By David C. Daoust
The lights came on. Or rather, she woke up. Better yet, she powered back up…
Margo found herself within the confines of what appeared to be a cargo hold. She did not know how she got there. Clearly someone must have moved her… but who? Last she knew she was being enveloped within a wave of blue flashy light. Looking at her hand, she confirmed she was still within the massive dense-metal form she’d ‘borrowed’ from the marauding bot. A marauding bot, unlike any Margo had ever witnessed, that was tearing up Grady.
She was seated haphazardly on a fairly large forklift; she reasoned that was the ‘how’ she was just wondering about. To her right, was a rather shriveled-up wrinkly old man, with an impressively over-sized mustache. The old man was peering at her expectantly. A silent mottled boy sat not far off, a hood was pulled over his head, hands shoved in the large pockets of the over-sized jacket; he seemed morose to Margo. She was fairly certain this would be the ‘who’.
The old man, though, before she could even say a word, grabbed up a massive pipe wrench and accused, “You’re not Vincent!”
Margo didn’t know what to do, the shock of surprise that she felt, probably didn’t show on the stiff metal face of the less human bot, less than what she was used to anyway. The idea that she was so much bigger than, not only the old man, but the wrench he’d threatened her with, did not occur to Margo as she covered her face with her hands and cried out, “No, no! Don’t hurt me…”
The old man seemed to deflate at the sound of the small girl’s voice coming out of the bot. He let the wrench dip to his side.
The boy was up, concerned for the old man, though studied Margo with renewed interest.
“Damn thief, stole Vincent’s form…” the old man muttered.
“How’d this happen?” the boy asked as he put a hand on the old man’s arm, gingerly took the wrench from his grip, and dragged it off to the side, all without calling too much attention to it.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Margo pleaded. “I just wanted to help people.”
“I’m Ratchet, this is my Grandpa…” Ratchet introduced, “You- were supposed to be our friend Vincent…”
“I’m Margo. I shut that guy down,” Margo, still fearful, explained readily, “I thought he might hurt someone… He was smashing our tank!”
She tacked that last part on, because she thought it may help her case. She didn’t know who these guys were. And if they were friends with that guy, well, who knows what they’re capable of.
“What’s all the ruckus down there?” A light female voice called from above, the sound of boots climbing down metal stairs followed quickly thereafter. “I don’t think my Ma’s going to be so forgiving if you guys tear up our crawlers hold…”
“Bah, your mom loves us,” Ratchet answered glibly with a quirky smile.
“Did he power back up yet?” she asked as she bent towards them, over the rail.
“There’s definitely power…” Ratchet said to the teenage girl that appeared on the bottom step, “Though I wouldn’t say ‘he’ powered up.”
The blond gave Ratchet a confused look.
“I’m sorry…” Margo said, “I was just trying to help…”
The understanding crossed the girl’s face when she heard the sound of Margo’s voice. It seemed as though the girl was about to say something more, but before she could, Margo felt a hand reach under the back carapace of her stolen form…
The lights went out.
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