Imitation

> "You're not right. What are ya? I'm not here for fuss, but you're scaring me, lad."

His reflective eyes dazzled as they twitched, surveying the woman.

> "I don't want fuss, but my husband's back there. And I pay for protection."

Upon recognition of the threat, he made a surgical incision into the offensive organism with his right hand. Upon dissassembly of its endoskeleton and removal of its primary arteries, the threat was neutralized.

> "Re-analyzing."

he informed nobody. There was no response, so obviously the prior threat had lied.

The shop he had entered was fundamentally little more than a small, wooden shack. It wasn't well suited for acquiring more energy, despite the relative abundance of food upon the wall opposite him. However, he thought he might be able to find a battery or two if he pulled up a few floorboards.

Whilst waiting for his muscles to heat, he tried to prompt a weather station for a response.

> "Weather request. Response time 30."

No response. He expected as much, but did hope that after all these years, in a place as far-flung as this, he might be able to find something working. Flash storms like the one currently raging outside were becoming problematic, especially as people started to fill all the available structures. He thought constant surgery was bothersome.

Speaking of the weather, the winds outside hadn't died down much. He thought that they might never die down, honestly. Weather stations, even if any had remained online until now, didn't actually have satellites to communicate with, because his satellites couldn't find any to connect to.

His muscles had warmed. Eyes darting to the wood, he calculated the force necessary to remove the floorboard. The construction was shoddy, using rusted nails, so it wouldn't be a significant problem. He'd have to reprimand his muscle for waming too much later.

Incising through the board, hand gripping the torn plank, he threw it through the roof. This let the wind in, which he thought in hindsight wasn't a great idea. The rest of the boards were removed with rather more finesse, until the dirt beneath them was visible. No batteries, however. He'd have to find somewhere to sleep instead.

Placing the floorboards haphazardly back on the beams, he sat beside the countertop, listening to the wind. Taking a blanket still dripping with the blood of the former woman from the chair beside him, he huddled his legs closer, and wrapped his arms between his thighs.

Tonight would be cold and lonely.