Chapter Text
All stories start from somewhere.
Unfortunately, Sam’s starts with being thrown off a cliff.
The beginning of Sam’s life was frankly, as many would say, in the trenches.
Territories were changing, and the place toons had made their own wasn’t one to stay by a juggernaut like Suitopia.
Although, no child deserved to be casted off with a grimace and fear etched upon a motherly face associated with fears.
So, A small mouse drifted into skylines stifled with smoke and smog, oil and smuck littering shiny surfaces and flashy billboards, only to end in the grimy unlit alleys of the streets Cogs considered Paradise.
All sounds were muffled for ages, cars and propellers roaring outside of isolating walls and concrete, no place for a such a small being.
“I knew I wasn’t bein crazy! look, we got one!”
Gruff metal hands, gripped the small basket, the flimsy pinwheel that swept it there snapping off in the movement. As much as our baby toon wished to wail, they stayed as silent as they could.
“Good goin, now the boss wont be on our backs, Considering that we got him a new play thing”
“Looks promisin too! Tiny little thing… do ya think it’ll be one of those really fast ones?”
“Its a baby you idiot, I’d say they’re… maybe one or two? little bugger has a long way to go”
Fuzzy movement of shining metal and faces talked, features unnoticeable by undeveloped eyes. With a snark and a cackle, the two unnamed cogs left the scene, sweeping the basket with them.
Things only get worse for such small creatures.
Day after day, from one cage to another, Sam grew in years. It had been maybe ten years, who knew, Sam was never taught to count but only to fight and win. Trained from the moment he was handed to powerful cog claws, Sam knew it was a kill or be killed world.
For such silly creatures, They and others were trained like animals. It was all Sam could do in such a dirty world they lived in.
Dirty right hook
Low kick
Small claws were meant to dig into the backs of furred bodies.
Scars and scratches littered the skin of those who triumphed. Sam was lucky, one of the very few to survive such devastating conditions. From ring to cage, Robotic voices littered Sam’s mind when in the cages, business was becoming riskier by the day from their understanding. Though, only toons could hope.
Then again… Sam was lucky, lucky enough to find that opening, in the form of a hole to the outside.
Trash littered dusty streets, newspaper after newspaper after advertisement. The moment Sam had escaped, the ring was busted, news broadcastings on windowed televisions. All Sam could do now was enjoy freedom, scouring streets for failing food chains and trash. Despite his education, a smart mouse like him knew how the world worked, living in spite of those that looked down on him.
Like an angry mold, Sam took territory, growling at fellow toons that encroached on him. From what he knew, Cogs considered him a threat, “the Street Rat” many grew to call him.
That was okay for Sam, Life was easy, stealing advertisements and tvs so they knew just what restaurant they could target next for their meals. As days grew though, the more and more advertisements for “Toon Exterminators grew”. Unfortunately for Sam, they only cared to learn mostly for food, written threats going through one ear and out the other.
“Toons filling your streets? threatening children and your food? Call this number now and we’ll get the job done with our handy dandy Dip traps! the sheer moment a toon goes by… SPLASH!! and they’re done for! this has been an add by ‘No more Sillies! exterminators’, remember! call the number now at-“
Another month on the street, hidden alleys were known like the back of their hands and the tattered clothing on their back. Sam was seasoned, with the threat of pipe lines he knew just what to avoid.
Nothing could get past him, not even strange brick painted pipe to their righ-
SPIRSH
A pipe of green liquid jetted out of small holes, tiny hands desperately blocking scalding fluid. An eye burnt white and toony flesh shearing in pain, dip attacked Sam’s senses to the extreme.
Murmured chatter from an alley were unheard by Sam, desperate trying to escape from the torrent of dip. “…and so I said, are these your files-GOOD COG, CRUNCHER LOOK!” a casual quiet voice turned frantic, step foots rushing into the alley.
“-Sider, get the- the urhm… da switch! and dat tarp lookin thang in the corner-“. A strong metal body blocked the offending jet of dip, followed by a short yet swift shudder from the pipe of it being shut off. Sam curled in pain, to disoriented to process much of anything but the burning sting of pain. Thick hands gently pressed against Sam’s back, followed but a hush voice, “You d’okay liddle guy…?”.
Panic washed through Sam, immediately going rushing to bite the offending touch. Teeth dug into flexible metal hands, and a sharp noise of pain escaped the cog.
“I got the tarp, Oh goodness, Cruncher are you okay?” a Skinnier cog came back on the scene, holding a dusty tarp with it. “Yeah… nothin that I cant handle… its d’okay, Ah dont wanna hurt youh…” The buff cog, raised his untouched hand in surrender.
A surviving toon eye darted across the scene, meek teeth tiredly letting go of the cogs hand. Sam was exhausted and scared, as all they could really do was surrender and hope for safety. “Shh, we got cha… Sider can ya gimme da- Yeah thank youh”.
Everything was dark for a while, having passed out in the pain. The first thing that Sam processed was the feeling of movement and the view of a tarp and dirtied suit fabric. “You dhink they’ll be okay?” “Hopefully! I’ll open the first aid box as soon as we get home…”. Muffled voices murmured as Sam regained most of senses, damaged eye closing back in pain when in attempt to open. “D’oh! liddle guy is movin a little…”
Light peered at Sam, the large cog peering in from above, met with a small eye staring back. “I cannot believe that you decided to use the tarp as a sling Cruncher” the scratchy voices of the skinner cog admitted from outside, “It just seemed like a good id’dea!”. Ignoring the whine coming from the cog who strangely held numbers in their mouth, Sam took the opportunity to check their wounds.
Melted bits of fur and skin, illuminated by dim light, covered them in patches on their knees and arms. Most frighteningly, was that most of Sam’s arms had been melted away from what had happened, toonishly dripping in his sight.
Sam had little time to process, with the sound of a door opening and the two cogs murmuring quietly. “I’ll go get some towels, think you can get em comfortable a bit?”, “Bes dat Ah can Ah hope…!”. The thick hands opened the sling, stopping before Sam.
“Youh not gonna bide me again… will youh?” A nervous grin looked at Sam; the mouse taking a moment to decide and shook their head.
“Alrigdt dhen!” The cog grinned brightly, gently scooping Sam out of the makeshift baby sling he wore and placing him on a well worn cloth couch. The cog took a moment to give Sam space, mostly to take off the begrudging material he had carried Sam with.
With the time they were given, Sam took the time to process the environment. To Sam, everything looked all shiny and new, yet lived in and comfortable; Pictures of mundane moments with happy faces littering walls with cheap frames. Considerably, it was quite poor for most cogs, being on of the more cheaper side of apartments in Suitopia, but it was obvious the two cogs were happy.
The smaller skinnier cog walked back into the room, holding a couple of towels and maneuvering around the diy desks and shelves of files positioned by the unnoticed walkway.
“Cruncher, you’re gonna get stuck… Here, you can hold the towels while I help this number buffoon out of his own entrapment.”. The cog dressed in black placed the towels into Sam’s lap, allowing him to get used to them as the shady cog assisted the cog known as Cruncher… whom had gotten stuck in the tarp in short time.
Sam didn’t know what it was, but it was like life had given him the rope to get out of a patch of quicksand. By now, It had been 2 years since the two cogs had saved him, Commonly known as a Number Cruncher and an Insider; though Sam quite liked calling the two Pa and Father.
Sam was lucky, lucky to know two people that had adopted them into their home, to give him the clothes on their back and newfound knowledge of the world.
In such time, Insider had custom ordered nimble little cog hands for Sam, which he had cherished deeply with love. Cruncher, in his infinite power, tried his best to teach Sam the best he could when he wasn’t working; Thankfully Sam was a quick learner despite Cruncher’s lackluster performance as an educator.
The three lived together and enjoyed life, especially through the tough times when the two cogs got fired and Cruncher had to go long distance for his new job. Calls were still nice, and everything was still amazing for Sam.
Until…
“Psst….. Sam! guess what!… I got a job! we’re gonna move over in with Cruncher, isn’t that great!!”
“…move…?”