The sewers were exceptionally cluttered. Resting atop the damp cement surface where they stood, piled high on either side to the sloping walls, was the wreckage of what appeared to be countless massive machines, with tarnished silver chassises and frayed wiring poking out of every joint. There were crude, animal-like legs and what closely resembled machine gun barrels scattered among the refuse, as well as the occasional remnants of a motherboard. But whatever these devices were, they hadn’t had faces. Or no trace of their faces were left. Not a single one was still in possession of its head.
Tellingly, every metal carcass was smeared with sooty scorchmarks.
The other individual—Whatever, as Zero had just mentally dubbed him—seemed unfazed by their surrounding, clearly thoroughly entertained by the unfortunate antics required for the robot to fit through the sewer opening. His red eyes glittered with amusement above the recurring Cheshire grin.
The broad-shouldered, brightly-colored armor was such a huge contrast to Whatever’s sleek, greyscale bodysuit; all of Zero’s proportions were, really, and as he began to lead the way through the darkened tunnels Whatever casted frequent, fascinated glances his way with a shamelessness that made it pretty obvious that he’d either never been taught not to stare or just didn’t care.
They weren’t predatory stares, at least. The twitchy redhead just seemed curious. Maybe even a little delighted.
“Travel,” he responded. “Nobody comes down here. Nobody else with flesh, anyways, and that’s all I really care about. Impossible to get back to center city otherwise, ‘least without getting seen.”
Whatever swiveled on his heel to walk backwards, suddenly very animated. “You could probably pass, if ya weren’t so fackin’ tall, an’ fackin’ bright, and colorful, and circusy, an’ shit. You’re life-like enough. Tuck away that stick-weapon of yours and you might not even get stopped at all. Whoever made you sure musta had quite the sense of style, hmm?” Again, that cartoonish, delighted look crossed his face. “There’s nobody here that makes machines like you. Not nearly a fraction as smart, neither. I wouldn’ta guessed you were a machine if you hadn’t been hurt.”
He’d become positively chatty now—it was evident that moving down to the sewers had taken some of the strange, erratic guardedness out of him. At least for now.
