I woke up to the sight of a filthy ceiling, the damp air clinging to my sensors. **What am I doing down here?** My thoughts barely had time to settle before something clattered in the distance. Instinct took over—I sat up, turning toward the source of the sound.
I froze.
My legs were gone.
What…?
I stared at the empty space where they should have been, my mind struggling to process the reality before me. Then, a firm grip landed on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw a Computer Man standing over me. His uniform, once pristine white, was now ruined—filthy, torn, and stained from the surrounding grime.
Next to him stood a short, black-haired human—a child. She was covered in oil stains and sewing marks, clutching a wrench tightly. But what stood out most was the **huge smile** on her face—the biggest I had ever seen on a human. She looked familiar.
"Who are you? And why are we in the sewers?"
My audio output crackled, distorted and uneven, cutting out between words. My internal systems struggled to adjust, interference rippling through my signal.
Her expression faltered.
"Oh, don't tell me your memory's been damaged."
She muttered, her smile twisting into a frown. She started toward me, concern flickering in her eyes.
But the Computer Man stopped her.
"I got this."
He said, a smirk appearing on his screen. Lifting his arm, a metal tentacle extended from his body. He moved toward the back of my head, plugging into my system, and my memories began to replay.
---
Flashback
"Hey, 457, after this patrol, you want to hit the gun range?"
Cameraman 865 asked, checking the ammo in his weapon.
"You know, one last time before we officially join the PSC and can no longer party."
I shook my head, finishing my own equipment check.
"We're going to be swamped with paperwork and NDAs. This last patrol makes us eligible to be members."
I glanced at him as he fiddled with a flashbang.
"Careful with that. I heard getting hit with a flashbang at point blank is painful as hell."
He paused for a moment, considering my words, then nodded and stashed it in his vest.
"Now come on, let's get to the car before 342 leaves us."
His statement made me chuckle as we both made our way to the garage.
Once we reached the car, 865 hopped into the front seat beside 342—which honestly made me want to laugh. The guy had a crush on 342 and was doing a terrible job of hiding it. I think the only reason she hadn't noticed was because she was too focused on her work.
"Yo, 457! Wait up!"
A young voice called out to me.
Turning around, I was met with G3-43—a member of the *third generation of Cameramen* and a huge fan of Titan Cameraman.
"Do you know any places where I can learn to use the plunger? I've been looking, but everywhere I've gone has been lackluster."
I was about to respond when Camera Woman, who had been watching everyone leave for patrol, seemed to overhear G3-43. She was already making her way toward us.
I glanced at him before answering cryptically.
"I think the answer to that question might be closer than you think."
Camera Woman was known for her no-nonsense attitude—no games, no jokes. She also happened to be *one of the few who truly mastered the plunger. Add to that the fact that she had trained alongside the legendary Plunger Man himself, and I had a gut feeling that G3-43 was about to undergo one hell of a training regimen.
---
Sometime Later
Me, 342, and 865 were silently driving through the worst part of the city—the slums. It wasn't like the slums you see on TV; the houses and roads were relatively clean. It was just far more dangerous than any other part of the city.
None of us spoke. This area had seen frequent terrorist attacks in recent months, and staying alert was our priority.
But something felt… off.
I glanced outside, scanning the streets.
"342, where are all the humans and toilets?"
This part of the city usually housed the more jaded civilians, those who distrusted gearheads and watched us closely whenever we passed through. Today, there was nothing—no wary stares, no movement, just an eerie silence.
"Hmm… now that you mention it, I do—"
She was cut off as the house beside us exploded, sending our car flipping through the air.
---
Present
I was brought back to the present as the Computer Man removed the tendril from my mind. I was confused—the memories still didn't tell me why I was in the sewers.
Looking over at him, I saw him lean against the wall, slowly sliding down until he was sitting. He let out a sigh.
"Need more energy, give me a couple hours."
That was interesting—was he not fully charged? Most computer race members I had met were orderly and uptight, but he was a mess.
I turned my attention to the small girl, who was fiddling with a shotgun.
I stared for a moment, wondering what kind of shotgun it was, until I realized that a child, probably eight years old, was handling a firearm.
"Kid, the hell are you doing?"
I asked, half-panicked at the sight of a child messing with a shotgun—while my other half panicked that I couldn't get up and stop her.
The child, however, stopped fiddling with the weapon and turned toward me with a small scowl.
"Alright, Gold."
I would have blinked if I had eyes—she had given me a name.
"I have been trying to repair you for six months."
Her statement caught me off guard—I had been offline for six months?
"I've had to steal and rob to trade with the Computer Men down here."
Her eyes darkened, shifting from black to orange, and suddenly, the room felt hotter. Frustration twisted her face.
"I had to scurry around in the dark like a FUCKING rat—all because of those sons of bitches. The Leader and C-Pen want my entire species gone."
Her eyes glazed over, pupils shrinking as horror overtook her face.
"They killed everyone I know—my mom, my friends, and—"
Her voice caught, choking on the words as her breathing became erratic.
Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled toward me, gasping through a panic attack.
"Dad… they burned him alive, Gold. Oh god, his screams were so loud."
As soon as she got in range, she hugged me.
I froze.
I wasn't trained in comforting people, especially those suffering from PTSD, but I had learned one thing about handling weapons— sometimes, holding them close is the best way to keep them steady.
She trembled against me.
"I can't lose you too, Gold."
"I'll fix you. Then we're going to kill those bastards that did this to us."
I hesitated for a moment but finally hugged her back.
Her breath hitched in shock, her heartbeat slowing as I pulled her in tighter.
"What's your name, kid?"
She looked up, her teary eyes meeting mine, and smiled weakly.
"My name is Bethany."