"No! Not agai—" Risk awoke with a start. Panic was imprinted on his face, and it took him a long moment to blink it away. He sighed and sat up, only then hearing the sound of the computer beeping his wake-up call. "Yeah, yeah, I hear it," he grumbled, listening to the whirring of his gears as he stretched. The computer continued beeping. "I said, I'm up!" he shouted.
The computer stopped the alarm abruptly, and Risk put his head in his hands for a moment before finally standing. "Anything new?"
"One new message."
"Decrypt and display." Risk read the text. "Oh, now they tell me. Primus, I hate when people move the deadline on such short notice. Thanks for giving me time to scout the location properly, scrapheads." He sighed. "Fine, tonight it is. So much for a night off." He checked the time. "Okay, six megacycles to go through the simulations and get this right. Guess I'd better get started." He connected his targeting eye to the computer port. "Access saved mission route: Mission four-zero-nine-zero. And send Acknowledgement: message received and understood, mission proceeding."
"Acknowledged. Message sent." The computer pulled up the interior of the Synergy Corporation building, once more placing the virtual guards and security systems into the 3-D map. Risk set up for a run-through, carefully trying to avoid the guards and systems. Still, as the simulation added possible guard reactions, he ended up having to shoot his way out.
"End simulation. Guard casualties?"
"Five offline, two damaged."
A slight growl escaped him. "Stupid interference. They get in the way, they're gonna end up dead." He shook his head. "If I wanted this much damage done, I'd just throw a slaggin' bomb into the building. Begin again."
The simulation ran again, and Risk tried a slightly different escape route with different maneuvers. It took several more runs before the result was to his satisfaction.
"One offline, one damaged."
"That'll have to do. I can't figure any better route, and I'm running out of time. Save mission plan and download."
"Acknowledged."
Risk absorbed the information, storing it in his personal memory for easy access. "Here's hoping those guards actually react the way they're supposed to," he murmured as he disconnected. He grabbed one of his best guns and a distance scope, loaded the gun, and attached them both to his holsters. "What's it like out there?"
"No movement for six hundred fifty meters in all directions."
"I'm going out."
"Auto-security functions enabled. Dropping shields."
Risk exited the building and again contacted his jet to meet him. This time the street bots he passed were mostly asleep, and Risk kept his focus completely on the mission. When his jet picked him up, his features were set in icy concentration.
As they reached the edge of Cybertropolis, Risk finally broke his silence as he connected himself to the jet's console. "Upload mission parameters and maps. Drop-off in one cycle. Cloak and return to Safe Zone for exactly one-point-seven-eight megacycles, then return to specified hover location and await pick-up command."
Once the jet's computer had copied the information, Risk unstrapped himself from his seat and prepared for drop-off. The jet swooped low over a rooftop and came almost to a dead standstill as Risk opened the cockpit and jumped out. He had barely touched the ground before it closed the cockpit and took off.
Risk looked around carefully to make sure no one had noticed his landing, then fired a silent line to the next rooftop and began hopping the buildings for the last few blocks to Synergy Corporation.
*
***Three stellar cycles ago***
I've got him.
This is gonna be so much easier than I thought! This guy isn't afraid to be out in the open or anything. This may be a fairly deserted part of the city, but he's just standing on the street like any ordinary bot. In fact, he's even bragging to some other Predacon about one of his latest kills. He thinks he's so good that nobody would dare come after him. Well, that and he thinks he's protected by the Guild crest on his shoulder.
I don't have one of those.
Not that I haven't had a load of chances to get one. I've been getting the messages more and more often for nearly a stellar cycle now.
The first ones sounded polite: "Your reputation has come to our attention. We respectfully request that you contact us and apply for membership. We feel that your services will be of great use, and you will receive benefits."
Right. I "respectfully" deleted that message, along with most of the others that followed. Okay, so I said "no" to a couple of them, and sent a "kiss my skidplate" to another when I was in a bad mood that day, but they just kept coming. Why can't they get the picture? I don't want to join the Guild! I suppose I should be flattered, because they do have standards in choosing who they ask to join. Only the best, Maximal or Predacon. But I've learned some stuff about them, and I don't like the way they work. If I joined, I'd only get to do the jobs they hand me, and they get a percentage. Are those the "benefits"? Why would anyone want to join?
I guess to stop getting messages like the one I got yesterday: "No assassin may operate outside the boundaries set by the Guild. Reconsider our invitation. You have been warned."
The more jobs I did, the more threatening these messages got. I've changed my contact information loads of times since then. How do they keep finding me? And in some messages they've hinted at my reputation for immortality. I don't like that.
Okay, so I know it's no secret. People find out that I get out of the most impossible situations and always survive to take the next job. But when those guys mention it, it makes me nervous. I'm not sure I want to know what they're thinking or how that particular skill would be "of use" to them.
So I'm not joining. I deleted the message.
The next message was more like it:
"I need your help. My brother was assassinated three decacycles ago, and I want him avenged. However, the assassin responsible belongs to the Assassins' Guild. It seems that nearly every other assassin is also a member, and no one affiliated with that organization will turn on one of their own. Even those under the employ of others will not touch a Guild member. I've heard that you are freelance, and good enough to get the job done. Money is no object."
I liked that last part. If I'd joined the Guild and was stuck following their glitched rules, I'd have had to ignore this job. Well, no way. And just thinking about what taking out one of theirs would do for my reputation…well, let's just say people like that guy who hired me for this job would come to me first, before going to the Guild or anyone else.
I recognized the name of the other assassin—he definitely belongs to the Guild, and he's pretty good, too. Still, I can do it. I've never failed a job yet.
So here I am, with the guy dead in my sights. He thinks because he's part of the Guild, he's untouchable. Luckily, I don't play by their rules. I'm about to make myself a pile of money, and teach those scrapheaps that being a Guild member isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I'm just squeezing the trigger when he suddenly looks up, zeroing in on my position exactly. It's too late for me to stop the shot, which ends up going into the wall behind him as he dodges it.
"Slag," I mutter. I should have known he'd have some kind of detection software in place. I don't have that program because I'm not quite rich enough to buy it yet, but this guy's been in the business longer than me and probably has the best of everything.
And he's fast. I barely have time to get out of the way before he's drawn his weapon and fired at me. Primus, that's a powerful gun…the shot goes through the wall right beside me, across the room and out the other side. Instincts are screaming inside me that I'm out of my league and to just run, but I fight that. I haven't failed a job yet, and I'm not about to start now. The jobs for Chronos or any of his rival syndicates have nothing on this contract…this one is for my personal pride and the leap my reputation is going to take if I succeed.
Okay, so I'm not gonna run. But I sure as the Inferno am going to keep moving. The assassin's shots are just barely missing me as I dodge, running in a zigzag pattern towards the stairs. One grazes my side, but if I stop, I'm dead. I race up to the roof and over to the edge. Sure enough, he's still down there, firing up at me. I figured he'd be too angry to just take off. He's shouting up at me as he aims. "How dare you, you little punk!"
The guy he was talking to is running off, probably trying to get to safety. He's not the target, so I don't care if he gets away. I know that most bots don't want to get caught in the middle of a firefight anyway. I'm one of them. I hate when a job gets messed up like this.
I'm forced to duck and roll away as yet more shots blast apart the edge of the roof. Slag, I'll never get a clear shot this way. I run over to the far side of the roof and transform to my motorcycle mode, then turn and race towards the edge, dodging the shots more easily as I pick up speed.
I've never done anything like this before, and I hope to Primus I can pull it off. I hit the edge, momentum carrying me through the air.
"Risk, terrorize!" My mid-air transformation is disorienting for a moment, but I still manage to look down and get off one shot before I'm forced to grab the top of a streetlight to keep from falling four stories to the street below. I hear a loud cry as I swing around the lamppost, and look down to see where I've hit. The assassin is holding his smoking gun hand and cursing loudly. The gun itself is lying on the ground a few meters away.
He looks up at me, pure hate on his face. "You won't get away with this," he growls.
"I always get away," I smirk as I pull the trigger. In a nanocycle he's lying on the ground, offline.
I slide down the lamppost. I did it! Now all I have to do is get back to my base and collect my fee. I can feel my reputation shooting through the roof already. What a rush! I've just taken out one of the Guild!
I race away from the scene, barely able to contain myself. Primus, I can't wait to send the "mission accomplished" message. Once I know I'm safe, I think I'm gonna use the first pay-comm terminal I see. Transforming, I speed through the streets, dodging in and out of traffic and taking shortcuts through narrow alleys. I haven't had this motorcycle mode that long and it nearly broke my bank for a while, but I love it. My old days as a jetboarder helped me catch the balance and maneuvering pretty quickly, and now I can give anyone who tries to follow me a serious run for their money.
I double back along my trail to see if anyone's following me, but I don't see any police or that witness anywhere. I transform back to robot mode and duck into another alley, carefully inspecting the area. Nope, nobody around. I've done it! And who cares if that other guy saw me—I've obviously left him in the dust. Let him spread the word that I took out a Guild member.
There's a pay-comm terminal across the street. My base is still a couple of kilometers from here, and I simply can't wait to let the contact know that I did it. Why not? It's a short message, nobody followed me, and it won't matter if someone traces the signal to a pay-comm. I make sure all my weapons are out of sight in their compartments before crossing the street. No sense calling too much attention to myself.
Once there, I slip in a cred and type the quick message, mentioning where to send the fee I'd decided on. The price is higher than what the crime syndicates pay me for their jobs. Why not ask for more, if money was no object? I've just pressed "send" when a voice behind me makes me startle.
"You've crossed the line, kid."
I whirl around to find myself face to face with two bots that are larger than me. One is the witness from before. Their Guild crests shine on their right shoulders.
Oh, slag. How could I have missed seeing that crest on him before?
They've got me backed up against the pay-comm terminal, and my weapons are all in their compartments. Primus, I'm stupid. Really, really stupid. My thoughts race. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"
"You know who we are and why we're here...Risk. Not only do you refuse the invitations, but you have the bearings to shoot down a member. Did you think you could keep ahead of us forever?"
This is bad. I gotta get out of here. "Look, I think you've got the wrong—" Before I finish that sentence I brace myself against the terminal and kick the witness in the chest with both feet. He staggers back a bit, and I flip up onto the terminal, kicking the other bot in the chin as I do so. I spring off the terminal, vaulting over their heads, and hit the ground running as I draw my gun.
But I'm too late. They recover quicker than I thought and something hits me in the back before I can even turn to fire at them. I cry out as I feel the shock race through all my systems. In an instant I'm on the ground, unable to move. Blips of diagnostics keep trying to appear, but that system has been paralyzed along with the rest. I groan and try to move as I hear their footsteps coming closer.
"Still think you're unstoppable, kid?" I think it's the witness talking, but I can't raise my head to look up and see for sure. "You're about to learn a hard lesson." He's standing right in front of me now. I can see the gun in his hand, but I can't move to do anything about it. I can't even speak.
Oh, slag, he's gonna kill me. Primus, help me…somebody, anybody…help me…
"And this is for offlining Diesel." The last thing I see is his foot about to connect with my head, and then darkness.
*
Risk landed silently on the very edge of the Synergy Corporation building, bringing the information about its security systems to the top of his memory. Using his targeting eye, he superimposed the virtual map of the systems on top of the real building. Invisible trip-lasers now stood out. Risk checked the time, noting that there was only two cycles before a security fly-over would notice him on the rooftop. He carefully began maneuvering around the random laser grid and reached the access door with less than a cycle to spare. A quick connection to his targeting eye allowed him to see the inner workings of the lock and its associated alarms. By the time the security sweep passed overhead, there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen on the rooftop.
Risk quickly began making his way to his decided setup point. The top floor had no windows on that side that gave him a clear shot at the government building, so he was forced to take the stairs down two flights. He hurried down, gun ready even though he knew that the building's regular staff would have already gone home for the day and the guards weren't scheduled to check there for at least another twenty cycles. Encountering no interference, Risk switched on his scanner to be sure no one was on the other side of the stairwell door before opening it.
The floor was dark and empty. The name and logo of Synergy Corporation greeted him, printed in large letters on the wall next to him. He stopped and stared at it. "I know I've heard that name somewhere before," he murmured as he took a moment to run a quick check through his databanks. Still unable to pinpoint it in any of the few contract records he'd stored, he finally tore his gaze away and returned his attention to the mission.
Risk slipped down the hallway and turned into a specific room, one much like any office building, except that all the computers and other such equipment were covered in alarms. "Yeah, I'll bet they don't want anyone stealing that data," he muttered. He began making his way quietly towards the far window, then suddenly ducked down behind a desk that was surrounded by an electrical field. Risk quickly pulled out a tiny instrument and held it next to the field. The instrument calculated the current and applied a countercurrent, deflecting it enough to make a hole in the field without actually interrupting the flow and setting off the alarm. Risk carefully squeezed through the hole and pressed up against the desk before turning the instrument off. The electrical field closed up behind him.
"Three, two, one, now," he whispered. Sure enough, a guard appeared at the entrance, giving the floor a quick check with both a light and a scanner. Risk stayed perfectly still as the guard swept the room twice, the scanner picking up nothing but the alarms' electric fields. Then the guard was gone and the room was once again in darkness.
Risk waited half a cycle to give the guard sufficient time to get far enough away, then made a hole in the field once again and crawled out. He smirked to himself as he put the disrupter back in one of his compartments. "Nothing 'hotter' than an electric field."
Once at the window, Risk cut a small hole in the glass, avoiding the crisscross trip-lasers that covered most of the pane. He assembled his long-distance rifle and scope, targeting the entrance to the government building across the square through the hole in the glass. "Zoom in," he said, and his targeting eye complied, making the view through the scope crystal clear. Risk mentally checked the time. "Twelve-point-six cycles," he muttered. "He'd better be on time." He stayed perfectly still, waiting for the target to emerge.
*
***Day One***
…Where am I…?
Things are a little fuzzy. System check…system check…
My computer doesn't respond, but I can tell now that my optical sensors and motor control are both online, and my systems feel ready.
So why can't I move?
My senses gradually get clearer. I'm lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling.
This isn't my base. Where…?
I suddenly realize why I can't move. I've been pinned down, held at the wrists, shoulders and ankles.
My eyes go wide as panic sets in. Oh, slag. Oh, no.
Those guys didn't kill me after all.
Bad situation. Bad, bad, bad. I gotta get out of here. I start trying to struggle, but I'm held so tightly I can barely move at all.
The soft whoosh of a door opening makes me turn my head. A bot steps into the room, flicking on glaring lights that force my optics to take a moment to automatically adjust themselves.
He walks up to me. "Do you know where you are, boy?"
"N-no…" I can't control the shaking in my voice.
"Oh, of course you do. Where else did you think you would end up? You didn't really think we'd kill you just like that, did you?" He turns away for a moment to slide a control panel closer and I see the crest on his right shoulder.
I gasp. "The Guild…"
"Very good. Welcome to the Cybertropolis chapter. I hear you've been avoiding coming here for quite some time now."
I try struggling again. "Let me go!"
He answers that with a chuckle. "I wouldn't tender any hopes of that, boy." He starts fiddling with buttons and controls on the panel, and that only makes me more nervous.
"My name is Risk." Yeah, be angry. Don't be scared.
"Ah, yes, Risk. The so-called 'immortal'. Yes, we've been keeping tabs on your exploits for a long time. Well, let me tell you something, boy. Here, you are nothing, so get used to it. In fact, if you'd understood that sooner, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation." He flicks a switch and something above my head starts to hum.
Angry. Stay angry. "So, what…you want me to join the Guild? Is this my forced 'invitation'? Is that what this is all about?"
"Oh, we're well beyond that now. As one of my associates told me, you crossed the line, boy. You had your chance to join us, and instead you threw the invitation back in our face and kept on doing whatever you pleased."
He presses a button and enough electricity surges through me to make my systems seize up and my entire body go rigid. The shock doesn't last long, but my sensor circuits feel like they're on fire.
He keeps talking as if nothing has happened. "You see, we don't tolerate that kind of behaviour. We've made it very obvious that freelance work isn't allowed and that there would be a price for anyone who attempted it. But you refused to listen." He shakes his head. "Kids—you think you can just get away with everything." A smirk. "You all think you're immortal."
I'm still trying to recover from that shock. Are my circuits on fire? I can't tell. Diagnostic…diagnostic…? "Diagnostic…"
"Oh, we disabled that and your self-repair programs. Those diagnostic reports can be so distracting, and we'd prefer you kept your attention on the matter at hand. Besides,"—he gives a cruel smile—"we'll put you back together so we can start fresh every day if we have to."
"No, you can't do this! Let me go!" Struggling is still useless, and the next words that come out of my mouth are curses.
He sighs, and another shock stops my rant mid-curse. I can't help struggling harder, even though I still can't budge. "Stop it! Let me up, slaggit…" My voice breaks a bit.
He simply chuckles as he looks down on me, shaking his head slowly.
I look past him towards the closed door. "Help! Somebody!"
He ignores my frantic call. "So let's bring the conversation back to you and the main reason you're still alive and not in fragments in a dumpster somewhere. Do you know why you're not dead yet?"
What? What kind of question is that? What answer does he want?
Oh…
He notices the realization that flashed on my face. "You do know. So answer the question."
I stay silent.
Another shock. My vision flashes in and out, circuits trying to deal with the surge.
Reroute, reroute…send excess energy to power converters and energy storage…That's not working, either. My internal computer isn't processing my commands. Primus, they must have disconnected the command receivers too. What do I do? Without those commands my body won't be able to deal with what happens to it except through its initial sensors. And I can't go into repair mode…
Holy slag, I'm gonna feel everything.
His tone is still calm. "Answer it."
"Because I can't die," I murmur softly.
"Very good," he replies scornfully. "Now, I find this fascinating. Any fool child in this business would have been killed a long time ago, but not you. No, you somehow manage to survive it all. We're interested in how. What's the secret, boy?"
I don't answer.
"I don't like to be kept waiting."
I shake my head.
He sighs. "Shall I increase the voltage?"
I can take it. I've been badly damaged before. I can take it…
When that shock ends it doesn't feel finished. Excess energy ripples over my body, sending smaller tingling shocks through my systems as it bleeds off.
"Well? What's the secret to your luck? A special upgrade? A friend in high places? You might as well tell us, boy, because you'll stay right here until we get what we want from you."
My jaw quivers slightly, but I still don't answer.
"No? All right, then. You know, I don't particularly believe all this slag about 'immortality'. If the others want to think you are, that's fine." He leans closer to me. "I'd prefer to test it."
My eyes go wide. "No! You can't…!"
"Of course I can. You thought we were going to force you to join us? No…we're going to wait for you to beg to join us."
*
Risk watched carefully through the scope as a couple of bots left the government building. He brought the physical description of the Maximal to the top of his targeting program, but neither of the bots who had exited the building within the last five cycles were the right one. "Come on, come on," Risk muttered impatiently. He checked his clock again, noting that there wasn't much time left until the guard made his next sweep of the room. If the target didn't show soon, he would have to pull back and hide within the electric field again. Even so, the guard would no doubt notice the hole in the window, small as it was, as the air from outside would register on the temperature-sensitive scanner.
Another bot exited the building, waving to someone in the doorway before starting down the stairs. Risk's targeting program beeped, confirming the description. "Finally," Risk said, keeping absolutely steady as he aimed. The shot was clean, going right through the Maximal's head and out the other side and leaving nothing but a neat black hole. The bot dropped like a stone, tumbling down a few steps.
Immediately Risk began disassembling his rifle and returning the parts to their respective holsters. Another look out the window showed a security bot rushing out of the government building towards the fallen Maximal. Still zoomed in, Risk could see that the security bot was on his comm, probably calling for the police or emergency repair. Then he suddenly looked towards the Synergy Corporation building. Risk moved back from the window and swore quietly. "Maybe all security bots aren't as dumb as they look," he muttered.
Risk stood and immediately began heading for the main hallway, bringing his selected escape route to the top of his memory and drawing his smaller short-range gun. He stopped just short of entering the hallway, instead staying just out of sight around the corner of the doorway. Right on schedule, he heard the footsteps of the guard approaching for his second sweep.
When the guard got close enough, Risk reached around the corner and grabbed him, pulling him into the dark room. Before the guard could make a sound he was unconscious on the floor, sparking slightly from the damage on his head.
Risk swiftly made his way down the hallway, gun ready. The simulations had placed at least four more guards between him and the roof, but there were none in view yet. His proximity detectors were silent, and his scanner could see no movement behind the walls. As Risk neared the doorway to the stairwell, his expression betrayed a growing unease.
Once again the Synergy Corporation logo caught his attention just before he entered the stairwell. A memory seemed to flicker, but was gone before it could be identified. Risk did not hesitate in front of the logo this time before quickly going through the door and starting up the stairs. When he reached the top floor, he stopped and stared up towards the roof. "Scanner."
Sure enough, four guards were on the roof, two holding their positions while the other two moved towards the access door. Risk opened the door to the top floor and ducked inside, running past the logo and down the hallway towards a room with large windows. He could hear the two guards exiting the stairwell and making their way down the hall. Risk hurried into the room, his gun still ready as he half-ran, half-backed towards the windows. Judging by the pace of the footsteps, the first guard would get there before he had time to break the window and escape. He re-checked the simulation results that he had put in memory. If the simulation had run correctly, he would have to kill that first guard to keep the other from following him. He counted the time until the guard would appear in the doorway. "Four, three, two—"
His countdown stopped abruptly as he backed into something that should not have been there.
*
***Day Four***
"Why don't you make it easier on yourself and just tell me, boy? What secret is worth this?"
"You…wouldn't believe it…any—argh! …Please…"
"I've had enough of hearing the same non-answer over and over. Shall I start on the other hand, or are you ready to talk?"
"Please, I—Stop…I-it's because of…"
I jerk awake suddenly, the memory as fresh in my mind as if it was still happening. I must have passed out…or maybe he left and let me fall asleep? I can barely remember.
I groan slightly as I try to move, feeling the bonds holding me down as always. I feel like I'd give anything just to be able to move again. Except that even that little bit of movement hurts—he put some of me back together after yesterday, but he purposely left the most painful parts alone.
Yesterday…or was it last night? Maybe two days ago now? I don't know how long I've been out this time. My internal clock was one of the things they disabled. All I can do is try to count.
The door opens.
No, no, no, I'm not ready yet…just let me rest a bit more…
I shut down my optics, making them dark again. Maybe he won't notice, maybe he'll think I'm still out…
"Hey, Deadline. So you're taking this one?"
"For now. Verge is taking the day off, so I get to take over."
The voices are staying just outside the door for now. Still, I'm careful not to move.
"This is the kid who took out Diesel, isn't it?"
"Yeah." The voice sounds angrier now, and I finally recognize it as the witness. "I know this isn't usually my section, but I asked for this one personally."
"I can barely believe that kid's nerve. So I guess you've got some things in mind?"
"Yeah. Verge is the expert, but I got a different style."
The other guy laughs. "This is the one who's supposed to be immortal, isn't it? Have they found out how he manages it?"
"I heard Verge has been trying to get that out of him since he got here. Apparently yesterday the kid finally decided to answer, but fed him some slag about a dream and a prophecy—that he can only die a certain way or something." He laughs too. "He expects us to believe that? There has to be more to it than mystical nonsense and luck."
I did? I told him? I remember now…I did. But I hadn't meant to. I hadn't wanted to. It was just hurting so much! Primus, I gotta hang on. I can't let that happen again. I don't want to lose control…
"So you're going to keep on that angle, then? See if you can get the real answer?"
"Nah, that's Verge's department. I'm just here to deliver some payback for Diesel. Did you hear his brother got promoted yesterday? The old president retired, so Diesel's brother is now the CEO of Synergy Corporation."
"Another friend in high places, huh? That company makes some great stuff and the law never seems to touch them. Too bad Diesel isn't around to enjoy the benefits."
"Yeah, well, this kid is gonna spend the rest of his sorry 'immortal' life regretting that job. And speaking of which, I have a few megacycles to put in here before I get off."
"See you at The Afterburner later?"
"As always. I'll fill you in on how it went today. Should be good for a laugh, right?"
"Sure. Oh, I heard this great dirty joke in the lounge earlier…"
How can they do this? How can they just stand there talking like this is nothing? My expression twists, and I have to work to clear it again. How can they just be joking around…
"Save it. I really have to get to work here."
"Right. Well, if you're late, you're buying."
One set of footsteps continues on down the hall, while the other enters the room. I hear the swish of the door closing behind him, and focus on staying completely still.
Please just think I'm still out…
"So, kid, how are you feeling today?"
He's standing right over me. Don't move at all, don't even twitch…
My eyes open wide and I scream as something cuts into my shoulder, sending a shower of sparks onto my face.
"The answer is 'ready, sir'. Didn't Verge teach you that already?" He shakes his head scornfully. "And don't bother pretending you're not online. You think we don't know?"
I dare to look at him. It's definitely the witness, the one who brought me here.
"I'm sure you remember me. Name's Deadline. I assume you heard our conversation out there, but I think I'll just make sure it's clear to you, kid: I'm not Verge. He cares about asking questions." He leans in close, brandishing a cutting laser. "I don't."
*
Risk gave a small cry of surprise as his back suddenly touched up against the invisible energy web, bringing it to visible life. Instantly he tried to pull away, but he was held fast. The more he struggled, the larger and more powerful the web became. Soon he was completely enclosed in it, his gun hand stuck in a position that prevented him from aiming towards the door. He was nearly helpless.
"What the slag?!" he blurted as he tried to pull free. "Computer, why wasn't this security measure plotted?"
"Security measure does not exist."
"Don't slaggin' tell me it doesn't exist! I'm slaggin' caught in it! Why wasn't it downloaded with the rest of the information?"
"Because I made sure it wasn't recorded anywhere. It's brand-new, and all for you." A Maximal taller than Risk stepped into the room, flanked by the two security guards.
The lights went on, and the guards approached the energy web. One of them reached out to take Risk's gun, and Risk uselessly tried to fire it and jerk it away. The guard simply seized Risk's trapped wrist and wrenched the gun from his hand.
Risk glowered at the guard. "I'll be getting that back soon," he growled.
The guard handed the gun to the tall Maximal, who began examining it. "Very nice," he commented.
Risk turned his glare to the Maximal. "So all this was a setup."
"Close. I did actually want that government data-pusher out of the way. He'd found out some things about this corporation and was considering going public with them, and we don't take kindly to scandalmongers. I assume you know what those things were—after all, we let you hack us so you could plan this job." The Maximal stepped closer. "But you're the real prize. It took a long time for me to find you and set this up."
"Who the slag are you, anyway?" Risk glanced all around the room, searching for a way out. The energy web extended across most of the room and he was trapped in its center. More guards were arriving now, and he was down one weapon.
"Oh, of course. We've never met directly, have we?" He mockingly held out his hand toward Risk, who simply glared back. "Damask, CEO of Synergy Corporation."
Risk's eyes suddenly went wide, then his gaze turned inward as if lost in thought or memories. His expression twitched and for a moment panic was plainly visible. Then his optics flashed, and Risk shook his head to clear it. "Slag, you're his…"
"Yes, Diesel's brother. And Deadline was also one of my friends. The picture getting clearer now?"
Risk began to struggle harder. "Let me out of this thing, or you'll regret it."
"I don't think so. As I said, I've spent far too long setting this up. Planning for you to need this building to take your shot, getting one of my own people hired as the main door security guard in the government building, doctoring the files so that you couldn't hack everything…not to mention puzzling out how you'd go about your entry and escape." He smirked. "And it seems we were right. You're more predictable than you thought."
Risk narrowed his eyes. "So you think you know so much about me, huh?"
"Actually, I do. I wasn't going to go into this half-blind. I know all about your incredibly lucky escapes and the 'immortality' that everyone talks about. I researched most of your more high-profile kills, and I know you work for anyone who can meet your price. I also paid good money to a bounty hunter for a copy of your energy signature so we could track you more easily. And,"—he stepped up and looked Risk in the eye—"I have a pretty good idea what happened at the Guild."
Risk raised an eyebrow, but his expression quickly returned to its look of icy anger. "Big deal. A lot of people know what you know."
Damask folded his arms. "And how many of those have actually succeeded in capturing you?"
Risk smirked. "You haven't 'succeeded'. If you think you know so much about me, then you also know that I always escape."
"Maybe, maybe not." Damask cocked the gun and aimed it directly at Risk's forehead. "Unlike the Guild, I don't see a reason to keep you around. You killed Diesel, you Predacon scum, so I'm going to kill you."
*
***Day Nine?***
I think it's the ninth day. If I'm counting right? I don't know. Primus, I don't know any more. I swear they've been keeping me online for longer each time. How many megacycles has Verge already been at it today?
I don't know how much more of this I can take…where's the prophecy power that's supposed to get me out of trouble?
I know where it is. It's watching and laughing, just like they do.
Deadline was in here last time, laughing at me again.
"Think you're too good for death, don't you, kid? Well, you know what I think? I think death is too good for you. You don't deserve it, so we're not going to let you have it. Do you know how long we can keep you alive here? As long as we slaggin' want to. Forever, if we feel like it. How do you like that 'immortality'?"
Then the mocking. The laughing. Others come in here sometimes to watch what Verge does or sometimes to join in. Laughing while they hurt me, laughing at the freak who can't die and who has to live through everything…
"Drifting off again?"
Sparks fly again, this time from my knee.
"Stop…Primus, please stop…" I know this must be the millionth time I've said this. My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I don't want to scream again.
Verge sighs. "Are you ready to tell us your secret yet? Your story is completely implausible. You can save yourself some pain if you just tell us the truth."
"N-not a story…"
"You're not learning, boy. Days here, and you've learned nothing. How many times have I told you what the proper response to my greeting should be? You will address each of us as 'sir', and answer all questions." He pauses as he looks over the array of instruments he has set up around me. "Do you think it can't get worse than this? I've only just begun. As I'm sure Deadline has mentioned, an 'immortal' like you can last a long time here." He picks up something sharp. "Now, one more time. The truth, if you please."
Pain and pent-up frustration make me shout. "It is the truth! That's all I know!"
He pauses, considering this. "Perhaps it is. Yet you still refuse to address me with the proper respect in your answer." Verge just shakes his head. "Very well." He stares at the pointed tip of the steel needle he's holding. "Which eye do you aim with, boy?"
"What?"
"It's a simple question. Which eye do you aim with?" He turns the long needle around and around in his hand. "Answer."
Oh, Primus. "L-left."
"Really." He holds the needle in front of my face. When I try to turn my head away, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at it. "I think that's a lie."
"Don't…please…"
"Please, what?"
"Please…" My face twitches. I'm not giving in, I'm not. I'm just…Primus, please don't destroy my eyes! "…Sir."
"Ah, very good. I see that you can be taught." He raises the needle over my right eye. "And now I'll teach you not to lie."
*
"Go ahead and try," Risk said with a slight sigh, although his expression did betray a hint of fear.
Damask narrowed his eyes and leveled the gun at the Predacon symbol on Risk's forehead. "You really do think you're immortal, don't you? Well, I'm about to change that." Without another moment's hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
The only sound was a loud click.
"What?" Damask tried again, with the same result. "It's jammed!"
Risk opened the secure channel to his jet. "Locate. Execute emergency extraction," he said quietly.
Damask looked up from angrily struggling with the gun. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." The corner of Risk's mouth twitched into a smirk.
Damask struck Risk hard across the face with the gun, then turned to one of his guards. "Give me your gun. Give it to me now!"
The guard complied, and Damask whirled back around, once more aiming at Risk. "I don't know how you do it, kid, but you're not getting out of this one. I've waited too long for this!"
Risk glowered back at him, his face aching from the dent in his cheek. "Don't call me that."
"What, 'kid'? That's what you are. Just a boy who thought he could be a big bot by killing one of the Guild. Well, you picked the wrong target that time."
Rage began to take over, and Risk growled as he struggled in the web. "Don't call me that! Nobody is gonna call me that ever again!"
"Nobody will get the chance to," Damask said coldly, once more aiming the guard's gun at Risk's forehead.
"What's that?" A guard suddenly pointed out the side window.
Very obviously annoyed at the interruption, Damask turned and looked out the window.
A small jet was heading straight for them.
"It's not turning!" Another guard took a step back.
"Shoot it down!" Damask ordered.
Risk calmed, getting control of himself once more. "Shields," he told the jet. "Stop five meters after impact."
The guards began firing, shattering the windows and setting off loud alarms. The shots simply deflected off the shields, affecting neither the jet's speed nor its heading.
"Run! Get out of the way!" The guards turned and ran towards the door as the jet crashed through what was left of the windows, sending glass and framework showering into the room. Damask threw himself to the floor, covering his head as the jet hurtled towards him.
The jet stopped abruptly less than a meter from Risk and simply hovered. "What?" Damask cried, reaching for the guard's gun and pushing himself to his feet.
A piece of framework had disrupted the web slightly around Risk's arm enough to allow limited movement, and with some effort Risk reached over his shoulder and drew one of the swords that was attached to his back. By the time Damask was on his feet and had readied the gun, Risk had deftly freed himself from the web. He eyed his gun, lying on the floor a few meters behind the seething Maximal.
"You're not getting out of here alive, kid." Damask growled.
Risk's calm was immediately broken. "I warned you not to call me that." He raised his sword.
Damask smirked, his own composure returning. "Poor little boy, unable to take a little name-calling. I would have thought you'd have developed a thicker shell after being in an orphanage."
Risk's jaw dropped. "What? What do you know about that?"
"Oh, I've got friends in even higher places. You'd be surprised what some people know about you."
There was a moment's pause. "You don't know anything." Risk seethed, clearly disturbed.
"Not that any of that matters any more." Damask flicked the gun to its highest setting and fired.
*
***Day…Thirteen?…***
The sounds stand out the most. Verge's smooth voice or Deadline's growl. The hum of the generator as it charges for another shock. The clinking of the instruments Verge has on his table. The slight difference in the crackling of the cutting laser and of the sparks that come from my damaged circuitry. The near-steady drip of mech fluid onto the floor.
And the sound of glass shattering. It was so loud, and it echoed in my head along with the crunching of the optic's inner circuitry, because the needle didn't stop at the surface. Then my own voice begging for them to please repair it, and Verge's voice telling me that the optic was damaged well beyond any hope of repair. I didn't need any diagnostic to tell me that was true.
Now it's the crunch of little pieces of glass as Verge or Deadline keep stepping on the remains of my right optic that are still on the floor. They never bothered to clean that up. Why couldn't they pick up the pieces? I can't stand that sound.
"So tell me, boy, what would you like to do?"
This is the new question. Verge finally dropped the immortality question. I think it was making him annoyed that I couldn't come up with a better "story". He called me a stubborn fool and a useless scrap of nothing. And then he hit me, which is usually Deadline's thing. Maybe he was having a bad day? He left, and when he came back he had something new to try on me and hasn't asked about my immortality since. I'm not sure how long it's been, but things have only gotten worse since then.
"Well?"
I want to go home. I want them to stop hurting me. I want to be able to get up and move again. I want my eye back. All true, but not the answer he wants.
There's that hum again. No sense bracing myself any more—it never helps. And there's my voice, screaming again.
The answer comes almost automatically once I have control over my voice box again. "To join the Guild…sir." I add that last part hurriedly when I hear the crackling start up.
"I don't believe you." Sparks crackle.
Why won't he believe me? I know saying that is the only way out. Working for them is better than this. Anything is better than this. I hate saying it, hate thinking it, but I…I can't do this any more.
"And look at me when I'm speaking to you, boy."
I do, turning my head slightly to look up at him with my one functioning optic. I don't know why he makes me look at him. It's not like I can't still see him even when I sleep.
"Now, what would you like to do?"
I try to make it sound more believable. "To join the Guild, sir."
"Why?"
Why? That's new. I pause, trying to figure out what the answer is supposed to be.
Verge shakes his head slowly. "You don't even remember why you were brought here, do you, boy? You want to join the Guild because freelancing is not permitted. Do you understand?"
Clinking, and then the high-pitched screech of metal on metal as he scratches that needle down the side of my head.
There's too much echoing in my auditory sensors. Did he just ask something?
"I said, do you understand." That doesn't sound like a question at all.
"Yes, sir." Where's the clink as he puts that needle down? Put the needle down!
"I'm not sure you do."
My left eye goes wide. The needle is hovering over it. I don't even see him any more, or even his hand on it. Just the needle. Primus, don't…not my other eye!
More panic is swelling inside me than ever before. "Please…please don't…I understand, no more freelancing."
The needle dances back and forth in front of my eye before suddenly stopping. "I don't believe you," it says as it pulls back, ready to strike again.
"No! I'll join! I'll join the Guild, I won't do any more jobs on my own, I swear!" That's my voice. It sounds a little funny, though. Not quite right. But at least the needle stopped. It's still there, but it stopped.
"Really?" it asks.
"Yes, I swear! I'll join! I'll only do the jobs that are given to me, I swear to Primus! I'll join…sir…" I wonder for a moment about that last word. It looked like the needle was waiting for it, though. Right, call everyone "sir", just to be safe.
"So you understand now." The needle leaves my field of view and I hear the clink as it lands on the table.
"Y-yes, sir." I'm so glad the needle is gone. I hate that needle. But I can join the Guild now, and maybe I won't ever have to see it again.
"That's what we've been waiting to hear. Was that so hard?" Now Verge is the one talking again, leaning his face over mine.
"I-I can go now? Go and join?"
Verge laughs, a sound that I've never heard before. "Of course not."
What? "But—but I want to join!" Why won't he let me join? "Sir…"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's too late, boy. Your application date has expired." He smirks. "Though you'll be staying with us nonetheless."
"But…no…please, sir…"
His face disappears. "Goodnight."
The door opens and closes.
I'm pretty sure that sobbing is mine.
*
Risk raised his sword, deflecting the shot. The force of it ripped the sword from his hand, and the blast was turned back on Damask. The Maximal roared in pain as his arm was nearly blown off at the shoulder.
"You want to try calling me names again?" Risk growled menacingly.
"Sir!" The guards rushed towards Damask and two of them began pulling him back, while the others fired at Risk.
Risk dodged, leaping and rolling out of the way until he managed to pick up his sword. He again eyed his gun, which was now behind the line of guards. Still dodging, he inched his way towards it.
Damask resisted being pulled to safety. "No, shoot him! Shoot him!"
More guards had arrived, and they all turned their weapons on Risk simultaneously.
Risk was forced to retreat as he dodged, and two shots found their mark on his thigh and forearm. He cursed as it finally became clear that his weapon was irretrievable. "Open," he ordered, and both the shields and the cockpit of the jet opened long enough to allow him to jump inside. Ignoring the pain from his damage, Risk took control of the jet and blasted out of the room, shattering the windows through which he had planned his original escape and leaving the raging Damask behind.
Exhausted, Risk switched on the autopilot once he was outside Cybertropolis. He picked up his sword off the floor of the cockpit and examined the blackened scorch mark on it from the laser. "Burnt," he said angrily. "Now I'm gonna have to slaggin' polish it again!" He reached behind him and attached the sword to its magnetic holster on his back, then pounded his fist on the side of the cockpit. "And that scrapheap stole my slaggin' gun! That was my favourite one! It's mine, slaggit!"
His thigh sparked, and only then did Risk notice the extent of the damage. "And this hurts!" he added, cursing again. He put his head in his hands, trying to control the anger. After a few cycles of that, he suddenly looked up. "And who told him where I came from?" Risk folded his arms and sat back in his seat, looking disturbed once more as the autopilot went through the motions of doubling back on its trail to make sure no one had followed.
The jet left him at the dropoff point, and Risk had only walked a few steps before his leg nearly collapsed underneath him. "Cycle mode," he said, his voice strained. His internal computer informed him that transformation was hampered by the damage. "Slaggin' great," he muttered as he began limping home. "I'm having a slaggin' perfect day."
*
***Day…Unknown***
I'm staring at a spot on the ceiling.
Has that spot always been there? I don't know. I don't know how long ago I discovered it. But it's something to look at. The rest of the ceiling is so bland.
I don't get to join the Guild. I wanted to, but they won't let me. They say I'm not good enough, so instead I have to stay here in this room. Every time they come in I tell them that I want to join, but they just smile and then start on me like they always did. Nothing ever changes. Nothing will ever change. I'm staying here forever; just a one-eyed kid who's not worthy to join the Guild.
That spot will be there forever too. Maybe they don't even know it's there. I don't think I'll tell them, though.
The door opens. "And how are you feeling?"
"Ready, sir," I reply without hesitation. I've gotten used to the way my voice sounds now. Sort of faraway and distracted.
"We're going to try something different today, boy. Do you want something different?"
I nod. My head is the only part of my body that still moves. For a moment I wonder if the rest of my body still can move. Doesn't matter. I'll never know. That spot doesn't move either.
But suddenly I want to know really, really badly. I want to move. I want to so badly.
And then I feel something different. The bonds are being removed. I know my face lights up. I'll be able to move again! I twitch an arm and start trying to raise it.
A shock stops me, and I cry out in despair.
Verge sighs. "Foolish boy. You couldn't wait, could you?"
Look at him when he talks to you. I turn my head to do that and notice something new, some kind of device positioned above his console.
He gestures at the device. "This is a motion sensor. The more you move, the more intense the shock. Now, I've untied you, but I want you to stay very still. Don't move at all, or the device will know. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." I nod, and receive a shock for doing so.
"Now, I'm going to leave. I'm going to leave you untied, and the door unlocked. But you'd better not move."
No, no, no, not fair…he can't do this to me, it isn't fair…
He goes over to the door. "Don't move, now," he says one more time before leaving and closing it behind him.
I'm left staring at the device. I'm free but I can't move. Free but not free. Primus, I need to move. Just a little. I just have to move a little.
I twitch my knee. The movement feels so good, but the resulting shock instantly takes that away. Another slight movement of my elbow gives the same thing, and this time the shock seems to be more intense. Maybe because I sobbed at the same time.
I'm still staring in the same direction. Past the device, I can see the door. It's unlocked. It's unlocked and it's right there.
Another shock.
Enough, enough. No more. Don't move. Don't even twitch. Just stay perfectly still.
Now I'm even worse off, because I can't even move my head. I don't like this view. I wish I could turn my head so that I could look at that spot again.
Then suddenly there is a loud but muffled boom somewhere, and all the lights go out. What just happened? Now I can't even see that spot even if I could turn my head.
There is another loud boom, and I think it's closer this time. Now I can hear people yelling in the distance. I wonder vaguely what's going on, but I have to stay still.
No, you have to get up, something inside me says.
I can't. If I move I'll get hurt again.
You can move now. Think about it. You can get up.
Think about it…
There goes another boom, and this one rocks the room, shifting my position on the table. I gasp, expecting the shock.
But it doesn't come.
It sinks in slowly. I get it. Power's out. No power for that device.
Maybe I can get up. I move an arm, and nothing happens. Okay. I slowly prop myself up on my elbows, but they nearly collapse.
Too slow. You have to go faster.
Faster, yes. Get up and run; escape. I sit up, listening to the sounds of gears that haven't been used in so long, and slide off the table onto legs that do collapse underneath me. I grab for the nearest thing to steady myself, and Verge's table tips over on top of me. My eye goes wide as the instruments land all around me. There's that needle again.
Focus. Take a weapon.
I manage to stop staring at the instruments long enough to grab one up, then shakily pull myself to my feet and totter over to the door. Every movement hurts—I'm still damaged and my systems haven't understood anything but pain for I don't know how long now—but that voice inside me tells me to keep going.
There's chaos in the hallway. Lights are flickering on and off, going from complete darkness to intense light. What does it matter…I'm half-blind anyway. I start making my way down the hallway, one hand on the wall to steady myself. I have no idea where I'm going or which is the way out. Every once in a while someone runs past me, but they all seem too busy to really notice me. I walk past several conversations.
"What the slag is going on?"
"There was a freak power surge in the B-level generator! Blew that one and then sent the overload right down the line to the rest! Power's out for the entire building!"
"What about backup generators?"
"Blew those, too! Primus, I don't know what's going on around here. How could this happen?"
"Slaggit, I can't even go to night vision! These blasted light bursts are confusing the program!"
"We have to shut them down! Shut them all down! Anyone who can get to a generator switch, shut the slaggin' thing down!"
"There's a fire on B-level!"
All the conversations blur together. I keep walking. There must be a way out somewhere.
Someone puts a hand on my shoulder, and my fluid pump nearly bursts out of my chest.
"What happened to you?" I don't know the voice.
"N-near one of the generators…" I find myself saying before I even realize it. I sound as disoriented as I feel.
"Slag…and I hear we've already lost some people. Just get out of here until we get this fixed. The police will probably be here soon because of this, and we have to hide some evidence before they do."
"Which way out? I can't see, and my positioning program is damaged…" Again I barely realize it's me saying this.
"Stairs at the end of this hall. Go down two flights to the door, and you'll exit in the alleyway. Stay out of sight of the police."
Someone else runs past. "Whoever's here, get moving! We have to shut those generators down!"
"Remember, go hide," the guy says before taking off.
I nod shakily and keep moving. Focus, now. Hall, stairs, door, alley. Go.
The stairs are the hardest on my stiff legs. Other bots bump me as they rush by, and fear nearly paralyzes me each time. But somehow I make it down the stairs.
I'm in the alley now, moving. I can't think. Where am I? What am I doing? What do I do now?
Wait…some guy told me to do something.
Go hide.
Every movement is pure pain now. I can't go much further. Hide. Gotta hide.
My legs finally give out and I collapse. No, gotta keep going…oh, Primus, gotta hide before they find me and bring me back…
I turn my head and once again nearly blow my fluid pump. But it's just a reflection. My reflection. It's a window. I peer through it, and inside it looks like a basement storage room of some sort. Hide.
The window won't open and I can't seem to break it with my fist. Then I realize there's something in my other hand, and I remember that I took one of the instruments to use as a weapon just in case. I bring my arm around and hit the glass with it with all my strength. The window shatters—that sound, that awful sound—and only then do I realize that the weapon in my hand is that needle.
I don't remember what happened after that.
*
Risk trudged past the street bots, trying not to clutch at his damaged leg. As always, they didn't look up at him, but a little farther down the way one of the Predacon kids was watching him. Risk glared at the kid as he limped past him, recognizing him as the one he'd caught trying to steal from him the night before. The small bot was now wearing a shiny expensive-looking crest that had once belonged to a certain Maximal named Taze.
"Got anything today?" The kid seemed unperturbed by Risk's sour look.
"No. Take a slaggin' hike, kid."
The small Predacon followed him, easily keeping pace with Risk's limp. "Aw, c'mon, you gave stuff last time."
"I said, no. Now get away from me."
"So, where you been this time? What'd you steal?"
In a flash Risk had the kid by the arm. "I'm not a common thief, and I'm not your neighbourhood cred supplier. Got it?"
The kid's tough look faltered, and he tried to pull his arm away. "Ow…"
Risk released the bot with a jerk, giving an angry sigh as he watched the kid run off. He continued on his way, noticing the rest of the street kids. They had backed well off, but were still staring at him. He turned and glared back, sending them ducking away.
Once the old warehouse was in view, Risk checked around him to make sure that he was alone. "Perimeter report," he said tiredly.
"Unit Risk. No other movement."
Risk yawned as he navigated the warehouse. He carefully let himself down through the trapdoor, trying not to land too hard on his damaged leg. He had just passed through the holographic wall when his leg collapsed once more.
"Computer, ready CR-tank. Blaster damage."
"Acknowledged. One new message."
Risk sighed. "Decrypt and display." He hauled himself to his feet with the help of the computer console.
There was only one line on the screen, from Mission four-zero-nine-zero Contact: "We'll find you."
Risk narrowed his eyes at the screen, barely stopping himself from putting a fist through it. "Yeah, you and everyone else, big shot. Computer, send reply to Mission four-zero-nine-zero Contact: 'You owe me some money'. Reroute signal and block contact. Scramble this signal completely. I don't want to hear from this guy ever again."
"Acknowledged. CR-tank ready."
Risk hobbled over to the tank. "And keep it quiet out there." He settled into it, exhausted.
*
***After Escape: Day …?***
Wake up now.
Where am I?
"Ready, sir," I mumble. I feel like I'm waking from a dream, but my optics are already online. I wasn't asleep.
No…my optic. Just one.
"Which eye do you aim with, boy?"
Memories flood my mind and I gasp as the fear takes hold again. "No, no, no…" Primus, I'm still there…
No. No, you're not. Wake up.
The inner voice calms the panic building inside me. I'm not there any more…?
Then where am I, and how did I get here?
I look around, but this isn't a place I know. It's full of crates and boxes, all covered with a heavy layer of dust. I'm pretty dusty, too. How long have I been here?
Vague memories of explosions and flashing lights pass through my head. Yes, I remember—I think—yes. I escaped. It's all cloudy, but I think I walked right out the door.
But how long ago?
I'm not tied down. I can move. I slowly uncurl myself from the ball I'm in and push myself up into a sitting position, all my gears and joints complaining. Everything hurts. I need repairs. I need them badly. I gotta get up.
I take another look around the room. There's some broken glass on the floor that obviously came from the empty window frame above it. Is that how I got in here? And then I notice something else lying on the floor with the glass.
That needle.
Panic surges again as memories fill my head.
No. Keep control. Time to leave this place.
Again that inner voice helps me fight down the panic. Yes. Gotta get out of here.
I stagger to my feet, looking anywhere but at that thing on the floor, and notice a staircase leading up to the next level. Everything hurts so much that I practically have to crawl up them. I open the door at the top and stumble through it.
I've come up in a factory. Several Predacons are working on an assembly line nearby, and one of them turns and notices me. His eyes widen immediately. "Holy slag! What happened to you?"
"A-attacked," I manage to mumble as I collapse.
He rushes over to me just in time to catch me before I hit the floor. His touch is painful, and I find myself reflexively trying to pull away from him. "Don't…don't hurt me any more…" My voice is sounding distant again. No, gotta stay in control. It's hard, though.
It would be so easy to just let go and not think or feel any more. Just stare at that spot on the ceiling. So easy…
No. Keep control.
The other bots are gathering around now, staring and whispering to each other. The one holding me motions for them to stand back. "Call a repair team!"
No! Primus, I can't let the repair team take me to a public med bay. What if someone recognizes me and calls the police? "No…"
"What do you mean, 'no'? Have you seen yourself?"
I shake my head. "No, but…"
The bot grabs a polished piece of metal off a nearby pile and puts it in front of me.
"Primus…" Is that even me? It can't be…that can't be me. The bot staring back at me from the mirror is damaged to the point that I'm repulsed by it. Cuts deep enough that bare circuitry is showing or wire is hanging out, pieces of the superstructure stripped away, blackened areas from the cutting laser, too many scratches and dents to count…but the worst is the face. I don't even notice all the cuts and dents on it. All I see is that dark hole on the right side, and the partially crushed circuitry inside it, some of it poking out. "No…oh, Primus. Oh, slag." The face in the mirror twists in grief.
I can't look at this any more. This thing can't be me. I hear a moan of despair escape me as I bury my face in my hands.
I can't even cover my face completely. Two of my fingers are broken. I hadn't even realized.
I sway, and the Predacon catches me before I topple over completely. "See? Look, you need a repair team."
"No, no med bay…no police…" The room is starting to wobble, and I fight to keep the static out of my vision. "Can repair…myself…"
"No police, huh?" He looks at me again, then turns to one of the others. "Get Solder in here."
"No…don't want…"
"Hey, we know what it can be like for Predacons. Solder'll keep this quiet. Okay?"
I nod, trying to erase the vision of that face from my memory. But I can't, and it's the last thing I remember before the world goes dark.
*
Risk stepped off the platform and out of the CR-tank, fully repaired. "Anything new?"
"No new messages."
"For once. Wow. Maybe I can finally get a break." Risk lay down on his bed and pulled out his favourite holo-comic from underneath it. He turned it on to where he'd left off, skipping over the missing part of the data that had resulted from some damage long ago, and began reading the Maximal lettering.
Only a few cycles passed before he put the comic down and sat up, unable to read any further. "How does he know about me?"
"Command?"
"Access Damask, CEO, Synergy Corporation. I want everything about him, including his personal files."
"Acknowledged." The computer began processing the request.
Risk got up and began pacing uneasily. "Nobody's supposed to know where I came from!" He stopped. "He said other people knew…" His expression soured further. "My life is none of their slaggin' business!"
The computer beeped. "Damask, Synergy Corporation. Current news broadcast. Display?"
"Yeah."
The computer picked up the broadcast, which had just begun. A reporter stood across the street from the Synergy Corporation building. "…a break-in at Synergy Corp last night. The thief was apparently trying to steal information, but was repelled by guards and Damask himself, who incurred some damage during the attack. Damask issued this press release earlier."
The image changed to show Damask in front of several microphones, his shoulder almost visibly undergoing self-repairs as he spoke. "We assume that this break-in was by a corporate saboteur hoping to steal some of our technology. He escaped with nothing, but his identity was not captured. I have given my statement to the police, and hope that somehow this criminal will be caught." Anger flashed on his face for a moment before his expression quickly became emotionless once more. "I will be taking a leave of absence to recover from this ordeal, effective immediately. All further questions on this matter will be addressed to our Public Relations Department. Thank you." He left the microphones as various reporters shouted questions after him.
Risk smirked. "'Corporate saboteur', huh? Nice cover. Come on, say it right! Tell them how you spent forever setting that up and then lost! And aw, now you gotta go 'recover'? Serves you right, scrapheap."
"Continue search?"
"Yeah, yeah, keep going. Hack everything." Risk paced a little more, then grabbed up a small practice gun and began twirling it around his finger. "'Recover'. Recover from what? His damage wasn't that bad. It's not like he didn't know what he was getting into, either. What's his deal?" Risk fired at a target on the wall.
"Search complete."
"Let's have a look." Risk scanned quickly through the files. There were assorted business deals, company information and a few personal messages, but nothing out of the ordinary. Finally he came upon some encrypted files, but it didn't take the computer long to decrypt them. Risk's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed as he opened the file folder with his name on it.
It began with little bits of information about Damask's brother and his death. After that, the database began to grow as Damask picked up whatever details he could find about Diesel's killer. Most of it in the beginning was general information that was now public knowledge and posted on Cybertron Infocore. That small biography of one of Cybertron's most notorious assassins stated that the Predacon Risk attempted things no one else would dare, and was therefore thought to be crazy. Risk's expression twisted slightly. "Not crazy," he muttered as he kept reading.
Damask had apparently begun to agree. Tapping as many sources as possible, both legal and underground, Damask had pieced together the rumours of Risk's immortality into a coherent story. Information about Risk's time spent at the Guild was also included, credited to Deadline. Risk gave an involuntary shudder when he saw the name.
Then, right before the plans for the previous night's setup were listed, Risk discovered another file. In it, there was only one word: LostBot. There was no source credited.
Risk stared at the word. "Who told him where I came from?" His expression darkened. "I don't like this."
The computer beeped. "One new message."
"Decrypt and display," Risk sighed, annoyed at the interruption.
The message appeared and Risk read through it. "Figures. After all, it's only been what, three days since my last mission for him? Don't bother with the reply—I'm gonna visit Chronos in person tonight. I've got some questions."
*
***After Escape: Day Sixteen***
I'm better now.
Solder did a good job. Once he reconnected my self-repair, diagnostic and command functions, the repairs went more smoothly. Or so I'm told. I wasn't awake for the most part—there was a lot of work to be done. Parts of me had to be not only repaired, but rebuilt.
I remember him asking once or twice what had happened; why this had been done to me. I avoided the question. I don't want people knowing about this. I want to try and forget it ever happened.
Verge had been right about my optic. There was nothing that Solder could do for it. He tried, but in the end he told me that I would need an entirely new optic, right from the inside out. He told me of a certain contact of his—somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody—who for a good amount of credits could set me up with what I needed. Luckily I could afford it.
My new optic took a long time to install, and I've found that its attached software takes up a lot of space in my internal computer. I'm still getting used to the way it looks and feels, but the targeting eye functions perfectly. Now I can aim better than ever.
That wasn't the only upgrade I decided to get while I was at it. I added spikes around my shoulders, and one each on my forearms. The bot who installed my targeting eye also put in a secondary set of wiring underneath my superstructure. Nobody is gonna touch me again.
Solder also reconnected my internal clock, and only then did I realize how badly I'd lost track of time. I found the date of that freak power surge that took out the power to half a city block, and using that, the last date that I'd recorded, and the date that Solder told me he began my repairs, I managed to piece things together.
I was there just short of twenty days.
Twenty days strapped to that table. Twenty days of Verge and Deadline and the laughter and all those things they did to me…
And then the escape. Apparently I lay in that basement storage room for seven days before finally waking up. How could I have been there for so long? Just lying there, not realizing time was going by…not realizing anything…
But I'm better now. I'm repaired and fully charged.
On the eleventh day after escape I finally went home. The messages had been piling up. It seemed some of my regulars had been worried about me, especially Chronos. It took me a while to respond to all the messages. No, I hadn't been captured by the police. No, I hadn't told anybody about any of the jobs I'd done. Circumstances beyond my control kept me from getting to my computer to pick up my messages. I apologized for missed contracts. I'd never missed a contract before this, and I ended up missing out on two. Slaggin' Guild, messing with my perfect reputation.
"I'll join the Guild, I won't do any more jobs on my own, I swear!"
No. It's my life! They made me say that, but it's not gonna happen. I'm free now, and I'll never work for them. Besides, I need the money. After paying for my targeting eye and leaving Solder a large amount for his help, I haven't been left with that much. I have to start taking the contracts again. But I told the contacts that those jobs would have to wait. There's something else I have to do first.
I've had the nightmares almost every night since this whole thing began, and I've had enough. It's time to end this. Time to deal with them. Once they're gone, they won't be able to haunt me any more.
The Afterburner isn't very crowded when I get there. "Scanner." I look through the wall with my targeting eye. Just as I'd figured, Deadline is sitting at the bar, laughing with one of his friends.
Not for long.
I push open the door and make my way to the bar. A couple of bots look up, but go right back to their conversations or drinks. I notice the Guild crest on the shoulder of quite a few of the bots. I guess this is one of their favourite hangouts.
We'll see about that.
Seeing as how half the bots in there are carrying weaponry, I don't stand out. I walk up to the bar and lean on it, right next to Deadline. He hasn't noticed me yet. He's still laughing with his buddy.
Laughing…
Focus!
The bartender asks me what I want, and I ask for whatever Deadline had. That makes Deadline turn to glance at me for a moment. He almost goes back to talking with the other bot, but does a double-take instead and turns back to me. "You look familiar…"
"Yeah?"
The bartender hands me my drink, and I purposely knock over Deadline's drink while taking it.
Deadline growls and immediately reaches to grab me. "Who do you think you—" He stops suddenly as recognition flashes in his optics. "You…the kid!"
"I don't think you're gonna call me that any more." I ready the device hidden in my hand.
Deadline's glass suddenly rolls off the bar and shatters on the floor.
That sound…No…
I flinch, and he notices instantly. With a smirk he steps on the glass, crunching the pieces under his foot. "I think I'm gonna call you whatever I want, kid. And what's the matter, you don't like that sound?"
More crunching. I take a step back as the sound echoes inside my head again. No, no, stay in control. I'm better now. I'm better.
Before I can get control of the situation again, Deadline backhands me hard enough to send me crashing into the bar. "You've got some nerve coming around here. I don't know how you got away, but I'm gonna see that we tie you down even tighter this time."
"No…"
Focus!
Deadline seizes my arm, barely avoiding the spike. "Nice new toys, though." He points at my targeting eye. "I see you got a replacement. Well, I'm sure we can fix that soon enough, huh, kid?" He draws his gun as he and his friend both laugh.
"Don't call me that!" Before he can bring the gun to my face, I press the button on the device in my hand and shove it into his open mouth. Surprised, he lets go of me, and I leap away.
"Who's laughing now," I find myself snarling, right before his head blows up.
The guy beside him catches some of the blast too, and falls. I turn and start to walk out, but the other Guild members in the place are already getting up. I draw quickly, a gun in each hand. "I came here just for him. But if anyone else wants some, come and get it. I can spray this room before any of you get close."
Many of them narrow their eyes, but they don't make a move.
"Now, the name's Risk. Remember it in case someone tells you to come after me." I start walking towards the door, keeping my targeting program on watch for any movement. "I'm sure you've heard the rumours about my immortality. Well, they're true. Come after me, and you'll just end up as dead as him. I'm freelance, and that's how I'm going to stay."
I don't bother listening to the various angry mutterings around the room.
"So just leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone." I back out the door and transform immediately, speeding away before any of them can follow. Here's hoping they got that. Well, if they didn't, they'll just end up like Deadline, because I'm through playing their games.
But I've got another job to do right now. There's someone else who's getting it tonight, and I know just where to find him.
It isn't long before I'm sitting on the roof of the building opposite the Guild. It was easy enough to figure out which building it was even though my memory was a bit fragmented. I hadn't managed to get very far from it in my condition—the factory I'd ended up in was only about a block away.
I use my targeting eye to look through the walls again. There he is. Verge. He's sitting in what seems to be a lounge area, drinking energon and talking to some other bot.
What, got nobody to torture at the moment, you depraved piece of…
Focus on the job. Just do this.
There's another room between the outer wall and the lounge, and there are other bots moving around inside. What do I care…they're Guild members too. Rotten slagheaps. They all deserve this.
I bring up the small missile launcher and take aim. No easy, clean shot this time. I'm gonna blow him to the Inferno.
I fire, and the missile blasts through the outer wall and the next. My targeting eye follows it, and I watch as Verge and the bot nearest him first look up at the sound, then start to move as if in slow motion. It's too late for them, though. The missile detonates right in front of them.
Half the floor blows out with them. I can sort of see the other bots yelling and trying to run as the floor gives way underneath them, but I don't care about them. What I'm focusing on is the small flaming wreckage of Verge. What wasn't vaped is scattered everywhere, and I watch as the pieces fall through the collapsed floor. I just regret that I couldn't have been right there in front of him so he'd have known who did it.
He'll never touch me again.
*