Chapter Text
The robbery wasn’t anything special—stealing the money from a simple convenient store near the edge of the city. Even if the job seemed so small, the Bitches, of course, expected resistance.
“Ninety seconds on the clock!”
Dan was inside the store, but Jerry and Ken could still hear him from up on the roof. Jerry had his pistol drawn, checking his grip for the fifth time before his ears picked up a familiar whine.
“Sirens,” He simply says, “They’re quick today.”
“Sounds like more than one,” Ken adds, slowly peeking his head over the barrier on the roof and scanning the road below, “Get ready for a good one, boys.”
“I’m always ready!” Dan shouts, sounding a bit strained from his work on the vault inside. Jerry could hear the metallic creaks of the crowbar slowly prying its way into the vault’s door.
He turned his head, confirming the location of the getaway vehicle with their driver patiently waiting for them to finish. Through the window, Jerry spotted Fingle reclining in his chair, lazily scrolling through what was probably Twitter. It almost brought a smile to his face. Almost.
His attention was turned to the sound of an engine approaching and stopping in front of the store. Ken rushes to the edge, definitely expecting cops, but Jerry watches as a smile spreads across his cheeks.
“Hey Robot!” Ken calls, waving a hand.
“Hello Ken!” Robot replies, always polite. He spots Jerry when the man walks to the edge next to Ken and waves to him. Jerry waves back. “Are you guys in the middle of a robbery?”
“Yeah, baby!” Dan chimes in, “Probably wanna get outta here before cops come!”
“I’ll stay out of the way! Good luck!”
“Thank you Robot! We—“ Dan is cut off as the tires from two cop cars come squeaking around the corner. Ken gets to his feet, Jerry towering behind him, gun in hand. Robot, deciding that it’s best not to move, stays just outside of the store, standing in a parking spot with his hands in the air.
“To anyone in the building,” The dull voice of a pissed-off male cop sounds from a megaphone. “Step out of the store with your hands in the air.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” Ken says, pulling the cops’ attention to him, “If you leave your vehicle, I will pull my gun on you.”
“Three targets confirmed,” One of the cops mumble into his radio, but Jerry and Ken pick it up. “One escape vehicle found. More possibly in and around the building.”
“Ay! You leave Robot out of this—he’s not with us! Well, not right now…”
“We will use force if you continue to resist. Step out of the building with your hands up.”
“I refuse!” Ken hisses, wrinkling his nose, “And so do my boys.” Jerry silently agrees with a small nod of his head. He doesn’t fear the cops, and he trusts Fingle to get them out safe.
“Oh man!” Dan’s voice slices the air, “These Pringles are delicious!”
Suddenly, there’s movement. Jerry and Ken begin to book it back to the rear of the building where they need to jump to Fingle’s monster truck as Dan rushes out the front door. Jerry sprints full-tilt towards the edge and leaps, barely making the jump to the other side. It knocks the wind out of him, but he makes it to the car door. His hand grabs at the handle and he pulls, but before he can hoist himself in, he hears shouts and then gunshots.
His head whips around, eyes feverishly scanning the area where Dan is supposed to appear, but the bearded man hasn’t made it to the car yet. Ken is panting behind Jerry, having just made the jump.
“Where’s Dan?” Ken huffs. Jerry doesn’t respond. “Oh shit.”
Jerry barely hears Fingle shout his name before he begins to sprint back towards the front of the store, vaulting over the fence and landing heavily. It doesn’t stop him—his world gets quiet as his focus shifts from escape to break.
He can’t really tell how many times he pulled the trigger, but his anger flares when he realizes he misses all of the shots. The mag goes dry and he curses. Tossing the gun aside, he throws punches at the nearest cop, his heavy gauntlets doing much of the work for him. A splash of blood from the forehead of one of the cops, and then they topple to the ground. All Jerry can hear is the thudding of his heartbeat and his own breaths.
After a moment, Dan’s voice cuts through his trance and sends him spiraling back to reality. He’s yelling something at him. What’s he saying?
“—elp, Jerry!”
Jerry turns and peers behind him—cold, unwavering, calm. But that’s shattered when he sees who actually got shot.
Dan is crouched over Robot, having pulled him into his arms. Jerry’s eyes widen as he notices that Robot appears panicked— hands clutching at bullet-wounds that have ripped through clothes and metal shell. Something is oozing from the wounds, like a mixture of oil and clear fluid. Like blood. Jerry stands, transfixed.
Robot isn’t supposed to be scared. He’s not supposed to die. He’s just a machine.
Right?
Outwardly, nothing about Jerry changes, but inside he’s confused, horrified, and irate. The other cop—the one who spoke to them prior—is still aiming his gun at the downed Robot, keeping him and Dan from moving. He shouts something at them, something Jerry doesn’t really care to listen to. Then, without hesitation, Jerry picks up his discarded gun and, as the cop misses a shot, hurls the gun at the cop, striking him in the jaw. This gives Jerry an opening.
As the cop stumbles, Jerry spins on his heel and kicks into the asphalt, lunging towards Dan and Robot. He scoops the wounded bot into his arms and pulls Dan to his feet in one swift motion—and then they run.
Jerry leads them back to the vehicle in silence, passing through a hedge. Dan is uncharacteristically quiet as they move, not even bothering to taunt the cops. Jerry nearly tosses Robot into the backseat of the car and is barely in the seat himself before Fingle stomps on the gas and begins to race away the cops behind them, leaving skid marks in their wake.
“Jerry?” Fingle yells, sounding angry and concerned, “Why did you—“ But before he can complete his thought, he finally takes a look at rear-view mirror at the same time as Ken turns around from the passenger seat.
Jerry has his hands pressed on Robot’s wounds, like he would with a normal person. But would that even help? Robot isn’t a normal person.
However, Jerry is mortified to realize that Robot is taking shallow breaths and whimpering like a ‘normal person.’ It’s truly haunting. Jerry is at a loss of words, and it seems like everyone else is, too.
“Fi-n-gle—“ Robot manages to whisper, but his voice crackles and strains.
“Robot, I…” Fingle almost forgets that he’s driving a getaway vehicle and takes a sharp turn away from oncoming traffic.
“Fingle, focus on driving!” Ken finally says. Jerry looks at him—the man has determination in his eyes. “Dan, move, let me sit there. Try to keep the cops off us. Don’t let ‘em get close.”
“O-okay.” Dan replies has Ken hands him his gun. They switch spots, so now Dan is up front while Ken lets Robot rest his head on his lap.
Jerry watches Ken, perplexed. Was this a new side to him? Or, perhaps, he had always been this way, but Jerry never had a chance to observe. Although, Jerry had to admit, he had never been very good with people, so he just let the thought go for now.
His eyes move down once again, but it’s hard to look at Robot this way. He focuses on trying to asses the damage.
Three gunshot wounds. Two to upper chest, both right and left sides, then one just below where a human heart would be. On a human, those were very often fatal—what would it do to Robot? Jerry guessed that only Fingle really knew.
He soon realized that Robot was watching him—eyes staring as Jerry attempted to use his clumsy, armored hands to keep the wounds shut. Jerry met his eyes for a brief moment, but he couldn’t hold the gaze. He sensed raw and real fear in those eyes—fear that Robot was unable to express in words, and fear that Jerry thought Robot wasn’t capable of having in the first place.
“Hey Robot,” Ken says, breaking the odd silence that had fallen on them even during an intense chase, “Ever since you got that cool new bike, I’ve been jealous as hell. It’s got fuckin’ spikes on it. How cool is that?” Robot’s gaze lifted to meet Ken’s, and he immediately seemed to relax a little. “You’ve gotta let me ride it once we get back.”
“Can’t it do a cool jump thingy?” Dan says, sounding a lot less freaked out than before.
“Yeah. I saw Robot do this sick jump with it before. Actually, it wasn’t just one jump. I think every jump is cool on that thing.”
“I like the tail thing. It cool. It very cool.”
“I think Robot keeps it on there for style. Isn’t that right?”
Robot slowly nods, eyes staying fixed on Ken, letting his hands come to a rest rather than fighting with Jerry’s hands and grabbing at his wounds.
“Guys, hang on to something,” Fingle cuts in, his voice dead serious and determined. Jerry moves to hold Robot, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him into a one-armed bear hug, using his other arm to brace against the movements of the vehicle.
The floor suddenly falls from under them and they can feel nothing but air below the tires for a moment that lasts too long. Then, the truck hits the ground hard , nearly spinning out of control, but Fingle is the baby driver for a reason.
Jerry, having gotten so used to the police sirens behind them, finally notices the pure silence without them. Just the road, the engine, and the wind, now.
In his arms, Jerry hears a quiet ‘ah-ah-ah,’ like short, hiccuping breaths. He lets Robot fall back onto Ken’s lap again and notices that his face is twisted in pain, arms tucked up against his chest. The jump must’ve hurt.
“I’m sorry Robot…” Jerry says quietly, feeling genuinely guilty. His armor definitely wasn’t the softest thing to land on. He averts his gaze for a moment, peering out the window, when he feels a hand placed on his. He looks back and sees Robot’s hand patting his own, gazing at him with a pained smile.
It’s okay.
Jerry’s heart melts for a fleeting moment. Robot was alive , and Jerry wanted to keep him that way.
So, of course, that meant he needed to slaughter some pigs. One in particular needed to go first.
But it’d have to wait until they got to a safe place.
“We’re going to the cabin,” Fingle says, still all seriousness, but then his voice gets uncharacteristically soft, “When we get there I’ll fix you up, Robot. Don’t you worry.” Robot nods, getting a confident smile from Ken and Dan. He closes his eyes and relaxes further, with Jerry and Ken carefully watching him.
Yeah.
Pigs need to die now.