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Description
Once upon a time, when she had been a girl, her gran had called her their Maggie Mouse. It had been a fun nickname, pulled from a favorite children's book and sticking because of her small stature. Mommy would laugh and made her a headband with little mouse ears on it, and tease her about wanting all the cookies in the house.

Later, when her gran had died and mommy stopped paying attention and the bad men moved into the house, her name had been dropped, and she simply became Mouse. Now the nickname stuck for various reasons—she was quiet, she was usually out of sight, and she could get into most anyplace without being seen. And Devon seemed to think that she was about as worthless as your typical rodent.

In the last three and a half years of her life, Mouse had learned a number of traits that had helped her to survive. Entering a building or room through a passage no one would watch was essential. After all, if they didn't know you were there, they couldn't look for you.

This habit also helped her find hideaways that no one else inhabited. And her newest hideout was a find, though. It was an old warehouse, abandoned for longer than Mouse could remember. The doors were locked, and the windows too high to reach, but she had found a hole in one wall that she could squeeze through. Even better, there were lots of old crates inside to hide behind. A few weeks before she had set up a nice little passage of crates, creating a safe spot where she could watch the room and still been hidden. Her passage meant that she could crawl to her exit without being seen, should someone else ever come inside while she was there.

She didn't use her hideouts for much more than having a place to go in the middle of the day, when she was tired of walking and needed a rest. It was nice to have a quiet place to go and sit and eat whatever she had found that day. Plus there was a sink in one corner that still worked, even if the water was a little brown. To Mouse, all of these things made for a perfect hideout.

And on a day like today, she needed it. The sun was hot, the whole city dry, and Hell's Kitchen truly felt like it was in Hell. Wiping sweat out of her eyes, Mouse made her way to the warehouse, slipping in through the side. It was cooler in there, and she thought that she might just take a nap before she had to go home.

Once upon a time, Doctor Otto Octavius had been a respected physicist and nuclear researcher, widely regarded as being absolutely brilliant, a prize highly sought after by many, many research companies. Oscorp and its CEO, Norman Osborn, had bragged about their acquisition of him, just as his heir Harry Osborn had done later on.

Later, after the accident in his lab, after Rosie had died and his name was forever acid-etched into the ranks of mad supervillains, after the fusion of man and machine that had turned Otto and his four AI- enhanced smart-arm assistants into the feared Doctor Octopus, after confronting the city's masked superhero Spiderman, after a second failure at creating his reactor... Otto was tired. Tired, and wishing he didn't have to listen to the quartet of voices in his head that signified the actuators' chatter as they shifted crates and supplies around.

This warehouse was a good find, with access to the electrical grid that he could augment with a portable generator, and far enough away from the Hudson River to prevent the feeling of unease he always got around that body of water these days. He'd found this place less than a week ago, and had left his refuge with Father Everett in favor of it. That place had been a haven, but it was not the sort of haven he needed.

The actuator over his right shoulder detected the intruder the moment she squeezed in. Its official designation was Beta, but it had learned that Rosie had always called it 'Flo', and had since decided to adopt the name. The actuator's independent decision to do so had startled Otto at first, as had the choice of the other three to adopt Rosie's names for them as well- Mo, for the upper left, Harry, for the one beneath it, and Larry for the one on the lower right. The second electrical shock they had received at the hands of Spiderman had changed their intelligence and personality programming yet again, allowing to style themselves as more distinct individuals. Otto wasn't sure what to think of that.

He also wasn't sure what to think of the intruder. Flo informed him that it was a child, a female, and she was pressing her way into a pile of crates they hadn't gotten to yet.

Mouse crawled through her passage, to end up semi-surrounded by crates. She pressed a hand against her bag to still the bottles inside, and settled on the floor.

Noise from across the room made her freeze. Someone was here. Someone had gotten inside. Mouse frowned, got back on her hands and knees, and crawled halfway down her passage towards her exit. She could run if she needed too, but first she wanted to see. Peeking between two of the crates, she looked at a man...a very strange man, with large metal poles strapped to him. Cocking her head a little, she saw that they weren't really poles...they reminded her of the Slinky her gran had given her once. They wreathed around the man, pushing various crates and items. He seemed vaguely familiar...but she didn't pay attention to things such as newspapers. Most little girls didn't.

Mo chittered next to Otto's ear, not liking the presence of another person, a stranger, in what was supposed to be their haven. Without warning, it darted towards the stack of crates, shoved some aside, and neatly plucked the child from her hiding place. Its grip was powerful, but it took care not to damage the girl. Mouse let out a gasp, completely surprised and a bit frightened at the sudden movement.

It deposited her in front of Otto, releasing her from its claw before wrapping its smaller tendril around her waist to keep her from running. Otto glared briefly at Mo, for acting without his direction again, before looking at the child. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Most children would have been terrified of such a situation. Mouse, however, had lived through a great deal of fear in her short life. She had survived by sticking to the shadows, and watching everything. One thing she noticed, was that while the man's voice was stern, it was also tired. She couldn't see his eyes behind the goggles he wore, but she guessed they were probably tired too. He did not strike her as being violent--at least, not violent like Marcus and Devon and the rest.

So she looked up at him, tightening her grip on her bag, and bit her lip. Mouse had not spoken to anyone in a long time, for very good reason. Perhaps, she thought, if she were quiet, he would let her go. Then she would just have to find another place to hide.

Otto did not want to deal with this right now- he was hot and tired and wanted nothing more than to lie down and maybe sip an iced coffee. Instead, he had a little mouse of a girl to deal with. Perhaps a different question would get things moving. "What is your name?" he asked, frowning at her.

Now that she could answer. A crate was within reach, still dusty on top. With one finger she carefully drew a mouse in the dirt, and looked back to the man. Making sure he was following her, she pointed to the drawing.

He crossed his arms in something of a huff, and Mouse realized he probably didn't know what it was. With even more care than she had taken with the drawing, she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Writing her name beneath the drawing, she pointed again.

He eyed the word she'd drawn into the dirt, his frown deepening. "Mouse?" he asked. She'd written the 'S' and 'E' backwards.

Flo chittered next to his ear. mouse what kind of name is that mouse little rodent like a rat don't like rats run over us in the night chew the wires pests Otto realized that Flo's mental voice had changed slightly, becoming more distinctly female as opposed to the neutrally-masculine voices of the other three.

She nodded once, wiping the dust from her finger on her clothes. Mouse was something of a mismatched creature--her pants an inch too short with boots two sizes too big. Her shirt fit her alright, though she wore a larger, adult's short-sleeve button down shirt over it, open, like a jacket. A messenger bag hung diagonally from her shoulder, and her dark blond hair was cropped short, giving her an almost boyish look.

The slinky with a claw was chittering over the man's shoulder. Cocking her head at it, Mouse studied the strange thing. Was it talking? Did they talk to him? It wasn't that much stranger that anything else she'd seen. Setting her tongue behind her teeth, Mouse chittered back to it, in a near perfect replication of the noise. She wanted it to know that she was not trouble. And maybe persuade the one that was holding her to let her go.

Three red eyes surrounded by metal claws and a pair of brown ones shielded by heavy goggles fixed on the girl in surprise. That was an incredible imitation, far more accurate than anything they might expect a human capable of.

Flo dipped a little closer, peering into the girl's face. Otto ignored the visual feed the actuator was sending him and instead studied the child himself.

"Very impressive, Mouse," he said dryly. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Mouse shrank back a little as the clawed hand came closer, and shrugged. It was hard to express to express the need to hide, to have a getaway. But she hadn't been hurting anything. Maybe he could just let her go? Or let her sit in her corner, and go away when she needed to? She wouldn't touch anything, if he just let her be.

Otto sighed. This was quite frustrating. For some reason she couldn't talk- and the actuators informed him that the lack of speech was not due to injury or malformation of her throat, larynx, or mouth. She was just... silent. And surprisingly bold. Most people would have been quivering if one of the actuators started eying them like that from such a close range.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said sharply. "I just want to know what you are doing here."

Mouse flinched at his tone. For a moment she pondered what to do. Then she reached into her bag, and pulled out a boxed sandwich. Slowly, she extended it towards him. It was both an explanation and an offer.

In her world, nothing fostered trust quite like being willing to share food. She knew all the best places to scavenge--lots of stores threw out perfectly good food still wrapped up. With any luck, the man would take this as a sign of good will, or at least, not bad will.

Flo arched down to inspect the offering. A sandwich, roast beef and provolone, perhaps slightly past its prime, but not spoiled.

Otto looked at it too. Unlike the actuators, he recognized the conciliatory gesture. His expression softened somewhat. "Are you here because you're trying to stay away from someone?" he asked, more gently than he had before.

Mouse bit her lip, and gave a small shrug. Of course she was hiding. Why else would she be here if she wasn't hiding? She wasn't stupid--normal little girls would be in school, or maybe going home to a mommy and daddy who would give them a snack and help with their homework.

If she went home this time of day, she would find a bunch of junkies who hadn't had time to get completely strung out. And that was never good, to be around them when they were aware enough to know she was there.

"What are you hiding from?" he asked. He still wasn't certain if the child was simply mute or just entirely unwilling to talk. Even if there was no physical defect there could be something else, a brain problem or just a mental condition...

At Otto's direction, Mo unwound from around her waist. He wasn't too concerned about her running off- the actuators could move at over ninety feet per second. No six-year-old would be able to outrun them.

Mouse relaxed a little when the metal slinky snake let her go. But her eyes widened at the question. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't tell. It wouldn't do to tell. Besides, it was none of his business. And he was obviously hiding himself. What was he hiding from?

Otto stifled a muttered exclamation of impatience. "Fine, you can't say. What do you want here then? And what will it take to keep you out of my hair?"

There was one potential upside to this. If she wasn't one to talk, then the chances of her revealing his presence here were slim. Otto did not want the police on his trail, particularly not now. They probably had orders to shoot on sight, and while the actuators had been remarkably effective at assuring his safety in the past, things happened.

Mouse looked around, and held up a finger. She didn't want him to think she was trying to run--she just wanted to show him. Moving slowly and deliberately, she went back over to her corner, and sat so that she was facing the man. Then she pulled out her sandwich and a bottle of water, and sat it in front of her.

Looking up at him, she sat back and put her hands in her lap, waiting to see if he understood. She just wanted to come and sit for a bit. Her spot was well out of his way from where he'd been clearing space. Putting her food back in her bag, she stood, and raised her eyebrows in question to see if he understood.

The actuator calling itself Flo drew back by his ear, chittering softly.

hiding out this is a refuge what does she hide from neighborhood bullies or worse

Otto frowned slightly. "You come here to hide?" he asked.

Mouse nodded vigorously, a small smile on her face. Good, he understood. She would just come for a few hours, then leave. She wouldn't be any trouble. Mouse was very, very good at not being any trouble.

He glanced at Flo, who gazed back at him. The single scarlet heartlight that served the actuator as a visible 'eye' of sorts shone steadily, like a blood-red star nestled in Flo's claws.

Could they risk it? She was just a child, after all, and if she were desperate enough for a refuge that she came to a place like this... Otto would never admit it, but he did have something of a soft spot for children, especially ones that had harsh home or school lives. After all, he himself had had both.

"Alright," he said at last, ignoring Larry's chatter of disapproval. "You can stay. Don't touch anything I bring in here, understand? Some of it can be dangerous."

like us

Mouse nodded again. Looking out the window, her expression fell a little, only to be covered by a look of resoluteness. Time to go.

Biting her lip, she pulled a small bag of cookies out of her bag, and sat them on a crate next to the man. She pushed them towards him, and gave him a small smile. He still seemed sad, at least to her. But cookies made things better. They made her feel better when she was sad. Maybe they would for him too.

Otto picked up the cookies, startled to see them and recognized the blue wrapper of his favorite Oreos. Looking down at the child, he managed a slight smile of his own.

"I'm Otto," he told her.

Mouse gave him a wide gap-toothed smile in greeting. Otto. That was a neat name. She liked it.

With a small sigh, she went and moved to the hole in the wall that served as her entrance and exit. Pulling back the loose board, she gave him a wave, and crawled through it. Time to go home.

A few days after meeting Otto, Mouse had settled into a comfortable equilibrium in going to the warehouse. One of the crates was the perfect size for a bit of a hide out. It was almost funny, a hide out within a hide out. But she wanted to stay out of Otto's way. So she managed to pull out a bit of the old wood, enough so that she had some light and could watch Otto and the actuators work. She liked watching them work.

So she would come in through her entrance, crawl under her box, and sit. She would draw in her notebook, and eat whatever she had found that day. And before she would leave, she would creep over to one of the crates near Otto's work area, and leave him something that she had found. Sometimes it would be a sandwich, or a packet of cookies. But she usually found him something, and made a point to leave it where it would be found. Then she would walk her box over to the entrance, crawl out, and head home.

The actuators had no idea what to make of Mouse and the incredible walking crate. Whenever she crawled inside and started walking it around, at least one of them would swivel away from whatever Otto and its siblings were doing to watch.

Today was no different. It had been a good day scrounging--Mouse had found a few extra bottles, and had had enough to buy an extra apple, instead of stealing one. She thought Otto would like an apple. She crawled inside her box, and walked it over to a crate near the work space Otto had set up. She put the apple and half of a packaged sandwich on a crate for him, and moved to where she could watch him and his metal slinky arms.

For his part, Otto mostly ignored the little girl. Her gifts of food were welcome enough, but he didn't really care what she got up to while she was at the warehouse so long as she didn't touch any of his equipment or lead anyone to his refuge.

He gestured a vague thank-you at the child and picked up the sandwich without looking up from his computer screen as Larry drifted over to peek into the crate.

Mouse shrank back a little as one of the actuators came over to peer into her slit. The red light from its center lit her small refuge in red. But she gave it a shy smile, and wiggled her fingers at it. Pulling her battered notebook out of her bag, she turned sadly to the last page. She had filled this one up, and she hadn't been able to find a new one. Still, she pulled out the few broken crayons that she'd found, and started drawing.

Her drawing was a simple one--a man, with a long green coat, and goggles. She liked drawing Otto, because she felt that at least in her pictures, she could make him smile. She wished she knew how to make him smile in real life. The child had thought about stealing some of the powders from her mommy--those always made her smile--but had decided against it, as they could also turn people mean. And she didn't want to make Otto mean.

Larry poked his 'head in through the hole and looked down. The girl was drawing again, a rather crude depiction of a man who he thought was supposed to be Otto. It was on the last page in her book too. Perhaps they could get her a new one?

Otto thought that yes, they could manage something of the sort. That made Larry quite pleased, and he made to withdraw from the hole.

His claws stuck in the gap, and the actuator gave an indignant little squawk as he realized that he was stuck. In the process of turning to look at Mouse's picture, he'd oriented himself in such a way that he wouldn't go back through.

Mouse looked up, and realized the actuator's predicament. Wary of the claws, she moved up on her knees, and raised a hand in front of the actuator. She made sure that it saw her, and that she was trying to help. When it had settled, she chirped at it, and gently gripped its "head." She slowly turned it, maneuvering it so that it could slide back out.

Patting Larry, she watched him slide out of the box. She smiled at him, and settled back on the floor. Her picture was nearly done, so she finished it, put it aside, and curled up on the floor. Tucking her bag under her head, she decided to take a nap. It had been a long morning--the sun was hot this time of year, and she was tired.

The actuator shook itself and drifted back to its fellows with the innocent air of a cat who had just fallen off a bookshelf by mistake. His siblings were all watching him now, and Otto could hear them teasing their brother for getting stuck.

didn't do it on purpose he muttered. girl sleeps

Now would be as good a time as any to get her those sketchbooks. Otto rose, grabbed his coat, and left the warehouse. It might be nice to get her a little present, for once.

And sketchbooks kept her quiet, occupied, and out of trouble. That alone would be worth the trouble.

After a few hours, Mouse woke up, and stretched. She started putting her things back into her bag, then stopped when her hand hit something unexpected. Mouse blinked, and held up the plastic covered bundle. Sketchbooks. Three thin ones, a set. And a small box of crayons. Brand new, and apparently, for her.

For a long moment, Mouse didn't know what to think. Then she realized that Otto must have put them there for her. It had been so long since anyone had given her a present that she'd almost forgotten what it meant. She bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes, and clutched the bundle. Putting it into her bag with reverence, she slid her bag over her shoulder.

Mouse slipped out from under the crate. She sniffed, and wiped the dust and moisture from her eyes. Cautiously, she stepped over to where she was a few steps away from Otto in his chair. Clutching the strap of her bag, she bit her lip, and waited for him to notice she was there.

The actuators chirped, and Larry gave his 'father' a nudge. she's awake think she found them think she likes them he asked, swiveling to look at the girl. They'd never been involved with giving anyone a present before, and they weren't quite sure how it worked.

Otto turned to face Mouse and smiled a little, though he saw the tears in her eyes and was a little worried.

"Did you find the sketchbooks?" he asked.

Mouse nodded, chewing on her lip. She only had one way of expressing her thanks to Otto. It would probably get her smacked away--at least, that was how things usually worked at home--but she had to try and let him know how much his gift had meant to her.

Surging forward, the girl closed the small distance between them, and latched onto Otto. She gave him a brief, tight hug, before letting go and stumbling back a few steps. Part of her tensed, ready for the inevitable repercussion, but at least he knew that she liked the present.

He blinked and stared down at her, startled by the gesture. The actuators gave surprised squawks. They didn't like it when people lunged towards them or their father- usually it meant a hassle for them and pain for him. It was only with effort that they overrode their usual reaction to such occurrences- that was, smack the offender away and perhaps stab him or tear him apart- and remained still.

A hug. She'd given him a hug. All because he'd given her a few sketchpads and crayons? He'd only done it because they would keep her busy... If she were busy, she wouldn't be getting into trouble.

But she really seemed to like them, and her delight brought a slow smile to his face. It was a rather rusty smile, but a smile all the same.

"You're very welcome, Mouse," he said.

Mouse relaxed slowly when he smiled. He wasn't angry that she'd hugged him. He wasn't going to lash out, or push her away. She took a deep breath, and smiled properly at him. Then the sun in the window caught her eye, and she sighed.

Moving back, she gave him a little wave, and moved back towards the entrance she used.

He smiled again and waved back. It was time for her to go, if she wanted to be back by dark. He understood.

"Be careful going home," he said as the actuators chirped. Larry even went over and briefly nuzzled her cheek before returning to him.

She was mildly surprised by the motion by the actuator, but she nuzzled it back. Slipping out of the hole in the wall, she headed out in the dying sunlight towards home. Maybe, if she was lucky, tonight would go as smoothly as the day.

Description
Once upon a time, when she had been a girl, her gran had called her their Maggie Mouse. It had been a fun nickname, pulled from a favorite children's book and sticking because of her small stature. Mommy would laugh and made her a headband with little mouse ears on it, and tease her about wanting all the cookies in the house.

Later, when her gran had died and mommy stopped paying attention and the bad men moved into the house, her name had been dropped, and she simply became Mouse. Now the nickname stuck for various reasons—she was quiet, she was usually out of sight, and she could get into most anyplace without being seen. And Devon seemed to think that she was about as worthless as your typical rodent.

In the last three and a half years of her life, Mouse had learned a number of traits that had helped her to survive. Entering a building or room through a passage no one would watch was essential. After all, if they didn't know you were there, they couldn't look for you.

This habit also helped her find hideaways that no one else inhabited. And her newest hideout was a find, though. It was an old warehouse, abandoned for longer than Mouse could remember. The doors were locked, and the windows too high to reach, but she had found a hole in one wall that she could squeeze through. Even better, there were lots of old crates inside to hide behind. A few weeks before she had set up a nice little passage of crates, creating a safe spot where she could watch the room and still been hidden. Her passage meant that she could crawl to her exit without being seen, should someone else ever come inside while she was there.

She didn't use her hideouts for much more than having a place to go in the middle of the day, when she was tired of walking and needed a rest. It was nice to have a quiet place to go and sit and eat whatever she had found that day. Plus there was a sink in one corner that still worked, even if the water was a little brown. To Mouse, all of these things made for a perfect hideout.

And on a day like today, she needed it. The sun was hot, the whole city dry, and Hell's Kitchen truly felt like it was in Hell. Wiping sweat out of her eyes, Mouse made her way to the warehouse, slipping in through the side. It was cooler in there, and she thought that she might just take a nap before she had to go home.

Once upon a time, Doctor Otto Octavius had been a respected physicist and nuclear researcher, widely regarded as being absolutely brilliant, a prize highly sought after by many, many research companies. Oscorp and its CEO, Norman Osborn, had bragged about their acquisition of him, just as his heir Harry Osborn had done later on.

Later, after the accident in his lab, after Rosie had died and his name was forever acid-etched into the ranks of mad supervillains, after the fusion of man and machine that had turned Otto and his four AI- enhanced smart-arm assistants into the feared Doctor Octopus, after confronting the city's masked superhero Spiderman, after a second failure at creating his reactor... Otto was tired. Tired, and wishing he didn't have to listen to the quartet of voices in his head that signified the actuators' chatter as they shifted crates and supplies around.

This warehouse was a good find, with access to the electrical grid that he could augment with a portable generator, and far enough away from the Hudson River to prevent the feeling of unease he always got around that body of water these days. He'd found this place less than a week ago, and had left his refuge with Father Everett in favor of it. That place had been a haven, but it was not the sort of haven he needed.

The actuator over his right shoulder detected the intruder the moment she squeezed in. Its official designation was Beta, but it had learned that Rosie had always called it 'Flo', and had since decided to adopt the name. The actuator's independent decision to do so had startled Otto at first, as had the choice of the other three to adopt Rosie's names for them as well- Mo, for the upper left, Harry, for the one beneath it, and Larry for the one on the lower right. The second electrical shock they had received at the hands of Spiderman had changed their intelligence and personality programming yet again, allowing to style themselves as more distinct individuals. Otto wasn't sure what to think of that.

He also wasn't sure what to think of the intruder. Flo informed him that it was a child, a female, and she was pressing her way into a pile of crates they hadn't gotten to yet.

Mouse crawled through her passage, to end up semi-surrounded by crates. She pressed a hand against her bag to still the bottles inside, and settled on the floor.

Noise from across the room made her freeze. Someone was here. Someone had gotten inside. Mouse frowned, got back on her hands and knees, and crawled halfway down her passage towards her exit. She could run if she needed too, but first she wanted to see. Peeking between two of the crates, she looked at a man...a very strange man, with large metal poles strapped to him. Cocking her head a little, she saw that they weren't really poles...they reminded her of the Slinky her gran had given her once. They wreathed around the man, pushing various crates and items. He seemed vaguely familiar...but she didn't pay attention to things such as newspapers. Most little girls didn't.

Mo chittered next to Otto's ear, not liking the presence of another person, a stranger, in what was supposed to be their haven. Without warning, it darted towards the stack of crates, shoved some aside, and neatly plucked the child from her hiding place. Its grip was powerful, but it took care not to damage the girl. Mouse let out a gasp, completely surprised and a bit frightened at the sudden movement.

It deposited her in front of Otto, releasing her from its claw before wrapping its smaller tendril around her waist to keep her from running. Otto glared briefly at Mo, for acting without his direction again, before looking at the child. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Most children would have been terrified of such a situation. Mouse, however, had lived through a great deal of fear in her short life. She had survived by sticking to the shadows, and watching everything. One thing she noticed, was that while the man's voice was stern, it was also tired. She couldn't see his eyes behind the goggles he wore, but she guessed they were probably tired too. He did not strike her as being violent--at least, not violent like Marcus and Devon and the rest.

So she looked up at him, tightening her grip on her bag, and bit her lip. Mouse had not spoken to anyone in a long time, for very good reason. Perhaps, she thought, if she were quiet, he would let her go. Then she would just have to find another place to hide.

Otto did not want to deal with this right now- he was hot and tired and wanted nothing more than to lie down and maybe sip an iced coffee. Instead, he had a little mouse of a girl to deal with. Perhaps a different question would get things moving. "What is your name?" he asked, frowning at her.

Now that she could answer. A crate was within reach, still dusty on top. With one finger she carefully drew a mouse in the dirt, and looked back to the man. Making sure he was following her, she pointed to the drawing.

He crossed his arms in something of a huff, and Mouse realized he probably didn't know what it was. With even more care than she had taken with the drawing, she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Writing her name beneath the drawing, she pointed again.

He eyed the word she'd drawn into the dirt, his frown deepening. "Mouse?" he asked. She'd written the 'S' and 'E' backwards.

Flo chittered next to his ear. mouse what kind of name is that mouse little rodent like a rat don't like rats run over us in the night chew the wires pests Otto realized that Flo's mental voice had changed slightly, becoming more distinctly female as opposed to the neutrally-masculine voices of the other three.

She nodded once, wiping the dust from her finger on her clothes. Mouse was something of a mismatched creature--her pants an inch too short with boots two sizes too big. Her shirt fit her alright, though she wore a larger, adult's short-sleeve button down shirt over it, open, like a jacket. A messenger bag hung diagonally from her shoulder, and her dark blond hair was cropped short, giving her an almost boyish look.

The slinky with a claw was chittering over the man's shoulder. Cocking her head at it, Mouse studied the strange thing. Was it talking? Did they talk to him? It wasn't that much stranger that anything else she'd seen. Setting her tongue behind her teeth, Mouse chittered back to it, in a near perfect replication of the noise. She wanted it to know that she was not trouble. And maybe persuade the one that was holding her to let her go.

Three red eyes surrounded by metal claws and a pair of brown ones shielded by heavy goggles fixed on the girl in surprise. That was an incredible imitation, far more accurate than anything they might expect a human capable of.

Flo dipped a little closer, peering into the girl's face. Otto ignored the visual feed the actuator was sending him and instead studied the child himself.

"Very impressive, Mouse," he said dryly. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Mouse shrank back a little as the clawed hand came closer, and shrugged. It was hard to express to express the need to hide, to have a getaway. But she hadn't been hurting anything. Maybe he could just let her go? Or let her sit in her corner, and go away when she needed to? She wouldn't touch anything, if he just let her be.

Otto sighed. This was quite frustrating. For some reason she couldn't talk- and the actuators informed him that the lack of speech was not due to injury or malformation of her throat, larynx, or mouth. She was just... silent. And surprisingly bold. Most people would have been quivering if one of the actuators started eying them like that from such a close range.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said sharply. "I just want to know what you are doing here."

Mouse flinched at his tone. For a moment she pondered what to do. Then she reached into her bag, and pulled out a boxed sandwich. Slowly, she extended it towards him. It was both an explanation and an offer.

In her world, nothing fostered trust quite like being willing to share food. She knew all the best places to scavenge--lots of stores threw out perfectly good food still wrapped up. With any luck, the man would take this as a sign of good will, or at least, not bad will.

Flo arched down to inspect the offering. A sandwich, roast beef and provolone, perhaps slightly past its prime, but not spoiled.

Otto looked at it too. Unlike the actuators, he recognized the conciliatory gesture. His expression softened somewhat. "Are you here because you're trying to stay away from someone?" he asked, more gently than he had before.

Mouse bit her lip, and gave a small shrug. Of course she was hiding. Why else would she be here if she wasn't hiding? She wasn't stupid--normal little girls would be in school, or maybe going home to a mommy and daddy who would give them a snack and help with their homework.

If she went home this time of day, she would find a bunch of junkies who hadn't had time to get completely strung out. And that was never good, to be around them when they were aware enough to know she was there.

"What are you hiding from?" he asked. He still wasn't certain if the child was simply mute or just entirely unwilling to talk. Even if there was no physical defect there could be something else, a brain problem or just a mental condition...

At Otto's direction, Mo unwound from around her waist. He wasn't too concerned about her running off- the actuators could move at over ninety feet per second. No six-year-old would be able to outrun them.

Mouse relaxed a little when the metal slinky snake let her go. But her eyes widened at the question. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't tell. It wouldn't do to tell. Besides, it was none of his business. And he was obviously hiding himself. What was he hiding from?

Otto stifled a muttered exclamation of impatience. "Fine, you can't say. What do you want here then? And what will it take to keep you out of my hair?"

There was one potential upside to this. If she wasn't one to talk, then the chances of her revealing his presence here were slim. Otto did not want the police on his trail, particularly not now. They probably had orders to shoot on sight, and while the actuators had been remarkably effective at assuring his safety in the past, things happened.

Mouse looked around, and held up a finger. She didn't want him to think she was trying to run--she just wanted to show him. Moving slowly and deliberately, she went back over to her corner, and sat so that she was facing the man. Then she pulled out her sandwich and a bottle of water, and sat it in front of her.

Looking up at him, she sat back and put her hands in her lap, waiting to see if he understood. She just wanted to come and sit for a bit. Her spot was well out of his way from where he'd been clearing space. Putting her food back in her bag, she stood, and raised her eyebrows in question to see if he understood.

The actuator calling itself Flo drew back by his ear, chittering softly.

hiding out this is a refuge what does she hide from neighborhood bullies or worse

Otto frowned slightly. "You come here to hide?" he asked.

Mouse nodded vigorously, a small smile on her face. Good, he understood. She would just come for a few hours, then leave. She wouldn't be any trouble. Mouse was very, very good at not being any trouble.

He glanced at Flo, who gazed back at him. The single scarlet heartlight that served the actuator as a visible 'eye' of sorts shone steadily, like a blood-red star nestled in Flo's claws.

Could they risk it? She was just a child, after all, and if she were desperate enough for a refuge that she came to a place like this... Otto would never admit it, but he did have something of a soft spot for children, especially ones that had harsh home or school lives. After all, he himself had had both.

"Alright," he said at last, ignoring Larry's chatter of disapproval. "You can stay. Don't touch anything I bring in here, understand? Some of it can be dangerous."

like us

Mouse nodded again. Looking out the window, her expression fell a little, only to be covered by a look of resoluteness. Time to go.

Biting her lip, she pulled a small bag of cookies out of her bag, and sat them on a crate next to the man. She pushed them towards him, and gave him a small smile. He still seemed sad, at least to her. But cookies made things better. They made her feel better when she was sad. Maybe they would for him too.

Otto picked up the cookies, startled to see them and recognized the blue wrapper of his favorite Oreos. Looking down at the child, he managed a slight smile of his own.

"I'm Otto," he told her.

Mouse gave him a wide gap-toothed smile in greeting. Otto. That was a neat name. She liked it.

With a small sigh, she went and moved to the hole in the wall that served as her entrance and exit. Pulling back the loose board, she gave him a wave, and crawled through it. Time to go home.

A few days after meeting Otto, Mouse had settled into a comfortable equilibrium in going to the warehouse. One of the crates was the perfect size for a bit of a hide out. It was almost funny, a hide out within a hide out. But she wanted to stay out of Otto's way. So she managed to pull out a bit of the old wood, enough so that she had some light and could watch Otto and the actuators work. She liked watching them work.

So she would come in through her entrance, crawl under her box, and sit. She would draw in her notebook, and eat whatever she had found that day. And before she would leave, she would creep over to one of the crates near Otto's work area, and leave him something that she had found. Sometimes it would be a sandwich, or a packet of cookies. But she usually found him something, and made a point to leave it where it would be found. Then she would walk her box over to the entrance, crawl out, and head home.

The actuators had no idea what to make of Mouse and the incredible walking crate. Whenever she crawled inside and started walking it around, at least one of them would swivel away from whatever Otto and its siblings were doing to watch.

Today was no different. It had been a good day scrounging--Mouse had found a few extra bottles, and had had enough to buy an extra apple, instead of stealing one. She thought Otto would like an apple. She crawled inside her box, and walked it over to a crate near the work space Otto had set up. She put the apple and half of a packaged sandwich on a crate for him, and moved to where she could watch him and his metal slinky arms.

For his part, Otto mostly ignored the little girl. Her gifts of food were welcome enough, but he didn't really care what she got up to while she was at the warehouse so long as she didn't touch any of his equipment or lead anyone to his refuge.

He gestured a vague thank-you at the child and picked up the sandwich without looking up from his computer screen as Larry drifted over to peek into the crate.

Mouse shrank back a little as one of the actuators came over to peer into her slit. The red light from its center lit her small refuge in red. But she gave it a shy smile, and wiggled her fingers at it. Pulling her battered notebook out of her bag, she turned sadly to the last page. She had filled this one up, and she hadn't been able to find a new one. Still, she pulled out the few broken crayons that she'd found, and started drawing.

Her drawing was a simple one--a man, with a long green coat, and goggles. She liked drawing Otto, because she felt that at least in her pictures, she could make him smile. She wished she knew how to make him smile in real life. The child had thought about stealing some of the powders from her mommy--those always made her smile--but had decided against it, as they could also turn people mean. And she didn't want to make Otto mean.

Larry poked his 'head in through the hole and looked down. The girl was drawing again, a rather crude depiction of a man who he thought was supposed to be Otto. It was on the last page in her book too. Perhaps they could get her a new one?

Otto thought that yes, they could manage something of the sort. That made Larry quite pleased, and he made to withdraw from the hole.

His claws stuck in the gap, and the actuator gave an indignant little squawk as he realized that he was stuck. In the process of turning to look at Mouse's picture, he'd oriented himself in such a way that he wouldn't go back through.

Mouse looked up, and realized the actuator's predicament. Wary of the claws, she moved up on her knees, and raised a hand in front of the actuator. She made sure that it saw her, and that she was trying to help. When it had settled, she chirped at it, and gently gripped its "head." She slowly turned it, maneuvering it so that it could slide back out.

Patting Larry, she watched him slide out of the box. She smiled at him, and settled back on the floor. Her picture was nearly done, so she finished it, put it aside, and curled up on the floor. Tucking her bag under her head, she decided to take a nap. It had been a long morning--the sun was hot this time of year, and she was tired.

The actuator shook itself and drifted back to its fellows with the innocent air of a cat who had just fallen off a bookshelf by mistake. His siblings were all watching him now, and Otto could hear them teasing their brother for getting stuck.

didn't do it on purpose he muttered. girl sleeps

Now would be as good a time as any to get her those sketchbooks. Otto rose, grabbed his coat, and left the warehouse. It might be nice to get her a little present, for once.

And sketchbooks kept her quiet, occupied, and out of trouble. That alone would be worth the trouble.

After a few hours, Mouse woke up, and stretched. She started putting her things back into her bag, then stopped when her hand hit something unexpected. Mouse blinked, and held up the plastic covered bundle. Sketchbooks. Three thin ones, a set. And a small box of crayons. Brand new, and apparently, for her.

For a long moment, Mouse didn't know what to think. Then she realized that Otto must have put them there for her. It had been so long since anyone had given her a present that she'd almost forgotten what it meant. She bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes, and clutched the bundle. Putting it into her bag with reverence, she slid her bag over her shoulder.

Mouse slipped out from under the crate. She sniffed, and wiped the dust and moisture from her eyes. Cautiously, she stepped over to where she was a few steps away from Otto in his chair. Clutching the strap of her bag, she bit her lip, and waited for him to notice she was there.

The actuators chirped, and Larry gave his 'father' a nudge. she's awake think she found them think she likes them he asked, swiveling to look at the girl. They'd never been involved with giving anyone a present before, and they weren't quite sure how it worked.

Otto turned to face Mouse and smiled a little, though he saw the tears in her eyes and was a little worried.

"Did you find the sketchbooks?" he asked.

Mouse nodded, chewing on her lip. She only had one way of expressing her thanks to Otto. It would probably get her smacked away--at least, that was how things usually worked at home--but she had to try and let him know how much his gift had meant to her.

Surging forward, the girl closed the small distance between them, and latched onto Otto. She gave him a brief, tight hug, before letting go and stumbling back a few steps. Part of her tensed, ready for the inevitable repercussion, but at least he knew that she liked the present.

He blinked and stared down at her, startled by the gesture. The actuators gave surprised squawks. They didn't like it when people lunged towards them or their father- usually it meant a hassle for them and pain for him. It was only with effort that they overrode their usual reaction to such occurrences- that was, smack the offender away and perhaps stab him or tear him apart- and remained still.

A hug. She'd given him a hug. All because he'd given her a few sketchpads and crayons? He'd only done it because they would keep her busy... If she were busy, she wouldn't be getting into trouble.

But she really seemed to like them, and her delight brought a slow smile to his face. It was a rather rusty smile, but a smile all the same.

"You're very welcome, Mouse," he said.

Mouse relaxed slowly when he smiled. He wasn't angry that she'd hugged him. He wasn't going to lash out, or push her away. She took a deep breath, and smiled properly at him. Then the sun in the window caught her eye, and she sighed.

Moving back, she gave him a little wave, and moved back towards the entrance she used.

He smiled again and waved back. It was time for her to go, if she wanted to be back by dark. He understood.

"Be careful going home," he said as the actuators chirped. Larry even went over and briefly nuzzled her cheek before returning to him.

She was mildly surprised by the motion by the actuator, but she nuzzled it back. Slipping out of the hole in the wall, she headed out in the dying sunlight towards home. Maybe, if she was lucky, tonight would go as smoothly as the day.