Part one. I've revised it (thanks to my good friend Andor) and found a suitable title. Maybe one more revision to go after I'm done writing the whole thing.

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Fantastic Damage

My cogs always squeezed with hunger and sex, infantile anger confronted with something cute and cuddly and wanting to crush and break. Back then I was nothing but a badboy, huffing and puffing on brick houses. Breathing heavy metals. As far as the universe is concerned, things probably wouldn't be in the shape they are in now if it was me who disapeared back there in Suffragette City.

Vastaire met me along an invisible train-track of pheromones, punching through Eastern Asia along the same screaming pilgrimage. Our common hedge. I was beside the ocean, clinging to the rocks, thinking about America and if there was somebody out there stronger than I was. He came pounding right up to the coast, beneath the water, pulling me under and trying to gout my engines. I fought him off and since then we were practically inseparable, our wake long and torn, indicating the ice age, deserts in bare majority to the mountains.

We could cheat death, for a time.

Interplanetary travel seemed dirty and trivial, requiring immense effort with little reward. We were content to spend out earth. We were sides to the same coin, an authentic Tom and Jerry pair, me all coy avoiding fusion and Vast the catalyst, a large, heavy pneumatic stamp.

This is the story of our last fling, thing, whatever you call it.

It'll take some time. It's very important to me.