This is an I, Robot/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover.
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or I, Robot, But I do own Robin, Wirf, Clay, and Troy. Cause I spent a lot of time on them. Here's chapter one. It starts out at the scene in I, Robot where the robot is running with the purse. If you haven't seen the movie, you will NOT understand what is going on!
Ah, Chicago. The sights, the smells, the technology…it was all so urban. And, of course, the heartless robots running errands everywhere. Detective Del Spooner didn't see why humankind put so much confidence in them. They were just lights and clockwork. No sense of compassion at all.
Spooner walked along normally, eating a sweet potato pie made by Gigi, his grandmother. His chocolate brown eyes surveyed the streets indifferently, seeing the new spherical-wheeled cars zoom by and NS-4s assisting little old ladies across the street. He shook his head, wondering how the city had allowed itself to depend on these machines.
As he walked, he felt his gun swing against his leg in its holster under his black leather clothing. Black was the new color of the century. There was scarcely a scene that didn't have someone dressed in black in it.
Spooner had a license to carry a gun, being a detective for the Chicago Police Station. Only a year ago had he been nearly retired after an accident that resulted in his entire left arm, lung, and shoulder being robotically reconstructed and painted over in exoskin.
He flexed his metal muscles, squinting in the sun as he started over a bridge above the highway.
Suddenly, an NS-4 quickly ran under the bridge carrying a large black purse over its arm. It seemed in an unnatural hurry. This was what Spooner had looked for: chance to prove that the robots were unruly and out of control.
Spooner quickly handed his pie to a man walking innocently by with a black hat and briefcase.
"Here, hold my pie," said Spooner, distracted. The man looked at him oddly, stuttering. Spooner gave him a look. "Sir, hold it or wear it!" he said more forcefully. The man nodded uncertainly. Spooner nodded back and jumped over the side of the bridge to the street below, sprinting after the robot. He pushed whoever was in his way to the side, his main focus being catching the NS-4.
The man on the bridge watched him go, still standing there, awkwardly holding the pie.
"I'll take that for ya. I'm a friend of his," said A tall, thin girl around 21 years old with long braided light brown hair in a sweet British accent, smiling kindly, her pearl grey eyes innocent.
The man gladly shoved the pie into her hands and continued on his way.
The girl smirked mischievously, turning and walking over to two men around the age of 28. One looked older than the other, tall, burly, bald, and muscular. He had hard, hazel eyes and wore black boots, gloves, jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt.
The other was tall, thin, and lanky with short dark brown spiked hair and light blue eyes. He wore black boots, blue jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt under a jean indigo vest..
The girl, on the other hand, wore a tight, navy turtleneck tanktop and black baggy cargo pants. On her feet were a pair of worn leathery black boots and she wore a pair of black tipless gloves on her hands.
Both men looked at her curiously, the smaller one eyeing the pie hungrily.
"Why'd you steal his pie, Rob?" asked the bald one in a British accent.
"I thought we could use some breakfast," said Robin simply. "And it is all thanks to Detective Spooner's robot paranoia that we have it, Clay."
"So, are we saying this meal is thanks to overly paranoid people with grandmothers that make really good pies?" asked the other man.
"Why yes. That's exactly what we're saying, said Robin sarcastically. "Come on, its time to go. Oh, and he's not overly paranoid, Troy. He just doesn't trust robots. He's okay once you get to know him."
"Whatever you say. You've known him longer," grumbled the other man.
"Exactly! So my word is final," said Robin decisively.
"But she's acting like she'll get an award saying 'For Robin Turlo, Pie Thief Extraordinaire'," argued Troy.
"There's an idea…think they have one of those?" asked Robin, grinning.
"No, Rob, I don't think they do," said Clay.
"Thank God…" muttered Troy. Clay shot him a look.
"Wirf, we're here," said Clay, speaking into an earphone. "What do we do?"
"Hang on…this stupid thing isn't on the right frequency," a voice answered through a storm of static. There were some beeps and clicks and the static cleared up. "Ah…there…now…here's the plan…"
HA! I cliffed it. I don't get many opportunities to do cliffies. More to come!