Chapter 5: Broken Promises

Word spread quickly in a town like Graven Pointe. Children talked about the funny brass kid who told stories in the workshop courtyard. And strangers, more each day, began lingering near the repair shop, watching.

“I don’t like it,” Garrett muttered, glaring through the workshop window at a group of traders. They’d been loitering across the street all morning, taking turns staring at the shop. “Too much attention. Too many new faces.”

Asher followed his gaze while helping Seven organize tools. The android was turning the task into a game, as usual, humming softly while arranging wrenches by size.

“We’re being careful,” Asher said. “Seven only helps at night now, and only the children who really need—”

A scream cut through the afternoon air. High, young, terrified.

Seven’s head snapped up, tools forgotten. “Someone’s hurt.”

“Stay here,” Garrett commanded, but the android was already moving toward the door with inhuman speed.

“Wait!” Asher lunged, catching Seven’s arm. “Remember what we talked about? No helping in public. No—”

Another scream. Closer. A child’s voice: “Help! Someone help him!”

Seven turned to Asher, blue eyes bright with purpose. “Sometimes being quiet is wrong.”

The android slipped from his grasp and was out the door before either human could react. Garrett swore, grabbing his coat. “Get him back. Now!”

Asher burst into the street. A crowd had gathered at the corner where the road led down to the lower market. At its center, he caught flashes of brass and copper.

Pushing through bodies, he found Seven kneeling beside two children. One was crying. The other wasn’t moving.

“It’s okay,” Seven was saying in that gentle voice that made everyone listen. “Can you show me what happened? Like a story?”

The crying boy pointed up. Above them, a half-constructed market stall hung precariously, heavy support beams twisted by some impact. “We… we were playing… Tommy climbed up and…”

Seven’s hands moved over the still child with practiced care. “He’s having trouble breathing. Like when the medical equipment would stop working.” The android looked up, scanning the crowd. “I need help. The way his ribs are…”

Asher saw the traders from across the street pushing forward. Their eyes were fixed on Seven, calculating. One reached inside his coat.

“We have to go,” Asher hissed. “Now. Before—”

“If we move him wrong, his lungs will collapse.” Seven’s voice was still gentle, but firm. “Like a kinked steam pipe. Remember showing me that, Asher? How pressure builds until something breaks?”

The trader was closer now. Others were moving through the crowd too, converging with purpose.

“Please,” Asher tried again. “They’ll—”

“Hold his head. Exactly like that. Good.” Seven guided the crying boy’s hands to his friend’s neck. “Now, this will hurt him, but it will help him breathe. Ready? One, two…”

The injured boy gasped, color flooding back into his face. The crowd murmured.

“Good job being brave,” Seven told both children. “Sometimes healing hurts, but having a friend helps.”

A hand grabbed Asher’s shoulder. One of the traders. “That’s quite a machine you’ve got there, boy. Let’s talk business.”

“He’s not for sale.” Asher tried to pull away.

“Everything’s for sale.” The trader’s grip tightened. “Question is price. And whether the sale is voluntary.”

More hands appeared. More men moving in. The crowd was backing away, sensing trouble.

“Seven!” Asher called. “We have to go!”

The android looked up from the children. Saw the traders. Saw Asher’s predicament. For a moment, that eternally cheerful face showed something else. Something old, and sad, and wise.

“It’s okay,” Seven said, standing. “Remember what we learned about being brave?”

Before Asher could respond, chaos erupted. Someone in the crowd shouted. A gun appeared. Garrett’s voice rose above the noise. And Seven…

Seven smiled, the same smile that had greeted Asher in the desert. “Time to play hide and seek.”

The android moved like liquid brass, flowing through the traders’ grasp. One moment there, the next gone, pulling Asher with him into the panicked crowd.

“Run,” Seven whispered in his ear. “Like running from storms.”

They ran.

They didn’t stop running until they reached the repair shop’s back alley. Shouts echoed from the street out front.

“We can’t stay here,” Asher panted, leaning against the wall. “They saw what you can do. They’ll bring more men.”

“I had to help.” Seven’s voice was quiet. “The boy’s ribs were broken. Like machine parts grinding wrong. If I didn’t help…”

“I know.” And he did know. That was the worst part. Every choice had led them here, each one right and wrong at the same time. “But now we have to leave.”

The back door burst open. Garrett rushed out, face flushed. “Inside. Quick. They’re searching the street.”

They hurried into the workshop. Tools lay scattered where they’d dropped them earlier, wrenches still arranged in Seven’s careful pattern.

“The basement?” Asher asked, but Garrett shook his head.

“No. They’ll look harder this time. Already asking questions about my ‘unusual helpers.'” He moved to a workbench, pulling out a worn leather bag. “Here. Emergency supplies. Some tools. Quill.” He thrust it at Asher. “The east road’s clear for now. You need to go!”

“Come with us,” Asher said.

“Can’t.” Garrett’s voice was gruff. “Need to stay, keep attention here while you run. Buy you time.” He turned to Seven. “You understand timing, don’t you? Like with that boy’s ribs?”

The android nodded solemnly. “Like counting between lightning and thunder. To know when the storm will hit.”

“Right.” Garrett checked the street through a grimy window. “Storm’s coming now. You need to be gone before it hits.”

Boots on gravel outside. Voices getting closer.

“The back door,” Garrett said. “Count to ten, then run. Don’t look back, don’t stop. Head east into the wastes.” He grabbed Asher’s shoulder. “You’re good with repairs now. Better than you know. Remember that.”

Asher’s throat felt tight. “Garrett, I—”

“Seventeen, eighteen…” Seven was counting softly, brass fingers tapping against copper plating.

The front door rattled. Someone shouted orders.

“Go!” Garrett shoved them toward the back. “Keep him safe, boy. Keep each other safe.”

They slipped into the gathering dark just as the front door crashed open. Behind them, they heard Garrett’s voice, loud and angry, buying them precious seconds.

“Stay close,” Asher whispered to Seven as they crept between buildings. “And quiet. Like in the basement.”

“Like hide and seek,” Seven agreed softly. “But this time we don’t want to be found.”

They reached the edge of town as the last light faded from the sky. Behind them, shouts and running feet echoed off buildings. Ahead lay the Dread Wastes, dark and endless.

Seven’s blue eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. “Asher? Are you scared?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay.” The android’s brass hand found his, warm and steady. “Being scared is okay. As long as you’re not alone.”

Together, they ran into the night.