I was born exactly two months, three weeks and one day before I was due. I was so small and sickly, the doctors said not to get attached. My parents had a coffin picked out and everything. I survived, even though the odds were stacked against me. I've always had to fight for my life. From growing up on the streets to being drafted into the cyborg army, to competing in Cybrawls, to even today, I've had to fight. The world is wearing me down, I don't know how much more I can take before I give in. I'm like a candle that's about to flicker out.
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Chase gave me a concerned look. "What's wrong? You're making your gloomy face."
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I hate it when people read my mood. I want to sulk about my own existence in peace! "I'm just tired."
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"Stop it. As your friend, I won't let you lie about what you're going through! Talk to me."
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"Are we friends now?" I've never had many friends. I'm not sure what the friendship protocol is.
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"Yep! I've decided we're officially friends. Now you're stuck with me forever. You can never get rid of me, pal. Our shared trauma of almost being murdered by killer cyborgs has bonded us for life."
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"For life? That's quite a long commitment."
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"Not if people keep trying to kill us."
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We walk in silence towards Harv's stall.
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"Are you scared of death?" Chase asked abruptly.
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"Woah, why so serious all of a sudden?"
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He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, we are friends now, and friends don't shy away from discussing difficult topics."
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"No, I'm not afraid to die. A part of me feels like I was meant to die a long time ago. Now it feels like I've lived past my expiration date, and I'm not sure what I'm meant to do anymore. You know? I'm not suicidal but—"
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"No, I get it. Since the car crash, I've been having a bit of a crisis." He confessed. "I never realized how much of my identity was rooted in my career. Modeling is the only thing I've ever been good at. I don't know what to live for anymore."
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I gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "I hope you find something to live for. You deserve to be happy."
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He glanced at me sorrowfully. "So do you."
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"I wish that was true, but after all the lives I've taken, I'm not sure that I deserve anything."
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Chase came to an abrupt halt. "Stop acting like you're the villain in this scenario! It's getting super annoying. You're a victim. You were a kid and the army forced you to do those things. I know it's not easy to hear, but you were abused."
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Victim? Abuse? Those words caused me to recoil. That can't be right! Chase doesn't know anything! I'm a monster, I'm a killer! I'm... I thought about every person I killed. I forced myself to recall the details of every execution I carried out. As I was thinking, a repressed memory gradually revealed itself. I remembered receiving my first assignment. I recall protesting and trying to escape. They punished me for my insubordination. They threw me in solitary confinement without food or water for days. I remember laying on the cell's cold floor and sobbing. Every day, my commanding officer would visit me and ask if I was ready to kill. I spat in his face until my body's need for food and water superseded my moral compass. Then I did it. I killed for the second time. The words victim and abuse raced through my head. Was it possible I was a victim and not a monster? I recalled vague memories of many nights spent in solitary confinement. Did I try to fight back against them? I always saw myself as a ruthless killer, but maybe that was a narrative I invented to protect myself from the truth. Abuse. Victim. I suppose it was easier for me to believe that I was heartless than to cope with the reality of being abused. I wanted to believe I wasn't helpless. But...
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I noticed I was crying when Chase wiped my cheeks with his sleeves. I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears. I jerked my head away, so Chase didn't have to see the pathetic sight of me crying.
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"I'm so sorry, dude. If I knew you were going to cry, I never would've brought it up. Forget I said anything." Chase stammered.
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I shook my head. "No, I'm glad you said something. You've given me a lot to think about." Am I a villain, a victim, or something in between? I thought I knew, but now I'm not sure.
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"Wow, you've been having a pretty terrible day so far, Oblivion broke into your apartment and threatened your sister, Vindicator tried to kill us twice, Patch is in danger, and it's only 10:00 a.m."
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I sighed. "I've been having a pretty terrible life so far, and I'm only nineteen." It feels like whenever I start to feel okay, something goes wrong. Today's events solidified my theory. Despite my crazy day yesterday, I was happy this morning when I was in the safe house with Chase. It felt good to share my secrets with someone. Then I got the call about Patch, and things fell apart. I've been trying to pull myself together and stop worrying about Patch, but it feels like I'm falling apart. He's a smart man, and he knows how to evade Bionic Corp, but I can't subdue the sense of dread that's taken hold of me. The truth is, I love Patch more than I ever loved my parents. Marisa would kill me if she ever found out I had such treacherous thoughts, but it's true. Honestly, all my memories from before my parents' deaths are jumbled and blurred. I can barely remember my parents' names or faces. I think Bionic Corp messed with my memories somehow. The only person I remember taking care of me was Patch.
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In the following weeks, after I was torn apart, I was unable to move or communicate in any way. Patch didn't want me to be lonely, so he'd hold me close and read me books that were much too mature for a thirteen-year-old, but I didn't mind. I was just happy to not be alone. After I got new cybernetics and regained mobility, Patch never mentioned those moments again. It's like he's allergic to sincerity and intimacy. He acts as if forming a genuine bond with someone will give him a rash. That's probably why I shared all my traumatic experiences with Chase. Patch never wanted to have these types of conversations with me. He is still dealing with the emotional fallout of his own experiences in the cyborg army. It's difficult to comfort someone through experiences that you yourself haven't healed from. Bionic Corp broke all of us in different ways.
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My train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Chase walking in the wrong direction. I ran after him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Wrong way, dumbass."
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"No, I'm going the right way. You're clearly distressed, so I'm getting you cotton candy. I'm not great at cheering people up, but I am great at spending money."
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A halfhearted smile spread across my lips. "If you insist."
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"I do." He placed his hands on his hips stubbornly and marched over to the cotton candy stand.
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Chase returned with a cone of pink cotton candy in his left hand, and a cone of blue cotton candy in his right. "I didn't know which flavor you preferred, so I got you one of each."
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I graciously accepted the pink one and offered the blue one to Chase.
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He waved it away. "No, thanks, I can't stand the texture. I know you like it, though." He gestured towards the pack of flavored cigarettes in my pocket.
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"You remembered?"
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"It's kinda hard not to when you keep blowing smoke from pocket-sized cancer sticks in my face."
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"I'm sorry. I promise to quit smoking if you quit drinking."
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"No deal!" He shouted.
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I shrugged. Okay, then.
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I consumed both cones of cotton candy at lightning speed, and we continued our journey. We reached the outside of a tent, with a sign that read, "Harv's Antique Knickknack Emporium." Chase and I shot each other a wary look before entering. The truth is, I have no idea what is going to happen when we step into that tent. There could be an ambush waiting for us as soon as we step inside. I gripped my knives and prepared to strike first. I hate going in blind, but I don't have a choice. I lifted the tent flap and ducked inside.
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The tent's interior reeked of mothballs, stale beer, and another musty odor I couldn't quite place. Shelves surrounded the entire interior of the tent. They were fully stocked with random trinkets from every decade in the past two centuries. In the right corner of the tent, a teenage cyborg hummed a Volcanic Kittens song to herself as she stocked shelves. At the very back of the tent stood a dilapidated counter. A burly-looking cyborg with scythes tattooed on the sides of his head stood behind the counter and scowled at us. Everything in the store was covered in a thick layer of dust.
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Chase let out a sneeze so loud it caused the entire tent to shake.
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"Hey! You break it, you buy it!" The burly cyborg shouted. His voice was so deep and gravely, it sounded like he'd been gargling rocks.
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Chase chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Dust allergies, you know?"
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We stepped up to the counter.
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The man stared Chase down. "We don't see people who look like you often."
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"What do you mean by that?"
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"You're soft and fragile," The man said, appraisingly.
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"Fragile!" Chase spluttered.
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The man grabbed Chase's right hand and studied it. "Look at this hand. It is so soft and delicate, like a baby's hand. There's not a single mark or callous. I can tell you've never had to toil a day in your life."
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"I have a job!" Chase protested. "Or at least I used to. I might get fired soon."
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"You don't belong here." The man said. His scrutinizing gaze shifted to me, and I flinched. "You on the other hand. You've seen too much for someone your age, I can see it in your eyes."
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I turned away from him. I didn't appreciate being analyzed.
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"What are you two doing here? What do you want?" The man interrogated us.
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"We're looking for someone named Harv Knox. We heard he has something we've been looking for." Chase said.
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"Well, you found him." The man said, gesturing towards himself.
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The teenage employee tried to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping on our conversation, but she was failing spectacularly.
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"Get out of here, Ava. I want you to take your break early." The man said.
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"I won't leave you alone with them!" She gestured towards Chase and me. "I don't trust them!"
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"That was not a suggestion. I'm ordering you to leave."
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"Yes, sir." She muttered, then stormed off.
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After she left, Harv turned towards me. "You were in the cyborg army, weren't you?"
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I froze in place. How the hell did he know that?
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"It's written all over your face, boy!" He barked. "You reek of Bionic Corp's foul stench."
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I wanted to protest, but I didn't know if he understood sign language, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared down at the ground.
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He scoffed. "What's the matter, boy? Can't you speak?"
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Chase spoke up. "Actually, he can't speak. He had his voice box was ripped out by a deranged lunatic, so maybe you shouldn't judge people before knowing them, jerkface!"
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I placed a reassuring hand on Chase's arm, signaling for him to calm down. I lowered the scarf around my neck just low enough for the man to see the scars from where my voice had been ripped out.
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The man inspected my scars. "Did that happen when you were in the cyborg army?"
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I gave a solemn nod.
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He lowered the collar of his shirt to reveal a deep, round scar on his chest. "I was in the army too. I received this scar when I got shot in the chest on the battlefield. The bullet pierced my left lung and just nearly missed my heart. I almost died."
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I gave him an empathetic look. I know what it's like to almost lose your life on a battlefield.
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Harv stared us down. "Now tell me, why did Bionic Corp send you here? I served my time! I did everything they ever asked of me! All I want is to be left alone for the remainder of my days! Is that too much to ask?"
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What? Did he think we were working for Bionic Corp?
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Chase let out an easygoing chuckle. "Oh no, you've got us all wrong. We don't work for Bionic Corp. We're trying to sabotage Bionic Corp by stealing something from them."
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"Oh, so you're thieves!" Harv accused.
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I nodded, but Chase shook his head. Chase elbowed me in the stomach. "No, we're not thieves." He said through clenched teeth.
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Speak for yourself. Chase may not be a thief, but I am. Theft isn't even in the top three worst crimes I've committed, and I'm not going to lie about it.
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Harv let out a low grumble. "Go tell whoever sent you, they can go to hell."
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"No one sent us. We came alone. We're just ordinary customers looking to purchase your wares." Chase insisted.
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Harv pointed towards the exit. "Get out of my shop." His tone was cold and unyielding.
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Chase banged his metal fist into the counter, leaving a dent. "We aren't leaving until we get what we came for."
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I restrained Chase to stop him from committing any further property damage.
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"I don't owe anything to you or Bionic Corp! I more than served my time!" Harv snapped. "Bionic Corp stole everything from me! I'm not giving them a damn thing!"
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"They stole everything from me too." I signed.
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Harv paused for a moment as his cybernetics translated for him.
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"No, you could never understand what I've been through. I was falsely convicted of killing my best friend. I never would've hurt him, I would've traded my life for his, but no one believed me. I was sentenced to fifteen years in the cyborg army. I was a loyal soldier, I followed every order without complaint for the entirety of my service. When I was finally discharged, no one wanted anything to do with me. Everyone refused to hire me, and all my friends and family refused to speak to me. They all believed I was a criminal, a cold-blooded killer, and they refused to hear otherwise. I was left with nothing and nowhere to go, but eventually, I managed to find a job at this shop. After working here for thirty years, I'm finally in charge. This store is all I got, and I'm not letting Bionic Corp have anything. You hear me!"
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Harv and I were more alike than he'd ever know. The draft ruined both of our lives. The only difference is that I was guilty of my crimes. Just like me, Harv was trying to survive after having his humanity stolen from him. We're both victims of a system determined to exploit us. I faced Chase. "Let's get out of here. We're not welcome."
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Chase stomped his foot on the ground like a disgruntled toddler. "I'm not leaving without the map! What's gotten into you, man? You were willing to fight in a Cybrawl for a piece of this map! I almost died for a piece of this map!" He pointed towards the scars on his face for emphasis. "Are you seriously going to let it go just because an old guy told you so?"
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"He's right, you know. I expected better from you, Atlas." A mysterious figure, cloaked in all black, leaned up against the tent's entrance.
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Chase recoiled at the sight of this cyborg. "You again! I'd hoped you'd run off for good."
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I shot him a quizzical look. "Do you know this person?"
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"Yeah, this is the psycho cyborg who tried to kill me in the alley behind the Volcanic Kittens concert. I think they broke into your apartment too." Chase said.
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I clenched my fists. I mix of rage and fear flooded through me. I felt rage because this person threatened Marisa and tried to kill Chase. I wanted to make them pay for trying to hurt the people I loved. I also felt fear because if what Chase told me about this cyborg yesterday was true, then they're the one who took my place as the cyborg army's favorite assassin. Which means they're the new keeper of the Annihilation Code. I clutched my knives and prepared to attack. I have no idea what Oblivion is capable of.
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I could almost see Oblivion roll their eyes beneath their helmet. "Stand down. I'm not here for you, Atlas. I'm here for the burly oaf behind the counter."
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"You should show your elders some respect," Harv advised.
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Oblivion laughed. "You should be showing me some respect. Perhaps you've heard that my employers at the Bionic Corporation purchased the entire boardwalk and everything on it."
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Harv crossed his arms. "Yeah, so?"
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"You're six months behind on rent, Harv. What do you have to say for yourself?"
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"It's not my fault!" He protested. "You keep raising it. I can't keep up."
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"Well, my employers have run out of patience, and I've come to collect your debts."
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"Are you kidding me? I don't have that kind of money!"
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Oblivion whipped around and kicked over a shelf of merchandise, causing everything on it to shatter. "I suggest you get that money before the next time we cross paths."
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"You know what? I'm not giving you or your employers a damn penny! Now get out of my shop!"
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"I'm sorry to hear you say that, Harv." Oblivion cleared their throat, then began singing in a low, husky tone. "Sleep my darling tiny one
Tucked within your bed so tight
Else the old grey wolf will come
And grab you by your side."
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Hearing the cursed melody caused every inch of my body to tremble. I deep sense of panic took hold of me and I fought my hardest to breathe. I had to stop them from finishing the song!
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"He'll snatch you up between his teeth
If on the bed's edge you sleep
And drag you to the forest deep
Beneath the quaking tree"
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Harv banged his fists on the counter. "What's going on?"
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I approached Oblivion. I counted down with every step, trying to subdue my oncoming panic attack. The code couldn't kill me. My kill switch was removed when I became Bionic Corp's main assassin, but I had to protect any other cyborgs within earshot. I tackled my adversary to the ground, but Oblivion didn't stop singing.
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"So close your eyes and fall asleep
Count the little wooly sheep
Tucked so tightly you must keep
Or he will come for you."
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No! I'm too late! I spun around to assess the situation.
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Harv rubbed his temples. "Something doesn't feel right." His cybernetics beeped loudly, and then, Boom! Blood, followed by chunks of flesh and guts, sprayed across the room, dying the tent red.
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Oblivion sprung to their feet and dusted themself off, trying to shake off Harv's remains. "Gross. Scrubbing out bloodstains is such a pain."
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I clenched my teeth. "You murderer!" I signed.
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"Teapot, meet kettle. You're not any better than I am." Oblivion strode over to the glass display case in the back of the room, punched a hole in the glass, and began rummaging around inside.
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"Oh, my God. That guy just blew up! The Annihilation Code makes people blow up? Why didn't anyone tell me this?" Chase muttered to himself. "That could've been me. I could've blown up. I could've become a goopy splattering of flesh soup like him!" He shook his fist at Oblivion. "You tried to turn me into flesh soup!"
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Oblivion nodded. "I did. Lucky for you, you're shockingly hard to kill."
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"You know, I've been hearing that a lot lately," Chase remarked.
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I forced myself to my feet and trudged over to where Chase was standing and prepared to defend him. If Oblivion tried to kill him before, they'll likely try again.
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"I found it!" Oblivion proudly displayed something small in their hands.
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We eyed it skeptically, trying to identify what it was.
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"It's the third piece of the map, fools." They pushed a button on the side of the device, revealing the third piece of the map. They extended it towards us. "Here, take it."
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I nudged the map with the tip of my knife but didn't take it.
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"Go on. I want you to have it." Oblivion encouraged.
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Neither of us moved.
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"Fine, I'll just leave this here." Oblivion placed the map on the blood-soaked counter and turned towards the exit.
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"You're not going to take it? I thought you wanted the map." Chase said.
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Oblivion shook their head. "There's been a change in plans. I've decided to play the long game."
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"So, you're not going to try to kill us?" I asked.
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"Not yet." Oblivion gave a polite wave. "See you soon, boys." They threw a smoke bomb on the ground and disappeared in the cloud of haze.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
