“W-what are you doing? Lemme -zk- go!” Scrap protested as the tendril around his waist began to drag him back into the workshop. He tried to dig his heel into the floor (since he had only the one foot) but he didn’t have a hope of breaking Gunner’s vice-like grip.

“No can do, rusty,” said Gunner, the whirring ratchet of her retracting tendril echoing around the workshop. “I’m afraid I don’t have a choice in the batter – Mayor Highshine doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Highshine? What does she want with -zk- me?” cried Scrap.

“That’s for the mayor to know and me to find doubt,” Gunner said with a shrug. “But for now, you’re staying put.”

“Leave him alone!” Gnat protested.

Scrap looked over at Paige, struggling to stop her sister running to his aid.

“D’you know how often I get a call from Mayor Highshine? Not often, that’s how often,” continued Gunner, pulling Scrap ever closer. “Then I suddenly get a call out of the glue, and you guessed it! The mayor tells me that a junk case has stowed away on my hovertrain. Pick him up, she says, and don’t let him out of your sight. And that goes for his junk case friends too…”

Scrap shot a look at Paige as the same thought struck them – if she and Gnat were discovered to be human, they’d be in more trouble than they could imagine.

“Go,” said Scrap. “Run!”

Paige paused, just for a moment, before pulling Gnat towards the exit as fast as she could. Gunner’s tendrils, however, were far faster. They whipped around the humans and hoisted them effortlessly into the air.

“Give us a queue, rusty,” requested Gunner. “What does the mayor of New Hull want with a junk case from the Piles, and his two little junk case friends?”

“I don’t know!” Scrap said. “Now let me go, or—”

“Or what?” Gunner interrupted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m folding all the cards. Now let’s get you to the mayor before—”

The angry shriek that interrupted Gunner was as horrible as it was horribly familiar – a flight-cycle. Scrap glanced out of the emporium entrance to see it descend through the fog of smoke and steam. Then in the haze, a tall, cloaked figure stepped down from the cycle, hand-gun-hand drawn and glowing.

Terry. The hunter.

“I know you’re in there, Scrap! I can smell your stink friends!” His voice echoed through the fog. “You coming out, or am I coming in?”

“Who’s ‘Scrap’?” Gunner asked, peering into the fog with Scrap still suspended in her tendril. From above, Corpus Coil hissed defensively and began moving half-finished cases further into the nest of webs.

“Ten seconds, Scrap!” Terry boomed from outside. “No, wait, five! Five seconds!”

“Let us go!” Paige and Gnat howled in unison.

“Everyone charm down,” said Gunner. “No one’s going anywhere till—”

“Didn’t you hear him? He’s a hunter!” Scrap interrupted, struggling feebly against Gunner’s grip. “He’s after us!”

“A hunter, after you?” Gunner scoffed. “Do you think I was bored yesterday?”

“Four seconds!” Terry howled.

“Leggo!” shouted Scrap.

“What’s all this about, rusty?” Gunner asked. “What on Five One Three would a hunter want with you?”

“Three!”

“Gunner, I’m tellin’ you, if you don’t let us go, he’s goin’ to junk us!”

“Pull the mother one, rusty,” scoffed Gunner. “Robots don’t junk robots.”

Scrap looked over at Paige and Gnat, and finally stopped struggling against Gunner’s tendril.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Keep me, but let them go. He’ll kill ’em.”

“Kill…?” Gunner repeated. One of her eyes glanced at Paige and Gnat, while the other two inspected Scrap with suspicion.

“Four seconds!” Terry bellowed. “No, wait. Two!”

Gunner shook her head. “But the mayor said—”

“I’m beggin’ you, Gunner…” Scrap pressed his hand and claw together. “Let them go.”

“Thr— One!”

There was no “zero”. A single shot from Terry’s weapon streaked into the emporium. It seared the top of Gunner’s head before blasting a crater in the far wall.

“No ’bot move!” Terry called out, striding inside the emporium, his weapon primed to fire again. He saw Gunner, her mane of tendrils spread high and wide. “Scrap, where are you? Scrap!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any ‘Scrap’,” Gunner said, relaxing her tendrils. “But welcome to Gunner’s Upgrade Emporium – I assume you’re here to get your hand-gun-hand fixed? It seems to be going off accidentally – why don’t you let Mr Coil take a look for you?”

Corpus Coil hissed and descended on a wire above the hunter. Gunner stepped aside as Terry scanned the workshop.

“I’m not here for upgrades,” Terry growled. “I’m here for Scrap…”

But neither Scrap nor the humans were anywhere to be seen.