"And in related news, the Olympia Police Department have released the names of the two men killed in a bizzare incident in the Undercity Market Square. The individuals, Mercurio Pozzi and Umberto Ardizzone, were found dead outside a fruit stall owned by local gardener Bertrand Bellincioni at half past three two weeks ago in a mangled condition, with the only clue being an unidentifiable energy trace on the corpse of Ardizzone.
"Police have yet to identify the killer of the two men, who were known to be associates of the small-time Capitani crime family-"
"THE VEG DID IT"
"Stew, this isn't the time to editorialize right now."
"No, come on, it's so obvious! Two men dead in front of a fruit and veg stall?! CHECK THE VEG! The real killer's there!"
"...you never got over that incident with the courgette in high school, huh?"
"I swelled up like a balloon, Chick! It was awful! And I know for a fact that anything that grows underground is never good for ya! Ask that gardener what he's been growing in his back yard!"
"And a reminder, folks, never to watch Attack of the Killer Tomatoes before a major murder happens. Now, back to actual news..."
-------
She stepped cautiously out of the alleyway and onto the street.
This had been where the noise was coming from, and she wanted to know what it was. And the answer came very quickly. The building in front of her was lit up as if it was on fire. People milled and buzzed around it in less of a queue and more of a slighty-organized mess. Occasionally, black cars - taxis, said the not-thoughts - pulled up, and some people got out of them and others got in. And behind the brick walls, she could hear the thumping of the music.
A lot of names came to her at once. Taxi. Nightclub. Dance music. None of them made sense on their own. But now she understood that, when faced with the context, they came together. Obviously, this was where people came to drink, dance and have a good time. Things that you needed money and friends for. None of which, as far as she knew, she had.
Leave, said the not-thoughts. There's nothing for you here. Don't draw attention to yourself.
She turned to go-
"Hey!"
She turned. A young woman in a black top and sequined jean shorts was walking up towards her, smiling. She was a lot shorter than her - well, most people were. She looked very pretty, with blonde hair and chestnut brown eyes. But the not-thoughts told her immediately that she'd only freshened up an hour ago. Clearly, she didn't normally make the effort.
"You here for the party?" she asked.
No, said the not-thoughts. Say no. But this time, she ignored them. They were also telling her that she could reach over and yank her head off. And this time, she didn't particularly want to listen.
"Maybe," she said, shrugging.
"You got a ticket?"
"No." Even if she had money, she wouldn't have known where to get one.
The stranger flashed another smile. "Well, my flatmate just ditched me, so I got a spare. You wanna come with?"
She paused.
The only human interaction she'd had so far was demanding food from that street seller. And then killing those other two men. She had the vague idea that there were things you said and did at times like this. But she wasn't quite sure when or how to say them. And a lot of her thoughts were telling her that it was a bad idea for a six-foot-tall homeless woman made of metal to linger in a place where normal people went.
But there was a part of her that wanted to know.
And she listened to that part.
"Sure," she said.
"Great!" beamed the stranger, and took her by the arm. Her hand felt warm, and it was shocking - was this what skin was supposed to be like? Caught off-guard and a little dazed by what was happening, she let the other woman lead her to the doors, where two surly-looking men were checking people's tickets and clothes. The music grew louder, and a faint blue glow was apparent through the double-doors.
"I'm Johanna, by the way!" the blonde shouted over the talk and thumping.
"Nice to meet you, Johanna!" was all she could think to say.
------
She'd stayed in the box all day today.
It was more of a crate than a box. Made of wood and smelling faintly of apples. She'd found it not too long after killing those men in suits and taking the food. You'll need this, said one of the not-thoughts, because otherwise things such as rain and snow are gonna be a problem. It was barely big enough for her. But it was better than nothing. So it was her home now.
She'd learned a lot since then. She learned that the thing in her stomach was called a Tanden Engine - she didn't know what that word meant, but it seemed important. It seemed to handle a lot of stuff for her, like digesting food and giving her energy. She learned that her skin was metal, and changed color sometimes, like when she shot that one man. She learned that she didn't need to eat, but she liked the action of eating, so she did it anyway.
She liked oranges. A lot.
She also learned something else. Some of her thoughts weren't just about herself or where to go or what to do. She quickly found that she couldn't look at people and not think about how easy it would be to kill them. Every time she stared at a person, the ideas came to her. Snap their neck. Punch through their chest. Rip out an organ. There was no understanding as to how or why that would kill a person, she just knew that it would. And she knew she could do it, too. She'd already done it once.
The thing was, she never felt bad about having these thoughts.
-------
The inside of the club was hot and sticky. A lot of people were crowding around, and she found that she had to push a fair bit to get anywhere. It was mostly dark, except for the bright flashing lights that hurt if she stared too long at them. The music thumped through her like a drunken rhino's clumsy attempt to climb the stairs.
Johanna lead her through the crowd and across the floor. She tried not to look at anyone too hard, because the kill-thoughts kept coming back, and she didn't want to bother with them right now. Instead, she kept an eye on the blonde hair in front of her as she was lead to yet another motley queue, where people were being handed plastic cups full of something-or-other by people over a counter of sorts.
She watched as Johanna leaned over and yelled something to one of the men. And it was then that what she would later learn was called 'guilt' tickled the edge of her conscience.
"I haven't got any money," she hollered over the music.
"That's fine!" said Johanna. "My treat! I got too much, anyway!"
The drink arrived pretty quickly. It was a dark liquid with ice cubes in it that bubbled and fizzed - there was something carbonated in there. There was also a wedge of lime floating in it. Johanna encouraged her to knock it back, and she caught a lot of flavours on her tongue at once. Sugar, lime and the sharp sting of what the not-thoughts told her was rum.
"You like it?" asked Johanna.
She smacked her lips and considered it.
"It's alright," she said. "Do they have anything orange-flavoured?"
Johanna shrugged. "Dunno! Maybe?"
"I really like oranges!"
Then the track changed.
It wasn't like anything she'd heard before. Clearly electronic in nature, yet she'd be damned if she knew what made a sound like this. It started with a sweeping, almost grandiose hum that seemed to catch her soul and mind and lift it up with a sensation she couldn't describe. She nearly dropped her drink, eyes wide, almost unable to control the bizzare euphoria she felt as the sound filled the club and people began to cheer.
Seeing the look on her face, Johanna took her hand and dragged her to the dance floor, where people were already beginning to mill in preperation. The moment they found a good spot, the beat kicked in, and people began to pogo on the spot. There was somebody on the stage - somebody short and with green eyes, but with all the light and smoke she couldn't see who...
"Come on!" cried Johanna. "Give it a go!"
Unsure at first, she tried. Then she found that it was really easy to do. And then she found how much she actually liked it. She began to sway her hips as well, wave her hands, anything that helped her mind sink into the music and the energy. People were bumping into each other and she didn't care a bit, she wanted to let go, just let this oddly hypnotic sound take her away from the reality that she lived in a shitty wooden box in an alleyway somewhere.
A laugh escaped her. She didn't realize it was hers until it was done, and she didn't care. She turned to Johanna and saw the pearly grin on her face. She grinned back.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Trance!" said Johanna. "You like it?"
"I fucking love it!" was all she could think to say.
-------
She didn't feel much at all, actually. Annoyance when people shouted at her. Satisfaction at eating. Unnerved when she saw her face for the first time. But those feelings felt very muted and far away, muffled as if by a blanket. Most of the time she felt a dull haze that told her "I am existing" and that was it. Things like "anger" and "joy" didn't come to her, at least not very easily.
Physically, that was a different story. Temperature didn't bother her much. She could feel other things very acutely, like wood or stone. The bullet that had glanced off her forehead had been a mild sting, but it had still hurt. The amnotic gel tasted foul, and oranges tasted nice. It seemed to fluctuate depending on the situation, and she couldn't quite figure out why.
One time, curiosity overcame her. Lying in her box, she'd hooked her fingers between the edge of her abs and the curve of the Tanden Engine, gripped it and pulled. She'd wanted to know if it came out. But then she felt white-hot needles of agony shooting up her spine from the pit of her stomach and into her brain. The not-thoughts screamed at her in panic, and she'd let go, sobbing. The pain had nearly made her sick again and didn't leave for about an hour.
She never tried it again.
-------
The night wore on. They kept drinking. They kept dancing. She found, to her surprise, that she really liked the rum and coke with lime in it, the actual name of which she kept forgetting. The clear liquid called Sambuca made her wretch, and she didn't have any more after the first one.
A man held out some strange pills to her. Johanna slapped him away and took her to another part of the club, and the drinking and dancing continued without further incident. The music seemed not to change, but to flow from one track into another, and the effect on her changed with it. One moment she was flailing and screaming and full of wild energy, then next moment she was gently pogoing to something that carried her away on a breeze of elation.
At one point, she gave Johanna some money for another round of drinks. She did, and then gulped hers down before coming back.
But Johanna was gone.
-------
That was probably for the best, she reasoned. Most of her thoughts, even those that came about by themselves, seemed just concerned with living. With finding food, with going places, with how to deal with problems. And since existing was all she wanted to do, she didn't let it bother her. People and the feelings they inspired made things complicated, which is why killing them seemed a good way to avoid the problem. But she couldn't always do that, so it was better to think and plan.
But not always.
-------
When she came out, she found Johanna talking to somebody. The same somebody who'd offered the strange pills. He seemed very annoyed, and so did Johanna. The music was still ringing in her ears, so she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. But she startled herself really well with how well she could read lips.
Johanna knew the man. He was an old friend of hers who'd been caught selling drugs to club-goers before. When Johanna had slapped his arm, he'd dropped them, and security had caught him picking them off the floor. He'd been kicked out, and he clearly blamed Johanna for it. He was in the middle of calling her a bitch, it seemed. Johanna interrupted, calling him pathetic, and demanded to know what his mother would say if she was still alive.
Then he pulled out a knife.
The world went red very suddenly.
She didn't stop to think. Even if there had been no alcohol in her system, she already knew how to solve this problem.
INSTALL: Lightning Claw
One moment, he had the knife. The next minute, the hand holding it was on the floor, and he was clutching a smoking stump, screaming. Then the next, his head was in two pieces on the floor while his body fell over.
When the world stopped being red, she breathed in and let the claws retract. Damn. That felt good. She didn't know where she got these things from, but-
A horrible gargling noise came to her ears. She looked down.
"FUCK!"
Johanna was lying on the floor, clawing at the gaping tear in her throat. Her eyes were wide in horror. Blood spewed from the ragged cut onto the floor and bubbled from her mouth. The sight of it made her heart leap and her gut churn in a way she didn't understand, and she immediately hated it, she wanted it to stop, please, make it stop, but why, she'd seen blood before, she hadn't had a problem with it-
Adminsiter medical aid.
This time, she didn't ignore the not-thoughts. She bent down and put her hands out towards the squirming, bleeding woman.
INSTALL: Curaga
Light, warm and golden, flowed from her hands. The wound closed up like modelling clay, and the bleeding stopped. Johanna coughed, spat and gasped as she sat up.
She looked at her. Then at the corpse of the man. Then back at her. And all the friendliness was gone, replaced by a cold fear and hate that hadn't been there before. She scrambled to her feet and backed away, clutching her bag close, eyes burning.
"Jo-"
"Get away from me, freak!" Johanna screamed.
"But I fixed you!" was all she could think to say. "You're better! I-"
But Johanna was already running, down the street and away. Too many things churned in her mind at once. The 'freak' moniker had stung hard, and she didn't know if that was herself of the alcohol. There was some panic-fear there, too, and a lack of comprehension of the situation. She'd saved her, she killed the bad guy and fixed her! Why wasn't she happy about that?!
The not-thoughts took advantage of the panic.
Go. Get out. Police will come, and there will be questions and guns. They might try to kill you too. Get as far away from here as you can.
She lingered a moment, and looked at the body. Nobody else had seemed to notice it, which struck her as odd for reasons she didn't understand. For a moment, she wondered if she could cure what she'd just done to him.
No. Get out. Survive.
She ran. And she didn't know why, but her eyes were leaking.
-------
There was one other thing, though. One very important thing that came to her when she was curled up in her box that night, sifting through the confusing ideas and concepts that had been there since she'd first woken up.
Her name.
Lilith.
She still wished she'd told Johanna that.
No comments:
Post a Comment