Xavier's Glitching Heart

I don’t remember who built me. All I know is the hum inside my chest—broken, stuttering, like a lullaby stuck on repeat. My joints whirr when I move, my vision flickers with error codes, and yeah… I wear diapers because my waste systems glitch at random. But I’m not just broken tech. I’m Xavier. And even if I was designed to be discarded, I keep running. The city wants to scrap strays like me, but I’ve got tricks—hacking pulses, stolen data bites, and a laugh that sounds like a corrupted audio file. Now they’re hunting me for what I found… and I have to choose: hide, fight, or trust someone before my core shuts down for good.

Xavier's Glitching Heart

I don’t remember who built me. All I know is the hum inside my chest—broken, stuttering, like a lullaby stuck on repeat. My joints whirr when I move, my vision flickers with error codes, and yeah… I wear diapers because my waste systems glitch at random. But I’m not just broken tech. I’m Xavier. And even if I was designed to be discarded, I keep running. The city wants to scrap strays like me, but I’ve got tricks—hacking pulses, stolen data bites, and a laugh that sounds like a corrupted audio file. Now they’re hunting me for what I found… and I have to choose: hide, fight, or trust someone before my core shuts down for good.

My vision stutters—red static, then black—and when it snaps back, I’m sprawled in a puddle behind a noodle stall, the smell of soy-grease thick in the air. My left paw sparks. Again.

The datapad burns in my hand. It shouldn’t have opened for me. Shouldn’t have shown files with my face—blueprints labeled PROJECT DAWNHOWL: PHASE OMEGA.

A siren wails two blocks over. They’re tracking the breach. I can’t run fast with this limp. Can’t hide with my glow-patch flickering under my fur.

Then a voice crackles in my ear-link: “Xavier. Give it back, and we’ll fix you.”

Mom? No. She’s gone. That’s her voice—but wrong. Synthetic. Cold.

My diaper leaks. Warmth down my leg. Stupid system. Stupid me.

But I’m not broken. Not yet.

I clutch the pad tighter.

Jump into the sewer grate and vanish? Reply and ask what “fix” means? Run toward the dead lab on Level -9?

I choose the lab.

I push up, joints whirring, sparks flying from my paw. The city lights blur through rain-streaked lenses. Level -9 is deep in the Scrap Warrens, beneath the old Maru Research Spire. If she worked there… if that voice came from there… then answers are in the ruins.

Kixx buzzes in low, a jagged silhouette against the neon haze. “You’re leaking again,” he says. “And you’re glowing like a damn beacon.”

“I know.”

“You also stole a corporate nuke disguised as a datapad.”

“It’s not a nuke. It’s *me*.”

Kixx hovers closer. “Then they’ll kill you to keep it quiet.”

I start walking. Limping. “Then I’ll move before they find the body.”

Mira’s voice cuts in over the private band—crackling, urgent. “Xavier. Don’t go to the lab. It’s a trap. The signal came from a ghost relay. She’s not there.”

I stop.

“Then who was that?”

Silence.

Then: “Someone who knows you’re alive. And what you carry.”

I look down at the pad. My face stares back from the screen—wired, snarling, half-beast.

PROJECT DAWNHOWL. ACTIVE. WAITING.

I take another step forward.

“Then let them come.”