Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had happened again.

The ‘safe’ zone appeared to shrink every passing day. The few survivors trickling in from other parts of the Dead City were minimal enough in number to be accommodated, but not really well enough. 

Many still made their place in the streets, hiding in piles of garbage in the hope that it would be enough to hide them when the Zurk Alert alarm went off.

Clementine surveyed her home-village with tired eyes. The slums provided safety for now, but how much longer could everyone survive down here? 

It doesn’t matter , she told herself. She was fortunate to have lived as long as she had, sharing in the minute sense of community surrounding the other Companions. No-one in the Walled City, or at least in the infested lower levels, expected to find a way to solve anything. Those in Midtown didn’t need to anyway; they already had everything. 

But down here, nobody was even trying. It wasn’t fair. Even if by some stroke of probably alcohol driven teamwork, they tried something, when it went wrong there were precious, paltry resources to fix themselves up again. 

Not when, Clementine thought stubbornly, if. The lack of daring survival plans wasn’t for her lack of trying, she would say if there was anyone to tell. 

She forcibly tamped down her irritation.

As much as she cared for her peers, it seemed as though they were just sitting around, waiting to die. Like there was no point in even protesting it. Her stance on things was enough to render her unpopular. 

Not in a particularly shunning way either, more like Oh look, there goes that crazy Clementine. Always searching for salvation that will never come. How sad. 

It was due in no small part to her belief in that there was an Outside; a place beyond this cursed hell, even harder to reach than the pure city above. Where life could thrive, without skulking around in fear.

 She may not have been alone in her thoughts, but none had stepped forward to declare it.

She was certain that at least Momo believed in its existence too, and perhaps Zbaltazar. He had always been most opaque about his opinions. The short, introverted Companion she’d met in person only once when he’d been seeking refuge after his part of the now-Dead City had fallen victim to a blight of Zurks. 

Clementine often saw Momo about. He’d always struck her as rather timid and didn’t particularly like to look her in the eye. In fact, she only knew his screen was rainbow-striped because she’d once seen him not wearing his signature tattered hat, staring wistfully up at what she had to assume was the roof. 

The desperation was getting to everyone. If things kept up like this, it would doubtless be the end. Maybe, secretly, they hoped.

If only Clementine could get them to admit it. If only there was a way out…

~

In the overgrown nook, a small cluster of four cats frolicked. Some were flopped over on their furred sides, licking and grooming their feet. One batted at a sleek black neighbour, ignoring the resounding meow that followed. 

The last, a young ginger striped creature, padded forward, staring forth into the rain and blustering wind.

They padded forward to one of their friends, a mainly red feline with a few solitary splotches of white. The hardy outpost knew each other far better than the shallow frugalities of names, so in tune with the other members of the group that there was no need even for sight to identify anyone.

The ginger one’s companion gave them a brusque lick and nuzzle, before drawing them onto a damp box, settling down to sleep. Somewhere in the background, a mournful moon rose and thunder boomed.

It was of no consequence for the cat. Their family was close by, and they were safe. 

~

The soft touch of a butterfly on their ear woke them. Green eyes flicked open, assessing the world’s every leaf, touch of moss and crack in the concrete floor. 

It was time to explore; the tabby joined their friends and leaped down on to the pipe below their home. Nimble paws kept their balance elegantly on metal through all manner of jumps and grips. 

Sunlight streamed through the animal’s fur, setting them alight and glowing in its rays. If ever there was an ultimate meaning of life, this was it. Forty-two couldn’t come close to such bliss.

The cats bounded joyfully and confident through their territory, scattering pigeons and bugs as they went. Scratching place ahead! The ebony cat trilled, tail swishing as they strolled over to the tree that marked the edge of the troop’s usual hunting grounds. 

We haven’t caught anything yet, said the white-and-red cat scathingly with a chitter, who looked to be the red-and-white one’s colour swapped twin. 

It didn’t matter though, as nobody ever really got them mixed up. All at once, the collection of cats set off again, past the usual border.

As the agile creatures navigated the new terrain, the orange cat hung behind a bit, pausing to take a sip of water from the fresh puddles. Their charcoal-tinted friend joined them.  Just a little bit further for today I think, they informed their apricot sibling, silently with a flick of a thin tail. 

A purr of agreement was heard as the two ambled on. 

The strays arrived at a rusted pipe hanging over a steep drop. As the others trotted ahead to take the jump, the slower cat watched and waited. As each creature touched down on the opposite side, the metal squeaked in protest. Ears all around were flattened to heads at the grating racket. 

Finally, it was their turn. Nervous though they were at going around uncharted areas, the allure of catching up to their family overrode any nervousness the ginger tabby had. 

They only had to wait a few moments to realise how bad of an idea that would turn out to be. Poising for the vault across, they sprung. 

 They landed hard, the earsplitting noise that emanated from their awkward perch made the creature stick their claws out, well cared for and sharpened. But that wouldn’t help them now. The pipe slipped sideways, out and down. 

They flailed off, crashing into the vegetation that lined the side of the chute. The ginger cat scrambled to keep a hold, but as their muscles burned in panicked exhaustion, they realised it was futile. 

They fell,

down

down

down

~

CRASH .

The brutal contact with gravity’s inevitable end slammed the air out of the stray’s lungs, freezing them up as they slid and skittered helplessly down the pile of trash. 

As the scratched-up, battered cat rolled to a stop, the sad grey colours of this new universe came into view. 

They tried to move, battling unconsciousness with a weak fervour, but they may as well not have bothered at all. The world flickered away. 

Some time later, when they were aware again, the cat took a few experimental steps. One of their legs felt like it was twisted,  so they gave it a thorough lick until it became numb and bearable to stand on again. 

An almost inaudible call echoed from far above their head. They’re looking for me! At the same time, a sinister red glow beamed from a spot on the wall. A low grinding and a few cheeping noises emanated from somewhere far ahead.  …Aren’t they? 

All alone, separated from the others, their mind drew inward in a neverending spiral.

A portion of the barrier rose up. It was the cat’s only lead, far from the sun and the exact definition of something one shouldn’t approach. But maybe they could find a way out of here, back to the warm breezy expanses of the life above. 

They had to. 

~

Resigning themselves to dealing with whatever lay beyond, they strolled through lean metal bars into a small, dank area. Squashing down their feelings of unease, they kept going.

 As they proceeded further, strange tan-coloured things scuttled away on stubby legs. More of the chirps came, making the cat’s heart sink.

So it wasn't their family after all. 

They were on their own. 

Taking in these new surroundings properly, they inspected everything, scrutinising it for ways to get through. The only way forward would be… through a strong chain link fence. Nigh impossible for such a comparatively tiny creature. 

Fortunately, cats are far more resourceful than merely looking groundwards all the time. Sproinging up onto an overflowing dumpster, the tabby cleared the fence with ease.  

Up they went, onto an overhanging tin roof. It felt safer up here; it may not be familiar terrain but they could see any dangers coming from a long way off.

 A rectangular camera followed their movements. Peering over the edge into the oppressive darkness, they gave a short meow! in confusion. Their eyes were very well adapted to night hunting, but here was a strange blend of light and dark at once.

The camera stared, long and unblinking, then nodded. Encouraged, they widened their eyes, suddenly spotting a good landing place as a red lens brightened. Giving a thankful merp, the ginger feline plopped down onto the floor again, heading onwards.

Behind them, the watchful eye of the city bobbed again, nudging them silently towards a glowing sign. 

It flickered and went dark as the cat passed it, coming upon a large pool of what certainly did not look like water. It smelled awfully musty, a sharp acidic stench drifting with it too. They wrinkled their muzzle, trying to prevent any more of that disgusting scent getting in their nose. There wasn’t any clear path across, save for a few bloated barrels spilling their contents into the miniature lake. 

Above, another sign lit up, sparking and spelling something out in a language the cat couldn’t parse. Well, nothing to lose , they figured, placing a paw delicately on a rack of rotting wood, careful as it bobbed under their weight. 

Making their way on towards more of what they concluded to be hints, and slipping through a broken barricade, their sights were bombarded with colour. Many screens murmured under layers of static, switching to depict a crude image… of a cat’s face. Theirs, it seemed. Although it lacked their own signature tint, the meaning was clear. 

Someone is helping me. This realisation made them purr. Someone wanted them out too, and had guided them. It was kind. 

Following the indications and trotting along at a mild pace, the creature vaulted through a mostly boarded up opening. Leaping from one network of pipes to another, they reached a high ledge housing a fast spinning fan. It generated a small breeze, ruffling their fur in brief respite from the sticky heat of climbing about. 

As unlikely as their previous dart across acid pits seemed, there was a definite no to going through that turbine. While it was on, anyway. 

Creating what would come to be known as ‘I-spy,’ the now scruffy stray pounced on a convenient bucket and dropped it into the rotors. It trapped fast, creaking against the force of the fan. They dashed through before the bucket gave out and smashed against the far wall of the new space. 

In here, there were many buckets of paint, all lined up at the edge of a platform. It was as if they were begging to be batted off the edge. Heeding their call, the cat did just that. Once all the cans had been given a fitting whack off into the foggy abyss below, they bounced from aircon to aircon across the gap. 

Brittle glass covered a roof structure and added to their caution. Cuts would be a hindrance ordinarily, but here they posed real danger. 

Skywards they flew again, eyeing up a final container of paint. They wiggled a paw at it, considering. 

CRASH!

The decision was made, and a damn good one at that. The transparent awning shattered with a loud tinkling as the shards dusted a perch under their feet. Down they went with it, carefully picking a way through so as not to injure themselves. 

A further screen flickered on, depicting the same scene as before. Again, the creature followed. Resisting help would be a fool’s errand here. Through more partially covered doorframes they went, arriving at a curious contraption. It appeared to be a bucket on a string with a pulley system, or something of the like. 

There were some of these near their home, transporting the cavalcade of cats safely to a lower ledge and then retreating when they leaped out. 

These were smooth rides, but a one way experience. Hopefully, they would not need to go back up. Accepting the leisurely side-to-side drift of the lift, the ginger feline reflected briefly on their circumstances.

Perhaps they would meet their guide on the way. Maybe they were trying to leave, too. Would they fit in with the others, and would they be of the same species at all? This dwelling had clearly been designed by much larger creatures than what had been seen so far. 

Those gross pinkish creatures are barely large enough to have created a pebble, they thought. So it couldn’t be one of them. 

Coming to a gentle stop, they hopped out and continued their journey. The aforementioned stubby creatures were more prevalent here, but still skittering out of their path, slightly luminescent eyes showing the way. 

The cat came across a strange scene. There were more of the blobs, atop a metal being. It twitched violently and moved in a bad parody of terror. Oh. The cat jolted. That’s why. Three of its limbs are missing. It didn’t seem to have a tail either, and the blobby things scattered at the cat’s approach. 

Its head snapped up to study them. The movement was startling, and they reacted in the appropriate fashion: scream and look like a flying furry horseshoe. After they’d gotten used to the robot’s existence, they drew closer for another look. Its face followed them, lines of glitching green appearing somehow panicked. The remaining hand grasped desperately at the ground, propping up the damaged torso in a vulnerable position.

 The cat could see it was clearly straining to hold the pose, but it was curious too. It huffed out a collection of sharp, rough sounds, shaking its screen-face urgently. 

The stray lifted a paw, and poked gently at its face. As though it had been waiting for permission, the droid flopped dead against the stony floor. It was a bit sad; it even looked like it had been hurt by the little squish-rats. 

Leaving the body behind, they navigated a way past a large overhang of tin and another flat bit bearing a guiding, glowing rune. They headed down an alley. Overbearing, harsh lights flared over them, sending sinister shadows down to surround them. Here was the end, descending sharply to more of the rough, pebbled floor.

Clawing their way down to the floor, the cat carried on. The air changed abruptly; here it smelt, no… It all but tasted of meat. Speed slowing to an anxious crawl, they inspected all around. The source of the scent hit them square in the face. Literally. 

Focused on everything else, they had somehow failed to notice the wall. It was covered in a creeping meat-moss, repulsive orange pustules the colour of the squish-rat’s eyes marking it too.  

Glancing up fearfully, they took note of a camera. This must be the way, then. Trying to avoid dissolving in horror, they gave a shaky meow to tell their guide they were alright. Instead of nodding in acknowledgement this time though, the camera hurled its head side to side.  What is it trying to tell me? That’s the same–what the other robot did. 

Had they come the wrong way? But this was the only path there was! Or was their guide telling them to keep going?

Giving a low growl, they stalked on. The growl turned to a surprised hiss as a huge congregation of blob-things came into view. Their eyes snapped open, regarding the errant cat in their domain. Backing away slowly, they listened as a series of chirps and squeaks met them. 

Then the squish-rats advanced. Jerking around, they ran, the original creatures hot on their heels and joined by many more. A stab of pain in their already injured leg drew their attention. The blob was fastened on them with tiny, incredibly sharp teeth that they’d neglected to take note of originally. 

Giving a caterwaul, they rolled sharply into a barrier, knocking the thing off and freeing them up to continue their sprint. Blood dripped from the wound, drawing more of the monstrosities to them. 

The cat scanned the way ahead of them as they dashed along, hoping to find a safe haven, or a perch too high for the creatures to follow. But the things poured from every crevice, every gap and sealing off every chance of escape. If these could devour the robot, then there was no hope for them. They turned to go up a flight of stairs.

Adrenaline rush fading, they began to slow. Perhaps the end wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would be quick. And yet, the small desperate flicker of intelligence they had left doubted that. 

A sign flickered on. Their guide was watching, waiting. Maybe they couldn't help directly, but their undeniable presence helped the cat more than their guardian would ever know. Dredging up every last ounce of energy in their tiny orange frame, they continued. Dodging the flow of blobby ticks, scrambling around sharp turns, and following the clues. They refused to flop over and die. They couldn’t give up now, not when they must be so close…

Through a damp tiled opening, where the water dripping from the ceiling slid their paws away! Past a decrepit shop that might have once sold something useful!

 So much more was ignored as their vision tunnelled, caring only about covering more distance, getting away. Their legs cramped, agony of the many bites they’d accrued combining with it into one. 

Their small heart couldn’t keep up with the oxygen they needed, leaving them lightheaded, digging their claws into life and the thought of what would come if they stopped now. The sickly stench in the air rendered it even harder to breathe, but they pelted on.

Rounding a corner, they saw salvation. 

A jump short enough for the cat and their powerful legs, but hopefully too great a distance for the vengeful squish-rats to follow. If not, they’d deal with that at a more necessary time. Putting on more speed and gripping the edges of flight, they threw themselves limply over the drop at the window and its hinged, boarded-over frame. 

As they thumped onto the floor of this new dwelling, the boards cleverly rotated to block it off, removing any chance of the creatures coming after them. The ginger tabby took their time, replenishing their lungs with fresh, clean air.  Curling up, in a protective spiral, they also fully intended on having a nap. But their ordeal was still playing on over and over in their brain, and taking away any visuals from outside meant the only thing there was to process was that awful waking nightmare. There clearly was nothing more to be done about that, so they sighed and sat alert again. 

After they’d rid their body of cramps and had a calming scratch at their ear, it was time to move on. Which way now? For all they knew, they’d come the wrong way. But on the other- er, paw, this might be the absolutely correct one. Meowing had helped them before, so they did it again. 

The tower of screens, stacked against the wall and previously ignored, flared to life, displaying what looked to be the same message as before, with the cat head and all. 

This time, the arrow pointed at a doorway, where a neon contraption also turned on. 

That was their answer, then. 

Through the door and past bunches of jangly beads led up a set of steps and out into the open again. They glanced around cautiously, not about to be caught unawares like last time. All seemed well, so they walked on over to the edge of the building’s area. 

An aircon unit gave them quick passage up onto another roof and the next sign. 

The cat executed difficult twists in the air, onto ancient wood planks and rusted pipes. It was getting harder to carry on. They were thirsty, hungry and tired, and found themselves wishing, not for the first time, that they had all listened to their white-and-red sibling and caught something to eat before. 

Jaunting along a balcony’s railing, they swished along a bit too close to a plank of old wood, which followed gravity’s wishes and fell. About to hiss at it, the cat stopped for a moment, observing.

It had actually saved them a bit of effort, covering the distance across the gaping void below, to another space.

Taking the cue, they trudged along it, running into some dusty clay pots. However, the smell of something grabbed their frayed attention span. Water! Although it was old and musty and had a clump of moss in it– Plant moss, they corrected themselves as their stomach started to protest– it was still water, and a quick sniff revealed that it was also still safe to drink. 

Once they’d drained the container, they had a nibble at some of the moss. It was gross but was filling enough to take the worst off their hunger. 

Looking to the corner of the space, there was a camera, which nodded encouragingly, then jerked at another sign. The stray gave it a thankful, exhausted merp. This time, the way to go was clearer. Slipping through an unlatched window, they found themselves in another half-open room, padding through it to the open space on the other side. 

There was a large oil-barrel or something like that, along with a dark string of lights. 

Settling inside it, they stumbled and felt the surface under their paws roll, and it took them with it. Getting up and glaring at it, they inspected the next ledge they’d need to get to, and then looked back at the barrel. This is definitely not going to work, but I’m going to try anyway. 

It turned out to both work and be a good idea for once, as when the cylindrical thing was resting against the pile of garbage on the far side, it provided the perfect boost upwards. 

Springing from the roof to a dangling construction beam, they were painfully reminded of doing the same thing right before all this. Taking a moment to gather their wayward thoughts, the ginger cat ignored it with a vow. I’m not going to let that happen again. Not again. In fact, they didn’t even know how much further there was to fall. 

It might not be much, but it certainly didn’t look that way. 

Slanting onto a construction platform, they angled to hop over the abyss and land on a plank of wood. For a brief second, all was fine. Then a creak made its way to their ears. By that point, the quick, sharp crack of it breaking in half had also become reality and they plummeted.

Thankfully, fate was shining upon them, and they were saved from splattering on the bottom of the foggy drop by a lower scaffold. Hunkering down and shaking a bit, they drew in a slow, full breath to calm themselves. 

They did it again and again, until they were clear-headed enough to go on. Many more times they had to go across a wooden beam, and each time they raced over it like they were running from the cops. 

Finally, they arrived at a complex weaving of balconies, aircons and string lights. Soon they were going to have to rest and sleep, regardless of whether the squish-rats were on the lookout or not. They really did not want to crash over asleep balanced precariously on a waving beam suspended over a long drop, so they were going to have to pick up the pace here. 

Doing what they’d done thus far and jumping across harrowing gaps, the feline at last found a refuge.  As they dragged themselves into a nook created by a leaning piece of cardboard box over a chair, they felt almost like they were back home again.

As they drifted off to sleep, in the corner of their eye, they could see their guide’s camera nodding agreeably. 

~

Chapter Text

They slept well, no dreams or recollections of the previous chase or fall as they’d feared. Despite the quality of the rest, they were still achingly tired and felt as though they could sleep through the entirety of summer. But there was no sense in dozing any more, for there was stuff to be done and probably much more ground to cover. They left their makeshift shelter and walked on. 

Everywhere in this place had some sort of rubbish spread over it. Did the inhabitants never bother to clean up? They hadn’t seen anyone else other than that robot, and the cat had a rather certain idea of why. In fact, the reasoning had gone and bitten them in the leg. 

Wriggling through small gaps and depressing old hallways, they reached a brightly lit room. Another of those fans whirred away busily in the wall, concealing what must be the way onwards. There weren’t any more of those buckets, or debris light enough for them to kick at it. What there was in the room included crumbling tiles, another camera, a few cans of expired fruit, and a curious square thing on the wall. 

Wary of anything glowing and stuck to walls after the last time, they approached rapidly and swatted it hard, jumping back when it fell to the floor. They registered the guide nodding in approval, and the fan slowed to a stop. The stray hopped up into the shaft and padded through. 

Here, across a small drop, was an open window. Reassured by the washing line to catch them if they slipped, they made the jump and found themselves in a cheery, warm-tinted room.

It was very dusty in here, and it irritated their paw pads as they touched down on the bottom of the bed. Stifling a sneeze, they swished through more jangly beads into the next part of the flat. Littered all around here were bottles, some shattered but most just discarded on various surfaces. They took a ridiculous amount of joy in batting one of these around, watching its hapless spinning as it took a dive off the countertop. The short, sharp noise it made on impact made the cat put their ears back with a sheepish expression.

Something beeped. It didn’t sound anything like the squish-rats but instead reminded them of the sad robot.  Another screen? They pondered. A line of text appeared, bringing with it the noise again. 

With it being the most interesting thing in the place so far, they manifested on the keyboard, clacking the keys underfoot. As their reply beeped up on the screen, a response appeared again. Repeating this a few more times, a door clicked and slid open. Their guardian’s camera flashed at them, beckoning. Heeding it, they trotted inside.

It glided back closed, trapping them inside. Panic was the immediate emotion flaring to life, but they had turned out mostly unharmed thus far under the camera’s watch.

They must have their reasons. The cat puffed up a bit, stalking forward with purpose. On the wall, four of those sockets resided.

They were oddly absent of the plugs needed to do something, though. That must be what I need to do. Like those plugs that made the fan spin. There’s got to be some around here somewhere…

Taking a quick glance around, they could already see two of them. Bouncing up onto a table holding many computers, they snagged the first, jamming it into one of the sockets. The next was going to be difficult to get. It was up on top of a high shelf in the top right corner of the room, with nothing around it to boost them up there. 

Letting curiosity get the better of them, they dragged themselves up on a lever. It made an awful perch, as they found out, but it prompted the rolling table with another screen on to drift to where they could get up to the other battery-plug.

Sticking that in too, it was revealed that there was another plug attached to the rolling computer base. Retrieving it, plugging it in and spotting the last, they were becoming impatient.  I thought I had to be close! How much more do I have to get through to escape this awful city? There are a stupid amount of buildings around here, surely I could climb up one of those…? 

Why was nothing ever that simple? The craftiest pigeon would be easier to conquer than this alien place.

As power was restored to the pixels on the screens judging the room, one of the many bookshelves moved aside to show off another dusty passage. More… they mumbled tiredly inside their brain, trudging through nonetheless. The sight of another limp droid body startled them. It was different from the last, having all its limbs, but a different head. Its plating was almost all a dirty white positively caked in dust, and slumped over itself on a sparsely pillowed chair. Long thick strings of wires draped across it, illuminated by a fallen light magically still receiving power. 

The most imposing anomaly, however, would have to be the egg-coloured vessel standing before them, dripping some grimy rotten substance from a dark, opaque window set in the front. A purple sticky note clung on for dear life, inscribed with one of the two distinct dialects they’d seen so far on the signs. Great stacks of boxes lining shelves crammed wall to wall hid the original constraints of this space, making the chamber appear smaller than it really was. 

More screens. More murmurs. They were screaming, begging for something. The feline could tell, the warblings emanating from them were far too alike to their own cries for help. Did whoever this is fall down too? Their previous question repeated itself . Survival in this pseudo hell was clearly not impossible, taking the squish-rats as an example anyway. Allowing that one possible oversight, they squinted at the squares of artificial light to find the next clue. It was not at all clear what their guide wanted now. It wasn’t a cat’s head being projected, instead there was a square shape with what looked like bug antennae. 

If there were answers in the other rooms, then there ought to be one in here. There’s no obvious way out, so I suppose I should have a poke about before I give up completely. On that note, they pawed at various things, glancing back up at the screens each time to see if they’d gotten it right. The only bugs in here were addled moths smacking into the lights, and any attempt to catch them was unsuccessful. The cat assessed the room with a critical eye, and jaunted up to the robot with a demanding meow. There was no answer from the body even when they pawed at it with claws out. A couple more insisting noises followed, before they gave up and bounced onto a neighbouring stool, crisscrossing their way onto the droid’s head. As their weight met it, they heard a click and their height dropped down a bit. The next jump was to the cream coloured pod with the sticky note on, and they whipped their head around at the hollow thud of their last perch as it hit the floor. 

Had the cat been any other animal, an apologetic ‘oops’ would be the way to describe their emotions towards that. As it were, they merely pulled a face at the unpleasant sound and hoped it wasn’t too important. Every time they touched one of the bipedal metal creatures, it would die or fall apart. Maybe they were allergic to cats, who knew. The shelf wobbled as they landed, prompting them to scrabble forwards and swat a box out of their path as the tabby searched for a safer way to get back. It fell to the ground, and when a small drone tumbled out their guide’s screens flared to a painful intensity. 

They squinted hard at the TVs, making out the shape of an arrow leading back to the other room. They gave a close approximation of a shrug and dropped down, picked up the drone, bringing it through the opening into the computer room. It had those little antennae slotted halfway into its body and two sightless, goggling eyes stared imploringly at them. Their guide would not lead them wrong, they knew with fresh confidence. A cybernetic workstation marked by an antenna on each corner glowed with the light of many pixels was the obvious target for the drone body, the cat thought.

Their fluffy feet brought them up to the desktop, sensing the thrum of barely contained energy in the air. They deposited their cargo on the router-looking object, and got out of the way to watch what would happen next. The drone unfolded and four stabilisers popped into existence, conducting alignment tests in the fraction of a second before its eyes came online too. Cables directed more energy to the site of interest and in an instant, the powerful sensation of electricity faded. 

The drone floated up and away from the platform, drifting close to greet them. Or tried to, anyway, the quick pulses of antigravity boosters failing to activate fast enough sent the robot tumbling to the carpet. They jolted, having half expected the other to pull itself up at the last moment. The stabilisers and antennae wiggled about as the drone wobbled about, defying gravity and achieving flight properly.

It turned to look at them. Its eyes were a curious blend of many colours, red to yellow to green, and blinked amiably at the tabby as it approached. They, in return, raised a paw tentatively and batted it right out of their face when it got a bit too near. The drone puttered weakly to the floor and stayed there. They gave it an expectant sniff. It smelled like some plastic-y metal blend and a faint trace of rubber. At some point during the examination, it took to the air again, doing a backflip. They walked up to it, at ease now that it seemed to be no threat. 

Unexpectedly, the creature spoke. The voice that was projected had a pleasant warbling tone to it, with a breathless, almost excited note too.

“It worked. I’m free,” he said. They sound like a he, anyway. He rotated slowly, taking in his surroundings in much the same way they had after waking up all alone. 

“Thank you. You–you’re real . I couldn’t believe the cameras, a cat in the Dead City.” So this was your guide. He hovered not far away, in awe of their existence as much as they were at the meeting with their saviour.

“I’m… I can’t remember my name. It seems my memory files are corrupted somehow. I’ve been trapped in the network for so long, but I know I worked for a scientist who lived here. For now you can call me B-12. That’s what it says on my exterior.” he added, angling himself so they could peer at the symbols denoting his identification. They meowed in greeting at his new name. 

B-12 was quiet for a moment at the cat’s exclamation, coming up with things to say. Eventually he came up with a few words to fill in the silence while he did his actual task of figuring out what should be their plan of action. “It’s dangerous in the Dead City, but you seem like you know how to handle yourself.” The cat tucked their injured back leg behind the other with an exaggerated felinoid smile that they were sure didn’t pass him by. Honestly it was impressive that they weren't more hurt. Clearly there was no time to waste, the cat made it known, so B-12 proceeded accordingly. “Let’s get out of here. Follow me.”

He went over to a reconstructed pallet board, with numerous things hanging from nails on it, and inspected it. He returned to head height soon enough. “That key unlocks the door,” he informed them, gesturing vaguely towards a door frame embedded in the wall. “I can recall that much. Let me get that for you.” They began to purr. It won’t be so hard now, if I’ve got a friend to help. B-12 had been very kind to them so far, a welcome feeling in the horrific emptiness of the rest of the City. Only time could tell if he would continue that streak, but for now they were content to slot him into the category of friend. They took the chance for a quick wash of their face to begin the journey anew, as B-12 zapped up the keys in a flash of light. 

The orange cat’s mouth was slightly open as they searched at all angles for what B-12 had done with the keys. They seemed to have just vanished. He himself didn’t notice their inquisitive look, focusing on a more pressing matter. “Very good,” he muttered. “Battery low already. Come over here.” 

Their ears pointed, dipping to the side in intrigue as they followed B-12 over to a sort of podium, where there was a… thing on display. He seemed to know what it was, so they regarded it with less suspicion and more confusion. “You’re going to have to put this on.” was the only explanation they were given as B-12 spirited it away, but materialising it on them too quickly for them to dodge. 

It was a vest. It was sleek and strangely complementing of their apricot coloured pelt and absolutely awful. It pressed in on them, not enough to hinder their breathing but so foreign that every time they did a fresh pang of irritation sprung up in their brain. They waddled around a bit in a way oddly reminiscent of a hot dog, before giving up on the concept of comfort and just wriggling on the floor. 

B-12, I will get you for this. Maybe I’ll use him as a pillow. They kept their patience with him however; he had shown them the way through the squish-rats and the maze of buildings. 

That didn’t spare him the aggrieved chuff from the tabby, though. B-12 finally got the hint. “This backpack was designed for small quadrupeds like you. Is it uncomfortable?” Their puffed up fur showed his question right to the exit, answering itself. If B-12’s face had the capability of expression, he would have pursed his lips in a thoughtful pose. “Don’t worry,” he amended. “You’ll get used to it. In the meantime, I’ve digitised the key and stored it in the backpack.”

While they would have quite easily continued to be annoyed at the drone for the godawful vest forced on them, this ‘digitising’ sounded useful. They trotted over to the sealed door beside the computer, resisting their instinct to scrape around on things and get the garment off, and flicked their tail. It would be their signal for B-12 to do his thing. Glad at not being smacked out of flight for what he would later know as ‘the backpack incident’, he manifested the key in the right configuration and open was the way beyond. “Easy,” he hummed. “If you’re ever curious about an object, you can show it to me. Or to others, if we come across any.”

More robots? I don’t suppose there are any other cats here, are there? Maybe there will be more B-12s. The thought of a room full of B-12s popped into their head, making their whiskers twitch in amusement. That would be chaotic at the least, probably bumping into each other all the time, if this B-12’s activation was any cue. 

And there was a big heap of squish-rats to explain why the only people they had met were those who hadn’t stayed voluntarily. 

“Now let’s get out of this flat. I have been in here far too long and I have had enough of this wallpaper.”

 They rather agreed with him, both about staying in the apartment for more than needed, and about the decorations in this place. It was a bit gaudy. 

The way forth was dark, but their friend showed them a neat flashlight feature he had tucked away. They didn’t bother telling him that cats could see well enough without it. In fact, they could see… another door. Also sealed, the press of a paw told them once again. They ducked into a side room, coated in a fine layer of dust and other detritus. They glanced around and scrambled up onto a piano, giving it a hiss when the surprise solo was not appreciated by their ears.

They heard B-12 emitting a low chuckle, the cheeky sod. Huffing, the cat moved to a shelf holding more cans of paint. What fun it would be to knock them off. It wasn’t like there was anyone living in the flat who’d object to the change in decor. They let the containers clunk to the concrete floor and winced as the torch caught them in the eyes. “That must be the exit code,” said B-12, showing them the short string of numbers on the newly revealed whiteboard. 

They waited for it to be keyed in, then shouldered the door open properly when it only went halfway. The exterior area was a sickly yellow being projected from numerous neon signs hanging by a thread of power. It dimmed to its actual intensity as they got used to being out of the dark again. It reminded them of stepping out into a cool, crisp night. Maybe they should have stuck around by where they came in. Their family was there, all the way above. There wasn’t any way they would voluntarily face the swarm of squish-rats again though. Their drone guide glided ahead, taking in all the densely packed residential blocks around, and inspecting another of those bucket zipline systems. “Wow. Look at this place. That elevator in the distance. That’s important, I think. I know we need to go up.” B-12 was right. Another stack of buildings rose up high above their heads, while an elevator shaft studded with floodlights all the way to the top took centre stage. Their nose tingled, a sensation of danger clicking into recognition.

The ginger feline gave a warning trill, sensing the heavy smell of squish-rats. They peered over the edge where the bucket hung, glaring at the luminescent orange pods and bulky strings of meaty formations that covered everything up to the end of the ride. There were not any chirps of alert as they scanned the expanse of fog below, so they beckoned to B-12 and climbed into the bucket. Their claws scraped the edge as they gripped it tight, willing themselves not to look down. They took stock of the landing spot before they jumped out to gaze upon a colourful mural, a curious opposite of the general vibe in this Dead City. 

Depicted was the familiar blue sky, perfect fluffy clouds and what they took to be a vibrant bank of sand. A wooden rowboat sat by the shore, spiky trees overshadowing the whole scene. It was somehow peaceful, as though they were sitting with the wind blowing in their fur and bringing fresh scents to their nose. The smell of the squish-rats wasn’t as overpowering here, but it was prevalent enough for them to wrinkle up their snout in distaste. The cat’s guardian tucked himself away inside the backpack’s pouch, popping out again an instant later. He went right up to the painting, stopping just short of them. 

“Wait. I remember. The Outside,” he said, wonderingly. They got a cursory look before he turned back to inspect the mural. “It feels like I’ve been there before. Is this where you came from?”

Where else could I come from? This entire place is kind of infested. There's no way for a cat to live, without wind or sun or any prey. Unsure of what else to say, they gave an uncertain meow. B-12 continued musing. “I promised someone I would go there. Promised who?” They tilted their head to the side, standing in silence for B-12’s next words. “This postcard, the mural was painted from it. Let’s take it.” He picked it up, displaying the faded paper to the cat before carrying on. “Why do I have these memories? How did they get here?” He was quiet for a few heartbeats. “Let’s keep going. That elevator sure seems like a way out, and we don’t appear to be too far away.”

Notably not touching upon the many times that same thought had gone through their own brain, they followed the crumbly path along to a chequered tile one until they were blocked by a chain link gate. They didn’t bother with trying to climb it, instead they took a jaunt along more rusty tin roof overhangs to get to a solid platform with another zipline ride. There were a few signs haphazardly thrown on wooden poles in one of the more frequent languages. “Safezone,” B-12 told them at their intrigued sniff. “A bit misleading, though.” The evidence of the blobby creature’s presence was a familiar but detested knowledge around here. There was only one feasible way down, but beyond the bottom where the bucket would drop them, there was a dumpster and a pipe that hopefully led somewhere safe. 

There was a hastily patched together fence that looked sturdy enough, anyway. They did an anxious wiggle and found themselves once again riding a bucket into uncharted territory. As they descended, one of the creatures cheeped and threw itself in a glorious arc over their transport, floundering in a moat of acidic liquid as it landed. They disembarked in a hurry, paw pads skimming the ground when a swarm of the squish-rats pudged their way near. Up on the dumpster they’d sighted, the orange feline spat out a hiss at the other organics. An alarmingly close almost-slip later, they were up on a thick pipe hugging the wall, cautiously walking through the gap in the makeshift barrier. 

B-12, sensing the arch of their back and fluffed up fur, came out to check on them. “Everything alright?” he asked. They gave him a flick with their tail as they began to proceed, when he went to block them. “Wait. Who’s that?” They were perplexed for no less than an instant before noticing exactly what he meant. An upright shape with a blazing blue square of light stuck to its face moved rhythmically, sweeping the floor. 

It was one of those big robots! B-12 didn’t seem too worried about it, or at least trusted their judgement enough to let them pass. He trailed behind, but near enough to reassure them that he was still there. The thump their feet created touching down made the mechanical being hunch up a bit and step further away. There were no squish-rats on this side of the barricade, so they thought it safe to announce their arrival. They trilled in introduction, tail raised confidently and swishing casually up to the robot. The reaction was unexpected. The robot dropped its broom, backing away and slammed a button wired up to the wall. Plasma red lights twirled and a long, drawn out siren blared. “Excuse me–” The drone was cut off as the other droid fled the scene. 

A folding crisscross of metal sprung closed in their face when they tried to pursue. Hurt, they trotted on in hopes of finding someone more welcoming. The reception wasn’t warm in the village, everyone hurtling indoors and slamming doors shut in apparent panic. They hadn’t been feared by anything but hunted prey before, and these robots were many times their size. It was strange. Why would they be so scared of a small, fairly friendly cat? B-12 was much tinier and yet he had been happy to see them. He had also been stuck in a computer for literal centuries, so that may have had something to do with it. A final door shut and they slowed to walk up a cobbled staircase, watching slightly bemusedly as more of the robots stumbled over the stairs, tripped and were dragged by their partner into the haven of an old elevator shaft.

One stood valiantly outside, dragging down the garage door and sealing the others inside. He was wrapped in a length of crimson fabric, and wore a hat oddly reminiscent of a mushroom. In one hand was a bo staff, clunking against the ground as he advanced, observing them for a moment before crouching down. This one was a bit braver than the rest, watching the duo draw near with astonishing casualness. It reminded them of B-12’s efforts at keeping them safe with the cameras. The tabby twitched their whiskers decisively, creeping up to him with B-12 hovering at head height. 

“ UIQ§ DQS%µ DMSQµD%  £DS’’£ QD%QS Dµ%QS D£ DSQ£ D“QµD£” £PQS’’D? ” They blinked, strange syllables passing them by. They turned to B-12 questioningly. “They seem to have their own language. Hang on, I’ve almost got it.” He narrowed his vibrant eyes and the next words spoken in the guard-robot’s deep tone were comprehensible.

 “You’re no Zurk.” Guardian intoned calmly. “We’re not familiar with your kind. You are welcome in our village, as long as you don’t eat anyone.” They meowed again, and from this robot it elicited a smile. “I apologise for the panic. If you found your way in from beyond the borders, I’m sure you understand what we’re dealing with.” 

B-12 drifted from side to side in his version of a silent nod. The tabby brushed their body against Guardian’s legs as he straightened and called for the alarm to be turned off. New pixelated faces poked out from all openings to gawp at them as they settled and yawned, the picture of harmlessness. 

The droids returned to their normal affairs quite quickly for some who had been so terrified. This must be a regular occurrence around here. The slums were soon a hub of activity again, Guardian rehearsing some sort of moves with his staff and others curling up in reflective blankets. The feline picked their way around for a while, mindful of the new environment and its confusing layout. It was all folded and close together, not quite as cramped as the rest of the city they had traversed so far. In the end though, they ended up right back where they started, watching Guardian pose and swish about with a practised grace. 

A hesitant meow brought all attention to them. Several monitors lit up with expressions ranging from angry to surprised and happy. “You look lost,” said Guardian. “What do you need?”

Having no real plan, they instead showed him the postcard that B-12 had picked up on the way here. “Oh. A picture of the ‘Outside.’ Ridiculous.” They raised an eyebrow at his dismissive tone. “This elevator isn’t operational. Everyone around here knows that it is impossible to leave this place.” Really? Nobody’s ever tried? It seemed slightly unrealistic but they also wouldn’t have guessed that there was a whole other civilization beneath their own just a few mornings ago. How long had they been stuck down here? Guardian swished one leg in front of the other, a buffering animation playing on one side of his screen. “Well, maybe except for Clementine. She hasn’t given up on that one yet.” 

He gave a short chuckle at it, shaking his head good naturedly. “You can try and talk to her if you want, but nobody’s been in high spirits recently. Maybe it’s for the best.” The leader added, half to himself. 

“She lives up in the building where the big pipe ends,” he told them, pointing to a thick rusty pipe running through the rooftops. It would be easy enough to get to, compared to all the other obstacles they’d had to navigate. Guardian got a grateful purr in return, and once again he beamed at their antics. Such a simple thing. There’s probably not too much joy to be had here. 

They set off, ginger pelt bouncing to match their stride. B-12 hummed a short tune by their ears. It was good to be here. There was a general feeling of numb contentment from the inhabitants, not unlike their siblings in the overworld. Instead of overgrown greenery and fresh air, there was Zurks and buildings, wire and metal instead of fur and whiskers, but they knew that at the heart, it was the same. 

Maybe they’d get to know some of these mechs of their quest. This Clementine sounded like fine company if she wanted out as well. Common interests and all that. They made their way up to the heights of the slums, looking down on all the people milling about and interacting. They were interesting, but it could wait for after they and B-12 had met Clementine and put together a solid plan for escaping the city. They arrived at the building Guardian had directed them to, and plopped down on the wooden floorboards. An obscene amount of detail dripped from every surface. Lanterns and crystals on strings suspended from the ceiling, great mats of patchy fabric as well. The room was illuminated from a large bulb nestled in a bed of wires up on the ceiling, revealing that it was empty.

“There’s no one here,” said B-12. “Do you think we should look around on the lower levels again?” It wasn’t helpful that Guardian had given them no physical description to go by, so bugging him for information ought to clear that up. B-12 was already heading back to the window they had come in from, when the cat’s ears twitched. A quiet, questioning beep emanated from past the apparent glass divider. It sounded enough like the robot’s speech that it drew their attention. A good number of the panes were broken, so they slipped through into the space beyond to search. 

“MrrRRROW!” An orange and white robot hurtled around a corner, wielding a lamp and the glint of battle in her eyes. B-12 turned tail and flinched back, dodging her attack. They darted right between her legs and made her jump a good few feet into the air in surprise. The lamp clanked on the ground as she landed, confusion and shock warring on her screen. She inched nearer to them after a brief period of processing. 

“Who are you?”

Chapter Text

 They meowed, a long and aggravated noise. Their mood was evident to all parties, and she raised her arms in surrender. She cast a glance around, landing on the cat and B-12, who came forward to untangle the situation. 

“Hello,” he introduced, polite in spite of what just happened. “We’re looking for a Clementine. Guardian said she lives around here?” The robot flashed an unreadable expression on her monitor, quickly taking up a falsely casual stance. 

“That’s me,” Clementine informed them. The cat’s tail flicked in an unimpressed fashion. Perhaps they were surrounded by squish-rats, but the reason behind her reaction didn’t comfort them in the fact that they had nearly been bludgeoned with a desk lamp. “What do you want with me? I expect Guardian’s description wasn’t all that positive.” Clementine’s sudden shift in perspective might have been good enough to fool another of her kin, but their senses were far better than whatever sensors the metal creatures used. They had more reason to be unnerved, they thought, but stopped dwelling on it as B-12 displayed the postcard. 

Clementine snatched it, staring intently at the image. “The Outside? Do you want to go there?” All her caution had evaporated now, stepping forward with purpose to look at them in a new light. The pure enthusiasm told the tabby that this was the right robot for any escape plans that needed to be hatched. They imitated the nodding gesture B-12 and the others seemed so fond of, and got a pleased warble from Clementine. “I do too. I haven’t met anyone who wanted out in… I don’t think I ever actually have.” This revelation complete and having gotten hold of it, she turned to the next thing. “What are you? I thought you were a Zurk when you came in, but you’re so fluffy. Ooh, pointed little audials,” She murmured to herself, dragging a finger over one of their ears and becoming even more fascinated when they flicked it on instinct. 

They tilted their head slightly sideways. Have there really been no other creatures down here other than me? Surely there’s at least someone around who knows about cats. That old robot said they would be 347 tomorrow, so that would have been plenty of time for them to learn about us. Perhaps the Zurks had destroyed everything too completely, erasing any trace of the Outside and its wildlife. B-12 had figured it out, but he was his own kind of special in that regard. 

“They are a cat,” he informed Clementine. She inspected them with a kind of wonder they’d only seen before in their family spotting a particularly tasty looking mouse. “The ones from the time of the Ancestors? How did you survive all this time with the Zurks on your back? You must be tough for your size. Both of you.” she said. The praise made them stand a bit taller, but still on edge. In demonstration, they stuck out their claws, sharpening them on a crumbling section of wallpaper. Clementine paid no mind to the damage and instead sat quietly, working out how to go from there.

They might have been the biggest shock of her life, but they didn’t feel particularly out of the ordinary in the little apartment. The cat felt oddly connected to the community of robots as though they’d known them when they were younger, beyond memories. It seemed a world away from writhing tides of squish-rats and the comparative safety of rest was a welcoming prospect. The scuffed wooden panels beneath their feet would not make the best bed ever, but they could see themselves curling up and sleeping anyway.

B-12 started to speak. “So, how should we go about this-” He was interrupted. Clementine addressed them both, seemingly not hearing the drone’s prompt. 

 “What are your names? I expect it would make things a lot easier if we’re going to get out of here together.”

Her question made them hit a blank. Names. They had never needed to use one, as all the members of their clowder were distinct enough to tell them apart by scent, sight and sound alone. B-12 turned to them, and their eyes followed his gaze. 

“Do you have one? I didn’t actually think to ask before. I think cats were given their names by humans originally, but… hmm. Well, I am B-12.” he said. Their whiskers twitched uncertainly. The concept wasn’t entirely alien, but it wasn’t something they had ever thought about before. B-12 knew what he was going on about though, or at least more than the other two in this conversation. Whatever humans were, they weren’t Companions, and they hadn’t run into any of them so far. It probably isn’t important. There was a mural in the elevator bay. I’ll look at it later.

Still, both were asking them that question in silence. The tabby could see it clear as day in the expectant tilt of Clementine’s head and B-12’s pondering look. They settled down on the floor in a loaf shape, intending for the others to figure that out on their own terms. 

The quiet grew awkward after a few seconds. “If you don’t have one already, then I might be able to come up with something,” said Clementine, fiddling with her scarf. Their ears pricked and angled towards her, taking any opportunity to hasten this meeting and get on with the planning. She assessed their form, waiting for any ideas to pop up in her processor. They found themselves imagining what they would want to be called. Why not something descriptive? I am definitely an orange colour. What names did we get when these ‘humans’ were around? 

“You’re a stray,” she guessed. “So I suppose that’s what I’ll call you. Sounds good enough to you, small orange creature?” Clementine got a loud purr at the distinction. It was a fitting name for the crafty feline, reminding them of scaling tangled trees and sprinting through bridges of vines. Stray rose and gave her leg a friendly headbutt in approval. “I think it suits you,” was the verdict from B-12. The sleek backpack flexed against their fur as they yawned and stretched. Their eyes shone with new vigour and their immaculate claws kneaded the ground in anticipation of Clementine’s next move. “What do you have in mind now?” asked B-12. “Could we use the elevator somehow? It seems to be a bit occupied, but-”

The orange and white robot shook her head, cutting him off again. “Nah. That old thing’s been out of service for ages. We tried to get it working again a while back, but it’s all rusted up and broken.” She gave an electronic tch. B-12 wiggled his stabilisers, trying to think of something else.

“Any other ways out?” he tried.

It was directed at anyone with ideas. Stray would have volunteered their own, but they had a very sparse image in which they crawled out into the sun again, with no information inbetween. He didn’t offer any more of his thoughts either, and they suspected he was as stumped as they were. So the lone hope rested on Clementine and her knowledge of how to get by around here. She flicked a hand to her hip and motioned with the other for quiet. She remained silent for a moment, considering her words. “Right. The most pressing problem at this point would be… I don’t really have a plan. I didn’t think anything would ever get done, not with how the other Companions feel about the Outside. I’ve got a lot of stuff and books about it, but nothing ever told me how to get there or how to open the city.” Her exuberance replaced with somewhat irritated embarrassment, she slumped against the wall and traced a pattern on a rug, avoiding their gaze. 

“Even if we managed to survive outside the Safezone, how would we get up to the next level? From what I can see it’s all smooth concrete walls and pipes all the way there.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than them. 

Open the city? Does this thing’s roof open? They distantly recalled B-12 saying something to them about it on their way to the Slums.

Stray twitched their nose. It was telling how much the citizens of the city doubted they would make it out. Even Clementine, the only Companion they’d met who wanted to escape, didn’t know how to go about it. Things down here are worse than I thought. How have these robots survived with not just the Zurks, but also themselves? 

Yeesh, that was depressing. But sinking into a puddle of gloom would do nothing. They were stuck until something was figured out, and cats are persistent creatures. Their family hadn’t stayed alive this long by giving up and they weren’t about to now. Stray refused to give up before they’d even begun, and they couldn’t believe that was the end of Clementine’s attachment either. They took up a loud, demanding wail that made their own ears flatten. After a few seconds of the awful noise, she looked back at them with a mix of confusion and resignation. “Look, I haven’t crawled through the Dead City since the first Zurks started getting out of control. Even before that, maybe. If there’s anything that I remember the Zurks definitely will have gotten to it. Did you see anything that might help us out?” 

Crawling through the Dead City… I wonder which of those houses were Clementine’s, if she used to live there. 

We need to go up. No footholds, no way to climb the wall, even for me. Even if she is a bit defeatist, I’m not leaving Clementine, especially when this was partly her idea for longer than I’ve been alive. B-12?

Stray blinked at him. He had said he’d been stuck in the ‘network’ for a long time, and had seen them through the cameras. Had he seen anything that could get them all up to the next level, and eventually the Outside? The silent invitation sat in the air undisturbed for a few more moments, before B-12 gave a chiming sound as he tried to think of something. Stray had a higher amount of faith in him than they did themselves, given the circumstances, but he couldn’t be the brains of every operation. So they would just have to give him a nudge, once they figured something out themself. 

Right. 

He said something about humans, they thought. If they are anything like these robots, they also couldn’t just shimmy up and down whenever they pleased. They would have installed something to get around, like those apartment blocks everywhere.

Getting around in the maze of blocky, dense buildings was less hard for Stray, with their nimble body and small size, but they hadn’t found any gaps to slip back through the gate B-12 had let them in with. In fact, they were only just realising that he had manipulated the underground’s electrics while he was little more than a wodge of conscious code. 

Hang on. If he could open the door for me back then, what else could he theoretically do? They knew that if B-12 could have done something to open this place to the sky, he would have already, whatever it was. Or maybe he didn’t know he could. Didn’t he say his memory was corrupted?

Of course. That’s how he has his name. They watched Clementine’s expression begin to glow with hope again as they mrr’ed with purpose and tapped B-12 gently on the spot between his eyes. It was the closest they could get to their actual question. What do you know?  What do you remember?

He embraced some previously unknown ability of apparent telepathy, answering a minute after closing his eyes and thinking hard. “I poked around in the systems while I was stuck in the network, but there weren’t very many maps. I know there were a couple grate chute doors like the one you came in… but hang on. Oh.”

“Did you remember something?” Clementine asked. He seemed taken aback at the sudden attention, but continued anyway. “Yes,” he said. “It might not be a great idea, but it’s my only lead.” Everyone perked up. Stray’s tail swished in anticipation, and Clementine straightened up from her slump. “The upper levels were hard to get a place at if you lived in the Slums. But if for whatever reason someone from up high wanted to visit, there was a way for them to do so. There was a subway, probably more than one. 

“The ‘higher class’ were the only ones allowed on, so the scientist couldn’t tell me anything much more about it, but I think I have seen where it was through the cameras. Over by the old school buildings, I think the station was.” Stray had no idea where that was, and it was clear Clementine didn’t either. After a moment she said, “Come with me.”

It turned out there was a hatch up to the roof of the apartment block. Stray could see a lot of the outside city, and noted where B-12 pointed to. “Over there, just past those towers? If I can get a general idea of what the buildings used to be I should be able to figure it out.” They narrowed their eyes, then untensed a bit as they saw that the station was a ways from the worst of the squish-rat mess. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, but it would be nice to not walk into meatmoss every two steps. 

Clementine considered B-12’s plan. Well, even if this one turned out to not be the start of their grand adventure back to the surface, Stray wasn’t going to let her hide out in her little outpost until the Zurks overran everything. They watched, wondering what her answer would be. 

“Alright. Fair warning though, there’s a reason the Zurks have spread everywhere. It’s not going to be easy.” They gawked at her, wondering where all the praise of their tenacity had gone. Their offended face made her laugh a little. “I know you two can do it, but I’m going to poke around Azooz’s place and stock up on anything the rest of us might need. Meet me back inside when you’re ready to go.” 

B-12 buzzed an affirmative and Clementine strode with purpose over to the hatch and out her door, leaving Stray with free reign of the place. Being the nosy creature they were, the place was going to get a thorough inspection for no other reason than why not?

They had a good time hiding under beds and wriggling through curtains like they were in the forest once again, stalking imaginary mice and batting at dangly things. It might not be their base for long, but it was for now at least and they wanted to leave their impression on it. That set of claw marks on the wall was nice; but that alone simply wouldn’t do. It was time for rubbing up against sofas, table legs, and all assortment of crevices. Stray made sure that the bedsheets got covered in a decent layer of cat hair, and when B-12 protested he got a firm nuzzle too. He went strangely subdued at that. 

“You look so soft. Can I touch your fur?” They obliged, dipping their head to rub up against their friend again. B-12 bonked into them in a measured way and tipped to the side, puzzled. “I don’t know why, but I expected something to happen. There is a lot of random information in my databanks about sensation. I know I’m touching you, but I can’t… feel anything, if that makes sense. I get pressure readings but not much else.” He turned side to side as though shaking himself to clear the thought away. They raised a fluffy eyebrow. 

“...It’s not important. Maybe we should go and find Clementine now. She’s been gone for a while. Won’t do us any harm to get caught up now, would it?” Stray snorted at the obvious deflection but didn’t press him. They suspected B-12 was still not telling them everything, and had probably just remembered something. Though it would still be nice if he clued them in on it a bit more. After all, he was the one who’d been watching over the city for ages. And helped me, so it’s a fair trade. He can keep his secrets because he kept me alive. Feeling, but not. How strange. Their friend was different in ways they could almost not comprehend. Maybe he would elaborate as they went on in their journey.

They leaped soundlessly to the windowsill where they had entered and tottered along the pipe running through the rooftops. They scanned the Companions strolling about, but didn’t see Clementine from their vantage point. Passing Swanito with a trill of greeting, they picked their way along the many footholds lining the Slum’s walls. They couldn’t make out any distinct scent here, it all smelt like metal and stagnant water. 

Forced to rely on sight, Stray made their way to the ground and wasted no time darting into every hidden nook. The weird layout of the village tripped them up constantly, so when they started to recognise the scenery they relaxed, knowing they weren’t completely lost in this maze made for robots.

It probably helped one’s memory when their first impression of here was of people sprinting away like startled beetles.

Stray padded up to Guardian, who was back in the elevator garage. He was swishing about in weird poses with his staff, but when he noticed them approaching he resumed a normal stance. They stared at him for a while before he got the hint. “Welcome back. Did you have any luck with Clementine?” Stray gave a small chirp to B-12. 

“Have you seen her about? We did meet her, but she went off to gather something from …Azooz I think the name was?” He tilted to the side, waiting for Guardian’s response. The Companion nodded and pointed  out to one side of the garage, leading to a steep slope of stairs. “Azooz is usually down there. I might have seen her a bit earlier going that way, yes… She was quite chipper when I saw her. Whatever you two did, it’s good to see people in better spirits after the last few years.” B-12 twirled around once in contentment, while Stray took the chance to brush up against Guardian’s staff. Mine now, they thought with a strange amount of satisfaction. “Thank you for your blessing, little one.” he laughed.  

They made a mental note to see what other things they could get away with, then set off in the direction of where this Azooz apparently resided. It was a bit of a dump, and several robots were scrabbling through it in search of something useful. A veritable field of trash spanned the end, and a small stall dangling with lights was nestled in the closest corner. 

They meandered over to each Companion, getting their names and confirming that none had seen Clementine lately. At last they met the last Companion, one wearing a cowboy hat and curled up behind a mountain of random stuff. A trolley full of mismatched bottles, snarls of fabric, and an assortment of other things were haphazardly arranged about him. He perked up when he saw the pair, gesturing at various shelves of objects. 

“Hello little cat!” he greeted. “Need anything? I’ve got the finest cables and relics on the market. Bet you can’t find anything else like these around here now!” 

Stray was impressed by his enthusiastic sales pitch, but didn’t have anything to trade. In any case, they’d found what they were looking for. Or at least a lead. So they got B-12 to ask him the same question posed to Guardian, and hopefully there would be more answers this time. 

“Ah! You’re looking for Clementine aren’t you? I heard through the grapevine you’ve been up to something, Orange. Anyway, she just came round here, left a few minutes ago. Told me all about you.” he said. “She bought a few things for your big trip to the Outside and went off down past the bar, if my memory serves me right. If you see Teddy there, tell her I won the bet, will you?” The merchant seemed to know a lot about everything going on in the Slums, and they wondered exactly how many betting rings that guy was running. After all, spare time probably came in droves here and Azooz had proved in the last five seconds that he definitely knew how to utilise it to his full advantage. 

They gave him a mrrow of approval and walked back up the stairs, thinking about what he’d bet on. Something he had no business knowing, keeping in mind what he’d said about hearing their plan ‘through the grapevine’. A sign announcing the bar’s presence with neon intensity marked the renewed start of their search. ‘Going off past the bar’ didn’t mean very much when Clementine also had legs and knew the area much better than Stray or B-12 did. They did end up meeting Teddy leaning on a vending machine right outside as well, who had a bit of a chuckle at B-12’s relayed message. 

“Cheeky is what he is. Or hopeful, I don’t know. I reckon if it didn’t mean leaving his precious shop to Leeto and Vinz he’d get to the Outside himself. Whatever, I’ll get back to him later.” 

Stray confirmed that yes, they were in fact going the right way, and returned to their quest. Still no Clementine. How much more space was there to look at in the Slums, even with it being all folded and squashed? They weren’t yet used to being around so many others, and definitely none so tall in stature. It was a constant struggle to not get stepped on, so they developed the habit of giving a warning call wherever they went. Normally this made sure that the robots all around were more at ease not being startled by a tiny, ginger creature greatly resembling their worst enemy, but this apparently did not have the same effect on more than one of them. 

Stray prowled around a corner, meowing their presence, and making one of the aforementioned Companions give a startled beep and trip over, nearly crushing them in the process.

“CFDZHDFSdhjgzsa!” He stumbled upright again and fixed his gaze on them, observing warily. The rainbow of colours cast from his monitor faded from its surprised intensity and he picked his hat off the floor where it had fallen in his panic. “Oh,” he breathed. “Sorry, sorry. I thought you were a Zurk! I’m Momo.” They gave a quiet, apologetic meow and brushed up against Momo’s leg. He pulled back but didn’t protest as they gave him an experimental lick. The casing tasted like dirt and dust from countless years of living in the underground , so they immediately ran their tongue through their fur afterwards.

He settled his coat back around him in a more dignified manner and gave Stray an awkward wave, weaving around them to slip out of sight, pausing slightly before he did. Stray looked at B-12, who nodded. They would have asked him whether he’d seen Clementine, but they got the distinct impression that he was not the social butterfly. The two continued their search. The patter of their own feet was a usual sound, even more so in the city with all its hard floors, but the clunk of metallic pedes was something they weren’t used to yet, reduced to using only their eyes in pursuit. Fortunately, theirs were sharp and alert. The thrum of the surrounding area settled them into a comfortable rhythm: sniff, walk, jump, land, continue on. The voices of many people blurred together in the background, though it wasn’t like they could tell anyone apart by their voices in the din. This was getting aggravating; Clementine was the one who told them to meet her, yes, but it would help if she would be in the actual place she said she would. 

And when they had no idea where they were going, once again their paws brought them back to where they had met their first Companion. The garage was devoid of Guardian, but Stray spotted him down past the stairs a ways, talking animatedly with someone just out of sight. They got closer, and now they could just make out what he was saying. A furrow appeared in their brow as they pricked their ears to listen more intently to what the other figure was discussing with him.

A narrow of the eyes later and a sceptical squint, yep. That was Clementine, currently engaged in restrained verbal fisticuffs with the Slum’s protector. “-it’s not worth it. I can’t stop you and I won’t, but please, Clementine. The likelihood of you making it back is too low for me to just let you leave in all good conscience.”

Her response was a rapid-fire collection of beeps too fast for Stray to decipher. Guessing that they were maybe not supposed to be involved in the conversation, they pressed themselves up to the brick wall, out of sight but close enough to still be nosy. A motivated Clementine would be hell to argue with, judging by her reaction to Guardian’s worries. Admittedly, they had heard very little of the actual topic at hand, so they slanted around just inside the curve of the elevator to listen some more. They liked Guardian from all the impressions they had of him. 

Would they have to go behind his back to leave? If that was what had to go ahead, then that was just what they’d need to do, they resolved. Stray wanted to see their family again, and they had never been separated for this long before, not even when they had gotten stuck up that tree. Their siblings had camped out beneath its leafy canopy, encouraging them to make their way down. 

They felt bad about thinking it, but B-12 was no replacement for the intricate bond of the other cats. He was a part of the strange new world, and there was nothing to be done about it. Clementine might be too, but at least they were all working towards the same goal. They sighed, a long breath out through their nose. 

Right. The goal. Stray tuned back into their environment, velvety ears twitching like mini satellite dishes. One of the arguing Companions murmured something in resolution, and they felt the forceful thump of metal feet on the ground just in front of their hiding spot. B-12 drifted slightly out of his vest pocket, asking them without words what to do now. They padded delicately beyond the slumbering circle of robots inside the elevator, and flicked their tail as they followed Clementine’s retreating form. Guardian was hunched on one of the stairs, not having moved much since the end of his interaction with her, seemingly staring at nothing. 

Stray decided to leave him be. If nothing else, they didn’t need to give him any more reasons to get worked up over. They were fairly sure they had nothing to worry about for the time being, but who knew. They had practically just met the red robed mech, a fact that kept surprising them. Being stuck in an infested underground civilization tended to bring everyone together, they supposed.

They emitted their signature greeting. Clementine looked over her shoulder, and something in their expression must have given them away. 

“You heard all that, huh?” 

Stray turned their attention back to Clementine as she spoke. “I asked him to take care, and that I was leaving. It didn’t go awfully, but you heard what he felt about that.” They might not have known Guardian’s exact words, but Stray and B-12 could glean enough from the way Clementine retold the encounter now. “It’s not like I don’t understand where he’s coming from. But if we don’t ever try, the Zurks will keep on what they’re doing and we haven’t been able to stop them so far. You were proof we had a chance, but I don’t think he sees it that way.” She shook her head, monitor dim but determined.

Stray brushed their tail to her ankle like they had done with Guardian. It worked its magic again, and she reached down to give them a brief touch to the smooth fur along their back. They were sure that there must be some other fluffy thing to pet in the seemingly infinite mounds of stuff scattered all throughout the village, but if it cheered her up then they didn’t care very much. B-12 looked to them as though he wanted to try that nuzzling thing again too, but said nothing and turned to the orange and white robot as she in turn stared vacantly at Guardian’s spot on the stairs. It was clear she felt bad about leaving with such short notice, but surely she knew as well as Stray that staying much longer would be far from ideal. They had no idea how much she knew about cats, but hunger and thirst were things that weren’t too easily sated in the Slums. 

The lack of food would catch up to them soon. Those mouthfuls of damp moss were no substitute for real prey. The closest thing to a tasty mouse down here would be a Zurk, hastily skewered on whatever sharp bit of metal they could find. Eurgh. I have no doubt that it would make me thoroughly sick. The strings of meaty material the squish-rats generated appeared to eat away at walls to stick to them, and Stray did not at all want to turn into a half melted cat. Still, if there was absolutely no alternative… they would deal with that bridge when it came time to cross it. Thirst wasn’t as pressing, given the amount of water leaking from poorly maintained pipes everywhere they had seen in the city, so they could probably supplement their growling stomach with that for the time being. 

It was their aim to escape the city before that became too much of an issue. They had gotten through tough winters before, where sometimes all they could catch were bony sparrows and a few fish. 

And there was still that feeling gnawing at the back of Stray’s brain, instinct telling them that they should be back in their sheltered nook with their family by now, that their hunt had run long overtime, and most of all, that they had strayed too far from home. 

They were gonna do this. Stray strolled forward a few paces, and stopped to observe Clementine for a second. The hellish city was her home, but she was eager to leave it, was willing to say goodbye to whoever she needed to in order to achieve her dream. B-12 had never said anything about his family, or whether he even had one. He had mentioned a scientist he used to work for. They admired their friends’ resolve.                                                                                                                                                                              

Clementine brought herself back to the present, apparently leaving her reminiscing for when she didn’t have other, maybe slightly more important things to think about. “Alright. I think I’ve finished up around here,” she said, a wavering edge of uncertainty colouring her resolve. “So, the million dollar question, Stray, B-12. Are we ready?” 

Their name sounded so familiar now. With a confirming glance to B-12, they nodded. Clementine’s nervous expression bloomed into a grin that had waited to join the world since the day she realised what might be out there. A better future for everyone, feline and Companion. 

“Then let’s go!” And with that, they were on their way.

Chapter Text

“Guardian.” Her voice prompted him to put down his staff and wave. She poked her head more around the wall, beckoning him out into the open where there would be less of a reaction to her news. On second thought, she walked over to the stairway leading down to Morusque’s nook, away from a certain gossipy merchant. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave in secret, but the less fanfare the better, especially if it didn’t end up working out. Not that her plan would fail, of course. It was practically perfect, if one didn’t count the matter of actually getting on with it.

“I’m leaving,” was her only introduction. Guardian’s words were mellow as usual but his face told a very different story. “Now?” he asked, alarmed. It wasn’t a secret that it was almost Clementine’s entire purpose in life these days, but maybe he thought she had finally given up. And maybe that made his life easier in some ways. He didn’t want anything to go wrong, for anything else to go wrong. The more she thought about it now, the more certain she was.

“The outsiders, or at least one of them, came from the Outside and got this far already. We have a chance, a proper one this time. It’s further than we’ve gotten down here before.” The emotions on his monitor were virtually undecipherable, and she wondered what he thought about it. Probably not much positivity, but she knew him. He would not openly disapprove nor prevent her from leaving, physically at least. 

She spotted Stray skulking around, very badly pretending they weren’t listening to her and Guardian’s conversion. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. If they could stay alive long enough to get here,” she pointed at Stray, who seemed not to notice, and continued. “Then their plan is worth a try.” 

Eventually, he nodded. His face was a neutral default, giving almost nothing more away than the expression before. Did he know why she was doing it? Perhaps he knew something about Stray that she didn’t. All B-12 had really told her was that they were a team, and that he wanted to open the city. Surviving in the Slums would be tough for an organic, but surely not impossible. There were still the odd foodstuffs tossed down from the upper city and the rats that nibbled at everything proved otherwise too. 

Her newfound friends were mysteries, but if their approval was enough to gain Guardian’s own, then she would not complain. “I thought you might say that,” he said, voice even but unusually sombre. “Would you stay a little longer? I’m sure some of the residents have items that could be of value on your journey?” His efforts to delay her leaving were kind of pitiful, though she knew he was doing it because he cared. Ideally, Clementine would have liked to be in a far better position than she was, capable enough to escape everything unharmed. Unfortunately, Guardian was completely right to be concerned. 

It still wasn’t going to stop her. 

“We’re doing bribes now?” she half laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “I already got that one covered with Azooz. And me opening the city won’t be much use if you don’t have enough stuff to keep the Zurks out in the meantime, anyway.” He shuddered, not as comedic as either wanted it to be. Still, he kept pressing, hoping that she could be persuaded to stick to his logic just a little longer, like he was some sort of parental unit. 

He definitely tried to be, but when one was trying to parent the entirety of the Slums things never ended up as planned, and at some point Guardian would have to figure that out himself. Clementine listened to his passive arguments for a while longer, responding with increasingly short sentences and many gestures when it became clear neither would be moved from their positions on the matter. It was nice that he cared so much, but there came a point when it was enough. Guardian tried one final thing. “Very well,” he sighed. “I still think it’s not worth it. I can’t stop you and I won’t, but please, Clementine. The likelihood of you making it back is too low for me to just let you leave in all good conscience.”

She was rather exasperated, and though her knee jerk reaction might have been to tell him to let her go in all bad conscience, she didn’t want that to be her last interaction with him before she went off with Stray and B-12 to get to the Outside. Their plan involved very little thought on what happened after they escaped, and for something like this the end surely justified the means. Instead, she shoved all other thoughts to the wayside for long enough to give a response that she wouldn’t regret later. It was a courtesy to inform him of where she was going so he didn’t have to deal with anything more than usual, but he had been keeping everyone safe in the way he thought best. 

“See you maybe. Take care,” she said, flicking him a wave as she turned to leave. “Likewise,” he said. “Send my regards to the small ones.” She dipped her head and left him to go and find them. After all, they were the ones masterminding most of it all.

Upon walking up back to the main paveway, she nearly forgot her intention to meet the two again. As it was, they found her, with the feline’s strangely soothing presence focusing her back on the plan. How much of that had they heard? Their sufficiently guilty look clued her in enough to know they’d got the gist of it. “You heard all that, huh?” They returned their attention to Clementine, having been glancing somewhat anxiously at where Guardian was still standing on the stairway. “I asked him to take care and that I was leaving,” she explained. “It didn’t go awfully, but you heard what he felt about that.” Still, at least he didn’t get these two caught up in it. They were surely capable, more so than her to deal with the physical dangers of the Companion’s realm, but people already had their opinions about her. Stray and B-12 still had the opportunity to change people’s minds, should they choose to. Still, they were leaving now, so it wasn’t a pressing problem. 

“It’s not like I don’t understand where he’s coming from. But if we don’t ever try, what they’re doing and we haven’t been able to stop them so far. You were proof we have a chance, but I don’t think he sees it that way.” Clementine slouched, feeling her scarf droop along with her and Stray’s tail touched her lightly on the ankle. She didn’t know why she felt so compelled to pat them, but they hadn’t minded it before so she dragged her hand down the smooth fur on the back, fascinated at the way it rippled along their frame as they moved. It could only last a moment, and then she was back in her own mind again. Guardian still hadn’t moved since her heated discussion, and she was a bit regretful about how she’d come across. On some level, he understood. That much was clear, but their differing points of view inevitably produced different conclusions. 

She would succeed at her one task, and prove she hadn’t been grasping at metaphorical straws.

And she had a few others on ‘her’ side now, people with a lot to lose, and she wasn’t about to go back on her word. “Alright. I think I’ve finished up around here,” she told them. “So, the million dollar question, Stray, B-12. Are we ready?”  Stray silently consulted B-12, and what seemed like an eternity later, accepted. It was possible, of course, that she was wrong, but Clementine didn’t think she’d smiled this much in years. “Then let’s go!” she announced, and strolled on. There was just the one ‘exit’ these days– if you were leaving, you typically weren’t coming back, and so the whole idea had become rather unpopular sometime after the first few groups of self proclaimed adventurers went off. The Outside still hadn’t revealed itself, so it was obvious enough as to what happened to the people who tried. However, this group had a plan, an actual one, and they would not meet the fate of those who had come before. 

A plan that hit a snag almost immediately.

That being, the vault door built into one of the outer walls, the previously mentioned exit hadn’t been used in a while. With the lacking resources to fix everything else, it turned out no one’s attention had been roused when the mechanism rusted stuck. She gave the door a solid kick, scuffing up the already matte surface, but it didn’t budge and didn’t look as though it was ever intending to. Clementine resisted the urge to try ripping the damn thing off its hinges. This probably didn’t bode well for the rest of the group’s journey, and in fact was also probably some snarky sign from the universe, but if there was any intent behind it she was not about to heed it. 

Stray glared at the door acidly, pushing at it with their tiny paws in a misguided effort to help. B-12 inspected the signs of decay that mottled it with a focused narrow of his eyes. There was no way that door was going to open, at least not without melting it down first. Clementine tried shoving at it some more, looking for something to do while she figured out what else to do. At last, she stepped back, disgruntled. “Figures,” she huffed. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Stray met her gaze as she hashed together a more suitable plan. She peered around, coming up with ways the surrounding area could be used to their advantage. The walls keeping out the Zurks towered over her at ground level, but the taller buildings made up a good percentage of the makeshift barriers. It seemed that she would be following Stray’s lead. She was sure the cat was great at a lot of things, but one had struck her. Their supernatural ability to jump, leap and climb. 

“We’re going up,” she said. B-12 nodded, slightly confused. “Not all the way up to the Outside, not yet. But if they could climb in,” she said, pointing to Stray, “then I could climb out. I’d say it’s worth a shot.” He considered, waiting for Stray’s opinion. Though the drone was the one with all the words, he seemed to wait on his furred friend to provide them. At the moment, they were distracted, head tilted off to the side and sniffing quizzically. Clementine thought she heard a quiet footfall from somewhere, but there were a lot of Companions, always milling about in a too-small space. Stray turned back to her and waggled their haunches, landing a moment later on an old oil barrel. They flicked their tail upwards in a sweeping motion, sat down and gave her a meaningful look. There were very few footholds here. There was likely a skylight hatch up to the top of one of these buildings, but Clementine was very sure that her barging into someone else’s house would not be welcomed. Either way, there was definitely not a good place to begin making her way out. Watching her reaction, Stray followed her as she paced back and forth, thinking out loud. 

“Somewhere there isn’t a huge wire fence at the top, or at least not too far to get over.” she mused, walking  about the Slums, scanning the outskirts for such a place. At a few points she made an amusing spectacle of herself, trying to follow Stray and their small body up walls and failing miserably. Clementine reached for the next brace, hanging off a thin slab of poky concrete. Once again, there was no way up for her. 

If I’m the one who wants to do this, then why am I taking so damn long? It’s just a wall. She swore Stray was laughing, and she really didn’t blame them. That thought didn’t mitigate her growing irritation, and she drawled along behind the cat and drone duo as they searched for an easier way up. Nearly running right into the feline’s silky pelt a few too many times to be their fault, she flicked the side of her monitor a few times to refocus herself. As they stopped again, Clementine gave them a puzzled warble similar to their meows. B-12 ushered them on, asking for help in scouting out their escape route. 

“What do you usually do around here?” he asked, trying to move along both the comparative silence and Stray at the same time. Apparently there were group bonding exercises on the agenda now as well. Fair enough, it made sense to get to know the others better than ‘mysterious cat and small robot pair’. She’d never been the most sociable Companion, though not really introverted, which would happen to anybody if their world was being eaten away by pests that had no problem eating them too. 

“Not too much,” she answered, not counting the innumerable hours spent just staring off into space daydreaming. “People around here usually have their one thing, you know? Take Guardian, or Kosma. Humar likes to scavenge with Leeto and Vinz sometimes, and a lot of us just sit and meditate. I don’t really have any one hobby, aside from all this,” she said dismissively, gesturing vaguely to the world at large. “I kind of got into plantkeeping, but Roshee’s got all of that handled nicely themselves. And poetry, for some reason. It’s something to pass the time.” Once she’d started taking this Outside business seriously, Clementine had started neglecting most other things. She needed to give it her all, and for a while she had, stopping just short of actually getting out and doing it herself. For a bit it had brought her purpose, being the only one to hope for more in life, but sharing the experience with someone else was proving to be a positive experience. 

B-12 didn’t say anything more, just hovered about in thought. He was hard to read, having no screen and minimal body language to go off of, but she would say that he was currently trying to process what she’d just said and keep an eye on Stray. Their silent interaction made her smile. The orange and white Companion didn’t know why, they might have been her first proper friends in a long time, but it wasn’t like she had never had interactions with the rest of the Slumbots. Ignoring that, she resumed her increasingly depressing mission of trying to climb a wall. 

The group did eventually find a place, where there were drifts of trash enough to stifle any falls, though it was obvious that Stray wasn’t going to be the one to land on their head while trying to accomplish that, and where she had enough of a grip on various things to have a decent chance of getting to the top with minimal injuries. It was a long way up, but it was situated under a nicely unfortified bit of fencing, so it would just have to do. 

“You go up first,” she said to them. “If you try and wiggle around me we’ll all end up falling off.” Stray hopped neatly from one perch to the next, reaching the top and looking down at her with wide eyes, surveying the area. Clementine gripped an air conditioning unit experimentally, before swinging up onto a windowsill. She continued on like that for a bit, watching her friend’s faces grow steadily nearer. After one particularly hard move, she glanced up at Stray’s insistent chirping. “I’m good,” she answered, mostly focused on manoeuvring herself to the next hold. “Almost there, aren’t I–” 

“Clementine! You’re going to fall! Watch out!” At the shout she jerked in surprise as the concrete overhang crumbled under her feet, allowing her a very brief few moments of screeched curses as she and a generous pile of the wall smashed into whoever was below. 

B-12 had popped out of Stray’s vest to gasp and jolt forward, and Stray yowled, almost making a straight leap down to check on Clementine. She lay under the heavy blanket of darkness and stone for what seemed like an eternity, dragging herself back to consciousness. She had clearly knocked something pretty hard on impact. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too important, she mused. A scrabbling at her back urged her to get up.  Clementine shoved herself off whoever had the grace to let her use them as a landing pad, dusted off all the detritus from her fall, shook out the rocks that had collected in her sash, and paused to reassure Stray.

A small bar of pixels had died on the right where her screen had made violent contact with the floor and cracked in a small spiderweb pattern, but aside from that… She snatched up her cap, which fluttered down after her at an amusingly slow pace. After confirming that she was alright, they nosed past to sniff at the other Companion. A very squashed Momo coughed, sitting up and reaching for them. The shock of plummeting from three storeys up wearing off, the two robots glanced at each other. 

“Are you alright?” was Clementine’s first question, still riding the high of temporary flight. “Thanks for trying to warn me. I didn’t see how rickety that ledge was.” Stray sat between them, B-12 working up the courage to say something. 

“Stray wasn’t heavy enough to shift it, so we didn’t notice either. Nice to see you again, Momo.” he greeted. Momo gave him a half-hearted wave as he tipped the dust out of his hat and got up. “Hello again,” he responded. His monitor flashed a confused expression for a moment. He gave himself a good shake, and Stray imitated it in turn, sending more dust into the air. “What were you doing? If you want to look out at the Dead City, there’s got to be better places. There are lots of nice little lookouts at the other edge of the Safezone.” 

Clementine moved slightly. Did absolutely everyone in the Slums need to know about her plan? More people to doubt her? B-12 noticed and leapt in to explain for her. “We’re going to the Outside. The other way out of here, that door, is rusted and stuck.” Surprisingly, Momo didn’t give too much judgement. Whether that was out of fear of her headstrong reputation or he was genuinely interested she didn’t know. Stray took no issue with it, instead choosing to gaze at the roof and its circles of star lights distantly, wobbling a bit on their paws. 

“...are you planning on going up there again?” he asked instead. Clementine glanced at where she’d fallen, and saw that there was probably still enough of a structure left to get back up. Momo watched her reaction with caution. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? None of that looks anywhere near safe to climb again.” He was right, but it was pure bad luck that she’d stood in the wrong place, on the wrong thing. If she kept a better eye out, the group should be able to get over that fence and be on their way soon enough. 

“Probably not,” she agreed. “But if I watch where I’m going it shouldn’t be a problem again. Thanks again for stopping me from landing too awfully.” She turned to the structure again, snapping Stray out of their trance. They made their way along the nooks of the wall, stepping lightly before tiredly bouncing along the rest of the way. It was practised, as though they had much experience with this sort of thing before. Momo stood silently by her side, watching Stray anxiously as they sat down safely at the top and as Clementine started again. The climb went a lot smoother than the first. She copied Stray’s testing of ledges, before jumping to the next and the next and the next. It was a kind of activity she hadn’t done very much, and despite the setbacks she found herself almost enjoying the kind of rhythm and on-the-go thinking it brought. Clementine crawled along the last enclave and hauled herself to the summit, rewarded with a warble from Stray and mumbled affirmation from B-12. 

She strolled up to the fence, whacking it with the back of her hand and recoiling when the noise spurred on the chirping of Zurks just below her level. It was a steep drop down, but the fleshy webbing that covered most of the city crept worryingly high to match it. Stray wrinkled up their snout and pawed at their face, before hissing lightly and skulking behind her. Although unusual on the basis that they seemed so fearless before, it didn’t surprise her that much. Gazing on the veritable nest of glowing optics and pulsing sinew, she felt much the same. They had definitely had some experience with Zurks already, judging by the fact they had made it into the Slums in the first place. B-12 pressed himself up against the chainlinks, observing from a close distance. If he didn’t know what the pudgy things were he was certainly able to take the cue from Stray and go no further, holding himself with a sort of horrified reverence. 

A scrabbling sound put her immediately on edge. Stray raced over to the opposite edge of the building and meowed loudly, beckoning her over. When Clementine saw what was making it she relaxed. Momo was half falling off as he tried to drag himself up to be with the rest of them, so she waved Stray out of his face and offered him a hand. 

He took it, and less than a second later proceeded to nearly jump off when a Zurk cheeped again. Clementine ended up almost following suit and Stray foiled around her ankle in an effort to stop it from happening again. Fortunately, both of them got their flooring well enough to avoid landing face first for good. “I almost forgot they were just outside this place,” said B-12. “That is way closer than I thought they would be, though.” Momo nodded. 

“I don’t remember them being this close.” muttered Clementine. “The last time I checked around the border, there were only a few scuttling around here. It wasn’t even a long while back. I didn’t think they’d make it all the way up to the barrier so soon.” That complicated things. Fighting off the bitey things was almost certainly going to be a part of their adventure, but apparently the highrises directly surrounding the Safezone harboured a lot of them. Far more than she imagined possible to take on right at the start. “Was it this bad from where you came in?” she queried. 

“Not quite as bad, but close. We were lucky there was a clear way in, else we would have been stuck.” The drone folded his antennae close and hovered away from the sight of the Zurks, returning to his vest pocket. 

“Um, are you planning on going through here?” Momo piped up, frankly horrified. Clementine’s usual reaction of yes stalled in her vocaliser. There really wasn’t a way through the swarm of creatures chirruping hungrily at them, all too aware of their presence. She was really not up for trying to scale more falling-apart places right now, and Stray didn’t appear enthusiastic about it either. They flopped across the other robot’s foot and closed their eyes, leaving the decision in her hands. “I was. Looking at that, though, I think we would be better off trying to go past some other way.” If the Zurks had them surrounded as much as B-12 said, it would be nigh impossible for a Companion to get through the maze. And that was assuming that the way they had come wasn’t so overrun by now for even Stray to slip past. She didn’t even know where or how they had gotten to this point. 

She was supposed to have ideas. And she had, so where had all that gone? All right, fine, maybe it was relying far too much on the Zurks not being habitually territorial, aggressive creatures and her and Stray and B-12 being slightly more invincible than was possible. But still.

Nothing seemed to be in her favour. 

For once, she was in control, and she did not at all like the options. Leave, and run the now very high risk of being killed, or stay and spend forever wishing for a future she didn’t have. “I suppose we could scout along a bit more of the border now that we’re up here, and see if there’s a bit more of a chance somewhere else.” Clementine noted that Momo paused for a moment before following Stray as they got to their feet. Well, another ally was always useful. They poked around every part of the Safezone’s edge that they could, to no success. She cleared the distance between two complexes in a nimble leap, inspected the area for opportunity for escape, yielding nothing. 

Momo and the ginger feline were tiring, and they spent an increasing amount of time bracing themselves on his leg, more than half asleep. At last Clementine flopped down too in defeat. They opened their eyes to regard her with apparent concern before hauling themselves into Momo’s lap. He attempted to inch away at first, but gave up under a heavy glare. Eventually, he reached out and poked Stray on their ear, much like Clementine had when she first met the furred quadruped. 

Their similarity to a Zurk didn’t seem to alarm Momo too much, as he was soon patting and feeling all the fluff on the cat’s head. A loud purring followed, and both Companions smiled. It made the defeat seem a bit less bitter. 

The second she took her mind off Stray’s intriguing rumbles, it was filled with worries for the future. Her limited knowledge of the Outside’s creatures told her at least one thing about them: they needed food. Even plants needed sustenance. Whatever it was they needed, they probably needed it soon, if the lolling about was any indication. The Zurks had spread faster than she thought possible before, but Stray couldn’t stay. An unpleasant death awaited them all if they overstayed their welcome, of that she was sure. 

She couldn’t think about it all on her own, and if she lacked information, perhaps someone else could help her. “Momo,” she said. He turned to look at her again, stopping his enchanted nuzzling of Stray to listen, though their purrs kept on in the background. “It’s near-on impossible to get out the way I thought we might. But Stray needs more than we do, and I have no idea how to care for them. You seem like you have good ideas, and they like you well enough. Will you help me find a way out?” Momo gave her a deer-in-the-headlights expression. His resumed scratching of Stray’s chin stopped abruptly, prompting them to sit up and stretch. For a supposedly feral cat, they sure enjoyed his company. 

“Me?” he asked, tensing up like she might suddenly attack. She nodded, intending to say something else, but he got there first. “I— really don’t think you want me slowing you down,” he stuttered. “Besides, I don’t know anything more about their species than you do,” Momo added hastily, flicking a finger to point at Stray, who blinked at it and rubbed their head right up to his hand. 

“Please?” she asked. “They need to get out of here even more than we do. There’s no life for them down here.” Or us, she helpfully refrained from saying. If he was so inclined to believe otherwise, he surely would have said something sooner. Really, she just wanted to show everyone that this was a worthy cause. Momo had not discredited it, and given what she knew about him (actually startlingly little) didn’t want to. Still, he hesitated. Maybe she had completely misread his demeanour. She had never got to know him, with how separate their lives were. 

Clementine had no idea why she wanted him on the team. That may have been a lie, actually; she was turning over the fact that she really didn’t know what she was doing now in the back of her processor, ignoring it in the hopes somebody else would come up with the magical solution and allow them to get on with their lives. Wishful thinking at its finest. The difficulty of everything now was reminding her very much of why she almost gave up in the first place.

In the end, it was not her who convinced him. Stray took their cue and sprawled out over the entirety of his lap, scrunching up their face in a cute yawn. Whatever magic they were working affected Clementine as well, she found herself compelled to poke their cheeks and their paws and that isn’t the point, Clementine– 

“Okay,” Momo answered, tearing his gaze away from the orange creature making adorable noises on his lap, treating it rather as their own personal pillow. The metal couldn’t be very comfortable for their organic frame, but they seemed content. “I mean, I’ll help you get out, but I can’t go with you. I know there are the Zurks, but it’s not so bad, is it? We’re safe at least for the moment, and this is where I want to stay. It’s my home.” His rainbow monitor flickered. Her cracked screen watched him in surprise. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who wanted out that much. Even if he couldn’t come with them, Momo’s willingness to help them out was a welcome change of pace. 

One that would start with becoming Stray’s bed, it seemed. An odd arrangement for an odd situation. B-12 said nothing, so she assumed that if he had any objections, he kept them to himself. Now that they were beginning fresh, what was on the agenda? Whatever Stray needed, then a plan. A proper one this time. 

The cat’s stomach grumbled, and they curled up in a tight oval, intending to sleep it off. That probably wasn’t a good sign, judging by how B-12 wriggled out of the gap between his vest pouch and Momo’s leg to scan Stray with a flashlight function to highlight their slim form. They mrrah’d at the brightness, sluggishly contorting themselves into a strange position with their snout smooshed into the floor. The tip of their tail tapped the ground slowly, working up the energy to get up again. “When did you last eat?” the drone questioned. “Are you hungry? Organics need to consume food, don’t they?” Clementine nodded, concerned. 

She had noticed that Stray was rather fine-bodied, but they didn’t seem too skinny and had functioned just fine for most of the time she’d known them. Which was what, about a day-cycle? 

Adding on however long they had been in the Dead City from however they’d gotten into it in the first place, that might have been quite a while. It was clearly not a trivial matter, with the amount of care B-12 took in noting every aspect of Stray. Momo watched him, fascinated and no Companion moving as Stray wriggled about. Finally giving up, they flicked their tongue across their jaws in an obvious display of their hunger. 

“Is there anything they can eat around here? I don’t think they’re up for getting something themselves at the moment.” One thing after another it was these days. Momo fiddled with his hand, an introspective expression on his monitor. “I have some oil..?” he suggested. Seeing Stray’s disapproving response, he drooped. “I said before that I was the wrong person to ask,” he lamented. “I don’t know what you can eat, but maybe there’s something in the library? All the books in there are from way back.” 

They plodded to the side of the building and jerked their head. A clearer gesture couldn’t have been given. Clementine rose to her feet, Momo following her and B-12 keeping an eye on Stray as they struggled down to ground level again, waiting for directions. 

“Onwards,” she declared, hoping that something would go right this time. It was a detour, but a necessary one that would ensure they were all in tip top condition when they did find their way out. 

Chapter Text

Stray trudged alongside their friends. With plans of getting past the Zurks today dashed, their hunger had finally gotten the better of them. Not that they thought there would be any such luck in finding something to eat. They had no energy to hunt anything even if they could track down a small rat or something like that. Their only fortune was that B-12 knew, or seemed to, that they couldn’t go on. 

He was surprisingly intuitive, reading the small signs they gave off without thinking. It was like their own secret language, tapping into something hidden deep in Stray’s mind. Whatever intelligent thing there was to say about that would have to wait, as their stomach was grumbling its opinion rather loudly. 

There had better be something of use in the library, was their only conscious thought. If they didn’t know how long they had lay flopped over in that original pile of trash when they first landed down in the city, it was definitely too long to go without eating. Stray’s body ached. They hadn’t slept very much either since their initial rest, as a city infested with squish-rats did not lend to any dips in adrenaline. 

B-12 was at the tip of their tail, spurring them on with every insistence of a mother observing her kits. Honestly, they needed it and wouldn’t have made it up the stairs that led to the library without that nagging. The second they got in the door, they wove around the librarian and slumped on the closest pillow they could find. 

Momo suggested a ‘cooking’ book, and Clementine asked the librarian, whose name turned out to be Jess, for details. She scooped up an armful of the chunky books and sat down next to Stray as Momo used his hat as a basket to carry more to their corner. They were exhausted. Even so, having nothing to distract them from how hungry they were was worse than the protests of their muscles, so they followed him around a corner to see if he found anything of note. 

Their drone friend zipped about, translating titles where needed and having a peek about himself, even recalling having read a few of the books himself. “I remember that one,” he said. “I know the scientist showed it to me and told me how it was required reading to get his degree. It was definitely not a favourite,” he laughed, before moving on. Stray dragged their gaze over a few of them, recognising some symbols from their time sprinting through the Dead City. Nothing stuck their fancy so they stalked back to Clementine where she sat with at least five books flipped open. 

“Do any of these look promising?” she asked, spinning them all round to what Stray presumed was the right angle to read them. They squinted at each in a scholarly way, pretending to know what they were doing.

 At random, they selected one and nosed through a few pages. Most of the page’s ink was blurred with water damage, and unreadable, B-12 informed them. It landed on a laminated page with some sort of food on. It looked like a bunch of pale twigs sprinkled with snatches of grass, but anything would have been more appetising than Zurk stew to the hungry cat. It wasn’t a high bar to hit, yet most of the potential foodstuffs in the Slums were still trying to limbo under. 

Clementine raised an eyebrow. “It’s something, I’ll give you that. I can’t actually read this, though. If this is a recipe it’s in the language of the Soft Ones.” Stray called for B-12, and he gave his verdict. “Home-made french fries. It looks simple enough, and it shouldn’t make you sick regardless. Do we have any of these?” he asked.

“Potatoes, canola oil, salt… quite simple, although I don’t know what is available around here.” 

Stray didn’t know what any of those things were. They didn’t want to eat oil. Whatever stuff was served at the bar had a harsh scent to it and was just generally gross in every aspect Stray could dream up. Clementine looked as puzzled as she had before, and Momo plonked a handful of books in front of her. She thumbed through them, deemed them irrelevant and frowned at Stray. 

“That one is the only recipe I could find. If you could tell me what a potato is, that would be helpful, because I think we could find the rest of the things. Is it important to the food?” B-12 didn’t say anything for a bit, thinking and blinking at the recipe some more. Stray had another look at it, noting nothing intelligible in the squiggly symbols on the page and exhaling loudly. 

B-12 read the steps of the recipe in a hushed tone. “I’m afraid the potato is the base of it. Eating straight oil and salt probably wouldn’t be very good for them,” Here, Stray gagged. 

“Or pleasant. Anyway, a potato is a large tuber that grows underground, and apparently is ‘delectable’ according to this recipe. ” 

Whether it was to be believed would be up to them if they even managed to find the thing. Clementine tapped a finger to her metaphorical chin in thought, studiously ignoring Momo as he dumped more books on the growing pile of rejects. 

“I had a garden once,” she mused. “A proper one. I can’t remember quite what I was intending to grow, but these little spuddy round things showed up. They looked close enough to this,” she added, pointing to a picture. 

It was indeed a potato, as B-12 flared his stabilisers in agreement. The motion was lost on Stray, as their energy levels hit a net negative and they splayed their legs outwards until they were almost balancing on their snout. The movement of orange fur caught Momo’s attention as he beeped soothingly at them, twirling the fur on their flank. Something was said that they didn’t catch, and they failed to notice anything else around them until Stray found themselves peering over the brim of Momo’s tattered hat. 

They mewled at him from their newfound basket, though not entirely protesting the position they found themselves in. It was rather comfortable, if they could get past the fact that they were hungry and they wanted something now. 

“Do you want to get out?” he asked, stopping his walking to focus on them intently. 

He held Stray like they were made of glass, a kindness that they appreciated at the moment. They purred and curled up tightly, fitting their surroundings almost perfectly. He shrugged and continued on his path to wherever they were going. Stray had dropped off for a second and stirred when they were set down on Clementine’s bed, squeezing their eyes shut and not budging. 

Momo relinquished his hat and wandered off after watching them for a moment to make sure they were alright, following Clementine over to her table, where she set the book down with a thud. If there was any other discussion after that, they didn’t hear it as they went into an uneasy, slightly queasy sleep.

~

“How do we do this?” Momo squinted at the page as though that would help him understand. B-12 ran through the steps again. The freshly excavated potatoes sat on the counter before them, still covered in a thorough layer of dirt that he was sure would get caught in the other’s servos. 

Still, the Companions didn’t complain. They seemed to know better of it. However much they might want to help Stray, it did no good if they didn’t know how. B-12 himself wasn’t feeling too helpful at the moment, trying to ignore the echoing gaps in his memory, latching on instead to what he did know: cats needed to eat. And he needed to prepare something for them. 

It would have been useful to have hands, to be able to do this on his own. He owed it to Stray to figure this one out at least. As the words muddled into place before his eyes once again, bizarrely familiar and so distant at the same time, B-12 tried to plan. 

He had almost no knowledge of culinary matters, but compared to the robots he may as well have been a master chef like the TV shows he used to watch with the scientist. Unfortunately, nothing on them had told him how to make french fries in the post apocalypse so he would just have to make do. 

“We need to peel these,” he said uncertainly, checking the book after every statement. Already Clementine was brandishing a knife at the vegetable with a surprising amount of skill, as Momo took a cautious step away. It made him wince every time she accidentally turned the knife on herself, although the drone wasn’t sure why. It was almost instinct. Stray was knocked out on the bed, rumbling contentedly in Momo’s hat, ignorant to the proceedings. 

Under his direction the Companions worked out a way to get the old kettle boiling again, set up a mini-campfire and roast the slices of potato over it. He checked his storage, not really watching the other’s attempts at cooking in favour of browsing what he had snagged from that safe in the library. He would have assumed it was being used by someone, except for the fact that the keys were in the lock and the door was wide open.  

A desiccated comic book, a can of WD-40, –a startled warble from Clementine as she burnt the potato– , and a strange, shrink wrapped package. He didn’t know what it was, but he would figure it out later. 

At last, the fries were ready. More than a little crisper on some pieces than it should be, but it was still recognisable as the item on the page. Momo brought the bowl over to Stray and the steam billowing through their whiskers woke them up, and they stretched, licking the offering. 

They bit into it experimentally, then started to practically inhale it. While Stray gobbled their meal, he gave their thanks to the chefs. 

“I think our efforts were appreciated. Who knows, I might try this cooking lark again. Wasn’t half bad, was it, Momo?” Clementine responded.  

He gave an indifferent shrug, more interested in patting the ridges of Stray’s shoulders as they leaned over their food. 

Clementine strolled over to her bed and rested her head on her arms, watching Momo fluff up the fur on Stray’s head, stroke it backwards and investigate the loaf pose they had settled into. B-12 was intrigued at the way their legs bent in strange, seemingly impossible ways and looked a bit painful. 

Clementine scratched at the sleek, rough fiber of their vest and slumped next to Stray up on her bed while Momo yawned, little pops of static from his speaker. Both of the Companions were tired, he was sure. His battery was getting low and he would turn in soon, just after Stray had finished their meal. B-12 chose to drift around Clementine’s desk and marvel at the alternate universe of stuff she had in her house, wondering how long she’d been collecting it. His antenna smacked into something and he looked up to inspect it. 

A corkboard covered in diagrams and pictures of what he presumed to be the Outside. There was one of a cat on there too, caught mid-frolic with a ball of yarn and a manic expression. It was a silver and white tabby, and he tried to remember more about Stray’s species. 

The remnants of the internet scattered through the network were full of videos, pictures and curious things called memes, a good amount of them depicting cats. 

A rule of the universe that the Companions and B-12 knew intrinsically knew was this: if a feline sits on you, you are not allowed to move. Momo heeded it as Stray climbed onto his shoulder and wrapped around his neck like a rumbling scarf, and he heard Clementine snickering. 

Alright, now he really did need to recharge. He wordlessly folded up into the vest pocket, but some instinct kept him from shutting down completely and turning himself over to sleep. 

“I wonder what they’re dreaming about,” Momo said as B-12 felt Stray twitch. Clementine shifted and hummed in consideration.

 “Where did they come from, anyway? Were they in one of those little strongholds?” The mattress creaked as Clementine moved again. 

“I think they came from the Outside. There’s no way they survived the Zurks, never mind how all the other ones before had to stay alive for them to exist.” 

A pause. “I guess so. I would ask the little drone, but I don’t think he can hear us right now. Do you know about him either?” 

There it was. The question he couldn’t answer himself. They knew that Stray must want out to survive and maybe to meet someone, given how lost they had seemed at first, glancing around for someone who wasn’t there. 

He didn’t know about his own motives. B-12 caught himself half saying something a lot, not knowing why or how he had come to any conclusions. If he had to guess, the time spent mindlessly absorbed in the network had taken some of his personality with it just as it had his memories. But telling the others that would result in more questions, not that he could blame them. 

He would just rather really not confront how lost he was, too. 

“They both just showed up here a couple cycles ago. I didn’t think to question them before what their story was, though I haven’t exactly given them any memoirs myself. Yeah, remind me to ask them later.” 

“Put a pin in it,” Momo agreed, the light of his monitor passing through the vest’s material to bring some light back to B-12’s vision in the seconds before he joined Stray’s slumber party.

~

A homely silence broken only by the light breathing of Stray hung over them. “What now?” Clementine asked, not as enthusiastic as before. Not that Momo would blame her; he wasn’t in laser focus mode either. 

“I say we take a break before anyone goes off Zurk hunting,” he answered. “And maybe figure out how to do it first.”

“Spur-of-the-moment plans aren’t your thing, I take it?” He shuddered. “Not when it comes to dealing with Zurks. My original plan was stay far away from them , and I still think it’s the best idea I’ve had in my life.” Why he had even allowed himself to be dragged into this plot, he had very little clue. It almost definitely had something to do with the cat snoring away in front of him, with seemingly no cares in the world. 

He hadn’t known them any longer than a few hours, but in that time they had managed to gain a firm place in his heart. 

As for Clementine, she gave a derisive noise in acceptance. She seemed antsy, though content to plot away in her head for the moment and Momo had no intention of making himself a key player in whatever stunt was next.

He had technically volunteered his help, yet he did hope that extended only to perusing old books and scavenging materials.

He would just have to put up a firm boundary, and hope the little furball didn’t insist he come along. He swore he wasn’t a complete pushover.

Clementine slid slowly off the bed, paying no mind to the fact that, at this rate, she was going to end up faceplanting on the floor. Momo thought about informing her of that, but settled for seeing if she cared.

She somersaulted to the floor and rummaged about in a stack of shelves. His curiosity got the best of him. 

“What are you doing?” 

Clementine tilted her head like she’d forgotten he was there. 

“Not sure,” she answered. “Looking for something to pass the time. I’m not up for planning anything else right now and I would rather have Stray’s input with that anyway. Do you like board games?” Momo gingerly extracted Stray from his neck and walked over to peer at the alternate universe of stuff. Things he didn’t have names of, a grand pile of books, clothes and who knew what else were shoved aside as Clementine picked up a few boxes and set them down out on the table. 

“I have a lot of them,” she said. Understatement of the year. He said nothing, still trying to work out whether that was an invitation or a demand. To tell the truth, he wasn’t exactly sure what any of the games entailed, most of the writing on them being in one of the older languages. 

“Sure,” he said instead. “Do you have the rulebooks for them? I’m not familiar with… any of these.” 

She dumped a couple of the containers out and inspected the insides. Eventually, she settled on a faded box with ‘Monopoly’ scrawled on it. The guidebook was hastily translated to match, and Momo recognised a few words. He knew a bit of some of the older languages, notably English and French, though he could puzzle out some signs that didn’t translate exactly. 

“Where do you get all these things?” he asked. "That’s an impressive collection.” 

“They’re all old. Whoever was here before me was clearly quite the hoarder, and that’s even with all the stuff I didn’t keep. All the paper and delicate things are in decent condition, though.”

That explained how Clementine never seemed to be short of items to trade. If it weren’t for the fact that she would have left already if the borders had been less swarmed, Momo would have thought she went out scavenging in the ruins beyond. 

It would definitely have been in character.

“How about this one?”

‘Monopoly’ didn’t look like the sort of game that people took too seriously. Though that was definitely subjective.

Clementine agreed, setting up the board and all the pieces with care. With how ancient these materials were, it was impressive how they hadn’t fallen apart yet. She had done this sort of thing before, he thought. Hopefully she’d show the beginner some slack, as Momo wasn’t the most analytical or strategic person ever and had a tendency to avoid competitions based on that. 

It didn’t come off as too hard a game to learn, so it should be a peaceful experience to stave off boredom until they were ready to plot their next course of action. A nice, easy game.

~

Yeah, right. Somehow in the span of fifteen minutes both the Companions had denounced their allyship in favour of hoarding properties and the glares at each other were starting to become genuine. 

Momo was rapidly introduced as to why tax fraud was a great idea and Clementine was hissing at the dice with so much venom that if she kept it up much longer he thought it would melt . 

“Give me a three, you aggravating cube-thing!” 

The cube in question earned a scathing look from Momo as well when it dumped him right on a hotel Clementine owned. This was probably the plot of a murder drama somewhere in one of the many drawers in here. Whose idea was this again?  At first he had been a bit cowed by Clementine’s competitiveness, but as he held his own he got bolder and joined in the cajoling too. It was all in the spirit of the game, after all.

Clementine controlled a good lot of the board, but he bided his time. Their respective strategies were being quickly abandoned in their race to drive the other to bankruptcy. Clementine shifted her cap backwards to radiate disapproval more effectively at him as she landed on a high level property, one of his.

Was this what it felt like to be an evil genius?

He hissed as he drew a card directing him to jail. “What did I do this time?” he asked. 

“Imminent murder of a die. I swear this thing is giving me a number off on purpose. ” 

He cleared his throat surreptitiously. “I think it does that to everyone. I think it’s making me lose on purpose. And you’ll go to jail first, with the look you’re giving it.” Momo remarked.

She regarded his opinion with doubt radiating from her monitor. Her distaste of the die wasn’t hampered by the crack across her screen, nothing could get in the way of that. Clementine’s expression soured further as she rolled again.

“A couple of times is a coincidence. This,” she enunciated, pointing to the die, “Is deliberate absurdity. And because I know you’re no threat to my kingdom of stupidly expensive hotels, I’m going to glare at this cube instead.”

She swept it off the table. He laughed, more at ease but still watching out for how close his game piece was to throwing itself into debt. Her comment could be taken as a tentative compliment or the tease it was, and he was pitifully lacking in retorts. 

The die bounced all the way over to the bed, where Stray peeled open an eye and sniffed the air, yawned and stretched lazily. They ambled over to the table, rubbing up on the Companion’s legs and casting a sly glance at Clementine before scratching up the rug. 

She shrugged, pulling up another seat for them to observe. “Want to watch me beat Momo in Monopoly?” She was only slightly scathing, voice calmer as she talked to the cat.

 Whether she would afford them that if they decided to pick sides he doubted. And if they were going to pick sides, he wanted them on his.

“ Not happening. Don’t listen to her, Stray. We’re going to win this thing even if she throws us to the Zurks.”

If he was going to go out, he was going to take a big chunk of Clementine’s wealth with him. That would make some entertainment for Stray, and for once he’d be able to say that he had won something. 

She chuckled darkly, peering at him from under her cap, casting a shadow over her monitor worthy of a supervillain. 

He snapped up the last property, one with a hefty package of paper money attached. The Slumbots didn’t generally use money, rathering to trade items of equal value instead. The concept was critical in this game, and Stray seemed to pick up on it.

They snagged a few sheets of crinkled notes and sprinkled them over their chair before settling down again, fascinated at their friend’s insistence on continuing. 

Games did strange things to people, they decided. Even Momo, one of the most unassuming and frankly meek Companions they had run into was now glowering fiercely, a demeanour more fitting of an angry squirrel. 

Not understanding the mechanics and rules, they opted to clean their paws, running them over their ears until they looked suitably awake. The general environment of domesticity didn’t lend to them paying much attention to the game, licking their fur into its regular sleek shine. They were comfortably full after that meal. It wasn’t the nicest thing Stray had ever eaten, but hey, they weren’t starving anymore. 

If they were going to be sappy, they would have said something about how food made with love was the best. Metaphorically, of course. Their voice was reserved for needy meowing at the moment and Stray was fairly sure that if the current state of relations between Momo and Clementine kept up, everything would be made with hate. Case in point: The cards she was clutching were starting to get a bit folded, and Momo, though still impressively irate at the rent rate for one of the hotels, was becoming a bit concerned. 

It gave them a chance to passively observe the Companions. Beside Stray, B-12 did the same. They touched their nose to him in silent welcome. “Monopoly?” he said. “I thought I’d seen the last of it. It appears that it still makes people oddly competitive.” 

Stray chuffed, their equivalent of a laugh. They suspected that Clementine was just that kind of person, and Momo, bolstered by their apparent support, was showing a new side of himself: that of relentless capitalism. 

Whatever it was.

Outside of actively planning to escape almost literal pits of hell, they were strikingly normal–well, their definition of normal coming from their own family, a distinctly different species, but right now?

Right now was good.

Their initial meeting had been laced with uncertainty, but everyone was comfortable enough with each other now to casually threaten a good whacking with every move made to the other’s advantage. Stray knew it was a brief pause from their aim, but something in them was happy with the comfortable atmosphere here. They ignored the idea, like their family could ever be replaced. 

The ache of loneliness had become less sharp with companionship, and the urgency of escape less pressing with the discovery of cooking. That didn’t mean Stray was going to make this their new home or stay for any longer than needed, and when they were reunited they would hiss at themselves for harbouring the thought. They would sort this out first. 

B-12 watched the game from overhead, slipping into some unknown memory of his prior life, before he was stuck in the network. Was there a before? With inactivity of the body came wanderings of the mind, wanderings that gave no answers to the questions posed. How did I end up here? A lovely day in the sun to… whatever this is. 

They stared down the Companions, who were in turn busy eyeing up the board. A calculating silence had fallen over the room, a standstill in the game. 

It was a welcome distraction that quickly became awkward, just sitting on the sidelines swishing their tail. If they were on Momo’s side, that meant they should probably help him win, they supposed. 

There was a bit of money changing hands, a few re-shuffling of cards and some more unproductive chatter. The conversation had picked up, each Companion declaring their imminent victory loudly in mock insultment.

It had been roughly ten minutes, B-12 informed them in a whisper. None of the robots were backing down. Stray wouldn’t have a problem with that except for the fact that, well, it was getting rather boring. Had it been their siblings, they would have strutted between the two and started pawing at them. 

So, they did the next best thing. 

“Give up, Momo!” Clementine declared. “I’ve already won, if I just get one more of these. See, Stray agrees with me.” Stray considered, wondering if helping her would reduce the amount of petting they got from Momo. The touch was actually rather nice.

“They do not. Stray is a loyal creature, aren’t you?” His tone edged towards affectionate, trying to win their favour. With the combined expectations of both resting on them, Stray flattened their ears. 

Without any acknowledgement whatsoever, they stepped onto the table and settled down, knocking off all the cards and game pieces. Any pieces still on the board were swished off after that as they stretched out thoroughly, splaying out with all four feet in the air. Clementine made an incredulous expression at them. “Well, the game master has spoken. A truce, for now anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to defeat you next time.” she said, nodding and extending a hand begrudgingly. 

“Good game,” offered Momo, accepting the tie. He was back to his regular self, dragging a finger along the fluff on their stomach and smiling when Stray purred in response. “That was a clever move, little cat. Next time maybe you should play, too. And you,” he offered to B-12. “Maybe next time,” he replied. “I’m a bit rusty on how these things work.” 

Momo gave a quiet chuckle. “I think if Clementine managed to get me to figure it out, it will be fine.” Stray gave his hand a final nudge and went to investigate what else Clementine had tucked away in her apartment. She was thumbing through a pile of pictures. There were some of other cats, but most of them were of various things from the outside. A butterfly, a river, some fields, and a mottled black and white creature with horns. 

Stray nosed at one of the photos.

It was an almost exact resemblance of their black sibling, the same vibrant eyes and fur darker than the night. She noticed.

“Do you know this one?” she asked, pausing to give it a closer inspection. “Do you have a friend that looks like this?” They gave the image a longing sniff. It smelled of dust and old ink, nowhere near the actual thing. She put it off in a corner with a few others. 

“There are a lot of strange pictures in here,” she told B-12 when he examined the collection. “Some are from or about the Outside. Before you two came along I was looking through them for anything I could use, but I didn’t find much.”

“I’ve seen some of these before,” he said. “In the scientist’s flat, through the city on the way here, all over the place.” He practically stuck his face in one. Stray wasn’t close enough to see what it was, but Clementine held it out against them for comparison. 

“Yeah, I’d say that is a cat,” she agreed. “One like you.” B-12 dipped down in a nod. 

“I think I’ve met one of your kind before,” he continued. “I didn’t realise it, but you remind me of him. The scientist had a cat too. He looked a lot like you, except he had a white stomach. What was his name..?” 

They tilted their head. Somehow they couldn’t picture B-12 with any other cat. Was he a friend that hadn’t made it? Stray knew that it was through sheer luck that they had made it to the Slums, and had they been caught any more unawares then they wouldn’t have gotten to B-12 in the first place. 

That might have been why he took such an interest in them, come to think of it. He didn’t actually need to be so friendly, but he would talk to them a lot, often in a high tone that they couldn’t say they were opposed to. 

When they first arrived at the Slums, they’d chalked it up to unease about the Companions making him jumpy, but they had turned out to be fine company. 

Stray got hold of the photo. It did look a bit like them. They didn’t know what to do with any of this information, so they purred in recognition. It held a sort of mystery to it, an impossible muddling of time tinting whatever their friend pieced together. 

B-12 made the chiming noise he did when he remembered something. “His name was Murtaugh. A ferocious creature, but very smart. I think the scientist was making that harness for him,” the drone said. Stray blinked at the garment, taking it in stride.

It fitted well, as loath as they were to admit it, even though they now knew that it was intended for someone else. They would bear it well, then, and cause all the chaos this Murtaugh would have if he were here.

They felt the Monopoly thing was a good start.