferred, yes, a lone slicer with a steel arm set upon them without precedent."

"Wh-what?! Dronin did you..." the sturgeon turned back to him. "Please, t-tell me it was not you."

Dronin nodded as the fish deflated.

"Wh-why in the name of all that is binary would you DO such a thing?!"

The mantis stepped forwards and pulled out his blade as the Pale Bots reared back with aggression. The doctor moved back in fright as he saw his patient plant the tip of his sword into the dirt, scratching out a series of letters to explain himself.

PALE BOTS ATTACKED NATURE

"What?! Attacked nature?!"

"Well?" The bear turned to the stego who rolled back up. "What is your defence?"

"Th-THAT'S A LIE!" he barked. "WE NEVER ATTACKED NOBODY!"

"Your response, sir?"

The ursine looked to Dronin who scraped his first statement clean before correcting with a fuller statement.

PALE BOTS CHASED SQUIRREL, THREATENED TO EVICT, EVISCERATE AND ERECT ITS TREE

"N-NO, NO WE MEANT ERECT ITS CORPSE YOU-GUHH!"

The stegosaur buried his head into the dirt suddenly amidst gasps from the street.

"Seems you poisoned your own tongue," said the bearmech, "I will concede then that my scouts attempted to commit a senseless act of vandalism. However that does NOT excuse the vigilantism of your lone ranger."

"Well what do you propose?" asked the sturgeon warily turning his legs to him. "Your friends committed a crime and my friend defended an innocent creature!"

"Regardless your friend must pay reparations for an overenthusiastic sense of justice. I think a fair trade of one life for another shall do."

"What?! No, y-you don't mean-"

"The mantis dies to repay the death of my colleague." The ursine crossed his arms. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"But, he was just w-w-wait, WAIT can we not resolve this another way, s-some form of payment?!"

"How much do you consider a life doctor? You of all badniks should know that a life is priceless."

"You can't do this to him!"

"And why not?"

"He...h-he is not functioning properly, look at him, he's missing half a cortex!"

"He can write and understand well enough to accept his price, that makes him able to understand the consequences of his actions. Now the only question is, sir Dronin...do you wish to die on your knees or do you wish to stand and fight me?"

Dronin stepped forwards nodding in agreement, dragging his sword across the dirt to scratch out:

FIGHT

"DRONIN NO!"

"Wellll well, I am glad to see you do not disappoint!" The bear clapped his huge claws with the sound of two crates crushing each other. "Very well, doctor clear the way."

"B-but, NO I will not allow this!"

The mantis turned his head with a gentle nod, raising his hand to motion him away as everyone saw his scalp exposed revealing the bare CPU above the solar-hat which rested on his back.

"D-dronin...are you sure about this, th-this beast is far more ruthless than you would think."

He nodded once more and the sturgeon found himself at a loss, with no means to object left as he stepped back dutifully. The arctic bot took a careful bow towards his opponent.

"I take it you do not know of me, correct?"

Dronin shook his head.

"My name is Sawbert. I am the chief of the Pale Bots clan from the mountains. Now I understand you were not to know who we were and whilst I admire your dedication to the environment..."

He pulled the handle from behind his shoulders.

"I must not show weakness before my clan."

A gasp in unison came amplified from all as he revealed his wicked namesake, a giant sawblade the length of 4 feet more resembling an ogre's club than it did a saw for its sheer thickness. Dronin raised his lone hooked katana and carefully scanned his opponent.

"Have you ever performed in a duel, sir Dronin?"

He shook his head.

"The rules are simple. Weapons only. No sand in the eyes, no kicks, no punching. Trust in your blade for only one of us shall survive and should one of us only wound the other, that does not count as a victory. You understand?"

Dronin nodded.

"If I succeed in ending your program, then your reparation has been owed. But if you end mine...then I suppose the debt is nullified since I am the one who initiated it. Now let us begin."

The wind softly howled in tender notes from the sea as the sun melted below the waters far in the distance. Their blades shone with crimson as the villagers watched with bated silence, tightening the springs in their joints with fearful anticipation. The duelists became statues, gauging the other in the smallest motions the other would detect as two minutes passed without movement. Sawbert rushed first, pounding the earth with such force that the ground shook as he swung down with a mighty roar upon Dronin's head. The mantis dodged straight underneath his striking cut as the sawmace crunched into the dirt to leave a thick crater, dry soil cracking apart like an egg as Sawbert turned with a smile at his opponent.

Shivering bubbles burbled from the fish as his legs trembled with fear, praying silently for his friend when Sawbert came lumbering forth to take another brutal swipe, aiming for the head in a homerun that made the air above Dronin jerk violently to the side like the moon and the ocean waves. He dodgerolled fast and leapt back with a high jump to put distance between, the Pale Bots jeering at him for his inaction.

"COME ON YA COWARD FIGHT!"

"YEAH FIGHT YOU PUNK, WHASSA MATTER YOU RUN OUTTA RAM?!"

" ENOUGH!" Sawbert slammed his swordclub into the dirt, showering his entire crew with a blasting sandwave. "THIS is between myself and him, do NOT interfere!"

They kept quiet and sunk their heads down into their metal chests, shivering the dust from their joints as their leader turned back to face the lone warrior. Dronin waited for the next attack, the bear inching forwards to try and fake him out with a sudden half-swipe, followed by a thrust that Dronin swerved quickly from into the shadow of the beastly foe. Sawbert took a brutal sweep as the mantis ducked underneath, seeing the giant blade raise up halfway through its swipe to come crunching down forcing Dronin to leap back once again.

Despite the growing frustration of his minions, the bear smirked at the game his opponent was playing as he brushed his nose with a thumb and rushed forwards suddenly. With a giant baseball swing he roared and twisted half his entire body into the devastating blow as Dronin leapt suddenly high above him, landing immediately behind him for Sawbert to make another horizontal strike and another crushing cleave.

"_RRRRAAAAAA­ GHHRRRRKH! _"

Dronin stood in front of him. His giant saw never came down as he felt cold steel in the back of his tongue. Then his mind caught up to the sight of the hooked katana blade that had plunged through his jaw and carved deep through his central processing unit to sever his brain in half. His arms suddenly turned stiff as his circuits seized, his eyes desperately flickering his last moments as his head twitched with flickering sparks and oil trickling down Dronin's face. The mantis pulled his sword back and watched Sawbert fall to the ground as he bled fluid from the top of his head, subtle twitches rippling through his arms and legs with the sawclub thunking against the dirt with the weight of a torpedo as Dronin stepped over to the head and drove his blade carefully into the broken top. Without a word he wrenched the steel scalp off and put his sword down to dig into the cranium before pulling out a small black rectangular chip. He then walked over to show it to the sturgeon, revealing it to be a YM2612 speech processor.

"Oh...my goodness."

"H-h-he just...h-he just killed our boss," whimpered a pale crab.

"A-a-and he just ripped his," the stego started to retch and shiver through his body, "h-hoh cog I'm gonna puke!"

"This dude is a freaking psychopath WHY'D YOU PICK A FIGHT WITH HIM?!"

"I-I DUNNO, H-HE STARTED IT!"

"HE JUST LOBOTOMIED OUR BOSS!" screamed a beetle waving its limbs. "WHAT THE HELL WE GONNA DO?!"

Their answer came in the form of Dronin who walked towards them, picking up his sword beside the grizzly corpse as he wrote two instructions in the sand.

NEVER HARM NATURE. LEAVE.

They wasted no time obeying as soon as their circuits could, running over each other as they flew and scarpered in droves back towards the mountain, the scattering winds leaving a dust screen between them and Dronin who stared simply at their backs until he lost sight of them. All of the villagers were relieved and yet frightened as they came out gently.

"Th-that, was incredible," whispered a bee.

"H-he just, killed Sawbert with one blow, like he was nothing!" muttered a croc-beast.

"Who IS this guy like, seriously?!"

"That wuz damn fine work." The voice of Tortellini approached him as she wrenched herself from the hole in her wall. "Those thugs've been bothering us too long anyway, they gotta learn to fend for themselves without twisting our joints into giving 'em our oil."

"I am just glad that you are alright," said the sturgeon sighing deep, "I uh, suppose we have a new processor for you now."

"Yeah..." they looked over to Sawbert's body as Tortellini smirked, "I like this guy, he gets things done."

"Hopefully without such brutality the next time we must deal with things."

"You can't live in this world without breakin' a few legs."

"That is not how that phrase goes," he argued turning back to his office.

"S'how I've always known it," she shrugged cackling a dark rasp in her throat.

Dronin followed on after the sturgeon as the townsfolk swiftly moved on whilst the turtle mortician grabbed Sawbert's legs to pull him back to her house. The long trail of oil was the only evidence of his death for the remainder of the eve before night soon came and all its inhabitants went into sleep mode beneath sturdy roofs. During the night Dronin was given his new speech processor as well as the upgraded Auditory Babel Feed that the sturgeon so eagerly began to work on with excitable limbs twitching with glee in his chance to make it true.

It turned out much easier than he expected, realising shortly that the actual programming was far more loathsome than the physical side which only involved a few hookups and correctly feeding the cables back in on themselves for the full effect needed. Two hours later Dronin felt his scalp close finally as the red snapper pulled himself back to admire his work.

"Hoooo...that should be it, how are you feeling?"

"Acceptable."

"Ah...wellll I did have to transfer the data from your old processor so of course it will take some time for your syntax to catch up."

"Understood, doctor."

"So in a few days that should be a-...wait." He lurched forwards with a grin. "Did you just, call me doctor?"

"Correct, you are the doctor."

"AH! Y-you are using pronouns, just now OHHHH thank goodness!"

"Are pronouns significant?" asked the mantis cocking his head.

"Considering you have not used any since you first rebooted yes!"

"Your upgrade has made it possible." He stood up ready to leave. "Sentence structure was limited in my former capacity."

"Hhhhhohhhhh thank you," he fluttered his little fins relieved, "you have no idea how happy you've made me to hear you use pronouns for yourself."

"Correct, I cannot confirm the precise level of your emotional state."

"Hahahaha, hohalright then. It is getting rather late, will you be off to sleep soon?"

"Sleep mode shall be activated three hours and twelve seconds from this time," said Dronin crossing his arm over his chest.

"In that case, could I ask, I know I've been asking you so many things but, could you go find some local animals and see if you can speak with them? I just want to make sure if this new upgrade works before I sleep."

"Understood, I shall test your ABF and return with results."

"Thank you. OH and!" He reached out an arm to tap Dronin's shoulder. "If you see those Pale Bots again, please do not make things worse after what we went through today."

"So long as they do not harm nature, I shall not."

The sturgeon nodded curtly as Dronin left the clinic to make his way to the forest. Most creatures had fallen asleep to make way for a new cast of creatures as foxes and night owls hunted through the dark shadows. Eyes loomed at him from every corner with predator slits, rustling bushes and silent steps as wings and claws scraped through the air and traipsed through the undergrowth. The absence of fear Dronin exhuded however gave plenty of caution to all hunting beasts that he was not their prey, as they erred on the side of caution to slink past him unseen. The mantis searched for any living beast, but most would already flee either in fright or disdain at his appearance and the unnatural scents of acid and metal he wore upon his chassis. He found a stump to sit himself on, deciding instead it was best to wait for any creature to approach and show himself to be as harmless as he could, the cold winds of the forest night fluttering his robe slightly. Time would pass where only a faint screech or barking cry would echo off in the distance, the badnik taking this time to go into sleep mode briefly to save energy, eyes dimming to a close for an hour of darkness.

"H-hello?"

His eyes blinked open to a female voice.

"Um...c-can you hear me?"

"...correct." His voice took on a similar tone in response.

"Oh, thank goodness! I-i was trying to speak to you before but you didn't seem to hear me."

"I cannot see you."

"W-well. I can't, see the predators and such, can't let them know where I am of course."

"You are alive?"

"A...a what?"

"You are not a machine?"

"Well of course not," snickered the voice, "why would you think I was?!"

"Because I cannot see you."

"Well...fair enough I guess. Listen, do you remember a few months ago when you fought some other machines that tried to cut down a tree?"

"Correct," Dronin nodded.

"Do you still remember where that tree is?"

"Correct."

"Can you...meet me there please? It's safer for me to talk."

"Understood."

A short distance later he rediscovered the tree by the still-damaged trunk gouged with pincer marks. The sound of leaves rustling accompaned him from above as the mysterious voice raced on ahead, a flash of furry red that dove into the hole at the top of the tree.

"Hooo...hokay, that's much better." A squirrel's head peeked from the drey with shining eyes of black. "Sorry if I sound quiet my children are sleeping."

"Understood," said Dronin. "You are the squirrel from one-hundred days, seven hours and fifteen seconds before."

"That's...i-is that how long it's been?"

"Correct."

"Gosh...feels not that long ago. A-anyways I've been looking for you every day, hoping that you would come back so I could thank you."

"Gratitude is not needed," said the mantis tapping his chest, "my mission is to protect and preserve nature."

"Really?" She slipped her head out further with tiny paws resting on the trunk. "But you're a machine."

"Correct."

"My mother told me that machines destroy nature, like those white ones tried to with my home."

"My mission is to protect and preserve nature."

"Why?" The squirrel looked fearfully around herself hearing a distant shriek. "You weren't born from nature, your scent's not natural."

"I am craftted from metals." He sat himself down in the grass cross-legged. "The metal was once part of nature."

"But...still...s-sorry," she mumbled rubbing her ear, "I'm supposed to be thanking you and here I am insulting you like a nuthead."

"I am incapable of insult," said Dronin factually.

"And you even have the courtesy to speak my language, I-i've never heard any machine do that before!"

"I am the only one able to. I am testing my new speech."

"Well, I would say you speak it rather well!" she chuckled quietly with bulging cheeks. "But, yes, thank you for saving my family."

"Understood."

"But I actually wanted to...well, ask you something, since you're a machine and such. I'm coming out in a moment, please keep an eye out for predators alright?"

"Understood."

She went into her house and grabbed something shiny. The glint could be seen for miles and the squirrel felt her heart almost burst from her chest as she clutched the small metal thing in her paws.

"I'm throwing something down, catch it please."

"Understood."

The squirrel dropped the steel pellet into his hand as he caught it deftly. A diode shaped like a bulb without glass.

"That bloody thing is nothing but trouble, my son took it from those white machines and well, you saw what happened there didn't you?"

"Correct."

"I want you to take it away. You can call it a gift if you like, just please take it away from us."

"Understood." He put it in his satchel carefully. "Mission accepted."

"Hmhmhm...even when speaking my language you talk like a machine."

"My new speech is successful then. Thank you, squirrel."

"U-um...it's Alma." She gently rubbed her fingers. "That's my name. Do you have a name too?"

"Name. My name is- BZZRRT!"

R Y O U M A

"I-...m-my name...is- zzzrt!"

penny run

"Name...n-n-name...p-processing..."

He clutched his head beneath the rim of his solar unit, feeling a burning frenzy as his system started to overclock.

"M-my...m-my name is-"

"A-are you alright?!"

"My...name- BZZZRGHKH!"

felt my son's tears

"D-desist. Desist...Dronin."

The burning stopped, his mind slowly reasserting itself as he stood up with cold flickering eyes.

"My name is...Dronin."

Before she could ask him anything he walked back to the village in the midst of the dark, errors flickering through his cortex as he struggled to parse the briefest fragments that he had seen. Nothing made sense, as the squirrel looked on confused by the strange machine before turning back to her children and settling in for the night. She never saw Dronin again, but she would always remember her saviour of steel for the rest of her days.