7 Plot Coupons and a Sweet Leather Jacket

Pizza Delivery

The sun rises over the city, igniting the smog in an array of orange. Neon lights in shop windows flicker with an electric buzz. Metal, still disguised as a navy blue cat, keeps his head down out of habit.

Even with his acting skills he's not used to being able to look people in the eye. He finally has a disguise, and a solid power source. After spending so much time and energy focused on meeting those needs he doesn't know what comes next. In all honesty he didn't count on getting this far.

What's his purpose if he's no longer fighting to survive. What would it mean to thrive? Retirement? He can be whoever he chooses. Blend in with the rest of society... For what?

Love? Acceptance? Friends? Metal wouldn't know what to do with any of that.

Something red catches Metals attention. A Michael Jackson esq leather jacket in the display window of a shop. It sparks something in his combustion chamber. Talk about a sweet leather jacket. It's everything a rebellious little robot could ever need from a jacket.

Jackets are so simple, straightforward and very sick-radical. Jackets never give him impossible tasks or yell at him. They're just plain cool. The smooth elegance balanced perfectly with a hint of edge. Cooler than Sonic will ever be according to Metals data on the subject.

The stars in his eyes fade at the price tag. His paw retracts from the glass. Seventy dollars. He deflates with a sigh. That's more than he could scrounge up off the ground for sure. Of course he could just steal it... it wouldn't be wise to draw attention to his disguise.

If he wants that jacket he's going to have to get a job.

He hits the bricks, finding himself to the front counter of a small pizzeria. The neon sign is only half lit. Cheap flickering incandescents light up overhead with a slight blue tint. A white fan hums in the corner of the open kitchen, the work fully visible to the customers. A traditional brick oven goes unused and dusty. Checkerboard linoleum makes the place feel dated. The red and green cushioned chairs and booths patched with duct tape.

Metals eyes barely peek over the countertop as he requests to meet with the owner.

"Whaddo you want" a thick Brooklyn accent tumbles from the hardy white mans lips.

Metal points to the sign out front.

The man smiles sliding him an application. "Ah finally. So hard to find kids willing to work these days."

Metal takes the paper and blinks. He doesn't have any legal information to input. Nor does he have anything to write with. He makes a pen motion with his hands and looks up at the store owner.

"Is this your first job kid?" The man holds a pen just out of Metal's reach.

Metal nods.

He hands the pen over with a sigh, "Eh, figures. For future reference, bringing your own pen shows preparedness. Should really work on first impressions."

Metal quickly fills out the application with bullshit information. Putting the name Neo Mets and Sonics birthday for good measure. He hands the paper over and the boss grins.

"Looks good to me. All I need is some ID and I'll send you on your way."

Metal sheepishly looks to the floor. Being a robot he doesn't have any legal citizenship documentation. Much less documentation for his current disguise.

The owner sighs. The dude really needs this next shift covered. Its football night and his delivery boy is out sick with mono. "I'm not usually one to hire people under the table... but tell you what, I'll pay you sixty bones to deliver pizzas for me tonight, and I'll conveniently forget to check your ID until tomorrow."