A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I can't tell you how awesome it is that you like it. It's just…awesome. Adjectives aren't a good thing this late.
I know I could make many excuses for this being sooo late, but there's really only two. A) School. This has so many different assets to it. I'm in the school play so I have rehearsals after school on top of keeping up with my piano lessons and playing for our school's choir. Not to mention homework, which our teachers think we have nothing better than to spend our time on. (Yay ending sentences in prepositions…!) B) I've been sick for the past month, almost two. This leads to earlier bedtimes, all-around dread for working on anything, and an equal amount of motivation an alcoholic has to try and quit drinking. (If that made sense.)
Either way, your opinions of my personal life are your own, I know they are what they are.
And without further ado, chapter three.
Gerard's fingers were clutched tightly on the wheel, his lips pursed into a straight line under his nose. While he'd been itching to climb into the Trans-Am that he and the other guys at the diner had customized and rebuilt, he hadn't been exactly looking forward to almost an hour's drive with…whatever it was sitting in the passenger's seat. Looking over at her from the corner of his eye, he watched her hair blow behind her as the needle on the speedometer slowly crawled up over ninety, the lowered windows airing out the once-steamy vehicle. She hadn't looked at him since he woke her up that morning, his voice less than pleasant. Even now, he could picture Ray's face in his mind's eye, watching the mouth move up and down.
"You're bringing her, Gerard." Ray told him in a stern tone.
"Why me? Why do I have to suffer through an hour long car ride with it?"
"It's not an 'it,' it's a her," Frank interjected, holding his hand out expectantly. Rolling his eyes, Gerard reached in his back pocket and produced his pack of cigarettes, tapping it on his hand. Frank smiled and took the freed tube, lighting it with the candle lighter under the bar.
"What do you care?" Gerard snapped. "Besides, it tried smashing me into a mirror yesterday. If no one else is there to watch it, there's no telling what will happen."
"She seemed pretty calm yesterday after you stormed out," Ray muttered. "Maybe it's just the way you were approaching her."
"Reassuring," Gerard retorted. "I still think this is a bad idea. What if we run into Draculoids?"
"In that thing?" Mike piped up from the entrance, his red jacket unzipped and his hand in his mouth. His teeth sunk into the fabric of his glove and he pulled it off, wiggling his new free fingers. "Impossible. I just changed the nitrous. You'll be good for much more than the ride there and back."
"Thanks, Mikey," Gerard murmured, rolling his eyes away from his younger brother. Shrugging impassively, Mike spit out the glove and repeated the process with the other.
"Anytime, Gee."
"Either way, you're bringing her," Ray repeated with more force. "You brought her in, you get to take care of her."
"I would've shot her on the spot if I'd known that she'd bring so many issues," Gerard mumbled. "Why can't Mikey come with me?"
"Because I'm busy today," his brother piped up. "I found rats in the dumpster behind the place and I'm taking them out before they get into the food."
"Frank?"
"Sorry. New BL vending machines are out tomorrow and we need the codes," Frank shrugged, letting the smoke from his cigarette spill out with every word.
"What about you, Ray? She's seemed to warm up to you a lot."
"That may be so, but with those two busy, I was planning on holding down the fort." Rolling his eyes once more, Gerard stormed off down the hallway to where he knew it was sleeping.
"Whatever," he grumbled to himself. "You're just going to sit around playing your guitar all day long."
Scoffing to himself, the redhead turned to the girl next to him. Her profile was now turned toward him, her nose stretching away from her face as if whoever had put it there almost forgot it and molded a crappy one out of clay. The phrase struck a chord with him and he felt his own nose tingle. As he turned to look at her again, her hands shot to her face and she choked, each hack shaking her thin shoulders. He started, taking the wheel with one hand and placing the other on her shoulder.
"The hell happened?" He asked, turning her to face forward. She continued coughing, holding her hands over her face. "Hey, tell me what happened," he repeated. Shaking her head, she simply kept hacking away. Gerard rolled his eyes and turned back to the road, watching the faded yellow line whiz under the center of the vehicle. His gaze shot back to her every so often to try and see how she was doing, and the third time he looked she finally pulled her hands away from her face, her shoulders relaxed. She stared down at her hands, growing quiet. "What's in your hands?" He asked, watching her look down at her cupped hands as if she was holding something breakable.
"It's a wasp," she said quietly, keeping her head down and holding her hands out for the man to see the insect. Gerard frowned as he peered inside. The bug, although drenched in saliva, still squirmed, its tiny legs jerking. Raising an eyebrow, he straightened and set one arm on the door, letting his hand trail in the breeze.
"Let it go, it's still alive," he told her, watching in his peripheral vision as she did as she was told. "It didn't sting you, did it?"
"I'm not sure," she muttered, placing one hand on her throat. "It doesn't feel like it did."
"Good," he nodded. "It helps if you keep your mouth shut." She nodded in return, sullenly looking out the window.
"Where are we going?" she asked quietly, peeking at him from the corner of her eye.
"We're going to see a friend of mine," he said quietly, pulling the red-and-black patterned bandana from around his neck and handing it to her. "Put this around your eyes."
"Why?" Gingerly taking the cloth, she examined it in her hands a moment before carefully folding it over itself. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, Gerard noted the careful folds.
"Just do as you're told," he muttered.
"Can't I know where we're going?"
"No," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You can't." Pressing it against her face, she made a tight knot at the back of her head and lifted her profile back to the windshield, letting the wind blow her dark brown hair out of her face. He stared a moment before turning his attention back to the road. The asphalt stretched out in a straight line, touching the horizon and stretching out around the car. Silence grew between the two, the sound of the engine under the hood breaking through the quiet. He watched the yellow dots in the middle of the road grow quickly closer before disappearing under the car, only to be followed by more. Another silent moment passed and he scowled, reaching forward with his right hand and switching on the radio, a distorted guitar sound breaking through the speakers. The girl jumped, jerking into a straight-backed position. Gerard shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, returning to the road when he was sure it was only a flinch.
"What is this?" She asked as the vocal part of the song came in, almost as crunched as the guitar. Gerard smiled, turning the volume down a notch.
"Mad Gear and the Missile Kid," he told her. "The last of the good music in this world."
"I see…" she nodded thoughtfully, listening to the music. Shooting her another glance, the redhead nodded to himself, the feeling of relief washing over him as a silhouette came into sight in front of them, the renovated building of what used to be a auto body shop marking the near end of their journey. He glanced at the clock. Only forty-five minutes ago, they'd started on their way. The shortened time came as a relief to the on-edge man, whose feet slowly changed from clutch to gas as they pulled into the abandoned parking lot. The girl's hand shot up to the blindfold when the car came to a stop, feeling the coarse fabric over her nose and eyes. "Can I take this off yet?"
"Go ahead," he shrugged, climbing out of the driver's seat and stretched his cramped legs. The bandana was quickly taken away from the girl's eyes and she stepped out, striding around the front of the car and holding it out to him. Stopping mid-stretch, Gerard felt her eyes on him and froze, opening one eye. She stood to his right, arm held out with the still-folded bandana in her palm. Relaxing, he took the fabric from her and shook it out, folding it at the corners and tying it around his neck.
"Thanks," he muttered, taking three strides to close the distance between himself and the building.
"Where are you going?" She asked, taking only one step after him.
"Inside," he said bluntly. "Where do you think?"
"It's a solid wall…" she murmured quietly. Gerard paused and took a step back, examining the front door to the old building. Smiling slowly, he turned back to her and shook his head.
"It's the front door," he corrected her, smiling and turning his back. "Dumb robots," he muttered, coming face to face with a graffiti stick figure. Placing a hand on the wall in front of him, he gradually moved it to the side and slipped his fingers under the wood, pulling the slabs apart. The girl watched as he stepped aside to reveal a dark inside, the light barely coming close to that of what was outside. He waited a moment before gesturing for her to go inside, holding the door open. "Nothing's going to come out and bite you." Shooting the man an exasperated look, she walked by him cautiously, her fists clenched at her sides. As she passed, Gerard took note of the bandage around her left hand, covering where she'd punched into the mirror the day before. He smirked to himself and followed her in, widening his eyes to try and compensate for the lack of light. The girl in front of him moved slowly and carefully, as if upsetting one board in the abandoned building would bring upon all sorts of troubles. Gerard stepped to her side, putting his hands in his back pockets. A moment of utter stillness passed and he raised a foot to step forward, the girl taking a glance to her right. Seeing that his face was serious, she did the same. At the instant her foot fell on the floor, a blaster was directed into her face, the pink muzzle only inches from her nose. Immediately she froze and stared over the barrel, the man behind the front sight's face masked by a blue-and-white polka dotted helmet. The girl's fists curled and she slowly raised her arms as a sign of surrender, taking a cautious step back. Gerard slowly reached out and took the barrel in his fist, reaching in front of her face. The man holding the blaster turned to him, slightly lowering his weapon.
"Go easy on her," the redhead said quietly, "she's with me." Nodding slightly, the man lowered his weapon and slowly moved backwards as if gliding over the floor. Turning to the girl to his left, Gerard watched her hands twitch to attack. He quickly nudged her with his elbow and shook his head, turning back to the man that had greeted them. "How's the Doctor?"
"Same as always, Party Poison," the man replied.
"I see. Is he available?"
"This way," he nodded. "Take her, too." Turning back to the girl, the redhead nodded and followed the man down a small corridor. The girl followed close behind, the slits from the boarded windows giving off minimal light. She squinted in the darkness, watching around the broad shoulders of the man in front of her. Small rolling wheels carried him into a lighted room painted red, shelves upon shelves of vinyl records in their sleeves lining the walls around windows. Directly in front of the door, facing the wall, sat a man hunched over a desk, his hand busy with scrawling notes to himself on a scratch piece of paper. Stopping just inside the doorway, the man on roller skates leaned against the frame and crossed his arms over his thin chest, placing one foot halfway up his leg for support. Gerard and the girl stopped in next to him, the redhead pressing in front of the girl.
"It's been a while, Doctor," Gerard greeted, raising a hand and pushing stray strands of hair out of his face. The girl raised a thin eyebrow and looked between the redhead and the seated, unsure whether to speak or not.
"So it has," the man said, his chair wheeling away from the desk and turning, the motorized wheelchair making a tight circle. "Is this what you came for?" He asked, nodding to the girl behind the redhead.
"Yes," he nodded, stepping aside. "We found her just outside the diner." Scowling thoughtfully, the seated man wheeled over to scrutinize her face with care. The girl kept her chin raised and looked down at him with a measured gaze.
"Does it have a name?" He asked.
"She doesn't remember."
"What gave you reason to believe it wasn't human?"
"We found a memory cube embedded in the back of her neck," Gerard explained, stepping aside as the Doctor wheeled around to her back, staring up at the back of her neck. He removed the dark aviators from his eyes and craned his own neck, squinting up at the skin. At the base of her neck, a small rectangle of skin stuck out, paler than that of the rest that covered her body. Raising an eyebrow quizzically, the man moved his power chair back and gestured to the seat next to the desk.
"Sit," he ordered, watching as she did so. Her movements were quick and efficient, taking two quick strides before turning and sitting in a revolving chair. As he rolled over to her, the redheaded man turned her to the wall so the crippled man could get a better look at the back of her neck. Sure enough, even with the closer perspective, the patch of pale skin failed to change. He sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the black beard that covered the skin crinkling under his touch. "Do you still have the memory cube in your possession?"
"No," Gerard answered sheepishly. "We destroyed it almost immediately."
"Probably a good idea. If you wouldn't mind…" he nodded to the outer room and Gerard pushed away from the wall, striding out of the room and back out of the auto shop. The door shut behind him quietly and he sighed, leaning against the graffiti-covered wall. He crossed his arms over his thin chest and leaned his head against the building. Sometimes the doctor's methods were a bit…he struggled for the word, subconsciously biting the soft inside of his lip. Unconventional. That was the word. They were unconventional, but, he had to admit that they worked even better than Ray's. He sighed and let his chin fall against his chest, closing his eyes tiredly. Red hair fell around his cheekbones, barely brushing against skin.
Forever seemed to pass before he felt wood brushing against his leg. He jumped, pushing away from the wall and turning, a cautious hand on his blaster. A man smiled back, his upper body sticking out from the doorway. Relaxing slightly, Gerard smiled and shook his head.
"You're so jumpy," the man teased, his long black hair slightly blowing in the warm breeze. The redhead took a moment to examine the face in front of him; green eyes, a slightly curved nose, and sharp jaw were the more notable features that he'd used to remember the face, but the biggest reminder was the red makeup around his left eye and under the same side's cheekbone. It was odd seeing the man without his helmet, especially outside. Shrugging it off, he let his hand fall, his weight shifting to his left leg.
"Some would call those good reflexes," he replied. The man in front of him (he cursed himself for never remembering his name), laughed again and waved for the redhead to follow him back indoors. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes," the black haired man nodded. "She's human."
"Really? Sure doesn't act like it," Gerard muttered under his breath.
"I'll have the doctor explain it to you," he explained. "I'm not very good at this diagnosis stuff."
"All right," he nodded, the sound of automated wheels turning making both heads direct their attention to where it was coming from. Doctor Death-Defying, the crippled man in the wheelchair, stared up at both of them, the glasses still absent from his face. His tanned skin seemed darker in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of his gaze. The black-haired man nodded slightly, slapping his redheaded friend on the arm.
"I wish you luck," he smiled, gliding past the wheelchair and into the room the doctor had emerged from. The door closed quietly, leaving both men in the dark.
"Shall we go outside?" the Doctor asked, gesturing to the door. "Even I need some fresh air once and a while." Gerard nodded and pulled the door open, letting the wheelchair buzz through before returning into the bright afternoon. The seated man quickly replaced his aviators to his face, protecting himself from the harmful rays.
"What did you find?" Gerard asked, getting impatient.
"As you heard, she's human," the Doctor replied, turning to face the tall man. "As odd as she is."
"That's an understatement," the redhead muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Smiling, the Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Her memory seems to be lost. That memory cube you found on her most likely held all of her memories."
"I figured."
"Did the cube have anything on it? Any sort of logo?"
"Well…" Gerard mused, picturing the small white cube in the back of his mind. He remembered the small black smiley face in the center, as much as he wished he didn't. "It had a BL Industries logo on it."
"As I thought…" the Doctor looked down, tiredly rubbing his forehead. "That isn't a good thing."
"Especially since we destroyed it," Gerard shrugged. "Oh well, what's a few more dollars in debt when we're already wanted?"
"It's not your debt I was worried about. I'm almost in the hole as much as you are," he looked back up, his hands falling from his face. "She's probably spent her entire life in Battery City. That's what I'm worried about." Gerard paused, turning the idea over in his mind.
"I didn't think of that," he murmured.
"I know you didn't, which is why I'm telling you."
"Can you tell me anything else?"
"Not much-,"
"Trust me, anything you can tell me is more than we know," Gerard assured him. The Doctor absently tapped the joystick popping out of the left armrest, keeping a steady rhythm.
"Her reflexes are top-notch. I'm assuming she's been trained to fight - maybe kill." Gerard nodded thoughtfully, the feeling of her fist whizzing past his cheek into the mirror pulling his face into a scowl. The Doctor finally pressed the joystick forward, turning in a small circle. "I gave her a few logic puzzles and she solved them in almost a heartbeat. If I still had my old location, I would've scanned her brain for any sort of device in there, but since the circumstances are as they stand…" he stopped and thought a moment before continuing his movement. "I'm almost certain it's pure brain power."
"So what are you trying to get at?"
"I'm trying to tell you that she's human."
"I know that already, I've been told twice." The Doctor lowered his aviators and shot the man an exasperated glare, waiting until the redhead calmed himself and returned his hands to his pockets.
"She may be human, but she was raised like a robot. She hardly knows anything about emotion. I ran a number of tests and she failed each and every one. The only emotion she really reacted to was anger," he explained. "It doesn't really prove my theory, but it helps it along nicely."
"Can we get to your conclusion?" Gerard asked, committing the knowledge to memory.
"My conclusion," he sighed, "is that you've found BL's newest attempt to try and make humankind 'perfect.'"
"Lovely."
"Judging from her memory loss, the cube was implanted into her a long time ago, probably before she could remember anything for herself. When you took it out, you wiped away any memory."
"I think we've covered that."
"She's starting new," the Doctor almost snapped before another snarky comment could be made. "Like a child in a young adult's body, with a grown man's strength and brain power."
"Is that it?"
"Yes."
"So she's staying here," Gerard asked, his hopes falling as the man gave him a grimace.
"She'd be in too much danger here," the Doctor told him sternly. "Unlike you four, I can't protect her from BL Industries."
"Who says they'd want her back?" The redhead asked. "Last time I checked, they really didn't care about their 'equipment.'"
"I'd think they'd want this one back. The memory cube you described must've taken over a million dollars to create, and then another twenty years to make sure it worked."
"So you're saying they started this experiment before they took over?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. The girl was most likely born in the 1990s." Gerard paused, his brain beginning to ache. "I'm almost certain they'd want her back. You'll have to look after her." He felt his shoulders slump at the news, trying hard to keep from pressing the argument any further. When the rest of the guys heard about it, there would definitely be some major changes. His head started whizzing just thinking about it. First, how would they even out the rations? They'd been going at a steady pace ever since they'd started on their own, four equal parts. Second, where would she sleep? Surely Ray and Frank would have nothing to do with keeping her in the bathroom, as much as he wanted her to stay there.
"Yes sir," he nodded after a moment of thinking; trying to figure out how it would work out. The Doctor nodded.
"If you'll excuse me…" he started, nodding to the door. Gerard pulled it open and let him wheel through, following him into the darkness. "There are transmissions that must be made."
"Right, right," the redhead nodded, pulling the second door open to reveal the room on the other side, the girl and the roller skated man sitting awkwardly on opposite ends of the room. Both jumped at the entrance of the other two, their heads shooting up. Doctor Death-Defying continued on his way toward the desk, his hands already busy before he came to a stop. The roller-skated man quickly resumed his tasks, gliding about the room as if it took nothing to turn the wheels on the bottom of his feet. Gerard turned to the girl, whose face was drawn and weary. Nodding with his head, he started back out of the room, the sound of her light footfalls trailing quickly behind his own.
"You'll be staying with us," he informed her when they were out in the open. "The Doctor has no means of taking care of you here." She nodded in return, quietly opening the door of the Trans Am and sliding inside. Doing the same, the redhead turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the abandoned lot, his feet dancing from clutch to gas pedal as if he was born to do so. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she turned her head out the window, watching the bland scenery pass by. Letting a long breath out from in between his lips, Gerard readjusted himself in his seat, letting his head fall back against the headrest.
It was almost a half an hour before either of them moved, the sounds of the radio pumping through the speakers and into the air around them enough to appease the pair. When one of them moved, however, it was the girl. She leaned forward, her onyx eyes narrowing to try and see better.
"What's wrong?" Gerard asked, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. A smudge appeared on the horizon, moving steadily at the rate that they had set on their own.
"It's a car," she said quietly. Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, the man leaned forward himself and squinted into the reflective glass. Sure enough, the smudge slowly became larger as he drove, taking a definite shape. The feeling worsened as he made out the sleek black car rushing toward his own car, a human shape poking up from the sunroof.
"Shit," he hissed, his foot becoming lead on the gas. The sudden movement brought the girl back against her seat, her eyes widened.
"What is it?" She asked over the sound of wind tunneling through the car. Reaching for his blaster, the redhead pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose, pressing his knees up against the steering wheel to keep the car on the road. With his free hand, he reached into the back seat and produced a pair of tinted goggles, pulling them over his head and eyes in one fell swoop. With his blaster in his left hand, he took control of the wheel with his right hand.
"BL Industries," he muttered, nodding to the glove compartment. "There's a mask in there." Nodding, she leaned forward and pulled the handle, releasing the door. A faceless Mardi Gras mask stared up at her, a yellow base sticking out in the dark compartment. Black triangles stuck out from the eye holes, three blue dots spread out on the forehead and cheekbones. She pulled it out and kicked the door shut with her knee, stretching the elastic behind her head before snapping the small disguise onto her face. Shooting her a sideways glance, he nodded slightly and tightened his grip on the wheel.
"Hold onto something," he warned her, his eyes shooting back to the approaching car. "Mikey, I really hope your nitrous works."