He paused and said, "I'm not here to kill you, but I'm also not here to help you. You're on your own. Though it's regrettable you have no memory." He looked at her like one would peer with concern at a crying infant and spoke, "It must be very frightening not knowing why bio-mechas are trying to kill you." His expression softened for a split second as if he pitied her, and he informed her, "It's simple. You're being tested, and they're being tested." A black sedan pulled up, and he got in as he spoke, "Know one thing... stay alive."
The car drove down the road as she stared at it unable to move. She didn't want to be on her own. She wanted someone to help her and to make her feel safe. The weight of what he had told her hit her hard as if she had just received a death sentence from a judge. Kat found she could move her legs, so she walked over to a building, turned before fear and exhaustion caused her knees to buckle, and she slid down its rough wall and landed in a lump.
"Someone help me," Kat whispered as she put her head on her knees, wrapped her arms around herself, and rocked back and forth. "Please, help me."
In the sedan...
Argus removed his cell phone and made a call as the vehicle turned off of Wayfaring Lane.
"I have some new information for the Council," he started and waited until he was patched in. "Pandora claims to have no memory of who it is and there does appear to be a wound on its forehead." He paused, listening to their reply. "Understood. I'll continue my surveillance and tell Pandora nothing about itself. As the Council wishes, so it will be done."
Back down the street...
Kat clenched the gun she held, trying to understand things that seemed unreal, like she had been flung into a world that wasn't her own. Argus told her the Un-Men were sent by the Factory, that the one she couldn't destroy was called the Rogue, and that it was no ordinary Un-Man. The Factory knew who she was, but she didn't know who or what they were. She also didn't understand why they wanted her dead.
The coldness of the sidewalk chilled her body, so she hugged herself tighter as she continued to rock back and forth. Kat found little comfort in her own embrace, and loneliness crept up behind her and threatened to snatch what little hope she had left. Minutes went by, and Kat knew what she was doing wouldn't help her, and if she wanted to get out of this messed up situation, she had to focus on discovering the truth.
Argus told her the Council wanted her to be extra careful with the Rogue. It sounded like the Council was on her side, but for some reason she didn't think that was true. She had to figure out what the Delta Phase was and what she was supposed to turn into. She still didn't understand why these things were happening to her. Argus called them tests, that she was being tested, and that the Un-Men were being tested, but what was the purpose of it all?
She lifted her head and stared at the Dry Clouds in the dark sky. Kat knew she should get up and keep going, but she was so exhausted. She was tired of running and considered letting the Un-Man capture her, but then she decided against it. Kat was more afraid of capture and what cruel things they would do to her than she was tired, so she slowly started to rise, when panic set in as her heart sounded the bio-mecha warning.
Ultra-Epi rushed through her veins as she stood and franticly looked across the street and searched for the relentless hunting machine. Kat ejected her old magazine, and with a shaky hand, she placed in the new one. The e-field of her body altered as her eyes shimmered with blue electricity. She would later find out the light coming from her eyes was called Ult L-E (Ultra-Epi Light Emissions).
The Rogue walked toward her down a dark cluttered street lit by neon signs and street lights. The Type Four Model of Un-Man had short, brown, wavy hair and a pale chiseled face. Black smudges from Tainted Rain covered its brown suit. The Rogue passed three hookers and their pimp.
"Hey there big guy," one of the women said, sizing up what she thought was a man. "Looking to party?"
"Yeah," another said. "Mr. Shades. What ya hiding behind those glasses anyway? Did yer old woman black yer eye?"
The Rogue turned to the second hooker, and its polarized spectacles reflected a XXX red neon sign as it questioned, "Old woman? No, no old woman, but if we party, I will show you what is behind them," the Rogue spoke as it removed its large knife, grabbed her wrist as the other two women ran off screaming, and then it said, "Let us party."
The hooker tried to pull away from the maniac waving a knife.
"Hey, none of that kinky stuff till we discuss a price," the pimp demanded as he walked to them.
The Rogue punched him in the abdomen as it told him, "Mind your manners. I am talking to the lady here."
The pimp grabbed his stomach as he snarled, then he pulled a small gun, and spoke, "It isn't how things work here."
"How things work?" it questioned, then still hanging on to the woman, the Rogue grabbed the man's hand that held the weapon, twisted it, and broke his wrist. It stated, "This is how things work in my world."
The pimp cried out, dropped the gun, collapsed to his knees and held his wrist, screaming, "My hand! You broke my hand! Pucker!" he cursed. "You're going to pay for this!"
Down the street...
Kat fled in the other direction, but stopped as the pimp cried out. She glanced at her gun. Everything within her screamed for her to escape while she had the chance, but one small voice told her, save them. The flow of the e-field increased, and the blue stage of the Ult L-E glowed brighter as the voice grew louder in her thoughts. Save them.
Up the street...
The hooker, horrified by what she witnessed, tried to pull away and bolt, but the maniac yanked her to him.
"Do not be rude and leave before the party has started," it said as it pulled her close and whispered, "Pandora. We have to wait for Pandora."
"Pandora? Sick mother-pucker! You can get yer freak on with someone else. Ya creep! Let me go you pucker!" The woman screamed, pulling against his hold and yelled, "Let me go!"
Kat arrived, raised her gun, and aimed at its forehead as the color of its dot-light changed to a fiery crimson, and a wicked grin slithered across the Rogue's pale face. She said, "You can release her. I'm here."
It looked up. "Ahh... Pandora..." The Rogue paused and then asked, "Let her go? Why would I do that?"
"Why? I'm your target. Why do you need to hurt anyone else?"
"Yours is a valid question," the Rogue stated as it twirled the hooker around, wrapped her up in its arms, and placed its blade against her throat. The hooker whimpered as it continued, "I enjoy it, but bio-mechas are not supposed to feel anything, so that makes me something special, does it not? I think that is why my creators are afraid of me, and why they want to destroy me." The Rogue scanned Kat, noting her fear and exhaustion. It also noticed her eyes' bluish afterglow in the darkness of the day and that the light was not normal for a human. The Rogue told her, "It is also the reason you want me dead."
"I don't want you dead. I just want you to stop hunting me!"
"I cannot," the Rogue replied as it examined every feature and minute scar of Kat's face and imprinted it to memory. "I am still a machine, and at least for now, I cannot escape my programming."
Kat hated depending on the gun for her survival and tried to talk her way out.
"Maybe your creators are afraid of you, not because you have feelings, but because you have the potential to disobey your programming."
"You mean like you," the Rogue accused her, and then it laughed. "You have done well so far to go against your own programming, but no... For me, it is my potential for evil that they fear. I am sure of it." It cut a tiny slit in the hooker's neck and made her whimper louder as it asked, "But what would a machine know of evil? Am I not the product of my creators' hardware and software or was some other thing added to me that makes me different from the other bio-mechas?"
"I don't know. I only know you're hurting that woman," Kat answered as she started to pull the trigger.
Th
e Rogue ducked behind the hooker, so she had no shot as it demanded, "Drop your gun or I will slit her throat. Do it!"
It cut deeper into her neck, so Kat gave in.
"Okay! Okay!" she uttered as she placed the gun on the ground, making herself vulnerable. "Just don't hurt her!"
"Excellent," the Rogue spoke as it smirked.
"Now what?" Kat asked, not sure of her next move and witnessed the Rogue's grin widen.
It said, "Now you watch me kill her!"
Before Kat had a chance to utter no, a man came up behind the Rogue.
"Hey!" the man shouted.
The Rogue turned as the man swung a metal bat, striking it in the head, and the Rogue stumbled back and released the hooker. The attack knocked its polarized spectacles off, and the damaged frames fell to the street. Kat grabbed her gun and fired two shots, but the Rogue, with lightning reflexes, evaded the bullets, and then it backhanded the man, knocking him to the ground. It then turned on Kat and froze, seeing a black van with tinted windows speeding their way.
The Factory had found it and would capture it if the Rogue didn't run, so it turned and fled down an alley, shouting as it ran, "We will finish this another day, Pandora!"
The hooker rushed over to the pimp and questioned him, "Are ya all right? Oh, yer hand. Let's get ya to a hospital."
The black van sped by them in pursuit of the Rogue as the pounding of Kat's heart lessened, so she set the safety and tucked her gun in the back waistband of her pants. Her irises lost their radiance as she walked over to the man. He rubbed his bloodied mouth and looked up at her.
She offered her hand as she said, "Thanks."
"No problem," he told her, grabbed her wrist, pulled himself up, and then introduced himself, "The name's Preacher." He picked up his metal bat and glanced into the alley the Rogue ran through. "That thing was no man. What was it?"
"They're called bio-mechas, that model is an Un-Man."
"They? There are more of them?"
"Yes, there are more," she said and muttered, "There are so many more."
"No kidding." He walked up to a stoop and picked up a white Bible as he commented, "Noir's getting wilder every day."
Kat moved to the Rogue's broken polarized spectacles, picked them up, and peered through them. The lenses were mostly intact and intermediately fizzed and crackled between green lettered readouts across tiny square screens. She realized the polarized spectacles did more than hide their eyes; they relayed tactical data from the Factory and from each other. She dropped them, crushed the polarized spectacles with her shoe in case they carried tracking beacons, and then she started across the street.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Preacher asked as he ran after her.
Still tired, Kat turned as he placed his hand on her shoulder, and then she repeated, "Where? I... I don't know."
"Well, you look like you could use a meal and clean up a bit." He noticed the dried blood on her forearm and shoulder and added, "And some first aid."
She stared at the thin scraggly man with shoulder length stringy black hair. Preacher wore a worn navy blue t-shirt and broken black rim glasses taped in the front. His blue-gray eyes and pearly white smile caught her attention, and they made her feel safe and welcomed. Kat noticed he saw her staring, and she blushed.
Preacher waved his free hand, thinking she was looking at him as if he was a weirdo, and he said, "I'm not being perverted or anything. I run a shelter, the Kitchen. It seems to me you've been on the go for a while, so I thought you might be hungry."
Kat nodded as her stomach growled.
"You aren't much for talking are you?"
She shook her head.
"Shy. That's okay. Come on. I believe grilled cheese and tomato soup are on the menu tonight."
Chapter Seven
Farewell My Friend
Seven months later...
32 A.D.C...
May 25...
Tuesday...
7:30 P.M...
Katharine's view...
A helicopter flies over Wayfaring Lane just beneath the looming Dry Clouds, and a gust sweeps up an old newspaper, tumbling it down the potholed blacktop as me and Preacher sit on a stoop in front of the Kitchen. We watch the people in the neighborhood as he tries to comfort me in his own way. Preacher once told me he's never seen someone so lonely or lost. He understands that we're from two different worlds, but... Preacher still wants to understand me as desperately as I want to be apart of his life. What frustrates me the most is that my past that keeps eluding me, just won't let it happen.
He glances at me and must notice how depressed I am. He rests his rough callused hand on mine, and we sit there in silence for about twenty minutes. I try not to be so distant, and it's still hard for me to connect. There have been so few people who have been good to me, and he's top on the list.
"What are you thinking?" he asks me.
I start to answer, but instead I stare up at the ever present nemesis of Noir. I've always wondered how something so fluffy and so soft looking could beat back the might of the sun; it's only another question on my endless list of questions. Since awakening in Etna Toys, I've discovered nothing about my past or why I'm hunted.
I glance at his hand. Usually his touch makes me feel better, but not today. Only answers will fill the hollowness of my soul, so I gently pull my hand away from his and rest my hand on my lap. I'll do almost anything to find some scrap of my past. If I can just find out if Kat's my real name and where I come from, I'll be happy. It hurts too much not knowing, and I don't think Preacher understands. He doesn't understand how frustrating it is and that in itself hurts. I'm alone in a void of uncertainty and because of that, I'm a stranger in our relationship, but I don't know why I haven't shared this with him. I guess I'm afraid he won't understand, and I don't think I can take it to be alone in something else, so I haven't said anything.
When I don't answer his question, Preacher looks down at his Bible he always carries as if he's unsure of what to say. It's like he's searching for words that will comfort me, and then he finally tells me, "Katharine, don't you know there's more to this life than what you can see?"
I focus on the book he holds, and then I reply, "You have told me, but still there's something within me that wants to discover who I am." I stare at my worn shoes and speak softly, "And yet, there's this part that fears what I might discover."
I turn to him, hoping to find a sympathetic heart and a look of understanding to the uneasiness that haunts me, but what I find is Preacher peering at the street, his attention drawn to a group of kids playing. He smiles... and I wonder if it's because he knows even in Wayfaring Lane children can find time to be children. When he doesn't notice my searching gaze, I turn my attention to the kids. I'd usually go play with them, but today... so much is on my mind.
I frown, turn my attention back to my shoes, and then say almost in a whisper, "What if I'm a bad person? What if I've done terrible things?"
"We've all done bad things," he answers as he finally turns to me.
I lift my gaze back to him, searching once again for the sympathetic heart and look of understanding, but all I see is that his expression saddens as if his statement was a reflection of his own life. I notice a red VX corvette with the license plate FromAshes drive by with a blonde lady at the wheel before I once again divert my eyes to my worn shoes.
"I feel like I should be searching for something," I tell him, not sure he's really listening. I grab my backpack that's sitting beside me, unzip it, remove the worn note, business card, and the music box that was with me at Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse, and then I say, "I know these are clues to my past, but how do they fit?"
"Our Gracious Lord has a plan for you. I know it, and in due time, he'll show it to you. You only need to be patient."
His words don't help me, and I wonder again if he's really listening as I say, "That's all I seem to have, but even my patience is running out."
/>
Preacher grins and his blue-gray eyes and pearly white smile catch my attention once again. His warm expression makes me feel safe and gives me some hope; it gives me hope that my search won't be in vain. I no longer fear he's not listening to me as I lean over and lie my head on his shoulder. If only my life was always this peaceful as this very moment.
End Katharine's view...
* * *
Five months later...
October 12...
Tuesday...
10:11 P.M...
The day before Kat arrived at Topa's estate...
Katharine's view...
A car burns then explodes, sending fiery shrapnel in all directions. Bullet holes litter the buildings, and the citizens of Wayfaring Lane run screaming for their lives as I return from meeting an informant who never showed.
An old bag lady holding a golf club runs up to me out of breath and exclaims, "Someone shot Preacher!"
"What?! Where is he?!"
The bag lady points with the golf club as tears stream down her wrinkled face.
I take off running in that direction as anxiety presses against my chest. A million things run through my mind as I hurry toward the Kitchen, screaming, "Preacher! Preacher!!"
I continue running till I spot Argus who's standing at the entrance of an alley with his back to me as he stares at the pavement. I run past him and find Preacher lying in a pool of blood. He's been shot several times in the chest. I freeze, paralyzed with dread, and I stare in disbelief at his lifeless body.
"No," I whimper and take a step forward. "No."
I walk to Preacher and collapse at his side. I fear touching him and discovering the truth as my eyes burn with my cowardice and anguish. He can't be dead. He's not dead. I pick up his hand and his skin's cold to the touch.
"Preacher," I whisper, looking into his pale face. "Look at me." He doesn't respond to me. "Don't you die on me." I squeeze his hand. "Don't you leave me alone." He still doesn't respond, so I turn to Argus and desperately order, "Hurry! Go get some help!"
Argus doesn't move or say anything, so I turn my attention back to Preacher. I rub his cold hand as if to bring warmth back into it. My mind already knows something that my heart refuses to believe.