jadedjada

Title: His Heart is Steel, Part 5
Summary: We look into the universe from which everyone’s favorite mechanical monster first originated. A meeting is placed and a plan is set, as we begin the series of events and inner turmoils that cause the once lovable Pollo to become the evil, vengeful villain known as Mechakara.
Characters: Pretty much just Pollo, and mentions of other people.
Warnings: Again...not much. Just angst, and insanity. You know, the usual.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all characters belong to their rightful owners.

That was quick! Part 1 is here, part 2 is here, part 3 is here, and part 4 is here. Enjoy!

The following day proved to be absolute Hell for Pollo, in more ways than one. For one thing, it was incredibly busy. The android was everywhere, helping Spoony and Insano in the lab, assisting Marzgurl in the infirmary, and prepping Joe and Lisa for when they went out scavenging. He also had to maintain the base on top of all this, but in fairness that part didn't prove to be so hard. There weren't many messes to clean up, and when there were, Liz was quickly on hand to take care of it for him, a job he was forever grateful to have had given to her. Through it all he got very few opportunities to see Linkara, and none to actually talk to him. He was as busy as anybody, after all. He was their team leader.

Still, it would have been nice to have something resembling a friendly face with him. For indeed, it seemed to him that no one else had one to give. Ever since he'd overheard those accusations made about him, he'd become all-too aware of his co-workers and the way they looked at him. Marzgurl was regarding him with complete disdain, barely exchanging words with him outside of a sharp order. And her concerns over his loyalty had evidently spread, for she wasn't the only one. Several times he'd caught Spoony gazing over at him with a mild suspicion, and even though Insano was far too absorbed in his work to really be paying anyone any mind, Pollo could still hear the blame in his voice. Even Joe and Lisa seemed nervous around him, and they were never nervous about anything. Yes, everywhere he turned he saw his so-called “friends” doubting him, judging him, labelling him a threat without any hesitation.

But no ones' doubts hurt more than his own.

He was still having those weird glitches, even more so than before. His assurance to Linkara that he was feeling better, that it was all just a freak incident, were lies. Complete and utter lies. And Pollo felt horrible for it, but he knew it had to be done. As far as he could tell Linkara was the only person who believed in him, who wasn't afraid of him. Hatred from his master was something he simply couldn't bear to think about. Something he would never allow to happen, if he could help it.

But it plagued him, oh how it plagued him! Those glitches were truly what made the day as unbearable as it was. Waves of anger, powerful anger, would hit him when he least expected it, and he would start thinking all manner of things he didn't mean in the slightest. While Joe and Lisa were chatting and making jokes, he would find himself amused one minute, and wanting to throttle them the next. Really throttle them, not just threaten emptily like Linkara sometimes did. When Insano complained about his hair getting in his eyes, and Spoony teased him saying he liked it long, Pollo suddenly got the powerful urge to shave both their heads with a weed-whacker. He didn't even want to think about what Marzgurl made him fantasize. He didn't even think he was aware of concepts that gruesome.

What's more, the more stressed he got over these glitches, the worse they would become. His head would start throbbing, his vision would blur, and he'd lose all bearings. All the while trying desperately to hide it from everyone, and thankfully succeeding, for the most part. But it was hard, so very hard. He blacked out once, not unlike he did on the day of the meeting, but this time only for a couple of minutes. How relieved was he to find that he'd done so behind the couch, with nobody seeing him! But he knew he couldn't keep it up for much longer. Sooner or later, someone was going to catch him swaying about again. And what then? How would he explain that to Linkara? Surely even he would start doubting him then.

Not to mention what people would say if they knew all that was going through his mind. He would unquestionably be a threat then. Even a monster. And the really unnerving thing was, he wouldn't blame them in the slightest.

This was a problem. A serious, serious problem.

So that night, when Linkara and Liz were still up and he was alone in their room, at last with some time to quietly think, his speculations nagged at him as he tried his best to figure everything out.

Was he being overwritten by PAOLA?

It seemed impossible. It was impossible, to the best of Pollos knowledge. Why would it happen to him now, of all times? For every other piece of technology, even Saucybot, it happened within a month of the initial outbreak. It just didn't make sense.

On the other hand, Pollo had never felt anything like this before. This utter, sickening violation of his thoughts, changing his emotions on a dime, making him question everything he knew and believed in for no reason at all. It seemed obvious that there was some sort of outside influence at work. And the possibility that it was PAOLA was a terrifying one.

Was this what Saucybot went through before she killed all those people? Was she still going through it? Nobody had seen or heard from her since it happened. They'd seen Burton, or rather a few of them said they had while out scavenging. He was apparently high-ranking in the machine armada, what with being an AI in his own right and all. Pollo wondered if the same thing had happened to Saucybot...if the same thing would happen to him...

What would happen if he did get overwritten? Would he hurt people? He didn't want to. He didn't want to hurt anybody. Even if they did disrespect him, even if they couldn't appreciate their own superior creation, those ungrateful brats that deserved to die...

C̵̭̙̰͎̻͍̯̩ͅl̀́͏͉̥̤̲͈̟͓ą̨̛̜̼̼̤s̷̥͎͔͔͙s̨͓̦̘̲̺̳̭̣i̛̟̟̥̠̯f̨͓͉̱̥͖̙́͝i̵̵͉̩͚̳e͏҉̝̞̗d̨̮̙̭̝̤̫͍͍́
̴̛̼̯5̶̩̣͔̜̺9͓͕̝̪̹̜̗͎ͅ8̦̦̩̝̤̱0̢̗0̨͚̣̦͚̣̫̘̰:̷̷͚̟̘̘̜̣̞:̵̟̝̗̣̤̺̞:̧̨̪͖̮͜M̢̨̛̪̻̺͕̮A̼̗̹̩̭͓͕G͢҉̠͔͉E̯̹N̵̮̗̘̤̗T̴̥̘Ḁ̪̺͖̀ͅ
̢̮͖̳̩A̵͖͇̙͜ͅL̶̖͍̺̖͚̫̩̭͡E͔̝̫͈͉̲̺͞͞ͅR̷̞̙̻̼̺͙̪ͅT͏͎ͅ.̡̗̲͔
̨̛̺̮̤̬̠2̠̬̭̘2̕͏͖̟̣̞͚̙̻͡%̱̖̬̺͜͟͡ą͈̘͚̻̙̭͈ǹ҉̜̮̳̘̠̥ḍ̵̵̨̹͎̟̫̫̙ͅ-҉͖̬̠̟̫̟c̶͈͍͔o̘͇̘͎̺͜ͅú͓͔̝̹͢ǹ̲̬̬t̳̤̦̼̯̦̬̤i̵̧̢̭̻͉̘͈̰̼̭͇n҉̢͇̟̤̯̬g̡̦͙̻R̵̞͈͇̤̜̤͉͎͟U̗̱̩̦͈̙͘ͅN̠̞͙͖̯͢
P̥̖̤O͏͕͉̠L̷̗̞̱L͕̮͙̜̕͘̕O̬̻͕̰̤̭̻R̴͈̩̤̠̣̩͚̰͟͡U̢͙̘̝̻͡N̸̝͈̟

...He couldn't take this. He really couldn't.

Pollo valued his independence, his individuality as an AI machine. But more than that, he valued his master, Linkara. Linkara, who would always be there for everyone, especially him. Linkara, who would do everything in his power to stop these evil machines before they hurt him. Linkara, who would never, ever, hide anything from him.

And here he was, hiding things from Linkara.

It tormented him deeply. It honestly did. But what tormented him even more was the thought of betraying his master in the end. Of hurting him...of killing him...and of breaking his heart as he did so. Linkara was his friend...more than that, he was his family. The only family he had ever known. It seemed an alien concept, doing anything to harm him. But if it was possible...

He had to prevent that from happening, at all costs. But what could he do? It wasn't as if there was a way to know for sure what was happening to him. There was nobody he could very well ask.

...Was there?

Pollo thought about the tasks that lay ahead for them in the next few days. Tomorrow he would be helping Insano and Spoony, all day, with nothing else. Liz was going to tend to the base, Marzgurl was going to be on infirmary duty alone, and Linkara was going to prepare for the next day with Joe and Lisa. After that, everyone would leave here. Go on their mission to retrieve what Insano needs. It would be a complicated journey for all of them, and also a long one. And Pollo would be alone with Nostalgia Chick all day.

Nostalgia Chick, who once she'd been tended to would really need little other than monitoring. And how aware was she of being monitored? Even when she was awake, she wasn't all that aware. The stupid bitch...

o̶̠͖͚͚͉̼̫͓̲̥̗̕̕ǫ͘͏̨̬͍̞̫̮̙̣̥̠̠̹͍̤̬́ò̴̖͕̟̦̰̝̤̞͉̪͕̀ͅo̢̹̪͓̟̼͕̗͖̖̼͕̦̗̪̝͇͜͟͝o̸̸̢̺̻̙̱o҉̧̦̪̼̟o҉̦͖̮̟̹͇̠̙̦̖̫͉̪͜͝ͅo͡͏̴̛͇̺͔̘͕̱͚ơ̘͓͈̦̩͕͙͇͎͇͈̣̝͓̩̼̳͘͡͝͡ơ̦̘̠̼̞͙͈̭ǫ̸͓̘̻̞̘͇͚̰̙̩͎̪̕ǫ̨̳̣̼̖̜̭̼̫e̵̡̱͉̪̹̭̮͇͚͉̞̗̯̕͟͡ͅe̶͓̦̳͉̳̬̪͇͘ę̩̲͔̫̯́͝ę̸͕̪͕̣̟̫̟̞̱͈̩̤͇͕ͅȩ̸̢͓̘̼̞̬̱̺̜̼̮e̡̨̤͔͎̫͔̤̟͔͟͞͡ͅͅe̵̜̦̖̳̘͚̜̥̲̹͓͟ę̸̷̶̤̘̳̗̰͓̜̭͙͎̣̝͈̗̰̖̱̗e̜͍͇͈͉̥̠̯͚̼̕͜e͏҉̜̲̮̲͖͙͈̠̗̤͉̭̥͕ḛ̡̨̜̙ͅȨ̵͖̪͕͇͈̩͖̠̥̫̞̟͎̟̦̗̀͡R̡̛̙̺̣̺̮̟̰̜̤͎̯͎̻̞̭̫̤̘R̵̢͎̫̰̻͚͉̰Ò̢̢̬̰͙͍̞̣̞̞̘͍̕͠Ṟ̶̴̨̛̫͇̰̜E̸̡͟҉̩͚̱͚͙͕͍͔͇Ŗ̘̱̗̦̲͍̫̀R͏̧̭̦͙̠̳͕̪̙̺̥Ǫ̴̡̺̘̱̪̖̥̟̕͟ͅR͖͉̪̥͓͉̯͙͚͡͠Ę̣̗͈̱͘͡R̵̶̳̞͍̬͓͖͙̫̳̟̥̖̞̘̠͜͢ͅͅR̺̮̗̭̖̪̖̹̘̮̥͚̮̩͞͞O̴̸̷̺̯̤̬̺̜͓͍̪̫̜͔͓̼̥̪̱̫͞Ŕ̷̤̼̜̠̟̯̟̮͟!̹̺̬̩̰̞̥͓̥̗͎̭̘͝͝ͅ#̨̛̩̫̞͉͇͖͇̗͚̭͘@̧͠͏̜̫̲͎̠͚̲̗̲̳̱̼͎ͅ&̶͏̣̘̟̟̫̮͖͇̹̹̯̬̞̟͖͡$̴̡͖̳̹͇̝̖̬̦̫̰̼͜͡ͅ^̷̘̭̦̙͖̦̯͚̥̭͚̳̫̪̜̜̝̮͖̀͟[͈̥̼̳̱̪̯̮͜͜ͅ[̧̛̰͙̖̠̹̼̱͇̪̘̙͟͢ͅp̵͎̘̲̙̖̥̮̜̟͖̝̤̻̯̠͖͜͢ļ̵̨̪͇̼̥͈̤͖͓̖̹̯̲̻̻̙́͟ͅͅé̶̷͇̣͚̼͈̭͈͕̩̟̣͜a̷̡̮͍̳̬̙͔̜͙̗͖͚̬̯͇͖̰s̡̜̫̖͜ę̧̬̖͍̱̭͕̪͇͍͖̥͇́͝
̴̺̦͚̺͙͟p̨̮͇̗̪͉̻̙̰̮̲͍̟̪ͅṟ̡̛̤͚̯̰͕͎͚̤͙͞͝o̡̰̰̠̲̫̮̦̥̰͓̳̙̫͈̪͇͉̻̼͞c̢̙̝͙͎̦̳̰͓̫̯̱̝̘̹̗̣̣͢ȩ̵̷͇̪̠̘̱͎̤̤̦̲̪͞é̴̢̠͚̼̳̪͉̭͔̕ͅd̵̳̮̬̲̘̕͟ͅ
̛͙͈̯̳̝̠͈̪̯̻͚̗͓͜t̴̛͏҉̠̼͕͎̹̹͠ǫ̜͔̭̙̯͞
̛̣̜͖̻̻̪̖̟̺͇̪͘͟͟͡Ì̛͙̪̪͍̩̖͔͚̖̳͇̣̼͎̙R̶̶͢͡͏͔̘̣̺͚̤̳̖̫͎̝̤̟̺̠̲̟͓Ǫ̸̷̢͈̗̮̭̫̭̰̮̗͇̙͝ͅǸ̴̹̠͕̲̠̥̝͔̮̗̮̳͈ͅY҉͈̰̱̪̲̻͙̗̥̺̠͉̫̮͠͞͡͡]̳͖͓̹͞]̷͇̳̝̯̬̞̲̲̖̜̳͚̣̩̼̕S̴̨̘̣͔̰̗͚͈̰̗̻̗̗̹̲̜͉̱͘͡Ẁ̢̀҉̯͚̻̦̲͔̥̩̘Ę̷̢̬͙͈̳̞̪̫̼͈͈̠̭̳̣̥̲E̡̤͍̫̹͙̭͍̝̥̪̲Ṱ̶̡̗͍͘Į̢͉͉̞͔̫̦̺͚̟͚͇̭͓̀R̵̶͏̦̮̻̩̱̟̦̜͚̹̦̤̣̬̘O̭̹̜̦̞̲͜Ǹ̶̢͙̰͇̠̘̳͝͡Ỳ͙̮̺̺͉̣͔̫͡
̴̢̧̦̞̲̭͍̣̦̫͔͠p̧͏̰̹̘͖̗̬o̯̜͉̺͇̣̣̭̜͞l̶҉͈͙̳̙͉̜͇̺͕̣̠̣̭̟̬̰̀͘l̫͖̘̤̩̭̱͚͢͢ọ̴̧̟͔̱̭͍̫̻̫̯̹̹̱̞̟͘͜o͔͍͖͉͜͝o̸̸̰͈̳̹̟̙̤͉̬͕̖͇̖̠̹̦̟̻o͏̯̭̥͈̝͚̲̰̻̠̀ͅ-̴͚̰̦͎͎̘̹̹̞͍̜͕̙̰̹̺̯̺̕͠͞y̢̯̥̤̳͔̥̺̰͉̮̯͎͝o͠͏̵̢̨͖̯̟̣̠̤̖̥͚̫ͅͅu̡͏̶̵̛̭͖̘̜͉͙͕̜͇͕͚̦̗-̸͟͏̭̥̦̹̻̱̹͓͚͚̳̫̰̭ͅd͏̢͈̳͚̹̜͔̦̥̩̮͜͡ò̷̫̰͇̫͚̦̠͍̤̳̞̮͍̬̜̲̲̱̺͜ṉ̡̡̢̝̜̤͇̺͈͠'̶̤͚̰̩̮̝͙̪̮͚̞̤͓͔͙̟̮̕͢ṯ̪̭͉̠̲̺̻͉̠̹̟̫̤͔̰͔͘͘-̡̨͟͏͍̰͔͎̲̯̠̥͈͙̻͚͠ḱ̸̨̘̪͕͕̦̠̩͉̯́͞ņ̷͙̼̝̠͎͕̮̦̦͚͈̞̭̖͕͙̀͟͡o̸͓̙͍̺͍̱͇̟͓̯̱̗͎̺̝̮͉͖͜͢͠w̸͎̗̲̤͜
-̀͟͏̦̗͍̦̙̺̯͓̲w̷̛͇̣̱͞h҉̷̶̪̥̭͚̟̯͍̝̥̰̱̤̗̰͚̳̥́ͅa̛̛̛̯̹̲̦̗͔̻̯̣̺̘̯̣͖̜͢ͅt̛͢҉̟̲̠'̷͟͞͏͈̗͉͔͈̘͇͇̺̮̤ͅś̸͍̩̦̙͉̫͙͉͚̮͖͍̲̭̝͈
-̷͔̦̪̖̼͎͓̘͇͓͟͡͡ͅg̀͏̡̧̻̱̫͓̘ǫ̵͜͏̭͎͖̟̜̫̮̲͚͖̩͉̹̥͘n̶̵̢͍̱̯̘̤̼͇͈̞͙̙̼͚͍͢n̷̦̖̘͍͕͍͔͢͝ͅa̷̶̢̕҉͇͕̺̫̠̻͈̝
-̷̹̳̗̀h̼͙̗̟͉͟͝a̸̸҉̵̭̤̲̟͎͚̜͉p̶̡̜̗̦̟̯̭͓̘͓͖̦̰̱̞̗̳͠ͅp̢̫̖̦̜͙̞̮͚͈͙̫͠e҉̡̩͍͖̩̀͟͞ń̶̠͖̜͈͍͇̩̘́:͜҉̨̲̥̗͖͖͖̝̪̼̪̳̙̥ͅ
:҉̶̨̨͉̠̘̗̜͡:̧҉̵͉̠̣͍͇̯̹͍̤̼͡ͅ:̵̨̢͍̭̫̦͙̲̦͜
̷̡̪̘͔̹̥̞̼̬̖̻̺͖͖̕͢͡:͚̺̮̦͈̦̘̲́͢ͅÇ̷̪̺͇͖͙̞͔̯̱̗̖͍̦̞͟͝
t̡͝҉̜͚̩̗̦̥̭̱͖̺̱̠̳͚͕͙͝r̵͏̤͙̦̘̝̱̝̩̻̦̦̫̙̜͇͈ͅl̢͏͖̺̲͕̮͔̘̟̞̫͔̜̤̗̥̀
͏̴̴̟̬͔̬͙̪̱̞̹̜̲͈̼́͘ͅͅ+̶̱͕͙̦͈̗̖͕͈̥͉̩̤̻͙̼̪͖͖̀̕͢
̵̴̢̪͉̰̞͇͠Á̡͇̦̰̺̰̣͍̙̩̙̤͎̼̰͜ļ̹̖̗̘̭͕͈̰͇͙̫̖̘̬͓̪̱͕̮͢t̴̵̢̧͇͎̼̞̲̳̣̞͙̮̲̣͚͎̬̮͎̞̦͟
̵̳̖̭͙͇̕͝+͟͡͏̰̟͙̱͎̭͇̖͓̻̩̼̟̝̭̺̲̝
D̷͙̖̩̫̪͖̪̦̝͕̟̩̭͈̫̬ͅè̢͔̖̣̝̘̭͉͚̯̝̲͔͘͘͟
̷̴̩̤̞͓͓̱̲̜͝ͅͅl̵̨̛̛͍̙̼̼͔̞̯͚͔̩̺͍̬͕̩̲̺̙̕
̵̝̹͉͕̻̬͈̥̩̫̬̳̣̣͞

Focus Pollo, focus. He thought, shaking his head.

This was an opportunity for him in some way, but he wasn't yet certain how. He needed to figure some things out, figure out what exactly he had to do. A part of him didn't want to do anything. For one thing, it would mean possibly lying to Linkara again. For another, he was scared. Of what, he wasn't sure. But something told him he had plenty to fear about the future.

Paranoia, maybe. Brought on by living with the enemy...

@̡̲̙̪̰ͧ̉̿́̑ͦ̿͐͑̂̈́̓̈ͥ̀́)̵̸̧̹̭̫͉̣̣̼͖̘̖̤̯́̇͑̈ͣ͌͂̏̾̔ͦͫͥ̇̓̀̓̚͞ͅ@̷̧͚̦̙͇̝̉̒͊͒ͮͨͥ̌̏̌̄&̛̿͌̓̌̈̀̂̊̈̾ͦ̓͆͑̈͏̸҉̨̝̪̲̟̖̟͎͇̙͉͕͖̞͓͙%̶̠͇̥̪͙͚͖̫̹̝͎̼͇̼͚̤̑̍̉ͮͩ̐̋́̈́̾̉̏͛ͭ̄ͪ̔͊̓͝͝#͚̼̱̟̭͎͕̱̫̤̳̄̎ͪͭ͊͋̓́͘͟ͅ*̢̻̦̙͙̯͓̜͇̯̦͕̖̼̙͍̰̥͕̦͂ͤͧͥͣ̍ͭ͛ͫ͜͠%̂̅͗̎͆̃̾ͣ̔ͭ͋ͬͩ̃̈́͊͗̄͜͝҉͕̣̗̰̩̱͇̠̪͓̣&̸̵̨͈̯̖̖͈͈̠̞̤͕͓̩̞̫̺̝̱͒̾̒̏̇͒̓͡ͅ$̷̸̞͍̲̙͚̎ͫ͆̐̍ͨͥ͗̆̋͢͝#̸͓͍͕̖̙̤͍̞̳̟͉͔̮̪̄ͭͯ̄ͧͫ̈̂̓̍̿ͧͥͅ%̸̧̘̰͚̰̼̹̘̰̗̗̩̣͗̏͂̌̂̒ͫ̐̋̅͌͐͆̏͜ͅ#̻̫̥͈ͮ̒ͣ͐͛͆̂̃͆ͪ̇̉̅̅͞ͅ&̷̗̼͈͉͚̜͓̹͓̘̰̿͌̅̋̒ͥͬ̍̔͟^̶̴̜̬̜̗͙̜̰̣͔̱̥̞ͫ̀̍͗ͯͦͦͬ͠%̢̎ͦ͂̾͒͂͊̀̋͒̾͏͎̞̣̩̫̲̟͓͇̠̩̞

̴̸̷̨͙͙̯̲̱̩̼̖̥̱͉͍̲̪͉̳̠̪͆̍ͩ̈ͬ͌̐ͫ͐͘C̵̡̠̥̟̟̟̰̙͚̲̮̟̹͉̥̬͚̜̒̊͌̎̑ͨͦ̽͂̉̒͜͠͞Tͮ͐ͤ͋́ͮͩ̅̑̍̈́ͨͤ̾҉҉҉͚̹̪̘̞̺̣̳͇̟̺̳̥̹
Ř̵̴̡͉͉̞͔̘ͥͤͭͧͬ̌͛̓͑Lͮ̍̉͂̇̽̑҉̶̧̱̹͚̮̱̫̗̣̘͈̝͖͈̰̬̠̹͕ͅĀ̡̛̛͇̦͙͔̫ͥ̈ͣͭͧͨ̚͢͡L̨̡͇̖̦̞͓̩̇̓̐ͤͦ̐͞ͅṪ͈̲̺̝̣͈̲͕̼̹̙̙̖͍̿̊̑͆̏͒̊̃͆ͦ̋̽ͫͣ̈́ͮ̑̀́͞ͅ
D̑̐ͥ̌̃̿̅̾͑͌͊̎̈́ͣ͌̾͢҉̢͏͓̣͔̦͇̳̞͖̥͚̝̣È̢̯̱̼͚̱̠̯͍͇͚̯̩̯̭͓ͩ̓̃̄̿ͦ̈̚͘L̴̨̘͔̹͎̰̲̝̼͙̙̟̱̜̻͉ͦ̾̓̿͆̓ͥ̀͗ͤ̐̈ͥͮͫ
C̘̩̣̥͙̙̰͉̲̖̝͆͋̔ͫ͗̂ͤ̅̏́̀Ť̷̵̘͍̫̲͕͙̪̜̲͇̣̖̻͙͉̤̣̳̅̃ͩ̉ͥ̂̽͊ͣ͜R̸̸̩̩̲̙̩̦̞̤̝̼̺͈̫̤̠̖̋͑́̉ͨ̿͊̋ͥͯ̔́̂̓͋͌͆̈͂͟
L̛̤̣͙̫̰̪͕͕̱̋̓ͩ̊ͩͫ̃̋͗͟A̴̡̻̠̼̳̎͒͂ͨ̒ͩ̉́̚͜ͅͅL̔̄̑́̍ͩ̏ͩ̒̿ͪ̑́ͨ̆̊͒͒̕͏̴̣̥͔͓̟ͅT̸̛͍̼̰̭̘̙̳̼̠̞̘͕͚͕̈́̋̓̋ͭͣ́̀
D̛͉̯͉̹̭̰̼͚͙͔̤͓̺͇̖ͤ͛̂̍͂̇ͪ̉̒̅̈́͌̍̑͊̄̉̈̏́E̛͖̺̩̬̬̱̭̦̙̮̰͒ͨͮͩ͂ͬ̎͋̇̏̀̍̅ͥͭ̄́́L̶̛̞̬̲̜̺̮͍͖̹̞̪̓̄̾̅̔̽ͨ͐ͫͣͮͣ̑̏ͦͦ

They are NOT the enemy!

Thank God no one heard that.

That settled it, then and there. Pollo had to do something about this. Had to. And tomorrow, he would figure out what.

He sat down on his stool, in what he felt in part to be a useless gesture. There was no way he felt like sleeping, not now. Still he knew he had to relax. Relaxing would make this...whatever it was die down for the time being. He needed as clear a head as possible if he was going to go through with this. And he was. He'd made up his mind.

He was not going to hurt anyone. Not now, not ever. Whatever lay in store for him...he was determined to remain loyal to his comrades.

And to himself.