Champion of the Bots ✔️

Chapter 19 ~ TOB

"The Savior!" The people in the room started whispering and muttering, hands hiding the splatter of saliva and the greasy movement of their lips.

"What happened to the Savior?" The man leaned against the back of his wheelchair, which the Bot noticed was rimmed with flecks of silver and gold.

"Well..." Rena's eyes penetrated into the Bot's. He wanted to shake his head, try mentally telling her not to give him away. She told her story quickly—rushed and chokingly.

"So, what you're trying to say is," the man in the wheelchair began, "that you two were trying to escape from the Bot that crashed the Savior." His eyes flashed towards the Bot, who winced and hoped that the people in the room couldn't hear the engine whirring in his heart, if he even had one.

Rena kept her grip on the Bot tightly; he didn't mind. But he did mind the curious stares from the crowd, halfway staring halfway slurping food. His eyes scanned each and everyone of them, awaiting orders to kill or to take to Eden; but strangely, the voice in his head didn't bark any orders. That was when the Bot knew that the voice was busy elsewhere, commanding another Bot or another puny being.

But he wished that the voice was here now, at least to help him fight off the suspicion dripping off the man in the wheelchair's tongue as the man continued talking. "And somehow this guy," the man gestured at him—eyeing with dubiosity on his bright green eyes or perhaps jealously on his unruffled and crisp midnight blue suit, "saved you with his...jet pack, but you fell from his grip and somehow landed on our safety nets?"

The girl beside the Bot nodded ferociously.

"And what's your name, girl?" A sandy-haired girl beside the wheelchair asked, biting on the tines of a fork.

"I'm Rena," the girl answered. "And he is..."

The Bot grimaced as he waited for the crowd to jump and pierce their silverware in his throat.

"...Tob."

Opening one eye slowly, the Bot tilted his head at Rena.

"Yeah, his name is Tob," the girl reiterated, confirming her own statement, looking at Tob for approval.

He approved. He never had a name before—other than Bot, monster, devil, B278. By flipping the letters of Bot, he felt different, unique, opposite from his nicknames. He liked it. He nodded subtly for the girl to see, and he smiled.

She returned the smile tautly and said, "And who are all of you?"

Intertwining his scarred fingers together, the man in the wheelchair leaned forward and asked, "Can we trust you?"

Everyone on the table turned to look at the two intruders, holding their breaths.

What else could someone say to that? "Yes," the two replied—one hesitantly, the other excitedly.

"Then how about you trust us first, and sit down to eat."

They moved to the two empty spots, dragging the heavy chair behind them, piercing through the faint classical music in the background.

The Bot reached his arm over to grab a chicken drumstick just as Rena flicked his wrist aside. Ow. That girl can really flick her fingers, the Bot—Tob—thought.

"Don't worry," the man chuckled. "The food is safe. We won't sedate you again."

Raising his eyebrows at Rena, Tob quickly plucked the juicy chicken and sunk his teeth into it, gesturing for her to join. She raised her left eyebrow back in reply and coolly and slowly scooped up chunky spaghetti onto her plate, sighing as she nibbled on the sauce.

"Good, isn't it? We like to brag that we have the best chefs in the world," the blue-eyed man proclaimed; the people on the table raised their champagne glasses in the air in acquiescent.

"That's what we...used to say in the Savior, too," Rena mumbled out, the fork suddenly limp between her fingers. The Bot held himself back from snatching the twirl of spaghetti from her plate. He was really hungry.

"Tell us more about the Savior," the man probed, his wheelchair squeaking, his marred body leaning forward, gesturing with his sharp knife.

"And what about your story?"

"Oh," the man asked, his thick blonde eyebrows raised, "would you like to know our story now?"

Rena nodded. Tob was too busy scoffing down coleslaw.

Come with us." The dozen people stood up in sync, their chairs squeaking against the floor with one swift movement, their bodies lining up like in a marching band. "Come," the man gestured while the sandy-haired woman pushed his wheelchair.

Rena stood up and followed, having to pull Tob away from the free food.

But Tob soon forgot about the food or the black pit in his stomach because all his senses, thoughts, eyes were overwhelmed by the floating pixilated pictures in the room. Memories, pictures, documents—they all hummed and hovered around the walls, golden and shimmering.

"This is our story," the man said, his arms rotating in a full circle. "This is how we came to be."

Raising a finger to one of the moving pictures, Tob felt a jolt of electricity as the memory encapsulated him. His eyes grew wide open as he got sucked into the past—then he knew everything.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'*ﾟ▽ﾟ*'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Hello! So, I hope this chapter was good! I'm really tired now >.< so feel free to give any suggestions that my fuzzy brain couldn't do as I wrote this.
Thank you so so so much to anyone reading this! And don't forget to drop any comments or votes—that'll make me so happy 😁😆 and make me write more chapters!