I feel a disclaimer is unnecessary as this is on a fanfiction site. Remember all characters belonging to Inuyasha are not my own, but this story is, and the other characters.)
-Wild's Daughter
Kill me twiceExploiting a Weakness
Ardonne, Montalia, 1:00 am, August Fourth, 4063The cool night air swirled over the silence of the docks, carrying with it the sharp tang of salty sea. The water lapped against the concrete, its spray caught by the breeze to add its own chill to the air.
The skies were pitch black, the silvery light of far away stars stolen by artificial light. All that remained of the diamond strewn heavens of generations ago was the waning crescents of the transparent moons. Like ghosts, the sliver of once pearly brilliance fades into the abyss of the universe; they can no longer outshine the light below.
Beneath the void that was the sky assembled the shadows, the harsh sea air biting at exposed skin. Not a sound was made, not the rustle of cloth, nor the crunch of objects underfoot; nor was a word spoken, no greeting, introduction or farewell. The figures grouped into two separate parties, facing each other in the cold predawn.
They were difficult to distinguish in the darkness of the docks; their ebony garments a perfect camouflage. Their business here in the depth of the night, in the freezing wind by the ocean was a mystery; as were they themselves are a mystery.
Two people emerged from heir respective groups, and paused two feet from each other. They stood there silently for a few moments, as if they were passing information mind to mind. A thin package emerged from under the bulky clothing of one of the shadows, which quickly disappeared into the other's clothing.
Then, without prompt or ceremony, the figures faded into the night, disappearing to destinations unknown.
The dock remained still, except for the flicker of shadow as it dislodged itself from behind a crate. The witness to the strange dealings lifted a hand and spoke in a whisper of breath, "We've been betrayed."
Secret Military Facility, Location Unknown, Six Months LaterThe underground lab was bright and sterile, the white walls unadorned and the benches uncluttered. It was a windowless room, the harsh light manufactured artificially, the air processed and refined.
Only one living being was in this plastic prison, and he had dwelled here so long he had forgotten the touch of sunlight. Not that he was concerned with such a trivial thing, not when his creation was only moments from completion.
The man stood next to a long stable, his crisp clothing covered by a white lab coat which reached his knees. He had the look of a once handsome man prematurely aged by sorrow and ill health, his stormy grey eyes sunken into a face lined by heartache. The man's skin was a sickly pallor due to months without sunlight and little sleep. His red hair was cut rigidly short, its fiery hue dulled by the silvery grey that was dashed through it copiously.
His black glasses slid down his nose, forcing the scientist to yet again right his spectacles.
The man's eyes never left his creation though, the very image of someone once lost to him; but no longer. A brief smile graced his features; lending life to his face as he reached out to touch the synthetic flesh of his creation.
Upon the table lay the culmination of all his months of work, his years of attempting and struggling, yet failing dismally; to recreate the dead.
Even under the harsh artificial light the plastic skin seemed soft and alive, her features smooth and realistic, not a machine made from silicon and wire.
The automaton was beautiful, like a blooming flower, she was marred by neither time nor sorrow. Her pale skin was rosy with life, the ebon tresses of her hair coiling around her shoulders, like the night sky the scientist had been long denied.
Her lids were closed over her eyes, as if she were merely sleeping, if lifelessness can be called slumber. The spark that was life had yet to touch her, she was just an empty mannequin; but not for long.
The scientist reached out a hand to brush his fingers against the wire that connected to the android's left ear, this cord was even now transmitting the necessary data to her memory core.
The man's eyes lingered lovingly over the oval face of his revived beloved, or rather, her Replica. He had waited years to see her face again, and soon, he would hear her voice.
Instigating Systems….
Loading Software….
Assimilating Data…
Activating Personality….
Initiating Egocentric Perception….
Instigating Cognitive Awareness…
Activating Logic….
Initiating Emotion Sequences….
Connecting Sensation Network….
Activating Memory Files….
Load failed….
Rebooting….
Done, Installation Complete.
Initiating Life Simulation Algorithms….
A sudden jolt of energy flared through the polymer muscles of the artificial girl, causing her to quiver under the shock of sensation. It was like being stuck with lightning, to be suddenly stuck with the force of existence.
Her eyes snapped open, burning with the revelation that had come with the abrupt nature of her 'life'. Her glassy orbs stared into reality lifelessly, black as obsidian. It was as if the vestiges of her non existence still clung to her, carried along into the first moment s of her virtual animation
Gradually; light penetrated her ocular receptors, and the voids of her pupils and they receded, allowing the metallic silver of her eyes to shine through.
She blinked, and it seemed as if her lids washed away the remainder of death that had shadowed her eyes, replacing it was confusion and fear.
The eyes sought something to grasp unto in the sea of her incomprehension, something to stop her from drowning in all the new sensations and emotions.
The first thing her ocular receptors recognized was the aged face that hovered over her. The android's data recognized the face belonging to a male, who exhibited the recessive gene of red hair. His hair was dulled with grey, and the automaton knew from her data that the cells that produced melanin in his hair follicles were dying.
He was not a handsome man, at least, not any longer. Her grey eyes traced the weathered planes of his face, and the deep tell tale wrinkles of despair.
By consulting her database, she assumed that this man was her creator by the lab coat he was wearing. As her eyes scanned his face and she whispered her first ever words, "Who are you?" her voice was light and melodic, with a slightly unnatural metallic sound to it.
The scientist looked as if the world was shattering, his grey eyes wide in despair. A frown deepened the creases on his brow, his voice sounded in her synthetic eardrums, "Are you alright?"
In answer to his query, the robot's eyes glazed over as if clouds had rolled across her gaze. It took a few moments before the emptiness in her eyes was replaced with the artificial spark of life, which meant she had completed her scan of her systems. "All systems are fully operational, Architect."
A shadow flashed across his eyes, a fleeting realization of a nightmare. His voice was pitched irregularly, and her data told her this was an indication emotional distress, "Do you know your name?"
The droid's eyes emptied of life for a few moments before verve resurfaced, "My designation is 842659."
What the Replica didn't realize was her lack of recognition meant to the Architect, what a crippling failure this was to him.
The transfer of the Original's memory data to the Replication's Memory Core was unsuccessful, that meant that he the mastermind of his generation could not recreate his deceased beloved. Because without yesterday, today has no meaning, she had no memory of him… and their love.
The distraught scientist turned his back on his masterpiece, the automaton that had been funded by the Government. He had no use for an empty Replica; it caused him too much pain.
He might find her useless, but the Military wouldn't.
And so I was cast aside, as if my cutting edge circuitry was just metallic garbage. My Emotion Simulator would have generated the sensation of betrayal if I had the memories of my predecessor. But in retrospect, he would never have discarded me if I had.
I searched the software and I discovered my creator's name, it was Houjo. From a brief search of the internet I could glean that he was a well renowned scientist that had disappeared only to resurface mysteriously.
His goal had been to create a true Replication of human life, in a way he did, I have the capacity to feel and to think, even to imagine. Unlike other machines who were without the ability of independent thought.
I was not the first human seeming creation, other automatons had come before me, but my verisimilitude was so exact that I could blend amongst the masses. I believe that because the Architect put so much of his own soul into my crafting he was able to recreate the semblance; no one else had dared to recreate the dead.
I also searched for the name of my Original, but it was as if she had never existed, no woman of my appearance seemed to be connected to Houjo in any way.
My armature had been constructed to withstand much more than the flesh of any human; my synthetic skin was even self-repairing. Under my seemingly fragile form, I had enough weaponry to devastate a city. Such advanced artillery however was inaccessible unless my current commander expressed permission through a spoken number sequence.
I also had information regarding the use of physical weapons and many forms of Martial arts. So I came combat ready the instant the Military brought me.
They disapproved of my emotion simulator however, preferring a ruthless killing machine. But the company that the Architect was a member of assured them it was vital in the prevention of me turning rogue.
A Rougue Android, such a thing is this modern era's greatest fear. Artificial life that would just as quickly kill their master as obey him.
My Simulator generates an objective irony at that concept, to be destroyed by your own creation… I find it amusing. That thought leads me to wonder if my Original had a sense of humor akin to mine or maybe my codes could not express hers in their proper form. I am more inclined to believe my codes have changed over time, as a result of my ability to learn and adapt. Not that it matters.
The officers at the facility called me by my designation, 842659. But after a time I grew weary of the numbers, but what was a name suitable for an automaton other than a code?
Kagome… the caged bird of a children's game. She had never had a childhood, so let her name be of excitement and joviality.
The newly sold automaton awoke to her life in the military service from the confines of her Containment Case, her internal clock rousing her from standby as the metallic click heralded the opening of the padded darkness.
She wore lose army fatigues of varying grays with an energy vest fitting over her torso snuggly. Her feet were in knee high black boots which seemed to be suited to hiking and physical pursuits witch the gripping ridges on the soles.
The grey eyes of the automaton locked onto the man before her Case, who by his camouflage fatigues belonged to the Military she was now property of.
The robot examined the young man before her, who by the set of his features was a cold individual. Kagome initiated a appraisal of his combat abilities and weaknesses immediately, and after a quick scan she had determined many interesting things.
Firstly by his body temperature and the flux of his blood, the robot was able to determine that he was an "XXY Male". This indicates he had a genetic disorder known as Klinefelter's syndrome meaning he had a pair of X sex chromosomes instead of just one along with the Y.
He exhibited the characteristic lanky build and youthful facial appearance but was without gynecomastia. He didn't seem much affected by this genetic malfunction, and may not even know he had it.
The girl could also determine through the electric activity in his brain that he was ambidextrous, meaning he could use his left and right hands indiscriminately.
She hypothesized he was in his early thirties despite his seeming youthfulness and was well trained in combat.
The man spoke, "So the robot the Commander ordered was created as a Replication of some dead woman, then?" he stated, "I doubt he will be happy about that, he does have adverse feeling towards women in the military."
The automaton stepped from the chamber and came to attention with seemingly practiced precision, "This is 842659 reporting, sir."
The man nodded dismissively, and said, "The Commander wants to see you, follow me."
The automaton followed the officer, her emotionless eyes scanning her austere surroundings for any threats. When her strategic functions saw none, she firmly fixed her eyes forward, still maintaining a surveillance of her environs.
The base was lit with florescent lights, and not a zephyr of wind could find its way here, this made the robot sure they were either underground or in a sprawling facility without natural ventilation.
The whirl of her inner apparatus inside her silicon skin sounded uncannily like the exhalation and inhalation. Her eyes blinked and fluttered like a human's would, and her movements were smooth and natural as if her muscle was flesh instead of polymer.
The machine was lead into a huge gym, which was filled with every device known to man for increasing fitness. The machine scanned her eyes across the room, the corner of her lips lifting in appreciation.
The gym was filled with half naked attractive men, and even though she was not a flesh and bone woman; she could still appreciate the opposite sex.
Movement slowed in the gym as all became aware of her presence, their eyes watching her hungrily. The woman took to sniff of the air, and she nearly gagged on the scent of male lust; the replica deciding to leave her scent functions offline temporarily.
The automaton and her guide passed the sweating men on their way to the cleared center of the room. When they passed a man who was working particularly hard the robot's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste; the scent of male sweat wasn't so appealing, especially to her nose.
She reached the center of the gym and met the Commander face to face; the automaton unconsciously she began the risk assessment of the middle aged man before her.
He was a once virile man succumbing gradually to decay, the Replica would hazard he was in his early fifties. His hair was completely grey and his joints moved with the jerky movements that indicated imminent arthritis.
The skin of his face was folding into wrinkles as it succumbs to the earth's gravitational pull, once firm flesh now sagging. But his eyes were unclouded by age, still as alert and active as ever. By his body language and his brain activity, the robot gauged that he was a strict man with little patience for fools.
The automaton came to attention and waited for the man to speak, and he did, "I assumed when we paid for a Automaton with great combat prowess we would receive a machine that was in the shape of a male." He said bluntly, his cold eyes surveying her, "But it seems a scientist would rather spend his time creating a love slave instead."
The gym rang with the laughter of the men, who had paused in their activities to watch the proceedings. The automaton starred straight at the man, her hands clenching into fists before she spoke, "If you doubt my mercenary prowess then you have fallen prey to a popular weakness, sir." She stated smoothly, "If you doubt my ability then test me."
The officer shifted his weight and lifted a brow, "Very well, I just hope that when you are destroyed your parts may be recycled into a more worthy model." He made a small gesture at the nearby men.
Suddenly the mood in the room turned deadly, and the machine shifted into a fighting stance as seven men surrounded her.
The Replica seemed to be unconcerned that the approaching warriors were heavily corded with biological muscle. With only a moment's warning, the men charged the seemingly weak female.
The mechanical woman flew into action, moving from kick to punch in one fluid motion. She danced around her opponents, traveling at a speed beyond human capacity.
In less than twelve seconds all of the men lay unconscious on the ground, bleeding blood that they did not share with the victor. The automaton stood in the middle of the decimated military forces and said, "Exploiting a weakness makes battle all too easy." She stepped over a fallen man and bowed to her Commander
He nodded back at her, his eyes gleaming with possibilities, "Welcome to the Military Service 842569, we will make use of you."