A/N: I've been wanting to write about Miki for some time! She's become my new fascination, to be honest. And finally, a story idea came to me today. This is only the prologue, so normal chapters will be longer. I hope you like it so far xD I'm ecstatic to be writing this. P.S., my other story, Can't I Even Dream, will still be finished. I'm not ditching it! Look for the new chapter this Sunday.

Disclaimer: I do not own SF-A2 Miki or Hatsune Miku, or any other Vocaloids for that matter. But I sure wish I did.

I woke to chaos.

"Get up, get up!" someone screamed, directly into my face. "You have to get up now!"

I tried to rise, but it felt as if my limbs wouldn't work. "Now, now, now!" the voice yelled. "Please, just…you know how to walk! I programmed it into you!"

My legs and arms felt stiff, my jaw locked together. I could only nod and rise slowly to my feet. A pair of pained gray eyes flashed in front of my face. "I'm begging you!"

Suddenly, hands grabbed my wrists and jerked me forward. A wave of red hair blocked my sight before my legs started to feel the pain of the movement. Too quick. My muscles screamed in protest. "I won't let them have you!" continued the angry voice. I watched as a hand swiped a knife from a countertop before I was yanked forward again.

I heard deep thudding as my strange captor pulled me towards a small dresser. With a gasp and a heave, he had moved it aside. A small door stood behind it. He pushed me forward. "Go through, go through!" he urged.

I did as he said, still confused but abiding. He did have a knife, after all. I yanked at the golden knob, pulling the door open and slipping inside. It was damp and cool behind the wall. He followed me in, pulling the dress in front of the secret place just as the door slammed open on its hinges.

Flicking on a flashlight, he grabbed at me again, interlacing my fingers with his own and pulling me along. We ran at full stretch down the strange passage. It got colder as we moved further down it.

Finally, panting heavily, he stopped me and sank against a dirt wall. Not knowing what to do, I copied him. My lungs, which had been screaming for air, eased some of their protests for a minute.

"W-who am I?" I stammered, testing my new voice. It sounded odd on my tongue. The light of the flashlight blinded me and then vanished again.

"A robot," came the reply of the man – no, boy – as he sighed, his head resting on the wall.

"A-a robot?" I questioned. That must be why my voice sounded slightly hollow.

"Yes, Project SF-A2. One of my best. They wanted to steal you, SF-A2. They wanted to take you away," he replied. For the first time, I got a good look at him. He was taller than me, with a mess of chestnut hair and sad gray eyes. He flicked the flashlight on and off, toying with it.

"Why?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the tunnel shook and shouts could be heard, along with footsteps. The boy took my wrist again, pulling me up. I didn't want to rise, but he was yelling at me. He shut off the light and it was total darkness. I could only hear panting and shouting.

I tripped and stumbled, flying forward. My knees scraped against the hard ground, for my hands had not touched the walls that were supposed to be at my sides. The walls were gone. It was only tunnels.

"It's the split, SF-A2! You go down one tunnel, I'll go down the other," he instructed in a high, panicked voice. "Don't let them catch you!"

And he left me, without any answers other than the fact my name was SF-A2, I was being hunted, and I was not human.

I ran.

My new leg muscles protested, but I pushed myself further. The shouting was getting closer and I feared I wasn't moving fast enough. To my surprise, pain began to lance up my left calf. And it wasn't just ordinary pain; I fell to the ground, grasping my leg and screaming. It felt like someone was grinding away the flesh to reach the bone.

I don't know how long I lay there like that. Soon, light was splashing over my face, bobbing up and down as the strangers approached, yelling, "She's here, she's here!"

I released my calf, and everything faded away.

My eyelids fluttered open. I didn't know where I was…the smell of burning wood hit my nose and I sat up in alarm. I was in a small room. It was rather cramped with only one window. The curtains hid the glass from my view. I was lying on a soft bed with a wool blanket draped over me. A fire crackled in the corner, and the only other object in view was a nightstand with a book and a note.

I slowly set my feet on the floor, remembering the harsh pain from last time when I had moved too quickly. I tested my feet out, and then I rose. My legs did not give out. I moved as slow as a snail to the curtain, reaching for the sash that held the fabric closed. I yanked at the ribbon and it drifted to the floor as the curtains fell back. It was something like I'd never seen before.

Tall trees rose towards the sky, stumps littering the ground where they had been chopped from their roots. The grass was lush and green, making my head swirl with the color of the flowers it housed. The deep blue sky stretched beautifully above me, puffy clouds floating lazily upon the sea of color.

Light floated into the room, the small particles dancing in front of my eyes. I reached out to touch them and they swirled away. I heard footsteps in the hall and I retreated quickly to my bed, somehow not wanting to be discovered. I had just pulled the blanket over my head, shut my eyes, and evened my breathing as the door opened and then closed a few seconds later.

I forced myself to count to one hundred before opening my eyes again and stirring. My next task was to read the note and the book.

I reached an unsteady hand out and swiped the book and piece of paper, bringing it under the covers for inspection. I counted to twenty and then picked up the note. It read:

`SF-A2…

When you wake up, come downstairs immediately. `

I scoffed and discarded the note. Now in my hands laid the book. At a closer look, I realized that it was a journal instead. It had a rough, brown leather cover and words etched into the front. I unbuckled it and took the first page into my fingers. The paper was heavy but smooth on the surface. The page was filled with sketches of a girl. She had long red hair that fell to her waist and a terrible cowlick atop her head. She wore a white dress with navy blue stripes and a star on the chest, gloves, and even boots and stockings. I giggled at the blue feather boa around her neck and the earphones on her ears. I wondered who she was until I saw her belt. It was wrapped around the edge of the dress and it had two letters that made my mind swirl: "A2." Was this me? I held my gloved hands in front of my face, felt my red hair. It was me. This picture in this journal was of me.

I turned the page, but it was just a bunch of design notes. I continued to flip through the notes until I came to a page titled: "Day 1 of project SF-A2." I read about how the boy, who I'm assuming wrote this journal, came to create me. I was reading intently about how he had made a copy of the basic knowledge needed and transferred it into my brain so I wouldn't be completely incompetent when the door opened. I had been too absorbed in the book to hear the footsteps, and now I was paying the price.

The girl crossed the room quickly and snatched at the note I had abandoned on the blanket. "You were supposed to come downstairs," she scolded.

What a strange sight, I thought. She had long pigtails of, surprisingly, bright green. Her cheeks were puckered as she scowled at me, then folded the note and tossed it back on the blanket. She reached over for the journal but I shut it and held it close to my chest. "No," I stated flatly.

"It's not yours," she insisted. "Don't make me force it from your hands."

"It is too mine," I retorted. "If it wasn't, then why would I be on the first page?"

"You're a robot," she sneered.

"You sound like one," I replied.

She seemed taken aback by this, and then she sighed. "Fine, fine, you got me there." She rolled her eyes and withdrew her outstretched hand. "The name's Miku. What's yours?"

"SF-A2. I figured that would be obvious, seeing as you kidnapped me," I snapped at Miku.

She waved the comment away and sighed, pinching the space in between her eyebrows. "Wow, you're one massive migraine, you idiot," she said. "I mean the name you want to be called. Surely you don't want to parade around with a dumb name like SF-A2."

I put my nose in the air. "Maybe I do," I replied.

"If you do, fine." Miku shook her head. "It's just a mouthful. Come downstairs. Master and the others are waiting for you."