His Heart Is Steel, Part 9

[jadedjada]

Title: His Heart is Steel, Part 9
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: Pollo, Nostalgia Chick
Warnings: Death again. That's right. More of people dying. And angst, and violence, and...Jesus, this is a dark chapter. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all characters belong to their rightful owners.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, and part 8, at your leisure. Enjoy!

Pollo didn't know how long he stayed there, in shock, unmoving, surrounded once again by the still quietness of the empty base. In time, he began to unwind and collect himself again. The others had still not come back, thank Heaven, and whatever had happened with PAOLA and those drones was now lost in the other end of the country. He was safe.

Slowly, quietly, he began to hover out of the lab he was now in, and moved down the hallway, trying to think. His mind was abuzz with different emotions and thoughts, and he could feel his stress levels rising as he attempted to make sense of it all.

What was he going to do?

He had succeeded in getting what he wanted, in some sense. He wanted to find Saucybot, in the hopes of figuring out what was going on with his mind. He wanted answers, and answers he got. The very exact answers he'd hoped and prayed would not be true. And now he was none the better for it. Right back where he began, only this time more terrified than ever.

C̶͖̟̰̗͓ͪͩͭa̦͕̣̥͚͈̒ͧ̾ͣͤ̾́̚͝u̡̗̼̭̦̫͔͚̿ͥ̓ͮ̓ͦ̽ͨ́͠ť͈̞̥̲ͥͨ͒̐͗̈́̔͝͝͠i͔̲̹̪͈̠͍ͮ̓ͥ̀͌͝o̠͔̤̣̪ͬ́ͧ͐ͪ̊ͅͅn̸̶̈́̒ͩ̿̃̈́͏͎̝̺:̵̸̘̰͉̲͚͓͗́̉ͦͮ̓́́
̢̺͚̟̳̬̬͛ͮ́͢͞r̤͕͂ͧ̑̌́̃e͎͚ͦ̇ͭͯ̑͒̇̿͘͜ḑ̬̭͇̪̈́̅ͧ̿͆̈́̚r̬̘̯͕̣̫ͦ͛̄͛͋̽u̢̦̥̻̞̣͙̗͚͛̿ͧ̊͂̂ͥͥ͡m͕̞͑̈͐̆̒͒r̜̹͓̀ͪ̃ͩ̍͞͡ǫ͉͕̥͇̹̼̹͈̓̀͒̎g̋̉҉̣̯̖̠ù̬̞̘̪̜̦͚̋̂̈́̓̚͝͡e̲̘̜̻̺̗̒̂͊͢͡rͤ̌ͧͬ̂̏̄͐҉̮̻̝̲͇̲͓̱̕͜e̹̲̱̘̦̠͗͑ͭ̉͂d̷͕̝̤̰͙̥̺̠̾ͦ͗͒ͫs̷̡͖͖̩͚̯̰̣̱͎̋ö̷̴̙͔̯̠ͨͯ͗ų̥̤̒ͤ̐ͥ̈l̷̴͍̳̻͚̦̤͓̏̓̏͂͠2̰͔̹̔̿ͩ̌͒ͫ͞͞4̯̜̱̪̒̐̂͑̅͗̍͠͡3̷̵̝̲̣̥̩̲͒ͣ̀͑͑̃ͬ͆8̙̼̘̻̮̮̓͆͗5̡̨̘͎̫̅ͨ̓͋͐̎́7̧̙̟̜̐̈́̑̍͒̈4̷͍̺̲͍͔̱̣̅̎ͦͤ͢͟3̞ͯ̎́͘ͅ4̛̥̩̮͇̖̦̱ͣ͊b̵̴̪͂̔̓͝ḷ̟̟͓͉̬͖ͭ̉̋ͪ̐̀́u̸̧͈̗͋ͨͨ̉ͭẽ̤̭̟̿͋̀͝s̴̪̬̬̥͕͉̟̥̓̒͐̅̌̃o̵̠̻̱̩̫ͣ̐̂̈́ͬ̊̔u̴̩͖̦̽ͤ̐͘l̡̖̩͖͍ͪ̓͂ͦ͆̋̒ͪ!̴͈͖̳̦̥͑͌̄͋̍̄̇̅ͬ̕@̵͎͉͕͕̬͆̇ͧ̂͛̔͋͊̈͘$ͫ̔̅̋̓ͭ̓̍̆̕͏̟͉͍̱̬͘#̸̡̢͇̫̈́̄ͥ̑̾͌̚*̻̱̩͊̑̇̔͌̍ͦ̀͠%̵̛͕̜̤̼̼̙̄ͬͩ̂͂̇͑ͭ̇͘ͅ&̤̲̖̩̰̹͍͙̎ͨ͝$̡͍̗̦̗̼͖̙͚ͦ#̵̣͓̝̩̇͂̔̍̊$̢̪̞̪̎͗́͒̀̚ơ̵̭͈͚̣̝̰̹̯͇͌͌̂͌̾h̡̫͍͕̯̫̓̎̄͊͗̕͟-̺̲̬̝̮͙͓̳̟͐ͩͭ̆͢n̊̍͋̾͏͍̥o͚̥̣̮͖̞͎̞̠ͤ-̨̱̯̻̳́̐̆͡i̬͇̠ͩ͊̏̈̄͗ͨͮt̩̺̫̘͍̺̹̦͆͆̃̽̾͒̒ͣ̈́͝'̷̝͇̦͇̣̒ͣ̅ͯ͊́̀ş͙͔̦̝̪͐ͨ̆ͅ-̿ͨ̽̒͋ͩ̂͂ͬ̀҉̤͎͈̞̬͉́h̥͉̞̮͇͖̐̈́̆ͭ̿ͩ̄͘͘a̢̞̞̘̝͔̓ͭ͌͑ͫ̉̉͜p̺̒ͭ̎̿͘͢p̷̩̰̒ē̛͔͔̥̟ͥň̖̥̪̯̖̽ͧ̀i͑̊̉ͪ͏̖̣̠ṋ͓͓̤̦̹̻͓̜ͣ̉ͤ̂͘͡g̸ͫ͗̉͑҉̠̤̗̮̯-̴̸̰̼̇͞a̭̞͔̱͍̘̽͊ͣ͡ǧ̴͚͔͓͒͛͟a̤̰͍̤̪̙̟͕̽̐̓͘͜i͆͐̀͞͏̴̮͖͓͉̲͔̹͎̫n̬̖̹̠̳̿̿̃̇͐ͯͥ́͘-͙̲̏̏ͫ̅ͯ̊͛ͣ̕C̴̢̲̲̩̱̩̞̰ͪ̉̑ͥ̊̐̿ͭͅt̙̿̉̐ͦ͐͛ͧͪ̅́r̴͎̯͕̻̻͓͕̔̈́̒͝l̶̹̝̤̳ͫ̍̌͂̍̌̍͗̄+̰̬̺̹̪̘͈́͂͞Aͦ͐̑ͪ̿ͫ͝͏̪͉͇̫̗̹ľ̡̲̥̭̟̩̖̦͈ͥ͡t͇̰̘̻͇̺̥̉̉͂ͪ̕+̞̹̯̗̟̬͈͋̐ͨͥ͗́͋͘͟D̸̸̰̙̈́ͮḙ̭̩̝̮̤̩ͪͮͮ͗͢͞l̸̨̳͙̺̼̤͓͍͒̇̔͂͞ͅͅ


The others had been right all along. PAOLA was in his head. It was trying to weaken him, to confuse his emotions until he ran out of resolve, and then take control when he was vulnerable. And as far as he knew, it might be succeeding.

E̴̜͊̔̈ͯ̆͘r̶͇̤̘̼̳̖͊ͮ͒̊̈́̎͗ͭ́͜r̘͉̝͉̦͈͚ͨ̏̓̕ô̗̌ͯ̈͂̇͌͟͠r͂̾̉҉̨̛̱͇̗̘͕͙!̬̲̞̝͍̋ͥ̎
̶̸̝͚̲͍̻̎͞S̷̪̫̼̝͔̐̐ͮ̒͑̚e̶̛̝͈̣͔̜̼̝̬ͣ͌̓ͤ̃r̵͎̬̯̆ͧ͆́̓͌͗ͯ́ǐ̡̭̺̇̏̔ͭ͒ợ̘̇̈̏̆̀ǘ̡̬͇̱͕̪̝̓̆̑̏̚͟s͙̬̯̜̥̳ͧ̓͗ͥ͞l̡̜͍̬͆̇̉̀ͥẏ̺͕̹
̧̨͉͉̻̞̀̃͌ͫͦ͘g̢͔̹͕ͥ̓͊͛u̿ͯ̅̋͏̷̶̫̠̼̮̯̝y̢̺̟̳͔̓ͪ̃̑̀̀s̾͒͋̋̍҉͔̖̠̹̮̣͉͍͔,̴̢̞̤̗͑͊
̡̱̲͓̄̃͛́̈́͋͢m͔̲͐͐ͣͪ̔̚͡a̴̢̟͕ͯ͒̆̋̈j̸̡͖̬̉̿͂̈̄̾̓̕o̓ͣ̌͏̜̟̹̳̯͖̹̠̬r̪̗͊ͮ͂̽̇ͪͭ̐̊͟ͅ
̣̭̰̃̉̾̈́̽͂ē̷̩̫̲̦̟̝̫͎̜̌̕r̓͆ͫͨ͏̼͎̻̠̤̰͞ȑ̠̼̰ͯͩ͒̍͜͠o̸̵̤͉͚͉ͨͥ͑̅͆ͪ͂͛̈́r̙͔̱̩͙̤̳͉̣̎ͣͪͫ͒̾͛!̣͉̠̜̼͗ͫ̏ͅ
͐̊͏͓̭͟C̵͎̦̹̗̙͈̹͑̏̒̔̕͞t̵̮̤̺̹̃ͪ̓͒ͧͫ͡ŕ̜̯͚̠̣͉̱̓ͯl̳͓̘͊ͭ͌̇͑ͨ͒̿ͦ+̛͈̼̖̙̏̂͊͞ͅA͉̬͓̖̱̗̣̜̓ͪͭͮ́l̡̡̮̣̳͓̼͗̄͡t̨͖̱̺̙̋͌ͫ͜+͙ͧ͘D̡̪̞͆͋̉̄͌̄e̞ͮ̔ͮ́̅̂̃̃͝l͇͕̉͛̀̕͢!̨̥͎̟͓̖̦̅̊ͮ̈͑̑
̴̼͓ͥ͒̿͐ͮ͘͡P̣̟̲̹̋̇́͠O̺̙̱̫̮̊̔̇̍̊̆̒̚L̜̟̺̚L̩̝̮̹͚͚̏̈́̇ͦͬ̌̐̚͞O̸̦̥͍͉̦̜̿̉̔̄́̾̀̅-̛͓̻͔̞͌̄̑͐̑͠͠-͍̦̗͖̗̦ͤͦͩ̏̄̿ͤ͠-̼͕̣̙̓̂ͪ̿̕͘͜ý̨̘͙̳͑͊̀̕o͓̠̰̣͗͋͌͋͌ͥ̓̏ͦu̠̯̝̯̙̫͛̆ͯͤ̐'̨̜̭̹̭͖̑̓ͬ̉r͑ͣ̇̎͏̶̺̮͇͎͍͓͇̀ȩ̝̻̩͉͔̞͈̺̂ͬ̇ͭͪ͑ͣͧ̆́gͦ̾ͯ̂͏̶̦̬̺̘̝̹̱̝̕
õ̢͚̫͔͉̺͍̦̌̽̓͌̅͗i̷̥͔͈̺̮̲̭̠̍̑̀n̪͔̗̩̟̤̰̑̄ͭͣ̉̆ͬ̚͝ǵ̨̨̩͍̞͚̰̟͡tͧ͢҉̙̯ͅo̶̢͕̤̫̻͓̱̤̱ͪͩͩ̊̐m̳̬̻̤̣̰͔̼̾ͬ
a̧̠͍̋͗͘͜k̪͆ͧ͌̔́̅̿̈́͜e͓̘͔̱̼̒̏͌́͢ͅaͤ͆ͣͧ̀ͪ̆҉͎̤̬̠̣͚͙͘ͅͅb͒̊ͪ̍̅͗͐͢҉̩͇̝̟̦͚̤̩͟i̧̤̐ͦ̆̈̂̃ͮ͌ͯg̸̛̖̣͈̲̳̠͍̹ͩ͑̋ͪ͡m͎̼ͬ̓͆
i̵̲̩̱͍̳͔̎̀ͤ̈́ͥsͬ͌͏͍͇̭͖͍̳̀t̟̘̙̜̳̰̙͌͊ͤ́͟a͍̦͕͓ͥ͗ͮk͙̼͑̿͂ͬ̑ͧ̀̌́̕e͔͂ͥ̂̋͐ͨͪ*̓͂̈ͨ̏ͥ̎҉͖̮̺͈̩̝͉̳͟(̐̈́́ͮ̃҉̮̜͕̠̱̲͉̠̀͘
)̧̛̰̞̫̘̻̰̋̐ͤ̊̆#̶͖͇͇̤̣͉̠̰͒̈ͧ̿̇̕@̲̯͓̭̓ͥ̈́~̴̰̮͙̼̣͎̽ͩͩ́!͎̾̓̐̂̓

He had to fight this. Some way or another, he had to fight this. But how? There was no where he could turn, no person he could go to. Nobody trusted him. Even Linkara, who Pollo wished desperately that he could seek comfort in now, would surely turn him away if he knew of what was happening. He would hate him. He would be right to hate him.

Ṕ̮̣̺̮͚̇̃ͨ̑̚̕l̑͊̍̒̓͒ͮͩ҉̼̳͕̥e͆͗̀̓͠҉͉͍͙͟a̛̞̙̰̬̭͔ͭ͑͊ͬ̌̄̓s̔̐͏̹̞̦̟̮̤e̸͍̪͑ͣ͘͝
̧̭̮̪̱͕͐̽̓ͤ̍ͮͬͭ̓͢ȩ̢̝̬̝̱̱͚̪͂̈́̓ͥ̐̎͑͆x̴̡̳̰͔͇̜͎̗͕͑͛ǐ̢̺̪̪̭͕̍͘͞t͕̫͈̤̺͖̋̅ͬ͋ͥ̇͆͟
̜͖͖̹͔͍͊̊͊ͭt̡̯̬̲͎͔ͭ̆̌ͮ̇ͅh̗̯̯̭͚͕̲͛ͨͣͪ̄̒ͤͅi̶̶͇̗̦̘̳̻̿ͧ̏͌̅ͮͨ̆s̥̰̩̙͒̍̿̈
̡ͪͮ̆̔̀҉͇̬̟̼̣͙̱̥͔d̶̮̯̬̬̲̝͆͂͑̈͑̀͟ȩ̳̫̘͈͓̘̩̣ͫͭ̈͆ͨ̄̚͡n̨̗̬̞̞̫͒̈͗ͬͦ̅̐̀i͚͈̮ͧͥ͟a̧̻̘̤͙̥̐̿ͅľ̶̘͓̫͇̹̌͢
̸͔̭̂ͦ̉͘a͈͇̓ͅn̮̩̥͓̽̀̉̓ͬ̚dͩͨͬ͏͉̞̰̖
̼̺̟͖̬̫͔͆̊͢ͅp͙͈͔̬͙̟͇̻ͧ̈̎͗̊r̗̳̰̪̞̞ͣ̉̅̂ͨͤ̅̎̄o̹̻̱ͨ͛̓͆ͯ͡c͔͈̼̼͉͍̯̖̔̏ͫ̅͆ͥ̓́͢͞e̋ͫ͆͏̥͎e̸̛̥͕̙̬͇̟͙̐̎ͧ̅̆d͎̪̣̽ͪ̀ͦͧ͡͝ͅ
̶̰̝̠ͩ͗̓̄̚̚̚͘͘t̶̿́̽̊̃̑҉̧͖̞̲o̤̙͕̺̹͓̯͗ͩ͘
̛̹͓̺͎͙̯̤̮̆̎̂̋ͮͫ͞+̢̧̡̜̞̌̅ͯ͂=̿̊ͬ̇͏̹̱͚͙̳̙̯-̛̤̞̝̺ͩ͗͑̔̈́ͣ͘x̝̩̮ͪͥ͛̃ͥͤ̅̉p̧̥̭͍͑̀̓͑́ͪ͋͊r͑ͤ̃ͨ̃͑ͯ̃͒҉̥̤͈ͅŏ͍͓̼̤̥̗̫̮̠͌͜c̢͍̤͖͈̼̦͓̉͆̽̂ͩ͐ė̢̪̣̖̞̤̲̘̞ͦ͊͠ě̾̄̌͑̑͋͝҉̡̬̲̝͖̩̭̗̦e͖̪̮̖͈͈̩̙̣̒ͪͫ̄͛͒̂͘e͔̜̣͊ͤ̑ͣ̆ͧ͒̀͠e̬̲̺͇̮̾͆ͭ͂̔ͨͤ͆͡e̷̱̗̙̘̫͊̾͑͊ͥͮ̉́̚͘e̷̓҉̟̼̥͇̟̗̣̳͠ę̷̼͖͔̈ͩ̍̆͑e̤̜̲̅̃̎̉d̸̛̬̦̗͉̳ͩ̈͑͢
͓̃́͠͞t̺̪̘͕͙̜͖͇̯̃̿̈ͧ͐ͮͯ̒o̧̥͉ͬ́͒́́͛̔̚͟o̶̧̗͍̝̗͈͍ͩͥȏ̲̗̜̭̻͉̘̰̍̄͛̾́ơ̛̋̒͆̉̏̈̊͏̥̩̪͔͚͓͔̝ͅo͓ͬ̿̇͒͋̄͊͞o̴ͬ̅ͯ͒̀̕҉̤͚͉͕̝̬o̸͈͓̤͉͎̫̓̂̏̍̒ͧ̓̆ͅő̵̷̻͙̩͔̯̬̠̬̯ͮ͗͑̂̿̓͟oͩ̌ͭ̽̓̇͏̗̪o̞̣ͯ͛̎͞
̢̧̱̗̙͒̿C̙̖̓̊ͨ̿̀tͯ̂̍҉̯̦͔̯͚̭r̶ͬͬ̋̈̓͑ͣ̋҉̺ͅl̔̃́҉͏̶̣̟ͅ+͚̞̠̩̼̥̽̋̌ͪ̇̒͋ͅA̝̱͉̹͐̾̚͞ļ̼̰ͩ̍̅̀͞t̴̨͕̣͍̣̦̗͚ͩ̏͆ͤ͌́
+̨̛̛̳̓̌ͬ̍̏ͬ͒̔D̠̺͓̜̯͍̊̅ͤͨͫ͜͟͢e͖̦̟͔͚̋͐͂͜͞l̶ͮ̊̑͜҉̼̻

He entered the infirmary, stumbling like a zombie. There was Nostalgia Chick, perfectly fine, as preserved as ever. Just lying there, without a care in the world, while the respirator hummed and the monitor beeped. Lying where her robot had condemned her.

Poor Saucybot...he gave his heart out to her memory, grieving for her fate. Even knowing the things she'd done, he couldn't believe she deserved it. No machine did. No machine should have their will taken from them so completely as hers was. As his was becoming.

Stay true to yourself. Remember who you are. That's what she advised him, what she meant to say amidst all her insane ramblings of colors and birds. Keep your soul blue. And he would, for her, he surely would. If only he knew how.

e̶̴͇̥̪͓̳̟̬̒ͨ͝e̳̰͍̦̬͓̦ͦ͊̋̅́͗̊̈́͞ͅm̧ͬͨ҉̺̳̝̠̹̟̤̱ǫ̫̹̺̙̞͖̒̾̓̏̓͘͟z̶̳̦̻̈́͡ͅã̛̞̦̮̜̥̉̃̇͝͞ͅl͌̊̚͡҉͔̦͇͍̱g̖̭̖̯̩̭ͪ̉̇ͥ͋̊̅ǫ̨̤̺͎̱̝̳̦̦ͥ̋t̜̞̠ͫ̔̈́͛̐̆̐ͨ̚͜e̷̸̺͓͖͇͚̦͍͆ͯͯ̑́x̱̹́̂͊̎̓̅͆ͯ̂ṱ͙͎̻͚̾͐̀͞a̴̝͍̖̥͓̮͂͆̕h̜̯͚͐͂͛̾̏̔̽̀͜ó͂ͧ̓҉̣̭̩̤̮y̸̠̥̞̳̟̝̝͐ͯ̀ͨ̀ͣ͐͡ͅ!̸̢̞̤̰̖̈̀͘5̸̡͕̮̳͔̮̮̓ͥͥ̌͞2̴̡͇̘͇̫̑̈́ͤͮ̈́̉͗ͯ5̛̺̟̖̬̂͟6̸̠͕̊͑̌̉̄͛̽͂͡0̴͇͇͔̤̯̐͊̃ͪͫ0̸̛͚̜͛͐͘-̧̟̊̂ͫ̑͛͘2̭͇̝̺̺̪̞͓̺ͨͫ̉ͪͭ̕4̶̢̩͚̀6̷̲̓̇̅͋͠ͅ0̦͙̪̙͖̼̬͒͆͐̌͟1̠̤̝̮͉̹̱̪̍͌͂͑̂͞-͖̮͎͇̠̉̉͗ͪ̉̔̎͡4̨͍̜̀̂̓ͦ̈̚2̖͓̲͙̲̦͕͖̈́̍̑̿͝͡.͕̹̦̯̫̮̃ͪ̇ͯ̈ͫ
̡̛̞͍̓͂̋͠P̛̦͓̪̘͍̺̳̀̒̎̂̀͊͝l͎̥̤͖̟̱̅͒̀̾̽ͤ̕ȅ̵̵̖̥̟̲̹̥̒̀̑ͭ͊͗̚a̡͙̪͍͎̗͌̎͛ͥ̀͠ş̈̐͌̏́͋҉̠̼e̮̖̙̜͓͍̯̮̎͒ͬ̚
͓͎͇̬̜͙͈͎͚͐ͫ̓ͪͮ̓ͯi̸̤͕͂̈́͆̓ͫ̈́ͮͫḏ̢̧̛̟̻͙̞̔̅ͩ͂e̢̬̘̟ͤ̂̅̍ͦ̂̅n̜̯̲̒ͩ͗̏̒̇͘͡t̘͕̤̼̦̘̗ͪͯͤ̚ͅỉ̱̹̯̯̹̼̝̞̋͑ͦ̕͜ͅf̷͙̤̳̭͊̋̐͒̊ý̡̛̝̰̰̰̻̜̇ͧ͐̔͡
̡̪̬̯͔͕͌̄̀z͇̰̠͔͙̱̉̀͊͐ͤ̒͠z̨̹̲̤̰ͪ͢͜z̶̻͖̣̦͐ͮ̾̑ͭ͐̚z̵ͣ̓͗̋̓͋̓̕͏͎͚̪̬̭͓̤͓z͙͓̯̘̠͙͓̘̽́͗̒ͮz̭̪̎ͩ̅͛̍ͪ̆ͅz̫̺̣͉̤̔̉͜z̢̆̇ͦ̇ͯͤ͌͏͎̦͈͖͕̥zͥ̌̿͏͍̳̙̭͚z̶̧͇͙̤ͨ͆͊ͭz̛͗̓̃̿̐̀ͫ͒̚҉̖͍̥Z̧̳͓̮̖̱̺̳͋͐͐ͣ͋ą͓̮̟͇̝̦̦ͦͨ̐̄ͪ̈́͗̊͘n͉̯̞̞̬͇͍̜̲͂̂̆͗ͫ̎̿̈́ḍ̨̺̦̂͒͒ͪ͒
̡͕̼̂ͥͦ̓ͮÈ̸̵̯̖̻̩̮̦̿̈̎̾̂̊͢s̘̻͖̖̳͉̖͖̊̽̐ͭ̅̇̎͂͑͘c̵̞̮ͨ̑̏͂̒̐̚͡.̠̪̻̖̳͎̳̤̼ͯͯ̔́̉ͩ̓͝

He approached Nostalgia Chicks' body, slowly, automatically, feeling as though he were dreaming again. He blinked, as hard as he could, as he felt his fear and panic and pity and grief blend into a confused jumble. He couldn't think. His head was throbbing again. He was desperate for something, anything, for his mind to cling to.

And then he found it: anger.

It was their fault, all their fault, for what happened to poor Saucy. The fault of the entire world. Never had she meant any harm, and yet PAOLA had used her. Just like the humans had used her.

Humans like Nostalgia Chick, the selfish bitch. Lying there, not giving a damn any more than she ever did, while all the other humans took her side, took pity on her. And why shouldn't they? She was a pitiful enough creature.

R̖̺̥̱̗̰̺̳͊ͫ͋̕E̶͓̳͙̬͓̻̲̣ͧ̔̂̒Ḏ̭̟͔ͨͭͫͩͮ͆
̐ͥ͏̶̸̩̬̮̮̥Ā͖̞͈̜͙͚̑̈͝L̨̝͍̮̣̽͂E̵̶̱̙͓ͫ̽͒ͩͮ̀̂ͮ̓͟R̴͂̾̈́̈́ͮ͊̈́ͣ͢҉̪̠̳͍̠͕ͅͅŤ̴̢̤̮͓͈͖̺̊̅̕!͐͂̇̊ͧͧ҉̬̤͎͍
̸̠͔̲̹̆̏͋͝Rͩ̈́͊̌̓͒͘͏̼̝̥̭̟̟͙͚E̛̘̳͓̖̫̱̝͌̓͆̇͆́̎͋̐͢D̻̬̱̘̠̥͚͌̏ͨ̏̍͋͢͝
͉̲̬̊͂͌͗ͭ̓A̸̞͋̏L̢̛̹͔̻͈̥̼̩̀̾̋ͤ̈ͪ̐ͅË̛͙̜̪̱͑̽ͫͥR̷͉̻̩̲̦̻̭̙̿ͬ̊͗̅T͓͓̝̐̐̋̈̏̄̐͒͡!̧̛̫̬͇͚̩̄̉͌ͥ̋͑͂͆
̸̣͉̰̳͗͌́̔̍ͣ͜Ė̥̦̱̟̖̅ͥ͢ͅx̙͕̪͎̜͈͎ͤ̿̅͡p̹̳̬͔̄͊̾́ͬ̕e̛̹̻̾̊͌ͪͩr̪̳͙ͤ͛̄͑ͩ̐͊͝i̶͎̙͚̓ͧͮͅe̡̯̰̼̝͔̟̦̺̿n͂̔̃ͦ͗͏̢͚̖͇̻̰͇̞ç̙̥̼̭͇̉i̼̠̝̱͚̜͖ͣ̀̽ͥͥ͆̀́͘n̨̰̳̠̬̹͇̞͂ͫ͆̉̀̚͢ͅg̵̛̺̯̉̉͢
̴̷̱̤̀̇ͩ͐̽̀̈ͦd͕̗͚͈̄̆̓͟ͅͅi͙̺̮͎͔̫͈͑̊̔̍͒́f͆ͧͣ̏̏҉̰͜f̧̨̦̘̭̲̭͆̾ͫ̈́͊̂̾͘i̵̶̻̺͔̍c̵̡̺̞̠͕͎ͧͣͦ͢u̢͇̙͖͎͙̺̙͓ͣ̑̒͒͟l̯̟̰̪͔͇͊̈́ͣṫ̨̛͎̥̏͒̃͆͒͒̃̀í̞̹̣̠̭̠̼̲̪̿̂̽̏̓̃ͣ͞e̙̳̱̻̬̤̯̺͔ͫ͑̄̈́͆̽ͩ͜s̸̊͒̒ͮ͂ͧ͢͏̫̩̹͙̜ͅ.̣̜̦̬͖͗̆͊ͨ̿̊ͥ̄͘.̱̙̣̰̹͙͂͂ͅ.͈͇̮̦̭͈̫̲̻̆ͫ̒d̢̰̼̏̃ͫͨͩí̸̢̲̞̝͔̗̪̝̲͖̍ͫ̿̓ͭf̷̵̼͕͖̗̰̹̻̖̖̾̆ͣ͝f̡͍̼̹̞͍̯̳̈́ͦ̋̄̅̐ͫ̑̄͘i̘̭̟̻̇ͨͣ̃ͯ̀͜͜c̟̼ͤ̉͊͜ư̼̪ͫ̋ͩ̀̎l̞̫̘͓̬̩̖̂ͦ͞t͓̫̮͕̲̤͕̆ͮͦͥ̃ͮ̈͜i̢͚̱̞̻͈͔̺̼ͤ̒̇̅ͮ̓͆ę͔̪͈̻͎͈͗̇̆̇̽͆ͨs̋̒ͭ̃̿ͤ̆͏̱̯̖̖̱̹̤ͅ
̡͓̱̜̜͕̳̎ͫͣ͠ͅf̨̛̺̻̘͈̲ͬͨ̋̾̈ͭ̚ȋ͓̼̫̍̊ͣn̨̪̦̹͓͎̤̯̲̆ͯ̚͜d͖̗̐ͩ̓̾́̄͌͛͘͟ͅͅͅi̵̛̠͚̯̮͍ͣͧͣ̀ͅn̷̫̙̈́̂́g̢̣͉̪̻̳̥͕̹͑ͯͯͬ͟
̴͈̟̗̄̂ͣ̉͗̚t̵̲͇͂ͩ̍͞h̷̢̤͍ͬ̆̽̎͂̿̕e̥̣̐͊͌ͮͥͮ̓͛
̶̹͕̊̃b̴̺̖̼̀́̆̐ļ͙͔̝̲͔ͧͣṷ͍͇̲̯͗ͮ͊̉̄e͇̟̖̤͓̪͔ͨ̎̿ͭͧ͋͋͂̑.͚̯̥̜̫͉̄͑̀͘ͅ
̵̫̓̈̈́A̸͑҉̮̱̝͈̼̩̝A̜ͮͮ͌̏̽́̚̚͞A̷̴̞͓͕̭̥̯̻̿Á̧͓͇̲͔̗̒3̤̥̯ͦ̐ͤ͆̓̀͌3̴̣̍͛̎ͯ͑̃3̴̸͙̬̺̺̠̺̪͖̓̈̂̅̽̈3̵̛͖͉̤̑ͤͯ̓̑̏ͬ͆ͨ3̱̗̅̿B̸̧̹͖ͩ͋͒̇ͭ͜8̶̮̞̃̈́̓̋̋͑̔ͥ9̶̯̣̥͙̏̀̈́͊͊ͫͯ͡t̐̀̂̇͆̊ͦ͏̶̩̭͢h̡̛̼̦̙̫̟͍̾ͅͅë̪͓͎͖̊̈ͪ̒̇̓ͮ
̴̤̘̼͇̥͓̬̓b̒͐̓͊ͫ͟͏̦͙̦̤̕l̢̾҉͔͉̥͓̯̯ǔ̢̦ͬ͛́̽ͅe͚̘̰͚͍̙̭̱̩͌̓͂̏̓
̷͎͕͛̽̄̾ͣ́̃͘ͅP̾̑ͭ͏̼̲̱̦̘o̯̞͎̲̱̝̰̤̗̔̊l͍͖̥̩̞͕̰̓̒́͝l̳̻͌̔̓̇̚͟oͥͮ̏҉͇̯̘̤̳̪ͅͅ!͔̲͖̹̝̪̥͉̀̉̄̔͒̿ͯ̚̚
̢͍̯̞̱̫̮̯̾ͭͩ̂͑̅Y̒̍̅ͦ̂̈ͭ͏̺͕͙̼͓̻̝͕̫̀̕o̻̘̘̲̖͓͓͓͂ͥ͆̈́̎̽̓́u̟̩̓̑͢'̜̺̦͇͖̈́̏ͅȓ̞̻̻̞̥ͯe̶̢͔̖̫̪̣͔̗͐ͩ̌ͅ
̵̸͇̲̯̱̩ͮ̈̒ͥ̌l̔̈̀ͥ̐̀҉̱̼͈͇̞̤̜͟ô̢̧̱͓͂̕s̡̹̲̹͔̉̄ͪ̌͋i̷̳̗̍̕n̘̠̲ͩͣ̃̓̍͋̉g̷̩̙̪̥̦̻͖̬̾͂̅̈͋ͯ͒̈́͢ͅ
͉̯̠̪̠̱̮̪͋͢i̢̦͖̭̪͌̈͑̀̀̓ͣ͂t̸͙͕̜͇͊̿ͮ͂̚
͔̥ͮ͗ͩ̐͆a͙̻̹̝̱̗̍̅̾͛́ͧ̅ͫ̓n̡̛̪̳͕̻ͥ̾̑ͩ͑̐̾ď̡̜ͪ͋͌̉͟ͅ
̶̮̘̥͚̳̘̱̫̆́͛͂ͭͧy̡͚̗̤͉̖̞̗͂̄͒̃̐͗͜o̷͚̭͚͓̙̗ͥ̐ͭ̎ͨ͆ͬ̀
û̃ͬ͗҉̴̛͓̯̭̺͎͇ͅͅ
̱̘̞̝͕̻͔̩̐̔ͣ͒̔̚d̢͊ͮͯ͌̃҉͏̯̞͉̠o̗̞̽ͦ̐ͬ̅n͓͙̦̻̹ͮ̕͢ͅ'̖̈́̈́t̷̷͖̘̫̭̊̃
̲͇̯̦̗̟̟̏̅͞͞ẻ͚̦̣̰̖̝͆̒̒̈ͫ̋̕͞v͑́͒͒͛̆͋҉̨̠͙͔̩
ȅ̂͒ͭͮͩ͑̚҉͚͚̦̫̮̳n̶̰̼̝̤̩̥̬͙͂̈̐̌̔̀
̶̶͉͐̅͆͊ͧͧ͆̋͌͘k̨̤̟̄̃̉ͅn̘̪̹ͣ̎̋ͦ̏͌̚ö̙̘̱̪́͗ͮ́͟͟w̴͙ͫ̎̒ͩͪͫ̐͝!̸̪̮͖̮̯̗̙ͪ

It wasn't fair. Nobody sympathized with him. No one! Only the others of their kind would they shed tears for. Not robots. Robots weren't meant to have feelings, robots were just things for them to use and place blame on in the end. Like Saucy, poor Saucy, who had suffered the consequences of every foolish action of this...woman. This Nostalgia Chick, who still stayed all safe and sound. It was all because of her, this selfish...

Lousy...

Useless...

Meatbag...

Hͮ͋̔̉ͪ͗̐͋̓̿̔̉̃͊͗͒ͦ̄͝͏͝҉͕̼̙̰ͅỦ̶̇͗̍͗ͮ̏̂̈̋̅̾̑̈́͒̒͏̢͚̤̳̬͕͠͝Ų̶̡̲̳̹̰͕͖̻̫͈͉̫̯͔̾ͮ͋̒ͮ́͑̐̈ͧ̊̉̆͑ͮ͂̚
Ǘ̖͍̲̙̱̹̪̗̰̹̬͈͕͈̤ͣ͆̀͝Ǘ̡̢̢̳̭̤̰̙͔̜͕̼̱̘̀ͦ͛ͥ̿̍̀M̨̮̹̼̲͉̲̙̦͉͈̲̠̱̦̲̱͖̣̋̈͐̈̎̽̂̾̐́͘͠͞A̵̟̜̺̎ͭ̆ͣͫ̆͌̅͒͗̔̑̍̆͊ͣ͗̚
Ñ̷̴̜̻̘̰̰̠̻̭̭͔͙̘͇ͨ͊̋̈̇ͣͦ̿̚ͅ

@̡̳̲̝̱̋͑ͭ̍̽͑͒̒͐̆̓̐̀̾̒͒̉́͠#̵͋̉͑̈́̒̿̋ͦ͂ͯͧͪ̓̎͝҉̖̝̥͎̗̝̰̲̻͇͜͜*̴̒ͩ͂̄̊̐̔̍̊̈́͌̍̇͋́̐͌͝҉̶͚̗͓̘̖̮̤͡ͅͅ&̶̡͓̬̖̹̫̲̖̣͈̻̰̹̤̥̇͒͗̐͑̈ͩͤͪͣ#̧̞̩̬̱̦̖̻̖͔͚̯͙̮̥̙̹̣͆͌̉͊ͪ͂ͫͭ̔ͥ͒͟͜͝#͔̫̖͈͔̻̱̖̱̮͈̈́ͨ̏̐̊ͧͯ̌̀͗͑͌͑̚͢͢͢͝_̨͚͚̣͎̺̪͖͇͖̤̜͈̻̲͉̟̻̣̄ͦ͂̌ͧ͊ͫ͛ͯ̀̊̒ͮ̒ͤ̀͜^̸̡̙̱̣͉̙̬̦̹̥̖̰̪̘͚̩̻̿̏̔̏ͅ4̨̛̳̥͎̯͇̮̩ͫ̏̋̓̿ͬ̾̈́̌ͧ̌ͣͨ̍͠2̶̵̨͕̤̝̙̞͓̻̯͈̘̙̹̞̉̏̇̅̀ͨ̈́͊ͥ͟6̨͕̰̥̮̝̙ͭͮ̊̆̇ͪͮͨ͑͠4̸̧̤̮͉̪̞̩̗̺̹͔̻̎̈́͐̌̍́͛͟4̷̡̰͈̩̞̰̥̖̺͔͚̺ͪ̂̏̏ͮ̑̅͐̏̿̉̎̈̾͛ͬ̚2̢̟̞̖̪̟̹̄̆̂͑̄̅̌͞0̸̸̧̞̤̰̼̜͔̖͈͚̹ͦ̆͗̑ͣ̑̈́̇̎̐̈̀ͩ̅̐͌̔̚̕7̡̢̹̘͉͔̫̻̬̮̩͓͇͚̞̃ͮͭ̿̉́͜͜͝5̶̞̯̼̗̬̔ͤ͊̑6̷̧͖̦̦̫͈̰̤̦͎̹̜̼͈͖͓͎̪̝̼ͤͮ̂̆̅͌ͤ̾̃̍̇E͔̫̦̩̟̝̥̞̘̘̟͋̒ͣ̽̀ͬ͐̎̾͑̄͆̋͜͡Rͦ̈́͛͗̐̄̈̂̅̓͐̉ͣ̒͌͝҉̶̸̠̠̲̺̰̥͘R̶̸̨͍̗̹̪̺͔̼͎̺̩̹̘̭͔̘͔̪͑ͪ̾͋̇̆̄ͯ̓͂ͬ̋͊͟͠Ǫ̲͍͍͈̹͔̬̻̪̗̲̩̟̹̅̋ͤ͒̂̊̀͘R̡̖̰͈ͬ̇ͧ́͒̽͜ͅ!̵̧̩͈̺̥̜̭̼̥̠͚̳͇̝̟̳͊̓ͤ͂̉ͦ͗̉ͬ̑͌͐̽ͣ̀͠@̢̯͉̫̦̹̗̙̯͈̮͕̖͕̗̣͔͓̼̘͐͐̀ͣ̈̔̀́̚͝$̵͉̪̼̫̤̫̫̆͒͐ͯ͆͂̋̽̂ͦ̆ͨ̓͐͋ͫ̈́͜^͒̋́͂ͦ̿̓҉̛͍̤̗̘̰̬̠͓*̖͈̫̹̩̭̬̱̪ͤͮ̑ͣ̐̕͟͞ͅ#̵̥̖̭ͧ̈ͦͪ͆̉ͭ͊̊̀͆̽̀̈̑̈̓́Ę̺͚̤̺͇̼̬͎̺̠̽ͮ̓̿̀͘͜͟R̶͈̰̜̫̙̓̂̏̌̽͗ͪ̓͟Ŗ̛̣̠̤͚͉̦̮̥̯̫̣́ͮ͌̾̉̈́͛̅̑͜Ô̴̴͍̯͇̲̭͔̳ͬ̽̏ͫ̌͋͛ͩ̿ͨ̉͘͢͞Ṟ̨̨͖͍̼̥͚̮͙̻̤̗̥͊̃͋̏ͭͨ̋̈̀̕͜E̴̥̲͚͖̱̞̟̻̹̻̲͎͕̅̋̐̉̐ͫ͘͘͡͞ͅͅŘ͂̏ͬ̈́̃̾̔̄̀͒̂͂̚͜͝҉̩̦̣͎̳̖͍͔̖͖̠̠̞̲͙Ř͐̐̈ͫ̏̂̈ͦ̎̊͐ͬ͋҉̻̜̙̼̮͕͉́O̸̭̬͉̬͓̽̽͐̉͐̕͢E̴̢̝̻̥͎̫̺̮͍͇̱͑̐̐̉ͦ͜@͖̬̤̭̥̬̹͈̭̼̩̝̹̩̠͚̄ͫ͛͋ͩ͑̃ͮ̒̊̉ͧ̂̍̈́̊̆ͭ͝)̢̛̰̘̙̣͉̥̯̠̖̼͕̮̤̪͈̯͎̮ͫ̈ͥ̅ͪ͋͗̏͊̍͆ͬ̓͗̉̏ͪ̚̕̕͞*̶̩̦̝̞̠͕̟̩̻͙͔̭͍̜̪̹̜͖̰̐̍̎̔͆ͫ̏ͮ͛͛͢͡@̨̡̪̺̤̘͉̥̜͉̖̠̭̻̰̻̣̠͎̹̦̃̍͂̒̒̃̊̋̈͊̿ͥ̊̓͛ͣ̄̓ͣ͞&̵̵̰̰̙̪̗̥̝ͥ̓ͤ̆̂ͤ̄̀ͪ́ͣͪ̒̍̚͟$̷̴̛̩̦̬̱͎̠̩̃̇̔ͯͫ̿̋̋̉̎ͩͪ̉̑ͯ̚̕͘^̵̨̨̡̖͔̳͙̱̰̻̜̰͚̺̣̊̒̃̃̑ͨͬ͐͂̊ͪ͒͋̄ͧ̂ͤ͐#̸̨̧͖̤̫̜̤̙̘̫͇̣̦̭͍̭̩̉̓ͦ̎͛ͪ͆ͯ̄̆͗ͭͥ̚͜͝ͅͅe̴ͭ̆͆ͦ̂̌̓ͭ͗̍̈͑̇̇͗͘͝͏͚̼̰̹͙̘̘̖͎̙͍͇̣i̴͓̼̜̰̟̤͋ͮ̈͗ͭ̔̎ͭ͗ͦ͋̃͌ͥ͟u̷̵̗̬̹̻͇̖͈̣͉̼͉̼̓̋̋͌͋̊ͧͣ̑͂ͣͪͥͦ͂̑͠r̷̡̗̯͓͔̱͕ͣ̎ͫ͋̆͆͐ͥ̔́̾̾̔͘͠g̵̶̜̜̥̫̩̹͚̜̝̻̱̼̠͋̆̉͂ͭ̄̀͢͡ͅͅh̴ͩ̄͊̔͑҉̱̩͖̠̖͙̝͍͕̖͔͓͎̲͕ͅf̶̸̗̯͎̝̰̝͈̗̫̲̠̺̦̦̏͒̓ͭ̍̍̎́͆ͩͫ̓j̡̼̬̜͎̹̱̦̄̐̉ͮ̿̄́ͦ͜ĥ̸̡͕̱̯̞͔̙̓͌͒ͤͣ̾̊̈̊́͝ś̨̝̳͔̤̝͈̗̥̮̟̽ͣ̂ͪͤͨ̀̕͢ŕ̷͎̘̼̘͈͈͂ͦ͗̓̈́͊͛̓̂́ͭ̍̄̚͢͠$̛̻̝͙̟̻̺̹̖͖̞̭͐ͦ̉̔̔͒̂̃̏͐ͣ͒̊ͭ͑̆̈ͬ͜ͅ@̷͎̬̤̰̪͇͓̯̪̭̑̒̑̋͆͂̆͞ͅ&̸͚̠̪̭̩͎͓̼̺̹̫̤͍͈͕ͨ͌͗̓̍̒̓̋̉͊̅ͥ̋ͤ̆̍̇̓́ͅC̘̮̯͚͍͓̭͉͓͎̩͔̻̼̝̘̍ͥ͒́̏̓ͬͤ̅̌̆͘T̵̸̺̥͇̞̾ͣ̐̐͛ͯ̍̆͟R̸͓̗̩͓̟ͪ̀ͦͣͥ̓ͯ͒̀̀̆ͤ̒̌͆ͫ̅̚͡͝Ļ̺͈̯̼̠̜͛̋̏͑ͥͨ̍͐̚̕+̡͈̰͙͎͚̼̪͓̻̭̖͚̘̲̖̩̈̾͌̃̽̿̎̎̐ͥͧ̊̂͐ͯ͐͗͜͟͢A̮̜͉̺̮̘̞̣̘̫̱̼̭̜̖͎̋̏͋̒ͩ̃̅̑̈́͋ͫ̅ͨ̕͟͜͠ͅḼ̝̹͈͍̬̥͙̰̜̫̳̩̝̘̙̠͆͌ͧ͑̈́́̊̀͝
T̶̶̃̐̐ͭ͒ͫ͋͛̒͒͌̀҉͎̙̳̻̫̜+̶̸̢̠̟͍̯͍͖̻̥̰̿̂ͭ͛̈̈͠D̴͚̗̳͎͔̘͓͔̗̺̙̣̣̙̲̤͌̂͆̒̐͆͐͋̕͟͝Ē̏͛ͣ̔̎̑̔̂ͬ̈ͥ͏̶̧̫͚͔͡ͅ
L̢̻̜̻̩͍̭͎͖͕͋ͫ̋̓ͪͯ͆̉̃́̎̑̕͘͜͟

C̸̭̫̙̘͎̹̘̺̓̅ͧ̐͑ͯͤ̉̾̊̽̐̎̋ͥ͢͞͞Tͭ͋̏͏̺̬͔͇͕̖̹̤͞R̹̭͓͈̩̠ͮ͂͛ͭ͛ͪ̋́̕͢͢Lͭ̂̔ͣ̿ͭ͌͌̋̿̽̓̽̾̅̚͠҉̤̻̠͘͠+̨̡̜̦̼̗̝̬̤͇̩͖͕̞̮̼̥̗̙̫͓̂̊̊ͫ͛͘͠A̵̶̧͓̰̘͉͖̦͓̹̫͖̟͍̖͚͈͙͂̈́̋̇̐̇͗̓̀ͅL̵̵͚̟͎̪̗͍̮̗̺̘̥̼̟̤͇̫ͫ͑̄̐͒ͪ͆͌́͂̉͌̄ͥ̂ͨͦ̀́̚͝ͅT̃̒̂͊̂̎̈́͆̃̉ͧͧ͊͋͠҉͎͖̥̯̲͉̮̝̪͍̫͈͉̫͙̞̲̹+̴͊̊͂̄̇̊̈́͑͌̒ͯ̇͗̊͗̔̄̈́͏̷̱̬͇̠Dͫ̓̒̏ͧͩͭͣ̓̑̅̄͡҉̷̷̹̻͙͖̳̣̥̘̹̬̜͚̘̞̰̥̦̩ͅE͆͐ͣͥ̽̊͏̨̼̗̠̪̳̣̙̱͚̦̖̥̺̥̗̱̪͙̩E͆͐ͣͥ̽̊͏̨̼̗̠̪̳̣̙̱͚̦̖̥̺̥̗̱̪͙̩L̷̨̠̱̯͂ͤͫͧ̆͘̕̕ͅ

C̫̻͔͓̟̥̥͓̓̓̀͜t̒͌҉̫̦̪̳̼͕̟ͅͅr̡̙͂ͧ̉̉͟l̛͇͖͖͖̏̐̈ͯ͆̓ͤ͆̀

̷͎̩̜͉̪͈̗̿̌͟+̻͇̹̝͈͔͖̅͋̎͗͌ͤ̿
͔͎͙̭̌̓͋́͟͡ͅĄ̘̭͚̜̭̈́ͬ̊̍̅ͣ͆̐̕̕ͅḷ̈͢t̶̡̺̟̲͈̫ͭͩ̉̐̋ͥ
̈́͏̳ͅ+̵̡̟̮̤̻͙̬͖͈ͦͤ͂ͣ̆͒̅ͩ͒D̛̫̭̺̟̰̘̣̅e̖͗͗̒̚l͉̗ͭ̈̓̓

* * * *

...Another blackout.

Pollo gave a low groan as his eye blinked open, his mind fuzzy. He was on the ground somewhere. That wasn't good. Piecing together his surroundings, he realized he was in the hallway. It was still quiet, meaning he was still alone in the base. A good thing, he supposed. Struggling, he picked himself back up off the floor and tried to remember.

What was he doing? It had to have been something. Let's see now...he went to Chicago. To PAOLAs base. He found Burton...no, Saucybot, he found Saucybot...and she told him some things, and then he went home. And now he was home. But something else had happened...

If Pollo were able to take breaths, he would have taken a deep one as he made the effort to focus on the blur in his memory. He recalled anger. Anger like before, like in his episodes. But stronger, so much stronger. And he was thinking about his friends, about humans, about Saucy, about...

...about the Nostalgia Chick.

Pollo went numb. He remembered now.

That was when he realized was right outside the infirmary. He must have stumbled out at some point. He didn't want to look inside. He really didn't. But he had to. Trembling and uncertain, he floated through the doorway, bracing himself as best he could for anything that might be beyond it.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

The cupboard on the left had come crashing down from the wall, its contents spilled everywhere in a giant mess of bottles and pills. The heart monitor had completely toppled over, crushing the respirator, and splitting the bed in two. It was in pieced, with shards of metal and bits of circuitry of all sizes surrounding where it lay. There was no longer any beeping or humming. All the wires had been disconnected.

But the most truly horrific thing about the display was the Nostalgia Chick. No longer lying safe and sound in her now crushed bed. Instead, her body was splayed out onto the floor, on her back, her arms and legs going every which way. Her eyes were open, and fogged over. And there, right square in the middle of her chest, was a rather large shard of metal, looking for all the world like it had been shoved there with all the precision and deliberation of a killer.

No. Pollo said aloud.

He floated ever closer to her body, as though expecting it to fade like a mirage. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He couldn't have done this...

He looked at Chick, at the shards, at the wreckage, and back to Chick again. He blinked once, twice, and three times, willing the sight before him to disappear. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to make it go away. But he couldn't. It was too late.

He had killed the Nostalgia Chick.

He was a murderer.

Pollo sunk low to the ground. He couldn't stop shaking. His head was pounding, and his thoughts were reaching near incomprehensibility. Terror and horror and regret and all manner of other things flew through him at once. Thoughts and feelings swelled inside the little robot, and as they did so, something very crucial to the future did occur. Something, perhaps very small, perhaps not so much, was triggered in Pollos' mind. He didn't notice it then, as his senses were too far gone. But it was a moment, however fleeting, that for the rest of his life he would look back on as the moment his fate was sealed.

A killer. He had killed somebody. He didn't mean to, he never wanted to. All he wanted was to keep everybody safe. But he lost his focus. And now she was gone. There was no getting past this, no taking anything back. This was a problem he could not outrun.

He panicked. Completely and utterly panicked. What could he do? What could he say? The others were coming, They would all be back soon. They were going to see this. They were going to know it was him. He was going to lose everything.

No. That couldn't happen. Not now, not so soon. Not after everything he'd been through. God, he just couldn't believe it. So much was happening at once. Too much. More than he could handle.

This isn't fair, he moaned, kneeling by the cold body, wishing he could produce tears. I need another chance. I need more time. I need...I need...

He needed to cover up the evidence.

Comments

[lady-sci-fi.livejournal.com]

Man, I love your Pollo going bad characterization. It's so realistic and heartwrenching.

And oh, the others are not going to react well, I think.

[jadedjada.livejournal.com]

Spoilers: No, they're not. :P

And thank you!

[pigquet.livejournal.com]

Oh my god, he killed her! He killed her! This is how it starts, guys! THIS IS HOW IT STARTS!!

God, I'm scared FOR Pollo! I know it was wrong, but it was kind of incidental, and he's sorry, and its all so confusing and conflicting and...shit's not gonna go down well is all.

[jadedjada.livejournal.com]

So...I take it you liked it? :D

[pigquet.livejournal.com]

Oh yes, indeed. I mean, its terrifying and heartbreaking, but still really well-written about how its all slowly going down...and by "all" in this case I mean "Pollo's morality", of course.