The Metropolis

Lights hummed incessantly through the air of the sleepy metropolis. Spilled across the urban district and onto the streets were the busy lives of the everyday people. Merchants hauled their goods down paved roads, a traffic control redirected flooded crowds, people gazed at people doing people things. And in the middle of this throbbing heart was a small urbanite with black hair and an angry disposition. She shouted over the buzz of the life and the lights.

"The bank has rejected my request for the second time. Damn you, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!" And after an angry pause, "you already know the state of our company. As a partner, you should be concerned and enthusiastically searching for a solution. Here's the solution: take the loan and buy the machinery."

Without waiting for a response, she tore out her ear piece and unceremoniously shoved it into her bag. She could hear her heels smack hard against the cement, most unladylike as her father would admonish back when she was a child. She wasn't a child, she chided. I'm not going to pushed around by these men.

"Snake for the beautiful lady?" A merchant was shouting at her, "New design by Fordco! Comes with a security system and optional defence mechanism! Perfect for a beautiful lady!"

She shot a menacing hiss at the man and his snakes and the man shot back a string of lewd remarks and hand gestures that she tried to ignore. There was a warm coffee and a soft bed waiting for her. Heels clacked against cement faster.

A lady's beautiful voice rose above the other sounds, "Beautiful boys for your lonely daughters. The finest that money can buy! They're well behaved and house trained too! Come take a look at our beautiful boys."

The stall had gained a larger-than-average crowd of onlookers, but Kagome shoved past them as she shoved the thought of a good-nights rest into the far corners of her mind. The lady merchant was as beautiful as her voice, with long brunette hair, a seductively curvaceous body with the addition of a provocative smile as she continued to lure in more watchers. The two women exchanged nods of greeting before Kagome went to work. She quickly studied the merchant's wares and realized that the mechanized models were decreasing in number. The boys on display lacked the identification serial codes, a ten-digit series of numbers and letters that could be found on the lower back. Of the ten boys that stood at profile, only three of them displayed codes. The seven others were of mixed descent: three humans, two fox-demons, a hybrid, and the last had recessive traits, so his background could not be asserted.

She pressed her face into the glass and leaned sideways to study their faces. From their vacant expression she realized that they were all under a strong influence of inflenozene—the drug used in the first step of domestication and helped to suppress voluntary actions. Kagome disagreed with the use of the dehumanizing drug, but didn't raise the protest to her only client. She looked sadly at model K2-51AA3-4I4. Her company had spent a little over 52 million producing ten of his like and as each day passed without a sale, the marketability of the machine slowly decreased in possibility.

Her attention returned to the others displayed. She needed to study the trends and the designs that were being sold. Her model was lithe and flexible due to the addition of a newly discovered light-weight alloy to the synthesis of his frame. He was specialized as a companion, this being the greatest demand as the most recent studies have suggested and he had a slick design. Even Kagome admit that he was an incredibly attractive product. But her eyes were teased away from K2 and focused on another machine.

This one was an A7. That alone would promise a sale. The difference between the K2 and the A7 was the difference between the trend and the trendsetter. The others huddled around the glass were ogling the A7 man, mostly in a wishful lust for the most unaffordable design on the market. One admirer cooed, "Life would be so much easier with him. Look at his body—his design would be perfect around the house and at the office. This must be the first Prototype to be perfect almost anywhere!"

Kagome's earpiece buzzed against her thigh. Moving away from the congested crowd, she answered her call.

"Higurashi speaking."

"Kagome, this is Hojo," the man was curt, but the anxiety bled through.

"What's wrong?" She held her breath.

"Alkaline Industries has produced a new model and the sales are through the roof. I think you need to see one- "

She sighed, "I have."

"And?"

The crowds were slowly diffusing into other parts of the market after realizing that the machine was unattainable with their paychecks.

"The good news is that there are only three models at this store," Kagome said finally, her voice cracking under the strain, "but our models aren't selling. It's alright though. I've already asked Salim to take another loan. I'm sure the next model will be our lucky break. We just need to stay committed."

"Listen, Kagome," Hojo's voice had the effect of honey. It was warm and soothing and everything that Kagome so desperately wanted to hear, "I love this company. And I love you. I want to settle down, but that's not possible when we're in debt."

She continued on her walk home while unconsciously fiddling with the engagement ring on her finger.

"I can fix this! I know I can! I've already sketched out a new design. I'll take it to the engineers tomorrow morning and within two months I can get the company, our company, back on its feet!" When he didn't respond, "Don't you trust me?"

Hojo's sigh was one of exasperation, "I told you that I love you, but no man can sit by and watch the woman he loves destroy herself all for a stupid robot. It's like dying for a microwave. It's not worth it, Kagome. I want to settle down with you and start a family and have a daughter that looks like you and a little dog and maybe some fish—that's all I want."

Kagome reached her apartment. She fished her keys from the bottom of the bag and slipped the card over the sensor. With a ding the door opened and swung wide. She headed into the embrace of her room.

She slouched into the couch and with a finality that made her wonder if she would later regret her words, "I have put too much into this company to see it crash and burn. I love you Hojo, but if you're expecting me to leave this all and come to you, you're wasting your time."

Fearing the response, she ended the call and held the earpiece in her shaking fingers. Did I lose him? She wondered. There were stacks of papers on every piece of furniture with scribbles and notes on different designs and the latest features added to her competitors' products. It's going to be worth it, she assured herself. Kagome went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

It'll be satisfying once I wipe the smugness of those silver-haired bandits at Alkaline Industries. She could picture it now: her face on the cover of Press as the greatest Prototype designer and those little white weasels falling to their deserved second place. Conveniently placed on a red and black dart-board was a picture of the CEO of Alkaline, the bastard himself. The darts had accumulated like a fungal growth across the face in the picture.

"This won't do, will it Master Sesshomaru?" She said spitefully to the wall, "Let me find a new picture and we can play this fun game all over again."

The truth of the matter was ingrained in Kagome's mind like a terrible seed that had slowly killed her and left a mere shadow of the Kagome that had entered the industry as a young hopeful. Her bitterness was directed at the silver disgrace who in the distant past actually romanced her. And loved her. And then stole everything from her, right before throwing her out. He would regret that day and suffer miserably for it—she would see to it.

- At a fancy villa on a property that no one should be able to afford-

Sesshomaru stepped out of the bath, his feet trailing water across the floor. He glanced at the mirror behind him to see the source of the incessant stinging on his back. Three angry red scratches stretched from his shoulder to his spine and another three on his neck. Like his Doberman, his designs were a little overenthusiastic with their profession and he wore the proof on his back. That would need to be fixed.

The guilt party strode into the bath room with the air of a goddess and the haughtiness of a siren, wearing as much as the day she was assembled. She stopped an arms-length away from him.

"Sesshomaru-sama. You slept a total of 4.3 hours last night. You are reminded that this week is scheduled to be hectic and are required to be at optimal performance," the fleshy woman misheviously smiled at her maker before continuing, "After breakfast, you are required at the company for a meeting regarding new model A7's performance on the market. You have a 7:00pm appointment as chief guest at the Newfest Gala and are requested to address young entrepreneurs with encouragement and tips for their business in the Prototype industry. And at 10:00pm, you have a meeting with Raquelle Domanique from Highlights to discuss potential acquisition of her company."

The woman began walked towards Sesshomaru. He stepped aside and let her proceed to clean the water that pooled in random places across the washroom floor. He checked the clock and was satisfied that she was running on schedule. From the scratched on his back, he had acknowledged that there may be some minor flaw in her program, but she was functioning and that was good.

A pressed suit was waiting on a hanger. The crisp dress shirt felt cool against his skin. The suit was form fitting and would give off the desired effect. He wore his iconic white suit with red highlights and diamond cufflinks shaped into a crescent moon. The meeting was an ordinary one. The board would discuss the results that he had already anticipated. The A7's sales would be phenomenal. They were selling well in Germany, America, France, and Spain and they would set new records for the amount of Protoypes sold in one month. It was the Gala that he anticipated with high spirits. These events lent perfectly to image making and sending the brave and not-so-brave alike into a cave of hopelessness. They would never match Alkaline's success in their lifetimes, their childrens' lifetimes, or their grandchildren's lifetime. That type of thought would make any man grin with delight. Sesshomaru's face was as still as stone as he completed the grooming necessary for the day's activities.

"TV" he said to the wall that a second later lit up with the local news report.

The anchoress was covering a story on a police-craft that crashed into the high-occupancy touring Rover late last night. He noted with satisfaction that the anchoress was one of his models. The TV murmured on in the background as he adjusted his tie and then his watch. A sound from the TV brought his attention back to the screen as the words "Breaking News" flashed across the screen.

The anchoress was featured at the bottom part of his screen. The rest of the TV was projecting scenes from a protest. The camera panned across a riled crowd wearing red bandannas with a image of a shaft of wheat on it. The image changed to an interview with one of the protesters. The man looked familiar. Sesshomaru searched his mind for an answer to this identity, but it was difficult to establish.

"Most of us here have been trafficked into the country to work as Prototype II's. We escaped during the process and can now face our enemies as a force to be reckoned with. As human, we cannot let ourselves become attached to the trivialities of machines and technology. Do you see how lives are destroyed?"

The interviewer interrupted the man with a wheeze, "What are you all protesting?"

The man was hurled forward by the throngs of people. He gripped the wrist of the interviewer and gazed into the camera, "We are anti-Protoypes and Prototype-II's and we will continue protesting until companies stop producing their machines."

"Don't you think this is too drastic? Most of the modern world cannot continue at this pace without the prototypes," the interviewer was forcing a space against the waves of bodies surging around him.

"The men and women behind these companies are breeding evil in this world. We are declaring war against the corporate world. Do you hear me?" The interviewee was snarling, spit flying, "It's war."

-The Newfest Gala-

Though she was technically broke and her company was practically bankrupt, Kagome riled up the cash to purchase a sleek black dress accented by bold shades of red. She stood back and studied herself. The dress was tight against her slender body. The chiffon dress was a layer thick and was the most revealing dress that she could find. Each curve of her body was visible in the light and the dress clung to each slope and cave in a teasing gesture. She approved of the image she made. Hundreds of CEOS would make an appearance at the Gala and she needed to turn heads in whatever ways possible and this was no time to be modest.

It was her goal, Kagome reminded herself, to be recognized by large companies as a bold designer and have them invest in her. Knowing the other women would accessorize their hairs with the latest lights and trinkets, Kagome opted for the unorthodox: she let her hair fall naturally. The waves were tussled as if by the wind and they rested perfectly against her breasts. She pulled on some heels and headed straight for a taxi.

When she arrived at the venue, she was appropriately late. Most of the guests had arrived, but not enough for other CEOS to ostracize her as difficult and uncompromising. Kagome's plan kicked into action as soon as her jacket was taken from her. Eyes were on her and she responded in nonchalance. With the grace of a royal, she greeted and was introduced to everyone in her vicinity. She was being ushered to the refreshment table by a young and charming son to some CEO when the guest of honor entered the room. A child-like curiosity washed over her. She remembered that in the past, only leading companies were represented a honourable guests at this Gala and in turn making the spots at the event highly desirable. The gala seated the CEO and president of Highlights, Ms. Raquelle Domanique. This year's guest would have to be better. Kagome was awash with excitement.

Then the man was introduced.

Her heart stopped mid-beat. At the top of the stairs stood a man that could not be recreated through engineering or imagined up by a genius designer. This man was tall. Every inch of him was solid, so said the suit that fell taut against his shoulders, his chest, his arm, his waist, his hips, his thighs. Each step was purposed and controlled to the minute detail. Moreso than his perfect mannerisms and his impossibly impressive body, his face was enchanting. Almond-shaped eyes hooded with enviable lashes above a pointed and slender nose. His lips were small and masculine with a tint of red as if they had been kissed recently. The hair the trailed after him was long, silver, and they glittered in the light. She remembered so clearly what they felt like against her skin. Kagome remembered when she simply sat beside him and caressed that hair. She was woken from the daze when reality slapped her flushed red cheeks and stopped her from committing the crime of admiring the enemy.

His mouth opened and words came out, but the voice only reminded her of someone else. A man that never smiled, but his eyes showed it. She was certain of it then, but she knew better now. She wasn't that innocent girl anymore.

Sesshomaru was pressing through his speech. A ceremony, really. The effect was made and he could see it in the eyes of his audience. He pressed onwards towards the conclusion of his speech when his eyes caught a familiar pair in the crowd. Betraying nothing, he focused his attention there while speaking on. Hazel eyes. A small pinkish nose and devilishly red lips. There was something familiar in that girl's face, but before placing it the crowd had changed. They were cheering and applauding, the nearest ones to him rushing towards him to grip his hand and unnecessarily tell him of the excellent execution of his speech. He untangled himself again and again while propelling himself towards that woman.

While nodding politely to the people who stopped him to shake his hand, he thought about it. There were many models that he made, more women then men. He remembered them all and there were no Prototypes that were designed like the person he had just seen.

The edge of a black dress nearly missed his attention. He lurched in the direction and caught a wrist before the spectre escaped. The girl spun and he became face to face with an undeniable beauty.

"Hello Sesshomaru," the girl purred, "Do you remember me?"

His eyes didn't leave her face, but he had seen the entirety of her before she turned. But now he couldn't tear his eyes of her face.

"No," he finally said.

He watched something flicker across her eyes: pain, hate, mixed with desire. Her body was warm and she smelt of chocolate. His finger twitched with the sudden urge to grab her and bring her close. The scent was intoxicating

"Pity. When I take down your company brick by brick, I think you will begin to remember." She sneered the last bit with enough venom to force Sesshomaru to reprocess what was going on.

With a flip of her hair, she turned away and walked out of his life. For the first time in his adult life, Sesshomaru was taken aback. The moment of hesitation crumbled to form a displeasure against the woman who dare speak against him in such a tone. He would force an apology out of her before punishing her. Sending her to be domesticated would be a suitable punishment for a woman who didn't know her place.

He proceeded back up the stairs and past his confused hosts. The fresh air still had hints of her scent. A couple was bickering at the front entrance, but stopped when he came into view. They mumbled an apology and slithered away. His nostrils were filled with the scent of heady chocolate and he followed the trail past the craft parkade and onto an exercise path that cut through a small forest. There was a clearing in the middle of the forest. There was a group of men gathered there. One of them was holding a limp hand in his. Sesshomaru stalked closer and recognized without having to look that it was the woman from the gala, unconscious in the middle of the group.

"I am displeased right now and desiring blood. Thank you for allowing me to indulge," Sesshomaru said to the men who looked up too late.

He tore a man's head from his body and was digging through the jugular vein of the second man when he heard a voice from behind him, "You may be powerful, but you're not invincible, right?"

Something like lightning shot through his back and sent shockwaves up and down his spine. He felt his nerves shutting down one by one. He felt his body betray him limb by limb. Fighting against himself, he tried to keep his body upright, but spasms began in his legs and sent him to his knees. When his muscles gave out, his face fell into thick dirt and it took all his strength to keep his eyes open. The woman from the gala was unconscious and unharmed apparently. Sesshomaru's neck felt as if it were snapping with the effort to turn and face the coward who shot him. The man looked Sesshomaru in the eyes, the only thing recognizable about his attacker being the red bandana he wore with a shaft of wheat on the top.

"This is our lucky day mates!" The man said.

It was the last thing Sesshomaru heard before falling unconscious against the cool earth.