A/N: Does anyone actually read this? -_-; Ahh, anyway, I don't own Metropolis, but wold be grateful for reviews.
I surveyed the destruction with an impressed eye.
The fresh barrier of police tape ringed the lab, and the fire had made a mountain of charcoal from what was once so tainted. From the pure black coal and white ash it was almost difficult to remember the twisted parody.
I could breathe easier now that it was gone, but something still seemed off. Even in a fire so large a bit of it should have remained- a metal skeleton of sorts, but none had been found. The scrawny little divisional police chief Ham and egg (Everyone called him that, though no one could quite figure out why.) was behind me, trailing every step I made as I searched. Stifling a condescending snigger as he caught his foot on the police tape and nearly fell flat on his horrible mustache, I wondered if it was because of the resemblance- runny as eggs and slow as a pig.
I choked off a laugh and ducked behind a jagged mountain of debris. The mental image alone was terrible- An undersize pig in a policeman's cap, jiggling his mustache as his snout quivered, covered in oozing, runny egg and mud.
I'd just managed to get myself back under control as the man himself rounded the corner. He looked irritated, and my mental pig oinked indignantly.
"Well," he said in his oily way, "have you found what you're hunting for?"
"No," I said, trying not to picture the pig talking, "still looking."
He looked conniving, and tried to be subtle. "If you told me what you were looking for," he oozed, "I could help..."
Thankful for my dark glasses, I rolled my eyes at him. /Pig... Oink oink oink./
"It's classified," I lied calmly, "Marduk business." And continued on my way.
We came to a sort of pit in the ground, him chasing behind. It was ringed in crumpled metal plates and broken wire, and that was where I felt the first real misgivings.
"Ham and Egg," I said, forcing myself not to think about the name, "where does this pit lead to? There's running water at the bottom."
He thought for a moment, something that looked like a rare feat. "Well," he answered finally, "It goes through Zone two, then to waste treatment in Zone three."
I stared down, wondering. "Could a human survive the journey?"
"Nah," he laughed roughly, "they'd be chopped up and liquified a dozen times first."
"Only if they were a normal human..." I murmured, half to myself. The pig didn't seem to hear.
/Brother.../
I turned sharply at the faint voice. Nothing.
/Bro-therrr.../
At the peak of the debris, there was the briefest flash of golden hair and gauzy fabric, then... Gone. I stared at the spot, my mouth partially open.
"Hey," said the little man, and I was brought back to reality, "what are you staring at?"
"I-" I began, then stopped, "did you see-?"
Looking up again, there was nothing but twisted metal girders and ash. I shook my head at the strangeness. "Never mind," I said, "just- never mind. We're going to zone three."
He recoiled slightly, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Zone three?" he said, disdain evident, "what for?"
"We are," I gave him my most menacing glare, "and I know Duke Red paid you to stick at my heels all day. Now come on, we're going."
We left for the level slide lifts, the little pig squealing at every step.
*******************
"You never get used to the smell down here," remarked Ham and Egg, staring around in distaste. I looked at him in contempt. Couldn't say I disagreed, but what good would it do to complain?
In zone three, people never came if they could avoid it. As a consequence there was filth in every corner and the ever-present television screens showed nothing but sparking snow. We walked along a sort of balcony that I suppose could be used for surveying the inner workings of the city, if anyone was ever crazy enough to brave the stench of the processing plant. It was deserted, but the level below the balcony was dotted with several Albert I and IIs. They shifted back and forth, eternally polishing and cleaning- but wait.
A shock of blonde hair. Could that be-?
I wavered for a moment in utter shock, almost having to grab the railing to stay standing up. My sister... she couldn't possibly be...
/Brother.../
The voice in my head whispered softly, wrapping itself around my senses.
/Brother... Brother, brotherbrotherbrotheryouhaveforgottenme.../
"No..." I whispered, and was only barely aware of Ham and Egg at my elbow, yelling down at the children on the processing floor. I noticed the oddly familiar boy beside her. Where had I seen him before?
/You have forgotten me brother, she still lives, she is not real.../
I can feel a hand on my shoulder I know isn't there, and pull out my gun. The mockery on the factory floor cannot be allowed to exist. I know that with every fiber of my being.
Sighting them, I fire. Once, twice, three times, but no hit. I'm too far away for accuracy...
"What are you doing?" yelled Ham and Egg, "you can't shoot them!"
/Brother/
I bring up my arm.
/Brother, he is stopping you.../
"Stop," I whisper, unsure who I'm talking to, "this isn't right..."
/do it./
My arm, on its own, presses the metal against the policeman's stomach, just under the rib cage.
"Stop it," I think, but it doesn't reach my lips. The words stay echoing around my head.
/avenge me, brother./
I fire, and watch his body plummet in slow motion to the metal below. It's so tiny from here... Insignificant. A slow smile flickered across my face, and I turned and ran after my prey.
/run,/ I thought, a bloodthirsty joy coursing through me, /run, children, and I will catch you./
I felt my sister's approval at every step, her gentle hands resting on my shoulders. A red haze clouded my eyes, but it didn't matter- I existed only to destroy the creature. We fell behind for a moment at the level lifts, but their lead was temporary. As soon as the elevator came down again I shot the Albert II working the controls and went up.
The chase lasts a long time, and I don't remember most of it. There are confused impressions of guns and heat and exhaustion from running, a point-blank shot to the head of a robot, a crowd of protesters... My next clear memory is standing at a junkyard with my Marduks searching, and the ghostly whisper of promises at my ear.
/Brother,/ she said, and laughed.