Normality? We can talk about normality until the cows come home
The ash filled sky was full of black shapes as the machines pushed south. London darkened as the skies became full of ash and darkness. Machines, their tentacles whirring were joined by the vast Kraken harvesters tearing down into the streets, to pluck any of the populace unlucky enough to be out at that point of day. All resistance was crushed as the full might of the machines were thrown against the dark city, the Nightwatch were nowhere to be seen, their Bastion sealed and unforgiving.
People were been rounded up as new units of machines pushed on forth. Tall and upright, their heads expressionless orbs moved from frightened face to frightened face as they pushed into the large squares of the Country's capital. In every town, every city, every place across the world, people were taken from their homes either by the machines or the vast tentacles of the machines floating high above the cities.
A single Machine unit ran through the scorched halls of the underground train system within New Port city, casting from side to side. From behind the pitiless orb of its head, nothing moved, nothing was evident as it searched the dark ruins. A child's toy lay in the murk; a woman's lost shoe and a dead body. The machine crouched down beside the corpse of a brown haired man, its human looking body working well to bring it level with the man's creased and blood stained clothing.
It cocked its head to one side, curious, the blank space where a face should be giving away little of the inner workings which ran the human looking, white clad machine. Togusa shot it at point blank, its head coming away in the blast from the high powered gun. The head scattered across the ground, black ichors spraying across all surfaces. He was up, just as the headless body slumped to the ground, white hands grasping for any nearby objects as the nervous system struggled to work, extracting his lobe wire to plug into the nap of the machine's neck.
He halted, the implant sockets were gone, the neck was bare except for several metal sinews to keep the head moving. No input…
There was click beside his head; a cold snub of a gun against the back of his head caused him to freeze. He turned back into the white blank face of another machine, it had a hand gun clenched in its hand, a 3 fingered hand Togusa noted.
"The Voice…." There was no visible way the machine spoke, the face never moved; there was no evidence of expression. "….is obsolete. We are thought and mind."
"So you've gone Wi-Fi" Togusa put his hands behind his head, resting the pistol against the back of his neck. The machine was unlike the ravaged machines he'd met before, the humanoid thing held itself with such poise; its torso and appendages were covered in a white armour, beneath that he could easily see a rubbery material that made up the machine's flesh. 3 fingered and blank faced the machines were just as much Alien as they were human, the blank rounded mask, clutching strange ornamental rifles in their hands.
"We are the new human race, foot soldiers."
"You all have roles to carry out?"
"For the greater good of the machine race yes..."
The machine spoke in a well spoken way, cut glass syllables, the white mask never moving, Togusa could easily see there was no face beneath the visor, just wires.
"What are your plans for us?"
"You'll all become part of the construct, a vast network of minds…"
"Don't we have choice…." He snarled hands behind his head. "….you can't just take us by force."
"The human race is not a choice; you live on a civilisation based on violence. We taking your lives but sustaining you must be just a typical human way of thinking."
Togusa let his hands drop, getting a warning shift of the handgun by the machine soldier. He paused, resting his hand on his right arm.
"You know….what do you call human, our unwillingness not to back down or our own diversity" he punched the machine, the cybernetic arm flowing outwards, shattering the metal face plate of the machine. In a cloud of sparks and smoke the face exploded, exposing the human bone structure beneath, the frozen face almost like an old style death mask which looked within the white confines of the suit.
"Because I'm not your typical human…!" He wrenched his gun from the floor and picked up the unusual rifle of the machine's up from the floor. It resembled a rounded block of silver metal, no trigger or stock visible. Togusa turned it over in his hand, marvelling at the light weight, the oval shaped rifle had several cravings across its silver surface, roses and snarling dragons were engraved, mouths opened at the far end of the oval. There was small switch on the side, a tiny stud. Togusa gave the gun one look and pressed the small metal button.
The rifle came apart with a silken click, parts becoming visible, the gun extending to reveal a longer barrel, a stock and a trigger. He gripped the rifle to his chest and dropped down into the railway bed, avoiding the electrified tracks. He could see survivors sprinting ahead, lit by the lights of several soldiers' torches, his family running as well. Togusa dropped low as a large blast tore through the tunnel. More of the machine soldiers were dropping down the escalator down onto the bottom level, their rifles panning across the wrecked station.
He took one deep breath, gripping the hairline trigger and raised himself up above the level of the platform. In a hail of blue fire, the rifle fired. A single pulse of plasma tearing from the rifle, Togusa could feel the heat, melting through the soldiers who were tearing down the dark stairs from the bright halo of light above.
They scattered into cover, dropping below the parapet of the station desks. Togusa could here the buzz in his ears as the machines conversed with each other, their white masks blank. Togusa dropped down again, pulling the large gun down with him. The holographic image of a gauge where the scope would sit showed the plasma gun wasn't depleted, not yet anyway. And then Togusa had know idea how to reload the rifle, no holes were apparent on its surface, no ammo feed system on implant ports were visible. Not that at that present moment he particularly cared as the machines opened fire on his position.
Togusa darted up blasting several off their feet and into the grime covered floor. From the black of the tunnel, gunshots rang out as more began to pour from other stations along the track. The Deathwatch had joined the troops earlier in the day as the leviathan dropped into the sea leaving a vast, metal spine covered island and had ran for cover in the depths of the underground system until the others had caught up. They were hard pressed to guard the last survivors, those not rounded up by the machine armies or killed in the running gun battle which had followed the Leviathan been shot down. Hundreds had come, dropping from the upper atmosphere, insectile machines dropping on crystalline wings and shattering the ground as they landed. They looked like the powered exoskeletons used by the Japanese Self Defence Forces, but with sharper shapes, black darts on the landscape.
And these new troops, new faces and new designs. He swore again as the rifle over heated, burning thorough the hand guard resting beneath the guard and dropping back into cover. One of the machines flitted across the gap between desks, lit by the glass covered entrance high above. Togusa's pistol winged the sprinting machine, spraying the remnants of its arm across the dark floor.
There was a blast of dust above and several blurred balls of metal came bouncing down the main escalator. As they hit the bottom floor they exploded out, rearing up onto six pointed legs. The bug like bodies put Togusa in mind of termites as he jumped aside as the large bug like machine shattered the hardcore around his feet as it smashed its leg down. He was up and running, from what he could tell the machines had no way of fighting at long range. More could be seen, dropping down onto the tiled floor, spinning round to bring the other soldier machines in spec. Togusa dropped into shelter behind a destroyed train carriage as the first bolts smashed into the metal walls.
A bullet slammed into his shoulder, spraying blood across the dark floor. Togusa felt the entire world shift as the pain tore through his frame as the blood began to flow. It must of hit a major vein or something he realised, trying to stem the hole in his arm, dropping the rifle to one side. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps as his body struggled to cope with the stress caused by the stray bullet, the dull brown long coat becoming slick with his own blood.
The chain cannon tore a hole through the ranks of massing machines as the vast armoured suit pulled itself into view. From the small helm set into the suit's shoulders, swearwords echoed across the tunnel. It resembled a very over proportioned human body, not big enough to be a battle suit but instead resembled a powered exoskeleton. It was very thick set, chain cannon, bullet belts linking to a rear backpack, the other arm was missing and replaced by a huge shield the pilot was using to hide behind as he covered the running survivors. An Orga Leviathan suit, used during the previous war, bullets rattling from the gun, the spent cartridges building up on the floor around its feet. Its thickly covered chest inscribed with the orga Logo.
A Cog, split in two illuminated by a white lightning strike…
Togusa had seen it before, on buildings and flying from tattered flag poles above the many battlefields, evidence of the Orgas' machine hunting nature. More could be seen, black clad suits pressing forward, more heavy duty versions of the Nightwatch's armour. Several scooted to a halt beside Togusa's position, extending segmented light weight, black metal shields from their gauntlets.
The armoured giant planted the shield down into the hardcore, offering cover for the troopers, tearing apart one of the termite shaped machines.
"Synthetic!! Fall back!!"
Togusa looked up as he was pulled aside by several troopers fending off plasma bolts with the light shields, their rifles held in one hand, light machine guns blasting down the length of the tunnel, tearing through the massed troops.
"Kickin' me?! Are you dumb sir?"
One of the troopers was screaming from behind his visor as he tore apart one of the soldiers…
"boom* *boom* You are done, sir."
"I HEAR YOU!!"
More came, sprinting through the black, a mixture of voice, some Japanese, others Russian, some English, their masks all the same black material, their armor still pitch black like all the Deathwatch….
"Who's your Commander!?"
"Sannan over there, the guy with the red shoulder pads"
A trooper sprinted from the dark, dull maroon shoulder pads catching the light in comparison, it was strange Togusa realized as the cover was peppered full of bullets as hundreds of other machines pushed down the terminal steps. The Deathwatch never exposed their ranks, most did it by voice recognition or people denoted on their HUDs. Now it seemed things were changing.
"Commander Sannan!"
The glowing eyepieces of the lead trooper quickly alighted on Togusa's form beside the metal carriage.
"What!"
"What do you have planned?"
"Who are you and what is your interest in this war!?"
"I want to survive. Togusa Section 9"
A grenade detonated nearby, tearing through the tunnels, scattering dust across the train tracks, Sannan ducked aside, rifle up and ready, roadie running into the dark cover where Togusa knelt.
"So Togusa of Section 9, how can you help us?"
Motoko opened her eyes. The long cream walls of a bedroom stirred round her form as the bonsai trees lined up along the window sill moved slightly in the breeze. She groaned loudly smoothing aside the cream bed clothes. With sleep blurred eyes she stared around the dim room. There were pictures of flowers around the room, gaudy pictures. Nothing moved within the room, the silence rolled by to Motoko as she rolled over in her bed.
The small silver wristwatch ticked on the glass shelf beside her bed, a family picture resting in a silver frame. And a wedding ring…
Motoko picked it from the surface of the glass table, it felt real…
Strange, she turned it over in her hand. Within the interior of the small circlet, several Japanese were carved….
Too the Ghost within the Shell, my love and my Wife.
Out of a deep sense of curiosity she tried the ring, slipping it onto her ring finger, the gold band fitting snugly to her thin white fingers. Motoko rose from the bed, allowing the covers to fall from her body. She was dressed in a long white night dress, its silken folds soft against her skin as she rose from the soft mattress. She paused; the house or apartment she occupied was silent. Nothing moved within the still corridors, the quiet rooms, soft furnished and warmly lit. As the morning light peered through the loose curtains which hung across the window, she turned. There was a cupboard by the door, a walk in wardrobe at the far side of the room. She took one look at the silver framed picture beside her bed and gasped, catching her foot on a loose sheet and hit the floor.
There was a patter of small feet running thorough the halls, a small voice calling in the dim lighted corridors beyond the space Motoko occupied. She felt her now horribly human heart quail at the small voice of the young girl calling….
"Mummy!! Mummy! Are you alright…I heard a noise… mummy please answer…I'm scared!!
Motoko clenched her head in her hands, curling into a ball, tearing at her hair….This wasn't right, this wasn't right….the memories of the war, Ryeman, the Nightwatch were stealing away from her, replaced by mundane thoughts and memories. It all just seemed to be some kind of Nightmare, a dream perhaps. The ring on her finger seemed to burn like ice as the young girl appeared through the door, the purple hair moving in co-ordination with her body, the crimson eyes so full of life.
My Daughter…
"There you are mummy…." Mira, the girl smiled, her face creasing in a look of child like glee as she took Motoko's limp hand "…we're going to have breakfast."
Motoko's eyes became unfocused as she stared at the small white hand gripping her own, the golden ring on her finger, the 3 people in the picture frame, the usual stern expression gone from her face, replaced with a look of contentment....and boredom.
She seemed lost, confused, Mira pulled at the unresisting hand playfully, trying to get the older woman to her feet.
"This morning we're going to have waffles and then Daddy's taking us out for Lunch at Orikura restaurant…You'd like that wouldn't you?"
Motoko got to her feet. She paused checking the picture behind her and stared down into the young face below her.
"Yes…yes I would….."
