Hey Yall! I really wanted to get this out ASAP so I had to stop halfway. MY initial plan was to have this all done and upload it as a whole episode, but I cant right now, and i was out of town for the last couple of days. (EDIT: I forgot to mention the art is AI. I'm not that good lol)

FORMATTING MEMORIES Will be an episodic adventure featuring a Protogen finding out his history and himself in my somewhat handcrafted fur-ified version of our world.
If you enjoy follow for more or just hang around. I will be posting more frequently as 2023 goes on. I hope you enjoy!


“What… What am I?”
The shards of glass from his visor were clenched into his left hand. He reaches up to feel the hole. The unnatural firmness of the glass feels foreign to the fur around it.
“You… you've never seen yourself?” said a now blurred figure.
The world shrunk and became like gas.
And he ran out the open door and into the night, not stopping to put anything on, not that it mattered.
Brushing past the bushes and the trees, he tries his best to avoid the encroaching blur that is now reality, but it catches up soon, and the nature around becomes one green blob.
The night's chill rushes past the point of feeling.
His paws soon become cut and bruised on the forest floor. He slams into a tree, fading too quickly for him to realize it.
Soon he is at a jog
Then he is at a walk
Then a limp
Then a crawl on all fours
Reality turns the night on his head, and the forest comes rushing back to meet him.
The cold, lonely forest. He can no longer fight
The words echoing in his head like megaphones. What am I?
Soon there is no more energy to spare
And he crawls until he cannot. The stump of a tree becomes his only friend.
Leaning on it, one more breath, his screen fades out, and he leaves the night behind.
Sometime later, the trudging of footsteps and calling can be heard.
“Where are you?” “We didn't mean it!” “We thought you knew!” Rang the forest.
Three flashlight beams followed, drawing everso near, yet, so far away.
They paused in the night, one flailing around as if swatting something away from the other too
Eventually, the figure against the stump is kneeled by.
The three flashlights moving in the night move with less grace as a figure is held between them.
The night resumes.

The birds of the forest and a warm glow from the windows signals morning.
Mr. and Ms. Hunter stand together in the kitchen, preparing breakfast as they have done before.
Just through the kitchen doorway, they can see the figure of the nightly visitor lying peacefully on their couch.
No one, not even the Hunter family, have ever seen anyone quite like him around.
They pause in between breakfast to chat. The topic soon came up.
“Well, he was nice and polite, yeah? But…” Mrs Hunter leans to get a better view of the figure
“I guess he acted normal…?” She cut herself off
“The kid’s strange, we know that.” Mr. H chimed in. “But even if he is part… Uh… robot I guess” He also leans for a better view. Words also fail him.
“Dylan said they had met at school. ‘Everyone there thinks its a costume’, he says. Even he does. Or did. But you were there last night Robert, that is no costume.” Mrs. H had never looked so serious to Robert. Even more serious than the day he had to leave.
“Grace, it doesn't matter what he may be.” Robert set his coffee down “He's here now. I bandaged him myself. He bled, like us.” He finished.
Grace looked at Robert and back at the couch.
The door across the kitchen lazily swung open and Dylan walked out in his underwear.
“Ah there he is!” Grace exclaimed, running over and hugging him. “Come on, we have breakfast on the table.”
“Just a sec, K?” Dylan said, pushing her back gently. He walked down the hall connecting to the living room.
He stared at the figure on the couch.
His dad’s medical bag from the army was at the foot of the couch open and rummaged thoroughly through.
Dylan walked in and slowly sat on the armchair facing the couch, still studying him.
His feet had been torn by the forest floor, and were now clothed in white dressing. His arm had been placed over his chest and the shoulder wrapped to it. His hands were much the same as his feet, though cut by glass from his visor instead. His head was towards the couch, allowing a clear view of the cracked glass in his visor, which had not been touched since last night.
His mother was soon leaning on the doorway next to him. His father came in from the dining room on the opposite side.
“I did my best.” Robert finally says. “Guess I could finally put that training to use.” He smiled at his son and wife across the room, but looked back when they didn’t respond.
“What was his name again…?” Grace asked.

*Continued in part 2 (coming soon!)*
If you read this far, thank you so much and have a great day!
ps this isnt on the PDF file :3