Despite being back at work, I decided to start this story :) Don't expect a fast update schedule though as I am very busy at the moment. I did want to start this story though. I am still trying to recapture that magic I had a few years ago while I was writing 'Wild Animals', so I'm going to keep trying as far as writing is concerned. I wasn't too happy with Breaking and Entering, so I'm trying again :)

Just some basic things; I haven't played FFA/Q-Force yet so this story takes place after All4One. It's also not in continuity with Breaking and Entering and is a fresh story. There's no Yaoi either in case you're worried about that sort of thing. Chances are this story is going to be a little more violent than the last, but I really don't see myself going up to an M so don't worry about that either.

Anyway! Enough talking! I give you my new story and I hope you will enjoy it. Please give comments and feedback as often that's the only thing keeping a story going with me. Thank you for helping me continue to try and grow as a storyteller.


Everyone has their hobbies and side-projects they entertain themselves with when they are not occupied with their obligations. I have heard some people who go on inconceivably dangerous searches for a rare item they might be collecting, or perhaps they take up grooming and breeding some aristocratic pet that no level-headed individual would consider buying. Ratchet is someone who has managed to find some kind of income from his favourite hobbies, being the invention of rather baffling gadget as well as the more practical job of mechanic, mostly focusing on starships.

I myself, work in television.

I can not remember how the initial idea came about for a television series with me in the lead, but it was a very enjoyable two seasons that ended up being much more popular than I would have anticipated. However as obligation reared its head again my friend and I had to leave the galaxy for Solana and the show had to be put on hold.

I admit, I would sometimes be nostalgic for that brief period of time I spent as the quipping secret agent, and so when I was approached by my former agent asking if I would be interested in a guest appearance on the network's new show it did not take much for me to agree almost immediately. I was slightly disappointed when Ratchet opted to remain at our apartment for the duration of the shoot but then, he did not seem to enjoy being part of the production. I do not fully understand why but seeing as we were shooting the episode in Luminopolis it was not as if I was going to be far from home.

"No no no!" Mr. Goldestar yelled once again, slapping the pages of script to the floor as he got up from his director's seat. "How many times do I have to tell you?! This is the moment where you realise that despite your differences, You need Secret Agent Clank to complete your mission! I wanna feel that realisation in your face and all you're giving me is a look as if you've just blown a fuse!"

"I'm sorry~" My bubbly co-star flashed the director a childish smile, as if this alone would get her out of trouble. "But it's like, really hard remembering all that! Can't we like, just have Mr. Clank burst in and like, save me in the nick of time and I can be all, ya know, happy to see him?"

"You're suppose to be the strong female lead!" The director yelled back, slapping the retrieved script again. "What kind of female spy is gonna just sit and wait for her man to come and save her?! Even IF she's a rookie?!"

The fembot giggled from where she hang, suspended by a rope above a slight ditch. Clever camera angles making it seem miles deep. She turned her girlish laughing in my direction. "Did you hear that? You're 'My man'!"

I rolled my eyes at this and slumped in place slightly. I was waiting for my cue to come in and free the young woman from the situation but so far the scene had not even gotten to the point where I had to make my entrance yet. The young lady, an up and coming robotic pop-idol, was clearly not actress material. If not her seemingly low intelligence, then her sheer lack of talent made this abundantly clear.

Mr. Goldestar gave a drawn out noise, halfway between a groan and a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping back into his chair and waving a hand at her. "Look just... just try it again ok? And remember, at this point you don't like Agent Clank yet?! You got that?"

"Alrighty!" She smiled enthusiastically, more at me than at him. I ignored her, pretending to be more fascinated by the fixture she'd been tied up with.

"Ok, from the top every-one!" The exasperated director slumped back in his chair, waving a hand lazily in the air. " 'Hidden Pistol' Show 104 reel 1, take 15!"

The marker was called, action yelled and the scene was clacked. I hesitantly got myself ready to make my entrance, hoping I would actually be able to do something today rather than watch the young lady (whose name is Aleesa Grease I might add) kill the art of acting.

As the scene unfolded in front of me I waited patiently. Miss Grease struggled against her bonds rather pathetically, probably to prevent herself from getting scraped by the rope, as she grunted in effort rather unconvincingly. It was all I had not to put my face in my hands. Mr. Goldestar did not call cut though. I suspected that perhaps he wanted to just wrap up this part of the episode so that we could put it to rest. His hopes were dashed however when the robot idol stopped her squirming and looked directly at him.

"Uhm, hello? Mr. Gold Star?"

"Cut!" He yelled rather violently, putting his head in his hands. "What is it NOW Miss Grease?"

"Well, like, I just wanted to ask. Can't we uhm, ya know, start finishing up? Only, I told this erm... this friend of mine I'd like, meet him after the shoot and it's starting to get late and like, I was wondering if we're almost, you know, done?"

"Sure! Why not!" Mr. Goldestar said as he went red in the face. He stood up, throwing his hands in the air, sending script pages flying everywhere. "In fact, let's call it a day people! Every-one! Get these cameras out of here! And Somebody call 'lunch'!"

A bustle of activity erupted as stage hands ran to release Miss Grease and she gave a happy squeal at getting to meet her date early. Equipment started getting moved around haphazardly and people with clipboards started arguing with each other. I shook my head to myself as I started walking towards the rather unglued looking director who had started yelling at someone who had handed him an electronic read-out.

"I told you already! We're moving the date of THIS shoot over 2 days so that we can focus on the big rescue scene! Didn't Spencer already go over this with you? Where the hell is he? Spencer?! Where the hell are you?!"

"Excuse me." I spoke up, causing both men to look down at me. "Sorry for interrupting, but I assume I may return to my trailer for now?"

Mr. Goldestar groaned but gave an exasperated nod. "Yeah, fine fine. I'll send you a schedule update as soon as I find Spencer."

"I will be returning to my apartment tonight however." I reminded him. "So I would prefer to know what we will be doing tomorrow as soon as you are able."

"You wanna know what's going on tomorrow? Great! Join the club!" The director threw his hands up again. "I'm sure we'd all be very happy to know what the heck we're all suppose to be doing! In fact, ya wanna know so bad? Try and find that good for nothing assistant of mine and tell him to get his metal ass back here so I can hear just exactly how screwed our deadline is becoming because of our defective star!"

"If I see him, I will send him your way." I said, raising an eye at him as I turned to leave. I heard him launch into a fresh tirade against one of the best boys as I walked in the direction of my trailer.

I enjoyed working in television, but I had to admit, the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia had made me forget what the crush of a deadline tended to do to those in charge of a production. No doubt Spencer, the director's assistant, accountant and at times legal consultant, had seen the oncoming storm of frustration and had gone to do some paperwork in his trailer, out of the line of fire.

Thinking this, I turned to look at the other trailer which was currently used by the robot in question. I could see the light was on through the small window next to the door. At first I thought I would leave him alone and let him enjoy his moment of peace before facing the enraged director, but thinking it over I decided remaining absent might prove to be more dangerous to his health in the long run. I turned and walked over to his door, hopping the steps before knocking.

There was no reply, but that was not uncommon. Spencer was the kind of person to get himself completely absorbed in whatever writing he was doing and could often be deaf to everything else. I knocked again just on principle before I pushed the door open and walked inside the makeshift office.

Spencer was indeed there. He was lying on the floor right in the doorway, as if he had been standing and facing it just before he fell. The linoleum's colour was indiscernible as most of the floor was covered in what I can only describe as gore. The thick, partially congealed soup of oil and hydraulic fluid covered the entire scene. It'd sprayed against the back wall I was facing, and I half registered seeing droplets of it on the ceiling. But mostly, it had pooled around the metallic frame that once was Spencer.

The metallic casing of his back had been torn open, coils of wires and shards of broken sisterboards jutted out of the wound. Several more lay strewn around, as if they'd erupted from the man like a volcano before falling wherever they wanted, while others appeared to have been grabbed and forcibly pulled out of the man.

He lay, an entanglement of jagged metal and oil-encrusted cables in front of me, a cracked glass eye staring lightlessly at nothing.

I ran for help, knowing it was far too late.


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