A/N: Metropolis still not mine, story still dark. Ja. I haven't gotten the dialog right here... It's just paraphrasing, really. Oh, and profanity warning for this chapter (do I really have to warn for the F-word? Might as well, I suppose.)
Reviewers: Moonlit: Don't worry, I'm not giving up on ATFOA, just trying to get my plot sorted out a bit (^_^). Stagsleap: Thank you! (*^_^*)
The celebrations are perfect cover. I waited near the doors, pretending to do my rounds while watching for him, my father, to emerge. Every time I look around, people are crowding me and swarming like insects- but I can just scowl at them and they back away from my mirrored gaze and red uniform.
I wonder, sometimes, why people never really seem to see me, only the Marduk band on my arm. When I went to school, a long time ago, after I'd been adopted by Duke Red and had just begun my training, the other children were... Well, not kind, but tolerant. We spoke civilly enough and some were warming up to me, though I obviously didn't come from their world of privilege. We might even have become friends, if given time.
Then came the day my training progressed far enough to warrant giving me a uniform. Of course, I didn't have to wear the whole thing when off-duty, just the armband... So the next day I went to school with the green band of a low-ranking Marduk tied to my shirt, a light jacket overtop to stop the coolness of fast-approaching autumn.
You should have seen their faces when I took off that coat. The children, even some of the teachers backed away like I had the plague. I was confused, and tried to talk to a boy who'd been almost my friend. He looked disgusted and half-afraid, yelled at me to "Fucking leave me alone" and ran. The children stayed away, the teachers pretended any chair with me in it was empty or filled with something disgusting and beneath contempt. It was years later that I learned why.
Duke Red, deciding I needed to toughen up, had told all the teachers that I'd been enrolled in Marduk training to curb my violent impulses, and that I'd killed a grown man with my bare hands. Naturally they'd passed the false information on to the students, though no one had believed it at first. At least, not until they saw the band on my arm. (Truthfully, yes, I had killed a man once, but it was a complete accident and I was only four at the time- trying to get rid of the raider teams who followed the bombs. One had come after me, but I'd clipped his temple with a badly-aimed rock- he fell backwards, through what was once a window frame, and twenty floors straight down into the rubble)
So effectively, my life was a living hell from third grade onwards. I learned to hide emotion and bury the pain of rejection- though secretly, I'd rejoiced when when "accidents" befell my classmates. Nothing deadly, but enough to break bones. I admired my father from afar for teaching me this... Friends are worthless, and revenge is much more gratifying anyway.
I snapped out of memory as Duke Red approached, heading for the immense limo in front of the Ziggurat. I know where he's going, and I know the shortcuts one can take to get there faster than a car. After all, the vehicles can't take the lifts, can they?
Walking towards the lab, I felt a shiver of fear. I'd seen too many things there to have any semblance of calm, and replaced my fear with anger. Righteousness. Revenge for my sister's death. With those thoughts in mind, I climbed the outside wall and entered through an access port. It afforded an excellent view of this atrocity against life, and I settled down to wait.
It wasn't long before Duke Red, trailing two bodyguards, approached. They were bathed in greenish light outside the lab, and gleaming gold within, just the way my father should be. I peered through the hole I'd made in the metal, watching as My father and that horrible-
My hand twitches for my gun, something it does often in Laughton's presence. Blood pounds in my ears, and I just barely catch something about the mockery of my sister not yet being complete. My father leaves, and Laughton and I are left alone in the lab. Now is my chance. Revenge awaits.
I felt my lips curl into a feral smile and clambered down to the metal deck quickly and quietly, as befits a Marduk. My feet took me forward, and it felt like I had no control over myself. I watched the facsimile of Tima floating there in underlit fluid, nestled in glowing wire.
The despicable man is talking to me, but I don't really hear the words, nor my own response. Part of me is answering him, but most is locked in a mixture of despair and fierce joy. He mentions something about Tima, and something inside snaps.
"Just shut up!" I yell at him, not feeling especially sane. Then I pull out the gun.
"Y- you're going to shoot her?!" he says, incredulous. I stare straight ahead, revolver trembling in tormented hands. Looking at her, Tima's face, eyes closed sweetly in sleep...
I can't do it. I just can't.
But the awful man continues. "She's my life's work! Modeled after Duke Red's own daughter, you know!"
All sanity I had left deserted me at that moment. I turn slowly to face him, aiming for the heart. I get a moment of pleasure watching him squirm, as if his arms could ward off the bullet. Then I fire.
Spinning around, I shoot at anything that looks flammable. Fuel spills and electricity crackles, arcing overhead. I almost feel happy at the carnage in my sister's name, earning her a quiet rest through revenge against those who wronged her.
In the destruction, I pause for a moment. "Gods," I pray silently, "please, help me free my father from the evil of machines."
Perhaps he'll love me now.