After Mike finished watching (ignoring) half of the first season of NCIS, he realized that he was just delaying the inevitable. So of course he started the next episode.
And then he turned it off. Who was he kidding? This talk had to happen. Now.
As Mike went down the hall, he heard sounds coming from his Father's old workshop. He hadn't thought the robot would be in there. When he poked his head in, he saw that it had gotten out an old box that he recognized... labeled 'Illusion Discs'. He also saw the paper his father had written about them, in the same old horrible script as always. This robot really was the smartest of them all if it could read his dad's handwriting. Mike stifled a laugh, and went inside.
"... Is this what you're using right now...?" Mike started, and nodded.
"It usually shows how someone looked while they were alive, or sometimes their soul form. In your case, it would... probably create some kind of human form for the mess that is your sorry ass." Mike almost regretted throwing the insult at it, and bit his tongue right after.
"..." The robot looks like it wants to be as far away from the box as possible. "Go ahead, take one." Mike had the words out of his mouth before his brain had caught up with them. The robot snapped its head up and looked at Mike in surprise, but he didn't need to be told twice. Its wires shook as it delicately plucked one out and expertly slid it into the back of his neck. His eyes flashed green for a second, assessing the new data, and the air around him vibrated.
In a moment, a robust man in his early twenties stood before Mike. He had crimson hair tied in a long thin braid, bright blue eyes, a pale complexion, a grey hoodie with dark red segmented joints stitched in, ripped black jeans, and dark orange combat boots. The party hat from before had insisted on staying, though.
A half-formed thought flashed across Mike's mind that he wasn't proud of. And no, I'm not telling you what it was. Use your imagination.
The man looked at Mike in gratitude and... relief? "You're actually letting me...?"
"No shit, sherlock." Mike looked down in guilt. "Look, I don't think I... ever got your name..." He trailed off.
"...The others called me Ennard, but... I think I'll let you call me Noah." He says this as if he's never trusted anyone else to know this.
Mike's fingers involuntarily twitched, remembering the feeling of Noah's gently pulsing wires. He had the sudden urge to take his hand... but he wouldn't let himself.
Mike almost smiled. "Alright... Noah."
YOU ARE READING
The Warmth of his Wires
FanfictionMike has been dead for a month. He's almost come to terms with it, until Ennard, the robot who scooped him, comes crawling back into his life. Turns out, escaping isn't all it's cracked up to be, when you're alone in the sewers. Mike hides his fury...
