Chapter I

"Is he going to be alright?" -7

   The warrior didn't move, remaining crouched on the rooftop. Her bird skull helmet was pushed down over her face, her typically soft and kindly eyes now hard and piercing with the presence of a possible battle; every flickering shadow was an enemy. Clenched in her strong and capable hand was her spear, the sharp knife blade glinting dangerously.
   Just behind her, pressed against the ruined shingles of the roof, was 5, his handmade crossbow loaded and ready. He was trying to ignore the tear across the burlap skin of his forearm.
   "You see anything yet?" he whispered quietly, glancing at the wound across her back, though she didn't seem bothered by it.
   The ragdoll kind were named in the form of numbers; their order of creation. The female warrior, marked with a '7' on her back, shook her head just barely at the enquirement, scanning the surrounding shadows, distorted and elongated by the towering, crumbling buildings around them. "Not yet..." she answered.
   It was only a few moments before 5 suddenly gasped. "There!" he hissed urgently, pointing in the darkness.
   7 followed the direction in which he pointed, quickly spotting the golden-amber glow easily. "Come on!" she said quickly, darting toward the glow, 5 close on her heels.
   Though not easily frightened, 7 couldn't help but be intimidated by the looming shadows that surrounded them; all possible hiding places for unseen enemies. It felt like ages before they finally made it to the source of the glow; a male ragdoll waving his light staff through the air, easily distinguished as 9 by the zipper running down his torso. She and 5 slipped in beside him and the two others with him; the war veteran 1, whom was staring uneasily at the ground far below and his hulking companion 8.
   "Are they gone?" 7 asked quietly, still gripping her spear strongly.
   9 nodded, hunching over the bulb at the end of his staff at an attempt to hide the light. 1 dragged himself away from the roof's edge, moving to squat beside the other ragdolls.
   "How many did you see?" 5 enquired, his eye still drifting from the others to search his surroundings carefully.
   "Three." 9 replied, holding up as many fingers, their metallic surfaces glinting in the dim light.
   "5 and I saw at least four of them," 7 said.
   "So that means there were, at a minimum seven- more than that from what we saw earlier." 5 spoke.
   Earlier that day, long before night had even fallen, the crashes and growls sounding from outside of their home in the cathedral had unsettled them. 9 had offered to investigate the strange sounds, 7 agreeing to tag along, for she knew well that he alone could not take on any of the monsters they had seen in the past. Eventually, 5 had also agreed to come and even 1, with his arrogant manner and self-proclaimed leadership, decided to accompany them. 8, predictably, came along with his leader.
   They left 3 and 4 alone along with an eccentric, muttering 6, offering promises of a quick return, and ventured outside of the cathedral. They were soon greeted by the red-eyed glare of a cat skull. There was not one cat skull, however, but many. 5, 7 and 8, with a bit of assistance from 9, managed to bring down a few of them, but were greatly outnumbered. Never before had any of them seen so many cat skulls in one group.
   Soon, after receiving injuries from the battle, they decided to split up, leading the cat skulls away from the cathedral and the helpless ragdolls inside as 9 shouted over his shoulder that he would signal them when it was safe.
   "We should be heading back to the cathedral," 1 said, eager to be back within the confines of the only place they were even remotely safe.
   9 nodded in agreement. "3 and 4 are probably terrified."
   "6 might not exactly be making it very easy for them either," 5 added.
   The five of them had to agree; the artist had been acting strange the past few days- even for him.
   Normally, they held a very easy tolerance of the ragdoll and his eccentric behavior. The way 6 would talk to himself often or even, on some occasions, start giggling to himself was only normal to them. 1 made a point to avoid 6 unless interaction with the ragdoll was absolutely necessary,thinking him useless due to his lack of fighting skills, but even the others who spent their time with him regularly were becoming a bit annoyed.
   For what ever reason, 6's talking with his inner voices was becoming more extreme, his nervous laughter becoming more noticeable by the day. This didn't bother the ragdolls so much as the way he had begun to make off with their possessions. The day before, 5 had confronted the striped ragdoll about one of his missing tools, asking him to return it. To which, 6 only replied, "I need it." As he did when confronted about the ruby from 1's cape, one of the bulbs set aside for 9's light staff, the tool 7 used to sharpen her spear and one of 8's smaller weapons.
   As one, the five ragdolls rose to their feet, carefully moving away from the crumbling stone gargoyle they were using as a cover and approached the edge of the roof. 5 dug through his quiver, extracting a metal fishing hook and tying a rope to the end. He loaded it into his crossbow, aimed and fired, with surprising accuracy for someone with one eye.
   The hook sped toward the ground with a loud twang, embedding itself into the metal surface of what remained of a ruined automobile. They froze, listening for any sound that told someone had heard them. When all remained silent, 5 took the end of the trailing rope and tied it to the roof, tugging to make sure it was secure.
   "That'll hold," he said with a satisfied nod. "Who's first?"
   7 stepped forward, using the shaft of her spear to make a zip-wire. She kicked off the roof and sped down the rope. As she neared the ground, she stuck out her feet and released one end of her spear, landing gracefully in the dirt. She craned her neck upward, nodding at the ragdolls on the roof, nothing more than shapeless dots from her place on the ground.
   9 was the next to come down, using his staff in a similar manner as she had her spear. Though, his landing wasn't quite as graceful as 7's; with him hitting the dirt on his backside with a faint cry of surprise the moment he released his staff. He offered 7 a small sheepish smile, which she couldn't help but return as she stuck out her hand to help him to his feet.
   1 and 8 came down after him, leaving 5 standing on the roof's edge alone. As the mechanic was preparing for his decent, the four ragdolls on the ground heard a low growl from behind. They froze, turning slowly to face their new threat.
   In the shadows of a looming building, they spied a red, glowing orb, set in the eye sockets of a cat skull.
   1 gripped his sceptre tightly. "You said they were gone!" he hissed to 9.
   "I thought they were," 9 answered honestly.
   7 was the first to attack, not giving the cat skull a chance as she leaped clear over 9's head and 1's towering hat. She swung her spear, catching the machine across the side of its face. It roared, swatting her away with a swing of its forepaw. The claws on the ends of its long fingers didn't tear her soft fabric skin, but the impact of the blow sent her flying, hitting hard against the rough stone wall of a surrounding building.
  "7!"
  The female warrior, lifted her head, recognising the cry as 9's. The ragdoll was gripping his staff, worried eyes trained on her as 8 charged with a bellow, branishing his sword, crafted from a scissor blade. The cat skull growled, pouncing on 8 heavily, stretching open its jaws and preparing to bite into the warrior's neck. Panicking, 9 rushed forward, clipping the cat skull across the face with the end of his light staff, the bulb shattering in a cascade of sparks and shards of glass.
   The cat skull, distracted from the pinned 8, struck 9 instead, burying its sharp teeth into the ragdoll's side. 9 cried out in pain, his staff falling from his hands and in the dirt uselessly as he tried beating the muzzle of the cat skull with his fists to drive it away.
   7 was on her feet then, glaring through the sockets of her bird skull helmet as she charged. From his place on the roof, 5 fired a needle at the cat skull, hitting it square in the shoulder. It released 9 from its jaws, tossed back its head and let out a roar loud enough to rouse every machine in the area.
   In a blur of white, 7 let loose a cry of fury, and leaped. The cat skull fell over onto its side, the glow fading from its eyes, 7's spear protruding from it's neck.
   8 grunted, managing to struggle out from underneath the fallen cat skull's heavy claws. 7 pressed her foot against the hard skull of the machine, wrenching her spear free before turning her head to spot 9 on the ground, grimacing in pain, a hand pressed firmly against his side.
   5 landed heavily in the dirt, having came speeding down the rope, and rushed over as 7 crouched beside the wounded 9.
   "How bad is it?" 5 asked, grabbing hold of 9's wrist and, despite the protests of the younger ragdoll, pulled his hand away to better inspect the wound.
   The burlap fabric of his side was split from his armpit to his hip, exposing the tangle of wires and working cogs and bolts that made up his internal organs. A few wires were severed, sparking pathetically.
   A small gasp came from 7 at the sight of the injury.
   "That looks painful," 8 said, stating the obvious. Beside him, 1 cringed slightly, showing his discomfort at the sight of the ragdoll's insides.
   9's limbs twitched spasmotically and he clenched his trembling hand, trying to choke down his cries of pain to the best of his abilities.
   "We have to get him back," 5 said, replacing 9's shaking hand over the wound, holding his insides in place. "I have the proper tools to fix him in the cathedral," the mechanic began to lift the injured ragdoll off the ground, still holding his hand over 9's. "I'm going to need some help-- careful!" he cried out as 8 lifted 9 out of the dirt easily and slung him over his shoulder. "You're going make it worse!" 5 said, eye glowering at the hulking warrior.
   "We need to hurry," 1 said, "There are probably more where that one came from-," he sneered in disgust at the form of the dead cat skull, "-they could be anywhere. This way, 8."
   With the aged war veteran and large warrior taking the lead, the ragdolls took off for the cathedral, 5 sticking close to 8 to make sure that 9 wasn't being harmed further.
   7 pushed back her bird skull helmet, stooping to lift 9's light staff carefully off the ground. With her spear in one hand and the staff in the other, she took off after the others.

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   3 and 4 were huddled together fearfully when the five ragdolls entered the cathedral, 4 with her arms wrapped around her twin. They both gasped when they spotted 8 lugging a semi-conscious 9, 4 gripping her sister more tightly.
   7, propping 9's staff on the wall, took a few steps toward them, deciding to be the one to explain to the twins what had happened. "We had a run-in with a few machines. But don't worry," she said reassuringly, noticing the concerned that sparked in the their eyes. She placed a hand on 3's shoulder with a gentle smile. "He'll be fine; 5 knows what he's doing."
   They nodded understandingly, though their concerned expressions were still present. 7, gently lifting her hand from 3's shoulder, turned and followed the others into the workshop, spotting 6 sitting off on his own in a corner of the room, talking noisily to himself and crouched over a sheet of paper.
   "Just set him down here," 5 ordered, clearing off a place in the workshop with a sweep of his arm, knocking papers and tools noisily to the floor. "Careful!!" he said for what felt like the millionth time to 8 as the warrior set the ragdoll down a bit too roughly for one of his condition. 9 arched his back, making a small sound of pain.
   7 entered the room almost silently, watching as 5 rushed to the injured 9's side, pulling his hand away from the wound. He glanced up, spotting her.
   "7, could you help me out over here?" he asked.
   Setting down her spear, 7 brushed gently passed 8 and moved to stand beside 5.
   "I need you to put your hand down here... yeah, like that." the mechanic, shrugging off his quiver and letting it clatter to the floor, gingerly started for the exposed wires.
   8, seeing he was of no use any longer, turned and left the workshop, easing by 3 and 4 who were watching silently from the open entryway.
   7 tried to keep her gaze away from the wound that split 9's side. "Is he going to be alright?" she asked, doubtful of what she had told 3 and 4.
   5 sighed. "It's too early to say," he said, quickly adding, after seeing the look on her face, "But I'm sure that he'll be up and walking by tomorrow," he squeezed her shoulder. "You'll see." with a brief, reassuring smile, he concentrated back on 9's repairs, setting on clearing the dirt that had made its way through the wound and into the ragdoll's body. Carefully, 5 pulled at a few wires, the broken ends sparking, and managed to dig out the other ends needed to reconnect them.
   The mechanic growled in frustration. "This is no good," he grumbled to no one in particular, spotting a few cogs that had been broken by the cat skull's teeth and were doing little more than twitching uselessly rather than making a full 360 turn as they had been ment to. "This'll hurt, buddy," he warned 9. The injured ragdoll was staring up at the ceiling, fingers twitching occasionally from the pain. His zipper rose and fell rapidly with each breath. 7 kept her hand pressed down against the box pumping fluids throughout the ragdoll's body to keep it from falling out, as 5 had instructed her, grease beginning to coat her metal fingers.
   5 took a deep breath, pressing a hand against 9's stomach to brace himself and tugged, removing the defective cogs. 9 arched his back, crying out in pain. 7, empathetic for the poor, agonised ragoll, placed her free hand gently on his brow. 9's eyes, pain-filled and frightened, flicked toward her kindly face.
   "You'll be fine, I promise," she said with a sad, small smile, knowing that he needed to hear these comforting words.
   9 appeared as if he had tried to match her smile, but quickly stopped when another sharp wave of pain sparked through his circuits and ended up wincing instead.
   "I'm getting there, buddy," 5 said, trying to keep his hands from trembling, just imagining the pain that the younger was going through. "Hold on."
   When he had lost his eye, 2, the gentle, kindly inventor had repaired him, but 5 had been unconscious for most of it, only feeling the aches and pains in his skull when he'd awoke after all had been done and the leather patch was sewn over his empty eye socket. There had been the tears in a ragdoll's fabric skin or other similar injuries since then and before, of course, but this was different. Now, he was practically repairing all the inner mechanisms that made up 9's left side, hip and part of his chest. And he didn't have the luxury of being out cold for any of it. It was then that the mechanic found himself, after seeing the pain filled expressions of the younger ragdoll, wishing they had some way to put him under.
   2 probably could have found something, he thought, remembering the deceased inventor. He shook his head, trying to shake off the memory of his old mentor. He didn't have time for memories right now. Right now, his main priority was fixing 9.
   He looked up, catching sight of 7, whom was staring at him with concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked. 5 could see 9 tense up, dreading the answer.
   5 shook his head. "No," he looked back at the torn burlap skin of 9's side. He sighed, setting back to work. "Just a little bit longer..."

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   A few hours later 7 and 5 found themselves sitting in the room beyond the workshop. 3 and 4 were seated together, watching 6 as he drew frantically, calligraphy nib finger tips working rapidly over the surface of a sheet of paper.
   "There we go," 5 said exhaustedly, cutting the black thread. For the past five minutes or so, he'd been stitching up the wound that cut over 7's back, breaking the '7' scrawled between her shoulder blades in half. In truth the tear hadn't bothered her at all after she'd seen 9's gaping wound.
   Rolling her shoulders, 7 thanked him and lifted her spear off the floor in front of her. 5 nodded, taking what was left of the thread and setting about mending his arm.
   After they finished the work needed done to 9, they'd cleaned the grease from their hands and left him to rest in the workshop, heading into the main room of the cathedral. 7, normally a very lively and free-spirited ragdoll, felt drained, the sight of 9 in such a weakened state burned in her artificial brain and dampening her spirits some. She'd been enjoying the quite of the vast room-- with the acceptions of 6's constant talking with himself in a corner.
   "Whatcha doing over there, 6?" 5 asked, not looking up from his stitching. He had learned form experience the many benefits of heeding the visionary's predictions.
   The artist didn't pause in his work. "Busy," he answered simply, oddly lacking in his typical energetic vigor.
   "Am I getting that wrench you took from me back anytime soon?" 5 enquired.
   "Probably not," came the reply.
   5 shook his head, smiling. At his side, 7 chuckled softly, leaning over to get a peek of one of the sketches laid out to dry around him. One had images of many cat skulls clustered together, glaring from their place on the page. It was obviously a prediction of the attack from earlier that day.
   She picked the sketch off of the floor, turning it toward 6 and prepared to ask him why he hadn't shown it to them earlier. She was interrupted, however, when a new voice echoed off the walls.
   "Where is he?" 1 came into the room, 8 following like an obedient hound. The war veteran was clearly in a sour mood.
   7 sighed.
   "Where's who, 1?" 5 asked patiently.
   "9! Where did he run off to?!" 1 demanded, thumping his sceptre on the floor.
   7 had a feeling that was who he'd been talking about. Ever since 2 had died, shortly after they'd taken 9 into the group, 1 had been particularly ill-tempered. His anger, in a way, was understandable. 9 was the newest and last ragdoll created by the professor before he had died. He was the one that had dared to challenge their ways, encourage them out of hiding from the machines and fight back. His very presence in the ragdoll group was a threat to 1's leadership and he went out of his way to blame the younger for any mistake or accident that occurred due to 9's encouraging to fight back. 9 was hardly more than a scapegoat for him.
   She didn't see a problem with 9 herself. Ever since he had shown up, they had all felt like them old selves. No longer in hiding, the ragdolls felt as if a crushing weight had been lifted off their shoulders. Ever since 9 had been recruited, they could laugh and smile freely again. He was slowly but surely changing them, whittling away years of oppression and fear.
   5 shrugged. "We left him in the shop. He asked for a little space and we gave it to him. He needs to rest anyway."
   "Well, he's not there now." 1 stated.
   7 got to her feet. "I'll go look for him," she offered, taking 9's light staff from the wall where she had left it, "He can't have gotten very far."
   1 growled in frustration, watching the warrior climb into the bucket they used to navigate from floor to floor of the cathedral. He could feel all control he once had over the rest of the ragdolls slip from his fingers.
   "Why do you want to see 9 so badly?" 5 asked calmly.
   6, stilling his ink stained nibs, lifted the sheet of paper to examine his work, the twins observing from over his shoulders. They exchanged startled glances.
   1 stared at 5 for a moment. "Perhaps I want to make sure he's doing alright," he retorted, "That was a nasty wound he received today."
   5 looked back at him, his expression still remaining calm. They both knew the real reason was to rub the fact that he had been injured by his own beliefs of fighting back and that had also put the other ragdolls in jeopardy.
   1 thumped his sceptre on the floor frustratedly. "As much as you all don't believe this, I'm still incharge around here. I shouldn't have to explain myself to you; I've seen more of this world than anyone of you. You all are nothing but children! I-- oh, what is it, 6!?" he shouted, waving his sceptre around as he stared down at the young artist.
   6 had wandered from his corner and had been pulling on 1's arm to gain his attention since he had begun to speak. He wasn't hurt by his sudden bellow; he was used to 1's intolerance of him. Instead, he stood there, clutching his sheet of paper to his chest.
   "There's no need for that-" 5 began, in defense of the younger ragdoll, only to be cut short when 6 held his drawing out to 1.
   "Here," he said. "You need to see this."
   1 snatched the sketch from the younger. "This had better be important..." he trailed off as he looked down at the sheet, his eyes widening.
   5 tied off the last stitch applied to his arm and moved to stare over 1's shoulder. His jaw went slack. For a long while they stood there in silence, 8 watching on quietly. 6 clenching his hands around the key hanging from his neck. He had expected his type of reaction.
   Eventually, 1 lowered the sheet.
   "1..." 5 began.
   "Go fetch 7 and 9." he interupted the mechanic, whom, despite the argument that had begun between them mere moments ago, darted toward the direction in which 7 had run off.

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   It took a few minutes to find 9, but when he was spotted by 7, he was sitting in the dark upper floor of the cathedral, half hidden by the scattered debris that littered the floorboards. His head was turned away from her, staring at nothing in particular.
   Holding out the light staff, she approached him, her footsteps near silent, as they usually were.
   "9," she said gently to get his attention. He spun around, startled, eyes wide as they searched the darkness. She held up the staff to illuminated the small space, exposing herself and him. She quickly noticed just how exhausted he looked. "Easy; its just me." she said, moving to stand beside him. Her eyes subtly scanned his side, searching for any evidence that the ragdoll had just underwent major repairs. Due to 5's impeccable handy work, the stitching was near invisible.
   7 held his staff out to him. "I brought this up."
   9 accepted it, inspecting the bulb that shone brightly at the end. "Did you replace this?" he asked, gently tapping the glass with his finger.
   The female warrior nodded. "I found the extra bulbs and decided to save you some trouble. I will admit, though, picking out the glass was very annoying."
   9 chuckled. "Thanks." he eased himself carfully to the ground, grimacing and holding his side all the while.
   7's gentle voice was laced with concern as she asked, "Shouldn't you be resting?"
   The ragdoll quirked a brow at her. "And you do everything you're supposed to?"
   "Touché," the female warrior said, seating herself beside him. She glanced back at him, noticing that his hand was still pressed over his side. "You don't still hurt do you?"
   He laughed dryly. "Hurt? I feel like someone just ripped me apart." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. At least 8 wasn't hurt or anything."
   The warrior stared at him for a moment. "You know, you don't have to put everyone first all the time; you were nearly killed today."
   9 shrugged. "I was the one that put everyone in danger; if it hadn't been for me we wouldn't have been in that mess."
   7 rolled her eyes, swatting him on the shoulder. "Will you stop beating yourself up all the time? Not everything is your fault, some things just happen because... well, they happen, and that's enough for me."
   He was silent for a moment. "Well, it's not enough for me. I like knowing 'why'. It makes things easier."
   "There's not an answer for everything."
   "I think there is."
   7 shook her head, "Just try accepting something, then you'll see just how easy it really is."
   They both sat there for a moment, 9 studying a crack in the wall and 7 testing the sharpness of her spear on the edge of a book behind her.
   The warrior glanced over at him, noticing that his gaze had drifted from the wall to the bulb of his staff that was cupped in his hands. She silently wondered if he was thinking about 2; before the inventor had died, they taken the hat he used to wear and fitted it to end of the staff. Of course, rather than the candle at the top that 2 had used, there was a light bulb.
   9 hadn't known him as well as the others and she, but no one could have hated the gentle 2, much less not mourn his death.
   "Why did you come up here, anyway?" 7 asked after a while.
   9 shrugged. "Just to think, I guess."
   "You think too much." 7 stated, half joking. "It seems all you ever do is think."
   9 opened his mouth to give a reply, only to be cut short when a familiar voice sounded from behind them.
   "Hey!" they turned their heads, just as 5 came into view, walking around a large green tome. He shook his head. "Ironic; the one place I don't look, and you're both right here." he sighed. "Come on, 1's calling a meeting."
   7 helped 9 to his feet. "What's the meeting about?" 9 asked weakly.
   "6 just made another prediction. And its not exactly good..."