Back at the workbench, Pinball’s guts were leaking onto the floor. With power cells and fusion cores loaded into carts, we moved fast. Pinball’s internal matrix was failing, his core bleeding acid into his already ruined chassis. If we didn’t clean it out and swap the power systems NOW, he was toast.
Colby got to work, throwing on gloves and grabbing an old polymer sponge. “This stuff is corrosive as hell—what the hell was keeping him running on this?”
I pried open another panel, shaking my head. “A desperate one.”
“Battery acid,” I muttered, prying open another panel. “It’s a miracle he didn’t turn into a damn bomb.”
I yanked out a chunk of fried circuitry, tossing it into the scrap pile. “Some guy who figured ‘if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.’”
“Well, guess what?” Colby grunted, prying out a twisted old capacitor. “It’s broke.”
Time to fix it.
Bit by bit, we scraped, drained, and purged the caustic residue from Pinball’s internals. His once-sleek design was scarred, pitted, burned from combat, but what we were about to build?
That was something else entirely.
With new parts laid out, the reconstruction began.
We were about to bring him back
Stronger. Faster. Smarter.
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