It was a dark and stormy night, flashes of lightning briefly illuminated a small figure running at full tilt through the woods. The wind howled and buffeted the runner off the beaten path, sending them tumbling down into a ravine. Soaked and and weary, the lone figure clawed out of the ravine and continued down the path.

A great flash of lightning split the sky, drawn to an imposing spire of twisted metal. The figure had stumbled upon an old scrapyard. Ten foot high fencing boxed in this graveyard for unwanted things, but the traveler would not be impeded. Scaling a fence would be an easy feat if it meant shelter from the gale.

Frank, the lone guard on the nightshift, peered blearily out the window of the guardhouse. Something in the piles of refuse shifted, the sound of clanking echoing across the scrapyard. He waited for the next flash of lightning to light up the grounds, and there it was. The outline of something decidedly organic amongst the metal. Frank waited yet again for a second flash of light to make sure whatever out there was worth braving the wind and rain for. The next burst of light had Frank slumping back in his chair and grumbling about getting up for nothing. It was just some stray cat wandering around the piles.

The lone figure slunk through the massive heaps of scrap metal, hair standing on end in the charged atmosphere. It was dangerous here, the haphazardly piled metal seemed like a forest of lightning rods, but it was the closest thing to shelter for miles. As the shadowy being tiptoed through the scrapyard, a hand suddenly fell out of the pile. Luckily, a thunderclap drowned out the sound of a very startled shriek.

Gold eyes followed the hand up to an arm, attached to a body. Curiously, the figure dug through the pile, unearthing more and more of what looked to be some sort of large robot. Nimble fingers searched the body for any signs of either loot or shelter, and upon searching its backside, needle-sharp claws found purchase on a hatch. The hatch was yanked open to reveal a small, empty compartment. Figuring it would at least be better than getting caught in the rain or out in the open for the next lightning strike, the figure clambered into the compartment and curled up in a shivering ball of wet cloth and wetter fur.

Instant regret. The stray wondered if this would be the end. The metallic body creaked and groaned around her, oversaturating her senses with the feeling of claustrophobia. And then the lightning struck. Everything around the stray was alight with brilliantly crackling electricity, surging through everything from the tip of the metallic pile all the way to the ground. The figure curled impossibly tighter and whined softly, nudging against the walls of the compartment as if the chill of the metal would distract from the looming threat of another thunderbolt.

Something clicked. Although there was no visibility in the compartment, the figure recognized the shape of a small button against their cheek. A small button that had been pressed. The metal groaned and creaked around the stray in an increasingly worrying crescendo.

Frank flinched at that last lightning strike. It hit one of the piles at the far edge of the yard, but it was a big one, direct hit. He thought about that shadow he saw, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to clean up a dead cat in the morning. The wind howled and the piles creaked. And creaked. And creaked. 

Something that wasn’t the sound of the storm roused Frank from his dozing. Metal moving, lots of it. Something was off. He decided that this time, he should probably investigate. Donning a thick wool poncho, Frank lit his trusty old lantern and set off toward the other end of the yard.

The creaking wasn’t stopping, it was getting louder. Something was definitely moving around in the metal, slowly, like it had just woken up. Frank sped up his pace and decided that maybe he should get a pay raise for all this.

Distressing was the word that came to Frank’s mind as he neared the center of the yard. The creaking had stopped, but in its place... footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footfalls that lightly shook the piles around him. He knew it was his job to guard the scrapyard, and sure he had a nightstick and a few nearly-burnt out wands at his disposal, but frank was scared. The next flash of lightning cast a disturbingly large shadow across the ground. It looked humanoid, but far, far too large to be human.

Steeling himself, Frank jogged the last few yards separating him and the location of the footsteps. He dropped his nightstick and nearly dropped the lantern too. Frank was not paid nearly enough to put up with this tomfoolery.

Slowly, as if fighting off the effects of a deep sleep, a large metallic man turned to face Frank. He couldn’t help but notice the gleam of a sword on the man’s right arm, and the dull reflection of a massive shield on his left. The large man drew himself up to his full height and extended his sword at Frank.

Frank just about fainted right then and there.

“Excuse me, Sir,” The metallic man spoke in a tone that would be pleasant if not for the gravelly rasp of disuse, “have you seen my glasses?”

Frank scrabbled on the ground for his nightstick, brandishing it in quivering arms as if it could somehow save him from the sword leveled at his face. “I-I-I ain’t gotta answer ta you! I dunno who you are or what you think yer doin’, b-but you best git outta mah scrapyard b-b-before I make you!” Somehow Frank was able to get to his feet, albeit on perilously shaking legs, and stutter out what was supposed to be a fairly scripted ‘get out’ threat.

“But Sir,” The metal man seemed as relaxed as could be, not at all bothered by Frank’s weak show of bravado. “I am afraid that I cannot do my crossword puzzles without my glasses.”

The metal man leaned forward, no malice in his movements, simply to get a better look at Frank through his imperfect vision. Frank, however, was completely intimidated by each and every move the man made, and took a debatably fatal step backwards.

There was a pitiful crunching sound following by a beat of dreadful silence.

“Why, Sir, would those happen to be my glasses...under your foot?” 

Frank stammered and stuttered, taking one, two, twenty steps back as the metal man’s glowing eyes slowly turned from white to red. “I-I-If I say n-no, will you l-leave?” The sparks coming off the metal man’s head and shoulders had Frank clutching his nightstick for dear life in a white knuckled death grip.

The metal man lowered his shield and sword, yet Frank didn’t feel any safer. “Sir, there is no need for combat. All you must do to make amends is procure for me another set of spectacles.” 

Frank’s eyes darted between the man’s fearsome sword and his own stubby little nightstick. “S-sure thang, yeah, les’ git goin’ once th’ rain stops?”

The metal man said nothing, but the red in his eyes seemed to suggest ‘immediately’ with a sense of finality.

Slumped over in a coward’s defeat, Frank gestured to the large man and slowly guided him through the maze of metal. He unlocked the gates, ushered the man out, and locked up behind them. At least with the metal man beside him, surely no bandits would attempt to ambush them on the way to the nearest place of commerce: Frestava. It would, unfortunately, be a very long trek.

Come morning, there was not a cloud in the sky. The sun was shining, the breeze was lovely, and Frank was still scared out of his mind.

As he roused from his slumber, Frank had half a mind to snap at the man that had kept watch over their impromptu campground. The darned thing was making some sort of ungodly screeching noise that apparently couldn’t even wait til the sun finished rising over the horizon.

“Would ya kindly shut up? I don't’ know ‘bout your kind, but I’m th’ kind that needs a full night’s rest! D’you have some kinda alarm system glitch??”

“I am sorry, Sir, but I cannot stop this noise for I do not know how.”

“Yer pullin’ my leg.”

“No, Sir. The sound seems to originate from my storage compartment. However, I regret to inform you that I cannot actually reach it.” With a sword for one arm and another that was just too short to reach, the metal man looked genuinely ashamed at being unable to comply to Frank’s demands.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Bet some goshdern raccoon snuck inta yer back last night ‘n got stuck in there. Stupid goshdern vermin, better not git rabies...” Frank grumbled and huffed to himself, walking around to the man’s back and locating a fairly obvious hatch with a small slot for a handle.

Regret. That was the only thing going through Frank’s mind as something decidedly larger than a racoon lunged from the newly opened hatch. Whatever it was, it was large, it had wicked sharp claws, and it was screeching bloody murder.

“Sir!” The furious creature was lifted off of Frank before too much damage had been done. Sure, those scars will heal. Eventually. Probably.

The metal man took a long moment to assess the creature in its grip, then spoke to it in a soothing tone, “Please, Madam, calm yourself. We mean you no harm.”

“Put meow down mew pawful menace, purrlease! Was it mew who trapped meow in that compurrtment all night, purrlease??” It was a catgirl, dripping wet with rainwater and hissing madly. She tried taking a swipe at her assailant, but was being held the full arm’s length away.

Frank staggered to his feet and watched from a safe distance. “Who’n tarnation’re you?”

“What’s it to mew, purrlease?” The catgirl hissed and bared her teeth at Frank. “Just let meow go, I don’t wanna be stuck looking at mewr ugly mug any more, purrlease.”

At this, the metal man felt the need to mediate. “Sir, Madam, if I may. We should continue on our trek to Frestava for my spectacles. Madam, you need not remain with us if you do not wish, however if you would be so kind as to explain what you were doing in my back?”

The catgirl scowled and took another swipe at the metal man just because she could. “Was taking shelter from the rain, purrlease.” She growled at Frank when he tried to shuffle past, causing the harried man to jump even further away on his way to retrieve his nightstick.

“Madam...” The metal man sounded as if he just had a wonderful realization. “Could it be, while you were residing in my compartment, you pressed a small button?”

“Yes, I think I did, purrlease.”

“In that case, I do believe you are my new master.” The man set the catgirl on the ground, then took a bow. “Upon successful reprogramming, I ask that my new master give me a name. What would you call me, Madam?”

“Mew’re not going to give up until I give mew a mew name, huh, purrlease. How about Romeow, purrlease?”

“Excellent, Madam. And may I have the honor of knowing your name?”

“Heart, purrlease.” Heart looked extremely uncomfortable at this, swishing her tail restlessly. She looked like the very essence of fight or flight.

So of course Frank had to throw in his two cents. “If you two’re done yammerin’, we need ta git goin’ or we’ll never git ta Frestava. We’re burnin’ daylight!”

“Yes Sir, of course. Madam, would it please you to be carried on this journey?” Romeow, as he was going to be known as from now on, extended his shield arm to Heart.

“Mew keep mewr paws off meow if mew want to keep ‘em, purrlease! I’m furry capable of walking just fine on my own, purrlease!” Heart’s fur bristled at even the implication that she should be pampered and held.

“Very well, Madam. If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, please do not hesitate to let me know.” Though he was sincere, Romeow could not help but notice Heart growing more and more offended. She turned away from him and began walking down the path, so he followed with Frank not far behind.