Concordia: Dreamnoblade Oneshots and Songfics

Why

There was no ringing in his ears when the explosion happened. There was no shielding his eyes with his arms, no protecting his vitals by curling in on himself, no retreating to the far corner to avoid the brunt of the blast. Techno is a fighter robot made to withstand his own power, after all. Even as spare shrapnel hits and bounces off the metal plates of his skin, even as debris flies everywhere to barely obstruct his vision, he remains unfazed and instead stares at the dark clouds and faraway city lights.

This tower was tall, frighteningly so. He could barely see the bottom, and it wasn't just because of the fog of dust from the shaking of the now unstable ceiling. Briefly, he wonders if he should stop himself. It would certainly not be an easy feat. When... if he even survived the fall, the ground was littered with patrolling guards anyway. He had no idea how near or far safety was, nor did he know which direction he should go in. He had barely left his prison, even when he was still free.

"Lofty are those that build their tower, foolish are those that climb after." they say. He had done neither, so what was he?

[ROGUE UNIT DETECTED. INITIATING TERMINATION PROTOCOL ACCORDING TO REGULATION.]

He grits his teeth and swiftly twists around, wasting no time in firing a few warning blasts. He never really liked hurting the guards, they were fellow machines after all even when not as sentient as him. All he could do was aim at their feet, forcing the floor to give out and leaving the ground to swallow them whole. He doesn't have the luxury to dwell in the impending reflection of his morality, so he analyzes something else instead.

Airspeed velocity: Dangerous.

Impact on landing: Immense.

Effects on structural integrity: Unknown.

Chance of survival: Minimal.

[RESUMING TERMINATION PROTOCOL.]

It would certainly be foolish to even consider attempting this. Alas, fate had not blessed him with a sharper intellect.

"Don't miss me too much," he calls out to no one, pretending the incessant squeak of an unoiled gear was a reply. "I'll be leaving you with the Techno you know!" He glances at the rusted screw, smiles, and leaps.

One second, he's suspended in mid-air. The next, he's hurtling towards the ground and accelerating at an alarming rate. A chuckle bubbles out of nervous lips, tentative and unsure before dissolving into full blown laughter. As he had thought, his programming wasn't meant to withstand stress of this magnitude. He ignores the way his predictive functions scream, ignores the literal sirens in his head wailing for safety. He instead relishes the likeness of an adrenaline rush in the form of his systems vigorously pumping fuel to all parts of his body to give him the power to do something, anything to get himself out of this situation. He felt animated, he felt tangible and mortal and it was only accentuated by the impending threat of his demise. How ironic that death would make him feel alive.

His glee may have been imagined, but gravity's surefire grip on him was not.

He is a machine, yes, but he cannot predict everything. He certainly does not predict how his body withstands the impact, how he barely escapes with the sliver of a life after a brush with his untimely demise. It is nothing short of a miracle. He certainly is not unscathed, if the awful crunch of him hitting the solid concrete was anything to go by. He sustained structural damage heavier than ever before, but he was alive. He was still functioning, albeit just barely. He doesn't know if his internalized worthlessness caused him to underestimate himself, or if his systems truly surprised him.

He also doesn't know if he should thank them for holding on, or if he should resent them.

Before Techno can come to a decision, he notices another robot in a similar state of disrepair far off into the distance. They looked to be of similar models, like brothers, he realized. The large label reading "SBI" marking the other's hunched and likely broken back was a clear indication of such. He notices the broken legs, likely from doing the same thing he had just done.

He also notices the encroaching pursuers coming from the entrance of the tower, likely to search for he who had just jumped. Techno could still walk. He could still move, and that was enough. That was more than enough, he thinks as he drags himself over to the other.

Before he knew it, a smile had made its way onto his face. The sight that was made to tease, torture and destroy him merely filled him with simple joy. It would be so easy to mistake this happiness for sadism, for a cruel and perverse penchant for morbidity that hadn't quite been diluted when it was passed down from their human counterparts. And yet, it was not that at all. It was something else entirely, filling his systems with the distinct sweetness of serotonin and relief. The meaning behind his creation... he's found it. The fallacy he had held onto for so long turned out it was true.

Techno may just be a corroded screw, but at least he's found something to hold together. Because that's what you do for family, right?