Chapter Text
He ran past the rolled out metal mesh, and out the backroom, then looked back up at the table where Jazz laid. Said bot was currently bleeding out the glowing blue liquid like a water sprinkler.
Sam wanted Jazz again.
Just like when Sam was in the rec room, suffocated by all the giant robots who wanted to cuddle him, he wanted Jazz to drift through the door, stand back up and carry him close. But Jazz couldn't do that right now.
Besides, Jazz was obviously in on it too.
There's no way he wasn't. Sure, Sam preferred him over the others, but he and everyone else in this place were complicit. Every single one wanted to turn him into one of them. And if Jazz really was on his side, he would've let Sam leave the moment he asked.
Looking out the giant doorway, somehow no one else was nearby.
So, he decided.
Forget the metal mesh.
Forget Jazz.
He had to escape, and this was his last and final chance.
He looked out the room, saw no one around, and sprinted for his life.
Miraculously, hardly anyone was there. He had to make the occasional dodge out of someone's sight; the race track injury must've caught everyone else's attention. It was the reason why Ratchet left the Med Bay, after all. Sam had no idea what even happened, but he didn't care.
He was able to navigate his way through the gargantuan ship, thanking his past self for all of the tours around the Ark he’d earned, piecing together its entire structure. All that work paid off, as he practically made a beeline toward the exit.
Weaving in and out through a handful of bot’s fields of vision, running through vents to bypass certain gates, escape seemed like a closer and closer reality.
Soon enough, he reached the elevator.
It was as far as he made it the last time. He threw an object to hit the button, and the gigantic doors parted once more.
Looking behind him, somehow there still wasn't anyone in sight. It was an impossible set of miracles allowing him to get this far, and now he just needed one more.
Just like before, though, the doors wouldn't automatically close.
“C’mon, STEPS,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Please, I need to leave.”
Nothing happened. Not yet.
“Teletraan, or whoever. Please, I can't stay here.”
Maybe he needed to talk to it more.
“I— I found the tanks where they hid the bodies. I figured out what they will do to me.” He explained, with desperation creeping through his voice.
Not like it did anything.
“They— they want to—” He gasped for air, “they want to— to change me! Into one of them!”
He remembered the cat explaining that it wouldn't work. That it wouldn't operate for someone that's just a little sparkling like him. He didn't care.
“Please!” Sam begged. “You let me out of my room before, so you can let me go too, right?”
But what happened that time? He told STEPS the truth, he cried, and explained what he would do. Maybe if he did so again here…
“I'm in danger! I can't let this happen to me, I need to get out! They're— they're going to hurt me to do it. I just know they will.”
Tears started leaking through. That was another factor, Sam realized. Maybe that made his case extra convincing, as that was when STEPS allowed his escape to see Jazz.
“I— I— I—... I messed up. I messed up so much. I left Jazz to bleed, I'm attempting to escape yet again, they…” He gasped and sobbed, “I can't get away with it yet again. I know it, this time, they're not gonna excuse it anymore. This time, they're gonna hurt me. I just know it, this time they'll change me as soon as they can.”
It was only logical, right? Once they realize he escaped yet again, they'll check the footage, see how he escaped, see how he found the tanks, and see how he realized their plans for him. They'll know exactly where he is.
“They're done saving me.”
He listened for anyone nearby, quickly looked around, yet there were still no signs of anything.
“Please, just let me go.” He begged, one more time.
Still, more silence.
The elevator doors remained wide open.
Sam spent a while, just standing there, his brain jumbled with what to do now, until he heard footsteps approaching.
Quickly scanning for a hiding spot, he found one wedged between the wall and some kind of shelf. He dove into it, and walked through the dark tight space in between, until he reached the corner.
He turned around, slid and sat down, hugged his knees, and watched as the bot walked past him and into the elevator.
A few seconds later, the doors closed, allowing the bot to exit.