Chapter Text
My eyes slowly flutter open, the waning light filtering in through the window. Where am I? I squint through the hazy fog still caught in my vision. Yellow-grey walls, a mesh cage with a chameleon, a satchel hanging on a chair. My room. I can’t quite remember how I ended up in my bed, let alone what happened before. I know my memory can be spotty, but not to this extent. I swallow hard, my throat gritty and dry. Cottonmouth? How long was I out? Wasn’t I working just hours before? Yes, that sounds right. Was it just that uneventful that I forgot the rest of the day? I move to roll on my side, only for a sharp pain stabbing at my chest to force me back. A flash. A spark. Blinding light. A yelp escapes my throat before I can stop it, and soon after a heavy pair of footsteps rush to my room, swinging the door wide open. The hallway is just as dark, not a single lightbulb flickering to ward the night, but just light enough to make out the outline of someone.
“Otto?” the voice calls, their words warbled and half caught. Tall, lean, dark hair with bangs. Radar.
“…Hey,” I rasp.
He gasps, sobs? “Oh my God, you’re alive–” Should I not have been? He rushes to my side, clasping my hands so tight I can feel my heart weakly pounding in my palms. I can just make out an irritated pink, almost reddish mark running across my wrist. His eyes glimmer in the dim light, almost to the point I can see my own reflection through them.
“Ray, what’s wrong?”
“You– you don’t remember?”
“No. I’m… my brain’s still waking up. What happened?”
He pauses, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Two days ago, you were in an accident in the factory. The mayor says it was a faulty wire, but I don’t know. I don’t think something that simple could shoot out power across the district. You were the closest to it and…” His breaths are shaky, and he lets go to wipe his face. “You got hit. Right in the heart. Esbee got there in time– your… you stopped breathing.” I’m sure the air around me cools. I died. I don’t even notice when my vision blurs.
A flash. A spark. Blinding light.
I should’ve died, but I didn’t.
A flash. A smile. Blinding light. Someone was there. I know someone else was there. Why didn’t they say anything? Why did they let me work with that wire? Who would let me work with that wire? Someone who hates me. Someone who wants me dead. Of course.
“Voltra.”
“What?”
“I think she tried to kill me.”
“…” He covers his mouth, his gaze drifting off. “That’s– that’s insane. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Radar quietly sighs, standing to leave. “I should let you rest. I think that exhaustion’s got to your head.”
“No, Ray, please I’m fine–”
“You’re not ‘fine.’”
“–I know I wouldn’t have been that careless.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You nearly died.”
“I’m scared that I would’ve left you.”
He stops in his tracks, averting his gaze from me.
“I’m… I’m so sorry. I never should’ve made you worry. I should’ve noticed sooner and maybe we wouldn’t —” His lips press against mine before I can finish, his hands cradling my head as I lean in. My heart throbs between my ribs, practically searing my chest in an inferno, and I pull myself away to breathe. I didn’t die, and I should cherish that.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” His brown irises swirl with pain, but warmth, his face still close enough to make out the flecks of green and gold in them.
“…Do you love me yet?”
He breathes out a chuckle, his shoulders easing from his sides as he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Of course I do.”
“Even if I’m not perfect?”
“Nobody is.” He wipes his thumb over my cheek, and I reach out to catch his hand, only to wince.
“Hey, careful. Your chest’s still raw.”
“I know, I just… Can you stay?”
He sighs, brushing my hair out of my face. “Sure.” He props his knee on the edge of my bed, and I achingly shuffle back to give him room. Radar sets his hand on my shoulder, silently asking for me to stop. “Come here.” He nestles himself right up against me, our legs intertwining as he holds me close, his chest to my forehead as his fingers run through my hair.
“Mmh…” My eyes flutter shut too soon, dragging me back into nothingness.
How did I get here again?
“No– no! Don’t you dare!” The kid screams, maneuvering her remote up and down as if that’ll affect her bot. Mine digs its claws into her underside, and with a click of a button, thousands of watts of electricity frying her precious motherboard. A grin spreads across my face as she frantically mashes buttons to no avail. Normally, you’re given ten seconds to get your bot back up, but I think everyone knows it’s long dead. A burst of cheers fill the air, applause popping like static in my ears. The host yanks the microphone from its stand, his voice trilling through the crowd. “Your reigning champion, Zapper Mk. III!” I’m still not quite used to the “Mk. III” part, but it’s whatever. Easier to keep track with the fighter’s bot name rather than an alias anyways, let alone with all those concealed faces. I watch a few people grumble, rummaging through their pockets to give betting money to their friends. The girl I just beat is fuming, hopping into the ring to retrieve her decommissioned robot. I trail after her, readjusting my mask before steering my bot to my feet.
“You did well,” I yell over the chatter, scooping Zapper into my bag. The paint’s starting to chip again.
“Yeah right, I couldn’t even dent your bot.”
“My title’s not just for show. Look–” I hold a piece of what was once part of the bot’s arm between my gloved fingers. “–Normally with an articular cartridge like this, you’d connect it with a pivot joint pin all the way through, not bolted to the side. They both work in theory, but in an actual fight a bolt could melt to the frame and you’d lose all mobility in that limb. Not saying that the other way wouldn’t, but it’s easier to replace a cartridge than an entire limb.” The botfighter frowns, scanning my concealed face for any signs of disingenuity, but I keep going. “And the wheels! You protected them well, but you shouldn’t have it directly under the bot if you don’t know what you’re doing. You need mobility to flip yourself over, or else other fighters will jus–”
“I can tell. That’s what you did.” She scoffs, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “Why are you even telling me this?”
“It’s courtesy to. At– at least to me,” I stutter, frantically switching gears after being cut off.
“Well I don’t need your courtesy, Mk. III.” I’m sure my digital eyes match my surprise since she adds “And grow some skin. This is supposed to be illegal, isn’t it? You’re acting like a child.” She storms out of the basement, leaving a few meager scraps of her bot behind. I’d leave the rest of it to be cleaned up if I hadn’t picked up that arm. If I hadn’t squinted at the remnants of sticky paper generously scratched at to be removed. If I hadn’t bothered to decipher the broken text back into words.
PROPERTY OF V. QUARTZ
I sprint out the room before I can even think, my legs throwing me up the stairs and through the winding path of halls and doors. Voltra Quartz. The Voltra Quartz. A girl whose father had his thumb over almost every officer in town. I’m just out the backdoor and in the alley when someone catches my shoulder. I spin around to face them, their painted mask giving me all the info I need. He huffs and hacks into his sleeve before mustering a word.
“Three, what’s got you in a hurry? I was gonna ask if you could help me with my bot some time?”
“That kid I just fought was a Quartz.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” I point to the scrubbed name on the piece of her bot, and even without being able to see his eyes I can tell he’s just as shocked as I am. “You need to warn Cy now. She could already be —” Someone yanks me by my hood, connecting their fist to the side of my skull. Stars flash in my vision, and I’m sure I’ve collapsed because the next thing I know my leg is swinging out to kick one of the perpetrators in the shin. My head is swimming, and I’m scrambling to my feet before I can be knocked down.
“Hangman, go!” He nods, flying back into the basement while I fall into a boxing stance. One of them breaks off to chase after my comrade, leaving me to deal with three. I’m certain none of them will fight fair. They almost instantly close in on me, the one on my right, I assume the one who grabbed me, flicking a switchblade from his sleeve and slicing it across my forearm. I suck in a sharp breath and retaliate with a feigned jab to his face, then a knee to his crotch. He goes down with a scream, and I turn to face the remaining two. One of the others tries to tackle me, but I weave to the side and block the third’s swing. I grab her arm in turn, wrenching her toward me as I smash my fist to her nose.
I’d kick her again if the other guy hadn’t grappled my leg, dragging me to the floor with him. My bag falls open, Zapper and its controller skidding a few paces out of reach. I boot the guy’s hand off my leg, fumbling for my controller when the first guy and the girl grab me by my shoulders. He holds my arms in place as she wails on me. My mask cracks under the stress of her blows, and I have to crush the guy between the wall and me for him to let go. I slam her knee back and scramble for my bot and controller right as the other guy jumps for me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but in that moment I hold Zapper’s claws out to him and press that dreaded blue button and… and……
Did that actually happen? I don’t… I can’t remember.
My calloused hands tighten the focus ring and zoom lens together, twisting them back and forth to make sure they work before setting it back on the table. Apparently my work hasn’t been “up to standards,” so I’ve been in assembly rather than the actual design team. I know something’s up. I’ve triple checked my builds for years and only now am I getting complaints about misaligned beams and scratched lenses. I rub my face, flipping down my welding helmet as I move to touch up the underside of the main frame. I don’t have to be a genius to know it was Voltra. What made her hate me in the first place?
A flash.
The factory plunges into darkness, bringing confused chatter from people around me. I push up my helmet, squinting through the dark for the breaker.
“I got it!” I call, sitting up from my bench. If I remember correctly, It should be by the supply cabinet to the right. I trace my hand along the tables, stopping at the familiar gape between my supply station and the person next to me.
A spark.
Something flickers inside the box, about where the main cable should be. Did the jacket come loose? I back off to grab some electrical tape from my supplies, tearing off a piece to fix it. I hold each end, carefully aligning them in my hand before setting the tape near the back.
A smile.
A piece of metal glints in my eye, and I furrow my brows to take a closer look. Shrapnel maybe? But how? Squinting at it a little more, the wire itself isn’t torn or worn down, it was cut. In the shape of my botfighting mask, grinning ear-to-ear. And somewhere behind me, I hear the click of a button.
Blinding light.