Tired, exhausted, void of breath and energy. TRT released a terrified gasp, somehow maintaining his calmness, but inside of his head, bugs crawled, snakes hissed. His mind dived headfirst into terror as his eyes scanned through the machines which littered the corridor. The light was crippling, it was making his sanity try to jump out of him. Such somber sight was never good for TRT, he knew it. He wondered if all his imaginary friends would suddenly appear, start a celebration. Maybe then he would be capable of ignoring the light which turned up as he walked through the corridors. He never liked walking alone in the darkness. He never liked walking alone. He never liked walking. A mechanic limb fell over from the table, scraping against the floor. A surge of cold flew through him, he shrugged, rubbing his hands together. A turn here, a turn there. He disdained the Mechanus. Trying as hard as possible not to brush against the repair robots, he dug in fatally damaged robots so he could get over to the other side.

The robots began to remind him of some things he acknowledged. He woke up, but somehow as if he was a grave stone, things were already engraved into his mind, things that shaped him, no matter how much he was being controlled or picked on. He's had the sort of unique twist to himself, instead of the other, security guards. Sometimes he feared beneath the layer of meat and skin still there was a machine controlling them, the algorithms. Or was it because he never did anything right? Because of those people happens bad things. Remembered the cataclysm, a big war between two tribes, nobody knows what started it, but it ended in an utter disaster. The faces, faces of victims of that conflict, fit in with the damaged bots that surrounded him. 

An uneasy aura as almost never left him the whole patrol, it was about to be finished, he would go back, but suddenly he decided to talk some giggle poetry, as to, brighten up the mood.

"Dickory hickor- No, Hickory Dickory Dock,"

"A goat just-" he stopped. The tile he stepped made a loud noise, a bot turned back to him, it's red eyes blinking in bewilderment and menace.

"A goat just ate my sock." He began to walk, locking his nervous eyes on the bot.

"Then took my shirt, for his dessert." the bot began to edge towards him. He began to feel a sense of panic arouse inside him. He fastened up his walk, trying to finish the patrol as soon as possible, good god, this place is haunted! I shall never patrol in here again. He thought. The bot fell off the bench on which it lied on, sending a shocking noise throughout the corridors. 

"Hickory Dickory Dock."