Episode 1: The One That Got Away
In which Otis plays god, creating a copper creature that just might be more alive than he’d planned.
Our Story so far:
It was the kind of night that clings to you like a bad debt—rain tapping out a slow dirge on the tin roof, thick as regret. Otis had just walked away from a bruising showdown with the Junkman, a deal gone sideways over high-grade scrap. He’d left with more questions than answers, but also with something more valuable than metal. A spark of an idea. A new project. Bigger. Bolder. Dangerous. And this time, it wasn’t just another copper frog for some rich fool’s garden. This one had legs. Real ones.
Episode 1
The One That Got Away
Inside the workshop, the air hung heavy with the smell of oil, sweat, and burnt copper. The clutter was everywhere—shelves sagging under the weight of gears, wires, and half-finished dreams. Tools were scattered like the aftermath of a brawl, and blueprints for impossible machines lay unfurled across the workbench, their edges curled from neglect. The soft hiss of the oxy-acetylene torch was the only sound besides the rain, spitting blue flame as Otis leaned over his creation. Dark goggles shielded his eyes from the sparks, but they couldn’t hide the gleam of obsession underneath. His hands moved with the precision of someone who had spent his life shaping metal, folding copper sheets like they were paper until they took the shape of something unsettlingly familiar. Something almost human.
“Getting there,” he muttered, voice low and rough, gravel under a boot.
Zipper, his bionic squirrel assistant, perched on a shelf high above, his mechanical tail twitching like a broken metronome. He had the nervous energy of something that knew it had no business being alive, and maybe that explained the way he jittered, the faint whir of servos mixing with the rain. “Boss?” Zipper’s voice was sharp, fast, like a train about to derail. “You sure about this?” His eyes, a mix of organic and circuitry, flickered down at the thing on the table. A thousand doubts, all tangled up in wires.
Otis didn’t answer. He didn’t have time for second thoughts, and he sure as hell didn’t have time for a debate with a squirrel, bionic or not. The creature sprawled on the table was nearly finished—seven feet of copper, pulled tight at the joints with wire, its limbs long and sinewy, like a nightmare pulled from the wrong side of the scrap heap. This wasn’t the playful copper frog he’d built for Beau Smith last spring. This wasn’t whimsy. This was something with a pulse. Or close enough.
Zipper scurried down from his perch, claws tapping a nervous rhythm on the floor. “I mean, making a copper frog sculpture is one thing, but this? This is… this is playing god, Otis.”
Otis grunted, a deep sound that could’ve meant anything. He’d heard it before. “A copper frog’s just a hunk of metal, Zipper. This? This is something with purpose. And purpose changes everything.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing a streak of grease across his fur. The bionic squirrel watched with wide, jittery eyes as Otis turned the torch toward the creature’s knee, the flame flickering as it fused copper and wire into something that might just move on its own. “Same principles,” Otis continued, voice almost casual. “You fold, you shape, you make it fit.”
The rain hammered harder against the roof, like the sky was trying to break through. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the workshop in a blinding instant. For a split second, the creature on the table looked alive—its copper skin glowing like embers, the wires running through its body humming with eerie potential. Then the light faded, and it was just cold, dead metal again.
The workshop was a mess of unfinished ideas and failed experiments. Shelves buckled under the weight of gears and copper wire, while tools were strewn across the floor like the aftermath of some violent scrap-yard brawl. In the corner, acetylene and oxygen tanks stood like old soldiers, feeding the torch in Otis’s hand, hissing with barely-contained fire. Above the workbench, chains and pulleys hung from the ceiling, rigged by Zipper’s quick, mechanical hands to lift the heavy metal creations that Otis couldn’t manage on his own. The place felt alive, even if everything inside it was built from dead things.
Zipper’s voice cut through the sound of rain. “Boss, I got a bad feeling about this.” His tail twitched, a nervous tic that only got worse when Otis started messing with things that had no business moving.
Otis didn’t look up. His eyes were locked on the creature, his mind already running ahead of his hands. “It’s just copper and wire, Zipper. Same as always. You fold, you shape, you bring it to life. It’s what we do.” His words were calm, but there was something underneath them. Something Zipper didn’t like.
Zipper scurried closer, his claws tapping on the metal floor. “Yeah, but this… this ain’t a frog. This one’s got… legs. And arms. And a head. It’s too close, boss. Too close to… us.”
Otis stepped back from the table, wiping grease from his brow. “It’s time,” he muttered, more to himself than to Zipper.
Zipper’s voice shot up an octave. “Time for what?”
Otis didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed two thick cables, their ends tipped with heavy clamps. His hands moved with a quiet precision, attaching the cables to the creature’s chest with a sharp *click*. He took a deep breath, muttering something under his breath—maybe a prayer, maybe just a curse—then flipped the switch.
The workshop lit up with the crackle of electricity. The cables hissed and sparked, sending bolts of energy surging through the copper body. The creature on the table jerked violently, its limbs spasming like a marionette yanked by invisible strings. Zipper skittered back, his mechanical heart hammering in his chest. “Boss, this ain’t right.”
Otis stood his ground, eyes locked on the creature. “Relax. It’s just the first—”
The creature groaned. A deep, metallic sound that rumbled through the workshop like distant thunder. Its limbs twitched, then moved, slowly but deliberately. The copper skin glowed faintly, as if the electricity had sparked some kind of unnatural heat inside it. Zipper’s tail flicked back and forth, a blur of nerves and fear. “Boss, I don’t like this. Not one bit.”
Otis’s heart pounded in his chest, but his voice stayed steady. “It’s fine. Just needs time.”
The creature sat up, its movements slow, deliberate. Its head turned toward Otis, its copper eyes dark and empty, yet somehow… seeing. The copper joints creaked as it adjusted itself, limbs stretching out like it had been asleep for too long. Then it stood, towering over them. Good thing the workshop had high ceilings.
Zipper scrambled up a nearby shelf, his voice a high-pitched squeak. “Boss, what the hell is this thing?”
Otis didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the creature. He’d done it. He’d built something more than a sculpture. Something that moved. Something that might just be alive. “Now we see if it’s got a mind of its own.”
The creature’s head cocked to one side, as if processing Otis’s words. For a long, tense moment, it just stood there, copper limbs shifting ever so slightly, like it was testing itself. Then, without warning, it bolted. It moved with a speed that defied its size, crashing through the workshop door in a splintering explosion of wood and metal.
“Damn it!” Otis shouted, grabbing his wrench. “Zipper, get the tracker! We’ve got a copper nightmare on the loose.”
Zipper was already scrambling, muttering under his breath about bad ideas and worse plans. But Otis wasn’t listening. His mind was racing, heart hammering in his chest. He’d built something more than a sculpture this time. He’d built life. Or something close enough to it. And now, it was out there—loose in the world, with no strings attached.
Lesson:
Sometimes, playing god isn’t about creating life—it’s about what you do when life decides to walk out the door.
Don’t miss the next installment: Otis Copper & Co. – Episode 2: The Heist, where Otis and Zipper attempt the impossible—stealing the priceless Beau Smith Copper Frog from a high-security museum. But when alarms blare and guards close in, they’ll need more than luck to make it out alive… and in one piece.