The time was 10:43 a.m., minutes shy of an hour after the cargo ship's arrival. Headless bodies lay scattered across the deck, the circuitry from their necks exposed, wires spilling from their bodies like parasitic worms. Smashed pumpkins littered the ground where they lay, and the heads of the victims were nowhere to be found.

BAM

SPLAT

Obnoxious, uproarious laughter commenced near some freights just feet away. The towering hulk of a man, Husselhoff, as well as his scrawny compatriot, Tiny Dancer, were standing around guffawing as a lithe, young person, standing approximately 6' 10", clad in a garish black and purple dress, aimed a shotgun at a pumpkin put up for target practice. It sat on the edge of the ship, teetering precariously over the harbor water below. Squinting their left eye shut, they peered down the barrel of the gun, steadying their aim. Their finger slipped from the trigger guard, slowly inching over the trigger. The stock of the shotgun was held firmly against their chest, just below the shoulder, as they took a breath and held it.

Dead-aim taken, their finger pulled the trigger back and a loud, cacophonous boom echoed off the freights. Chunks of pumpkin splattered, dropping with a kerplunk into the sea water below, joining its friends that had once sat perched alongside it. Bringing the shotgun over their shoulder, with a fierce twinkle in their orange eye, was a bewitching individual who looked to be in their mid-twenties.

Their name was Sony Canneberge, and anyone who called them the anglicized word of their surname was met with a bullet to the face. They were French, not English; and all would do well to remember it. Half of their hair was a vibrant orange, adorned with plastic spiders while the other half was black as midnight with sparse, thin, white streaks. This was much more noticeable by the hair cascading in front of their ears. Atop their head was a purple witch's hat with the point cut out so that their long, braided ponytail punctuated it in its place. Their upper lip was black, while the bottom lip was as green as shamrock.

Black stockings clung to their long, lithe legs, their feet clad in a pair of leather, pointy-toed, lace-up ankle boots with orange shoestrings to boot. Smirking, they placed a fingerless-gloved hand over their hip, their black fingernails matching almost perfectly with the tulle of their witch's garb. "That's the last of them," their tone was rife with indifference, which shot from 0 to 100 as they spun around and struck a pose, "now whaddya say we open that staaaash?!"

"Ooh, yeah!" Husselhoff's rich, bassy voice called out as he clapped his meaty hand with his metal one, "I wanna open it first!"

"Now wait just a minute," Tiny Dancer piped up, a scowl present on his slightly gaunt face, "I've got the crowbar, ya numbskull, so I'm opening the cargo!"

Husselhoff prodded his chin with his index finger, letting out a dumb-sounding uhhh. "If you say so, Tiny, but —"

"No buts, tu crétin! I got the crowbar, so I'm opening up the goods!"

"Or we could, y'know, shut the hell up and open it all togetherrrr!" Canneberge expressed, finger gunning with their free hand, a grin beaming from ear to ear, and the shotgun still propped against their shoulder. "I didn't bring the both of you with me just for shits and giggles! Teheheheeee! Or maybe I did…" Catching Tiny Dancer and Husselhoff off-guard, Canneberge let out a gasp and began to gush as if they had a sudden revelation, their hand flapping up and down. "Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh! Guys! What if… we just opened it like this?! "

Canneberge strutted over to the freight and set the shotgun beside it. They lifted the bars on the right door and pulled the handles outward, opening it and then proceeding to do the same to the other side. Finalizing the action, they performed a brief tap-dance and for the finishing number, stretched their arms out, singing in an annoyingly boisterous manner to the tune of a hallelujah choir, " Ta-da-da- daaaa!"

Both Tiny Dancer and Husselhoff exchanged dumb glances at one another. Tiny Dancer brought the crowbar up and scratched his head before tossing it on the ground with a clang, walking over to the opened freight. "Tch. I told ya we didn't need a crowbar, ya idiot!"

Husselhoff let out a low moan. "Sorry, Tiny."

"Just look at it!" Canneberge squealed at the array of metal crates hauling the military weapons. "Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoooo! Geil's gonna totally fucking 360 when he sees this!"

"Okay, genius," Tiny Dancer huffed in annoyance, "now how do we open the boxes?"

Canneberge froze still with a wide-eyed grin plastered across their face as they slowly turned their head to their accomplices. After a lengthy, awkward pause, they answered, "Why, with a crowbar, of course!"

"WHA…?!" A white pallor painted Tiny Dancer's face as he turned on his heel and grumbled all the way over to the crowbar he'd tossed aside.

"See, Tiny?" Husselhoff said. "I told you bringin' the crowbar was a good idea."

The pallor of his gaunt face flashed a searing red as he grit his teeth and clutched the crowbar with ferocity. "Dohhh, shut up!"

.

.

"Okay, so I made sure I packed some essentials," Tenmei explained, rummaging through his red backpack, "just in case. Because you never know. Better to have it and not need it than the other way around, right guys?" He held up a dirty, white toothbrush with a green handle. The matching bristles had questionable gunk and hair stuck to them as Tenmei turned his head to the backseat where Avdol was sitting, his mouth in a wide, open smile. "Like you always say: helps to be prepared, right Avdol?"

Avdol arched a brow, grimacing at the mangled, grubby toothbrush. "Uhhh…"

"You're bringing that to the heist?!" Angus chided, his eyes unaverted from the road in front of them as he drove the car. "What, you plan on tucking Geil's goons into bed and reading a bedtime story, too?"

"Huh?" Tenmei's eyes crossed, looking down at the toothbrush in his grasp. "Oh! Haha, silly me! I forgot I packed this months ago. But no, I have tons of other stuff I packed." He counted on his fingers as he named them off. "A pack of rubber bands, explosives, maple syrup, extra underwear, shoes, a dog leash, a car transmission…"

The car came to a stop at a red light when Angus slowly turned his head to Tenmei, who was still naming off the plethora of items he was so adamant on bringing. "...a box of cake mix with sprinkles, balloons, my Oldies but Goldies player… ooh! Which by the way plays some of the best classical music you could ever ask for. I mean, come on! Eyes Without a Face sung by Frank Sinatra is totally mega! The A.I.s on this thing sing literally anything you want, and it's like they're really singing it! If people think this stuff during the Information Age was wild, they're really missing out on the live holographic performances this thingy projects! Way Ultra!"

Tenmei was content as ever, sitting in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers on his knees with his eyes focused on the hustle and bustle happening behind the windshield. He was too preoccupied by the passing of a woman walking her dogs on the crosswalk that he hadn't noticed Angus and Avdol's questioning glances at him.

Angus finally asked, "B… but… you do have another toothbrush, right?"

"Oh, you bet! I have loads more. Why, do you need one? Here, I think I have —" Reaching his hand into the bag, Angus stopped him, keeping his gaze on the traffic signals.

"No, that's fine. I have my own back at the quarry."

"Oh, okay then!"

Once the light turned green, the car drove off and a long pause followed their conversation. Tenmei smiled as he looked out the window beside him, lightly bobbing his head back and forth while humming happily to a tune he'd just made up off the top of his head. "We're going on a trip," he began singing breathily, "going on a trip, going on a trip, uh-huh, yeahaaa. Trip trip trippity trippido trippidon't trippidippidooodaaaa…trippity bippity bappity boppity do de do de doooo." With both pointer fingers raised, he moved them around like he was conducting an orchestra. "Bring your C-4 and your whole house, too, because we're going on a trip to a very bad place —"

"Tenmei!" Angus and Avdol cried out in unison.

"What?"

Angus let out a raspy sigh. "Could you sing that a little quieter?"

"Like… in my head?" he pointed to his cranium.

"If you don't mind."

"Aww, that's boring. What am I supposed to do for fun on the way to the heist, then?"

"Just find another way to entertain yourself." Avdol suggested. He went back to looking out the window, as Angus continued keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Hushed silence swept through the interior of the car, making Tenmei frown as he slumped down in his seat and let out a disappointed sigh. Some seconds later, he sighed again, getting Angus's attention. He side-glanced over at him though it only lasted a moment before he changed focus again. In Tenmei's boredom, he looked around the car, hunting something — anything — that would make the trip less dull. Sitting there with nothing to do fell nothing short of torture. He'd sooner brush his teeth with the icky toothbrush he once again held up in front of him.

Staring at it for a bit, he leaned his head back and rested it lazily onto his lap, sighing yet again. It wasn't long before he asked, "Are we there yet?"

"No." Angus replied.

"Aww… how abouuuuuuut …now?"

"If we weren't there five seconds ago," Angus started softly, his voice then abruptly spiking in volume, "then we're still not there!"

Tenmei returned to slouching, his arms crossed over his chest as he poked out his bottom lip and scowled at the door of the car. "This isn't mega," he pouted, "this is micro ." Minutes passed and he was still restless, constantly shifting around in his seat to get comfortable. Looking out the passenger window did little to nothing to cure him of the agonizing silence, but at least he had that, he supposed. Not being able to read the signs over businesses backwards? Ultra boring. If it came to that, they could toss him in the trunk of the car and the experience wouldn't change.

Breaking the silence, Tenmei tried asking a third time, "Are we at the waterfront now?"

"So help me," Angus seethed, "I will turn this car around, and we will not be getting military grade firearms!"

Avdol's voice piped up from the backseat. "Damn, Tenmei, be quiet!"

Tenmei scowled. "You be quiet, you big dooder head!"

"I've been quiet this entire time..."

"Except for just now, you lollipop lickin' liar." Closing his eyes, Tenmei sat up in his seat with his arms crossed as he looked out the windshield.

Little did he know, Avdol readied a bubble gum ball for throwing, pinging Tenmei on the ear. "Hey!" he shouted, spinning around and practically leaning into the back. "You threw that at me!"

Amused by the reaction, Avdol's laughter rumbled in his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Angusss! Avdol threw something at me!"

Amidst the bickering, Angus clutched the steering control tighter and tighter as the incessant argument began to spiral, dousing the embers of his wrath in lighter fluid and churning a blazing furnace of fury.

"You shut up…" Avdol said to Tenmei nonchalantly.

"No, you shut up!"

"You know, it's always you that gets Angus riled up, so why don't you —"

"Oh yeah?!" Tenmei retorted. "Well, it's always someone like you that gets on Skynet's search engine, looking up and thinking: Man, I bet I can order some pistachios and walnuts and they'll deliver them to my door fast, with no hassle guaranteed! What you don't realize is that they sell socket wrench sets for cheap, not delicious, crunchy snacks. Boy, wouldn't you feel like your head's a #0 hex machine screw nut when you step foot on the website, like: Ohhh, those kind of nuts! Haha! My mistake." He stared with his brows furrowed. "Ohhh, yeah. I went there. I know my way around nuts, Avdol, can you say the same?!"

Tenmei returned facing forward in his seat, pumping his fist. "Ha! Got 'im!" he cheered under his breath.

Avdol shot him a confounded sneer, still trying to process the supposed-to-be insult. "What the hell are you going on about?!"

A sudden revelation sank into the forefront of Tenmei's mind as he sat there thinking over his actions. He gasped and turned in his seat, his eyes broadened into the backseat. Not only did he lose his temper, he hurled an insult at his best friend. What if he hurt him unintentionally? This was bad. "Oh, no, Avdol, I'm so sorry!"

Avdol's brow raised. "For…?"

"I swear!" Tenmei extended a hand to him, beseeching him. "I didn't mean it! I… I got carried away a little bit. I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?"

"Uhhh, no…?"

His shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath of relief. "Oh, good…" Thank god he was unaffected by his nasty words, otherwise Tenmei would have a hard time forgiving himself, granted he had the capacity to do so at all. The car came to a halt and powered off, prompting Tenmei to turn his gaze to the parking lot and spray-painted store in front of them. "Huh? This doesn't look like the waterfront."

"That's because it's not," Angus said, stepping out of the vehicle, "get out, screw nuts." The car door slammed shut, leaving Tenmei and Avdol to sit there and exchange looks with one another. Tenmei's eyes shot open and he slowly raised his fingertips to his lips, uttering an ooooh like a little kid on the playground that heard someone blurt out a naughty word.

Avdol opened his own door while listening to Tenmei mid-sentence, telling him, "Come on."

.

.

A rancid stench permeated the air all around them as they traversed beneath the streets of Skid Row. "Remind me why we're trekking through the sewers?" Tenmei asked, following behind Avdol and Angus, who was also flashing an LED light through the tunnel.

"Because, we could get jump —" A high-pitched, reverberating ooooh derailed Angus from finishing his sentence, causing him to stop leading and look back. Tenmei was standing there, pointing at an adjacent tunnel with grating over the entrance.

"Check that out! I wonder what's over there."

"Will you…!" Angus tensed up, flashing barred teeth. Inhaling through his nose, he tried again. This time, much calmer than before. "Would you hurry it up already?" Once he believed he had walked a fair distance, enough for Tenmei not to be within earshot, he muttered to himself under his breath. "Damn kids… can't take a damn thing seriously…"

Having the intent to press on behind him, Avdol caught himself looking back at Tenmei who was still standing there, staring off down the mysterious, barred path, submerged in curiosity. A water drop echoed off of the concrete walls as it dripped into the malodorous stream coursing beside them.

"Tenmei," Avdol said, his voice reverberating, "not to seem overbearing, but could you please take this mission a little more seriously? This isn't a pleasure cruise."

Tenmei waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft. Don't worry! I know it's important to Angus. Besides, what's the harm in taking in the sights every once in a while? No point in going off on a daring mission if I can't enjoy myself from time to time, right?"

"Sometimes I worry you're a little too carefree for your own good," as he sauntered off, he made a statement under his breath, "even Léon of all people understands the gravity of the task at hand." Tenmei frowned as Avdol called back over his shoulder, "Remember: this is a war we're in. If Motorhead gains control of Skid Row, any hope we have at getting the citizens back on their feet will be all but lost. So, please… try to keep that in mind for future reference."

Plodding sadly along with his backpack in tow, Tenmei's despondent gaze met the concrete floor. "Okay…" he responded in a melancholy tone. "...I wasn't trying to be inconsiderate. I'm sorry."

Avdol smiled, his eyes still looking ahead as they trekked through the sewer. "I know. You're not that kind of person. I fully understand the excitement you're feeling, all I'm saying is that there's a time and place. Now simply isn't the time, that's all."

Tenmei hurried to catch up beside him before pacing his walk to match his. "Y'know something, Avdol, I wish I could be more like you and Léon."

"Hmm? Why do you say that?"

"You guys just seem to have it all figured out. You're the calm, cool, collected one that knows exactly what to do — like a leader! Léon's strong and fierce, nothing scares him, he's just so…so…! Courageous, I guess. I wish I could be those things. All I am is a caddy carrying a bag of junk."

Avdol patted a hand to his shoulder reassuringly. "You are all those things. Having a stand with an ability like yours isn't a bad thing, you know. Like Never Enough, you're a mystery gift to yourself. You never know what you're lugging around until you take the courage to look inside and dig up all the things that make you… well, you."

"Can't really be a mystery if I put it there to begin with."

Avdol's laughter echoed around them. "For you it's different. You just haven't discovered it yet. People don't possess only one defining quality, they have many. A lot of them just aren't aware of what those are. But if you take time to look, you'll be surprised. You may learn something about yourself that makes you special."

Tenmei's gloomy expression transformed into intrigue. "Wow! Avdol, that's the beautifullest thing you've ever said!... At least I think it is…?" He scratched his head. "But there's just one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"How can I convince Angus I'm more than meets the eye, when all he sees is… well, what I said earlier… a caddy."

Avdol frowned. "I'm sure he sees more than that in you, Tenmei. Give it time. The man will come around, he always does."

Tenmei allowed Avdol to press onward, stopping at the edge of the stream as he shined his light at it, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of his reflection. "Sure he will…"

.

.

Canneberge hoisted an RPG over their shoulder, beaming a radiant smile as if they'd gone mad with power. "Alright, fellas, it's time to test out the bad boys, whaddya say, huhhhh?!" They spun around, unaware the rocket momentarily pointed at Tiny Dancer and Husselhoff as they redirected themselves elsewhere. Both henchmen scurried up against the freight, shielding themselves in futility with a horrified expression painted across their faces. Afraid of what might happen if they accidentally pulled the trigger.

"Hey, hey!" Tiny Dancer shouted. "Stop waving that thing around, you dingbat!"

Husselhoff let out whimpers, taking Tiny Dancer in a fearful, much-too-snug-for-comfort, embrace. He squeezed him close, nearly breaking his spine.

"What're ya…! Hey!" he wheezed, straining to get his pleas across. "Put… me… down…!"

"Oh! Sorry, Tiny." Husselhoff dropped him immediately, causing him to land firmly on his ass.

"Why, you, I oughtta…!" he raised his fist to the giant, who nervously grinned back with a shrug.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo! Check this out!" Canneberge began flipping the loaded RPG around their body like a trained dancer does their partner, before it became a show of marching in place and twirling.

"You absolute psycho, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Tiny Dancer yelled.

Husselhoff's comment on the other hand was much less horrified. "Wow, that's pretty neat, Canny! Say, can you teach me how to do that?"

"Well, sure!" Canneberge cried out enthusiastically. "But first, you see that water tower on top of that building wayyyyy over there? I'm gonna fire a rocket at it. Ya know, just to see if these bad boys got the fire Motorhead needs."

Tiny Dancer couldn't look more nerve wracked if he tried while Husselhoff wooted and cheered with his fists tightly clenched at his sides, moving them up and down with excitement.

"Alrighty, then; and awaaaay we go!" Canneberge kneeled and took aim as best as they could at the water tower in the distance. When they thought it was ready to fire, they mashed the trigger and the rocket blitzed off. However, there was nothing soaring towards the water tower, confusing them as they raised their palm over their brow and squinted. "Huh?! But I heard it launch, I know I…?"

KABLAAAAAMMMM

Canneberge's eyes grew as round as saucers, as they slowly lowered their hand and turned back to see the damages. A yacht in the opposite direction, carrying executives as well as well-to-do passengers, had exploded into a blazing conflagration several feet out on the ocean, rife with screams. Tiny Dancer had retreated upon fire next to the cargo, wailing and cursing at what they'd done. Husselhoff, however, stood by on the sidelines, clapping and cheering.

"Yaaay! That was amazing! "

In utter disbelief, Canneberge rose to their feet, assessing the insane precision they'd taken without realizing it. "I just… fired that behind me…" In the moment that the realization began to sink deeper into their mind, a wide, toothy grin crept across their face, and they leapt up into the air, letting out a loud, triumphant howl. "You see that shit?! I just fired that behind me!" They bent their knees, looking over their shoulder with a finger poking their chin. In mockery, they feigned a cutesy face and delivered one of their most frequently used lines, "Uh-ohhhhh!"

.

.

Léon pulled up to a stoplight, flipping through TV shows on the dash while Joliet combed her fingers through her hair, scowling at the knots that had gone untreated within a day's time. The screen switched constantly from one show to the next, rapidly changing from genres such as: romance, kid's sitcom shows, cooking channels, and horror movies until finally, he landed on a soap opera featuring A.I.s and ordinary people. Sparing a moment to watch it, he shot a look of disgust at the screen as the two characters, a human and an android, confessed their feelings for one another.

We now return to The Gears of Our Lives.

Why, Tom?! Why must you give me the cold shoulder?! Didn't you mean it at all when you said you loved me?!

Joliet's eyes wandered up to the screen, both rattled by the interaction and the familiarity it reawakened from her past.

But don't you see, Clancy?! You're a registered nurse, and I'm a… well…look at me! The male android dramatically threw his arms over his brow, sinking against the counter in the hospital room. I'm a machine now. Society will never accept us… that's why… I have to end it here; for both our sakes. Oh, won't you look at me when I'm speaking to you?!

How can I?! You've broken my heart for the last time! Goodbye, Tom!

"Yeahhh, good riddance," Léon blurted out, "you probably have a son that cares about you more than he ever will…"

Disgusted by his show of insensitivity, Joliet reached up to the screen and changed the channel. Unbeknownst to her, his hate-filled words weren't coming only from a place of apathy for A.I.s, but for the man he refused to call his father.

The bombastic INN news theme erupted from the speakers, making Joliet and Léon both flinch at the deafening tune. It wasn't a show she wanted to settle on, but it was better than watching that painful reminder on the screen. She turned the volume down some, sitting back against the passenger seat and gazing out the window as the car left the crossroads.

"Annnd it's a scorcher today, folks!" Iommi Legrand announced. "A whopping 33 degrees celsius is the high, as we face what could be the hottest summer to date in the past 10 years! I —" his charismatic tone dropped into a sharp hiss, "...what the hell are you doing?! Why are you fucking with the teleprompter? I was reading that, jackass!"

Léon's face scrunched up, his eyes shifting briefly from the windshield to the screen, then back again. "...the fuck?"

Iommi cleared his throat. "Uhh, we interrupt this broadcast to bring you this special news report: William Ducretet, founder of the Musitech Digital Records company has tragically died today in what local Parisians are hailing a freak accident. Ducretet was onboard his private yacht, celebrating his 70th birthday with some esteemed colleagues this morning when an explosion occurred, killing 41 people, and injuring 12. Survivors have yet to share their stories as Skid Row Police conduct their investigation on the waterfront."

Léon jolted. The waterfront?! "Avdol and Tenmei are down there! Shit…!" What the hell's going on?!

A cell phone ring emanated from Iommi's blazer pocket, interrupting his feigned composure. He chortled nervously and slowly reached into his coat, bringing out the cellular device and holding it to his ear as he swiveled in his chair. Hunched over, he spoke over the phone in a sensual whisper, to which the mic on his collar picked up. "Baby, you can't be calling me. I'm in the middle of a report." A moment passed as he began to chuckle deviously at the caller's response. "Oh-ho-hooo, youuuu… whaddya we say we meet up again this evening and… make it rain?"

"Geez," Léon groaned, "if anyone deserves to be replaced by A.I., it's this clown."

"Monsieur Legrand!" a man whispered. "You're still on the air!"

"Remember," Iommi said, "seven sharp. See ya then, ma chatton." He ended the call and pocketed his phone, regaining his composure with a twinkle in his eye and pearly, white smile to complete the look of a famed, charismatic anchorman. "More on that explosion spiel at 11, folks. In other news, the alleged prick himself, Charlemagne Devereux, head engineer of Devereux Cybernetics, has been hit with a lawsuit for malpractice." Iommi prattled on, ignoring the teleprompter and putting a spin on the report himself, to which alarmed the crew behind the cameras.

"Parisians are hailing this man a self-absorbed needle dick, with the IQ of a pea-brained stegosaurus. And let's not forget an alleged tax evader!"

"This isn't part of the report," one of the crew members panicked, "what the hell's he doing?!"

"Uhh, Monsieur Legrand…?!" the cameraman hissed, making a neck-cutting gesture.

"That's right, Paris," he continued on, ignoring the crew, "you heard it straight from the horse's mouth. An unnamed individual expresses their regards to the situation with a special message for Devereux. One that I'm sure will move the hearts of many." He cleared his throat and glared into the camera lens. "This is what you get for cheating with my smokin' hot girlfriend, you alleged, pill-poppin putain! I hope you drop the soap… because when you do, all your misdeeds will ram you tenfold with an iron fist of justice! Have fun in court, Devreux. Or should I say… Dev-ruined? "

The studio fell silent, enough to hear a pin drop. A stunned crew member stood back with an aghast expression on their face as a foam cup full of coffee slipped from his loosened grasp, and plopped over the tile.

"Well, well, seems the people are certainly unforgiving of this man's nefarious actions!" Iommi fabricated, straightening his tie, "what a riot, am I right, everybody?"

Joliet cringed, gracing a hand to her forehead in utter disbelief. "That is not a news station, that's a circus."

"Tchh. Got that right." Léon concurred. "This bastard should've been fired years ago. The only reason he hasn't been is because he's the son of a wealthy billionaire."

"Hmmm…" was all Joliet could muster in response, firstly because she didn't doubt it, and lastly because she simply had no words for how appalling his behavior was.

"Coming up next," Iommi announced, "don't miss the exciting new episode of Gendarmes — where there's crime, A.I. will make you do the time."

Today on Gendarmes…

"Shaky camera footage displayed a cameraman alongside cops, who were in hot pursuit on foot, chasing down a man in his mid-twenties as the show's theme music played in the background. "Arrête toi la!" one of them shouted. The man failed to make a getaway as he rounded the corner of a building and ran smack into an old lady carrying a bag of groceries. Tomatoes and a carton of milk spilled over, the runny, white liquid streaming over the sidewalk as she tried to sit up.

"Ohhh! My legggg!" she wailed.

"Book this salaud!" the A.I. police officer ordered. Pressing the suspect against the concrete, the officer brought his hands behind his back, snapping a pair of high-tech constraints shut around his wrists.

"Fuck you, bots, I ain't done shit!"

The scene then transitioned over to an A.I. questioning a woman, whom they pulled over for speeding. "Is this your crack?" they asked, holding up a bag with a powdery, white substance after conducting a thorough search of the vehicle.

"Nah, man, that's my mom's."

"Alright, put your hands on the car."

"I swear, it's not mine!" she argued, complying with the A.I.'s demands.

"Les mands. Sur. La. Voiture."

🎵 Mechant, mechant

Qu'allez vous faire

Qu'allez vous faire

Nous venons pour vous! 🎵

.

.

Angus peered through the crack between the manhole cover and the street as he carefully slid it over and climbed out of the sewers, helping Avdol and Tenmei up the ladder. They were standing in the road next to large, steel freights when they hurried out of sight, keeping their eyes peeled. Angus peeped around the corner of the freight and pointed, Tenmei and Avdol peeking around him to get a better look.

"Right there." he directed with his pointer finger. "That's the cargo ship. Now, listen to me." He spun back around the freight, looking sternly at the two boys. "We're gonna use Tenmei's stand to conceal ourselves and get onboard."

"Wait, all of us at the same time?" Tenmei questioned.

"You'll carry us just close enough that we can sneak across the gangway. Then when we're in proximity, we'll take out anybody nearby by any means necessary. I don't care what you have to do as long as we get those weapons before Geil does. Got it?"

Tenmei nodded vigorously, despite being terrified of the fact that he'd have to take extreme measures if he was caught.

"Alright. In we go."

Tenmei gulped as he kneeled to one knee and unzipped the main compartment of his backpack. Angus stuck one foot in, then another, leaping down into the abyss hauling an assortment of miscellaneous items. A loud crash resounded from the opening accompanied by Angus's pained yells.

"You okay, boss?" Tenmei asked, leaning his face over the open space.

"Fine…" he responded in a pained voice.

Avdol followed suit until he was swallowed up by the backpack. Zipping it a quarter of the way shut, Tenmei flung it over his back and proceeded to sneak around. He slipped his head out from behind the freight and began to tip-toe over to some crates closeby, where he pressed his back against them and sidled to the edge. Before he could step out and venture closer to their target, a pair of Geil's men sauntered past, prompting him to slink back out of view. As he did so, he made a very quiet yipe! , hoping they'd carry on with their dastardly routine.

The salty sea air wafted through the area as he scurried out from behind the crates and over to the gangway, where the coast was — for the time being — clear. He unzipped the bag and whispered down into the compartment with his hand beside his cheek. "Okay! You can come out now."

Avdol climbed out, and soon after, Angus appeared, crawling out of the backpack with something in his possession. He held up a box full of sediment and rocks from the quarry, complete with a questioning look on his face. The box was painted green and red with a big, yellow smiley face on the front. Words beneath it were inscribed with black crayon, reading: Stuff. "Any particular reason you cart this around?"

"It's special!" Tenmei answered.

Angus muttered, "Yeah, yeah, okay, special…", and stuck it back in Tenmei's bag. "Alright. Let's go."

Angus took off across the gangway with Avdol and Tenmei running behind him. Steel cargo haulers towered over them as they stepped foot on the wooden deck. Water sploshed below the ship as seagulls flew overhead, making a huoh-huoh-huoh sound. Angus studied the area, noting the lack of A.I.'s presence.

"Where the hell is everybody?" he mumbled. "I expected retaliation right off the bat, but it's like there's nobody here."

"Ummm…" Tenmei anxiously pressed his fingertips together, "...Angus? Is everything okay?"

An eerie energy swept across the ship, leaving a lingering dread in their midst that churned deep down in Tenmei's gut. Between Angus's silence and the fear that was beginning to creep over him, he'd sooner run far away and never come back. But he couldn't leave Avdol and Angus alone to deal with Motorhead. He'd never forgive himself if he got cold feet now. They were his comrades, his only friends, and as far as he was concerned, his family. Stepping lightly, Angus and Avdol kept their wits about them, ready to strike if danger dared to rear its ugly head.

Tenmei, however, grew more anxious by the second. If there was to be a fight, he wouldn't know what to do, let alone process the fear cultivated by the attack. But orders were orders. Angus claimed he needed him, which made him feel useful. But at the same time, it made him feel low. Angus only needed him because his stand could conveniently haul an arsenal of guns, not because he'd be an advantage in combat.

Distant voices further up the deck got the attention of Angus, who didn't waste time manifesting Desperado. While he carefully eased along the cargo, Avdol's body radiated red streaks that moved akin to after-images when he walked. The laughter belonged to none other than Canneberge. Suddenly, the air around them shifted. Feet away from where they stood was a smashed pumpkin, and next to that, the body of an android with no head.

A numbing fear rose up inside of Tenmei, seizing him. What in the low swinging sweet chariot is that?!

"I don't like this…" Avdol said, eyeing the smashed pumpkin.

"Keep alert," Angus ordered, "the user's still here, I'm sure of it."

Tenmei trembled, swallowing hard. "Can I… can I wait here if that's okay? At least until you give me the go-ahead?"

"Fine," he allowed, "I'll send Avdol to get you, so don't go wandering off."

"Okay…"

With that, they went ahead, leaving Tenmei to stand there and stare at the lifeless hull of the A.I. in front of him. Minutes passed, making him all the more nervous and fearful for his life. Within the time they'd gone on ahead, Tenmei had crouched down beside the freight, circling a stick he took out of his backpack against the deck, drawing invisible pictures. "Why isn't Avdol coming back?" Just then, loud voices erupted from further up in the same direction Angus and Avdol had gone. Tenmei sprang to his feet, frozen with fear.

"W-w-w-what's happening…?!"

Rapid gunfire ricocheted off of the freights, evoking a flurry of dread to surge through him. The sweltering summer heat inexplicably began to drop in temperature around him, stilling his blood like ice. Tenmei shivered, rubbing his arms. "I-i-it's s-s-s-so cold all of a sudden! But how? It's the middle of July!"

SNAP

"Wha…?!" A jet-black collar with a skull lock fastened itself around his neck out of nowhere. Tears escaped his eyes as he continuously attempted to yank it off. He tugged and pulled, wailing in desperation as the effort began to prove fruitless. His hands shook uncontrollably, his eyes brimmed with tears spilling down his face. "I can't get this off!" he screamed. Erratic breaths escaped his lungs, heaving in and pushing out as he ran around the cargo in a panic. "Avdol! Angus! I think I'm being attacked, you've gotta help me, please!"

Skidding to a stop, he searched the area frantically, hoping he'd hear a response. Nothing. A weight sank in his chest. No one was coming. But why? Not wanting to give up, he shouted for them one more time. "Avdol! Angus!"

A mysterious figure performed a front flip through the air, a pair of shoes clanging atop the towering freights next to Tenmei and bringing his attention behind him. And what he saw wasn't Angus or Avdol, but someone else. His eyes bulged in terror, viewing the tall, lithe person clad in Halloween themed clothing.

Vibrant orange eyes looked down at him, pulsating with a joy so wicked it would set him alight at the person's will. Canneberge slipped into a pose, bending their knees and poking their finger to their chin while flashing a mocking, cutesy face over their shoulder.

"Uhhh-ohhhhhh!"