|A day shy of a week ago Robotech Master was out on his e-bike when an SUV struck him and drove off. According to the most recent news available, he passed away from his injuries at around 2:00 this morning. I have kept some news up on his user page and, at this point, ask that anyone wishing to leave messages or tributes do so on either his talk page or another page that can be used for such things. His account here and all of the stories he has gifted the Shifti community with will be preserved in memoriam, as we also did for Morgan.|
The furnace was hot and all Spots could do was pant.
He was lying on his favourite mat, looking up as his master came down the stairs into the basement. She'd asked him to wait downstairs, even though the furnace was turned up far higher than it really should be. But he trusted her. Trusted her more than anybody else in the world.
He sniffed, smelling her simple scent preceding her. She'd passed on the perfumes as he'd begged her so many times. Next thing were her footsteps, they were soft. A pad rather than a slap. She was wearing slippers again. And then he picked up the clickclick of something on her waist.
The basement door creaked open -- he'd always bugged her to oil it, and she swore she had. He could smell the oil, but it never seemed to help. Looking up, tail thumpthumping on the floor as she walked down, the third step creaking as she put her weight upon it, he watched her with calm, undemanding love.
"Spots?" she said. "I--"
He could smell the sadness, tinged with fear, resignation; he could hear the tones of her voice.
"Mistress-- what's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Spots. So sorry--"
She knelt down in front of him and his tail thumped louder as she scritched in his favourite spot behind his left ear. His tongue hung out as he desperately tried to cool down. "Mistress, can you turn down the heat?"
"I'm sorry-- I'm-- Oh god-- I wish--" Her voice faded to silence and she just hugged him, squeezing his neck as she sobbed.
Mistress had taught Spots many things since she'd created him, performing illegal modifications to his fetal DNA to give a simple dog intelligence, the ability to speak. It had cost him a lot of his smell, or so she'd told him, but he hadn't complained. After too long a time, he had to ask. "Mistress, what's wrong?"
"They-- they've found out. I have-- I have the court order--"
"Court order?" Spots licked her cheek. He'd always loved her taste. Sweet, a hint of salt, a bit of greasy makeup. Some soap. But all her.
"Oh God-- I'm sorry-- I thought--" She tore her face away from him and fumbled at her belt. Something opened with a snap and she yanked something out.
He sniffed, and smelled the sharp metallic scent of a needle. Sharp, clear-- the sweetness of a tinge of moisture on its tip.
"I have to! I have to! If I don't, they'll-- they'll take you away. And-- and--"
Without any of her usual care, she shoved the needle into his side, shoving the plunger down in a soft hiss as cold liquid was forced into his body.
"Mistress? It'll be all right." He looked up, looking at her through his large brown eyes. "Mistress-- I trust you. Do what you need to."
"Spot-- why-- why can't you be angry?"
Spot licked her hand, and thought. The heat was uncomfortable. He knew that she'd created him illegally. It wasn't hard to figure out that something that would resolve the problem of his existence was in the needle. "Why Mistress? Because I love you. I trust you. What--" It was getting hard to breathe. "What more can-- can I--?"
He was getting numb-- it was hard to inhale and he licked her hand more desperately. Sensations flooded onto his tongue -- salty sweat, sweet loving soft flesh, a single fine hair. It was what he wanted to remember.
"Not-- not your-- your choice. Mistress--"
He looked up at her, though all he could see was the hair framing her face, all he could smell was the tears streaming down her face and dripping onto her shaking body.
"Miss-- mistress-- I-- love-- you--"
He rested his muzzle on her arm