The heavyset thug hadn't said much of anything for several minutes now, and Eli was struggling more with each step.
Theoretically, Dogbot could crush a man's bone like cardboard. If he told the canine to attack, there's no way they wouldn't win.
But something about the gangoon spoke otherwise.
However, his deliberation had to wait. They had arrived at a dingy alleyway about four blocks from his apartment. Oddly enough for this part of town, there were no signs of inebriated folks, or scantily clad ladies of the night.
In fact, there wasn't much of anything here. Other than an oddly clean garage door, built into the wall. Above it was a small awning, and the floor before it had been cleared of the usual debris that littered places like these.
They stopped before it suddenly. The heavy weight of Dogbot in the pack nearly caused him to topple over with the sudden halt.
"We're gonna go see my boss, who's gonna figure out whether or not you see his boss."
The man slammed against the sheet metal of the garage door with the back of his hand, and but a second later it was drawn open.
What faced them were the barrels of four guns, trained on their heads.
"Relax, you sissies... just me." The giant laughed, drawing out a raspy cough from his throat.
The group lost some of their stiffness, and three of the four dropped their guns. However, the fourth trained him on a different target.
"Who's this?" The voice sounded youthful and healthy, but it exuded a strength indicative of a leader.
Eli's legs trembled. He didn't have a clue how they were keeping up his own body, let alone the hunk of metal in his backpack. He swallowed.
What do I say? He kidnapped me!
Thankfully, his captor answered for him.
"I think he's Clocked. Ehm, some kind of robot savant. Or at least he knows one." The older figure turned to Eli, and whacked his arm, "Take that thing out."
With a meek nod, Eli began to shed his bag and untie it. From the dark expanse within, Dogbot prowled out carefully, eyeing his surroundings. One of his rear legs was vibrating slightly, and he looked as if he'd topple over any moment.
A chorus of murmurs escaped the group of thugs as they eyed the metal beast. One brave young man stepped forward and reached out to touch Dogbot's snout.
Before Eli could react, he snapped forth, slamming his metal jaw down. He tore a finger from the young man, leaving the extracted digit impaled on one of his jagged metal teeth.
"Dogbot! Blood isn't good for your joints, bad!" Eli rushed to grab the hound, who stared at him with a tilted head.
When he turned his head to the crowd at last, he recalled the situation he was in. Now, four guns were trained directly at his head. The firing squad was staring at him without empathy. Behind them, a figure was clutching its hand, whimpering quietly.
At the fore of the group, the young, stern man was pointing his weapon with a shake, his voice firm.
"Give me one reason," he asked, stepping back, "why I don't kill you right now."
Eli fell back onto his rear, gripping the body of his steel hound for stability. He stammered out noises of no real sense. Seeing the inside of the gun barrel yet again ran his blood cold.
"He... he didn't mean it!"
But just a second later, Eli felt a heavy metallic object thud against the back of his head. The world went dark before the throbbing pain could reach him.
Next he knew, the sting of ice-cold water subsumed him, ripping him from unconsciousness quicker than he'd entered it. Immediately, a blistering light seared his eyes once he opened them, and the figures of five people were staring back at him from across the room.
Between them lay a small grey table, lustreless in colour, and rough against his skin. His wrists were chained to it with a jury-rigged shackle.
He was shivering, his hair was slick with ice water, and stuck to his face. He was cold, locked up, and alone.
"Where's Dogbot-!?" He winced as the yell caused his head to throb, "Where are we?"
The centre shadow stepped forth, remaining a blank figure with the intense blacklight. He sat down opposite Eli. He could just barely make out a few facial features through the abyssal face.
"Don't worry, your trinket is safe, for now. But you might not be if you lie to me. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you'll answer them." He placed his hands together in front of him. The light caught them and revealed the cuffs of a shaggy hoodie.
"First. Are you an Offclock?" The figure felt stiff and struggled on his words occasionally.
"What!? Me? There's no way, I'm not a— do you think I'd be here if I had the chance to go and be a hero?" Eli couldn't fathom somebody thinking he was Overclocked. That he was a damn superhero of some sort.
"Okay, then how do you explain the bot? Testing for some Tinkering vigilante-wannabe? I have no idea how that scrap pile is even moving, other than Overclock nonsense. I told you not to lie." His interrogator was dead wrong, but oddly, Eli struggled to suppress a grin.
Beneath the fear, Eli thought about the statement. His own work was so great, they thought some kind of power had created it? Dogbot was a year-long endeavor. Having somebody compliment it was intoxicating.
"I-... I just made him. Over the last year. It was hard, ehm... but not too bad..." He trailed off the thought, but nobody spoke up. "Uh, the main problem was the lack of resources... all the functions made sense. In fact, I actually wanted to—"
"Enough!" An open palm slammed against the old table with a thud, "You made it? Can you make more?"
"Well, there's no reason why not. I-I hadn't planned to. I was trying to apply him to get a Support role at a major OC agency, ehm—" Eli began muttering once more, but the young man opposite him shifted his chair closer.
"Then, you're going to make more. I want one. I'll give you a week." He commanded.
Eli's eyes gaped, "I need six months minimum, I have to scrap so many-..."
"Alright. One month. Make it happen. We'll check in every week." The man's tone made it clear, this wasn't negotiable.
"O-okay. I can... I can work with a month."