Perhaps it's a little ridiculous to be wearing my full wrestling outfit, under my hoodie, just to sneak into a scrapyard. What can I say though I need the extra confidence. It makes me feel cool like I'm a superhero. Plus if someone were to try to attack me on this quiet dark abandoned road, in the middle of the night, I'd be ready!

"Hiya! Take that!" I say out loud, kicking the air, showing off my skill to any evil lurking ne'er do wells.

That'll show them to mess with me. I think, squinting, and posing menacingly. 

It's truly a wonder why WWE hasn't accepted my application for tryouts yet. They're really missing out on the next big technical fighter Amygdhalia! Wait, what was I doing? Oh! Yeah, duh, I gotta get some spare parts to help with fixing up my patients. Fitz needed some parts to help solve an overheating problem. Hers is an older bot and they don't make many parts for her model anymore. She was around before the singularity, and her manufacturers had a tendency back then to scrap older models for the Next Big Thing™️. Her model's infamous flaw was a tendency to short circuit when out in the sun for too long. Being a minimum wage gardener, she didn't have much she could pay, and couldn't afford to lose her job due to the hot summer sun. Most of my patients don't always pay a lot, I do a lot of pro bono work. As a result I can't often afford to pay for parts. It's good work though, it helps a lot of people, and I've met quite a few friends that way. Atlas is a repeat customer of mine, so much so, he basically lives with us, and Arcadia and Quirk both started working at the center after larger repairs needed to be done due to near fatal accidents. It really feels nice to put so much good back into the community, even if it means dumpster diving for parts at 1am in the dark. It's all in a days work for the hero mechanic of West Behemothsberg!

Macron's has laughable security. The barbed wire might convince you otherwise, but there's a big hole in the fence on the western end. The real threat is the dog, and luckily Fluffy is easily bribed. At first glance Fluffy might look pretty intimidating, with his one bad eye and crooked ear. I think, like most pitbulls, he was bought in an attempt to scare people away. He meets me at the western end as I climb through the fence, just like always.

"Hey Fluffy!" I say, taking off my hood and squatting down low.

He stops barking once he sees it's me, and I pull the dog treat out of my pocket. I wave the strip of bacon I brought in front of him, and it's as if his whole body is following the waving flow of the treat, as he waggles his backside and jumps up and down excitedly. I leave the bacon in my open outstretched metal plated hand, and he tilts his head to gobble up his treat. As I scratch his favorite spot behind the crooked ear I once again feel sad and a little bit furious thinking about whoever must have abused this poor nervous dog. Getting Fluffy to trust me was not easy at first. He definitely has been a pretty hypervigilant dog as long as I have known him. His current owner seems to be nice to him though I even realize he's got a cool new spiked collar today.

"Hey kiddo, how have you been? got yourself a cool new collar?" I softly whisper, having moved to scratching his neck.

Fluffy leans in, and gives me a sloppy, cautious kiss on the cheek having just finished his treat. He then lays down on the floor still looking up at me, as I pet his head. Sadly I can't play with Fluffy forever. As I get up to go walk around, I quietly reflect on the thought that his previous owners were truly missing out on a kind hearted, loveable pup, because they had expected some terrible monster dog. For some preconceived, prejudice notion, about how a pitbull should be, he got hit and abused. I know I don't know his actual story, and that this narrative I've built in my head could be far off, but I've seen it happen before far too often. Bigots always hate what they don't understand, it's the same with robo– Woah! There are so many parts this week. I guess I'll be having a lot of extra patients soon. I wonder if this is related to the sanctuary bombing I read about a while back. I heard the terrorists used a robot to commit the hate crime. I can't imagine why anyone would do something like that, nonetheless a fellow robot. This is so sad, I should bring the wagon tomorrow salvage as much as I can. It never seemed fair to me that robots are always discarded in places like this, and not given proper funerals. This might mean I'll have an easier time finding the arm motor I need for Atlas at least. He and I have very similar arm models so I know all the pieces I'll need pretty well. Even though mine is just a prosthetic that starts just below the elbow, and his naturally is a more involved design, I've been tinkering with my arm nonstop pretty much since the day I got it. My physical therapist used to say he thought it was my way of coping with the loss, and he's probably right, but i think all the tinkering is what eventually got me into engineering in the first place. That, and, even despite the one mechanical arm, I think I've always related to robots more than other humans. Most other humans don't seem to understand me. They don't understand that I'm not lazy, just unmotivated. They don't get how hard it is for me to focus when I'm not tinkering or doodling or otherwise occupying my hands. Humans can be so critical and harsh about things they don't get. In all my years Pheonix is one of the few fellow humans who seems to get me. She never gets mad when I accidentally interrupt, and defends me when people tease me for my excitability. I don't know how I ever got so lucky as to get a girlfriend like her. I should try to bring something nice back for her, to show my appreciation for putting up with me all these years.

Usually I'm more methodical about how I collect my parts, but I'm very easily distracted by shiny metal things. (Who throws out an entire tv?) I tried to focus on the main things I needed for the night, some spare circuit board, an arm motor, a few coolant fans, a few resistors, spare copper wire, and some battery components. I often picked up spare metal parts for welding, and I took any screws I could find. After a few hours, my bag is pretty full, on my way out though I see the most beautiful face. She has dazzling emerald green eyes, a cute symmetrical angular face, and a round laser scope on her right side which only adds to her unique beauty.

Wow I'm so incredibly gay.

It's more than a face though, I discover as I come closer, it's an entire head. There's little left of the body and the skull has clearly taken a great deal of damage. If her hard drive is still intact I might be able to save her yet. I don't often put in the effort to do full reconstructive work. It takes s lot of pieces to make a whole new body, and I'm not well known for finishing big projects. A lot of people don't tend to realize that a lot of my work is on the small stuff. It's usually not much more than soldering wires back onto a board or replacing a small burnt out motor. It's not often I get to build an entire robot from the ground up. Her face is so captivating though I've decided even if it takes months I want to return her to the land of the living. I asked Phoenix before if she ever gets jealous, considering how intimate a lot of my work can be. She too sees the artistic beauty in my art, often calling my builds, and repairs my little masterpieces. I couldn't ask for a better girl. I carefully remove the head from the torn dented torso after confirming the hard drive was intact, and decide to look around a while more for parts I might use to work on her. Holding her skull in my hands I can feel the potential and opportunity, as my body vibrates in anticipation. I eventually start to see the sun come up, and realize that Phoenix might be worrying about me. I head for the hole in the gate patting Fluffy on my way out. As I walk back though, I can't help but be a bit giddy, and have a bit of a skip in my step. Tomorrow another life will be masterfully saved by the mighty Amygdhalia!