~
A long, rusted one-floor warehouse building stood before Selphie. It lay in an undesirable part of Nebria, just a few miles away from the lodgings Aren had set up for them. Selphie had enjoyed the first half of her walk, through the brilliant and majestic Nebrian streets, watching the hovercopters dive and weave between buildings, carrying freight cargo to the industrial areas. But now the streets were dented and rotted crimson with flakes of rust. The buildings were not well kept, and there were no pedestrians and no glamorous futuristic cars zipping by. Those who did venture onto the streets were much too rough around the edges for the likes of Selphie. She was quite out of place, dressed in her tidy yellow dress and trendy boots. She was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.
She knocked on one of the garage doors that lined the building's wall. An akward silence followed, and she kept an eye over her shoulder. Be brave, she thought. You've gotta go through with it.
A small orb fell from the roof of the building, and clinked against the ground. It instantly sprouted four tiny legs, and a red light flickered on, as it seemed to inspect Selphie's boots.
Selphie knelt down and had a closer look. The orb looked up and focused on her face.
"Hello!" she waved, with a little smile. "Um...I'm here to see someone named Kore...do you know him?"
"Kore." To Selphie's surprise, the orb spoke, in a garbled, computerized growl.
"Uh, yes...Kore! I'd like to talk to him, please. If he's not busy, of course!"
"Kore is not busy," said the orb. "What call have you responded to?"
Selphie squinted. "Um...excuse me?" she asked.
"Have you been brought by a Vulture?"
"Um...not that I know of..."
The orb shot into the air. Bundles of wiring whipped to the ground, and to its sides, and above. It stood some ten feet tall, with wiring for legs and arms, and a red eye that meandered toward Selphie by way of a long cord.
"State your business with Kore," it questioned her.
Selphie cringed, and stepped back a few feet. "I...I just want to talk with him...is this a bad time?"
"No," said the orb. "Speak with Kore."
The overhead door rumbled open, and the orb whipped an arm around Selphie's wrist. It seemed to float as it took broad steps across a broken concrete floor. The warehouse was filled with steel and wooden crates. Most were closed, but a few were not, and strange computerized equipment was present inside.
They left the spacious warehouse, and past an open metal door, which the orb closed behind them. It appeared to have been a reception area at one time. Shattered windows gave a view of the rusted street otuside. A dust-covered desk and file cabinet were pushed against the cold wall.
Sitting atop the desk was an old, white-bearded man. He wore a heavy cotton sweatshirt and worn out pants, and a pair of combat boots. His head was bald, and his face littered with mechanized augments, but he seemed warm and kind nonetheless. He smiled, and nodded at Selphie.
"Thank you," the man addressed the orb, "you may leave us now."
The orb sucked the wires back inside itself, and rolled out the open window. Selphie quickly rubbed her eyes and sighed.
"A little bizzarre?" said the man, with a touch of digital enhancement to his voice.
Selphie laughed nervously. "I...guess I'm not used to it."
"Not your thing, eh?" the man chuckled, "well, that's all right. It's my love."
Selphie watched him trail off, and stood in uncomfortable silence. "Sir..." she finally ventured. "Are you Kore?"
"I am called many things," said the man. "But you may call me Kore, if you wish. And your name?"
Selphie swallowed. It's, uh, Selphie, sir."
"Selphie. Well, it's quite nice to meet you."
"Thank you, sir," she replied. "Um, Kore, sir, I came to ask you a few things...do you mind?"
The old man laughed. "No, child, of course not! I'm taking a break right now as it is. Setting up the new office, and all. I seem to travel a lot these days, always on the run...but I digress." He motioned to the floor. "Do sit down."
Selphie crossed her legs and had a seat on the dusty floor. "Well..." she trailed. "I dunno how to start, really...but I have a friend who knew you. And I...kinda want to know more about him, and I thought if I knew more about you...does this sound strange?"
"Ah," he replied, "not at all. You could say that I'm a cross between a doctor and a scientist. I perform research on bionic systems, and their ability to aid or replace human function. And I implement this research on young men and women in need of aid."
Selphie nodded, as the man called Kore continued on.
"For instance, if a boy is born with a spinal disorder, I can inject his spine with nanites that enhance his bone and nervous structure, thereby correcting the problem. One could say I'm a philanthropist, too. I pay for it all myself. Now, who did you say knew me?"
"Oh, a friend of mine," said Selphie. "His name is Aren Bowes..."
Kore's eyes lit up. "Aren Bowes! Aren Bowes? You know that man?"
"Um...yes?" she ventured.
The man stood still for what seemed forever, until he finally spoke. "Well, you are very fortunate to. Aren is a special young man. I'm extremely proud of what I made him."
What you...made him? Selphie thought.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "He...well, he doesn't seem to talk about himself much."
Kore's words began to burst forth, like a proud old man showing off his son. "Oh, Aren was a basket case when he came to me. You see, when he was born in Dollet during its conflict with Galbadia. No parents, no nothing...just some worthless street urchin. But when he was twelve, he was playing in the street when Galbadians staged an unprovoked attack. It's the 'Hale Street Massacre,' I'm sure you've heard of it."
Selphie had not, but she hid the phrase in her memory.
"Anyhow," said Kore. "A Galbadian rocket struck a nearby vehicle, and Aren was in the blast range. He was struck in the head with a shard of metal, about this big!" He spread his hands to the appropriate size for the long metal piece.
Selphie gasped and leapt back. "Oh, Hyne!"
"Oh, yes! Right through the skull, too. Fractured his face all up. And the force severed both of his optic nerves clean off. No brain damage, thank Hyne, that'd have been tough to fix. But Aren was totally blind from then on."
Selphie shook, and curled up.
"So basically, he wandered around the streets for about two weeks with the metal in his forehead..."
"Hyne!" she screamed.
"Wait, I'm not done!" said Kore excitedly. "But one of my Vultures happened to be on a field test, and it spotted Aren and brought him back. I sure had my work cut out for me! First I fused up his skull, of course, can't risk damaging that brain. But his eyes were totally useless. I had to remove them."
Selphie was growing paler by the second.
"I replaced his entire optical nervous system!" cried Kore triumphantly. "I ran fiber-optics into his sinus cavities, and gave him brand new eyes, and I sent sonic-sensitive metal rods around the inside of his skull. Now that much was a bit more painful than I'd planned. I'll admit that."
"Oh Hyne, oh Hyne! I can't..."
"I know, I can't believe it either! He lived! But here's the beauty of it. The new eyes give him color vision, but no depth or pattern recognization. So that's where the metal rods come in! I installed custom-made sound receptors on his ears. So sound, in essence, becomes sight! The color, combined with his sonar-like vision, can mimic the sense he lost before. It's never been duplicated! He can see in pitch darkness! He can hear something miles away!"
Selphie fell sideways to the ground and shut her eyes tight. "Oh...oh Hyne, oh my god..."
"I gave him a few other tricks, too," said Kore. "I'm sure you've alerady seen those. And I'm sure they came in handy after he escaped to the military. Oh, but I'm so proud of young Aren. I'd like so much to see what he did with himself. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
~
Aren stopped the Screamer before Kore's warehouse. His floodlamp threw a blinding light onto the garage door. The sleek bike rumbled menacingly; passers by took notice and ran for shelter.
Inside the cockpit, Aren unfitted a Nebrian military helmet from over his head. Between his handlebars was a series of switches and buttons; he flipped a few, and sighed. The cockpit slid open and he stepped out. His flourescent-lined suit glowed as the floodlight dimmed out.
The orb once again rolled off the roof. It immediately sprung to life with its gangly arms and legs, and poked an eye toward Aren. "What is your business here?"
Aren's metal glove closed on the red eye and snapped it to pieces. The orb fell backwards; he crushed it with his boot. He stretched out his arms. Sonic energy built around his wrists, then coarsed through back through his forearms, and finally released though his palms.
The garage door exploded in chunks of twisted metal and Aren stepped slowly inside.
"Kore!" Aren screamed. "Come out now!"
A skinny old man was bent over one of the steel boxes. He wore a pair of shredded-up jeans, and a black vest without sleeves. His ghost-white arms were covered with metal implants. Deep holes were drilled at the sides of his elbows and hydraulics showed forth. His face was bone-thin and scraggly. Dusty grey stubble covered his lower jaw, and a frazzled bunch of hair protruded from his chin in an ugly goatee. His head was mostly bald; a few hairs were present where sheet metal was not.
The man raised himself and looked Aren's way. "Aren Bowes!" he replied, in a voice that froze him in fear. "Welcome home."
Aren stood firm and silent at his spot. Sensors at the corners of his eyes checked his peripheral for surprise attacks. His heart pounded tremendous thumps and his stomach squeezed in tension, but his stone face did not show.
The man stood beside Aren. "My boy, it's terriffic to see you again. Just look at you!"
He swished his bony hand at Aren's shoulder. Aren quickly dodged away, once again facing the man. "Oh, come on," the elder chuckled, "you can relax around your old man!"
"You're not my father, Kore," said Aren deeply. "Or Snap's, or anyone else you've torn apart and sewn back up. We're not grateful to you."
Kore laughed, and walked feebly toward a wooden crate. "You just misunderstand me, that's all," he said. "You're ingrateful. One day you'll appreciate what I've done. They all will."
Aren watched carefully, as Kore lifted a prybar, and cracked the crate's lid open a bit. "Well, then, I suppose you'll make an attempt on my life."
Aren shook his head. "I'm not Terran military anymore. I'm SeeD."
Kore chuckled once again. "You don't say?" he called, and peeked into the crate. "Now that disappoints me! My greatest creation is a low-life bounty hunter."
"Well, I'm so good at killing things, I thought I'd stay in the field."
"Touche', Frankenstein." Kore was paying more attention to the wooden box than his visitor. "So get on with it."
Aren smelled a horrible stench; dead tissue. He knew it immediately, but played dumb. "There's a price on my head," he said. "I don't know how much, but I know Mikael Midas is involved."
"Midas!" Kore shouted in sarcasm from half-inside the crate. "He's alive too. How lovely. We'll be one big happy family again!"
Aren widened a frown. He knelt down beside the largest of the metal boxes. "I heard from Snap that someone took a shot at you, too. Mind telling me who it was?"
Kore raised triumphantly from the crate. Lifted carelessly in his hands was a blue and black metal helmet, a Galbadian soldier's. Kore shook the trophy; a dull thumping sounded inside.
"This gentleman here!" Kore sneered triumphantly. "Wanna check it out? You oughtta see the look on his face! Worth a thousand words."
Aren thinned his eyes; he stood and folded his arms.
"Fine, Frankie, be that way," old Kore chuckled, tossing the occupied helmet up and down like a child's ball. "Can't decide what to do with him yet. Maybe I'll just make an end-table out of him."
"Who did he work for?" asked Aren dryly.
Kore ran to a steel box; he kicked it, and the lid popped violently off. A grisly Vulture rose from inside. "I'll give you a hint...Trabia Stratagem. This whole thing's all about Trabia Stratagem."
"I know it is," said Aren. He eyed the Vulture carefully; it sported two Hellcaster machineguns.
"Then you've obviously already figured it out, and you're here to kill me for a little revenge."
"Not so," said Aren. "I just want the hit taken off. Who else knows about Trabia Stratagem?"
Kore's eyes lit up. He wrapped a slender arm around Aren's neck. "Think, my boy! Who had a copy of the plans? Who's recieved all of Galbadia's military equipment since its fall? Who wants you dead?"
Aren's robotic eyes waned. His mind trailed to the evening he sat befor his computer, the night when two copies of Trabia Stratagem appeared on his screen.
"...It's Garden."
"'Atta boy!" Kore shouted. He stepped away from Aren. "Kill him," he commanded. "Just for the fun of it. I feel like sewing something up today."
The Vulture raised both Hellcasters. But Aren was ready in advance. His right arm was raised; he fired a spinning razor blade from his wrist. It struck the machine through the chest and felled it instantly.
Two more Vultures appeared from inside the biggest crate. Aren reached to his belt and retrieved a miniature remote. He pressed its only button; a crunching explosion ripped the steel and Vultures to pieces.
A metal visor slid into place before Aren's eyes. It extended down, covering his face, and up, shielding his tatooed scalp, until his entire head was protected. Armor clanked heavily against cement, as Aren turned to Kore.
The old man backed away. A hailstorm of orbs dropped from the ceiling above and landed between himself and Aren. The guardians unraveled into their full-size and whipped steel tendrils at Aren's head.
"Sidearms," called Aren. From behind his back, two large squarish semi-autos appeared, courtesy of two robotic claws. Aren grabbed up the guns and fired with both hands, striking down the approaching orb guardians with efficience. Wirelike arms and legs convulsed and knotted into a pile of scrap on the floor.
Empty clips dropped from Aren's guns. His forearms opened; two fresh clips slid into place and the sidearms cocked themselves loaded. Aren's metal legs smashed through the sea of wiring as he approached Kore.
Kore's smile began to lessen as he grew near to the warehouse's wall. "That's my boy," he jeered. "Still got it. And the sticky bombs were cute, I should've seen 'em coming. But you just can't kill me. Just give up, boy, you can't."
A box beside Kore exploded. From within, a skeletal, humanoid robot emerged. Its black metal body was thin and without armor, and its left arm was without a hand. A long sword was locked there in its place.
"He's bulletproof," shouted Kore. "He's got reflexes twenty times the human norm! And that blade's diamond-cut, Aren. It'll slit through that armor like nothing. So let's have those guns, eh? Maybe I'll call him off."
Aren brought the firearms to his sides. The clasps pulled them into place in his back. He folded his steel-covered arms in silent wait.
The robot charged his way and lunged. Aren sidestepped. He ripped the bladed arm clean off, and threw it across the room. His shining glove wrapped around the hydraulic neck and lifted the cyborg off the ground. Aren grasped the remaining arm, pulled it off, and thrust it into the robot's stomach. It convulsed and Aren dropped it. His boot crushed the shining black head.
Aren shoved Kore's frail body against the wall. His hand pressed hard into Kore's weak chest. The helmet retracted back into the visor, which slid away into Aren's ear augments.
"I don't care about me," Aren sneered into Kore's terrified face. "I can live with the pain. I can deal with the nightmares. But what about the people who can't? How many took their own lives because you made them freaks, and they couldn't bear to wake up to the scars? How many have you murdered on your torture tables?"
Kore choked for breaths. "Egh....Aren...I...I made you see! I gave you sight, my boy!"
Aren closed a bruising hand on Kore's bald head. "I'd rather be blind!" he screamed.
He stood, and backed away. "You're dying, Kore. But not like we died. I'm not the killer you are. I'm not even going to watch."
Kore looked down to his chest. A needle stuck from the center of his vest. "Aren...what have you done to me?"
"Poisoned you," said Aren. "Pray to Hyne; in seconds that injection will paralyze your lungs."
"Oh....oh Hyne! Oh, it can't be! Someone's finally killed Kore! Oh, mercy me!"
The old man's breathing began to slow. He choked and coughed in desparate search for air. The losing battle lasted a few seconds, and he slumped to the concrete floor. Aren turned and slowly walked toward his self-made entrance.
Kore's voice, and laughter, made him face the old man again.
"Don't go yet, my boy."
Aren spun about; Kore was standing upright, and smiling madly. He held a pistol in his weak hand. The needle still protruded from his vest. "You stupid, pure-hearted wuss, you should've shot me when you had the chance. I don't have lungs, Aren! I've been physically dead now for five years!"
Aren stood, silently attentive.
"But hey, you did pretty good. I'll give you that much. And this needle's really jammed in here good. Feels like you went through my breastbone."
Aren gave a single nod.
Kore's face went blank. He darted his eyes down; his vest was partially unzipped. Inside, the needle pinned a plastic explosive to his chest.
Aren stepped once again to the exit. He retrieved the remote and pressed it, and felt the warehouse shake with the deafening blast. Smoke cleared and silence rose as he reached the hole in the garage door.
The sudden clap of a gunshot bounded off the bare walls. Aren felt the bullet ricochet off his shielded back; it knocked him into the door. He turned quickly to assess. At the far end of the warehouse, an old man with a bushy white beard aimed a handgun his way. Another shot flared at the shadows around him.
The second bullet hit the door above his head. Aren froze.
A chain wrapped around the bearded man's neck, and twisted back. The old man fell forward with a gruesome snap, and dropped the gun. Selphie stood atop him weilding her nunchaku. Her eyes were wide-open in terror; she shook nervously as her eyes scanned the the room. She found Aren, and screamed and ran his way.
~
