Somewhere else in this rack and ruin, hidden amongst the great hulks of its fallen fellow, the pilgrim watched the titanic robot and its small master. Small being relive, of course. They were both gigantic compared to Thief of Bagdad.

It had been a harrowing few months for this tiny robot since the hand of the creators had seen fit to breath life back into it after its long slumber. Months spent in this forsaken place, hemmed in by the roving bands of crazed robots that seemed to, if not devour Thief whole, want to use it for target practice. But even among them it had never seen such a colossus.

Was this good or poor fortune? Surly if something so large was a resident of this place Thief would have noticed it before. Had it come from the outside? But even if it had come from the outside that was no guarantee that it was any more civilized than the beasts which stomped through here. However, if it had punched through all the danger than perhaps it was a way out. If Thief was wrong, though, than it would only be a death sentence to approach and Thief could not die. If it died before finding the bearer of the [i][b]Great Theoretical Ability[/b][/i], than all of robotkind would be forsaken as the dead that lay here. Thief was wrecked with indecision.

Thankfully, fate decided to cut through it.

Thief felt the power in its joints, the great hand of the creators calling more of its kind back form the deep slumber. Nearby. A great awakening was occurring nearby. Surly this was a sign, a call to act. Either the creators were saying that the behemoth was safe, or were calling Thief to action to defend the sleepers from its evil. A miracle, or a trial. Thief leaped up and bounded across the rust and rubble toward the behemoth, bounding on all fours like a rabbit, and skidding to a stop before it hand resting on the tiny gun Thief carried on its hip.

"Hello." Thief spoke.