In a dark room, deep in the bowels of zone one, the only light was bluish and flickering, the light of a television screen. One man watched it, the light reflecting off his dark eyes and making shadows of his face.
"Today, Duke Red walked out of the hospital alive and well." The pretty newscaster smiled, showing her perfect teeth. "Injured during the fall of the ziggurat, he has completely recovered. It turns out,"-here she fluttered her eyelashes at the camera- "that Duke Red may have been lucky to end up in the hospital- While in their care, he was reunited with his son Rock, former leader of the Marduk party. They will be living at the Skyway apartments, near to the city center. It is truly an auspicious new beginning for the city. In other news-"
Click.
The television was turned off, and the room was black as ink save for the faint glow creeping in the boarded window.
The man sat back in the darkness, leaning into his beaten old chair. Slowly, he began to smile, until it stretched across his face in a vicious smirk that Duke Red himself couldn't have matched.Chapter 4
Are you cut up?
Or do you easily forget?
Are you still around?
Why haven't you managed to die yet?
You could pry
Up the bar
in hell
How can you breathe?
Why don't you cry?
How come you never ask me why?
I thought you'd leave me falling forever...
Karma Killer- Robbie Williams
It had been nearly a month since Duke Red had been released from the hospital. He had had none of his amnesia-like episodes recently, and was on the verge of forgetting all about them.
Though his money had mostly gone down with the ziggurat, he had enough saved away enough to live comfortably. With his ever-present air of benevolence and the hero-worship that still clung to him, Duke Red had managed to get his hands on a large suite in one of the few apartment buildings left standing. With two floors in the suite it was nearly as big as a house, and cost nearly as much per month. It had been amazingly easy to occupy the place, and Duke Red quietly commended himself on his ever-present influence. He reflected on the art adorning his walls, and, in pride of place, a nearly life-size portrait of himself he'd had done. His reflections were rudely interrupted by the light scrape-click of Rock's key in the lock.
/Irritating boy./ he thought. /He was supposed to be back nearly an hour ago. Probably saw some stupid girl and got distracted./ As Rock had stopped being useful to him the day Duke Red walked out of the hospital, he briefly debated getting rid of him in an "accident" but decided against it. It was too risky to his reputation, and he was strangely reluctant to do it.
/He does have his uses,/ he concluded, /however small they may be. He must be tolerated./
Duke Red didn't wait for Rock to open the door, but strode over and pulled it open. Rock stood there, looking slightly foolish and out of breath with two large paper bags and one hand extended to grasp the doorknob.
"Where have you been?" began Duke Red, wasting no time. "You are late," he looked at Rock severely, who was shifting from side to side, trying to get inside, "why, exactly?"
Rock was trying to edge around Duke Red. "Can I just put these down first, please? They're heavy..." he said, lifting the bags slightly. Duke Red stood aside, leaving Rock free to walk to a low antique table and finally let go of the heavy load. He watched in annoyance as Rock didn't answer right away, but took the time to brush the paper fragments off his grey turtleneck, then off brown pants for once not tucked into heavy boots. Duke Red's irritation grew as Rock seemed to ignore him.
"So," said Duke Red conversationally, "what do you have in those bags? Your usual things, guns and explosives? You always were far too violent. It's really no longer appropriate." Rock paused and looked at him strangely, halfway through the process of removing his shoes.
"Er..." said Rock, lifting a packet of instant noodles from one bag. "Food. That's what you sent me out for, isn't it?" He put the noodles back in the bag, next to cans and boxes. "Should probably put these away..." he muttered, hoisting the bags once again, walking to the kitchen with only a small sidelong glance sneaked at his father. Duke Red followed him.
"You haven't answered me yet," stated Duke Red. "Why were you gone so long?" He waited impatiently while Rock stocked the barren cupboards and fridge. The Duke noted that Rock seemed to be stalling. He continued to stock the shelves, thinking over an answer, or perhaps thinking up a way not to answer. Duke Red was just about to ask again when-
"I met someone today," Rock began, glancing over his shoulder at the duke, then concentrating on the white cupboards and bluish wallpaper. "Down at that grocery... The one by the Paradise casino."
Duke Red looked annoyed. "No wonder you took so long," he frowned, "that place is nearly across the city! Why didn't you just go to the one by the escalators to Zone One? It's much closer." Duke Red crossed his arms over the immaculate suit that strangely, he wore even when at home.
Rock blushed slightly. "Well- that is- it's in zone one," he stammered, "and as I'm a Marduk-" he paused, raking a hand through unruly brown hair, "or was, anyway, they don't like me much. The upper city doesn't seem to mind Marduks, though..." Rock trailed off, his hand holding a can halfway to the shelf. "But anyway, I met someone at the grocery. Name's Aaron. Used to be one of my Marduks. You might remember him."
Duke Red vaguely recalled a boy of about Rock's age who constantly had hair covering one eye. He frowned. "Your second in command, wasn't he?" /And even more incompetent than you are./
Rock smiled slightly, oblivious. "Yes, my right-hand man, I suppose. He was always a friend of mine, right from the first day of training. So, I was wondering..." he hesitated, "uh..."
Rock stared at Duke Red, who had a faraway look on his face and faintly glazed eyes. "Dad? Hello?" he waved his hands in front of Duke Red's face. "Are you listening to me?"
Duke Red jerked his head and snapped out of it, shaking his head from side to side. "Sorry," he smiled, "I guess I got distracted for a moment. What was that you said?"
Rock cocked his head to the side, looking at him strangely. "I was just talking about Aaron... Anyway," said Rock, getting back into the conversation, "I was wondering if you'd let us go and do something sometime." Rock grinned, waiting for an answer from Duke Red, who was frowning again.
"I don't know," replied Duke Red, sitting down on a white wooden chair, "how long have you known him?" Rock tilted his head to the side.
"About six years, I'd guess," shrugged Rock, "but what does that have to do with it?"
"And how long," continued Duke Red, not answering Rock, "were you going to hide this from me?"
Rock stopped and stared hard at Duke Red. /What?/
Duke Red continued, unimpeded by Rock's confusion. "Really, you should have just told me. Now-" he said quickly, cutting Rock off before he could get a word in edgewise, "how long has this been going on?" Duke Red gave Rock a concerned, fatherly look. Rock was silently staring at the Duke, a completely befuddled expression on his face.
/What the hell is he going on about? How long has what been going on?/ thought Rock, but all he said aloud was "What are you talking about, Dad?"
Duke Red looked slightly angry. "You know very well what I'm talking about!" said Duke Red, "I really don't think this is appropriate, Tima. Having boyfriends behind my back. This Aaron character-"
Rock paled and bolted, skidding on the hall carpet and slamming his room's door. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, then clicked it into place. Duke Red followed not far behind. He could hear Duke Red outside, pleading to come in, to help his little girl. Rock hunched against the door, burying his head in his hands. /This can't be happening, it can't, it can't, it can't-/
"Tima!" called Duke Red. "Are you all right? What's wrong? Can I help?"
Rock shuddered, pressing his face deeper into his hands to shut out the world. "Go away!" he screamed, "just- just leave me alone! Don't talk to me!"
Duke Red started at his panic. "But Tima-" he began, at a loss, "please, tell me-"
"GO AWAY!" screamed Rock, a small sob escaping with the words. "Just GO! NOW!"
Out in the hall, Duke Red hesitated while walking back to the kitchen, looking back often. He was so worried about his little angel, getting involved with strange boys and who knew what else. He really should go back and have a talk with her... But she seemed almost- afraid- He paused a moment, indecisive, then sat on the same spindly kitchen chair as before.
Staring off into space for a few moments, a glazed look came into his eyes. He blinked and looked around, spotting the half-put away groceries all over. /Honestly,/ he thought to himself, /can't that lazy, useless boy finish one chore?/Rock sat still, back to the door and head in his hands, perfectly silent and unmoving. He stared straight ahead, eyes blank.
The shock of Duke Red's words... Had he truly thought he was his beloved daughter? Tima, who had died so long ago? How could he think that? How was it even possible?
/Is he crazy?/ Rock thought to himself, through a fog of shock, /is he completely insane? Or-/ a small, hiccuping laugh escaped him, /Am I crazy? I can't think... What's wrong with me? And that last bit about Aaron- It's so- just so-/
He shook his head and brushed the bangs out of his eyes, only to have them fall back down. For some reason, the small action struck him as absurdly funny. His laugh grew, a desperate sound tinged with insanity. Rock threw his head back against the heavy oak door, unable to stop. He laughed until his ribs ached and his vision blurred, only stopping when he could barely draw in breath. Panting, Rock put his hands to his face, palm-heels covering his eyes. "How- how can this happen?" he whispered between gasps, "It can't be real, I must be dreaming... My father's not crazy. He loves me, he'd never- he can't- he can't be crazy, I'll just go to bed, and then I'll wake up and everything will be fine- everything will be fine..."
Rock stood slowly, wavering and eyes unfocused, repeating his mantra. He trailed one hand along the wall, going towards the plain, white-sheeted bed in one corner. Flopping down bonelessly, he closed his eyes and collapsed almost immediately into unconsciousness....He turned around slowly. Fields and sky in all directions, one house, no people anywhere.
This dream again. He waited for the familiar compulsion to begin, but nothing happened.
Noticing he was more in control this time and able to choose his direction, Rock was free to explore the dreamscape. But here, unlike the other dreams... There was nothing. No dog, no insects, no anything. Nothing but crunching yellow grasses and the unnaturally colored sky. For lack of anything better to do, Rock started towards the blue-white house, the only sound the crackle of dead plants.
Easing the door open with a creak, Rock peered around the frame and saw no one. Only a perfectly empty room. Opening the door all the way he stepped into the dust, calling out a greeting. Not a thing stirred, no echo returned to him. The room was large, square, and utterly bare save for faded curtains over cracked windows and a rickety staircase in one corner.
Making deep footprints in the dust, he made the tour of the room. Exactly like outside, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rock sighed, beginning to become bored with the dream. Perhaps there was something upstairs? Something he was supposed to find on his own? /Or maybe,/ thought Rock, /my subconscious just likes screwing with me?/
Rock cocked his head to the left and looked up at rickety steps, most of which looked distinctly untrustworthy. Gingerly, he tried putting his weight on the first step, then the next, which let out a protesting groan, then the next-
Rock stumbled as he felt the step wobble, immediately putting as much weight as possible on the bare wall behind and inching upwards. The stairs creaked and swayed, with Rock constantly reminding himself he was dreaming and a fall couldn't possibly hurt but not believing it. He had made it halfway up when a step collapsed, sending him sprawling across the banister which disintegrated as well and the whole house began to fall apart as he plummeted towards the floor-
And the house faded from view as he was caught by strong arms.
Rock looked up, but caught only a glimpse of brown eyes and brown hair before that too faded and he fell into nothing.The blue-patterned kitchen was lit by yellowed fluorescence and faint blue shadows from outside. Duke Red wandered around, occasionally putting away the odd grocery and muttering about menial labor being beneath him, his heart not really in it. Every so often he would get the idea of Rock putting them away, but every time he did he felt an unexplainable aversion to Rock's room. Putting it down to an aversion to the boy himself, Duke Red was quick to ignore it as he ignored anything to do with Rock.
At times, Duke Red felt almost regretful for using the boy so- he often caught himself thinking that it would have been nice to have had a son. It was at those times he reminded himself of the things Rock had done in his short life, and the familiar disdain was back in place. He had adopted Rock for security, not for affection. Duke Red frowned as he remembered that day, even if he had allowed himself to get attached once, it wasn't going to happen again.In the dim twilight, Duke Red strode toward the sergeant, stopping directly in front of him. The sergeant saluted smartly, greeting him, something he would not normally have done for anyone. Duke Red did not waste time on pleasantries.
"So," he said crisply, "I heard you had a- prospect- for me?" Duke Red glanced at his watch, impatient.
"Of course," said the sergeant, "follow me." And he walked off toward a dingy prison complex, the Duke following behind. They stepped inside, and Duke Red brushed nonexistent dirt from his jacket, avoiding a puddle of muddy water on the floor. The sergeant locked the door behind them and led him down the hall.
"So," said Duke Red as they walked past small, dirty cells containing murderers, psychopaths and who knew what else, "tell me about this new prospect. How old? What's his mental state? The first two you found were useless."
The sergeant, nearly a foot taller and several feet wider than Duke Red, gulped.
"This one's perfect," he said quickly, nervously plucking at his sleeve, "he's seven, so just a bit younger than you specified. As for his mental state- well, you can see that for yourself. By the way, though," he paused, hesitant, "what do you want him for?"
Duke Red scowled. "A bodyguard for my daughter." he scowled. The sergeant didn't dare ask him to elaborate.
The sergeant stopped outside a barred door with no window, pulling a key from his pocket. Duke Red looked at him harshly. The sergeant shrugged. "He's really very passive. We didn't have any open cells left." And the door swung open.
Duke Red stepped inside, at first thinking the cell empty. Then he saw the huddled shape in the corner. He looked closer, seeing a shivering boy wrapped in a ragged gray blanket, curly hair tangled and matted. He didn't seem to see his two visitors.
The Duke swung around to the sergeant. "I will admit," he said, "that he seems very close to my specifications. However, he is far too passive. I think you need to be replaced."
The sergeant paled. "No, no sir!" he stammered, "he really is perfect! He was quite aggressive before, not docile at all! Why, he managed to kill the two privates sent to catch him!" The sergeant waited anxiously. "Do I keep my job?" he asked tentatively. Duke Red looked thoughtful.
"That is an accomplishment, I suppose..." he trailed off, watching the boy's alternately dull and unnaturally bright eyes. "How did he kill them? And how did he get like-" Duke Red gestured at the oblivious boy- "this?"
The sergeant suddenly became nervous. "Well- he killed them with- you'll never believe it-" Duke Red interrupted.
"Get on with it," he snapped.
The sergeant looked miserable and muttered something. Duke Red stared at him expectantly and the poor man looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "Glass," he repeated, "a shard he'd picked up somewhere. But-" said the sergeant, quickly changing to a more favorable subject, "the reason he's like that is thanks to our department's superb interrogational skill. They really are very efficient."
Duke Red glanced back at the huddled, pathetic figure. He nodded. "Clearly." Duke Red turned from the highly nervous man to inspect the boy. He crouched down, not willing to dirty his clothes on the filthy cell floor. The Duke put his hand under the boy's chin, tilting his head first one way, then the other. He stood, and commented on the boy. "He seems adequate, or close enough," he remarked. "Have someone come to bring him out. He doesn't look like he could-"
"Have you come to free me?" asked a childishly serious voice, "Or have you come to hurt me?"
Duke Red whirled around, looking hard at the small figure under tattered fabric. He regarded the boy for a long moment. "I'm taking you home with me. Adoption, I suppose you could say." he stated. The boy frowned, then smiled.
"I never had a father before."
Duke Red watched him impassively. /and you still don't./The air was cold, the sky dull metal and long-broken glass, the ground long dead, the residents broken and ragged.
Kenichi was in zone one, down past the rickety houses and ailing buildings propped up on nothing more than rotting struts and wishes, among the broken hopes of a civilization beginning to pick up the pieces. Kenichi stayed in a warehouse, an old, empty one that the owner had let him have no questions asked as long as he got money.
He had managed to find most of Tima's inner framework, and what he couldn't find he'd had custom built from the plans in Doctor Laughton's little red book. He felt badly, leaving the repairs and reassembling to people who didn't know her, but what could he have done? He had neither the tools nor the technical expertise to build something so complex. However, he left the last step for himself. He wanted to be the only one there to see Tima come alive.
Well, he amended, after glancing over his shoulder, other than Fifi, of course.
Kenichi leaned close to Tima, turning her head to expose the jump-start point, holding a cable just a bit away.
"Okay, Fifi!" he called, "turn on the electricity!" The tall sweeper robot obliged, reaching out with unnaturally long arms and flipping a switch. Kenichi felt the cable jerk and spark in his hand. He brought it close to the point, careful not to touch it-
A spark leapt into the point, then another and another. Tima's eyes shifted hues, and her hand twitched spasmodically. Kenichi pulled the cable away. Fifi turned the electricity off, but Kenichi was too entranced with the awakening to notice. Tima sat up straight with a sound of mechanics beginning to move, and turned to face Kenichi.
"I-" he smiled, overjoyed, "I'm Kenichi, remember?" Tima tilted her head, as if remembering.
"Ken-ichi." she said, repeating him. "Kenichi. Kenichi. You are Kenichi."
His radiant smile faded slightly. "And you- you're Tima. Right?" Tima looked at him without emotion.
"Awaiting command," she said, expressionless. Kenichi started.
"What?"
"Awaiting command."
/No.../ thought Kenichi, /she must be playing a game, something- anything but this-/ "What do you remember?" he asked her gently. She blinked slowly.
"I have no memory banks."
Kenichi sank to the floor in despair. Nothing.
Everything he did was worth nothing.Rock sat up slowly, yawning and rubbing one eye with the back of a hand. Looking around confused at the faint light seeping in a small window, he wondered how long he'd been asleep and why he was even in bed at- he looked at his watch- 7:45 PM? And completely dressed? Rock shook his head to clear it, trying to remember why he'd gone to bed in the first place, but not having much luck. All he could recall was talking to his father, then a blurry dream. Speaking of the dream- It had been different this time. It was already beginning to fade around the edges, but the startling image of brown eyes was clear as day.
But- he thought to himself, getting up- dreams were still only dreams. Not real.
Never real.
He opened his door soundlessly and strode to the kitchen, hearing someone inside. Rock peered around the corner, blushing slightly when he saw his father putting away the groceries himself. It really wasn't right that a man of his status should have to do such work, and Rock was embarrassed to see his job being done by someone so much better than himself.
Deep in his thoughts, Duke Red did not hear Rock approach.
"Father?" queried Rock, stepping out from behind the wall. Duke Red spun in surprise, nearly dropping a can of tomato soup on his toes. He frowned impatiently at Rock.
"Yes?" inquired Duke Red with an air of long suffering, "what is it?" Rock smiled, blind to his father's annoyance. He walked closer. Duke Red raised an eyebrow expectantly. "What is it?" he said coldly.
Rock flinched, dropping his eyes to the floor. "N-nothing, father." said Rock softly. "Nothing at all."