Mmmm, and because I decided to, I'm also posting up a little short story thing that I just now wrote. *nods*

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Tin feet running along the paved street struck a rhythm that broke the constant beat of the rain that pounded, seemingly endlessly. Small beads of water rolled down the silver plating, leaving wet trails that were soon erased by new raindrops not a second after they appeared. He was sure that if he'd still had a heart, it'd be beating like a drum. That thought stopped him, his dash slowing to a dazed walk. If he'd still had a heart...

******

Bright sunlight, laughing children. Running along behind friends. A pretty little blonde girl turning to him, big smile on her face, saying something. Lips moved, but no sound. What are you saying? He knew that she was talking to him, that his name was in there somewhere, but... silence. Then... static. Like the TV slowly going out, fading away. Wait, stop! What did you say? Come back...

******

He ducked around a corner into a side alley. How long? How long had it been like this? A hand, a cold metallic hand came up and patted at the smooth, flat surface of the screen. The screen where his face should have been. THe monitor where his head should have been. He laughed sadly, listening to the tinny quality of his voice. Fake voice, fake body, fake... memories?

"There he is! Get 'im!"

Gunshots.

******

"No! Stop!"

Frozen. Can't move. Dead silence. Blindly bright lights.

And then nothing.

---

Bubbles. Greenish-yellow water. Mom? See her standing a little ways away, downloading something onto a computer. Reach out to her. Hand stopped..? By... a barrier? Mom... Blackness again.

---

Eyes open with a snap. Sit up, look around. So much technology... Head feels heavier than usual... Movement in the corner of the room. Look over to see a wizened old man pulling a curtain closed, but not fast enough. Was that... a hand? Too late, curtain's closed. Why does everything feel different? What's going on?

---

It had been his duty. Ever since he had woken up and felt heavier than normal, he had always done what he was told, no matter the order. Kept away from the other children at Mother's orders. Cleaned up the broken dishes that she threw at him. Gave her her pills and a drink when she told him. And so, there had been no questioning in his mind when he handed her the pistol. This wasn't his mother, though. Was it really alright to follow her orders as well? No time to think about it. Watched as she'd put the tip in her mouth. Looked away, as he'd been told, as she pulled the trigger.

When they found her, he was sitting next to her, brushing her hair, inadvertently smearing the blood and grey tissue through the pretty golden strands. They'd started yelling at him. They didn't understand that she'd been crying. They'd yelled at him, called him names. Then they'd started chasing him. Why? He'd only done as he'd been told, just like he'd always done.

******

There was a thin popping sound as the bullet hit its mark, tearing through tubes and wires. He fell back, the force of the impact knocking him back to collapse against a wall. It didn't hurt, like he though it would have. The screen blurred. That shouldn't be happening... A cold hand felt at the hole in his abdomen, came away wet and slick, and not just with rain. Black... oil? He was leaking oil. That wasn't good, he needed that to keep running. His arm fell back to his side as the screen went black and white, looking like a snow storm. The static was deafening. How was he supposed to go get fixed like this? The screen got darker, until the color disappeared, as if someone had just turned off a TV.

And as the men walked back to their homes, all that was left was a broken-down little robot, bleeding black from the hole in its chest.