The Great Gear Games

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Scraps perched on his favorite washing machine, watching the dump transform as darkness fell. By day, it was quiet - just mountains of forgotten things under the sun. But at night? That's when everything changed. He adjusted the shiny collar he'd found last week, its metal tags catching the moonlight. Below him, shadows moved between the junk piles. The raccoon gang was already gathering on the north side, their masked faces barely visible in the darkness. On the south side, the dog pack assembled, their bright vests glowing under the security lights. Every night, the same dance. Every night, the same struggle for the best treasures.

Scraps had never joined either side. The raccoons were clever with their tricks and traps, but they worked alone, suspicious of everyone. The dogs were strong and loyal to each other, but they followed rules that seemed silly to him. So he stayed on his washing machine throne, tinkering with broken gadgets and watching the nightly battles unfold. Tonight felt different though. Both groups had been collecting metal pipes and rubber tires all week. Scraps' whiskers twitched with curiosity. What were they planning? He clutched his toolbox - a rusty lunchbox filled with screws, springs, and small wonders he'd collected over the months.