Noahvember 2024

Noah is a Borrower. He's about the size of a mouse, which is pretty common for his kind. As are the pointed ears and the tail.

His kind tend to stay in small groups inside human-made structures. They don't let the larger folk know about them since. Well. They've seen how humans treat each other. Doesn't put much confidence in how they'd be treated.

To help with this, they would do maintenance on the houses they lived it. It was their house too, after all. Plus, when things went wrong, then maintenance people were called. They could open walls to find the source of the problem and instead find the evidence of Borrowers. If not Borrowers themselves.

It would be safer to hide themselves in the woods. However, that would open themselves up to attacks from the wildlife. A few groups try, and manage to make it work. But they are few and far in between.

Not Noah, though. He's trekking out on his own.

Not completely by choice, mind you. One of his older siblings had gotten sloppy with their 'borrowing'. (Noah had always thought borrowing was a stupid name for it. It was stealing. No amount of dressing it up would change it. It's not like any humans would even notice enough to care what they called themselves.)

Fortunately for them, the humans had thought it was just a rat problem. Unfortunately for them, when they were too smart for the rat traps the humans had called an exterminator. In the panic he'd gotten separated from the rest of his family.

So now, he was here. Living in the walls of a tv studio. You wouldn't think it'd be the best place to set up his home, but you'd be surprised.

The production lot he lived on was one that was used mainly for pilots thinking they were going to be the next big thing. With the rapid turnover of staff, actors, and producers, no one stayed long enough to notice when little things went missing.

There were plenty of rafters to run across with no one the wiser. The techies were usually more concerned with their screaming bosses than noticing movement out of the corner of their eyes.

Where he actually lived, the prop room, wasn't so bad either. He mainly stayed in the area where they dumped all the crap they were never actually going to use again, but still kept around 'just in case'. It left him perfect materials to steal from and craft with.

His favorite piece to take from was something they called the Drama Bot. It was something they'd used for some mindless talk show piece? It had been in another set, so he had. no clue. He just knew the thing was shut down and had enough wires and metal to make scrap from.

Though the part that made the set one of the objectively best places to be was one exclusive to sets alone: craft services.

Craft services were a godsend. Finger sandwiches, bite-sized brownies, etc. Most of the food was already in small portions for actors and set workers to eat on the go. It was all too easy to grab and take away. They even labelled ingredients for allergies.

You would think that the universe already hated him enough with making him small enough to be swatted at by a broom but no, it also had to give him life threatening allergies limiting his already small selection of food choices.

He just had to make sure he stole while they were filming. Which also meant a free show.

If only 'free' meant 'good'.

Most of the time he could tell when a show was going to be dead in the water. Whether it was from the way the actors and producers bickered when they thought no one was watching (the REAL show if anyone asked him), or if the script was just awful.

Noah wanted better entertainment, but books were his normal go to. The only books he could really find here were prop books, or scripts.

Particularly the scripts that found their way into the producer's room. There were always stacks from wannabe writers and so many of them were garbage. Those ones usually found their way into the garbage. They were good for when Noah wanted to laugh and tear something to shreds.

Though there was always the one script in there that really shouldn't be. Usually because of a producer's personal biases or it not being 'marketable' enough. And he'd also find scripts that made it to the table for further consideration that were utter garbage, but the kind of utter garbage that sold.

...If those two types of scripts had ever 'found themselves' switched, then no one else was really complaining about it. And they better not. They were hard they were to drag.

So all in all, life was pretty good. Things were chaotic, but in a routine way. One he could prepare and plan for. Important aspects for survival.

Then life decided to kick him in the shins with a pilot that actually took off.

This newest production was 'Total Drama Dirtbags'. It was reality TV, so far from the most intelligent thing. But it did involve assholes giving each other what they deserved by their sheer presence, so there was cathartic amusement to be had there. The formula must have worked for enough people because the concept was greenlit, and due to a shortage of production sets they decided to film it in this lot.

Most of the people living in 'the mansion' were vapid. They thought they were manipulative and outsmarting each other, when really it was just the clear script some writer had made working towards making sure certain storylines went through.

With one exception. One Alejandro Burromuerto.

He would come up with improv, except unlike the others attempts his were actually good. The host and producers would let him keep it in, despite him being a new face for as far as Noah could tell. He still kept up his act offset. Charming assistants just as much as his fellow contestants.

It was only when Alejandro was completely by himself that Noah saw the mask fully drop.

He'd expect Alejandro to just be a complete asshole like the others were when the cameras weren't rolling, but...no. He seemed more tired than anything else. He'd just scroll on his phone and put earphones in.

Noah dared to get close enough to see what Alejandro was doing. He wasn't sure why. It was incredibly stupid, as he could see how perceptive Alejandro could be. But...he was just curious. Even if he couldn't pinpoint why.

The reason why Alejandro read on his phone became clear with each time Noah checked. The Cask of Amontillado the first time, then a reality baking show, Tony Hawks, hell one time he saw the man watching an episode of Dinosaur Train.

It left Noah with so many questions. Given how Alejandro danced around others' questions, he doubted he would get any straight answer.

Not that he could even ask in the first place. Curiosity didn't make him suddenly stupid. He wasn't about to expose himself just because a mystery of a man showed up as one of the more interesting things in his short life.

It wasn't meant to be, anyways. Filming on set wrapped up quicker than Noah had realized it would.

They bothered to rent an actual mansion for the finale. No final day party or anything. No proper send off.

It was fine. Life goes on. Noah should have known better than to let himself get spoiled with an interesting enigma.

…He would have been as fine as he could be with it. If he wasn’t embroiled within a different enigma.

Someone came to take the drama bot away. Nearly caught Noah too, as he hadn't expected anyone to come that deep into the prop room. It wasn't completely unheard of for someone to need an old prop to repurpose into something else. But that hadn't quite explained the panic on the interns face as he came to remove it.

So there went another of Noah's sources of comfort. Sure, it was an unmoving hunk of metal, but it was still the closest thing to companionship that he was going to get.

A few days later, they brought the drama machine back. It looked different. Modified. Extra screws, polished metal. Small details others might have ignored. Glaringly obvious at Noah's size.

When the coast was clear, he approached the bucket of bolts. There might be something new to salvage if he could find a new way to dig in there.

Yellow and blue masks blinked to life as he got close. The thing started beeping loudly. Rolled away from him.

Reflected Noah's panic at this machine that was still powered on this time around. He was lucky his size meant his screams and scrambling backwards couldn't be picked up by anything other than this lumbering death machine.

Although the Drama Bot had no eyes to move, Noah had the distinct feeling he was being watched by this thing. He knew human technology was coming along fast, but he hadn't been expecting this.

The machine began to roll forward. Noah had no idea what kind of programming it had in mind for something like Noah, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He ran to the nearest hole in the wall and stayed there as he struggled to figure out what to do with the thing.

He could try to turn it off. It'd mean sneaking up on the thing. Failure of which would mean getting caught or crushed. He'd get the prop room back for himself.

Safer thing to do was leave it be. Accept the prop room as a lost cause and find somewhere else on the lot to live. Find somewhere that had more of a risk of being caught by human, but less of being rolled over by a robot.

There was a third option. This thing wasn't remote operated like Noah had assumed when he'd first seen it. It turned itself on because it saw Noah. Whether that's because it saw Noah as a rat or a human, he couldn't tell. Not without experimenting, which brought its own risks.

...He really hoped it didn't have any memories of him stealing pieces of it away for parts.

Noah poked his head out of his hiding hole. The bot was back where it had been left behind. Powered down once more. Good. He climbed up and out of sight. Based on its design, the thing couldn't tilt its head up. He'd be using that to his advantage.

He climbed onto one of the highest shelves he could manage. The more distance between him and the robot, the better. Only then did he strike up his nerve.

"Hey!"

The 'eyes' lit up again. The thing spun towards him, but as he suspected, didn't look up. It was making his way closer to his shelf.

Then...it stopped. Began to roll away from him. It didn't even turn around. It stopped a distance away from him. Now it'd be harder for his voice to carry through. It was a stupid choice on the robot's end, but it seemed very deliberate. The only thing backing up accomplished would be giving it distance...

Oh.

The robot was clever.

Noah couldn't quite pretend to be human anymore now that the thing could see him. Even if it was a much smaller version of him from a much wider field of view. Still, this had to work, or else he'd just put himself in danger for nothing.

"Blink once if you can understand me!" His voice was going to kill him tomorrow. At least he was rewarded with the robots masks flashing once.

"Good! You're not going to kill me or snitch, and I'm not going to take any parts out of you. Deal? One blink for yes, two for no."

Noah wouldn't be able to steal from it anyways now what it was active. He wasn't about to risk electrocution. But the robot didn't need to know that.

It blinked once.

Good. Noah was content for each of them to stay out of each other's way. He still grabbed his stuff and settled in for one of the higher shelves that the robot couldn't reach on his own. He wasn't about to completely trust the thing.

He could at least get space from it when he went to other parts of the studio.

That was a nice thought that lasted about a day or two until they pulled the Drama Bot out of the closet again.

He found it carrying loads of scripts for directors and TV hosts. Making coffee runs. Holding cue cards when the teleprompters were on the fritz. Used as a table. Occasionally fed some kind of slurry for god knows what.

The only difference between it and an intern was that an intern got paid with 'experience'. This robot's reward was getting shoved inside of a closet when it wasn't needed.

It was hard not to feel bad for the thing.

So fine, maybe he spoke to it when they were both in the prop room. He'd done it before the thing was kept online 24/7. There wasn't any reason to stop.

He'd talk about the gossip he'd overheard, the horrible scripts he read, and the rumors he'd heard about the bosses when the robot had a rough day. It was more satisfying when he could get a response this time around. Usually a series of beeps that Noah was sure was laughter.

When the thing got banged up after a day of being manhandled, Noah did his best with the smaller repairs. Couldn't have someone to talk shit with if it was going to break down due to an issue no one else bothered to fix.

He didn't do it for free, of course. If others were able to boss him around, Noah wasn't going to let that opportunity go to waste. Though he was nice enough to make most of his requests as simple as 'open the door for me'.

The Drama Bot would notice Noah around. It was a startling way to find out he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was when the robot gave a small wave to crafts services when no one else was looking.

Being seen is a death sentence. Lesson number one is ingrained into a Borrower's head over and over again. It was the least desirable thing in the world.

So why did Noah feel more relaxed when he saw the Drama Bot acknowledge his existence outside of the prop room?

He hadn't realized how tense he always was until he had someone he could actually talk to. He'd been paranoid any time he had to pop out of walls. Now he was aware, but most of the fear left the second he saw the Drama Bot in the room with him, too. Maybe it was their mutual suffering from fate that put him at ease.

Noah was getting comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Comfortable enough to Borrow from craft services up until he heard the word 'cut', instead of in the middle of someone else's line.

Comfort that died as one of the actor's spotted his small form in the center of table and shrieked 'MOUSE!'

Everything became a flurry of movement. Noah running for the edge of the table. Humans running away from the table. Others towards. The fastest would be the one to determine his fate.

Squeaky wheels proved to be the victor as Noah was snatched up by a pair of pincers.

Noah had always taken great care not to get within grabbing distance of the Drama Bot, even when talking with it. The cold from its metal seeped into his clothes. He counteracted it with his instinctive thrashing around.

"KILL IT!" a human said, damning him.

"No, don't you dare-" he hissed to the robot. He knew it was futile. He'd seen this robot understand hierarchy of the set and Noah was nowhere on the map. He had to try.

The robot's grip tightened. Noah gasped for breath that was squeezed out of him, and began thrashing around. No care, no strategy. Just sheer panic at what he knew would come for him.

The robot's other arm pointed towards the door, and Noah could feel himself being moved. Great, he was going to be taken out back like a dog. He tried to reach for some kind of wiring, anything, but there was nothing except the rapidly approaching door. The robot barreled past others while holding Noah close to its icy plating.

Noah's squeaks of terror fell on deaf ears, or speakers, or whatever this thing had. There was just outside, and the back alley, and the dumpster, where-

Noah was set down on the lid. The robot was beeping rapidly, its eyes flickering quick enough to give someone a seizure. Noah clutched his ears and closed his eyes to this onslaught of stimulation after the harrowing experience of knowing his death was near. He just wanted this to be over quick.

Instead, he felt something carefully pat his head. He cracked an eye open to see one half of the bot's pincers. Moving up and down, oh so careful not to press down on Noah forcefully.

Was. Was this thing trying to comfort him?

The idea was enough to ground him into realizing that no, he had not been brought here to die. He'd been brought here for others to think he'd died.

"...Was there REALLY no way you could have warned me?!" he couldn't help but ask his savior.

The robot beeped in return.

From then on, any time he revealed he needed to go on a food run, the robot threw a fuss about making sure it went with him. It stationed itself right in front of craft services, blocking Noah from view while he took what he needed.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful. There was no way in hell it didn't have some form of sentience if it choose keeping Noah alive rather than follow orders. So he went as far as to thank the robot. It felt like the least he could do.

He was proven wrong when, as usual, the Drama Bot got screwed over by a job.

Ever since the Drama Bot became the resident butt monkey intern, any time there were extra props they didn't want anymore for a scene, they'd make the Drama Bot return them into the prop room to store.

The Drama Bot lift its arms as high as it wanted to, but it couldn't reach the higher shelves. So a lot of the props were instead placed on the lower ones. This made the shelves more bottom heavy than they should be. Which wouldn't be a problem if anyone else came in to redistribute the weight. But why do that when you could have a robot keep doing the work?

Noah saw the shelf collapse happen a mile away. He would always make sure that he wasn't standing on any shelves that the bot was actively working on. This saved Noah from a crushing death when the inevitable happened.

It did not save the Drama Bot that had things break even its hard shell, exposing wiring and something else that was harder to make out.

It was lucky enough that Noah saw it happen. Unfortunately, Noah couldn't exactly move things off to free the hunk of metal. They'd need a human for that, and all the humans were busy with filming. They wouldn't notice until they stopped for the day, and this robot was fritzing out.

The little meter went back and forth rapidly. It gave three short beeps, then three long ones, then three short, before devolving into one very long, loud beep in the hopes of getting someone's attention.

The thing was panicking, and Noah would be damned if he waited for the mercy of humans to stop it on its own accord.

He at least let the robot know that he was here. And that he'd get help. How he'd get help without getting caught was a mystery, but he would try.

He made his way back to the set. He needed an excuse for someone to go back to the prop room. Only way to do that was if a prop stopped working or went missing. Except they were filming, so all the props would be on set. Being watched with cameras. With humans moving about caring more about their lines than watching who they might be stepping on.

Easy peasy.

When he got back to set, he saw they were filming an action scene. Even more dangerous as movement was increased tenfold for those.

The plus side was that as it was an action scene, guns were involved. so long as one of those went missing, someone would have to go to the prop room for another.

Except, as to be expected, all the prop guns were already either with someone or in the scene. From what Noah could remember of reading this script, the protagonist's gun runs out of bullets, so he looks around to grab another.

The protagonist hadn't lost his gun yet, so there was still a chance for Noah to mess with that second gun.

It took pressing against the walls, scampering at just the right times to stay off camera, and the most stressful dragging in his life, but he managed to hide the gun away right as the protagonist went looking for it.

The director cut the scene in frustration and sent an intern to go get another prop gun. Noah held his breathe where he was hiding. Only letting go when the intern came rushing back screaming about the shelf collapse.

Due to his position with the hidden gun, Noah was forced to stay in position until they cut and he knew for sure the cameras were no longer rolling. He rushed his way back to the prop room, but they'd already mostly cleaned up the mess.

The Drama Bot was nowhere to be found.

They had to have taken it in for repairs somewhere. It had been looking rough. He hoped the repairs were only physical. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he lost the closest thing he had to a friend.

With luck, it would be back in a few days.

...Weeks. It was weeks without the Drama Bot. Noah cooped himself in the prop room more than ever before in the hopes of seeing the Drama Bot making a return. Nothing.

The only thing he got were rumors. Apparently the crew had seen something when they lifted all the crap off the poor robot. They were spooked. There was even something about lawsuits?

Noah didn't give a rat's ass about the gossip. He wanted his friend back.

It was two whole months of moping before something happened.

Someone came into the prop room. Noah heard footsteps but no wheels, so he just buried himself deep into his hiding hole. He wanted them gone so they could mope in peace.

The footsteps got closer. Great, they were going to re-use an old prop. His heart really needed an anxiety spike with them being closer than normal.

The spike became a stab in the heart as the footsteps stopped right in front of his hiding place.

"Little mouse? Are you in there?" The voice was quiet and raspy.

Noah's heart froze. They. They couldn't be referring to him. His worst nightmare couldn't be coming true, not as everything else had come crashing down around him.

The nightmare crouched down to reveal an emerald eye looking directly at Noah. Noah froze. There was nowhere to run. Hiding had done nothing. His brain was rapidly trying to figure out-

The human sighed in relief. "Thank god. I was worried you had been caught."

That was enough to give Noah pause. Because a random human, being worried? He acted as if he knew-

"Please come out," the human begged, "I have to know that you are real. I couldn't have just been driven mad inside of that robot suit."

That's when things clicked for Noah. There was only one robot he knew, and that robot had only gotten smarter when it had made its first return.

Noah dared to poke his head out to see Alejandro Burromuerto looking down at him.

It turned out that the season finale of Total Drama Dirtbags had resulted in a fire due to negligence. The rest of the cast had stuck true to their names and abandoned the burning building in an instant. Leaving Alejandro by himself, barely clinging onto life.

To avoid a lawsuit, the production company agreed to cover Alejandro's medical expenses. They just neglected to mention their version of 'medical expenses' was shoving a burned and battered body into a robot suit to allow him time to heal while still getting free labor out of him.

There was debate among executives about whether to actually bother letting him out of the suit given that no one else cared to come looking for him. Ironically enough, that falling shelf had saved him as it exposed parts of his body to multiple witnesses.

They had to let Alejandro out after that. The only reason he wasn't suing them to hell and back? He settled on a deal for an important acting job once he had PROPERLY healed.

"Why the fuck would you ever want to come back to work here?"

"It was the only way I could know for sure that I could come back to see you again. You kept me sane during everything. You saved my life. I could not abandon you."

...Oh. That was. That definitely made Noah feel something.

Alejandro had already signed a contract so he would be here for a while. And Noah had no reason to leave his home. Although it went against every shred of common sense.

They would just have to navigate this new friendship. Relationship? Situationship. As equals.