Filth lined the city streets. Garbage stunk up homes and buildings alike. For years, there was no solution. Two furry scientists proposed a fix which would not only solve the crisis, but also pave the way for advancing technology.

Its name was simple, ‘Trash Collector’, though T.C. was the colloquial name. Breakthroughs in many fields allowed them to perfectly fuse biology and computation. These scientists had programmed an adaptive robot with an acidic, removable stomach, able to break down organic as well as inorganic compounds insanely fast.

T.C. units were anything but perfect.

Quickly, problems arose with this creation. Many of the models began to recognize too many things as refuse. They were found devouring non-trash items regularly. They were found with animals and even people hanging out of their mouths, half of their bodies dissolving.

B-tier heroes were called in to eliminate the threat, but were unsuccessful. Hefto and Donkey Crunch made good progress ridding the world of the T.C. units, but were gravely injured in doing so.

Citizens turned to the scientists once more for a solution, ignoring the fact that they were the ones responsible. And so began theorizing and experimentation.

 

 

The true solution was obvious… cannibalism. It was the only way.

On an unreleased upgrade of the T.C, the scientists tested. They knew the machine would never betray its brethren, but its biology would. The furry scientists hunted down a cannibalistic cult on a remote island and convinced them to return with them to the lab. There, the T.C. model awaited.

As if in a cartoon, the cannibals walked in a line and fell one after another into the mouth of the T.C. Hundreds of cannibals were dissolved in the hopes that this model would replicate some of their DNA.

It did not work.

Scrambling, the two scientists removed a panel on the back of the unit and realized a couple of wire swaps would achieve their goal. True facepalm moment.

What was born would eat every single trash can it saw and rid the world of every single T.C. What was born was not a Trash Collector, but with an upgraded, more powerful acid and a hunger for all things dumpy, it was the one and only Trashcannibal.

Busy night. Officer Mike Nasty took a break between calls to grab a bite to eat. Mike made sure to let the cashier know he was watching his figure as he ordered a triple cheeseburger with large fries and a diet soda. In a vacant parking lot, he put a foot up on Sally to enjoy his food. Sauces and cheese dripped off the burger. If it was anyone else, they’d have a major stain situation.

Once he downed the whole meal, Mike left his bike to seek out a trash can, noticing there suspiciously weren’t any nearby. “Keep my spot warm, Sally, I can’t litter, it’s against my code.” He left behind, however, the wrapper for the burger. If Sally was truly sentient, she would have left that parking lot before being approached by a menacing robot.

Trashcannibal identified the motorcycle as a trash can due to the refuse left on top of it. It purposefully galloped forth and its lid, extending out the acid sac within.

“Stop right there, can-man. Sally, to me!” Mike commanded. Sally did not move. Neither did Trashcannibal. “You don’t want to do this.” 

Seeing TC’s sac nearly touching Sally’s tire, Officer Mike Nasty withdrew two pistols from his waist. He stood still and shot round after round directly at the robot. Each bullet bounced in a different direction, ricocheting off the advanced metal of Trashcannibal’s exterior.

“IT’S RETURNING FIRE!” Mike dove behind a bench. The bullets stopped whizzing by, so he stood to shoot again. Again, the bullets were deflected. “THIS SON OF A BITCH IS RELENTLESS!”

Trashcannibal’s attention had moved to Officer Mike Nasty, as it had a robust self-defense protocol. It sensed no threat, however, as the Officer used his cop-controlling brain to call for backup. In just moments, the street was full of cop cars. Men and women in blue stepped out of their vehicles and pointed weapons at the metal menace.

Ever the hero, Officer Mike Nasty thought it was a good opportunity to strike as Trashcannibal was analyzing the threat level. He backed up into the street and then ran forward to power slide beneath the bench he hid behind. It got TC’s attention. Mike assumed that the robot was entranced by his exotic dancing abilities, so he attempted another.

Officer Mike Nasty climbed up a street light and twirled around it erotically. He went upside down, though his hands were greasy from the meal. The move he’d done countless times in the club failed him on the street. Mike crashed into the pavement hard, knocking him unconscious immediately.

Trashcannibal slowly moved towards Officer Mike Nasty’s body. To defend their peer, cops began to run and try to take down the robot. The first officer went directly into TC’s mouth. The next one did the same. They watched each other go and get swallowed up, but continued to try. Mike began to regain consciousness to see his final colleague drop into the goo of Trashcannibal’s stomach.

“I’m going in. Sally, hold my guns.” Officer Mike Nasty threw all his guns at the motorcycle, collecting in a pile on the ground beside. He squirted baby oil all over his body, coating himself extra-thick for protection.

“HYAUGH.” Mike grunted as he leapt forward into Trashcannibal’s open hatch. The oil protected him for long enough for him to see all his fellow cops had perished. He climbed out, sustaining minor acid burns, but nothing too harmful.

Trashcannibal walked past Sally to see one of Mike’s guns knocked the burger wrapper off the bike and pinned it on the floor. It identified it instantly as a trash can. TC whipped its stomach at the gun and wrapper, dissolving both in its sac.

Officer Mike Nasty watched the robot at work. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

TC turned to see the bare chested cop. “Beep.”

“You’re on a mission... I’m on a mission.”

Ten minutes later, Mike and Trashcannibal danced in sync to thumping techno beats and classic hard rock on stage at the club for the next two hours to absolutely no audience.