Usual copyright information goes here. I don't own Ai no Kusabi.
Dystopias rule.
Happy late New Year.
Chapter 2: Rebelling Against a Utopia
"How does it feel?"
"Like I'm holding a blender from my elbow," Guy flexed the artificial arm the doctor attached to him and watched the metal wires enlarge.
"Don't worry, it'll feel like a normal arm again in a few days," the doctor typed something into his computer and peered over the large glasses. "Are you sure you don't want to have silicone seal over that? I can make it look and feel a 100% real."
"I don't have more money for that," Guy said. "And I want to keep it has a memory."
The doctor shrugged. "Anyway…that will be a 1,000 credits. Do you have insurance?"
He shook his head and pulled out the small card and slipped it over the smooth desk to the doctor. Damn…a thousand credits…that was the last of his money.
"Okay," he slipped the card back and Guy took it, slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans. The doctor nodded to him once, that he was free to leave, and he left the room silently.
Where to go next? His apartment? He stuck his both of his hands into his pockets and was startled to find that the feeling of his arm not being there was gone.
He walked all the way down to the crummy flat he lived in; trudging up the stairs and twisting the doorknob open after unlocking it. He flopped down on the couch and let go of a heavy sigh.
How long ago was it when Riki told him about Iason? How long ago was it when he drew back his fist and slammed it into the cheek that he had once, long ago, kissed and ran his fingers over it? And now Riki was dead. Dead because of him, because of a few days in which he had lost his mind.
He ran his hand down his shirt and pulled it off, throwing the garment down on the floor. He reached up behind his neck and slid off the band that held the thick hair together and let the long strands slide down his shoulders and touched the edges of his waist.
"Fuck it all," he said and took off his pants, striding across the room and into the shower. The automatic glass door shut behind him and he slid down on the tiles, clutching his head. The water immediately poured down, adjusted to the temperature his body would feel comfortable at. Instead, he reached up and pressed at the "Cold" button as hard as he could, turning the spray of water into ice. He cried out and punched at the ice, spraying shards of sharp silver everywhere.
Riki's dead…Riki's dead…
He cried out in pain, clutching at his heart that threatened to beat out of his chest. He sobbed into the glass, ignoring the coldness of the ice.
"I'm sorry!" He whispered, half sobbing dry tears. "I'm so sorry…so sorry I tried to separate you from Iason…"
"DUDE! He's ALIVE!"
He gasped as he felt the glass door he was leaning on suddenly slide open and he crashed on the floor. He looked up to see Sid, Luke, and Morris staring down at him, looks of pure relief on their faces.
He stood up and landed a punch into Luke's stomach.
"People don't walk into other people's apartment!!" He shouted as Luke lay sprawled on the floor, coughing.
"The door was open…and we were worried," Sid said, looking at him. "Are you all right?"
"No…I just happened to be hemorrhaging just a few minutes ago and I decided to take a bath, that's all," he hissed. "You didn't notice all the paramedics in the kitchen did you? Oh I guess you didn't – they must have left."
Luke suddenly stopped coughing dramatically on the ground and looked up. "Guy…" he whispered. "Your arm…"
In a flash, he grabbed the closest thing that could conceal his arm – a gray tablecloth underneath a lamp. The lamp crashed on the ground, but didn't break. He pulled the cloth over the mechanized arm and rushed out of the bathroom.
"Guy – what's wrong, you can tell us…"
"NO! Get away from me!" He cried and tried to find some desperate corner he could curl up into.
"Guy…" Sid placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can tell us what's wrong. Remember? We're Bison…we're –"
"Shut up and go away," he jerked from Sid's touch. "You're not my damn shrink."
"It's Riki, isn't it?" Morris said. "Riki has to do with this…"
"I knew you'd lose it when you said you were going to hunt down… "Tanagura's Mr. Blondie"," Luke made two peace signs with his hands and jerked it up and down twice to emphasize the quotes. "Look at you…you look half dead."
Guy sighed and pulled the gray cloth over his arm and shook his head, feeling the leadership qualities he had developed after Riki disappeared for three years sink into him. "Look…I'm kind of messed up right now and I want to be alone. Why don't I see you guys in a few days? I seriously can't talk right now…" he clutched his forehead. "Please."
It nearly took him a week before he could pull himself back together, and another before he had the courage to pick up the phone hanging off his wall and call the team back together. He didn't know how to explain what had happened, much less what to say. If something like this happened a year ago, he would probably call it a quits on the Bison gang and leave Tanagura. Maybe sought out a new gang to join, hang out in the whorehouse… but something inside him dug hard into the pits of his mind and said that no way, was he going to give up on Bison. And he had a mission for them:
Get out of the planet Amoi.
He stepped out of the shower, and after drying himself, he pulled on a blue shirt over his bare torso and struggled to get into his jeans. He swept his hair back into the usual ponytail before kicking the door open before walking down the worn stairs to the open street.
He stopped for a moment to study the streets, wondering which way to go. Absentminded with his thoughts, he let a foot slip off the sidewalk and brush against the gravel of the street.
"Hey, punk, watch out!! Get off the street!"
He cried out and leapt away just in time as a car wheeled and nearly hit his hip. It crashed on the sidewalk and hit a telephone post. He whirled around angrily and slammed his hands on the hood the moment it stopped moving.
"Learn how to drive, you fucking bast – " he stopped as he saw the driver open the door.
"Guy…isn't it?" The red hair man asked.
"Katze – Katze?" Guy said.
The piercing violet eyes flicked up to him for a second before looking at the damage on the car. "I love the way people repay me," he rolled his eyes heavenwards and stepped back into the car.
"Hey, wait!" Guy said, swallowing hard. "Uh…I'll pay you back. Seriously!"
"No need. Where are you going to get the money?" Katze's eyes traveled down his artificial arm. "Seeing that arm probably took whatever was left in your wallet."
"You forget, I'm in the black market," he gingerly touched the metal, feeling the tiny electric sensors buzz. "Hey, mind if I talk to you? I've got a good deal…that you…ah…might be interested in."
Katze raised his eyebrows. "Why should I care that you have a "good deal"? I already have all the money I need."
"Fine. Consider it doing me a favor, and you get paid for it."
Katze studied him for a moment. "You know…I have to say that you look totally different from the man that tried to kill Iason."
"Don't mention that!" He angrily hit his hands on the roof of the car. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"No."
He sighed, feeling the pain in his heart increase. "Listen…Katze. I really do need your help for this, and you're the only one I could think of that could offer some assistance. And it's not going to cost you anything but time."
"Get in the car. Your whining is enough to make me want to decapitate my ears. And sit in the backseat."
Feeling a small flicker of hope, he slid inside the backseat and wrapped his arms around his torso, watching a small curl of smoke escape from a cigarette in the front seat.
"I have a meeting to go to, so you'll have to bear with me for a few hours," Katze said and he looked at the rearview mirror. "Located in a higher quality whorehouse, so you don't have to wait in the car. Unless you'd rather."
"What care do I have for a whorehouse?"
"Maybe you'll see it as a future career, being a whore," Katze wheeled the car violently into a rather nice looking street and came to a sudden stop in front of a large building, built totally from black granite. A door made from crystal, specially cut so it threw rainbows of colors across the granite.
"Do I want to go inside?"
"Go. I'm not going to leave the car here for you to steal and sell," Katze said. "Go in first and leave in about three hours."
He walked out of the car and casually pushed the door open, a wash of darkness coming over him. Only torches – actual burning torches of fire hanging from the walls, lit the large room. There were about twelve large tables, each illuminated by soft yellow lights that emitted from flames underneath the glass of the tables, and a long pole jutted out from the center straight up to the ceiling. Heavy chains with a pair of handcuffs and ankle cuffs hung from the pole. Only a few tables were unoccupied, while the rest were stuffed and filled with men looking up at the show they were getting.
"No guess what that's used for," he picked an unoccupied table, free from any chained dancers and drinkers. He sighed and watched Katze walk in and joined a large table. They seemed to be arguing for a few minutes, before one of the men started clapping his hands and shouting loudly up to the bartenders up front. Katze's smile turned instantly stiff.
He sighed and sank into the black sofa. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could sleep the three hours away.
"Hey, want a drink?"
He looked up into the pair of strangest eyes he had ever seen in his life, one eye so pale and blue that hardly any light was reflected off it, and there hardly seemed to be pupil, even though the room was dark. The other was a bright green, almost glowing in the dark. A swept of black hair, that probably grew past the boy's waist swept over his knees.
"Uh…no thank you…" he breathed, staring at the thick fold of black eyelashes.
"Come on…I see you're here alone, unless you're waiting for someone," the boy stood up straight, revealing that he was wearing nothing but a black leather vest and a very short pair of shorts. He couldn't be older than sixteen.
"No – "
"Then, let me keep you company. The name's Malachi," he offered a lean hand to Guy and he ignored it. The boy shrugged his thin shoulders and sat down on the leather sofa next to him. Katze took that moment to lift his eyes and stared hard at him, his eyes only saying one thing: "What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, you're with him?" Malachi caught Guy looking back at Katze.
"You know Katze?"
"Sure, regular customer," Malachi pulled a pack of cigarettes encrusted inside a metal box that was strapped on a leather strap around his thigh and placed one in his mouth. "You have a lighter?"
"I don't smoke. And what do you mean by "regular customer" anyway?" Guy asked, couldn't believe that someone like the emotionless redhead could actually own this fiery dancer.
Malachi laughed. "No, not a customer like that. He couldn't have sex anyway, in case you don't know," Malachi dropped the unlit cigarette on the floor. "He's castrated. Wouldn't tell me why."
Castrated?
"Regular customer in the fact that he comes here a lot," Malachi grinned at him. "I own this place."
"You?" Guy raised his eyebrows. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen. Legal enough," he winked and stood up.
"Hey wait…um…"
"Sorry, I don't give "special" services to anyone," he ran a hand through the thick lock of hair and looked silently back at him. "Anyway, what's your name?"
"Guy."
"Pleased to meet you," Malachi smiled at him, and left.
The moment that he disappeared into the darkness, Guy saw Katze excuse himself and hurried towards him.
"Leave. Now. Get in the car."
"What? Meeting's over so soon?"
"Just do it, damn it!"
Guy leapt from the sofa and nearly ran out of the dark room, the sunlight hitting him so hard it was like being hit with an explosive. He felt Katze behind him, and just about shoved him inside the car. He slid to the floor as the car whirled out of the driveway and slid into the road, scaring a gang of bikers off the street and into the sidewalk.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Katze asked. "You and Malachi?"
"Why? He just came over and said hi."
"I don't care," Katze said, his lips clipping each word dangerously. "Stay away from him. I don't pay attention to rumors, but from what I've heard, he's behind one of the largest mafia groups in Tanagura," the violet eyes flicked towards him for a second. "Whether he's in the largest one or not, he is involved in assassination."
"Then why on earth would you want to be attending a meeting in some…mafia bar?"
"When we pay the bartenders…" Katze took a cigarette and lit it. "We're not paying for the drinks. We're paying for Malachi's protection in the black market. Guy – stay away from him. Many men are protective of him even though they're not his lovers. Seeing someone from the slums – " he paused and stared knowingly at Guy. "Seeing someone from the slums with Malachi will lead many men to kill you."
"He seems like just a rich, snob of a kid," Guy rubbed his arm.
"Aristocrats. His ancestors were one of the first scientists to colonize Amoi, believe it or not," Guy said and turning into a dark alley. "Get out."
Guy stepped from the car out into the shadows and followed Katze up a secluded, filthy staircase into the gray building, knowing that Katze's apartment was behind the dirty gray walls. He choked back a cry of surprise as a large rat ran over his shoes and he stumbled back a few steps on the staircase.
"You know, you really do show to much emotion," Katze flicked his eyes towards him for a moment before opening the door with a set of keys.
"That thing was the size of a hog!" He said, clutching at the railing. "You really should live in a better place. Even my place in the slums doesn't have a rat that's been tainted with enough radiation to turn into a badger."
"I don't like to mess with other people," Katze gave him a long, cool stare and pushed the door open into the dark apartment. "Sorry, but I don't have enough courtesy to offer you coffee," he took a small remote control from his pants and pressed a small red button, activating a light bulb and an air conditioner. "Sit," he motioned the sofa.
Guy sat down and placed his arms of his knees, an act that he always did he felt like he really needed to say something important. He looked down at the floor and waited until Katze pulled out a long cigarette and lit it as he sat down on the tattered leather.
"Your lungs are probably polluted. I told Riki he shouldn't smoke as well, but he doesn't listen to me," Guy said, half speaking more to himself than to Katze.
"I'm not surprised. Riki's more of a rebellion than some wild animals. And besides you smoke as well," Guy smashed the cigarette into a porcelain ashtray.
"I smoke only when I'm under extreme stress, and it's only one or two."
"That's what they all say. So what's the deal, Guy?"
"How would you like to get out of Amoi?"
"Amoi?" Katze laughed, a high-pitch unnatural laugh that sounded like it was dipped in a can labeled "Sarcasm". "Do you know how hard it is to even get out of Tanagura? Forget Tanagura, try getting out of the slums first."
"They say people like me have a green aura," he couldn't help but smile. "We still manage to do a good job even if we skip from step four to step seven."
"And what do you mean leave Amoi? Why?"
"This place is fucked up shit, Katze!" Guy slammed his hand down on the coffee table, rattling the ashtray. "If I go on living here for the rest of my life – " he took a deep breath. "I can't. I can't stay here. I'd rather be dead."
"Then die. What do I care?"
White light seemed to explode in his eyes as soon as Katze said the apathetic words and he felt like someone had tried to dig inside the skin of his chest with their own fingernails and hands. Before he could even think past the lightning flash of white anger that erupted in his eyes, he shot from the leather sofa and grabbed Katze at the collar of his shirt with both of his hands, pulling the other man up to meet him eye to eye.
"You fucking – FURNITURE!!" He screamed. "DON'T YOU CARE AT ALL ABOUT LIFE ITSELF? DO YOU THINK IASON AND RIKKI WOULD'VE WANTED YOU TO LIVE YOUR LIFE LIKE THIS – "
The white light exploded into tiny shards of colors that focused into the room surrounding him as soon as Katze slapped him. The man pulled him close and crushed his own lips into Guy's.
He uttered a cry of surprise as he felt Katze's moist lips lock onto his own. He clutched at the large arms beneath the gray sweater and tried to pull away – only to find out that Katze wasn't kissing him – he was biting him to the extreme.
As soon as the salty, coppery taste of blood filled his tongue, Katze shoved him back on the sofa and he clutched at his hurt lip. He looked up at Kazte who wiped his lips free of scarlet liquid and gave him a smile – the kind of smile an executioner might give to the executed.
"Why – "
"To shut you up," Katze narrowed his eyes. "If you want to earn respect from other people, you have to learn how to control your emotions first."
Guy sucked up the last of the blood and spit on the floor, ignoring Katze's eyes. "I guess I'll leave you here to die, with all of your cigarettes and computers," he stood up, his hands shaking as he slid them into his pockets. If Katze said anything, or did anything out of his line one more time -
"Where do you intend to go, if you leave Amoi?"
Still looking at the ground, Guy walked over to the door and flung it open, slamming it on the outside wall. He grinned and kept his eyes on the concrete floor.
"Earth."