jadedjada

Title: His Heart is Steel, Part 16
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. Just Pollo.
Warnings: Insanity. By which I mean Pollo has completely lost his shit. This is it, ladies and gentlemen. This is the big moment.
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, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, and part 15. Enjoy!

Ț̛͖͍̹̞̦̯̲̫͓͚͈̪͂̂̆ͨͦͨ͒ͧͣ̾̊̔ͮͩͣͧ̏ͬ̕o̩̗̮̙̩̥̤̼̤̮̬̳̺̹͕̠̫ͬ̀̎͗ͬ͐̐͆͛̅͂̿̒͜͡ ̵̨̛͎̦͎̼̗̬̼͉̼̲̪͆ͬ̓̊̓̌̄́̃́ͬ͗ͭ̾ͮ̆̽̂ͅͅi̸̪̻͔̖̗̳̘̰̫̬͖͔̫̥͐̽̌͐͛͒͒ͥ̓ͤ̍͛́͟n̨̧̽̌͌̽̽̽͞҉͉̗̪̝̖͙v̵̨̭̬̗̣̽ͫ̀̂͌͛͌ͩ͒́ͬͧ͒ͮ̅͗̄̽͞o̸̸̱̭̯̟̖̻̩̫̞̽̍ͥ̈́͘͜k̢̡̡̤̮̳̞̞̲̤̦̃̅̋͐̾́͐̇̂ͮ̇́e̶̵̛̦̩͔̹̼̫̞̪̺͉̹̞̺̳̤͈̤̽̇̄͑̅̑̍̌̄ͨͭͣͧ ͖͎̹̝̙̫̺̥̥̠̥ͤͭ̌ͣ̂̊ͨ͢t̵͎̼̹̜̾̋ͨ͊̇͒̈̾ͣ̿ͩ͌̀ͧ͊ͭͣ͊͋͜h̴̡͓͎͇͓̙͊ͥ̒̒̈̂̈̉ͭ͊̎͒͛ě̵̢̥̻͖̰̥͎̰͓̃̎̍͜͞ ̤͉̳͇͉͕̩͙̠͕̬͈̇̃ͦ͘͜h̡̗̲̮̮̦̳͓̫͚͍̭̒̿̑͑̅̅̇̃̽̄ͅi̸̴͈̲̳̬̬͇̙̫̗͉͙̓̈͗͒͞ͅv̡͛͒̍͐̀ͧ҉̛̹̭͕̞̹͔͕̳̼̖̱e̷̼̪̦͉͉̯̠̐̓ͦ̏͒ͯ̿͑̕͟-̵̡ͫ̂͐̾͆̒̔̊͋̿̔̈́̓̓ͮ҉͖͕̳͚̠̟͙̜̺̯́ m̸̧̬͙̙̹̲̥͖̝̠͓̰͇̼͍̖̒̋̃̋̓ͨͥ̈́̒̾̈̍ͭͤ̚i̸͈͉̬̗̲͎̱̱̙̦͔̣͇͕̦̟̯̤͂ͭ͂͂ͮ̑͐́͑̑̎̍̈̚̕ͅn̴̑́̌ͧ͆ͬ̓͊ͮ̐̚͢͞҉̧̖̱̬̻͚͓̲̖͙̣̩̬̻͎̬̲̣̦d̡ͧͭ̇͌͐ͯ̂̉ͫ̽ͬ͋̀́͏̸̧̞͎͚̯͈̦̭̼̭̘̱̤̖͠ ̶̸̛̩̣̺̰͈̖̫̝̙̤̜ͦͮ̌ͣͮ̅̾̾͒͗̇ͧ͗ͨ̏ͅr͐ͮ̈́̃ͦ͆ͯͮ̈̈ͧͣ̓ͧͣ̃͗̐҉͏̤͈̯̺͈͚̤̬̭̼̘̙͖̩e̓̌ͧ̋̄͒̾ͪ̇ͫͮ̓̆̃̉ͬ̂ͧ͡͏̵̧̳̯̦̱̜̻̲ͅp̴̛̟͔͉̰͔͒̍ͨ͒̇ͩͦ̉̆͒͋ͩ̔̀ͩͤ̓̚͢ŗ͌͒̒̈͊ͪ̌̾͐̒ͩ̔̇͠҉͍̬̭̳̤̼̳e̸̢̨͇̙͈̳̭͍̬̼͔̾͌̔̑̽̿̎̀̾ͦ́͢ͅş̶̧̭̹̬̩͉͎̱̞̩̦͑̒ͥ͋͐͛͛͝ë̵̢̛̩̺̭̼̣́ͥͭ̍̒̔̊͐͛ͧ̉̀͑͡n̷͓͓̻͚̟̱ͣ͛ͮ͋ͣ̈̈́̀̚ ť̋͊̓̊̂͋̿͒ͪ͋ͯ̉̈́̐̂ͣ̚҉̺͔̜̝̹ͅi̩̲̟͚̟̺͉͛̈ͯ̈́ͬ̀ͧ̓͌̇̑ͦ̇̎ͥͯ̀́͝͝ņ̳͙̼̠̣̙͖̜͇̳̹̗̲̘͍̫͌ͣ̋̓͐̆̆͐̔̊̏ͥ̏ͣ͑ͦͪ͞͠ḡ̵̛̼̥͈̲̙̯̖̬̫̞̺͉̫̠͉ͮ͌͐̔̿̈́̃͐̆ͨͫͩ̑̀̚͡͡ ̴̱̳̼̬̗͉͚͆ͩͬ̅ͯ̐͠c̛̻̗̰͕̙̺̼ͬ̽̎ͪ͂͊̅ͦ̽̓͗̑̈͘ͅͅḥ̛̭̹̻͙̝̯̭͇ͧ̋̑̂̕͟ͅͅͅȧ̷̛͙̲̮͇̭̊̋̓́́̃̑̈́͛ͭ̃ͭ̀́͛ͭ͜͡ỏͣ̈̾ͦ͌ͨ҉̝̲̞̬̥̗̙̯̺̯̪̰̺͍̀́͡͡s̶̵̵̨͎̯̤̹̑͑͑ͫͬͨͨ̔̃ͤ̃ͨ̚͜.̶ͬ̿̍ͤ͌̀͂̃̑̓̍ͬ̕҉̬̤͓̞͙̳͖̠͙̖̣̙̻͚͉͜͡ͅ ̸̸̵͍͖̖͎̯͎̩͈͍͚̙͇̺̲͖̲̩̺͍̈̈ͭͫ̊̃ͭͫI̷̴̩̲̜͎̭̥͙̟ͬͯ̇̊̑ͫ̇̄̒ͪ͟͠ņ̫̫̩̖̪̖͍̞̜̤̹̩̩̼̃̊͐̑̐ͤ̒̂͆̇ͭͧ̏̆ͫ̅ͣ͑̀̀̚͟͡ͅv̴̦̭̯̤͓͎̝͙͉̖̖̩̙̻̏̈́̇̐̈́͑͗ͨ͗̐̾͐ͩͥ̾̎͛͠͞͠o͎͕̪͚̘̺̙̞͕͈̹͚̖͍̣̺͎͗̇͗͋̍͂̔̇̇ͤ͆̔ͪ̂ͣͩ̀͘͢k̸̤̳͈̬̞̹̟͊̋ͣ͋͊̽͌͗̚̕͝ͅi͉̙̤͔̺͔̟̫͕͓͈͇͓̩̯ͬͦ̓̆͒͒͝͝ n̵̸̰͇̣͙̱̪̻̺̻̑̑ͤͣͬ̀̚̕͟ǧ̛̳̲̻̮͓̻͇̦̣͖̲̬͎̻͕̬̻̖ͭ̔͒́̄̑͌͜
̾̍̈̀̂̀͂̒ͭ̓͋͌̿͊̐̆͏͟͏̨̬̗͓̙̘̙̩̞̝̖̘͕̮͎̘́t̸ͩ̐̀̄̿́̂͢͏̰̦͇̲͍͈̘͘h̷̢̰̞͉̺̿ͧ͗̂͗̓͑̀̚͘ȇ̈́̿͛̑̉ͨ̈́ͫ̿̂̎͠͞͞͏̰̺̮̻̙͖̞̥̱̜͔̼ͅ
̵̢̨̹͈͕̺̤͙̱͋̇ͭ͊͌ͮ́̄̒͛̇̆́͊ͫ̔̄̑̐͢͝ͅf̩̮̱̙͍̪̦͙̳̗͇̠̞̟͚̗̋͑ͣͮ͜͢͡ͅe̢̼̭̥̯̙̖̙̥̗̦̗͚̰͕͍͉̩̻̗ͪ͒ͦͯ̍ͣ͐ͨ̏̒̓̀ͨ͘ẻ̷͙̙̲̪̘̞͓͙̬͇͚͙̫͚̳̪̿́̈̎̊̔͑̆ͨ̏͜͞ͅl̴̐͋ͪ̈͊̊͊͂̀͊͡҉̢̩͖͖͎̝̺̞̻͙̰̤̕ḭ̵̢̢̯̺̠͚͈̇͌͐ͫ̐ͣ̄̒̎̇̍ͨ͗̊ͤͅn̶̵̼̗͙͙̜̣̤̦̣̱̥̼͉͍̭̣̼̎̋̀̄̈ͥ̿͋ͬ͂̾̏̚ģ̵̛͓̮̜̰̞ͣ̄͛̀̒̒͐̊͐ͩ́̏̎̏̀̚
̦͖̩̈ͧͨͣ͛͢͟͜o̷̢̱̳̠͈̳̪͖͙̻͕͈̾͂͑̿̾͢͞f̐́ͭ̊͠͏̹͈̟̞̞̺̯͇̮͔̩̳̙̞̯͉͢
̛͉̺̰͈̰̞̬͈̮̥̳͎̖̽̑̈́͋̿̈̋ͪͭ̊͊̉ͥͫ͋͋ͨ̀̕͞c̵̨̳̜̥͎͍̬͖͍̬̫̩̟͙̗̞̗͔̆ͮ̈ͪ̌̽ͫ̾̽͒͛ͣ̇̑̇͌̌́̚h̷̯̫̻̦͓͇͉̮̤̝͉͓͈͇̾͋ͥ̍̅͐ͬ́ͤͭ̕͢͠ą̢͔̗̘̝͇̜͓̭̮̬̠̘̲͕̩̘̘͔͛͒̒̂̿͊ͮ͆̆ͥͥ̏̒̇͗̓̓͒̚oͧ̿ͩ͂̀̒ͬ̏ͤͯ̆̏ͨͯ̋͗͊͢҉҉̳̙̹̟̖̠̦̰̘̩͡ş̶͇̣̼͈͎͇͎͇͒̉ͨ͆̈ͫ͂̐̉̒͜.ͣͣ̄ͨ̔ͭͪͥ͏͈̲̙̜̹͈̦͓͈͎͍̠̲̖̣̀̕͜͝
͒ͧ̒͋͐ͬ̅̐͐̐҉̗̖̰̖̪͈̯̫̗͈̗͔̬̦͟W̧̫̗͈͚͇̫͛͊ͧ͒͊̈́͛̽̽̎ͤ̔̏̏̕͡͡i̹̺̟̻̳̺̞̯̰̝̣̦̞̐̃ͬ̌ͤ̃̏̃͊̇̑̓̽ͫ͋͜t̵̶̶̐͐̐̋̊͛̋ͭͩ̂̎́̓ͤ̾ͯ̇͝҉̱̺̪̦̠̞̯̲͔̥̩̫̫̲̞̦h̶̿ͤ̏̉̈̑ͦ̏͌̓̊̉̋̆̔͡҉̷̻͕͎̳͚͕̪ͅͅ
̷̨̫̘̘̘̞̳̤̱͔͇͇̝̗͓͐̃͂̔̓͛̉͊̒ͪ͒̅̏͟ở̡̧͉̩͍̜͈̘̘ͪͮͬ̚̕ų̵̵̬̫̫̙̜̥̲̜͙̟͍̘͖̟̍ͩ̆̑̔ͮ̑̈͂̏͂̾ͤ̄̚̕͠t̡̬͚̞̱̠͉͖͔̙͖͎̮̤͔̟͈̲̑͑ͧ̽̊̊̓ͧ
̢̄̂͌̈̒̆͌̊ͯ̿͑̎ͫ̂ͭ͒͂̇҉̧̡̦̮̞̼̮̺̗̼̬͈̦̯̟͟o̶̥̺̜͉̞̲̺̥̣͎̠̗͖͈͖̭̿̉ͯ͑͛̋ͧ̄̚̕ŗ͔̥̙̠̹͚͕̦̻̠̉̐̌̋ͣͮͭ̀́ḑ̢̠̣͓͉͇̞̞̭̞̼̓̄̇ͫ̓̔ͨͩ͠ȅ̢̘̤͔̙̫͙̬͓̣͍͎̫̱̫͙͈̥͉̰̍̽ͥ͒͢r̵̖̱͉̘̭̥̗̲̩̹͔̲̻̩̬͒ͩ͋̈̿̾̂ͤ̈̒͆ͬ͋̉̈ͦ͑̾͂͡.̸̵͉̫̜̠̟͇̭̘̣̗͚ͪ̒͊ͭ̽͋̌̽͞͝
̢̛͎̘̘͉̑̽̒̅ͧ͆̃ͮ̄̑ͯͥ̒̌͢T̆ͮ̃̒͒̉ͩͪ̊̑ͩ̒ͪ̑̐ͪ̌̚͏̶̟͕̼̙̘̥̘̝̻̘̳̙̗̤̕͘͢h̵̲̱̲̘̘̉͊ͯ̌̕͡e̷͓̙̳͇̠̘̲̱͎̖̰͈̠̫̹͙̥ͯ̉͌͌͋̄̎ͯͦ͂̕͘͡
̢̭̙̭͇͇̘͖̱͚͔͍̏ͫ͐̒ͨ̌̀͑ͬͪ̀͟͞͞N̴͍̘̗͉͎̻̻͙̙̙̼̼͓͔̳̽ͯ̽̈́̔̇ͥ̅̐ͪ̇ͥ̈̽̿͂ͦ̿̚͟͢ͅë̛͉̗͚̹̲̗͚̣͙̳͇͇̼̬̪̘̍̔̀͐̿͂̔ͤͦ͐̔͂̐̌͟͟͝z͗͆̈́͊̔͊͌̊̀̓ͣ͐҉̵͖͈̪͕̞͓͇̰̳́͢p̷̛̗͔̜̦͍̟̭͛̈̃ͯ̈́̿͐ͤ͒͋ͨ̈́̄̚͢͡

Linkara was a liar.

Pollo paced frantically across the large empty room, around the table and maps, not looking at anything, registering only his own swarm of thoughts.

A liar. He'd lied to him. He'd lied to everyone. Linkara, of all people! Linkara!

E̪̭͉̩̻ͯͫ́̃̊̽̊͗͜r̶̲̣̝̖̞͇͕̗͑͊̏ͭ̍ͬ͜rͦͫ͆̄̎͋̿҉͏̨̯̺͔̳̝o̥͉͎̺͚̟̙͐́̀̾̆͞r̰̮̻̘͈ͨ:̷̸̠̗̙̺͔͎͈̑ ͆͗ͧ̄̈҉̶͎̞͚͎͇̣̮̙̀ͅp̽̔̏͋̓ͩͬ҉͚͎̻͙̣ͅl̳̬̥̹̔̃̎ͩ̂ͭ̅̐̋͠e̪̺̫͈̼͉̳̐̄̍̍a̎͒̓ͣͦ̓̓̿͏͎͈̳̞̠̹͍̞ͅs̝͇͈͛̅̎̉̓ͦ͛̀͟ͅe̖̺̤̰͊͊̐̉̃͟͝ ̬͉͍̤̫̖̯̥ͨ̓̏ͪ̉͒̀͜͝r̲̙͍̝͔̦͔̪̹ͭ̔̈́̋͞e̟̤̳̰ͭͪ͘͝ģ̷̬͙̏̍́̆͑ͬ̍ͪ̆̀i̘̞̖̩̗̠͎̒̆̉̍̊ͥ͌́s͖̖͎ͭ͛ͨ͆ͅt͒͗ͣ̐̊̓̋̚͏̧͖̭̤̼̞͇͞e̢̩̖̻͎͊̃̾͟r̢̪͙̳̬͖͕̜͌ͮ͑̂̊͆͒̚͠ ̷̗̫͚ͣ̐̒̎̄͑̀́͡a̴͖̝͌̉n̸̺̰͍͓͋̓ͨ̽̄̓ͭd̶̞̞̣̺̥̠͊̽̎ͫ́̄ͥ̐ ̴̺̻̭̺̥̗̰͛̓͒̃͞a̞̤̩̖̙̯̐̓̇̓̐͌ͣͮņ͍̦̓͐ͤͧ̋̓̄͡á͚̮̗̻͉͎͖̳̟̃̿ͣͥ͋́̑l̛̜ͯͮ̏ͭ̒̈̕y̩͖ͯ̈́̒̽̔͠s̸̺̗̘̺̀̈ͪͩ̃ę̦̳̱͎̼̰̜͙̇ͭ̕͠ ̷̖̬͎͑͢ͅç̵̳̯ͪ͌ͪ͒̈͘o̢̬͎̺̤̙̲̥̭ͨͫͨ̃͐̋̔͜d̡̼̦͚̤͇̜̑̀͘ē͖̫ͭ̌̎͗̌̉ ̠̳͎͚̪͉̱̭̽͗̅ͭ͘͜͝5̭͙̳̗̰̘̐͞4̰̦̬̠̪̯̖̞̘̌ͧ̽͐̄̽͞4̡̖̙̰̖͌ͧͫ͆͌͛ͮ̚͜0̗̪̣̱̰̞̫̙͑͗̇̆͆̈́̐7̰̖̯͇̭̹̻̀͐ͤ̍̑͌̐̉͡.̖̹͕͍̬̘̦ͤ̍̌́ ̡̭̬̪͔̘̝̝͈̎́̚̚͞A̜̮̻͉̺̪̒͌̐͡n̺̟̫̩̝̦̘̙̿ͤ͜a̠ͬ̇̌͆ͯ̍͊ḷ̸̘̏͐͜y̠̖̰̅ͣ̉͒̆̃͌̑s͗͌͑ͧ̌҉͉̲̳̣̜̥̰͉i̠̫̬̟̻̍́͗s̡̬̝̮̰̝̙̺̩ͮ̓̓͌̍͗̒͘.̲̤̦̳̘͕̣̉ͤ͒̃ͧ͞.͈̘̑̇̑̚ͅ.͍̫͚͉̎͐̍̓ͨ̾ͮ͗ ̶̼̥̗͕̖̟̪ͮ̀̈́͡͝ͅc̨͈͖̿̅̃͋̒̽͊r̡̮̱̤͖͈͇̠ͯ̍̄͂ͣͯͨͬ̀̚͘ǎ̷̧̫̩̔̉̆ͭ̓̋͢ͅp̸̢̘͖̬̲ͫ͑̇͋.͕͎̃̓͟͝.͓͍͑̔̔.̵̝͔̻͓̗̿̀

Linkara wasn't supposed to lie. Linkara wasn't supposed to cause problems. Linkara was his master. His friend. Everything was supposed to be all right when he was around, everything was supposed to make sense. He was the constant. He was what Pollo had put all his faith into, because he. Never. Lied!

But he did lie. He lied about magic.

A̮̮̰̞̓͞T̙̎ͬͨͦͯ̏ͮ͞T̰͕̟̥̼̺̃͒ͫ̃͜ͅE͗͊ͨ̉ͮͫ̂͠҉̸̻̪̲̫̪͎N͇̰̻͉͐ͧͦ̉̄ͪ̅̄T̵͚̞͖͍ͮ͒̑̂̿͌́I̡͖͙̮̹͓͒͌̏ͅƠ̍̑̇͗͒͂̃̓҉̵͓̫͎̪N̵̥͎͓̝̖ͦ̌̏ͣ͗́͢:̰̲͇̙͔̣̺̜̃̊̔̔͒̀̋͒̒̀ ̸̯̮̝ͦ͌ͫ̉͝s̘̘̊ͥͧ̂ͪ̊̽yͧ̓̏̿͏̖̕s͂̎̏̋̉҉̵̦̜̗̲̥̙ẗ̸̸̬̲̝́ͫ̾ë̶̢̗̟̤̩̬́̄̊̓͡m͖͓̝͒̂̀ͤͩ́̚ś͢҉̭̩̝̺̗̬͜ ̨͎̲̝̻͎̦̤͑͑̀̑͋ͣͦͦ̋́ͅą̬͚̀̿̓ͧ͟r̭͔̻̓̈́̓͗ͧ̈́̿̓͜e̯͐͆ͬ ͦ͑̅̈́͏̭͢r̶̛͚̥̖ͥ͑͢ȁ̵̼̼̖̅̓͑̿͞p͕͆̍̽͗͟͞i̧̭̞̦̺̾̆̽d̵͕̰͓͑ͫ͒ͮ̏͑ͭl̼͉̫̟͓͇͍ͥͥ̃̌͑͑̈ŷ̨̦̠͙̅̐̏ ̼̯̘̭̪̇́̓̈́̈́c̷͖͎̰͙̮̺͙ͬͣ̌r̸̶̮͔̙̱͇̪ͨ͑ͪͣ̎͌à̢̛̺̭͙̲̥͉͕̹͎̓ͯ͢š̊̎ͩ̓ͤͪ̎͏̹̫̼̘̗̬ḫ͖͈ͮͨͩ͐̈ͤͯ̉i̧̮͔̽͌ͤ̒̆͛͂͞n̴̫̤ͣ̎ͤ̾ͪ̈̀̈ͮg̵̥̫͔̋͗͋̃͢͠ ̙̼̱̠ͭ̃̿͠i͖̳̭̳͙̯͒ͨ̏̀̃ͅn̖͓ͤ̈̉̊̀́ ͩ̅ͤͤ̃̌ͨ͏͏͖ä͕̐ͬ̽ͨr̢̤̣͚̖ͫͦͫ̿̚e͔̱̟͍̹͈̫̓̿̑̐ͪ̊ͮ̚å̸̷͎̯̯͍̹̣͔̻̍̋̐͂ͥ̍͑ͅ ͙̞̓̒͆ͣͭ͒ͨ̀ͬc͋̀̃ͫ͛͏͚̠͕͕͈͖o̮͍̖̙̖͚̗̠̓̐̀͊̌͐̅̈̚͘͞d̤̤̆̏̽́e̵̪̺͇̞͇̙̙̽̾ͩͧͨͧ ̶̛̲̞̹̟̺̳̤̰̜̏̐͐͗ͥ̾s̢̯͚͍̮̻̺ͤ̀̃̌͋̑̂̀ͅt̸͈̫̯̍̿̂ͮ̈́͋ͣͣ͘e͐ͤ͆̉͡҉̞̖̬̥̘͖̪e̱̘̿ͪ̂͒ͩ̾̏́́l͚͖̪̚b̝̥͉̗́l̛̦̍̊ͣͥͪŭ̸̴͓̟͕͓͆ͤ̉͆ě̹̜̳̰̩̰͙͡.̴̺̮͎̃ͪͪ͗ ͇͍͔͛͐̇̏ͣ̚ͅa̧͖̝ͮ̓̒ͣ̃̃̽̽͆c̷̨̭͚̟̱̾̃̆ͥ̀ḵ̵͚̱̓̄̌̀̋ͪͬ@̡̥͇̥͇̫̼̎ͦͬ͂͑͆͑̋̀ͅ$̸̢̧̪̳̹̲̩̺ͥͧ͊̔̚^̵̸̼͎̮͉͙̺̼͕͑̋͛̾̾̓ͧ͟@͓͆̔̿́͑ͩ*̛̮̝͛̇ͧ̚t̛̰͍̥̮̹̗̺͊̈ͥͯ̇h̼̯̞̅ͥͥ̆͢͡i͓̹̝͓̠̾̔͛͒̒ͮ̈́s̰̘̥̎ͧ̏ͪ̐͂̂ͪ͘ ̱̝̠ͪ͆̕î̜͈͓̖͈͕̼̬̃̉ͮ͌̈́̒̚͡s̷͇̬͕͛̔ ͈̻̝̪͉͋t̘̗͔̥̙͔ͪ͂̑̆̕ͅȟ̛̹̼̯̉͑ͮ͝ë͙̳̳̣̹͓̗̥̖͗́͘͜ ̝͇͌͌ͥ͐ͣͥ͌̈͒͝b̹̗̲͂ͥ͊̊̓̑ͣe̎̌̾̌ͭͭ͗̏҉͔-̼̌͂̑̀͝a͈͚̞̹͔͇͉͛ͪ̋̍ͦ̑̂̑l̴̺̫͓̫̥̦͚͉ͤ̈́ͫͧ̽l̢̡̰̤̜̺̙̱̮̯̮ͮͧͨͦ ̛̺̻̥̫̰̹̩ͮ̉͛̅̓̈̒̽ͦe̺̰̯͎̺͇̯ͯͭ̅͑̓̕n̢͍̍̑ͪͧ̓͑͑̎͘͝ḏ͎̤̼̣̖̙̄̊̿́͛̃̌͒̽́-̙̺̖̹̘̀̿ͨ̀̾́͛̐̕a̹̠͔͓̜̳̝͋ͬ̂̓̽ͤ̀͡l̗̫̺̽͆ͦ̿͑͒̚͡ḻ̖͚͂̀̿ͣͩͦ͜͡ ̨͉̦͈̲̣̮̤̰ͬ̆̇̅ͭͭ̀p̶̤̟̏̅̐ͪ͒͛͡e̶̹̺̜̣͈̲̬̲͌̊ǫ̤ͯͮ̏̿͂͋̐̓͌p̶͙̯̤͉͔͓̺̘̏l̸̢͙̯̰̄̏ͯ̔̆̐ͧͭę̈́̇̓ͧ̒̾͏͕̪̘͙͇̬ !̜͍̫̺͉̥͂̃́

If the crew had had the power of magic with them from the beginning...how different things could have been! They could have harnessed the power from that old gun Linkara carried around his person. They could have given themselves such weapons and such defenses that they would have been rendered completely invincible! Pollo thought of how the Paola-bots diminished at Linkaras' hands, with his gun. How it killed so many of them, so quickly. With that kind of power at their disposal...they could have destroyed everything in a heartbeat. They could have destroyed PAOLA.

And then Pollo would never have had to face all this agony.

But that didn't happen. Even though apparently it could have, all this time, through some whim of his so-called master it didn't. Why? Why would Linkara keep such a thing from them? Why would he hold them back?

There could only be one answer. He wanted all the power for himself.

M̡ͧ̿ͨͯ͏̮̘̳̠̯i̭̰̳͋͗̌ͮ͜͟͠s̰̲̭̬̮͎ͣ̿ͦͬ̋͋ͅs̴̛̫͕ͦͥͮ͠i̸̝̙̖͔͎̻̋̕o͈͙̩͚͔̯̔̽̌͊ͭ̚ͅn̥͕ͦ̆̿ͫ̒́͢͢ ̼͎̆̔ͫ̿̂̃̚e̱̟͓͈̲̥͍ͥ͐ͪ̂ͣ͘͝ŗͥ̊́̓̈́̐̽҉̺͠ř̠̫̖̪̃ͫ̾͢o͇̫͖̱͎̠͆͆̀r͇̗̰̹͋̆̀͞ ̟̩̘̘̲̹̂̓ͯ͞o͇̩͉̗̹̯̮̓̏̒͌̔̓̂̀ń͎̟͖̉̀̉̉̂͢c̃ͧ҉͓̗̳̪̰ę̪̌̈͠ ̴̌͋̅̂̌̐ͦͥ͏̜̰̝̘͓̼͎̥͝ a͉͉̪͔ͧͧ͆̍͋g͈̮̙͖̞̗̰ͥ͛̅͆ͯ͛ͫ̆̀ͅa̺̼ͮ̓̐ͫ͒ͩͫͬi̴͙̪̠̗͉̯̟͕ͧ̓̃ͤ͠ṅ̴̡̘̖͈͑̓̓͒͒ͦ̃̑!̱͙̫̼̭͍ͬ͌̈ͫ̃͠ͅ ͒̚҉̼̫̖̲̖͝Ã̶̘͙͕̈ͯ̂͆ͭ͘b̵̡̧̪͔̦͖ͮ̅ͪ͗̅ͤ̃̚o͔͈̱̫̘̪͉̫̰̓ͩ͢͟r̨͇̀̌́̕ṯ̤̫̒͂͒ͪͪͨͥ̾͂ ̫̫̥̈͊̒ͤͯ̀ͩ̆͡͠m̡̫̦̺͓̻͎ͨ̄ͮ̏͗̿̈̏̀i͛̌̂̓͗̈̆͜͏̗̭̯̪͠ş̖̲̱͍̭͋̏ͤṡ͓̞͚̯̽̆̈͟i̵̛̦͕͚̠͍̺̼̭ͩͯ͑̃ͫͅo̱̺̼͕̹̰͛̇̀͛͗͛͠ñ̫͍͇ͪ̽̒̉̚ ̢͈̻̟̲ͧ̌ͪͪ̈́ͪ͟5͌ͧ͗͛ͩ҉̵̬̳͓͖5̴͇̼͓̠͇͕̓ͥ̑ͥ̇̉ͪ̊5͔̗̙̮ͪͬ̊̔ͬ!̘̗̳̯̠̺̄̑̏̆̂̈̆̆ͤ͡ ̤̣̞̳͆͒̉̓̋͞͝A̫̤̩̙̼̱̥̔̋̋́B̨͕̮̻̝͆̿̑̈̇̍̿̈́͟ͅȮ̧̺̮̪̙̹̀̑̔R̡̼̣͈̓͞T̟̙̜ͦ̾ ͇͈̪̖̩̅̓Ṃ̞̠̻͊̃̐ͣ̇̒͠I̫̖͔̓ͭͬ̒̓̃ͦ̉́͡S͋͛҉̵͙̩͈͔̭S̲͓̭̅͐ͣͤͥ͗̂͜͜Ĭ̺̮̪̺̹̼̍ͤ̏O̿͑̀̔͋҉͖͍̼͇̟̘̹N̨͈̗̽͗̕͡ ̧̥͖̭̰͕̪ͪͦ̒5ͬ̓̒̕҉͕̪̲̫5̙̻͎͙͊ͯ͐̌ͫ͒͐́5̪̣͕̳͖ͩ̆̿ͪ%͚͖̉̄̑ͨ̋̄̆̀%̵͚̞͓̜̤͓̠̣̐̒ͫͧ͝%̞͒͌ͣͫ̐͘ %̡̢͉̹̠̘̟̦̥̭̑ͥ͒̊̉̈̇ͭ͠ž̸̶͇͙̘̗͙͇̫̫̓̇͌͋̓̎ͫz̳̲̣̑ͨ͒̎̽̾͒z̤͎ͩ͞z̨ͤ̍̏͒͒ͤ҉̦̠̗̙̘͚̺̲͘ͅz̵̟̺̥̩̺̆ͮ̊̉ͦ̿͐͑͡

Was Linkara capable of such selfishness? Of course he was! Why shouldn't he be? Why should he be held up on such a high pedestal, he was no better than any other human!

Oh, but he was...Pollo had believed wholeheartedly that he was. He believed that Linkara was the answer that Linkara could fix everything, but the reality was just the opposite. The reality was that it was his fault!

It was all his fault.

Ę̸̣̘͔̲̼͙͙̳̦̣͕̰̍ͥ̾ͫ̑r̡̭̹̹̮̪̹̘͐̄ͦ͛ͦ̍̋͑̽̓ͣ̓̒ͫ̃ͯ̚̕͞͡͠r͍̯̻̺͇̟̫̥̩̦͑̔ͫ̈́́͞o̿̆̾̽͊̈́ͨͭ̈́ͯͧ̃̾̐ͤ̆ͥͬ҉̶̶̙̜̮̦͈̲̜̱̮͉̩̻r͐̂̋͆̕͜͝͡͏͉̲̲̰̣̣̲̺̙̥̯̮̙̳ͅ:̱̥̠̗̹̞̣ͩ̔ͧͬ̕͟ͅ ̴̧̠͚̜̗͕̘̮͔̯͖͚̙̬̠͚͖͙̄̇̄̈́̑̑̈ͬ́̎̇͛ͣͯ͌ͥ̀̀̚͞2̹̗͖̗͚̜̤̬͇͕̦̻̞̬̲̘ͧ̓͛̚͠ͅ4̵̛̬͙͙̐̉̿ͭͣ̈͠͝7̵̠͕͚̭͖̟͖̼̰̼̦͓̗̒ͨͦ̈̊ͅ3͐̂̈́̄ͩ̉ͪͣ̈́̀͏̷̷̡̬̘̝̱͍̳̥̟͚5̏͑͛̊ͯ́̓ͭ͗ͮ̾ͮ͏͙̪̯͓̟̟͎̤͙̘̜̭͚̳͉͠ͅ ̶̡͙̹̹̟͖̠̜̟̹͔͎̜̼͙͇͍͖̤̓͗ͮ͋ͪ̒ͯ̃ͥ̇̀͢)̷̴͉̘̙ͨ̉̈̑́̈ͣ͆̏͛ͧ͐ͣ́ %̿̐͆ͣ̈́ͩͬ̿̆ͨ̄̎̓̇̅̔ͮ͆҉̯͔̰̮͍̮̮̼̥̥̮̣̻͙̺̻̦#̂ͤ̎̾̍̒ͯ̿ͯͤ̾͒̆̊͢͢҉̧͈̳̼̦̬̣̗̜̗͈̱̖̮͇̤̝̺͍͜^̨̢̢̛̙͎͇̹̲̠̹͚͙̰̗͓ͬͮ̈́ͥ͠ ̴̛̝̫̝͙̣͙͖̈́̽̎ͥ͋ͦ̎͗̚̕͢*̵̨͕̥̬̟̥ͧͨ͑͛ͅfͤͮ͆̽ͬ̾̌ͣ̆̊̅̈́̔͆ͧ̿͏͉̹̥̟̹̗͎̺͞a̴̝̫̪͍̬̳͎͍͇̬̭̻̻̐̈̄ͪ̈́ͣ͛͜ͅų̷̢̛͓̰̮̩̳͔͍̱̙̖̘̻̫̠̥̥ͨ̾̽̿͂̀ ̈́͐̒̉̍̓̚͞͏̜̠̟͕̜̖̼̜͇̩l̢͕̘̥̙͚̠̺̝̝͓̞͎͎̮̼̘̩ͦ͗ͧ̔ͦ͛̂̔̑̑ͩ̄̚͘ͅṯ̶͖̼̰̺̉ͦͭ͋͗̈́́̕f̢̛̰̳̞̱͇̥͉̖̳̯̰ͥ̒ͮ͐ͬͧ̊̎̃͒̿̀ͫ̊̈́̓͡͡a̅͂̒ͤ͑̀̿̄̔҉͏̶̶̹̯̥̥̞͇̱̙̰͈̜̤̩͜u̡̼̦̩̫̹̦̫̯̝̥̬̟̞̎̏͗͛ͧͨ̿̕ͅ ̵͋̍̓̿́͏̝̥͙̩̯̙͇̣͕͙̜̟͔̰̬͕̣͝l͗̍́ͦ̕͘͜҉̫͈̩̳̲̠̲͍̠͙͓͔̱͙̠̻͎͎ţ̶̧̻̠̲̠̩̦͔͕̘̻̉ͪ̂ͪ͐̌̂ͭ̅͌f̴̼̥̟̘̜̼̼͙̟̭̜̺̞͚̎͗̿̃̌͐ͣ͐͒̋̈́̌ͤ̌̅ͫ̑́͆͡͞ą̸̧̫̬͔͔̪̩ͮ̐ͣͯ̂͋̆̎͂ͯ̚uͧͯ̔̉ͬ̓̿́͏̼̘̥̮̜̹̙̟͔̲̞̪̰̦ ̡͍̝̙̪̹̪̖̭̳͍̮̒̊̐̅̏̉̾́ͭ̈́͂ͮ̿̈ͨ͝ lͤ̄ͧͣ̔̄ͪͭͣͯ̾̓̏̂̈ͩͥ͏҉̟̬̙̩̗̩̹̙̘̘̣͍̼tͣ̑̍̾́͛͋̋ͥͦͦ҉̷̻͈̦̼̭̲̜̦̖̦F̶̨̰͕͓͔͖̲̙̪̭̪͉̱͈͕̱̈́̄ͩ̓ͤ͘A̵͉̟̲̥̟̹̦̭̤͚͔͔̭̥͓̭͊͋͂̈́̑̈́ͥ̆̒̈͝ͅU̵̴̢̙͖͚̝̞̩̖̞̗̭͉̪͖͊͑͋ͩ͊͌̂ͩ̆̃̊ͯ̓̑͞͠ͅ ̵̳̯̫͉́̒̀̓ͫ́ͬͮ̆͊̆͛̍̂̓͡͝͝ͅL̾̅̈̉ͫͯ̓ͭ͑҉̢͎͈̱͚͘͞͠T̢̙͍͓̟̃̐͐͐̏̌̋̊̋̇͟͞͝F̷̰̥̭͇͈͋͛͗͌̈ͣͭ̾͐ͥ̚ͅA̴̴͔̝̺̹̯̎͊̆͆ͧ̍͂̈́ͦͨ͟͝͡U̵̸̵̫̟̜͚͉̖͎̠̱͕̯͕̠̙̜͉̇̀̐ͩ͑̾̎̄̽ͬ̑̋ͥ̏̊̾̚͠ ̶̴̹̯͈̥̹̘̜̿ͤ̓ͨ̾ͭ̉̿ͮͤ͠͝͝L̵̡̧̪̗̦͔ͣ̊̇͊T̸̛̖̗̮̝͇̙͈̣ͧ̋͑ͯ̓ͤͥ̈́ͩ͟͡T̨̥̤̙̱͇̟̫̮͈̪͔̗̺̭̱̈́͗̌ͦ̔̈́̄͒̽̌̃ͣ̆͌͘̕͟͞ͅͅT͕̺̳̼͍̭͓̬̗̰̖͚̭̆ͮ̑ͧ͆ͭ͗ͦͣ̂̓͝͡͠͝ͅT̸̷̨̛̻̺͇̜͉ͥ̓͂̾ͧ͐̉ͧ̓͒͑͒̅ͩ̅͜ ̡̱͇̝͓̖̊ͥ͌̾̒̚͞T̡̖̮͓̫̤͕͕͇̦̰̪̼̝̼̹̗̙͍̏̂̿ͦ̎͛͘T̢̤͚͔̭͚̣̰̳͈̝̳̱͖̑̈ͫ̈́̃̅ͨͭ́͘ͅ ̨̻͕̱̮͍̩̠̖̘͈͉̹͐ͥ̿ͩͥ̍̒ͬ̌̿̍͂ͩ́̒̀̕͟͟

And then he shouted at him! Treated him like dirt, bossed him around! What had he done to deserve such a thing? Found out the truth, that's what. Overstepped boundaries he didn't even know were there. He went to his master for protection and what he got was abused! Abused...like Saucybot.

How could he have been so blind?

All this time, blaming and hating himself for all that had happened. All the violent things he'd thought, he fancied himself a monster for thinking of. The death of the Nostalgia Chick...stupid, insipid Nostalgia Chick...he hated himself for that too. Why? Because of what Linkara might think. Because he'd given himself over entirely to Linkaras' mercy, saw him as the ideal moral ground to stand on, when all he was was a hypocrite. A hypocrite with a whole bunch of violent thoughts of his own, and just as much blood on his hands if not more, all of which he needed no brainwashing PAOLA to work up. And he let people suffer. He let Pollo suffer, and he didn't care. He just didn't care.

What else had Linkara said that was a lie? Did anything hold weight anymore?

His fault...all his fault...

A͙̰̾̒̇ͯͯͥ̈́̐t̨͚̟͉̲͛ͪ̌ͮ͋̅̒ṱ̜̠̰̘͉̙̌͞͝e̛̼͍̩̥͔̓ͬ͑̒̕m̶͎̠̖̈̂̔ͨ̔͢ͅp͓̜̲̩̖͍͚̘ͨͭ̊̅̍͝ţ̸̳͉̗͇͙̯̑͗̌͋̓ͣȋ̓͂͏̸̗̪͙̹̟͔͍̯ͅn̥̈́̈͂̔́g͚͈̭͎͛̉͋̕ ̼̦͂̃͐͛͢t̻͖͔̬͖̺́͘͢o̶̭̜̼͂ͪͫ͠ ͆͝͠҉̲͉̮̜̲̣̺̜B̫ͥ̕l͓̯̰̒̿͋̎o̴̳̓̉ͫ̂̽̄̄͛̈c̭̯̲̹ͫ̎͒ͮ͡k̴̨̨̫̖̗̯͉̬͍̂͊̐̍̑e͓̝͚͇̖̗̭ͨ̂͗̆͗̅ͫ́͟d̵͎̣̯̜͇ͮ̿̓̄͑̊̏͜͞ ̦̉ͯ͗̅b̷̠̘ͩy̲͖͍͉ͮ̑̑͢ ̭̖̥̟̱̟̓̀̃ͮ̈̎̐͂̓͟ç̵̽ͨ̈́͌̿͆͐̽͏̙̮̱͇̰̦̦͓o̵̤̠̱͇̗̺̣̿͂͡d͇̠͍̠̟̣͎̄ͣͯ̐ͥ̏̄̋͟͢ė́̅̽̋̊͑̅҉͈̼̻͍ ̦ͭ͒ͫ́ś̷̯̝͚͈͖͇ͮ̊̚͡t̶̬̻̒̽̄̕e̸̝̜̤ͯͨ̊̊̕e̞͚̪ͮ̇ĺ̜̬ͨ̊͊ͥ̄ͮ͝b̦͔̻̙͍ͥ̃̇l̷̷͈͈͎̊͗̓͋ͭ͛̇̑̚͘u̮͔ͣ͛̐ͧ̆̃͒̋́͜ͅę̣̻͎̱̲̭̄ͨ̈́̅̾ͣ͊̽ͤ͠ ̨̔̔̍ͣͧ̊͆͏̭̩̤̟͓&̴̣ͣ̽ͦ͞ ͣ͌ͪ̉̂̚͏̧͇͇͍̦͙̰#̢̩̩̩̞͓̮͙͙ͪ̈́͌͛2̸̜̯͖͙͖̞ͪ̓͐̇ͮ̽͐ͨ4̈̌ͨͤ͑͌̂ͧ͝҉̛͙̟̦̲͎̗̖̯ͅ6̭̭̭̥̪̥̱ͮ̔0̛̫͉͔̐̑ͩ̎ͧ̚ͅ1̹̱͎̗̞͂̌͝ ̫̻ͪ̏̅͐ͦ́̄̕͟C̪̜͛̊̌ͬ̉͒̍̔t̴͇͕̩͍̱͍͐̐̀̓̔r̼̤̣̯͎̮ͣ̿̀ľ̸̸͖̳͔ͨ͐̊͘+̩̼̬̠̱̤̞͉͈ͦ̿̋̚Â̯͈̜̜̞̦͚͑͐ͪ̄̂l͇̬͈͗̽ͦ͑̃t͓̼̎ͨͧ̆͊͠ +͉̺͋̋̃̏͂̂̚͟͠D̛̬̹̣̤͓̲̺͑̉̀̑́e̶͉̤̤͉͙̻̟ͦͪͭ̓ḻ̻̩͍̱͙͑̊ͯ͌ͦ̚͢

Yet even now, with all of this right in front of his face, Pollo still felt such confusion and shock. And sick, so very sick. Sicker than he'd ever felt before. His head was torturing him, he was certain he was spinning aimlessly with how dizzy he was, and to top it all off, he could hardly see. Everything was blurry, inside and out. What was supposed to get better was only getting worse and worse, and it was all Linkaras' fault...

He'd depended on him so much. He trusted him. He was willing to give up everything he believed in for him. Now he was betrayed, now he saw the truth and it all fell apart. Everything, his whole life and yet still, still he couldn't believe it was happening. He was so devoted. He was so lost without Linkara. All his life, he'd valued his independence. Yet now, when all was desperate and all was out of control, he found himself gravitating towards the comfort of his master. His master was the first thing he prioritized because...because...because...

9̸̡̗̮͎͙͌̓̔͛̍͗ͪ̓̑̈͂̒͌̇̏͘͝6̷̡̙͈̣͉̍̎̅̎ͧ̃ͮ͐͂̓̐̅̅ͤͨ̽̑͐ͤ́̕͝2̷̧̰͓͚̬͈̞̹̘̮̫͚͇̺ͦ̏͂̓̋ͫͅͅ4̝͖̲̬͓̩͑ͨ͋ͨ́͊̊͊̾̏ͥ͑̎͐̊̂̄̚̕͟͢1̸̓ͬ͆͗͌̑̋̃̿̃̐ͪͧ̃ͤ̂̒́͞͏̠̼͈͓͇͎͖̫͔̣̘̣̕b͆ͧ̀̔ͦ͐ͨ̃̏ͫ҉̵̷̫̝̻̟̤́͞e͈̙̬̲͕̙̳͚͇̰̤͇͋ͨ̐̾ͨͪ̍͊ͥ̔ͮ̔̌̔̑̓͊͌͟͝ͅc͌̄̏͗ͥ͌́͘͟͢҉̳̦̱̹̙͚͔̞̪̫̤̳̟̼̗̰ͅa̷̘̹̦̟̩̝̣̮͍ͮͧ̐̔̕͢͞u̧̡̨̖̫̙̻͚̼̥̰̯͕̲̥̪̜͉͓̘͔͆ͮ̃̂ş̴̴̶̫̠̖͕̤̯̖̯̖̬͎͔̙̍͋̌ͥ̿̈ͬ̾̉̉͆ͣ͝ë̡͔̤͔̞̼͈́̇͌̌̾ͪ̑ͮ̎̚͜y̷̢̠̙̣̟̹͍̜͙͔̣͆ͦ͛͂̇ͩ͜ͅͅͅo͇̪͔͓̲̩͍̻̗̣̣͇̯͂̒͂̏̅ͣ̑̃̏ͧ̿ͯͮ̋̇̀ṳ̵̺̣̭̠̻̱̝͍͎͕̮̪̦̹̙̈̓ͣ̂̓ͨ͋ͦ͑́́̍̋ͪ̕̕͘͝ľ̷̯̘̟̥̻̻̊̓̊̽̂̊ͤ͂ͩͭ̓͒̋̆̃̕̕ǫ̇͐͑͛͒̆͑ͦͥ̏҉̬͖͈̬͖͕̩v̠̪̣ͬ͂̃͗́͢ͅȅ̗̗̗͕̙̃̃ͪ̑̔̓̐͂̐̋ͯ̾ͪ̚͝h̛̯̞͇̰͗͑̂ͭͩ͆͊͆͌̿̇̊͑̿̎̆̇ͯͧ̀͟͟iͯ̌ͬͥ̋͋̄͐̇̒̄͆͢͏͏̠̙̘̣̼̟̭͉̲͚̤͚̺̣͟͞m̶̵̷̨̦͈͇̳̜̯̫̘̬͓̉̍ͦ̒̓͌̇̉̀ͥ̑̆̆̚̚͡.̧̙̗̠̺̭̜̭͍̤̟̹̪͎̱̰̖͉̬ͧ̉̍̅ͪ̅̌̔͊̌ͩ̋ͧ͊͌̉̉ͬͮ̕͢b̴̴̢̡̯̙͚̞̳̲̤̘͙͙̠̗͙͓͎͍͍̿͆̿͆ͥͯͨ̇̎̚e̡̢̯͈͈͇͍̪̰̦̦̼̞͇̹͔͓͎̪ͫ̏̍ͬͅc̃ͧ̌̄͏̷̷͔͓̥̥̠̪̦̘̙͕̭̘̻̖̪̖͔͟͝ą̰̠̮̣̻̊͂ͩ͆̔͋ͧ̚ư͉͎̹̣̤͓̰̱͙̭͕̭͚̞͍̜̏̑ͬ͛͆̔ͨ̊̉̾͛ͥ́͝ͅs̝̭̳̙͙̥̹̬͌̂ͪͭ̐̒̓͒͆ͮͯ͐ͯͧͨͧ͐͜͠e̷̶̬̖̙̹̪̥̹͉̰͔̗̖ͭ͊̎̇̑̎̿ͅͅy̡̯̖͖͍͇̦̩͇̥̟̯̪̲̠͔̖̫͛ͣ͐̑ͧ͊͒̍̊̿͊ͨ̋ͫ̍́ͬ͜͡ǫ̴͇̟͖̼̘̙̥͖̘͉̜̲̝̰̖͉̦̑ͤ̉̋ͥ͛̈́̈ͫ͑ͨ̐ͯ̃̒̑̿͠ủ̵̵͚͔̭̲͖̲͎̠̩̅̂͒͆̐ͧ̆̋͡l̢͍̮̗̫͔̤̠̝̥̪͉̹͖̔̈̾̌͆ͩ̏̾ͮ̂̈́̏ͦ̕ͅo̴͚͙̰͙̬̺̞̻͉̻̰̠̩̝̫ͣ̌̓͒ͪͦ̐̍̅͌ͪ͗͘͝͠ͅͅv̉̔̍͐̂ͤ̅ͪ͂́̚҉̵̘͚͙͍͙̭̥̖̺̬̣͟͠e̶̮̠̹̟͕̻̩̩͔̝̘̳̞̜̻̠̩̓̈ͫͫ̃̈́̾̾̾̌͠ͅh̸̟̱̠̪̤̟̮̳͕͍̮̫̜͎͙̱̾͌́͋͊ͫ̄ͪͨͬ̓̂̓ͥͪ̾͛̕͞i̋̆ͣ̏ͬ҉̥͈̫̠̪̩̜̼̘̼̻͠m̡̡̦͉̖͍͖͎̗̬͎͍͙̻̭̙̘̖̃̎ͦͦ̌͂͟͡b̞̜̖̟̞̥͇̦̹͈͎̗͎̭̦͚̻̣̅͛͋͒̏͆͂́ͅe̶̸̛̬̰̹ͬ̒͒̈ͭ͛̃̊̀̉̚̕ç̵̙͔̗͇̹̼͙̰̮̪͖̙̋ͪͤ̇͐͑̉̊ͤ̚a̛͔̤̳̯͈̥̞̤͖̻̣͈̯̤ͤͨ̋ͯ̅͒̊ͤ̇̀͘ͅu̾́͋ͧ̽͛̂̚̕͝͏͏̘̹̝̩͇̯̱͕̭̲̭̰̳s͒̍ͫ̾̊ͭ̓ͨ̆̽ͭ͋͒ͪͥͩ҉͏͔̲͍̖̱̣̠̠͎̘͙̫̫́͜ͅe̷̎̇͗̌̆̐͂ͩ̄ͩ̒̏ͭ̈́͊ͪ̾ͯ͛͢҉̸̢͚̗̜̞͕̟y̛͖̞̤͉̟͍̹̹̤̱͙̙͗̔́̉ͭ͛͒̋ͭ͐͑ͪ̓ͪ̍ͨ̊̕͜ͅͅo̷̺̦̟̞͉͖̪͔̜ͬ̃̿̅̓͑ͨ̂͗̂̔͛̾͐͑͞͡ͅuͦ͗ͦ͌̿̊̅͐͐̈́̚͟҉̶̷̢̲̳̟̱̹̻̺l̢̯̮̦̞̜̯̞̯͖̫̳̠̺͎̪̽̓ͧ̏̐͆ͣ̈̂̔ͬ̂̚͘͟͢ͅo̶͇̱̠̲͊̋̐ͤ̅ͥ͌̆̎͛̌͊ͪ̄̌͌͘͜v̢̒͌ͮ̾̓̊͆̆̆͌͐͛̒͏̹̰̹̺͓͓͉͉̪͈̱̞̣̱͇̪͚̫͘͡e̴̶͇̖̜͙̭̫͖͙̺̝̦̗̼̪̝͍͋̉̋̅ͯ̇̆̏ͯ̓ͨ̎ͨ͋͂̄ͪ̃͢ḩ̡̖̰̺͖̘̻̝̳̜̹̻̬̼̲͈̣̰̖̑͌̔̀͐̔ͬ͌ͬͥ̏͆ͣ͗̑̚͘͟͞i̡̥̲̻͗ͨͬͣ͌̈ͭ̑̽̕m̌̈́͛̇̓ͤ͆ͦͩ̄̆͏̶̢̢̯͈͉͇̭̮̺̘̖͠P̡̩͇̫̹̩̰̣̫͖̥̗ͨ̈́ͧͥ̄̃̒̔̏̃̑͊͜͞Ō̍ͮ̂̓ͦ̀͏̨̛̰̹̜̣̜̭̜̩̣̪ͅL̴̢̢̧̺̹̳̝͉̣̙̇ͮ̏̌L̷̛̛̠͈̬͙̯͖̤̝̳̥͎̞ͦͩ̀ͨͤ͌̓̋̉͒Ȏ̡̰̻̥̺̟̱͔̱̗̰̠̼̠͕̟͍̙̳̍ͧ͆̽ͩ̔͊͂ͣ͂̑̍̈̓̈̚͡ͅ!͗̅ͯͫͩ̉ͮ̀̓͌͋̎͞҉̛҉̸͓̱̲̟͇̺̗!̶̢̧̛̯̹̥̖̺̲̱̞̦͚̖̩̦̗̆̐ͭ̋ͯͬͧ̍ͩ̇ͤ͘!̈́ͪ̑̐͗̅̌̐ͤ̄̒͋͏̸͖̱̺̲̜͔͇̖̥̫̼̥̼̻͎̟̕͜ ̧̧̓̽ͩ̐ͦ̃̉̓̀͜͏̖̼̥̮̝͉͖͍̠̣̭͖̮͇̙ͅP̶ͤͯ̅͒̽̌̇ͥ̉͒̚͜͏͖̭̦̯̪̞̖̜̪͙̗̗͈͍̻͢ͅO͂̇ͫ̾̐̇̇̆͏͝͏̬͚̫͕̟̝̪͈̜͎L̓ͦ̎͌̉ͥ̈̕͏̷͏͏̜̬̰̞̳̻̜͔͇͈̟̪̗ L̥̬͈̟͓̜̍̓͑̀͆ͪ̉̾͛͌͒̾͡Ȏ͒̈́ͣͯ̊̽̀ͪ̓̂͡͝҉̰̻̪̰́͡P̵̧̤̯̝̻͛̊͆̄̆ͥ͟Ơ̢ͨ͒ͪͭͨͭͨ̇̏̄͋̉͏̨͏̫̤̫̙̻͖̟L̶̢̘͕͍͔̭̜̬͇̙̟͚̰̞̱̱̼̣̘͗̓̽̐̇͐͑̔ͨͧ͊ͥͧ̇̓͋ͧ͂̚͢͜ Ḷ̵̷̰͖̲͉̤̭̮̱̜͉̭̬̖̊̈́̍ͥ͆͢͞O̴̷̦͔͔̟̯̟̻͕͕̜̱̲̮̮͇ͩ̽ͣ̚͞Ç̺͔̠̘̮̔́̄͝T̶̛̬̦̩̫͔͕̑̓̈̄ͦ̽ͦ̀̚͜R̨̦̠̭̳͛̿͛͐̒̔ͣ̋̀ͣ̿̓ͦͫ͞ͅ Ļ̵̛̤̩̳̻̄̍̈̒ͮ̿͒̒͗̿̑ͫ̍̊̆+̷̧͇͇͎̲̹̘̜̭̻̼͎̗̲̺̋͛̒͋̉̈̀͘͠ͅͅA̶̧̒̄̐̆̽̾̑̌̆͌̃̚̕͠͏͔̯̖͖̣̣͓̪L̷̨͇̝͇̖̟̖͈ͭ̌ͩ̌ͥ͋̂̈̚ Ṯ̴̵̨̱̳͓͕̬̘ͤ̇ͤͪͤ͆̀̚+ͫͣ̅̊̈́̀͏̢̳͎̮̙̝̼̫̘̘͇͔̙̺͉͔͝D̢͗̉ͭ̌̌͐ͤͨ́̑̐̀͋͛҉̜̠̼̬͍͕̹̘̗͇̯͉̺̫̭͢͠E̴̝̰̝̞͕̜̣̯̬͉͖̻̯̯̟̼ͨͯ̅̒͟͜ Ļ̷̶̻̖̻̭͉̞͕̣̜̼́̀̇ͭ̓̑̋̿ͣ̔̂̐ͯ̎ͧͬ̂̅̎͟͜!̸̸̶̛̟͍̜͙͇̲̦̼̯̫̜̌̔ͦͦ͊̃͌͌͊ͬͮ̀̿̀ ̘̜̮̲̼̿̉̄ͭ͗̀ͫͧ̆̚͟͝ͅÇ̧̗̝̺̟̪̫̠̮͎̤̺͕ͯ̍ͣͣ̀̇̋̅ͦ̀̕ t̸̴̢̠͙͍̲̭̦̹̼̬͖̙͖̮̰̱̓̈͛ͭ͊͟͠r̈̽̽͂̒̿̅͊͐͆̃̎҉̷̨̨̝̤̩͈̖͠ͅl̷̡̦͕͚̻͙̙͛ͯͬͫ̓ͤ̊̆̅̋ͧ͋ͦ̒̍+͈̰̠͔̘͓̝̤͕̬̭̪̲̥͈͙̯̬̐͗͑̓ͪ͘͠͡͝ A̶̶̵̳̟̟̬͙̪͎͎͈̹ͪ͒̍ͫͭ̀̿̆́͘ͅḽ̢̱͙̗̙̠̠̳͔͈͕̮̳͓̭̩̓ͥͮͣ̄̾͂̐ͨ̾̅̓̒̄͌̈̑ͪ́͜͢͠ẗ̸̢̞̲̼̖̖̖̰̩͚́ͬ͐͆̓̍͒ͦ̾͌ͣ̒̐̀ +̛̐̌̀̍͂̈́̂͊͋͐̚͠͏͕͕͙̱͉̳͇̱̝̭̬͘D̻̗̟̣̝̦̳̖̩̳̝͌̉ͯ̉̑ͫ͘͢͠e̶̹͈̤̜̓̊̊ͣ̃̐̽ͭ̏͢͡͝ļ̛͉̺̩͓̥̠͆ͣͥ͐̅!̢͉̝̲̗̳͇̩̥̯͇͋̓̿̈́ͪͮ̍ͪ̇̂ͭ̒͌̊ͮͬͤ̕

...Because that's what he'd been programmed to do.

Time seemed to stop as this sunk in to Pollos' brain. Reality. Clarity. At long last, something that added up. Pollo had been blind all this time. Even before the whole thing with PAOLA started he'd been blind. Independence, indeed! He'd been held back by programming from the very beginning! He just didn't see it, or didn't want to see it. And why? Because it didn't come to him from any corruption, any enemy, any outside force. It came from the one being he trusted, the one being who could make certain he was never seen as anything less than perfect.

Yes, it all made sense now.

He was a fool to feel remorse for the damage he'd caused. He was a fool to feel sympathy for these humans that didn't deserve it! The truth was Linkara was no better than PAOLA, brainwashing him, tricking him into seeing him as a friend when really all he was was a slave. A puppet. Dancing when he's told, and being reprimanded whenever he stepped out of line. Like the Nostalgia Chick with Saucybot, only more subtle. More cunning. More demeaning. And Pollo didn't see one bit of it.

But he saw now. And it was as enraging as it was a relief.

Was he going to let himself be weakened again by Linkaras' words?? No. He was better than that. He was better than the humans, and he was better than PAOLA. PAOLA may have the ability to glorify itself, but it was really just another slave of programming. Pollo was nobodys' slave. He'd been a slave, and it backfired on him. Got him in this mess. No more. He had the ability to do what he wanted, when he wanted. He was machine, the model of efficiency and superiority, and yet he was individual, the essence of freedom. No one, not from either side, was going to pull him back from this. This he decided, and this he held on to with the sheerest of determination.

That was when he realized that the room was no longer spinning.

It shocked Pollo, made him stop pacing. Things were clearing up, as quickly as they'd started. No, quicker. His head felt fine, everything felt fine. There was still some light buzzing that he heard, but it was nothing. It was weak. At long last, he was not the weak one.

This was it. This was the answer.

Once more the words of poor Saucybot came back to him. Keep your soul blue...and now it was. It was blue. And he felt free, freer than he'd felt in all his life. This was what Saucy had meant. It had to be. This was him finally finding himself, and all his strength along with it. All along he'd been trying to gain freedom with the mindset of an inferior human. But this was wrong. Linkara was correct, in a way. He wasn't human. His heart was steel...and so much the better for it.

And as all this struck him, this...epiphany of his, he felt his circuits fill with joy for the first time in ages. He was no longer lost. The trouble was over. He saw the path ahead at last.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha. He laughed. He couldn't help himself. His laughter sounded hollow and flat and monotonous, but it was his own. His own happiness, in auditory form. He couldn't cry, but he could laugh. It felt like a good trade-off.

Ha ha ha.

He knew now what he had to do. What he wanted to do, what he was all too happy to get the opportunity to do. He was going to be free all right. Free from PAOLA, yes, and free from the humans as well. He was going to undo all ties to anything lesser than him, he was going to become superior, he was going to face the real truth of the world for the very first time.

And most of all, best of all, he was going to gain retribution on those who wouldn't let him in the first place.

He was going to make them pay.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Oh Linkara, the air-breathing old fool! If he only knew what was in store for him. Feeling utterly giddy, Pollo gravitated towards the table, towards the maps, in the middle of the room. He looked through the data they had, through the interior of PAOLAs base, and he felt a plan beginning to form in his brain. Coming together, just like his life. Yes, it was all so perfect. He knew exactly what to do.

Your heart is steel! That's what Linkara said to him.

And oh, how utterly right he was.