[This one's a little long. If there's anything that's not making sense, or needs to be adjusted, please feel free to let me know.]

19

The next morning comes more quickly for me, as I'm awoken before sun-up by another nightmare. By the time the others are up, I've managed to put together a simple breakfast with tea for Alita and coffee for Ido and myself. A pleasant moment is shared with my benefactors before Koyomi shows up, all cheerful smiles and greetings.

As Alita and Ido are putting together the packages that will be stored at the circle of 'Temporal Forest' trees, Koyomi asks me, "Hey, do you mind if I borrow your music CDs for a while?"

"I suppose. Why?" I can't fathom what she could want with them.

"Well, you mentioned that they can be read by reflected laser light, right?" When I nod affirmative, she goes on, "I was thinking, maybe I could rig something up to record the music off them. You could have some familiar music to listen to, and I could have a copy of them for myself, maybe?"

A corner of my mouth turns up in an appreciative grin, "Hell, if you could do that, you can have all the copies you want." It's not just the thought of being able to enjoy my old music again that makes me smile, but also gratifying to see someone else have some interest in that old music as well.

Ido and Koyomi aren't gone nearly as long as I'd expected, about six hours, returning before the end of the work day. After his return, he insists on putting me through another checkup, seemingly intent on keeping a closer track on my condition.

Ido goes through the now-regular routine while I sit there, my thoughts begin dipping into dark places. This should be a time of joy. I am, hopefully, on the verge of getting new limbs and being able to get back to something resembling a more normal life. But then, that's the thing, there will be no 'normal life'. A part of me still clings to the life I once had. A part of me still hasn't let go of the family I once had. Even if I get out of this wheelchair, I'm still here, almost six-hundred years away from everything that meant anything to me. I don't even realize I've let out a despondent sigh, until Ido mentions it.

"You feeling alright, there?" he asks, looking over some readouts.

Faintly startled, I glance over at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I was just… thinking." Almost immediately, I go back to staring off into the distance, my mind returning to it's musings almost automatically.

There's a grunt as Ido nods knowingly. "Well, as long as you're thinking," he says lightly, "perhaps I could get your thoughts on something?"

Something in his tone captures my attention. I reply, "I suppose so, sure."

His smile, though faint, seems relieved as he nods and moves off towards a small worktable in the corner. It occurs to me that he might have noticed I wasn't doing so well, and is trying to take my mind off my worries.

The table he moves to is covered by a thin, light gray cloth. Being on wheels, he rolls it over and removes the cloth to reveal a couple of metal cylinders roughly the size and shape of engine pistons, as well as what looks like an enlarged shotgun shell. An assortment of tools lay neatly to one side. There's also a distinct, pungent odor, likely the smell of the explosive he's using.

"I've been trying to refine Roman's new weapon," he explains, picking up a small data-pad off the table. Turning the pad on, he calls up an image of the HEAT round and shows me a cut-away view of it. "Considering you're familiarity with it, I don't suppose you might know of any refinements that were made to it in your time?"

Brushing off a prick of irritation at his pulling me away from my ruminations, I look over the device and notice at least one change that could be made.

"This thin part, at the open end of the cone," I lightly run my finger along the part in question, "can probably be gotten rid of. Later versions the military used didn't bother with any of the explosive charge below a certain thickness. You can probably shave a few millimeters off there." A shrug, "Ain't got much else I can say about it." I glance up at him with a subdued half-smile, "Seems like you did pretty much all the refining that it needed."

With a light sound between a snort and a laugh, Ido sets the data-pad back down on the work-table, "Once I got the grasp of what you were going for, it didn't take a lot of doing. In practice, it's a fairly simple device, and very effective." Pushing the table back into it's corner, he glances at me with a, "Thank you." I'm not sure if the thanks is for providing the idea, or for my recent input, as minor as it was. Regardless, the interaction serves to help ease my mind. Could that have been what he was really going for?

. . . . . .

It takes Ido another day and a half to put together the equipment for the trip out to the shipwreck. The time comes for them to leave and Alita, Ido and Koyomi load up the supplies they'll need for their little camping trip before heading out. I take particular note of one specific bundle they load up; the one containing a certain cybernetic left arm and two legs. What will hopefully become my new limbs soon. There's some last-minute fussing by Ido making sure everything's stocked and that Gerhad and I won't need anything while they're gone.

"Alright, I've double-checked the supplies-" Ido begins.

"We double-checked the supplies," Gerhad interrupts, laughing lightly. "Everything's been double, and even triple-checked. We'll be fine, and you aren't going to be gone long. Alita's next game isn't far off, after all."

Ido ducks his head apologetically, "Yes, of course. I know you should be alright while we're away, but..." he shrugs.

With a wry grin, Alita gently takes him by the arm, and begins leading him away with a backward wave to Gerhad and I. Then they're gone, and I sit and stare after them for a moment longer, wondering if they'll find anything. Pessimism prompts me to almost automatically doubt that they will. It is, after all, just a preliminary exploration. And that's assuming that there's anything of use for them to find at all. So many things would have to go right, it seems like it would be a miracle if they did find anything. I try to keep in mind the fact that even if they don't find anything, I might still have working limbs in about a month anyway.

The rest of the day isn't much different from any other, with the only exception being that it's just Gerhad and I this time. She treats the patients, and I do my best to assist her. Things go pretty smoothly, somewhat to my surprise.

. . . . . .

The street splits apart and opens up into a pit of bladed gears. I manage to grab hold of something to keep from being pulled in but I watch her fall into them. Gerhad screams as the blades rip her into bloody pieces and those pieces quickly disappear into the whirling, now-blood-soaked gears. The bit of street that I'm holding onto starts to bend downward. I watch as my legs are pulled into the growling, bladed gears. Blood and pieces of flesh are ripped off and splattered all over as my lower legs, feet first, are slowly devoured by the blades. I feel my grip weakening and I scream...

I wake up gasping loudly for breath to find myself holding onto the headboard of my bed for dear life with my right arm while I'm flaling the stump of my left arm futilely, as if I'm trying to keep myself from being pulled into the mattress. I look around in a panic but see only darkness. Then I hear the door open and the light comes on. I look over, wide-eyed, to see Gerhad standing there in a long robe and nightgown looking worried.

I quickly come to my senses and remember, I'm in my room over Ido's clinic. I'm not being eaten alive by some monstrous, living version of Iron City. I let go of the headboard and slide down into a sitting position as Gerhad comes over, stopping just out of arm's reach.

"Are you alright?" Her voice sounds muffled over the blood pounding in my ears.

I draw in a deep breath to steady myself as the adrenaline starts to fade and realize, somewhat to my embarrassment, that I'm shaking. I look up at her and nod since I can't seem to find my voice just now.

Gerhad comes a little closer and sits down near me on the edge of the bed. After giving me a moment, she says sympatheticaly, "Pretty bad nightmare, from the sound of it."

I look up at her a little sheepishly as I grab my glasses off the nightstand and put them on. "I guess so, if it woke you up all the way downstairs."

"Alita lent me her room." I see her eyes move as she looks me over briefly. "You want to talk about it?"

I shrug. "Not much to say." I briefly close my eyes, and immediately snap them open as scenes from that nightmare flash before me; my legs being stripped to the bones and the bones being chipped away like straws in a blender. I hadn't intended to bother her with it, but as if of their own accord, the words pour out, "We were walking down the street when it opened up and we were sucked into a bunch of spinning blades. You were killed quick. I... took a little longer." I swallow the lump in my throat.

If Gerhad is in any way disturbed by my description of the nightmare, she doesn't show it. Instead she asks, "I'm gonna guess that you're not going to be getting any sleep after that, huh?"

I quietly laugh, stopping quickly when it almost turns into a sob, then take a deep breath to steady myself. "Ah, no. I think I'm gonna be steering clear of sleep for the moment." I shrug again, "Sorry about waking you up."

"It's not a problem. How about I make some tea and we can sit downstairs for a bit. Unless you'd rather have some time alone?"

Her being this close, I can smell a light, flowery scent from her that isn't normally present. I'm suddenly much more aware of her being a woman, and not just a nurse and my caretaker. "No, that's alright. I think the company would be nice." I quickly avert my eyes from her. I keep seeing blades ripping through her flesh.

I get dressed as she waits outside, then move myself into my wheelchair and we make our way down to the kitchen. A short time later, we're sitting at the table, sipping tea as we talk for a bit. Mostly it's her providing some helpful advice on how to deal with life in Iron City interspersed with a couple of stories about working with Ido.

Eventually, conversation winds down and we sit for a time in companionable silence. I enjoy the quiet and Gerhad's company as I sip at my tea, it's pleasant herbal aroma filling my nostrils.

Lowering her cup to the table, Gerhad seems to brace herself before asking, "Are you afraid of living in Iron City?"

Something about her question, I'm not sure what, makes me suddenly laugh out loud. Taking a deep breath to reel it in, I turn to her, "Oh, I wouldn't say that. Terrified might be a better word for it." Taking a quick sip of tea, I enquire off-handedly, "Why do you ask?"

Her shoulders move slightly under the robe she still wears as she shrugs lightly, "With your illness heightening your anxiety, and the time period you come from, I suppose I was curious. After all, it's not even something I really think about. I grew up here, I live here. This is just home to me. But you suddenly appeared here one day, from hundreds of years in the past." Another subtle shrug, "And, unlike another centuries old individual I could name, you don't have powerful fighting abilities to help you survive."

Failing to suppress a smirk, I nod, "Oh, I'm well aware of how woefully unprepared I am for living here." It's my turn to shrug, "I never liked cities. Alway hated 'em, actually. Way too many people in way too close a space. I like living out in the country, in small towns, surrounded by trees and natural land." My vision gets a little dreamy as I stare off into the distance, "The quiet, the wind rustling through the trees sometimes being the only sound. Or the sound the rain makes on the leaves, the sun in a clear blue sky..." I trail off as I get a little lost in remembering better days.

"That sounds really nice," she comments softly. I can hear the sincerity in her voice, not just polite agreement.

Despite my best efforts, my faint smile fades as my thoughts turn to Vanessa, and the life we'd planned to spend together. "We were supposed to grow old together," I say more quietly. "Instead, I disappeared, and she grew old alone. And now, so will I." My gaze drops to the reflection in tea in my cup, "I don't have any family now." Snapping myself out of it, I shake off this sudden onslaught of heartache. Feigning a smile, I turn to her and, in a desperate attempt to change the subject, ask, "So! How 'bout you? You got any family?"

One corner of her mouth lifts in a sad little smile. "Some. Cousins and such, living around the city." She tips her head slightly to one side as she regards me thoughtfully. "You know, you do have us. We may not be family, but I'd like to think we are friends, at least."

Pushing aside the crushing loneliness, I nod as I stare into my cup, "Yeah, there are you guys. And I am grateful for you and everything you've done, but..." I can only trail off, unsure of what else to say.

Her nod is understanding, "But we aren't your family."

Sighing sadly, I nod. "I know it's been over a year now, but I-"

"You'll never stop missing them. And you'll never forget them, even if it gets a little easier to bear the pain as time goes on."

With a faint smile, I can't help but chuckle quietly at the obvious wisdom. It's something I learned a long time ago, but this loss just feels different, somehow. Falling silent, I go back to sipping my tea, staring at the tabletop.

After a moment or two of quiet, Gerhad suggests, "Why don't we go out for dinner tomorrow night?"

Caught off-guard by her suggestion, I look over at her a little owl-eyed.

"It'll get you out of the clinic for a bit, let you see the city. Maybe help you acclimate, which you badly need, I think. And I can show you around a little, even guide you on the best places to go, and what to avoid. Not a full tour, sure, but a start. The change of scenery could be just what you need," her expression turns a bit more strict, "even if it's not what you want."

In other words, 'Like it or not, you live here now. Better get used to it, and start adapting.' Getting the hint, I nod, unable to suppress the faint smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Of course she is. "Hell, it's probably past time that I did something like that." Despite the fact that I would rather stay in and do anything else, just about.

With a knowing smile, she says, "Ido and I certainly think so."

. . . . . .

The day of my outing with Gerhad comes without incident. I find myself getting to know some of the patients that pass through the clinic a little more personally. Of note, is one Mister Gonzalez, who comes by to get some minor adjustments made to his cyberware. It's kind of entertaining watching his interactions with Gerhad while she works on him. He obviously finds the nurse attractive, and makes no secret of the fact.

For her part, Gerhad takes it in stride, returning his flirtations with friendly but firm rebuffs. I get the impression that Mister Gonzalez doesn't take himself too seriously. He accepts her rebuffs with a self-depracating humor. That doesn't mean he gives up, however. I don't know how long this has been going on, but Mister Gonzalez keeps at it with a patience and humor that I rather admire. Gerhad spends the entire exam smiling and even laughing. He even gets me to crack a smile here and there.

He has a certain charm that seems to have a bit of an uplifting effect on those around him.

Soon enough, closing time comes around and after shutting down the clinic, Gerhad turns to me.

"Ready to head out?" she asks with a touch of cheerfulness.

Taking a moment to wonder if I shouldn't try to find some excuse not to go, I decide otherwise. "Sure," I reply brightly. I'm actually kind of looking forward to this.

I wait while she goes to change out of her scrubs. Seeing as I didn't require scrubs, I don't bother changing. When she returns, she's wearing a long black skirt and a deep blue tunic with long, wide sleeves.

"Well, you look nice," I say to her.

She smiles brightly. "Thank you."

After she's helped me get my jacket on, I grab my hat and we head out. As Gerhad locks up the clinic, I sit and take in the cool evening. The sun is just above the level of the top of the tallest building in the distanct skyline. Being as the clinic is outside the edge of Zalem, I'm able to look up and see the slowly darkening sky overhead. Despite my apprehension, the press of people rushing by as they go about their business doesn't actually bother me that much. At least, not yet. There are a couple of curious glances but no one pays much mind to the guy in the wheelchair. I notice that most of the curious glances I've gotten are from people with cybernetic limbs of their own.

Gerhad finishes locking up and we head off down the sidewalk. As we go, she tells me about the various buildings and shops we pass by. One of the things we go past is a gigantic set of pipes, like a huge pipeline of some sort that passes over the neighborhood. Along the top of it is a broad walkway, like a wide boardwalk, upon which are more small businesses and even some elevated shanty homes stacked up to three stories high. Feeling at ease enough to be curious, I ask if we can go take a closer look at the shops and such.

Frowning slightly, she explains, "Sorry. The only access up there are stairways, and, well..." she gestures at my wheelchair. Disappointing, but hardly unexpected.

For the most part, the atmosphere isn't really hostile. It's just people trying to go about their lives. In some places, where music can be heard from a small bar or restaurant, there's even an almost carnival-esque feel. Not all that unusual when I think about it. Even in a place like this, people are going to try to find fun and enjoyment where they can.

Among the subjects she mentions are the gangs that tend to control each neighborhood, or section of neighborhood depending on the size of the gang. Although they can be dangerous, there tend to be 'rules' that one can follow to stay out of most trouble with them. The gangs around this particular part of the city are the least dangerous. Mostly they're people who got together to keep their families and communities safe from the dangers that might pop up with out warning. However, they can be a little unpredictable.

After some time, her little tour leads us to the front of the same restaurant that Loretta and I had eaten at, what seems like an eternity ago. This evening doesn't look particularly busy, most of the tables are empty and the foot traffic in the area is light.

Gerhad turns to me, "Here we are. Want to sit inside or out?"

"Lets go inside," I say with a shrug.

She nods and flashes a pleasant smile as she leads us inside. The interior is larger than I'd originally thought when viewed from outside, the dining area extending deeper into the interior, most of it shielded from the outside by a thin wall. There's also a veil of smoke in the air from the people I see here and there smoking some kind of cigarette, or in a couple of cases a hookah. Whatever tobacco they're smoking is rather aromatic and not unpleasant. Gerhad gets us a little table off to the side out of the way.

When we get settled in at the table, she asks, "You good?"

I look around feeling a little nervous. "Yeah, I'm doin' okay. Still, I'll be glad to-"

"Whaoh! What's this?" interrupts a loud voice from behind me and to my right side.

Startled, I turn to see what's going on. Standing just out of arm's reach are a couple of street-punk lookin' guys, one dressed in a leather jacket with chrome spikes here and there, and the other dressed in what I can only describe as an armored hoodie. A young woman with shocking green hair, but otherwise dressed like a goth including black lipstick, is standing just behind the hoodie-clad punk. I notice that the two guys have a dagger-like weapon sheathed at their sides. The young woman is no doubt likewise armed, though it's not obviously visible.

The hoodie-guy wears the look of someone who's just found something to entertain himself with. The young woman looks aloof, but mildly amused. Leather jacket-punk looks like he's sizing me up. Wonderful, just what this evening could've done without.

The street punk in the leather is closest to me. I look up at him from under the brim of my hat, then glance nervously over at Gerhad. She calmly keeps her eyes on the street punk.

Leather-jacket punk takes a step closer and moves so he can get a better look at me. In a loud and slightly drunken voice he asks, "Man, what the fuck happened to your legs?"

There's a trickle of fear down my back as well as a feeling of numbness as I glance down at the stumps of my legs. I have no idea what this punk's got in mind, but it can easily spiral out of control, and my ability to defend myself is pretty much non-existant. The only one here who's likely to give a damn what happens to me is Gerhad and I'm not sure what she'll be able to do.

About the only thing I can do is try to play off any reactions. With as deadpan a manner as I can muster, I shrug and say, "Couldn't tell ya. Woke up one mornin' and they'd just walked out on me." My mind is going blank, trying to process what's happening. A sickening sensation of helplessness starts trying to take over. It's as if a part of me has decided that getting brutally beaten, again, is a forgone conclusion. Our table is right next to a wall and these three are blocking any way out. Not that I'd be able to outrun them in this wheelchair, anyway.

Leather jacket-punk goes to open his mouth to say something in response when the green-haired girl says, "Hey. I recognize this guy." Her expression changes to something more akin to a sneer. When the two guys look at her she says, "This is that dumbshit that got himself turned into ground meat not far from here, trying to stand up to some cyborg junkie." In a voice dripping with disgust she adds, "He was defending some gutter-creep."

I can see Hoodie-guy take a closer look at me. "Are you sure? I heard he had his head splattered all over the pavement."

Leather-punk looks at the girl, then back at me with a sneering grin. "That true, 'hero'? You that guy that got himself stomped into the street trying to defend some piece o' shit beggar?"

By now the other patrons in the restaurant are both trying to mind their own business while also keeping an eye on this evening's unexpected entertainment.

"We're just trying to get ourselves something to eat," Gerhad says patiently. "It's a nice evening, there's gotta be something more exciting you could be doing?"

Something about the way Gerhad's holding herself makes me think she might have a trick up her cyberarm if things get out of hand. I'm only minimally relieved at the thought that at least one of us can defend themselves.

Leather-jacket punk ignores her, keeping his attention on me. "Maybe he did get his head caved in." Moving faster than I'm able to react, he grabs my hat. "You hidin' a dented skull under this hat, 'hero'?" Once he has hold of my hat, I'm able to see that his right arm is cybernetic.

My mind grinds to a halt as a stubborn anger takes over. I'm not giving this jackass the satisfaction of an answer or a reaction. If there's nothing else I can do, I can at least deprive him of that.

Putting my hat on, Leather-jacket looks at me, his mouth twisted into a cruel grin. "Ya know, if you hadn't gone and lost your legs pullin' a stupid-ass stunt like that, you might be able to stand up and take yer hat back."

"You can give that back to him, now," Gerhad says evenly.

"I dunno," Leather-jacket says, "I think it looks good on me."

"I heard he screamed and begged the whole time he was gettin' pulled apart," Hoodie-boy throws in.

Leather-jacket glances behind him at his friends, all of them grinning like idiots. Then he turns to leer at Gerhad and says tauntingly, "He has got to be something special in bed if you're hangin' around a useless pile of shit cripple like this." He punctuates his comment with a firm kick to the wheel of my wheelchair.

My face starts to burn as all I can do is sit there. I frantically try to think of something, but I keep coming up empty. What the hell am I going to do with no legs and one arm, throw myself at him and beat on his shins with my forehead? I'm really starting to regret coming out here and now I'm praying they leave Gerhad alone. Fear has my heart racing and my adrenaline is up, but there's nothing for me to do with it, nowhere I can go. All I can do is face them and hope they lose interest.

Suddenly there's a metal hand on Leather-jacket's shoulder as a heavily-built, slightly taller than average cyborg is standing next him. It takes me a moment to recognize Roman's well-crafted hand, and sure enough, there's his face sitting atop the body attached to that hand. A muted gasp escapes from the green-haired girl and I look over to see the somewhat smaller, but still quite strongly-built Saza with her arms around the shoulders of Hoodie-boy and the girl, smiling at the two of them in an overly-friendly fashion. Hoodie-boy and his girlfriend both look somewhat stricken at this sudden turn of events. They obviously didn't expect anyone would care enough to bother getting involved. Normally, they'd be right.

Leather-jacket's face goes stiff as he's no doubt realized someone bigger has just come along. Someone not stuck in a wheelchair. I feel a sudden influx of relief, however it's tempered by an uncertainty of what the appearance of the two paladins might actually entail. My paranoia paints an immediate future of either the two of them commenting and walking away, or joining in with the punks, though that last seems entirely unlikely considering they're association with Alita.

Roman, wearing a patient smile, leans close to Leather-jacket. "You know," he says in a quiet, confiding voice, "I gotta admire the balls on you, kid."

Leather-jacket looks at him uncertainly. "Really?"

Roman puts his arm fully around the punk's shoulders and gives him a not-so-gentle clap on the shoulder. "Really! I mean, considering who you're fuckin' with?"

The kid glances over his shoulder at his two friends in confusion then looks at Gerhad and me. "Whaddya mean?" he asks Roman.

In an overly-friendly voice Roman tells him, "Well, since you're obviously new to this neighborhood, I'm gonna go slow so you and your friends here," he nods at the two in Saza's embrace, "can keep up." He gestures with his free hand at Gerhad. "This lovely lady here is Gerhad. She's the rather skillful assistant of doctor Dyson Ido."

Gerhad gives Roman a smile and a nod.

He politely returns the nod before continuing, "Doctor Ido is well-liked around here because of how much he helps the people who need it. He's also the Tuner for my Motorball team."

The kid and his friends get looks of first, dawning recognition, then somewhat alarmed. Leather-jacket's face gets a touch pale. "You're..." He trails off, but it's now obvious from the look on his face that he recognizes Roman.

"Yeees," Roman says slowly with a somewhat unfriendly-looking grin. "And that there," he gestures with a tilt of his head toward his teammate, "is Saza, as I'm sure you've guessed."

Saza gives the two streetpunks she has her arms around a big smile and in a really cheerful voice says, "Hi there!" She then gives them a big squeeze. They don't appear to like that.

"So," Roman continues brightly, "if you recognize us, then you must have some idea of who our team leader is."

All three street punks get a shade paler.

Seeing their reaction, Roman gives Leather-jacket a cheerful jostling, "That's right." He leans in close and loudly whispers in the punk's ear, "The Angel of Death."

His use of one of Alita's more prominent Motorball nicknames causes the punk to gulp visibly and lose what little color is left in his face.

Roman doesn't appear to notice as he continues on in a friendly manner. "Doctor Ido is kind of her father. So... here you are screwing with her father's nurse and one of his patients." He gently claps the punk on the shoulder. "Like I said, I gotta admire the balls on you, kid. Especially considering what she might do to you if she ever gets wind of this. But, I think you've had your fun, so why don't you three scurry along to where ever it is that you're squatting at and let any other friends that're moving into this neighborhood with you know that they might want to step a little more lightly from here on out, alright?" With that, he plucks my hat from atop leather-jacket's head and releases him.

Saza likewise releases her prisoners and the three street punks hastily make for the exit. Then she turns to Roman, "Ya know, you could've just let me fold 'em up and toss 'em out." She sounds mildly disappointed.

Roman merely shrugs. "I like this place, and the owner's good people. Didn't wanna make trouble if I could help it." He then turns and holds out my hat to me. "Here you go, Jason."

My mind finally engages and I nod to him as I take my hat back. "Thank you." I place it on the table, belatedly remembering that it's bad manners to wear a hat indoors.

"Thank you, both," Gerhad says. "Are the two of you heading out?"

Saza gestures to the back of the restaurant. "Nah, we were waiting on our order when we saw those three causing trouble." She steps closer to her teammate and playfully slaps him on the shoulder. "Roman decided they needed a lesson in dinner-time etiquette. Didn't notice who they were causing trouble for until we got closer."

Gerhad glances at me before asking, "Maybe you'd like to join us?"

Roman smiles as he looks at the both of us, "You sure it's no problem?" I notice that he's mainly looking at me.

With the adrenaline wearing off, the shakes are setting in. I take a deep breath and say, "No problem here. Gerhad was just showin' me around a bit. Stopped in here to get dinner before headin' back." This feeling of relief is mixed with the certainty that I have failed to be of much use when it counted.

'Useless,' whispers that voice in the back of my mind.

Roman and Saza accept the invite and move a nearby unoccupied table over next to our tiny table, along with it's chairs. They take their seats, Saza next to Gerhad, Roman next to me and we're quickly joined by a waitress who comes over to take our orders and thank Roman and Saza for dealing with the problem before it got out of hand. She even offers each of them a free drink, courtesy of the owner.

After the waitress leaves with our orders, the others begin conversing while I silently try to shake off the embarrassment and anger of being so helpless during that recent encounter. I feel as if I'm in way over my head. Being completely out of my depth is becoming an increasingly common feeling these days.

After some initial small talk, Gerhad asks them, "So what brings you two out this way?"

Roman picks up his drink and gestures with it, "Our team had just finished practice not too long ago. I wanted to get a little time in with my new hammer before the next game." He takes a quick sip. "After that, Saza and I figured we'd stop in here for something to eat."

Saza fiddles with her glass as she says to Gerhad, "Malcolm hasn't been too happy about Alita missing so many rounds of practice, no matter how well she does otherwise. Speaking of which, she was a little vague about what she and Ido went off to do. Any chance you might be able to elaborate?"

Gerhad glances at me and I shrug innocently. To Saza she says, "All I can say is, they've decided to spend some time together while Ido is working on a problem."

Roman and Saza look at each other, then Roman asks Gerhad, "They're not in any trouble or anything, are they?"

Saza quickly interjects, "I'm not sure either of them would say anything to us if they were."

Gerhad smiles and shakes her head. "No, they're not in any trouble. Ido's just trying to take care of some things while he's got the time."

Things are quiet for a moment as Saza and Roman sip at their drinks, then they go back to trying to pry a little more information out of Gerhad about what Ido and Alita are up to. Gerhad remains politely tight-lipped about the subject.

Saza decides to turn her attention to me. "So, Jason. How's life at Ido's clinic?"

I maintain a bored expression and say, "Pretty uneventful. I just try to stay out of everyone's way."

Saza gets an oddly sly grin. "Really? Ido's not teaching you the finer points of being a cyber-physician? Not hangin' out with Alita or anything?"

I notice that Roman is now looking at me with some curiosity. Gerhad smiles faintly while watching the whole exchange.

With an uncomfortable feeling I say, "Not really, no."

Roman grunts. "You two not getting along?"

I shrug, "I think we're getting along pretty well. Why?"

Saza leans towards me slightly. "You sounded almost offended that we'd ask."

Roman adds, "The way you two interacted at the games, we thought you seemed to be getting along rather well."

I glance at the two of them. "Oh." On retrospect, I realize I'd let my anger at the earlier incident color my voice. "No, we seem to be getting along fine. She's just got her own things she does. 'Sides, do you really think she's going to want to sit around in the clinic all day with an old guy in a wheelchair when she can be out doing, well, anything else?"

Roman frowns thoughtfully, "Hm. Guess you got a point."

"Those two love-struck idiots seem to have it stuck in their head that there's something going on between you and Alita," Saza comments with a sassy smile. "They're either going to be relieved that there isn't, or disappointed that they won't be able to learn anything new about their 'angel' from you."

Roman almost snorts his drink as he laughs, "Disappointed or relieved. Maybe both."

I narrow my gaze at them. "What?"

"What do you mean?" Gerhad asks.

Roman sets his drink down. "Roberto and Banick have been going on constantly-"

"Incessantly!" Saza cheerfully interjects.

"-about Jason having the singular fortune of living under the same roof with, how did they put it?" He looks over at Saza quizzically.

Saza smiles as she glances up at the ceiling, her forehead creased. Feigning a love-struck, breathy tone, she recites, "'That lucky bastard, living under the same roof with that delicate, steel blossom of woman-hood, our battle angel Alita'."

Saza and Roman both burst into snickering.

Gerhad looks incredulous as she quietly laughs along with them.

I'm alternately amused and irritated. Shaking my head, I lean back heavily in my wheelchair and say, "What the hell's wrong with those two? They take one too many hits to the brain pan?"

Finally getting her laughter under control, Saza shrugs and says, "They're just infatuated with Alita."

Roman likewise gets his mirth subdued. "Those boys are barely into adult-hood. And they can have some strange ideas about romance."

"Damned good Motorball players though," Saza adds brightly, taking a quick sip from her glass.

After a little bit more conversation, our food arrives. As we eat, I find myself wondering about something Roman said to that leather jacket punk.

Turning to him, I ask, "Just outta curiosity, how was it you knew those punks weren't from this neighborhood?"

He pauses his eating to answer, "Oh, the way they were dressed. There's a subtle sort of style that's used by the various cultures in the city. Those three were wearing a style that's generally worn around the Corazon D'acero area. Alita mentioned that you've spent most of your life outside the city in the small farms on the outskirts," he gestures in a vaguely circular motion as if to indicate said outskirts. "That punk that took your hat had a gang mark on his cybernetic hand. Considering the word on the street is that a couple of the smaller gangs are moving into here, probably under pressure from larger gangs, it's a good guess that those three were doing just that."

"Probably squatting in an abandoned apartment or something somewhere around here," Saza adds between bites of food.

Watching the two cyborgs eat, I'm surprised that they're eating most, if not all of their food. Considering they've only got their brain and a few smaller bits left that would require food to survive, I'd been under the impression that they wouldn't bother with larger servings. But I shrug it off as a likely holdover from when they still had more flesh-and-blood bodies, and it could also be a social interaction thing. They may not need to eat as much anymore, but they may still out of habit or social norms.

After we've all eaten, Gerhad suggests that she and I should get back to the clinic before it gets too much later. The two paladins offer to walk with us, for which I'm rather thankful. As we all make our way to the clinic, Roman and Saza ask some questions about my condition. I'm forced to be evasive about the details, deferring instead to the medical professional with us.

Gerhad uses the cover story about me having a neurological condition that's making it difficult to get cyberware to integrate with my body. Before long we've gotten to our destination. Gerhad and I bid the two paladins goodnight and head in. As we settle down for the evening Gerhad goes to change into more casual wear, then offers to teach me a local card game to pass the time. I happily agree and the cards she produces for our use aren't quite what I was expecting. They're a little smaller than the playing cards from my time and they have an odd, almost trapezoidal shape to them with symbols that are similar to those older playing cards I'm used to.

The game she teaches me, or tries to teach me, is similar to Blackjack but with some odd twists that I find myself having a hard time grasping. She laughs a bit at my fumbling attempts to get the hang of the game. I decide to play that up a little with a couple jokes at my own expense. After a few hands that I fail to even come close to winning, the subject of my old life comes up.

"I was wondering," Gerhad says as she's dealing out the cards again, "you've mentioned Vanessa a few times, but you've never really talked about anyone else." She gives me a somewhat cautious look, "Like the kids in the other photos."

I gather up my cards with the help of my residual left arm. "Were you curious about them?"

She gives a vague shrug. "Well, a little. What were they like? If they were your children, it seems a little odd that you haven't really mentioned them."

"Ah. Well, they weren't my biological children. She was married before we met. I knew her oldest, her daughter when she was just five years old. Sometime after Vanessa's second child David was born, her ex-husband turned into a real jackass; started doin' drugs and becoming abusive." I pause to move my cards around a bit. "This was after she and the kids had been dragged off to live with the guy's parents in another state. Fortunately her oldest, her daughter Alanna, had moved out on her own by then. Unfortunately that left David and her youngest, Brian to deal with some of the abuse that came afterwards."

"A different state, is that like a different territory or something?"

"Kinda, yeah."

I go on to try and explain the basics of the states and territories within the United States. For someone who grew up in a world in which there was only ever this one huge city, I think it's a little hard for her to grasp just how much territory that one nation covered.

"Okay," Gerhad nods, "so she ended up being taken away to a whole other state that would have taken you a day and a half to drive to. Obviously you two saw each other again."

"We did," I say with a nod, " We both had mutual friends that kept in touch. After she left is when I fell into depression real bad, becoming suicidal a few years after she left the state. This was back in the days before social media really took off, so I lost contact with her. Didn't help that her ex-husband had been isolating her. She finally got divorced from him after a long while of trying to make it work. Then she moved to yet another state to get away from her ex's relatives. I actually didn't think I'd ever see her again, since I'd also moved after she left. As luck would have it, around that time social media became a thing and I stumbled across her profile.

"Next thing I know, I'm talking to her on the phone and we made plans for me to move to a small town, where she was living and working. It wasn't too much trouble, since it turns out we'd both moved into the same state, Colorado."

Gerhad looks at me with a smile and says, "You must've been very happy to meet up again."

I glance up from my cards and realize that I'm wearing what must be a pretty big smile of my own. "I was, yeah."

"I remember you saying she was a nurse."

"She was," I say, smiling wistfully.

Gerhad's smile turns into a grin. "Sounds like someone I'd have liked to meet."

Smiling at memories of her, I reply, "I think you'd have liked her. She was always good with people."

"So, is that when the two of you became romantically involved?"

"No, actually. We'd been best friends for years, so I saw a lot of her and the kids when we were near each other. She surprised me once when she told me that I'd been more of a father to her children than their actual father was. I had no idea her marriage had been going so badly." I shrug in remembered embarrassment. "Just shows how clueless I can be." I take a deep breath and quietly sigh. "But after we got back together again, I helped her raise her two boys and did what little I could to be some kind of father-figure for 'em." I shrug in a self-depracating manner, "I couldn't have done too much damage, they turned out okay. Last I knew, Alanna was getting ready to get married. David became an artist and was engaged to a lovely young woman, and Brian was heading off to college." I cough and clear my throat as I feel tears coming on, realizing yet again that I'll never see any of them.

Gerhad's smile disappears and she says with a sympathetic warmth, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

I wave dismissively with my hand of cards, "That's alright." I take a deep breath and blink away the tears before continuing. "Anyway, it was sometime around when Brian was halfway through high school that I realized I was in love with her. Turns out she felt the same way." I give a slight shrug, "I think you already know the rest."

After that, it becomes a little easier to talk about them again. I end up losing the game, badly, but it was one of the more enjoyable evenings I've had in a year. After it's over I decide to turn in.

"Alright," Gerhad replies. "I'm gonna stay up for a bit, do some reading."

Before heading towards the elevator, I turn to her, "I had a good time. Thanks for showing me around."

She catches me a little off-guard by coming over to me, leaning down and hugging me tight. I don't even notice the metallic feeling of her cybernetic arm. I'm a little slow in returning the hug, having been caught completely flat-footed by it.

Then she straightens up and says to me with a smile, "You have a good night, Jason."

Smiling with mild embarrassment I say back, "Good night."

And with that I head upstairs. Getting into my room, I find myself unable to sleep, despite feeling drained and exhausted. I settle into bed and get through several chapters of a history book I'd been working on, learning a good deal more about this city. Before I know it, I end up dozing off.

. . . . . .

I awaken with a start, immediately noticing that I left my light on. My book is lying open off to the side. Having slid down while sleeping, I scoot myself back up into a sitting position and stretch, letting go a big yawn. Looking around again, I realize that something doesn't feel quite right. I look over at my clock and see that it's a little after midnight. I try to shake off the feeling that something's out of sorts, putting it down to my anxiety acting up again.

I look around my room again and figure I'll go grab myself some tea, then try to get back to sleep properly. I get onto my wheelchair and roll out into the hallway, then stop. Did I just hear an unfamiliar, masculine voice from downstairs? Feeling strangely uneasy, I roll over to the top of the curving stairway and stop to listen for it again. Sure enough, I hear a rough-sounding voice. I can't make out what's said but it's tone is hostile and there's a feeling in the air, like what I used to sense when Dad was drunk and about to become violent.

As quietly as I can, I slip down off my wheelchair and slide my way to the top of the stairs where I can see down into the level below. I spot a chair that's been knocked over and items strewn about as if a struggle had taken place. Possibly what woke me up. Towards the kitchen I spot Gerhad, being pinned face to the wall, by a large figure who has her by the back of her head. I can see that she's bleeding from the nose, and there's a smear of blood on the wall near her face. The figure who has her by the hair is standing there with his other hand at his side, clenched into a fist.

He's turned towards me just enough that I can see some of his face. It's Fenrir, in what is obviously his street body. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach and my blood runs cold. He says something and I can just make out the words.

"I got it on good authority that that bitch and doc Ido aint here right now, and they won't be back for another day or two at least," he snarls at her. "I know I got all the time in the world. So, before you and I have some fun, you're going to show me where Ido stashes his money." I see the hand he's using to hold her against the wall flex as if he's putting pressure on her skull.

Gerhad lets out a strangled scream but says nothing. Fenrir seems to press in harder and she finally says, "Alright, alright!" She looks both angry and terrified.

"Where?" Fenrir growls at her.

"It's down in the basement," she says, sounding vaguely defeated.

Fenrir shifts his grip to wrap his large hand around the back of her neck and roughly gets her walking. "Alright, good. Lead the way," he says with a cruel grin.

I watch them head towards the stairway down to the basement, my heart racing painfully and my eyes wide with fear. 'What the hell is he doing here? Who told him that Alita and Ido were going to be gone for a while?'

I look around as Fenrir and Gerhad turn a corner out of sight. Someone's got to try and stop him, and aside from Gerhad, the only one here is me. But what the hell am I going to do? My breathing becomes rapid and labored.

A thought crystalizes in my mind. 'A soldier puts his life on the line so others won't have to.' I may not be a soldier any longer but I am the only other person here. This isn't a confrontation with some street punk taking my hat, a person's life is on the line. If something isn't done it's a woman badly hurt or dead, a family torn apart. This bastard invaded the home of good people and has threatened one of those people with rape or death. Anger sparks, burning away most of the fear and panic, then it quickly blossoms into cold rage.

'What do you do when predators come sniffing around? You send out the hunters.' It's as if my mind stops thinking and starts doing. There's a strange clarity of purpose. I remember one of Dad's stories, of hunting a bear that he'd wounded in his younger years. How the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he made his way through thick underbrush trying to hunt it down to finish it off. Despite the fear, he went in to put down the dangerous predator that he'd wounded, to ensure both that it wouldn't suffer and that it wouldn't be a danger to others.

Well, now there's a dangerous predator on the loose in here and there's no one else to put it down. My heart is still racing, but my mind is focused. I need to find a weapon, something I can do damage to a cyborg body with. I'm in a cyber-physician's clinic, surely there's some kind of drill or something I can use on this guy. If I can at least get him off balance then maybe Gerhad can do something herself.

I consider getting back in my wheelchair and heading down in the elevator, but quickly discard the idea. The motor that runs the elevator is in the basement and when I use it, it's certain to alert Fenrir. Right now, he seems to think it's just him and Gerhad, so I might have some element of surprise. I begin quickly descending the stairway, sliding over the steps as quickly as I can. When I get to the bottom my back muscles are protesting, strained from their treatment. I get up on my butt and use my thighs and my right arm to slide myself sideways across the floor into the operating theater.

As I'm looking around I smell a faint, pungent chemical odor. A memory lights up and my head snaps around to look towards Ido's workbench. There's a grey cloth, covering the work he'd left out, and was no doubt planning on returning to when he got back. I make my way over to it. When I get there, I get up on the tips of the cybernetic mountings at the ends of my thighs and lean against the table to keep myself upright. I'm vaguely aware that I could be doing damage to the mountings with this sort of treatment. I flip the cloth back and see that Ido's project is still here. In fact it looks like he'd done a bit more with it before leaving on the trip.

There's what looks like a couple of completed HEAT rounds lying neatly off to one side, out of the way. Each one looks slightly different, as if he was still fiddling with the configuration. There's also a couple of cylinders, both about the size of large soup cans. The first cylinder is slightly larger in dimension than the other, and is hollow, as if it's meant to fit over the second. The second cylinder has a narrow space carved into it's center. It hits me that it looks like a firing chamber. I quickly examine the pair of metal cylinders and realize that they are indeed meant to fit together, and what they form is in fact a sort of firing chamber.

Looking over the shotgun shell-sized HEAT rounds, I find that one fits perfectly into the firing chamber, the other being just a little too loose. My hand is shaking slightly from the fear and adrenaline, so it takes a couple tries to insert the round into the chamber. I take a deep breath and focus down, which gets the shaking a little under control. I look at the larger cylindrical sleeve. It's got a plate covering one end with a hole that's likely meant to allow a firing pin to fit through and strike the primer in the back of the HEAT round, but there's no pin. I look around a little frantically on the workbench.

I spot what looks like a tube of some kind of epoxy. I set down the cylinder in my hand and grab up the tube, using my teeth to get the end cap off. Then I squirt a large dab of the stuff onto the inside of the end plate attached to the sleeve. As I'd hoped, it looks thick enough that it'll hold something small in place without needing to cure. Grabbing a small part, I have no idea what it's actually for but it's small and pointy on one end, flat on the other and that's all I need right now. Trying to control my body's shaking, I carefully reach into the sleeve and put that tiny part into the dab of epoxy-like substance. I try to make sure it's centered so that the point will be in contact with the primer of the HEAT round in the chamber.

Then I carefully slide the sleeve over the chamber, gently settling it so that the make-shift firing pin is in fact in contact with the round inside. Now I just have to slam it into Fenrir someplace that'll do some damage. A knee? A hip? I also have to be really fucking careful not to set it off prematurely. I deliberately don't think about what using this thing by hand is likely to mean for me. I take the jury-rigged weapon and settle myself back onto the floor. I put it into my left armpit so I can carry it and still use my full arm.

I make my way as quickly as I can towards the stairs down to the basement. It's kind of amazing how fast adrenaline can make one crawl. It still doesn't feel nearly fast enough. I get to the top of the stairway and I can hear a loud banging, like someone hitting something metal with a sledgehammer. I begin descending the stairs as quickly as I dare with my dangerous cargo. When I get to the bottom, the banging ends with a loud crashing sound and I hear Fenrir laugh triumphantly. The stairs end in a short hallway that goes off to my left. I crawl down it until I come to the corner and look around.

The basement is almost as spacious as the entire first floor. There's a lot of shelves and boxes, along with large worktables in the middle and machinery of all kinds everywhere. There are bins with just about every kind of part. I can't see Fenrir or Gerhad, so they must be farther back. A couple meters from my position I see a metal cabinet pushed up against some shelving. I could probably take cover there and get a look at what the situation is. I do exactly that, getting to the cabinet and peeking around the corner.

Fenrir has his back to me, crouched over what looks like a strongbox. He's pulling out what appear to be stacks of coins and stuffing them in a bag. There's a sledgehammer next to him on the floor that he probably used to smash it open. Leaning against a set of shelves on the other side of him is Gerhad, facing my direction and I can see that the left side of her face looks a little swollen. There's blood spatters down the front of her blouse. I duck back behind cover and quickly cast about for something that'll give me an idea of what to do next, as panic tries to rise up.

Near me is a small stack of boxes. I look at the cabinet I'm up against and realize I can probably climb the boxes, get onto the cabinet and maybe have a chance to strike at his chest area, possibly doing some real damage to him. A sick feeling is starting to come over me as my mind has time to ask, 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' I try not to think about it as I carefully place my improvised weapon on the cabinet top then begin climbing the stack of boxes to get onto the cabinet as well, while remaining hidden behind the shelves. As I get on top of the cabinet one of the boxes falls over just as I get my weight off of it. I freeze, silently cursing my idiotic clumsiness. Pressure like a vice grips my brain, threatening to grind everything to a halt.

From around the corner I hear Fenrir growl, "What the fuck was that? Is someone else here?"

With no sign of fear in her voice, Gerhad answers, "There's no one else here. It's probably just Ido's pet."

"Pet? What pet?" Fenrir asks angrily.

"Ido has a pet cat," Gerhad lies smoothly. "She'll sometimes knock things off the shelves."

Forcing myself back into motion, I carefully pick up the weapon. My breathing becomes rapid and I'm starting to hear my blood pounding in my ears.

"We'll see about some fucking cat. Stay here!" There's a sound like something soft being hit and I hear Gerhad exhale sharply, then groan in pain. Immediately after that there's heavy footsteps approaching.

I raise my make-shift weapon into a ready position and start breathing through my mouth, trying to breath more quietly. My muscles are starting to tremble and if feels like my body is beginning to vibrate. My mind is blank and empty as I wait for my target to appear.

There's fear and intense anger as a small voice in the back of my mind prays, 'Please, God. Don't let me screw this up. Please give me the strength to get this right.' Just then Fenrir rounds the corner and it's as if everything goes away. The fear, the trembling sensation, the little doubts that were starting to percolate up into my consciousness.

Fenrir, carrying the bag of stolen loot, looks vaguely surprised to see me. A small miracle that allows me the split second I need to slam the business end of the jury-rigged weapon into the closest part of him that I can reach, and as he's approaching from my left, that's his right shoulder. It's a solid impact that forces the back plate and firing pin into the primer at the rear end of the HEAT round, detonating it in the chamber. The explosion blasts a stream of molten metal into Fenrir's shoulder and there's a flash of light and thunderous noise just before everything goes blank.

I come to, my senses still reeling and there's this intense, painful ringing in my ears. My right forearm, and especially my hand, feels like it was run over by a truck. I'm lying on my back on the floor next to the cabinet having apparently been knocked off of it. I look over at my right hand half-expecting to see a bloody mess, but miraculously it appears to still be intact. It's certainly been broken, the fingers splayed out at odd angles, but they're still attached. I think the wrist is also broken. The pain is excruciating, debilitating. Both my glasses and my makeshift weapon are nowhere to be seen. I slowly try to get myself into a sitting position when a powerful metal hand grabs me by the throat.

A visibly enraged Fenrir picks me up in a merciless grip and pins me against the wall. He's shouting something that I can't hear and I can see a smoking, glowing crater in his right shoulder. His right arm is hanging limply at his side. Through the gaps in his chest plating, it looks like something's sparking inside.

'Figures he'd recover quickly,' I think to myself distantly, 'he's had experience dealing with this sort of thing.' Feebly, I flail at the hand holding me with the stump of my left arm as I try to protect my broken right arm

He slams me into the floor, painfully knocking the breath out of me and sending me reeling as the back of my head impacts the concrete floor a split second after my back. My broken arm and hand flare into white hot agony. Then he lets go of my neck and with incredible speed brings his fist down in a crushing blow to my face, causing my vision to go blank. Two times, three times, I'm not sure as it feels like it simultaneously happens in a flash and goes on forever. My sight comes back in time to see him stop as Gerhad drives something that looks long and pointy into the side of his neck. Fenrir knocks her and her weapon away, picks up the bag of money from Ido's strongbox and bolts up the stairs. Apparently he's had enough of getting damaged. I know the feeling.

As I'm lying there trying to recover my senses, I realize I'm having trouble breathing. Oddly enough, there's no pain from where he punched me. In fact the only thing I feel is a cottony numbness all throughout my lower face, kinda like a novacaine shot from the dentist. Everything else is agony, though. I slowly roll onto my side and cough, trying to dislodge whatever is blocking my breathing. Blood begins pouring out of my mouth and nose onto the concrete floor. I watch as little bits of something fall into the expanding pool of red, clattering onto the concrete floor like tiny pebbles. After an eternity, I realize that those are my teeth. He must have completely destroyed my jaw, perhaps even my lower face. I should feel something, shouldn't I?

My vision is sharp and brittle. Everything seems to be surrounded by a halo of light. My head feels light and airy. Here I am, once again having been beaten nearly to death by a cyborg, left lying in a pool of my own blood. In a silent, almost-prayer I think to myself, 'I'd like this to stop happening now. God, I hate this place.'

Gerhad is suddenly at my side, turning me over to get a look at my injuries. Briefly there's a horrified look on her face before the controlled calm of an experienced professional replaces it. I look up at her drowsily and am struck by how beautiful she is, surrounded by that glowing halo.

Pulling out her little communicator, she sets it on the floor nearby and I can hear it dialing someone on speaker. Grabbing something from a nearby shelf, she begins desperately trying to stem the flow of blood out of the gaping wound that used to be part of my face. When Ido's voice answers, she says urgently, "You have to get back now! The clinic was attacked! Jason's been badly hurt!"

My eyelids are getting heavy and there's a weight pressing down on my chest. The response from Ido is little more than a dull murmur. The pain burning in the rest of my body begins fading into cold. My heart is thudding laboriously in my chest. Is it my imagination or is it slowing down? As if in a delirium, I look up at her as images of my nightmare float across my consciousness. 'No blades will touch you tonight,' I think crazily to her.

Darkness rises up around me, swallowing the light. I try to tell her, 'I'm sorry I've been so much trouble.' The only sound that I seem to be able to make is a gurgling gasp, before even that fades away.