《Amalgamation Industries》


 Prologue

    The sky shook with great rolls of thunder, quickly illuminated by the flashes of electricity. Bright neon glow made the downpour glow vibrant colors of pink and green, and the lightning was almost invisible behind the tall buildings. Loud roars of machines came from high in the air, the vehicles flying in long rows, racing after each other through the rain.


    San Cameron was debatably beautiful. The lights were vibrant and hypnotizing, though looking at them for too long caused a dull pounding one¡¯s head. And thick smog hung low over the city, surely causing the inhabitants to feel a strong burning in their lungs. The technological advancement of the city was a sight, but the toll it had taken on the world around them was¡­ strangely terrifying.


    The luminescent streets were barren, people stuck up in their homes and travelling in their flying machines rather than exploring the city; it perhaps took too much of a toll on their lungs to be outside for much more than a few minutes. That was typical for the city-life, the outside a distant memory to the people living there. A life long forgotten in the age of new technology; though it was a gift to the people, it had its tolls.


    People had taken their riches, their technology and made monsters, made people into machines, and rather than improving the human race, they helped the now inevitable destruction.


    It was what brought him to that alley, the hidden horrors that plagued the society; the monsters that went bump in the night.


    He quietly crouched behind the dumpster, his hand placed on the ground beside his foot, rubbing against the ground, the dirt and grime rubbing off on him in return. He held his breath, listening intently. He wasn¡¯t there to the naked eye, he was merely another shadow, barely perceptible.


    Curses and grumbles of incoherent contempt came from farther down the alley. He looked back out to the street, his deep brown eyes coming across the form walking between the buildings on the other side of the street. His hand slowly travelled to his ear, pressing a button on the side of his earpiece.


    ¡°This has to be it,¡± he chided, careful to not inform the men down the alley of his presence.


    ¡°You said that last time,¡± a smooth woman¡¯s voice returned in an almost mocking manner.


    An indignant huff came from the man, his movements fluid as his retracted his hand from his ear.


    ¡°But I think so too¡­ Should I proceed?¡± The woman asked after a moment.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Silence came between the two. Lightning flashed once¡­ twice more, and only seconds after, the loud calls of the heavens came in quick succession. The lights flickered and died out, the man faded farther into the shadows, moving quickly under the cover of the newfound darkness.


    Cries of exasperation came from the end of the alley, though this time, it was easier to decipher.


    ¡°Damn!¡± a masculine voice said, ¡°Can¡¯t see a thing! Jess, Capri, get the kid outside, and Sky, light it up for ¡®em! Don¡¯t forget to retrieve the¡­ the¡­ What¡¯s the word?¡±


    A moment of stillness was all that answered him, without a light illuminating the alley.


    ¡°Sky?¡± the man asked, rustling gently with a crate. No reply came. ¡°Sky, you-- you--!¡± Still, Sky didn¡¯t acknowledged the group. ¡°Capri, get your torch out, we need to see where that woman went.¡±


    Again, the voice, assumedly the leader, replied to himself, ¡°Capri...? Jess...?¡± the man¡¯s voice was more meek, sheepishness infesting him like a virus.


    ¡°You fools! This isn¡¯t--¡± the man was cut off, a large thump and a cry following it; a body fell against the cold, wet concrete.


    ¡°Aura, turn the lights back on,¡± the shadow-man finally spoke after his long silence.


    ¡°Alright,¡± and again, after much stirring, the neon lights started to flicker back on, and pink and green and purple graced the streets once again.


    The forms of five people were slowly illuminated, one standing, looking slowly at his wrist, one lying on the floor, the others tied together with a dark cord, their mouths covered by a bright red electricity, obstructing any protests.


    His wrist held information of the people now incapacitated, their faces flashing across a holographic screen. He dragged a hand through his thick curls. His eyebrows furrowed gently. A small grunt came from the tied up enemies, causing him to look from his wrist up to them, a small, almost cocky smirk came across his features.


    ¡°Guide me, Aura,¡± the man commanded of his companion, his dark eyes still locked on his enemies.


    ¡°Are you really going to boss me around, Fisher? I¡¯m the one who makes this whole mission work, and if--¡±


    ¡°Please?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear.¡±


    Fisher walked over to the door that was slightly ajar, peering into the warehouse. Its ceiling was spacious, reaching far above Fisher. There were only small boxes stacked in the corners of the room. There was small bits of clutter dotting the floor here and there; remenants of the mad rush to leave. The room was brightened by a deep purple, making the shadows dance in an odd fashion, and giving an unnatural feeling to all of it.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Well?¡± Fisher asked quietly. His eyes traversed the room, catching the corners where the shadows were more prominent. His enemies never rested, that much he knew.


    ¡°From the information I¡¯ve gathered about this place, you need to go inside, and to your right there should be a door¡­ Hidden. I think. You¡¯re gonna need to do a very complex ritual. It starts with sacrificing five goats¡­ ¡±


    ¡°Aura, please,¡± Fisher rolled his eyes, ¡°this is time sensitive.¡±


    ¡°I know, I was just trying to buy myself some time to get more information.¡±


    A drawn-out sigh came from the man, looking once more at his wrist. This time, as he swiped through, a girl¡¯s face, no older than 14, was where he stopped. A look of pride and happiness came onto Fisher¡¯s features as he regarded her.


    I love you, was all he could think.


    ¡°Arlight,¡± Aura finally said, ¡°there actually is a hidden door there, but you need to press on a hidden button.¡±


    ¡°No goat blood?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    Fisher followed Aura¡¯s instructions, the wall opening wide to swallow Fisher as he walked through the maze of hallways that had been unveiled. He was instructed down long hallways, a small handgun trapped between his calloused hands, his deep brown eyes searching.


    ¡°...and, according to my information, you should take the next door on your left, and that will be where they keep their¡­ goods.¡±


    ¡°Strange, how you keep getting this information that''s always correct¡­¡± Fisher said absentmindedly, strafing to the side of the door, his hand clamping on to the handle, his emotion baren, ¡°Wonder where you got it¡­¡±


    Fisher waited for a reply, his eyebrows raised, a small, smug grin coming across his features.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I can¡¯t tell you where I got it, as--¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not completely legal?¡± Fisher finished Aura¡¯s sentence. A small ¡®mhm¡¯ of confirmation came over the com. ¡°Aura, since when do we go ¡®by the books¡¯?.¡±


    Aura gave no return, letting Fisher stay with a cocky grin on his features.


    With that, Fisher ripped the door open, his gun aimed at the practically empty room. The only light that entered the room was from the large monitor. The screen was vacant of any information, though it still illuminated the room slightly. All was still. All was silent. Except for the small sobs that came from the corner. The sobs were choked, and full of pain.


    Fisher sheathed his gun, and he stepped carefully over to the corner, ignoring the boxes of illegal goods that lined the walls, the blue lights giving an aura of cold foreboding.


    It was a small cage, the bars bolts of electricity that kept the animal caged. Or, at least what seemed to be an animal. The sounds coming from it were certainly not human.


    ¡°Is everything okay, Fisher?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    Fisher stepped closer to the cage, kneeling down beside it, trying desperately to see what was making the ghastly sounds. His mouth was agape, his deep eyes widened with worry.


    ¡°The hell¡­¡±


    The small thing¡¯s eyes met his, they were bright blue and clouded with pain. It was only then that he could make out the features of it. It¡¯s face was disfigured, blood dripping out from the plates that were installed into its head. The blood down oozed down its face, leading down the neck and shoulders to its arms, which were also covered in the same metal plates. It¡¯s fingers, instead of flesh, were ingots. The forearms were where the flesh turned to metal, the skin scarred and torn, scabs and gashes covering the small amount of pale skin that was visible. Its fingers were wrapped tightly around its skinny bicep, causing bruises from its not knowing its own strength.


    Another choked sob came from the tiny little thing. His eyes teared up at it, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he soothed the tiny thing, ¡°we¡¯re gonna get you out of here, and you¡¯ll be safe.¡±


    ¡°Fisher?¡± Aura questioned through the com.


    ¡°They did it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be more specific than that, hun¡­¡±


    ¡°They put the implants¡­ they put them in a kid¡­¡±


    ¡°God¡­¡±


    The sobs came again, but quieter and softer. Fisher ran his hand over the seams of the cage, trying the wires that kept the little child contained. ¡°Aura, how--?!¡±


    ¡°Look for the source of the power and cut it,¡± she commanded, no snarky remark added.


    Fisher did just as she asked, pulling the wires from where they connected to the wall. The electric bars shuttered off, the child now freed. Fisher grasped the child bridal-style, the warm blood soaking into his clothes. He hurried out of the warehouse, leaving the goods for later; the child needed help at that moment.


    Rain pounded around him and the child after he ran out of the dreaded torture warehouse. ¡°Aura!¡± Fisher shouted, ¡°Come on!¡± Fisher laid the child down on the alley, his hands covered in dark crimson. Aura ran up to Fisher, the enemies from before that were still tied up long forgotten.


    Aura stared down at the child. Her eyes were wide and teary. Aura ripped from her purse bandages, applying them against the plate that was screwed into the child¡¯s head. Blood soaked the bandages as soon as they were applied. The child¡¯s breath became more and more shallow. The sobbing almost non-existent.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that there¡¯s--¡± Aura started.


    ¡°There¡¯s gotta be something!¡± Fisher hissed at her, trying to stem the flow of blood with his own hands.


    ¡°Fisher¡­¡± Aura murmured gently, her hand placed on Fisher¡¯s shoulder. The eyelids of the child had fluttered closed. The breathing had died out. The heartbeat was now absent.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Fisher whispered, his bloodied hands gripping against his tightly curled hair.


    ¡°We can¡¯t save them all,¡± Aura whispered, ¡°We can stop them from continuing this, though. The rest of the goods we can trash, and we can get all the information we can, take it to the news. This¡¯ll all be--¡±


    ¡°What if it was Artisan?¡± he questioned hoarsely, ¡°There¡¯re parents out there who have been missing their daughter, and now they¡¯ll never have her back. If we got here sooner, then we could¡¯ve stopped it. We could¡¯ve stopped this.¡± Fresh tears fell from his eyes, falling and mixing with the rain and blood on the ground.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do now, Fisher. We can make sure that nothing like this happens in the future. That¡¯s the least we can do for her.¡±


    Fisher reluctantly nodded, standing shakily to his feet. ¡°What do we do with¡­¡± he gestured down at the motionless child.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get her out of the rain. The cops can deal with her body, they¡¯ll return her to her parents. We need to destroy their goods, and get the information. Make sure they can¡¯t do this again.¡±

 Chapter 1: Please Ignore the Tardiness

    Waking up was always a chore. Turning over, smacking the snooze button on the all-too-loud alarm, and chiding herself out of bed with promises of food after she made it down the stairs seemed to be the bane of Artisan Arlee''s existence. And then, the process of getting ready for the upcoming day was perhaps even worse. Coffee was a priority of course; it was the only thing that would keep her eyes open nowadays.


    After that and a bit more inner-struggling on whether or not leaving the house was necessary, she would untangle her thick, curly locks. At that point, the cat would be meowing at the equivalent of a scream for food. She fed the cat, of course; the little bastard.


    Artisan would haphazardly slip into appropriate clothes for the day; whether that be a pantsuit to interview someone or something close to pyjamas for just a lazy day. Her boss never really cared what she wore when she sat in front of her monitor.


    And of course, after procrastinating for too long, she would end up missing the flying-machine that would take her to her final destination. It was not unusual for a group of bystanders to see the frazzled Artisan yell after the public transit-machine as it took off.


    She would need to search through the items present on her wrist-band. It would flash up the time of the next transit that would be able to pick her up.


    The first thing that hinted the day would be much unlike the normal, was the hologram flashing that the next transit would appear at 11:15.


    A puff of ire came deep from Artisan¡¯s chest. What about nine forty-five? Do I seriously gotta walk?


    Once more hoisting the satchel upon her shoulder, Artisan cursed the audacity of the world that would dare to cause her such struggle. And so she started her long trek to the office, trying not to breathe in the fumes.


    Wonderful.


    ¡°Arlee!¡± a voice boomed as Artisan stepped into the office, the bright lights of San Cameron twinkling brightly in the background; some kind of neon blur-like dream long forgotten.


    The office was quite the same on the outside, however on the inside, it was definitely less¡­ blazingly bright. It was an office. Not small or homey, but pretty and sunlit. A large waterfall tinkled behind the reception desk. A small but imposing lady sat behind it, gazing at a holographic screen, tapping away at the screen. And perhaps the most noticeable was that air felt kind to the lungs of the employees.


    ¡°Arlee,¡± the voice croaked again. This time, Artisan whipped her head around to face the voice, dark curls bobbing quietly in the process.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she questioned the bright face that had called. A wide smile was bound on her opposite¡¯s face. It was unnatural, though Artisan supposed it was better to see a faked smile rather than an aggressive, furious expression.


    Artisan paused for a second. That piqued her curiosity. Why wasn¡¯t her boss furious? She was at least an hour late to her job. Perhaps she should be worried about the painted-on smile.


    Her boss was draped in a pantsuit, wrinkled and frazzled, matching the glint that was hidden in her eye.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a new story for you to cover, my dear Artisan!¡± the woman quipped, her tone somewhat quieter now that she had Artisan¡¯s attention.


    Though she was grateful for the fact that she had seemingly taken no notice to her tardiness, Artisan still muffled a groan of discontempt. I can bet I know where this is going.


    She masked her lack of enthusiasm with a nod; curt and polite.


    Sherry turned around, her tight bun giving a small bob as she whipped around, expecting for her employee to follow without argument.


    Artisan did as she was expected, trotting after her boss; following the small click-clack of her heels against tile.


    This was typical: Sherry expecting Artisan to know what to do without having to inform her. It was what she did since the day that Artisan had first interned there. It was unnerving at first, but now she followed without question.


    She slowed her stride after a moment, managing to keep pace with Artisan.¡°I take it you know what day it is?¡± the boss-lady chided quietly, the fake smile was long gone from her face, now replaced by a sorrowful, sympathetic expression.


    ¡°Tuesday?¡± Artisan lied quietly.She knew what day it was. Of course she did. But acting ignorant was a coping mechanism; a way to pretend that she was okay. And maybe she was after all of the years, but it still made her feel¡­ less terrible.


    ¡°Artisan¡­¡± Sherry heaved as they continued their trek, only stopping once they had reached the glass elevator. "I understand that this must be difficult, but we need to work through it. Through life!"


    The ''inspiring'' phrase of words didn''t catch Artisan''s attention, she merely stared out the glass elevator, jaw clenched tightly. Could she just leave it at that, that Artisan didn¡¯t want to approach the subject?


    "I''d rather if you gave the story to someone that''s -uh- not me? Sorry Sherry, but I just-- I can''t." Artisan glanced over to her boss. A deep frown was set across her employer¡¯s face.


    "But think of how popular it will be! The daughter of the great Fisher Arlee doing a piece on her father. The ratings would go through the roof!" Artisan''s expression didn''t budge. Seeing this, Sherry continued, "I could also¡­ get you that promotion you''ve been looking for?"


    Artisan didn''t mask her disapproval this time. A long huff was drawn from her lungs, her dark eyes narrowed.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be very biased,¡± Artisan warned. The elevator stopped at one of the top-most floors, and the pair stepped off. They faced each other, both having an almost exasperated look in their eyes.


    ¡°I hope so. Wouldn¡¯t mean much without your opinion.¡± Sherry considered Artisan with an appraising look. ¡°Get ready, the ceremony begins at three.¡± With that, the soft click-clack of heels sounded after Sherry as she left Artisan in her suffocating silence.