The names knockout, I live in the slums of Kion. As you can imagine, life here is as hard as it gets. If you don't fight, you die.

Out of all three hundred that were here, only a hand full remain. By that, I mean me and roughly five others, younglings at that. I care for them, getting them food even if it means I go hungery.

I was on my back from getting some bread, I stole it more to say. Three mechs on my aft, I race away. Cutting a hard turn, I slip on some oil, barely retaining my footing.
Seeing a pole out the side of a building, i jump up, swinging on it. Hopping from pole to pole, I get away.

Coming to where I was staying, the five come out. Windfire, gray and orange mech, also the oldest, comes over. He takes the bag, I smile at hem, he's a good youngling.

Lifting the flap, I go to the youngest, a little femme sliver seeker with red markings. She's been so sick, I pick up a bowl, slowly giving it to her.

After that, I lay down beside her, the others join, giving her their warmth. I'm only a thousand years old but I'm the adopted sire of five younglings. With a smile on my face, I fall into recharge.