Disclaimer: I do not own Guilty Gear or its associated characters.
Chapter VI: Antiproduct
The robotic man stared blankly at the cold steel walls. He didn't know where he was, then again, the construct didn't know that he cared. The room was filled with boxes containing all manner of odds and ends. Parts, he supposed, for any number of machines that might need to be replaced or repaired. Most of the containers were stacked neatly in columns and rows, on shelves or by walls. There were, however, a few scattered at various workbenches, their contents strewn about the work space.
It was always an odd feeling not knowing where he was or what was happening. Lately, however, this was a feeling the nearly limbless android was learning to live with.
He couldn't help but wonder what odd twist of fate had placed him in his current situation. It didn't seem that the events which had transpired could be purely coincidental. The android reasoned that something else was happening. Something was moving in the background, unseen, orchestrating this gross comedy. He had, after all, escaped very violent deaths on two separate occasions. The more he thought about it however, the more it confused him.
According to the android's records this was the third day since he had awakened in the odd room which he assumed was a storage space. It was entirely possible, however, that he had been here for longer. He had no recollection of the events that occurred after his near-death experience or before the time he woke up three days earlier. In addition no one ever came or went, giving the impression of lifelessness. So there he sat, propped up against a steel bulkhead that hummed softly in his ears.
The clockwork-man idly fumbled with the small, leather bound tome in his lap. He'd memorized the text and even though the automaton could recite the book cover to cover he always found himself reading. Many of the things in the thick document seemed obscure. Perhaps he would never understand the paradoxical existence of mankind.
The stoic automaton cast his gaze sideways, realizing that he was no longer alone. There was another figure standing in the faint artificial light. He instantly recognized her. There, no more than twenty feet away stood the blue-haired half Gear.
What was she doing here? It seemed too odd of a situation to be mere coincidence. The clockwork-man watched the graceful creature with fixed interest. He waited for Dizzy to make the first move, being unable to do so himself, but she just stood there. The automaton watched her crimson eyes, searching for anything the might be hidden there.
He found something he wasn't expecting. Unlike his biological counterpart, Dizzy's eyes were soft. The android had long since given up any attempt to make real sense of what he saw behind the gaze of other people. Despite the changes the clockwork-man had experienced he would never be quite human. Instead the clockwork-man savored every moment he was blessed by the half Gear's presence.
Dizzy walked slowly up to where the automaton lay, her gaze roaming over the creature's broken form. She stopped a few feet away, an awkward silence falling over the two.
"Did you save me?" The imitation man's voice hinted at mild interest. Dizzy hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the creature's bluntness. She nodded, sadness washing over her features. It seemed as though the half Gear were somewhere else, reliving some odd moment in her past.
"Is something wrong?" The automaton's voice brought her back to reality.
"No, just a little distracted," she lied. The clockwork-man could see recognition in her features. She remembered him. He was genuinely surprised. Although their initial encounter had been somewhat traumatic the thought that they would meet again had never crossed his mind.
"You're on the Mayship," she continued. "We'll take care of you here."
The droid watched her curiously, remaining silent.
"Um," it was clear she had expected some type of response but when none was forth coming she continued on. "My name is Di-"
"Dizzy," he interrupted. "Command Gear. Thought dead, although unconfirmed as the individual who claimed her bounty failed to provide sufficient proof when further investigated."
The imitation man continued to reel off any bit of information that was relevant to the half Gear's existence. He stopped, however, when he saw a small frown form on Dizzy's face. An odd silence fell back over the two. It was becoming increasingly clear the droid had done something wrong but he wasn't quite sure what. He filed away the observation for later.
"Did I do something wrong?" The droid asked, breaking the awkward silence. The half Gear hesitated for a moment before answering.
"No," she said. "It's just that… well… You interrupted me and…" The half Gear struggled with her words, finding it difficult to express the subtle, unwritten rules of human interaction.
The clockwork-man noted her hesitation and waited patiently for further explanation. When none came, however, he felt it appropriate to make amends for the unnamed trespass he had committed.
"I apologize," he began. The automaton's tone was metallic and aloof, unable to express the confusion he felt or portray the sincerity of his words. "I am unable to fully understand the delicate sensibilities of human interaction. This is possibly due to incomplete programming, as I am only a prototype."
"I… don't think that's why," Dizzy said, mostly to herself. Although the explanation seemed plausible to the clockwork-man it was clear that Dizzy saw something he didn't.
"You said you're a prototype?" Dizzy asked, apparently deciding this was better than the awkward silences they had been stumbling in and out of.
"Yes," the clockwork-man responded. "I am the ninth developmental prototype to the 3-Series 'Imitation Warrior' project."
"Imitation… Warrior? Who would do something like that?" The half Gear said, genuinely confused. The clockwork-man did not pick up on the negative connotations of her statement and instead responded to the literal statement.
"I have not been provided with any information regarding my creators. As an HK-S model I operated with complete autonomy. Therefore it is likely that in the event of my capture or destruction, my creators did not wish any evidence linking me to them."
"That's so sad…" Dizzy's features fell. The clockwork-man didn't enjoy seeing the half Gear sad but it intrigued him. Why would she care? He had never given a second thought to his isolated existence. It was inherently part of his function. It was part of who he was.
"Did they even give you a name?" The clockwork-man was caught off guard by this question. He searched his mechanical mind for an answer. Although he had been provided with a basic unit serial code and identification that was clearly not what Dizzy was referring to.
"No," he replied simply. The droid's voice buzzed unhealthily as he struggled with the abstract question. His gaze fell and his grip unconsciously tightened.
"Everyone should have a name," Dizzy said, running her hand through the limbless android's hair. "We just need to find you one." The half Gear smiled sadly at him. The gesture reassured the clockwork-man for reasons he didn't quite understand.
The door opened, a small figure poking its head in. Although this caught Dizzy's attention, the imitation man was more interested in her than the new arrival. He vaguely wondered why Dizzy was the way she was. Weren't Gears biological weapons made for war? Although the clockwork-man knew the reports and statistics surrounding the blue-haired girl he couldn't see the terrible power that all his sources suggested. Instead he saw a girl who was quite possibly more human than any other.
How was that possible?
She turned back to him. "I have to go now but… I'll see if I can't find you a name when I get back okay?" The clockwork-man nodded dumbly, unable to think of any other response.
The graceful half Gear exited the small room, leaving the imitation man in darkness. Before she had come the droid's mind had been relatively empty, uncaring as to where he was or the circumstances of his arrival. Now, however, everything was different. The automaton's head was brimming with ideas he couldn't have conceived minutes earlier.
One question superseded all others, pushing to the forefront of his mind. Who was he?
He reached back, into his past, searching for an answer to the obscure question. Memories flooded back to the clockwork-man, whisking him away from the small metal room. He dreamt of pain, blood, death and human gore. Once, these things had been a fact of life, a consequence of his existence. Now they were a hellish nightmare he could never escape from.
Darkness began to ebb at the corners of his consciousness as the clockwork-man relived the terrible deeds he'd done. Did he even want to know who he really was? Then the sorrowful creature heard them.
The voices began low and lazy, as though waking from a long slumber. However, the blood on the automaton's hands excited them as he relived his tainted past and they grew steadily louder.
His head hurt. The clockwork-man didn't want to see these visions anymore but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to know who he was but it was too late. The dark places in the back of his mind were overtaking him. The wailing in his ears strengthened. The creeping darkness whispered malicious reminders of his deeds in the droid's ears. He could hear the sounds of the dying mixed with the unholy hymn in his ears.
The clockwork-man gripped his head tightly attempting to drown out the horrors that unfolded in his personal hell. Specters called out to him on all sides. They taunted him, their sardonic voices tearing at his sanity. They called out to someone, speaking his name, venom laced in their calamitous chants.
The clockwork-man knew full well who they were calling to. Their snarling lips chanted his name. Moments earlier the droid would have given anything to know his name, to know who he was. Now he couldn't drown out the appellation which came to him on fell winds no matter how hard he tried.
Strength left him. The droid no longer had the volition to fight back against the inevitable truth. Gloom consumed his near limbless figure as his demons tore at what remained of the imitation man's soul.
Who was he? The clockwork-man couldn't find himself through all the people he'd killed. So instead he remained still, lacking the will to wrest himself from where he lay. The empty construct sat that way for a long time, the dim, artificial light throwing shadows across the floor and wreaking havoc in his weary mind.
Author's Note: For those of you who read the original chapter six rest assured, the basic plot line is the same. I decided to extend this important revelation out over the space of two chapters. I felt like I needed a little extra time to develop this section since we're drawing to a climax in the next few chapters and this is a pretty important event.
In other news, "Walk" is a long ways from posting. I like to finish three or so chapters before posting the story so people have a bit of context to go off of. "Walk" is likely to be just as dark, if not more so, than "The Search for I". I might write a lighter fic at some point but nothing in the immediate future.
In any event, it's likely I'll post initial drafts on the Guilty Writers site for peer editing. If you have any questions about Guilty Writers please contact Talon Silverwolf or visit http://guiltywriters. title of this chapter, "Antiproduct" is derived from a song of the same name by the band Strapping Young Lad.
-iD3