To be honest, they hadn’t really lost anyone at that point. A few limbs, plenty of blood, but no lives. Or, at least, none that anyone had told him about.
The man was shaking, clinging to the robot’s right hand as its left supported him- what was left of him. Cracked lips moved, letting out a repeated whisper that he could never quite catch.
“You’ll be fine!” He rocked back and forth just slightly, carefully. “They’ll be here soon!” He turned his attention from the man to survey the street around them. Smoke, debris, ash, but no one else. The world was still and too quiet. A gurgle brought his gaze back down. The man had sputtered, tried to speak, and blood splattered the robot’s cheek.
After finishing the last one(with Rabbit), I kinda liked the simple ‘settup’, I guess. Decided to try it again, this time with The Jon. And I cannot properly design or paint robot hands.
And HEY- everyone who’s been writing all the war-fics lately… this is entirely your fault. See the sad thing you inspired?
I ‘was’ going to write up the rest of the story bit, but I’ll be gone almost all of tomorrow(headed back over to California for a bit). Probably for the best, as I’m terrible at writing. If anyone feels like it, they can finish instead.
Gonna go cry now.