2087 Noir

[Godzilla The King]

"Terminus, where men can be gods. Where everyone can be their own Prometheus, their own member of the Pantheon. That’s what they say, all I’ve heard in my years but I’ve never seen it personally. Or maybe I have, these human and petty gods toying with their creations for their own amusement, rarely acknowledging them as beings with their own thoughts. Or fearing their own creations finding the flame of freedom and turning against their masters. Fitting…

But I feared them too as a child fears the dark, these “Artificials”, the androids and cyborgs. Conflict and war, all I heard. A shooting there, a riot here, one voice calling for freedom. Never did I think I would become one of them, the ones people feared. Blind since birth, I saw for the first time due to becoming an Artificial, the hatred, the fear. I had to hide what I was, what I had become. Then the sky dropped on us, gods fighting with us pawns. I lost my arm in the last years of the Orbital War.

Detective Zachary Turner, 27 years old and wondering what the hell to do with my life. Is there anything to do with my life, the only Artificial in the Regulars...they see me as an asset and a curse. We’re based in the Asphodel Fields, the middle class district, far away from the rich district of Olympus where the “gods” sit in their thrones. But not far from us is Tartarus, the rotten pits of Terminus where the fallen angels of Artificials are born, live and die. ”-Zachary Turner

May 2nd 2087

A low metallic hum could be heard, the sounds of machines moving, occasionally drowned out by the rain. Tartarus, the slums of Terminus, the place that people conveniently ignore in order to agree with their preconceived notions of a perfect world. But the rain was being interrupted by footsteps, causing a splash in the streets. Tap, tap, tap. They continued, their owner seemingly on the move. Determined, strong steps echoing in the night, piercing the ambience of the storm and drawing attention to the walker. Not that the walker seemed to particularly care, as the noise continued across the night. Glances were shot at the being, unknowing and untrusted.

On the walker’s face were a pair of sunglasses that concealed his eyes beyond a faint green glow which was always present, hiding the true nature of his inhuman eyes. His hair was dark brown, slightly messy and short and on his face was almost a perpetual scowl or perhaps a look of indifference, it was hard to tell. A dark brown overcoat covered a good chunk of his body, hiding the truth of his right arm. Black metal where human flesh once was and powerful engines of their own to give him strength beyond the normal human being, a crude imitation of fingers clicked and creaked but still moved at natural speeds, crafting an unnatural look which alienated the outside world.

And the world gave him little reason to care, the petty rich of Olympus laughed and drank the blood and sweat of the poor and ignoring reality. Regulars, local police forces, were dying out. He was one of them, believe it or not. One might think it an oxymoron, a Regular with such advancements as the one the walker had would certainly make him an Irregular, if the logic was truly sound. What differentiated a Regular from these others? Class, training and levels of augmentations which he knew very well. HEPHAESTUS, the leaders of these Irregulars, more accurately, the Cyber-Cops of Terminus, who were slowly killing off the Regulars. But the walker was not scared of them but more annoyed with them getting in the way of his job.

“This is Daedalus reporting in. No signs of STYX activity yet but..” This Daedalus spoke into his radio, his voice growly but not harsh “...I’m in the heart of their territory.”

Daedalus was nothing more than a codename, some choice name they gave him. The real man was Zachary Turner, a soldier, a cop and an Artificial. People only seemed to remember that last part about him, not his heroics, not his bravery but fear of his advancements. And STYX, that other name, belonged to a gang of notorious criminals. Artificials created from stolen technology that terrorized the rich and poor alike.

There was not much Zachary could do but sigh and light a cigarette, unafraid of the consequences and needing the pulse of nicotine in his system. It was almost a dare to see what would kill him first, his habits...or his job.

[Demon Lord Gira]

"Ex-excuse me?" A voice, soft and low, calling out into the crowd not far from Zachary.

It was a girl, covered in a damp cloak, her only cover from the rain. With the hood she had on, her features were obscured, but she was taller than Zachary, though that was obscured by her leaned over posture, forced by her constant sniveling and coughing. She tried to gain attention, get someone in the crowd to answer her. "I'm looking for a place to sleep the night..."

She was ignored. No one cared, not here in this pit. They all had better things to do than to help her out.

"Please? I just need a place..." She sneezed, and nearly slipped on the muddy ground. She tumbled, right into a passerby...

[Godzilla The King]

Detours were to be expected. Just my goddamn luck it happened in the heart of Styx territory.

Zachary really didn't too much beyond making sure this stranger didn't fall face first. Not even a change of expression, his face was like a statue, molded in place. As he helped this tall stranger onto her feet he decided to talk.

"You're lucky I was here, most folks here would kick you down." Zach muttered. "Be careful, you're in STYX territory. Crazy bastards will go after anyone."

[M.U.T.O.]

Code: Select all

Mission Report (CONTINUING)
02MAY2087:time20-15
Conf?F
HEPHAESTUS IDENTITY CODE #██████-███-████████

time19-45: entered STYX Territory, TARTAROS Level, Sector-0383I-A. Located approximately beneath foundation pillars of Surface Block t388.
time19-47: ██████, codenamed "DAEDALUS" and I split. DAEDALUS split westward, I split eastward.
time19-55: approx. 4.7km WNW of dropsite in Tartaros. Mercator android parts; potentially dumped. Seem parts have been stripped from chassis-sections. Potential STYX activity. Est. several days/weeks since stripping of metal components.
time19-56: birds.
time20-00: dumping still continues. No further sign of STYX.
time20-03: violence attempted by presumed non-STYX citizen. Classification: stone. Solution: catch stone in mid-air. Reaction: citizen mortified. Continuing onward.
time20-15: DAEDALUS reports finding non-STYX citizen in need of shelter. Will rendez-vous in 20min.

MISSION REPORT THUS FAR END

_KAYA KUSAKO

[Demon Lord Gira]

The girl looked down at Zachary, and barely visible in the dark, was a thin smile. From this angle and in such dim light, it was still hard to make out her face except for the after mentioned smile. "Thank you." She meekly said. "I'm trying to find a place to stay the night, and I got lost. I'm not from around here, so this section of the city is confusing."

[Godzilla The King]

Now I had two things to worry about, the girl and STYX.

"Me and my partner will make sure you find somewhere safe." His voice was dull but sincere.

Zachary simply nodded as he started smoking another cigarette. A small cough reminded him of his own mortality. His metallic arm froze up and his other hand twitched. Behind his shades, his black and green eyes' lights glowed brighter.

"Son of a bitch..." He muttered to himself.

[Godzilla165]

Pure terror. That was all that was evident in the man's eyes, as he ran through the rain soaked streets. Stumbling over himself, the man sprinted as fast as he could, and quickly dipped into a nearby alleyway. As he continued to run, the man looked back to see if he was still being followed. Nothing. However, the man didn't slow down for a second. He knew the bastard was still hunting him from the shadows.

"Shit shit shit!!!" The man screamed hysterically. "HELP!!! Oh God, someone help me plea-"

The man was cut off as he slipped on the wet tarmac, sending him face first into the ground. With a pained groan, the man slowly flipped himself over and checked his nose. Broken and bloodied. He gazed up into the sky, checking the buildings for any signs of activity. Nothing.

All he could see was the rain falling from the thick, and black clouds. The entire area was dead silent; the only sounds were the raindrops pattering the ground, and an occasional bout of thunder. Anyone who lived in the area was inside. It's as if they knew what happened to people like him.

As the man lazily pulled himself up, a tall, dark, and shadowy figure appeared behind him. An occasional crack of lightning revealed a few, albeit very faint details on the figure. Aside from that, the only clear detail was a singular, red, and V-shaped visor running across where its eyes should have been.

The man climbed to his feet and massaged his broken nose, whilst shouting profanities at the pain. He turned around and immediately froze in place. His lips began to quiver, his hands started to tremble, and his breathes grew shorter. Very slowly, the man arched his head upwards to meet the towering figure. In an instant, all of his senses and bodily functions came rushing back, and the man opened his mouth to release a blood curdling scream.

Said scream was cut short as, in the blink of an eye, the figure seized the horrified man by the throat. The figure casually then lifted the man up into the air, and "stared" him down. The man started to gargle and choke on his own spit, whilst desperately clawing and beating the figure's arm to get free. Nothing.

"Mr. Cody, I'm only going to ask this once." The figure began to speak in a rather youthful, but low, and digitized voice. "Your boss... Where is he?" The figure calmly demanded.

The man, now identified as Cody, groaned and hissed at the question. "Fuck you!" Cody spat in a raspy voice, and pulled a knife from his jacket pocket. He then slashed at the figure's head. Big mistake.

The figure allowed for the knife to strike, and then break against his protected face. He then slammed Cody to the ground, seized one his arms, and planted a foot in the center of it. With a decent amount of pressure applied, the arm was snapped backwards at the elbow with a wet pop.

A high-pitched scream of agony came barreling out of Cody's mouth, and the figure then placed a foot on his rib cage.

"Want to keep playing this game? I've got time." The figure growled.

"I've got nothing to say to you, Phoenix!" Cody defied feebly.

The figure, now identified as Terminus vigilante: Orion Phoenix, twisted his foot to the right. A wet crunch, and another agonizing scream, soon followed.

"One." Orion jeered, and twisted his foot to the left. Another crack ensued.

"Two." He continued and twisted his foot back to the right. Another crunch.

"Three." Orion stated, and moved to twist his foot again.

"OKAY OKAY!!! I give up... For the love of God, I give up!!!!" Cody screamed to the top of his lungs.

Orion kneeled down and placed a knee firmly on Cody's ribs. "Wise choice, now tell me exactly where he is. Now." He growled.

Cody moaned in pain and squirmed under Orion's superior weight. "The boss's main HQ, is in the southwest subway station. There's a section there that's been abandoned for years; he's usually always there."

Orion studied Cody for a moment, allowing for his visor to read the man's vital signs and breathing rate. It appeared he was telling the truth. Orion took his knee away and stood to his feet.

"Thank you." He responded dryly and turned to walk away. Orion then used his visor to call in a tip to the cyber police, telling them to come and pick the scumbag up.

Orion looked over his shoulder to make sure Cody wasn't trying to crawl away. Nothing. The man was completely still. He mostly likely passed out from the pain. It wasn't Orion's problem anymore, and with a flash of lightning, the vigilante disappeared back into the night.

[LazerWhale]

   In the midst of all the drama and chaos, the pain and panic, it is easy to forget that people still have lives. People are born, live and die every minute of every day. For many, life is full of demands; some grand, some small. Life is struggle, and every little bit of help can lift a weight off people’s shoulders.

   Even in Terminus, for the people of Asphodel Fields, that holds true. Tucked away on an unremarkable and busy street, nestled between an old Thai-Hawaiian restaurant and an electronics repair shop is an unremarkable grocery that doubled as a convenience store. Locally-run, not part of a brand, and owned by the same man for the better part of three decades. It currently has four employees, and is known for being a decent place, albeit with slightly raised prices compared to the big-name stores whose selling point was being lower than all competitors. Not that many cared. When you absolutely had to grab something, you take the first place you can get. And for many it alleviated the need to travel across a chunk of the city to buy something minor, and most of its customers could simply walk down the street to get there.

   The store is Fine Quality Foods. It’s owner was a Mr. Dan Bhattacharya, a local man known for performing small but meaningful acts of kindness. One of which had the effect of making his small and otherwise unremarkable store very notorious. That was the act of hiring ‘Malcolm’.

   On a rainy night, at the start of the late-night shift, Dan Bhattacharya was reflecting upon the strange things that had happened in his life for the past thirty-five years. He’d been there to witness the completion of Terminus, the advent of Artificials, and even the induction of the first androids. He’d fought for their rights, a proud and vocal supporter. To think that it would be age that finally caused him to settle down and finally take up ownership of his father’s store. Not that he was old, of course. He’d keep saying that till the day death took him. Still, to think that he’d go from a rebellious young man to a portly gent of 62 with bags hanging under his eyes and grey in his hair… did he regret where his life had led?

   No. Of that, he was truly certain. He had built up a good business, in the middle of the growing aggressions and clashing wills of the world. He’d surrounded himself with good people, and supported good causes. Few amongst the Pro-Artificials/AI crowd could say that they had done what he had (he was allowed a bit of pride, now, wasn’t he?). Still, that moment from last year… that took the cake, as they said.

   A cough from behind him alerted him to the presence of one of his most recent employees. Turning around, he was greeted with a mop of neon pink. Katie Engku was a bright (in more than one sense of the word) young woman who had taken the position at the store for the sake of paying for whatever college fees she could afford to. While Dan had been taken aback at first by her tattoos and brilliant hairdo, he’d quickly reminded himself that he’d bore a similar style at one point, when he was her age. Even had a few of the tattoos, still. That the girl had apparently used bioluminescent materials to make her hair and body art literally glow in the dark had been far more shocking, but didn’t often come up in day-to-day activities and was as such allowed. She’d since become a reliable employee, and even a friend of sorts.

   “Hey, Dan, I was thinking about heading off, okay?” Katie asked, shouldering a bag.

   Dan gave a quick glance to the clock - was it so late already? Indeed it was, he saw, and gave a curt smile at the fact.

   “Of course, Katie,” he said. As she began to walk forward, though, Dan added to his statement, “Ah, actually, do you think you could do something for me?”

   Katie felt her face fall for a moment - the instinctive reaction to any such question of that nature - but only for a moment. Any other person, she’d be hesitant to answer back, but Bhattacharya wasn’t known to take advantage of those he hired. “Yeah, boss?”

   “I was wondering if you could walk Malcolm home. I know that he knows the way by now, but I’m not comfortable just going off that knowledge.”

   Malcolm? Katie hadn’t prepared for that.

   “I thought he always walks back with you? You really want to have him follow me?”

   Dan nodded, “Yes, please. I don’t expect you to guide him; he knows the way by now, and I’d love to believe he can do it himself. It’s just that… “

   Katie noticed the pained expression on his face. “You’re worried about what could happen to him, huh?”

   Dan nodded. To say that each employee at the store had developed a strange sort of affection for Malcolm was an oversimplification, and while everyone was confident in his abilities, they knew that he’d have no idea as to how to survive in the real world. Nobody had realised this sooner or with more severity than Dan had.

   “You remember what happened back in January,” Dan said in hushed tones, “when he tried to get back to the store on his own. They threw a firebomb at him. For God’s sake, they barely ever even use those on Regulars but the one time we let him go off on his own again… ” He lowered his gaze and steadied his breath. “I just want to know that he won’t stray from the regular route, keeps out of trouble; that sort of thing. Just walk with him to the apartment, that’s all I’ll ask of you.”

   Katie considered the request. On one hand, Malcolm wasn’t likely to get hurt, at least not by the regular thugs out in the city. They could try - would try - but they couldn’t do it. But there was no denying that Malcolm needed to be looked out for, if only so that he wouldn’t be exposed to the uglier side of life any more than he already had. Dealing with him was like dealing with a child… a very odd child.

   “Okay,” she said, “I’ll walk with him. But you owe me, boss!” she said with a goofy smile. No need to add any more seriousness to the situation, after all.

   Dan was relieved. Just knowing that the boy would have someone looking after him would greatly ease his mind. Having someone he knew he could rely on was even better.

   “Thank you, dear,” he said to Katie. “Now, let’s see if we can get that child to join us. Malcolm,” he called over his shoulder, “could you come here, please?”

   There came a series of heavy thuds from the back of the store, as if a series of massive weights were being dropped one by one. And it may as well have been, as the source of the sounds made himself known from behind one of the rows of shelves. First a crop of dull blonde hair emerged, atop a broad, square-faced head, itself connected to a mammoth body that was nearly as wide as the small aisle itself. Flat but soft amber eyes peered out from a static brow, and though he was passably human the hints of seams along the surface of what skin was exposed hinted at his real nature, if his clothing did not make that clear; the dull green set of coveralls bore was emblazoned with the words MERCATOR SYSTEMS on each shoulder, and a patch on the left side of his chest read MS-GAUhv; ‘Mercator Systems - General Assembly Unit: Humanoid Variant.’

   It marked him as different. It marked him as a target of hatred and fear and persecution.

   It marked him as an android.

   “Yes, Mr. Bhattacharya?” Malcolm asked, voice level and resonant, “Do you have another task for me to complete?”

   Running a hand through his hair, Dan gave a brief shake of his head. “No, my boy. It’s time for you to head home. 8:15, remember?”

   The android smoothly turned his head to look at the clock that hung above the front counter - an old analogue clock that had probably been there since the 2010s - and then back to the humans. “Yes. You told me that before you unlocked the door to the shop. You said that it looked like it would rain.” Malcolm looked out through the large front window, where droplets were illuminated by the light. “You were right, Mr. Bhattacharya. There is rain.”

   “Now Malcolm,” Dan said, “tonight you’ll be walking back with Katie instead of me.”

   Malcolm tilted his head. When he spoke, his voice bore a more noticeable inflection - that of confusion, “I walk home with you, Mr. Bhattacharya.”

   Dan had to chuckle at that. Even if it was for the sake of preserving routine, the android was actually developing a sense of want. It wasn’t much progress, but it was some.

   “You walk home with me on most days,” he said to the childlike machine, “but I thought that it would be good for you to spend a bit of time with your coworkers.”

   If the android saw through to the real nature of the request in any way, he didn’t show it.

   “Yes.” Malcolm nodded his head, a short and highly rehearsed movement, though all present knew it was genuine. “I like the others,” he said as he looked at Katie, “I like Katie Engku. I will go with her.”

   “Thank you, Malcolm,” Dan said with a smile.

   The android lumbered over to the door - his walk stiff and cautious to avoid colliding with any of the products around him - and proceeded to wait while Katie grabbed her things from behind the counter. He gazed out through the window, watching droplets of precipitation collide with every surface, watching the lights of the storefronts and vehicles passing by and all the humans moving back and forth across his vision. What a strange world this was, even still. Soon enough, Katie appeared next to him with her satchel (neon coloured, like so much about her) over her shoulder, a bag filled with groceries and an umbrella in either hand.

   “Are you ready to go?” she asked, staring up at him.

   He nodded. “Yes, Katie Engku,” he said, before turning his upper body to face Dan, slight sounds of metal sliding against metal audible with the movement, “Goodnight, Mr. Bhattacharya.” He gave a short, practiced wave and attempted a smile. It was stiff and awkward, but it was as sincere as any of the android’s attempts at mimicking human behavior.

   Dan smiled back, and gave a wave of his own. “Stay safe, you two,” he said as they walked through the door, leaving him with his thoughts.

   “Stay safe…”

   Katie shuddered in the cold of the rain, propping up her umbrella as best as she could. Malcolm simply thundered along beside her, content to simply let the drops fall on him, his coveralls resisting most of the downpour. The two walked side by side for a few minutes, visible to the world only as a pair of silhouettes in the chilly haze of the night, lit only by the lights of the signs to either side of them and the faint glow of Katie’s hair and tattoos.

   “So, Malcolm, did you have a good day today?” the girl asked, hoping to pass the time.

   Malcolm was fast enough with his reply. “Yes, Katie Engku.” Turning his head slightly, he continued, “I completed all my tasks. It was satisfying.”

   “That’s good. Did anything interesting happen?”

   “Yes. I saw a dog today.”

   She guffawed, “Well, that is exciting!”

   “Have you ever seen a dog, Katie Engku?”

   “I have, yeah. I’ve seen a lot of them.”

   “Yes. I have seen thirteen of them in the time that I have been in the employ of Mr. Bhattacharya. They are interesting beings.”

   “There’s a lot of humans who would agree with you, Malc.” Realising something, she continued, “Say, this is going to be your seventh month since meeting Dan, isn’t it?”

   “Yes. It has been two-hundred and eight days since I was found by Mr. Bhattacharya.”

   “And have you… been happy with your life for all this time?”

   Malcolm came to a stop upon her question. ‘Happy’ was a concept he still struggled with. He knew that being happy was like being satisfied, and that many tasks made him feel satisfied. But happy was an emotion, a state of being, not just the knowledge of a task’s completion. It was the result of doing something that he ‘liked.’ He knew that there were things that he liked, and he liked spending time with Mr. Bhattacharya and the other employees of the store.

   He spoke, in as emotive a tone as he could muster, “Yes, Katie Engku. I believe so.”

   “I’m glad to hear that,” Katie said with a smile. “We all care about you. Always remember that.”

   “Yes. I will.”

   As they continued walking, Katie remembered how surprised they had all been, all those months ago, when they had walked into the store and found the android standing there alongside Dan. She and the other day shift employee, Johannes, had been the first to arrive. Dan had been speaking to Malcolm by the checkout counter, while the big android had been looking over the various items on and around it. At first, neither of the employees had known what to make of him, and it didn’t dawn on them that he wasn’t human until Dan outright said it. They’d asked if Dan had let a customer in early, but Dan explained that he was a ‘stray’ that he had found wandering through the alleyway by his apartment. He’d recognised the logo’s on the android’s coveralls and correctly guessed that he’d been one of the units that had worked at the old factory that had closed down earlier that year

   The Mercator Systems General Assembly Units: Humanoid Variants were ‘dumb’ AIs, built without true free will and designed to serve as living tools instead of fully functioning individuals. There had been various sightings of the ‘GAUhv’ units in various areas, and often times they had reported that the droids had been in varying degrees of disrepair; their coverings worn down or damaged by the elements and the actions of humans bearing anti-AI sentiments; sometimes with damage that was less visible, overtaxed batteries or damaged brain cores. The truth was obvious; the industrial machines couldn’t survive on their own. To find one, in relatively good shape, was something that Dan had considered a blessing, another chance to protect the rights of inorganic life as he had done in his youth. He’d taken the wayward machine in, brought him to his suite, and allowed him to spend the night connected to the electrical outlet; the android’s power cell was almost wholly depleted.

   For almost two weeks, the GAUhv would walk with Dan from the apartment to his store each morning, and back each evening, occasionally entering and interacting with the staff and clientele. Gradually, both the humans and android became accustomed to each other, and through this Dan saw an opportunity to help the naive machine adjust to the real world. He decided that he’d give his newfound ward the opportunity to have a life, for the first time in his own existence. On the evening of the eighteenth of October, 2086, Dan Bhattacharya pronounced that unit MS-GAUhv-035-00815-C would from that point on be known as ‘Malcolm.’ Not content to stop there, he convinced his landlord to give Malcolm a room of his own at the apartment building at a reduced price (he argued that the android would only use a fraction of the amenities that a human would) and lastly offered the machine a position as part of the staff of Fine Quality Foods. Whether Malcolm had actually wanted the job, was desperate for a directive to follow or simply didn’t know what else to say, he had agreed.

   The rest was history, Katie concluded. They’d worked alongside the android ever since, and to some extent they considered him a friend. He wasn’t perfect at his job, and dealing with him was sometimes like babysitting a particularly inquisitive child, but he they knew that they could rely on him and that he definitely relied on them. Theirs were the only positive relationships he had ever known. That knowledge weighed heavily on a person, and it helped them to get through his more difficult moments.

   Her companion’s sudden stop made Katie snap out of her reverie. They’d reached the apartment.

   “Well, Malc,” she turned to Malcolm, ready to say her goodbyes, “I guess this is where we part ways.”

   He nodded. “Yes. Thank you for walking with me, Katie Engku.”

   “Anytime, Malcolm. You have a good night, now.”

   “Yes. Goodnight, Katie Engku.”

   Katie gave a brief wave as the android scaled the short stairs to the main door of the building. She stayed until she was sure he was inside. She wasn’t sure why. Happy enough that Malcolm was safe at home, she went on her way, disappearing into the night.

   Malcolm lived on the second floor, in room 2 - D, right across from Mr. Bhattacharya’s room. He had to take the stairs to get up to the floor; he was too heavy to safely use the elevator if there was any chance that humans could get on with him. Each step he took resounded through the stairwell, the normally loud sound amplified to absurdity. As he ascended, two of the apartments other residents, a mother and a small child, rounded the corner. The older human averted her eyes and went out of her way to slip past him with her son. He didn’t mind. Humans were free to act as they wanted; that was their nature, their reality. The female human was simply acting in the best interests of herself and her child, as far as he was concerned. Not that he fully understood the relationship between the two. He knew the words, but couldn’t comprehend them. ‘Mother,’ ‘child,’ ‘family’; all concepts that to him didn’t exist until two-hundred and eight days prior.

   The key to his room was one of the few things he carried on his person, stored within a tightly zippered pocket. It was so small that he could only grasp it between his thumb and forefinger. He had to be cautious while turning it; Mr. Bhattacharya had told him that the keys were not made of strong metal, and that he could easily twist or snap them if he didn’t pay attention. The unlocked door swung open almost weightlessly, revealing the stark abode within. There was no bed in the room, no furniture. There was nothing a human would see as comfortable. The only recognisable features were a television and electrical outlet mounted on the wall, a singular window and a door which led to the ‘washroom.’ A collection of pieces of twisted metal, ranging from smaller than a human hand to almost knee height, was situated in one corner. Bleak as it was, this was home to Malcolm.

   Setting his key down on the windowsill, he walked over to the collection of scraps. At this range, it would be clear to anyone that among the seemingly random pieces of metal were intricate sculptures, bent and twisted and folded into shapes both abstract and familiar. This, this tiny and delicate act, was Malcolm’s sole pastime. It was one of the few acts that he could perform in which he could feel truly at peace. Grabbing an unaltered piece of jagged scrap metal, he began to bend and fold it like it was as soft as tissue. This act was the closest he came to his duties at the factory, the only means he had of reliving the tasks he was made for in any way. It felt right.

   In less than an hour, he had created a strange, fluid shape out of the old steel. He did not know why he chose the shape. Without a directive, he never knew what he would make until he began to make it, often sculpting from the day’s events and the strange things he saw in human society. This, he supposed, must be a rainstorm. He set it down, back amidst all the others, with no sense of where it belonged or how it should be organised. He had no directive to tell him how they were to be grouped, after all. Still, it satisfied him to make something once more, and with his self-imposed task completed, it was time to prepare for the night’s rest.

   Making his way to the outlet, he stripped off his coveralls and boots, and lay them folded at the edge of the wall, exposing bare frame, a mass of black carbon and gleaming tungsten. Turning his back to the wall, he reached a single hand back and pulled a cable from a segment of his spinal column and plugged it into the outlet. His internal systems registered that he was connected to a power source, and began replenishing the small amount of energy that he had expended throughout the day. While he could not sleep, he could let himself be drawn into his thoughts, his memories and experiences. And so, staring out into the murky darks and gaudy lights of the city through his lone window across the room, he began to reflect.

   And so, while the android could never sleep, he did indeed find the means to dream.

[M.U.T.O.]

Of all the levels and sublevels of Terminus, the one referred to as "Tartaros" was the most unappealing. For lack of a better classification, it was as close as one could get to the crime-ridden slums of yester-decades. And as much of an ideal city Terminus was supposed to be, it was not. Like all "cities of tomorrow", Terminus slid back into the mould of old.

It was familiar, but also unfamiliar, for Kaya Kusako.

Code: Select all

Report received. Allocate HEPHAESTUS officers to pursue vigilante and retrieve injured criminal for treatment and detention.

A clattering noise, like the lid of a trash bin being dropped, caught her attention. It was a harsh noise, compared to the otherwise quiet howl of wind through the decrepit passageways between the foundation-level houses and maintenance pillars.

Code: Select all

Investigating.

Kaya raised an eyebrow, surveying the area. She quickly located the source of the noise -- indeed, it was a lid being dropped onto a trash can -- and took one step forward to investigate...

...but stopped upon hearing the distinct sound of a gun cocking into ready.

"Hey miss," a raspy, nasally voice from behind. Kaya assumed the man was rather tall and lanky, weighing roughly 130.003 pounds with a very thin frame; such an appearance enhanced or exaggerated by the presence of cobbled-together mechanical parts. "What'cha doin' 'round these parts?"

A sigh escaped the agent's lips. Muscle systems tensed in her shoulders, eliciting the sensation of irritation.

She turned around in a blink, grabbed the gun from the lackey's hand, and hurled it down the street.

Code: Select all

Speed: 403.87 m/s
Distance: 581.24 m
Status of weapon: broke up before landing.

"Wh- what the-" the STYX member stammered, slowly backing off. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

Kaya smiled.

Code: Select all

STYX member compromised mentally.
Priority: Rendez-vous with partner.

She walked back, leaving the criminal mortified.

[Demon Lord Gira]

Now I had two things to worry about, the girl and STYX.

"Me and my partner will make sure you find somewhere safe." His voice was dull but sincere.

Zachary simply nodded as he started smoking another cigarette. A small cough reminded him of his own mortality. His metallic arm froze up and his other hand twitched. Behind his shades, his black and green eyes' lights glowed brighter.

"Son of a bitch..." He muttered to himself.

"Thank you." The girl said again, quickly nodding. She then noticed that Zachary seemed a little... off, a little rigid, perhaps. "Is there something wrong?" She asked. "You seem... upset."

[Godzilla The King]

Dammit, why now?

"Joints are acting up...happens sometimes." Zachary mentioned before letting out a sigh. "Hopefully 'Artemis' gets here soon. She's useful there."

[Demon Lord Gira]

"Artemis?"

The girl raised an eyebrow from under her hood. He had said "joints", not "ligaments" or "muscles", but "joints." As if he were a machine... "Sorry if I am asking too much, but may I ask who you are, and who this "Artemis" is? And... are you an android or an artificial? I've never met one like you before..."

[Godzilla The King]

"Artemis is my partner on this mission...first joint-op between the Regulars and Cybers." He sighed as the rain fell harder. "Artificial...lost my arm in the war. Was born blind too."

He revealed his artificial hand.

"Not pretty I know...Artemis is one too. Much less obvious than me." He muttered. "Damn Cybers..."

[Demon Lord Gira]

"How unfortunate." The girl said , looking down. "I heard that artificials are looked down upon and hated, but to have that ontop of your loss... I am sorry."

She raised her eyes up at the fake arm. "It must be a burden, being given new life, only to be despised because of it."

[Godzilla The King]

She was more right than I thought.

Zachary let out a chuckle before he smoked once more. "In a life that already gave me shit? Not much different, really. Now they just have reasons to be assholes to me."

[Godzilla165]

Terminus subways were all pretty terrible ways of getting anywhere. They were always packed beyond their limit, they weren't kept up to code, and the murder rate was abnormally high. The southwest station however, made all of that look like paradise in comparison. Terminus higher ups were soon forced to have the entire station shut down, and then bombed due to how hazardous it became. The death toll wasn't any better. It honestly baffled Orion how anyone in their right mind, would ever want to come back down here, let alone make it their main place of operations. No matter. Orion was here for business, nothing more. He'd find Cody's boss, beat him within an inch of his life, and drag him to the police station. Normally, the vigilante wouldn't waste his time on wannabe mob bosses that were bottom of the barrel. However, this asshole was far from a wannabe. Norman Joseph: Number six on the top ten most dangerous criminals in Terminus, list. The cyber cops have spent over a decade trying to catch this guy, but every time they seemingly had a solid lead, Norman would disappear right from under their noses. To this day, they don't how he does it, but Orion did. All Norman really did was have one of his guys lead the cops on a bullshit trail, while he himself escaped off to a location that was off the books. This was one of his best places to hide yet, as absolutely no one came anywhere close to the southwest station anymore. No one until now, that is.

Orion, with katana in one hand, and plasma rifle in the other, slowly made his way down the broken train tracks. Each of his footsteps were precisely planned and soft. He kept a close eye out for every corner, every crevice, and every entryway that there was down here. His ears were in tune with every little thump and creak that went on in the darkness. While it was pitch black inside of the tunnels, Orion could still see all of the important details, thanks to his visor. The section that Cody had told him about, was, according to his navigation system, about 200 yards away. Orion tightened up on the hilt of his blade, as he neared the location. This was it, if Norman was down here, then Orion would be getting a highly dangerous mob boss off the streets. If he wasn't, then at the very least, Orion would gather some decent Intel on him. Intel that would hopefully bring the vigilante that much closer to finding him.

Upon finally reaching the place of interest, Orion looked it up and down curiously. It was nothing more than a rusted door, that led to a small office room inside. Orion had expected the location to be a lot more... suspicious than this. It didn't really matter, if Norman was in there, then Orion would be satisfied. As such, the vigilante kicked the door off of its hinges and stepped in, weapons drawn. The good news was immediately clear: Norman was in fact, in the tiny office. However, the short, and balding Hispanic man, was dead at his desk. Orion put away his weapons, and slowly made his way up to the corpse. How Norman died, was written out in the brain matter splattered against the wall facing him. Oddly enough however, the wound wasn't new; Norman had been down here for at least a few days at this point. Orion turned his attention onto the stained, white table that Norman's head was resting on, and spotted bullet that took the man's head off. What was left of it, that is. A .50 caliber round, fired from a semi-automatic A.E. Desert Eagle. Those types of pistols hadn't been in production for years. Whoever killed Norman had either kept one around, or got one from a black market.

Whatever the case may have been, the killer seemed like they had all the time in the world to murder Norman. Why? The man had been drinking heavily earlier before, evident from the eight beer bottles scattered all over the tiled floor. Norman must have passed out long before the killer got there, making for an easy shot. The man died drunk and unconscious. Whoever the killer was, they definitely had a chip on their shoulder from something. Norman must've wronged them in some way, or done something to drive them to the point of murder. The mob boss was no saint by any means, but murder is still murder. Orion would make sure that whoever did this, would never see the light of day again, or be buried preferably. Orion searched Norman's pants for anything of value, and only manged to dig out his wallet and a .45 caliber pistol. Orion would study the two items in more detail, once he got out of here. He then sent in an anonymous tip to the cyber police, telling them to get down here and pick up the body. Orion was finished here, and with that, he started the trip back to the surface.

[Demon Lord Gira]

"That's... really unfortunate." the girl said. "You don't deserve this hatred, this cruelty for what you are..."

She held her hood closer, as the rain came down harder. It was looking to be a long night for everyone. "Would you have preferred, if you were born out of this place? Somewhere where such animosity didn't exist?"

[Godzilla The King]

She was getting poetic on me, that made me think a bit.

"I'd rather live in a world with no hate period..." Zachary sighed. "But that doesn't exist, so I try my damn best to lead us to a better world."

[Demon Lord Gira]

"We all should." The girl said. She looked up at the air, and let the rain hit her face. It felt refreshing and clean, unlike the filth that surrounded her in this forsaken district of the city.

"Have you artificials tried to take a stand against this injustice, or are the many of your minority okay with living in such desolate times, resigned to their fate?"

[Godzilla The King]

"I'd say most Cybers want better treatment, the commons do too. They are different, though. Unlike the Cybers, they are afraid of getting beaten down. Yet up there in Olympus..."

Zachary pointed to a set of brightly lit towers in the distance.

"Normals and rich artificials live there, ignoring the world dying around them. They run the world."