Guns roared and spat at him, sending chips of rock spinning off from the block of concrete he was hiding behind. He tried to look over it but had to fling himself back; a line of bullets stitched a wound across the wall behind him.
Crap.
Why did I have to think I could play cards? Kevin know the answer even as he thought it. Because he'd been drunk.
He leaned around the block a bit and pulled of a few return shots. They didn't do any good apart from remind the gangsters where where he was but he hadn't done it to try and hit them. He'd done it to relieve some of the helpless anger that was swirling around in him.
That anger wasn't new, it had been with him for the last three weeks, ever since his father had died. Thomas Kilborn had been a no nonsense sort of man, brutal in some ways but kind in others. He'd run the family business in mechanic implants for a thirty years. Then he'd died in a malfunction at the factory and there Kevin was. He hadn't had any older siblings and his mother had left years ago. It was only him and a warehouse full of bionic arms. Not a position a man of twenty wanted to be in.
The last few weeks hadn't been good. All his fathers business contacts had faded away and debt collectors had moved in like prowling wolves. He'd managed to hold them off but he know that he couldn't last long. His father had made it all look so effortless. Kevin felt like breaking under the stress.
Then there was the girl.
She had appeared three days after his fathers funeral. At first he wasn't even sure she'd existed; all he saw of her was brief glimpses through gaps in the crowd that always thronged the city streets. But he'd seen her more and more until he was convinced that she was indeed following him. The papers on his desk had been shuffled around when he came back from lunch once and he'd known that someone had been looking through them. It was about then that he decided that life looked better through the bottom of a glass.
It had been some sort of urban fairytale after that, though one that was told to keep children awake instead of sending them to sleep. He'd been in the wrong bar in the wrong area and said the wrong thing at the wrong time. In this case the wrong thing was, “Sure I'm good for a game.” He wasn't exactly sure what had happened after that as all he could remember was a blur then everything came into focus after they started shooting at him. Immanent death was better at sobering you up then a hot mug of coffee.
He knew he was going to die, knew it with certainty. There was no way on earth that he could survive this one. There had to be ten guys out there, all wanting his blood. The only reason they hadn't had it yet was that they couldn't be bothered making much of an effort.
A fluttering made him look round towards the wall. A bird had flown down to the ground and was regarding him with its head tilted to one side. It was a bright, vivid yellow and a forked crest stuck up from its head like it had been split like lightening. The fact that something so small and so delicate had suddenly appeared there made him stare. For a moment it was all that existed in the world to him. Then a dark shadow fell over him and he felt that death had at last come.
He turned, bringing up his gun, determined that if he was going to die it wasn't going to be as a snivelling coward. Then it fell with a clatter from his nerveless hand.
A tall cloaked figure towered over him. A long leather jacket swirled about it in mysterious patterns and on its head was a huge, wide brimmed hat. But what was perhaps the most astonishing thing about it was that it didn't seem to want to kill him. All he could see if it was its back; it faces out at his attackers and from the folds in the jacket he could tell that it had it's arms crossed.
The gunfire petered away for a moment; no doubt the gangsters were just as surprised as he was.
“DESIST” The voice that bellowed forth from the figure was loud and imposing as the voice of God. It brooked no argument. He could feel part of himself curl up and quiver in fear.
The gangsters just laughed and started shooting again.
“Then die.” This time the voice was much quieter, almost a prayer of regret. Kevin was sure he was the only one who could hear it.
Then there was a flicker as light fell back across his face and the figure was gone.
A moment later the screams started.
Kevin looked above the block of concrete and every last drop of alcohol remaining in his system seemed to evaporate, leaving him completely sober and regretting it.
The scene of carnage was brightly illuminated by the rising sun. The figure was a flicker of shadow and death, a whirling vortex from which the occasional glint of metal could be seen. The gang members tried shooting at it but none of them seemed to be able to hit it. Then it would be upon them and a few second later they'd be on the ground, blood flowing everywhere. None of them could stand against it. In a minute it was all over and the figure was turning towards him. He offered up a prayer to any God that might exist and be watching. Slowly, piece by piece, he saw who had saved him.
It was the girl.
Under the brim of the hat all the blue eyes burned. A single lock of silver hair hung between them, lying crooked across her nose. She didn't seem to have an expression, apart from one of mild regret. But the eyes, like fires that stared into his soul. He dropped his gaze from them, couldn't stand to see them watching him, like a cat judging a mouse.
From the rest of her he could see that she appeared to be about nineteen, dressed in a loose leather tunic and loose leather trousers, cut in an archaic design. And from one of her arms a sword sprouted in place of a hand.
“Kevin Kilborn.” The voice spoke and he could hear now a lighter tone to it. But it was still deadly serious.
A quick movement caught his eye. The strange girl had left one of the gang members alive, though whither from mercy or because she hadn't seen him behind the wall he'd dived behind he wasn't sure. But up he popped, a shaven head painted blue with tattoos, and fired at the girl. She must have seen him somehow because she was already twisting out of the way, her other arm morphing quickly into a gun. She was so fast she appeared to fire at the same moment as her attacker. He fell back in a spray of blood, his bullet glancing off her leg in a spray of sparks. Kevin looked down and saw that it had ripped right through her trousers and struck metal beneath. He slowly looked back up to her face.
“Kevin Kilborn” She said again. “I have come for you.”
He looked down at her leg, at her arms which were morphing into real hands then his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.
He came round to the sound of cheap, grainy music playing from some beat up sound system, the clink of glasses and the low hum of background conversation. His head ached, his face was stuck to the wooden surface it had been lying on. He raised his head with a groan and a feeling of apprehension; he was in a smoky, dimly lit bar.
“I'd be careful, if I was you. You took a bad knock to the head when you fell.”
It was the voice. He stiffened and looked round.
The girl was perched on a stool, hunched over the bar with a tumbler of whisky in her hand. She wasn't looking at him, just staring blankly at the wall behind the bar. In one movement she threw back the whisky and set the empty glass down. The barkeeper, a huge fellow with a broken nose and what looked like knife scars, immediately slid another along to her.
Kevin tried to slip away but the girl merely reached out and grabbed his arm. It might not have looked like much to anyone watching but to him it was like he'd just been shackled. “That's some pretty impressive augments you've got there,” was the only thing he could think of saying.
The girl winked at him. “You have no idea.”
There was silence for a moment while she nursed her whisky. “So what happened?” I asked. She raised her eyebrows and I continued. “What was the accident? That made you get the augments? It must have been pretty bad for you to have your arms and a leg replaced.” And leave you a raging psychopath he added mentally.
The girl shrugged. “Whatever it was left me inhuman.”
Kevin felt more sure with this. He was used to the people who'd come to his dad for spare limbs to feel that they were taking away a part of their humanity. Maybe this was a way to connect to her. And that could only help. She would probably not kill him then.
“You aren't inhuman just because some of you is metal. It might even make you more so.”
She just smiled a wan smile. “But say that all of me was metal. What then?”
This made Kevin pause. He knew that there were some people out there who'd suffered burns or something and had had to have an almost complete body overhaul. They were rare though.
“It doesn't change the basic principle though. Inside you're still...look, can you tell me your name?”
The girl looked at him expressionlessly. “Mysuki.”
Kevin gave her a searching glance. She didn't look Japanese. Then he continued. “Anyway, it doesn't change anything. You're still human at heart.”
“But what does it mean to be human? What is being human?”
Kevin glanced at her annoyed. Usually people were reassured after that; they wanted to be human so much that after those few words they went away satisfied. Those that didn't were usually depressed and Kevin wondered if she were on antidepressants. Or if she should be drinking whisky like it was water. Mysuki had let him go and chugged another of the tumblers. He considered running but knew that it would be pointless. She'd have no trouble coming after him.
He quickly marshalled his thoughts and pressed on.
“Well being human is being alive. And having independent thoughts and being creative. And loving and hating.”
Mysuki was downing yet another whisky. Now he could focus he could see that the bar in front of her was covered in the glasses. She must have downed a couple of bottle at least if they were all hers.
“So having emotions is important for being human? You have to be able to love? But how is that uniquely human? Animals feel it too.”
“Animals don't feel both love and hate. They may love but they don't display the characteristics of real burning have; the need for revenge and to get back and harm the person in any way. Animals don't bear those sort of grudges.”
Mysuki laughed. It sounded out of place, like happy bells at a funeral.
“So the only thing that makes humans unique is hate? What a wonderful species you are. And I'm supposed to be the evil one.”
Kevin felt annoyed at this. “There's love too. But we seem to display hate more. But we're also creative. Can animals be that?”
“They are. There's the way birds build their nests, there's the way that crows can use modern technology to open nuts and shells. So birds are creative too.”
“Not in the same way though,” Kevin argued. “They all build or do things to the same basic pattern. There's nothing new done. And the crows are just adapting to their surroundings. That's not being creative. Look, do you play a musical instrument?” Mysuki nodded and he continued, warming to what he thought was a successful line of reasoning. “Well it's stuff like that that make humans special. Birds and other animals may sound musical but they're just warning calls and stuff. They are necessary. But we do it for fun or some feeling of satisfaction.”
Mysuki shrugged. “And being alive? How do you define it?”
Kevin was pleased. He seemed to be getting through to her. “Well scientifically life is characterised as beings that move, that grow, that breath, that react to their surroundings, that digest and that...um...reproduce.”
Mysuki was grinning now. “So if you're all of these things then you're alive? And if you're alive then you're human?”
Kevin sighed with relief. It looks like he got through to her at last. “Yes. If you are a combination of all these factors then you're human.”
Mysuki's grin only seemed to get wider. “So despite the fact that I am a robot, I'm human?”
Kevin wasn't sure what to say to this. “A robot?” Maybe that was the whisky finally kicking in.
Mysuki whistled and a flash of yellow shot across the room till the forked bird landed on her hat. Then she reached up and swung back her face.
Inside her head was nothing but circuits.
Kevin just stared as she closed her head and calmly ordered another whisky.
“So,” she said, after it had arrived. She pulled a metal saucer from somewhere in her voluminous jacket it and poured the glass into it. The bird hopped over and started sipping from it. “Am I human?”
“No,” was the instant reply to her that sprung to his lips. This just make her grin again.
“You hypocrite. You just sat there and said the no matter how much metal I was made of I was human. Now you want to take it back?”
Kevin was still reeling that the kind-of attractive girl in front of him was, to all extents and purposes, a walking talking toaster. “Yes,” he spluttered. “You aren't alive.”
“How?”
“Well you don't grow. You don't digest. You don't breath.”
Mysuki ordered another whisky. “I do grow. I need spare parts every so often and from them have added on several inches to my height. I used to look sixteen. And do you think I've been drinking this just for the hell of it?” She gestured with an empty glass. “I'm distilling it inside me to use for fuel. Soon I'll have to run off the waste water that's part of it. So how is that different to digesting? And I can breath. I use it to burn the fuel.”
“Please to God you don't reproduce.”
“Why? You interested?” Musuki's smile had turned a bit bitter by now. She stroked the head of the bird with one finger. “I made this little one, using the same procedures as the ones who made me did. We're of the same species and I made another one.”
Kevin had trouble finding fault in her argument though he knew there must be one. Maybe he'd hit his head harder then he'd thought. He reached back and felt the sore bit and was surprised to find it neatly bandaged. He pulled his hand back and smelt his fingers. They smelt of whisky. So she'd even gone to the care of disinfecting it too.
“Well do you love and hate? Do you feel emotions?”
Any semblance of a good mood Mysuki might have displayed were fell and truly gone. She had another glass of whisky and was glowering over it as if bad memories plagued her. It was a moment before she answered. “Oh I feel emotions all right. I've hated. I might have loved. I've felt joy, such as in this little one,” here she stroked the bird again. “I've felt sad and alone. Yup, I've felt emotions.” And she slugged back the whisky.
Kevin wasn't sure what do say next. She was obviously thinking back over her past. He didn't really want to intrude. But there was one final point to go over.
“Are you creative though?”
In answer Mysuki reached into her jacket and pulled out a flute. She put it to her lips and began to play. A haunting melody filled the pub, seeming to drown out the cheep music. This was a real song. It spoke of hope, then sadness, loneliness, despair. It trailed off and Mysuki stared into thin air for a moment. “I wrote that song,” she said dreamily.
“What the hell was that crap?” A burly man had got up from one of the nearby tables and ambled over. He looked like he worked at the nearby docks. If they even were still near the docks. With a small thrill of horror Kevin realised that he had no idea where they were. “Do you think this is the sort of place you can come to practise your music lessons? Or are you looking for some action?” He grinned greedily and reached towards her.
Kevin stood up and shoved his hand away. “Keep away from her,” he growled. The man stared at him and he was instantly conscious of the fact that he'd lost his gun somewhere and that the man outweighed him by what seemed like a ton.
“Piss off squirt.” The man swung a punch at his stomach. Kevin closed his eyes and waited for the pain.
All that he heard was a sigh, a whisper of wind and a mangled grunt.
“That's very sweet of you Kevin but it's my job to defend you, not the other way round.”
Kevin open his eyes when the pain didn't seem to be forthcoming and stared in amazement at the still tablue before him. Mysuki seemed to have intercepted the punch and now she was quietly throttling the man with his own arm. His head was back against the bar and his arm was hooked over his throat. Mysuki was leaning casually on his hand, sipping quietly more whisky. A palpable aura of anger and violence radiated off her. “You wanted me, right? Well now you've got me. Are you happy?”
The man managed a strangled grunt and somehow lashed out with his leg. It hit Mysuki's leg with a faint clang and a small snap. The mans face turned white. He appeared to have snapped his own ankle.
“What, you want more?” Mysuki flexed the fingers of the arm holding his down; there was more snaps. She had certainly broken some bones. “Is that enough for you? I could break more of your body. I could kicked you so hard in the balls that you'll have three Adams apples and will sing like you're high on helium for the rest of your life.” She put her glass down and morphed her arm into a blade. The man stared at it frantically out of the corner of his eyes. Kevin was aware of having the attention of the whole bar on them by this point. He stood aside to give them a better view.
“There's lots of places I could stick this where it would really really hurt. Places where you'd die real slow. And I'm sure you don't need your tongue. You didn't seem to be interested in talking before.” The man made more faint moaning sounds. It was hard to sound pleading with just grunts while your face was all the colours of the English flag but he managed it. Mysuki shrugged. “All right, I'll let you go.” she twisted his arm and pulled, spinning him through the air. She stopped him mid-flight by grabbing his head then rammed it straight down onto the bar. His nose flattened completely and as she let go of him he slumped unconscious to the floor, blood gushing out and covering his face. She wiped her hand fastidiously on her jacket. “I hate people like that,” she said to the room at large and there was the faint sound of people trying very hard not to look like people like that.
She straightened her jacket, drained what remained of the whisky that she'd poured for the bird into the saucer (which wasn't much, the bird had basically emptied it), put the saucer back into a pocket then turned to the door. She appeared to have calmed somewhat but Kevin still felt scared of her. The way that she'd turned her anger on like that and crushed the guy. The rather sweet girl he'd been talking to the minute before had disappeared utterly.
She paused at the doorway. “So we've established that I'm human, have we Kevin? You've just seen emotions. What do you think?”
She didn't give him time for a reply. “Well whatever you think you should come with me. Whatever my origins I have been told to protect you. Or at least your family, for the last few hundred years. Only I didn't like many of them much, so I decided to stay away. But I think I like you, so I'm going to hang around.”
She turned and flashed him a smile. “Lucky for you, eh?”
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