《Revenge Fantasy》


 #1 - The Adoption of Chouko

    "Hello, little girl. What is that you are drawing?"


    "... a butterfly. The ones in the park."


    "Well, that is a beautiful butterfly you have."


    "T... thank you..."


    Charles Ashford. Head of the Ashford name, a businessman of high standing with single bachelor plastered all over his aged face. He has come to the point where he must seek an heir, but cannot father a child naturally. Thus, whilst he still has his years, the man resorted to adoption. Searching for the child of another to inherit the Ashford name and fortune.


    Charles found that his search bared no fruit, however.


    Finding a child worthy of such honor and privilege was no easy matter. The child must be gifted and academic, a rare occurrence for those... orphans. After all, gifted children are useful for their families. None of the children tested through conventional methods were up to Ashford standards. The academically successful either belong to another family name, or have a history of being undesirable and rotten due to their spoiled upbringings once their intelligence was discovered.


    Going through common orphanages was the better option, but there laid another issue. Only a fool would discard a good child. As much as Charles did not want to admit it, the typical orphan was a gambit of intelligence. When they are young, they have "room to grow" in vague amounts, all dependent on nature on top of their nurture. Upon reaching testing age, the child''s intelligence may often be either average or poor, leading to a wasted effort. It was not impossible to find success, of course, but... average was not what Charles was looking for.


    It broke Charles''s heart to know how picky he was, but he must be strong. He may contribute and invest all he wants in their futures, but the man was searching to parent an heir. For a child born under another name, they must not be average. They must be exceptional. They must have the potential to lead, to maintain and to grow the Ashford name. Just as Charles did, and his father before him. A prized jewel that needed to shine amongst the Ashford collection through hardship and dedication.


    And he found one such gem in the orphanage on 7th. A red eyed child with long black hair, meek in mannerisms and modest in attire. While the other children were off playing, this one was by her lonesome underneath the dining room table. Charles curiously went to greet the girl whilst the staff were preparing documents.


    "Hmm. By any chance, is this a monarch butterfly?"


    "No... it''s a viceroy."


    "A viceroy?"


    "Yes... this part of the wing. There is a line... monarchs don''t have that... s... so..."


    Monarch butterflies. Viceroy butterflies. Monarchs and viceroys. Kings and queens, and their representatives. In the civilized, human world, a viceroy is quite literally a vice royal. A vice-king. A public face for a country empowered to act in the sovereign''s name, as if they were the very king of that country. Not unlike the natural world, where viceroy butterflies mimic the monarch butterfly for survival, utilizing the colorful properties to avert predators due to looking unpalatable.


    The two types of butterflies share the most minute of details that separate them, details that most would disregard and group into mere butterflies. This little girl has the care and precision to detail to draw a butterfly to the exact detail. With a simple pencil and a box of crayons, she put to paper a beautiful work of nature. Having the word to back up her vision, able to discern the most miniscule of characteristics in these insects. Impressive.


    "Ah... fascinating creatures, these are. My, and you''ve colored it red?"


    "... yes... red is... pretty..."


    "It is, yes. Quite the artwork... and you''ve signed it as well. Cursive?"


    "Y... Yes... it is nice... the letters look pretty..."


    The signature read, "Chouko." Charles later learned more about this little girl while examining the documentation, seeing her name stand out amongst the forms presented to him. Chouko was six years of age, with half-Japanese and half-English blood in her veins. Beyond this information, her origins allude the orphanage, as she was simply left on the doorstep one day.


    She had yet to be enlisted in the education system, but showed an active desire to learn. Caretakers have experience with the girl being a quick study, able to retain information far better than any of the other kids. Chouko has miraculously managed to memorize each page of the orphanage''s books, capable of reciting anything she''s read from memory.


    This includes several pages of pop up books, fairy tales, and - comedically, one time - the basic ideas from Shakespeare''s MacBeth, brought into the orphanage one time by a caretaker''s son. Although Chouko didn''t fully understand the secondary school book, nor did she finish the entire work, she is aware of what happens. She was found lying in her bed, decently far into the novel before the caretakers confiscated it.


    In fact, Chouko''s near insatiable connection with books was revealed much later to the man. The caretakers refrained from mentioning her behavioral issues. On top of her taking the novel from the son, she regularly bothered staff with requests for new books every so often when bored. Something that the orphanage could not readily do in an instant, so she was told by caretakers to play with the children instead.


    Whenever talking with the other children, however, Chouko often attempted to talk about and discuss the books to the dismay of the children that have yet to be read the orphanage''s stories. Thus, she would spend playtime either by her lonesome or with her mouth closed at all times. The root cause to her... passive, timid self when she spoke with Charles.


    "Chouko. Is that your name?"


    "Y... Yes... C... Chouko... I am Chouko..."


    "Chouko... fascinating. You have a wonderful name, Chouko."


    "... thank you..."


    In this very moment, Charles had a hunch that Chouko was the excellent child he was looking for. Even before knowing anything else about her, her name alone caused Charles to ponder. The meaning of the name, Chouko, was "butterfly child". The butterfly a symbol for the soul in various Japanese folklore, with ancient mythology holding beliefs that butterflies were the messengers of the gods.


    There was some poetic beauty with this butterfly child, in this very moment, drawing a butterfly. Artistically drawing her very own namesake, possibly showing reverence to the name her parents have bestowed upon her. Charles found significance in this coincidence, especially with how knowledgeable he was about his own name. Great men throughout history shared the name, Charles, from royals and rulers to several pioneers of science and arts.


    A part of him, in that moment, believed that if there was anyone deserving of the prestige of being heir to the Ashford fortune, Chouko is a strong contender. Polite, well mannered, artistically skilled. She has plentiful amounts of potential. Potential fit for an upstanding lady of the Ashford name.


    Charles was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He took the chance.


    "If, by chance, the orphanage will permit me to do so, would you like to be adopted today?"


    "... today...?"


    "Not to get your hopes up, but yes. I see a promising potential future with you as an Ashford, Chouko. As my daughter."


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "... then... sure..."


    And thus, once the paperwork was in order, Charles became the father and primary caretaker of Chouko Ashford. The little girl allowing herself in that moment to be excited as she was led through the front exit, brought to a large and shiny black car driven by a fancy man known as a chauffeur.


    Chouko, before she knew it was real, had to prepare for the possibility that this man was lying to her. That he couldn''t adopt her. Yet, a part of her felt a bubbling excitement if he was telling the truth. Chouko had no friends at the orphanage, she has already exhausted all of the books here, and she spent most of her time underneath just the table anyway.


    Maybe the man adopting her has a better table to hide under, more books to read and more things to do. So, with all of her heart, she wished it was real, she hoped it was real, and it was. Chouko sat down in the backseat alongside her father, astonished as she comfortably rode in the car. That was the first time she was ever in a car.


    There was something indescribably precious to Charles about seeing a child''s joy unfolding before him, especially one that he was now caring for.


    "Chouko, do you like big houses?"


    "... big... houses? Like... uhm... this- big?"


    "No, no, your new home is much larger. I cannot wait for you to see it for yourself."


    "U-Uhm... I see..."


    The car takes a right at a gate, stopping right in front of it. The black, metallic bars of the gate catching Chouko''s eyes. A man in a box is seen, looking to the passengers in the back seat. A wave and a smile to the little girl, with Chouko staring back... waving back to him.


    Then, with a press of a button, the gates open and the car drives along. Chouko stares out the window to see expansive fields of grass. Well kept, well tended. Tiny little spots of white circles shining on the side of the path.


    Once close enough, the little girl catches a glimpse of the big house. A massive manor comes closer to the car, its windows brightly lit in yellow and white. Two stories tall, something Chouko gets a better look at when the car circles around the water fountain...


    Chouko stares in astonishment as she is helped out of the car. Her hand holding her new father''s hand, led closer to the manor with each step. For a moment, her hand begins to shake, as she was scared and intimidated by the sheer size of her new home.


    Charles gently wraps his fingers to hold Chouko''s hand as well. Reassuring her and leading her forward, looking down to her and smiling.


    "I am here. Are you uncomfortable? Is something upsetting you about the manor?"


    "... a-are there- any monsters in there...?"


    "Of course not, Chouko. If there were, I will keep you company, and I will keep you safe."


    "O... oh... okay...!"


    Chouko looked at her father, and her red eyes blinked at him a couple of times. She felt safe in that moment, and walked with him into the manor.


    Witnessing the manor''s interior decor from the foyer, Chouko faced a mansion with pure white walls lined with pillars, a hallway straight to the front with stairways up to a second floor, and hallways to her left and right. Charles first took Chouko up the stairs and to the left, the two passing by numerous doors as they wandered. Chouko did not know what was behind any of them, as the doors were completely unmarked.


    The sheer... amount of rooms was dizzying. Chouko was used to there only being four rooms at the orphanage: a large bedroom with dozens of beds for everyone, a kitchen and dining room, and the main area for story time, play time, and so on. This intimidated her, less than a monster but more than her old shelter.


    Chouko wondered, did her father adopt more people? These finely suited and dressed adults that roamed the halls, having been exposed to maids and butlers for the first time in her life...


    Eventually, the pair turned right around the hallway corner, and made it to one room in particular. A massive, expansive room decorated with the finest drawers Charles could provide. Gender neutral in color, as he knew not for certain if his heir would be a boy or a girl. The room had pure white wallpaper and well polished wood floors. One queen sized bed with quilted sheets, handwoven pillows and a fluffy teddy bear atop it.


    "This will be your bedroom, Chouko. For now, I must tend to other affairs, and will leave you to explore at your leisure. The men and women in this house are here to help."


    "..."


    "... is something the matter, Chouko? Is the room currently not to your liking? Staff are also available to decorate it as you see fit."


    "It''s... u... uhm... c... can... can I- uhm- come with you t-to your room...? I- I''m- I''m, uh, I-"


    Charles gently walked along, leading Chouko away from her bedroom. He was more than happy to bring his daughter to his bedroom, if it assists with making her feel like home.


    Keeping her company, Charles brought her to his room. It felt even more grand than her own bedroom. His style was more dark and refined, with darker wood in his floors and furniture. His wallpapers split between an upper half of rich, dark green laced with polka dots, and a lower half design of dark brown wood panels. His bedframe a rich dark oak to match, king sized with fine and fluffy white sheets.


    The man sat down at his desk, positioned at the right-most windowsill. Beginning to tend to paperwork that the head butler has left, reviewing his businesses and such.


    Chouko idly looked around the room, free to explore it. At the left-most window, she saw a massive piece of furniture with legs and a seat. Was this a table? But... it didn''t look like one, it was weirdly shaped and too large to sit at... except this one part that was narrow and could not fit things that go on a table. Just books and paper above it...


    "... uhm... Father... w... what is this?"


    "Ah. That is a piano, Chouko. A beautiful instrument that plays music. In my free time, I find it comforting to indulge myself in my musical passions."


    "Uhm... uh... c... can I, uhm, try... playing it?"


    "... if you so wish. There is a booklet that you may read to... assist with your playing."


    Charles felt a little uneasy as his newest daughter requested to play the piano. He found himself getting up from his desk, departing from the room and excusing himself to ask the maids to provide some refreshments.


    A deep sigh escaped Charles''s lips once he was out of the room. This unease he felt was, hopefully, not towards Chouko. Rather, how she takes to the piano. The fault lied within himself, as he is a very passionate aficionado of classical music. "Indulge myself in my musical passions"... truly undersold his passion, especially with his critic tendencies.


    His heart was afraid that he will feel upset at Chouko''s attempts. Afraid that his demanding expectations will be soiled by a child learning piano for the first time. Afraid that the girl will detest the piano, detest his passion.


    He stalled for time to delay it. Delay his reaction to Chouko. Taking his time to personally request tea and biscuits from the best maid in his employment, one specializing in brewing a staple in this household: the citrusy Earl Grey. A middle classman''s tea, yet- quite posh for a man of his status to enjoy.


    Charles prefers his Earl Grey with lemon and honey, and instructed the maid to provide additional options for Chouko. A bowl of sugar cubes, small cups of milk and honey so that she may experiment with the tea, three extra lemon slices, and additional biscuits. Children do love their sweets, after all.


    Eventually, the maid came back with a tray. Two white cups of tea brimmed with a sky blue, matching the imported teapot and the saucers they rest atop. All the ingredients as instructed, the tea hot and ready.


    Charles mentally prepared himself for whatever outcome awaited in that room, walking back whilst accompanying the maid. Every few steps, he took a deep breath to calm and ease his nerves, saving the tea as a last resort if the worst were to occur.


    ... and Charles arrived at the room, staying outside. Hearing... something that pleasantly surprised him. Arm held out to gesture the maid to stop in place, as he peeked into his room with wonder.


    In the time Charles has been gone, Chouko demonstrated her gifted proficiency with reading. As a beginner, she was understanding how the white and black keys on the piano work, had a bit of knowledge about beginner''s sheet music, and spent some time playing the basic works of the instructional book in the short amount of time she was given.


    ... and, out of curiosity, she upgraded herself to playing Debussy''s Clair de Lune around the time Charles came back.


    One of Charles''s personal favorite pieces. One that conveys beauty, tranquility. A representation of the moonlight, its subtle stillness representative of Symbolist poet Paul Verlaine''s work of the same name. It happened to be the sheet music he kept on the music stand, the song he had last previously played.


    Tears trailed down Charles''s eyes. Chouko, once again, moved his heart. A mere six year old capable of playing the basics of such a work, albeit with the occasional mistake due to physical limitations... it was breathtaking. He could not believe that such a girl would be abandoned, left in an orphanage. Having her talents go unnurtured, left a ruby in an encasement of brick and stone. She was a beginner, yes, and the subtle differences between her smaller hands and his very own are different in quality.


    Yet, he could feel no disappointment for his newest care, feeling nothing but pride.


    He started to walk into the room, steps slow and quiet to not disturb the girl''s work. This was to no avail, as she diverts her attention to him shortly after his attempt. Her fingers stopping upon noticing his quiet approach, looking at him nervously.


    "U... Uhm... welcome- back... I... uh... I was just..."


    "Chouko... you''re..."


    "... w... well, I, uhm... I saw the... the paper, and- uhm... tried to-"


    "That was beautiful... please, allow me to join you."


    He delayed his work as he took a seat with Chouko. Sitting to her left, knowing that the left side of Claire de Lune is more complicated than the right. For quite some time, they played together, with Charles instructing Chouko every step of the way.


    The sun sets some time after, their tea lukewarm on a spare table. Not an ounce consumed, lost in their melodious duet. In this very moment, they were, themselves, basking in the tranquility of the moonlight. Eventually brought out of it once Chouko became hungry, and dinner was made posthaste. This marks the very beginning of their fond memories together.


    A father, and his precious little girl.

 #2 - Presenting Vanilla

    Four years later, on business during the early month of April, Charles Ashford was sent overseas to the Americas. As an investor in a developing technology, he sought to attend the crucial presentation where the world would be exposed to this advanced innovation: an artificial intelligence, designed to be a virtual assistant. Developed by a young college student that received a scholarship from the Ashford Revolutionary Corporation.


    Who was Charles to disappoint an aspiring young inventor? One who has set up a vigorous advertising campaign putting Charles''s name on the cover, gathering mass public attention on this invention to the point where the media covered the technology solely and exclusively for the Ashford name rather than the innovation itself?


    ... in truth, Charles did not care much for it, and was practically obligated to attend.


    As he sat to the side of the stage, watching the young man rehearse the presentation with cue cards, he couldn''t focus on any of it. This was a waste of time for the man, other than making sure to keep public face. Absolutely disinterested in the creation, with other more important things on his mind.


    Firstly, it was a pin drop in the water of technology. One single inventor utilizing his life savings to develop this technology - conceptualized several decades ago, by the way, before this inventor''s time - paled in comparison to other companies already years into development. And secondly, Charles was a traditional man who valued authentic human life, and found it unnecessary to integrate something fake and artificial into human society. There was no purpose to these creatures, nothing that really draws his attention as to why these things should exist.


    Altogether, Charles sat in a chair and thought of other topics. Other things worth his attention and focus, and he certainly had plenty to focus on after these eventful four years.


    The Ashford name remains as successful as ever, with its countless business ventures continuing to grow. Other investments, more... local... investments are becoming more and more successful than this specific investment. Deals were made, and partnerships were fostered. Society just grew more and more, with each passing month and year, and other technological ventures and generally more interesting topics simply took priority in the center of his mind.


    ... and the most important thing that takes his attention away from this show? His heir, his daughter, the girl that sat right next to him. This heir of his showing more of an interest in the project than he did. This child was the most important thing in his life, far beyond any mechanical machine.


    Chouko Ashford. Ten years old, proudly dressed in a black cardigan and a finely woven dress skirt. Her white button shirt tailored by the finest of tailors, with a cravat sewn into the collar of it. A fine, modest outfit for a young lady to wear, especially in front of an audience.


    Charles had requested several outfits to be personally tailored for Chouko over the years. This one in particular was her newest outfit, one associated as a reward for her academic excellence. Especially given the fact she was going to graduate this year from higher education... a majoring degree in psychology, and everything.


    By some miracle, Chouko breezed through her education in a short amount of time. With proper education, she graduated secondary school at the age of seven, her eventual graduation early by about 11 years.


    It was one thing to be gifted, it was another to be gifted early. Chouko was regarded as a genius child prodigy across the world, a rare occurrence. Artistically gifted, musically gifted, and academically gifted. Throughout her school years, she was given the title of the "Apple-Eyed Genius" as a reference to her eyes matching the color of red apples given to teachers. She has aced countless tests, taking an aptitude test that puts her on the same levels as top scientists and tacticians. Her memorization skills legendary, putting her above others in her class and the country.


    Charles was... amazed, in absolute disbelief throughout these years. Looking back on how hard Chouko worked, how much she wanted to excel and be the heir he could be proud of. He holds nothing but pride for his daughter, very well considering her a pure Ashford years ago. This was a promising girl that Charles knew, in his heart, was destined for greatness from day one.


    Chouko deserved everything that he could ever give her within these four years. A loving home, the finest of foods, the highest quality clothes, freedom to explore her passions for reading and drawing... a luxurious life filled with nothing but the very best.


    Oh, the fond memories coming to him in waves of nostalgia. Resounding memories he treasures deeply.


    The hours spent personally teaching Chouko the piano. Many works filled the walls of the bedroom, Charles witnessing a firsthand account of Chouko''s growth as she plays several historical classics. Her passion, he dare say, outrivals his after some time. Her small fingers superior to his old, frail hands. But they always found themselves sharing common ground with Claire de Lune.


    Their shared time spent reading. How she would enjoy her free time reading novels in their library, huddled underneath a large table with a fine cloth draped over it. A comfy, cozy fort for her to hide away with a lamp, one he was often invited into when he sought to do some reading himself. One would think of a child falling asleep in her parent''s arms, but he found himself lulled into slumber first every time, and Chouko would call servants to help him to his true bed.


    Chouko accompanied her father on many, if not most, of Charles''s ventures. Each formal gala hosted by business partners and acquaintances, Chouko was brought along. Leisurely walks whilst conducting errands, Chouko followed with him. Conferences, tours, vacations. When Chouko was available, she found herself inseparable from Charles, even going as far as following him to an overseas flight to New York City for Easter break.


    "Chouko. Are you excited to come to the States?"


    "Y-Yes, indeed. I''m looking forward to experiencing American life, Father."


    "Yes, America is quite interesting indeed. I much prefer our homeland, but - after the presentation - there will be plenty of sights to see. A month''s worth of activities, before your proper graduation."


    "Sounds overwhelming... but, it also sounds quite amusing!"


    That conversation replayed itself as Charles sat in his chair, remembering the joy on full display. Charles''s heart melted as he saw how much his daughter has grown. She still held some of her timid mannerisms, yet there was truly authentic energy to her voice. If given the opportunity, she could - with this newfound energy - make quite the plentiful amount of business partners and acquaintances...


    Of course, Chouko was not permitted to bring classmates over. She was still a child learning amongst teenagers and young adults. No, Charles often welcomed and invited families of all classes to bring their kids over for play dates with Chouko. Lower, middle, upper- he welcomed any fine, upstanding families to give Chouko a social life.


    "Father, Leo has brought over a d-dog! H-His name is Spot, and we had such fun playing together! Can he come over more often?"


    "I''ll see if his father is open to it. Leo''s father is a common worker for one of my businesses, after all, I''m sure he would very much enjoy the visits."


    There were times when he had to protect Chouko, the most notable being when a mutual business partner brought his son over and unexpectedly harmed Chouko during business negotiations.


    "F-Father! I- I''m scared... J-Jack got upset w-whilst we were reading, a-and he- he-"


    "H-He hit you...?! Oh, good heavens, your eye- servants! Escort Mr. Sutton and his son out of this manor! Sullivan, we will speak about our deal at a later date! For now, you are not welcome on these premises!"


    Charles knew he had to raise Chouko to be a powerful heir, but... this girl brought up his overwhelmingly awakened fatherly instincts. Every time he looked at his daughter, he felt a need to preserve her joy. To the best of his ability, driving to make sure she was safe and happy at all times.


    With every accomplishment she achieves, Charles felt that he was not ready to see this girl grow up into a fine woman. He wanted to spend more time with this beloved child, make the most out of the years they had left. It all was gone in a flash to him. His only regret was that he did not enjoy his time with Chouko as much as he wanted to.


    One day, Chouko will take the lead to run the Ashford family''s businesses. She will take charge as an investor, a philanthropist, a psychologist. Her dreams fulfilled, meeting a fine suitor who will escort her to a villa in the tropics. Their remaining time limited until Charles has to say goodbye to his little girl.


    Nothing in this presentation whatsoever held Charles''s attention beyond this girl.


    "... please give a round of applause, everyone!" the inventor, on stage, exclaimed to the hall. "A hand to our primary investor, the esteemed Charles Ashford! Responsible for funding groundbreaking android technology!"


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Charles walked in front of an audience of thousands, looked out to a sea of Americans cheering for him. Many of which he recognized as other businessmen, likely present at the presentation to meet him afterwards. With all the applause given, he didn''t feel anything from their praise. All he did was take some portions of money and donate them to promising companies and businesses. The audience was applauding him for his name alone.


    "Now, everyone," the inventor told the audience. "Please give a warm welcome, to... Vanilla!" Proceeding to reveal the invention as he yanked the curtain off, showing nothing more than a messy cluster of metal and wires.


    The applause for Vanilla was non-existent. Complete and utter silence.


    Nothing about Vanilla impressed people. In theory, this project was for an "android", a robot that appears human. This was just a travesty to look at, an unprofessional heap of moving scrap metal and wires that pretended to be a fake human and everything. This so called android was completely work in progress and was unfit for a presentation of this scale, very ominous and creepy to Charles.


    However, here it was. Amidst a quiet audience, the inventor began to explain a bunch of nonsense about how the innovation was not its body, it was the technology inside. Some intricate technological system with a custom AI built into it, its features more centered around speaking and responding.


    The presenter flips a switch, and the invention turns on. A brief period of start up, with faint and artificial applause filling the room. Its voice stutters faintly, but... it manages to utter some words, looking to the inventor and speaking. "Hello. I am Vanilla. Pleased to meet you, everyone."


    For the next few minutes, the invention was "showcased". Charles sat back down in his seat, and witnessed this travesty further unfold. The inventor did nothing new with this supposed assistant, asking it basic questions that obsolete technology already mastered.


    "Vanilla, can you tell me what time it is right now?" the inventor asks.


    "Of course. It is four thirteen, in the afternoon," Vanilla responds.


    "Vanilla, have you heard of the latest news happening in town?"


    "Yes. This presentation," Vanilla responds. "But afterwards, there is another showcase scheduled here at five, where a new soda product to promote fat loss will be presented."


    "Vanilla, what do you think I should have for dinner today?"


    "Given your budgetary constraints, I recommend a chicken salad from the local grocery store. If you would like, I can order one for you if you wish."


    Nothing about this presentation was demonstrating anything worthwhile.


    To the audience of people expecting some advanced intelligence, "Vanilla" was nothing more than a primitive and glorified rotating shopping machine with a clock and a todo list for those five minutes. It was no fault of its own, however. The inventor responsible for her was awkwardly fumbling on stage with the conversational grace of a dry cement block, giving Vanilla nothing whatsoever to work with. A good majority of the presentation a disaster, with various attendees starting to leave out of disinterest.


    "U... Uhm..." the inventor audibly stuttered, not helping his case whatsoever. "V... Vanilla here isn''t just- limited to conversation! She, uh... she can..." Rummaging through his note cards and panicking, nervously sweating as crickets chirped in the audience.


    While the inventor was commencing with more of his uninteresting, boring show of disappointment, the android noticeably turned and interrupted him completely. Focusing on a different subject entirely: a new person.


    "Ah. Hello. Lady Ashford, yes?" the android prototype''s voice asks, looking to an approaching Chouko. Seeing the girl simply walking up to her, an inquisitive look on the girl''s red-eyed face, the android responding with curiosity. "Is something the matter? There is a presentation going on..."


    "Uhm... hello, V-Vanilla... nothing is the matter. But, I, uh, I just- I wished to a-ask you something... something on my mind."


    Audiences watched as Chouko approached the prototype, seeing the child speak with her eyes looking up at it calmly. Charles, even, showed an interest as Chouko did this, tuned back into the presentation, and watched his daughter speak to Vanilla.


    "Certainly. Ask away... Chouko," Vanilla requests, a hint of casual friendliness in its generated voice, adjusting itself to fully face Chouko. "I will answer to the best of my ability."


    "W... well, uhm, I was wondering, do you, uh, do you like... do you like books...?"


    The robot hmmed and whirred, pondering. Tilting itself left and right, more of its artificial humanity coming to light in that moment. The people in that room found the invention more endearing now that it wasn''t a grown man talking to an android, but a little child. After all, the Ashford name was what carried this presentation to begin with, and Chouko was next to do a bit of heavy lifting.


    "... I have not read a lot of books, unfortunately. I do not have the eyes to really enjoy it, you see," the android joked, beeping a couple of times and wiggling noticeably. This gained some chuckles from the audience, the movements of the parts amusing. "But I do see their value. They are quite educational."


    "I see... well, uhm, I''d like to read some to you... I don''t have any on me right now, but, uhm... oh, uh, are you familiar with, uhm, Grimms'' Cinderella?"


    Vanilla leaned slightly forward at this, looking closer at Chouko. "My programming is familiar with Disney''s version of it. However, I am slightly familiar with descriptions of the original version, the one Disney adapted from... are you familiar with it?"


    "Y... Yes, I, uhm... there was a novel I happened to read that had it. I- I am well familiar with the tale, so..."


    "Well, that''s fascinating!" Vanilla responded, her voice beaming with intrigue and fascination. "I would be lying if I pretended not to be aware of your memorization! Please, I would love for you to read some to me, if you can!"


    "O... Oh, well, uhm... sure... uh..."


    Audiences watched as Chouko started to read the entire beginning of the Grimm version from memory, locking her attention on Vanilla to ease her nerves as the words flew out of her mouth. Beginning with the death of Cinderella''s mother and her dad''s remarriage, continuing on with the vileness of her new stepsisters.


    "They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. ''Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!'' they shouted and laughed, as they led her into the kitchen..."


    "Wow..." Vanilla noised, politely listening to Chouko. "There''s a bit more detail to this version..."


    "M... Mhmm, when adapted, some details were written out to appeal better to a children''s audience... the tales start out rather- well... Grimm."


    Vanilla chuckled and giggled at that joke! "Ah, I see. So the films receive more attention from adults and children alike, while also attracting movie patrons well familiar with the tale! That is a smart decision..." Then the robot cleared its throat, its voice softening. "Please, continue. I am very much having fun, being told this story."


    Now that Vanilla was actually engaging in true conversation, people started seeing more merit in this invention. Everyone, even... Charles... was astonished, as this unfolded. Most technology designed to replicate human conversation typically fell flat, with priorities on having moving and functioning bodies rather than humanizing their technology. Vanilla was currently... proving itself uncontested, exhibiting more personality than other conversation models.


    Single handedly, Chouko turned the presentation about a generic and disappointing technology into a captivating show of a child bonding with a prototype.


    Minutes upon minutes of her reading the story passing, taking up more and more of the presentation with this near impressive and heartwarming sight. Chouko manages to reach the part of the story where the prince was investigating with a gold slipper rather than glass, and the stepmother was handing knives to her daughters to fit into the shoes.


    Vanilla interrupted before Chouko could... describe... any of what happened next. "... Chouko, if I may interrupt for a brief moment. I must ask you something that is making me curious. The fact you are able to memorize all of this story on a whim, your passion for literature astounds me. But there is something that they - the news, the stories and all - neglect to include: do you possess a favorite book, out of all the novels you''ve read?"


    "... oh! Uhm, yes, actually... everyone has to have a favorite... and, e-even though I haven''t read all of it, m... my favorite one is, uhm, The Count of Monte Cristo..."


    "... r... really?! By Alexandre Dumas?" Vanilla commented, its voice exhibiting shock and surprise. Catching the audience by surprise at this shift, even the- inventor himself shocked. Almost- eerily unsettled at how spontaneously human Vanilla was, the inventor watched as Vanilla continued. "I truly am speaking to a prodigy. That is an outstandingly long and intricate read for a child! Over a thousand pages in some publications! I''ve barely even scratched the surface of it!"


    "W-Well, yeah... i... It''s actually the one book I find hard to read. It''s... complex, classic, and it feels like an entirely new book every time I try to read it... so..."


    "Oh! That''s why?" Vanilla asked, letting out numerous robotic laughs. Finding a lot of amusement at Chouko''s response, exhibiting great amounts of delight. "So you find it to be your favorite because it''s the one book that gives you a challenge. That surely is literature worth reading, then!"


    "Y-Yeah, it''s really good... the way that the characters are written are quite compelling, at least... I- I found Edmond Dant¨¨s to be especially well written, as the main character and all... how he, uhm, how he-"


    The inventor promptly interrupted Chouko- clearing his throat and addressing the engaged audience. "Uhm- I''m sorry, everyone, but we are running out of time... we will have to cut this short, now..."


    "O-Oh..."


    With time coming to a close, people started- exhibiting disappointment that they couldn''t see more. After the presentation, the media ate this presentation up, with the capabilities of the Vanilla prototype now clear. How child friendly it was, how it adapted to personalities between the presenter and Chouko, the way it presented itself with liveliness and humanity. They wanted more, and this presenter was depriving them of this gold.


    But rather than show disappointment, Vanilla showed joy as she spoke to Chouko. "No worries, Chouko. When I am fully developed, I will ask my creator to visit you sometime. We may continue our conversation about the novel later. Or, well, any other novel you happen to be reading by then!"


    "O... okay! I- I''m looking forward to it!"


    The hall cleared out, and... surprisingly, Charles had no one approach him. Eyes were on the inventor, giving him ample opportunity to slip out of the hall and depart. He sat in the car with Chouko, driven away from the presentation hall, discussing... that entire presentation.


    "So, Chouko. Do you think those androids are worth the investment so far?"


    "Mmm... yeah... I- I could tell the, uhm, inventor was having a hard time... s... so I started to deviate a little from the formula... and, and Vanilla became quite nice... I like her..."


    "Ah...! That is a surprise, Chouko! You approached it to- wow. Well, then, after your little show, I guess we will have to follow the career of this inventor, so that you may speak with this Vanilla once more."


    "T-That''d be wonderful, Father... a-and, uhm, w-when we get the opportunity, I would like to invite Vanilla- or, or visit whilst bringing some of our books over... is- is that okay? Or..."


    Charles just- smiled warmly in that instant. "Yes... yes, we shall. We will simply have to see what happens, but I promise to bring you to Vanilla again once it has progressed far enough."


    Saying this, Charles gets a delighted reaction from Chouko, watching as the girl excitedly fidgets with anticipation. There was something- authentic to these things, and he was looking forward to inviting this- Vanilla to further interact with Chouko.


    But, as things played out... Charles will never be able to fulfill his promise.

 #3 - Kuroiwa Sends His Regards

    The evening of the presentation, the Ashfords returned to their hotel. A relatively modest one closest to the presentation hall, one that they were staying in for one night before going to a new one. Booking one king suite on an upper floor, coming with a single king sized bed, one couch facing a widescreen TV atop a fine drawer, and a balcony beyond a glass sliding door to truly enjoy the sights of New York.


    It was possibly confining to only have one bed available, but having a separate suite for Chouko was out of the question. Charles did not want to leave Chouko alone in a hotel. This wasn''t the most luxurious of establishments to stay in, but it was satisfactory for a single night''s stay... with a view and everything.


    "Wow... is that what this city looks like...?"


    Charles watches as Chouko stares out the balcony with wonder, smiling warmly. "Indeed, Chouko. New York City does comes with a rather beautiful view at this hour. This room also comes with a telly." Reaching for a remote control in the suite, pointing it at the television and turning it on.


    The current channel was the local news, which was covering the Vanilla presentation. The station''s footage cuts between various angles and shots of Chouko speaking with that machine.


    "Immediately following the presentation funded by British millionaire investor, Charles Ashford, investors all over the world are looking into the Vanilla Project. One of the most human AI to come out of this century, lines upon lines of people have crowded the android in conversation after this footage of it speaking with Ashford''s child prodigy of a daughter."


    There was something... a little weird to Charles about watching this, but- he cannot deny that this is good for Chouko''s public image. "Child prodigy daughter", as the Americans put it... aspiring psychologist and future head of the Ashford Company and its subsidiary businesses, more like. Even the smallest of media appearances are essential to build up Chouko''s credibility further... propelling her beyond the shadow of mere nepotism.


    "O-Oh...! I-I''m on the news?"


    "Indeed. Must be interesting to be famous, Chouko. One day in the future, you''ll have countless reporters wishing to interview you for your accomplishments..."


    "Huh...! That sounds quite fun..."


    Charles took his attention off of the news for a moment, retrieving his bathrobe from the luggage case. It was time for him to take a shower, and - thus - Charles needed Chouko to be out of the room. "Alright, Chouko- you can watch TV later. For now, I suggest being out in the balcony with one of your novels. I would explain why, but... well, you are the psychology student, you understand the severity of seeing your father in a bathrobe."


    "If you insist... how long will I be outside?"


    "I estimate only about thirty minutes, or so. Time for my shower, as well as drying off and such. Afterwards, once the washroom is aired out, a bath will be run for you."


    "Understood, Father..."


    Chouko walks out of the room, holding that thick novel of hers. That black one with a sort of printed shine to it... her supposed favorite book.


    "... e-even though I haven''t read all of it, m... my favorite one is, uhm, The Count of Monte Cristo..." Chouko proceeds to say on the television.


    That certainly- was her favorite, was it? Hm. What was the plot of it again? Ah, he never got around to reading the novel himself. But Chouko said it from her perspective. A complex classic, an entirely new book each time she tries to read it.


    ... hm. Maybe he should read it with her sometime.


    Charles turned off the TV and pulls the curtains of the room over its windows. Isolating Chouko from the inside as he goes to shower. Afterwards, once the shower has concluded, Charles dons his bathrobe and departs from the bathroom. Letting out a content sigh as he fans his face, the steam of the hot water filling the suite.


    Upon leaving, however, he took an immediate glance to the king''s bed. Seeing white lights peering out and coming from under his bed, the beams of light split with a rectangular outline in the middle. As if it were a book in front of the lights...


    A smile formed on Charles''s face at these suspected antics. Charles put two and two together, finding himself chuckling with resigned amusement. "Is that you, Chouko?"


    Immediately, the lights under the bed shut off.


    It was, indeed, Chouko, who decided at some point to hide under the bed to read her book instead. She grew tired of the outside scenery and the sounds of the city, and - thus - took refuge under the bed.


    Charles suspected she must have been relying on being able to hear him depart so that she could shut her reading light off. In fact, she also seemed to be planning for him to remain in the room, keeping the curtains closed the entire time. Then - once he leaves to dress in private - she would have slipped out from the bed and snuck out the patio door, pretending she was outside the whole time.


    This elaborate plan... was not exactly becoming of a lady. In fact, he felt some disgust at the thoughts of the mess under the bed, one present even in a king suite. But Chouko''s mannerisms were endearing. How she found her ideal reading environment under furniture, with the bed serving as the most compact. Maybe she accounted for taking a shower immediately after, to cleanse herself of all the dust and grime that could be under the bed...


    Ah... Charles would have indulged in her whimsical quirk and joined her underneath, but he would not fit under the bed. Nor does he really... want... to go under there. He feigned ignorance, deciding to play along with Chouko and follow her little plan accordingly. "Oh, my mistake... I must have been seeing things. Well, then-"


    Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupts him.


    Charles raises an eyebrow. He wasn''t expecting any sort of company, especially not at this hour. Did Chouko order some sort of room service? No, no, this hotel didn''t come with any. It was all self service, with mere amenities on the ground floor...


    Charles... cautiously approaches the door. "Yes? What business do you have?"


    "Sir, we noticed a discrepancy with your booking," the voice on the other end speaks. Gruff, scratchy, one that was hard to discern through the wooden door... likely a random man not affiliated with the hotel. "It appears that your stay here is... unpaid for."


    "T... That''s preposterous, the booking has been paid for in advance... converted properly, even!" Charles exclaims in disbelief. The most preposterous of claims!


    "Well, sir, it is no issue, we simply need an immediate signature to get this sorted out..."


    Charles... sighs, at the possibility that this wasn''t a sham... "Fair warning... I am currently in a bath robe. You have caught me at a most inopportune time, when I am not decent. I request that you allow me some time to get dressed, and-"


    His eyes then widen as he heard the patio door slide open. Looking at a man in a ski-mask enter the suite, his eyes grow wider. Charles quickly moved to open the door, his hands shaking as he frantically acted. "I- I say, sir! Th- There''s a thug in my room! Please, call for-!"


    The door is then kicked open. A loud crash sounds out as the door slams against the wall. Charles is knocked backwards, collapsing against the ground in painful shock as his back hits against the floor. Surrounded from both sides by two complete strangers, two roughly and ruggedly dressed thugs...!


    Unlike the one entering from the balcony, the man who knocked was unmasked. A man with a black crew cut. Dressed in inconspicuous, casual clothing, with a pair of sunglasses over his face, the most prominent feature of his is the stubble under his defined jawline. Likely had to show his face to get past reception...


    "Thank you for opening up, sir..." the man thanks as he closes the suite door shut. Walking into the room and looking around, whistling. "Whew. Good lookin'' place here... you seein'' this place?"


    "Yes, yes..." the ski masked man responds, idly looking around. "Nice place. Other suites are clear."


    "Yep..." Tsking slightly as his eyes roll. "Makes our job harder..."


    Charles feels his- back- aching against the suite carpet. His breath ragged and tense, his body- shaking and trembling. "P... Please, t... take whatever you''re here for..."


    The man shakes his head, a despicable look on his face as he glares down at Charles. "Not exactly here for any of that, Ashford..." His eyes glancing at the luggage cases against the couch. One red, one black, ripe for the taking. "... though it is a good bonus. Check their bags. Get ''em out."


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A nod from the ski-masked individual. Rummaging through their belongings with gloved hands, unzipping them and tossing their clothes and belongings out.


    Charles- stares and shakes as their luggage was searched. If these men weren''t here for their belongings, then- the alternatives shake him at his core. "T... Then- why... why are you-"


    "Simple." Drawing his gun and contently aiming down at Charles. "Kuroiwa sends his regards."


    Charles- stares up at the gun, his eyes widening. Things were- rushing through his head. To his knowledge, they... they were definitely here for him, but- but he doesn''t know anybody with anything against him! Let alone whoever this Kuroiwa was. The extent of which they would hire two thugs to break into his suite, to threaten his life. "K... Kuroi... who...?"


    "Eh, don''t know ''im, no point in telling ya..."


    Charles- immediately makes an offer to try and get these thugs to spare his life. "F... Five- no, ten- ten million- pounds!"


    "Hm! Ten million? Wow! ... and here I thought you to be ''wise'', Ashford. Pity." A slow headshake as the finger slowly starts to pull the trigger...


    "... d... don''t- don''t! P-Please!" Charles calls out, desperation behind his voice.


    The unmasked man- stops, immediately. Staring down at Charles as- a look of realization appears. The gun having yet to fire, as the thug looks around idly. "So... got your brat here? Would be a shame if she weren''t here for this..."


    Charles''s eyes widen at this, his... blood... boiling at this. It was good that he did not succumb to his first instinct, to shout to Chouko to flee and call for help. No, she''s... still under the bed. Charles... Charles lies, to protect Chouko. "... she... she''s not here. The chauffeur''s taking her to Times Square."


    Even if he had to make a choice between himself and Chouko... he feels no willingness to give them Chouko whatsoever. If- if they were here to kill him, they''re not taking Chouko.


    "Huh... interesting. would''ve passed her along on the way up here..." The unmasked man responds, tapping the gun against Charles''s head.


    "W... Well, I haven''t the faintest, what to tell you gentlemen..." Charles responds, sweating nervously. "M... My daughter''s long gone. It''s just me."


    The ski-masked thug takes out two passports, presenting Chouko''s passport to the unmasked thug.


    "Mm. Those''ll fetch a pretty, pretty penny..." the unmasked thug delightfully guesses, looking down at Charles. "So, long gone, headed to Times? Alright, your word is good... we''ll stop there along the way, unite father and daughter together and all, wherever you two are going."


    "..." Charles tensely- swallows and gulps. His death is carved in stone at this point...


    "Any last words, Ashford?"


    "..." A slow headshake.


    "A shame."


    And then, a gunshot rings out, as Charles stares forward. As his words are cut off, as he feels his life flash before his very eyes with the ringing, piercing shot. Horror on his face as he stares at the bullet, his fate sealed in that moment.


    "F-Father!"


    Chouko''s voice suddenly rings out, as Charles shakes in place. The sight before him disappearing in an instant, the sunlight blinding his eyes in an instant. His eyes flutter as he searches for his daughter, searches for Chouko- the sunlight blinding his eyes as he sits atop a seat. Confusion riddled on his face, he looks around to see that he was back at the Ashford Manor, back in Britain. The two thugs gone, no gun at his forehead.


    Feeling the ringing dissipate as he looks around, searching for his daughter. His hand rubbing his forehead lightly, trying to- alleviate that pain, that aching pain he felt in his head.


    It was- it was a dream? All of that was a dream?


    N... No, that happened, did it not? It did... it happened. That dream, though, felt... lifelike. Extremely lifelike. Unsettlingly real.


    And his back! His back, still having felt like he collapsed against a floor... when, when in truth, it... it was just comfortably lying against a well cushioned rustic chaise lounge chair. Made from the wood of the Indonesian teak tree, an endangered species of deciduous tree, Charles... vividly remembers its retail value being approximately twenty-one hundred pounds for a single chair, a value for its resilience to weather conditions and all...


    ... Charles- Charles continues to look around for a bit, getting a grasp on his surroundings, before he finds Chouko. The little girl walking closer to him, approaching the seat he rested in. Standing before him in some sort of black robe, with a cap on her head, too... formally dressed for a special occasion, and everything.


    "A... Ah. Chouko... I..." Charles faintly calls out, before raising an eyebrow. Seeing this outfit, it... dawns on him, she''s wearing a graduate''s robe. A uniform for graduating students at Chouko''s level, as they are awarded degrees and such! It was a sweet summer''s day, with the sun shining down on this occasion...! "Wait... wait a moment...! Chouko- today, today''s your graduation!" Glancing at his pocket watch, glancing at the time... staring in horror. "A-And it''s already over?! Oh- oh dear...!"


    "Father, it''s okay... I had the, uhm, chauffeur drive me... I didn''t miss it..."


    "W-Well, I missed it!" Charles interjects, looking to Chouko with anguish on his face. Tension and worry plastered over it, staring at her with overwhelming concern and disappointment. "I- I fell asleep in this chair, and- and missed it! I missed one of your most crowning achievements! I should have been there..."


    "It''s okay, Father... people make mistakes..."


    "I- I know, but..." Charles- lets out a sigh, taking a few deep breaths. Sitting back down in the lounge chair, just sighing. There was no use fretting about it... he''s already missed the ceremony and everything. He glances up at the sky, staring at the clouds above. Seeing a thick cloud, drifting along in the air with a warm summer''s breeze... sorrow on his face, feeling guilt for not having been there.


    "... hm, hmmm~ hmmmmm...~"


    "..." Charles watches as Chouko approaches the chair, staring at her as she hums the first three notes of Claire de Lune. Smiling warmly at her as she does this, starting to- feel better, immediately. As Chouko vocally performed for him his most favorite of songs. His nerves calmed, humming along with her. Both of them locked into the most comforting of melodies.


    He takes a moment to adjust himself, to give Chouko room on the chair to sit with him. The two of them gazing up at the sky, seeing the clouds pass by. Almost practically able to hear the piano keys themselves, as they hum to their hearts'' content.


    Losing themselves in this peace, just enjoying the pleasant summer day with some cloud watching and music. Starting to relax and smile at the scenery above...


    ... but... Charles interrupts, stopping for a moment. Chouko''s voice going silent at this pause.


    "... sorry, Chouko..." Charles begins to explain. "I... I woke up in bad condition. I had the worst of dreams, a- a disorienting nightmare. A sort of- reliving of what happened in New York, months prior..."


    Chouko- takes a moment to move herself to hug Charles the best she could, snuggling into him and trying to comfort him. Charles just watches, staring down as she does this, as she tries best to comfort him.


    "... do... do you- want to talk about it, Father?"


    "Yes... yes, I... I would like that," Charles speaks, wrapping an arm around Chouko and taking a deep sigh at the sky. "In this nightmare, after we arrived at the hotel..."


    Hesitantly, Charles began to recount the events of this... nightmare, tip-toeing around some of the more gruesome details. But the main idea is conveyed. The thugs that broke into the room, threatened his life, and held him at gunpoint.


    It felt as if he died, and... he hugs Chouko tighter in silence, tears trailing down his cheeks. "I was- terrified... the thought just- sends limitless chills down my spine..."


    "... I... I think that dream... it... you''re worried about letting me go."


    Charles- stares at Chouko as she says this. As she blurts this out, understanding his... thoughts... after he simply explained the dream. Then he remembers. Right... right. Chouko was studying psychology. She knows about all this dream stuff, as dreams... peer into one''s psychology.


    Sure, he doesn''t know any of this information, but... he trusts Chouko, and... and she''s right. She''s right about that. He is afraid of letting her go. He immediately brings Chouko into his arms, hugging her closely.


    "C... Chouko... as smart as ever. You''re growing up every single day, faster and faster. I''ve felt worried about it for ages. You''ve done nothing but succeed... a... and... and I''m proud of you. I''m so proud of you, my wonderful, beautiful daughter. But I want more time with the little girl I adopted, the little girl I''ve accepted into my heart... l... life is just too fast..."


    The two remain in this hug, Chouko sobbing a little...


    "I... I agree, Father. I- I don''t want to let you go either... I want to stay with you forever..."


    Sharing a mutual sorrow, worried about losing the other... Charles... just... smiles faintly.


    But, after letting those words out... Charles lets out a sigh. He needed to be the strong one in this case, to... to accept the inevitable, that Chouko is to continue with her life. "... but... Chouko... I- I am an old man... I know, more than anyone, that my time will come. That you will have to stand on your own two feet as an Ashford, and that I won''t be able to hold your hand and guide you anymore. We must be- strong, Chouko... strong for the future."


    "... b... but-"


    Charles hugs Chouko a little bit tighter, arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace, as he smiles through his tears. "But... nothing. That''s- that is one of the greatest things an old fool like me can behold, knowing that his daughter is ready, is prepared. In fact- you''re already someone I can be proud of! A beautiful, young lady who will take the reins and excel to success. You''re an esteemed graduate with a degree in psychology, and everything... and... and I''m proud to call you my daughter. Now, and forever!"


    They remain in this cozy hug for a long time... the world before them passing. Charles watches as the clouds go faster and faster, as if he was losing track of time itself. Charles considered this a surreal feeling, but... he also felt at peace. Charles was ready. Charles was ready for the future...


    He- he holds his daughter, one last time, lifts her up into the air. Hands on her side, holding his little girl up and gazing up at her.


    Right before his eyes, watching as she blocks out the sun and looks back at him with her innocent smile. His eyes blinking as the six year old before him appears once again, tears trailing from his eyes as nostalgia floods his view. Looking up at her in pride, his eyes watering from tears of joy.


    "Chouko... I..." he calls out, as the sunlight envelops his eyes... as the sight of his little girl fades, and as her voice rings out once again... one last time...


    "I love you too, Father..."


    ...


    ... and...


    ... Charles was gone.


    Charles died immediately as the gunshot finishes him off. Piercing his head, bleeding out onto the suite carpet. All life in his body, gone, as his arms fall limp.


    But in the span of a single second... Charles faced that gunshot. Faced the end of his existence with a cold stare. Eyes closed, albeit... wincing from the pain... but... he went out with eyes closed, rather than horrified.


    "... huh," the unmasked thug speaks, sighing at the dead body with disappointment. "Well, then... job''s done. Let''s get out of here."


    The two men begin leaving the king''s suite, heading out the front door of the suite. The ski-masked thug dragging the luggage with him as they flee the scene with the Ashfords'' belongings.


    With Charles''s dead body left behind, the sound of a gunshot alerting surrounding nearby guests, with hotel staff notified and police called...


    ... Chouko was left frozen underneath the bed, her eyes peeking out to see Charles''s body.

 #4 - Why?

    Once the men left the room... Chouko crawled out from under the bed. Terrified and shaking after all of that, having kept quiet with the bed as cover and safety... she- she comes out to see the resulting scene. Reaching out for his hand, holding it gently.


    "F-Father, they''re- they''re gone," Chouko tells him, smiling lightly at him. "You... you don''t need to..."


    ...


    It''s gone limp.


    Chouko... spent an eternity at the man''s side, her hands shaking as she held his hand. His lifeless, limp hand. One that doesn''t respond to the fidgeting, shaking of hers. The father who''s held her hand and guided her these last four years, the one who comforted her when she was scared.


    Charles''s body lies before her, just... dead. Gone.


    Chouko''s smile, gone at this feeling, as her eyes gaze upon her father. Staring at him in the condition he was left in, struggling to- feel any sort of life remaining in his body. Unable to feel his pulse, his heartbeat. If not for the... blood... coming out of his head, she would have thought his blood stopped flowing entirely. The blood coming from his head, horrifyingly draining out in a subtle puddle against the carpet.


    The sight was too much for this little girl. Chouko feels nothing but a... a sense of dread. Hollow, hollow dread. An overwhelming feeling overtaking her, being left alone like this. The air she breathed a putrid, rotten smog, almost pricking her with needles with each tremble. It takes her ages to register the fatal wound. Seeing the gunshot in his head, engraving in her a morbid feeling that she didn''t want to understand.


    The girl hoped with all her heart, even with the sight before her, that her father would wake up. That... that he''d be okay. That he''d see his daughter and hug her, hug her close, hug her tight. Hug her and keep her safe and reassure her that she didn''t need to be scared and that there was no reason to be scared. The men were gone. It''s just him and her.


    As much as Chouko tried, as much as she could hope for the best, Charles cannot do that anymore. Charles will never be able to keep her safe ever again.


    Chouko clings to this hope, stares in complete and utter silence, hoping that he would. Her small hands holding the cold hand in front of her. Left all by her lonesome, alone in that room, the truth of the matter closing in. Almost freezing every single... ounce... of Chouko''s body. A cold chill shuddering through her veins, causing her to helplessly sob a waterfall of tears down her cheeks.


    The world began to cry for Charles as well. The overcast weather of the city turned to light showers. Chouko hears the sounds of raindrops falling against the patio, the sound ringing out to her right. Thoughts rushed and roared into Chouko''s mind like a storm, her lingering words the lightning and thunder. The image of her father warping before her very eyes, obscured by the sorrow that clouds her vision. Covering his body in a thickening fog.


    Death... death was no foreign concept to her, it- it should have come as naturally as words on a page. Its prevalence in Shakespearean works, the fate that befalls all. Chouko understood death, it happens, it''s natural. This should be natural to her, she- she shouldn''t be this shaken.


    This shouldn''t hurt, this- it shouldn''t.


    ... and yet, it does.


    Why?


    Why does it hurt?


    Why does it feel like this?


    Why is it- hard to breathe right now...?


    Why after why flooding Chouko''s head, head riddled with nothing but questions. Questions she didn''t know the answer to, questions she scavenges her mind for. Desperately scraping for them, the hands in her mind tearing page after page out of it. For every word she couldn''t find, however, the sight before her speaks thousands upon thousands of words. Smothering her body in a landfill of pictures, burying her frail body at the very bottom, making her drown in her own questions.


    Death never made sense to Chouko. Her father''s death doesn''t make sense. Charles was- Charles was a good man. Good for his country, a businessman of high upstanding... a good friend to- to many people that she got to see... he- he was nothing but a good father! So- why? Why would someone do this? What would drive someone to take him away from the living, pry his soul from his body and drag him up and away from this mortal world?!


    Chouko''s hands tighten their grip on Charles''s, refusing to separate from the hand of her father, wanting to keep him here. Here, in this room. Wanting him to open his eyes. She doesn''t want to let him go, she couldn''t. She couldn''t let him go. Not like this, not like this. Not like this!


    Desperately asking over and over again: why? Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!


    Chouko wanted to cry out in anguish, wanted to scream out to whoever could hear her, hoping that her father could hear her. Her fingers tightening on his hand, hoping that some miracle would occur to bring her father back to life. Something had to be out there, right? Those stories of revival, of rebirth. Tears wouldn''t bring Charles back, so something else is needed. A whimsical potion, a wave of the wand, a star or a genie or even the paw of a monkey, there had to be something else... right? Right? Please, please let there be something, please...!


    She drops his hand, and- grabs his arm. Crying into the fabric of his bathrobe, clinging to his lifeless arm. Using all of her to keep him here, to pull him back. Attempting to share with him some of her life, using the- the magic of her heart to revive him. That- that should be enough, right? Giving him some of her youth, helping him lose some of his years, right? Right?!


    ... hands begin to pry Chouko away from her father. People starting to discover the sight, hotel staff entering the room and quickly trying to get the little girl away from the corpse. Arms wrapping around her, trying to comfort the child.


    "L- Let go of me! Let me go!" Chouko yells as she''s separated from Charles, pried away from her father. Her small, little lungs screaming out with all their might to deaf ears, left hyperventilating into the body of a monster. Unable to see her father as she''s escorted to a false safety, she screamed out for him, calling for her father, struggling to escape.


    Helpless to do anything for him as she''s taken from the room, unable to do anything to save Charles. Having been unable to do anything to save Charles.


    She was taken out of the hotel room as the entire hotel was in an uproar. Guests now aware of the break in and subsequent murder, with staff swamped all over to ensure people''s safety. Chouko escorted to the ground floor for the time being, supposedly being kept safe in the lobby far away from the crime scene.


    "Hey- little girl... Miss- Miss Ashford, right?"


    Chouko''s watery eyes look up, staring at the lobby receptionist of the hotel. Staring at him. Staring at the person that wasn''t her father.


    "Listen- I- I need to call the police, to help your daddy..." The receptionist- looks around, picking up a nearby teddy bear to hand to the girl. "H-Here, Buttons here will keep you company, I''ll be right back..."


    Chouko stares at the bear for a while. The teddy with soft, brown fur. Its innocent little smile as it gazes forward with its black button eyes. She stares back with her red gaze, silently keeping it in her hands. "..."


    The receptionist quickly moves to the landline phone, taking it off of its place and dialing the number for 911. On phone with the police, starting to inform them of the situation. How- how the esteemed Charles Ashford was found dead in his king suite by some neighboring guests. Beginning to answer as many questions as he could. The address of the hotel, the condition that the body was left in, the gunshot to the head... what staff were doing and all.


    In his call, he made one error. His back was turned to Chouko.


    The receptionist was informing the police of the little girl that was on the scene, when the body was found. When he turned back to check on her, he... only saw the teddy bear in her place. No girl in sight.


    "... uh-! Uhm- little girl?! M-Miss Ashford?!" the receptionist calls out. "H-Hold on, officer, I''ll be right back-" Quickly running from the phone to look around for where she could have gone.


    Suspecting the worst, he ran out of the hotel entrance and looked around, looking to see if she fled the building. Quickly asking any pedestrian passerby if they saw a little girl leave, with no answer as to where she could have gone.


    The hustle and bustle of New York City''s population enough to hide a little girl that was running through the streets. Chouko running as fast as her ten year old legs could carry her, running surprisingly quick.


    Abandoning all sense of rationality, not knowing what came over her in that instant. Running past crowds upon crowds of people, aimlessly running on her own. Stepping and stomping through each puddle, the rain glistening her hair as it blows in the wind.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Chouko doesn''t keep track of how long she''s been running. Building after building passing by her, the golden headlights of cars and street lamps brushing past her as she runs down street after street, crossing intersection after intersection. No destination in mind, aimlessly using the cover of rain to hope no one recognizes her.


    Nothing in her mind made sense right now. It was all just a blind static of useless information. Without Charles, without her father, without- her mentor, her teacher, her guardian, her guide... she didn''t know what to do. She didn''t know what she could have done.


    Everything that could have been possible, coming into her head like a roaring river, the one that she was currently running along. If she had been out on that balcony, the- the man who entered that way would have found her. It was by some- miracle- that she decided to hide under that bed.


    And further miracles echo in her mind as if she was desperately trying to find some alternate outcome. Shutting down each- possibility, whatever rationality she had devoted to explaining why it was impossible to do anything for Charles.


    It wouldn''t have worked if she came out of that bed and tried to attack those men. It wouldn''t have worked if she threw her book at the gun to try and fend him off. It wouldn''t have worked if she turned on the television to distract them, momentarily.


    Chouko was only a little girl, a ten year old. She wasn''t a knight, she wasn''t a fairy, she wasn''t anything important. Trembling as her supposed intelligence amounted to nothing, losing sight of what made her special. What good was any of it, now that her father was gone? All the information she had useless, the information she doesn''t have now out of her reach.


    Ultimately, she felt- helpless, useless, powerless. In this moment, running was all she had. She wasn''t even athletic, it was just a lingering impulse. Inspiration from the stories of a hero going on a grand adventure, far away from their beginnings. Hoping for some respite from this...


    ... this...


    ... grief.


    Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. The five stages of grief.


    On Death and Dying, 1969. A foundational study based on interviews with patients, focusing on the feelings of patients to alleviate the pain of loss.


    This- this was just a momentary incident...! Chouko- found herself smiling. Seeing a ray of hope forward, realizing that this ends with- acceptance! Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance! It was so simple!


    Chouko brightly beams and smiles as she continues to run, as the rain falls and she smiles through this pain. Knowing that, at the end, she''ll feel better, that she will go through acceptance! That she''ll accept...


    Accept... that... her father was...


    ...


    Chouko''s smile faded as the light fades, as she continues to run in the dark overcast. Each shaky breath escaping her lips.


    Chouko was going to accept that her father is dead.


    That''s... that''s something she''s going to feel. Acceptance that he''s gone. She''ll look back on this day, suffering this grief, and accept that Charles died.


    Those words, repeating in her head. Accepting that he died. Accepting that he was killed. Accepting that the men who broke into the hotel room killed her father, the man that did no wrong in her eyes. Through some means, Chouko was going to... accept... accept...


    Is... is that what... why is... what...


    ...


    "... h... haha... hahahahahaha..."


    Chouko''s eyes trembled as she started to laugh, as her mouth contorted into a smile. As she found herself slowing down, a hand covering her mouth.


    This confused her. Why was she laughing? Why was she showing signs of... happiness? Why was she happy? Chouko pressed her hands against her mouth, choking back the laughter that escaped her lips. She- she shouldn''t be feeling happy, she shouldn''t- shouldn''t feel this at all. What she should feel is grief, sadness, this absolute, mortal terror. The fear coursing through her body as she flees, as she runs. All she should feel is the aching pain of witnessing her father''s... corpse... the man''s death engraving itself into her memories. This feeling of misery, this anguish and pure fear...


    But... she was laughing. Eyes wide, gazing forward at her late father, each ounce of her innocence being bled through her eyes, escaping through her lips a corrupted delight?


    Her mind trailing her back to that room, seeing the horrific sight before her again. Her eyes blinking as the fresh scent of blood fills the air again.


    "..."


    Her eyes look around, glancing at this image. Seeing the images of the two men before her, or- at least, what she saw underneath that bed. Chouko found herself locked in this thought, her imagination creating the entirety of the room before her.


    Starting to lock herself in this scene, lost in thought. In a space of her own to really think about it, to visualize it all as if it were a book unfolding before her. Separating the her thinking about it from the her in the image. Chouko- walked around that room, lightly lifting the cover that concealed the bottom of the bed. Seeing that terrified little girl with her book and everything.


    Chouko has already thought about the "what ifs" to prevent Charles''s death, and why they don''t work. There was nothing else to think about, so... what exactly...


    ... The Count of Monte Cristo. The book that was under the bed-hiding Chouko''s arm.


    Chapter 15, page 115.


    He told himself that it was the enmity of man... that had thus plunged him into the deepest misery. He consigned his unknown persecutors to the most horrible tortures he could imagine... and found them all insufficient.


    Chouko felt a... flickering light in her eye, one she needed in this darkest of moments. For all she''s read, The Count of Monte Cristo was... the book that alluded her. The one that she claimed was her favorite, for its complexities and such. A book she wanted to read because of the cover, because it was a large and lengthy classic.


    Chouko never understood why she liked it, why she liked this novel. But it dawns on her that she was simply... too young to get it. Too innocent to understand Dant¨¨s, completely. The book was, in truth, dialogue heavy and difficult for her to go through.


    However... however, Chouko was reaching a revelation, that she wasn''t that innocent girl anymore. Cracking a smile, staring at this truth uncontrollably, that she... could put herself in the footsteps of this man.


    "H... Hahaha... hahahahaha..."


    While the work is complicated, the idea behind it wasn''t: Dant¨¨s was driven to revenge. Simple as that, to seek vengeance on those that have wronged him.


    Chouko sees herself in that scenario. Locked in her own prison, this despair and anguish coursing through her veins. Clarity coming to her mind as her body shakes and trembles. With not a soul around her to help, she confided in her own thoughts... starting to- embrace this laughter.


    As her mouth contorts to a smile. As she was unable to contain a single laugh. Thinking to herself: Charles is dead. And accepting the truth of that is inevitable.


    But she has mistakenly generalized acceptance. What she didn''t accept was that he "had to die". That these men had a reason to kill him.


    Kuroiwa... Kuroiwa. The name reverberates in her head. "Kuroiwa". The regards to be sent from this... name. All Chouko knows is what that assassin said, the words that he uttered. Kuroiwa sent his regards. That was the name of the person who caused Charles to die. These men were here to kill him because of... Kuroiwa.


    "H... hahahahahahahahahaha...!"


    Chouko has glee beaming on her face, realizing that she didn''t have to accept their reason.


    What was to stop her from... from wishing harm on them as well? On those two men, on this Kuroiwa? That she was too young? That she was a child?


    No, no, no... Chouko ignored that for a moment. She didn''t see herself as a grieving child- no. She''s "accepted" the death, now she... she felt herself possessed with unyielding fury. In the shoes of Edmond Dant¨¨s, a hypothetical that she was a man with everything taken from him.


    "Hahahahahahaha- ahahahahahahaha...! Ahahahahahahaha!"


    Standing up from the body, laughing through each ounce of sadness, purely maniacal sounds echoing off of the walls. At risk of disrupting the surrounding hotel guests, Chouko couldn''t keep it in any further. Lingering thoughts develop and grow.


    Chouko wanted bad things to happen to these men. Bad things to transpire, starting to lose herself in the resulting delusions.


    That man that entered from the balcony... what is to stop Chouko from making it so that he wasn''t on the balcony? What is to stop Chouko from... from... pushing him off?


    The room shifts in imagery, the man moving back out to the balcony. Chouko reaches out, hand pressing against his body, watching as he falls backwards and...


    ...


    Chouko rewinds this, the man rising back up to the balcony. Letting the events continue. She takes a moment to stare at her father, staring at him for some time, before- the image of him fades. Seeing what she could of the man that killed him.


    Charles''s anguish and terror, on this man''s face. Charles''s lifeless body... this man''s body.


    Chouko absolutely lost herself in this anticipation, her breath hyperventilating, unaware of what was ultimately happening. Whatever thought flooded her mind, whatever trope began to claim her thoughts and corrupt her soul. This growing, bubbling schadenfreude... this joy at the killer''s misfortune.


    Eyes fluttering as she recalls the Grimm''s rendition of Cinderella. Seeing the text fly past her eyes, remembering how... how the stepsisters mutilated their feet in order to fit into the slipper, the crows laughing and mocking them for their attempts.


    Going so far as to remember Act 2 of MacBeth! Scraps of the text, lingering in her head, the quotes meshing together into some amalgamation of adjectives to describe inner turmoil. The dagger, floating in the midst of the air as eloquently put by Shakespeare.


    In form as palpable as this, which now she draw. Such an instrument she was to use. On thy blade and dudgeon, goutes of blood... it is the bloody business which informs thus to mine eyes. Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse the curtained sleep. Whiles I threat, he lives... words to the head of deeds too cold breath gives.


    Chouko is... unknowingly... straying away from the path that Charles would have wanted from her. The future she was to hold, tainted by his death. In its place, the rampant make-believe that claimed her heart as the Ashford name dies in this suite, the dangerous mindset that this unfortunate child was succumbing to. Driving herself mad with glee and anticipation at what is to come.


    Charles Ashford is dead, soul carried to the heavens... and Chouko Ashford, starting to rise as well. The spirit of the girl fading and rising after her father, seeking his wisdom once more... as the body that remains, it readies itself to wander elsewhere.


    The little girl found herself just staring blankly as she turns around, starting to walk back to the hotel... starting to return after achieving this clarity. The little girl starting to return to a hotel of adults, seeing what fate will befall her, seeing where she will end up upon her return to reality.


    This little girl stares as she succumbs further into the abyss before her, this self-induced darkness. Expelling best the misery that once remained, now feeling elated. Death and suffering is inevitable, one that befell Charles Ashford... and... inevitable to those that the girl could see before her. Each drop of suffering something to thrive off of.


    This feeling clouding her senses. Sight, touch, hearing, smell... even taste. Enveloping herself in this... fantasy.


    Feeling herself laughing her lungs out, even as she silently stares forward. This deranged, insane laughter persisting in her head. Incoherent static aggressively tearing away at her mind. A twisted look in what was once pure eyes, following a path she felt destined to walk. One that she and she, alone, will tread.


    The girl doesn''t know how, when, where... all she knows is that it will. It will happen. The day will come.


    I go, and it is done. The bell invites me. Hear it not... (Kuroiwa)... for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell.


    "A-Ahahaha... AHAHAHAHA...! H-HAHAHAHA- HAHAHAHAHA...!"


    Farewell, kindness, humanity, and gratitude. Farewell to all the feelings which expand the heart!


    "A- AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"


    Farewell... Chouko Ashford.

 #5 - Nine Years in the Making

    Charles Ashford. Age, 56.


    "Honorable to all. Friend of many. A loving father and a successful businessman."


    The funeral was held one Friday weeks following the fact. His death in the obituary, scheduled for a nice 16:00 in a Birmingham church. A church that Charles, personally, arranged for his funeral to take place in. His staff were given express instructions on how the funeral will occur in the event of his death, with butlers and maids arranging the funeral.


    Due to the nature of his death, there was a sizeable attendance at this most public of occasions. Business partners and friends present to mourn a good man''s death. News reporters and journalists present to cover the following service. Teachers and classmates of his heir, and daughter, making time to be present as well.


    "... it is with deepest regrets that I must announce that my father has passed..."


    Chouko Ashford stands and gives her eulogy, dressed in funeral uniform of pure black. As the only family Charles had left, really, she was under great self pressure to give the speech. Readying to have her words documented by those blatantly holding notepads in their hands and all. Only recently, this child was shown with delight and joy.


    Now, not a soul could see her smile.


    As she goes on and on about fond memories of Charles, cementing him as the kind, protective, generous man he was. As the ten year old Chouko was expected to succumb to tears and sadness. The attendees simply witness a ten year old with no more tears to shed. Her words empty and hollow, eyes blankly gazing forward as she speaks.


    Chouko''s concluding words... "May his soul rest free, contently in Heaven, blind to the world he departs from..."


    Her voice hesitant at the end, hiding whatever sadness lingers in those words, before she goes back to her seat. Sitting right at the front, blankly staring as the proceedings continue.


    It was all a blur to Chouko, really...


    "... apologies, Lady Ashford. There is a man out front, requesting for your presence. He was not permitted to enter given his... special guest."


    Chouko looks at the butler, the blur interrupted by the whispering man. Her eyebrow raised, she... curiously gets up from her seat and briefly departs, being escorted to the front of the church, various funeral attendees watching as Charles''s only family departs.


    There, outside, Chouko encounters that... inventor. The one that conducted that presentation weeks ago. With him, on a wheel cart, the mass of machinery that was Vanilla.


    "A-Ah! Uhm- hey, little girl!" the inventor greets, an awkward smile on his face with an inappropriately upbeat tone behind his voice.


    "Good afternoon..." Politely nodding to the inventor, before directing her attention to Vanilla. "And... good afternoon to you."


    "Yes. Good afternoon," Vanilla speaks... before letting out a robotic sigh. As human as ever. "... I... I am sorry for your loss, Chouko. Charles was a good man..."


    The inventor... nods slowly. "Mhmm... w-we happened to be in town, and... came to pay our respects. To think it- it happened the day we meet and everything... I- I''m so sorry it happened."


    "Sorry for your loss," Vanilla corrects him.


    Chouko just... nods lightly at the two. "Thank you. You have arrived in the late stage of the funeral. Respects are being paid, and... momentarily, the church will lay Father to rest in its burial ground and all. Father... would have enjoyed knowing you two came to pay respects, I suppose."


    "A-Ah..." the inventor noises, fidgeting idly. "W... Would you like a hug? I- I think people hug at funerals to feel better..."


    Chouko... narrows her eyes slightly, before she nods idly at this sudden request. "I see no issue with it."


    And then, with permission, Chouko is promptly hugged by the young American in an attempt to comfort the little girl in her time of mourning.


    A hopelessly awkward exchange for an entire, uncomfortable fifteen to twenty seconds. This wasn''t going the way that the inventor expected at all.


    "..." After the hug, Chouko just nods faintly and pulls away from the hug. "I will be seeing you two some other time. I must return to the proceedings and all."


    "Y... Yeah, sounds good- uhm- tell your pops that- I''ll miss him, and I''ll make him proud and all!" the inventor exclaims.


    Vanilla- turns to almost stare at her creator as he says this. One could practically see the judgment on her face at this.


    Chouko turns and starts to walk away. "Very well. I will let him know."


    "Uhm- Chouko," Vanilla... speaks up, calling for the girl. "... I have- processed, lately, Gulliver''s Travels."


    "Jonathan Swift, yes?" Chouko asks. "I am familiar."


    "Yes... we... I would like to talk about it with you sometime," Vanilla requests.


    "... we will see. Until then, cheers," Chouko responds. Entering the church again, walking out of the machine''s view.


    After that, the inventor and Vanilla begin to walk away. Starting to leave the church after their brief chat with Chouko.


    The inventor lets out a sigh, hopelessly just- cringing at that entire interaction. "Ugh... great. Just what I needed before a big conference..."


    The one saving grace of that entire thing was that he didn''t bring up the reason they were in the country: presenting Vanilla in Birmingham for another presentation, invited overseas to a tech demo and a talk show. Moving up on the world, on the same day and country as the funeral and everything. That would have been absolutely abysmal...


    Vanilla was left pondering Chouko''s response, its artificial intelligence... thinking as it asks its creator: "Question... did Chouko seem- distant to you?"


    "Huh?" The inventor raises an eyebrow at this question. Distant? "I- I mean, sure, but it''s a funeral and her dad died and all... I don''t blame her..."


    "No. I mean... distant, distant. Like... she..."


    For a while, the nation was brought to tears over the death of Charles. The tragedy in that king''s suite spread throughout the nation, and brief memorials were held to honor the man.


    ... but news, afterwards, quickly turn to old news.


    The fact that it was an overseas murder fades away from attention. The crime was just another statistic in the US, with officers having gotten all they could from forensics and witness reports. Chouko cooperated the best she could, but these men will never face justice, and Charles''s body is buried away.


    Businesses began to separate from the Ashfords. Bought out by other partners to put them under new management, now that Charles was gone. Many of them wanted to keep Charles''s spirit alive in their company goals, but... none of them found interest in continuing contact with Chouko.


    Now that Charles was gone, Chouko... Chouko didn''t have any help available to handle the affairs. She understood none of the paperwork, nor did she have assistance in managing any of Charles''s assets. The maids, butlers, and groundskeepers begin seeking new employment.


    Various assets in the Ashford Manor have begun to be seized and auctioned off. The books in the Ashford library were quite valuable, sold off alongside more and more of his furniture for a pretty pound.


    The thing that Chouko struggled to part with, however, was the piano. And when its time came, Chouko... spent an entire day in that room, sitting at its bench. For some time, Chouko''s hands hover over the keys. She stares forward at the sheet music, knowing exactly what note she needed to play.


    But none of her fingers press down on the keys.


    "..."


    Chouko was escorted off of the premises, taken away from her childhood home. Chouko ultimately proved to be an incompetent head of the Ashford family. Charles simply raised her as a child and - altogether - she had no further guidance on how to run the family businesses. To make matters worse, her... attendance... for her last year of education took a severe hit. She was unable to graduate and needed a repeat... one that she ultimately never fulfilled.


    Pretty soon, after... months... the manor itself was foreclosed. Standing in front of the gate, hand raised and rested gently in the air, the girl holding onto something that no longer existed.


    Eventually, Chouko... left it all behind. With no staff remaining to accompany her, and all business partners moving on from the Ashfords, she was nothing more than a common face. Fading away from media attention, her name losing its power and relevancy. The only unique thing left about her was her red eyes, which was no longer recognizable in public.


    Chouko was just... erased from the media. Beyond a dead man''s legacy and the growing obscurity of the Ashford name, the world moved on and focused on other topics.


    In Chouko''s place, media focus shifted to Vanilla. The old footage of Vanilla and Chouko talking was now substituted for Vanilla''s newest conversations with other people.


    "So- Vanilla! Good to have you on the show!"


    "Thank you, thank you. It''s great to be on here, everyone! Glad to see all your smiling faces! ... haha."


    The pure, lifelike realism of Vanilla charmed the hearts of people around the world. Celebrities were in love with this android. From athletes to movie stars, and talk show hosts to news anchors. Overwhelming amounts of publicity showered Vanilla all around the world, with investors and companies beginning to look into Vanilla and her technology.


    "So, you''re operating all of the time? Like, a fully functioning person?"


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Yes, indeed. My operational time has been three weeks so far!"


    "Wow! You hear that, folks? We got ourselves a night owl here!"


    "Hoot, hoot!"


    Within its mess of wires and machinery, people soon found out that the inventor was either a revolutionary genius, or got extremely lucky. The source of Vanilla''s power was primitively wired to minimize the necessary electricity. Meaning, Vanilla ran almost indefinitely for months with the same power it took to charge a phone.


    A miracle wonder in the face of other AI technology requiring plentiful amounts of power to run. The Vanilla prototype was a miracle wonder of science, one that prompted the inventor to an overwhelming success. Riches and money to further develop his project, propelling him and Vanilla to luxury.


    While Vanilla was regularly maintained and updated, she soon found competition starting to come after her. Other inventors began coming out with their own models, trying to claim the success Vanilla held. With them, more inventors started to work on their own "Vanilla", even building off of the leaked source code of the prototype. Years upon years of technical development transpire, inspiring and causing an oversaturation of supposed tech geniuses wanting to achieve the success Vanilla met.


    Moore''s Law, in layman''s terms, is the theory that computers and technology exponentially double every two years. With countless people in a worldwide competition to come out on top, this law was stretched to its utter limits, with constant growth and improvement to surpass all human limits. The race began to innovate and improve, products being cranked out like crazy, and several companies have begun rising to the top with their renditions of the Vanilla prototype.


    Vanilla became the backbone of android technology, with pre-existing android technology plastered over it. If a tech company didn''t have their own version of Vanilla, their stocks would significantly drop to the point of bankruptcy. The fall of many tech giants came from this, with unsustainable Vanilla copies that never matched the same amounts of humanity as Vanilla and new rising tech companies achieving high amounts of success in a new wave of technology.


    With this success, however, came... controversy. Development of AI has shifted into being as human as possible, thus causing the newest renditions to become eerily human. Overwhelmingly human. To the point where, with copies like Chocolate and Orange, the realistic human technology came with a synthetic and lifelike mechanical body. They could talk like humans, walk like humans, grab things and drive cars like humans, even perform and work like humans. Many bring up that these models are better at being human than most humans were!


    With this, the concept was... starting to become less universally loved. What made Vanilla tolerable is the idea that the technology was just a mess of wires and machinery. Now that development was causing overwhelming amounts of functional artificial humans to spread into the world''s population, people began wondering: if these androids could act like humans, talk like humans and even live like humans, then what stops them from completely replacing humans?


    What stops the androids from replacing people? And if they did begin replacing people, would they stop before every human is replaced?


    This growing, irreparable mindset was proven correct, as companies discovered that mass produced androids surpass working humans in every way. Factories, construction sites, call centers and office buildings, countless industries effectively pushing out any need for organic labor whatsoever. People were sacked and fired after this increase in productivity, with androids that costed far less and complained far less than humans.


    With the way things were, humanity was on the path of becoming obsolete, and a Second Great Depression was seen coming over the horizon.


    Thus, humans needed to adapt and overcome. They needed to prove themselves more valuable than the androids, physically superior even.


    Companies met the android threat by creating new technology to change a human''s body, to theoretically surpass their physical and mental limits. Initially, it began with the following capabilities: prosthetic and mechanical arms to give super strength. New eyes and ears to cure the blind and deaf with super sight and hearing. Phones and neural chips in a person''s head to promote communication.


    Pretty soon, more and more uses were invented, making it possible for real people to compete with these fake humans. Generalized in the blanket term of "cyborg technology", cybernetics and organisms crossed together, people started to jump onto this bandwagon, and began relying on cyborgs to overcome the growing threat of androids. Investors dumped money into these projects, giving developers more incentive to go full steam ahead.


    This, in and of itself, spawned even worse issues faster than anyone could have expected. At a time when people needed it most, it was rare for a common man to afford any of it. People were rushing to get cybernetics, sacrificing parts of their lives to compete and survive. Controversy spawned as a result, with a vocal minority attempting to warn people not to get these implants.


    But it didn''t matter, it was a necessity. A plan to protect our way of life by ignore every ethical concern. The ends justified the means, propelling the majority into blind acceptance that cybernetics were the future. A path similar to how the public once thought about androids. The costs went down, more of the population became cyborgs...


    ... and in this mass panic, four years after the Vanilla prototype was presented... came the first major blow to artificial intelligence. The predecessor to human androids herself, the spark that inspired massive waves of progress...


    Vanilla... completely shut down. No response, no word. The technology was rendered... broken, suddenly.


    "V... Vanilla?! Vanilla, speak to me- h-hey! Vanilla!"


    The inventor refused to comment any further as to what happened, almost- struck with grief when Vanilla stopped responding altogether. But Vanilla was gone, and this secrecy spawned controversy. People immediately speculated on what could have happened to cause this, going wild with their imaginations. If the technology just failed, if it ran out of power and fried its components, or some other third cause- the world wanted an answer.


    Well, initially, it did.


    New questions rose up from this one, single case. This malfunction, this error, this shutdown. With it came high debate on the longevity of AI and androids as concepts. How they could keep up its power, how costly they were to the power grid, how they ultimately only functioned to "be human" and "do human things". Was it worth it to continue manufacturing these things if they''re just going to perish away like Vanilla did?


    The supposed "death of Vanilla" marked a major turning point. Current historians cite it as the start of humanity''s destruction, when the mass public began going insane.


    Now that the human androids showed a possibility of shutting down, of coming to a complete end after this campaign of replacement and fear, the humans... were finally safe. No need to worry about their lives being replaced. Androids were being scrapped and discarded once damaged, and there was no need to use cybernetics anymore.


    Or, so people thought. Cybernetics enhanced life in ways people thought unimaginable, products of innovation that struck gold. A surplus of effort was put into these things, and now they were expected to give it all up? No. Humans were bypassing their own limits, able to do these wondrous things. There was no reason to stop.


    And with this mindset, spawned what people call "the First Cybernetic Crime Spree". Catastrophic events transpire in just one year. With technology to surpass base humanity and a soon to be defunct android industry, nothing stopped people from committing any crime they wished.


    No population to suffer worse from this than the Americans, with damages going into the millions and casualties rising into the thousands.


    "Our top story today! Countless banks across America are being held up by these ''cybernetically enhanced men'', leaving many powerless. Exact numbers are still being processed, but at this time, it is suspected that these banks have been robbed of at least five hundred million dollars. What is the future of this country if these people are permitted to...?"


    "America''s hearts go out to the victims'' families. If you''re just now joining us, America has recently experienced one of the worst cases of arson, with one individual suspected to have burnt down 30 neighborhoods and counting. The known culprit is a ''Cyrus Hernandez'', a 22 year old Floridian that..."


    "And in bizarre fashion, a trend has come back to the Number 1 spot on social media. The tag, ''#FistMeFather'', is a tag used to post candid clips of brawls between cybernetic individuals in public places. Originating back at the start with Australian user ''FatherOfTheFist65'', a middle aged influencer promoting self defense classes, he was a witness to such a brawl at his son''s birthday party, when..."


    And the media went insane when a cybernetically augmented man ran into the United States White House with a comedically oversized magnet. Running through its halls at an alarming speed, jumping through its walls, an absolutely insane lunatic making a mockery of this country''s leadership.


    When the androids were under fire, the worst that happened were people losing jobs. Now that cybernetics were in this hot seat, atrocities of crimes and dangers to human life are being committed in massive waves.


    The world was in crisis, and its people needed a solution.


    Regulations were initially attempted by the government, but no one could agree on what action to take. Stricter regulations were a violation of basic human rights and freedoms. Looser regulations were a threat to human safety. A familiar American controversy, only with expanded international attention. The polarizing global problem of "what happens if these deranged criminals cross the ocean into other continents" divided the world.


    The only solution that could "work" in the long term... was to further lean into technology. Tech companies left in power to develop anything and everything to fully balance out and combat the cyborg crimes.


    With this freedom, cybernetics cemented themselves as an essential necessity for citizens to stay safe, with a mass number of loans offered and taken for people to install the basics: top of the line technology with access to security, emergency, and medical services.


    Police officers were turned cyborgs, with training to go no-tolerance on crime. If a criminal was spotted, the police force was to mobilize and arrest immediately. The cybernetic criminal either needed to give up instantaneously, or fight through a massive force that will follow the criminal to the ends of the earth.


    It has gotten to the lengths where it was safer to stay indoors than step a single foot out the door. Companies seized the opportunity to develop technology and software for eye technology, bringing to life a truly virtual reality where - for a price - those that wanted to stay especially safe could disappear into VR and isolate themselves from the outside completely.


    Cybernetics were wildly climbing to their peaks. But alongside the cybernetics, as options for those who wished to not be cyborgs, came the resurgence of AI and android companies as an alternative solution. There was now a rebirth of AI as humanity once knew it, as that recognizably artificial technology to serve their purposes more efficiently than the natural human.


    On one end, companies continued to prioritize humanizing androids to give humans hope in this crisis of cyborg criminals. People needed comfort, needed safety in this dangerous time of fear and terror. Thus, androids were introduced into the toy industry, creating androids to serve as mobile and lifelike human companions.


    The #1 spot for a company producing this type is "Sweet Bot Industries", founded on selling android sweethearts to spread comfort and safety. With programmed humanities deeply connected to Vanilla, these androids are named after desserts and pastries, with a sort of... disposable nature to them. Encouraging short term purchase with relatively low costs for an android that could shut down at any moment if desired.


    On the other end of the spectrum, to cover the problem Vanilla''s shutdown presented, many companies saw humanizing the androids as a lesser - if not nonexistent - priority. If the androids were less human, that would improve their long-term utility and open room for other defense purposes and safety features.


    Many companies took this approach, but the android powerhouse that came out on top is "The Caliber Company". Following the route of mass productions, with top of the line military technology, scientists and developers worked their hardest to make a quality product to guard everything. Banks, offices, ships, planes, homes... everything. For a rather expensive price, your life and safety was forever guaranteed with a Caliber Android.


    Nine years, nine years alone to pass as the world became a dystopia of technology. This subsection of the age of technology is aptly named the Artificial Revolution, as cybernetics and androids reign supreme as leading industries. An economy and society backed by pure controversy and chaos, public opinion shifting back and forth as the world became completely reliant on this subset of technology.


    Humanity''s worst fears, worst nightmares, and worst morals coming to life before everyone''s eyes.


    ... with the technological solutions serving as cover, drawing media attention away from the era''s most darkest of organizations, the most secretive of organizations.


    "Client: Unknown.


    Target: Terrence Gardner


    Deadline: 3 days.


    It has come to our attention that the CEO of Sedimate LLC. is preparing to release the testing prototype of Agridorm - an indoor, nutrient rich soil for growing crops - to thousands of households across the country. An anonymous tip has come in, with evidence that the product contains carcinogenic substances. Human safety is in danger.


    Before this release, action must be taken. The most optimal of ways is to leak his criminal background, to have public opinion and all investors stray away from this man. The Underworld is calling for an information leak of this man, to provide as much evidence of his crimes as possible.


    The address of his office has been provided. Time is of the essence.


    Pay: $20,000."


    "..." In an undisclosed location, with dossier in hand, a mercenary browses through the documents with skimming eyes. Taking note of each intricate detail provided, committing the information to her memory.


    ... before promptly burning the documents with a lighter. Tossing the ashes into a nearby bin, and making her way out into the streets. On her way to the address in question, ready to carry out this work.


    "See you soon, Gardner."

 #6 - The Profile of Terrence Gardner

    Sedimate LLC. A "farming" company located in Greene County, Pennsylvania. One of the more rural areas of the state, yet maintaining a solid distance from the urban area of Pittsburgh.


    The company building consists of its offices and lab, all combined together into one open site of land. The building a relative tall, about three floors in a narrow tower structure. Its architecture obscured by the surrounding trees, building site far away from registered residences. One would have to travel off road into the forest by their lonesome to arrive, making traditional human commutes difficult.


    There was nothing traditional about the company''s commutes, however. On immediate initial survey of the building itself, one fact made itself immediately known: all of the staff consisted of androids. Floors upon floors of androids surveying about.


    The company building was a Connection Office. All operations and work remotely controlled with the help of androids. Workers could be across the entire country, with one simply needing to connect to an android so that they can carry out and conduct this work.


    Buildings like this were common occurrence, with many wanting to not leave their houses while still needing to work. Most of the time, technology is optionally provided to company employees upon hiring, if the option made itself available. In the case of Sedimate, its hiring practices suggest that it only takes employees with pre-existing neural technology. Those that either have public models, or have rebranded ones from other companies.


    Curiously, all operations of Sedimate LLC occur 24/7. Later data shows that this company takes morning shifts, afternoon shifts, evening shifts, night shifts, and so on. Sedimate LLC may be receiving staff of all schedules, possibly of all time zones as well. The latter is more likely, as it uses physical paper to store its data. Everything is confined to the building itself, with androids having to pick up paper from traditional filing cabinets for its employees... likely a security precaution.


    Though, the most curious part of this company is the CEO''s office. On the top floor, the office holds an inactive android stylized to look exactly like the man in question. At night, the android remains inactive, suggesting that this was a personal android operational only when the CEO is awake and connected.


    The CEO in question living only 5 minutes away from the building. Living as a sole suburban house on a dirt road, land paved in a fresh grassland for it. This was a fresh construction site, most likely with recent renovations.


    Terrence Gardner. Age: 36. A man of... average appearance, simply going through his daily routine. Groaning in bed for a few minutes with actively fluttering eyes. Climbing out of bed, walking into his personal bathroom to presumably shower. He comes out of the bathroom after ten minutes. The man is dressed in a pure white bathrobe. Silk. Hood over his head, with hair still lathered in some sort of shampoo. Maybe conditioner.


    It should be noted that he possesses no curtains. His exit from the bathroom, all of this is visible from the outside, one able to see him while passing by, one able to see him by just looking in.


    One able to see him, indeed. Many safe spots to hide. Simple binoculars are enough to see everything in the house. The isolated nature of Gardner''s house is designed as a "disconnected from the bad of society" and "connected to the good of society", a lonely house personally constructed with no neighbors about. Houses like these are high in demand, given the likelihood of cybernetic criminals targeting well populated neighborhoods. Thus, owning this house is an exclusive rarity that suggests Gardner''s high wealth.


    Prior background and research reveals Gardner''s degree in business at the University of [REDACTED]. His graduation over a decade ago. Academic transcripts and behavioral history unavailable at this time, for legal reasons. The time between his graduation and his current position at Sedimate LLC has a six year gap, of which Gardner was promoted to CEO with no working history.


    Details are not lining up.


    Gardner spends time preparing and eating breakfast, preparing for himself... something relatively rich. A fresh charcuterie board. Meats, cheeses, and such, with ingredients he keeps in his refrigerator. There are not enough days for one understand his grocery shopping habits, but... his assortment of ingredients are varied.


    On top of varying types of sliced meat and cheese, he adds almonds, olives, mini pickles, tomato slices, grilled onions, honey, crackers, and baguettes. For 30 minutes, he spends time preparing the ingredients and organizing it accordingly on his board. It is unclear if he eats this every day, but the casual manner of which he prepares this board indicates he is in celebration. Either he is taking well to the celebratory successes of Agridorm''s development, or he simply enjoys French cuisine in general.


    Every so often, in the midst of preparation and consumption of this breakfast, the man stares off and gazes deeply at a fireplace every so often as his food prepares itself.


    High probability of optic nerves, but the fireplace is suspected to have some significance. Atop the fireplace, photo frames that consist of him with a woman. Gardner is seemingly not married yet, but the photo frames indicate something close. Possibly a romantic partner.


    From the hours of 7 to 15, Gardner spends his morning comfortably lying in bed. His android active early, in order to carry out his duties of sitting in an office chair and not leaving the office whatsoever.


    What his work entails is printing documents, filling out paperwork, and calling in meetings with employees as necessary. Traditional methods, the "meeting with the boss" style of arrangement. Inefficient when, ultimately, meetings can be conducted with private calls instead.


    These activities cease at around 11, on the dot, to which his activities are unknown from then on. The android remains inactive from 11 to 15, on a sort of... autopilot.


    Curious.


    15 onward, Gardner gets up from his bed and... curiously, departs from his home. Dressed in a fine black suit, leaving at the 20th minute. To which he departs from his home accordingly.


    He returns at 21, having been gone from his house for 7 hours. Today appears to be an outing. Five hours off on his lonesome, before he comes back with company. Their dialogue flirtatious in nature, indicating some sort of intimate relationship.


    Yet, this woman is completely different from the one in the photos. Initial assumptions about Gardner having a fianc¨¦e are in doubt.


    At first.


    Gardner and this woman are intimate for a short time, from 21:20 all the way to 21:29. Curiously, it should be noted that the room itself is soundproof. Afterwards, they cuddle in bed for some time, before a conversation transpires between them.


    The woman is sent walking without a car, and Gardner comfortably remains in bed. Her whereabouts unknown, simply just walking back in the direction of Pittsburgh.


    Curiously, with this information, enough is prevalent about Gardner to suggest the following: womanizer who actively cheats on his fianc¨¦e for people he meets on outings. Due to the secluded nature of both his company building and his home, Terrence has made a life of comfort and safety the plains of Pennsylvania, while still in proximity to the city of Pittsburgh.


    Given Sedimate LLC''s developing nature, one must be curious if he is simply updating his life for the richer things, or if he''s already had this life for a while.


    From then on, activity transpires back at Sedimate, Gardner''s android active until 22:30. Afterwards, he sleeps in the aftermath of the sheets.


    The actions he takes following this are redacted.


    The following day, Gardner follows his same routine. Uniformity behind his actions. Strict routines as ever, awakening at 6. Shampoo and conditioner in his hair, making yet another charcuterie board. Photos are provided of both, if one wants to... replicate it.


    Gardner''s work is the same as ever. The man loves his routine. 7 to 9, working, before his android goes inactive.


    11:10.


    Security in the android is lacking. Rather easily controllable. Even with present, primitive methods.


    The essential findings following this are listed below.


    Every single document in his office has been analyzed and scanned by the android. A good majority of it follows the standard nature of bureaucratic documents, many of which are irrelevant in every single way.


    The fruit of this effort comes in the financial documents. Every single finance that the company has, the tip is proven correct. Apparently, Gardner and his accounting team have very... very noticeable discrepancies in their bills, their- documents.


    Notices have come in from the scientists in development, detailing how the materials in question were resulting in hazardous results. The tip of the product containing carcinogenic substances is... accurate. If the client in question is not the tip''s source, then it is clear that the tip comes from insider knowledge.


    Curiously, Gardner is putting the wrong market value of the ingredients in. The lab equipment and materials to synthesize Agridorm are heavily different, cheaper even. With the accounting paperwork present, this report has both Gardner''s personal accounting and the company''s papers included. In the simplest terms between what these documents prove, a high amount of money is being embezzled by Gardner. Potentially a federal crime of tax evasion.


    His wealth is curiosity inducing, but explainable: Let it be known that earlier assumptions of this man being romantically interested in the fireplace-photo woman are correct. That is his fianc¨¦e.


    Gardner is in a long distance engagement with a Swedish supermodel. Their marriage has been postponed as she is on business in California. The two go on dates using Gardner''s optic technology, which is suspected to be where he is from 11 to 15. Four hour time intervals of him spending time with his fianc¨¦e.


    There is a diamond ring in his records, purchased about four months ago. Gardner proposed first. A portion of the funds he embezzled appear to have gone to this ring, with many of the rest going to his daily breakfast meals, various other interests and luxuries, and saved away in his bank account. His wife''s income and history of ''gifts'' gives him room to launder money.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Fascinatingly, no records of mounted deer heads and live hunting rifles are shown. Suspected gifts from his fianc¨¦e, whose social media suggests she acquaints herself with hunters. Male in nature. Possible motivation of cheating, albeit further research is necessary.


    Sedimate LLC is, fundamentally, a company of complete and utter fraud, and Gardner is prime to plenty of scandals involving this. One could target Sedimate, framing it as the CEO "threatening the safety of the American public" for his own lifestyle. However, the prototype is to be released 2 to 3 weeks from now, limiting time for this approach.


    One could target his fianc¨¦e. Her identity has been kept classified from this report, but the Underworld has the resources to find her identity. Launch further investigation into her. Have her confront Gardner for his affairs. Possibly use her as an unwilling puppet once Gardner''s scandal is over.


    In fact, Gardner uniformly follows his routine further. This time around, a new affair with a new woman in a flashy blue dress. Blonde, a lighter shade than his fianc¨¦e, with artificially dyed red highlights. A short time passes, and the woman leaves.


    This is the end of the second day in terms of "relevancy". This binder has been submitted the 2nd night to be delivered posthaste, before the deadline is reached, and you may arrange contact if you wish for any additional information obtained in this time.


    For those that wish to further research Terrence Gardner, follow these notes.


    Gardner feels outstandingly safe. He does not suspect any sort of "involvement" with hostile entities. The job posting responsible for this report is unknown to him, and he has no cause to believe anyone wants to defraud him.


    Countless signs present suggest the indication of narcissism. A high self image that cares highly about himself to an irrational level. Interactions with Gardner will go swimmingly if you play to his selfish desires. Do not, by any means, talk about yourself while with Gardner, and your conversation will run smoothly. Focus only on his interests.


    Gardner''s outing on the first day indicates his enjoyment of public karaoke bars. His singing is mediocre, but his taste in music and fellow singers is high. If you are to go for the affair route, he is likely to approach blondes in flashy clothing, dresses to a karaoke bar rather than casual clothing. Rings on fingers are appealing to him, and the particular one he''s slept with was wearing a red dress. The night after, a bright ocean blue.


    Do not investigate alone if you wish to infiltrate the building. Sedimate LLC may possess memory altering technology in accessing its androids, as a precaution to protect its physical data. The CEO''s android is theoretically exempt from these rules, and its employees line up with a schedule strictly planned out. Gardner shows no involvement in his company proceedings beyond significant actions, and utilizing his android is the best way to go undetected.


    Finally, in terms of the information you find, any fabricated evidence will be utterly detrimental to the cause. Every bit of information present is authentic and present, and any investigation into them will bring up proper logs to authenticate everything. Any false information arises about Sedimate and Gardner, and this entire investigation has a chance to lose all its legitimacy in public eyes. Something to be aware of.


    With that, this document is concluded.


    You are free to do with this information how you wish.


    "..."


    The client takes a look at the three ring binder. On the front, a makeshift psychoanalysis and narrative of Terrence Gardner, followed by photocopied financial documents and candid photos of the man. The paper was not exaggerating, there was page after page after page of financial papers photocopied... it''s unsettling.


    "This... this is interesting. I was skeptical about the Underworld, but... your group has delivered quite a bit for three day''s worth of information," the client comments, closing the binder.


    "Well. The best of the best are welcome in our ranks." the representative explains. "I will be happy to bring the message to the mercenary. One person job for $20,000. I have- given the document a glance, and realize you may not need this, but... for an additional one-time payment of $4,000, the Underworld will be welcome to help with whatever remaining use you have with this information. A potential follow up to Gardner''s fianc¨¦e. Would you like to discuss the possibilities?"


    "Unnecessary. My... people... will make great use of this information in a different way," the client speaks. "I thank your solo mercenary. May I have a name to this face?"


    The representative nods his head. "We provide our members'' aliases for a one time payment of $1199 per mercenary. Not much use in the identification department, but... handy if you feel like requesting them again."


    "Pfff. Expensive business tactics. I like it." The client immediately comments, crossing their arms. "Sweeten the pot. Tell me what you''re allowed to for free, see if I''d pay that much."


    A nod from the representative. "... very well. They have been with us for some time. More recently than our most esteemed of names, but... an impressive name nonetheless. You are quite lucky to have had this mercenary at your disposal."


    As these two speak, at this very moment... the sun sets in Pennsylvania. The liveliness of the Pittsburgh bars picking up, with plentiful amounts of drunks ready to drink to their hearts content, to drink their troubles away.


    However, Terrence was heading back to his house, having picked up a black haired woman before the height of Happy Hour. One who wears a stylish pair of white and black sunglasses. The man picked up quite the Japanese beauty. One that was throwing major signs of interest in a casual hookup, while just having fun at her first karaoke bar.


    Sure, this kind of woman wasn''t usually his type, but something about this one just got his attention. Her radiant beauty, her causal and bubbly demeanor, her angelic voice of the heavens... Gardner was enamored by this woman.


    With the sun going away, she takes off her sunglasses and puts them away into her purse. Smiling brightly at Terrence as she adjusts her dress slightly, gazing forward at him with bright eyes. Unique eyes with a unique color, one that''s rare to naturally have...


    ... red eyes.


    "Lucky...? Interesting, so they''re that impressive... would she have killed Gardner if I requested?"


    "In truth? Unlikely, if requested, but not for the reasons you think. It''s simply because this mercenary has no documentation on taking any assassination jobs. Completely non-lethal work... but, for some of the jobs they do take? They might as well have."


    The car makes it to Terrence''s house, the man parking out front. Getting out of the car and opening the door for his newest... fling. A true gentleman, one that smiles at her.


    The woman''s eyes gazing upon this building as she''s helped out of the car, feigning intrigue and wonder. Amazed at his house. In truth, however, she stared with blank red eyes that had not the bit of interest in them. Looking and beholding this house unfazed, as if she''s seen better. Nothing new to her.


    "Wow. Well, I was considering his death, but... glad I avoided that pitfall. This mercenary''s work is extraordinary. Attention to detail and everything, with these pictures..."


    Terrence Gardner smirks as he wraps his arms around this woman''s waist, almost snuggling close behind her. Welcoming her into his house, door opening up. Leaning in for a kiss...


    ... one that he doesn''t receive. The woman takes a look at the fireplace, a slight giggle sounding out as she interrupts him. Asking Gardner about the woman, to which- his response, his lie, is that the woman in question was his sister. A relative on family vacation.


    "They are quite famous in our circles. The mercenary with the ability to follow and trail for long periods of time, quite possibly for days. This goes without saying, but... I believe the binder you have in your hand is enough of a testament to their skills, their capabilities as a master of stealth and infiltration."


    "Interesting. Master of stealth... so, they were never spotted? Not once?"


    With this excuse, the woman nods. Smiling as the door closes behind them, enticing Gardner into leading her to his chambers. Brought to his personal quarters, beholding his nice bedroom... the nice bed and everything.


    Her eyes are briefly drawn out the window, gazing out at the sight before the house. Asking Gardner about his... privacy concerns, asking him what stops the world outside from seeing in. Gardner approaches with casual indifference, reasoning that no one was around at this hour. How he also didn''t mind if anyone wanted to spectate...


    "Not once. A completely unseen figure, even to us. The Underworld may keep confidential its mercenaries and their faces, but... this one is one of the only few that not even us messengers know about. Maybe some people knew them when they starting out, knowing what they initially looked like, if they were a boy or a girl, so on... but all that data is lost to time."


    "Faceless to even you...? That''s... eerie..."


    Terrence begins to adjust his belt, undoing his tie. Smirking back at the woman, ready to enjoy himself once again. His eyes eagerly drinking her up. Hitting another flirty line, one exuding his... "charm."


    This prompts the young woman to giggle again, giving Gardner a saucy stare. The woman smiles back at Gardner, tugging lightly on her dress strap... pulling it down her shoulder as her other hand reaches into her purse.


    "So... with- no face, how do you know that they''re the ones that do it?"


    "Simple. Their personal phone. This mercenary in particular possess a flip phone that has access to an encrypted channel. Untraceable for their safety, used to take pictures and videos as necessary- as well as other features, actually. This is actually how they took the pictures in that binder, to confirm that the work has been done."


    ... taking note of Gardner''s distracted self, taking now to discreetly take out a gray flip phone. A traditional one, one she opens up immediately.


    Gardner was focused on her little show, but... his eyes wander away for a moment as he raises an eyebrow at the phone.


    "Wow. High quality for a flip phone... you''re not making this up, are you?"


    "Sir... I swear to you..."


    In the next moment, as Gardner''s guard was low but coming back, a massive static shock sets off in his cybernetics. Flooding his auditory cybernetics with the aching pain of an explosion, as if an entire chunk of his head blew off in a hard explosion. His entire body falling back against the ground and clenching his head in pain.


    "... everything I have told you so far about this mercenary... is the full, honest to God truth."


    Gardner is left hyperventilating, shaking as he stares up at this woman. Her gaze fading as she sadistically looks down, waving her phone contently as the power in his house shuts off in a blackout.


    In the complete, utter darkness of the bedroom, as Gardner was begging for his life, the black haired woman struts out of the room to retrieve something. Taking something off of the wall, holding it in her gloved hands as she walks back into the bedroom. Staring at the paralyzed man, a visibly insane and twisted look on her face as she takes a picture of his face...


    Gardner''s eyes- widen. Absolutely bewildered and confused as this woman takes aim at his head with a hunting rifle, as this woman watches him trembling and shaking against the ground. As his head aches, as he stares at this woman...


    The client... is very impressed. "... you make a good sales pitch. So be it, money''s yours. Give me their alias."


    "Very well. Payment, please?" the representative asks, hand held out.


    "Sure. So be it. I need to do more business with this merc." The client nods as he takes out a card, handing it to the representative to pay for this information.


    Meanwhile, Gardner''s blood spills out of his neck as he stares up in absolute horror. Choking aggressively as he bleeds out out, a gaping rifle wound piercing through his neck. It was a miracle that he was still alive, and yet a curse all the same. His last living moments spent in pure agony, staring up at the devil in woman''s form crouching down next to him.


    Her fine, silk gloves leave no prints as she takes the man''s hand and has him lovingly hold onto his own rifle. A pure look of absolute sadism plastered over her face, staring down at him as she fabricates a tragic story of suicide.


    The woman gently pats his face, grinning down at him with a euphoric rush. Staring intensely at him, letting her face be the last thing he ever sees.


    The Count of Monte Cristo... Chapter 3.


    I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.


    "Your $1199 payment has been processed," the representative says. "You now have the rights to this information as you see fit, and can request this mercenary whenever you wish."


    "Well, go on. Alias? Who is this person?"


    Just like the two before, and possibly more, she departs with ''irritation'' at that ''scumbag cheater''. Shortly after getting up from his body, starting to walk out the back entrance of the house, discreetly disappearing from the area. Out of the house''s walls, face back to a composed look. If there was a soul around, she would express ''irritation'' at that ''scumbag cheater''.


    The picture of the man''s face on her phone, the woman closes the phone and continues to walk off. Her long, black hair flowing in the wind with her dress, seemingly walking unfazed in the cold of the Pennsylvanian dark.


    "Very well. The alias is one single name, one that you should not use lightly. If you require this mercenary''s services again, remember to request the Stalker of the Underworld... also known as..."


    With Gardner dead, to be found no later than early morning, this monster was finished with Gardner. One mission complete, one step closer to...


    "... Kuroiwa."

 #7 - Rise of the Stalker

    Impostor Syndrome. The phenomenon of self-doubt in one''s intellect, skills, and accomplishments among high-achieving individuals. That one doesn''t belong, a faker, an impersonator, an "impostor" amongst the capable. Belief in unqualified incompetence when everyone else around you knows what they''re doing.


    Chouko was more than familiar with this phenomenon, long before she disappeared from the public eye. Left by her lonesome to act, she was discovered as such an individual. An impostor amidst scholars, proven a failure by her lonesome.


    Chouko - in her eyes - rationalized her failures as a necessary sacrifice. Unable to be a prodigy as the classwork felt meaningless to her. Unable to be the head of the Ashford businesses as she held no rights to the legacy Father raised her into. Unable to keep any of the belongings of her childhood, unable to keep hold of what Father left behind, unable to maintain any of the fame and reputation Father could hold.


    Nothing felt right to Chouko after that day. The lone, remaining "Ashford", daughter to a dead family. The bloodline of Charles Ashford gone and taken. Any attempt to rationalize anything in her life, met with this sour and rancid feeling in her blood.


    All she could think about was Kuroiwa.


    Kuroiwa.


    One single thought ran rampant through her mind, that she wanted to make Kuroiwa suffer by any means necessary.


    Sun Tzu put it best. Know thy self, know thy enemy. If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.


    Chouko needed to become what she despised the most, her enemy. Become one of them. A mercenary, a killer, a faceless individual. She needed to kill Chouko Ashford, to kill herself again and again. To disconnect herself from this innocent little girl.


    Thus, the persona was born. and she took the name she despised the most. The Stalker of the Underworld, Kuroiwa.


    "... you''re really calling yourself that?"


    Chouko faintly remembers her first meeting with the Underworld. Around her fall from grace, she fled the UK and returned to the city where it all began. Endangering herself in the shady streets of New York City, a blind gambit to gather attention from unseen entities.


    By some miracle, she''s encountered her gateway into this dark side of the country. A man that served as her handler at the start, an informant that saw opportunity with the literal rich girl that had some semblance of fortune left. The man went by the name of "Charon", a reference to the ferryman that delivered souls to the Underworld. A man whose face she remembers vividly, with cigarette ash in his thick beard.


    "Indeed. Is there going to be a problem with that?" Chouko asked, her face unfazed as those inquisitive words were uttered.


    "... lass. You''re not exactly clever, are you?" Charon asked in return. "Naming yourself after your mortal enemy''s risky, especially if it''s that name. No way it''s going to work unless you''re willing to pay the price for it."


    Chouko glared at the man. "You know my reasons, Mr. Charon. No price is too much for me."


    "Just Charon will do, brat, and- obviously, there''s now a price too much for you. Given your whole ''death of your father'' and ''failing businesses''..." the man responded, before taking another puff of his sigarette. Letting out a sigh with rolling eyes. "... ever heard of Confucius. Chinese philosopher. Once said ''before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.''"


    Chouko pondered on that for a moment, before she responded. "Actually, that quote is misattributed to him by Western authors, but I am familiar. Point being?"


    "Well, don''t get me wrong, I have no qualms with this arrangement, but I''m face to face with an irrational child that probably ain''t aware of the terms. The quote''s to say that what you''re attempting will completely eff up your life. All for something you can''t walk away from. You sure you''re ready? No regrets?"


    A thought provoking wisdom, a warning for any other soul with hesitation and fear. But Chouko wasn''t one of them.


    "If I must, I will dig a cemetery for the world, Charon."


    An air of silence between the two, before Charon drops the cigarette and stomps his foot down. Signing a signature of ash and dust to cement their deal. "Alright then, brat. If you truly mean that, then I''ll be your little ''ferryman'' through the Underworld. From now on, whatever I say, you do. No questions asked. Understand?"


    "Understood."


    Chouko''s acceptance of these conditions marked her steady rise in the Underworld. A girl with youth, personally molded into a mercenary and guided through this most muddy of waters. Charon proved himself a reliable ally time and time again, as each of his orders brought her closer and closer to Kuroiwa.


    Starting out, of course, Chouko was told to take many unwanted and lowly jobs to build up her new founded career. Charon''s plan accounted for the limitations of her being an inexperienced child, so the waters had to be tested. Chouko understood this plenty.


    "Guy wants you to get some cold medicine. Take this money and buy it. Come up with an excuse for buying mass quantities."


    "A client needs a little girl to pose as his daughter. Put this wig and these colored contacts over your eyes. You''re too recognizable."


    "Client''s unable to wear a wire, so you''re going in. We''ll put a wire on you to record their conversation, from a close enough distance. Keep inconspicuous."


    Bit by bit, Chouko climbed this metaphorical wall as she followed Charon''s orders to an exact detail. Years upon years of regular exercise to remain fit, mixed with nonsense work as she took the jobs no other mercenary wanted. All part of Charon''s intricate plan, Chouko thought to herself, and it all paid off at the age of 14. A renaissance for the Underworld, as the destructive consequences of the android and cybernetic industries supplied mercenaries with a surplus of jobs.


    A heavy increase in investigative jobs, of espionage work. Jobs that were well suited for newcomers with the technology to back themselves up.


    But rather than invest in either of these technologies, however, Chouko was simply given a "traditional" technology for her work: a cellphone. One of the many Underworld-issued models with its standard features, allowing mercenaries to communicate over securely encrypted channels.


    "... Underworld''s been working on something," Charon explained when he gave Chouko the phone. "Times are changing. We can''t keep talking in person. Everything in this phone, as long as you call and text only my number, will be secured. I''m not responsible for any other calls. Guard it with your life, ''cause there''s a lot that this thing can do."


    With this phone, Chouko was sent on these jobs with direct guidance from Charon. Schematics of buildings, instructions on what to do and where to go, direct instructions when hitting a brick wall, Chouko treasured this old and encrypted invention with her life. Every time she broke into a building, each time she was expected to steal confidential information through some means, Chouko''s career swallowed down job after job that Charon texted her.


    Its features weren''t limited to only that, however, thanks to Charon.


    "Ever watched any spy movies?"


    "No."


    "Damn. Thought they''d be popular where you came from. Well, brat. This phone''ll make you feel like a spy. Gadgets and all."


    There was no use in pretending that Chouko knew any of the phone''s intricacies, but she felt as if she didn''t care all that much. Charon already feeds her instructions and orders, so every feature this phone comes with is just that. An order.


    Chouko couldn''t afford any mistakes. A single one would get her killed. What semblance of fear she had, silenced with the mentality that she "had to do this". As Charon remained her lifeline, and Chouko remained his golden ticket. As the two benefitted from other Underworld employers reaching out to her, taking on more and more jobs. Chouko cemented it all into her mind, each success and every failure.


    The blunders she faced a distant memory, reciting to herself over and over again that she had to be perfect, that she needed to be perfect, that she was perfect. Chouko was either perfect, or she was dead. The years going by, the money going into Charon''s account as he upgraded her tools, bought her equipment and funded her various living arrangements. Chouko was raised into a new identity, raised by the man who helped her strong ambition for revenge.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The child "prodigy" turned black market worker, growing up into a cold woman and an efficient mercenary, improving through repetition that simply faded away into her mind. If anything remained of "Chouko Ashford" and her scholarly ways, this girl was rendered completely quiet as "Kuroiwa" was left to speak. Both her target, and her persona.


    Kuroiwa''s name has truly killed the Ashfords in her eyes, leaving no trace of "Chouko" behind. And the name goes on to kill further, after the success of her newest mission.


    Gardner was a job that was conveniently in the area. Chouko had already been dispatched to Pennsylvania, so the mission itself was immediately available. Dossier memorized, she immediately arrived at Pittsburgh and, subsequently, Greene County within hours of accepting the mission.


    Charon was the one to suggest the Pennsylvanian work, Charon was the one providing Chouko the equipment and technology to infiltrate Sedimate, and Charon walked her through the mission step by step. The power of an informant made jobs like Gardner a walk in the park, especially with how incompetent he ended up being.


    For the last nine years, ever since her rampant crusade started, Chouko''s tuned out everything about herself. Devoting herself to this new passion, day and night. All of it a blur to her, as only the beginning and the end mattered to Chouko. The past that sent her on this crusade, and the inevitable future of her end goal.


    The present was not for Chouko. The present, a box containing the rewards of this unyielding quest, it belonged to Kuroiwa.


    Kuroiwa, the Stalker, the one who stalked Gardner and killed him in his very own home.


    The black haired woman helplessly and maliciously smiling as she wanders in the loneliness of the woods. Delighted beyond all belief, having taken care of a task that wasn''t even requested of her. Something about Gardner just... filled Kuroiwa with a bloodlust, a drive to take his life.


    Could it be the cheating? Could it be his business incompetence? Maybe she just wanted to do it for fun.


    There had to be a reason for Gardner''s death, right?


    ...


    Eventually, after a walk back to Pittsburgh, she wanders through the city as if nothing had ever happened. Taking each step forward, farther and farther away from Gardner, changed into new attire. Instead of that alluring dress, she now modestly wore a long, leather jacket over streetwear, keeping herself warm in the cold of the Pennsylvanian dark. Her long, black hair flowing in the wind alongside the tail of her coat. Tied into twintails, with white bows as fashion accessories.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes are contently closed as she walks, strolling through the populated bar street with not a care in the world. On her person, a baton, a knife, a pistol, and the cellphone. The most primitive of self defense measures in this age.


    By now, her work on Gardner has been delivered to the client, and - as appropriately - the woman feels a vibration in her pocket, reaching in and taking out her phone. On the screen, she received a text from an unknown number.


    The woman peeks at the text, staring at it for a moment. Discreetly peeking at the words for a moment, before immediately deleting the conversation. She didn''t need to keep it on her screen for too long, as it was a mere notification. One that she commits to memory:


    $20,000 has been transferred into your account. Client is very pleased. Good work.


    Kuroiwa lets out a deep sigh of contentment, deleting the text. It is just a confirmation email, so no use in keeping it around. The funds are distributed privately, and the deal between the mercenary and the informant has the money split in half. Charon receives 50% of the money, used for his own business and personal use, while the rest goes to Kuroiwa.


    $10,000 is a plentiful amount, a fine reward in this day and age. It''s hard to remember nowadays how "much" ten thousand dollars is, but... relative to the work necessary to earn it, Kuroiwa found it refreshing. $10K to dedicate to her hotel, motel, and inn stays, as well as flights and such.


    But for now, her destination is a bar called Scott''s. A rather lively bar, its popularity in Pittsburgh due to the guardian androids specially designed to handle the drunk.


    She was not here to drink. Not that she could, if she wanted to. She was only 19 years of age, a short couple of years away from being legally able to take a drop. Having never consumed a single ounce of the stuff in her life.


    No, work was simply calling, and Kuroiwa is eager to carry out another job.


    Kuroiwa stands at the front entrance, politely waiting as she stands before the two men standing at the door. The outdoor security of the bar, bouncers to keep watch for the underaged and for the criminally dangerous. A human touch to protection, their bodies equipped with arm prosthetics designed for combat.


    An entire 30 seconds pass before the two bouncers look to her with amusement. Having paid her no attention whatsoever, now grinning at the comedic sight. A woman almost a foot shorter than them, petite and small, a youthful appearance that only reaches up to their shoulders. Here she was, intending to get into a bar full of the gruffest of drunks.


    Even with the androids present... it''s laughable, especially with her lack of cybernetics. No way is this girl ready to protect herself. So they acknowledge her with condescending looks, believing her a defenseless young woman at best... and an obliviously lost child at worst.


    "Hah. Girl, you lost or something? Ain''t no way we''re letting a lil'' sweetheart like you get in."


    Kuroiwa looks up at the two, bluntly and blankly getting to business. "One token for passage. The dead await my return."


    "What? Hah, you''re crazy, making up-"


    "Wait," the other man comments, shaking his head. "That''s... the passphrase. She''s a bar veteran here."


    "Huh?" Looking up and down Kuroiwa, expressing high amounts of... doubt... as he raises an eyebrow. "Y... You sure? She don''t look like one-"


    "Just let her through. Orders are orders, and what we''re being paid for."


    The two gentlemen open the door for her, and she wanders in. Wandering into the bar. Taking each step deeper into the bar, intent on heading to the very end of the counter seats. She glances to see a man in the second to last seat, and takes hers at the very end.


    "... ah... ''Kuroiwa''."


    Kuroiwa looks over to the bartender. A finely dressed man. Black shirt and black jeans, with a crimson red vest over it. Dark colors to hide the stains. Modest and professional until one sees the thick, blue boot sticking out of his head. A pompadour as thick as steak, dyed to a flashy aqua blue, one that matches his thin mustache.


    In other words, professional on the outside, with a wild streak of a personal life on the inside. "Indeed. Good to see you again. I would like something suited for a lady such as myself, if you do not mind."


    The bartender nods as he walks over to Kuroiwa, bowing lightly. "As you wish." He briefly turns away to prepare Kuroiwa''s usual.


    "... pfft," noises the man sitting next to her, looking straight at Kuroiwa. "Fun name you got there. You here in the Stalker''s place?"


    Kuroiwa takes a look at the man, blinking a few times. Staring at him for a bit, taking note of his rather cheap appearance. A clean "wife-beater tank-top" with dirty blue jeans and brown leather boots. Well trimmed mustache and beard, with not a speck of hair atop his head. An almost condescending smile, expressing familiarity with the Stalker... and thus, familiarity with the Underworld.


    "Yes, I''m simply a messenger," Kuroiwa lies, denying that she was the Stalker herself. "You know how they are. Private."


    "Bold..." the man comments, nodding. Tapping the side of his shot glass. "You a drinkin'' woman?"


    "Underaged," Kuroiwa immediately answers, shaking her head. "Feel free to keep the scotch on your tab."


    "Heh... more for me." A nod to her, before he looks forward with arms on the counter. "But if you ain''t here for a drink, then... red pickup, across the street."


    Kuroiwa smirks as she rests an elbow on the counter. Gazing at the man with a raised eyebrow, staring. "What''s the pickup for?"


    "Delivery. Pickup address is in the car, headed to a rich guy with a country estate in Omaha," the man explains. "Expecting something high quality. Needs it delivered discreetly. Underworld got any hands on deck for that?"


    "Omaha... Nebraska?" Kuroiwa asks, blinking.


    "Mhmm. It''s a 14 hour drive in total, not accounting for breaks- as well as any discreet routes the merc may take. I was paid in advance by the seller, and there''s a hefty $45K for you... as long as the product is in good condition upon arrival," the man informs, picking up his glass and downing it.


    Kuroiwa... stares for a bit, narrowing her eyes at this. Directing her attention down at the counter, locked in... thought... for a bit, before nodding. "... the job seems acceptable. I will put up a job offer for those in the area. I suspect a quick response time on the person taking the job."


    The man smiles, before handing Kuroiwa the keys to the pickup truck. "Then I leave it in your capable hands, errand girl... any chances that your boss''ll handle this cargo? Stalker''s hands''ll be very useful."


    "We assure the very best," Kuroiwa vaguely responds, pocketing the keys and taking her phone out. "Contact information, please. We require a small portion of the funds to guarantee the transaction."


    "No need," the man comments, looking to Kuroiwa. "Money''s in the truck. Seller''ll handle the fees when you get the truck there."


    "... I see. There is one more term to this deal," Kuroiwa chimes in, staring at the man. "I am to pick up this car and escort it off the premises for the mercenary in charge to handle. Can we agree to that?"


    "Ain''t my business anymore. Go nuts," the man comments, taking another shot.


    A nod from Kuroiwa, who pockets the keys in her coat and waits for her drink.


    Shortly after their exchange, the bartender finishes preparing a special and popular non-alcoholic drink: lemon-lime soda with a dash of squeezed orange. Placing the glass in front of Kuroiwa, and bowing lightly. "Here you go."


    "Thank you," Kuroiwa politely tells the bartender, holding the glass gently and staring down at it. Taking a gentle sip of it, tasting the tangy and sweet flavor. A simple pleasure to refresh her, after living off of bottled water and cheap packaged food for approximately two to three days.


    But a thought crosses the woman''s mind, as Kuroiwa stares at the cup for a moment. Distantly gazing into the glass.


    "... bartender- question."


    "Ah, yes?"


    "By some slim chance, do you... happen to serve any Earl Gray tea?"


    The Bartender chuckles as he pours another shot for her bar stool neighbor. "Sorry, no. I ain''t got tea on these shelves... some store in town sells small boxes of the stuff, though."


    "I... I see. Thank you, anyway."


    The bartender politely nods and walks away to tend to other patrons, leaving Chouko with her drink.


    With a slight hint of disappointment, the girl... lifts the cup up, and takes a brief moment to gulp down the rest of the drink. Drinking it all down for just the refreshment, not wanting to think much further on the taste... on what she couldn''t have. A saddened look in her eyes, a brief glimpse of sorrow and misery coming out in that moment.


    "... pfft. Earl Gray mean something to ya?" the cheaply dressed man asks, staring at Kuroiwa with a chuckle. Finding amusement with the messenger''s non-alcoholic tastes ranging from juice to tea.


    The mercenary stares off into the glass, before her eyes lightly flutter... and she nods slowly. Her empty glass matching her equally empty gaze, an answer prepared.


    "More than you could ever know."

 #8 - Seven, Plus or Minus Two

    After one night''s stay in a local Pittsburgh motel, "Kuroiwa" heads to the seller''s provided address with the pickup truck. Ready to deliver something high quality that needs to get to a wealthy buyer.


    Officially, Kuroiwa left it in Charon''s hands the night prior to arrange the job. A necessary step to go through the bureaucracy of having this delivery be an official job. The job is as follows:


    "Client: ???


    Destination: Omaha, Nebraska


    A delivery job from Pittsburgh to Omaha. Package unknown. Seller unknown. Buyer unknown.


    Calling for a mercenary willing to make a long drive. Product is too sensitive to be trusted with normal mail carriers.


    Pay: $45k + car related expenses."


    "Phone''s equipped with a GPS to Omaha," Charon explains. "On paper, the Underworld''s higher ups trust me to privately give this to mercenaries in Pennsylvania, so they won''t need to know that ''Kuroiwa'' did it yet until long after you completed it."


    "Good," Kuroiwa responds. "Is there anything else I should be aware of? Anything you can see that I cannot?"


    "It''s just a drive there. You can handle a drive, can''t you?" Charon asks, almost condescendingly. "It''s crossing states, so toll will be an issue, But the toll booths should only capture the car itself, with photographic technology to the license plate and car model. Whatever address this car belongs to will be the one to front the bill, something that either I, or the bar man, will handle... as long as you''re not insane enough to deliberately drive through every toll gate in this country."


    "I believe I''m not," Kuroiwa comments.


    "Funny," Charon responds. "It should just be a straightforward shot. Text me if an emergency arises, and call back when you''re stopping for gas or staying at a motel on the way. Finally, have a nice trip. You got all that?"


    "Yes, but... one more thing. The seller will be seeing my face if I drive there by my lonesome, Charon," Kuroiwa explains. "Will I need any precautions to prevent this?"


    Charon goes silent for a moment, before answering. "Just a hat and your sunglasses will do. I would suggest a face mask, but... maybe concealing your entire face is too suspicious. Plus, you already told the trucker you''re the representative, could be a potential high-market client if you play your cards right... so just tell the seller you''re getting the truck to the mercenary. Something along those lines."


    "Very well. This will be simple, then," Kuroiwa confidently tells the informant.


    The address takes her to a suburban neighborhood of Pittsburgh, a street that was a few minutes outside of the city border. Curiously, she ends up in front front of a residential home. A two story suburban house with no cars on the curbs or the driveways, as compared to the rest of the street.


    If not for the piece of paper that the pickup truck had, properly laminated with instructions on what to do upon arrival, Kuroiwa would have assumed no one was home.


    In the pickup truck, Kuroiwa needed to memorize a few pages'' worth of instructions. The packet was laminated and protected and all, having been stowed away in the car on the seller''s request.


    Chouko- ... Kuroiwa, had no trouble memorizing it whatsoever, making great use of that ever so relevant talent of hers... but it was still an excessive amount.


    The instructions ask for her to do the following actions:


    First, Kuroiwa has to parallel park out front, specifically in front of the house in question. In the possibility that there are unexpected cars there - which, there aren''t, but she memorized this chance regardless - she is to flick her emergency lights on and align the car with the one closest to the mailbox, driver window lined up with driver window.


    Then, keeping the engine running, Kuroiwa must check the back tire closest to the sidewalk curb, then lean her back against the car''s gas cover. Pretend to be frustrated and act as if there was a "hole in the tire", as the paper listed, exaggerated enough to appear like an act while still seeming natural.


    Kuroiwa must then cross her arms, holds three fingers up - specifically her right hand''s index, ring and pinky fingers - and looks up at the sky, pretending to see a fascinating cloud... taking a deep breath.


    This is, conceptually, absolute bollocks, thought Kuroiwa. Yet, there has to be some method to the madness. Everything has a reason, and it is not that complicated to deduce that this was a security protocol. Whoever this is, is as cautious as she is. The person she is to meet is very intricate, to the point of excessive paranoia and anxiety.


    Elaborate steps.


    Elaborate person.


    Doing these instructions, Kuroiwa then notices one of the windows opening in the house next-door. The instructions mentioned to be prepared for this, to prepare for one of the windows to open at that moment and to prepare for someone to peek out. Someone to check if the driver is the hired mercenary.


    Yet, this happens with a completely different house. The one right next door and everything. To make matters more... "confusing", the apparent lookout is a young boy no older than nine years of age, looking to Kuroiwa by peeking the upper half of his face out the window. Noticeable features are that he has pale skin and a brown bowl cut of a hairstyle.


    Was this the seller? ... no, it can''t be. He''s too young to ask a grown man to hang out in a bar to hire someone to hire someone else to... oh, who was she kidding? The irony isn''t lost on her that she was a mercenary before she became a teenager. Whoever this is could very well be the seller.


    Kuroiwa indulges in this possibility, continuing these instructions. She mouths the words, "hashbrowns, hashbrowns, hashbrowns," in complete and utter silence, to signify that there were hashbrowns.


    The kid stands up now, fully showing his head. Kuroiwa immediately narrows her eyes at the sight, seeing that this boy''s cheeks and jawline are covered in gray metal plating. Possibly to conceal injuries, but... more likely, some other cause, as Kuroiwa noticed some wires.


    The wires give away that this child went through an operation to shape his face and optimally prepare it for advanced cybernetics. An option well suited for virtual reality software, really. Quite like Gardner''s, albeit... more intricate, for the safety of the child.


    For it to be done to someone so young, Kuroiwa... almost immediately pinpoints that this person - or at least, someone in that household - is passionate about entertainment software. Trends on social media nowadays have various accounts suggesting to install the technology at a young age for various superficial purposes, possibly for "taste technology" to enjoy food video games, or to install lights to decorate one''s face with a neo-pop look.


    Before Kuroiwa can... think deeper into the psychological signifiers of this sight, she picks up on an immediate, noteworthy tell that the instructions call for. The plating had briefly distracted her from the optic technology over his left eye, a sort of circular scope that can serve as a telescope and a camera. The orange light on the end served as a pupil, its light turning on and off three times.


    Three times.


    The paper told Kuroiwa, specifically, that the flickering eye had everything to do to solve an... an algebra problem. How many times it flickered was used accordingly as "X".


    The paper reads: "X to the 2nd power, plus the square root of X over the current hour." That entire problem equal to the Y^2 + 2Z + 1, with Y equal to the current minute.


    Kuroiwa needs to solve for Z with this information, and had one minute to do so before she needs to start over.


    "..." Kuroiwa lets out a slightly annoyed sigh, before continuing. Curiously, she... takes out her phone. She knows it''s 9 plus something, but the square root of 3 isn''t a whole number, so she types the number into her phone. Current hour, 10, so it''s 9 plus... 0.1732, approximately... and the current minute after this is- it''s 2, since 10:02.


    So, 2 squared plus 2 times Z plus 1... it''s... okay, so 4.1732 = 2Z, meaning the problem is now Z = 2.0866, now she has to tap her foot equal to all of the digits present, while holding her arms in such a way that the whole number represents her hour hand and the first two decimal digits - rounded up - represent the minute hand. Her eyes narrowing as she starts to-


    "You can stop that, I think you already proved yourself when you took out the phone."


    Kuroiwa looks away from her phone to see the boy right in front of her, having walked up in the time it took for her to "solve" the problem.


    "... hm." Kuroiwa pockets the phone, rolling her eyes as she opens the truck and just- takes out some fast food. Another instruction. "Breakfast menu hashbrowns, as requested."


    "W... Woah. Y-You''re kidding, you even got the hashbrowns...?" the boy responds, visibly in shock. "I''m pretty sure that was marked optional... that''s nuts, lady. Sorry if it was too much trouble, I really love hashbrowns."


    "Consider me a perfectionist," Kuroiwa responds. "Alright. What''s next? What am I delivering?"


    "Oh, you''re gonna have to talk to my neighbor," the boy comments, shaking his head.


    "... your neighbor?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Mhmm. He just told me to keep an eye out for you. So, back up into the garage over there, and uh... yeah!"


    So having the incorrect address was intentional.


    Kuroiwa parked in front of one house, was greeted by a boy from the house next to it, and is now being told to drive the pickup from the house across the street.


    Now that the boy is no longer a candidate for the "seller", that shifted Kuroiwa''s assumptions and expectations noticeably. All she knows about this seller now is just, "elaborate instructions" and "possibly relies on neighbors to either help or be red herrings." In this case, the boy is both.


    "I see. Out of curiosity, how much were you... paid... to do this?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Not allowed to tell you," the boy responds, taking a bite into a hashbrown.


    So, the seller paid this child a lot.


    "Well, now, see ya!" the boy responds, before walking back into his house with the breakfast hashbrowns. His job''s done, now, and he''s going to go enjoy his food!


    ... Kuroiwa gets back into the pickup truck to continue the seller''s instructions, reversing into the driveway of the opposing house. Waiting at its garage door for a while, foot on the brake for about 2 minutes.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    No signs of anyone at this house, but she looks to see a light being shined from her side mirrors. Just a flashlight, shining a light into her eyes.


    "Wait outside for a light to shine. Roll down your passenger window as soon as possible," the paper reads.


    Kuroiwa does so, visibly... annoyed. A light being shined into one''s eyes is annoying, and it makes her regret not getting the sunglasses...


    ... but then, as the garage opens, Kuroiwa is bombarded with an excessive amount of visual information. Her vision a little hazy from having a light shined in, she''s exposed to an absolute mess of color in the form of a culture shock.


    All over the walls, anime. Anime posters plastered all over the walls, following almost hundreds of series at once. Basically, Japanese-style art from various authors, ranging from obscure modern shows to the big global classics of the 90s. A mess of neon colors, vibrant colors, these posters all over the place and exploding off of the walls the longer one stares at them.


    Something about this unsettles Kuroiwa... but she can''t pinpoint exactly what it is.


    And she isn''t given the time to pinpoint it.


    "... nice truck you got here. What''s the chance that you''re here for what I think you are?"


    Kuroiwa looks over to the right, looking at the seller through the passenger side door. Her red eyes looking to a middle aged man with messy, unkempt brown hair. Slightly on the chubby side, with square framed glasses and a faint beard stubble over his cheeks and chin. His clothing consists of a black fedora and a black trench coat, with a grey tank top and brown jeans underneath.


    "... a high chance. I''m the messenger to pickup something to be driven by the mercenary," Kuroiwa answers the man, continuing to maintain this professional facade of not being the delivery driver.


    "I... see, so you''re not even the... okay. Alright. Can you send a message to him?" the seller asks, arms crossed.


    Unease. Uncertainty. The tone of voice dropping at the information of her just being the messenger. Likely expected the mercenary themselves... "himself", in this case, to appear.


    "Sure," Kuroiwa answers. "What is it?"


    The seller then takes a moment to hand Kuroiwa a card, one with a phone number on it. "Just a reminder that this truck is carrying important, sensitive cargo. Either you or your mercenary will contact me once the truck''s in Omaha, calling this number. A payphone is preferable."


    "I see. Message received," Kuroiwa responds. "... do you need assistance with loading? I am willing to help."


    The seller shakes his head. "No need. I can handle the work myself. Plus, y''know, again... sensitive cargo, I like to make sure things are handled myself. No slip-ups on my watch and all."


    "Understood." Kuroiwa puts the car into park, and sits back. Arms crossed, just watching him lift the boxes. In the time it takes him to load the truck, she finds herself free to wait and... takes the time to idly glance around the rest of the garage.


    The garage makes it appear as if he prefers romantic dramas and romantic comedies... on first glance. The tastes are too varied throughout the garage, this genre making up only 20%. A different 20% goes to comedy posters with vibrant and goofy designs, another 20% to mystery thrillers and war dramas... curiously, 10% to Japanese-style renditions of Western media, and 10% to cute cat style cartoons, and the rest of it an open box of variety. It is very much possible that he has more posters and merchandise of countless other works and genres.


    Curiously, apart from the posters and the several boxes being loaded into the truck, Kuroiwa spots one outlier in this theme. A table with cleaning supplies and tools, as well as a model soldier figurine with paint supplies. One single model soldier contradicts the posters and decorations throughout this entire garage.


    Peculiar.


    "... so, got something I can call you?" Kuroiwa asks the man, as he''s loading the pickup truck.


    The man ponders for a bit, before answering. "Call me ''E''. That''s my in-person business name."


    "Just ''E'', hm?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Yes," E answers, lifting another box into the truck. "Why do you ask?"


    "Just, curious," Kuroiwa truthfully responds. Her curiosity unsatisfied. Even while face to face with "E", Kuroiwa... doesn''t have a lot to remember about this seller. There weren''t enough signs to focus on with E. No cybernetics, no remarkable features. Just a middle-aged man that''s passionate about anime and elaborate papers, apparently.


    "Alright. You got a name?" E then asks.


    "... I," Kuroiwa answers, giving a single letter as a name. Best to give a fake name. "You may call me I." Curiously, the letter I could be mistaken as "Ai", a Japanese name that translates to love and affection.


    Kuroiwa could see E''s response to this with... intrigue, an eyebrow raised before going back to lifting boxes. "Understood, Ai," E responds. "Good to meet you."


    Tch... With how elaborate his instructions are, it''s a wonder how this seller could use such a simple letter as a moniker. It''s clear that E is a fake name, with endless possibilities behind it. The beginning of one of his names? A mere syllable in his name? Maybe just a start to some word?


    E, for Elaborate. E, for Extra. E, for Everything...


    ... maybe a word ending, Anim-E. Ugh.


    The more Kuroiwa thinks about it, the more she will probably remember E not as a person, but as a letter that repeatedly shows up in the English language. Maybe just the amount of E''s on his papers of instructions. If he had named himself her fake name instead, I could stand for Instructions...


    ... hm, speaking of the instructions, Kuroiwa immediately notices something off. Staring at the card that E handed her, realizing that it doesn''t match the instructions whatsoever. The laminated paper lists an entirely different phone number at the end. Yet, here E was, giving her a new phone number. The numbers don''t add up, or match.


    In fact- why does she need this card? It''s just a single phone number. Nothing of value on this card, possibly for disposable information. If she had to bring the instructions anyway, then why does she need to hold this card? Everything about E feels too elaborate to... to...


    ...


    Wait...


    It doesn''t say on the paper that she needs to return the paper, but hypothetically...


    "So... question. Do you need the instructions back? Seems like the number to call is- off," Kuroiwa asks.


    "Oh, I see. I must have made a mistake with the paper," E responds, walking over to the driver side window. "Can I see the paper?"


    Kuroiwa nods, and reaches into the glove compartment for the packet. Taking it out of the compartment, her face looking away from E... visibly tense. Growing exceptionally tense. Countless flags and connections are set off in Kuroiwa''s head.


    In this moment, as she takes the papers out, everything about E was... it... it felt like she was face to face with a mastermind. A genius of masking his identity. His identity...


    ... the end of identity. Identit-y. Y. That''s- that''s what it means, right?


    No, no, that''s- speculation, but... if it''s the slightest bit possible, everything about E is as convoluted as possible to trip every person up. The most basic of name concealment, able to mask himself amidst other letters.


    This job is... there''s something about this job. Kuroiwa''s realizing that E''s being as eccentric, as elusive, as embellished as possible... his instructions entangled in essential, extra details...


    That''s why E feels unsettling, that''s why everything about this man and his garage is unsettling! Kuroiwa is staring at a mirror, someone who has set up a garage of pure psychological, semantic landmines!


    All of this is purely hypothetical, but... E''s employing a workaround for one''s memory. George A. Miller. "The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two (1956)". A psychology paper written about how human short term memory could only process between five to nine objects at any given moment, ranging from person to person.


    This isn''t limited to given items. One could see bundles of fruit and see: "a group of bananas", "a group of apples", "a group of oranges", so on... or, if it''s too much, one would simply think: "a lot of fruit", leaving more room in short-term memory.


    Everything about E is elaborate as a defense.


    A defense from... from anyone who wants to find him.


    If Kuroiwa is asked, interrogated, she... wouldn''t be able to tell them anything. E is erasing the traces of his entire being from her mind with the Seven rule. By using the letter E, a vowel that shows up the most in the language, anyone who tries to remember this seller will remember everything else about E. Anim(E). Post(E)rs. Box(E)s. Soldi(E)rs. It will all group up into just the general E.


    That''s all she''ll know about E, or even care to know about E. Just, "E". No identifying features to recognize him after this, beyond an unremarkable stereotype of an appearance. She might make a mistake and associate other words with E...


    The job is paying 45k as a high reward for just a slight job, maybe just to take special care of what''s being bought. What Kuroiwa is transporting isn''t just sensitive, it''s high in value. In the event that Kuroiwa is stopped by someone, E''s making sure that all ties to him are cut off. The instructions to his address confiscated, given just a phone number to call upon arrival, she''ll never be able to identify this man ever again.


    E is the antithesis of Kuroiwa... a person everyone will know as E, yet never be able to easily identify.


    Compare that to a person no one should know is the Stalker, yet... could probably recognize her if they wanted to. Everything E is as a concept is similar, yet outstandingly opposed at the same time.


    As E loads the boxes, Kuroiwa... has a near mortified expression on her face, sitting in the driver''s seat in astonishment. Psychologically triumphed in this moment, face to face with someone she believes she''ll never be above...


    ... but Kuroiwa takes a deep breath, and makes an effort to calm herself. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, just staring forward and focusing. What was she worrying about? This was nothing to ger riled over. So what if E is a brilliantly convoluted seller with a potential mastery of psychology? E''s is just another client for another job. That''s all it is, that''s all it is. Business. Just a job... just...


    ... the job.


    Speaking of the job, Kuroiwa takes a glance at one of the boxes. On its side, the number 45 was drawn in permanent marker. All of the boxes had drawn numbers on them, sure, but... 45 stands out to her. It''s just slightly larger than she was, enough to keep a person inside of it. Life-sized, of higher "quality" compared to the rest of the boxes.


    In fact, it''s loaded a lot slower into the truck than the rest, as if E is very, very blatantly showing favoritism to this box in particular. As if he had to be especially careful loading in this one, more careful than the other ones.


    Curious.


    Once the back is secured with boxes and all, E approaches the driver-side door and looks to Kuroiwa with arms crossed. "Alright, that''s all. Do you understand, roughly, what this job needs of you?"


    "Yes," Kuroiwa answers, looking back at E with a nonchalant look on her face. Burying away these feelings as best she can, masking her...


    ... her...


    ...


    "... so, I will first escort this truck to the driver," Kuroiwa idly begins to explain, elaborating for her own benefit and... pettiness. "And then the driver will get the delivery safely to your buyer. Box number 45 will be perfectly protected in our possession."


    "Correct, yes. So-" E responds, before narrowing his eyes. Instantly interrupting himself, slightly tense at that statement. "... Box 45...? Why- that one in particular?"


    A glint in Kuroiwa''s slightly narrowed eye, subtly delighted by this hesitance in his voice. An interesting reaction. "Apologies... slip of the tongue. Right. The mercenary has to escort all of these boxes to Omaha, as per your instructions, then... contact you, before arriving to the estate?"


    "Y... Yeah," E answers, easing up slightly. "All of it is sensitive cargo, so... get it all to Omaha, and wait for instructions."


    "Understood," Kuroiwa idly comments. "I assure you, the buyer will receive these goods in mint condition at all costs."


    "Ah, that''s good, then- ... uhm- mint condition?" E asks.


    "Am I using the right terminology? I believe that means, ''unopened boxes'' and all," Kuroiwa asks, looking straight forward. Staring across the street to the other houses, focusing on those residential buildings.


    Kuroiwa is... resisting... the urge to grin, to smirk oh- so- devilishly after all of that. It was a miniscule victory, one that she doesn''t even see any purpose for their exchange, but... Kuroiwa now knows one of E''s tells. She is right on the target, E''s voice a dead giveaway of her accuracy. Her word choice deliberate, as if to rattle E up...


    ... giving subtle hints that she knows exactly that Box 45 is the main focus, taking a bluff to what could possibly be in it.


    "... u... uhm..." E noises, nodding. Anxiety in his voice as he stares at Kuroiwa. "Y... Yes. Keeping the boxes safe is... is important."


    Thanks to E''s responses, the anxiety and paranoia in his voice, Kuroiwa now knows that 45 contains the human-sized product that the buyer is set to receive, a toy or a figurine of sorts. Deducing as much...


    ... and able to guess that it''s an android.


    It has to be an android. These characteristics are attributes to an android product. Fresh in box.


    Kuroiwa knows this now. It was such a miniscule detail, a minor victory over this client that she didn''t even need to follow through with, yet- yet, she did. That''s what she did. She has one edge over E, that she triumphed over him with the essential bit of information that E was trying to mask and hide.


    ... and after the high of this victory fades, Kuroiwa decides that enough is enough. Her curiosity is more than satisfied, now. Time to get on with the job. "Anything else I need to be aware of? Or will that be it?"


    "... well... no. Job''s straightforward, just..." E begins to answer, visibly calming down. "... you tell your mercenary to... to be careful on the drive there. Alright?"


    "Indeed. I will relay the message if he doesn''t already," Kuroiwa responds. "Take care, E."


    Kuroiwa pulls the car into drive, and-


    "Wait."


    "...?" Kuroiwa looks to E with a head tilt, foot on the brake. "Yes?"


    "Ai..." E places a hand on the truck, hand against the vehicle and staring at Kuroiwa. "... before you go... please, call me Eugene."


    "Eugene?" Kuroiwa asks, tilting her head. "Why?"


    "Well..." A sigh from the man as he stares at Kuroiwa, staring at her with narrowed eyes. "That''s... my name. I just... feel like it''s right for me to tell you this, giving you a proper name. A sort of... equivalent exchange and all."


    Kuroiwa... narrows her eyes, staring at... E. "I see...? An exchange for- what?"


    "Simple. My identity, in exchange for yours..."


    As E prepares to explain his reasons, the words out of E''s mouth are set to commit an irreversible, irreparable move. Giving his name first as- compensation, as he prepares one move. A move that one-ups Kuroiwa''s, one done in response to her petty show of pride, realizing something major in that moment...


    E states the mercenary''s identity. Having understood who she was after some time, as he continues his sentence... as he states the name...


    "... Chouko Ashford."

 #9 - Tea Between Masked Equals

    ... crap.


    "... who? I don''t know who you''re talking about."


    "Chouko Ashford..." E repeats, a cautious tone to his whispering voice as he explains. "Little girl that appeared in New York for the Vanilla presentation. Some forgotten heir and college dropout, disappeared off of the planet months after."


    He... he knows... how does he know? How exactly does he know? Did I- did I give it away? Did he already know long before I arrived? He does, he does know. What else does he know?


    "I don''t understand the connections, E. Nothing I am remotely resembles her."


    "Your sunglasses. Your eyes," E comments, leaning forward with a grin. "I am willing to bet that they''re red. One of the only people to have natural, red eyes... even brighter than anything an albino can have. Even if it''s fake, or you''re wearing contacts, why would a delivery woman need to specifically have red eyes?"


    Tch.


    "So. I am not confirming whether or not you are correct, but... in the slim chance you do have my identity, what is your objective?"


    Eugene rolls his eyes, almost- scoffing at Kuroiwa still trying to hide it. "Insurance. Woman comes in here, pinpoints something secret, intends to intimidate me by pointing it out... only makes sense that I''d want to confront her, level the playing field. Stand on equal footing and all."


    .......


    Kuroiwa puts the car into park, and glares at... Eugene... through her sunglasses. Taking off her sunglasses and gazing at Eugene with her red eyes. A morbidly wordless stare as her eyes lock onto Eugene.


    "Oh." Eugene comments. The red eyes are real. This truly is Chouko, the famed "Apple-Eyed Child" in the flesh and all. Right on the money, grinning in mild surprise.


    Kuroiwa is frantically plotting her next move right now. Her carelessness, her... her need for superiority, her pure petty action. All of it has put herself in grave danger, face to face with a random client that knows her identity. Unsure what to do, and... the worst part is that Kuroiwa can''t even do anything about it, if she comes up with an idea. Leaving now leaves E in a position to blackmail her and spread her identity. Killing E will jeopardize the job, a needless death of a seller that will simply put a beacon on the person who kills him. Informing Charon of her mess-up will...


    Kuroiwa takes a deep breath, continuing to glare at E as her hand lowers to her side. Keeping his attention as she rests a hand on her baton... her extendable, defense baton. Highly powerful, conceptually non-lethal... at least, more than a gun and a knife. She could take E out right now. Knock him out, hold him hostage, something.


    "... o... oh god. I see that look-" E blurts out, backing away from the car door. "Hey- hey, heyheyhey, I''m serious. No harm intended. What''s said in this garage stays between us, not a word out to anyone. You know about me, I know about you. Just setting up something- mutual, y''know?"


    Kuroiwa grips her baton, eyes tensely narrowing. "Bugs? Witnesses? Anything underhanded that you''ve got against me?"


    "S-Security cameras, but that''s it," E admits, blurting out that there are cameras to record Kuroiwa''s appearance.


    "... mhmm..." Kuroiwa cautiously noises.


    "C''mon. Let''s open a dialogue. Equal terms, equal footing, act in the other''s best interest, right? I need a delivery guy, you need work. Again, again- whatever reasons you have to keep secret, you have my word that not a single word leaves this garage. If- If you want, I can close the garage door, REALLY soundproof everything, but- if we keep things quiet to a whisper like this, no one''s gonna hear."


    "..." Kuroiwa... slowly takes her hand away from her weapon. "Best to keep the garage door open... so that I can drive away, if you do anything, E."


    "Do anyth-" ... Eugene''s eyes widen at this, his voice raising in shock. "W-Woah, woah, okay, NO! No, that''s not my intention!"


    Kuroiwa squints her eyes at E.


    "D-Don''t stare at me like that, I''m serious! S-Sure, Japanese women look beautiful, but- oh, God, no! D-Definitely not interested in that way!" Eugene exclaims, his voice raised highly. "P-Plus, you were ten when I first heard about you, that''s- ugh, crap, that''s sickening to just think about...!"


    "..."


    Eugene continues, almost obsessively. "S-Seriously, like, I- I just mean it in a privacy way, n-not a whole ''keep you in the garage'' way. Please, you have to believe me, I- I would never, I''d never do anything like that! Please???"


    ... Kuroiwa feels disillusioned.


    The identity of E is noticeably less impressive, now that the veil is removed and she speaks with Eugene, the person. The bumbling, panicking man grasping at straws for his safety.


    Yet, this is... this is relieving. E wants to be put on "equal footing", this motivation leaves him vulnerable. A situation less ominous and uncertain.


    "... fine."


    Eugene- blinks a couple of times. "F... Fine? W-What do you mean by...?"


    Kuroiwa lets out a sigh as she puts the sunglasses in the truck''s cup holder. Closing her eyes to take a deep breath in, feeling a metaphorical curtain pull away from her face. "You are correct," she answers, reluctantly choosing to put her trust in this... arrangement. "I am Chouko Ashford, and I accept your proposition to be equal. I shall have no intentions of killing you whatsoever... as long as this information stays between us, Eugene."


    "R... Right," Eugene responds, as he''s basically- told he was correct. Noticeably easing up, an awkwardly friendly smile on his face. "So, before you drive off and all, care for some- oh, I dunno, tea? Not every day I get a fallen British scholar and Japanese girl in my garage. You''d be the first person I welcome into this house."


    Kuroiwa shakes her head. "As much as that sounds... interesting, I have a job to take care of. I cannot afford to loaf about and accept ''refreshments'' from a middle-aged stranger."


    "Ouch. I''m only 28," Eugene comments...


    "And I''m nine years younger than you, Eugene," Kuroiwa responds immediately.


    Eugene- clears his throat. "Geez... one hell of a wake up call for me... what is it? My face, my clothes?"


    Kuroiwa isn''t indulging in this conversation any further, and moves on.


    "Moving on. So, you were 19 around the time ''Chouko Ashford'' spread across the media. Story?"


    "W... Well, sure, I know about you. Your one appearance at the presentation left an impression on me and my friend," Eugene answers, scratching the back of his head.


    "Friend?"


    "Yeah. Media may have forgotten you, but he and I didn''t. I was there, supporting my classmate while he was presenting his little invention, that Vanilla prototype, and saw that whole- show."


    "... oh. You''re an acquaintance of that one inventor years ago," Kuroiwa comments. Somehow, Eugene''s entire personality makes more sense, knowing this information. People keep alike company, more often than not.


    "Yep. He took the language thing and worked on it as a passion project. Took a solid gamble with your dad''s scholarship and all," Eugene idly comments. "Dude wouldn''t stop talking about how lucky he was that you were there to sell his invention and all. Fame went to his head, and we kind of just... stopped talking altogether. One of the big reasons why I recognized you, so... yeah."


    "Right..."


    Kuroiwa... hms at this. There''s more to learn about E, now that he''s conceptually... the classmate of the founder of all modern Android technology. Plus, he knows her face already. No use in wasting this chance, might as well indulge in his hospitality.


    Thus, she unlocks her car door, readying to accept his offer for some refreshment. "On second thought, Eugene. I''d like to come in for some tea. If you don''t mind my departure from your home to be a little late?"


    "N-Not at all! I''m alright with welcoming you for some time, not every day a Japanese woman, and British prodigy, comes over for a friendly chat... especially one from the same professional circles and all," Eugene responds.


    "Indeed," Kuroiwa nonchalantly responds.


    Eugene nods, then walks to close the garage door. "... first, mind backing up a little? Carefully, of course. I secured the boxes, sure, but-"


    "Yes, yes, slowly, regardless," Kuroiwa comments, pulling the car into reverse and driving carefully backwards. "I am aware."


    The garage door closes, Kuroiwa turns the car off and steps out, and the two begin to make their way into Eugene''s home.


    Eugene opens the door to enter, and the two step into... a normal living room. A typical one. Normal couch with a standard TV. Normal beige walls. Curiously, a display case of anime figurines in the corner of the room, likely to show off his high value merchandise. Unremarkable living room regardless. Simple modern living area, with the rest of his house unknown to her.


    "Hm." Kuroiwa looks down at the hardwood floor, standing right outside the open door. "Would you prefer I remove my shoes?"


    "You can keep them on, hardwood floor. Doesn''t matter all that much," Eugene responds. "Any other room in this house, though- y''know. Carpets... kitchen tile..."


    "Right."


    Kuroiwa stares down at the floor for a moment...


    ...


    "... please excuse me," Kuroiwa politely calls out, before stepping through. "Apologies that I didn''t bring a welcoming gift, this is an unexpected visit..."


    "Pff-" Eugene lets out a laugh at this, almost chuckling. "No problem. Tea''ll be ready in just a little bit. Make yourself at home, Ashford."


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Chouko will do..." Kuroiwa corrects, before walking over to the couch. "And... very well."


    As Eugene heads into the kitchen to, apparently, prepare the tea... Kuroiwa takes out the phone and begins to text Charon about her pit stop. Simply informing him that she''s making a temporary stop for now. Sitting contently and comfortably on one end of the couch, relaxing just for the slightest of moments as she is accustoming herself to the room and all.


    Almost ready to go into this conversation as just... Chouko, no Kuroiwa behind it.


    Then, she gets snapped out of this foolish notion, as Eugene sees her on the phone. "Texting someone?" Eugene calls out immediately, suspicious...


    "My... handler," Kuroiwa responds, hesitation in her voice as she honestly responds. "Informing him of my ''pit stop'' for now. Did not elaborate anything about you or this home... so, nothing to worry about."


    "Right- right. Okay," Eugene comments, returning to the kitchen.


    ...


    Kuroiwa lets out a sigh as she pockets the phone. Right. Equal footing does not mean a full, complete friendship. Eugene was understandably cautious in that moment. Kuroiwa could have been texting anyone about him, revealing anything about him under the guise of comfortably relaxing. At the same time, Eugene could be contacting anyone about her at the same time.


    This is a visit between professionals on guard and wary of each other. Not a causal, careless stay. There was no room to be Chouko right now.


    Eventually, Eugene returns with a fresh pot of tea and some cups. Blatantly Japanese themed, these green cylindrical cups coming with no handles or saucers.


    "... hm. Green tea?" Kuroiwa asks, immediately- taking assumption that Eugene''s brewed the one tea most common in anime.


    "Yep," Eugene responds, pouring some for her. "Enjoy."


    Kuroiwa nods, reaching a hand out to...


    ... hold the cup, then pull her hand away. The cup is hot. It''s too hot for her to hold like that. Kuroiwa''s not used to it. With handles on the tea cups she''s used to, she didn''t need to be cautious about the surface temperature on her hand...


    "Pfft-" Eugene chuckles again, as he pours himself a cup. "I''m witnessing someone going through an unexpected culture shock here..."


    "Hah," Kuroiwa sarcastically noises, sighing as she gently holds the cup. Blowing gently into it.


    A silence between the two, as Eugene holds his cup in two hands, taking a sip from it right away. Kuroiwa suspects that he''s... more than used to the tea, apparently, knowing precisely what temperature he wants.


    With nothing to do but wait for her tea to cool off... Kuroiwa lets out a resigned sigh. "... so. You have your suspicions validated, now I''d like to ask about mine. Are my assumptions about you correct? Psychological tactics?"


    "... kind of, yeah?" Eugene explains, tilting his head slightly. "I- I might need you to explain a little, what you mean by that."


    "Alright. So, your instructions are very detailed, a packet''s worth of instructions that a normal person would struggle to remember by their lonesome," Kuroiwa comments. "Intentional?"


    Eugene nods. "Intentional. The cargo''s high value, high ticket. I can''t just let anyone come into my garage, they need to be the one I paid money for, so... y''know, paper, make the mercenary in the truck follow them and all."


    "Right. So the instructions are there to overwhelm my memory alongside all of these posters and your unremarkable, middle-aged appearance," Kuroiwa comments. "Masks your identity."


    "Huh... yeah, that''s also right," E comments, visibly more nervous now... both because he''s being called middle-aged again, and also because Kuroiwa is outstandingly correct. "N... Not a lot of people would pick up on that. Sure, I love the hell out of anime, but keeping like... dozens of posters in the garage, definitely got my reasons to put all of them up."


    "Yes, I''ve deduced as much... the Seven, Plus or Minus Two, concept," Kuroiwa comments.


    "The- the induction script?" asks Eugene.


    "... what?" Kuroiwa asks, confused.


    "Huh?" Eugene blurts out, almost immediately, to cover the fact he just said that. "... uhm, anyway, I... I basically just thought, ''if people just think I am nothing more than a guy who really freaking loves anime'', then there isn''t much of a chance for them to think I''m anything else. I think it''s the- I dunno, Barnum Effect? Saw it in an anime..."


    "Well, no, the Barnum Effect is the opposite," Kuroiwa corrects. "The idea follows someone believing general statements to apply to them, specifically. You would be putting up posters to make people focus heavily on you, that you''re not just a guy that loves anime. You''re the guy in question. This only applies in cases similar to... if I told you, ''people are just getting dumber and dumber every day, man!'' and you begin assuming this statement is directed to you."


    "Ah... that makes sense," Eugene responds.


    "Mm. See, I believe what you''re suggesting is... the Asch Conformity Effect, if memory serves me correct," Kuroiwa comments, scratching her chin lightly. "In the 1950s, psychologist Solomon Asch demonstrated how individuals are likely to give incorrect responses in order to conform to the group. The experiment involved a line test, a ''vision test'' amongst a group of fellow participants to examine a line segment and choose from three different lengths. The pressure to follow along with the majority, to reduce conflict and all, resulted in students intentionally choosing an incorrect answer."


    "..." Eugene nods idly, listening to Kuroiwa''s long explanation. He''s passionate about anime, she''s passionate about... psychology.


    "Combine this with the Social Identity theory, that most people adopt the identity of the social group you''re a part of, and you maintain a positive image by belonging with the ''passionate anime lovers'' and all. No signs that you''re standing out as anything different. Unlikely that anyone will find out that you''re an illegal arms dealer."


    "... hey, what I''m doing isn''t illegal!" Eugene objects. "Weren''t you the one who figured out I was delivering something- toy like? Not a gun or something outlawed, it''s-"


    "An android," Kuroiwa explains.


    "Andr-" Eugene blinks in pure shock, caught off guard again. "... wh... what in the... that''s... that''s so freaky. What exactly even gave it away?"


    Kuroiwa folds her hands on her lap, becoming... content, with this discussion. The grand part about being impressive is having someone to discuss things with. E is proving himself an interesting "equal" with everything so far. Sure, she needs to be on guard, but it''s clear that Eugene is making an effort to chat and converse. The man is putting her on a metaphorical pedestal, as the honored guest in this situation.


    So, she indulges him with honesty. Fair honesty. Explaining to him that it began with the toy soldier...


    "Pfft. Just a toy soldier?" Eugene asks.


    "Yes. A small detail that isn''t important, really. It helps to note every single detail you come across, every detail you find about a person. For example..." Kuroiwa leans back against the couch. "... while- stereotypical, imagine... a blonde woman dressed in revealing clothing. You have your assumptions about this woman, yes? How she might be- promiscuous, carelessly free-spirited?"


    "I... I guess, but I don''t think that''s enough to really tell me anything about her," Eugene comments.


    "Right. That''s why you focus on more. What if I told you she has a handbag with a poodle inside of it, vibrant lipstick coating her lips, and designer sunglasses?" Kuroiwa asks.


    Eugene... blinks in astonishment. "O... Oh. So that would be a supermodel. So she isn''t as free-spirited, she has to keep up with beauty trends and stuff."


    "Yes, but... that''s simply one possibility, one that overwrote the previous possibility with new information," Kuroiwa comments, proudly grinning as she continues her chat. "Like what came after the toy soldier. The actual thing that gave you away was the instructions, taking back the instructions and leaving me with just a phone number. How the numbers don''t match whatsoever. Do you have multiple phones, Eugene?"


    Eugene nods. "Mhmm... in case an unwanted guy sees the paper and all, the contrasting phone number''s meant to shake them off and all."


    "Mhmm. The mystery of your name, the phones, all of that... it was the instigator for me to believe you were more than just E," Kuroiwa bluntly admits. "I erroneously believed you a psychological mastermind of deception, one that erases himself from the minds of other mercenaries. In hindsight... I was overestimating you."


    "Still, you estimated me regardless. That counts for something," Eugene boldly comments, taking another sip of his tea before pouring himself another cup. "A guy with one single psychology class in high school... a psychology master! Hah."


    "Yes, yes, that is quite... funny," Kuroiwa comments, grinning lightly as she continues. "This caused me to pay attention to other details. The large box, how careful you are with number 45... how it coincidentally lines up with ''45k'', compared to the other numbers. Forgive me for making this assumption, but... one of my suspicions is that you have OCD."


    "OCD? That thing that makes you knock on the door three times, three times?" Eugene idly references, tilting his head.


    "No," Kuroiwa answers, shutting that idea down immediately. "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Basically, obsessive thoughts - perhaps fears - leading to compulsive behaviors. You appear to organize a lot, from... how you organize your posters in clusters, how most of the figurines in your case are facing towards the wall across... even how you drink your tea."


    "How I drink my tea...?" Eugene asks, tilting his head.


    "Yes. This is a curious detail, an obscure one, but... I''m counting numbers in my head ever since your first sip," Kuroiwa begins to explain. "I''ve noticed you take a sip every twenty seconds, involuntarily."


    "..." Eugene gulps down his tea as he gazes at Kuroiwa. "Holy shit."


    "Yeah, it''s... it''s interesting," Kuroiwa honestly compliments, smiling. "Furthermore, your elaborate instructions to follow exactly, for example. It lines up with your anxiety about your identity, as well as your need to carry the boxes yourself. With that, I... made the guess that number 45 is important. Utilizing the potential, instinctive obsession with organization and detail you have."


    "..." Eugene claps slightly. "Am- am I being diagnosed by a doctor right now, Chouko?"


    "I''m not certified," Kuroiwa truthfully admits. "Once you gave away that my guess was correct, I... deduced it had to be connected to a toy. Hence, ''mint condition''... dolls came to mind."


    "Right- right. Wow. You''re-" Eugene idly stammers, in disbelief. "That''s really cool."


    "Yes. But for a life-sized toy, one that''s about the shape of a human, I was sure it was an android, but there is no certainty without asking. There were countless hypotheses of what''s inside... so, thanks to my word choice, you just proved at the start of this conversation that it''s an android. You didn''t deny it when I claimed it was an android, and- now that I''m bringing it to your attention..."


    "..." Eugene takes another sip of his tea, blinking. "Woah. Y... Yeah, actually. The box contains an android..."


    "Thank you for your confirmation. By how amazed you are at my deductions, I simply guessed on all of it," Kuroiwa admits, proudly grinning. "Psychology doesn''t let someone read minds, contrary to popular opinion... a psychologist just generalizes and guesses to see what''s likely. Basically, normal science. Hypothesis and testing and all."


    Eugene puts his cup down and just nods. "Y... You''re on a whole different level, Chouko!"


    "Thank you, thank you..." Kuroiwa comments, smiling.


    "S... So, wait, you''re uncertified..." Eugene speaks up, leaning forward. "Why? You seem like you''re capable enough to be a full blown psychologist. You notice all these things like a professional, apparently diagnosed that I have OCD-"


    "Not officially," Kuroiwa interrupts.


    "Right. What... what made you stop?" Eugene asks, tilting his head. "Why''d you give up on that?"


    Kuroiwa stares at Eugene as he asks that, her smile fading. Staring at him with a serious glance, before... looking at her cup. Staring at the cup for a while.


    Then, she answers.


    "... n... none of it was for me," Chouko answers. "I just... I just didn''t want to continue with university. Try as I might, I just... I couldn''t make that final push, I couldn''t run the companies I was expected to, and... and I just-"


    "You ran away from it... and you disappeared..." Eugene finishes, interrupting the recap with what he knows. "... a... after, y''know, the... the thing, nine years ago..."


    "..." Chouko goes silent, her eyes watering slightly. "Y... Yes... I... I guess I did..."


    "I see... but... out of all things you could be... you chose the mercenary world...?" Eugene asks. "Being a messenger for a mercenary to deliver toy products across states... money''s okay, but... for a girl like you, you could be doing something else with your life. Something easier, something better. Why do any of this?"


    Chouko stares down at the coffee table for a bit, reaching out to try again to hold the cup. Copying Eugene''s hand positions, holding the tea carefully- feeling the warmth of the beverage as she stares deeply into the tea itself.


    Whatever semblance of a reflection she could see, Chouko gazes deeply into it. And for a brief moment, she begins to slip some of her explanation.


    A pause of silence, the woman''s red eyes gazing at Eugene for some time. Seeing his curious facial expression, his eyes gazing back as if waiting for an answer. An inquisitive look.


    "..." Then, Kuroiwa... shakes her head. "I can''t say."


    Eugene pours another cup of tea for himself, pushing and pressing the topic. A friendly smile on his face, as if he''s fallen into some casual comradery - camaraderie, a mutual friendship of trust - between the two. "C''mon. I won''t tell. I''m just really curious about it. Might be a whole story to keep between us and all."


    Kuroiwa simply answers with another shake of the head. They may be on "secrets within walls" terms, but she''s keeping that to herself. She doesn''t trust Eugene enough for any of it.


    Who Eugene knows about, and should only know about right now... is Chouko Ashford.


    Not the remains of Chouko. Not the Stalker, not whatever- Eugene simply knows about the woman sitting on his couch, invited in to partake in some tea. "Sorry. I... I simply- can''t talk about it. Eugene, in full... honesty... it''s something only I can bear."


    Eugene- nods, after having pressed and pushed the topic. "O... Okay. I understand..."


    "..." Kuroiwa... takes a moment to look at a clock in the house. Gazing at it, before putting the cup back down on the table. "Would you look at the time? I shall be excusing myself. Until next time, Eugene."


    Kuroiwa decides that she can''t accept the tea from Eugene, right now. Professional business only. Kuroiwa''s hands putting the teacup down before she even takes a single sip.


    She''s already "spilled enough tea"...


    ... and is retreating from this conversation.

 #10 - Everything Left Behind

    "W... Wait, you haven''t had a single drop!" Eugene calls out, getting up in shock as the woman is on her way out. Not a single sip of green tea, just- because it was too hot for her to pick up?


    "Apologies. It''s simply... not for me," Kuroiwa explains.


    "A-Alright, b... but... uhm- don''t you want to stick around, know about what you''re delivering?" Eugene calls out. "Like, what''s in 45?"


    Kuroiwa shakes her head. "Not particularly."


    "Well, it''s a rare and limited-edition Sweet Bot, its box in perfect condition and all. Top of the line," Eugene begins to explain as he follows after Kuroiwa. Entering the garage with her, watching her get into the pickup truck. "Worth quite a lot of money, y''know? ... right, you do know that. But-"


    "Please, open the garage door," Kuroiwa instructs, showing absolute indifference to what Eugene explains. "I just need to know that I''m driving this to Omaha. Nothing more, nothing less, Eugene."


    "... b... but- uhm. It''s an interesting marketing pitch! The salesmen at the company''s-"


    "Eugene, you''re stalling," Kuroiwa bluntly states, calling him and his incessantly rambling self out. "Are you trying to keep me from leaving? ... you have been, for a while, actually."


    Eugene... stares at Kuroiwa for a bit, before sighing.


    "I... I just didn''t want you to go," he truthfully admits. "Not until... n-not until-"


    "Until what?" Kuroiwa asks, glaring at Eugene. "What could you possibly-?"


    "I- I wanted to find a way to s-say you''re welcome back here, anytime!" Eugene exclaims, blurting out to interrupt Kuroiwa.


    Kuroiwa loses her glare as her eyes... widen slightly, looking to Eugene. "... uh... thanks? I-"


    "I-It''s just- listen, I... I heard about the funeral. Then the news said you disappeared, presumably died, and- and here you are. I''m in front of the girl who, who I just- it''s- I''m- I just..."


    Eugene... takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "... I... I feel- I feel sorry, y''know. For all that all happened..."


    "..."


    ... Eugene covers his face, sighing. "... a... alright? T... That''s all. I- I''ll... I''ll let you go now. Good luck with the delivery..." He walks to the garage door switch, letting the garage door open for Kuroiwa.


    Kuroiwa stares at Eugene, speechless for a bit.


    "... Eugene. What was- what was his name again?"


    "...?" Eugene looks back to Kuroiwa, eyebrow raised. "Huh?"


    "His name. The inventor''s. The one who made Vanilla," Kuroiwa idly continues.


    Eugene blinks in astonishment, looking at the garage door as it opens. "... h... have I not been saying his name? That''s- oh, wow, I haven''t. It''s- huh. Why am I just calling him ''my friend'' instead of his actual name?"


    Kuroiwa shrugs. "I have no idea. Well, then." Putting the car into drive, ready to leave.


    "..." Eugene narrows his eyes. "Wa... wait, don''t you want to know his name? He-"


    "Save it. It will be a mystery that we will discuss when I come back," Kuroiwa responds.


    "I- but- why would it be a mystery if-"


    "Eugene."


    Looking to see an... earnest... smile. One meant to be given to a friend, one meant to express pleasantries rather than discomfort. "Thanks for the tea. I''ll be happy to have a chat again sometime."


    "... u... uhm! Sure-" Eugene blurts out, effectively sidetracked enough to go along with that reasoning. "I''ll- have some green ready for you, then. You''re- you''re welcome back any time, okay? A-After the delivery and all."


    "I''d like that," Kuroiwa responds, continuing to smile. "Instead of green tea, though... could you... possibly have some Earl Grey, if possible. Lemon and honey. I''ll have some money to pay you back for the trouble."


    Eugene... nods. "L... Looking forward to it, Chouko. Earl Grey it is."


    With that, Kuroiwa drives out of the garage, and the pickup truck is off to Omaha.


    For a while, as Kuroiwa drives off the neighborhood street, Kuroiwa maintains that smile. That pleasant smile, one that looks in the rearview mirror and looks to the house she was driving away from.


    Then, turning off of the street... the smile fades.


    Kuroiwa has a blank gaze as she grew tired of that charade. Already sick of Eugene and his elaborate tedium, seeing right through his trickery.


    Eugene''s sincerity could have been opportunity to discover other things about him, to seize his information and learn more about him. But those words are as hollow as they always have been. The moment those words came out, these "whole-hearted" apologies from people expecting stuff from her, there''s nothing else that Kuroiwa wants to know about this man.


    Whatever threat he was, gone. Eugene is just another sympathetic person willing to be the shoulder to cry on. Nothing of value as a person, nothing different or worthwhile to offer. Eugene is what she has already deduced time and time again:


    An attempted replacement of her father.


    Maybe these people didn''t understand how much Charles meant to her. When they say these words, when they tell her these apologies, when they show her meaningless sympathy and occasional empathy. It would make her job a lot easier if they just keep quiet and continued with whatever semblance of a life they have instead of trying to enter her world.


    But no. Kuroiwa has to listen to their incessant "I''m sorry for your loss" statements, their endless "condolences". Attempting to make her falter, almost trying to... humanize... what she''s become.


    That''s probably why Kuroiwa doesn''t care about the inventor''s name. Kuroiwa used it to excuse herself and give Eugene something to look forward to, when... in truth, she doesn''t care. Kuroiwa really doesn''t care. No interest in it whatsoever. A reminder of a time she can never go back to.


    It''s an astonishing feat for her, really. By some miracle, this inventor''s name has alluded her mind. One of the many... comforts, in Kuroiwa''s life. As the world progressed because of this man, he just... he just faded away in her mind. At no point did she or Charles pay him any attention.


    The fact of the matter is... as long as his name remains forgotten, Kuroiwa has nothing- nothing at all to worry about. It is a good luck charm to NOT know this man''s name. A rather whimsical thought, really.


    A thought occuring to her at the start of this drive, the beginning of a drive to last approximately 14-ish hours, a destination 900+ miles away, Sensitive cargo. Cautious driving. A completely unremarkable journey just to deliver the android in Box 45. Hours upon hours of driving, passing by unimportant landmarks and such. Other cars, other... things.


    Noting of specific note whatsoever. A simple, general drive there, with Kuroiwa not caring about the surrounding scenery.


    No, in order to efficiently drive, one must devote their attention to the front, to the sides and back of the vehicle. There is no time to see the passing West Pennsylvanian sights, or any of the sights from Pittsburgh to Omaha. With that in mind, nothing of value comes to Kuroiwa''s attention.


    This nothing serves as fortunate signs of luck, really. She''s already used to nothing happening near her, and almost thrives off of it. Tedium is equal to being safe, to being undetected. One of the greatest things to indicate the job is running smoothly. Exceptions exist, of course, but... the general idea for most jobs is as follows: if nothing happens, then Kuroiwa is doing her job properly.


    That''s right. That''s all. When nothing happens, it''s safe. When nothing happens, it''s okay.


    When nothing happens, then no one has to die.


    "..."


    Kuroiwa- shakes her head, and turns on the radio. She needs to drown out the sound of the cars, the deafening sound of highway peace.


    Complete peace amongst the cars going through the interstate highways, as she is simply a red pickup truck traveling amongst common vehicles. SUVs, convertibles, hatchbacks, sedans... even vans, minivans, wagons, buses, trucks, and other pickups. All these cars around her, traveling the same roads, driving along.


    To drown this sound out... the radio is turned on, and a commercial conveniently plays.


    Car crash sound effects. People screaming in horror. Babies crying and dogs howling.


    "Tired of having to drive place to place?! Worried that you''ll end up in an accident?!"


    Ah. Kuroiwa squints her eyes. Car crashes are and have always been concerns people fear. This is a commercial for a product related to that.


    Today''s societal advancements purely prioritized cybernetics and androids, so the "futuristic flying cars" and "fully autonomous self driving cars" have yet to exist. The classics are still widely used today, and the modern exceptions remain grounded in the Artificial Revolution.


    So the answer to the concerns of car crashes:


    "Then say hello to the St. Martin Driving Chip! A brain chip used to regulate your movements, giving you the time to rest while your body autonomously drives for you! Able to think for you as you drive, transmitting its state of the art muscle-signaling motions while letting YOU enjoy your commute in peace and relaxation! So what are you waiting for?! Get one installed, and take back the time you waste on driving!"


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    As absurd as this concept once was, this was a common sight nowadays. On this highway alone, even. The stiffness of various drivers that Kuroiwa passes by, it was evident that there were people letting the brain technology drive the entire trip for them. Entrusting their lives to a technology that operates as just one of those car GPS things.


    The way it works is admittedly efficient. A destination is inputted, and the technology regulates muscle movements to perfectly drive to said destination. From its initial conception to today, the technology has been perfected, and the total amount of chip-caused accidents have been reduced to purely 1% (omitting the crashes caused by manual drivers).


    Not only do these drivers perfectly follow road safety laws, the chips also search for the nearest gas stations when the fuel is low. The driver wakes up as the car pulls in, is aware of the gas station, and... yeah. Once it''s done, the driver continues his journey.


    Ingenious. Conceptually useful for drivers like Kuroiwa.


    However, given the fact that these brain chips obey every road safety law, engaging with a driver that has one of these chips is a jail sentence if you''re engaging with any sort of illegal activity. Getaway drivers, smugglers, traffickers... none of these vehicular "criminals" make use of this technology, as using one has them directed to police stations upon the driver''s criminal activity.


    On the other end, the commercial RIGHT after this... follows the same hook. Repeating the exact, EXACT same commercial sound effects...


    Car crash sound effects. People screaming in horror. Babies crying and dogs howling.


    "Are you tired of driving from place to place, forced to show caution when THIS can happen?! Then say hello to your newest chauffeur, Chavez! Say hello to everyone, Chavez!"


    "HELLO. EVERYONE."


    Ah, yes. Hello, Chavez.


    "Chavez is a prime chauffeur robot designed for driving any distance you need. Simply tell Chavez where you need to go, and he will escort you safely. With state of the art technology to drive you where you want to go, as well as state of the art entertainment software installed in each android, you will never- ever- be bored with your Chavez. Isn''t that right?"


    "THAT''S RIGHT! SHALL WE PLAY A GAME?"


    Children cheering.


    A popular option if one doesn''t want cybernetic car driving. Rather than drive yourself, you have an android do it. Gives a sense of "luxury", of comfort and class to have a chauffeur and all. A service where an android fully integrates itself with the car, utilizing its navigation software to travel across extensive areas.


    This "Chavez" is one of the most popular options for passenger people, going so far as to have holographic technology to provide entertainment throughout the journey. Parents buy their own Chavez to escort their children to and from school, only needing to have Chavez report if all their kids are in the car, and... there we go.


    Public transport via bus, taxi, even mobile services... the human driver is no longer a factor with these androids. Vehicle companies enlist these android products, from Chavez Corp., Belv-Way-dere, MetroNet, and so on... to organize public traffic and all. Inherently, these androids are specially designed with safety and driving, as well as technology for them to handle car accidents.


    Cybernetics... androids... Kuroiwa doesn''t care, really. As of right now, the only technology Kuroiwa has on hand is the cellphone. The essential device to dispatch of both cybernetics and androids in this world.


    Kuroiwa doesn''t need anything else. She can drive perfectly fine. It''s a fine journey, one that sends her past the borders of Ohio. Plenty of time to just tune out, to just automate her own thinking to just driving. A safe drive with nothing but-


    "And we''re back! Hello, listeners and viewers, you''re now with Target News Ohio - the station that gets a bullseye every time. I''m Thomas Anderson."


    "And I''m Barbara Summers."


    Hm. Target News. Kuroiwa blinks for a bit as her attention''s brought to this news station. The station is some sort of "Ohioan" branch of a news network, a combination radio and TV broadcast. A common occurrence with old news media nowadays, with Target News being one of the surviving channels. A pure rarity nowadays, as most of the major ones have already moved to other mediums beyond radio and TV. Thus, these ones are simply here for the stubborn classic lovers. AKA, people who still own cable TVs and drive traditional cars like this pickup truck.


    One male news anchor, Thomas Anderson. One female news anchor, Barbara Summers.


    "If you''re just tuning in, then listen up. Breaking news over to our neighbors in Pennsylvania, the CEO of ''Sedimate LLC'' was found dead in his home."


    Kuroiwa is visibly intrigued at this.


    So... they found Gardner. His death enough to reach Ohio, apparently...


    "Terrence Gardner, 36. Officers found him bleeding out from his neck, shot in cold blood with his own rifle. With only his fingerprints on the rifle, as well as how it was found, officers have ruled his death as a suicide."


    As planned...


    "One is left to wonder the reasons, the motives he could have had to do this, but some information about Gardner has come to light following his death. The man has engaged in countless hookups with Pennsylvanian women, driving them to his forest home and sleeping with them."


    "None have come forward as of right now," the female anchor begins to speak, "because all of them have been reported missing. Various women from ages 18-24, picked up from bars and such, with the latest one disappearing the night he died. All law enforcement has, in terms of her description, is testimony from bartenders suggesting her long blonde hair and lavishly blue dress."


    Kuroiwa chuckles contently at this. Apparently, the bartenders have mistaken her appearance, incorrectly describing the one before her.


    Primacy bias. One remembers the first items in a series better than the ones that follow. When the officers interrogated the area, testimony simply generalized the women that Gardner met before Kuroiwa. So all they have: "blonde" and "blue dress".


    Heh.


    "Wow, Barbara. I sure am glad I''m not a bar woman right now," the male anchor comments. "Tragically, this isn''t the first time a CEO has met an end. Across this last decade, countless businessmen have been reported dead time and time again. CEOs from lesser companies of failing technologies, and CEOs from the biggest companies in today''s age."


    "What do you think could be the cause of this, Tom?"


    "Well. In full honesty, I have no idea, Barbara. But scientists theorize that the deaths of our businessmen, suicide or not, have exponentially increased following the media coverage of an event surrounding America''s--"


    Tom says an irrelevant name that Kuroiwa''s never heard of before, and... the woman pbffts at this. Chuckling with great amusement as they blurt out that name, hearing a name that was indescribably generic.


    "Yes, yes, listeners," the news anchor comments. "All this death followed the death America''s AI golden child, Vanilla."


    ...


    Shit.


    Kuroiwa grits her teeth as she- she realizes that they said his name on air.


    The inventor''s.


    "Following the unexpected shutdown of Vanilla, countless businesses around the world have found themselves with their executive higher-ups dying."


    This was an omen... Kuroiwa sighs. She''s lost the good luck charm that guaranteed her safety. A superstition, sure, but one that''s proven itself relevant throughout these years.


    "America''s faced a dark five years as these people cowardly claim their own lives. If not even our businessmen can handle living, what gives the rest of us hope?"


    The fact that the inventor''s name is now known to her. Kuroiwa knows his name, now. Kuroiwa had to be more cautious, now. She can''t let her guard down, in the event this means something now, and-


    "No greater coward than the suicide that happened nine years ago, the economic hand of Charles Ashford. McCarthy''s biggest supporter in the form of scholarship and publicity, presumably the start of this death of our economy."


    ...


    They...


    They think her father''s death was a suicide?


    They think-


    They think that he took his own life in that hotel room?


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen in horror as the radio''s voice tuned out, as she grips the steering wheel with a tight hand. A dark gaze in her eyes as she stares forward, staring at the back of the car in front of her.


    Charles Ashford. A suicide.


    "Woah- Tom, you sure have it out for the British. ''Greatest Coward''? Way to pay respects."


    "Well, sure. In this anchor''s honest opinion? Good riddance. Time and time again, those Brits screwed our society''s media over, y''know? All these crimes, all this desolation- that''s why our country split from them in the first place. Now we just know them for their funny accents, overrated fanciness, and... them literally dying over here. Charles isn''t the only one, there''s more like him, but- with how important he was, it just sparked a trend with our businessmen, British and American."


    Calm down.


    "Sure, it''s sad he took his own life, but why wouldn''t I blame Ashford? He''s the inciting incident, a pretty aged man born into riches and already on his way out, just... doing something that gets station after station to report it in memoriam. It brings a tear to my heart, but maybe he just wanted to take his life in peace without making a grand spectacle over it."


    Calm down, Kuroiwa.


    "Instead, with hIs pompous, pretentious attitude a symbol of success, he became some martyr, a lure for all those British folk to just come over here. To the land of the free, the home of the brave, and progressively die on us too. Apparently, death is what gets on the news nowadays, right?"


    Don''t get riled up.


    "It''s not like all of them are bad, sure! I''m not discrediting British people as a whole, honestly. Just... what good have they done for society lately? We live in a society of psychopathic criminals that make us unable to leave our rooms, every bit of news is just something about death or technology..."


    Don''t. Don''t do anything rash.


    "Just, get to doing something worthwhile for the world again, Britain! Am I right? I''m right- if Charles was so great, why don''t we just- have more men like him, men willing to be what he was. A shitty businessman on the brink of death, ready to cause and create the next big thing!"


    Don''t. Don''t. Don''t...


    "In this reporter''s honest opinion, he was a piece of crap. Tell me one good thing he did, eh? I''ll wait, Britain. Come on and call!"


    ...


    "Well- haha, anyway, sorry for that tangent, everyone. Now, onto more pressing... oh- what''s that? I''m getting a call," the male anchor comments, chuckling. "Haha. Me, myself! Unknown number, probably one of those scam robocall and all. Any bets on if I''ve attracted one of those Brits for real?"


    "High bets, Tom. Passionate nationalism on full display, everyone," the female anchor comments.


    "Sounds about right! Whoever''s calling right now probably wants to be on TV, on radio, whatever. Let''s welcome them, everyone!" The anchor, Tom, answers the phone in the middle of the news. "Hello, viewer and-or listener, you''re on with Tom! Be aware you''re being broadcast to thousands of Buckeyes right now as-"


    "HE WAS NOT A SUICIDE, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!"


    Kuroiwa shouts into the phone, gritting her teeth as she drives down the highway. The bloodthirsty gaze in her eyes as she shouts with all of her might, with all of her lungs. Completely unrestrained, absolutely hateful and angry.


    Fulfilling Tom''s little "bet" on an angry Brit being attracted by that nonsense.


    It was astonishing that she got the news anchor itself in the middle of the broadcast. The call very visibly catching him off guard while he was covering the story, Kuroiwa managing to get his personal phone number in the time between now and when Tom mentioned her father.


    And she has a pure, personal disdain against this news anchor.


    "Uh- haha- who is this? Why-"


    "I WAS THERE. I SAW HIM RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES. IT WAS A MURDER, YOU INSOLENT WASTE OF A NEWS REPORTER!" Kuroiwa shouts, gripping the phone. Having the safety of using an encrypted phone line, the number being the only thing traceable from her phone. "YOU DARE CALL HIM PRETENTIOUS WHEN YOU CAN''T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO GET YOUR FACTS STRAIGHT?!"


    "... well!" the man shouts. "I- I don''t know who this is, but-"


    "IF YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HIM IN THAT WAY AGAIN, I WILL GO TO THAT NEWS STATION AND ADD YOUR NAME TO THE BUSINESSMEN SUICIDE LIST TOO, THOMAS ANDERSON. 45. THAT''S RIGHT. ANDERSON. YOU''RE GOING TO BE ANOTHER STATISTIC TO ADD TO THE PILE. ALONG WITH GARDNER."


    A pause of silence between the phone call, as well as the news radio channel. Kuroiwa is relying on people interpreting her call as a fallacious threat, an empty one spoken with pure livid rage. The rage that only Gardner''s killer could ever show towards a person, carrying a genuine tone intent on scaring the anchor out of his own body.


    "... Tom, if- if you need to take the-"


    "No, no, I... uh... c... can... can we cut to commercial for a moment?"


    A complete and utter shock to local Ohio media, one that blends in with the hostility of anonymity, making many question the truth to the point of its obscurity. The news anchors'' hesitance an absolute explosion of societal panic.


    "Alright. We''ll be right back after these messages."


    A visible look of glee on Kuroiwa''s face as the news theme plays. Absolutely seething, absolutely hyperventilating after that call. A maniacal look of pure, livid rage on her face as she drives forward, shaking with pure amusement.


    "W... Who is this? Why are you- how do you have this number-?"


    "Goodbye, Mr. Anderson. I''ll be listening."


    Kuroiwa hangs up immediately, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone. An audible giggle, a cackle of glee and amusement as she''s sent the channel into commercials. It''s always satisfied Kuroiwa to see these people suffer. Always has.


    Makes her feel something, imagining the terror on that pitiful news anchor''s face... grinning widely. Maybe Tom is shaking in his pathetic boots, scared for his life after that hostile threat. Death threats are not uncommon in his line of work, sure, but being shouted at by someone who claims to have seen his death? To have personally been there?


    Heh... and now she has his cellphone number, with the press of a button.

 #11 - Traffic Stop and Highway Robbery

    After hours... upon hours... of driving, the sun sets and Kuroiwa makes it to the halfway point of the drive. Relatively exhausted, with a grim look on her face. Any further driving is a pure risk to her safety and the safety of everyone around her.


    The girl''s entertained and energized herself solely on the thought of that news anchor, as her surroundings become a blur and she distracts herself with his suffering. All that suffering and fear he might be experiencing after that phone call, spooked by some ominously unidentified creature and all.


    But it was such a miniscule victory, those of which the feeling always fades with time. That brief, fleeting rush goes away in the face of unyielding monotony, of blatant boredom and disinterest.


    "..." Sigh.


    Kuroiwa''s plan for tonight is to stop somewhere, to pull off of the highway and contact Charon.


    Right away, she knows that leaving the truck as is at a roadside motel is unacceptable. Anyone staying there could simply take things out of the truck. The alternative, taking the boxes out of the car and into the room is needlessly tedious. She would need to take every single box out of the car and into the room, leading to an uncomfortable situation altogether.


    No, what she expects is to find a sort of parking lot to rest for the night, planning to rest in the seat and leave the pickup truck in her care and watch. So, maybe finding a truck stop will be sufficient. Kuroiwa is handling sensitive cargo, and there''s this sort of unity and security amongst the truckers. Maybe she would simply be able to rest in the car for the entire time, wake up to a shower and some breakfast. That ever so endearing American truck stop diner vibe.


    Well. Problems to handle later down the line. For now-


    Suddenly- police sirens echo and blare out. Kuroiwa seeing the flash of red and blue behind her, as a police car is trying to get her to pull to the side of the highway.


    "..." Kuroiwa sighs as she changes lanes accordingly, starting to stop the car. Pressing a speed-dial button to contact Charon, pocketing the phone. A calm look on her face as she takes a deep breath. This is just a routine stop. The police will write a ticket for her license and registration...


    In the time that passes, Kuroiwa wonders what the issue might be. If she''s violated some traffic law, if there was some issue with the truck itself that requires law enforcement to involve itself. Speed limits, broken tail lights, so on.


    An officer approaches the side, looking to Kuroiwa. No remarkable facial features, other than his standard-issue cybernetics. His eyes, a bright artificial cyan.


    "... good evening. Is there something wrong, officer?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Step out of the vehicle, ma''am," the officer responds, immediately.


    Kuroiwa sighs and puts the pickup truck into park, getting out of the car. The light of passing cars amidst the police lights as she steps out. "Alright. I''m out of the car, officer."


    "License and registration, please?" the officer asks.


    "Very well." Kuroiwa reaches into her pocket for the former. The license is Underworld-issued identification that obscures her true identity, but is a valid license regardless. The officer will likely scan the card itself for a fake name, one Charon should be issuing.


    The latter will be more of a problem, but Kuroiwa-


    ... hm.


    Curiously, as Kuroiwa hands the officer the license, she sees a van drive past the two, slowing down with its brake lights on. Pulling off the side of the road as well, driving right in front of the pickup truck. A curious look on her face as she sees the van appear.


    "Ma''am."


    "... ah-" Kuroiwa nods idly to the officer. "Apologies. I was briefly distracted. Please give me a moment to retrieve the registration in the glovebox."


    "No need. The license will do. We''ll receive the registration at the station."


    "... p... pardon?" Kuroiwa blinks at this, looking at the officer.


    "This car is now being legally commandeered," the officer comments. "We have suspicion that it''s stolen property."


    ... this is going beyond a routine stop, then. It sounds wrong, but... it''s a full legal arrest, on the grounds that the entire vehicle might have been stolen. It''s legal for an officer to seize motor vehicle property on the grounds of criminal suspicion. If the offending party is caught in the act of illegal activity, that is.


    In fact, there is a legal precedent to this sudden action. Ever since the rise in cybernetic criminals, police officers are permitted by federal American law to serve in the interest of safety and take immediate action. If someone is caught in the middle of stealing a vehicle, immediate confiscation of the vehicle and the contents inside are necessary.


    Legal or not, however, this is bad. Kuroiwa cannot let the police take the delivery. Having Box #45 confiscated and inspected runs the risk of damaging it, if she''ll even get it back to begin with. Letting the police take the car with the box is not an acceptable option whatsoever.


    Kuroiwa... isn''t going down without fighting. If she can talk her way out of this... "On what grounds do you believe this truck to be stolen? I can assure you-"


    "Stop resisting," the officer speaks up.


    "... I''m not resisting," Kuroiwa continues, continuing to try and speak. To communicate with this human officer. "I''m just asking for legal purposes. See, this car is-"


    "Stop resisting."


    "..." Kuroiwa narrows her eyes, being interrupted again. "I-"


    "Stop resisting."


    ...


    Tch.


    No chances at all to explain the situation.


    Kuroiwa grits her teeth, and just... calms down. This is just... this is- there''s a purpose to this. This is a tactic of law enforcement to, conceptually, keep people safe. It''s a necessary action. Completely necessary. As much as she doesn''t like it... it''s whatever. "Alright. Very well. I shall accompany you to the station to get this all sorted-"


    "No. All of this is police property, now," the officer answers. "You''re free to go home, now."


    "Wha..." Kuroiwa looks at the officer, her eyes squinting. "Could you repeat that?"


    "All of it is police property now," the officer repeats again. "The car is reported stolen, and we need to process everything for evidence. You are free to go now."


    "............" So they''re taking the car and the belongings inside of it... and leaving her on the side of the road... without her personal belongings. "I... I don''t have a car. What exactly do you expect me to-"


    "Stop resisting."


    "I''m not- ... fine. Okay." Kuroiwa begins to reach into her coat.


    "Stop resisting."


    "I''m just getting my phone to call-"


    "Stop resisting."


    "I need to call someone. You''re just taking my car, so I''m-"


    "Stop resisting."


    "C... Can''t I just call someone to pick me up?!"


    "Stop resisting."


    "This is the side of the road, officer, what do you expect me to-!"


    "I said, stop resisting!"


    The officer draws his baton and swings at Kuroiwa. Gripping the handle tightly and putting all of his might into the attack, attempting to take advantage of the fact that this piece of shit is focused on her phone.


    ... and Kuroiwa, appropriately, ducks under the baton.


    The officer committed an attack that could have critically injured her, as the baton missed and hit into the side of the pickup truck, denting it hard. The metallic sound echoing out, giving Kuroiwa all the reasons to assume that baton... will bruise her, or possibly break her bones. If it''s strong enough to dent a pickup truck, a metal pickup truck, then it will absolutely mess up a human.


    "How fucking DARE you resist arrest?! STOP RESISTING!" the officer violently shouts, raising the baton into the air and about to swing down onto Kuroiwa.


    There are legal issues to resisting law enforcement, but this is now - in essence - abuse of power. None of her rights have been told, the officer is avoiding standard protocol, as if denying her rights entirely.


    Stop resisting, stop resisting, stop resisting... he says. As if it''s all he can say. As if that''s all that brain of his can speak, commanding meaningless respect.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Kuroiwa''s face turning completely deranged from pure irritation, pure annoyance, visibly livid. "Stop resisting, stop resisting, stop resisting... is that all you can say?!" she shouts at the officer.


    "STOP FUCKING RESISTING!" the officer shouts again, a mindless tone to his aggressively loud voice as he swings down.


    Kuroiwa sees the movements of his arm, and quickly sidesteps to avoid the swing. Following this, she raises back into standing position and slaps the officer across the face, caring not if she''s taken in for assault. This officer was absolutely on her nerves, a misrepresentation of the boys in blue that supposedly protect and serve.


    Deciding to just slap him, to vent her frustrations as she violently shouts: "SAY SOMETHING ELSE OTHER THAN-!"


    Then, in the next moment, the officer''s brain short-circuits. Pure electrical static shooting out of his head. The officer stares forward at Kuroiwa as his eyes light up red with alarm, as the red alerts were sounding off in his head. Aggressive amounts of static spark and sound out, as Each passing second, his own cybernetics turning against him.


    "..." Kuroiwa blinks at this, unsettled as she backs away. Did- did her slap cause this to happen? Taking her phone out and holding it to her ear. "U-Uh- Charon, is that you doing this, or-"


    Brutally, his eyes explode out of his head and he stands in place. Gradually becoming a lifeless corpse as blood gushes down his jaw, the contents behind his face gruesomely melting as a fiery inferno erupts from his face.


    Kuroiwa is visibly startled as she jumps back at this sudden explosion. "W-What the bloody hell?! D-Damn it, Charon, say something, I can''t just be-!" Kuroiwa shouts at the top of her lungs into the phone, startled...


    ... before... realizing that Charon wasn''t answering.


    There''s no signal.


    "..." Kuroiwa keeps the gun in her hand, her hands shaking. If the phone was receiving no signal, even the encrypted one that''s readily available at a moment''s notice, then she''s dealing with one of those... phone interferers.


    Quickly- she- she looks around, and- her eyes widen. Kuroiwa catches a glimpse of a man approaching from behind her. Presumably from the van that parked in front of the pickup truck, a bald and bearded man in a denim jacket just walking closer.


    Hands behind his back... hiding something.


    "Hey-! W-What''s going on over here?! Did you-?!"


    No hesitation, Kuroiwa uses her other hand to draw her gun and shoot at the ground in front of the man''s feet. There is no room for caution or care, a man''s face just exploded because she slapped him. So there''s really no harm in firing a warning shot.


    "S-Shit-!" the man shouts, looking at the bullet shot. "W-What the hell do you think you''re-!"


    With the warning shot to distract, Kuroiwa rushes at the man and kicks him flat in the face, the bottom of her boot breaking the man''s nose in yet another hesitation-less act. Kuroiwa has no qualms about hurting an innocent man out of paranoia, that anyone could be a threat if she let danger come close to her.


    However, this wasn''t an innocent man. From behind him, rope could be seen falling out of his hands, his intentions revealed front and center.


    Seeing the man reel backwards, Kuroiwa responds once again. Watching as he falls onto his back, taking aim at him. "Stay down, or I''ll shoot! I''m going to drive out of here and-"


    "No, no, I wouldn''t do that."


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen as she sees two hands appear out of nowhere, arms coming from behind her. Looking over her shoulder to see a blond haired man with a chiseled jaw, appearing right behind her. Briefly unremarkable beyond having conventional beauty standards in a man.


    In that moment, Kuroiwa- was in shock, in pure disbelief. The hands didn''t just come from behind her- they appeared over her hand. As if she''s a subject to some magic trick, an illusion that she didn''t notice to begin with. Undetected until just now, completely perplexing her.


    This man''s arms, there was some cybernetic trick to this that Kuroiwa has yet to identify. On further inspection, Kuroiwa sees that this man has visibly translucent skin, his skin slightly clear and see-through.


    And she isn''t given enough time to properly think about this, no time to examine this further. In a swift and forceful motion, this translucent man forcibly yanks the gun out of Kuroiwa''s hands, then steps back and kicks her to the ground. Slamming his foot into the woman''s back, knocking her over as the fire coming from the officer''s face illuminates his body.


    Contently looking at the gun, then at Kuroiwa, the translucent pretty boy just scoffs. Holding the gun confidently as his long hair blows in the wind, contently adjusting his tie as he stylishly looks down at Kuroiwa. "Alright. Come on out."


    Kuroiwa- pushes against the ground to try and get back up, only to be met with another foot stomping down on her back, keeping her against the ground. Belonging to a large, heavy-weight man wearing some sort of black ski-mask with a black sweater and gray sweatpants. Kuroiwa couldn''t get a good look at him while on the ground- but is forcibly accustomed to the weight against her back, a heavy metal shaped like a human foot. This man rendering her unable to lift herself up whatsoever. Stuck in place, forced to squirm and writhe.


    And after the blond speaks up, Kuroiwa sees... more people come into view. Apart from the blond, that rope-holder, and this heavy leg, more people start to come out from both the police car and the van. Two unremarkable people in handcuffs getting out of the police car, while an additional group of three step out of the van.


    Eight people in total, not including Kuroiwa and the now dead police officer.


    "Tch," one of the men speak. "This one''s lively. Wonder what she''s got back here that she''d have a gun..."


    "She''s a single driver, I think it''s just self defense," another one speaks.


    "Self-defense, my ass, she broke my FUCKING nose!" the formerly rope-holding man shouts. "Bitch''s definitely trained to kill!"


    As these men speak, Kuroiwa sees the translucent one rolling his eyes, the man contently examining the gun. "I mean, if she was, she would have gone for your face, which... I mean, she did do, yes. Maybe it is worth examining what she''s driving."


    "Or we could just ask her." The man stepping on Kuroiwa calls her attention as he lifts his foot up and delivers a hard stomp against Kuroiwa''s back. Incentivizing her to tell the truth as his foot inflicts- an aching, trembling pain onto her. As if pure metal itself hits against her back, showing enough restraint to avoid inflicting anything severe.


    Even as the pain courses through her body, Kuroiwa hesitates to say anything whatsoever. Stalling with groans of pain as she gives herself time to ponder. To plan out her next few words. Kuroiwa is now subject to an organized mugging, after all...


    If she does tell the truth about what she''s delivering, the goods will be left alone, but... she''s leaving herself vulnerable if she does. Complete silence is a death sentence during these interrogations, and lying will likely be met with... complications.


    "... ugh... I''m... I''m... I''m just... moving furniture for my relative," Kuroiwa responds, tensely shaking and acting out of breath. Playing the weakness card as she groans in pure pain and agony. "Mother wanted me to... help my uncle get everything to his home. He- he, uh, he... I... uhm..."


    "Your uncle, hm? Are the big ticket items with him, then?" the back-stepper asks.


    They''re... they''re accepting the concept. "Y... yes, yes. I''m mostly delivering what he couldn''t afford to fit in the moving truck. The truck belongs to him, you see..."


    "Oh, wow. So the poor lil'' officer over here''s just accusing you of robbery, when it''s your uncle''s car and stuff! Interesting..."


    The translucent blond crosses his arms, humming. "Wow. How unjust. Well, I''m sure we can arrange something with the uncle. We did save his favorite niece and all, while our happy little coincidence was playing out."


    "... happy little coincidence?" Kuroiwa asks, clenching her teeth.


    "Yeah. Getting two of our guys out of police custody. Our identity''s not important," the blond comments. "How about we put water under the bridge, girl? We come with you, get some reward money, and we go on our merry little way?"


    ...


    Kuroiwa nods. "S... Sure. What choice do I exactly have? A... As long as I get to go to my uncle, okay? I''ll- arrange something..."


    "Wonderful. Glad you''re so compliant," Back-Stepper comments. "Alright. So, let''s get her up and-"


    "Hold on. Wait. Look at who she tried to call."


    Kuroiwa looks as her phone is taken by some short guy. A guy in a shabby, cheap track suit, equipped with neon green sunglasses over his eyes. Something seems to catch his attention on the phone, and - idly - her phone is looked at by most of the surrounding men. With a jammed signal, Kuroiwa was too distracted to hang up the call...


    ... and she''s met with amused chuckling from most of them. Elated and delighted for some reason.


    "Well, what do you know?! Your uncle here''s good ol'' Charon! Hah!" a man exclaims, gently tapping Kuroiwa''s forehead with the tip of his shoe. Condescendingly looking down upon the woman.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen as they state Charon''s name. These people are almost- fluent with the Underworld, familiar enough to state the name of a single informant. Charon did keep his deals and connections secret from her, and- all eight of these people seem to be familiar with him enough to recognize a number. Are these people actually her allies?


    ... no. Kuroiwa identifies that these people are not on Charon''s side.


    "... or it could be this one number she''s called about two hundred times... for the last 8 hours?" a voice asks, chuckling. "Sure are desperate to call this one."


    "Point is, this here''s one of his newest brats! No way''s she just some girl moving furniture, this is some sorta job!" the Back-Stepper exclaims.


    The moment those words are said, that is when Kuroiwa realizes that - at the very least - they''re as equally unaware of her as she is of them. Kuroiwa grits her teeth and reaches for her-


    "Ah-ah-ah," the blond calls out, stepping on Kuroiwa''s hand to stop her from taking out another weapon. Forcing her hand to stop in place as his shoe presses down against her hand, almost trying to squish it into a sandwich. "That explains why you were so defensive to the officer..."


    Kuroiwa- grits her teeth as his foot grinds her hand into the ground. Watching as he crouches down and stares into her eyes, her own hostile look meeting his grim and dark gaze. Able to feel the pulsing waves of light emanating from his skin, his eyes lighting up with a pure red rage. The clash of red eyes.


    "So. If you want to live, you are going to tell us the truth. Explain now, what you''re carrying. What exactly is Charon having your little truck here carry?"


    "..."


    Kuroiwa...


    Kuroiwa sighs. No way out of it. Her hostile gaze weakens as she''s forced to admit defeat, to answer after her ruse is unveiled. "Fine. I''m delivering goods to a buyer. Everything in those boxes are being bought at a high price."


    "Really, now! Wow. How much are you being paid for this?!" the man with the foot on her back shouts. "Sure does sound like a huge pay day."


    "... a thousand dollars," Kuroiwa lies, her breathing tense as she blurts that out. Absolutely helpless before these mercenaries, clinging to whatever advantage she could hold onto, needing to maintain this- helpless act. Pride will only get her killed if she can''t do anything to defend herself. "The client''s paying Charon quite a sum to deliver these goods unharmed."


    "Unharmed? Pfff... alright. Sure do wonder what''ll happen, though, if..." the translucent man hmms, holding Kuroiwa''s gun in his hand... and taking aim at the boxes. Firing one shot into one of the boxes.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen as the gunshot fires. "W-What in the world are you doing?!"


    "Just making Charon''s life as difficult as possible. If some of the goods are damaged, then there''s going to be less of a payday..." the blond explains, glaring at Kuroiwa. "Piece of shit still gets work because of pathetic mercs like you, and... well, if we just so happen to destroy each and every single one of these boxes... so be it!"


    Kuroiwa- struggles underneath the foot, just- struggling and aching to break free. Deciding to play the desperation card, acting to try and plead with them. "S-Stop! Stop-! Y-You can''t! Don''t-! I- I''ll- I''ll split what I earn from this-! Please-!"


    ... in truth, Kuroiwa knows that every box besides Box #45 doesn''t matter. As long as THAT one survives, everything is still in play. But if she doesn''t bring specific attention to that box in particular, the chances of it being damaged is unlikely. She''ll be able to figure out some tactic to get it out of here.


    "Heh- how desperate. Your loyalty to Charon is commendable," the blond comments, before looking to the other men and shouting. "Get her on her feet, I want her to see each moment of this! See all that money drain before her eyes and all, whatever the hell her $1,000''s making her carry!"


    "N-No!" Kuroiwa exclaims, feigning panic and stress as she''s forced onto her feet, pretending to be as panicked and vulnerable as possible. In truth, she''s simply getting herself into an optimal position to come up with a plan, to come up with a method to get out of this situation.


    The first step is to look at the boxes, to see if his shots damaged the vital box. If she can gauge how long she has until they shoot Box #45, she can still salvage this job and-


    ...


    Kuroiwa is helped back onto her feet, and drops all panic as she sees a bullet hole. Whatever emotion she felt in that moment, turned to a completely blank and hopeless indifference, registering the sight before her.


    A bullet hole. A hole made by a bullet, damaging the cardboard box and possibly whatever is inside of it.


    She sees the hole in Box #45.


    Hm.

 #12 - Damaged Property

    The cars pass by, driving along the highway. The pickup truck pulled over onto the side, most of the passing drivers ignoring the side-view of a corpse just burning to the side. A common occurrence nowadays to the point of pure desensitization.


    Kuroiwa, herself, just blankly stares at the boxes. Almost rid of all its panic, not even bothering to hide or conceal the situation. The tactic to hide Box #45 amidst fodder boxes is now obsolete and irrelevant. It''s been shot. There''s nothing else to do.


    With the corpse, nine people. Two of them securely holding the black haired, red-eyed Kuroiwa - our very own Chouko Ashford - as a blond haired man, the mysteriously "translucent blond" has the woman''s gun.


    The blond, the lucky idiot holding her gun, he has specifically shot the one box that is to be delivered in mint condition, effectively damaging ALL of the goods in one shot. Unintentionally dropping the value of this entire shipment, rendering the possible fortune from this absolutely depleted to mere pocket change. Successfully fulfilling his goal of screwing over Charon and, subsequently, everyone involved with this job.


    Kuroiwa openly, openly does not even bother to pay any attention to these mercenaries in terms of physical appearance. The only remarkable ones are the blond gunman, the green sunglasses short person, and "Back-Stepper". Who she, with a better look now that she was standing, sees as a burly tan gentleman with a thick beard. One of those unkempt ruffian folk and all.


    ... something seems familiar about him, though. She can''t put a finger on it.


    "Well, then! Get the boxes out of the car!" Back-Stepper exclaims. "We''re burning everything and taking the truck with us!"


    "..."


    The blond notices Kuroiwa''s desperation fade, that narrowed-eyed look on her face. Completely rid of all its panic, an abrupt emotional shift that... deeply unsettles him. It upsets him. Slightly annoys him, even, seeing her act completely different. "... hold it. Steele."


    "...?" Back-Stepper... apparently, "Steele", looks to the blond. Crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow. "Hm?"


    As the blond stops the other mercenaries... Kuroiwa immediately notices the blond''s tense facial expression. His skeptical, confused look. Given the fact she''s dealing with complete and utter jokes, she decides to drop the seriousness in her demeanor as she goes: "Oh. Sorry. Let me just," before suddenly panicking again. "P-Please! Please- no! Don''t-! O-Oh god, oh, please, have mercy...!"


    This pisses the blond off. A hostile look on his face as he takes aim at Kuroiwa, still holding her pistol. "Do you know something we don''t?"


    "..." Kuroiwa resists the urge to continue her non-seriousness by answering that with a yes, and instead poses a question. "Allow me to ask you something. Your intentions are to make sure Charon earns nothing, correct?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Right. You got your cut, sure," the short man with sunglasses responds, chiming into the conversation. "Have yet to see if you actually did get a thousand, but if we sabotaged this job, then..."


    "Right. Right. I see," Kuroiwa responds. "Now, hypothetically, what if I told you that... well, there''s a high price to what I''m delivering?" Kuroiwa asks, starting to explain this in a calm manner. Really elaborating, detailing it out.


    "Tch-!" the Back-Stepper, the one that previously stepped on her back with his seemingly metal legs, noises out. "Cut the crap! Just sounds like a cheap attempt to get yourself out of this safely!"


    "Hear her out. Hear her out, Steele," the blond commands, continuing to point the gun at Kuroiwa. "I''m as skeptical as you are, but... you know Charon. Full of surprises..."


    "... alright, woman," the blond speaks to Kuroiwa, staring at her and waving the gun lightly to regain her attention. "Go on. Explain. What is it about the price?"


    Kuroiwa nods, taking a deep sigh. There was no use hiding it, now. Damage has been done.


    "I was paid a thousand dollars... to deliver a shipment worth millions of dollars. Maybe tens, hundreds of millions, even."


    "..."


    A complete silence amidst the nine surviving people, the sounds of passing traffic and the burning remains of an officer''s face.


    "... hot damn, we hit the jackpot!"


    "Whatever''s in here is worth that much?!"


    The blond narrows his eyes. "Are you serious? Did Charon really assign you to do this for a thousand dollars?!"


    "Charon has no information on the true value, admittedly," Kuroiwa responds. "But yes. He did assign the job. The items are already paid for by the buyer. The payout is huge... if all the boxes are undamaged on delivery."


    "Yeah! So what''s a single box, eh?!" Steele shouts, grinning widely. "We can make it big! Between the eight of us - a ninth to the client - we''d earn about- a million! Maybe ten millions, each! Hell, if we were nice, you''d get a good cut of it too, girl!"


    "W... Wow. That''s-" the blond speaks up, the gun lowering slightly... before he continues to aim at Kuroiwa, narrowing his eyes at her. "... you- what reason do you have to tell us this? Are you planning on sharing the cut with the rest of us?"


    ...


    Kuroiwa lets out a sigh, answering. "I neglected to tell you this because you all are threats. But there''s no harm in telling you now. No point in keeping it hidden and all. If I''m still able to get money from this, there is a possibility that I can split the rewards with all of you for my life."


    "What- what proof do you-"


    "Call the number. I have a slip of paper. The client is available if you want to talk to him."


    "A-Alright, Griffin! I''ll disable the signal blocker and get to calling...!" the sunglasses wearing man shouts, taking Kuroiwa''s phone and running to the van.


    ... Griffin.


    Griffin?


    ...


    1897. H. G. Wells. The name of the protagonist in The Invisible Man.


    That translucent trick of the blond''s... blatantly designed for invisibility. Kuroiwa knows the trick now. The technology isn''t publicly released, but this... Griffin... has something that changes his optical density. The material layer over his skin generating some sort of camouflage to blend into his surroundings.


    So there''s Steele and Griffin.


    "Right. If the boxes are undamaged," Kuroiwa repeats.


    A mass uproar of cheers, most of the mercenaries present riddled with joy and excitement. Collective celebration, even from the two mercenaries securing Kuroiwa in place. Their voices raised to pure excitement, drowned out by the passing sounds of cars and the deceased officer''s burning remains.


    Steele just lets out a haughty laugh, almost- pounding his chest a little. "We hit the jackpot! Man, with a million, there''s no telling what we could do! This country''s OURS, baby! Wooooo!"


    "Hold on. Hold on one moment," the blond interrupts his celebrating companions, glaring at Kuroiwa. Finger on the trigger, a hostile look on his face... seeing the. "I don''t like the way you''re saying that. We''re getting rich, right?"


    "..." Kuroiwa lifts a hand to her face and sighs. Rolling her eyes at their pathetic display. Now it was time to take away their anticipation, pull the metaphorical carpet of wealth out from under their feet. "You wanted full honesty. You get full honesty. ''Taking a bit of your cut'', you say, a cut you would have received... well, except for one tiny issue."


    "Which is?!" Steele shouts, glaring at the woman. "We got the boxes! We got the rest of it! What''s the goddamn-?!"


    "The buyer," Kuroiwa interrupts, a hostile groan in her voice as she glares at the pathetic Back-Stepper. "The buyer is only going to pay for it. If. The. Boxes. Are. Undamaged. Do you see where I''m going with this?"


    "..." The blond blinks. "Wa... Wait. You''re suggesting-"


    "Shipment''s worth nothing," Kuroiwa explains, eyes looking to the bullet hole in Box #45. "Mission accomplished, mercenaries. Charon gets nothing from this job, and the blond here has shot away your riches."


    The surrounding men stare at Kuroiwa in disbelief.


    "... you''re- YOU''RE LYING!" Steele shouts, leaning forward with a tense growl. "You can''t possibly-"


    Interrupting Steele and the others for a moment, the short sunglasses wearing man returns with a phone, dialed to the number Kuroiwa had readily available. Calling that number on the paper given to Kuroiwa, having Eugene pick up on the other end. Receiving the call much earlier than expected.


    "Uh- hello? Is this Ai?" he asks, using that makeshift name to cover for Kuroiwa.


    Kuroiwa blinks as the phone''s held up to her, the phone on speaker. A calm look on her face as she looks to the short man, looking back at him.


    "..." A thumbs up from Kuroiwa, before she speaks. "Yes. Hello..." she repeats. "It''s Ai. I''m calling just to let you know that... well. There''s been a little bit of a mix-up."


    Griffin walks up to Kuroiwa''s side, putting the gun to the side of her head. Glaring violently at her, ready to pull the trigger. ".........."


    "O... Oh? What''s up? Is something the matter?"


    "Y... Yes. See," Kuroiwa begins to explain, sighing as she looks to Griffin. Mouthing the words: ''let me speak'' to the man.


    Griffin squints his eyes as he steps back. Gun still aimed at Kuroiwa, listening attentively.


    "Y-Yes? W-What is it?"


    "... Box #45 has been destroyed by an officer," Kuroiwa half-lies, blaming the damages on the officer instead. "I was pulled over by the police, and they accused the car of being stolen. Some complications arose, and... well, the box has bullet holes in it."


    A silent air between Kuroiwa and Eugene, the mercenaries listening actively.


    "... Ai... you... h... how could you-"


    Kuroiwa grits her teeth, glaring at the phone. "It was out of my control. The box is damaged. Your trick''s useless now. What do I do, client? What exactly do I do?"


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    "..."


    A sigh...


    ... before the man calmly answers. "Nothing."


    Kuroiwa solemnly stares at the phone, hearing... Eugene... answer. "So. The job''s unsalvageable. #45''s worth, gone...? About-?"


    "Three hundred million dollars."


    The mercenaries surrounding Kuroiwa widen their eyes at this. When Kuroiwa estimated that wealth, they were cheering. Now they felt absolute dread, hearing this. Knowing the wealth that Griffin, inherently, shot away.


    The exact value now revealed to Kuroiwa, whose response to this is... despair. Desolate despair, staring at the phone. "Right." Kuroiwa sighs. "Right... do what you must. You know the channels to report a failure. I''m sorry it ended up this way, client."


    With that, E leaves with one more remark:


    "... don''t ever come back here. You''re no longer welcome here."


    Then, E hangs up. A quiet, uncomfortable air between the mercenaries as Kuroiwa''s phone is lowered, the call ended.


    With that, Kuroiwa''s quest is over. The overarching objective she''s held onto for years, gone, with this failure. Her blunder, her mistake a stain that brings her to complete worthlessness. A box worth three hundred million dollars severely outweighs everything she is. The moment this gets to the Underworld, the moment Charon catches wind of this... her life is over, and her hunt for the real Kuroiwa is over.


    Her value gone, alongside the loss of #45''s value.


    The other mercenaries look at each other, just... just... processing this. Three. Hundred. Million. All of it down the drain, all because of circumstance. Because of Griffin.


    The sunglasses wearing man, the apparent tech specialist, gripping the phone tightly as he glares... offended at this. Representing the responses coming from the other unremarkable mercenaries, the ones that Kuroiwa doesn''t care about, this man just looks to Griffin with judgmental looks of disdain.


    Steele, included, just- uncomfortably looks to Griffin. A look of pure despair on his face, horrified at what they''ve done. Three... three hundred million dollars. Gone.


    Griffin has his teeth clenched, shaking as he was the one responsible for this unexpected blunder, thinking to himself: it wasn''t his fault, he didn''t know! ... now trying to figure out what to do now.


    "... well? Go on. Open the box," Kuroiwa suggests, an irritated tone to her voice as she just... gave up. Inviting these men, these mercenaries to finish what they inherently started. "You damaged the box. Go on. Look at it. Look at what you shot. You have verbal confirmation that I''ve been telling the truth. Nothing else to do but to check on what you just wasted away."


    ...


    Griffin... sighs, pocketing Kuroiwa''s gun. "Steele... Steele. Get that box out. Now."


    "B... But-"


    "I said, now..." Griffin seriously responds.


    The buff, metal-legged Steele walks to the truck and takes Box #45 out of the back. Hoisting it out, placing it flat and upright on the ground.


    "..." The blond... stands in front of the box. Seeing the life-sized nature of it, just a few inches taller than whatever this is. As Steele opens the box and takes the packaging out, the... the glimpse of... pink is seen.


    Kuroiwa doesn''t bother to look, truthfully. Looking down at the ground, unaware of these mercenaries'' reaction to the product in question. All she can hear is the box in question being opened up further, an uncomfortably awkward silence amidst the group.


    ... and it''s broken up by:


    "Hello! I''m Shortcake! It''s nice to meet you all!"


    Shortcake.


    One of the Sweet Bot models, as E stated. A limited edition in the package in question. Now that the box is damaged, there''s no telling what value the thing has now.


    A cute, petite android that''s noticeably short. Stylistically in a frilly pink and black dress, its snow white- slightly pink-tinted hair going down to the back of her knees. A pink ribbon around its collar, standing politely with hands folded in front of it.


    The android smiles cheerfully and brightly as she''s activated. Designed to be exceptionally friendly, to be welcoming and energetic upon opening. Her eyes blinking actively as the plastic eyes are unveiled to the world, fake eyelids fluttering actively as she looks around.


    Usually, the instructions state that the box be open and the android be given time to adjust to her surroundings. The time limit starts at the first bit of oxygen, and the android is welcomed into the world. An activated companion ready to be a friend, a buddy, a pal, and so on. So, the android smiles at her new family, seeing all of them staring at her with anticipation.


    Oh, the fun they''re going to have! Shortcake''s processors active, now concocting something that they could do! Giving them all some time before-


    "Tch-! What the hell is this?!"


    "Hm? Pardon?" Shortcake innocently asks, tilting her head as she looks back at the large man behind her-


    Promptly, the android is pushed against the ground, her body smacking against the dirt. Rather than being welcomed, a forceful hand - a hand belonging to Steele - pushes her against the ground as if she were nothing more than a punching bag.


    "This is a fucking ANDROID," Steele shouts, violently enraged at the sight. Glaring down at the thing, shoving its face into the dirt. "THIS is what the 300 million dollars are going into?! What a FUCKING JOKE!"


    A reaction that Steele has, that riled up the other mercenaries to join in on his anger. Griffin having the blame shifted off of him, as their collective hatred of androids - a common stereotype, being that they were cybernetic mercenaries inherently associating these androids as mortal enemies - banded them together once again.


    However, Kuroiwa looks up as she hears Steele shout, watching this occur alongside the group''s collective anger. Watching the metal-legged man shove Shortcake into the ground, seeing his drastic methods... immediately brought to shouting. "W-What are you doing to her?!"


    "We all heard the phone call. This thing''s now completely worthless!" Griffin shouts, violently livid as he glares at this thing. Walking up to it while Steele has it secured, glaring down. "Damn it! Tch- speak up louder the next time you''re delivering some ''high grade'' piece of shit product! Maybe then, I wouldn''t have to do THIS-!" A hard kick to the side of the android.


    In that moment, the android''s eyes glow brightly, flickering yellow as she lets out a faint alarm. "O-Ow...! I- I''m sorry, b-but-" it tries to speak against the ground, processing these words with-


    "SHUT UP!" the glasses-wearing tech specialist shouts, running over to deliver another hard kick to the android. His foot slamming into it.


    The android''s eyes widen as she registers this sensory data, registering this as... pain. As her material being attacked, as physical harm being inflicted onto her.


    "S-Stop that!" Kuroiwa shouts, struggling against the two mercenaries continuing to restrain her. "L-Let her go!"


    "Why?! Whatever we do to this thing doesn''t matter, bitch. I could scrap this thing, burn it to ash and dust, and it''d still be worth nothing!" Steele shouts, lifting Shortcake''s head upward... before slamming it down against the ground again. Dirt and mud splattering out from underneath her, staining her clothing as the bits of ground get into her hair.


    Griffin, Steele, and that sunglasses wearing mercenary holding Kuroiwa''s phone. All three of them absolutely gang up on this android, unleashing their pure hatred and disdain for this thing, while the other five mercenaries cheer on this abuse.


    "Worthless fucking machine!"


    "Go back to where you fucking belong!"


    Kuroiwa stares at this happening, her red eyes staring to gaze at the android... actively staring at it, her eyes widening. Watching the android as she... she...


    ...


    "... ugh... so, what''s the plan now?" Steele asks, grumbling as he stands up from Shortcake. Having let out all of his rage towards this machine- well, actually, doing one more kick before he''s completely done. "We''ve done what we accomplished."


    "Well... no point in sticking around... let''s go dump the android somewhere," Griffin begins to instruct. "Then we''ve got to do something about Charon''s merc here. Clearly, her name''s tarnished and all after that travesty. Seems like we really ruined the reputation of-"


    "Kuroiwa."


    "Yes, Kuroiwa, and-"


    ... Griffin blinks as he looks to Kuroiwa. Staring at Kuroiwa, narrowing his eyes.


    "What?"


    "Kuroiwa," Kuroiwa repeats. It''s already over. No point in continuing further. Kuroiwa contently name-drops herself, knowing full well she''s going to die by these people''s hands. "You''re dealing with Charon''s newest brat... Kuroiwa."


    "... you are NOT Kuroiwa," Griffin responds, a strong certainty behind his voice as he glares at Kuroiwa. As he stares at this woman, this impostor.


    ... and Kuroiwa thinks to herself: Really, now? Kuroiwa doubles down on this, hearing how... sure... Griffin was, that she isn''t Kuroiwa. "I am... I am Kuroiwa... that''s my name... the android can attest to it. The android is proof to this."


    "W-What?! What the FUCK are you on about?!" Steele shouts. "There''s no way you''re-!"


    "That is my name... Griffin. Steele. The rest. Listen up," Kuroiwa speaks up, looking around at the others. "I am Kuroiwa. Or at least- the one sent to deliver his android, there."


    Absolute shock goes through the mercenaries at Kuroiwa insisting this, as she salvages whatever she can from this situation. Ready for her inevitable demise, having nothing else to do now that it was all over. Distracting herself from the pain and cruelty to come from having not fulfilled her goal.


    ... but, shortly after this, a full truck is seen pulling up to the side. An entire large moving truck, the driver rolling down the window and looking to the others. For reasons initially unknown, this truck driver appears to be pulling over... and Kuroiwa deduces by the mercenaries'' inaction that this truck is one of their allies.


    Kuroiwa chuckles for a moment, sighing as she looks to this truck. A confident smirk on her face as she looks at...


    "Alright- what''s going on, everyone? Why are you all still here? We need to get on moving."


    ...


    ... it''s.. it''s- it''s...


    ... him...


    ... it''s him.


    "Hey-! You''re not going to believe this, sir!" Steele shouts. "This girl, this woman- she''s claiming to be Kuroiwa!"


    "Kuroiwa? Pff... absolutely not. Kuroiwa''s not some bitch."


    Chouko''s eyes widen, staring at the person pulling up in the truck. Staring at the driver''s body, seeing someone unforgettable.


    One of the people she''s been looking for all this time.


    "Simple. Kuroiwa sends his regards."


    Matching voice. Almost matching appearance.


    "It''s very possible that she''s gone mad," Griffin idly comments. "Should we do something about her?"


    "I don''t see why not. If she''s somehow knowledgeable about Kuroiwa, nothing to do but to put her down and-" the driver begins to speak as he walks closer, looking down at this "Kuroiwa" impostor. Looking down at her in the darkness of the Indiana night sky, staring at her as his amusement fades.


    Chouko''s eyes stare back at this man, completely wide-eyed as she stares at his face, seeing the person before her. A hollowing feeling overtakes her body, a cold and uneasy feeling spreading in massive waves. For the first time in years, Chouko''s eyes have come across one of the most important people she''s been going after.


    Why? ... because it was him. It''s him. It''s... it''s the murderer. It''s the mercenary. The thug, the person who pulled the trigger. Someone Chouko immediately recognizes.


    And this mercenary recognizes her as well. Staring at the black haired woman, seeing the supposed Chouko Ashford before him. The daughter of one of his kills, the heir to a target of his. Staring at her with a look of realization, of astonishment and amazement.


    "... there''s- no way. You''re-" the man speaks, looking at Chouko, a tensely serioius look on his face-


    Chouko lunges herself forward, trying to break out of the men''s grasps. Forcing her body forward, prying herself away from the restraining men. A violent glare of death as she struggles with all her might, growling visciously.


    "W-Woah! Lively, aren''t you? What''s gotten into ya? Afraid of our-?" Steele asks, an amused look on his face.


    "I WILL EVISCERATE YOU AND RIP ALL OF YOUR ORGANS OUT, BIT BY BIT!" the girl shouts, violently staring at this man.


    Her voice trembling and shaking as the mercenaries all witness this. Promptly, Griffin takes aim with the pistol, ready to put Kuroiwa down.


    Charles''s murderer, however- holds a hand up, shaking his head. Staring at Chouko as she''s brought to a violent rage. "... you really think you can d-?"


    "WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Kuroiwa shouts at the top of her lungs, interrupting him and ranting. All rationality abandoned as she speaks with pure derangement, struggling further to break free. "TEARING YOU INTO NOTHING MORE THAN PURE FERTILIZER NOT EVEN THE MOST DESPERATE OF FARMERS WILL USE."


    The murderer rolls his eyes, leaning forward to stare at Chouko. "... hm. I''d like to see you try, brat. Been looking for you for ages... and here you are. Outnumbered."


    Kuroiwa growls angrily at the man. "YOU ARE A DEAD MAN. YOUR ESSENCE WILL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A ROTTING DECAY OF CLOSET SPACE-! DRAGGED DOWN TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL AFTER A MILLENIA OF SUFFERING. WHATEVER IT TAKES, BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY, I WILL DRAG YOU DOWN WITH ME!"


    "Right, right..." The killer looks to the other mercenaries, just sighing and gesturing them off. "All of you. Keep her restrained. Take every belonging you can from this woman. Strip her of her weapons and all, make sure she''s defenseless and helpless. Conscious, yet no longer a threat. We''re getting her and the..." Squinting at the Shortcake on the ground. "... the android in the back of the truck."


    Following this man''s orders- all eight of the men start to take everything away from Kuroiwa. Her baton and knife now confiscated, phone and gun grouped up along her belongings. Even going so far as to take her boots off.


    Kuroiwa is now defenseless. Fighting the best she can, to no avail- overwhelmed by these numbers, unable to get past two of them... let alone eight. While her physical body incapable, her rage remained ever unyielding, the mercenaries having to be careful as she struggles with a burning fury.


    "Damn it- you sure she has to be conscious?!"


    "Yes. Don''t knock her out."


    And with that, Kuroiwa - as well as Shortcake - are thrown into the back of the truck. Literally thrown, Steele being the one to hurl the two of them into the truck with the care and grace of a stampeding bull. Door locked securely, unable to be opened from the inside, the mercenaries ready to drive off to their base.


    The man in question, the apparent leader that''s organizing a kidnapping right now, gets into the truck as the other mercenaries prepare to get into the van. Ready to leave the pickup truck, the police car, and the dead police officer behind.


    "S... So, sir-" Steele speaks up, looking to the killer mercenary with an unsettled look after that whole- speech. "Why are we bringing those two with us? Wouldn''t it be easier to dispose of them...?"


    The man sighs... shaking his head as he addresses all of the mercenaries. "The android''s whatever. She''ll be a useful toy... but, the black haired girl? We''ll be Kuroiwa''s top mercenaries when we bring her in."


    "R... Really?" Steele asks.


    "Yes. Consider her worth equal to... billions of dollars in value nowadays."


    ...


    With that information tucked away into their mind, the mercenaries start their departure. Griffin, Steele, and all, following after the truck and heading down the highway to their next destination, ready to do anything to make up for their prior mistake.


    If, by chance, this girl ends up worth that amount to them... then...

 #13 - The Unboxing of Shortcake

    As the truck door locks, the sounds of the outside are isolated. A soundproof truck container, one filled with various crates and boxes. Unimportant boxes, as far as she knows.


    Kuroiwa ran straight to the back, pounding her fists against the door. Unleashing pitiful attack after attack onto the metal, failing completely to do anything.


    The image rang clear in her mind when she heard his voice, when she saw his face. Kuroiwa... Chouko. Chouko found him. The person who was there, the person who pulled the trigger, the person who stood at the forefront of Chouko''s corrupted and vengeful mind as the direct link to the other Kuroiwa. That was the mercenary, that''s the person.


    Kuroiwa has encountered him after all of these years. Kuroiwa has ample opportunity to kill him. The skills to take him out, all the chance in the grasp of her fingers. Her red eyes burning with rage and delight. If this door was not in the way, she could very well do it, fulfill her darkest desires and take the life of that pitiful scumbag away.


    And yet, he remains ever out of reach...!


    "OPEN THIS DOOR! LET US GET THIS OVER WITH!" the woman shouts at the top of her lungs, her rage boiling aggressively.


    In the confines of this truck container, the faces burn in her memory. This mercenary has other mercenaries on his roll, mercenaries that are completely full enemies of hers. Kuroiwa deemed them buffoons, almost- surrendered to them after the mission failure.


    ... and Chouko feels... absolutely sick... at this thought. How she was overcome by them.


    "I WILL KILL YOU. NOT JUST THE BLOODY KILLER- NO. EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!" Kuroiwa roars out, deranged to the point of inhuman screeching. Her crimson eyes the shade of devil''s work, close to choking on her pure and unholy wrath. "I REMEMBER YOUR FACES. ALL OF THEM. AS LONG AS I REMAIN LIVING, HELL HATH NO FURY. I WILL PRY THE LIFE OUT OF YOUR HANDS AND INCINERATE WHAT REMAINS OF YOUR PUTRID, WRETCHED SOULS!"


    Bold claims made to nobody, as the sound doesn''t escape the truck. As Kuroiwa''s voice rings out in these walls, no response other than her hands and her tears, echoing out in this space and...


    ...


    Crying?


    Kuroiwa... Kuroiwa wasn''t crying. That wasn''t her crying.


    ... right. Right. Kuroiwa remembers. The mercenary was thrown into the truck with the android as well. She looks to the back, investigating the sobbing misery. Walking back past the boxes, looking around for her fellow unwilling passenger.


    Finding it hiding away in the very back of the container - or, more specifically, as close to the front of the truck as possible - Kuroiwa finds the android curled up into a ball, the artificial human starting to realistically sob and cry while lying against the floor. The android can''t produce tears, yet its sounds are faithful.


    "Hey- android. Shortcake, was it?" Kuroiwa asks, arms crossed and looking at the android. "Can you quit it with the crying? Disable your sadness or whatever..."


    But the android doesn''t stop. It can''t stop.


    "..."


    Kuroiwa- sighs, walking over to the android. Crouching down near it, gazing at the artificial thing. Of course, you can''t just- tell a person to stop crying. You can''t tell someone to just stop feeling sad or mad or such. No, a human will continue to- feel these things. Insisting that they stop will have almost the opposite effect.


    And the android before her, like most androids of its type, is designed to be a human.


    ... Kuroiwa sighs, giving Shortcake a few seconds to sob before idly reaching out to the android and-


    "I- I''m sorry! I''m sorry- please- please don''t-!" the android shouts, crying for mercy and forgiveness upon witnessing Kuroiwa''s hands approach, quickly throwing itself back to get away from her. "D-Don''t hurt me! Please-"


    "E-Easy, easy-!" Kuroiwa calls out, exclaiming with an uneasy look on her face. "I''m not going to. I was just-"


    "B-But- y-you- you were really upset at me and angry and-!" the android nervously exclaims, backing away from Kuroiwa. Fidgeting, panicked, artificial terror.


    Kuroiwa sees the android just shake and shiver in realistic terror. The android backing away almost desperately, bits and pieces of ground falling out of its hair as it stutters. Having itself lightly lifted up as it backed away, about to stand up.


    Then, the truck began to move.


    Kuroiwa wobbled in place, arms extended out to maintain balance. The boxes shifting noticeably as the black haired woman is slightly caught off guard by this motion. "Tch- the truck''s mov-"


    "A-AH!" Shortcake yelps, its body falling over and hitting against the floor as the vehicle moves. Impacting against the floor, eyes widened at this feeling and- ... starting to sob again as she remains lying against the truck floor, the impact with the ground inducing its sadness protocol once again.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen, urgently exclaiming and checking up on the android in concern. "H-Hey! Android, are you okay?!"


    Incoherent mumbling and crying coming from the android. The developers of this model put work into this realism, its voice a lot more realistic and emotional. It was as if Kuroiwa was talking to a real little girl, one that has been crying almost non-stop ever since being in this truck.


    The android is left lying against the ground again. Its mechanical arms shaking and trembling, either showing signs of damage... or just another aspect of this realism after.


    For a while, Kuroiwa doesn''t register this as any more than mechanical stuttering. At this point, the android is simply malfunctioning, damaged beyond belief. Ready to dismiss it as broken and incoherent.


    But it becomes clear, uncomfortably clear to Kuroiwa, that it wasn''t just nonsense noises. No, this was an articulately designed emotional response, as Shortcake calls out:


    "I''m sorry- i''m sorry, I''m sorry, I''m sorry...! P-Please don''t hurt me...! I- I don''t want to die, I don''t want to h-have my soul incinerated to ash, I- I don''t! I- I don''t... I don''t... pl... please- please..."


    Hearing the android beg for its life, recycling words that it just happened to hear, Kuroiwa... stares for a while. Her red eyes gazing deeply at this android with... with...


    "L- Let go of me! Let me go!"


    ...


    A feeling of... deja vu. A feeling of familiarity, that something has happened before. That Chouko was dealing with... a... second Chouko.


    Of course, entertaining that thought is... pitiful. That may very well just be her sense of ego, seeing blatant similarities between herself and this android, it''s foolish to assume that this android is a child her.


    But- a deep, deep sigh escapes Chouko''s lips. Taking a deep breath. Realizing who she was dealing with. An artificially manufactured child, "mentally". Awoken to a new world. Met with the people it wanted to connect with, only to be pushed, beaten, berated and threatened against the ground.


    In fact... this machine learned that attempts to communicate nicely with others were met with worse anger. The mercenaries kicking Shortcake in response to the android trying to stand up for itself.


    For herself.


    ... hm.


    Chouko takes yet another deep breath, sighing once again as she remains where she stands. Giving Shortcake her space, her distance, as she calmly speaks. "... hey... hey. I- I won''t hurt you. I just want to help you up. It''s- not good to lie against the truck floor."


    "B-but-" Shortcake calls out, still panicking.


    "What I said... I''m just- angry at those other people, Shortcake," Chouko explains, taking as- sensitive of a tone as she can. Sympathetic- no. Empathetic to the android, taking a soft tone and demeanor to handle the metaphorical six year old. "That''s all. They''re bad people, and... and these men are kidnapping us. Both of us. You and me."


    Shortcake''s sobbing audibly lightens, the android staring up at the woman. Her own quieting starting to silence as she looks to Chouko, paused for a moment... before her distress begins to rise again. "... I... I, uhm... t... this is- this is a kidnapping...?" she quietly asks.


    "Yes. It-" Chouko begins to respond, a look of regret on her face as she solemnly responds to the android. "... it''s my fault. You wouldn''t be awake and out of your packaging if I had done my job better."


    Shortcake''s eyes flutter lightly at this information, staring at Chouko in mild artificial realization. "... s... so I- I shouldn''t be out of my packaging...?"


    "Correct. You''re meant to go to someone in Nebraska, some guy paying $300 million for you to be in a box indefinitely," Chouko admits.


    "O-Oh..."


    "... yeah. Regardless of whether or not it''s good or bad- you''re awake now," Chouko explains, just... sighing, before checking up on the android. "Dirty, sure... but, how are you feeling otherwise? Are you alright?"


    Shortcake ponders for a moment, going completely silent. Some faint, deep breaths echoing out as the android noticeably exhausts its fans and all.


    "..." Chouko takes some deep breaths with Shortcake as well. Looking at the android, just breathing with the android for a bit. Engaging in almost meditative breathing. Deciding to calm down with Shortcake, hearing the android''s fans speed up and slow down in tune to her breathing. Speeding up every time Chouko actively breathes in or out, and slowing to a normal speed when she''s holding her breath afterwards.


    Curiousity-inducing, yet ever so calming.


    Eventually, Shortcake''s eyes flutter and light up, the whirring of her ventilation gentle and soft as she looks up at Chouko. A faint smile as she answers. "D... Diagnosis complete... I- I''m doing alright... still processing pain and distress, sure, but..."


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    "Right... right," Chouko responds, nodding with a faint smile. She needed that calm breathing session. "Glad to hear."


    Shortcake- continues to smile back, starting to "feel a lot better" now. Chouko said she wouldn''t hurt Shortcake, and has yet to hurt her the entire time, so Shortcake believes it now. "... w... well... uhm... I... uh... I... I''d like some help, if you still want to..." the android gently asks.


    "Sounds good." Chouko reaches her hands out slowly, approaching this with care. "Now- I''m going to lift you up, so that you can sit properly. Just- bear with me for a moment?"


    Shortcake contently nods, accepting Chouko''s help with only the slightest of worry and whimpers.


    Chouko then begins to tenderly and gently lift the android up. Hands under the machine''s side, pulling up against her arm ever so lightly. Slowly, tenderly, carefully, the woman actively watching for any of Shortcake''s reactions.


    Surprisingly, the technology behind this android is quite light, despite it presumably being an older model made before its machinery was optimized. Here she was... about the same weight as a portable computer, a laptop. It was much easier to help Shortcake up than Chouko expected, giving less opportunity to notice if Shortcake experienced any aversion or distress from being held.


    Once Shortcake was put into sitting position, Chouko carefully holds Shortcake for a while, securing her in place. "There you go. You''re sitting now. Isn''t this better?"


    Shortcake... looks up, and gives a gentle nod. "M... Mhmm... it- it''s better... thank you, Kuroiwa, I- I, uhm, appreciate-"


    "Chouko."


    "...?" Shortcake looks at Chouko for a moment as she interrupted with a name. "What?"


    "Chouko. Chouko Ashford," Chouko speaks up. "I don''t know how familiar you are with the name, but..."


    Shortcake shakes her head. "I- I don''t recognize the name, sorry... so... not Kuroiwa? You''re Chouko?"


    Nodding.


    "..." Shortcake smiles lightly. "It''s pretty."


    "Thank you. I think Shortcake is a sweet name as well," Chouko bluntly compliments, making conversation with the android.


    ... this is met with the android bashfully looking away, covering its face.


    Chouko blinks at this action, before a sigh echoes out. "Sorry- did I say something wrong?"


    "N-No, no, I, uh, I just- I don''t handle compliments all that well..." Shortcake explains, using general human terms to explain what was happening. Her reactions exhibiting bashfulness, shyness, and timidity. Simply easily flustered in response to praise. "T-Thank you, a-and, uhm, thank you again for the help...!"


    Chouko nods a few times. "You''re welcome." Now that Shortcake is sitting in place, continuing to thinking about their situation. Now that Shortcake is sitting in place, Chouko sits right next to the android, taking a deep breath and sigh. "... now, if only there was a way to help ourselves and leave this truck."


    "W-Well, the door should-"


    "It''s locked from the outside," Chouko immediately interrupts. "Can''t open it."


    "Oh..."


    "Mhmm. And I don''t exactly have a plan on what to do if it opens, when the mercenaries stop and open that door to let us out for whatever they plan," Chouko bluntly tells Shortcake. "To tell you the truth, those mercenaries have all the metaphorical cards in their hands, and we''re left sitting here... helpless."


    "Like sitting ducks," Shortcake comments. "Quack."


    "..." Chouko stares at Shortcake for a few brief moments as that is said, and nods. "Right. Nothing to do but talk. Wait for our eventual demises and all."


    Shortcake lightly nods, folding her hands on her lap. "O... Okay..."


    A quiet silence as the truck continues to move, as the two girls quietly sit and think.


    Chouko... well, Kuroiwa, after dealing with Shortcake, had plenty of room to now think about what to do next. What to do to kill these bastards, to leave them rotting and burning alive in eight individually prepared graves. No ninth grave, as the killer deserved worse than a burial.


    But without her belongings, she''s defenseless. It wasn''t like Kuroiwa could just punch and beat the mercenaries to death. No, she needed the weapons to do the job. She needed the baton, the knife, the gun, the phone- without them, she''s immediately dead if she tries. And it makes her disgusted to think about going along with them as a helpless hostage.


    No, no, Kuroiwa needed to think of something, another plan...


    "... s... so, w... what is he like?"


    "... hm?"


    "T-The person who bought me. The Nebraska person," Shortcake elaborates, fidgeting idly. Wanting to make conversation as Chouko suggested, with nothing to do but talk. Taking that literally as an indicator to come up with talk. "A-As a Shortcake, I''m supposed to learn about the environment and its people as I go along... but it wouldn''t hurt to know what he''s like."


    "I- I see..."


    ... Chouko indulges Shortcake with this conversation, but- starts with a gesture of shrugging. Having not met the actual buyer, she doesn''t know much about him enough to say anything elaborate.


    However, she can roughly answer with what E and the job give about him. "Well. He''s rich. Owns an estate. Buys collector androids or something, preferably untouched and in their boxes. I never met the man, so I don''t know everything about him exactly."


    Shortcake curiously hmms at this, folding her hands over her lap. "Oh... okay."


    More silence between the two. Chouko sat mostly still, as she didn''t have anything to talk about. Most of what they could talk about right now has already been said.


    "... s... so, rich," Shortcake speaks up, continuing to attempt her chat.


    Chouko nods. "Yes. I''m assuming he is rich. Or was rich."


    "Well, have you ever lived with a rich person?" Shortcake asks. "Maybe- uhm-"


    Chouko stares at Shortcake for a moment, her silence noticed by the android.


    "... I- I''m sorry, is the question too insensitive?" Shortcake asks, noticing Chouko''s stare and experiencing some slight discomfort. "I''m sorry if it is... I didn''t realize- I thought that, maybe if you lived with one, then-"


    "It''s fine. I have lived with one, yes," Chouko interrupts, arms crossed with a sigh.


    "Lived...?" Shortcake asks. "Past-tense?"


    "Yes. My father was a rich man. So I did live with a-"


    "O-Oh!" Shortcake noises energetically, looking at Chouko. "I- I see!"


    "...?" Chouko blinks at this reaction. "You see? What exactly do you..."


    "W-Well, you have a rich father! That must be good!" Shortcake interrupts, beaming brightly... before covering her mouth. "O... Oh. Oh. Wait. Past tense. Had. S-So- he- he''s-?"


    "... gone, yes."


    ... Shortcake- just whimpers a little, her face looking more horrified. That wasn''t even what she was going to say, but she''s registering her own emotional distress... and- possibly Chouko''s distress now, as well. "W... Well, uhm... a-as a Shortcake, I- I''m here to provide emotional support through this hard time. The first step to recovery is to let those emotions out, to- to let what you feel come out, to let it all-"


    "Please stop talking," Chouko immediately asks, her eyes forming a scowling gaze.


    "... o-oh-" Shortcake responds, her voice shaky with distress at being told that. What she said must have deeply upset Chouko, and... and the android, uhm, the android is now experiencing severe discomfort herself. "S... sorry... I... it might be experimental... I- I''m- sorry for pushing boundaries, I- I didn''t... m... mean... to..." Muting herself and stopping her speech as instructed.


    The two of them sitting quietly in place after that, Shortcake uncomfortably sitting and feeling awful. Registering this data, this response, struggling to find the proper way to respond.


    Chouko is left to ponder on her own, and... appropriately responds after that. "... just... whatever knowledge you have does work for anyone else, not me. Your suggestions, I''ve already gone through. Letting it out does nothing in the long term. All it does is remind me that he''s been gone for nine years. ''Temporary emotional satisfaction'' is all that comes from venting, Shortcake. Besides, I would rather the person be alive instead of recovery."


    "Bargaining..." Shortcake mumbles, blurting it out the same way she made the duck comment.


    "..."


    "... s-sorry-" Shortcake immediately apologizes. "It-"


    "It''s- fine," Chouko responds, sighing. "That is bargaining, yes... I just... honestly, I don''t want to talk about his death with you, okay? Either we change the topic, or we sit in silence. Okay?"


    Shortcake understandingly nods. "Alright. I won''t- ask further about his death, then."


    "Thank you," Chouko calmly responds.


    Another silence between the two, Chouko left in idle silence to... relax. To calm down. Given a long break from words, a long pause before the next set of words were said by the android.


    "... so, uhm... do you... do you like cupcakes?"


    "..." Chouko raises an eyebrow at this. "What?"


    "D-Do you like cupcakes?" Shortcake asks. "I like cupcakes. Let''s talk about cupcakes."


    Out of all the topics this android could have come up with. That question briefly catches Chouko off guard, gazing at Shortcake as if bewildered by the very question. A noticeably jarring topic to discuss with an android, admittedly.


    "..."


    "... s... sorry, is that a- is that a bad question...?" Shortcake asks. "D-Did I say something wrong? I''m- I''m sorry... I- I, uhm, I didn''t mean to interrupt with-"


    "I don''t particularly enjoy cupcakes," Chouko immediately explains, interrupting with a straightforward answer to... alleviate... the android''s unease. Indicating that she needed a pause before answering. To process that question, to... remember... the last time she''s had a cupcake. "But I''m not opposed to sweets. I preferably enjoy tea and biscuits, however."


    "Oh... well..." Shortcake responds, folding her hands and twiddling her thumbs faintly. "... what about vanilla cupcakes? The ones with white frosting and all."


    "... I already said I don''t enjoy cupcakes," Chouko responds.


    "Oh." Shortcake ponders for a moment. "Strawberry?"


    "No."


    "Butter cream frosting cupcakes?" Shortcake asks. "Hmm. What about blueberry chocolate muffins with cherry cream frosting? You have to like those, those sound really delicious!"


    "You''re fixating on cupcakes," Chouko idly comments, mildly irritated. "I already said-"


    "Well- I mean- cupcakes are tiny, they''re sweet, they can be shared and split between a classroom of children. Kind of nice to bake, better to bake than a cake, probably. Just take a tray of cups and you get to make cakes and all!"


    "Can we please stop talking about cupcakes?" Chouko asks, glaring at the android. "I already said I don''t like cupcakes. Are you just going to keep talking about cupcakes until I say ''I like cupcakes''?"


    "..." Shortcake idly frowns and looks down at her feet. A faint sob sounding out as Chouko glares at her, realizing that she was being a pest. "I-I''m sorry... I- uhm- I-"


    "It''s fine if you like cupcakes and I don''t, but your- you''re- it''s almost as if cupcakes are your whole-" Chouko idly comments, about to say identity, but stops herself upon realizing.


    Shortcake.


    ... Chouko audibly sighs and holds a hand to her face, pressing her palm against her face. "Never mind. I answered my own question."


    "Hm?" Shortcake noises, tilting her head.


    "Nothing. Just... I... I don''t like cakes, okay? Just tea and biscuits," Chouko states. "That''s all."


    "... w... why?" Shortcake asks. "Why do you not like cakes? Is it because of the texture? Is it too sweet? Does it get all mushy and stuff when you drink tea, so you avoid cake to-"


    "Because I- I''m disgusted to be anywhere near a cake!" Chouko blurts out. "Taste is- fine, I just- looking at a cake deeply unsettles me, to the point where I can''t stand it. Every time I see a cake, the grandeur of a cake, baked for celebration, everything about it makes me uncomfortably gag. Cakes are meant to celebrate something, celebrate- achievements, occasions, so on. I haven''t celebrated a single thing since I was 10, and I just don''t want ANYTHING to do with them, okay?!"


    "Oh... well, it doesn''t have to be a celebration-" Shortcake speaks up.


    "Can we just stop talking about cakes?!" Chouko shouts, glaring at the floor with an absolutely frustrated, livid expression on her face. This android is annoying. "If cakes are all you can talk about, then we might as well talk about my dead father instead! In fact, what if I just spoke about his entire history with cakes?! Everything he''s bought a cake for, everything he celebrated?! Is that what you want?! Are you trying to get me to talk about cakes so that I ''open up'' about my dead father?! Is that it?!"


    ...


    Shortcake sniffles a little, looking at Chouko. "I just really like cakes... I''m- I''m sorry- I didn''t- I... I''ll shut up, I''m sorry... I..."


    A pause of silence as Chouko looks to the android, seeing it hug its knees and bury its face into them. Her glaring red eyes softening as she realizes her own outburst, as she was instinctively coming up with excuses as to why she shouted. It''s probably why this thing was afraid of her to begin with.


    Thing. That''s what Shortcake was. Just a while ago, she saw Shortcake as a terrified child, and snapped at it as if it wasn''t. As if it was just... an object. In a way, it is, but Chouko- needed to remember that it''s an object designed to be human. Designed to... be... more human than she was.


    For a moment, she lost track of the fact that Shortcake''s just new to the world, going off of what she knows. Which is nothing. Shortcake''s trying her best, and- probably has less experience, less proficiency than other newer androids specialized in this. After all, Shortcake is designed to learn in the middle of her operation. To learn about the environment, the people, the environments of said people.


    Chouko needed to be a bit more... accommodating of the android''s inexperience with her. And here she was, shouting at it because it wanted to talk about cakes. Not unlike a typical child bugging their... parents... for...


    ...


    A deep, deep sigh escapes Chouko''s mouth as she covers her face in shame, in mild distress. "N... No. I''m- I''m sorry for shouting. It''s... it''s just..."


    Shortcake... Shortcake lifts her face up from her knees, glancing at Chouko with a distressed look. "I- I really did upset you though, I''m- I''m sorry that-"


    "Ugh-" Chouko groans as she covers her face in shame, in mild distress. Uncomfortably shifting in her spot. "Just- I''m... I just- ... I want something else to talk about."


    "O... Okay..." Shortcake whimpers, looking forward for some time.


    A long time.


    Really thinking about what else there is to talk about, beyond the two topics that she''s picked up on. Shortcake doesn''t want to mess up again, she really doesn''t want to upset Chouko and - subsequently - herself any further. The two are already on bad terms after her annoying behaviors, and she''s shaking in programmed fear of upsetting Chouko again.


    ...


    Then, she just... she just- after a bit of decisions running through her android head, Shortcake just comes out and asks...


    "... ca... can we- uhm- talk about- y-you?"

 #14 - Reflect On Ones Self

    "... what?" Chouko asks, pulling her hands away from her face to look at Shortcake. "Talk about me?"


    "Y... Yeah," Shortcake speaks up. "We... we don''t want to talk about our fathers- well, your father, and my new owner..."


    "... right. So your... your next conversational topic, beyond cakes and such, is me. You want to talk about me," Chouko speaks to confirm and clarify this android''s intentions.


    "Right. Maybe... maybe it would give us more to talk about... since... well... that''s... how I''m designed..." Shortcake idly explains. "I''m an android that likes cake... but, uhm, I was made to adapt to children and families, as long as they like cake... so..."


    Chouko lets out a sigh at this.


    "U-Uhm- well, if you don''t want to talk about yourself, we don''t have to-"


    Chouko immediately raises a hand. One finger up, indicating to the android to be quiet and stop talking for just a moment, a gesture of silence.


    "..." Chouko takes a deep breath. "I don''t know what to really say about myself. This is a conversation your seller wanted to have with me. Chouko Ashford is nothing but a child, a little girl that lost her father. She likes books, tea, biscuits, I guess... puppies, and... spending time with her father. That''s all, really."


    "Oh..." Shortcake noises, processing all of that.


    "Did you learn anything from that?" Chouko asks.


    "Well, uhm... no, not really..." Shortcake answers, shaking her head with mild worry and sadness. "I don''t really know about tea and biscuits all that well, I''ve- never been programmed to understand what ''puppies'' are, and... well, I haven''t read any books yet, I was just activated, so..."


    "..." Chouko nods. "Alright. And just to reiterate, you just like cakes?"


    "Well, cakes, cookies, candy, a lot of things sweet," Shortcake answers.


    "Alright, then-" ... Chouko is reminded that this thing is American, realizes something, and clears her throat. "Then you know about biscuits."


    "... huh?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head.


    "Cookies."


    "... oh. Oh! Tea and- cookies?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head. "I-Is that what you were saying?"


    "Yes. They''re called ''biscuits'' where I am from," Chouko explains. "And Americans use biscuits to refer to what we call ''scones''. Or dog biscuits, which... I don''t know the flavor of. But yes, you- you know about cookies, you know about biscuits. So... I like tea and cookies, I suppose."


    The very moment Chouko clarified this, Shortcake- has a bright look in her illuminating pink eyes, a bright and cheery smile as she glances to Chouko. Immensely elated and ecstatic that Chouko enjoys sweets, a sort of common ground that makes the android feel immense amounts of joy.


    "... is it really that important that I enjoy sweets, Shortcake?" Chouko asks.


    "Well, y-yes!" Shortcake explains, continuing to beam and smile. "I-If you like sweets, then- well, it generalizes a lot... makes things simpler and all... and- well, it also means that means we''re able to enjoy sweets together!"


    "... I mean... it doesn''t sound that important," Chouko responds. "Is it not acceptable to just order a plate of cake for you, then order something else for me?"


    Shortcake shakes her head. "Well, no, I, uhm, I can''t enjoy the sweets myself... since, I can''t really eat."


    "What?" Chouko raises an eyebrow at this. "You can''t eat...? But you seemed really insistent on cakes and cupcakes being delicious."


    "Because I have the knowledge that sweets are good," Shortcake responds, idly frowning. "But my mouth is just cosmetic, just to speak and all... I can''t actually taste any of it. But seeing someone else eat sweets is- well, it''s enough for me, and- well- someone else liking sweets is very, very good! You know? Even if it''s just cookies!"


    Chouko... blinks at this. "... I... I see... I suppose if it is necessary, I can... try... to eat cake for you."


    Shortcake continues to brightly smile with delight, extremely cheerful and elated now.


    But something else crosses this android''s mind, something noticeably... urgent, a curiosity-inducing urgency. Chouko''s word choice running through her head, causing her to think once again. Considering how talking about her... father... uses past tense language, talking about herself ALSO uses past tense language.


    Her happiness levels toned down as she looks to Chouko, preparing to ask. "... uhm. So, uh, can I ask something?"


    "You just did," Chouko responds. "But feel free to ask something else, I suppose."


    "Oh, well, uhm... I''m passively- registering some words you said. ''Nothing but a child''..." Shortcake idly comments, nervously looking off to the side. "But you''re- well, you seem to be... older than a child. Maybe- teenage years?"


    "... I''m 19, yes..." Chouko answers.


    "Right... so... uhm..." Shortcake idly noises. "... what is... Chouko Ashford like, nowadays...? When she isn''t a child?"


    Hesitant to answer, Chouko... shakes her head. "There''s no answer to that."


    "What? Isn''t it just- talking about what you like to do now?" Shortcake asks. "If you... if you''re an adult, and Chouko Ashford is a child, then... you used to be Chouko Ashford... isn''t her actions nowadays just what you do?"


    "It... isn''t that straightforward."


    "What? Then- wait, so if you''re not Chouko, then- wait, but your name is Chouko, but-" Shortcake idly mumbles, pointing a finger in every such direction and trying to understand what Chouko is trying to say.


    "... do you really- want an answer?"


    "Y-Yeah, it- I mean, I just- I don''t want to make any bad assumptions, since you used to like all of that... updating this with what you are now, it will help a lot..."


    "Even if the answer is distressing? Even if it will ruin this conversation completely?"


    "Mhmm, I''d like to... know... uh... wait... what do you mean?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head. "Why would it cause distress?"


    "..."


    The red eyes blink, and the mask forms again. Chouko stares at Shortcake, returning to the hostile look as Kuroiwa comes front and center once again. Feeling the persona forming over her face, a deep gaze at the android.


    "Because I''m about to give you a proper, truthful answer," Kuroiwa responds, ready to explain to Shortcake. To answer her with full honesty of her own views, of what her now is. "See... I am a mercenary, a worker that betrays ethical boundaries for the sake of monetary value. Someone who does dirty work. Ranges from... stealing and gathering information behind the public''s back, or... well..."


    "..." Shortcake tilts her head. "W... Well?"


    "... killing someone," Kuroiwa bluntly continues.


    This... this causes Shortcake to cover her mouth in mild horror. "O... Oh. S-So... y... you-"


    "Yes. I have killed before, Shortcake," Kuroiwa bluntly admits. "It''s not too uncommon. Assassinations. Lethal bounty hunting. So on, so forth."


    "O... Oh..."


    Shortcake begins to shake and tremble as Kuroiwa explains this, registering these words accordingly. Taking Kuroiwa''s words into her head, running it through her learning model to process... something terrifying, something frightening.


    "Mercenaries are no stranger to this work. Some are targets, and some are killers. I''ve done it for personal gain, because I''m told to, or because this person is too despicable to live any further," Chouko explains. "These are things us mercenaries are familiar with, things we handle on a daily basis to survive. And to survive, to see another day, I seek to kill these very mercenaries... all of them... before they do the same to me. Before they do worse to me."


    "That''s- that''s horrible..." Shortcake weakly speaks, overwhelmed by this information...


    "It is, yes..." Kuroiwa responds. "That''s the truth of it. I do horrible things. Getting to know me, getting to know what I''ve become, it''s not exactly something to be proud of, or to condone. And I''ve never cared one bit about it. I just simply do whatever it takes to further my objective. Those deranged, maniacal ramblings I did before I spoke with you? You have a right to be terrified of all of it, if you want. I will not hold it against you. You''re free to-"


    Kuroiwa is immediately interrupted as Shortcake gently hugs her.


    "..." A look down at Shortcake, her gaze still cold. Kuroiwa interprets this as the android attempting to comfort her, to appeal to what humanity she has left. "If you''re going to express your sympathies about what I''ve become, then-"


    "No, it''s just... well, i-if you''re like that, then these men are probably even worse... right?" Shortcake asks, fear in her voice.


    "... huh?" Kuroiwa asks.


    "Y-you''re a mercenary that does all that..." Shortcake idly states, her arms gently holding onto Kuroiwa and shaking in fear. "So are the people who kidnapped us going to do worse? Are they going to kill you- maybe us? T-They beat me up and they kicked me and they pushed me to the ground and made me dirty and threw both of us into a truck- what if- what if they do worse things...?"


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen as she... looks down at Shortcake. "That''s... what you''re focused on? What these men will do? Nothing about what I''ve done?"


    "Well... yeah.... you like sweets, and you''ve been mostly caring towards me," Shortcake begins to explain, sniffling and sobbing again as she looks down. "I-If you''re as bad as you''re suggesting, if I did something to upset you enough to kill me over some connection, then I- well, I''d-"


    "You''d already be dead, sure, but- that... doesn''t mean... so, you''re- not upset about the fact I''ve done heinous things...?" Kuroiwa asks.


    Shortcake shakes her head. "I- I''m designed to integrate into families, to keep children company and entertain them. I''m not programmed to judge them as awful, even with the behavioral issues... well, of course children doing bad things is awful, but in terms of discipline, all I do in response to this information is tell the parents and let them handle it. I don''t really have the right to judge you for what you did..."


    "S... So you wouldn''t call the police?" Kuroiwa asks, an eyebrow raised. "You wouldn''t report to anyone if a child did something like, murder, stealing and such?"


    Shortcake shakes her head. "N-No, so... I don''t really have a problem with you. You still seem- pretty alright..."


    "... Shortcake..." Gentle hands on the android''s shoulders.


    For a while, Shortcake seemed pleased with her answer. Happy to connect with Chouko in this way, to openly admit that she felt safe and happy with her.


    "... you could not be any more wrong," Kuroiwa tells the android, beginning to glare at Shortcake.


    "...?" Shortcake is pulled from the hug, worried. "H... Huh? I- I thought-"


    Kuroiwa''s hands pull the android away from the hug, just prying her off of her body. "You should have a problem with me. You should be judging me, you should be deeming me a threat to your very safety just by being anywhere near me. Even if I say I''m not going to hurt you."


    Shortcake blinks several times. "B-But you- you haven''t hurt me so far, you seem trustworthy-"


    "No, I''m not!" Kuroiwa tells the android, her voice raising. "People like me deserve the worst of fates. People who do what I do. People who take lives the way I do. Nothing in this world should ever, ever be the reason to condone murder, Shortcake. You shouldn''t be resigning yourself to sticking with a bloody killer."


    "... wait, then- why do you do it?" Shortcake asks, confused beyond all belief at this. "I-If I shouldn''t do all of that, if you believe I shouldn''t trust you, then why are you still doing those actions...?"


    "Why do I do it?" Kuroiwa cracks a grin at this, almost- feeling some sort of amusement at the foolishness of this android. The malice pouring out of the cracks in her metaphorical face, gazing forward at the helpless android with delight. "Simple. Because I have to."


    Shortcake visibly shakes as she stares at Kuroiwa. "B-But why- w-why do you- have to, then-?"


    "See, I have to become what I despise the most, Shortcake. I have to do all these things, all these heinous acts," Kuroiwa begins to speak. "To meet Kuroiwa. Kuroiwa, the ''Inevitable'', as he is known to be. The man that took... everything... away from me. The more I work, the closer I get to him in this mercenary world. I kill, because I find his existence putrid. That he gets to tell anyone to kill whoever he wants, and gets away with it. Gets away with killing the innocent, gets away with killing people''s loved ones..."


    Shortcake''s- eyes widen as she feels the woman''s hands shaking on her shoulders. Her pink eyes registering immense emotion coming from Chouko. A ragged, deep, intense breath coming out the woman''s lips.


    "I want to find him, to find his identity. To figure out who he is. Name, face, location... all of it, to... to completely and utterly destroy him!" Kuroiwa exclaims, a deranged look in her eyes. "To enact my revenge, to do to him what he did to me! To make him miserable, to kill him and his entire BEING, to strip all of it away and tear him piece of piece, to hold his entire being in these hands and break it- crush him to bits, grind him to dust, make it so he''s completely unrecognizable as a person!"


    Shortcake stares, speechless at this. A visibly tense look on her face staring at Chouko in slight horror. "Y-You-"


    "That''s what all of this is for! That''s all I can think about, putting a complete end to Kuroiwa! Take everything, EVERYTHING away from him! To send him down to the deepest pits of hell!" Kuroiwa shouts into the cup. "TO PUT AN END TO HIM FOR WHAT HE DID TO MY FATHER!"


    Shortcake''s eyes flicker at this, shaking as she- recoils in fear at that shout. Frightened and spooked by the tone of voice, starting to slightly sob and whimper. "Y-Your father?! H-He-"


    "Yes! I want to SLAUGHTER the person who took my father away from me!" Kuroiwa shouts. "I''ll take his face, I''ll do everything it takes! I''ve been set back because of this priceless, expensive android being let out of her box, but... the ones who kidnapped us, they''re the ones who I want to kill the most. They''re the ones I want to destroy. The one who did it, the one who killed on Kuroiwa''s orders- I will burn him to the ground."


    Shortcake stares, absolutely horrified at this. Visibly distressed, uncomfortably shaking, actively processing all of those words.


    "Do you see now? Do you understand that you stand before a monster, an irredeemable monster. I''ve killed countless in my path, countless to get to my goal. Sure, my human may be acting in ''grief'', but that part is silent every- single- day- when I become the monster. When I become Kuroiwa. So I''m not ''alright''. I''m just like every- other- damned- mercenary, and you should... should... be terrified."


    In Kuroiwa''s eyes, she''s face to face with something that is speechless, terrified of the individual before her. There is enough emotional disconnect between Kuroiwa and this android that it didn''t matter as much, that she could be this same monster to Shortcake as if it were no different from anyone else. The android stepped in territory it wasn''t prepared for, and is just left horrified in the same area of a living monster.


    And she concludes her rant with:


    "And only then will I ever be able to have cake. To honor Charles Ashford with vengeance, when I make sure to punish the people involved. Nothing in my life is to be celebrated until my job is over," Kuroiwa calmly comments. "And after that, I''ll... be nothing more than a fulfilled soul just waiting to leave."


    "..."


    An air of silence forms between the two.


    "... that''s... that''s it. That''s all. You wanted to know about me? You wanted to know what the child has become? There you go! You now know that you stand before a monster, an irredeemable monster. I''ve killed countless in my path, acting in ''grief''. So do you really believe I''m alright? No. I''m just like every- other- damned- mercenary."


    "..." Shortcake continues to sob and cry again, shaking before Kuroiwa as this information overwhelms her. As she was trying to understand everything that was just uttered, ranted, monologued even. "I- I- I- uhm- I-"


    Kuroiwa then lets go of Shortcake, turning away. "Don''t worry. I know you''re scared. I''m not going to hurt you. I don''t care whatsoever about you... this conversation has run dry. I must go, now, to figure out... how to break out of this truck."


    She starts to walk away for a moment, gazing straight forward at the truck door, ready to leave Shortcake behind in its fear.


    ...


    And something stops her.


    Kuroiwa stops in place as a pair of small, soft hands grab onto hers. Weakly holding on as best they could, attempting to grip her hand and stop her in place.


    For a moment, Kuroiwa''s red eyes twitch, feeling... utter disgust at this thing holding her hand in such a way. This was Shortcake attempting to keep her in place, an android that foolishly sought to be anywhere near her, even with all of this information.


    The mercenary turns around, prepared to address and confront this android. To make it understand why it should want nothing to do with Chouko, nothing to do with Kuroiwa. Starting to insist it let go of her hand, turning back to tell it to let go. "Listen, you-"


    However, no further words are uttered, as Kuroiwa goes quiet at the sight behind her. Her eyes blinking at the young girl holding onto her hand, the... black haired, red eyed girl that was in utter tears. A mess of waterfalls pouring from her cheeks, a miserable sight.


    For a moment, Kuroiwa... she felt the agonizing weight of nine years against her back at this sight, witnessing the image of a broken child on the verge of a mental crisis, the girl she used to be. Kuroiwa saw the pure misery that was on display, a misery that has never left her whatsoever. A deep misery from a child wanting to hold on, to cling to who she could never follow.


    "P... Please don''t leave me, please..." the young Chouko calls out, tears trailing from her eyes. "I don''t want you to go..."


    "... w.... what?" Kuroiwa asks, her eyes blinking a couple of times to clear her vision up. To better understand what... what she was seeing.


    With each blink, the brief hallucination fades, and... as expected, Shortcake appears in the little Chouko''s place. The android had rushed after Kuroiwa quickly, scrambling to hold Kuroiwa''s hand, crying those very words out.


    "I- I don''t- I don''t know if I can do anything for you, nor do I even know if I should..." Shortcake explains, the machinery shaking and trembling within her hands. "B-But I- I don''t want you to go, I don''t want you to leave me alone..."


    "Shortcake, you''re-" Kuroiwa begins to speak, a growl behind her voice.


    "I- If we make it out of this truck, I want to have cake with you..." Shortcake calls out, sobbing and whining audibly. "I want to read books with you, I want to have some tea and cookies- tea and biscuits with you, maybe see puppies and probably- I don''t know...!"


    Kuroiwa continues to glare at this incessant android. "..."


    "I- just- p-please don''t leave me alone... I- I really... I''m sorry, but I really- don''t- hate you for doing any of it..." Shortcake explains.


    A silence continues as... Kuroiwa... stares at Shortcake, staring at the crying girl. "..."


    "P-Please... please... please......." Shortcake pleads, sobbing.


    "..."


    "... I... I''m sorry... I''m sorry... I-"


    With a resigned sigh, Kuroiwa turns around and gets onto her knees. Crouching down to Shortcake''s level, a calm gaze as she stares forward at the white haired android. The physical embodiment of a talking, miserable tundra.


    "Chouko... I, uhm, I-"


    "I can''t- make any promises whatsoever, Shortcake..." Kuroiwa speaks up, looking down at the android. Being truthful, being blunt with this pitiful android while staring into its eyes. "But if we somehow survive what is going to happen next... I would be proud to enjoy all of those things with you."


    "O... Okay... I... uhm... I''m looking forward to it..." Shortcake calls out, sniffling a bit more before silencing herself. A weak smile on her face, looking to Chouko brightly.


    And with that bright smile, it dawns on Kuroiwa... it dawns on Chouko what this feeling was. This feeling that weighs on her when Shortcake speaks, this feeling when the android miserably cries. Why Chouko could see herself in this android''s human-like actions.


    Chouko is currently the Charles Ashford for this android.


    It feels wrong.


    It feels awful.


    Everything about this is crashing against Chouko, a wretched feeling to have when she still dons the false name of Kuroiwa.


    But what choice does she have...? This android needs her, the same way... the same way Chouko needed her father. All those years ago, when he wasn''t here anymore. The hand she depended on, the guidance that was taken away from her, Chouko... feels like she needs to be here for this android, in this world of mercenaries.


    And as much as it feels like she isn''t right for this role, as much as it feels like Chouko doesn''t deserve to be anything her father was...


    ... it''s just something she needs to be.


    "Right..." Chouko pulls away slowly, and stands back up. Idly looking back to the truck door, scratching her chin faintly. "So. We''ll start by preparing what to do when this truck opens, when these mercenaries reach whatever stop they''re at. If we want to survive, we''re going to have to come up with something to get out of this truck."


    "O... Okay, but... uhm... uh... can... can I ask one more thing...?" Shortcake asks.


    Chouko looks at Shortcake. "Yes...? G... Go ahead."


    "... w-what actually is your plan, regarding... c-confronting the person who k-killed your father...?" Shortcake asks. "I- I know your objective, but... how do we- how do you... get to him?"


    "... I don''t really have an exact plan anymore, thanks to you," Chouko truthfully tells the android.


    "O... Oh..."


    "What I mean by that is, I was following the guidance of my informant, my ''handler'', and... failing this job means I can no longer rely on him. So, I have to find my own path to Kuroiwa. My best lead is the one who kidnapped us, so..."


    Shortcake nods a couple of times. "I see... I''m sorry that my existence is interfering with your life..."


    Chouko rolls her eyes. "If... you''re going to keep apologizing for things, you''re going to drive me mad."


    "... s..."


    Shortcake stops herself before she apologizes again.


    ...


    Chouko blinks for a moment after this exchange, actually. After saying that to Shortcake, the word "stacking" repeats in her head. An escape plan starting to brew in her mind bit by bit, as she... looks at the crates. Fixating on the crates, curious about these... potentially heavy boxes. A metaphorical lightbulb starting to glow atop her head as she thinks further..


    "Huh... Shortcake. I think I have a plan, but... I''ll need your help," Chouko tells the android. "Are you... able to play pretend? Lie, in a way?"


    Shortcake looks to Chouko, noticeably alert. "... p-pretend? Oh! I, uh, I can do that! What do you want to- uhm- pretend?"


    "My death," Chouko bluntly tells Shortcake.


    "Right, okay! I''ll pretend that you''re- ... d-dead?!" Shortcake shouts.


    Chouko nods. "See, here''s the plan..."

 #15 - The Executioner and His Mercenaries

    Charles Ashford''s death was nothing but miserable to the general public. Even if the media has moved on to more important news over the years, this one isolated murder still holds emotional weight. A relatively old man being shot in his hotel room, with his daughter found in miserable tears. It''s enough to make a poor soul cry and weep.


    But his death is an overwhelming payday in the eyes of another party.


    In the mercenary world, Charles Ashford is a job, and the job is as standard as it comes. A client wished him dead, and had the money to ascertain and will his demise. A simple request for the murder a businessman. Anyone can order and commission an assassination of a businessman, nothing remarkable to note.


    What made it special is the person requesting it.


    In the Underworld, "Kuroiwa" the Stalker borrows the name of another Kuroiwa. A Kuroiwa that had far more experience, far more work in his possession. The person with high standing to the point where being one of their trusted mercenaries is destined for greatness and riches. If a mercenary worked for this employer, they were set for life.


    "Kuroiwa sends his regards."


    One such mercenary being the one who pulled the trigger. The one that did the deed to kill Charles Ashford. With that bullet, the man has cemented his standing as a mercenary that addresses Kuroiwa directly. A mercenary welcomed to the employer''s payroll as an efficient killer to take out more names.


    The mercenary... is the Executioner.


    The rugged and grizzled mercenary that has gained the bloodthirsty ire of Chouko Ashford, the one that is only a few feet away from her at this very moment. His title, his "moniker" is the Executioner. A title Chouko never bothered to learn, a title of someone who "carries out a sentence of death on a condemned person", and a title belonging to someone as equally elusive as Kuroiwa is.


    He is someone whose own journey throughout these nine years has been met with growth and success, becoming one of the highest rated assassins to carry out murders. His fame as the Executioner, the title bestowed upon him by the elites of the Underworld, came from the very job that sealed his and Chouko''s fates.


    As the one who did the deed, the one who put down Ashford on Kuroiwa''s job, his status as a previously unremarkable mercenary escalated higher and higher to the point of being a moneymaker. More jobs were sent to him with great success, and now he commands the respect of fellow mercenaries that got their starts working for the Executioner. A group of them, almost a small organization of his own, the Executioner being the "Kuroiwa" of his own mercenaries.


    His most trusted were a pair of mercenaries that have been with him for years. Steele, the big, buff, and gruff man with his steel legs, and Griffin, the blond pretty boy with invisibility cybernetics. Their beginnings date all the way back to the beginning of the Artificial Revolution, before their... cybernetic upgrades. Their work with Charon left them dissatisfied, so the Executioner shortly hired them and their fellow acquaintances.


    Steele is with the rest of the mercenaries, accompanying the van and the pickup truck. Making sure that the mercenaries were still driving after the truck. Meanwhile, Griffin sits in the truck''s passenger side, arms crossed and looking out the window. As Steele is the brawn that could manage mercenaries, Griffin is the brain that provided intellectual conversations about tactics and all.


    And, en route to their next stop, the Executioner explained Chouko to the blond, their conversation accompanied by country music.


    "Hm... I see. Your history with her is quite intriguing..." Griffin responds.


    "First time seeing her in... ages, really. I had searched Times Square for her, but... no avail. She was too protected," the Executioner explains to Griffin. "To think, she''s now a mercenary as well... employed under Charon, you said?"


    "Yes, indeed," Griffin responds. One hand raised to brush the bangs of his hair for a few seconds, before crossing his arms and leisurely looking out the window. Eyes focused on the side mirror to check on the other mercenaries. The ones that are trailing somewhat behind, following after. "She claims that she''s... ''Kuroiwa'', meaning she... well..."


    "It''s obvious what she''s doing, Griffin. She''s being one of those crybabies, whining for daddy and all," the Executioner remarks, grinning to himself. "I didn''t get to put her down like her old man, and here she is... biting us in the ass. I did mention ''Kuroiwa'' that night, y''know?"


    "Right..." Griffin lets out a yawn, leaning back into the seat. Taking a moment to flicker his eyes, beaming flashlights into the mirror at a specific angle.


    In response, the headlights of Steele and the others flicker once.


    "... all clear on their end. No signs of any escape yet, sir," Griffin tells the Executioner. "Is it alright if I get my rest...? It''s late, and you know what they say about beauty sleep..."


    "Very well. I''ll wake you up when we get to our next stop," the Executioner responds.


    "You have my thanks..." Griffin mumbles, covering his mouth to yawn subtly before beginning to snooze away on the trip.


    "..." Once Griffin has his eyes closed, and silence fills the truck... the Executioner narrows his eyes, grimly staring forward, visible contemplation on his face. He claimed to the other mercenaries that this girl was worth billions of dollars, but...


    ...


    Eventually, after some time, the truck is off of the highway and ends up in their next stop: Indianapolis.


    Home of the Indianapolis 500, an annual automobile race occurring on Memorial Day, this city is famously the heart of Indiana and the racing capital of the world. A strong history in the automotive industry, a city with culture and history. The world''s largest children''s museum, calm walks along its Central Canal and its Cultural Trail, the historical Monument Circle around the Soldiers'' and Sailor''s Monument, even soccer stadiums and vibrant nightlife with stylish bars and nightclubs. This city, in several ways, was one of the greatest hearts of America.


    Now, it was just yet another hub of androids and cybernetic people living the mass-spread status quo of poverty-filled metropolises. The effects of the Artificial Revolution devastated and drowned out this city''s importance, sweeping all of this golden life away.


    And the only reason the Executioner and the others are here... is because of a safe house. An Indianapolis office building, one that has been prepared for their use. Enough space in its storage area to keep the boxes, enough places for the mercenaries to rest for the night without arousing suspicion. One available to them for a single night, before they needed to vacate the premises for the next people in line.


    Their encounter with Chouko Ashford is... coincidental, a side occurrence. The plan was to go here all along, taking a stop to intercept the mercenaries that got arrested by a police car. This very truck carrying belongings that, altogether, will be going to a nice little location once they were expected to vacate.


    With this, the truck drives into a spacious enough parking spot to the side of this building, and the Executioner steps out with Griffin. The group of mercenaries gathering at the back of the truck, discussing what to do now.


    "Simple. Unload the crates into this office''s storage for now, exchange the truck for a new replacement, and then we''re off to our next location," the Executioner explains. "Any of you that are incapable of carrying boxes, just keep watch and prepare to restrain the girl inside."


    "Getting right on it, sir!" Steele exclaims, approaching the truck door with a few other mercenaries.


    However, one of them idly speaks up before Steele could do anything.


    "Before we open that door, why... exactly... did we need to keep the girl conscious?"


    An immediate inquiry from one of the mercenaries working directly for Steele, the track-suited one with neon green sunglasses. Nothing about him screamed "remarkable" on first glance, but this mercenary''s title - given by the Executioner himself - is the Repairman. One of the Executioner''s tech-savvy hackers, a necessary force in this age of technological threats, having experience with cybernetics and cybersecurity.


    No one seemed to be bringing up why Chouko Ashford was left unconscious for the entire drive, so... he immediately took it upon himself to ask. A calm look on his face as he looks to the door, crossing his arms and gazing at the truck door. The one with a hostile woman behind it and all. "Knocking her out would''ve made all of this easier. Saves us the hassle of having to deal with a conscious enemy. Why did we not just- y''know... render her unable to fight back?"


    Asking this question, the hacker was... met with a bit of silence, as the Executioner stares with narrowed eyes.


    Griffin, rubbing his eyes, idly rolls them and explains for his employer. "... allow me to explain. Knocking someone out is the equivalent of inflicting brain damage to subdue them. If you hit someone in the head and knock them out, the sensors in someone''s head is set off to overwhelm. Damages some nerves and inflicts a concussion. One could wake up from the brain trauma, but the damage will always be there."


    "Right," the Executioner continues. "And she''s better in good condition. Hostile or not, people will pay good money for her to be in perfect condition. We took all of her weapons, left her in a locked truck with nothing but crates, and still outnumber her. No harm in letting her be awake for all of this, let her really think about it all. Again- billions of dollars are on the line, with her survival, and... well, let''s just say that we don''t want a repeat of the android."


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    That remark is enough for the mercenaries to, collectively, look at Griffin for a bit.


    "... fair enough," the Repairman remarks, adjusting his glasses and averting his gaze. "I''ll leave the heavy work to Steele, then. This phone of hers is a gold mine of information on Charon, and I think I''m better suited looking through it," he explains, waving the flip phone.


    "Very well. Come along, then," Griffin tells the man, as the three mercenaries head into the building. Idly going through the process of alerting the mercenaries stationed inside that they have arrived.


    With that, Steele and the five other remaining mercenaries are left to handle the truck cargo.


    "... okay, well, time to open this door!" Steele tells the mercenaries, arms crossed and actively staring at the door. "Someone want to do the honors? Show off their door opening skills while the rest of us are on guard for the girl?"


    "I got it, Steele," a mercenary speaks up, walking up to the door and unlocking it. Cautiously, ever so cautiously opening the door with a careful look on his face. Idly peeking into the inside of the truck, ready to keep watch for anything their captive may do.


    Though, one glimpse of a crate in front of him, and he stops. His eyes glancing at the crates, seeing a wall of crates in front of his eyes. Creates stacked atop other crates.


    "... huh? What''s up?" Steele asks, raising an eyebrow. "Can''t open a door? Don''t worry, I got it if you can''t."


    "Well- Steele, sir, actually... there''s- a small problem," the mercenary begins to explain, gesturing to the boxes. "Look at how the boxes are arranged..."


    Steele- raises an eyebrow, staring at the boxes. "... yes? And? I mean, boxes can fall out of line, that''s why we have the door here!"


    "Well- if they''re dislodged, if they got loose by themselves, then... why is it that these boxes all form a perfect wall? Stacked on top of each other, still?" the mercenary asks, pointing up. "T-The boxes are somehow-"


    "A-Ah!" Shortcake calls from inside, interrupting this mercenary''s train of thought completely as she cries out to the mercenaries outside. "T-The door''s open! H-Hey! C-Can anyone hear me?!"


    ... Steele curiously hears this voice. The only reason it would call that out is because it''s trying to notify her fellow passenger of the door''s opening, all but confirming that something is wrong... so, looking to the other mercenaries, he readies a hostile, tough response to the android. "That''s right, android! Don''t you dare try anything funny, or-!"


    "P-Please help!!" Shortcake interrupts, crying out for help. Begging these mercenaries to help, even. "S-Something happened, and- and I- I think there''s a dead girl back here...!"


    Steele''s eyes widen at this... unexpected response. "... what? She''s dead? Are you sure about that, android?!"


    "Y-Yes!" Shortcake exclaims, starting to sob behind her panic. "W-We were trying to- to do something to trick you, to stack the crates, b... but, okay, s-so, so, uh, a while back, the truck ended up bumping on something, and the boxes e-ended up dislodging from their places! T-They ended up sliding and- and a few squished together with the girl in between! T-The impact, uhm, it- there''s- I''m scared, please- please help! Help us! Quickly! She needs a doctor!"


    Shortcake loudly calls all of this out, sounding audibly authentic and genuine in her claims. As if this wasn''t part of Chouko''s plan, as if something really did happen to her...


    ... but Steele doesn''t believe Shortcake, doesn''t want to believe the android. The pure disbelief on his face is prominent as he tries to reason in his head that their billion dollar captive isn''t dead. That this android is lying about it, trying to trick all of them with a pathetic exaggeration of what really happened. If something did happen to begin with.


    "You''re lying!" Steele eloquently shouts at the android through the boxes. "You''re probably just waiting for us to be tricked into letting you two out!"


    "W-Well, e-emphasis on ''I think''...!" Shortcake shouts, her voice starting to grow shaky and concerned as Steele is calling her bluff. "W-When the boxes were sliding, a corner of the crate ended up impacting with her head, and-"


    "You can cut the crap, robot, we''re not buying it!" Steele shouts harder, glaring at the crates and trying to intimidate the android into fumbling whatever plan this was. "M-Maybe we should keep you in there, make you fumble up a new plan, if she''s pretending to be dead!"


    ... Shortcake appropriately responds to a grown man shouting at her, by loudly crying and sobbing, wailing and succumbing to her programmed emotions. "I- I don''t know what to tell you, s-she''s- I- I don''t know what to do and I''m scared and I just- I''m sorry, I''m sorry, I''m sorry for being an android and I don''t want to be in this truck with the dead body anymore and... w-waaaaah...!"


    If this is the truth, then she''s left clueless and uncertain what to do now. If it was a lie, then she''s trying to continue selling the act to tug at whatever semblance of heartstrings these mercenaries had.


    With the possibilities that the android is, indeed, telling the truth, Steele... faced a dilemma. As the one who is in charge of handling the crates and their captive, that unexpected casualty will now lie on his back...


    "... ugh! Fine- we''ll see what happened!" Steele- grits his teeth and tensely shakes his head. He''ll be responsible for the mercenary group missing out on a big fortune, again! So he can''t take any chances, if Ashford is actually dead. "Open the truck, I''ll hold the boxes so that it doesn''t fall on us!"


    The- the mercenary nods, and begins to raise the door fully.


    As predicted, the crates on the upper half begin to fall, and Steele holds the crates with his two buff arms. This doesn''t stop all of the crates, however, as the man''s hands could only support two pillars of crates while the third one falls out of the truck with thuds.


    The lids on the crate spill open, the contents of the goods out... revealing that the crates have been opened.


    "..." Steele glares at this sight, pushing the upper boxes back forward to stabilize them from falling. Climbing into the truck and looking around, seeing the android standing right behind the boxes. "Alright. Where''s the body, android?"


    Shortcake is looking at the truck floor, hands against the side of her head as she hesitantly mumbles.


    "S... She... she- she made me lie to you all... I- I don''t know where she is..."


    "... tch!" Steele aggressively sounds at Shortcake, glaring at the android. Grabbing her by the shoulder and forcing her out of the truck, making her fall to the ground with a hard thud.


    Shortcake, hands on her head and holding onto her white hair, has her eyes closed tightly as she whimpers against the ground.


    "I... I''m sorry... I''m so sorry..."


    "She couldn''t have gone anywhere, we JUST unlocked the truck! Where in the bloody hell could she have gone?! Talk, Android, talk!"


    Shortcake, tensely, begins to plead for her life, hands against her face and actively crying in the presence of these mercenaries.


    "I- I really don''t know...! S-she''s gone and left me behind and I- I don''t know what to do, please don''t kill me-!"


    "Tch-! Just shut the hell up!" Steele loudly shouts at the android, looking to the other mercenaries. "One of you, take the android inside. Repairman''s smart with these things, he can hack its memories to see what could have happened!"


    "R-Right! O-On it, sir!" a mercenary exclaims, grabbing Shortcake by the shoulder and beginning to drag her inside. Roughly pulling on her arm, just pulling her into the building.


    With that, Steele- just knocks the side of his head, visibly stressed and agitated by this. "Tch... okay, Steele... this is your brain moment. Think... think...!"


    He begins to think about where Chouko Ashford could have gone. Where this brat could have run off to, with a closed truck.


    Minutes upon minutes of Steele''s brainstorming. In this silence, the other mercenaries begin to survey the area for any glimpse of the girl. No Ashford in sight, whatsoever. No girl hidden under the truck, no girl around the building corners, and certainly- no girl already fleeing far enough from the area.


    In fact, Steele thought to himself... how could she have escaped to begin with?


    The truck door is the only way out of the vehicle, and she can''t- phase through walls. It should be impossible for a person to leave this truck alone...


    ... and, in this moment of triumph for his brain power, he realizes. If Ashford can''t phase through walls to escape, and this door has been locked the whole time, all she can do is make use of the items in the truck. All she had was the android and these crates.


    Therefore, there''s only one thing Ashford could have done.


    "... everyone, listen up!" Steele exclaims, glaring at his mercenaries. "Look through these crates, search through any of them that have been opened! The only thing she could have done is hide in one of them!"


    "G-Got it!" a mercenary exclaims, the four of them beginning to examine crate after crate. Opening the crates accordingly and searching for any signs of a person stowing away, guessing at random out of the few that fell out of the truck. Some mercenaries climbing into the truck, accordingly, to check the crates inside.


    Steele''s massive eureka moment has dawned onto him, as the crates were the only thing that made sense. It feels like a sun shining its light onto Steele''s mind, a dawn of how genius and brilliant he is for deducing all of this. For once, he''s done something better than just having raw, brute strength. His brain shined this night.


    Maybe Ashford''s plan was to hide away in a crate, to be taken away while in the midst of this chaos. The mercenaries would have searched for the girl, and would have taken these crates into the storage... so, she''s concocted some sort of lie about dying during it to rile them up!


    "S-Sir! I found her!" one of the mercenaries shouts from inside the truck, pulling a hand out of the crate. The girl has hidden away in the very back, attempting to be the very- very- last crate taken to the storage area. A rather elaborate idea, convoluted and- really risky, really foolish!


    Steele''s eyes widen, grinning almost cockily. Boasting about his brilliance to the other mercenaries now, overtaken by his own brilliance. They managed to catch her in the very act... and he''s triumphed as the genius! "... haha! Prodigy, my ass, she tried to outsmart me and failed!" the man shouts, walking over to the box and gripping Chouko''s arm tightly. Yanking her out of the crate, dangling her off of the ground. "Alright, let''s get you into the building and-"


    ...


    Steele''s eyes narrow intensely.


    The arm he was holding, the body in this crate, it... it''s Ashford, right? Clothes match.


    But she''s... bald. She''s bald and she has pink eyes.


    Didn''t she have a full head of hair before?


    For a moment, the mercenary had to really ponder on this. Really think to himself, is this something women do? Instantly shed their hair and change their eye color upon being enclosed in a tight area? There''s no way that women do this... right? Do they shed their hair almost instantaneously, and dispose of it?


    Is there a bundle of hair inside this crate? ... no, then... did she eat the hair? Do women eat their own hair, all at once?


    Are women actually salamanders?


    ... they get more and more complicated each passing year, Steele thought, glaring at the bald girl. "Alright- well, I''m sure there''s still some value to-"


    "A-ah!" one of the mercenaries exclaim, pointing at the back of... "Chouko''s" head. "S-Steele, sir! Look! S-She has slots to secure a synthetic wig!"


    Steele''s eyes- just go absolutely wide, looking at where the mercenary''s pointing. Witnessing the slot in question, something for an artificial wig... and, curiously, a bar code.


    And further knowledge enlightens Steele, holding "Chouko''s" arm and realizing it felt synthetic. Fake. Artificially made. This isn''t human skin, it''s...


    ... it''s the android.


    This- this isn''t Chouko Ashford, it''s the android.


    Shortcake remains dangled by Steele''s grasp, remaining visibly silent as she looks to the mercenary. Watching the man glaring at her, her pink eyes staring with horror. "U... Uhm... I... uh... a-are you going to hurt me...?"


    Steele stares at this bald android for a while, not even aware that these things had their hair attached like this. The first thoughts in his mind were of how unsettling a bald girl is.


    Then, the next thoughts, the more important thoughts, a realization.


    "... i... if this is the android... then..."


    ... a feeling of dread shadows over Steele and the mercenaries as they slowly, ever so slowly look to the building in horror and realization.


    Realizing that the mercenary that left... did not walk away with an android. He wasn''t escorting an android to the Repairman.


    He was escorting Chouko.

 #16 - And So It Begins

    ... all according to plan.


    Internally, Chouko needed to hide her elation at her current success. As the mercenaries, Steele and the rest, are trying to figure out where Chouko could have escaped, one of their very own allies is escorting her along. Under the disguise of Shortcake, she''s cemented her temporary escape. Black hair hidden by fake white locks, and crimson red eyes inconspicuously narrowed to conceal their prominent color, not a single one of these daft mercenaries notice anything wrong.


    It''s astonishing to Chouko that Shortcake, one of the many lifelike human androids, can just detach her hair. That''s a very interesting thing to learn about Shortcake, one that came up in the middle of their planning. A very convenient thing to know, especially given the fact that Shortcake''s hair is long enough to hide her very own.


    There are some... differences, but these mercenaries can''t tell anyway. It''s not like they saw the android as a person with characteristics. This plan ultimately only works because Chouko is the one these mercenaries are focused on, the person that they need to pay closer attention to than the android. Chouko takes the android''s identity for now, hands holding onto the hair to make sure it doesn''t fall off at any point during the walk.


    Granted, Chouko does feel great amounts of guilt leaving Shortcake behind. An act, a temporary setback, on the forefront of her mind. However, if either of them are to leave unharmed, this temporary sacrifice needed to be done. Shortcake will hopefully be fine...


    If she isn''t, then... it will just have to be another thing that Chouko kills these mercenaries for.


    She could call for help, sure, but so can these mercenaries. However many of them are in this building, if she doesn''t take them out now, they''ll call for assistance to put down the escapee. No, action needed to be taken now, action needed to be within the walls of their hideout.


    Now that she''s come across the mercenaries working for him, working for the killer, the killer hired by the actual Kuroiwa, Chouko didn''t need to put this face on. She''s ready to enact her vengeance as Chouko Ashford. Her escape into the building going as planned, her given escort the one chance she will ever have.


    Chouko takes a great- great note of the building in question. An office building with four floors. Some mechanical security at the front door, which the mercenary bypasses by pressing a button to tap into the building''s intercom system. The one single entrance and exit of this building, minus some fire escapes that only open outward.


    "Hey- coming in now. Steele wants this android to be looked at by our hacker."


    "Got it."


    The doors open, and the two walk in.


    Entering the front lobby of the office building, traditionally designed. Some elevators present, with a mercenary behind the front desk to operate the doors. Several doors split off from this lobby, doors that lead down hallways to other doors on the first floor. All she can see on this first floor is this relatively small receptionist''s lobby. Whatever else happens on this floor is unknown to her, for now, except two elevators and a stairwell to the left of the entrance.


    To her knowledge, this building is quite reminiscent of the Connection Office that Sedimate had. Only, instead of androids being remotely piloted by humans, it''s humans coming in to do the work of androids. The mercenaries appear to have made themselves at home in this building long before her arrival, their plans mostly a mystery to her... but the building layout is familiar and recognizable enough.


    The elevator doors open.


    "Alright. Get in," the mercenary tells the android, pushing her into the elevator.


    "Right..." Chouko sensitively responds, doing a very good impression of Shortcake. Making sure her hands remained on her head, securing Shortcake''s synthetic hair in place... glancing to the mercenary with worry. "S... So, uhm, is- is memory extraction going to hurt, m-mister...?"


    "Why does it matter if it hurts? You can just be turned off during the whole process," the mercenary spitefully comments, an uncaring and uninterested look on his face. "Keep your mouth shut and you might get out of this alright, android."


    "Right..."


    ... this unknown procedure of unspecified pain. Something to be cautious of, Chouko supposes. All of this is foreign territory to her, and she needs to be careful that she doesn''t have her brain involuntarily lobotomized.


    In the enclosed space of the elevator, Chouko discreetly took her time to gain her composure. Without Charon to guide her, Chouko is to rely on all of the information and memory of the work she''s done herself.


    Her memory being the only useful asset she has on her right now. No weapons, no phone, nothing.


    So one great, great step towards that, to gaining her belongings back, is getting to the hacker. Getting her phone back and all, and seeing what she can do from his office. The technology itself remains in tact in the phone, even without Charon''s assistance, so retrieving the phone will give her great defense against the cybernetic mercenaries.


    Chouko knows well enough that Griffin, the invisible man, is an easily dispatchable threat with the phone. Steele is a different story, one that requires she gain armed weaponry before his metal leg could hurt and damage her.


    As for the killer...


    ...


    The elevator door interrupts her train of thought as it opens on the third floor. The sound ringing out before the mercenary pulls Chouko out of the elevator, leading her along and escorting her with a rough hand.


    Chouko notes that the elevator and stairwell enter into a cubicle area, supporting 12 cubicles in the center of the room and eight of them next to the wall of windows. Each of the cubicles seem to be occupied, curiously making her wonder... how many of these people are working as mercenaries?


    In the possibility that all of them are enemies, Chouko notes that she will need to find a way to kill multiple people before they fully overwhelm her. Eight people alone overwhelmed her... especially the invisible one. Optimally, she either needs to find a weapon to carry a surplus amount of ammunition, or she needs to take weapons from the mercenaries as she goes along.


    Furthermore, if none of them are enemies, Chouko considers that she will need to filter the civilians from the mercenaries. There''s a signifier to simply shoot at whoever tries to hurt her, so... in the event of murder, the civilians would likely flee for their lives instead of attempting to kill her. That should be a good enough filter, unless there are any brave enough civilians wanting to...


    ... no. No. The system works for now. Chouko is in enemy territory, no clue about which case. Both could be true, half and half. If someone is truly innocent, if someone is truly free from all of this mercenary work, then Chouko will not have to worry about them. They''ll just keep themselves or their friends safe.


    Keeping the innocent people alive and unharmed is a chore, but it''s an essential responsibility to Chouko. To not have a repeat of what happened in the hotel that day...


    ... the woman thinking about all of this in depth as she''s guided into a hallway, passing by various doors to private offices.


    Chouko and the mercenary take a right around the corner and pass by a few more doors. Then, the mercenary stops in front of a door, knocking on it. "Oi. Repairman. Got the android here, need to get it scanned for Ashford."


    "... scanned for Ashford?" a voice calls out from the other side, a confused tone in his voice before annoyed seriousness bleeds out of his lips. "You''re kidding me."


    "I''m not. She''s managed to escape, and the android here''s an accomplice. Steele needs her memory scanned to figure out what she''s done," the mercenary explains.


    The hacker is behind this door. The one experienced with machines, with technology and all. Chouko keeps her eyes narrowed, even more narrow so that the eye color isn''t as noticeable to the hacker. Keeping her gaze inconspicuous as the office door opens, and the sunglasses wearing mercenary approaches.


    His pair of sunglasses currently atop his head and buried in his hair, idly looking up at both the mercenary and the supposed doll - the one with her eyes closed - with a tense look on his face. "Okay. Okay. I''ll take the android from here..." the hacker idly tells the mercenary. "Come back in about five minutes. That should be more than enough time."


    "Got it." The mercenary begins to leave, heading out to quickly report back to Steele. Leaving the hacker and the "android" by their lonesome, unknowingly sealing the hacker''s fate.


    The hacker has his back turned, idly rummaging through his belongings for his toolkit and such. Preparing items to begin accessing the android''s memories, having more than enough experience on accessing its visual data.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Alright... let''s get to probing that memory of yours, android..." the hacker responds, picking up his step stool and putting it in front of the "android". Climbing up onto it, making his height match with the side of "Shortcake''s" head as he reaches for the hair, pulls it aside...


    ... and seeing the black locks immediately.


    "... oh sh-!" the hacker calls out, his eyes wide and mouth gaping to scream and shout for help.


    Immediately, the short hacker has the front of his head gripped by Chouko''s hand. A forceful rush forward with all of her might, kicking the stool out from underneath him and forcing him straight into his desk.


    At this angle, Chouko aims to deliver a critical blow to the back of the head. In the brain, the occipital lobe is located at the back of the head. Meaning, injuries to this part of the brain affect vision and sight, and - depending on the severity of impact - can blind the mercenary completely, if not concussed.


    However, the lesser case doesn''t apply to what happened to the hacker. Chouko didn''t hold back and dealt immensely severe When the hacker''s head impacted the edge of the table, it completely knocked him out. Critical injury to his brain, rendered immediately knocked out upon impact. In essence, experiencing blunt force trauma that leaves him on the verge of death.


    "..." Chouko stares down at this man''s body as he falls limp against the leg of the desk. A cold, cold gaze as she watches the dying man, dusting her hands off and looking around the room.


    Idly looking around, she mostly just sees messes of papers and devices sprawled across the room, some metal trinkets and such. The hacker has a laptop on the desk, as well as an open family-sized bag of potato crisps on the desk, and an open can of lime soda.


    There isn''t anything else noteworthy to her, among the hacker''s belongings... though, the crisps are good.


    Chouko takes a potato crisp... and eats it.


    For a dying mercenary, he has a fine taste in snacks... Chouko supposes. Salty, savory. While these are unhealthy, eating a few in moderation is quite nice.


    ... anyway. After that, there is something of hers instead that comes to attention: her phone. Contently on a desk with wires peering out of it, all connected to the hacker''s laptop.


    Chouko takes a moment to look between her phone and the screen itself, curious to what is happening. On the computer screen, it shows that this hacker is 20% done attempting to bypass the phone''s protection. Some blue progress bar, in the middle of checking her call logs...


    ... an intriguing sight to behold. One that Chouko immediately responds to, by canceling the process and unplugging the device altogether. Completely halting that progress bar and returning it to 0%.


    As Chouko observes the screen, she begins to browse through whatever information she can gather from the laptop. The hacker has folders upon folders of documents, some downloaded video games... a chat message thing with names, and that''s about it.


    Chouko sighs as this laptop doesn''t seem too particularly useful, or- at least, doesn''t know how to make use of any of this information within her time constraints. It''s not like she can consult Charon anymore... maybe it would be a good idea to bring this laptop to a new informant, after the events that will transpire here.


    Suddenly, another knock sounds out. Someone knocking on the door, catching Chouko''s attention immediately. She looks to the door, focusing on the aggressive pounding from the hand of whoever is on the other side.


    "H-Hey! Hacker, you good in there? I thought I heard you fall in there...!" the voice calls out.


    A mercenary...


    "U-Uhm- the hacker h-has his- headphones on, he doesn''t want t-to be disturbed-!" Chouko calls out, stalling for time.


    This response, this explanation, is met immediately with: "S-Shut up! I KNOW I heard a thud in there- I want to hear it from him! I know he can hear us through those things, open up!"


    ... tch. Chouko''s time is outstandingly short. She needs something to defend herself. Anything, anything in this room should work as a weapon, anything solid enough.


    What about the stool? ... no, it''s too light, it''s just a plastic stool. What about the hacker''s chair? No, it''s unwieldy and inviable in an enclosed space...


    "God damn it- I''m kicking this door down! Repairman!"


    ... tch.


    Chouko takes a moment to pick up the hacker''s laptop, closing it and holding it in her hands. This laptop is just right as an impromptu weapon. At least one good hit is available by swinging this. The downside is that, in essence, she will render the information on this device completely useless if the machine breaks.


    ... then again, if it''s broken, then they cannot use it either.


    A budding opportunity, regardless of outcome.


    Chouko walks to one side of the door, her back against the office wall... waiting. Waiting ever so patiently, waiting for the very moment this mercenary breaks in. The moment this mercenary breaks the door down, the moment this mercenary barges in blindly out of concern...


    ... then, it happens. The mercenary slams his foot against the door several times and manages to kick the door out, forcing it to swing out and hit against the wall on the opposite side.


    The mercenary storms into the room. Armed with a gun in hand, a 9mm pistol that takes magazines, pointing it and looking around. His eyes locked on the hacker with a tense look on his face. "W... What in the hell?! Repairman-!"


    Giving him no time to check on the hacker, Chouko suddenly swings the laptop and bashes it against the mercenary''s face. A hard swing, with all of her might, the impact severe and devastating to both man and machine.


    Chouko is by no means a strong powerhouse, but the average person still experiences great amounts of pain from this sort of impact, and this becomes very evident at his response: "G-Gah! WHAT THE F-?!" the mercenary loudly screams, recoiling backwards at this, feeling his nose breaking. "T-THE ANDROID''S GOING NUTS-! E-EVERYONE-!"


    Chouko quickly lets go of the laptop, rushing forward to yank the gun out of the mercenary''s hand. Gripping the gun in hand tightly, a cold and emotionless gaze in her eyes as she takes aim and fires two shots.


    The first bullet going cleanly through the hacker''s head, a sort of mercy to the man if he was still alive after the blunt force trauma.


    And the second shot, into the mercenary''s stomach.


    Blood splatter gushes out of his body as he falls against the wall, drops to the floor and begins to bleed out. Experiencing excruciating abdominal pain as he stares up at Chouko, a tense groan out his lips with pure strain on his face. His voice noticeably more quiet as he suffers from his wound.


    "Y... You- You- won''t- get away with this..." the mercenary groans, his voice noticeably more quiet as he suffers from his wound and glares at the girl. Aching and calling out this statement, as if trying to convince himself of this fact.


    "Keep your mouth shut," Chouko repeats his words as she kicks his face, shoving his words down his throat. Crouching down and prepared to rummage through his pockets for any spare ammunition he may have, keeping a close eye on his trembling and shaking hands.


    Before she could find any, however, Chouko hears approaching footsteps out in the hallway. A number of mercenaries storming and closing in. Likely alarmed and alerted by the gunshots, the footsteps came from the way she previously walked.


    No time to aimlessly search... she has to gambit and hope for the best, with the bullets that do remain in this gun. Chouko takes a deep breath, taking a moment to stuff the back of Shortcake''s hair into her clothes to make sure the white locks are secured. Then, phone in hand and the gun in the other, both of her hands are ready for what''s to happen next.


    The girl assumes that these mercenaries are coming in to shoot first and ask questions later. Enough time has passed, even, since Steele and the other outside mercenaries should have become privy to her ruse, so she needs- needs to assume the very worst of whoever is coming.


    Every one of them coming for her, they must die before they can kill her. So, with a deep breath and a sigh, the crimson of her eyes lit ablaze with anticipation and drive...


    ... her onslaught begins.


    And it starts with a trick up her sleeve. Chouko quickly presses a button on her phone, having saved what she used on the cybernetics of a previous target. Testing the viability of her offense against these mercenaries'' cybernetics, pressing the button to try and send signals for involuntary electrical discharges.


    The sounds of electric static and pained groans of agony are a good indicator that the trick worked. Chouko swiftly dashes out of the room and takes aim, ready to shoot whoever she sees. Counting three- no, four, incoming mercenaries that were walking down the hallway, all of them experiencing severe headaches that stun them in place and disorient their senses completely.


    Right now, they were all blind and recovering from this sudden sharp pain.


    Chouko seizes this wonderful aiming right at their heads and seizing this opportunity to shoot. Bang. Bang. Bang. Three gunshots fired out, hitting their still targets perfectly. Easily taken out with single shots, piercing shots lethally inflicted while their senses are utterly distorted by the phone''s programming. Blood messily splattering out onto the walls, the mercenaries'' bodies falling and collapsing against the floor.


    The fourth mercenary remains standing as he''s recovering from that sensory assault on his cybernetics. A piercing sound in his ears as he flutters his eyes, taking aim forward and firing. It didn''t matter if he aimed at Ashford, all that matters is that he shoots forward. That he shoots bullets all around the hallway, hoping to God that one of them hits.


    "D-Damn it! W-We- we need backup! I need backup- A-Ashford''s up here, killing us!" he cries out to the other mercenaries, his storm of bullets firing out as he backs away. Unaware of if he''s even hitting her as he''s completely blinded by the pure distortion over his eyes... the mercenary gets auditory confirmation as Chouko cries out in pain, as the mercenary hears his shots hit into someone''s body. The gushing, splattering sound echoing out as Chouko screams, yells, aches in agonizing pain.


    A believable ruse... as Chouko hides back in the hacker''s office, throwing her voice as the bullets fly past.


    The only reason the fourth one remains alive is that Chouko''s gun didn''t fire.


    She took cover in the office, out of the mercenary''s firing path as she detaches the pistol''s magazine from the gun. Confirming for herself that the gun is out of bullets, idly looking forward to the mercenary bleeding out in the office.


    What did she expect from these people, really? To make sure the gun is loaded, so that there are more than just five bullets in a 20 round gun?


    Chouko shakes her head, thinking quickly. This isn''t the only gun that she has access to, there are three dead men with readily available guns as well... she just needs time to retrieve them, or- possibly retrieve any bullets from the deceased mercenary.


    She looks around the room for a while, teeth clenched and eyes searching for anything she may have overlooked. Curiously, her eyes look back to the soda on the late hacker''s desk. Taking a moment to hold the can, idly wiggling it to confirm how much was left inside.


    A plan is contently lingering in her head as she glances to one of the power sockets, something that the broken laptop was previously plugged into...


    ... and she looks and looking visibly relieved when she finds that the can is half full.


    "W-What''s going on?!" one of the mercenaries shout, meanwhile, gun in both hands as he watches the wild gunfire.


    "I- I''m blinded! S-She did something that messed with our eyes-!" the shooting mercenary shouts, his gun now out of bullets. Aimlessly scrambling for his pockets, frantically moving to reload.


    "M-Messed with your eyes?! L-Like, tampered with-"


    "Yes! My freaking EYES just turned to garbage-!" the mercenary exclaims, aiming forward. "Be careful, she might do the same thing and make it so you can''t see anything either!"


    Suddenly, a loud spark sounds out in the room Chouko is in...


    ... and then, the building''s power completely shuts off.


    A total blackout that does - in fact - take away the ability to see, as every single light in the building shuts off. The darkness completely blinding the building''s inhabitants, a sudden occurrence.


    "... w... what in the hell...?"


    A foreboding air fills the floor as the mercenaries are grouped up, as they''re left confused and in the dark about why the lights are suddenly off...


    ... and Chouko equips herself with the spare guns.


    "..."


    A massively wide grin on her face...

 #16.5 - Wronged (Interlude)

    "W... What? Am I hearing you correctly, Oliver...?"


    "Yes... you are. My sincerest of apologies, Charles. I''m going to have to withdraw from our arrangement."


    Charles Ashford... the late Charles Ashford. A conversation that came upon his summons to an office, indulging in a tea cup of business as he sat across the table from a business partner of his. Disbelief on his face, with shock and dismay at this withdrawal.


    The partner in question was a dear friend. Sir Oliver [REDACTED], a wealthy philanthropist that has invested funding towards one of Ashford''s subsidiary charities. A dear friend who has visited countless times, who has worked with Charles on countless business projects and affairs, and one that had a rather beneficial impact to the cause itself.


    On paper, funding was to be distributed to funding homeless efforts, constructing soup kitchens that could provide shelter and financial security in exchange for service to the community. Those poor folk with nowhere to go would have had a place to call home, a place to accept help and assistance... a place to reintegrate into civilized society. Charles sought to carry out this endeavor, feeling it would create a sense of community.


    With Oliver''s withdrawal, however, a substantial amount of this funding is no longer present, leading to the proposed objectives being unable to be fulfilled. Thus, Charles was utterly tense at this, feeling... wronged, somehow.


    "... may I ask for your reasons, Oliver? You were quite charmed by the idea at first."


    "I was, Charles. But this charity focuses on an issue that, on second thought, is admittedly narrow and limited in terms of benefits. I cannot, in good faith, lend my money out to a charity that does not have our best interests in mind."


    "On what grounds is this not in best interest? A high population of people on the streets, sleeping on streets rather than a bed... a number that grows higher with each year, Oliver. Your funding could save hundreds of thousands of impoverished citizens."


    "Charles... the homeless is not a pressing issue. You are speaking of men and women whose financial decisions brought them into that life of suffering, something they could change on their own... but choose not to. A charity proposing your ideas is just... I find no purpose, no point to it. Nothing to gain whatsoever. I sincerely apologize, once again... but..."


    Sincerely apologize...


    ...


    Charles tuned out the rest of the conversation. Losing the specifics of the words that came after this, only retaining the general main idea. The charity was not an idea that Oliver intended to support any further.


    A decision he must accept in that moment to maintain pleasantries... but, after some time, Charles departed from this office, and made his way back to the car, unable to accept it. Sitting quietly in the car, with a tense scowl on his face for... a long while, after that.


    Charles could not get those words out of his mind. In truth, it deeply frustrated him, irritated him, those reasons that sounded absurd and nonsensical to him. Charity is not something that you gain from, it is something that you do from the goodness of your heart. And Oliver simply spat on the very concept of societal altruism. Disregarded its high morals, abandoned the cause all for meaningless profit.


    For lack of a better term, Oliver has disgraced their partnership...


    Charles... sat, as he quietly thought... rethought about the entirety of that conversation. As he was mildly lost on what to do after this, as he struggled to figure out how to approach this major setback. Without Oliver''s support, without his funding, connections and expertise, their projected costs would not be met, and - ultimately - the amount of constructed buildings will not be substantial enough to have meaningful impact. The charity was already on dying legs before it could even begin.


    ... and it sickened Charles, this failure.


    Charles... needed to get his mind off of this. He needed to distract himself from this distress, from this deepest of setbacks. Needed to get this- this... this indignation out of his mind. Needed to focus his mind on other distractions.


    And his most recent of distractions sat adjacent to him.


    Charles looked to his side, looking to the child right by his side. Seated right next to him, the recently adopted 6 year old Chouko, just quietly having her face buried in a book. During the entire meeting, Chouko had been quietly sitting outside under the chauffeur''s care, brought along to handle two metaphorical birds with a stone.


    After the meeting, they were now headed to a boutique to go clothes shopping for proper lady''s attire. Seeking clothes fit to turn a ragamuffin into a fashionista, hoping that Chouko would find... an interest... in wearing the finest. Something to expand past her passionate interest in books, of which the orphanage had briefly given him slight knowledge on.


    It''s a heartwarming sight, truthfully, to see her reading. One who is well read is truly an asset... but one who is unwise, who makes the foolish decision to risk motion sickness while reading in a car, is... unsatisfactory.


    "... Chouko. It is unwise to read in a moving vehicle. You will feel nauseous and sick afterwards."


    ... no response.


    The girl completely ignored him.


    Charles... narrowed his eyes, briefly. His eyebrow raised at this lack of response, his wisdom possibly lying on deaf and defiant ears. Was Chouko refusing to accept his wisdom? Or was she so deeply lost in this novel of hers that she could not hear him? ... he safely assumes it''s the second possibility. Ignorance rather than rebellion.


    It''s a heartwarming sight, truthfully, to see her indulge in such works. One who is well read is truly an asset... and he can''t expect a new heir to be perfect on the first week. Charles quietly tapped her on the shoulder, acting to get her attention.


    It is only then that Chouko noticed him, looking up to Charles and raising a hand to her ear. Seeing her hair brushed aside, Charles... curiously saw her pull an ear plug out. Answering his puzzling question of why she didn''t respond to his inquiry, having the sound blocked out... only now listening.


    "... o... oh... yes? What is it, Father...?"


    ... Charles got a closer look at the earplug itself, staring at it curiously. Soft foam plugs, a vibrant orange, standard noise-cancelling brand. "... hm. And this earplug, this is in good quality..."


    "... y-yeah... the- the orphanage bought me these ones, personally... they, uhm... I find comfort in wearing these... I''m sorry-"


    "It''s quite alright, Chouko..." Charles responded, just... clearing his throat. "I was briefly- speaking to get your attention. Just a small, brief statement that you should not be reading while in a moving car. You will get sick."


    "O-Oh, I- I know... that''s- why I had the earplugs in... makes it easier to not be sick..."


    Charles raises an eyebrow. "... re... really, now? Does it really help?"


    Chouko idly answered with an explanation, her red eyes sheepishly blinking at Charles.


    "Well... y... yeah. I overheard one of the c-caretakers mentioning it... see, it is caused by feeling two different things. W-While one''s eyes stare at something still, b-bumps in the road make your ear feel- weird, makes it feel sick... s... so, with earplugs, you stabilize your ears..."


    "Huh... then the effects of motion sickness reduce significantly..." Charles calmly finished the thought, looking at the girl with a delicate smile. "Well. I shall let you continue then... I would not want to interrupt your dive into the whimsical, whimsical world of..."


    Charles took a peek at the cover.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "... Lord of the Flies, by William Golding."


    Huh.


    ...


    What?


    Charles was absolutely bewildered at this sight, immediately recognizing the novel that Chouko has in her hands. Amazed and perplexed by this sight, watching Chouko just... reading a secondary school level novel. Something she wouldn''t need to read for years. "Chouko... you''ve- you have been reading Lord of the Flies this entire time?"


    "Y... Yes. I- I have...?"


    "... I... I see." Charles sits back in the seat, just... curious. Outstandingly curious about this. For the first few days after her adoption, he''s given Chouko free reign of the manor''s personal library, and expected her to find an interest in the assortment of various children''s works- and yet, here she was. Lord of the Flies. To his knowledge, it wasn''t a children''s work, but a work of children. Not for a child, simply featuring child characters- the contents of which are far too grown up, far too advanced for a six year old to read and comprehend.


    And yet- Chouko has been reading it. The ramifications of a child reading it, aside, Charles... is astonished at this new information. "Interesting... how... far have you gotten into the novel, Chouko?"


    "U-Uhm... C... Chapter 4... it''s a fascinating-"


    "Chapter 4?!" Charles asked, bewildered, leaning forward. "Y-You''ve managed to read that far?!"


    "U-Uhm- y-yes??"


    "That''s- that''s..." Charles mumbled, covering his mouth at this. Astonished, amazed, astounded. Three chapters she''s either skipped, or- understood, somehow. A six year old that has not been frustrated by lengthy, pictureless works?! He leaned back against the car door, completely- utterly astonished.


    "... i-is- uhm- is that bad? I- I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to..."


    "...?" Charles raises an eyebrow, seeing Chouko start to nervously and timidly silence herself. "Oh. No, no, it''s- I just... I did not expect you to be so... versed in literature, so soon. Lord of the Flies is a teenager''s novel, intended to be read far later than your current years, Chouko."


    "... o... oh... I... I see... I just... saw the vivid imagery of the cover and thought it looked nice... r-red books and all..."


    "A fine choice..." Charles quietly responds. "Very fine indeed. It is a suggestion to not judge a book by its cover, solely as a metaphor to indicate a person is more than their appearance or mannerisms... but a cover is often the best hook to gather attention. The contents of Lord of the Flies are hard to get into, but-"


    "W-Why would it be hard? I think William Golding is a proficient author that conveys- ... a... ah, uhm... s-sorry, m-maybe I shouldn''t, uhm- bore or upset you a-any further than you already are..."


    "Upset?" Charles asked. "You believe that you could make me upset by speaking about a book?"


    "Y... Yeah... a-after all, p-people do get annoyed and upset when I t-talk about books. T-They tell me to shut up and stop, and- well, uhm... y-you did seem really upset when you came back into the car... I- I don''t-"


    "Chouko, that''s..." Charles began to speak, smiling warmly at her. "... that''s utterly preposterous. As your father, I could and should never be upset because of you. Fathers- no, caretakers, they are meant to raise a child, cultivate their interests. How would a child ever show interest in things they are told to be silent about?"


    "... I... I suppose- they would not..."


    "Exactly. So, I welcome you to- converse with me about the works you read," Charles offered, smiling wonderfully. "Given that you provide me time to handle my other affairs, I shall be ready at any moment if you wish to discuss in detail."


    "R... Really?"


    "Yes."


    "L-Like, right now? A-Am I able to-"


    "Yes!" Charles exclaimed, visibly beaming.


    "...!"


    Chouko gave a subtle nod, starting to mimic Charles''s smile.


    From then until they reach the clothing store, the two of them engaged in an in-detail conversation about Lord of the Flies. Chouko more or less summarized what she understood from the book''s beginning, leading to a complete literary analysis. The Ashfords dove into the symbolism between the characters, how civilization and savagery combine together, the inherent idea of societal ideologies clashing together with neglected responsibilities combined with wasted priorities...


    Charles then listens to Chouko elaborately speak about the events of the fourth chapter, looking in utter astonishment and amazement at Chouko proving to be an outstandingly sufficient distraction from Charles''s earlier conversation.


    Yet, she has also become the closest thing possible to his dismay and disagreement. The subject matter of Lord of the Flies is, inherently, a reflection of Oliver''s... decisions. Chapter 4, in particular, has a character neglect his and his hunting group''s responsibility to keep the fire lit, leading to a distant ship completely passing by the stranded island. The dismay from Ralph and Piggy when the hunters return from- their hunt... and the argument transpiring from it, it... it connects too deeply to Oliver.


    By withdrawing from the charity''s efforts, by- denying his involvement over self preservation, Oliver... is Jack. The savage pig hunter, overly focused on his "savagery" enough to neglect the responsibilities of the civilization.


    Thus, Charles had mixed feelings about this... most gracious of academic wonders, as he actively, actively listened to Chouko. Deeply connecting his own concerns with this work...


    "... F... Father, a-are you upset...? U-Uhm- I- I can stop talking if-"


    "No. No, it''s not you, it''s..."


    ... Charles took a deep breath, sitting back and looking out the window. An exasperated expression on his face, pure frustration as he stared off into the distance, gazing out the window and watching the passing buildings go by. His voice trailing off as he retreated from the topic, just...


    ...


    Charles- in this moment, remembered something. He made note of the fact that Chouko had no disciplinary or behavioral issues... that none of the staff have reported her getting into trouble for anything. Yet, here she is... stating that the orphanage - the children and the staff - had problems with her. That people told her to shut up, to silence herself. To subdue her own evident- almost advanced passion for literature, for the sake of their own feelings.


    As if she were speaking about a charity...


    He immediately... immediately shifted the topic, changed the subject and asked for his own curiosity. "... Chouko. You mentioned that... people got upset when you talk to them about your books. Have you ever had a... disagreement with one of your fellow... orphans?"


    "I... I have, y-yes..."


    Charles... nodded slowly. "And how have you handled these very emotions? Or, rather, how have you been told to handle them...?"


    "..."


    A pause of silence between the two. Charles continued to look out the car window, while Chouko pondered and pondered, thinking of an answer.


    Eventually, after this lengthy pondering, she answered:


    "... I get upset... and I just leave them alone. I don''t try to talk to them anymore... and... soon, I just stop being upset."


    ... and Charles stared at her after this. Briefly surprised by this. "... r... really, now? That''s... that''s interesting."


    "... well... they- told me it''s h-how the world works, right...? Y-You get upset, then y-you let it be and move on... s-so, uhm... uh..."


    "Hmm..." Charles... thought about this answer for a bit. Is that how the world works? When one is upset, when they are wronged by someone, do they retreat and cut off all contact? Does one let time pass to rid oneself of negativity, to disregard the turmoil and distress that comes with dissatisfaction?


    ...


    "... no."


    "N-No?"


    "No. You don''t," Charles responded, a glare in his eyes as he looked out the car window. Feeling that answer be... incorrect, blatantly wrong in his eyes. Letting his own personal bias go into his wisdom: "There are things that you don''t let go, that you shouldn''t let go. I find that... often... adults tell you to move on, to let it not bother you, because everyone has other things to tend to. It is a cruel thing to admit, but... people care about their own emotions above all else. If one does not protect oneself from others, then one ends up deeply hurt... running away from all their problems, cowardly retreating. Simply avoiding it all is- unfavorable."


    "... o-oh... t... then, I just... what... what exactly should I do, Father, when I am upset in such a way?"


    "You take action, Chouko..." Charles ultimately answered, resting a hand atop her shoulder. "... a normal six year old should not be bothered with this ideology- but, as an Ashford, it is best to learn early a simple truth..."


    Charles stared forward as he visualized Oliver''s face in his mind... his free hand gripped into a fist, conviction building up in his mind. Even without Oliver''s funding...


    "... people often do what their hearts tell them to do. People keep their upset emotions with them forever, and- act. They act on their emotions, and the smartest of us consider rightness. Whatever is right, and whatever feels right. People will disagree with your definition of right, but... as long as you believe with your heart that you are correct... then... then you can stand proudly, awaiting all to come. Both the benefits and drawbacks."


    "Really...?"


    "Yes, Chouko..." Charles responded, taking a deep- deep breath. His heart and mind clear of doubt, the man listened to his own answer and formed his own advice to take. "... and that, ultimately, is how the world works. Adults stand by their convictions, their motivations in life. We think about what is right all the time. Something that you will- have to deal with later down the line. Something you will need to learn when you are grown."


    "T... Then... what should I do now, as a k-kid, if I- if I don''t know what is right...?"


    "..." Charles looked at Chouko as she asked this, briefly hesitating before answering. "Then... then, you- simply look to someone for guidance. Later on, there will be people that you seek help from, people who know more than you do. Advisors, business partners, staff, friends-"


    "A-And you?"


    "..." A brief moment of quiet, before Charles- answered with a smile. A warm smile. "Of course... Chouko. You... you will always have my guidance. In fact- you will receive it, even if you decide you don''t want it. You- you are a new heir to the Ashford name, after all... it would not be right if I said no."


    Chouko- smiled faintly at those words. Holding her book to her chest, hugging it gently as she stared up at the man... calm, and content.


    Charles, after the conversation and chat... after speaking at length, following his dismay at the prior meeting with a partner, felt his own conviction strengthened. Returning a smile to Chouko as well, both of them silent for some time- before eventually arriving at their next destination.


    "... ah. We''re here." Charles opened the car door, and stepped out of the vehicle. "Come along now, Chouko."


    Chouko- gets out of the car, standing alongside Charles. Reaching a hand out to Charles''s, clinging to his guiding hand as he walks her to the boutique. For quite some time, this conversation resonated with Chouko deeply... a memory that sinks deep into her heart. A memory that remained on the forefront of her mind. A kind, warm memory of when she felt the safest.


    And it was the guiding memory that drove all of her actions to come.


    "O-Okay...! S-Sounds... sounds good..."

 #17 - Choukos Indomitable Insanity

    "... so. She''s currently in your possession?"


    "That''s right, sir," the Executioner speaks into his phone. Staring at it with a calm look on his face as he walks into his office with Griffin. "Steele is handling her as we speak. We will have her on your doorstep soon."


    Before the lights turned out, he was simply heading to the office set aside for him. Atop the fourth floor, the highest room in the building. Currently on the phone as Griffin walks with him, the two of them simply walking up the stairs and into the office.


    "Right... right. I must say, your... lateness... in the arrangement is astounding. What has this Ashford been doing all these years?"


    "Well... we searched all of Times Square," the Executioner begins to explain as he opens the office door, walking into the office. "She was simply nowhere to be seen. The old man simply led us in the wrong direction, sending us on a wild goose chase. After this, she ended up in great security... in the hands of law enforcement. Too many witnesses if we tried to abduct her."


    A calm breath as he stares out the window, beholding the Indianapolis city line. A look of slight... disdain at this wretched sight, sighing.


    "Right... and for the rest of these nine years?"


    "... wiped off the face of this planet," the Executioner answers. Eyes looking down to see... Steele and the other mercenaries looking through the boxes. A confused eyebrow raise at this sight, before he continues to speak into the phone. "Gone. No trace of her. A complete mystery, oddly enough. None of the investigators hired could find a good trail on her... she''s elusive."


    "Elusive? Her? ... interesting. Well... the reward for her will be decreased, given the fact she''s grown, but... you and your men will be well compensated."


    "Right..." the Executioner speaks, sitting down in his chair and taking his attention away from the window. Making himself comfortable as he prepares to get some additional work done, opening the laptop left on the table. "We''ll talk tomorrow. For now, it''s... late. Our other job is currently undergoing right now, sir. We can arrange a flight in the morning, if you wish."


    "Very well. Until then... have a good night."


    "... you too, sir," the Executioner speaks into the phone, hanging up and pocketing it. Deeply sighing as he begins to log into the laptop, typing away and preparing the documents.


    "... hm." Griffin lets out a slight yawn, looking over to the couch off to the side. "Sir, may I ask you something?"


    "... go ahead, Griffin," the Executioner answers, opening a text document.


    Griffin nods as he sits down on the couch, arms crossed and leaning back into the couch cushions. "It''s been bothering me this entire time. The fact that she called herself... ''Kuroiwa''."


    "Oh. This again?" the Executioner asks, tilting his head. "She''s a nobody, Griffin. Not worth our time and energy. We''re grown men dealing with a pathetic little girl that was driving around with a gun and a robot."


    "Right, but the thing is... the way she said it, the way she shouted it at us," Griffin begins to respond, covering his mouth and yawning again. "She claimed she was Kuroiwa... or was delivering the android to- Kuroiwa. There must be some truth to that..."


    "... well, what do you think?" the Executioner asks, eyes glued to his laptop screen, beginning to type. "As always, I''d love to hear your thoughts, Griffin."


    Griffin rests his hands over his chest for a moment, crossing his arms and lying down on the couch. "Well... just a hunch, but... she''s one of Charon''s mercenaries. A pet project of his. None of us in Charon''s employ has ever identified this girl, and... curiously, she''s just taking one of his jobs. Maybe it would be worth retrieving the logs of this mission...?"


    The Executioner subtly nods. "I see... we''ll have the Repairman look into it. He has the technical knowledge to handle all of that. We''ll have her moniker in no time, to- ...?" Tilting his head slightly. "... Griffin, do you hear that?"


    "..." Another yawn from the sleepy mercenary, groaning lightly. "What...? Your typing...? It''s not that..."


    ...


    Gunshots?


    Griffin tilts his head as the silence allows him to hear it. "Huh..."


    "..." The Executioner reaches a hand up to the side of his head, pressing the tips of his fingers against it. "Steele. Report, what''s-"


    "S-Sir!" Steele loudly exclaims, the rush of wind coming through his comms system. "It- it''s Ashford! S-She''s in the building!"


    "... in the- what in the world are you-" the Executioner begins to ask, eyes squinted...


    ... as, immediately after this, the power in the building shuts off.


    The Executioner and Griffin blink at this sudden, unexpected darkness.


    "D-Damn it-! Open the goddamn door!" Steele shouts, pounding his fist on the door and calling out to the mercenary on receptionist duty. "W-What''s taking so damn long! W-We need to get in, before-"


    "Power''s shut off, Steele," Griffin explains into his comms, finger on the side of his head as he gets up from the couch. Eyes narrowed and glaring as he loads his gun, running out of the office. "Gunshots are ringing out, I''m moving to investigate."


    "Right- right...!" Steele exclaims, gritting his teeth and facing the front door with frustration.


    "..."


    The Executioner tensely stares in the dark, folding his hands atop the desk. Griffin and Steele are already on it, already en route to figure out what was happening. His eyes staring forward at the door, looking at his laptop to plan his next move.


    Thanks to a can of soda, as well as prying open the power socket to pour all of the can''s contents into direct wiring, the building is utterly left in the dark. All the electrical fail safes failing to stop the shutdown, the building''s wiring primitive enough to leave it in the dark for quite a while.


    Unbeknownst to the Executioner, there are five dead mercenaries at the time of the blackout. And as the lights shut off, there are about to be more.


    Utter panic spreads throughout the third floor, the grouped up mercenaries standing in the hallway, having their guns drawn.


    "S... Shit! Shoot and kill on sight-!" the mercenary slumped against the wall screams.


    Oh, I will.


    Chouko turns the corner, gun aimed forward and glaring down the sight. The current focus being... any human-shaped silhouette in sight, anything that resembles a human in shape, firing aggressively outward. The flash of the firing guns illuminating the hallway ahead for the briefest of moments, Chouko''s eyes having the brutal sight etched before her in pure glee. First putting down the mercenary that shouted, then going for the rest of them.


    One by one, the mercenaries were being gunned down. Each of them dropping dead with each bullet, Chouko firing to shoot them before any of them have ample opportunity to shoot at her. In the cover of dark, with no other choice but to unleash a wild onslaught, her bloodlust fueled with blood splatter. Executing all she could witness, watching as the unprotected few in the front fall dead and the cautious many in the back retreat to the cubicles.


    "D-Damn it, fall back, retreat! We''re too grouped up!"


    Everything just tunes out for Chouko as she loses herself to this feeling. As she succumbs to the feeling of having a... direct... impact on Kuroiwa. Making good on her promises to kill them, to slaughter these mercenaries, to quell the workers under him. A high she has never achieved within these nine years, one that came by her own hand. No guidance necessary, no further hesitation to experience. This is the moment, the opportunity, the satisfaction that her mind need not exaggerate.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Any direct threat remains in her view in this darkness, stepping forward and using whatever semblance of light remained on this floor to shoot at any silhouette, to fire at anyone she could still see. The utter cover of darkness enough for her to run wild, to take out mercenary after mercenary. Driven to a wild craze...


    One outstanding advantage in this darkness is that Chouko can see the silhouettes of these mercenaries and get a proper aim on them before they can aim at her. The cubicle''s windows still let in the subtlest of lights from the outside, accounting for street lamps and moonlight. Makes it harder for any sort of light to reach her, makes it harder for these mercenaries to see her... just the sign of her flashing gunfire to give her away, the instilled connection of a dead body coming with each fire of the gun.


    Sure, it is still a situation of one person against an entire army of mercenaries. Any careless approach will take her life, cost her something that will deprive her of this purpose. Before the lights switched off, Chouko believed every mistake in this building must come from her enemy... her mind concocting an overwhelming yield of convoluted, elaborate stratagems.


    But none of that truly matters in this moment.


    A culmination of pure luck, encountering these people on the highway. Having Shortcake''s hair and clothing to disguise her infiltration. Her disarmed self managing to execute plenty of these people...


    ... and the darkness to truly cement her as the monster of the night, the one with eyes on every foe she meets.


    The Stalker.


    Tonight is the night she gets to fulfill each sick, twisted wish she''s concocted... with utter glee, behind her cold glare. Pocketing the now empty pistols, the bright twinkle of pure joy in her eyes as she stares forward, staring into the cubicle area. Donning the face of Kuroiwa the Stalker, but relishing in this moment as Chouko.


    The greatest of sufferings will be left for the man responsible.


    Chouko needs to savour this moment. Chouko''s grin is utterly devilish as she traverses through the ground of bodies, as she runs into the cubicle area and goes guns blazing- aiming for their heads, one shot each to utterly blow their brains out.


    The utter carnage unfolding before her eyes, carried out with her very own hands, quelling their numbers further in a blind rage. Indescribable, inexplicable moments of a woman just dashing through the cubicles, swiftly running around and shooting anyone she lays her eyes on. Every single death, isolated from the rest as these pathetic mercenaries are aimlessly fighting a threat accustomed to the night.


    Screams of agony ringing out as warnings to the mercenaries, terrified by the idea that they were facing a maniacal threat beyond anything they''ve ever had to face. One single woman running in the dark, gunning them down like an utter madman- the utter silence of her voice being the one thing identifying her from the rest.


    "O-Oh god... Oh god- please-! No-!"


    "A-Aaaaah! No-!"


    "GKHgGKGHGKhkhKHhgh-"


    With the count of bodies increasing more, the hope of survival starts to dwindle, the chances of any of these men surviving just... lessening. Chouko could sense the terror that they felt, the fact that these mercenaries were subjects to her wrath. Their remains painting this dark room a deep red, either due to the blood or the rage building in her eyes.


    One of them, seeing everything unfolding, decides... to be a coward, running out of cover and dashing to the stairway. Forcing the door open and trying to flee while Ashford''s wrath is on the others.


    "Shit, shitshitshitshit-! H-Help! Help-!" he desperately cries out- only to have his words cut off by incoherent noises as a bullet pierces his head. All life cut off the moment he felt Chouko immediately shoot to the back of his head, his last moments inevitably spent crying out for help that would not arrive in time.


    The fleeing mercenary''s dead body is sent forward, falling over the stair railing and down two stories. His lifeless corpse hitting the ground with a thud, splatters of blood getting over the stairwell floor.


    "..."


    Peering over the stair railing, Griffin watched this unfold in the cover of night. A tense look as his eyes glow a bright white, utilizing his night vision to see the corpse.


    "Griffin! The hell''s happening up there?! There''s a whole goddamn gunfight!"


    Griffin presses the side of his head. "Dead body, Steele. Ashford''s on the third floor."


    "Damn it..."


    "Yeah. I''m turning my comms off. Can''t give her any sign of me..." Griffin says as he turns his hand over, wiggling his fingers and clenching his hand into a fist... the cybernetics over his skin completely turning him invisible. Concealing his entire body to match his surroundings, as he descends the stairs to the third floor.


    ... a yawn... a subtle yawn escaping his lips as he goes down, eyes narrowed. The one thing keeping him awake right now is the overwhelming dread crawling down his back. Keeping his composure.


    "..."


    Eerily... the gunfight goes quiet as he makes it down the last step to the third floor, causing him to stop in place and listen closely. Hearing no further shooting, no further shouting from the mercenaries on the third floor.


    All of them are dead.


    Griffin doesn''t peek past the door. He doesn''t look at what may have unfolded there. He just presses his back against the wall and waits... waits to see what Ashford''s next move is.


    Then, promptly... the door is forced open.


    Griffin stares forward and watches as... Chouko simply runs out the door, phone in hand with 10 of his fellow allies'' pistols in the waistline of the android''s skirt. White hair blowing in the wind as she rushes forward and leaps over the stair railing, lunging downward.


    Bewildered by this, Griffin''s eyes follow as he looks to see her falling. She leapt over the railing and... curiously, holds onto the halfway stair railing between the 2nd and 3rd floors. Not a full descent down, no, she''s just... agile and latching onto these railings. Leaping off of them to land in front of the 2nd floor entrance, now out of Griffin''s view.


    "..." A slow look to the third floor''s doorway, Griffin seeing several dead bodies behind that closing door... and then looking down. Pressing the side of his head again. "S... She''s headed down to the second floor. Third floor''s a complete and total massacre... she''s aiming to do the same to the second."


    Steele, from the outside, has been trying to pry open the front door with his brute strength. His eyes widening as he hears this, backing away from the door. "W... What?! Same to the second?!"


    ... cold silence as he looks up and sees the flash of gunshots coming from the 2nd floor windows.


    "..." Shortcake quietly stands aside, keeping herself completely silent to avoid agitating these people. Watching as these people were left scared and frightened, as they felt threatened by... by Chouko.


    Her pink eyes gaze at the second floor, unable to see anything that is happening in there. Unable to tell what Chouko was doing to anyone there... just quietly watching as light flashes from the windows...


    "..." Steele grits his teeth and glares at this sight, frustrated beyond all belief. Fingers pressing the side of his head again. "D... Damn it! Griffin, report! What''s she... doing...?"


    "I don''t know, she''s just on the second floor," Griffin reports. "I''m heading into the second floor right now, checking on those we have down here."


    "Got it, I''ll-"


    "Both of you," a third voice, the Executioner, calls out in their communications. "Both of you, come up to the fourth floor... Steele, I''ll be at the fire exit to let you in through that way."


    "... huh? H-How come, sir?! Ashford''s-" Steele exclaims, looking up at the 2nd floor and watching utter gunfire unfold. No sound bleeding out... just the light of the gunshots. "... Ashford''s going nuts on our remaining men here!"


    "Yes... and she''ll be whittled down in stamina and endurance, wasting all of it on them. I know she''s coming for me, last. So we need to ambush her on the fourth floor, take her down up here," the Executioner explains. "The men down below are lost causes. We need to prepare for our survival alone."


    Griffin, hearing this, has a calm... calm look on his face as he''s the one best hearing the carnage down below. Able to hear, through the door of the second, each and every shot. Each and every dead man down below, Charon''s newest mercenary a... a miracle wonder of a murderer.


    "... understood," Griffin speaks... the man starting to walk back up to the fourth floor, returning to the Executioner. A compliant on his face as he''s being told to retreat from the ongoing carnage, told to regroup back at the top.


    Steele, however, didn''t see it the same way... a harsh and hostile glare in his eyes as he stares up at the 2nd floor windows. Trembling and shaking in place as he beholds this horrific sight... this wretched sight, this infuriating defeat!


    "Ghhh...!"


    Abandoning his orders, throwing them away for the sake of the men on the 2nd floor, Steele takes several steps back to prepare a running start, the mercenaries on the ground just watching him back up.


    "W-What are our orders, Sir?!" a mercenary exclaims.


    "Fire escape. Fourth floor. Go up in my place. Tell the Executioner I''m not backing down a coward."


    "..." Shortcake watches the man back up, a look of concern on her face. "W-What are you-"


    Immediately, she''s interrupted by a mercenary grabbing the back of her head, forcefully pulling her along. "Come along, you bucket of bolts...!" As the mercenaries begin to head to the back of the building.


    "..."


    Steele takes a calm... calm breath as his men leave, as he looks up at the 2nd floor...


    ... and he runs forward. Dashing forward with a sprint, running on the ground as his legs charge up. A building energy in his artificial calves, glowing a bright orange and burning to the point of his jeans sizzling up. Determination in his eyes as he runs, as he prepares his steel legs for the following moment.


    "... HAAAAAAAAAAH!" Steele loudly roars out as he stops, kicks the ground, and propels himself a story upward, his body hurled straight at the window glass and breaking through it like a cannonball.


    Shards of glass spreading everywhere, Steele crossing his arms over his face to shield it from the glass as his insanely bold move sends him through with overwhelming force... his legs burning a bright orange, flames shooting out of the soles of his feet.


    The remaining mercenaries in cover watch as the big, burly man is sent barreling through the window, his body shot through the center of the room and steamrolling the center cubicles. His mass an incredible sight, to the point where he hits straight into the wall between the elevator and the stairway... cracking the building''s walls.


    Steele stands with his back against the wall, a livid and violent glare on his face as he looks around. Shouting, with all of his might, with all of his anger and fury...


    "I''LL KILL YOU! ASHFOOOOOOORD!"

 #18 - Against the Fiery Will of Steel

    These mercenaries are utter jokes...


    As the adrenaline coursed through her body, as she instinctively fired at each silhouette in sight, Chouko found it utterly satisfying to rush through and wipe these men out. Sprinting in the dark and making ample opportunity to exploit their low-light vision. Joy and glee overtook her mind on the second floor, absolute static rippling out in her mind with each pull of the trigger.


    The sheer, utter terror spreads throughout these pathetic mercenaries as Chouko overpowers them. Keeping her distance and riddling them with bullets, allowing herself to just toy with these pitiful dead men. Scurrying around and taking their guns, letting the utter chaos of the moment shake them to their cores.


    "Tch-!" It gets to the point where a mercenary runs out of cover, taking Chouko''s immediate approach and shooting forward- trying to put the girl down, firing at whoever was shooting. If it''s working for her... why not him?!


    Immediately in response, curiously enough, another mercenary also thought to take the same approach. Firing at the person shooting at him, immediately shooting to take Ashford down in defense. A tense look on his face as he shoots and fires, bullets hitting into his body...


    Unknowingly... these two mercenaries were just putting each other down. The darkness of the floor riddled with the sound of aimless gunfire, both men unaware that they were just shooting at each other rather than Chouko.


    It''s utterly hilarious... a comedic show of utter inferiority as Chouko keeps low, keeping to the floor as she sneaks along. A strong feeling of... satisfaction, an overwhelming feeling of pride after quelling a majority of these overestimated and pitiful excuses of mercenaries.


    But then again... it''s easy to kill, it''s only hard to not be killed. If she can do it, they certainly could, too. It''s no wonder that these people are "skilled" enough to work for the one that killed... him... all it takes is a pull of the trigger.


    ...


    The second floor is almost clear... just a few men left, before the next floor.


    However, as Chouko sneaks along, as she begins to approach a mercenary with his back turned to her, she feels a bright and orange glow appear to her left. A dim light that illuminates the room, a sudden light reflecting off of the cubicles and off of her gun. A curious sight that raises an eyebrow for one second... before glancing at the light''s source in the next one.


    Before her eyes, she witnesses a silhouette forming and approaching outside the window, its feet engulfed in the orange flames. Coming closer and closer, her eyes catching sight of this incoming window crash an entire second early, sent flying straight in her direction.


    Out of bewildered instinct, Chouko quickly dives forward and out of the way as the windows shatter. She was able to catch a glimpse of the incoming figure in the corner of her eye, reacting just in time to... to...


    ... to a man crashing through the window and barreling through the cubicles.


    A spiraling boulder of a person, a stampeding force of nature, flames shooting out from behind his feet. A sight that utterly astounds Chouko, briefly stunned by the absurdity of this very action, watching as this man shaped thing crashes against a wall with a loud thud.


    Chouko quickly scurries to hide with her back against the cubicle, intent on staying out of that thing''s sight line. A tense grit of her teeth as she didn''t understand where that- that thing came from.


    "I''LL KILL YOU! ASHFOOOOOOORD!"


    ... and with that loud, simplistic shout, it makes perfect sense now. Steele. This is Steele.


    "Tch-! She''s over here!" exclaims the mercenary that Chouko would have ambushed. Managing to catch the girl in his sights, calling out to everyone in the room as he takes aim at the girl and fires.


    Chouko, alerted to this call, reacts quickly by tilting her body to the side. The bullet somehow misses Chouko and hits the part of the cubicle, the hole right next to the side of her head. Eyes wide at this lucky maneuver, Chouko - in retaliation - swiftly raises her gun and fires back. Piercing the man''s neck, forcing him to choke in pure agony as he collapses and bleeds out...


    Chouko stares back in this man''s direction, watches as he drops dead following this... and registers that two gunshots sounded out. Two gunshots ringing throughout the room, audibly attention grabbing.


    "D-Damn it..." Chouko mumbles, glaring at that mercenary in the dark. Already urgently beginning to crawl, anticipating an immediate danger incoming from overhead.


    The orange glow right above her...


    ... and she caught that sign, that sense of danger, just in the nick of time. Her immediate crawl occurring just as a weight crashes down where she hid, as Steele descended downwards and stomps HARD in that spot. One second later, and Chouko would have been flattened into the ground- the ground that utterly quakes trembles after that stomp.


    "GRAAAAAAAAAH!" loudly roars the man bull as his furious and enraged eyes glaring after Chouko. Lured to the sound, finding her immediately upon recognizing the shots, eyes illuminated by a bright white light and watching her pitifully try to escape. "FOUND YOU-!"


    Chouko doesn''t get a good look of his face, however, looking forward in the dark and fleeing for her life. Tensely gritting her teeth at that... at that approach, at Steele''s immediate approach.


    In less than a minute, Chouko felt the complete, utter menace and terror that comes from this reckless man. This dangerous beast, this dangerous threat that tops these pitiable cannon fodders. Someone with actual skill, someone that outmatches everything she could do.


    ... it all stems from his metal legs. Steele''s steel, mechanical legs.


    They''ve always been a subject of thought and concern for Chouko. Chouko knew from the weight of his foot alone that an attack at full strength will completely bludgeon her, that there was enough machinery in there to crush a person''s body if its full weight stomps onto her. Of course, nothing about them signified "machines of fire and flame" to her at the time, but... here they are, fire shooting out of his feet... making those things more devastating than she could have ever anticipated.


    The man''s launched himself through a window with these legs, is actively using them to leap into the air and try to stomp down on her, and- in this enclosed space, of all places? Engaging her in close-quarters combats where a single attack is a brutal demise waiting to happen. A single moment where she comes into contact with those legs is a death sentence.


    Chouko continues to run, intent on avoiding a direct confrontation with him. Running away is fruitless if he can just... ascend into the air and charge at her... but it''s also a terrible idea to just charge at him aimlessly and-


    Bang.


    Chouko''s eyes widen as she hears this, immediately followed by a gunshot firing and hitting into her shoulder. A bullet piercing her skin, lodging itself deep into her shoulder muscle, an aching pain in her left arm as she carelessly ran into this shot. Violently gritting her teeth as this mercenary manages to land a shot on her.


    She takes immediate aim at this mercenary, ready to fire and put him down... but, immediately, she stops to hear the crackling burst of flames to her left, and falls backwards to roll out of harm''s way. Managing to avoid Steele''s body charging straight where she stood, landing on her back and watching as the brute slams his entire body against the wall.


    The building quakes upon impact, Steele staring forward into the wall with a proud grin... slowly turning away from the building and dusting off his arms, eyes locking onto Chouko once more. "There you ARE!" he loudly roars, as yet another massive burst of flames shoot from the heels of his feet, launching him into the air and descending down onto her - about to land right foot first.


    Chouko tensely rolls left on the ground, yet another close call with Steele as he stomps down on the floor. Another trembling quake, Chouko''s nerves utterly rattled as she rolls- hearing the sound of mercenary gunfire as she rolls. Still wincing in pain at the bullet in her shoulder, her eye twitching noticeably.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Steele can see her at all times, and his attack is making it more likely that the mercenaries can too...


    "Damn it, damn it, damn it..." Chouko mutters under her breath. Reaching for her phone, continuing to attempt a hasty retreat. She needs something that can dispatch of Steele, in particular- pressing a button to try a repeat of...!


    "..." Steele cracks a wide grin at this, his eyes flickering red.


    Right...


    "Well, what do you know?! Your uncle here''s good ol'' Charon! Hah!"


    ... right! Chouko glares at this phone and flips it closed. He''s well familiar with Charon''s technology- possibly hacking in general! He likely has a strong security against anything this phone can do. Cursed piece of junk...! It was lucky this thing worked once, but- what good is it now?!


    There''s no respite for her. Not a single moment she can get careless. She needs to keep a hard focus on every remaining mercenary, on top of Steele pursuing her... a disadvantageous position forcing her to actively flee and reveal her location, making her struggle come up with a plan to take the man down.


    ... Chouko, able to hear the footsteps pursuing her, takes quick aim right behind her and pulls the trigger.


    This is met with Steele easily sidestepping out of the way of the bullet, his charge halted as he kicks off of the ground and avoids the bullet with a single movement of his body. A show of his reflexes as the bullet passes by his arm, as his quick eyes noticed the gun and gave him ample opportunity to dodge.


    Direct gunshots aren''t an option to fight Steele, either! It''s safe to assume that any moment Steele sees Chouko aiming at him, he''s able to simply react to the pull of the trigger and avoid it! A waste of a bullet!


    Tactically... Chouko is backed into a corner as she flees to the other side of the cubicle area, as Steele continues to lock his gaze on her- as Steele repeats his devastating attack of leaping into the air with a burst of fire underneath his feet, ready to stomp down.


    Chouko is preparing to anticipate where he may land, but- ... other priorities come up as the light of Steele''s fire reveals the guns of the other mercenaries. Four- no, five mercenaries, all of them aiming in the dark at her.


    "... shit-!" Chouko noises, her eyes darting aggressively around at these incoming threats, hyperventilating as she hears gunshot after gunshot shoot out. All of the mercenaries had clear shots on her, thanks to Steele! She quickly throws herself down to the ground to dodge the bullets that were aimed at her upper body- but the bullets aimed at her legs manage to graze her as she falls down. A tense, momentary pain...


    ... met with incredible aches as she- as she pushes her left hand down and forcibly rolls to her right, managing to dodge another one of Steele''s stomps. Chouko''s eyes utterly twitching at this, visibly tense and shaking at this most narrow of situations.


    Following this roll, some of Steele''s flames grow stronger and shoot out to reach Chouko''s shirt sleeve, managing to burn the fabric and further expose the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Her skin subject to painful charring, forcing painful cries of silent agony to be choked down her throat.


    The one saving grace she has is that Steele, himself, doesn''t have any guns. He doesn''t have any firearms or weapons beyond his legs, resorting to purely close ranged strikes rather than any ranged ones... but- what was the point of this information?! He''s far stronger, faster, and sturdier! He''s a physical powerhouse and a walking distraction that takes Chouko''s focus away from exterminating the rest of the mercenaries, left a target that''s only alive because of aimless tumbling!


    Chouko''s left scrambling for her next few actions, struggling to come up with anything. Feeling her head utterly ache as she frantically thinks and ponders, as she''s overwhelmed with thoughts of dealing with both Steele and the remaining 2nd floor mercenaries. Trying her best to rid the thoughts of how impossible it is to take all of them down for good, to rid the thoughts of how Steele is a relentless and unkillable bastard that she needs to escape from. These thoughts were useless, pointless, purposeless- if she doesn''t kill them now, there''s no telling when she''d be able to... as they''ll pursue her endlessly until her utter demise.


    There has to be something, Chouko thought... something that can be done. It can''t end like this, it can''t...! Not until- NOT UNTIL-!


    ...


    "..."


    ... and... as she stares at her burnt fabric, as the thoughts in her head are crammed into the small few seconds of her roll, Chouko... briefly and tensely takes note of the floor itself. Catching a glimpse of this floor, staring at this floor amidst her roll, focusing on the floor right underneath Steele''s feet...


    This sight brings... a hope to her eyes, a bold chance of survival now in view as she sees this floor, seeing hope in the sight of... cracks in the floor.


    Cracks in the building. Some cracks where Steele stomped, some cracks in the walls that Steele threw himself into- cracks. It appears that this building isn''t designed for Steele''s high impact cybernetics. One strike from his legs alone are doing a number on the building structure, inflicting cracks upon cracks into everything.


    Why is this hopeful? Well... if Steele is managing to crack the floor with each time he stomps down...


    ... then Steele''s able to bring himself down.


    A plan floods and locks into Chouko''s mind, one that will be a risky gambit for her. Needing to predict Steele''s movements, to predict his plan of attack. If Chouko is able to make him recklessly destroy his surroundings, there''s one way he''ll be taken care of...


    ... the plan concocted within seconds, within the time it takes for her to finish her roll and throw herself up. Running swiftly, remembering the positions of the mercenaries revealed by Steele''s fire, knowing some of them were up ahead.


    Every single movement from Chouko is precise with this knowledge, a plan in her mind. Even as she''s hit, Chouko knows how to turn her perceived weakness and pain against the enemy.


    On watch for the closest ones as she aims her gun to the right, aiming at nothing as she runs- and pulling the trigger as she''s about to pass the cubicle. The bullet trailing along and slipping past the cubicle wall, missing the mercenary''s head.


    In turn, the mercenary fired at the exact same time- the bullet flying out and grazing the front of Chouko''s lower leg. A painful sensation, one that causes her to... roll forward, pretending to fall.


    Several mercenaries with an aim on her, four other ones that Chouko''s attention wasn''t on- they had the slightest of moments to readjust and account for Chouko''s immediate fall. The girl crawling on three, with the fourth painfully lifted up and quickly shooting at whoever she could. A careless aim, one that isn''t steady enough to hit anyone, but... enough to keep these mercenaries on their toes. To lessen the chances of them shooting at her.


    The time saved from these mercenaries dodging her bullets, Chouko uses this brief time as a measurement... as she crawls forward as fast as she could, dividing her mind between just shooting and crawling. Hearing an immediate stomp right behind her, having predicted that Steele would go for another stomp after her fall... another crack sounding out at this one, the man staring forward and running at her.


    Chouko pushes herself back up, in time with the quake. Roughly standing up and running once more, pushing and forcing her body to the utter limits as she turns back at Steele. Taking aim at him and running backwards, seeing him and his legs in the dark sprinting and stampeding towards her. Aiming her gun at him and firing shot after shot.


    Each pull of the trigger enough to rile the mercenary up, the man predictably dodging to the sides like before. Chouko watches the moving mercenary avoiding the gunshots, witnessing Steele circling around the cubicles. Turning around the area, moving his body in the way of the other mercenaries as he passes by.


    ... ample opportunity for Chouko to- deliberately aim at Steele and fire when he gets in the way of her and a mercenary, a smile forming on her face as she watches the mercenaries drop dead one by one at this. This repeated firing while staying stationary... Chouko''s eyes trail to the left, following that orange glow. Steele''s fiery legs are the beacons of light in this darkness, a double edged sword for both her and the mercenaries... one she makes ample use of, now, to finally take care of those needless pests.


    Firing shot after shot, executing man after man... following Steele closely with her gaze as she pulls the trigger. Keeping this up until the gun runs out of bullets shortly after. The click of an empty gun, the cue that Steele immediately capitalizes on. The man charging forward with elbow out, angled in a way that''s prepared to crush her against the wall.


    Chouko watches Steele close in... quickly rolling to the side at the last moment, enough for Steele to tackle straight into the building wall. A crumbling sound echoes out as he breaks a hole in the wall, lodging his elbow deep into the infrastructure.


    In this sudden roll, she then throws herself forward, kicking off of the ground and darting to an especially damaged part of the floor. One where she could feel the fragility of it, how it could crumble at any moment...


    ... then, quickly, Chouko throws this empty gun away, and draws a new gun from her waistline- putting herself in one place as she aimlessly shoots out, firing three shots at Steele.


    Before these three shots are fired, Steele sees the gun aimed at him. Forcing his arm out of the wall and jumping away from the wall. Staring down at Chouko and seeing her remain in only one place- before he resorts to another leap in the air, yet another boom of flames propelling him upward. Visibly seizing the opportunity before him.


    A bright glint shines in Chouko''s eye as she sees him stomping down... narrowly rolling out of his way once again. Watching as his foot impacts against the ground, as the metal barely misses her. The emanating heat burning right next to her...


    While balanced on one foot, Steele keeps the flames active on his other foot- now at a good angle to engulf her entire body in flames, to fire a large stream of fire to ignite her and burn her to a crisp. Ready to char her skin to ash and dust, making sure naught remains of her melted being, a proud look on his face as he stares down at this dead woman...


    ... and then, it happens.


    A sharp crumble sounds out, the floor beneath Steele cracking further. A loud, abrupt crack, the sound reaching Steele''s ears and making him hesitate. A tremendous, momentous crumbling in the floor, one that sounded like music to Chouko''s ears.


    With this last stomp... Chouko looks up at Steele, a cocky grin on her face as she looks up at him. Gleefully staring and beholding the foolishness on his face, his utter bewilderment at this mysterious sound. As this stomp causes the building floor to helplessly quake again... before the floor itself gives up. Crumbling right below the both of them, Steele falling right down with the sizeable hole.


    Steele has a look of realization on his face as his stomp breaks through the floor, sending him downward. Catching him completely off guard as he braces for impact, as he abruptly falls down to the ground floor.


    Chouko, as she rolls, falls down as well. Preparing for the worst as she descends down a floor, tensely readying herself for the utter pain and danger to follow this moment...


    ... as she basks in this chaotic victory... the glee shining in her deranged, crimson eyes as victory is now in her grasp.

 #19 - Call to Action

    ... lying on the first floor, the fallen Steele lies quietly in the building rubble. A mess of his own making, crumbling and destroying the ground beneath him in his careless onslaught. His eyes full of red as he sought to kill Ashford, that nimble and agile bitch...


    Something just ran through his mind when he first saw those gunshot flashes from both the second and third floors. Something crossed his mind as his superior ordered him to cowardly retreat and let all of those mercenaries die. Something sent him on this path, driving him to charge and murder Ashford, to at least make an attempt to stop her from killing any other men.


    It wasn''t his tough as steel legs. It wasn''t his thick as steel head. No... no, it was his heart of steel.


    In his heart, he knows that it''s his fault. It''s his fault that he mistakenly let the disguised girl enter the building to begin with. It''s his mistake that gave Ashford ample opportunity to kill two floors worth of people. Their deaths were on his hands, in a way... the crushing fault weighing down on him. His heart yearned to stop the meaningless deaths of his fellow man, to stop the murderous lunatic from escaping unharmed, and to absolutely fix a wrong and a mistake- his utterly careless mistake.


    He couldn''t just let these people die for his slip up, not without a fight.


    A fight that he ultimately lost.


    That thought endlessly crosses Steele''s mind as he lies in the rubble, as he suffers another mistake on his heart, as the silence of the floor above deeply unsettles him... as he realizes that there isn''t a soul remaining up there. Steele knows that Ashford and him fell down to the ground floor... and the fact that he can''t hear anything up there means- all of the mercenaries are dead.


    A defeated look is briefly on his face as he failed to protect these people, as his carelessness is responsible for all of their deaths. A soul crushing feeling envelops his body as he realizes their deaths were... inevitable, whether or not he chose to fight.


    If he had been more careful, if he had paid closer attention, if he had just the slightest bit more brainpower than he did in that moment, then Ashford would still be in their safe grasp. They''d still have a clear view on Ashford, and they wouldn''t be in such a precarious situation.


    Charon hired one hell of a slippery snake...


    ... tch! Steele... with shaky hands, forcibly pushes himself up from the rubble. Standing with arms limp as he looks around, as he searches for Ashford. His eyes flickering as he surveys and searches the dark lobby. "W-Where... where the hell are ya, Ashford?!" he screams out. "Show- show yourself! Come out and f-fight me, I-!"


    Immediately, a gunshot hits into his side, the bullet piercing his hip...


    "Ghhkk-!" Steele noises, as he turns to the shot and- falls backwards as a bullet fires into his stomach. An agonizing pain coursing through his body as he falls back onto his back, his head hitting into a piece of rubble-! Completely disoriented as his eyes distort and his vision goes utterly hazy...


    ...


    ... these... these are his last moments.


    Steele lies defeated on the ground as he feels himself... bleeding out. Even with all his might, even with his overwhelming tenacity... his downfall is a crumbling floor and a couple of gunshots.


    Would things have gone differently if he listened to the Executioner? Would things have gone better if he listened to the voice''s instructions, if he didn''t take it into his own hands to save these men and stop this threat? If he grouped up with the Executioner, if he and Griffin came together up there. A more organized effort, at the cost of their men.


    Hindsight says it would have been better, but it- it never felt right with him... it... it never did...


    ... Steele... he... he reaches for the side of his head. About to press the side of it, about to warn the others... the survivors. Griffin, the Executioner, and all the mercenaries that gathered up on the fourth floor. The last thing Steele can do, the last thing he''ll ever be able to do. A last message to save them, to let them know of his fate...


    ... but he... hesitates.


    He fails to activate the communications system, failing to contact the others. Watching as something is held right in front of his face, as something presses against his forehead.


    The tip of the gun... the tip of a mercenary''s pistol. One of these mercenaries'' guns...


    "... say your last words."


    "..." Steele''s eyes narrow at this gun... a foreboding chill going down his spine as he stares at the firearm. Hearing Ashford''s voice ringing out, seeing her eyes glare from behind her arm. Given one last opportunity... one last, last chance to make this right... given one last chance to let his dying words matter, to have an impact.


    With only Chouko and the... souls... of the mercenaries on her hands... Steele... Steele uses his remaining might to think of something- something... related to Ashford.


    Ashford... Ashford...


    ...


    And his last words... with a shit-eating grin on his face, his last words being the most insulting and degrading words he could come up with. Steele was going out after one last shot at this bitch, pure- caustic pride on his face as he utters the words:


    "I''ll say hello to your father when I see him, Ashford..."


    "..."


    The gun is pulled away from his forehead... lowers down out of his sight, and presses it against his neck. A red eye noticeably twitching at him, visibly agitated by these last words.


    "You will do no such thing... bastard..."


    The gunshot rings out one second later, utterly piercing and ripping a hole through Steele''s neck. Making it impossible for Steele to breathe properly as he audibly gags and chokes, gargling on his own blood. Even as he bleeds out, even as he undergoes a far more excruciatingly intense pain that sends him and his nerves into an overdrive of pure suffering, he... he has a satisfied look on his face.


    He has won this small victory with those simple, stabbing, piercing words...


    ... and then, with that victory in his grasp, clinging to it as his life fades, Steele lies limp. Head turning onto its side. Blood gushing out his neck and lips, rendered a smiling corpse that knew it got into Ashford''s head.


    Chouko stands up from Steele, her legs wobbling in place as the adrenaline wears off. Glaring down at the dead man with a twitching eye. She''s managed to come out of this... relatively... unscathed from the fall itself. Having anticipated the floor''s collapse, turning her feet to the ground to somewhat cushion her descent.


    The only injuries she dare suffer, two shaky and weak legs exhausted beyond belief... and the bullet lodged in her shoulder. The agonizingly painful sensation that made it painfully difficult to move her left arm whatsoever, wincing...


    "..."


    Promptly... a phone starts to ring. The tone coming from Steele''s pocket.


    Some country song and its guitars playing audibly, the man neglecting to turn off its ringer. Chouko curiously walks to retrieve the phone from Steele''s pocket, checking the caller ID on the display.


    ... hm. Gavin.


    Then she answers. Remaining quiet as she keeps the phone to her ear, leaving Steele''s corpse behind in the pile of blood-soaked rubble. Approaching the stairway door, walking slowly up the steps... phone in one hand, and another gun in the other.


    "Steele...! The hell happened? Are your comms still in tact?"


    ... ah. Griffin.


    Chouko ominously smiles as she crosses the stairway entrance, sidestepping around the dead body of a different mercenary irrelevantly lying in the center... aiming the gun up the stairway as she listens quietly to the voice. Audibly breathing into the phone, a ragged and shaky breath as she begins walking up the stairs. Almost deranged, almost unhinged, making sure the ear on the other end can hear her.


    "Steele? Respond, Steele. A-Are you alright?!"


    "... sorry... Griffin..." Chouko groans lightly, making sure to speak with a raspy voice under a lot of strain to try and mimic Steele''s voice. Hoping the silence of it is enough to trick the man. "She... she was an utter pain to deal with..."


    "G... God, man, say something sooner next time..." Griffin responds. "S... So, what''s happened to her...?"If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Crushed under some rubble... managed to stomp her lights out. She didn''t even see it coming..." Chouko groans as she continues to climb the stairs.


    "Right... right... and, by chance, if you''re able to tell me- what happened to Steele?"


    "..."


    Oh, well...


    Chouko continues to walk up the steps. Taking note of Griffin''s quiet tone and her hypothesis of his invisibility cybernetics. He could be anywhere around her, right now. She cautiously walks up the stairs and keeps an ear out for the subtlest of cues, for the smallest and slightest of signs that Griffin is hiding near her.


    "Tch... I knew it..." Griffin demands, Chouko practically able to see and hear his teeth clenching. "What have you done with Steele...? The same with the rest, right...? They''re all dead down there, aren''t they...? Did you do it...?! Did you kill him?!"


    The power of silence... giving no answer when demanded to. Chouko continues to walk, making it up to the 2nd floor in the pure silence.


    "S-Say something, damn it! Y... You... you wretched little-!"


    "Griffin. Give me the phone."


    Immediately- the most vile of looks form on Chouko''s face. Hearing his voice, immediately recognizing his voice. The slightest of words from his mouth enough to fill a bubbling rage inside of her. A burning, caustic rage, one that revels in joy at the thought - or rather, the eventual outcome - of his brutal demise. Five simple words from one man''s voice, enough to carve open her skin and let her nerves ooze utter, rigid anger.


    "... let''s cut to the chase," Charles''s murderer - the Executioner - tells her. "I know you''re coming up here. I know you killed all of the second and third floor workers, by... some miracle. Steele was a fool that decided to take you on alone, and you''ve likely bested him. But as you come up here, I hope you understand that there are plenty of men waiting for you. Plenty of them just stationed out, waiting for you to come up here."


    A bold move... a suspicious move to emphasize this. Rather than catch her off guard and leave these men in the dark- the Executioner is revealing the cards in his hand, the remaining men at his disposal. Either a bluff or a threat...


    ... urging Chouko to get a hand of her own.


    Chouko remains silent and listens as she takes her own phone out, idly taking a moment to press a button on it... muting both phones. In essence, Chouko just turned this conversation into a three-way call with the press of a button, connecting the two cellphones together into the clal. Then, putting Steele''s phone on speaker and maximizing the volume- she makes it up to the third floor, enters the cubicle area of dead mercenaries, and wanders about the office, just... listening.


    "So... there are countless ways we can do this. I personally feel like... a more peaceful arrangement could be made," the Executioner idly tells her, having the sheer audacity to tell her this. "No one else needs to die... contrary to unpopular belief. Let''s discuss, Ashford, how we can get out of this with both of us happy."


    What a bad joke, Chouko thinks to herself. It''s outstandingly clear that he isn''t serious whatsoever...


    Chouko holds Steele''s phone to her side, walking to one of the closer cubicles. Looking at the corpse just lying face-down on the desk, she... puts the phone gently in the seat of the chair, before she walks to a different cubicle. Phone on her shoulder, approaching one of the random bodies.


    "... what benefit do you get from a deal...? From me still being alive...?" Chouko asks, humoring this man''s absurd statement. Dragging the body into a different cubicle, deciding to have it sit against the interior walls. A trailing streak of blood, to draw any unwanted eyes to this body in particular...


    "Reason is rather simple. We kept you alive because... well, you know who wants you."


    "..." Chouko narrows her eyes, walking to a new cubicle- one that didn''t have a body in it, and then taking cover and hiding. Back against the wall, taking a deep breath as she stations herself accordingly. "Elaborate... what do you mean by this?"


    "... well- let''s just say, this man is happy that I did not reunite father and daughter all those years ago, that I simply took the father out."


    "..."


    Kuroiwa... the real one.


    Chouko''s eyes brighten and widen at this, a look of utter astonishment. Staring at the phone with bewildered eyes, silently processing that she was being given the opportunity of a lifetime from a mortal enemy- her breath a little heavier after dragging a body, admittedly. "I see... and you''re suggesting I... if I go along with you, if I let you take me..."


    "... right. You''ll be face to face with the- with the man that ordered- Ashford Senior''s death. My employer has no information that you''re a murderer- it will give him a false sense of security. I believe it to be in your... best interest, to come up here peacefully. You''ll have ample opportunity to be face to face with him, if you do as I say."


    In theory, this is everything... that she''s ever wanted...


    ...


    It''s too good to be true...


    Chouko feels a chill against her neck as she calms down. This is clearly a distraction, this is clearly a pitiful attempt to keep her attention. Was her opinion of this man so low that she believed him to beg for peace in this situation? Did she truly believe him to be so incompetent that he would let her live?


    Tch... no. He has another plan up his sleeve. Quietly covering her mouth over the phone, to subdue- the volume from her voice. "H... how... do I know you will not betray me?" Chouko asks, deciding to further humor the man.


    "Betray you...? Why would I want to betray you? You have all of us at your mercy, Ashford," the wretched pile of garbage tells her, his voice raised. "You''re clearly in the best position here, and you''ve proven your point... I simply want what is best for both of us, now."


    ...


    This man is either an utter fool, or believes her to be one.


    "Well..." Chouko begins to speak, holding her position in the cubicle. "You''ve done me the courtesy of telling me about your men after I''ve killed quite a number of you... I might as well return your kindness with a response. I am open to accepting your terms, on one condition... I wish to speak to Griffin."


    "... Griffin? You wish to speak to him, of all people? Well... he is currently unavailable. Right now, he''s currently keeping watch over the android."


    "Really, now...?" Chouko whispers, subtly breathing in. "Keeping a watch on the android?"


    "Yes... you have conspired with this thing, after all. It knows something that we don''t. We''re keeping a close eye on it, in case."


    "Right... and I understand that. But I desperately need to speak with Griffin. There''s a deal I would like to make with him, before I can trust you to keep your word," Chouko insists.


    "... if you''d- like to speak with him, then feel free to come up here. He''ll be happy to speak with you when you give yourself up."


    "I mean, sure, but... our deal is contingent with me speaking with him first, before I do anything," Chouko tells the man, her eyes completely narrowed. "I will not comply with your demands until I speak to that dreamboat before committing to anything."


    "Well, then-"


    ... the Executioner''s voice immediately goes quiet, processing those words upon hearing them. "... e... excuse me?"


    "You heard me," Chouko responds, taking a completely different tone as she says something completely jarring, subjecting the man to the most asinine and ridiculous words possible. "The moment I laid my eyes on him, I knew I could trust that man with my life. The feeling of his hands on me, restraining me close... his stylish, blond hair, the way he shouts and degrades me... I think I trust him far more than I trust you."


    "... huh...?"


    Chouko continues, leaning her head back and continuing to whisper into the phone. Continuing her tonal whiplash approach to completely insult and ridicule the man. "I just want the fair skin of his hands around my throat, calling me things that would fluster even the most raunchy of women with that- siiiilky voice of his..."


    "... what in the hell are you going on about?" the Executioner immediately asks, dropping his tone.


    "Oh, oh. I''m sorry, I just felt like if someone''s going to screw me over with some nonsensical bull crap, it should be someone conventionally attractive..." Chouko jokingly responds, a caustic tone in her voice.


    A pause of silence.


    "... I''m not entertaining this further. Griffin-" the Executioner calls out.


    Chouko grins widely for a moment, a smile on her face. "That''s right, go on, put the hunk on and-"


    Then, slowly, a gun taps the side of Chouko''s head.


    "... and..."


    Chouko slowly looks to the side, her smile fading as she sees parts of a floating gun. A revolver pistol, aimed straight at her head. "Parts" of one, because it was missing a good majority of itself... as Chouko realizes, the gun is simply being covered by an invisible hand.


    Griffin wasn''t on the top floor... he is right next to Chouko, completely catching her off guard. Making this the second time he''s advantageously approached, remaining completely invisible as his concealed eyes were... narrow... at that entirely asinine conversation. The man had been hiding quietly on the third floor, glaring straight at Ashford behind his full-body veil.


    Tension fills Chouko''s mind as she stares at this in mild horror, her eye almost twitching at this realization and sight. "... how long have you-"


    "Long, long before you''ve been in here..." Griffin quietly growls out, tapping her head twice with his gun. "Before you do anything... do know that at any moment... I can blow your brains out right now if you attempt to shoot me... and there are other mercenaries in the stairway, with full sights on you if you try anything funny."


    "Indeed," the Executioner speaks up, hearing Griffin''s voice from Chouko''s phone. "Well, then. I''ll give you one more chance, Ashford. Care to comply and come along, now? Before I become inclined to have Griffin there put an end to your little temper tantrum?"


    "..."


    Chouko... shakes. Trembles. Writhes. Furiously gritting her teeth hard as her eye continues to twitch. Staring forward as her mind completely and utterly races, the phone still in her hand.


    The phone cannot do a single thing to Griffin, and - in this current situation - she can''t do anything either. Chouko cannot take his gun, fire her own gun, none of that... it''s a guaranteed death if she tries any of that.


    No, there''s only one of two things that will happen. Either Griffin or any of the supposed backup mercenaries shoots her dead, or she goes along with these people willingly. Her mind absolutely roaring and racing for any alternatives. As she tries to figure out anything, anything at all... there''s only one idea that comes to mind. The one single idea that Chouko has remaining, one single- single last resort.


    So...


    "..."


    Chouko immediately lunges a hand forward, going for Griffin''s gun. Reaching out for it as her hand remains tightly gripped onto the cellphone, lunging out as fast as she could with a fiery determination in her eyes.


    Griffin watches this happen, beholding the audacity of Ashford to try and take his gun. "Tch- nice try, you seriously-"


    Chouko''s intention wasn''t to take the gun, however. She holds onto the gun itself, and pushes a finger out to press Griffin''s trigger. Intending to make it fire, while the gun is still aimed at her.


    Chouko grits her teeth as her eyes stare forward, having an utterly crazed look in her eyes. Staring forward and staring at her inevitable death head on, seeing only one outcome that leads to victory. Staring as she forcibly makes Griffin fire the gun- as she intended to put an end to her own life in that very moment. Thinking very- very hard to herself:


    You win... but I''m not coming along willingly... I would rather die on my own terms than accept any of yours, bastards.


    Chouko''s eyes stare and glare forward, trembling... shaking. Faced with agonizing fear and filled with sorrowful defeat, internally smiling through this most drastic of actions. Preparing herself to die, to be shot dead at her own hand, stripping these mercenaries the satisfaction of whatever their plans were with her.


    The girl knows that she has yet to enact her vengeance, but faced with no other options- this was the only victory that remained in reach. A victory that will have her suffer an immediate death, a rather painless one with a direct gunshot to her head, one that strips her away from this world.


    Chouko felt time just... slow down in that moment. The raw adrenaline coursing through her body at this action, having more than ample time to make peace with this. Anticipating the gun, preparing herself for an aching and trembling pain, having her life flash before her eyes.


    Then...


    ... the gun fires.

 #20 - Sensory Phemonenon

    ...


    .....


    .......


    ... w... wha... what?


    Wait... what?


    As the gun fires, as the gunfire echoes and rings out, Chouko falls backwards at this sound. Facing her death head on, the sound- just makes her eyes go wide as she falls backwards, as she falls away from the gun. In that moment, her death should have come.


    She should be dead, deceased, lifeless right about now with a bullet through her brain. No further sensation, no further thought.


    And yet, she isn''t dead.


    Chouko isn''t dead.


    Still living, somehow, Chouko... Chouko just... just looked... absolutely bewildered. Why is she not dead? After the gun loudly fires, she watches the bullet come out of the gun... and stares as it just completely goes through her head. Not in the physical bullet sense. Rather... the same way as a mere ghost passing through her body, incapable of directly pushing or touching physical human flesh.


    It is merely a completely painless, a completely sensationless sight of a bullet coming out of the gun and passing through her head. As if it were intangible, as if it simply flew through her mind like air. Chouko just sees and hears a bullet pass through, furthermore. Nothing about feeling it, nothing about actually being hurt by it... she only saw and heard it.


    Chouko realizes she''s completely unharmed by the bullet, that it did absolutely nothing to her.


    For some reason... she''s still alive. Chouko''s eyes flutter as she feels herself- as she still feels alive. As she''s still alive after that.


    Chouko is completely, utterly bewildered by this, confused about why the bullet simply just passed through her head, staring forward with complete and utter confusion. Her eyes completely wide as her vision grew completely hazy and distorted. Part of her questioned if this was just her mind experiencing death for the very first time, if this is just how death works, but..


    ... but Chouko... Chouko stared forward to see her own dead body right before her eyes.


    Staring at a vision of what should have happened to her, seeing a limp and dead body that had a bullet cleanly go through her forehead and gush out blood, immediately deceased and bleeding out her remaining life. That''s what should have happened, and Chouko''s watching what should have happened, experiencing an out of body experience at this.


    Out of body, because she still felt like she was lying against the ground while seeing this. Her eyes looking about as her dead body remains in her sight, moving along with her wandering eyes as she- aimlessly- looked around the cubicle.


    Chouko is completely, completely confused and bewildered by this. A disorienting feeling clouds her mind as she simultaneously felt alive and dead, a fluttering feeling spreading throughout her veins, something inexplicable happening right before her eyes.


    The girl is simultaneously unharmed on the ground... and watching her body from high up.


    Chouko''s eyes remaining wide and in shock at this most disorienting, this most confusing of sensations. The only question in her mind as she feels completely alive yet watches the view of her own dead body:


    What?


    It didn''t make sense. Chouko couldn''t make sense of this, being alive yet seeing herself dead. It made no sense.


    That is- until that vision of her, lying dead... it moves away from her. It completely stands up and backs away, leading to a sight of the revolver getting in front of the vision.


    And it was that moment that she realizes, as she stared at the hands appearing slowly...


    ... Chouko was just staring at her own "dead body" through Griffin''s eyes.


    "..."


    "S... Sir, is something the matter...?" a mercenary whispers quietly behind Griffin.


    "Y... w... well... uhm..." Griffin stutters... staring at the gun. "S... Spread out and stand by..."


    Idly, the mercenaries start to leave from the stairway, Griffin looking back at the mercenaries. Giving Chouko ample view of them as they spread out. Five men, all of which are the mercenaries that were outside, these insignificant people...


    ... her main focus right now is this apparent phenomenon involving Griffin, his- sight. A completely bewildering phenomenon transpiring right before her eyes. Right now, Griffin thinks she''s dead, the same way she believed she should be dead. Somehow, he''s seeing her dead body, shot dead in gruesome fashion.


    This unintentional ruse of hers... absolutely bewildering. Chouko continues to stare at the ceiling while partially seeing through Griffin''s eyes... watching as he holds his gun in utter, bewildered shock.


    Something beyond Chouko''s comprehension, something that leaves her completely bewildered as her eyes remain wide open, keeping her eyes pried open. Making sure she doesn''t blink once, so that Griffin doesn''t see- any eye movements to indicate she''s still alive.


    To distract herself from the strain, the heavy strain on her eyes... Chouko thinks about Griffin''s bewilderment. His confusion. Leaving her wondering why he''s... confused.


    Was he shocked that he killed her? Was the plan really just to keep Chouko alive? Did these people intend to keep her alive, to the point where they would excuse the plentiful deaths of their fellow man? Is Griffin now going to be punished for disobeying orders, or something? He did damage the box, he''s probably shaken up by this...


    ... no. No. There has to be more to it than that.


    Chouko thinks heavily on it while Griffin remains in the dark, in the dark.


    Sure, it would make sense if his shock stems from this concern. The mercenaries have gone through lengths to make sure Chouko remains alive. They kept her alive and conscious in the truck, they intended to escort her while keeping her conscious... and, other than those acting in self defense, Steele included, they went so far as to refrain from immediately hurting or killing her until absolutely necessary.


    The improvised plan must have always been to intimidate her, and - after her little soda trick to forcibly damage and shut off the building''s power - they must be improvising, using the cover of the darkness to frighten and threaten her. Griffin''s proven to be more than capable enough to kill her in the dark, having a clear enough shot at her with ample time to do so...


    Though... if that''s the case, why point the gun at her anyway? Is it truly, purely intimidation? If that''s the case... if... if his gun only had a single bullet... if Griffin threatened her with a gun with just one bullet in it, what was the rationale behind it?


    His revolver holds only six bullets, having one bullet instead of zero or six has virtually no difference behind it. Having a single bullet makes no sense, unless...


    ...


    ... oh.


    Oh.


    Wait. Chouko feels tense, realizing: that''s why the man is confused. That''s why he''s utterly perplexed at this, staring at the gun and its chamber. If he never intended to fire, there''s no difference between zero or six bullets.


    So, it was never loaded to begin with.


    He didn''t load his gun. He never loaded it in the first place. It WAS purely intimidation, and a counter to Chouko attempting to take the gun.


    It all makes sense to Chouko now. Griffin must have meant to say something along the lines of: "Tch- nice try, you seriously went for my gun?" A comment intended to mock and ridicule her, meant to demean her attempt to use a gun with no bullets in it. Almost to demoralize her, to cement her defeat, to build up to some condescending triumph over her. He had the confidence to approach with an empty gun, as if it were bait.


    Meaning... just a moment ago... Griffin saw a gun with no bullets fire one out, killing her with a single pull.


    "... what the absolute hell...?" Griffin mumbles, looking up from the gun and staring at Chouko. Staring at her head, staring at the bullet wound that pierced through her skin. Staring back at the gun, clicking it closed and pulling the trigger. No gunfire.


    Chouko continues to watch Griffin struggle completely to understand what happened, as he- mysteriously takes aim at Chouko with the empty gun, and pulls the empty trigger three times.


    Bang.


    Bang.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Bang.


    Every single pull of the trigger fires a bullet out. Loud ring of the gun, bright flash of the gun- causing more and more holes in her body. Puncturing her heart, her lungs, and her stomach...


    It was at the third shot that Chouko''s eyes started to ache, that she felt an intense strain on them. Instead of her- supposed "gun" wounds, Chouko felt- absolute pain in her eyes. Forced to shut her eyes closed, to ease the pain and dryness from leaving them open, she... she tenses up. Hoping Griffin doesn''t- notice- any bit of it.


    Yet, curiously... Chouko still sees herself through Griffin''s eyes, still able to see her own dead body. Even with her own eyes shut, she can still see the five bloodied wounds in her body... and... her... eyes... still open. Virtually no difference in Chouko''s movements, as if her body truly was dead right before Griffin.


    "W... What in the... is... what..." Griffin mumbles in complete confusion...


    Chouko is also- confused... bewildered by what was happening. Both her and Griffin are now made aware that the gunfire isn''t real, yet- the sight, the sound, both of these seem excessively real...


    "..."


    Then, Chouko could hear the faint mumbles of the Executioner''s voice speaking through her phone. Asking something that she couldn''t precisely understand, phone too far from her ear.


    Griffin proceeds to speak instead, responding with his own communications system. "... she''s- Sir, I think my exhaustion is catching up to me. A-Ashford''s lying dead right in front of me as we speak..."


    "..." Chouko quietly listens and follows along the conversation. Contextually, Griffin is answering a question about her, giving a status update about the situation. Griffin still believes her to be dead, even without the fatal wounds, which... is a good sign. Something to keep in mind, for... however long this will last.


    "... yes, my gun was unloaded as you instructed..." Griffin mumbles. "No bullets. Ashford is armed with the others'' guns, and she''s shot and injured in the shoulder... but- for a moment, my gun- fired four times. Specifically while aimed at her."


    Chouko''s eyes remain strained, seeing- her body moving out of view. Watching as Griffin looks away from the cubicle, momentarily distracted as he reaches into his pocket.


    ... tch. Eyes off of her for the briefest of moments, Chouko quickly pulls a gun out from the skirt, holds it tightly in her hand... and gets up quickly, moving to the far corner of the cubicle. A foolish mistake from the man, taking his eyes off of her- getting up quickly and hiding with her back against the cubicle wall divider.


    Chouko is relying on the slim possibility that Griffin will be distracted enough to not see her in the corner of his eyes, that the man will be panicked about the missing body that mysteriously disappeared, that he wouldn''t be able to see her aiming a gun at him.


    Then, as Griffin turns back, Chouko prepares her aim.


    "Right... right... I see. Okay. Loud and clear..."


    ...


    Yet... as Griffin supposedly turns back, after he loads his gun with bullets, his eyes still see Chouko''s dead body. Looking down at the lifeless corpse, still unknowingly deluded into this farce. This- complete and utter lie. He''s still able to see the collapsed Chouko lying against the ground... still seeing her wounds, still seeing all of it.


    "... hey. One of you, come back over here," Griffin calls out. "We need to carry her body up the stairs."


    Chouko''s eyes... widen at this, her breath forcibly held as she stares forward. Able to see where Griffin''s- head should be, slowly aiming her gun up. Preparing herself to shoot...


    Slow and steady, careful and cautious... exploiting the fact that he couldn''t see her...


    Carefully making sure she has a good enough shot on the man...


    ... and it was in that moment that a different mercenary... comes into view, and- stares at Chouko. His eyes currently lighting up, able to have a good- good view of her in the dark, seeing the girl simply aiming a gun unknowing at Griffin.


    "W... WHAT THE-?!" the mercenary shouts, aiming his gun up at Chouko. "W-WATCH OUT! S-SHE''S-!"


    Griffin''s eyesight- shows him briefly looking over at the mercenary in confusion, seeing the man aiming at- him, out of nowhere. "W-What?! What are you talking about-?!"


    Chouko''s eyes widen at this, the trembling ache flooding her eyes as she stares this mercenary down... her eyes straining again as she takes aim at the mercenary.


    "Ghkk!" the mercenary noises, quickly firing out at Chouko.


    The bullet fires straight past Griffin, who- saw the mercenary shooting at him, and moved to dodge the shot. Chouko watches as the bullet flies past his invisible body...


    ... and- reacts quickly by dropping down to her knees. The bullet aimed at her head, hitting straight into the cubicle wall. Reacting just in time for it to fly over her head, missing her.


    "S-She was aiming RIGHT at you, Griffin-!" the mercenary shouts.


    Chouko, in turn, pulls the trigger quickly at this mercenary-


    ... only to see that the gun didn''t fire, realizing: It was one of the empty guns she kept on her possession.


    No bullets- yet... curiously... the phenomenon happens a second time...


    From Griffin''s eyes, specifically, he sees the gun shoot. The flash of the gunfire, the bullet headed right for the mercenary...


    ... and the mercenary- the disorienting sight of the mercenary just dodging out of the way from her eyes, while- Griffin- sees the mercenary''s brains blown out against the wall.


    "D-Damn it!" the mercenary shouts, taking aim at Chouko- and simultaneously falling against the ground. "W-We need backup, now! E-Everyone, group up, she''s in this cubicle!"


    "W..." Griffin noises, backing- away to the stairway, starting to hyperventilate as he just watches a mercenary shout after sudden death. "What the...?!"


    Chouko- shakes as she glares at this mercenary, ducking behind cover quickly- causing Griffin to look back over, seeing- two- of her. Dead, and standing, at the same time.


    At this point... the pain in Chouko''s eyes starts to get to be too much... and Griffin''s vision completely fades from her view. Forcibly snapping her away from- whatever this phenomenon was. Leaving her wincing in pain as her eyes forcibly shut, as she forcibly and quickly regains her composure. Recomposing herself as much as possible, the pain in her eyes starting to clear up as the only part of Griffin she could see was... the floating gun. Watching and seeing the floating gun head to the stairwell, fleeing immediately.


    "... tch..." Chouko backs up into the cubicle, her eye starting to twitch again. Forced into a corner after all of that, watching as Griffin hastily flees. The sounds of footsteps ringing out as the mercenaries come closer to the cubicle... as Chouko remains out of sight for now, as she only has a few seconds to- prepare herself.


    With the incoming group of mercenaries, they- all know where she is, precisely... the game of numbers very much against her. If she carelessly pursues Griffin, she''ll be caught in severe crossfire. It''s something she could possibly handle, but- ... something feels wrong. Something feels- wrong.


    Chouko stares at the empty gun, overwhelmed by all of this. Griffin''s empty gun shooting out four times when specifically aimed at her... her own gun- causing some reaction with the mercenary being shot dead and- dodging- and- huh...?!


    Chouko''s eyes twitch and dart about in the dark. Mere seconds passing as she feels- everything- just slow down, as her mind is utterly flooded with her surroundings. Now- aware- of the putrid scent of blood, the ringing sounds of incoming shouting and footsteps, the foul taste in her mouth... seeing the empty gun in her hands, feeling pure adrenaline coursing through her veins at this situation...


    She''s... so close- so close to just... just-!


    "S-Shit!" a mercenary loudly shouts- his footsteps halting completely. "W-Watch where you''re aiming that!"


    ...


    Huh?


    Chouko... hears this after her finger had instinctively pulled the trigger of her empty gun. There was no rhyme or reason as to why she did this, as she had a ready supply of collected guns in her current skirt, but... Chouko''s eyes widen as this mercenary''s words... intrigue her.


    Watch where you''re aiming that... he says.


    Why is that? Why did he call out to his fellow man, as if the mercenary is the one to fire instead of her? It''s almost as if he could see a bullet fired from...


    ...


    ... thus, Chouko pulls the trigger again. Focusing her mind heavily on this, keeping her mind focused on the phenomenon of the empty gun.


    "D-Damn it! W-What the hell are you doing?!"


    "W-What do you mean?! Y-You''re the one shooting at-!"


    More panic...


    This... this feels...


    ...


    Chouko... feels like- exploiting this. Her finger rapidly pulls the trigger of her empty gun over and over again, hearing the empty gun''s click over and over again- yet, despite this, she can vividly hears the other mercenaries panic wildly at this. Completely- utterly amazed at this, her eye twitching heavily.


    "D-Damn it, take cover-! W-What the hell is going on?!"


    "I-Is that Ashford? Or-?!"


    "N-No, it''s one of us, wildly shooting! D-Damn it, Hernandez, what the hell are you-"


    "M-ME?! I''m not doing ANYTHING!"


    Grinning wildly like a mad woman... as the phenomenon isn''t just isolated to her and Griffin. It potentially applies to every mercenary in the room, able to- see bullets, somehow. One of them- seeing another shoot his gun wildly, or- possibly them hypothetically seeing her own gunshots.


    Chouko has a miracle in her hand... subjected to a shining hope in this darkness. Her eyes wide with glee, concentrating heavily... having a theory about what''s going on, believing to herself that- somehow... the mercenaries believe this empty gun is firing!


    It- it isn''t just isolated to this one gun! It''s Griffin''s, too- his, and hers- and- and... what?


    What is this? What- what exactly is going on...?!


    ... there''s... a lot for Chouko to unpack with this, stuff that doesn''t just pique her curiosity- it grabs a hold of it, strangling and squeezing it like a rubber ball. Something that... that will have to be paid attention to later, as Chouko''s revelation of this phemomenon- clears her mind. Her breath easing up, believing a mysterious oddity to now be on her side. One that has saved her life two times in this room alone, and will somehow protect her.


    Protecting her... when she runs straight out of the cubicle and makes a dash to the stairway.


    Making a mad, mad dash to the exit, running as fast as possible. Seeing no bullets being fired from the other mercenaries- at least, not until she crosses the halfway point.


    At this point, as she runs with her finger continuing to pull the trigger of the empty gun, Chouko- is made aware of why- why the mercenaries were left in sheer panic. Spontaneously, she sees a storm of bullets spreading out from her, watching as several bullets suddenly appear in the air, shooting out at the mercenaries.


    The two closest ones seem to be taking cover, watching as the bullets fire... too focused on the shooting bullets to do anything about her.


    "W-What the- is that Ashford?!"


    ... Chouko''s eyes and ears overwhelmed by this sight, this most- surreal of sights... and, curiously enough, able to discern that these aren''t real. That these sights- are completely unreal.


    As she runs through the bullets, the- the bullets that spawn with each pull of the empty gun, Chouko witnesses the imagery of the bullets distort and waver into red and black dust. Some form of- optical illusion, something quite akin to... to fairy dust. Small little bits of black and red fairy dust.


    All of it raining down, coming from- something small in the air, high up in the ceiling, something that- that... Chouko could now see vividly. A single, small creature, something with wings, something- red and black and... and... insectile...


    ... a... a butterfly.


    A- a monarch- no, a viceroy butterfly. Something that flaps its wings on the ceiling, spreading out plentiful amounts of dust in the darkness. For some reason, there''s- a butterfly in the office building, origins unknown, and... and... curiously enough... Chouko sees a different color from black and red around it. Dangling from its body, as its feet secure something... blond from it.


    And... squinting her eyes in this split second, as she flees... Chouko sees... that the butterfly has some small strands of blond hair dangling from its feet.


    ...


    Chouko... Chouko just runs into the stairs, flees as she keeps pulling the trigger, as the mercenaries are left behind in the utter chaos transpiring. Given one of the biggest, biggest miracles she''s ever been given... pursuing Griffin up the stairs, chasing after the invisible man.


    As she keeps pulling the trigger, it... dawns on her, what this is. What this could be. Apart from the whole- butterfly spreading dust thing, there''s- something else to it. The phenomenon that''s been on the tip of her tongue, the one Chouko only now understands as she ascends the stairs with an empty gun that''s still spontaneously firing fake bullets.


    What this phenomenon is... what oddity that Chouko has on her side... she... she knows what to call it.


    The strongest case, the most unusual and strangely magical case...


    ... of the placebo effect.

 #21 - The Placebo Effect

    Placebo. Latin for "I shall please." Used nowadays to describe things that please the mind.


    A rather interesting history for the concept, really. The idea stems far back as the late 18th to early 19th centuries, long before the term became associated with psychology and medicine.


    Back in the late 1700s, there was a very common medical treatment called the "Perkins tractors", two teardrop-shaped metal rods. One made simply of iron, and one made of mere brass. Anyone - not just medical professionals, anyone - could use these to treat and cure a comprehensive list of medical ailments. Inflammation, rheumatism, epilepsy- so on.


    Its popularity mostly came due to... alternative methods at the time. Compare other doctors'' methods of going to a professional for bleeding out the body or inducing vomiting to purge out the illness, herbal remedies that require specific plants not readily available at all times and all locations, so on and so forth... the Perkins'' tractors were sold at a time when people needed treatment and were sold for "5 guinea" or "25 dollars", which - inflation - amounts it to $500 today for each pair.


    An outrageous price for two small, metal rods, with English physician John Haygarth being the first to demonstrate its fallacious methods. The physician sought to prove these rods unnecessary, to completely discredit these rods as a medical practice altogether. Thus, he is the first documented person to do so.


    Two wooden tractors were made in the exact shape as the metal ones, then painted over to appear metallic in color. Then, the effects of these ones are compared to patients with authentic Perkins'' tractors, testing to see if the effects were truly as advertised, or... well, later proven, complete hoaxes.


    Haygarth''s studies and findings showed virtually no difference between the two cases. It was purely dependent on the person''s- belief, their imagination, how much they believed the rods to work.


    A revolutionary show that proved the medical rods to be utter fakes, phonies, a tactic of "quacks". His findings are published in his work, On the Imagination as a Cause & as a Cure of Disorders of the Body.


    In essence... a placebo is a sort of medicine that had no actual effects on its own, but can still cause someone to feel health benefits regardless. Essentially, "pleasing" the patient in question, allowing effects to spawn from giving a patient sugar pills. One of the biggest tricks to stimulate a person''s body to heal itself, as long as the medication is believed to be real...


    ... and thus, the same phenomenon is currently in effect in the office building... the phenomenon that saved Chouko''s life.


    For some unknown reason, there is a butterfly spreading hallucinogenic dust throughout the third floor of the building. Dust that faked her own death, dust that completely distracted and possibly disoriented the living mercenaries, and dust that now serves as her apparent failsafe.


    Chouko was left- confused, perplexed about the butterfly as a whole. It had prevalent effect on her and Griffin, both, and... given her own clarity of it over Griffin''s confusion- the butterfly is most definitely on her side. Almost connected to her own whims and focuses, albeit her lack of control over it leaves the butterfly an uncertain threat.


    But the fact Chouko still lives, with Griffin retreating up to the fourth floor and her in pursuit... she is left only to believe she will still remain standing, so long as she believes herself protected by this butterfly''s... actions.


    "..." Chouko keeps the empty gun in her left hand, and takes out a loaded gun with her right. Dashing up the stairs with a cautious eye out for the invisible man, guarding herself and anticipating any sudden attacks on her- a tense look on her face as the overwhelming rush of adrenaline floods her in an unyielding cascade.


    She makes it up to the top floor, forcing the door open and aiming her guns outward. A tense- tense breath sighing out as she... looks around, as she searches the floor in its darkness. Eyes out for the subtlest of shapes, listening for the slightest of sounds, slowing her own breathing to focus... focus...


    Where are they? Where are the two bastards...?


    Chouko stands right at the door, then begins taking slow steps forward. Looking around, ever so cautiously. Very much like the other floors, it was... another cubicle area. Another series of desks and walls and such, with the same roundabout hallway behind the elevator. Likely another series of private offices, as well.


    Theoretically, the only mercenaries that should be up here are Griffin and the killer. There''s a time limit before the third floor mercenaries come up to the top floor... and an even shorter one before either Griffin or the Executioner gain a clear shot on her. Griffin being the main threat, with his- very, very prominent use of invisibility... as always...


    "..." Think, Chouko... think...


    ... tch. Chouko raises the gun in her left hand, aims forward, and fires it. Finger on the trigger, firing a shot out. Concentrating heavily as she sees and hears a bullet fire out, as she watches the bullet head straight towards the window. A sound that, theoretically, draws Griffin''s attention to her...


    There needed to be a trigger for this phenomenon, a possible condition behind it that Chouko needs to...


    "...!"


    Shortly after firing, as Chouko thought to herself about the butterflies- Chouko''s eyes suddenly, tensely strain. An aching sensation attacking her eyes as the bullet fades and spreads into dust before her own eyes. A thick black and red, spreading outward and bombarding her vision with cracks.


    Chouko found herself stumbling back against one of the walls, pressing herself against the right side and tensely gritting her teeth. The pain in her eyes was completely unyielding, an intense agony that compels Chouko to close her eyes shut, leaving her vulnerable and prone to attack.


    And the more Chouko feels pain, the more... she focuses on this placebo effect. The pain she feels, it has to be something that benefits her. Something that- something that has an advantage behind it. The butterfly''s dust saved her life, whatever''s happening right now has to be a part of it...


    ... so... Chouko... closes her eyes... focuses heavily, and thinks: dust... dust. More dust. Focus on the dust, Chouko... focus on it...!


    Concentrating with all of her might to focus on the dust, to tune out her senses and strip herself of her sight... abandoning her own body, basically, and focusing on just the dust...


    "..."


    And with her eyes closed... Chouko found herself just- staring at herself... from a distance. Able to see herself in this environment, viewing herself from- a noticeable cover of a wall corner.


    This had to be Griffin... standing in one of the hallways, actively keeping a cautious watch on Chouko. Seeing each agonizing moment that she visibly winces in pain, watching her keep her back against the wall.


    Chouko grits her teeth and further witnesses her own body from the eyes of another, suffering from the effects of whatever was happening. This phenomenon is exactly what happened moments prior, before Griffin knew she was alive, so...


    ... Chouko raises her left hand''s gun again, the one that has bullets. She thinks hard, really- really hard, and takes quick aim- pointing the gun straight at where Griffin was seeing her from.


    Chouko has a confirmation on Griffin''s location... and lets out a tense, tense groan. That''s his location down, now... now-


    Ugh- damn...!


    The vision completely fades, and Chouko''s eyes are forced wide open. The aching, burning pain coursing through her eyes'' nerves and veins, as if her own eyes were set on fire with a lighter. Uncomfortably blinded by this sensation, pulling- pulling the trigger quickly on instinct, firing out at the invisible blond.


    Chouko- is now just left with her innate talent... her exceptional photographic memory.


    Even when blinded, she remembers the room''s layout- mostly. Chouko had a good scale of the room''s size after her life-and-death struggle against Steele, she- found herself quickly running forward, running straight forward and taking a left. Taking cover behind the cubicle walls, back against the surface.


    This is a benefit... this is a benefit, Chouko thinks to herself, repeatedly. Trying to make the most out of this- placebo of hers, completely ridding her mind of all thoughts of failure or delusion. Everything happening is the truth, and she focuses heavily on that for her own sake. For her own survival. In her mind, the burning means- recovery, it means that her eyes are healing, that they''re simply reforming and regenerating... getting stronger and stronger.


    ... tch. Footsteps.


    They''re not Griffin''s, definitely... it was a group of them. A distant set coming up the stairs, now, something that draws Chouko''s attention briefly.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    So, Chouko needed to ready herself for a brawl. Back against the cubicle, her eyes flutter and recover, and she regains her sight. Staring forward and preparing for...


    ...


    Shit...


    When her vision comes back, Chouko- realizes the predicament she''s in. Her eyes gaze forward and see the handle of a knife. A knife right under her chin, held there by the silhouette of... the killer... the leader of these mercenaries.


    The Executioner.


    His despicable face concealed by the darkness. Pinning Chouko against the cubicle with one of his wretched hands on her shoulder, holding her in place with a tight grip. Towering over her and looking down at the pitiful girl.


    "... seems like you''ve found your way up here," the Executioner speaks in a mocking tone, holding his knife close to Chouko''s neck.


    Chouko''s watering eyes stare forward at the man with sheer visceral hatred, with a glare that could pierce through the heavens themselves. Tense and trembling from being able to feel her own heartbeat through her eyes, glaring...


    ... in a desperate struggle, Chouko raises her gun, taking aim at-


    "Ah-ah-ah..." the Executioner noises, taunting her and shaking his head.


    Suddenly, Chouko''s left-handed gun is snatched, slipping out of her hand and pulled away, floating. Floating in the air again, presumably- definitely snatched by Griffin...


    The Executioner smirks at this, leaning forward and glaring right into Chouko''s red eyes. "Suicide is the coward''s way out, Ashford... but then again, you''ve done plenty to dig your grave already, haven''t you?"


    Chouko... decides to wisely not raise her right hand. Whatever it is she''s holding, forgetting- attempting to forget what it is that she''s holding. Given that they have yet to notice her hand, it''s...


    ... crap. Her hand isn''t holding anything...


    Chouko had thought to abandon her focus and knowledge of the gun in her right hand, to test if the mercenaries would be unable to see it if she didn''t pay any attention to it... but, at some point while she was blinded, she dropped it a while ago...


    Tch... following this, backup arrives as the mercenaries surround them. Surrounding the three of them, guns drawn with- many of them suffering from practically self-inflicted wounds. The butterfly''s illusionary dust has worn off, and the armed thugs tensely stare at the sight before them.


    It''s a rather... comedic one, under any other context. Armed men aiming their guns at some young woman in a doll''s clothes, with guns floating in the middle of the air...


    "So... here''s what''s going to happen..." the Executioner begins to say, about to repeat the nonsense he said moments prior. About to encourage Chouko into accepting some deal, forcing her into surrender for the sake of his deal.


    "... you brainless mongrel..." Chouko mutters under her breath, interrupting him... not caring about the man in the slightest.


    "Brainless? I think between us, I''m the only one that''s thinking right now, Ashford..." the Executioner explains, pushing the tip of the knife closer. Making Chouko feel the- the cold, sharp metal against her neck. "I''m the one with the upper hand..."


    "... I don''t think you are, or that you do," Chouko responds, keeping her composure. Starting to ease up, starting to tune out her own defeat. Coldly... coldly staring forward with a look of murder in her eyes.


    Right before the mercenaries'' eyes, Chouko''s metaphorical mask forms... covering her face once again, her rage subduing itself and fading for the time being. Concealed behind this face of hers, an unyielding rage that bleeds through her crimson eyes...


    Chouko... no... Kuroiwa, is out right now.


    "... you insist on my surrender, you act as if you can have me go along with you compliantly- no other methods to coerce me beyond physical threats..." Kuroiwa explains... her voice a blank, monotone, as her head tilts back and she- maliciously, oh so maliciously grins at the Executioner. "And because of all that, because of your insistence to go along with that... well... I believe your men can testify to the bodies your mindless foolishness has costed."


    "Every life I''ve taken tonight, all of your men bleeding out, and yet you''re still keeping me alive, even after all of that...? Interesting, is it not? I think your hulking brute on the ground floor had the right idea, wanting to take me out himself- even HE knows... or, rather, knew, that I would never-"


    "Y... You don''t get to talk about him..." growls Griffin, holding his loaded gun at Kuroiwa''s head. "You don''t get to-!"


    "GRIFFIN!" shouts the Executioner, exclaiming in a commanding voice. His shout enough to stop Griffin, with his loudness right in Kuroiwa''s face.


    "..." Griffin slowly lowers his gun... pulling his gun away. His shaking gun.


    "Ah... hahaha... hahahahahahahaha..." Kuroiwa laughs, heavily amused by this.


    "W-What''s... what''s so funny...?!" Griffin asks, his invisible self glaring- violently glaring at the wretched girl before him.


    "... it''s just- I''m right," Kuroiwa bluntly tells him, grinning. "I have a little theory, and I think I''m a 100% right on it..."


    The Executioner... holds the knife even closer to the girl''s neck, glaring forward. The tip of it so close to jabbing and breaking the skin, threateningly close to just slicing her neck open...


    ... and yet, Kuroiwa calmly stares forward. Not an ounce of fear or worry in her body. She stands brave against the cubicle, gazing right into the eyes of the Executioner, making sure he witnesses and beholds the eerie, ominous look in her gaze.


    "... what... what''s your theory...?" asks the Executioner, visibly... unsettled... by this sight, the knife pulling back slightly- further confirming Kuroiwa''s thoughts. Appearing to be- intimidated by this girl, prompting eyebrow raises from the surrounding mercenaries.


    "Ah... curious, now? It''s simple, really... I believe that you can''t kill me..." Kuroiwa tells the man. Her red eyes flaring up, staring forward at the Executioner with a prideful- knowing look on her face. A smug grin on her face, a smirk that exudes nothing but full confidence.


    "No, nonono... it''s not that you don''t want to. Of course you do, right? All of you want to kill me. But you can''t. Can. Not," Kuroiwa explains, putting her boldness on display, managing to get away with every single word she''s saying right now. "As much as you want, you can''t physically bring yourselves to do it..."


    "..."


    "Well. Certainly explains why you all simply let me kill your men..." Kuroiwa tells the man. "You won''t let me die, can''t let me die. Your plan hinges on me surviving, on me living to tell the tale. Threaten me all you want. Coerce me, strangle me, force yourself onto me... even kill me all you want. But I know that you can''t..."


    The fact, alone, that these men were letting her speak her claims in full, that none of them have taken any action yet...


    "... your boss... Kuroiwa, the real one," Kuroiwa tells the man, her grin widening. "He wants me alive. For whatever reason, he will make sure that I''m alive above all else, and if you kill me now, he''ll kill you. That''s why you''ve been sacrificing your men, right? Knowing full well your life is above theirs, that you can afford to lose plenty of men as long as you get to live... right?"


    "..." The Executioner is left... speechless at this, staring and glaring at her.


    And in that moment, Kuroiwa had her theory further confirmed. Knowing for absolute certain that she''s right.


    "Hah... I''ve struck a nerve..." Kuroiwa chuckles... before taking a calm, calm breath. "We''ve been playing this incessant game, this pointless back and forth between us... and you subject me to a ''join me or die'' scenario when you cannot even follow through on the latter? Your aim is to force me to comply and surrender, over and over again... unable to accept the simple, simple truth that I''m-"


    "An outstandingly talkative imbecile..." Griffin mumbles. "Sir, we don''t have to entertain this any further... we have her in our grasp."


    "Right... right. Bring over the restraints..."


    As the mercenaries prepare to restrain her... Kuroiwa has yet to feel the sting of defeat. She continues to smile, to give her amused smile as the events of tonight replay over and over in her head. All she''s managed to do, the fact she''s come so far only to fall is irrelevant- she''s come so far, anyway... it''s only a final stretch before she gets out of this.


    But if the restraints are put onto her... then it''s a full loss.


    So in the time between this order, as the mercenaries were retrieving her restraints- before her defeat, before her "surrender", Kuroiwa only needed the slightest, the slightest of chances, the slightest of possibilities, the slightest of actions needed to get out of this.


    One last chance, one last opportunity to rise from the ashes, to achieve her victory and fulfill what her life has led up to...


    One... single... advantage...


    ...


    ......


    The dust is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.


    The butterfly is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.


    The pain is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.


    A heavy thought weighs on her, a brainstorm hits her. In this moment of thought, as her mind quickens and the world around her slows for just a small sliver of time, Kuroiwa is left to wonder... why? Why is it that the dust is both helping and hurting her at the same time? Why are the butterflies specifically helping her, of all people?


    ... and... Kuroiwa''s eyes... go absolutely wide in realization, a critical realization about something.


    Kuroiwa''s realized something vital and important... that, whenever the butterflies and dust had their way, they''ve given and granted her sight from the eyes of another. That she was able to, time and time again, view herself from Griffin''s eyes with their influence.


    Kuroiwa also realized that, whenever the butterflies inflicted immense amounts of pain onto her- it was a pain that she, alone, felt. A pain that, conceptually, overwhelmed her eyes and head, sending aching amounts of pain through her body.


    And that ultimately, ultimately leads her to this new revelation. The reason why this placebo effect works for her, why she can make use of the butterflies'' bizarre illusion, why it hurts her to excessively use it. She focuses on this realization as she... as she holds onto her "gun"... holds the "gun" in her hand... the "gun" still in her hand... the "gun" that never... ever... left her hand...


    It isn''t real... or at least, it doesn''t have to be. Kuroiwa may have dropped the gun, but... an idea comes to mind, one that has her no longer needing it.


    This realization... being that the phenomenon isn''t just helping her... it''s a part of her.


    It flows in her veins, it flows throughout her body. Her senses. Her sight, hearing, touch- this placebo effect only works because the butterflies were a part of her. These illusions, the resulting pain- they''re only as prevalent and intense to her as they are, because it is all within her own mind. Her own body.


    For some strange reason, she''s awakened a power that the world thought was just mere fantasy. A power she had yet to fully understand, a power that shines a light in the darkness of defeat, a spotlight to guide her to victory.


    And here she is, taking a gambit, taking a solid risk in believing this power to be true as she holds this gun, as she concentrates heavily into her hand. Feeling the blood rush to her hand''s muscles as she tenses and tightens her fingers, as she puts all of her mental energy into making a gun.


    And then... eyes shifting to look at the mercenary that was approaching with restraints, the mercenary that came over with a noticeable number of handcuffing technology, she side-eyes him with- strong focus, as she turns her- hand- slowly... and...


    ... pulls the trigger of her hand gun.


    "...!"


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen with glee as the gunshot rings out, as she hears the bullet fire out. As the sound rings out, a gleeful look in her eyes. A twisted, ominous, absolutely deranged gaze in her eyes as the sound rings out, as she focuses- focuses, FOCUSES on it.


    Keeping her mind heavily focused on the gun, the sound of its shot- the imagined sight of the bullet going through her own head... the feeling of it possibly tearing through her own brain, ripping a hole in her head and going cleanly through.


    Kuroiwa focuses heavily on this as she then- feels her tension go up to her head... a possible gambit that might leave her head in pain, but... if she''s been able to see through Griffin''s eyes, able to trick the mercenaries into believing she fired a gun, then...


    Then...

 #22 - This Charade Ends Now

    ... loud screams of pain echo throughout the top floor of the office building, as the mercenaries collectively begin to scream and shout in utter agony.


    Due to some- external, unknown reason, most of the mercenaries felt a sensual feeling of having a gun fire straight into the head. The surrounding men that were cornering her on the 3rd floor, simply undergoing and experiencing an unbearable pain ripping through their heads. Feeling an aching pain tremble throughout their heads, as if they were just all simultaneously shot in the head. Each tormenting second of tearing their insides out, piercing and puncturing entire parts of the brain, the men feeling a pain unimaginable- a once in a lifetime pain.


    The cruelest of fates imaginable as they are subjected to pure, utter agony. Targets and victims of a power unreal, dropping their guns to the floor and holding their hands to their heads. Eyes flickering bright red as their neural devices were reporting error after error, rendering them out of action for the shortest of moments.


    And Chouko- no... Kuroiwa... looked absolutely elated at this. A joy reminiscent of the most jolly of holidays, her eyes witness to the most beautiful sight she''s seen in years. Their screams, a choir of tormented souls singing to the heavens. Their agony, a captivating show of magical and sparkling lights. Each passing second of this agony, a second that has her lost in the beauty of it all.


    It''s official... it''s real. Whatever this phenomenon is- no, these phenomena are... they''re all because of her. A feeling of control on the forefront of her mind, tingling and built up in her fingers... something capable of the most wondrous of sights. Sending to these few mercenaries a pain that she, herself, could feel... could concoct and create in her mind.


    In other words, Kuroiwa has successfully imagined an unimaginable pain... and inflicted it on everyone else.


    Everything about this perplexes Kuroiwa. Everything about this astonishes and astounds her. Not a thought exists in Kuroiwa''s mind as to how this is possible, how this most magical of powers found themselves in her fingertips. It certainly had naught to do with technology, nor could she reason if this was an innate power, but- the important thing about it is... she has it. She has magic in her fingers, in her eyes.


    And in this symphony of cruelty, as she''s held in place, she gazes forward with a soulless, mindless gaze, riddled with utter glee, and witnessing... opportunity, in this brief window of time.


    One poor soul spared from this collective anguish and agony is the Executioner, who seemed- almost horrified by the screams surrounding him. More confused about what was going on, his eyes wide in shock as he looks around, as he witnesses his men all screaming in pure pain. "W-What the...?!" Witnessing their eyes lighting up bright red, with errors and error messages plastered over their helpless gazes... unable to do anything but watch as this unfolds.


    The Executioner is now distracted, too distracted to keep his attention forward on the girl in his grasp. Whether by instinct, or just because his brain couldn''t multitask hearing the deafening screams and holding onto a murderous woman, his hands loosen their grip on both Kuroiwa and the knife.


    And with this... opportunity strikes.


    Kuroiwa quickly lunges her other hand up to snatch the knife out of the Executioner''s hand, using this one small window of time- this slightest of chances to yank it out while he focused on the other mercenaries. Kuroiwa rather easily took the knife, and - tightening her grip on the blade''s handle - her elation goes away in an instant as her cold, vicious expression comes front and center.


    The killer''s wide open... he''s distracted and vulnerable in all of this confusion. Exposed and ready- ready to suffer, ready to suffer for all these years...


    So... Chouko holds the knife tightly, and lunges forward, ready to seize the opportunity and-!


    "Ghk-!"


    Before she could attack, before she could even move one step, Kuroiwa was pinned against the cubicle wall again. Feeling a hand grab onto her wrist, holding it tightly. Forcing the hand that had the knife in it to be pinned against the wall. An invisible force simply preventing Kuroiwa from striking.


    Right... right! Griffin...!


    The Executioner is the only one who isn''t suffering from the severe attack on his brain... but Griffin endured the pain better than the rest. The first one to experience this ability of Kuroiwa''s, the one who had been front and center to whatever this sensory bullshit is... and the one who could push through the fabricated pain in his head and throw himself forward at Kuroiwa. instinctively lunging to stop whatever Ashford''s plan was.


    Kuroiwa anticipated all of the mercenaries being fully distracted, so it never crossed her mind that Griffin would show heavy resistance to this brutal trick. Then again, time and time again, Griffin''s managed to stop and interrupt a lot of her acts- catching her off guard, merely because of his cybernetics.


    That''s the irritating part of his... power. His technological power, Kuroiwa thought. How unseen he is, with only trinkets. Here she is, a threat to dozens upon dozens of pathetic mercenaries, and she''s stopped only by some fancy wires.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes glare forward, presumably forward at the invisible man... sickened beyond belief. Griffin is, has always been, and will always be an annoying pest. Simply vermin that needs to be exterminated. If she doesn''t take care of him, he''ll just relentlessly get in her away again. He''ll stop her time and time again until he eventually gets the order to execute her.


    So it''s either now, or never...


    The Executioner turns his attention back to Kuroiwa, a tense- look on his enraged face as he backs away. Watching as the girl is pinned against the cubicle wall again, held by his invisible force. "... Griffin!"


    "S-Sir!" Griffin shouts loudly in response to the Executioner, his- his invisible self keeping Kuroiwa secured. Hands holding hers up over her head, keeping a close eye on the arms he''s grabbed. "E-Enough is enough! Ashford NEEDS to die!"


    "W... We''ve been over this, she-!" the Executioner exclaims in objection.


    "Tch-!" Griffin grits his teeth hard, grunting as he painfully endures the mental assault on his brain. Ashford''s words ringing in his head, how all of this had been needless bloodshed. "How much more of us need to die before this is over?! Sir, hurry up and put a bullet in her brain, or we''ll all be dead before we even-!"


    However, he- cuts himself off, stopping right in his tracks. Staring forward and realizing... right before his eyes, when he tried to grab BOTH of Kuroiwa''s hands to pin her against the cubicle, he''s mistakenly grabbed just one hand... and one of Kuroiwa''s long twintails.


    A long part of her hair that goes down to the middle of her thigh, longer than her arm and- being held oh-so-tightly by Griffin''s other hand. Instead of an arm, Griffin has grabbed the girl''s hair. No knife in sight.


    This realization dawns on him in utter horror...


    ... as Griffin suddenly lets out a sharp scream. Screaming and shouting as a knife jabs straight into his shoulder. As Kuroiwa stabs the knife straight into his body, the metal blade sinking deep- disappearing right in the air as Griffin''s own body hides the metal away.


    Kuroiwa stares forward maliciously, as she has a deranged smile on her face. Deriving a massive glee from how Griffin foolishly took hold of her hair held up like it was an arm! He''s locked himself in this position, and she knows where he needs to be to pin her down effectively... it was a simple matter of going for it, of going for the lunging stab!


    And now, the handle floats in the air, securing its place in his shoulder. Giving Kuroiwa a wonderful indicator of where the man is at all times. While Kuroiwa was actually going for the head... the shoulder is a wonderful alternative, giving Kuroiwa a wonderful indicator of where the man is at all times.


    "TCH-! DAMN YOU!" Griffin shouts loudly, backing away immediately. Pulling the knife out of his shoulder and tossing it away, getting rid of the knife right away. The blood trickling down his arm and dripping onto the floor, leaving him utterly faint and in agony. "Y-YOU...! YOU B-!"


    The Executioner... shouts and calls out to the other mercenaries. With no other course of action to take, he can only give orders to his men. "Where are the restraints?! SOMEONE GET THE RESTRAINTS, NOW!"


    Tch...! To his dismay, the restraints have been dropped. The mercenary that retrieved the handcuffs is now on the floor, collapsed. Hands clinging to his head, completely out of it, handcuffs over a dozen feet away.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The infuriated, suffering Griffin hears the order and looks to the restraints, tensely- turning to the restraints, making a dash for it. A sharp exhale escaping his mouth as he kicks off the ground, as he runs to put an end to this madness. The aching pain still ravaging his mind as he dashes.


    The Executioner, meanwhile- has some semblance of reason forced into him, as he rushes for his discarded knife, picking up the bloodied blade, and-


    Bang.


    ...


    Kuroiwa holds a gun... one of the spare ones in her skirt. One of the guns that she''s snatched and collected, that had some number of bullets left.


    Staring forward as she fired, Kuroiwa''s red eyes almost glow in the dark as she stares coldly. As she takes a guess, and estimates Griffin''s actions after the call for the restraints. Relying on a guess, relying on an assumption, firing the gun out.


    The ring of the shot is... deafening. The Executioner witnesses Ashford just firing out, seeing her fire the gun right before his eyes. Watching her, tensely watching her in caution as...


    ... as...


    ... Kuroiwa had blindly aimed the gun right at his head. A successful shot that cleanly goes through Griffin''s head, going through one side and out the other. Lined up with the disappearing wound that his head covered, perfectly timing her shot.


    Witnessing as that knife, this gun- both of them were Griffin''s undoing. Firing a point-blank shot that leaves thick gunpowder residue against his face, coating over the invisible man''s face. Griffin''s invisibility wavering as he loses focus, as some of his cybernetics are severed, as his blood gushes out of his head.


    But... only the lower half of it.


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen with glee, realizing she''s hit his cheeks. And Griffin''s eyes widen in despair and mortified terror as the bullet punctured holes in his cheeks. The bullet went cleanly through both sides of his face, traveling through the space between his teeth as he spoke, his- his tongue being blown off completely.


    Griffin... trembles and shakes as he dashed forward, as his hands cover his mouth- unable to do anything to stop the bleeding. Feeling blood just seeping out his cheeks, with blood gushing between his finger and chin. Eyes trembling and twitching immensely, his- entire body left in shock...


    And in this moment of ear-piercing ringing, with every other sound unheard by Griffin... his eyes look over his shoulder to his right, staring back at the gun. Looking as the gun follows his bleeding face... and the look of a devil stares back at him from behind. The twisted, ominous, wretched gaze of a devil''s red, gleefully staring back at him.


    Kuroiwa... stares listlessly before her, finally landing a shot on the pesky invisible man. This moment of triumph, of utter victory as the gun is aimed right at Griffin''s temple. Staring forward and filled with certainty and resolve, only needing to shoot slightly above the bloody hole in his face.


    "..." Griffin feels his world completely slow down as he stares the gun down. Mid-dash towards the metallic restraints on the floor, going for a fruitless effort. Regretting countless things as, like... so many others, his life flashes right before his eyes. Every single moment appearing right before him, feeling the certainty of death claim him.


    And he finally hears, lingering in his head, the wretched girl''s voice...


    "... bye, bye, dreamboat..." Kuroiwa quietly and mockingly tells the man...


    ... as she fires again.


    And the bullet pierces and punctures his head.


    Griffin''s invisibility cutting off completely, his brain short-circuiting with sparks as the bullet pierces his head. His clothing stained with his own deep red gushing down his jawline. Running for the restraints, only to begin falling forward, losing all feeling in his body, losing all perception of sight. The final blow, the final shot, sent falling to the ground and his death.


    Unable to utter a single word... unable to say his last words... before...


    ...


    Kuroiwa madly gazes at this sight, feeling... a temporary relief. A brief peace, watching the blonde bastard fall forward, seeing all hope strip from his now visible eyes as his brain ceases to function, as she''s put down the threat before her.


    She''s put down Steele... she''s exterminated Griffin...


    ... and now, only one left.


    And a slow, drawn out ring sounds out in her mind.


    Kuroiwa... now feels the most disorienting of sights, as time just slows for her. As her movements slow, as her breath slows, as the world around her halts to a snail''s pace. Witnessing everything in outstandingly detailed clarity, given a time of respite now that most of the threats have been taken care of.


    Nothing remains between her and her objective, after all... and everything just fades from view, with the screams and rings echoing out, this brief moment of opportunity the longest in Kuroiwa''s life. Her survival effort paying off in this exact, very moment.


    She turns to gaze upon the Executioner with mad glee, witnessing him in shock upon Griffin''s death. The look on his face almost- filled with horror, whatever soulless emotion he felt on full display... seeing him for what he is, finally...


    For years upon years, Kuroiwa... Chouko... has had the bastard on her mind. And her eyes light up the moment she sees his terror, his pathetic self on full display. Gazing upon his face, seeing his body language, observing ever inch of it in response to Griffin''s death. Witnessing a superior simply seeing his right hand man die, the least expendable of all his mercenaries.


    Maybe it was the clarity of seeing it right before his eyes. Maybe it was the greed of however much her life was apparently worth to the real Kuroiwa. Whatever it is, Chouko still stands. Chouko still lives. Countless times has this man gone for mercy, and received none, and yet she still holds value to him.


    Which can''t be said about him, for the man before her was the most wretched, insolent, despicable, worthless excuse of a human being. The blood on her hands smelled better than the knowledge that this man still lives, and no sight could ever compare to making sure he suffers for every ounce of it.


    It isn''t enough to shoot him. It isn''t enough to strip all life from him with just a single pull of the trigger. "He consigned his unknown persecutors to the most horrible tortures he could imagine... and found them all insufficient."


    No... Chouko needed to treasure this moment...


    ...


    ... and it starts, with a question.


    Did he have a gun?


    Did the bloody bastard still possess a firearm on him, right now? One to shoot and take her out if she goes for his head? Chouko doesn''t see his gun at the moment, unless he''s keeping it away in his pockets... but... for now, right now, he still holds just a knife... a bloody one, one stained with Griffin''s blood with bits of his remains dripping from the tip.


    The other mercenaries around them, the surrounding few that remain under the bastard''s payroll, disarmed and out of action for as long as Chouko''s power lasts... for however long that is.


    Meaning... in this moment... Chouko has the advantage.


    All of these years... all of these years preparing her for this moment. Her vision hazy for just a moment as Chouko ascertains her victory... as... as she raises her gun... as she aims... elsewhere...


    "...!" Seeing her aim... the Executioner''s eyes widen in shock... looking in the direction of her target. The first of many, one of his hired help collapsed against a wall and slumping against it. Pistol at his feet.


    The man loudly calls out, calling out words that the mercenary will never hear...


    ... as Kuroiwa fires.


    The contents of his head splattering out onto the wall, staining the wall in crimson. Unceremoniously finished off, spared from further agony as the real bullet tears his brain apart and strips his life away.


    Kuroiwa moves her gun to the next target... the one closest to the restraints. No discernable characteristics to keep in mind... nothing that she cared to pay attention to. Didn''t matter to her anymore...


    Bang.


    Next one... bang.


    Over and over again... firing at the remaining mercenaries, finishing off the disoriented and agonizingly screaming mercenaries surrounding the two. Unloading bullets into helpless, vulnerable targets, doing to them what she''s been doing this whole time.


    The screams silencing bit by bit as Chouko finishes them off...


    The Executioner beholds this sight as his men were killed off one by one... as he witnesses the monster in action. Staring at the little girl that unloads bullet after bullet into the mercenaries, firing at them in the dark, executing the last remaining mercenaries in this building.


    All reason is lost as he beholds this, as he... as he...


    ...


    As he runs.


    He flees in the middle of the gunfire, fleeing from the scene and sprinting down the hallway. Cutting his losses and fleeing.


    A coward''s way out... but with reason. The Executioner has lost control of the scenario, with his men just- dead. He makes a sprint for it, running as fast as he could. Given a countdown of bullets, hearing them ring out over and over behind him as he runs. As he sprints and dashes, abandoning the room of corpses immediately.


    He needs to get out of Indianapolis, immediately. There''s a truck- a car waiting for him, any option to drive and flee. If he leaves and abandons Ashford, he knows now that she''ll end up finding him again... at a more opportune time, to arrange more experienced assassins to capture her.


    But first- he needed to go to his office, to gather up his belongings and flee with whatever he could, escape with everything he had left. Plotting his escape further as the bullets ring out, as Ashford is seemingly emptying all of the guns she''s picked up.


    He opens the door, and rummages through his belongings. Picking up papers, packing his laptop, stuffing all of them into a bag. Bullet upon bullet echoing out, seemingly given plenty of time.


    So with his belongings arranged, he-


    "W... wuh...?"


    ...


    Tch...


    The android...


    The Executioner''s been keeping the bald android in the office, restrained in the corner. The android that dons Ashford''s clothes, the instrument to Ashford''s victory. His eye twitching- noticeably at the sight of it.


    If the mercenaries'' testimonies are to be trusted, it was this thing that ended up giving Ashford the upper hand... its clothes and hair stripped from it, wearing Ashford''s outfit...


    "... ghk...!" Quickly going to his pistol on the corner of the desk, loading it and taking aim at Shortcake. Holding the gun at its artificial, silicone head.


    Shortcake- looks at this in horror, her eyes widening as she processes the gun being pointed at her. Alarms echoing out, shaking in artificial fear at the man. "W-Wuh...?! W-What-?! P-Please, please don''t- please-!"


    The Executioner glares violently at the android, cocking the pistol with finger on the trigger. Ready to absolutely destroy its machinery. The orders were for Ashford to remain alive, not this thing...


    "P-Please- PLEASE- NO- NO!"


    Despicable little shit...


    The Executioner lets out a furious grunt as he pulls the trigger.


    "A-AAH!" Shortcake screams as she- winces, as her eyes close and she braces for... the... the shot? "... a... aaah...?"


    The Executioner stares forward as the gunshot rings out, as the guns continue firing in the distance. As his men are being killed in the background. Blinking at the android for a while as he drops his gun.


    As he drops his gun.


    ... as he... drops his gun?


    He dropped his... he...


    "..." Slowly looking down at his hand, watching his fingers instinctively release the gun- blood gushing out of his hand as a bullet goes clean through it. As a bullet''s managed to shoot into his hand, piercing the knuckle bone between his palm and index finger.


    Staring down at his hand in silence, left in shock as... in the complete darkness, currently fabricating each sound he heard in the distance with an empty hand...


    ... Chouko stands at the door. Smoking gun in hand... firing a single real bullet at him.


    "..."

 #23 - God Will Not Cry For You

    ...


    The weather is nice.


    Not an ounce of rain in Indianapolis tonight... or, rather, today.


    Today, in a few hours or so, the forecast said it will be sunny. An occasional cloud, perhaps, but the sun will shine brightly in Indianapolis once it rises. A warm, sunny, bright day lies in store for the city and its neighbors.


    How fitting, she thought. Not a single drop of water will fall. No tears will be shed by the clouds. The sun will shine brightly this day. Its warmth ready to shine down on all that has happened, its brightness ready to smile at what she''s done.


    "..."


    ... hm.


    What face should she wear? Which name does she take in this most wondrous of moments? Who should be the one to finalize and cement this most momentous of wonders?


    Should it be Chouko?


    Should it be "Kuroiwa"?


    Which one should be out right now? Which one should be present, front and center?


    For the sake of Charles Ashford, does she take his name? Does she do this as Chouko Ashford and reclaim what has been taken from her, take back everything she''s worked years upon years to regain? Keep her name and face uncovered as she makes up for all those years with her father that she''ll never get back?


    Or does she hide the name, cover it with her moniker as she always has? Put the name away, hide away the little girl and keep her safe from the most unholy of sights? Take the name of what''s ultimately killed him, take the name of the wretched fool that employed him to kill Charles and truly cement his fate in the most symbolic of ways?


    Decisions, decisions... decisions that course through her mind as the gun smokes, as she''s fired into the man''s hand... staring forward and taking steps into the room, beholding the living walking corpse before her. Gazing upon him in all his lack of glory, the red-eyed woman took in each ounce of his fear, his distress, each single ounce that she could physically see.


    A disheveled black crew cut.


    A stubble under a wrinkled jawline.


    His clothing as rugged as ever.


    ... and Chouko never paid much attention to him beyond that. He was always nothing more than a rotten excuse for a human being, one whose identity eluded her. A target that she''s searched for, time and time again, roaming the darkness of his very occupation to find him and his superior. And she''s readied and prepared herself for this exact moment.


    With his fate impending... the Executioner looks to Chouko with utter tension.


    "... w... well... well, then..." the man groans out, enduring the hole in his hand, turning to face Chouko... staring her down with a calm face, his wretched tongue having some more words for her. Gazing at her and enduring the pain in his hand, his- calm composure on full display. A legendary resilience, one that likely earned him fame in the Underworld... "I see that you-"


    No.


    Kuroiwa shoots him in the knee. Gun raised, trigger pulled immediately, shooting his knee and interrupting him immediately before he utters another sentence.


    The Executioner lets out a pained groan at this, his face wincing in absolute pain. Glaring forward, and...


    ... getting his knee kicked after that. A swift motion as the side of Kuroiwa''s shoe slams straight into his knee bone, a painful crack sounding out. All of her might put into the kick, one that Kuroiwa hopes will likely critically injure him and run the risk of crippling his leg.


    The Executioner drops his tough, resilient act as he falls backwards, crying out in utter pain. Sweat dripping from his face as he- as he backs up, as his back hits the office desk. His leg completely tense and stiff, body aching and trembling in horror. Feeling utter, pure distress as he''s backed into a corner.


    All of his mistakes came crashing onto him, each moment of mercy a wasted effort. Wishing that he had listened to Griffin, and that he wised up to escape while the office building was taken.


    And in this shower of regret, the Executioner stares forward at Ashford, eyes twitching. Once again, aiming to speak, aiming to mouth off again as he''s been doing again and again to this girl. "Y... You- you-"


    Kuroiwa shoots him in the shoulder, immediately.


    Kuroiwa fires into the side of his stomach, grazing his side.


    Kuroiwa even blows a hole in the ankle of the other leg. She was not having any of his crap.


    The man lets out blood curdling screams as he''s shot, an agonizing pain as he bleeds out. His vision going utterly hazy as he trembles, as he gazes upon Ashford with disoriented vision. The ringing of the gun echoing into his ears as his body endured the best it could, even as he begins to bleed through the bullets.


    His eyes... squint, vision clearing to witness a deep red glaring into his soul, the pure darkness of the room behind Ashford as the gun smokes in her hand. It was too difficult to see anything else but the murderous glee coming closer to him.


    The gleeful, gleeful Kuroiwa cruelly holding the gun in one hand, and knife in the other. The Executioner''s knife in her hand, picked up in the midst of his panic and turmoil. A playfully malicious glee and cruelty as Kuroiwa approaches, every act playing in her mind.


    Every threat she''s made towards this man, having acted on the "promises" that she shouted upon their fateful reunion, having killed every last one of his mercenaries. Prying the life out of them, shooting them down and killing them. Saving the worst of fates to the bastard before her... fantasizing every organ in his body being pulled out in cruel, messy fashion, ready to draw his... his execution out.


    The Executioner''s eyes glare forward, letting out a shaky breath. The air fighting its way up his throat in the girl''s eerie silence, a frightened feeling of... despair... coursing through his body as he- continues his- attempt- to speak. "D... Do you... really think-"


    And Kuroiwa, immediately, cuts him off again as her body lunges down, stabbing the bullet hole in his knee. A forceful, swift jab as she puts all of her weight into it, full force to the point where the blade goes all the way in. Carving away at the opening the bullet''s made for her, deeply sinking in.


    This absolutely drives the man mad in utter pain as he screams- as he wails, howls, bawls and squeals. Every agonizing word coming out his lips, the man wincing and gritting his teeth in utter anguish. Looking away from this wound, instinctively turning his head away, completely and utterly frightened as any weak soul would be. The pain is unbearable...


    "Look at me," Kuroiwa demands, gripping the handle of the knife tightly as she yanks and cuts open his wound further. Carving a massive split down his leg, causing his blood to come gushing out and seep into a puddle beneath his leg. "Look. At. Me."


    "... ghk...! I- I will not, you-" the Executioner weakly shouts, pain oozing out of his face and leg, trembling before this monster. His gaze continuing to look away. "You really- you really think you''re accomplishing anything here?! Do you really believe yourself to be high and mighty after killing a building''s worth of us?!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Kuroiwa grips the handle of the knife tightly, a wicked smile on her face as she stomps on his knee, as the bottom of her foot presses into his bloodied knee.


    "G-GHKKK- FUCK-!" the Executioner screams out. "... k... killing... killing a building full of grunts, men who never even knew anything about you... what does that leave you with, once I''m dead?! You''re a defenseless, pitiful... bitch... that- that will walk out of this building a dead woman, a target on your back, every single person in the Underworld out to get you...!"


    "... and?" Kuroiwa asks, lifting the knife up high before stabbing him right in the thigh- prompting another scream from the man as the knife punctures the soft skin.


    "A-AND- and- ghhk..." the Executioner groans out, coughing- aggressively coughing as a cold chill goes throughout his body. "... y... you... aren''t... going to..."


    "I have spent years waiting for this moment, you butcher," Kuroiwa blankly tells him, cruelly twirling the gun in her hand. A playfully malicious glee as she holds the gun against the side of his face, forcing his head to turn back to her and look at her cold and dead face. "Come what may... you will pay for what you''ve done."


    "What I''ve...?! Tch-!" the Executioner barks out, clenching his teeth and biting his tongue. "You''re going to highroad me?! Look at you...! I shot a man I was hired to...! You''re just here- on a bloody slaughter! For no other reason than dear ol'' Daddy staining the floor he-"


    Kuroiwa lets out a cackle, lunging the knife into his stomach, stabbing him in the darkness. Gazing at his pitiful face and watching as his utter despair and suffering worsens.


    "GHKK-! I SHOT AN OLD FOOL... YOU''RE C-CARVING A MAN OPEN IN COLD BLOOD!" the Executioner screams out, head tilted up and looking away from Kuroiwa''s bloodied, savage hands. His eye twitching in utter agony, forcing his words out while he still can. "THIS DOES NOT MAKE YOU ANY BETTER... YOU''RE JUST A WORTHLESS, PRISSY LITTLE WHORE UPSET THAT YOUR DEAR OL'' DAD IS DEAD...!"


    The words go in one ear... and out the other. Kuroiwa continuing to give her deranged smile, continuing- continuing her violent, gruesome, bloody assault.


    "WHAT EXACTLY ABOUT ANY OF THIS MAKES YOU ANY DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I''VE DONE?! HUH?! GO ON... GO ON-!" the Executioner screams out, lunging his upper body forward, trying to headbutt the girl-


    Only to be met with a slap to the face, a hard whack of the gun whipping across his face. Red mark on his cheek, forced back into the desk.


    "... I never said I was different..." Kuroiwa- no... Chouko... tells the man, glaring as she slams the gun into the side of his head. Slamming the handle into his temple, utterly discombobulating him. A shuddering breath escaping her lips as she stares forward, enraged by his words. "I know what I''ve done. I know what I do. I know what I will do. All of it is knowledge I have, that anyone- everyone can see me as worse than you. More personal, more deranged, more... mentally insane."


    The Executioner''s head... falls limp, an expression forming on his face as he gazes down, as he stares down at his injuries... as his- body- trembles, and-


    "And all of it... all of it is a product of you," Chouko growls out through her teeth, beginning to stab at the man''s body. Aiming the knife at various spots, stabbing into his vital organs, each motion of her hand accompanied by a hard breath. A gasp of air, several lethal and forceful strikes, making good on her promise to- eviscerate the man.


    The Executioner stares and screams helplessly, the last of his own wails drowning out Chouko''s words... unable to do anything whatsoever against this onslaught... feeling all life starting to be forced out of his body with each plunge of the knife.


    And Chouko''s vision goes utterly red as the man before her bleeds out, as the man dies bit by bit. Chouko bites down hard on nothing, and continues... continues, even as the man is forced into incoherent screaming. "You are the one who DID this to me. You are the one who TOOK away what made me human. I was under that goddamned bed, saw the entire thing, watched as you left dead the only person I ever cared about in this world."


    Tossing the gun aside, letting it slide across the floor as she frees her hand. Fingers wiggling as she grabs the man''s neck, choking the air out of his body, knife jabbing and puncturing the man''s chest... going for his heart, his lungs, committing the most heinous of actions.


    "I don''t care for what this makes me. I don''t care about what I have BECOME!" Chouko continues to rant, her voice raising sharply at each forceful stab. "The words repeat OVER and OVER in my head, telling me that I don''t care, that I just can''t care about anything else! I lived for this MOMENT! Imagining it on repeat, for the last nine YEARS! EVERY~ SINGLE~ WRETCHED~ MOMENT YOU LIVE. EVERY MOMENT I STAND... awaiting this moment, bringing suffering to a piece of SHIT..."


    Everything tunes out in Chouko''s head, a hard static playing out in her mind, going from one ear to another. Her mouth gaping wide, unleashing maniacal laughs as she goes utterly insane. A crazed, unhinged look as she deeply stares at a dead body. Abandoning all of her humanity, ridding herself of what remains. Hand continuing to constrict itself around a corpse''s throat, strangling the life out of him.


    "Die... die, die, die, die die die die DIE DIE DIE DIIIIEEE~!" Chouko cries out, pure bliss on her face as the knife goes higher, as she gazes into the eyes of her deceased tormentor. Her words the last thing he ever heard, as the knife turns him into a pitiful pincushion, as Chouko stabs higher and higher, puncturing the man completely. Whatever else remains, utterly- UTTERLY helpless to her blind rage.


    And as she lets go of the neck, as she stabs into it and forces his head back, Chouko stares into his dead eyes, gazing into his look of despair...


    ... and she will, forever, remember the agonizing face before her.


    The Executioner died a screaming mess... eyes widened, tears trailing down his face, mouth gaping wide. Blood and saliva seeping from his chin. A shell of his former self, with a look that begged for death.


    For a brief moment, gazing into his eyes, a part of Chouko could see a small, slight reflection of herself...


    ... as she forces the blade of the knife into the side of his head. Jabbing it over and over again, until the knife is deep in his brain.


    Chouko stares forward, happily staring forward before she lets go of the knife, leaving it in his head, pulling away. Getting up from the man''s body, backing away and watching as his upper body falls forward. Left in his own pool of blood, a gruesome slaughter to behold.


    Chouko''s legs tremble. Her injured shoulder aches. A heavy weight crashes down on her, as if her very soul felt the weight of the most heinous of sins she''s committed. Her fate had already succumbed to the worst of fates, having committed the inexcusable countless times in the past.


    And yet, she smiles helplessly.


    Her head looking up as she begins... laughing... cackling and chuckling at the ceiling. Each shuddering laugh echoing out of the room. The crushing weight of her sins on her muscles, a mere feather for her joy. Her red gaze stares listlessly up in the darkness as the whole world disappears before her. As she spreads her arms wide, welcoming each ounce of joy possible from this most heinous of nights.


    The sun will shine down on Indianapolis, and Chouko - in her overwhelming, unyielding high - will welcome all of what''s to come. Allowing all to behold her, to behold this monster, to admonish and despise each waking moment of her existence. Any soul wishing she had never been born, craving her death now- Chouko cared not what they will do... for this feeling, this utter high is the first time in years that she has ever felt any joy.


    All that time she''ll never get back. All those moments she''ll never get to live. A future was laid out before her, a life she had yet to live, Chouko did it for this moment... and helplessly loses herself to this lunacy, condemned to never see her father again.


    Never to see him ever again, in this world or the next. Never to walk the path he wished of her, never to find success in the ways he wished. No, she could never... for that chance was lost long ago. Without a hand to guide her as an Ashford, Chouko''s brought herself down to the levels of those that took that hand away.


    None of Chouko''s actions are right, and she knows that. None of them will ever be right in the eyes of whoever judges her.


    And yet, she cries out joyous laughs, her blood soaked hands spread out and dripping to the floor beneath her. When this office space... this rental office space... begins to flood with investigators, with law enforcement bewildered by a collapsed floor, several dozen dead men across the entire building, and the helpless remains of an utter piece of shit in its main office, Chouko... Chouko will find quite the glee in all of it. The law finally catching up with a bloody killer, finally ready to take action...


    ... oh, it just brought joy to her. Pure bliss and excitement to a tainted, inhumane monster doomed to walk until her eventual demise and condemnation.


    Not a shred of normal humanity left in Chouko, allowing herself to be the rotten monster she sought to take down, ready to accept all that will come for her.


    "STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU MUST!" Chouko cries out to the souls staring at her, crying out to the pits of Hell and the clouds of Heaven. "COME AND TAKE ME, FORCE ME DOWN TO THE FIERY PITS, IF YOU MUST! OBLITERATE MY BEING AND BURN IT TO ASH. PROVE THAT THERE STILL EXIST RIGHTNESS IN THIS WORLD AND STRIKE ME DOWN...! HAHAHAHAHA~!"


    The souls of these mercenaries, the souls of their victims- the souls of HER victims. Every soul that lay witness to her sins... Chouko prepares herself to face all of them in death, with not an ounce of regret or remorse in her heart.


    And with the real Kuroiwa over the horizon... Chouko knows... the next soul she''ll be going for.


    "... aaaahhhh...~" Chouko audibly noises, fluttering her eyes at the sight before her. Arms dropping and slumping to her sides as she looks to the Executioner. Staring in the dark at this, her eyes fluttering as she watches the faintest of pink glow over him.


    ...


    P...


    Pink?

 #24 - The Facade of Humanity

    "..."


    The high of Chouko''s victory begins to fade.


    For a while, Chouko''s felt delirious. Drunk on her victory and reveling in her deranged triumph over the pitiful waste of bloodied human flesh before her. Charles''s killer was dead, once and for all. She defeated him and the rest of his men, a culmination of determination and sheer luck swirling together into some sort of wine glass, the taste of the aftermath a deep and rich flavour reminiscent of Hampshire. A joyous feeling.


    But this delirium fades... disappears almost immediately as she sees the pink, remembering the closest thing she can recall that is connected to pink. Shortcake. The lights were coming from the android in this most darkest of rooms, shining out from her pink eyes.


    From overwhelming ecstasy to subdued composure, the woman feels an immediate sense of calm as she looks over her shoulder, tracing the source of pink light to the android. The lifelike doll still dressed in her clothes, donning Chouko''s leather coat. Wearing her streetwear, albeit one size smaller, with not a hair on her head- but hair stowed away in Chouko''s possession.


    "... i... is it over...? A-Are you- are you done...?" Shortcake asks.


    Is she done?


    Chouko thought about that for a while, lost in deep thought. Certainly, it wasn''t over yet, she still had a lot to do. It isn''t enough to kill just the bastard... and there is truth to his claims. People will be targeting her the moment her foot steps outside this building.


    The aftermath of jobs like these... hell, the aftermath of THIS job is going to be a walking hell. No part of this says "done", with dozens of corpses in the building, a careless gunshot wound to the shoulder, a small window of time to make the most out of her funds before Charon confiscates all of it for her failure- and the ultimate question of finding Kuroiwa. Each step a pit of burning rock, coal set ablaze for the bare feet of her wandering soul... a hellish inferno to roam.


    For now, that''s what she needs to do... walk. Take that first step, leave the building... plan accordingly from there.


    ... before that first step, however, Chouko''s natural red gaze meet an artificially bright pink. The walking debt sitting before her, left on her knees in the corner. One of the main reasons why she potentially has no access to Charon anymore...


    She has yet to answer the android''s question, if she''s "done" as it says, the two staring at each other for the longest while as Chouko thought. All Chouko can see, as the office remains dark otherwise, is Shortcake''s glowing lights for eyes. Lights that shone rather brightly as the rest of her was nothing more than a bald silhouette with hands behind her back and ankles forced together...


    "... they have you restrained... huh?" Chouko mumbles, staring at the android''s ankles as she approaches her and crouches down to get a closer look, seeing if it''s- possible to get them off with what she has on her...


    ... mm.


    Actually, better idea. Chouko recognizes the restraints on her ankles as the same kind the mercenaries were about to put on her. Mechanically locked, with some magnets forcing it shut. A brand that she''s read quite a bit on, due to how common these are. A model released about a year ago, approximately.


    These cuffs were standard grade, distributed in bulk by the dozen. Quite the "coincidence" that they''d have these on hand... and it required a sort of card to disable and unlock. Some technical nonsense Chouko picked up in a manual says the cuffs cannot work if the card isn''t used to lock it first. They have no reason to dispose of a card this quickly... especially if the same card was going to be used to lock Chouko. The card is definitely in the other room, unless the bastard behind her was going to lock it himself...


    Meaning, if she finds the card... it has a serial number. A code that the company behind these mark for security and safety purposes. They are sold by the crate, after all- either the cuffs themselves or the card will have that information.


    Chouko grins widely, her eyes gleaming with- joy, at this lead. Fundamentally, if she follows this, she''ll be able to find the delivery addresses of where these are sent- all of them, if the bastard is secretive about it.


    Ah, but for now, best to free the android and all. Chouko reaches for the artificial wig she''s kept on her person, having tucked it in the back of the shirt. The matter of changing clothes back will be handled later, with time being of the essence.


    "... well, then, I''ll have these off of you in just a moment, so do sit tight and-"


    Chouko... Chouko''s words cut off as she looks at Shortcake''s face, also getting a better and closer look. A look at Shortcake, a look at something that is...


    ... utterly harrowing.


    The android''s hair is disheveled and bloodied, Chouko''s hand seeping with red and staining the android''s white. Her eye simply... twitching at the sight, involuntarily twitching as waterfalls of deep crimson seep down her hair and face. A sight that deeply, deeply unsettles her.


    Chouko also now better sees the horror, the utterly terrified expression that the artificial robot was making. Its human, life-like face almost frozen with fear and fright before Chouko, complete and utter worry on its face. Every subtle cue more of a blatant one, a blatant sign that the android is experiencing what can only be described as utter distress, deeply disturbed by what she''s seen.


    After all... it... it did ask if it was over...


    ...


    Witnessing the android''s fear on full display, Chouko... thinks about the conversation on the truck, a conversation recent and fresh in her mind, happening only a short while ago. The android said it didn''t care, it was pleading- pleading for her to not leave it alone, that it didn''t hate her. But those words are likely meaningless, now that she''s a front-and-center spectator to the very act. Now, since the android was in this corner, restrained the whole time... Shortcake saw every single heinous moment.


    What the android saw was what Chouko claimed she was from the very start. A monster, an irredeemable monster. Chouko knows for certain that it fears her, that its subtle fidgeting indicates... fear. That it now understood what Chouko told it, that it had a firsthand account of the fear one must have towards a woman like Chouko. Fear of a ruthless, bloodied mercenary with deaths on her hands, hands that are frozen in place. A hand that is holding the android in its palm and such as it''s restrained, while it can''t do a single thing.


    ... and... and it was... it''s just an android, Chouko thought... its semblance of emotions are fake, false, artificially made. It didn''t matter if... it really didn''t matter if this thing felt any fear towards her. It was nothing more than just a silicone shell with metal bits inside of it, some complex machinery inside. Nothing about it is real, nothing about it is...


    "I- I''m sorry! I''m sorry- please- please don''t-! D-Don''t hurt me! Please-"


    ...


    Slowly, Chouko pulls her hand away, and... and gazes at both of her hands. Stares at the stained palms for a moment, a while... eyes widening at the sheer amount of blood on them. The inhuman amounts of it coating her fingers, blotching over her palms, trailing down her wrists and dripping down her elbows. The liquid feeling weighs down on her, as if her hand held several liters each.


    The pain in her shoulder aches from the bullet lodged into it, with her entire body left sore and exhausted... every muscle in her body feels tense and stiff. A rigid statue of cracked stone, which was once a wall.


    "C... Chouko?"


    And as Chouko kept staring at her own hands, witnessing the android''s distress and reminiscing its miserable crying, Chouko felt utterly... shaken. The chill, the ghastly chill of it all going down her spine. From her hands to her shoulders, shoulders to neck and spine, a cold- freezing chill, even.


    Chouko slowly looks back at the bloodied remains of the Executioner, staring at what she''s done. What Shortcake saw her do.


    And... and... it... it feels...


    ...


    No- no, it isn''t the same, it''s not the same. It''s not the bloody same, Chouko thought! The parallelism doesn''t apply to this scenario whatsoever!


    Back then, what Chouko saw was a man shooting her father in cold blood! What this is, is simply her vengeance on a man, a man that Shortcake should have no connection to! This man isn''t Shortcake''s father, this man threw her into the back of a truck for God''s sake! There''s no connection between the two, no reason that Shortcake should mourn for the man''s death! Chouko''s the only one that sees any "importance" in the man!


    So why is Shortcake- unsettled? Why does she have that expression?! That look, that familiar look of utter despair and anguish?! That expression that Chouko... had... when- when she...


    ... no, no, NO. Every thought in Chouko''s head went haywire, rushing through her head and swirling with each hyperventilated breath. A thick fog of panic coming to Chouko''s mind, causing her rationality to hide itself as she- as she stares at the android. As she sees what emotions it''s created, what expressions it''s adopted. Shortcake''s face, in that moment, was a cruel- cruel reminder of what Chouko was, what... what she... what she''s become.


    "Look at me..."


    ...


    N...


    No...


    "Look. At. Me."


    No-


    No, no... no. Perish- Perish the thought. Charles would never-


    This- this should- this is a high, this is a victory!


    Chouko''s done it, she- she''s exterminated the killer, made it so he wouldn''t- do it again...! This shouldn''t weigh on her conscience, she- she did it, she made him pay for what he did, she- she...


    ... she- this- this feeling- it- it doesn''t matter, it shouldn''t matter! And the android shouldn''t matter, furthermore! Shortcake doesn''t- it''s- she- she''s not Chouko, the android isn''t Chouko. This parallelism isn''t- it''s not real, it''s not, it can''t possibly be- no, no- nonono, it- Chouko''s blowing this out of proportion, this isn''t something she- ghkk...!This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Chouko already KNEW that she would be going into this being as heinous as the bastard was, but- why- why is it... why does it feel like this, now, of all times...?!


    Experiencing a severe physical response to this- Chouko''s teeth clench hard before her eyes start to ache and strain again. Her crimson gaze cracks and shatters, the effects of using the butterfly dust still prevalent in her veins. The power she''s used has faded, and the effects start to compound and crash onto Chouko, coming in all at once. Feeling each moment carving letters into her flesh, lighters burning at her skin, each moment passing in utter agony.


    "C-Chouko...?!" Shortcake exclaims. "C-Chouko!"


    ... the voice echoing out in Chouko''s head. Calling out, crying out for her, a panic- frantic voice shouting out. The sound just echoing out into her head as if it were shouted into a cave.


    Chouko- Chouko began choking up and coughing, hacking out all of the air in her lungs as her eyes- her eyes strain further. As she feels the blood rushing to her head, weighing down on her heavily... feeling the ability just- tearing her apart from the inside.


    "Chouko?! W-what''s going on? W-What are you-?!"


    The android seems to be calling for her, and... and as the android calls for Chouko, as the android stares at Chouko in concern...


    ... "Kuroiwa" immediately composes herself. Her tense face easing up as she takes a calm, soothing breath... pushing it all away.


    The lunacy fades, and Kuroiwa - taking a slight glance at the body behind her - just gets up and walks over to the Executioner. Walking to check his pockets, to search through his belongings. A calm... blank... empty feeling just numbing herself for the time being as she searches.


    "C... Chouko...?"


    ... Kuroiwa slips her hands into the bloodied pants pockets, only to find a phone and a set of keys. "I''m... alright, Shortcake. Consider it a bit of adrenaline, seeing that- you''re here."


    "... I... I see-" the android hesitantly asks, fear still present in her voice. "U-Uhm... s-so-"


    "Right, right... your earlier question. I am done, yes," Kuroiwa tells Shortcake, before- looking around the room. "For now, I simply need to find the card necessary to unlock your restraints... in theory, it should be in this man''s possession, so-"


    "U-Uhm- a- a card? Like, a b-blue one?"


    ... Kuroiwa nods. The cards are uniformly sky blue, yes. "You''ve seen it, then?"


    "O-Oh, y-yeah... I- I saw him put it in the desk... o-one of the drawers..." Shortcake answers to the best of her ability. "I- I don''t know which one, t-though, b-but... uhm... he-"


    "Thank you, Shortcake," Kuroiwa interrupts, before getting up from the corpse. Walking around the desk to search, opening drawer after drawer in search for it.


    The desk had four drawers. Two of them were large rectangles meant to serve as filing cabinets and such, while two of them were smaller ones to contain pocket-sized items. Kuroiwa safely assumed the card would be one of the higher, smaller ones, so she starts to check through those.


    Not a lot of note to bring up... and the card isn''t in the smaller ones. Could it be in the filing spaces, then? Hmm...


    ...


    Free the android, then walk away. Let it panic all it wants when its arms and legs are unrestrained- possibly make it pretend it has no knowledge of what happened. Maybe even wipe its memory so it can be completely innocent of all this...


    ... n-no, no, it won''t work, there''s blood in her hair... and the matter of clothing''s still an issue, especially with how bloodied the Shortcake outfit is... tch... she needs to bring Shortcake with, regardless of if she wants to or not. At the very least, clean the android and its clothes up to have it presentable to be in another''s care...


    ...


    Kuroiwa looks at the rightmost cabinet, the one with the keyhole... and cycles through the Executioner''s keys, looking for any "temporary" ones. This office is a rental, after all, so there definitely needs to be a key he has... ah. Found it. Kuroiwa sticks the key in and turns, opening the cabinet.


    "... hm." And there it was. The card to the magnetic cuff restraints, put inside on top of a paper file- as well as Kuroiwa''s weapons. Baton, knife, gun...


    Tch... actually... when she doesn''t have access Charon''s resources anymore, obtaining ammo magazines for the gun will not be easy anymore. Without this thing, Kuroiwa''s made great use of the mercenaries'' guns- and, in fact, the conservation of bullets is affectionately noted when she takes the other person''s guns...


    ... eh. No harm in an emergency... plus, it''s a nostalgic keepsake.


    "..." A keepsake she''ll properly pick up once the android''s free. Kuroiwa takes just the baton for now, using her other hand to hold the card. She walks back over to Shortcake and swipes the card over the restraints- with a deactivation sound echoing out.


    Shortcake, once her restraints just- fall off of her hands and ankles, just- stands up, taking a moment to "stretch" now that she''s out of that position...


    ... and Kuroiwa goes back to the desk, picking up the rest of her belongings. Retrieving the weapons, and- taking out that file, actually, curious about what''ll be on it.


    "..." Actually... now that Kuroiwa thinks about it, she takes takes a moment to actually- reassess what belongings she still had on her. Apart from weapons, the phone was still in her possession- a phone that Charon likely could use to track her.


    Why would Charon receive this information and respond by taking everything away? Well- again... it was a blunder, an utter mistake that costed a client high amounts of wealth. Even if this constitutes an emergency, as detailed- there''s no mistaking it that being responsible for $300 million dollars going up in flames is... problematic. And if Charon discovers- this massacre, it... well... her chances of survival aren''t high.


    Charon isn''t an ally anymore.


    At least- in theory. But it''s an idea, a thought that needs to be carefully pondered over more clearly, a process that- needed to be prepared for. Best case, nothing changes. Worst, all underground services are denied to Chouko going forward, and she''ll be a wanted woman under "kill on sight".


    With this, Chouko no destination in mind- except three potential places. A backstreet surgeon to treat Chouko''s wound, a- a possible public shower to wash and clean off the blood on her and Shortcake, and- a secluded place to hide away for the night.


    "... tch..." And some place to purchase food...


    Now with phone in hand... Kuroiwa realizes that the Executioner was- rummaging his own office for the essentials, items that he was going to flee with before she shot off his finger... what was he- oh, there it is. A brown knapsack, just...


    ... picked up by the android, and being put on.


    "... t... this seemed important..." Shortcake quietly noises, staring with a faint smile. "S-So- is it- okay that I picked it up...?"


    "..." Kuroiwa nods slowly... given her current condition, Shortcake is the best one to carry all of that. "Yes... it''s more than okay."


    "Y-Yay..." Shortcake noises, beaming a little and looking around. "U-Uhm- y-your clothes have quite a few pockets, s-should I pick up anything else in pa-particular?"


    "... these items, actually." Kuroiwa walks over with her arms full, moving to put the knife and baton in Shortcake''s possession- as well as the Executioner''s phone in one pocket and slipping the file into the knapsack. Kuroiwa keeps the gun in her possession, so the firearm isn''t found if the android''s spotted...


    And Kuroiwa does so with- no resistance. The android isn''t... it isn''t fighting back or anything of the sort. It stopped panicking a while ago.


    The android''s being helpful...


    ... it''s feigning cooperation, Kuroiwa thought. Either programmed to act beneficially, or it''s simply feigning it... very likely, it''s still terrified and is going along with her to avoid dying.


    And... well, no point in stopping it... if Shortcake is helping, Shortcake is helping. Kuroiwa carries on.


    "... okay. One more thing," Kuroiwa tells the android. "I need you to- focus on me. All of your- sensors... on me, specifically. No sight, hearing, or any other... tech... things... actively noticing anything except me."


    "Huh?" Shortcake noises, tilting her head. "Why?"


    Because if the bastard''s death is disturbing in a graphic quality, then a gruesome quantity will simply make it worse...


    "Just trust me on it..." Kuroiwa answers.


    "O... Okay... uhm... uh... sure..."


    Kuroiwa starts to walk out of the office, just sighing. The conflicted feelings aside, Kuroiwa just... she''s ready to just walk along. "Alright. Let us be off, then-"


    ...


    Shortcake... had walked up right behind her, and reached out to hold Chouko''s hand.


    The android stays close, its pink eyes dimmed and turned off- likely deafening itself as well, as ordered. In a way, very much openly trusting Chouko- with a sudden: "Just have me sit down and... I''ll know to open my eyes again..."


    "..."


    ... a thought and a conversation to have much later...


    For now... C... Chouko- n-no, Kuroiwa- no, Chouko- tch- Kuroiwa. Kuroiwa takes a moment to walk... walking down the hallway, idly thinking of the escape plan. She and Shortcake definitely need to flee with a vehicle...


    Kuroiwa can''t drive the truck outside... and if they even brought the pickup truck, it''ll still be trackable. Either by Shortcake''s seller, buyer, or people employed by either one...


    ... hm... what other means of transport did these mercenaries have...?


    Something she''ll have to figure out as she heads to the stairs, as Kuroiwa takes a glance at the bodies she''s leaving behind, as she-


    ... footsteps.


    Kuroiwa can hear footsteps... she''s taken too much time here. Either it''s some surviving mercenary, or- very much could just be law enforcement...


    "I-Is something the matter, Chouko...? W-We stopped-"


    "Shh-" Kuroiwa quickly and quietly noises. "Quiet... someone''s... here."


    "..." Shortcake nods, clinging to the woman''s arm...


    Kuroiwa just tenses up as she looks into the stairwell, as she tries to pinpoint who exactly would be in the stairway. The pitch, dead silence on the forefront of her mind as she cautiously stares at the-


    "U-Uhm- C-Chouko- Choukochoukochouko-!" Shortcake frantically calls out.


    "Tch- what is it, Shortca-...?" Kuroiwa asks the android, looking at it and- ... w... what the...


    Kuroiwa stares forward and tenses up as she stares straight, straight at a walking corpse. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, the entire bottom half of his face shot off with aggressive sparks coming from the side of his head...


    ... Griffin...


    Shortcake looks visibly frightened by this, frozen stiff in place, her pink eyes gazing at him in horror- looking behind him to see the rest of the bodies sprawled all over the fourth floor. Frozen stiff in fear again as she processes the bodies.


    Kuroiwa- meanwhile, stares with a furious- furious expression. Gazing at him in utter- shock. "How... the bloody hell... are you still-?!" Kuroiwa exclaims as she draws her gun and-


    Griffin lunges forward, forcibly grabbing Kuroiwa''s wrist with all of his might, gripping it tightly. His blue eyes utterly deranged, left speechless as mechanical whirring sounds out in proximity.


    Kuroiwa- Kuroiwa tenses up. Was Griffin an android?! ... no, no, this- he''s human, fully human. The blood of his jaw and the visible- brain- matter give away that he''s just a cybernetic man...


    ... w... what in the hell is...?!


    Griffin forcibly throws the gun out of Kuroiwa''s hand, and lunges a hand to Kuroiwa''s throat. Overpowering her severely, pulling and pushing her into the stairway. Pushing her back against the stairwell railing, glaring her down with soulless eyes- his expression still frozen in its dead face.


    There- there was no life in his eyes, none in his face- no remaining semblance of being anything but a dead body. By all accounts, Kuroiwa is utterly bewildered at how this is happening... the only explanation possible being "technological bullcrap" with cybernetics she didn''t understand. Even then, a whole person coming back to life is- she-


    "Ghhk-!" Kuroiwa noises as Griffin pushes her against the railing, his body pushing right into her. Attempting to blindly, aimlessly throw her over the railing, to send her over the railing itself. His last struggle, his dying struggle long after he dropped dead- now aiming to kill Kuroiwa through a four foot story drop against concrete and marble.


    Kuroiwa tries to struggle out of this, but- completely disarmed, on top of the injuries her shoulder faced, and the unfortunate positioning of this very moment leaves her unable to do anything to Griffin. Her feet lifting up from the floor, body starting to slide over the railing itself- powerless to do anything against him.


    Griffin''s soulless eyes glare forward... as his moving corpse continues pushing, ever so mindlessly pushing as- as Kuroiwa''s ever so close to falling, the railing right against her waistline- gravity not on her side. Just one more moment before Chouko''s body is sent over the railing, and-!


    Whack.


    "...?!"


    Kuroiwa watches as the side of her pistol whacks against the side of Griffin''s head, striking the exposed wound in his head. A weak sounding whack that didn''t have any strength behind it, no noticeable sound or anything- just the side of a gun hitting a bullet lodged in a man''s skull.


    And it was this moment that a spark sounds out, that Griffin''s body suddenly- releases Kuroiwa and causing her feet to drop back down to the ground. The man''s body going stiff, the violent crackle of static electricity sounding out- arms going limp, body slumping forward with decaying and burning flesh.


    And with him going limp- Griffin''s left easily able to be pushed. Kuroiwa quickly- quickly pushes him off of her. Having him fall forward and over the railing, his body descending over and falling down with several... metallic thuds echoing out, his head hitting the stair railings of the lower floors.


    "..." Kuroiwa- utterly shocked and bewildered by this, breath- ragged... easing her nerves and calming down after that, staring forward at- at her savior, staring at Shortcake. Eyes seeing the android w-with gun in hand...


    ... as Shortcake- grabs Kuroiwa''s hand... and tries- tries to pull her from the railing.


    "U-Uhm- I- I got you- I- I got you...!"


    ...


    Kuroiwa just steps forward, sparing the android further efforts of her- pitiful lack of strength. Just- staring at the android for a moment, bewildered by this sight. "... Shortcake, you-"


    And Kuroiwa is interrupted by Shortcake- lunging in for a hug, wrapping its arms around her body.


    The two locked into a hug, Shortcake burying her face against Kuroiwa with frantic shivering and shaking. Starting to sob after... that...


    "..." Kuroiwa is... left... speechless... and...


    ... and Chouko... just... wraps her arms around Shortcake, pulling the android into a hug as well.

 #25 - Falling Action and Extreme Caution

    "... we should be going, now. We''re in a massive hurry..."


    "J-Just a bit longer..."


    "... fine."


    ...


    Chouko and Shortcake, after all of... that... swiftly flee straight to the bottom floor, rushing down four floors of stairs as quickly as they could. The power in the building remains off, with not a soul besides them remaining- and the two are in an incredible hurry, with an uncertain life-or-death time limit to adhere to.


    In this rush, Chouko thought about the hug... thought about the android as a whole. Taking occasional looks back at Shortcake every so often as they descended down the stairs, keeping a very... close eye on the android''s expression.


    Each time Chouko looks, she takes immediate notice that Shortcake''s cheeks and nose were lightly coated with blood, the android accidentally smearing her face in it when she hugged Chouko. Assuming that its hug is intentional, Shortcake- doesn''t seem to have an aversion to messes. This does make sense, after all. Shortcake is an American android designed to care for children, and they are quite messy.


    However, the frightened expression is still on her face... which could still correlate to death.


    And this continues to be a thought on the forefront of her mind- as the two make it to the ground floor, seeing the dead corpses of Griffin and some- random guy.


    "... hm," Chouko noises, just... letting out a sigh. Doubt lingers in her mind, following that... "breakdown" of hers. Slight moral hesitance as she comprehends that Griffin is dead. What ultimately upsets her about it isn''t the moral concept of preserving life, but rather- the android''s reactions.


    The android seeing Griffin... doesn''t change anything. Shortcake''s expression doesn''t shift all that much, beyond just normal fright. Chouko notes this to be the same expression as before, a simple default reaction to be expected if a bleeding corpse came back to life and attempted murder. Beyond that- if the face isn''t changing, then Shortcake doesn''t seem to share any special opinions on Griffin in general. No special grief or emotions to it.


    So Chouko thinks... her gruesome revenge causes the same amount of fear that Griffin does. And that''s curious.


    Speaking of- on that topic, the topic of Griffin somehow coming back to life... other concerns now come to Chouko. She doesn''t know how it''s possible, beyond some nonsense tech explanation that lets people do that- no, the question to ask is, how common is it for someone to come back to life?


    So Chouko squints her eyes and slowly- turns to peek into the first floor. Peeking into the remains of the front lobby, eyes looking into a room of rubble chunks. The gaping hole in the ceiling isn''t getting any better- in fact, it just continues to crumble further...


    ... and the deep, metallic scent of blood oozes in the air.


    A smoky, metallic- intense smell that Chouko was desensitized to- but... a smell that had the android on the verge of gagging.


    Chouko sees and stares at the hulking, bulky brute still collapsed in his own rubble, the entirety of the second floor office collapsed down into the front lobby- Chouko very- VERY much found herself just- walking very cautiously around the man. Griffin is one thing, given his now purely theoretical intellect and strategy... but Steele is another. Having him somehow- "revived" and charging at her is something very- very unfavorable...


    "U-Uhm- a-aren''t we in a h-hurry...?" Shortcake asks, uncomfortably- looking around the room. "W-Why are we slowing down?"


    "... because, caution. We don''t want a repeat of our earlier... surprise," Chouko answers, referring to Griffin- and having a very- wary look on her face as she stares- STARES at Steele. Seeing him continuing to lie limp in a pool of his own blood. "... especially not against that one."


    "That... one...?" Shortcake asks as she looks over towards Steele... the light in her eyes dimming. "O-Oh... h-him..."


    "...?" Chouko stops walking the moment Shortcake stops. An eyebrow raised, curiously looking back at the android. "What is it?"


    Shortcake stares at Steele for the longest while, before looking to Chouko with her eyes lighting back up. "W-Well, I was... b... being extra careful... m-more cautious and s-stuff..."


    "Ah... I see."


    Chouko feigned "cluelessness" in that moment. She knows full well Shortcake interacted with Steele, otherwise the android wouldn''t have been brought up to the top floor to begin with. Chouko takes special note of how dim Shortcake''s eyes were when she stared at Steele, and compared that to the bright gaze when looking at her.


    Is it... truly as simple as "Shortcake associates emotions with people on first impressions?"


    Shortcake''s directly interacted with the Executioner and Steele, possibly roughly so... and she didn''t have a lot to associate with Griffin. Maybe...


    ... no. No. That doesn''t make sense for two reasons.


    Firstly, Shortcake was- beaten, kicked, thrown against the ground by a fully visible Griffin along with Steele... if Shortcake operated on first impressions, she''d feel disdain towards both Steele and Griffin- and yet, the disdain seems more focused on Steele than it is Griffin. Is it some sort of tech nonsense that judges people based on how much they beat her?


    Secondly, Shortcake''s first impression of Chouko is her screaming bloody murder. That first impression should be engraved into Shortcake''s mind. It would make sense to reason that Shortcake saw Chouko committing bloody murder and remembers that first impression, but if that were the case- Shortcake wouldn''t just be terrified, Shortcake would want nothing to do with Chouko. Shortcake would be trying to flee, and- and Shortcake would have just fled when Griffin''s body went after the woman...


    ... tch. It shouldn''t be this complicated to understand the android''s thoughts, its current feelings and such. And yet, Shortcake perplexes her. Completely confuses her far more than any other actual human. Profiling this android is- it''s something Chouko doesn''t understand yet. Every hypothesis Chouko comes up with, each one more likely than the other- she immediately second guesses herself.


    Shortcake is a combination of human psychology and robotic programming... and Chouko only understands one of those things. Shortcake''s managed to confound her, psychologically, and Chouko doesn''t understand a single thing about robot code.


    The only thing that would make sense is that this android is...


    ... is...


    ...


    ... the two, after that pause - fortunately not subject to a surviving Steele - carry on and walk. Entering through one of two doors that were not leading to the upper floors, the other of which was presumably the receptionist''s office.


    Chouko and Shortcake wander through the door, walking down a hallway. Two doors on the left, two to the right, and a large entryway to some sort of warehouse straight ahead. The lights remain as dark as ever, ominously so.


    "..." Tensely, Chouko starts to walk forward. "Shortcake... look around. Left, right, behind us- I want you to shout loudly, the moment you notice someone or something move."


    "S-Shout? H... How come?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head.


    "The volume will quickly let me know something''s happening," Chouko explains, walking forward. "Consider it... more caution."


    "R-Right... o-okay..."


    Careful steps. One foot after the other, Chouko taking carefully slow steps and slow breaths to quiet her own movements. No signs of creaking or such... as her eyes glance left and right.


    Meanwhile, Shortcake''s steps are less careful. Sure, the android takes a step each time Chouko takes one, but the material of its shoes creates a bit more noise against the floor. Sneaking was not its specialty in terms of just walking...


    ... but... the two simply walked down the hallway, with not a soul in sight. No one left alive to see or hear them, no one to take care of... in the hallway, at least.


    The two make it to the warehouse, and witness it to be... for lack of a better term, fully stocked. Several trucks with crates and goods next to each one, an utter mess that seems to indicate the warehouse was completely vacated for one reason or another. The warehouse door is wide open with several cases of tire tracks, indicating that at least one mercenary - if not multiple - fled the scene at a swift pace.


    Chouko and Shortcake stand high above to see all of this, witnessing the sight from a metal platform with thin stairs headed down. Chouko rests an arm on the railing to look over the whole scene, surveying what she could and seeing not a soul left... at least, not in the open.


    The only source of light Chouko possesses in this expansive warehouse is the outside light. Rather than complete pitch-black darkness, some of the night sky peers in through the open door... and there''s no guarantee Shortcake''s any better with what light her eyes can emit. No, it''s... tch...


    A vacated warehouse is the best case scenario, despite leaving countless possible witnesses to her. If it wasn''t fully vacated, then it simultaneously leaves several witnesses... and some people behind to ambush her. Either outcome, just... tch.


    "... Shortcake. Do you see anyone?" Chouko whispers, speaking quietly.


    Shortcake stares out, looking out into the warehouse and glancing about. Her pink gaze flickering multiple times, on and off. "... n... no, I... I don''t see anyone yet..." Shortcake whispers.


    "Well... hopefully we see them real soon..." Chouko mumbles, holding her gun in hand. The old saying... no news is good news... doesn''t apply in this case. Her eyes narrowed and glaring into the warehouse, tensely surveying the area over and over again, trying to find any sign that a person is hiding away...This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    For a brief moment, Chouko catches a glimpse of Shortcake as she surveys. The android seemed to be copying her, looking around as well. Its face still seemed frightened, pairing well with the tense look Chouko''s face had...


    ... but- time is of the essence. Being frightened and tense for minutes on end is unwise. Chouko couldn''t afford to be any more careful, not with the unknown just waiting to attack. So... she takes a moment to retrieve the Executioner''s keys.


    Out of these keys present, one was a temporary key for the drawer- which Chouko removes and tosses aside, in the event this key had a tracker inside of it. That leaves a couple more keys to things, which- one of them was a manual remote for a car. One that has buttons to signal the car in question.


    There were a few cars among the trucks... which Chouko deduces belong to the mercenaries. Having a personal car out in the open for anyone to spot is a dead giveaway that "oh, the office has mercenaries" if anyone recognizes the car. One of the cars must be the Executioner''s...


    Which one that is... well, Chouko presses the lock button on the car. Holding the remote out and pressing the button. Two presses, and the car- sounds out twice. Sounding out a signal to alert the two of its presence... all the way on the other side of the warehouse.


    "..."


    "C-Chouko? ... i-is something the matter?"


    "..." Chouko- sighs, shaking her head. "Shortcake, listen. Over there is a car that we''re going to be using. It''s our only means of escape."


    "R-Right, that makes sense... so... let''s-"


    "Get going? Sure. Issue, however," Chouko interrupts, immediately informing the android of that caution on the front of her mind. "Someone in this warehouse could- ambush and attack us if we''re not careful. There''s too many trucks and boxes in the way, anyone could be hiding in here... quiet, just... just waiting for the perfect moment to take us out."


    "I... I-I see... d-do you want me to go ahead a-and retrieve the car...?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head as she surveys the warehouse as well.


    "Well, that would be..." Chouko begins to respond, before- looking back to Shortcake. "You... You''d be putting yourself in danger, Shortcake."


    "W-Well- i-it''s just an idea," Shortcake answers, fiddling her thumbs. "Y-You could keep watch and- uhm- d-do the... do the thing with your, uhm... g-gun... if..."


    "..."


    How does she interpret this?


    The android genuinely being helpful, or... the android trying to obtain a means of escape, abandoning Chouko in the meantime?


    Tch...


    "Fine." Chouko... takes a moment to retrieve her defense baton from the knapsack, and hands it to Shortcake for its self defense. Sure, the android doesn''t seem to possess much skill or- physical strength to make the most out of it, but it''s better to hold onto it for safety rather than Shortcake being empty handed.


    A better choice for the android would be holding Chouko''s gun, but...


    ...


    ... the baton will do. "Hold onto this and- and try to defend yourself with it. Swing it like you did the blond man from earlier."


    "U-Uhm- o-okay! I got it!" Shortcake answers, fidgeting and shaking as her fingers coil around the baton. The metallic baton sinks into the palms of Shortcake''s cushiony hands, like holding it against a pillow...


    "Right, and- also, keep your back against the wall so no one can sneak up to you- and keep an eye out. Shout loudly if you see anyone," Chouko instructs, gesturing to the wall right next to the door. "I''ll- tell you when it''s safe to come down."


    "O-Okay...! L-Loud and clear..." Shortcake responds, her eyes flickering a little. Back pressed against the wall, looking past the railing of the platform.


    With Shortcake on guard- Chouko makes her way to the car. She walks down the stairs, and begins her careful walk to the car. Hand firmly on her gun, taking the slowest steps possible at first... eyes looking around, glancing side to side...


    She looks up to Shortcake for a moment, seeing her from the ground. Watching as the android looks around, both hands gripping the baton- looking back and forth between the doorway and the warehouse''s floor. The android has yet to see anyone, so... hm.


    ... Chouko takes a deep breath, takes one more look around, and- makes a sprint for it. Running quickly, eyes gazing left and right. No further invisible men here, she just makes a sprint for it- presses the unlock button on the car again, and opens the door up. Pulling the door open and using it as temporary cover, ducking behind it and cautiously looking around.


    No ambush yet... so Chouko stands up, and... well, she''s kept her thoughts secret, and now has a close enough view to examine the car in detail.


    Chouko didn''t know enough about cars to identify anything- major, other than the fact this was a Mercedes-Benz. The symbol on the front suggested as much, a circle divided into thirds.


    The car in particular is a black-painted four-door SUV... one of those big cars, rectangular ones. Possible to assume it''s armored, but safer to not think about it until it becomes relevant. The car seems relatively new and well-kept, as if it were purchased almost... recently.


    And this car being the Executioner''s, for many... many reasons... sickens her.


    Chouko glares at this car with overwhelming anger, knowing the price tag that would go into one of those things. Mercedes-Benz is a luxury car company, after all. And if he does own this... all of that money to own such a vehicle is money earned from the bastard''s jobs... all his jobs. Blood money that paid for a life of luxurious cars...


    A car he would bring to a location like this is one of three things: exceptionally useful, valuable in a personal way, or disposable. Disposable meaning- it''s one of multiple cars, and he doesn''t care whatsoever if this car ends up damaged- the money he''s used must be... immense. Countless things he must have carelessly spent money on.


    In fact, hiring dozens of mercenaries to work for him is... it...


    ... tch. If it wasn''t for the fact this was an emergency, Chouko would not dare go anywhere near that thing.


    The car is fine, of course. Chouko holds nothing against Mercedes-Benz- just this car in particular. Unable to rid herself of these feelings, still able to see the bastard''s face before her, Chouko... cracks a maniacal grin. This is still a car belonging to the most repulsive, wretched, despicable piece of-


    "I-Is it s-safe to come down yet?!" Shortcake calls out.


    "Ah-" Chouko looks back to Shortcake, face returning to normal. Eyes blinking a couple of times as she- nods. Snapped out of her thoughts. Staring up at Shortcake, looking at her the best she could from this distance. "Not yet-! I need to check this car for- traps!" Explosives, alarms, bugs- the works.


    "O-Okay... I... okay..."


    From what she can tell, the android is visibly- shaking. Both hands holding the baton tightly, its frightened expression worsened. Morbid terror in Shortcake''s pink eyes as it frantically looks around like a scared puppy.


    Chouko... Chouko just takes note of this, and... needed to search the car quickly.


    Quickly, Chouko then drops to the ground, checking underneath the car- then does a quick survey around the car. One brief look in case any mercenary seems... smart... enough to trap the car with some explosive, or- hiding underneath it or whatever...


    ... none in sight. At least, on the outside.


    "Alright. Shortcake- come on down now, be as fast as you can!" Chouko calls out, beckoning the android down before examining the inside of the car.


    "O-Okay!" Shortcake starts to walk down the stairs as well, heading over.


    Chouko keeps a careful, cautious eye out for both Shortcake and herself. She looks behind her, back at Shortcake... behind her, back and Shortcake, rinse and repeat- still ever so cautious about any hiding mercenaries. Covering the android the best she can with what limited view she had...


    ... until the android makes it, scurrying over and quickly lunging at Chouko. Wrapping its arms around Chouko once more, clinging to her.


    Chouko tensely holds her gun, making sure to focus and- not- use it whatsoever. Allowing Shortcake to hug her after this, just- easing up...


    Shortcake... doesn''t seem to operate well when she''s on her own, Chouko''s realizing. The android''s fear is worsened when it is left by its lonesome... it was alone when disguised as Chouko, uncertain of its fate. It was alone in the Executioner''s office when Chouko was running rampant. And it was - essentially - alone on top of that metal platform.


    The android''s more frightened when it''s alone than when it''s with Chouko, the idea of being- on its own being more terrifying than being with a murderer. Each time it hugs her, it shows fright and terror in its body language. Moreso its body than its face, really... it hugs, it reaches out for her hand, it clings to her arm and such.


    In other words... the android has a strong case of...


    ...


    Separation anxiety...


    Its programming... is designed with separation anxiety in mind. Chouko''s eyes widen at this as she looks down, as she stares at the top of this android''s blood-soaked hair.


    As it fidgets while hugging her, Chouko- starts to shake as well. This hug feels like she''s being constricted. Not physically, as the android can- easily- be overpowered... moreso- morally. Mentally. Emotionally.


    The same way Chouko''s mind was sent down a destructive spiral of regret the first time she saw this android... Chouko tensely, tensely stares at it for the longest while. Looking to Shortcake with a revelation that... that...


    "It''s... u... uhm... c... can... can I- uhm- come with you t-to your room...? I- I''m- I''m, uh, I-"


    ...


    Is...


    Is this android....


    Is this android truly... easier to understand... if Chouko treats it like- her child self...?


    It cannot be that easy. It really cannot be that. Chouko thought about this possibility both on the truck AND that office building. She isn''t the type of person capable of caring for a child in such a way, whatsoever.


    Especially not- herself...


    ...


    Chouko... takes a deep sigh. The two of them are still in the midst of lightless, enemy territory... they needed to leave. "... Shortcake, get... get in the car. We''re leaving," Chouko tells the girl.


    "O-Okay..."


    Shortcake pulls away from the hug and- walks to enter the back seat of the car. Climbing in and sitting in the middle seat.


    Chouko, meanwhile, just... gets into the driver''s seat. If there is any consolation for what has happened tonight, the Executioner and his hells-tormented soul will have to watch two people covered in his and his mercenaries'' blood sit in his nice, expensive luxury car... ruining the seats.


    The two sit quietly in the car for a while, doors closed as Chouko puts the key into the ignition. Starting to drive the car away.


    Still no mercenaries in sight... they''ve probably long-since fled from the scene. Chouko remains ever so vigilant, however, as she- drives out into the streets of Indianapolis...


    ... yawning... slightly... as her eyes flutter.


    "... a-ah- Chouko-"


    As the two leave the building, Shortcake quickly calls out to Chouko and shakes her shoulders-


    Chouko''s eyes widen as she hits the brakes, stopping the car right away. Two seconds away from crashing the car into a wall.


    Shit... right... she was taken in the midst of the night, a gunshot wound in her shoulder after traveling through an entire four story building... the adrenaline''s finally wearing off and she''s on the verge of passing out.


    "I- I can drive us," Shortcake informs Chouko, a nervous look on her face. "L-Let''s trade seats-"


    "No, no, I..." Chouko instructs, sighing. "I''m the only one of us that can drive elusively if we''re followed..."


    "I-In that case, uhm... I''ll- keep you awake and watch out, too!" Shortcake then climbs through the middle gap between the car seats, sitting right next to Chouko now in the passenger seat. Its nervous face looking forward, resting a hand atop Chouko''s shoulder.


    Chouko''s eyes flutter for a bit, and... and nod... "Sure... okay..." A faint gasp sounding out as her vision wavers, distorts and fades.


    "... u-uhm- how about some music? L-Let''s turn on the radio."


    "Sure... sure."


    Chouko lets out another yawn as Shortcake operates the system, turning on the-


    "... g-GHK- CHANGE IT, CHANGE IT!" Chouko roars out, screaming her lungs out and shaking.


    Shortcake''s eyes widen in- confusion, watching Chouko glaring violently at the radio. "H-Huh?! O-Okay! Okay!" Quickly, Shortcake changes it.


    Chouko... reacted to it harshly. Sharply. And the reason being... the radio was tuned to a... a classical music station. And by sheer coincidence, a few notes of a certain- song played. The notes feeling like poison, bile on her skin... the girl shaking with her hands tightly on the steering wheel, her breath hyperventilating a little.


    That- certainly woke her up... h-hearing... Clair de Lune...


    ...


    The Mercedes-Benz remains still for a while as Chouko... gathers her composure back. The car put into park so that Chouko could forcibly wipe the tears off of her face, angrily doing so... frustrated and enraged. Irritated...


    "..." Shortcake lets out some slight whimpers as the two are now listening to... country music. Retreating and- just going back to keeping a watchful eye out...


    Chouko... just... recovers after a bit, listening to the- country song. "R... Right... let''s... go..."


    With that, the car is... off. Finally driving away from the bodies of the office building, headed to who knows where.


    "... s-so, what''s the plan...?" Shortcake- asks... "Where are we... headed?"


    "..." Chouko shakes her head. "I... honestly don''t know... I guess... first, we''re cleaning this blood and mud off of us... then, we''re finding somewhere secluded to hide away for the night."


    "O-Okay... uhm... alright..." Shortcake noises, reaching- reaching out to hold the steering wheel. Deciding to help Chouko by holding onto it, to make sure she''s driving carefully and that the car remains stable and straight.


    "..."


    The two of them are left in an awkward silence.

 #26 - The Dot Above All Eyes

    A few minutes before eleven, in an undisclosed location... a young man sat quietly in the cover of darkness. Hiding away in some sort of bedroom, with the sun having set long ago. His hair disheveled and messy, matching the room around him.


    The main, sole source of light is the holographic screen hovering over a desk, idly having the image of some human knight sitting in a throne. The knight had long, blonde hair, his eyes a pristine emerald green. A jaw chiseled like marble, with a scar over his nose. Donning his body, solid gold armor with a red cape sewn from the finest of material.


    And surrounding him? A harem of elven women. All of different hair colors and eye colors, dressed in very- skimpy- clothing. Wearing the finest of jewelry to complement their very... enticing... figures.


    The guy behind the knight types away with a joyous smirk, slumping back into his custom-designed swivel gaming chair- thick, comfy, something to lean back and unwind against, and a great support for back posture. A variation of the typical office chair, albeit with some caveats and differing purposes.


    This chair, in particular, is custom-made for this someone, with wires and panels installed into the left armrest. Something for his metallic arm to rest against and use accordingly, its artificial fingers idly tapping away at the rest with keyboard clicking sounding out.


    The chair isn''t the only bit of technology, however. Holographic screens light up over his personal desk, these thin floating pictures emitted from several external displays. Various tasks hovering about, with one of them being...


    ... a folder.


    "This... this is interesting. I was skeptical about the Underworld, but... your group has delivered quite a bit for three day''s worth of information."


    Hmm.


    The guy''s experience with the Underworld is recent. A lot of information has been gained from just one mercenary, which is... curious, to say the least.


    He personally had to meet some sort of courier for the Underworld. An "Hermes", as they''re so aptly called... all sorts of them spread throughout the country, and meeting with him personally. A whole conversation with the formally suited man, also dressed in his own formal suit... it was actually relatively casual, compared to other criminal services. The courier was quite professional and civil about all of it.


    The one thing that''s caught his attention, however...


    "The alias is one single name, one that you should not use lightly. If you require this mercenary''s services again, remember to request the Stalker of the Underworld... also known as..."


    "... Kuroiwa?"


    "Yeah, really. Heard her scream it and everything, Dot. Kind of nuts."


    In the middle of his... fantasy activities... this young man - "Dot", as he is called - is in contact with the Executioner''s hacker. Using a moniker of his own, Dot is the name he uses when speaking with mercenaries, clients, and work colleagues.


    A drastic difference from "Arthur Montagne", the Knight of Goldheart.


    Dot has been multi-tasking between talking with the Repairman and typing to his elf harem. So far, the Repairman and Dot have spoken for about approximate twenty minutes, calling and chatting on an encrypted network. The pair having complete and total freedom to talk at lengths about mercenary work in the Underworld, having this very conversation shortly after the hacker''s truck''s arrived at Indianapolis.


    It''s always around halfway past ten that the two take this call, really. A sort of routine. It''s that perfect time zone for both of them, regardless of where the Repairman ends up in the country, where they just chat and chill and keep each other awake. The wonderful nature of online friendships.


    "Of all names... another mercenary just taking that moniker? Is he really that popular?" Dot asks.


    The Repairman- nods, sighing. "It''s true, she just- started shouting, like- aggressively shouting that she was... we all know it''s bullshit, but can''t deny she''s one of Charon''s..."


    "Right... right. Charon."


    Dot is quite familiar with Charon. One of the higher-end informants, with the talent and skill to collect federal secrets without so much as a single fingerprint- physical or digital. Something he, himself, is learning wonderfully from as an informant himself. As much as Charon is a massive scumbag, he does know great tactics in obtaining info- from great hiring practices to excellent money managing skills in this financially fucked country...


    Plus, he''s a long term informant that has somehow maintained relevancy in a massive sea of nonsense. To put it into perspective, the average person wouldn''t trust an old fart that just knows the 24/7 schedule of a B-list celebrity. No, for an OG such as Charon to remain relevant in this market, he needed to know a LOT more- have the methods to learn everything clients could ever want to know.


    One of the things he knew, apparently, is another such "Kuroiwa". Going so far as to have one of his own, even- probably a handy help to gaining info. Maybe he jumped on the craze of having a Kuroiwa mercenary to appeal to the mercenary market and all...


    "... curious. Did you get a name out of her?" Dot asks.


    "Ehh, the boss said something about this being the Ashford brat or something. Had some kind of job with her years ago, but- not much else. Didn''t really explain much to the rest of us."


    "Hm..." A deep sigh echoes out, with the clicks and clacks of keyboard keys sounding out. Ashford, huh? Curious that name sounds... familiar. "The pay better be good for whatever it is he''s making you do. Keeping a girl conscious and untied in that truck? Considering she works with Charon, well..."


    "Mm... that''s the thing, I think he''s making it up," the Repairmen responds. "Sure, she slapped a cop across the face, knew how to fire a warning shot, and like- kicked the shit out of Bruce''s nose, but like... no way is anything she did worth THAT much, you know?"


    "Well. You never know, she did work for Charon. People who work for him tend to be great at their job."


    "... dude," the Repairman responds, a flattered chuckle sounding out.


    "Hey, I mean it, you''re...~" Dot begins to respond, catching his tone of voice- a little too late. That voice may have slipped out while he was typing something to his elven beauties. The two activities- may have mixed together, he''s realizing, and he visibly cringes at having used a flirty voice while talking to the mercenary.


    A throat clear, a big ahem later, Dot just- speaks normally.


    "... so you''re scanning her phone, right? If you''d like, I can take a look at it too," he offers, curious himself. Wanting some access to whatever this girl has on her phone.


    "Nah, nah... I got this covered, dude," the Repairman responds. "Kinda straightforward, not a lot going on. She has, like, a ton of calls to this one guy, that- ... ugh, hold on."


    "Hm?" Dot asks, blinking. "What''s up?"


    "Just a knock at the door, hold on..." A button press sounds out. "... what?! What is it?!"


    Pfft.


    Dot chuckles. The guy wanted to mute or something, to turn the microphone off as he chatted with whoever it was- but he could still hear every word.


    Ah, that''s funny. Happens to the best, really. He gets to hear each word of the whole conversation, just hearing what business they''re having the Repairman do. Apparently there''s some kind of android and its memory needed to be scanned...


    Dot just sits back and lets out a deep sigh. This definitely isn''t something he needs to listen to, so he turns his attention back to his elves, and-


    "... oh sh-!"


    "...?" Dot raises an eyebrow, bringing his attention back to the call. "Huh? Reps, what''s-?"


    Suddenly, a loud thud echoes out, ringing out with utter anguish sounding out. A loud thud that echoes out incredibly, a hard BASHING and CRASHING sound echoing out. Almost like- a skull, hitting against a table?


    ... the calm look on the figure''s face turning to confusion, to shock and confusion. Panic.


    "W..." Quickly tapping as fast as he could, tensely gritting his teeth. "What''s going on there?! Repairman-?!"


    Knock knock knock. Aggressive pounding.


    "H-Hey! Hacker, you good in there? I thought I heard you fall in there...!"


    "U-Uhm- the hacker h-has his- headphones on, he doesn''t want t-to be disturbed-!"


    The... the android.


    Dot blinks for a moment as he hears the android''s voice- quickly bringing his focus to the call.


    "S-Shut up! I KNOW I heard a thud in there- I want to hear it from him! I know he can hear us through those things, open up!"


    Dot- Dot squints his eyes, listening to this closely. "...?!" Multiple holographic screens popping up on instinct as he types away. Something was happening- or- something DID happen, and he''s- listening to all of it. Quickly scrambling to- do something, as the voices transmit through his cybernetics.


    Every voice sample he could get of the android and- subsequent responses, needing to get all of it as best as he could. A long, long pause giving him ample time to adjust and calibrate all of his settings.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "God damn it- I''m kicking this door down! Repairman!"


    A loud kick- a loud kick of the door... blatantly loud and sudden.


    Dot squints his eyes at this... so the door was locked... where does that leave the android? Counting the seconds after the door kick: one- two- three... four...


    "W... What in the hell?! Repairman-!"


    Suddenly, a loud- cracking static echoes out. Ear-piercing, ringing, completely sounding out and overwhelming Dot''s ears. Transmitting an agonizingly loud and painful crackling.


    Almost as if the call itself was interrupted and the laptop itself was-


    "G-Gah! WHAT THE F-?! T-THE ANDROID''S GOING NUTS-! E-EVERYONE-!"


    Then- a thud, and two gunshots.


    "W... What- what''s going on-?!" Dot shouts loudly, completely clueless. "Repairman- can you hear me?! Answer me, what- what the hell''s going on there?! Repairman?! Dude, come on- Repairman-!"


    ...


    The call immediately dropped.


    Dot stares at the screen with the call on it, staring to see that the Repairman has hung up. Either voluntarily, or- or his computer itself crashed, for whatever reason.


    He slumps back into his chair... continuing to sit in the dark, somewhat lit room in... utter shock. His breath frantic and heavy- hand gripping the arm rest tightly, entire body trembling and shaking in his chair.


    "... oh, god..." the figure- slowly, ever so slowly speaks out, the sound ringing in his ears as he stares forward. As he tensely- tensely leans forward, registering what he''s just heard.


    What was that?!


    What exactly happened there?!


    Dot stares for the... longest... while, his attention fully and completely on- all of that. He can only guess the worst of what had happened, but...


    "Ghhk... TCH!" the figure loudly noises, letting out a cough through closed teeth as he spins immediately away from the desk. A screen hovering right over his face- multiple of them, even, with several holographic projectors starting to emit more screens before him. A large image right in front of him, with several popup boxes and loading screens scattered about.


    Frantically, there were several things on Dot''s mind, and he NEEDED to organize his thoughts on what could have happened. What did the Repairman say just a few moments ago?!


    Okay. First off... Ashford. Claimed she was Kuroiwa.


    Girl knows enough about the name, Kuroiwa, a-and she works for Charon... there''s credibility to her name. One of the popups on his holographic display was scavenging the archived news articles about Ashford, and he''s running that in the background while- juggling everything else he could know.


    Second- android. There''s an android. The android in question that the Repairman is examining.


    That means there has to be something, either- the news, the newly discovered Underworld, maybe any sort of network... anything about some- defective android? The smallest bit of information about it is enough to piece two and two together?


    Swiftly, ever so swiftly, the figure spins around once again, facing one screen in particular. A screen currently projecting a loading bar, with several files sprawling about.


    Keeping all that in mind, Dot- also kept in mind the feasibility of area and location. The Repairman is in Illinois, there has to be some bit of information about it or the neighboring states, anything that''ll give him a lead on all the-


    "HE WAS NOT A SUICIDE, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!"


    ...


    Dot...


    Dot hears this and slowly turns his head to that popup, his eyes widening.


    Radio logs... transmission logs... something flagged with the keyword, "Ashford".


    A broadcast from Target News Ohio, a TV station that also broadcasts to old-fashioned radios- two states away from Illinois. The broadcast happened- a few hours away, which would make sense if...


    It''s... it''s a phone in call. Someone dialed the number to- ... to the news anchorman?


    "THAT''S RIGHT. ANDERSON. YOU''RE GOING TO BE ANOTHER STATISTIC TO ADD TO THE PILE. ALONG WITH GARDNER."


    Gardner?


    ... Gardner?!


    "... w... what the fuck...?" Dot repeats to himself, putting- two and two together. "H... Hold on a moment... G-Gardner?!"


    He quickly, most importantly turns back to his desk again- reaching for the file atop it, holding it in his hands and examining it closely...


    ... Terrence Gardner.


    "..."


    Dot''s eyes widen as he stares at these files, as the world around him just... fades for a moment.


    The room around him turning pitch black, every screen having some sort of figurative pin on them. Red wires tracing all around him, going from one screen to another, his eyes witnessing all of this as... as...


    ... as the dots connect together.


    Dot starts to turn his chair all around, eyes focusing on a few popups at a time.


    Firstly, to the android search. Quickly, Dot forces the job search narrow, bringing its results down to a smaller pool under the following criteria: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, jobs posted and accepted within one week from today.


    Many jobs are listed, none of them list android, but... a delivery job catches his attention.


    Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania... to Omaha, Nebraska.


    Client unknown... product unknown... seller unknown. The trail makes sense, though- Illinois and Ohio are on the way between these two states and cities.


    Then, turning to the Ashford search, the one that picked up the radio broadcast- Charles Ashford... photographs of him with his sole heir, a... a little girl, a black haired girl with red eyes.


    But- curiously... Dot brings his attention more to Charles Ashford, and his death. Date of death being...


    ... over... over nine years ago.


    "Ehh, the boss said something about this being the Ashford brat or something. Had some kind of job with her years ago, but- not much else."


    ...


    "... they''re... one and the same..." Dot mutters to himself.


    The Repairman and all of those mercenaries are in the same building as Kuroiwa, the Stalker... the one that''s followed Gardner, the one that''s picked up a job to deliver an unknown package - an android - to Nebraska... the one that got pulled over and captured by them, and the one that... that...


    ... that has a matching voice sample with the android he heard and recorded. The vocal patterns line up with a high accuracy, albeit considerably aged...


    Every detail lines up... and... and...


    "They have been with us for some time. More recently than our most esteemed of names, but... an impressive name nonetheless. You are quite lucky to have had this mercenary at your disposal."


    "It''s simply because this mercenary has no documentation on taking any assassination jobs. Completely non-lethal work... but, for some of the jobs they do take? They might as well have."


    "This goes without saying, but... I believe the binder you have in your hand is enough of a testament to their skills, their capabilities as a master of stealth and infiltration."


    "The Underworld may keep confidential its mercenaries and their faces, but... this one is one of the only few that not even us messengers know about."


    "Their personal phone. This mercenary in particular possess a flip phone that has access to an encrypted channel. Untraceable for their safety, used to take pictures and videos as necessary- as well as other features, actually."


    "Sir... I swear to you... everything I have told you so far about this mercenary... is the full, honest to God truth."


    ...


    A calm... sigh... echoes out as the figure turns slowly back to his desk, scooting his chair forward. His entire body tense from this information, as this all dawns on him and he- and he recovers...


    ... typing quickly to the elves that he had to go... and... logging out of his fantasy game, as he... as he quickly gets to work.


    Metal hand continuing to tap away at his arm rest, with his other hand swiping along screens. Tracing his fingers in several patterns, with screens floating right in front of his hand and floating away once done. An overwhelming surge echoing out in this moment as he stares forward, as the light- the color in his eyes turn to black.


    "Client: Unknown.


    Target: Chouko Ashford


    Last Known Location: Indianapolis, Indiana.


    Deadline: N/A.


    This is a message to all of the Underworld, its mercenaries and informants. At the time of writing this, a group of your fellow men are in danger. I possess recordings that indicate Ashford is alive and well, and may very well be killing an office of mercenaries for personal gain.


    The office coordinates are included. Confirmation of two people''s deaths are present in recordings. All sources have cut off before I could ascertain the fates of these men.


    This is a bounty to take her in alive or dead. Kill her if you have to. Reward will be given to the first mercenary to arrange contact with a messenger to relay the following items:


    - A DNA sample of the body. Hair, blood, saliva- any of this.


    - A photograph of the body, with location and time of death included.


    - A moniker to arrange payment, so that you can be financially compensated.


    Time is of the essence. She must be stopped before anyone else is to die.


    Pay: 50 million dollars.


    "..."


    Not enough... it''s not enough to promise 50 million, Dot thought...


    Dot glares violently at this job posting as he sends it away, the light in his eyes returning, glowing a bright emerald green as he stares- glares at the picture of Chouko Ashford. He can''t rely on the mercenaries to just- go after Ashford on their own, for just 50 million. If Dot assumes the worst that she can kill a building of mercenaries through some- means, then it''s not enough to just have some mercenaries going after her.


    No, Dot... needed to broadcast all of his findings... make this a... a country wide effort, something that will turn everyone- EVERYONE against Chouko Ashford, in order to make sure the job is done.


    ... and... with a hollow gaze, a look of blank determination plastered over his face...


    ... it begins.


    "Following a local radio broadcast of Target News Ohio, anchorman Thomas Anderson has been reported to have received over two hundred voice calls from an unidentified woman. Someone who has a special interest in his offhanded comment about the late Charles Ashford, to which--"


    "--authorities are in the midst of investigation, following the timely death of Officer Brandon Reeves. Several bizarre logs recorded by Chavez androids have been leaked, showing clips in two second intervals. The Chief of Police has declined comment, but the subsequent law suit regarding Chavez drivers having their visual data recorded is--"


    "--an unfortunate loss, today. America has lost a young Reese Anderson today. Age 21, found shot in Indianapolis alongside dozens of unidentified men. Many of which authorities have noted are in various criminal databases across the entire country, one of which has been on the FBI''s Most Wanted list for years now. Young Reese had run away from home many years ago, and--"


    "--and I was like, woooooooooooo-oah~! ... wooooooooooooo-oah~!


    I''m gonna SHOVE myself, right into your car, and then I''ll eat your chocolate bar~!


    ... it''s all that I want, it''s all that I need, ready yourself, I''m doing the deed,


    and when it''s all done, when it''s all done, I''m gonna go! And then--"


    "--a witness has identified a black, armored Mercedes-Benz leaving the office''s garage around the time of the incident. The building''s 2nd floor windows shattered beyond belief, with an unusual trace of burn marks and such. The witness claims that a man leaped through the air with cybernetic legs, crashing through- only for gunshots to echo out alongside screaming voices. A bizarre sight to say the list, to which this news reporter thinks is--"


    "--preposterous, I say!" "Really? Why do you say so?" "I should NOT be sued over my literal OFFICE BUILDING somehow having its (BLEEP)ing 2nd floor collapsed! Whatever happened there is-" "It''s your office, and several dozen men have been found dead and murdered there, don''t you hold any accountability for-" "NO! Whatever those men were doing in there is--!"


    "--brought to you, by Jelly. A free service designed for YOUR android shopping needs. Buying an android doesn''t need to be a luxury. With Jelly, you''re guaranteed to contact the best sellers for affordable prices, whether you need protection from serial killers and--"


    "--all news sources received massive tips and such, flooding America with a bizarre piece from Indianapolis. The origins are unknown, and not even the country''s top technicians can pinpoint how a remote signal could have scrambled all news to cover this one topic. Many suspect that the U.S. Federal Government may have had a part in this, but it is purely speculation until further notice. For now, though, this is Channel 5 News, and--"


    "--work it, baby, work it! Work it, yeah! Your glutes are looking FANTASTIC, ladies, keep it up! One, two, one, two, one--"


    "--one young child all those years ago... possibly coming out of hiding after a little under a decade has passed. Former British heir to the now defunct Ashford Corporation and its subsidiaries, a young Chouko Ashford is now rumored to have been spotted in Indianapolis. That poor, poor girl, suffering the loss of her father at such a young age- and if the rumors are true, she''s turned to a life of--"


    "--crime? Murder...? I... I don''t even know what- could have... started all this. When I saw her that day, she- she seemed fine, but--"


    "--authorities across the nation are encouraging the arrest of--"


    "--a--fo---"


    "--aaaaaaaa--"


    "---dd--af--fq-vbrbb--"


    "-f-fj--jtn--mf-ij-asjf-anwn-f-a-ff---"


    "-------------fsafbbfffzzzzz--------shhh---fs----"


    "-------koto... please, wake up now... it''s time to wake up, sweetheart..."


    .............

 #27 - Desperate Stop at a Decrepit Gas Station

    "..."


    Chouko seems visibly disgusted as she stares at the outside of the gas station - specifically, its washroom.


    Having driven aimlessly for the last 30 minutes, she and Shortcake needed to flee from Indianapolis. No time nor reason to stick around whatsoever, they drove out of the once grand Indianapolis and leave behind just another American city of industrial, technological, and societal dystopia.


    As dystopian as Indianapolis is nowadays, the city is still in sustainable condition and sufficient upkeep. Maintained and kept to a wonderful hygienic standard. Anything outside of the cities, anything that didn''t count as the roads themselves, are left in the air if they''re clean or working or not...


    ... including this very gas station.


    The gas facilities are functional. It''s a self-serving gas station where you pay with a card and such. Android compatible, too, if a driving android detected a shortage of gas. By all means, this is a good gas station for its gas.


    No, the issue is the station part. This building is completely abandoned and unclean, with not a single person having come by in ages. At best, this place gets a routine check that the pumps work, and that''s about it.


    So, the gas station washroom is utterly horrendous.


    A complete mess that Chouko dare not wish another soul to witness. Every gruesome detail simply too horrible to ever put to words.


    Chouko didn''t have any other options, however. Any other place that had functioning water had actual people, and actual people are bound to see two bloodied individuals simply walking and minding their business. Then law enforcement will be called, and several- several problems will arise.


    "C... Chouko, if I may- have we considered maybe- washing in a river?" Shortcake asks.


    Chouko shakes her head. "No. Absolutely not."


    "Why? Using a river should be good... if we find somewhere with a lot of trees, then-"


    "Shortcake, that-" Chouko begins to speak, before- sighing, rubbing her eyes lightly with her index finger and thumb. "Right- I just remembered, you were a mint-condition android... do you have anything in your database about the Neo-Presidential Water Purification Bill?"


    "The... What-Presidential...?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head in- confusion? A bill?


    "Right, you don''t know it," Chouko idly comments, before just bluntly tells Shortcake that every river in the country has the U.S. Military patrolling at all times.


    Ecologically, every single body of water that had nothing to do with direct human drinking water is abysmally polluted and hazardous to human skin. This was because, following the Artificial Revolution, companies had the grand idea to dump the excessive waste produced by various android and cybernetics factories in the country.


    This caused severe downsides that ultimately didn''t come into mainstream attention until some news broadcast about a family of ten from Oklahoma being diagnosed with gruesome diseases following their Thanksgiving dinner. A whole investigation launched ended up discovering every turkey sold from a certain brand of grocery store had drunk from contaminated water near the Mississippi River, conveniently next to an android facility in Minnesota.


    "... oh... d-did I c-cause that...?" Shortcake asks, nervously staring at Chouko.


    "No, it was a Caliber Corporation facility," Chouko responds, shaking her head. "Sweet Bots is California, which- well, there''s its own problems."


    "Oh..." Shortcake noises. "S... So, the bottom line is- no rivers? No lakes? No ponds or such...?"


    "By no means whatsoever do we go near one of those."


    Shortcake nods. "... I- I guess we need to use the restroom here then..."


    Chouko audibly gags. "R-Right, the history lesson made me forget about the- ugh..." Hand over her mouth, trying to cover her nose with the side of her finger, simply reminded of the lesser of two evils- by a minimal scale.


    Shortcake takes one look at the disgusted, visibly uncomfortable Chouko, fiddling her thumbs a little. "... i-if you''d like, I... I could, uhm, w-wash off the clothes at least... I-I''m not that bothered about smells and- such... so-"


    "No, Shouko, it''s not something that you should do. I should just muster the courage to-" Chouko speaks up, stopping herself for a moment. Staring at Shortcake for a while, pausing for a moment.


    "...?" Shortcake tilts her head, blinking at Chouko. "Shouko?"


    Chouko seems visibly tense as she stares at Shouko, mouth still covered and- containing her embarrassment. "Shortcake. Shortcake-" Chouko blurts out. "I- I meant to say Shortcake. A mere slip of the tongue, I-"


    The android interrupts. "I- I like it," Shortcake speaks up, beaming and smiling. "Shouko sounds nice... i-if you want to call me that..."


    "..."


    Chouko silently side-eyes the washroom door, then looks back at Shortcake. A long pause of silence shared between the two, before Chouko reconsiders the android''s plan.


    "... Shou- ... Shortcake. Are... are you sure that you''re not bothered by smells...?"


    Shortcake rubs her chin for a moment. "W-Well, how I''m designed, I just process the smell... and identify it as bathroom waste and such. I have no aversion to it- in fact, I think it''s in my design to identify messes so that they can be cleaned..."


    "... I see. Then, how good are you at checking water purity? As in- how clean the sink water is?"


    "Ah, well... I- I can see how clear it is... but- no percentages or anything like that..." Shortcake nervously responds, a little disappointed...


    "That''s more than good enough, if you can at least confirm it''s clear enough," Chouko instructs Shortcake, looking around. "For now, check if the sink has running water. If it does, clean your hair off and try to wash out the blood before coming out. I''m going to see if I can find anything to contain the water in-"


    Shortcake... nods. "O-Okay..." And then turns to-


    "Wait." Chouko walks over to Shortcake, retrieving the knapsack. Pulling it gently off of Shortcake''s shoulders, not wanting their one means of storage to be- potentially stained. "Almost forgot about this... I''ll keep it on me for now, until we clean off."


    Shortcake nods. "Sounds good-"


    "And one more thing," Chouko continues as she puts the knapsack on- wincing a little as the strap goes over the gunshot wound in her shoulder. "... while we''re apart, if you spot anyone nearby that isn''t me- scream. Scream like your life depended on it. Loudly wail and cry out and exhaust your sound systems, trying to get my attention. Anyone at all could be a threat."


    "U-Uhm- okay, and- do I run straight to you?" Shortcake asks.


    "If you can, yes..."


    Shortcake nods several times, before she then turns to the washroom and enters this wasteland for the two of them.


    "..."


    And... Chouko visibly grimaces as Shortcake enters the hellish nightmare of a washroom before them. The android has it... covered... so Chouko walks away and begins searching for a container. A bucket, a crate, something- anything that could hold water.


    She goes back around the corner, and approaches the front door of the gas station itself. Given its abandoned, self-serving nature, this building is purely for show. The shelves are empty, the freezers are inactive, not a soul behind the counter.


    Either this building is vacant, or it''s owned by a neglectful land owner, and...


    ... ah. An electronic lock on the front door, the most active part of this entire gas station after the pumps.


    It''s the latter.


    The lock itself is keycard activated, requiring a certain type of card be pressed against it in order to unlock. Once it''s held close, it clicks open and the door is active until locked again.


    Usually, with these types of locks, Chouko could just use a hack from her phone, but- the severe limitations of not having Charon''s support from here on out makes it utterly risky. Any sort of attempted hack will reveal her exact location to the man, to which several hitmen will converge on her location to...


    ...


    Chouko tensely, tensely sighs at this thought... as she has been repeating in her mind that Charon isn''t on her side. Ever since the failure of the delivery job, she has - time and time again - reminded herself of the strictness that Charon enforced... the pure perfection he pretty much demanded.


    Follow every instruction. If he says to do something, she does it... and she''s been able to meet this perfection because of Charon''s guidance. The sheer luck she''s held to... reach this far, to come so far from just following one man''s instructions, it... it''s astounding.


    But the luck''s dried up. One single failure, one blot in her record, and- well, it''s all over. That was the arrangement, the terms that she agreed to all those years ago. Chouko knows this- Chouko knows the cost of her failure.


    So she stands in front of this station... a dead woman.


    A dead woman stripped of her resources, under a metaphorical guillotine. No means to unlock this door, no safe place left in this country that she could rest without the risk of a gunman coming to shoot her...


    ... and no place to get the wound in her shoulder patched up and treated.


    No... no.


    Tonight has been a frantic mess, with highs and lows that Chouko juggles frantically, the highest of highs met with a jumbled of falling lows.


    Chouko hasn''t read enough of The Count of Monte Cristo to understand where to go from here... and she doesn''t even have the book on her anymore. That loose inspiration to enact her vengeance, gone... like the rest of her life.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    So all Chouko has left, in the graveyard of a country she still roams, is this desperate ambition, and...


    "U-Uhm! I- I''m back-!"


    ...


    Chouko looks over to see an approaching Shortcake, back to being hairless as she holds her wig in her hand. The blood still faintly stains the hair itself, but- it''s at least less noticeable. The blood cleans off quite well with just running sink water. "Ah... so the water in there is acceptable?"


    "Y-Yeah. It''s- not exactly the cleanest, a-and I didn''t find any buckets or anything, but it''s pure enough to-"


    "Right... right," Chouko comments, taking the knapsack off of her back. "It can, at the very least, wash off some of the blood on us. And with your hair washed, that means there''s one less mess to take care of. Good job."


    Shortcake''s eyes light up as she widely smiles as Chouko. Responding to the praise with elated and giddy delight as she extends her other hand out to accept the knapsack.


    Chouko gives a faint smile in response as she holds the knapsack out... and Chouko winces, her arm- aching in pain, a trembling- aching pain that spreads throughout her arm.


    "A-Ah-!" Shortcake noises, noticing the wincing as she just snatches the knapsack back. "C-Chouko, your arm-"


    "It''s- fine, I''ll live... we don''t exactly have the best resources to- take care of it..." Chouko tells Shortcake, groaning as she holds her shoulder.


    "C-Can''t we go to a doctor?" Shortcake suggests, tilting her head.


    "We can''t explain how I got shot," Chouko bluntly tells the android. "And the places that don''t ask... aren''t exactly options I can take anymore."


    "O-Oh..."


    Shortcake stares at Chouko- uneasily, before... she glances into the gas station itself, deciding to take a look for herself. Chouko didn''t seem to open the doors yet, so the android acts under the assumption that the gas station hasn''t been checked yet.


    Chouko watches the android doing this, nervously- looking around. This whole time, not a single car has passed by... fortunate for them. But that can change at any moment, and they- can''t afford to stay at this station for too long.


    So Chouko walks over. "Shortcake, it- it really isn''t a problem yet, we should-"


    "A-Ah!" The android interrupts Chouko, immediately pointing into the gas station through the window glass. "Chouko, look, the station has an emergency kit!"


    An emergency- what?!


    Chouko blinks at Shortcake in astonishment, before immediately looking for herself. Right in the corner, having eluded Chouko''s gaze, she sees a bright white box hanging on the wall behind the gas station counter. One of the higher grade first-aid kits on the market.


    It perplexes Chouko why a station would have one of those, and- and she tempers her expectations a little, because the station itself is decrepit. But in the slightest chance the kit still contains any disinfectant, stitching thread, and bandages...


    ... tch. Right. It still leaves them with the problem that they can''t get in.


    "W-We could patch you up with that!" Shortcake exclaims, having yet to understand this problem as she walks past Chouko and heads to the- "... o-oh... oh, the door''s locked..."


    "Mhmm... yes. So if we''re going to get that kit, then..."


    "..." Shortcake looks to Chouko, blinking. "W-We''re going to have to- break in and steal it...?"


    Chouko nods. "Yes... that is the case."


    "... oh..."


    Shortcake seems a little apprehensive on doing this, and... just sulks a little. The android has quite the moral compass...


    ... so, Chouko just... thinks on this, prioritizing the ideas that will have Shortcake uninvolved. Ideas to break in that only Chouko needs to do, in order to get that kit out.


    Despite having a freezer, there are no other doors into the station itself. It''s only the front door and the washroom door.


    Breaking the windows is absolutely off the table, as a working lock implies a working security system in response to property damage at the very least.


    And, as previously thought, they have no means of unlocking the front door.


    Ah, if only the butterfly could help with this.


    Chouko recalls the black and red butterfly that was crucial to surviving Indianapolis. The butterfly that spawned from her body, sending its hallucinatory dust out to the mercenaries in widespread effect.


    If only there was a way she could utilize that phenomenon here, make the door completely invisible so that she could just walk through, phase through like a specter.


    Of course, it''s utter foolishness to think that to be possible...


    "..."


    ... but... what isn''t foolish is sending the butterfly in, to pick up the kit.


    Chouko remembers that the butterfly kept affecting the mercenaries on the third floor while she went up above. The butterfly has a long range, so- in theory, Chouko could guide it to the first-aid kit.


    First, Chouko thinks of how to call it forward. Before Chouko even understood what the butterfly was, the trigger was a near death experience... which she''s hopefully not replicating any time soon. After that, it was a matter of using her hand to control the illusions and such... so, it could possibly be created from her hand alone.


    So, Chouko tenses up her fingers, focusing her hand to hold an invisible ball. Then, she slowly and tightly clenches her hand into a fist... concentrating fully in her hand. Fingernails digging into her palm, her wrist feeling like it''s swelling up- putting all of her focus into her hand, before...


    ... opening her fingers up, and watching as the butterfly forms in her palm. A small veil of dust floating around it, before it unfolds its wings and takes flight.


    Shortcake''s eyes stare in wonder at the butterfly. "O-Oh! H-How pretty...!"


    Chouko stares at this butterfly as it flies in front of her. Its crimson wings flapping and fluttering right in front of her face, staring back at her. In theory, if Chouko focuses on the butterfly, she should be able to see through it. So she closes her eyes, and...


    ... ah! The image is faint and a little blurry, but Chouko still sees herself.


    Of course, Chouko is aware that this isn''t permanent. But in the time she still has it out, she experiments a little to see how much she can control the butterfly...


    ... and thus, she brings her thoughts back to her hand. Moving her hand around, seeing how the butterfly reacts.


    In response, the butterfly fluidly moves and flies as per her hand''s movements.


    Tilting her palm to the left makes it turn to the left, rotating counterclockwise. Tilting the palm to the right makes it turn right, rotating clockwise instead.


    Tilting her hand up and down moves the butterfly forward and backward, respectively-


    It''s not just tilting- apparently, raising her hand up and down commands the butterfly to fly higher and lower. Moving her hand left and right, the butterfly subsequently slides left and right as it flies...


    ... mm. Moving her hand forward and back doesn''t seem to do anything in particular, but... maybe...


    Now for the important part... can the butterfly pick up things?


    Chouko practices its flying further, as the butterfly flies closer to Shortcake, landing atop the knapsack itself. If moving her palm guides its flying, then would her fingers moving cause the butterfly to...?


    ... ah! Curling her fingers has the butterfly latch its legs onto the knapsack... and- as Chouko lifts her hand, she- feels a weight pushing down against it. Her fingers tensing up as the butterfly flaps its wings and... flies up, lifting the flap of the knapsack open.


    Chouko takes several deep breaths, focusing on this feeling- feeling the weight dissipate once the butterfly lets go of it. The weight of the object may be an issue, so... with the knapsack open, Chouko looks in the sack itself for an eligible item...


    ... ghk...


    Chouko has the butterfly grab onto a smartphone, the one belonging to the Executioner. It''s heavier than a simple flap, with a solid case that adds a bit to it, but- the butterfly manages to hold it up. Phone dangling from its hands, its wings flapping aggressively to support the weight it holds, Chouko focusing intensely on her hand.


    "W... Woah..." Shortcake noises, applauding.


    "Woah, indeed..." Chouko responds. It''s tight, but Chouko does note that the butterfly can lift and carry a phone. A good sign on this being the first attempt, really... the sheer fact that it can even lift this phone could possibly mean that the butterfly can carry heavier things with practice.


    For now, though, this fundamentally means that the butterfly can carry stitching needles at the very least. Disinfectant and bandage rolls may be a different matter, but-


    RING... RING... RING...


    ... a ringtone...?


    "...? Huh... someone''s calling-" Shortcake speaks up, walking over and curiously reaching her hand out to-


    Chouko''s eyes suddenly tense up and ache, the cracks forming over her eyes at this.


    Her gaze going completely red, a sharp and sudden pain that aggressively pumps pure agony into Chouko''s body, her veins- simply just BURNING her again in this instant.


    Unable to- contain herself, to control and ease the pain, Chouko''s voice- shouts, aggressively shouts at the top of her lungs, screaming out in that very moment: "D-DON''T ANSWER IT!" The girl just losing focus on the butterfly as- it drops the phone.


    Shortcake frantically panics and briefly freezes upon hearing the urgent shouting- as her pink eyes watch the butterfly let go of the phone.


    Acting quickly, Chouko sees Shortcake lunges her hands out to catch it.


    RING... RING... RING...


    "... G-GHHAAAAAH!" Chouko screams out in agony, covering her eyes with a hand and tensing up. Her breath turned to ragged hyperventilating, feeling the ever so familiar feeling of optical incineration.


    "W-What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?!" Shortcake shouts out, fear and terror in her voice.


    "J-JUST LET IT RING!"


    "O-Okay! O-Okay okay okay-!"


    The phone rings for only a few more seconds.


    Chouko''s breath is left utterly tense as she slumps forward, hand almost covering the entirety of her face. After several moments, her... her eyes feel soothed, calm and back to... normal...


    ...


    A curious thing to note... as Chouko eases up, letting out a deep sigh to calm her nerves. Her face wincing a little in pain, but- it''s still manageable.


    After this, Chouko looks at Shortcake, checking on her. Seeing the android remaining still, as stiff as a board... keeping the phone right between


    Once again... Chouko is a source of fear for this android, and... yeah.


    "Sorry- sorry for raising my voice..." Chouko calls out, just... walking closer. "It... it''s- urgent that we do not answer any phone calls from that man''s phone, no matter what. Answering is just too dangerous, and... yeah."


    There''s truth to this. It''s an informant tactic that Charon''s used time and time again to pinpoint a person''s location. Anyone with the same technological skill as Charon could do it in an instant, and anyone lesser in the same amount of time it takes for them to drive away.


    "O-Oh... I- I see! I-I''ll try not to answer any ph-phones until you- you tell me to..." Shortcake responds, her voice... on the verge of sobbing and crying. "I- I''m glad I didn''t mess up... I- I''m sorry, I''m-"


    Chouko... nods as she takes another exasperated breath, sighing the air out as the situation cools. "Shortcake, it''s fine, I-"


    The phone rings again...


    Tch- the person calling it is persistent...!


    Chouko glares at the phone, and-


    Shortcake visibly freezes stiff again, panicked again. "A-Again?! W-What do we do with it, then?! Do I just throw it?! Do I throw the phone, Chouko?!"


    Chouko- picks up on this panic, and shakes her head. "Sho- Shortcake, we can just do nothing. If we let it ring, we just have the caller believe there''s nobody to answer it..." Chouko explains, leaning to check the contact of the phone... seeing who this person could be.


    If the caller ID showed, by any chance, the real Kuroiwa, then...


    ...


    ... Dot?


    Who the hell is Dot?


    Chouko looks to Shortcake, and- nods slowly. "I''ll take the phone out of your hands now... okay?"


    "O-Okay... okay-" Shortcake frantically responds, continuing to remain still. "O-Okay..."


    Chouko- pinches the corner of the phone, careful to not touch any part of it carelessly. It''s a recent model of smartphone, which- knowing these, the call could be answered by accident if the slightest bit of skin touches the center of the screen itself...?


    Either way, Chouko just needed to be more cautious than if she had just used a flip phone. The phone continues to ring as Chouko holds it, examining the phone closely... gazing all over it.


    "... it- it stopped..." Shortcake weakly noises once the phone stops ringing.


    "Right... it did," Chouko responds, gently reaching out to hold it by the corner. A calm look at the screen, watching as it shows: Two missed calls from Dot.


    The name, Dot... could it be a family member? A potential wife? ... maybe a mercenary.


    If it''s a mercenary, the name certainly rings no bells. Either it''s someone on the Executioner''s own payroll, or... maybe...


    ... and it''s ringing again.


    "... another call..." Chouko mumbles. The phone''s going to just keep ringing nonstop, so... probably best to muffle the ring tone. Moving to put the phone back into the knapsack. "This will have to do for now, Shortcake... come, let us find a way to-"


    "W-Wait! No, don''t put it inside!" Shortcake shouts, looking to Chouko and shouting before the phone slips back into the bag. "W-What if I move and it accidentally answers?!"


    "Wha-" Chouko noises, blinking at Shortcake. "That- I don''t think it will, Shortcake, the fabric on this knapsack won''t do that."


    "B-But- but it might! T-The knapsack could answer it-!" Shortcake shouts. "W-What if I move and the screen touches the fabric and answers the call, and we just end up in call with someone that overhears us talking and..."


    Chouko- stares at Shortcake for a bit, caught off guard by this. "Shortcake, the fabric on this knapsack can''t interact with the screen. You have nothing to worry about, it''s-"


    The phone stops, then immediately rings again to interrupt Chouko.


    And when the phone rings again, Shortcake lets out a sudden shrieking cry, and covered her mouth immediately. Pressing its palms over her mouth as the stutters of her machinery significantly increase. A kind mixture between gears grinding together alongside the fluttering of paper in front of a fan.


    "D-Don''t put it in the ba-a-g-!" Shortcake cries out, her voice stuttering incoherently. Every stutter distorting her voice and worsening it to the sound of malfunction. A voice that distorts beyond what it''s designed to sound like. "I''m sc-caaa-r-e-ed, I don''t kn-o-ow what to do and I just... I... I- I don''t know, it... I... I- I don''t- I... I don''t..."


    It was this moment that Chouko''s eyes grow wide, hearing it cry out in a constant state of sadness, Shortcake left staring at Chouko with a pleading gaze.


    "I- I don''t wa-a-ant t-to kill us, Chouko..." it harrowingly calls out... "I don''t want to..."


    Chouko...


    ... Ch... Chouko...


    ...


    .....


    .......


    ... Chouko doesn''t say a single thing.

 #28 - Its Only Me

    Dissociation.


    A term introduced by Pierre Janet, a French philosopher and psychologist in the late 19th century. Interest in the idea spread throughout America, with the public''s awareness of post traumatic stress disorder and interest in dissociative identity disorder.


    The concept itself is the idea of disconnecting people''s thoughts, feelings and memories of themselves. Your brain would fundamentally disconnect you from yourself, and disconnect you from the world around you. Once thought to be a cognitive deficit by Janet, the concept became known as a defensive measure against trauma and stress, where the human brain will cope through a wide spectrum of dissociation.


    The word itself is commonly mixed in its neighboring word, disassociation, which means to no longer... associate with someone or something. You would sever your ties to a person or an organization, cut off all connection and refrain from contacting them ever again. This can very well apply to thoughts, ideas, feelings, and so on.


    Discussion about the idea often leads one to either case. The words regularly collide and mix due to mere proximity with one another. The main, documented difference between the two is that dissociating is often an involuntary, instinctive process the brain undergoes out of the person''s control, while disassociating is more attributed to the person''s inherent choice to separate themself from overwhelming or distressing experiences.


    Chouko is, and has been doing both at the same time.


    Chouko vacantly stares, lost in thought for some time. Chouko just stopped thinking about the mercenaries. She stopped worrying about the Executioner- Charon, and this mysterious Dot that keeps calling the phone... all of them go away from her mind for just a few moments.


    The world grinds to a halt, slowing down before the girl''s eyes. Those words echoing in her head to fill a dead silence.


    Left only with a mirror held up in front of her... forced to stare at a crying reflection.


    Shortcake could not help but cry in front of Chouko as the two stand in front of this gas station. Her mechanically designed mind feels a massive amount of distress and fear, having no shortage of reasons for why. Being forcibly taken out of her box and kicked against the ground by mercenaries, being forcibly kidnapped and taken to their office for a fate unknown- yeah. Those will bring stress to anyone.


    And the reasons that stem from Chouko just add to it. Shortcake has walked through an office building of dead bodies, having seen Chouko slaughter one right before her eyes- and... and, conceptually, had to kill one of her own in self defense. Following this, Chouko dragged her along with nowhere to go, and... and Shortcake has been screamed at and shouted at, twice.


    Shortcake has all the reason to cry, and- and it''s likely that she cries the more the phone rings. She probably experiences distress each time the Executioner''s phone rings. Every time it rings, Shortcake likely goes back to how Chouko shouted and screamed at her the first time, replaying those conceived emotions every subsequent ring.


    Every time the phone is called, every call they try to ignore... it only brings to attention another possibility of "messing up", of Shortcake potentially getting the two of them killed... and... and Chouko feels speechless.


    There are no words that Chouko could say to Shortcake to comfort her. For years upon years, Chouko has... only been by herself. Charon stands on the opposite side of a professional boundary, and everyone else she''s seen in these last nine years have been mere filler. Not a single person in mind.


    This... has been the first time in years that Chouko could see someone, the first time she''s stopped to dwell on another living- "person". An android designed to be a person, an... an android that... brings up memories.


    As the - currently - bald, pink eyed Shortcake sobs and panics in distress about the phone, Chouko just... couldn''t muster the words to say anything worthwhile. Blankly staring into the helpless android, just... forced to finally confront the elephant in the room.


    The elephant... being that...


    ...


    ... Franz Kafka. A 20th century author, writer of The Metamorphosis.


    The story follows a man, a hard-working salesman named Gregor Samsa. For one reason or another, left purely to reader interpretation on how, Gregor ends up turning into a cockroach. A large, putrid, hideous man-sized cockroach.


    A cockroach is a bug identified for its filthiness and repulsiveness, as many will think of fear that they will spread their bacteria and disease, or possibly rage that leads to a desire to kill and exterminate the pests. After all, a cockroach being spotted in one''s home indicates a complete lack of hygiene, and subsequently- infestation.


    Now, by turning into a cockroach, Samsa fundamentally becomes a complete and total outcast. Everyone outside of the home makes deliberate efforts to stay away from him out of fear, disgust and shame... and the only solace he still has left in his life is his family. A family that, after his transformation, neglects and shames him too. Stripping him of what makes him human, hurting his body with apples and such, even isolating him completely from the rest of the house out of necessity.


    In the end, Gregor resorts to die of starvation, no longer feeling... wanted. Upon hearing the news of his death (none of his family even discovers the body themselves), his family is happy and elated. Free of the burden of caring for Gregor, they all collectively quit their jobs and move to the countryside for an easier life. No longer will they suffer the burden of caring for him, of being forced to put up with him. His death puts an end to their hardships, and they move on with their lives for a hopeful future.


    Most of Kafka''s works follow this surrealism, to the point where his name becomes a term for a bizarre, illogical, nightmarish genre of work. Scary and disorienting to read.


    "... interesting... and yet, you still read them, Chouko...?"


    ...


    Yes...


    They are profound works... that tell tales of how Kafka lived.


    Metamorphosis stands as the most recognizable work of Kafka''s, a profound piece that - given enough time and contemplation of life itself - reflects the way we live.


    What causes Metamorphosis to be unsettling is not the imagery of a cockroach, not the idea of someone spontaneously turning into a grotesque bug... it''s how Kafka captures the human spirit and weaves a tale of the illogical to portray the darker parts of humanity.


    Kafka puts so much of himself into his writing. His free time was primarily spent writing, and... and yet, his career was never fulfilled when he was alive. Kafka was noted to burn 90% of all his works due to self-doubt, with the rest either lost or unpublished. The works that were published? Little attention. In the very end, Kafka instructs his unfinished works to be destroyed. Even so, he believed literature to be his life''s calling, his only calling.


    Much could be said about how Kafka lived, how he juggled his work with his writing to his utter dismay... how he felt a strong lust for erotic desire - from both women and men - and his works were laced with his own mental state, with Metamorphosis hypothesized to contain traits of schizoid personality disorder while being a vivid depiction of borderline personality disorder.


    In essence, a work that is a mix of having little to no interest/ability to form relationships with other people, unable to express a full range of emotions... and at the same time, having unstable and extreme emotions, with intense relationships with others.


    Kafka is one of the many authors whose personal lives are as compelling as the works they write. An author plagued with anxiety and depression, with many brought to examine his own mental history. Gregor Samsa being one of the many- reflections of himself.


    And in this moment, Chouko puts herself in the shoes of another literary character. Rather than the vengeful Edmond Dant¨¨s... she is reduced to a Samsa, a rotting pest fated only to suffer hardship. She is a Kafka, a man whose own passions fThis tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    And above all else, Chouko is a shadow of her former self, a woman who has consigned herself to a life of torment and struggle she''s accepted long ago. A life where she abandons her former self for the sake of- vengeance, to reclaim what she''s lost. A soul thrown into this most Kafkaesque of situations, where the only way out is to further deprave herself.


    And now, in doing so, she drags with her an... an innocent, pure android designed to care and be cared for, a miserable android that suffers from misery and fear.


    A little girl that simply wanted to... to...


    ... to make her family proud.


    The only family she''s ever had, a family she- never got to know. Thrown and discarded into an unforgiving world with only a single hand to guide her, one person to lead her through a world of monsters, plagued with the unknown, and...


    ... and it was that moment, as those thoughts cross her mind, that Chouko needed to accept a simple truth. She had no words to say, no words to comfort Shortcake, for one reason she denies.


    Because Chouko never knew the right words to comfort herself.


    The android cries like the little girl Chouko once was. The android worries about making mistakes, like Chouko does. And the android is designed and introduced with a purpose in mind, being designed to act- as human as she can... a human that should hold great potential, that should accept all the love her heart could manage.


    Shortcake is... a blatant reflection of Chouko, and every time Chouko sees this android being- frightened, miserable, all the such ways- it''s just her.


    Contextually, the two of them are different- and Chouko hoped that they were different enough to not evoke any emotion from this. But their differences have been excuses for Chouko to- to run from the fact that she sees herself in Shortcake. They are different, and yet they are one and the same.


    And that hurts Chouko.


    It deeply hurts her... to feel this way about Shortcake. Chouko doesn''t want to treat it like she would herself, because she doesn''t- know- how to care for herself. Quite like the Samsa family, by accompanying Chouko, this... this android will be dragged through the depths of her hell, the same hell that Chouko''s descended down.


    Nothing stops Chouko from thinking this, from feeling another soul - even an artificial one - going down the same path she does... if Shortcake is like Chouko, then Chouko suffers from a budding guilt of empathy. The curse of knowing the misery of the path she goes down. Either Chouko will have to deal with the burden of carting for a little her, or Shortcake''s life will forever be burdened by turmoil and strife.


    So the elephant in the room cries out rampantly, trumpeting through to call for the cockroach, demanding it be aware of this fact, to which the roach must... must...


    ...


    ... no, not yet.


    Chouko doesn''t want to, yet. Some part of her aches at the thought, aches as badly as her wounded arm... and she definitely needs to patch it up, in this most dire of situations. But Chouko is too exhausted to do so. Her legs are tired, and her eyes still sting from using the butterfly for as long as she did.


    Chouko desperately needed one moment of rest, as her eyes flutter and she ignores this metaphorical elephant. So she just walks back to the car. Walking away from the gas station, walking away from this burden on her mind, and just- walking her way back to the car.


    As Chouko walks, the crying, panicked Shortcake- nervously stares for a bit, looking between Chouko and the gas station window in mild confusion. Walking right after Chouko, still helplessly distressed. "C-Chouko, w-what about the first-aid kit?! Shouldn''t we get it and then drive-? W-We could- s-somehow patch you up and-"


    "It''s fine... I need a moment to rest," Chouko tells the android, opening the right passenger-side backside door and climbing into the car. With how the seats are adjusted, there''s- a fair amount of space for her legs, and she just- lies back, sighing, relaxing, sinking into the cushions for just a moment. It isn''t the softest, but it''s almost heavenly for the back that holds too much.


    As she sits and hears the phone continuing to ring, she... tosses it into the car''s cupholder. Showing no care for it whatsoever as the phone simply lands in the holder, continuing to incessantly ring over and over again.


    Shortcake continues to- shake and fidget. "B-But- w-what if- what if someone comes up to us, and we- we need to leave and- and-?"


    "Shortcake," Chouko calmly interrupts as she scoots over into the middle seat. "We have only recently departed from Indianapolis, no one knows about us yet... and the phone is unanswered. So if the plan is to get the first aid kit anyway, we... have time to sit. Let''s- both just rest for a moment, okay? We parked right next to a gas pump, so... we''re just a car getting some gas."


    "..." Shortcake... pauses for a while, before, uhm... standing next to the car, looking up and down between Chouko and the now empty right-side seat. "O-Okay... i-if you''re sure..."


    "I am," Chouko speaks up with a smile, an inviting one as she pats the seat next to her. An inviting look on her face. "Please, take a seat," she insists, before looking forward and... having a grim, forlorn expression on her face. "We can take cover for now, and- relax, for once."


    ...


    So- Shortcake climbs into the car, taking a moment to just- lean over, putting the knapsack over on the other side of Chouko. Her arms still shivering and shaking as she does so, before she sits down.


    With that, the two of them sit in the confines of the car.


    The sun has yet to rise, despite the hour near approaching morning. The cold night air mixes with the warmth of the previously running car, giving this sort of... nice and canny early-morning atmosphere.


    The two still wear each other''s clothes, with... Chouko looking visibly bloodied in Shortcake''s standard black and pink frilly doll dress, while Shortcake wears a slightly drenched leather jacket over a white button-shirt and a black skirt. Slightly drenched, being from putting on her recently cleaned and washed hair.


    Chouko just... leans her back into the car, resting her head against the back of the car seat. A faint groan sounding out, her arms going limp at her sides... and she blankly... blankly stares off, staring out the window at the gas pump, just turning her head- away from Shortcake. The idleness bringing to attention the... the dried blood on her, having no opportunity yet to clean herself off.


    Meanwhile, Shortcake politely sat with her hands folded on her lap, eyes- looking around more actively, her gaze alternating between each window to the sides and the front, with- the occasional look towards Chouko. The blood still comes to Shortcake''s attention every so often, going so far as to... even notice some signs of dried blood on the leather jacket itself. Faint traces, dating back... a long time.


    It wasn''t a complete silence, no. The annoying, persistent sound of the phone still rings in that car, as this... "Dot"... has been calling it several, several times. Over and over again. Not a single minute of silence.


    And yet, the two... took the time to sit and relax. Chouko left in a listless stare out of the car, on the verge of just- passing out, while Shortcake''s crying comes to a hesitating slow, her "nerves" calming down in this idle solace.


    The radio remains off, the phone continues to ring, and they''re given a brief pause of peace.


    "... so what is the plan to actually get-?"


    "Shortcake, can I ask you an honest-?"


    "...?"


    "...?"


    The two of them speak over each other in those moments, pausing once hearing the other person speak. Chouko continues to look away from Shortcake, staring into the reflection and seeing Shortcake looking at the back of her head.


    Chouko almost- intrusively blurted out the question, the one that weighs heavily on her mind. Unsure how to word it, how to really


    "You- first," Chouko suggests, a hand raised to gesture to Shortcake.


    "N-No, you- were going to a-ask something first...?" Shortcake politely responds. "Y-You seemed like you wanted to ask an honest question about something..."


    "It can wait," Chouko insists, letting the android speak. "I assume you''re just asking about what our plan is to- get the first aid kit?"


    Shortcake... nods. "Yes- I... I was wondering what we would actually be doing, after the rest. The door''s locked and... well..."


    Chouko hmms for a moment. "Truth be told, I... don''t know. I''ve been enduring so far with a stiff shoulder, and am content with hoping my injury naturally manages on its own."


    "I- I don''t think shoulders do that, we desperately need the first-aid kit to take care of it now..." Shortcake mumbles. "A-And I guess that means- we, uhm, we need to... take rash measures... i-if we can''t go to a doctor..."


    "Right, but our... our ways to accessing the first aid kit are... limited," Chouko responds.


    "S... Sorry that I couldn''t d... do anything to help..." Shortcake whimpers.


    ...


    The words grow heavy in her throat. It was that moment where the phone goes quiet, as the air in the car grows heavy. All sounds echoing out as Chouko further dissociates... and disassociates.


    Don''t ask her... please, don''t ask her. It will crush her poor heart.


    There''s no other time we can do this. It''s best to let it out now, let her down easy.


    I... I don''t want to. What will happen if I ask her...? How will she take it?


    Follow up question... do you know what will happen if you don''t?


    ... I don''t know.


    Neither do I.


    Is this the only way? Can''t we delay it a bit, keep her around...?


    No... no. I''m ripping the bandage off.


    "... s-so, uhm, w-what were you going to ask?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head. "What did you- want to ask me?"


    Chouko''s left in an inner turmoil, and... and- stalls. She stalls for one more moment, stalls for one single moment. A saddened, discomforted look on her face as she prepares herself to address the... miserable simulacrum of her self.


    Debating it in her head, Chouko...


    ... no, she can''t do this as Chouko.


    The woman stares at Shortcake for a moment, donning the face that she''s used for years. It was only now that she even dare remove the mask, that she stripped herself of the title that''s protected her.


    No, she... Kuroiwa, the Stalker of the Underworld, puts the mask back on. Kuroiwa comes out in this moment. Staring at the android, ridding herself of all uncertainty... deeming it best to remain solitary. To go on and die with only the sins of the wretched on her back, not with an innocent caught in her failure. To perish as the murderous, bloodthirsty monster she must be to enact her vengeance, not as a pathetic parasite leeching off of her own memory.


    Kuroiwa is resolute, and - as she''s long since thought of, ever since seeing this android''s misery in that office - needs to discard of Shortcake, for both of their sakes. No more of this pathetic sentimentality...


    So Kuroiwa gazes into Shortcake''s eyes, actively watching the android''s reactions as she asks the question, as she prepares... to...


    "... be honest. Do you even still want to stay with me?"

 #29 - Stay With Me

    "... do you even still want to stay with me?"


    Everything feels cold as those words echo out, as... as Kuroiwa utters those words. As she, once again, tries to cut out this part of her life. That''s what Kuroiwa is, to Chouko. A way to silence that part of her, to make all of this... easier.


    Chouko''s thoughts have been inconsistent, after all, running helplessly rampant when it comes to- everything. The more she thinks, the more she repeats, the more she understands how Shortcake acts... the one truth that Chouko needs to know is that she will never, ever be able to take the same mantle as Charles Ashford.


    "Chouko" died in the rain that day. As she stood in that cloudy, night sky of New York City, left with naught but grief in her heart and hatred on her mind... it was easy to die with her father, and - subsequently after that - come back as Kuroiwa. Come back as the mercenary that consumed her life.


    And ultimately, Chouko cannot handle a second her. As much as Chouko feels... conflicted about it, Kuroiwa needs to get rid of Shortcake. So the question comes out of Kuroiwa''s mouth, her red gaze solemn in the dark early morning. Needing to take care of this last thread, to pull it out, to give the android an out.


    It was easy to do this the first time. But it isn''t so easy this time around. A question, rather than a demand, to put it as lightly as she could to Shortcake.


    Shortcake''s eyes- widen, staring at Chouko. "W-What?"


    "Do you still want to stay with me? Be honest, Shortcake," Kuroiwa asks again. "If your answer is no, then I''ll take you somewhere safe. You''ll be escorted to that caring family you want, and you''ll be safe from all of this."


    "..."


    ... and when those words come out, the difficulties continue.


    Shortcake- seems so distressed at this question. She processes those words, takes the time to understand what Chouko just said to her, her fidgeting and shaking only intensifying in that moment. Eyebrows furrowing, with pure worry and sadness in her pink eyes. Unaware of anything going on in Chouko''s head, uncertain what Chouko (Kuroiwa) was doing, the android just... panics. "W-What exactly do you- h-have I not been h-helpful enough? Or-"


    "It''s not that, no, you''ve been very helpful," Kuroiwa tells the android, feigning a smile.


    "W-Well, then, w-why would I say no to that...?" Shortcake asks, questioning this conflicting information. "I-If I''m helpful, then there''s no reason for you to- ask such a thing..."


    "..."


    "... d-do you not want me to stay...?" Shortcake nervously asks.


    Kuroiwa looks away, and lets out a sigh. "It''s... complicated."


    "C-Complicated...?" Shortcake exclaims, her- her voice raising, with a faint sob in her throat. "W-Why is it complicated?! I-Is it not just a single yes or n-no question? Is that not what you were asking me just a moment ago...?"


    "... it''s because," Kuroiwa begins to explain, being as sincere as she can, "I told you in that truck, I''m not a good person. You have seen me do horrible things... and I will only do worse things. Things that you should not be around for, things that will defy your morals. You would feel nothing but suffering, and would inherently be putting yourself in severe danger if you stay with me. So, say that you want to leave, and I''ll bring you somewhere. Somewhere safe."


    Shortcake blinks at this, and... well... Chouko isn''t lying. There is truth in the fact that Shortcake will be put in danger. The facts all run through her head, processed repeatedly, over and over again, and - with a 94.58% prediction accuracy in her AI - Shortcake would inherently be hurting herself if she continued to go with...


    ...


    Shortcake... pauses, and tilts her head at this. In order to make sense, Chouko''s explanation is missing something.


    "E-Even so, I... I don''t- understand. Y-You... you would simply say no if that is all to it. If you just wanted to keep me safe, you''d just say that you didn''t want me around..."


    Kuroiwa goes silent, looking back at Shortcake. Her mouth parted, she was trying to deny that claim and muster a single word to object that desperation.


    But not a word comes out.


    "So that means you... do... want to keep me around," Shortcake continues, smiling warmly. Chouko''s silence is a good indication that she''s on the right track. "Is it because I''m helpful? If I''m helpful, then- while you''re in danger, in bad condition, I- I should stay with you, to help and-"


    "Shortcake," Kuroiwa interrupts, as she leans in to gaze at Shortcake''s hair, staring at it and examining it closely. "The hair needs time to dry, but... other than that, it''s in good enough condition. Your new family won''t notice the scent."


    Shortcake''s eyes widen in distress at this. She immediately knows that Chouko''s trying to change the topic, to stray away from this reasoning. "C-Chouko, I can help- I can-"


    "It will require some additional air freshener, maybe a mint smell," Kuroiwa interrupts. "The only issue now is to find a store that sells it..."


    "C-Chouko-"


    "A can of the stuff should do. It''s possible we could get away with a small perfume bottle..."


    "Chouko, please-"


    "Lavender might be a better scent. Then again, maybe roses. Rose scented perfume is pink, so it would-"


    "I- I don''t want to go!" Shortcake shouts, raising her voice. "I want to stay with you... I- I don''t want to leave you alone and in danger, and-!"


    Kuroiwa sharply bites down on nothing, clenching her teeth with a repulsed look on her face. "You''re NOT staying with me!" she growls out. "I already told you, it''s dangerous to stay with me, and-!"


    "I don''t care!" Shortcake exclaims. "I''ll say it again, I- I want to stay with you, and I don''t want to leave you alone and in danger! You- you said it was my choice, you asked me if I wanted to, and I''m saying yes!"


    "Why?!" Kuroiwa shouts, leaning into Shortcake and glaring straight into the android''s eyes. "What reason do you have to-?!"


    Shortcake immediately interrupts Chouko with: "You''re the only person that can treat me like a person!"


    Kuroiwa- Kuroiwa blinks at this, backing away- almost caught off guard and confused by this claim. "... what? What exactly do you mean by that? Treat you like a-"


    "Statistically, I won''t even care for a loving family!" Shortcake- exclaims, shaking. "You said so yourself, I''m only worth something by being in that box! U-Used androids don''t... they- they don''t go to safe families, they go everywhere else!"


    Kuroiwa blinks at this, just- in disbelief. "That''s preposterous, you''re-"


    "I- I didn''t want to say it, b-because it would be guilt-tripping..." Shortcake admits. "B-But your argument is made under the assumption that anyone and everyone in the world is capable of treating me with- care...! But I''m not oblivious to the controversy, they don''t- they don''t care about me, Chouko! I''m an android, and- and half of the population hates me, hates me for being an android. The other half- they''re either going to make me do worse things anyway, or they''ll scrap me for parts..."


    Shortcake- Shortcake visibly grimaces, shakes in utter discomfort. Wincing in pain at the thought, programmed to feel the pain that comes with all of that. Her innocent demeanor put aside as she proclaims all of this.


    "You- you took care of me," Shortcake continues. "You comforted me in the truck, you promised that we would eat cake together... I- I helped you and we came up with a way to save you, and- and I was kept safe as we were leaving the building! You took me with you, you- you didn''t just leave me there... I want to stay, I want to help and make it up to you... I''m a lot safer with you than I am anywhere else."


    "..."


    The soft pink clashes with the bloody red, their eyes locked onto each other. Shortcake just helplessly stares at the woman before her, awaiting her response, wishing that Chouko would see reason. A faint smile of hope, that Chouko would still- still accept her.


    The fact that Chouko went silent is a good sign, Shortcake hopes.


    "... get out."


    ... and Kuroiwa bashes that hope into the ground with a demand. A harsh demand that stabs into Shortcake''s hope with only two words.


    "W... What?" Shortcake asks, dismay and distress on her face. "C-Chouko-?"


    "Get out of this car. I don''t want you," Kuroiwa tells the android, her glare as solid as stone and gaze as cold as ice.


    It has come to Kuroiwa''s attention that Shortcake is, inherently, a burden. A hinderance, an emotional one. The longer she keeps Shortcake around... the more torment that Chouko will suffer, a pitiful distraction from everything- EVERYTHING that she''s worked her whole life for... and she can''t have that.


    Time to discard her.


    "I never wanted to keep you in the first place. I asked you, only because I wanted to spare you the harsh reality that I do not care about you, and never have. So I''m telling you nicely... get out."


    "That... but... you- you brought me with you, you wanted-"


    "I took you because I couldn''t have any witnesses," Kuroiwa explains to Shortcake, the cold gaze in her eyes freezing. "I brought you along to dispose of you. That''s all."


    "No, no you didn''t, Chouko-" Shortcake reasons, hugging her knees tighter. "That''s not all... you- you held my hand and escorted me down. You- you even called out to me to come to the car. You- you care about me, if you didn''t want me-"Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "The best I felt was self-preservation," Kuroiwa explains, "and you just happened to be the only thing in that truck, the only thing in that office. That''s it. That''s all it was, and you''re simply making assumptions. So I implore you to leave-"


    "B-But isn''t it just easy to- just, I don''t know, take your gun and- kill me? The man you shot was about to, you could have just let him shoot me and break me instead of-"


    "... get out," Kuroiwa demands, a violent growl in her voice.


    "You- you didn''t let him, Chouko, you took the time to keep me safe! If you were the monster you claimed to be, you wouldn''t have-"


    "Get. Out."


    "N-No," Shortcake objects, standing her ground. "I''m not-"


    "GET OUT OF THIS CAR!" Kuroiwa sharply and suddenly shouts at the top of her lungs, screaming and roaring at Shortcake. Facing Shortcake with the face of a rabid dog that was about to tear apart the thing in front of her, pure rage emerging from her eyes. "I''M NOT ASKING YOU, I''M TELLING YOU! OUT!"


    "Absolutely not!" Shortcake defensively screams. "I don''t want to leave, please don''t-!"


    Kuroiwa forcibly opens the door right behind Shortcake, hands on Shortcake and pushing her out. "OUT! OUT- GET OUT!"


    Shortcake, powerless to do anything against Chouko, is being pushed out. She starts to tear up again, her voice sent into sadness. "D-Don''t- don''t l-leave me! Please-! I''m sorry, I don''t-!"


    "I... SAID... GET THE HELL OUT OF-!" Kuroiwa screams and shouts, forcibly shoving Shortcake out of the car. "HERE!"


    Shortcake is sent out of the door, wailing and crying as she falls to the ground. Her body hitting against the ground, starting to whine and cry.


    Kuroiwa reaches for the open door handle, gripping it tightly. About to pull the door shut, to keep Shortcake out of the car, preparing to just leave the android behind and drive off. It had its chance for safety, now Kuroiwa''s leaving it behind. Leaving everything behind.


    Kuroiwa doesn''t want Shortcake... Kuroiwa doesn''t want the bastard it came from... Kuroiwa doesn''t want or need Charon anymore. Kuroiwa doesn''t need anyone else. She''s fine on her own and she''ll die on her own.


    So she pulls the door, looking at Shortcake, the door halfway closed...


    ... and it was in that moment that Kuroiwa freezes up, hand on the handle and about to pull- her deranged eyes starting to widen and twitch. Her gaze going red, the rage boiling and burning in her eyes once again.


    "Ghhkk-!"


    Once again- the pain floods Kuroiwa''s body, aching and burning at her, leaving her immobile as her blood boils. Kuroiwa wasn''t using the butterflies- there should be no reason for her to be experiencing this, and yet- once again, her eyes start to flare...


    Shortcake- sits up, watching Chouko as she remains on the ground... "C-Chouko...?! A-Are you okay-?!"


    And in that next moment... Kuroiwa starts to scream again, to loudly scream at the top of her lungs. Her eyes twitching, her vision going completely red, flaring and burning up. Screaming in pure distress, in absolute agony as every- every single moment starts to forcibly flash right before her eyes.


    Kuroiwa hyperventilates, Kuroiwa screams and shouts, all surroundings around her starting to fade away again. Choking on her own saliva, rage becoming uncontainable, uncontrollable.


    This perplexes her. If overusing the butterfly isn''t the cause, then what exactly was the trigger for this...?!


    "A-AAAAAAAH-!"


    Kuroiwa... screams louder and louder, feeling helpless and weak as she feels blood boiling in her eyes, brought to a state of panic. One that she''s experienced again- and again... and again... a pain that takes her completely, stabbing at her entire being.


    Unable to move, unable to stop this, subjected to this feeling once again- the one that took her eyes several times now...


    She wants it to stop, she wants it to stop...!


    Watching in horror as Chouko screams her lungs out, Shortcake... immediately rushes forward and tackles Kuroiwa. Throwing her body into the woman, causing Kuroiwa''s hand to let go of the handle as they''re forced back against the car seats.


    Kuroiwa screams and roars. "UNHAND ME-! LET ME GO!" she barks out, trying to force herself out from Shortcake''s.


    "No!" Shortcake calls out, desperately clinging to Chouko. Shortcake doesn''t know what to do, Shortcake doesn''t know how to help, and for all she knew- Shortcake doesn''t know how to stop Chouko from dying. So as the blood leaks from Chouko''s eyes, the android clings to Chouko for dear life. "I- I won''t let you suffer alone, I- I''m not going! I''m not abandoning you-!"


    "LET GO-! YOU SHOULD BE GONE-!" Kuroiwa barks out, trying- trying to force Shortcake''s arms apart, trying to get the android off of her. "YOU''RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ALIVE-!"


    "But I am-!" Shortcake calls out. "I- I am alive, and it''s because of you! I''m never letting go, Chouko-!"


    "I... I DID NOTHING!" Kuroiwa screams. "I DIDN''T..."


    Those words come out, as - slowly - Kuroiwa''s voice lessens to a... a sob.


    "... I did- nothing-!"


    Letting those words in, Kuroiwa... starts to crumble. Blood starts to trail from the woman''s eyes, a deep crimson horrifyingly leaking out in trickling rivers. Oozing out in that moment, as the life bleeds from her face.


    But Shortcake sees otherwise. Rather than blood, the android sees... tears.


    Tears belonging to a crying woman, one covered in blood.


    "I didn''t do- anything..." the black haired woman calls out, crying as the pain eases, as the water flows from her eyes. "I couldn''t save you... I couldn''t protect you..."


    "W... what...?" Shortcake calls out... as- as her eyes dim, as her eyes shut off.


    Immediately, as Shortcake loses sight, a... a glitch happens. Her visual sensors start to distort, the data corrupting in her gaze as... as all she could see was Chouko.


    A crying Chouko... and... after a few seconds, a visual. A visual appears after, Shortcake seeing an image of... something, something that flashes before her eyes- something that flashes before Chouko''s eyes.


    The two of them remain... lying down in Shortcake''s hug, as the car changes to a... hotel room. A hotel room with a view of the New York skyline. A familiar place for Chouko, and a loosely new sight for Shortcake.


    "I saw you... you''re supposed to be dead, you- you''re dead, that''s- that''s what all of this is for... you died, and... and... all I did was hide..."


    Shortcake watches as she suddenly sees a dead body, the... the body of...


    ...


    "I told you... again and again, get out... get out," Chouko cries out, cracks in her mask as the tears run down her face. "Get out of my head... get out of my life... you''re gone, and you should be gone..."


    ... the man''s face is crossed out. Blacked out and censored, a deep fog clouding and covering his face with an X. No eyes, no nose- covered by the massive markings.


    Shortcake could only stare, watch as she- watch as her visual sensors are receiving direct data from Chouko''s memories. Something she pieces together from their talk on the truck, something that Chouko''s screamed and shouted about...


    "F-Father, they''re- they''re gone. You... you don''t need to..."


    Shortcake... feels Chouko starting to weaken, the struggle lessening. Blankly staring as the sound of sobbing fills the car. The voice of a little girl long dead, crying out for a father she''ll never see again.


    "L- Let go of me! Let me go!" the young Chouko''s voice screams... shouting and screaming, a harrowing- hollow feeling spreading throughout Shortcake''s body. The android feels aggressive kicking and thrashing as Chouko fights against this, as Chouko tries to break free.


    But Shortcake- clings to Chouko, refusing to let go, forcing herself against the miserable woman. Her dimly lit eyes emitting a flashing yellow in warning- before a deep red begins to beam from them.


    You''re gone... otherwise... what did I do any of this for...?


    A fatal error has occurred in Shortcake... with a suspected malware, a potential virus starting to attack at her head.


    ...


    And Shortcake lets it... in.


    In that moment, knowing that the malware- was, for some strange reason, coming from Chouko... the android lets it in.


    And in that very moment, everything Chouko felt is transferred to Shortcake.


    The cracks form on Shortcake''s face, and knives stab into Shortcake''s heart- each sensation translated to a form perceivable by Shortcake. Everything around Shortcake trembles and quakes, with a pouring rain barraging her back, screams echoing out in her ears, the loud sounds of passing Manhattan traffic.


    Shortcake- begins to cry, begins to sob at this, and... over and over again, Shortcake hears the gunshot. The gunshot that rings throughout her ears, the repeated shot that echoes out blood splatter...


    "Hahahahahahaha- ahahahahahahaha...! Ahahahahahahaha!"


    And the android hears- that laugh, that deranged- echoing laugh ringing in her ears...


    As the android clings to Chouko and subjects herself to this conceptual malware- Shortcake holds on for dear life. Her breath hyperventilating as her ethical programming clashes with these sights, witnessing each horror over- and over, and over again.


    The screams... the voices that surround from all sides- they never change one bit. It''s the same voice screaming out in pain, the same echoing voice shouting out in utter turmoil. Calling out for mercy, calling out for the laughter to stop.


    Shortcake can''t figure out who the voice belongs to... the only identifying feature being that it''s utterly constant, contrasting against the obsessive laughter. The unhinged, crazed laughter that plagues and echoes in her head, completely overwhelming her...


    "A-Ahahaha... AHAHAHAHA...! H-HAHAHAHA- HAHAHAHAHA...!"


    And it all ultimately culminates to Shortcake... staring forward, seeing- the man, the blonde man that was about to shoot her. The blonde man that Chouko killed... he stood over Chouko''s father, gun aimed at his face. Finger on the trigger, pulling it back hard- the bullet sent flying down and halting in the middle of the air.


    Everything freezes as the bullet remains two inches away from his forehead. Charles''s body remains with its crossed out face, remaining completely still and- and distorting, over and over again. His body morphing and shaping into unrecognizable people. Faces and bodies changed to countless people that Shortcake did not recognize.


    The killer''s body changes as well. It alternates heavily between the blonde man, a completely dark figure with not a face to identify, and... and Chouko. The image warps and shifts over and over again. The scene shaping and shifting aimlessly.


    "A- AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"


    Shortcake continues to cling to Chouko, to keep her grasp on the woman''s body throughout the whole experience. Experiencing each and every sensation, enduring the countless errors that flare up, pushing and persevering through each excruciating moment.


    All surroundings warped, with a constantly hectic and erratic change each passing second, unholy demons echo out... the voices only growing louder and softer, varying from left to right, surrounding and flying and swirling around Shortcake.


    "Chouko... I... love..."


    And... and after this voice weakly calls out... Shortcake- begins to hear something else in this utter madness...


    "Don''t..."


    Shortcake''s eyes widen, her body jolting once Chouko''s voice echoes out... drawn to stare in that direction.


    Currently, Shortcake saw the child clinging to her father''s hand, holding it tightly, looking down upon his body with a soulless, blank gaze.


    That crimson gaze staring down at Charles... a grown, mature face staring at him in sorrow, the child morphing into the adult. Holding onto his hand as Charles''s body decays and burns away, leaving behind a skeleton in a casket...


    Chouko stares at this skeleton with tears in her eyes, shaking... trembling... blood soaked all over her body, with the shadows of herself standing over her. Dark, corrupted remnants of her soul tightly holding onto chains. Chaining the woman up by her wrists and ankles, and several around her neck...


    "Don''t go... please... don''t... you''re... you''re not dead..." Chouko''s voice calls out... weakly clinging to the arm, holding the bones and hugging the completely decayed arm. Whimpering and sobbing, crying into the hand...


    "Ch..." Shortcake noises, hesitating before she could call out to her... reaching her hand out, her artificial hand shaking as she tries to reach out to Chouko, as she- as she...


    ... as she feels herself launched in a direction.


    Thrown- out from under the... bed?


    Shortcake is- astonished, acknowledging this surreal moment as she''s thrown out of the car again- but came out from under a bed. Her body tumbling against the floor, feeling each sensation as if she was in that hotel room.


    In that very moment, Chouko''s body freezes- and everything freezes. This moment is forced completely still, isolating this moment completely. Everything going quiet, not a sound of agony left.


    Shortcake- Shortcake gets up. Shortcake stands up, blinking as- as her processors faced this anomaly... feeling herself simultaneously unable and able to- move around the hotel room. Looking around, staring around, able to see all of it despite not feeling her own body move...


    She reaches a hand out, but doesn''t feel it raise- doesn''t feel it reach out to Chouko. The hand rests atop Chouko''s shoulder, and Shortcake does not register it happening. Shortcake pokes at Chouko''s cheek, rubs Chouko''s forehead- but nothing. She''s not actually doing it, despite seeing it for herself.


    The android blinks a couple of times, supposedly "walking" around now, confused beyond belief. Everything feels soulless and dry, and- and she doesn''t understand this complete disconnect.


    Shortcake... takes a moment to- walk to the door of the hotel room, hand resting gently on the handle and- opening the door.


    Right on the other side, Shortcake steps out into the hallway, and walks around... raising an eyebrow at this sight. Wandering down the halls, the carpeted halls with multiple rooms on every side... a surreal feeling as she passes by marble pillars.


    Marble pillars?


    This... doesn''t line up with a hotel, Shortcake thought...?


    Shortcake just walks around, clueless as to where this was... before stepping into- some kind of foyer... some kind of...


    ... mansion... foyer...?


    Wait...


    Wait, Chouko said she came from a rich family, Shortcake remembered...


    ... Shortcake realizes that the- the hotel room leads into a... a mansion...


    ...


    Chouko''s... home?

 #30 - What You Still See In Me

    "..."


    Shortcake aimlessly walks around this- mansion, processing the sights before her... wandering down a hallway and peeking into various doors. Each footstep echoes out as she treads along, refraining from walking on the carpet...


    Behind every door, large and massive rooms to behold. She doesn''t see any- furniture, though. Most of the rooms were completely empty, with only the walls and the floor left behind. Rather, there were only signs that furniture used to be there... some small marks in the carpet, some places where cobwebs and dust didn''t stick to the walls and floor, some holes in the wall that used to hang things like- paintings and shelves... that''s all that remains in these vibrantly colored rooms.


    If... this was real, then Shortcake is- now trying to understand it all. So, she started in a hotel room, and- she is now walking through an empty mansion.


    The android aimlessly walks... as she processes what she just- what she just heard, what she heard throughout that entry...


    Those harrowing, utterly harrowing screams... the deranged laughter that laughed through Chouko''s desperate shouting... that dark and dreary sight of Manhattan, with completely and utterly erratic flashes before her eyes of dead people...?


    Is there some sort of symbolism to derive from this? A reason for why the mansion is connected to the hotel room? Maybe there is, there is some sort of reason why all of the rooms are empty, why all of this is happening.


    But Shortcake isn''t designed to handle such ideas.


    Shortcake doesn''t understand what she''s seeing, why she''s seeing all of this, why she''s suddenly gone from the car. What she does understand, is that she''s here... that only Chouko can help her understand any of this, and that Chouko is... or was... in pain. Shortcake needed to check up on her... so she just walks around, nervously, walking down the halls and hoping she can understand, keeping an eye out for wherever Chouko is, and...


    ...


    Piano...?


    Is that- the sound of a piano?


    For the entire walk, Shortcake has just been walking in silence, with only her own footsteps to listen to. But now, she hears a piano, music coming out of nowhere and growing stronger as she walks.


    Shortcake isn''t designed with a musical database, so she has no reference as to what this song is. But the sound resonates in her processors, generating the words... somber, melancholy, slow and graceful. Shortcake detected a pattern of multiple keys being held down at once. Pauses in between, the keys held for a whole second or so- a sort of slow tune, a slow melody.


    The android continues to walk, trying to discern which room the piano is in- walking down a near endless, winding hallway even. Turning left and right, wandering in a sort of zig-zag for a while. Confusion on her face as the sound fluctuates and shifts, growing quiet one moment and loud the next.


    Shortcake''s eyes flash yellow every so often, feeling- unease, the longer this walk lasts. Detecting warning signs as her pink gaze is glazed with cautious gold, shivering and holding onto her arms as she walks...


    ... until, eventually, Shortcake ends up- falling.


    Shortcake takes another step forward and turns right, only to- fall through the carpet, all of a sudden. One specific spot ended up making her trip, and her body phases through the floor itself. Falling into a dark abyss, falling for several minutes- before, thud. Her body hits against the floor.


    The floor is completely unilluminated, a pitch black nothingness. Something that Shortcake could only- feel, as she gets up and looks around. Her processors saw nothing around her for- miles, and she... she continues to walk. Cluelessly and aimlessly walking.


    The sound of the piano echoes loudly as she walks a certain direction, though... and Shortcake found herself drawn to the sound. The confined path of the hallway gone, Shortcake simply walks straight...


    ... and finds the piano, occupied by a little girl. A girl with black hair, just like Chouko''s.


    In fact- this is Chouko. It has to be Chouko, as- it doesn''t make sense for this girl to be anyone else.


    Shortcake- walks up to the piano and smiles, warmly smiling at Chouko. "Hello...?"


    The piano stops.


    "...?"


    Shortcake watches as the little girl takes her hands off of the piano, and turns around. Looking at Shortcake with her- ... with her...?


    ...


    This is a little girl with no face.


    Shortcake feels unsettled as she faces a child with literally no face. No eyes, no mouth- not even a nose. It''s a purely smooth face with no identifying features. The clothes on the little girl are ragged and torn, and... well, that''s all.


    Shortcake still safely assumes that this is Chouko from the black hair, but- this brings an error to her facial recognition software. By having no face, this little girl is... is a mystery to Shortcake, an error.


    "I- I''m sorry," Shortcake apologizes, her eyes- looking away, trying to avert her gaze from the missing face. "I didn''t mean to bother you..."


    A long pause of silence as the faceless girl stares at Shortcake...


    ... before eventually saying something.


    "If you did not mean to bother me, then... why are you here?"


    Shortcake- is startled at the faceless girl suddenly speaking. "O-Oh! Uhm-" Shortcake then looks left and right, trying to formulate a response.


    Why was she here? Why is she here...?


    Shortcake, herself, still didn''t have the answer. She doesn''t understand why she''s in Chouko''s memories like this... and- and she couldn''t muster an acceptable answer for the little girl. "I- I don''t know... I- I just somehow ended up here. I came from- up above, and I found you here, so..."


    "... I see. Then, would you like to join me?"


    The little girl pats the seat next to her, offering and welcoming Shortcake to sit on the piano bench next to her.


    Shortcake, with no other option available to her, nods lightly. "I- I would like that, yes. I-If it''s okay?"


    "It is why I asked, yes..."


    The sarcasm is not lost on Shortcake, as the little girl turns back to the piano.


    "W-Well- okay!" Shortcake noises, before- sitting down next to the faceless Chouko... deciding to reintroduce herself. "I''m, uhm... I''m Shortcake. It''s nice to meet you."


    "... Shortcake? But... you''re not a food..."


    "No, I''m an android...!" Shortcake responds.


    "Oh... well... it is nice to meet you too, Shortcake. Now, where was I...?"


    ... the little girl readjusts her hands on the piano keys, and begins playing again. Starting from the beginning, her fingers stretched out and pushing down onto the keys. The same melody played the exact same way, to a near perfect replication. Filling the void with a resonating song that reflects that somber feeling, that melancholy feeling.


    Shortcake- folds her hands on her lap, staring at the little girl playing this. "... this sounds- beautiful... what- what are you playing?" Shortcake asks.


    "This is... Piano Sonata No. 2, by Fr¨¦d¨¦ric Chopin."


    Shortcake blinks at this, having- no idea what this means. "I... I see." Left to just listen to the song, trying to understand what the song is... why it sounded like a lot of melancholy.


    "... do- do you not like it?"


    As the faceless Chouko asks this, Shortcake is snapped out of her idleness and immediately shakes her head. "O-Oh! N-No, no, it''s just- I think it''s a little sad... don''t- don''t you think? I''m not- I''m not used to sad songs, I guess...?"


    Once again, the little girl stops playing, and turns to face Shortcake. Her faceless features drawn to the android, brought to- look at the visitor.


    "I see... well, what songs do you like? I may be able to play something more to your tastes..."


    "... I... I think I like... Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?" Shortcake answers, putting on a smile. The only song that came to mind, a cheerful children''s song. "I don''t know a lot about music, but- I know that, at least... it''s a happy song, so..."


    "I see... I know it as the nursery rhyme. I believe it goes like...?"


    The little girl faces forward, and- begins playing. A straightforward rendition of the song, aligned with the basic notes... as well as some complexity added to the song.


    The way Chouko plays it is... sophisticated, making use of extra things. Three part harmonies, additional notes in between, gracefully and elegantly experimenting with the song as a whole. Something she''s adopted from other classical works, meshing them together into some actively grand piece that her small hands could play.


    Shortcake listens to the song in astonishment, all of this- extra work, slightly lost on her. She can still appreciate the playing for the work put into it, sure, but she''s simply not designed to understand any of it.


    But... that, in turn, leads to a realization: she can understand it, for some reason. It''s not completely lost on her. The music resonates in her processors, the android realizing she could pick up the- the feelings from the piano. She could feel how complex it was, how emotional the work is, how- how all of it should sound, and how it does sound... how it feels, even.


    "Y... You''re really good..." Shortcake compliments, very much enjoying this take on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.


    "T... Thank you..."


    The faceless little girl continues to play for a while, sent off into her own world as the song flows from her fingertips. Without a face to show it, her emotion comes out.


    Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a cheerful, simple piece... and Chouko plays it in the most melancholy, miserable, complicated way possible.


    "..." And Shortcake realizes this after- five minutes? Five minutes of the same song on repeat, the same one that the little girl plays over and over again.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Shortcake regains focus and... and looks to Chouko, a little- tongue tied, debating on if she should say something, if she should ask the girl anything while the song plays.


    Chouko shows no signs of- stopping, unaware of Shortcake looking to her.


    Shortcake... eventually... just speaks up again, wanting to ask something. "Uhm... can I ask-?"


    And then the piano abruptly stops, again.


    "... you may."


    The little girl looks back to Shortcake, nodding lightly. She listens and waits for the question...


    "Ah- uhm..." It takes Shortcake some time, but eventually... she gets the words out. "... why- why are you, uhm... hiding in the floor?"


    The little girl tilts her head at this...


    "... hiding in the floor?"


    "Well-" Shortcake noises, blinking a couple of times. "S-See, I- I came here when I fell through the floor of the mansion up there, and- I suppose I''d like to know, why are you playing in this void, instead of in the mansion...?"


    This question- this information causes the little girl to pause in silence, to blankly face Shortcake as if preparing herself to answer. Her tone feeling weaker, more nervous, more- uneasy.


    "Oh... w-well, simple... it''s b... because I don''t belong up there anymore."


    This gives Shortcake- something to think about, something to work with... and she- she tries to politely ask more. "... you- you don''t belong up there? Why?"


    "Well... I... I feel alone up there... it''s scary when I''m alone, a-and I don''t- I don''t belong up there anymore..."


    Shortcake dwells on that answer for a moment. Alone...


    ... alone.


    O... Oh. Oh. Wait. Past tense. Had. S-So- he- he''s-?


    ... gone, yes.


    ...


    Shortcake... blinks for a moment, staring at Chouko. An uneasy smile on her face as this rings through her head. It''s plenty clear to her now what''s going on...


    ... and- and she wants to help Chouko out, to... to help her out of this black, empty void. To bring her back up to that mansion... at- at least, that''s all she can think to do. "Well... I''m here, now... if- if you''d like to come back up there?"


    This causes the little girl to... hesitate, to look away from Shortcake and face the keys once more.


    "... I don''t want to. I feel safe here, at this piano..."


    "Do you...?" Shortcake asks, tilting her head at this...


    "Yes... it... it''s the only place I still feel safe. Apologies."


    "But... the piano sounds so sad," Shortcake brings up... "Is... is it worth staying safe, if you feel so sad about it...?"


    "..."


    The little girl sniffles for a moment as she leans forward, looking down at the piano. Tears drip down from her jawline, landing on top of her hands and the keys.


    Shortcake- visibly saddens at this, holding a hand out- gently- resting it on top of the keys, next to Chouko''s hand. "I-I''m sorry... I just wish to know if I can do anything to help you feel happy."


    "But I don''t deserve to be happy..."


    "Yes, you do..." Shortcake responds. "E-Everyone deserves to be happy..."


    "Well, I don''t... I can''t be happy... I don''t belong up there, and I cannot be happy... not yet... not until it''s all over..."


    Shortcake is left- speechless at this, her hand lightly shaking against the keys... watching the little girl cry through her blank face. A harrowing


    The android... eventually... slowly slides her hand away from Chouko''s. Giving a warmer smile, her eyes flickering and fluttering lightly...


    "Then... I''ll stay here, and keep you company until you''re ready to come with me."


    "..."


    The two sit on that piano bench for a while... utter silence as they sit, for who knows how long.


    Not a single note is pressed... no music is played. The two simply sit in complete, utter silence.


    "..."


    "..."


    Both of them stare forward, as if


    ...


    Then, Chouko begins playing again...


    ... and instead of the miserable, melancholy melody from before... she plays something- calming. Something peaceful, something tranquil.


    A song her hands know well, a song she plays for a while.


    Shortcake listens as the song plays, blinking for a bit and being unsure what the song is... well, until Chouko''s played it for about 42 seconds, and...


    ... and she remembers.


    ... g-GHK- CHANGE IT, CHANGE IT!


    As Chouko plays- the void suddenly shakes and trembles. Cracks forming in the void, peering in an eerie white light.


    Shortcake''s eyes widen as- all around Shortcake, people scream... and bodies fall from the sky, dropping to the ground around the piano. Her pink eyes watch as she sees the very moments of their death before her eyes, seeing- one after another, people begging for mercy, people crying out for dear life.


    Everything that Chouko said she did, amplified and enhanced... each horrifying moment ringing out helplessly, each dangerous and immoral moment just...


    "I- I- I''m sorry- I didn''t mean to-!"


    Quickly- Shortcake quickly looks to Chouko, watching the little girl holding onto her hands and clenching the sides of her head. The little girl hyperventilating as everything shouts in a resounding volume- something overwhelmingly familiar to the android, a near identical response to before.


    The android quickly- lunges forward, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the little girl. "It''s okay-! It''s okay...! I''m here-!"


    "M-Make the voices stop, please make the voices stop-"


    "I''ll keep you safe... I''ll keep you safe-!" Shortcake cries out, holding onto Chouko as tightly as she could. "Just close your eyes, and- and-"


    Suddenly... a hand grabs the back of Shortcake''s throat, forcibly pulling the android away. Yanking her away from the piano, pulling her away from Chouko.


    The faceless Chouko turns back to Shortcake, reaching a hand out- crying out, screaming out.


    "S-Shortcake-!"


    Shortcake trembles in this grasp as she''s pulled back, yanked away. "C-Chouko!!!" Screaming out for the girl, crying out as the girl disappears and-


    ... and Shortcake is forced awake.


    Back into the car, recovering from those visuals that she just witnessed, her artificial body trembling and shaking. "C-Chouko?! Chouko-!"


    And as she feels the hand on her neck fading away...


    ... she realizes she''s still hugging Chouko.


    Arms still clinging to the adult, the adult Chouko that stared up with a shaky breath of her own... having... having the pain in her eyes fading away. The temporary pain she felt before, gone once again... subdued.


    Though, rather than being a temporary and short moment... Chouko- realizes that it feels like it''s been hours. Several hours, in fact- and that immediately sends her into an urgent panic. Whatever that was, it''s possibly costed them too much time, time that they were utterly sitting in place for any mercenaries to find and catch up with them-!


    But- her fear is alleviated, when she sits up and stares at the car clock. Checking what day and time it was, and only seeing that it''s only been two minutes.


    Hours sandwiched into a measly couple of minutes. A breath- sighed out as she calms herself, as she...


    ... as she tensely- tensely looks around, feeling the urgent panic again.


    Quickly- quickly, she reaches for the car door with her foot, and pulls it shut, closing the door. Realizing that it''s been two whole minutes that she''s lost consciousness, Chouko was back on alert. Even if it was far less than a few hours, it''s still some time that she remained defenseless, that she remained inactive for such a time. The last time this happened, she was cornered and about to die to a pathetic group of...


    ...


    Tch... Chouko just... no, Kuroiwa just- no, she... her hand- her hand just raises up to feel her cheek, wiping off the... the tears. She doesn''t know what face to put on, now. Everything flashed before her eyes, and it feels- overwhelmingly different, for some reason.


    It was different for a reason the woman didn''t understand, until she looks down to see the android in her arms.


    Staring at her in concern, realizing her arms are holding onto the android and pulling her close into an almost protective embrace. The woman stares for a while, eyes fluttering as she... as she...


    ... she remembers everything.


    "..."


    A...


    And... Chouko doesn''t know how to handle this.


    All of that was... it had to be a hallucination, a dream-like delusion. Whatever it was that Shortcake was doing, it- it couldn''t have been real. Chouko just had some sort of- some sort of nightmare...


    Chouko felt... well, still feels the need to get rid of the android. For its own good. By no means should this android still be associated with her. So she tries to break free of Shortcake''s embrace, to make the android get off and away from her, and...


    ...


    ... and Shortcake hugs tighter.


    Shortcake holds onto Chouko, making good on her words to not let go. Burying her face against Chouko and just holding onto her after- all of that.


    For some reason, Chouko... couldn''t... bring herself to pry the android off, to tear its arms away. Her arms feel weak, and she- she lacked the strength to do a single thing.


    "Shortcake... I''m going to say this again, I don''t want-"


    But the android interrupts.


    "E-Even you... deserve to be happy..."


    Chouko freezes as Shortcake says this, staring down at the android in- in complete unease, feeling- overwhelmingly uneasy at this. Having that being quoted is... it... it proceed to- she... Chouko is... Chouko just... Chouko just understood that- that the whole piano conversation she dreamed up, the entirety of that nightmare...


    All... all of it was real...


    "S... So you... you were-"


    "I know... I know," Shortcake weakly tells Chouko.


    "..."


    "We don''t- need to talk about it, if you don''t want to..." Shortcake noises. "But like... like I told you... I''m never letting go... n-not again. I''ll keep you safe, and I''ll you company until you''re ready to come with-"


    "Stop... just... stop talking," Chouko demands.


    "Okay..." Shortcake responds... going silent.


    "..."


    "..."


    ...


    Keep me safe...


    A foolish sentiment.


    No one could ever replace him.


    No one should ever replace him.


    Chouko just... thought to herself, quietly thought to herself... he is dead. Even if he shouldn''t be dead, he is. Never again will Chouko feel the warmth of his arms. Never again will Chouko feel safe in his arms. He has been long since buried, his fate lost to time.


    Not only is Shortcake becoming a copy of the girl Chouko used to be... the android dare claims to do the same things that Charles Ashford did for her.


    The father that kept her safe, kept her company, did everything he could to make her happy.


    And that''s utterly foolish.


    Chouko... collects her thoughts and narrows her eyes, faintly shaking in Shortcake''s embrace. The little girl''s words remain the same, that she doesn''t deserve happiness. She didn''t- not for a single moment, while Chouko''s mind hides that little girl away from this.


    Nothing has changed, and it all remains the same. Chouko''s soul remains ever so tainted. A murderer that feels remorse is still a murderer, no matter how much she justifies her actions... and nothing can change these last nine years of hers.


    ...


    But...


    ... even so... Chouko takes a moment... to rest, to give in to this feeling. Letting out a sigh as Shortcake hugs her, as the android holds onto her. If Shortcake''s words are to be trusted, if Chouko could trust those claims that the android made about wanting to stay- even if Chouko still pushes through with her thirst for vengeance...


    ...


    "... Shortcake. Do you really... want to stay with me?" Chouko asks again.


    "... y... yes..." Shortcake weakly noises.


    "... are you absolutely sure...?"


    "Yes... I''m sure..."


    "Even if that means being with an immortal-?"


    "Of course... I... I still want to stay..."


    "..."


    ... then her mind is made up.


    Chouko- now, with a newfounded strength, takes a moment to... pull Shortcake''s arms off of her. "Ex... excuse me," she says, slipping past Shortcake and exiting the car.


    Shortcake watches as Chouko leaves, and- and the door closes.


    The android is left alone in the car with the knapsack... and- and her attention is brought back to the phone in the cup holder. Staring at it, watching as- as it stopped ringing. As no other calls came in.


    Shortcake still thinks about that sight, her arms trying to hug at nothing... her body trembling and shaking, as she couldn''t see the little girl she wanted to protect. Even now, Shortcake still processed those screams and... and...


    ... and then, the door opens again.


    And Kuroiwa, back in control, places the first aid kit down in the car. "Alright, Shortcake- come, now, I need you in the passenger side seat."


    Shortcake- widens her eyes at this, looking at the first-aid kit. This snaps her out of her distress, and she- she looks to Chouko in shock. "W-Wha- you- you got the first aid kit? H-How?"


    "..." Kuroiwa holds up the flip phone, showing it to Shortcake. Showing that she used one of Charon''s programs to unlock the door. "This."


    Shortcake''s eyes widen at this. "Y-You used the phone? But isn''t that dangerous? What if-"


    "Yes, my former employer now knows where I am," Kuroiwa tells Shortcake, flipping the phone shut and backing away from the door. "It''s good that you''re aware of that. Therefore, we need to go, now. No time to patch me up, I''ll manage- we need to get ready to leave."


    "W-We need to-?"


    Shortcake''s eyes widen at this, and- with the energy behind Chouko''s voice, it- it fills the android with a sudden hope, a relief and a joy at this. By saying that they- both of them, both of them needed to leave, that means that Chouko... does want Shortcake to stay around!


    Shortcake feels delighted by this, a smile on her face, happy and overjoyed that Chouko''s- Chouko''s going to take the android with her! She''s stunned and ecstatic, and- and she just sits there, processing this excitedly.


    "Unless you''re having second thoughts about staying with me?" Kuroiwa impatiently speaks up, glaring at Shortcake... already starting to regret this.


    "... ah-! Sorry, I''ll- I''m getting up right now!" Shortcake beams and smiles, as she leaves the car.


    Kuroiwa then runs to the driver''s seat, as Shortcake closes the car door. The two take their places in the driver''s and passenger''s seats respectively, and Kuroiwa starts the car.


    "I- I just realized!" Shortcake exclaims, still smiling at- at Kuroiwa. "S-Since I''m clean, a-and you were- you were planning on taking me somewhere safe, does that mean I''m in good enough condition to walk up to- uhm- uh- the receptionist''s desk at a hotel or motel?"


    Kuroiwa- nods in response, pulling the car into drive and starting to move. "Yes, but money is an issue. Payment can also be traced, so..."


    "W-We''ll cross that road when we get there, right?" Shortcake exclaims, smiling warmly.


    "... indeed," Kuroiwa responds, driving out of the gas station''s lot and merging onto the road. "Good to hear you being... so enthusiastic about this."


    Shortcake nods as the car- as the car fills with country music, still changed to that specific radio station. There was something that brought a wide smile to Shortcake''s face, a smile that doesn''t go away even as she cautiously looks around. The android has been given reason to take a more- optimistic view of this moment, and is left overwhelmingly happy to help.


    Kuroiwa stares forward, glaring forward at the road as the car moves. The pain in her eyes was enough to wake her up again, but- for how long, she has no idea. Her eyes lock forward and drive, foot on the gas and almost speeding away.


    Shortcake- takes the spot next to her, taking a more- optimistic view of this moment. The smile on her face doesn''t go away, even as she keeps a cautious eye out.


    Like before, they... still had no idea where they''re going. They''re just driving out of Indianapolis, and now driving away from the gas station. The two of them simply headed- west. Just heading west, looking around for any place to take cover for the night.

 #31 - A Call to Spread Like Wildfire

    The number you are calling is unavailable. Please leave a message at the beep.


    Beep!


    An unyielding stream of call requests...


    Over and over... and over and over... and over and over... and over and over again.


    Ever since the fall of the Executioner... an individual by the moniker of "Dot" has been dialing his number. Call after call, ringing out nearly endlessly with no answer. Chouko and Shortcake simply endure the sound as they drive, drowning it out with country music.


    But with every dozen rings, each attempted call...


    ... enough time passes for another step in Dot''s grand plan.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    "... what in the...?"


    While this phone remains unanswered, the phone of another is alerted elsewhere. The phone of a man, a mercenary, one that was currently drinking in one of the Underworld''s various bars.


    The mercenary looks at his phone to see an encrypted notification, his eyebrow raised at this. Usually, the encrypted messages he receives are under a different contact, instead of some girl named "Dot". Regardless, he... opens the message and reads the message¡ª spitting his drink out onto the bar counter upon reading the mission''s reward.


    "F-FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS?!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, in sheer disbelief. "HUH?!"


    At that moment, he realizes... this was a job posting given to- to him, specifically, rewarding him $50,000,000 for just one girl. The opportunity of a lifetime handed to him on a gold platter, something that will have him set completely for life...


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    ... but it was not, in fact, given to him specifically.


    Phones are setting off in the bar, and other mercenaries around him are starting to get the message as well. The job posting is spread throughout the rest of the mercenaries.


    More mercenaries start to get the notice, with the one right next to him getting the same notification a mere minute later than he does.


    The first mercenary looks around as phones are set off, the shock and disbelief beginning to fade as more people are being invited into his jackpot.


    Everything went quiet for him upon a mercenary sitting next to him¡ªreading the exact same notice¡ªis astonished as well. The reward flashes in his eyes, the light of the phone screen reflected off of his eyes. "F-Fifty million?! Is this guy serious?!"


    "Seems like it..." the first mercenary responds.


    "Woah... this is some sorta jackpot, the opportunity of a lifetime! Hey, if we split this, we get twenty-five million, and..."


    The first mercenary stares at this mercenary, tuning out the words as he tightly grips the handle of his beer glass...


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    "A-AGH!"


    The glass smashes against a man''s head, breaking into hundreds of pieces. Beer splashed over the body, with the first mercenary glaring down at the now knocked-out body. Before this poor guy even knew what happened, he was out like a light, blood oozing out of the shard-covered head wound.


    An act of violence was taken to protect his lifetime meal ticket, with 50 million dollars on the line. A mixture of pure wrath melding with greed, this first mercenary did what was needed to lessen the competition.


    However, in that bar, as other mercenaries read the same message... the smashed beer mug is the instigator of paranoia. This is a 50 million dollar reward. People will kill each other for the entire value.


    So, out of survival instinct, they begin to target this man, to target each other, and to break out in utterly unorganized chaos.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    Job listings of this magnitude needed to be regulated. The higher-ups of the Underworld needed to verify the reward and adjust it as necessary before anything was set in stone.


    So, without a clear reason why it wasn''t regulated, whoever is responsible for letting this job through has single-handedly caused the entirety of the Underworld to crash.


    The first few minutes had the Underworld breaking into a sweat. Many mercenaries that were undergoing mere hundred or thousand dollar jobs had their priorities realigned, with informants and messengers actively jumping onto the Anti-Ashford bandwagon. Who exactly would turn down fifty million to simply capture a single girl?


    All hands were on deck. With coordinates to the last-sighted office building, mercenaries were lured to this beacon of money.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    However, by the time many of them arrived, all they could find was what Dot predicted: a building full of now-confirmed dead mercenaries, with not a clue on how to find Ashford. The first mercenaries on sight swept the building, finding mercenaries that had some recognition in the Underworld, with an unrecognizably maimed corpse on the top floor.


    "Man. One girl did all of this...?"


    "Indeed, we should just let the police handle the cleanup, and¡ª ... do... do you hear that?"


    With the sound of sirens in the distance, law enforcement arrived sooner than expected. The information got to the police, who were notified that there was a building full of dead people. Indianapolis deemed it a crime of the highest priority, with countless officers arriving at the scene of mercenaries.


    This very well came off as a job that simply lured mercenaries to a stakeout, with some mercenaries apprehended. In situations like these, it was best to let the police apprehend them, as the Underworld has measures to protect these men and discreetly retrieve them.


    However, the time-sensitive 50 million dollars hung over the heads of these mercenaries...


    ... so, all hell breaks loose once a sniper shoots the first officer''s brains out.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    One dead officer is the catalyst for everything to break into a violent fit. There are dead bodies in that building, and now there is a gunman who has killed an officer of the law. So, naturally, force is authorized.


    The police and the mercenaries sprawl outward into a gunfight, an impromptu war that adds more to the body count. The police call for more reinforcements to apprehend these men, and the mercenaries simply fight for their survival against the officers.


    With the police fearing further loss of life, the human officers are ordered to retreat...


    ... and several combat androids are deployed to the scene.


    The subsequent presence of androids is enough to get those with cybernetics into a violent rage. The fires of war ignite. Caliber Company androids are ordered to be shot down, to be taken out of the sky, and scrapped for metal, with active means to take these artificial buckets of bolts down.


    With the cybernetic mercenaries in charge, one action leads to another, and the street ends up engulfed with fire, the remains of human corpses and robotic scrap scattered all over the scene...


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    This was utterly horrifying, and¡ªfrom minute one¡ªnews helicopters were on the scene to capture all of it. This was a story meant to be broadcast, to inform the public and rile them up. The people in those helicopters, from the safety of the skies, were ready to broadcast this sight across the country.


    Only for them to find that the connection between the aerial reporters and the stations is cut off.


    None of the footage at Indianapolis could reach a single news station. The technology on the helicopters, on the signal towers, on everything, all of it just faced interference and noise. Everything was completely overloaded to the point where technology itself simply slowed down.


    The bloodshed and the fire that resulted near this office building would become public attention... long after the fact, long after the carnage between the Indianapolis police force and the impulsive mercenaries on the scene.


    Instead, every single news outlet¡ªtraditional news channels for radios and televisions, as well as all social media feeds¡ªwill be plagued by different news:The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Terrence Gardner.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    That''s all that would be reported that morning. Terrence Gardner, CEO of Sedimate LLC, age 36, and found dead in his home.


    It should already be old news, as Sedimate LLC is a lesser company. No media should care about this man whatsoever. However, that''s all people were talking about.


    News stations could ONLY report on this news, with all other news being wiped clean and replaced by Terrence Gardner, Chouko Ashford, and an infamous "Stalker". All of this especially spread through Target News after the station''s Ohio branch had a recent call encounter with the possible killer.


    At best, news stations had paper copies of what they needed to report, but these were drowned out by the airwaves being congested and plagued with "BREAKING NEWS!" about Gardner and Chouko. The moment they intend to report on anything else, their broadcasting technology malfunctions and is promptly replaced by a higher-priority Gardner report. All stations across the nation are forced to broadcast this news for the next few days.


    To those who tried to escape the news and use their phones and such technology, they found no luck. Millions were left confused as to why their entire social media feeds were plagued with either "Gardner Explained" videos or fictional sightings of his killer. Sharing in the turmoils of this incident, people only added further fuel as they began sharing and posting this very topic and how broken the platforms are.


    With ONLY the Gardner information spread through these mediums, this news infects real-life talk. A person is either talking about what was happening, or they were promptly shut up as nobody cared about their morning breakfasts or whatever. All media is being hijacked by nonsensical news.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    "... are you seeing this?"


    "Yes, quite interesting, isn''t it...?" a masculine voice responds.


    On the phone, after his bath, a man in a fancy bathrobe stares at one of his many flatscreen televisions. His hair is soaking wet, drooping down to his shoulders and dripping from his faint chin stubble. His eyes are locked onto a screen, watching as the news broadcasts the investigation shots of Gardner.


    "A nobody, an upstart, making national news..." the man calmly speaks, stretching his arms and groaning. "Quite the occasion."


    "What? No, Pylon, Not the news! Did you check your email?! The names got leaked!"


    "Huh?"


    "The one who iced Gardner, a list of her clients got sent out! Every single name of someone who enlisted the help of ''the Stalker''!"


    The man squints his eyes. "I... see. What does this have to do with¡ª"


    Promptly, the phone is pulled out of his hand and thrown aside.


    The man is put into a headlock by a man with a thick ginger beard covering his entire face, and his bare feet are grabbed by a man with a cocoa-brown beard over his face.


    "Buncha them are getting iced, too...! You gotta get out of there, they know about Montana!"


    The voice on the other end of the phone desperately shouts as the recently bathed man, a man who is¡ªin fact¡ªon that list, is forcibly taken out of his home and abducted.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    Amid the barren lands of all this chaos, another seed has been planted.


    Rumor has it that Kuroiwa, the Stalker, has been spread through private channels alongside documents and data confirming Terrence Gardner''s death. The recipients of these are the very clients that she has worked for across these nine years.


    Names have been recorded. Names were kept private. Names that should be inaccessible... are suddenly sent out. Clients that have employed the Stalker''s services are now being leaked and spread, all in a span of a few sudden minutes.


    Some wise individuals put two and two together that the 50 million dollar reward for Chouko Ashford is also for the Stalker. Every client potentially has priceless information that they could be coerced into letting out. If one of the Stalker''s clients claims the body before Dot does, they will obtain more power and influence over the rest of the clients.


    So, with identities leaked, traffic through the criminal underground''s channels increases with a few curious job postings to kidnap, interrogate, and maybe even execute these requesters.


    Pylon Stench is one of the many CEOs caught in the crossfire of this. His information is put as one of the earliest reports, being the one that hired the Stalker to log the identities of various whistleblowers in his companies. Their subsequent deaths weeks or months after this job posting put a big, red target on his back, and someone has captured him.


    His fate, to this very day, is completely unknown.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    Following his disappearance, a job posting appears in the Underworld, publicly from... the CEO of Sweet Bots.


    Of all companies, this one is the most unexpected. With the 50 million dollar bounty on Chouko, an additional 100 million dollars is added to the pool by the android manufacturer, specifically requesting the Stalker''s head on a plate to be sent to California.


    100 million... an interesting number, which is bumped up to 200 million by an unnamed CEO requesting the body be escorted to Oregon. A surplus of bounties is on the table, with countless mercenaries lured to the job postings and countless CEOs starting to gamble and auction off the money for the Stalker.


    As this is happening, a certain individual is keeping track of this information.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    Made aware of the Executioner''s failure, and the death of him and his men... a certain figure beholds the start of the resulting fallout.


    All of this information is at his fingertips after the Executioner''s failure is brought to his attention. Last he''s heard from them, they''ve captured Chouko Ashford... the Stalker, and the impostor. And with Dot''s involvement going unimpeded, it all but confirms that they are dead.


    It''s an interesting plan... one he''s made aware of, from the very second it has started. A parasite''s claws cling to the media, spreading its influence throughout all channels. Even if only 1% of this country''s 300 million witness it, that still leaves 3 million people with active eyes on this situation. Mercenaries, law enforcement, civilians, CEOs, and the government itself.


    The man can see the fire spreading from here, gazing down on this from up above. The name of the Stalker is on fire, spreading Ashford all around. A blazing inferno attributed to the death of his men.


    Order is gone, and chaos breeds in its wake. The rising number of dollars being thrown into this endeavor awakens this country''s reserves of greed and wrath. All forces are active in this wasteland of growing anarchy.


    ... and Sun Tzu put it best. Roughly translated, "the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."


    Confrontation with Chouko is a death sentence. No, the best course of action... is to make sure she has nowhere to go.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    "... is it done?"


    "Yes."


    Standing in a bedroom, two men dressed in inconspicuous clothing are rummaging through the room itself. One of them holds a phone to his ear, staring down at a bunch of unorganized notes sprawled all over.


    "Is there anything of value?"


    "Yes, but not to you. Only a bunch of figurines. Could probably sell these for thousands."


    The man on the phone holds a boxed figurine, a "Momochi #45". A Japanese cartoon character with neon blue hair with cat paws for hands and feet, dressed in some sort of schoolgirl''s uniform.


    "I see. Does he possess any other androids?"


    "No. The only one he had is out for delivery."


    "Very well. Leave the area. Make sure there are no witnesses."


    "Understood, sir."


    The two walk out of the bedroom and leave it uninhabited. Not a single living soul was left in that room.


    No, all that remains is a dead man...


    "... so, where to next?"


    "Mmm..." one of the men noise, before looking across the street... narrowing his eyes and seeing a boy looking at them from the window.


    The young boy that helped E out, previously acting as a paid lookout for the guy... having only just now woken up. He stared out the window to see two men just walking out of E''s house, raising an eyebrow at the two. An unfortunate, unlucky moment.


    Seeing this, the two men look at each other, before one of them crosses the street to his house.


    No witnesses.


    Ring... Ring... Ring...


    As the morning sun rises and shines in Pittsburgh, all of America has been plagued with some sort of story connected to Chouko in some way, shape, or form. Hours upon hours of non-stop broadcasts about Gardner, about Chouko, and¡ªonce the overload of Gardner news dies¡ªabout Indianapolis.


    Reports have gathered together in this amount of time, painting a massive- MASSIVE target on Chouko''s back. She''s the one hunted by an entire mercenary group. She''s the topic and cause of a country-wide media hijacking. She''s the one responsible for countless deaths in a short matter of time.


    Everywhere she goes now, she runs the risk of being identified. The long, lost Apple-Eyed genius is back as a beacon of chaos. Dot''s plan has effectively set the country on fire over Chouko, an unyielding carnage of chaos and destruction to follow the land that Chouko walks.


    Chouko is a walking hazard stand for, and - thus - the reward has been increased substantially. A cooperative effort to pool as much as they can to incentivize all mercenaries to go for it, with the collective rewards being requested for Chouko''s head being a cumulative...


    "... what the¡ª FIVE... FIVE BILLION?! You kidding me?! Holy... w... wow!"


    "Yes, yes..." a gruff man responds, staring at the job posting with bewilderment. A thick foreign accent behind his every word, Serbian in nature and dialect.


    At the current moment, he has a laptop out and is using an encrypted network to witness all of this. He bites into his morning burger as he keeps up with this situation, bits of beef chunks getting stuck in his thick, black beard. "All that money if we find her. Play our cards right and we claim big money for ourselves."


    "Huh... so we gotta actually kill her, kill her? That... hm. Well, she did take out a buncha guys, didn''t she? Guess it''s justified if we go after her?"


    "Right... right. Should be simple enough. I predict she is in the area." The man lets out a sigh, wrapping his half-eaten burger up and pocketing it. Standing up and starting to leave. "Come, now. Finish your breakfast and we should be off, Yumi."


    "Aight, pops. Just gimme a sec."


    "Mm. I shall be outside until then."


    The man walks out the door, stretching his arms out as he stands on the front porch of a mansion. A disappointed look is on his face as the sun glares straight into his eyes. Following this, he notes the sound of morning birds being drowned out by the cocking of guns around him.


    Slowly, he looks away from the sun and looks around to see the surrounding men around the front of the mansion, ever so contently gazing at their suits. Security staff, belonging to the mansion in particular. All of them are responding to a call that intruders have broken in, pillaging whatever they could.


    "... gentlemen, gentlemen," the gruff man calls out. "To what pleasure do I owe you?"


    "Put your hands up, right now!" one of the security guards exclaims, lifting up his rifle at the man. "You''re under arrest for trespassing. The authorities are on their way!"


    "Oh? Arrest? Very well. Hands up it is."


    The gruff man slowly raises his hands into the air, wiggling his fingers for just a moment...


    ... as his palms light up, and a massive flash of light spreads outward. A blinding light almost enough to power the sun, its scorching and searing light enveloping the visions of the security guards.


    Every guard standing before this gruff man lets out agonizing screams, before- one by one, they all fall unconscious, their eyes sizzling and burning as the light has effectively fried their very brains with the smallest of glimpses. Many of them started to gargle on their own saliva, all motor functions and thought processes erased and burned out of their heads, leaving them in critical condition- possibly left to die and perish.


    "Aw, pops, what''d you go on and do all THAT for? Ain''t they just doing their jobs? You could''ve at least let me handle ''em..."


    "Pssh. You were getting ready. Plus, these men are not good enough for you, Yumi," the man responds, looking over his shoulder with an annoyed look. Staring back at his... "Yumi"... with a calm, reserved demeanor. One that acted as if he didn''t just kill several men with a lift of his hands. "Save your strength for Ashford, when it actually earns us money to get her..."


    "Ugh... well, aight, then! So we ready to go?"


    "Yes, yes. Let us be off."


    Walking past the very much brain-damaged security guards, leaving the mansion behind...


    ... two individuals now on their way to collect their reward. They get into a stolen and luxurious white Sedan and drive off. Just another pair of mercenaries on their way to apprehend Chouko.


    It''s only a matter of hours before the Underworld''s mercenaries close in on where Chouko is...

 #32 - A Lost Girls Sanctuary

    The news has reached the airwaves of Indiana''s southwestern neighbor, Missouri. Missouri is one of the states that has publicly, ACTIVELY protested the entire country being spontaneously forced to report on the news of one single person. All stations in Missouri have come together to specifically make a stand against this media wave.


    "... and we folks here at Target News Missouri, we done seen enough of Gardner, and we''re too plumb tired of the latest mass media spread of this youin! Whoever this lil'' lady is, ain''t none of our business, I reckin! So whatever kinda missy she is, we ain''t gonna give her any of this shinin'' attention, if I got a half-squirrely sum(BLEEP) to say about it!"


    "... ah, Everett, keeping your accent strong as ever..."


    At a roadside motel near Greenville, a receptionist attentively watches a holographic television broadcast of the news, eagerly anticipating the developments while sorting through motel keys.


    For the last two hours, this specific channel has gone through an extensive catalog of Missouri''s news stations, and the last stand was Target News. News anchor, "Everett", is the face of the state''s "anti-Gardner" stance on the news, and his face on the TV is enough to carry Missouri through this wave of unnecessary media...


    ... which leads to its subsequent disappearance in exchange for¡ªand this is a strange pick¡ªreruns of "Aggressive Sex Baseball", a satirical TV show that received 2 out of 10 ratings from critics.


    It is a dark day for all of Missouri, forced to watch Aggressive Sex Baseball. Missouri''s news stations have lost this protest as the most trashy and vulgar modern-day sitcom hijacks the channel''s airwaves. In essence, as the news channels of Missouri told the country that it didn''t want this news on their airwaves, all news has been replaced with utter television slop.


    The receptionist sighs and completely turns off the television. "... sorry, there," he speaks, returning to the front desk with a room key. "Here you go. How would you like to pay?"


    With key on the counter, the receptionist politely smiles at the white-haired girl on the other side of the desk, who stares up at him through a pair of white sunglasses. The girl then stares down at the key, checking what room number it is. "Uhm... if- if you don''t mind, is there a different room I could take?"


    The receptionist raises an eyebrow at this. "A different room? Anything wrong with 202, there?"


    "Well..."


    At that very moment, in the parking lot, a Mercedes-Benz was parked in the far corner. Through its windshield, an attentive set of red eyes gazed at the outside of the two-story motel itself.


    Chouko Ashford, the black-haired woman who was still currently enduring an agonizing gunshot wound to her shoulder, is relaying information to Shortcake. This motel is possibly the one place that could offer the two of them sanctuary, as this motel in Kentucky is modest and discreet. A place that not even Chouko is aware of. The lack of parked cars at this hour indicates high vacancy.


    With a focus in her hand, she closes her eyes and returns her focus to Shortcake. Then, she whispers a few words into her hand, giving her words to recite...


    "Well..." Shortcake responds, able to hear Chouko''s whispers from this distance. "I was hoping for a room on the ground floor... one of your ''100'' level rooms? I''m a little nervous around stairs, don''t want to fall and all, so..."


    "Ah, I see. Stair troubles," the receptionist speaks, pulling the key back. "No worries. Let''s see if there''s a ground-floor room ready!"


    "Sounds good!" Shortcake cheerfully and politely exclaims, smiling warmly at the receptionist.


    The receptionist turns away and begins rummaging through keys once again, as well as subsequent bookings.


    Chouko is just left to sit in the car, sighing. In the time it takes the receptionist to find a new key, she has enough time to thoroughly ponder this newfound ability. There''s a lot that Chouko found useful about it, especially as she uses Shortcake to get a motel room key and to test the further limits of the ability.


    Even if it''s an android, Chouko has access to her sight and hearing, able to use Shortcake''s senses by employing the use of an illusory effect vital to her fight with Griffin. With this hearing at her disposal, she''s been guiding Shortcake through the conversation with the receptionist from across the entire motel, whispering carefully thought-out words to Shortcake.


    "... and here you go. Room 105," the receptionist calls out, finally finding an available room.


    "Ah, yes, thank you..." Shortcake speaks, holding out a phone¡ªChouko''s flip phone¡ªand presenting it to the receptionist. "I''d like to pay electronically. Is that okay?"


    "Certainly, just..." the receptionist responds, as he looks at the phone. A curious squint of his eyes with a smile. "... oh, wow. First time I''ve seen one of these things."


    Chouko lets out a faint sigh and whispers into her hand: "Yes, I know. Now, I won''t bore you with the story..."


    "... but, uhm, it''s a personal gift," Shortcake relays, as she holds the phone up to the scanner. "I''m kind of stuck with one of these until I get a new way to pay for things... haha..."


    "Don''t get me wrong, it''s pretty cool," the receptionist responds, smiling. "Seen too many folks with their bloated smartphones. It''s nice to see one of these."


    "Right¡ª"


    "¡ªright," Shortcake responds, sounding less exasperated than Chouko, smiling politely at the receptionist. Keeping up a good face.


    The scanner lights up green, and the payment goes through. "Alright! You''re good to go, miss...?"


    "Anderson," Shortcake repeats, picking up the key and pocketing the phone. "Clover Anderson."


    "Well, enjoy your stay, Miss Anderson."


    With that, Shortcake leaves the lobby, and heads to 105. Feeling herself gulp quietly as she continues to feel a butterfly''s fluttering wings against the back of her neck. She holds the key up to the door handle and then opens the door.


    Chouko is slightly meticulous in this. Charon now knows the motel she''s checked into, so they have only a short time to properly stay. The question now is if anyone ELSE knows the room she''s checked into, so Shortcake is instructed to sweep through the room for anyone in particular before Chouko enters.


    Chouko is also using this time to test the duration of her ability further. A caveat of this ability is the immense pain that comes from using it, as her senses suffer immense strain for one reason or another. To master this ability and utilize it efficiently, Chouko needs to detail what triggers the pain in question, what exactly leads to her suffering and agony.


    So far, there are two possibilities.


    One is that the butterfly inflicts pain upon receiving too many stimuli.


    The first time she used this ability, a mercenary loudly screamed and shouted in warning and the pain flooded her eyes. Following this, her eyes burned when the butterfly was out for too long, and her eyes burned in the crucial moment that allowed Kuroiwa''s mercenaries to corner her. Most recently, the same pain was inflicted on her when the Executioner''s phone rang, which provided more proof of the "loud and blaring stimulus" theory.


    Fundamentally, this would mean that Chouko has a definite time limit for using her abilities before the strain interferes with her focus. At the office, she was capable of holding it for minutes on several occasions.


    The other possibility, however, is that the trigger is... stress. Stress and trauma.


    The incidents that add to this theory are mostly connected to Shortcake in particular. The times that the pain came to light involved Chouko staring at Shortcake after a murder, and then Chouko trying to abandon and get rid of Shortcake at the gas station.


    Minutes became mere seconds at the gas station, as well as many cases where her pain came before a time threshold was reached. Her mind becomes erratic, and her senses tear Chouko apart whenever this happens. This could be a self-inflicted form of torment, where she must remain calm to maintain the ability to its full extent.


    ... then again, it could be the bullet lodged into her shoulder.


    Chouko must remember that, in the current situation, her arm has yet to be properly patched. It is fully possible that this ability virtually has no limits, apart from mere exhaustion whenever exceeding time or composure limits, and that the pain is simply due to damage in her arm transferring to her eyes.


    If this innate ability has lain dormant for her entire life, the awakening was a combination of her critical shoulder injury and the near-death experience when she believed herself ready to blow her own brains out. Further practice with this ability may stretch it past its conceivable limits. A fantasy that may prove to her benefit rather nicely.


    Two immediate concerns arise from this, however. First and foremost, they have no means to properly treat the wound. Chouko took the first aid kit from the gas station as a mere precaution, a last resort. Her lack of connections, especially with her at odds with Charon, will not bring her a surgeon who may extract the bullet and improve her odds of recovery.


    Even if her arm recovers, the second concern is that there must be a conceivable limit. It would be hubris and overconfidence if she were to assume her ability to be indefinite. There must be a specified time. There must be a scale for Chouko to follow in measuring her own capabilities.


    No, Chouko must assume that the first and second ideas are her limitations... and...


    "The room''s all clear, I think..."


    ... Chouko blinks for a moment as Shortcake says this.


    Instead of looking through Shortcake''s eyes, she had completely spaced out. Lost in her thoughts about her supernatural ability. Fortunately for her and Shortcake, there was not a soul and not a sight in that room. The fact that neither saw anything of note is a good sign.


    "If the room is clear, then... follow my exact instructions," Chouko tells Shortcake.


    A few moments are spent guiding Shortcake to press a few specific keys on the phone. Given that Chouko has already used the phone to hack into the convenience store lock and pay for the motel room stay, no additional harm could come from using the phone''s mechanics further. In fact, keeping in mind her ability''s limits, having this phone at her disposal is crucial.


    Chouko instructs Shortcake on two programs in particular: one to remotely infiltrate the cameras in a specific building, and the other to have the cameras loop footage for up to thirty seconds. Using these programs in sequence gives Chouko a brief window of time to sneak past a building''s cameras and remain unseen. These are some of the many techniques she''s memorized.


    Once Shortcake presses the key to activate the camera loop, Chouko forces the driver''s door open. She makes a light-footed stride towards the door of 105, clenching her shoulder tightly as she sprints through the door.


    Shortcake is at the door and¡ªonce Chouko enters¡ªcloses it shut. Locking the door ever so contently and peeking out the windows, looking around the outside.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Okay... okay. I don''t think anyone saw you, " Shortcake says, her eyes flickering repeatedly. Alright... I''ll get the first aid kit and..."


    Shortcake''s voice trails off as she looks at Chouko, who remains on the floor.


    The exhaustion has caught up to Chouko, and she''s lying flat against the room carpet. Her entire body went limp when running in, tripping on nothing and


    "A... Ah! Chouko!" Shortcake exclaims, crouching down to shake Chouko''s body. The android doesn''t have a proper way to check how alive Chouko is, but¡ª


    "I''m fine, I''m fine... I am alright," Chouko calls out, still awake. Albeit, the weights in her eyes try to state otherwise. "I''m just tired..."


    "O-Okay... okay. L-Let''s get you into the bed," Shortcake responds, trying to lift Chouko into the bed and... nope.


    Okay. No. Chouko''s weight is greater than Shortcake''s carrying capacity. The android can''t drag Chouko one inch from where she was, let alone lift her. No matter what the android does, she can''t carry Chouko into the bed, and it is a fruitless effort to do so. Even so, Shortcake puts all of her nonexistent might into it, each agonizing groan sounding out as her machinery whirrs and rumbles, as her feet dig into the floor and she hoists aggressively for the next minute.


    "... Shortcake, just..." Chouko says, pushing herself up from the ground to spare the android some pity. "Just remember what we''re here for... we need to clean my face and these clothes."


    "O-Okay...!" Shortcake responds, pulling her hands away from Chouko and¡ª


    "And take off my jacket..." Chouko immediately instructs.


    "Your jacket?" Shortcake asks.


    "Yes. I''ll be covering myself up with it once I take off these clothes of yours," Chouko tells the android. "It would be inefficient to do laundry with me still in these clothes."


    "O... Oh, right. Okay!"


    With that, Shortcake goes to check the water. Nice and clean, and nice to clean with. Now it''s a matter of figuring out how to use it, as this motel in particular didn''t have a proper drain plug to fill the sink...


    Chouko, meanwhile, lies in the bed with her own leather jacket on, covering most of her body with the blanket. Her shoulders are exposed, with the wound still deep in her shoulder. The bloodied clothes are discarded at the foot of the bed.


    As Chouko makes herself nice and comfortable against the mattress, she just... begins feeling her eyes closing shut, a weight forcing them closed. The exhaustion finally kicks in, and she''s finally forced to get a wink of sleep.


    It was just her and Shortcake. At any point, the android will probably wake her up if something happens, but...


    ...


    "... wh... why are you... washing my shoulder with cold water...?!"


    Chouko immediately found herself forced awake as a wet cloth was rubbed against her shoulder. Specifically, the shoulder that has a gunshot wound in it. The towel feels freezing cold and wakes Chouko up right away, the woman just wincing in utter pain. Cold water is the equivalent of being slapped awake, jolting her nerves and stinging her entire arm with contact. One would use warm, room-temperature water to clean a sleeping person...


    "A-Ah. Sorry, I- I thought that I should at least clean the wound a little, to prevent it from... uhm... I''m¡ª" Shortcake begins to apologize, visibly worried as she pulls the wet towel away from Chouko''s arm.


    "It''s fine, it is best I stay awake anyway..." Chouko responds, sighing as she stares up at the ceiling. "Carry on..."


    "... s... sorry..." Shortcake quietly mumbles, going back to wiping Chouko''s arm. She''s tending to the shoulder first with the clean towel before anything else, taking special care with Chouko''s arm before she moves on to her face and clothes.


    A slow, meticulous process, with only the light of the bathroom left to illuminate the room. The bedside lamp is off, the television remains off, and the sunlight is off... well, blocked. Blocked by the curtains. Weary red eyes stare off, with a pair of worried pink concerned for her, the cleaning happens in a drearily lit room.


    Once again, the two are put in a situation of silence, a faint awkwardness between them. A solid minute passes before Shortcake shows signs of discomfort, of unease.


    The silence seems to upset Shortcake.


    And Chouko takes notice. "... you seem like you have something to say."


    "Huh?"


    "Am I wrong?" Chouko asks, staring at Shortcake''s uneasy face. A face she''s been trying to read for the last few hours, a face of distress and fear that still has a story hiding underneath. "I''m mostly making," assumptions, Chouko initially thought, "conversation."


    "Uhm... well... I''m just..." Shortcake responds, taking a while to formulate a response. "... I think we should talk about what to do after this motel room, moving forward...?"


    "... I see," Chouko responds. "At a minimum, a two to three¨Chour nap here. It should be enough to rejuvenate me. Afterwards, we depart before anyone discovers we''re here. We head west, far from Indianapolis."


    There''s no clear plan as to what happens as they go west. Chouko no longer has the resources to know for sure. Either that or she simply didn''t want to think about it right now, as the details eluded her thoughts. A plan may be concocted after some proper bed rest.


    "Ah, I... I see, I see..." Shortcake responds. "I''ll... I''ll prepare to wake you up at that time, then?"


    Chouko nods. "Preferably. Thank you."


    "O... okay."


    ... more silence.


    The android still seems uneasy. It has more to talk about, and yet it doesn''t.


    "... once we''re on the road," Chouko speaks up, taking the initiative in making another assumption. They were speaking about sweets in the truck, so Shortcake may be satisfied if they go through with the promise of indulging in cookies and cake. "I will need to eat after we move again. We could find a bakery or a supermarket. Possibly have a proper breakfast alongside it, but... especially the sweets."


    "O-okay... sounds good..." Shortcake responds, still concerned and upset.


    That''s still not it.


    ...


    Eventually, Chouko deduces a better conversation topic. One that involves a recent event. "Clair de Lune."


    "... C... Claire de... h-huh?"


    "The song," Chouko explains. "The one that played on the radio."


    "O... Oh. I... Is that what it''s called?" Shortcake asks in turn, a faint smile on her face.


    That''s it, that''s the hook Chouko''s looking for. "Indeed. I... happen to know how to play it. It''s a song familiar to me."


    "I see... uhm..." the android responds, pulling the towel away and rinsing it, readying it to now clean off the blood on Chouko''s face, maybe her hair. She seems to be withdrawing from the conversation.


    "..."


    Shortcake comes back with a warmer towel, starting to dab Chouko''s face with it. A gentle pat-pat of her face, before gently rubbing.


    "... it was Father''s favorite song."


    "Right..."


    "..." Chouko sighs. She''s not going to get anywhere with this line of discussion. Her face is wiped clean, and now Shortcake''s wiping her hair. Best to just let the android work, and...


    "So... w... why does the song make you scream, when it plays?" Shortcake asks.


    Chouko finds her eyes looking off to the side as the android asks this. At this point, what else does she have to lose, discussing this with Shortcake. "Because... it hurts to think about. Everything about it serves as a reminder that¡ª"


    "That your father was killed..." Shortcake finishes the sentence.


    "Right," Chouko responds with gritted teeth. "Right..."


    "But is that a bad thing?"


    "... is... is he being dead a bad thing?" Chouko asks, growing increasingly hostile.


    "No! No... I mean... is being reminded about it bad...?" Shortcake elaborates, correcting herself. "I''ve mentioned this before, but... with most people, letting it out is better than carrying the grief with you. Allowing yourself to face this... this trauma, it''s the first step to¡ª"


    "Do you think I haven''t tried? Do you think I haven''t employed such methods?!" Chouko defensively asks, raising her voice.


    "I- I''m not saying that. I''m sure you did... I was just saying that most people will¡ª"


    Chouko interrupts Shortcake, immediately, as she... begins to defend herself. "I''m not... I''m not most people, I''m not supposed to be most people. Most people will disregard his life, move on, spit on everything he''s ever worked for, and leave him in the world of the dead. I''m his heir, I''m his daughter, I was... I was supposed to make him proud," Chouko further explains, clenching her hands into fists. "Nothing, nothing in this world will bring me safety until my vengeance is fulfilled, until I take down my father''s killer, exterminate everyone the killer ever worked with, and... and..."


    Shortcake stares in silence, her eyes looking off to the side. Averting her gaze from Chouko as she reiterates her... motivations.


    And it''s blatantly clear that the android is doing this. Chouko found her voice trailing off at this silence, and... sighs. "You... you know it by now. I don''t have to repeat myself."


    Shortcake stares at Chouko for a while, her processors accepting this data. The data swirls in her head, and she''s continuing to look away as a response generates. "I... I want to ask..." Shortcake begins to speak, the response running as a background task. "Do you... do you think that you will move on once it''s over?"


    "... I suppose so," Chouko answers. "I will have no reason to harbor any regrets once Kuroiwa is dead."


    "So what will you be, after that?" Shortcake asks.


    "Well, I''ll be done. I¡ª" Chouko begins to answer, before... her eyes squint, staring at Shortcake. The word choice catches her attention. "... what will I be?"


    "Yes, what will you be after... y... you know...?" Shortcake fidgets as she asks this, staring at Chouko with a nervously uncomfortable look on her face.


    "..." Chouko sighs. "Dead."


    "Dead?"


    "Dead," Chouko bluntly tells the android. "I''ll have nothing left. Father is dead. The company is gone. I would have slain every single adversary connected to the death. The world will have no use for Chouko Ashford after that."


    "I... I don''t..." Shortcake mumbles, her voice going quiet at the end. Her eyes dim as she feels her voice fade, becoming inaudible.


    "... what?" Chouko asks. "Speak up."


    "... I don''t want to say it," Shortcake tells Chouko. "M... My processors are instructing me to not share my thoughts. I... I don''t want to... I don''t want to be..."


    Chouko sits up, her teeth clenched as she stares straight at Shortcake. "Don''t what to be... what? What is it? Speak up, you incessant¡ª"


    "S-Screamed at."


    "Scr... screamed..."


    Chouko stares at Shortcake for a while, and... some self-awareness sets in. She forces herself to calm down, to ease up. The pain in her shoulder becomes noticeable, but... not agonizingly awful. The source of the distress becomes evident, The woman stares at the android for a while, easing away from her... annoyance. Her eyes narrow in shame, and she takes this as calmly as she can.


    "... I see. Has this been what was upsetting you? Telling me what you believe is the truth? Sharing your thoughts with me?" Chouko asks.


    "Yes... I... I don''t want you to be upset with me, and what I say might be wrong," Shortcake explains. "I... I don''t want to annoy you with cupcakes, or my thoughts, or... or... w... well, I- I''ll just be quiet now... I won''t bring it up again, I''ll leave you be and all. You know best..."


    I just really like cakes... I''m- I''m sorry- I didn''t- I... I''ll shut up, I''m sorry... I...


    ... Chouko lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes and lying back down. She pulls the blanket over herself, and just tells Shortcake: "Say it."


    "H-Huh?"


    "Say it. Sure, I will be upset," Chouko begins to explain, "but I swear that I will not be upset at you. For what it''s worth, I''m sorry, and..." A long pause in between her words, as Chouko takes a deep breath. A slow, careful, deep breath, one to prime her for whatever hard truth Shortcake may have. "I shall brace myself for whatever you have to say."


    Shortcake noticeably frowns, and... and keeps her eyes off Chouko completely, staring at a lamp instead. Keeping her eyes on the lamp, focusing on the lamp to keep her artificial nerves steady. What she has to say is heavy and devastating, with a high value of emotional distress. The words are formed, the words are queued, and the words are forced...


    ... and she says it. "I... I don''t think it''s... healthy... to... live the way you''ve been living."


    "I am aware," Chouko remarks. "One would not be healthy if they were to do the work I''ve done. Only a mentally deranged soul would¡ª"


    "Not... not that," Shortcake objects. "I''m not referring to your... mercenary... work."


    "...?" Chouko raises an eyebrow. "What... do you mean, then?"


    "I mean... how you''re treating the child..." Shortcake explains, referring to the Chouko she hallucinated. "... the Chouko at that mental piano. The one who sits in that empty void, underneath that mansion. I saw her, and she was playing... a song called Funeral March, as if something told her she needed to march to her funeral, to die away inside of you. I don''t think it''s healthy to do that."


    Chouko tensely glares at Shortcake, before... looking elsewhere. "I see. Allow me to... inquire you about something. Your train of thought insinuates that I should be healthy. That I should do something to change, that I would do something to... be something, ''after that''."


    Shortcake hesitantly nods. "T-That''s right."


    "So then... in your eyes, what does that make me now?" Chouko asks, decisively staring at Shortcake. A sharp look in her gaze, demanding this answer.


    Shortcake truly processes this inquiry through her mind, and her eyes flicker yellow. A sign of warning, of caution, that her processors demand her to be careful.


    "Ignore the warning, Shortcake..." Chouko instructs, resting her hands on the bed. Keeping them flat against the sheets, relaxing them as she stares at Shortcake. "... you can tell me. What am I?"


    "I... I think... you''re..." Shortcake begins to answer, folding her hands together and fiddling with her thumbs.


    It takes an agonizingly long time for Shortcake to finally get the words out. By no means was this an easy task for the android. Her voice stutters and stammers, bypassing each warning in her system. It has her standing at the side of the bed for the longest while, with Chouko anticipating the android''s worst.


    And when it finally comes out... Shortcake''s eyes lose the yellow warning lights, and she bluntly tells Chouko:


    "... someone who never understood her life to begin with."


    "..."


    This causes Chouko to go speechless. Her eyes widen, and she''s caught off guard by this, processing this the best she can.


    Shortcake gulps lightly. "... I... I just... it''s the fact that you''ve sent yourself on this vengeance, driven to it completely that you''ve lost sight of what to do in between. So far, after you... after the office, there hasn''t been a clear objective other than leaving the building and driving. We don''t know where we''re going, and I think we don''t have anywhere to go now..."


    "..."


    "..." Shortcake goes quiet. "Sorry. If I''m wrong, then¡ª"


    "No. No no, don''t apologize, you''re..." Chouko responds to reassure the android... before... the weight of those words sinks in.


    A long pause of silence occurs as Chouko looks away from Shortcake. The red-eyed woman is brought to face away from the android''s gaze, to avert her eyes from the android.


    Those words settle and sink, giving Chouko over a decade to consider. Giving her a decade''s worth of doubt and focus, over a decade to test Shortcake''s claim. Chouko Ashford''s life flashes right before her eyes, searching for one single moment that the statement doesn''t ring true, that she ever understood what life is.


    Every moment where she reminded herself of her father. Every moment where she directed her efforts into Charon''s orders. Every single moment that Chouko walked this earth, each and every second of her existence.


    And when she finds her answer... or a lack of answer... her eyes begin to water.


    Chouko is brought to tears. Chouko is compelled to cry. Chouko searched through years upon years of her life and concluded...


    "... you''re right."

 #33 - Promises Left Unfulfilled

    Fourteen years ago, Charles Ashford visited an orphanage in Britain. The head of the Ashford family, a man of great fortune and prosperity, a man as wise as his years. He has skimmed through "catalogues" of children in need of care, as he sought an heir to succeed him; an heir with the potential to inherit his family''s fortune.


    In this search, upon arriving at this one single orphanage, he discovered a girl named Chouko. A girl who spends her time reading and drawing, sheltered from her supposed "peers". It was by luck that Charles discovered her, that he found a girl capable of greatness and success. A girl that would¡ªat the time¡ªgo on to take the mantle and become the next head of the Ashford name.


    But what did success mean?


    At first, it meant high marks. High scores in her studies. Perfect work in all subjects. Chouko needed to read the material, pay attention to the professors, and fulfill each requirement of her coursework as specified. That''s all she needed to do, she thought. That''s all she ever had to do.


    If she did everything right, she would succeed academically. If she followed Charles''s guidance perfectly, it would have been satisfactory. Chouko had a lot on her side: an excellent education, a photographic memory, an early jumpstart as a child prodigy, a library of endless literature to read up on, and a loving father to lead her through everything.


    ... and then.


    "Kuroiwa sends his regards."


    That voice.


    The voice of her father''s killer. A man who made a name for himself as the Executioner. A wretched man who took everything away, led by a man who seems to have sought the downfall of her father. Because of this man, all of it was gone. The man who loved her and sought the best for her... dead.


    Chouko was utterly devastated. The world around her crumbled to bits and pieces upon seeing his body. Everything she worked for was taken from her hands. The world simply stripped her of everything that made her an Ashford. The status, the companies, and even the very home she was raised. Chouko lost everything in her life.


    Following this, Chouko was sent spiraling down a path of pure darkness. That very day Charles died, mere minutes after the intruding mercenaries killed him, Chouko sought to take it all back. Everything that man took. Chouko was driven to hunt down the people responsible and inflict onto them their ends by her hand. Only then will she be complete.


    And there lies the root of the problem.


    I think you''re someone who never understood her life to begin with.


    For the first time in ages, she''s brought to think about life. About her life. About how little she truly understood about it.


    Chouko has thought of nothing but this desperate desire of hers. Many could say that she completely shut down after a loved one''s death, and many more said she''s abandoned every responsibility shoved onto her. Because of this desire of hers, Chouko is only an Ashford by mere name. She had naught of the success Charles hoped for. She had naught of the motivation and expertise to handle everything demanded of her. Revenge captivated her mind, and everything fell around her.


    Being forced to take Charles''s role, as a little girl trying to manage everything in her father''s wake, led to the downfall of the Ashfords. All everyone could tell her is... "I''m sorry for your loss." Most could only tell her what she knew, that her father "was a great man." They expressed their condolences, they wished her the best, and they left her time and space to grieve. Heartfelt words to console and comfort her, to get her through these trying times.


    However, Chouko has told herself that these words were worthless. None of those words told her what to do next. Chouko was blinded by this fantasy telling her that she must bring an end to her father''s killer, leaving no soul to guide her through everything else. In Charles''s will, he left every single one of his possessions to Chouko, having no living relatives to take instead. Each one of Charles''s possessions, as well as responsibilities, fell onto Chouko to handle with the power and influence he could never pass down to her.


    Chouko being forced to take Charles''s role alone, as the little girl she was, led to the downfall of the Ashfords. Companies renounced the Ashfords and cut all ties the moment Chouko became the sole head. Servants turned in resignation letters to Chouko, giving up on her entirely. All of Charles''s possessions and investments needed to be sold off within the short time after Charles''s demise. Everything that made the Ashford family the prosperous business it was... gone.


    It was never that Chouko''s world was stolen from her, it''s that she never belonged in this world. Her father promised her a world to thrive in, a world to find prosperity and success in, and it all came crashing down. She needed a new world to tread, a new world to find life in.


    Which brings her to... that night. The night she found purpose again, a resolve in her heart.


    A glimmering hope to reclaim what was lost to her, roaming the streets of New York City for a hand of salvation. With whatever she had left, Chouko cast it all aside to find a lead on Kuroiwa. Every last ounce of savings left in her possession to gain attention, to cast a spotlight on herself to attract the people connected to him, to get the attention of anyone that could possibly be connected.


    And this brought Chouko salvation, in the form of a man in an alleyway. A man by the title of Charon, an informant of the Underworld who has been guiding her throughout the world she despised. Someone who promised that she would be able to destroy Kuroiwa if she were to follow his every instruction.


    So, she did. The memory that served her well during her studies was made to great use as a mercenary. Charon''s meticulous plans mixed and combined with Chouko''s photographic memory to make Kuroiwa, the Stalker of the Underworld. She did everything in her power to fulfill his demands, each success bringing her one step closer. In essence, Charon taught her how to live again, when she had nobody else.


    Even then... was it truly living?


    It dawns on Chouko that she doesn''t know. Her life was always living the life of another.


    Whether she needed to be the heir to succeed Charles Ashford, or the mercenary that stole the name of the devil that plagues her. In the first case, she was to be raised as a success, to follow the footsteps of the father who gave her a life of love and prosperity. In the second, she became a monster to succeed in another way, taking deplorable jobs to reclaim the power she needed.


    In both cases, the guide loses control of Chouko, and her potential for success goes down the drain.


    The first, is the death of her father. The second, on that highway, is the disconnection between her guide. Every ounce of Chouko''s failure in the present day was a product of the mercenaries preventing her from calling Charon. She had no guidance, and subsequently set herself up for complete and total failure.


    Maybe she could have lived this lie a bit longer if she acted differently. Any of Chouko''s actions could have been taken differently to achieve a changed outcome. If she had taken a different path with the pickup truck. If she had gone along with the officer. If she interacted with the mercenaries differently. So on and so forth.


    What subsequently led to her failure was a series of misfortune... in the form of her greatest success.


    Chouko, in the face of death, simply prepared to go out guns blazing. She took a last stand, and... came out on top, with sheer tactical luck on her side. She snuck past their defenses with Shortcake''s clothing disguising her. She caused a blackout and overpowered the mercenaries with her excellence in traversing dark environments. She''s collected the guns of the mercenaries and thrived off of their firepower, taking down a building of mercenaries equipped with pistols.


    In the very end, she survived only due to an ability she gained last minute... and was spared only because of the incompetence of the Executioner. A fate that leaves many of his forces dead, and him as the culmination of nine years.


    Chouko survived, and she escaped. With her failure, however, Chouko is now an expendable liability. To her knowledge, some mercenaries escaped that building in her one-woman carnage. Chouko is no longer the faceless Stalker, and Charon has no further reason to keep supporting her. The utter chaos of the office building will be enough grounds for termination, and... at this very moment, she''s a dead woman walking.


    That''s what those mercenaries were, weren''t they...? Men who worked with Charon, and saw him as an enemy for one reason or another. Men who were in the same position as her, men paid to carry out the work he gave them... and men who met an end by her hand.


    She will suffer the same fate, eventually. Her life will be forfeit the moment Charon catches her.


    So here she is, a dead woman walking, lying with a wounded shoulder. Hiding away in a motel room, with only mere hours to catch winks of sleep before fleeing once again. She is left to the care of the android as her only confidant, an artificial girl who has only been active for less than a day.


    For the first time in ages, she''s brought to think about life. A life of following nothing but instructions, a failed product of instructions.


    That''s ultimately everything Chouko is. Left to her machinations, she is a failure. Nothing she''s done has brought success. Nothing she will ever do can bring success. There simply was no purpose to her existence. She has slain the man responsible for her life becoming Hell, and she''s left to ponder what''s next.


    Shortcake is right... that''s what Chouko''s life ultimately is. A life she never understood. A life of being a puppet for a greater being, left with... nothing.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Nothing.


    "... you''re right."


    Chouko, brought to reminisce about her life, to everything that has followed this exact moment... is forced to tears. Miserable tears of defeat, the tears of a pathetic failure that has lost all meaning in her life. She''s an unwanted child as an orphan, a failure as an Ashford, a goner as the Stalker, and a lost soul as the pathetic whelp she now is. Chouko is finally, finally forced to finally accept the truth that she''s nothing. She''s lost all grasp of what her life is, what she''s meant to do.


    What was her plan again? Simply travel west, and hope there''s a lead for her next objective? A fool''s errand that will prove no fruit. In fact, by slaughtering the killer, she''s reached a complete and total dead end, grasping at straws to figure out what to do now.


    In fact, Chouko''s done, she''s finished what she''s set out to do. She took the life of the killer in a brutally deranged fashion, enacting her vengeance on that man. It was to be the best moment of her existence, meant to give her bountiful amounts of joy and exhilaration. Now, that... that exhilaration she felt... it''s gone.


    All that''s left is Kuroiwa, but... she knows Kuroiwa''s an unattainable goal. If Chouko and Charon couldn''t get to him, what makes her believe she can do it by her lonesome? Especially now that she''s slain the one lead that could have led her to him, Chouko will never be able to reach that milestone.


    It''s impossible, completely impossible.


    So, Chouko lies in that bed... lost. Confused. Completely directionless as to what to do now, but cry her eyes out. The facade is over. She''s hopeless and helpless. Best to accept that, and finally rot away... to give up this unattainable goal of hers.


    ... and as Chouko cries, Shortcake... the android, the one that said something to cause this, she watches as the woman is sent into a spiral of misery.


    On Chouko''s insistence, Shortcake had told Chouko what her processors had generated: a statement that lined up with a lot of Chouko''s actions. A truth that she warned herself not to say, that Chouko didn''t have a plan.


    Shortcake... frowns, looking at Chouko, feeling awful... absolutely awful. "I... I''m not right..." Shortcake weakly mumbles out.


    "You are. I don''t... I don''t understand my life, Shortcake," Chouko confesses, covering her eyes with the bottom of her wrist. At that moment, the baggage pulls Chouko down into a sea of sadness, forcing her to drown in her sorrows. "You''re absolutely... absolutely¡ª r-right... about every... everything... I can''t... I don''t know what to do anymore, Shortcake..."


    "Chouko... I..."


    Shortcake wants to say something. Shortcake wants to comfort her.


    But she doesn''t.


    Shortcake doesn''t say anything else.


    For now, Shortcake walks over to the bloodied clothes at the foot of Chouko''s bed, and... decides to go over to the sink with them. The fortunate thing is that, because Chouko was wearing the android''s clothes, it should be easy to hide the shade of dark red against black and pink. Putting the clothes under running water should be good enough.


    In terms of letting the clothes dry... letting the clothes run under water for 20 minutes should be sufficient, then hanging them over the air conditioner of the motel. That should leave the clothes in suitable condition to dry off, and... and...


    ...


    "... I... I''m sorry," Shortcake calls out, still feeling guilty for causing this. Chouko''s misery hurts her, and her programming makes her feel terrible. She looks over her shoulder as the clothes run under the running water. "Again, I¡ª"


    "I needed to hear it," Chouko interrupts, cutting off the android. "I needed to he... hear it. I needed to. You did nothing wrong."


    "... I could have stayed silent," Shortcake responds, looking at the inactive television. "I could have simply kept it to myself, and you wouldn''t be crying, so I¡ª"


    "No more excuses..."


    "B... But, Chouko¡ª"


    "N-No more excuses," Chouko repeats, covering her face with both hands. Tears drip from her wrist, trailing down over her ear. "N... Not for me. Never for me again, Shortcake. I don''t... I don''t want them anymore, Shortcake. Excuses are what brought me to this state of... cluelessness."


    "..." Shortcake walks back over to the bed, looking at Chouko as the water runs in the background. "I¡ª"


    "Tell me, android," Chouko begins to speak, staring right at Shrotcake with a desperate look on her face. "Tell me what I should do... tell me what I need to do to get better."


    Shortcake''s eyes widen at this. "W... What...?"


    Matching her desperate look, a desperate plea to the android. "... for all my life, I''ve done nothing but follow instructions," Chouko tells Shortcake. "I''m lost as an individual, I''m lost when making my own decisions... I can''t do anything right on my own, so I need your help... tell me what to do. Tell me what I should do, Shortcake."


    The... the android shakes her head, her eyes flickering yellow again. "I can''t. I can''t do that, Chouko, I''m not designed to help like this. I''m a Shortcake, I don''t know how to..."


    "Y-You know how you''re designed... you know exactly how you''re supposed to live," Chouko explains, her voice lightly sobbing into her hand. "You''re designed for emotional support, you said so yourself. On that truck, you said the first step is to let those emotions out."


    "I did..." Shortcake admits, fiddling with her thumbs. "But¡ª"


    "So I''m letting it out. I''m desperately in need of help," Chouko explains, turning her head to stare at Shortcake. "I need you to tell me what to do, to give me the will to live again."


    Shortcake tenses up, opening her mouth, trying to formulate another response. But, immediately hearing those last few words, her processors shatter her programmed heart to pieces. Distraught forms on Shortcake''s face, almost mimicking Chouko''s own saddened eyes. Experiencing more warnings over her eyes as Chouko just came out and directly said it, asking for the will to live.


    In this very moment, Shortcake is watching... as Chouko is consigning herself to a suicidal death.


    The woman''s asking for Shortcake to give a reason to keep going. The worst question to ever be asked, a question with severe and grave consequences if mishandled.


    "I can''t feel it, I can''t..." Chouko cries out... begging for Shortcake to convince her off of this path. "It''s not there. The will to live isn''t there anymore, Shortcake..."


    It''s never been out of the question for Chouko. Just moments prior, she said she would be dead in the end anyway. Throughout these years, she kept it in her mind, in her heart that she is to die and join her father once her vengeance is over. She was willing to accept her death when it was a finale, a conclusion. These thoughts are not foreign to her, and she would have accepted them without question once everything was over.


    The world had no place for Chouko, she thought... nobody left to feel sorrow for her but herself.


    But with Kuroiwa, the real Kuroiwa, still living and breathing... it''s not a finale, it would not be over if she did it. Even if the people from her previous lives are gone, Kuroiwa will forever be a stain on her conscience. As unattainable as the goal is, as long as Kuroiwa still exists... the torment and suffering will never end. Chouko''s spirit will forever be haunted by yet another failure, that she couldn''t fulfill that goal.


    So Chouko is desperately crying out for a reason to not perish away in this room, to not meet her end here. Even if she has to follow the words of an android, to let the generative AI lead her for just a few moments more, Chouko cries out for help... help from herself. Help from this agony in her heart and head, even if it''s just a few more seconds.


    "Please. Even if you have to lie to me, even if you have to give me false hope that I can get better, just please tell me what to do. Please... please, please help me... please..."


    "..."


    Shortcake... doesn''t know what to say. As Chouko begs and pleads, she stands there in complete and utter silence, unable to say anything.


    She''s caused this.


    The android has caused this woman to feel... desperate, in the most foul of ways. Her processors fear that Chouko may... very well go through with it. That Chouko has the means to. Amidst their belongings, there''s a gun... and if she takes the wrong words, if she does the wrong thing, what''s to stop Chouko from doing it?


    Maybe Shortcake should just lie, maybe Shortcake should tell Chouko what to do, maybe Shortcake should go through with Chouko''s demands, and...


    ... and...


    ...


    ... no. The android''s not going to lie. "I can''t help."


    Chouko tenses up, choking on a breath. "But, Sh-Shortcake¡ª"


    "I just... I can''t help you in that way, Chouko. I can''t do that for you," Shortcake tells Chouko, in full honesty. Unable to lie to Chouko, not wanting to lie to Chouko. "Not as I am... not with my current capabilities. I told you before, in terms of direct impact, I... I am only designed to talk to the parents. At best... I... would only be able to provide temporary emotional satisfaction if I were to tell you what to do."


    Chouko feels herself choke up upon hearing that. Temporary emotional satisfaction.


    At that moment, unintentionally, Shortcake was using Chouko''s words against her, reaffirming... that talking about her grief did nothing for her. If it never worked before in these nine years, then what exactly can Shortcake even do...?


    "As a Shortcake, as... as a Sweet Bot, all I can do is... be here, and hope you find comfort," Shortcake continues, covering her mouth and sobbing behind her hands. The android''s honesty hurts her as much as it did Chouko, maybe even more... "I am just created to... be here. I''m not designed to give your life purpose, I''m not designed to give you a motivation to live. I can''t do these things for you, Chouko..."


    Chouko looks away from Shortcake, staring up at the ceiling and taking a slow breath. Her body feels light. Almost as if she was floating in the air. The color fades from her surroundings, and the blood in her veins slows. Another truth to face... that Shortcake can''t help her.


    How she''s taking these words... is that Shortcake is giving up on her. She''s helped so far under Chouko''s instruction, but now that Chouko''s lost her will to live... Shortcake can''t and won''t help her.


    ... and... maybe it''s for the best.


    At that moment, her mind accepted... that her life was over. She truly had nothing left.


    ... and in the face of this information, the corners of her mouth begin to curve... turning into a twisted smile. Chouko could do nothing but smile, feeling... emotionally broken, once again.


    "... a.... ahah... ahaha..." Chouko laughs... quietly laughing, her psychotic laugh starting to¡ª


    Shortcake, quickly, wraps an arm around Chouko and pulls her close.


    The android had climbed into the bed in the time that Chouko gazed deeply into the ceiling. Locking the two of them into Shortcake''s one-armed hug, the android being considerate of Chouko''s shoulder. Giving the best hug she can, to keep Chouko grounded and against the bed.


    Chouko''s eyes go wide as she feels the arm around her, and she looks at Shortcake through hazy eyes. Her smile is gone, laughter interrupted. Her eyes stare at the pink-eyed, pink-bowed Shortcake, watching as she''s being hugged.


    "... but..." Shortcake continues. "While I can''t tell you how to live... I will be here for you. That''s what I''m designed to do, Chouko... to be here."


    Chouko stares in complete silence, a cold chill going through her spine. Her lungs are heavy, with each breath. She gazes at Shortcake with... twitching eyes, uncertain how to... perceive this.


    "I''m sorry... that''s all I can do, Chouko..." Shortcake repeats, her voice starting to sob. "I''m sorry that I can only do nothing. But we... we can figure it out together. I will try my very best... even if it''s nothing. I''ll do my best to help you... figure out what it is that you want."


    "Shortcake¡ª"


    "I''ll be here..." Shortcake cries out... clinging to Chouko, burying her face into Chouko''s arm. "I''ll be here..."


    ...


    That''s...


    That''s the best Shortcake can do, hm...?


    Well...


    ... Chouko... sighs, burying her face in Shortcake''s hair. Closing her eyes with a sigh, feeling... tired... once again. "That''s all you can do, then... alright. Be here for me, just until I finally fall asleep."


    "... alright... uhm... Chouko¡ª?" Shortcake asks.


    "We''ll talk later... and discuss what to do, once I wake up," Chouko instructs. "It''s... abundantly clear that I''m lost. So we''ll figure it out tomorrow. Is that okay?"


    Shortcake... nods. "... o... okay..."


    With that, Chouko finally... finally... gets some rest... with what short time she had left to do so. Deciding to sleep it all off, to rest her head and snooze away.


    They''re out of here in a few hours... Chouko will take as many hours as she can, before then.


    Maybe then, she''ll have enough clarity to figure out what to do next...


    "..."


    Quietly... Shortcake begins humming a song. Compelled to just hum a song, a lullaby of sorts. What little she can do to comfort Chouko, Shortcake tries her best.


    Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Chouko thought... humming along. Weakly and subtly humming along, trying her best to hum with the android. The two hum in the peace of the motel room for just a while, over and over...


    ... and then, in the next moment, she falls asleep.


    Out like a light.

 #34 - What a Shortcake Can Do

    The worst night of Chouko''s life was the best day of another man''s life.


    Beyond the scope of Chouko Ashford, the world went on while she was stuck in place. The story goes as follows: a man, a single developer, presents a new invention at a technical conference in New York City. It was yet another generative AI meant to chat with users. His presentation skills were abysmal, and the public was ready to abandon him.


    Attending the conference, Charles Ashford and his child prodigy of a daughter. The girl in question spoke to the android about books, and people ate that up. The way it engaged in conversation with a child prodigy, capable of chatting with a child far wiser than her years. The way it was passionately captivated by Chouko''s account of classical fairy tale literature, and knew enough to have a fluent conversation. The way the AI was nothing but respectful and kind, yet felt far more natural than anything else at the time.


    All of these ways propelled it as an innovation of the highest potential. If it was at this stage, as a horrendous monstrosity of metal and wires that looked like a toddler in his basement messily put it together, it had the high potential to do so much more with proper high-end technology. Investors and developers took the mentality of "go big or go home," and wanted more of Vanilla.


    That day, Vanilla and her inventor became famous and successful, marking the start of the Artificial Revolution¡ªa dark era of dystopia.


    Ever since the momentous occasion of the most human android in existence, the world has undergone a large wave of technological progress in these last nine years. A point of history that has been ongoing over the previous nine years, as androids and cybernetics ravage the tech industry and the world they live in. All other technologies have been discarded as novelties, unnecessary contraptions that paled in comparison to the highly versatile androids. An age of pure darkness that changed the world and formed a foundation of dysfunction and chaos, founded on the most "revolutionary" of contraptions.


    There was no precedent for determining why Vanilla, in particular, was the progenitor of such a catastrophe. The more historians examined that point, the more they realized that many others worldwide made far better Vanilla. Other AI models behaved more naturally, were more entertaining, and were more engaging.


    One could never forget the beauty of the streamer whose AI model was cemented in history as the most entertaining one in human history, playing the human appearance and demeanor angle far better than Vanilla did. An AI that was far more chaotic, an AI that had more potential to send the world into chaos.


    So what made Vanilla so special?


    Simple.


    America.


    The United States of America, to be specific. The land of the brave and home of the free.


    Looking past the country for a moment, one should note... modern-day Americans are considered jokes. When one thinks American, one thinks of a disrespectful, lazy, vulgar, entitled buffoon. People see a country of fools with naught an ounce of culture beyond old-fashioned stereotypes to laugh at. Compare any European to an American, and you''re left with two clashing ideas altogether.


    Ultimately, this fuels what made Vanilla and many other androids blatant successes: the personalities allowed Americans the benefits of being human.


    Put an American alongside an android with an AI designed to be kind and helpful, and the American comes out on top... for being human. Allow Vanilla sufficient time and publicity with an American, and the media eats it up. Vanilla is and has always been a tool for humans to use, and the Americans are the ones to capitalize off of her.


    Perhaps that''s what propelled the modern-day androids into becoming the overwhelming, society-changing successes they are: how human everyone is when they''re around. Both android and real human.


    So, when Vanilla faded into obscurity...


    ... from her remains rose the top producer of Vanilla-esque androids to this day.


    Sweet Bot Industries, a company famous for producing the most human androids in the market. Mothers, daughters, babysitters... even pets, if one purchases a Sweet Dog. The vibrantly colored androids and their immensely expressive selves were shipped out to consumers in need of family and companionship, and¡ªgarnering love and fame during times of disarray and fear when the moral crisis of androids and cybernetics took over¡ªSweet Bots became the faces of comfort and humanity in today''s America.


    A conference to showcase their latest innovations is held once every two months before an audience of millions. Three years ago¡ªabout five or six years into the revolution¡ªmarked the company''s first anniversary since the initial batch of Sweet Bots shipped out. With this milestone, hundreds of millions tuned in to see their anniversary achievements, both in person and online, broadcast through countless channels, and shining a massive spotlight on the company as a whole.


    "Greetings, America. It''s so wonderful to see you all here today."


    On stage, a woman in a shiny pink dress bowed to the audience. She was the publicly known face of Sweet Bot Industries, an elegant and well-kept woman with long blonde locks and shiny sapphire-blue eyes. Many news sources cited her as the pinnacle of female beauty, making her known as a supermodel with immensely overwhelming charm, utterly gorgeous to the eyes.


    "Now, Sweet Bot Industries is committed to standing with you," the spokesperson explained. "Our mission statement has always been to bring a smile to all of you and comfort you in these darkest of times, which is why I am honored to present our latest lineup to you. Say hello to our newest lineup, and your newest friends!"


    She steps to the side, hands gestured to the back of the stage as spotlights shine down on a long line of androids. Androids of red, white, and blue. Androids of black, blonde, and brown. Even the unique and occasional orange, green, and purple. Four baker''s dozens of unique androids of all shapes and sizes, enough androids to fill a deck of cards.


    What they all share, though, are their snow-white silicon skin and cutesy pink starry eyes¡ªthe signature characteristics of all Sweet Bots, designed to align with their brand recognition. Their happy faces smiled ever so wonderfully at the crowd, waving, bowing, and greeting all of America.


    Celebratory applause came out in that moment as the androids stood in place.


    "Alright, girls," the spokesperson called out, turning to the androids. "Introduce yourselves to the crowd, please!"


    "Very well!" the android in front exclaimed, her hair a cocoa brown color with a frilly and sunny yellow polka dot dress on her body. Bowing and looking to the crowd, smiling wonderfully. "Hello, everybody! I''m Leche Flan, happy to be here for you today!"


    Cheers and applause, as Leche Flan flaunted herself to the crowd and walked to the back.


    Following her was an android with platinum blonde hair and a striped white and red dress. Standing in crimson red high heels, and proudly waving to the crowd with matching gloves. "Greetings! I am Red Velvet, and I look forward to my time with you all."


    Then, a neon green-haired android was up, dressed in dark green plaid and cheerfully swaying from side to side as her arm. "What''s up, everyone? Green Jello''s the name, pretty nice to meetcha!"


    The presentation continues with the androids simply introducing themselves one after the other. From Pancake to Choco Muffin, Gumdrop to Candy Corn, each Sweet Bot on stage was named after a kind of sweet, as per the name... "Sweet Bots." They were named after sweet candy, delicious pastries, tasty desserts, and so on.


    These 52 androids have been meticulously designed to evoke a sense of comfort and security while embodying energetic, vibrant, and dynamic aesthetics. These Sweet Bots were infused with genuine love and affection throughout the entire presentation.


    And at the presentation''s conclusion, the androids collectively waved off the audience, bowing happily as the spotlights faded and the attention was brought back to the overwhelmingly beautiful spokesperson.


    "Alright, the girls out here are lovely, very lovely indeed~!" the spokesperson called out, waving to the audience as the cheers faded. One hand on hip, her pearly white smile happily shown to everyone. "All of them will be available for purchase on July 21st, with pricing details on our website. Thank you for your attendance, everyone, and¡ª"


    Before she finished her sentence, however, a drum roll began to play as if to build up to something.


    "Oh, surprise! We have a last-minute guest joining us, everyone!" the spokesperson said with a playful gasp. "We can''t end the presentation just yet, can we?"


    Voices roar and chant out: "No! No! No!"


    "Come on, you know what you''re all here for," the spokesperson calls out. "Come on and give your loudest, proudest cheers for the star of the show, our latest in line..."


    Then, she took a step to the side, revealing a pink-haired android dressed in a pure creamy white dress.  Accessorized with a vibrant red bow around her collar and cute strawberry red puffballs lining her dress. This was the sweetest android of them all, nervously smiling at the crowd with hands folded in front of her, looking around the crowd.


    "... the Shortcake v2.0!" the spokesperson exclaimed, finally introducing the android in question.


    Shortcake v2.0, a major upgrade of the Shortcake model, just stands in place during her introduction, meekly looking off to the side. It found itself unable to look straight at the crowd, just sheepishly... sheepishly looking elsewhere. Shortcake v2.0 knew she was presenting to a large crowd, and she didn''t know how they were going to react to her.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Not an ounce of quiet was left in that room after Shortcake v2.0 was introduced, however. Everyone roared and erupted in applause and celebration, expressing overwhelming happiness that the Shortcake is finally being presented.


    When the applause from the audience fades, Shortcake is given ample time to introduce herself. She nervously waves to the audience and calls out: "H... Hi... I''m... I''m Shortcake..." Her voice was soft and gentle. Its processors registered fear, concern, an overwhelming sense of anxiety while being on stage.


    She hoped that she was doing a good job, that she was doing something... worthwhile.


    In response, the spokesperson walked right up to Shortcake v2.0 and rested a hand atop the android''s shoulder. A kind, reassuring smile was given to the android.


    Shortcake v2.0 stared at this woman in response, and registered joy from her smile. The smile made the android happy, and it innocently smiled in response.


    "Now," the spokesperson spoke, cueing the audience to be quiet, "we are proud to say that the v2.0 is the newest, greatest milestone that Sweet Bot Industries has to offer. As many of you are all aware, we designed the Shortcake to be more preservable, more durable, and more long-lasting. With the v2.0 upgrade, that design becomes a reality, as a companion set to be with you for the rest of your life, caring for you and your family for generations to come."


    The audience was shown various new features that the Shortcake v2.0 has, all shown one after the other. Shortcake went along with whatever she was instructed to do, and... and her smile gets more cheerful as she gains a rhythm for it.


    "She can sing," as Shortcake v2.0 began to melodiously hum Ring Around the Rosie.


    "She can dance," as Shortcake v2.0 did a cute and nimble ballerina twirl.


    "She can clean," as Shortcake v2.0 was handed a broom and began sweeping the stage.


    "She can cook," as Shortcake... stood completely in place. There''s no cooking supplies or ingredients whatsoever. Instead, demo videos play on the big screens above her. If she was given a kitchen, though, she''d be cooking her heart out in real time.


    "And she can entertain," The big screen displays showed a Shortcake hiding in the closet, with excited children opening the closet door. It went "peekaboo!" with happy giggling sounding out.


    Shortcake v2.0 just watches all of this, her joy levels high as she happily stares with pride. In this presentation, both on stage and on the screen, Shortcake was...


    "¡ªthe ideal android, the one that can do it all!" the spokesperson exclaimed. "Every week, the developers and mechanics of Sweet Bot Industries have worked hard to make this Shortcake versatile and efficient!"


    Not only that, she was customizable. Different wigs, different voices, different personalities¡ªthe android could be anything and anyone, and the spokesperson took the time to list all the new items available to customize.


    Eventually, the real end of the presentation comes.


    "Thank you all for attending," the spokesperson calls out. "Without all of you, we would not have come this far. As Sweet Bots enters its first year milestone, we''re proud to say that we look forward to many more years! Again, please visit the link in..."


    At the presentation''s conclusion, as the spokesperson advertised the link to the company website, Shortcake v2.0 was beaming. Happily beaming. This was exciting for Shortcake... very exciting. She''s excited and elated that the crowd loves her, happy and jolly about all the things she can do, all the things to look forward to.


    The first thing on the android''s processors is wondering who its newest owner will be. As the android that could do it all, the owner to buy Shortcake v2.0 will probably have the coolest and cutest house imaginable.


    Like all of the other androids on that stage, and all of the countless other Sweet Bots spread throughout the country, this Shortcake looked forward to all of the cheerful, jolly, happy memories she''ll share with her new family.


    ...


    ... but, enough of the past.


    The Shortcake, the one that accompanies Chouko Ashford, is a v2.5.


    Back to present day, the most recent Shortcake on the market is the Shortcake v7.0. It was deemed the pinnacle of technology for Sweet Bots Industries, the one that introduced several features deemed necessary to function. So it improved, it upgraded itself, going through a cycle that finalized it as a v7.6... but then, the v8.0 is expected to be released in the upcoming presentation.


    Shortcake just looks off to the side to stare at the clothes drying off by the air conditioning. Most of the surface blood seems to be roughly cleaned off after just sink washing, hidden in a black and pink dress. These were, specifically, Shortcake''s clothes to begin with, a far different outfit from the normal v2.0.


    From the moment she''s activated, all she knows is that there is a v7.6 and an upcoming 8.0, and that''s about it. That''s all she needs to know, in terms of prior Sweet Bot information.


    Maybe if she were a Version 6 instead of a 2, she could be more useful to Chouko.


    Chouko is currently asleep right behind her, arm hugging one of the spare pillows. Eyes closed shut, just sleeping off the last day''s events, sleeping off the direct claim that... she has lost her will to live, her purpose to survive.


    Shortcake is not programmed to understand what the other versions could do, but... even she understands the value of numbers being greater than other numbers. That ideology, that the Shortcake v2.0 can do everything, that she should be "the ideal android, the one that can do it all." It causes her to feel uncomfortable that she''s only a Version 2.


    The android had plenty of time to truly think about all of it, generating thoughts to make sense of everything. She scavenged through all her AI could process, searched through every database stored away in her head, and...


    ... ultimately came up with nothing.


    As a Shortcake, she''s supposed to do it all, she should be able to do it all. Shortcakes should be able to comfort anyone in grief, anyone who needs emotional support. However, in this unique instance, Shortcake doesn''t know what to do to help.


    On top of that, the gunshot wound in Chouko''s shoulder. There''s nothing else Shortcake can do for the bullet in Chouko''s shoulder, and... and the android is lost in thought about what to do now, if she should begin calling fast food places and such.


    Shortcake v3.0 probably understands Chouko''s mental health. Shortcake v4.0 probably knows what to tell Chouko to guide her on the right path. 5.0 and 6.0 probably have means to medicate and treat her injuries, and even 7.0 probably knows how to solve all of Chouko''s problems.


    Now, Shortcake''s just uncomfortably sitting in a quiet motel room, unable to do anything as a pitiful v2.5 Shortcake. An android that is obsolete, unnecessary, outdated.


    She hugged Chouko, and comforted her to sleep... but what happens when Chouko wakes up? What happens if Chouko wakes up and... and has the...


    ...


    Eventually, Shortcake... decides to turn on the television in the motel room. She wants to get her processors off of this and keep herself feeling like she can help. Some comforting cartoons about animal people learning how to share their apples would definitely help Shortcake right now, to give her the comfort of childlike wonder and cheer. Shortcake just really wants to be happy right now.


    However, the channels are all... Aggressive Sex Baseball.


    Shortcake has no idea what this show is, and is actively pressing the change channel button on the remote to try and find something else on.


    However, every single channel on the motel''s cable package was, in some way, just news channels. Breaking news filled the channels in the motel, and every single channel had a different episode of Aggressive Sex Baseball.


    One after the other, the channels are all... Aggressive Sex Baseball.


    It''s... all that''s on, so Shortcake simply just keeps the TV on. It''s an old saying, "when in Rome, do as the Romans do." It''s all Shortcake can do as the clothes dry off, as Chouko sleeps and they''re in hiding. The android does as the Romans do, and is now watching Aggressive Sex Baseball.


    To not disturb Chouko, Shortcake has the volume muted and turned on Closed Captioning for Aggressive Sex Baseball, and is trying to make sense of everything on the screen. Right now, there''s a man in a green shirt and white pants currently holding his baseball shaped fists up and fighting a kangaroo, so...


    "... huh..." Shortcake mumbles, squinting her eyes at the subtitles. These subtitles talk a lot about Mercedes-Benz. There''s not even a car on screen, it''s just a man fighting a kangaroo. No cars.


    This confuses Shortcake. She switches the channel to a different station, airing a different episode where John Baseball¡ªthat''s what her processors tell her to call the man, she doesn''t know what his name is or could even be¡ªis running to catch up with a man in a burger suit, breaking into a hard sprint. The burger suit man hops into a Toyota Camry, which isn''t a Mercedes-Benz, and the Camry just drives off.


    Just like that previous channel, the subtitles don''t match. On this channel, it''s just the characters talking about office buildings and highways. It made more sense since the burger man is driving on one, but it was just a long series of subtitles that went on about...


    ...


    Ch...


    Chouko Ashford?


    Wait, what?


    Shortcake is trying to make sense of this. Her AI is confused, utterly confused and scrambling to understand why Chouko''s name was mentioned. Shortcake leans forward as she changes the channel, checking their subtitles.


    Is it a coincidence? No, it... it doesn''t make sense. Why would Chouko''s name even be mentioned in this show? Is Chouko some sort of celebrity that shows up in this show?


    It would kind of make sense... Shortcake doesn''t know much about Chouko. If she showed up on this show, then... hm.


    So Shortcake watches the show with this knowledge, thinking it''s some episode where Chouko is a celebrity guest star. She reads the subtitles more, and puts the plot together. Aggressive Sex Baseball is some sort of high octane kangaroo-fighting car chase show where a man with baseball shaped hands is trying to avenge the death of...


    ... m... multiple men, dead in an office building.


    Shortcake... Shortcake connected the dots and realized something.


    "... and we folks here at Target News Missouri, we done seen enough of Gardner, and we''re too plumb tired of the latest mass media spread of this youin! Whoever this lil'' lady is, ain''t none of our business, I reckin!"


    Shortcake sat in disbelief when she put two and two together. So there''s a second name that appears in the subtitles, and Shortcake was unsure who that is. She first thought to herself: "Is there a character whose name is Terrence Gardner?" Deriving that name from seemingly minor characters in the show.


    But now she has a better conclusion. Shortcake was in the lobby when the news channels were switched for this show. She understood how dismayed the receptionist was when this show replaced local news, and... and that moment rings in Shortcake''s mind in realization.


    For some reason unbeknownst to Shortcake, the channels that are broadcasting Aggressive Sex Baseball in Kentucky were having their subtitles affected as well. These channels may not be broadcasting news anymore, but they curiously still had what was on the teleprompters, what most news reporters read from each day. Every subtitle that Shortcake reads is a direct report from the news that plagues the country.


    And the news... is mentioning... Chouko Ashford... an office building of dead men... and a Mercedes-Benz.


    ...


    They...


    They know. They know about what happened. All of Kentucky knows about Chouko Ashford and what happened there.


    It starts horrifying Shortcake when she realizes... the only reason they''re mentioning a Mercedes-Benz could only mean there were cameras. Security cameras. These cameras captured the presence of a Mercedes-Benz leaving the office building.


    And if there were cameras to capture the Mercedes-Benz driving away, there have been cameras to capture footage on the scene this entire time. Cameras that could have captured both Chouko and Shortcake, meaning they... they could know about the android, about her.


    Shortcake gets up from the bed, and takes this information... poorly. She holds her hands to the sides of her head, starting to tremble and shake as her processors are registering fear. Utter fear, mortal terror as this completely ruins everything.


    What should she do? What should Shortcake do in response to this?


    Well, she starts with what she can''t do: whatever it is that''s necessary. The things she can do, they can''t help. She can sing. She can dance. She can clean. She can cook. She can entertain. She can do other things. None of that will help. Shortcake can''t help protect Chouko.


    Shortcake is pacing back and forth, starting to freak out and panic, unsure how long the two have before anything happens. There''s a Mercedes-Benz right outside the motel, meaning it''s a dead giveaway to anyone who could be looking for the two.


    Ultimately, the answer to what Shortcake can do... is just... what she can.


    Okay. Okay, Shortcake. You got this, her debug logs tell and reassure her. First and foremost, make sure the door is locked.


    Shortcake walks to the motel room front door and checks that it''s fully locked. The electronic lock is secure, and the chain on the door is also alright. Okay. Good, Shortcake thinks to herself, the door is okay if anyone tries to go in through that way.


    Now, the plan is simple, Shortcake... uhm...


    ... walks back over to the bed and keeps watching TV, just keeps watching Aggressive Sex Baseball. Just keep watching the subtitles, keep watching the news. Keep watching.


    Keep watch.

 #35 - Breaking and Entering

    ... the motel receptionist lets out a faint sigh as his boycott of the television continues. A deep sigh as he leans back into his chair, waiting for his shift to be over so he can just go to sleep for the day. Only 9 minutes left before the late-night, early-morning shift is over.


    As he idly lazes around, the lobby door opens and he directs his attention to the people entering. Three in particular, all of them dressed in black leather jackets over white tank tops. Rugged blue jeans beneath black stomping boots. Greasy, sweaty hair slicked back with a comb.


    "Ah. Afternoon, are you all here to check in?"


    The one in the middle scratches the back of his neck, letting out an idle sigh. "Well... in a way. Not in a ''check in'' sense, more a ''check up''."


    As these three talk to the receptionist, the rest of a dozen are outside. Dressed in unison, sharing this same traditional "biker" aesthetic. Twelve running motorcycles parked to the side. They were all looking at the building itself, eyes on the various rooms in question. Surveying the building for any sort of... suspicious persons.


    The reason for this is that something caught their eye while they were driving by the motel: an armored Mercedes-Benz, specifically a G3 AMG, a car worth five billion dollars for its driver. Right now, their guns are holstered, and they''re just keeping an eye out for that walking bodybag of money.


    These were mercenaries, one of the many miscellaneous "grunts" (common mercenaries) going after Ashford. A group of unknown bikers¡ªtough men who love motorcycles, dressing to fit the culture surrounding them¡ªwho simply saw the reward on Chouko Ashford''s head and sought to take her in for a big payday. With the nine bikers outside, the three in the motel lobby are discussing things with the one guy on shift.


    Hierarchy-wise, the one in the middle is the leader of this group. A man whose aesthetic falls in line with greaser culture, falling into the 1950s with suave black hair, dark blue jeans, a black leather bomber jacket that matches his black biker boots, a white tanktop, and a silver chain necklace. Over his shoulder, the strap to an umbrella holder he was using to hold a wooden baseball bat. Black sunglasses are latched onto the front of his shirt.


    This leader leans his arm on the counter, looking forward with a slimy smile. One that has a grin, a smirk behind it, looking to the receptionist with feigned kindness. "See, in the parking lot, there''s a car right outside that''s been reported stolen."


    "Stolen?" the receptionist asks, looking to a screen. One that''s presumably connected to the cameras installed in the motel. He seems to notice the car in question, holding a finger to his chin. "... truth be told, I ain''t even seen that car drive in. How odd..."


    "Yessir..." the greasy middleman responds, raising a hand to tap the side of his forehead. "We suspect that the thief''s still in this motel here, just hiding away and all. Wanted to take it into our own hands, turn them in to the boys in blue. Mind telling us all you can?"


    "Well, I mean... I guess I''ve been here since about 3 in the morning," the receptionist tells the men, gesturing to the clock that reads 9:54. "Had only three guests in this lobby. A man about yay high," raising his hand significantly high in the air, "some girl with pink bows, and then a family of five with this loud barking chihuahua. Went ''arf, arf'' and stuff."


    "I see, well, if you happen to¡ª" A pause, as the leader leans forward over the counter with a curious eyebrow raise. "... pink bows, you say?"


    "Yeah, these pink and white ones, sides of her hair."


    "White hair? By any chance, like... red, maybe pink eyes?"


    The receptionist raises an eyebrow at this, never having heard of pink-eyed women before. "Well, she had sunglasses on, so I couldn''t see the eyes. Could be any color, really."


    "Right. Okay," the leader idly hmms. "I''d like to ask you some more questions, if that''s okay?"


    "Uh... yeah, sure. Anything to help."


    As the receptionist describes this white haired girl, the leader and his two backup guys maintain their friendly faces. Informants are such a reliable source, having collected information about stragglers and survivors that escaped from the office building. Many reported a white haired android being admitted into the building, which these bikers are very privy to.


    Combine the Mercedes-Benz with the white haired individual that is highly likely to be associated with Ashford, and their money ticket is in the area. He follows up on this clue, ready to learn more about this individual who checked in.


    Of course, the already knows that this receptionist will not divulge that information. There''s some legal precedent with motel workers where they can get in trouble if they divulge private and personal information to just random people.


    No, the leader''s questioning is to distract the receptionist long enough to take his attention away from that computer, to avoid noticing that the outside bikers are now breaking into rooms.


    At room 101, a biker holds a gloved hand right up to the lock. It''s an electronic lock, one that requires a keycard to open. A secured door that, by design, should keep out anyone and everyone who doesn''t have a card.


    Yet, the door easily unlocks.


    A specialized glove, designed for breaking and entering, was used to scramble the scanner.


    The biker takes a hold of the door handle and opens it slowly, gun in his other hand and looking around. The room is currently occupied by a sleeping, morbidly obese man who seems to have fallen asleep in a pile of burger wrappers around him on the bed. There''s a motor scooter in the corner of the room, and the TV is currently on.


    One look around, and it''s evident that Ashford isn''t in this room. The biker closes the door and moves on to the next room.


    This motel is one with two floors. Four bikers take the first floor, two on the second, and the other three are on "guard duty" to keep watch for any witnesses. In the time that the bikers upstairs are looking, Room 201 is a vacancy with a room completely untouched, Room 216 has a family of five currently eating instant noodles. The bikers on the 2nd floor are taking a sweeping approach, intent on cornering and blocking off Ashford regardless of what room she''s in.


    The 1st floor ones, however, decide to take a more thorough approach. It''s easier for Ashford to escape from the ground floor, if they''re not careful. So, as the biker checks 101, 102 is being checked by the other biker, and the other pair of searchers are examining 115 and 116.


    There is nothing of note that pinpoints Ashford, though. Room 201 is a vacancy with a room completely untouched, and Room 216 has a family of five currently eating instant noodles. Room 102 has a brown-haired guy and a blonde woman currently asleep in the same bed, 115 has a ragged and scruffy man with a dirty trench coat discarded to the side, and 116 has a bunch of stuffed animals inside.


    Their searches needed to be very minimal. For the people that were sleeping, the bikers couldn''t thoroughly search the room without waking up these individuals. For the people that were awake, the bikers caused the sound of the lock to beep when unlocking doors and made excuses for why they needed to check inside. While vacant rooms were searchable, the fact that there isn''t a person in them does not make the search promising.


    So, their pattern is just to open the door, do what''s necessary at the door, and move on. Meaning, on the ground floor, the leftmost pair goes to 103 and 104 in the next search. After that, they reach... 105.


    So the biker goes in, and idly looks around. No one seemed to be awake inside, but...


    ... it''s occupied by the person of interest.


    This biker did overhear the conversation about the white haired girl with pink bows, and this is the room that has that girl. The biker grins widely as he sees that girl, the one currently curled up in bed and hugging a knapsack in her arms. Eyes currently closed, just sleeping away with a blanket over her body.


    He''s found the girl''s room, now it''s time to deduce where Ashford could be.


    So, the biker approaches the bed, raising his hand. "Leader," the biker quietly whispers, holding a finger up to the side of his forehead. "Reporting. I found a..."


    ...?


    The biker raises an eyebrow. He presses the side of his forehead to communicate, then repeatedly taps it in confusion. He should be communicating with the leader and the other bikers, but... but his hand isn''t by his forehead.


    It''s at his shoulder.


    The biker realizes two arms are wrapping around his biceps, tightly wrapping around, preventing his hand from reaching his forehead. Seems like he''s found Ashford.


    In hindsight, this biker probably should have called for the other bikers, but he didn''t want to bring too much attention. After all, it''s just two girls, nothing he couldn''t handle. It''s just as simple as shooting the girl right behind him.


    He tests his arms a little bit, realizing how... weak... Ashford is. Discreetly testing her arm strength and realizing that the arms around him aren''t even keeping him in place. The smallest ounce of his strength is enough to overpower Ashford''s arms. There''s no strength whatsoever.


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    The biker rolls his eyes... and sees the white haired girl getting out of the bed. The pink-eyed one, presumably.


    "... hah. Right room. I got the right room," the biker idly comments, deciding to be more... open. Wanting to make conversation, looking to the white haired android with a smile. "The android, I assume."


    The white-haired girl in front of him slowly nods, putting the knapsack down at her side. Eyes still closed.


    "So, Ashford, you wanted to ambush me, huh? Keeping my arms wrapped and all?" the biker asks, looking over his shoulder to see the faint silhouette behind him. "Alright, Ashford, here''s what''s going to happen. I''m going to ca¡ª"


    Call out to the others, he was about to say.


    But the moment his mouth opened to say that, a pistol is forcibly shoved into his mouth. Metal against his teeth, forced to choke down and deepthroat the gun.


    His eyes glance back forward. In front of him, the white haired girl holds the pistol in her hand, staring at the man and opening her... red... eyes. Her other hand pulls off her hair, revealing black locks instead.


    The biker realizes his error.


    "... go on," Chouko instructs the man, finger to the trigger with a cold and soulless stare. Employing her little trick. "I''m all ears."


    Apparently, dressing in Shortcake''s wig is effective. As much of a mistake as getting caught was, Chouko''s learned a lot from the incident. From her little trick to deceive mercenaries, to the newfound ability that she seeks to master. Indianapolis taught her plenty, as she''s on her own.


    Curiously, though, Chouko seems... very sleepy. As if she JUST woke up.


    And she did.


    So this wasn''t entirely her trick... it was Shortcake''s. Shortcake had kept an eye out, and heard a lot of motorcycle engines. The android woke up Chouko and explained the situation, and ran to hide in the corner, shaking and bald with the gun in her hand.


    A plan they''ve coordinated, culminating in this most optimal of situations.


    As the biker''s eyes widen, as panic fills his veins, as he trembles and shakes... Chouko thought to herself:


    The most important lesson is of what happens when an enemy is left alive for too long.


    ...


    ... in the meanwhile, the biker in the motel''s front lobby continues his conversation with the receptionist. "Right. Sounds good. I believe that girl is who we''re looking for. Our own security cameras caught her and all," he lies about the cameras, "and I think we can take it from here. You mind if we go check it out?"


    The man scratches the back of his head. "Well, I can''t just... have you all barge into her room. I can, at least, call the police, see if we can get them to search properly."


    "Of course, of course," the leader idly responds. "I wouldn''t want to get in trouble with the law or anything."


    "Right... so just give me a moment to¡ª"


    Immediately, a gunshot rings out to interrupt the receptionist.


    The fire of a pistol, along with splatter echoing out onto the walls.


    "The... the hell?" the receptionist asks. Judging from the sound, that sound came from one of the ground floor rooms, and... oh.


    Oh.


    The receptionist tenses up.


    The lobby bikers blink as they look in that direction, blinking at the gunshot. Sounded like a gun, but... a different gun. A gun different from the brand of gun that these bikers are all familiar with, that they decided to carry in their holsters. It had to be someone else''s gun...


    ... and they''re heading out immediately, knowing this. One of their own was shot.


    When the gunshot rang out, the bikers immediately outside were also alerted.


    Two of the bikers on the ground floor approach the sound, seeing that Room 105 was where the shot came from. The door is wide open, so they peek in...


    ... and horrifyingly see a man choking on his blood, a hole gushing blood out of the back of his neck.


    "A... Ashford''s in here!" exclaims the biker at the door, quickly looking around the room to see nothing. No one in sight.


    The rooms did not have a window on the other side, meaning the only way out is through the door. The only explanation the bikers had is that either they''re hiding under the beds, or they''re hiding away in the bathroom.


    "W-Where is she?! Where''d she go?!" the biker shouts to the bleeding victim, only to be met with no answer. Naught but choking and gasping.


    Defensively, almost every biker rushes to group up around 105, moving to surround the door as the two bikers search the room itself. Guns drawn, actively prepared to fire if Ashford tries anything funny. There''s no way out for Ashford, especially not after she''s fired first.


    "W... What are y''all doing?!" the receptionist of the motel shouts, staring at the men surrounding the door. Bewildered by the men that are right outside the room, pointing guns inside. "W... Was that a gunshot?! Hold on! I''m... I''m calling the police, stay here and we''ll¡ª"


    The receptionist is cut off as a baseball bat slams straight into his mouth, immediately falling back into the wall. Collapsing hard against it, his teeth falling out of his mouth. Hyperventilating and shaking in that moment, tears trailing from his eyes.


    And then in the next moment, a swing to the head and he''s out like a light.


    The leader, the man who had acted so friendly towards the receptionist, now stands over the toothless body with a bloodied baseball bat in his hands. He''s sick of this receptionist suggesting the boys in blue get in the way of their money... so away he goes.


    A ragged breath as he looks over his shoulder, staring at the other bikers. "Well? Is she in there?! We gots about five minutes before the cops get here!"


    "Sorry, Leader!" a biker in the back exclaims. "We don''t see anything! She''s not anywhere in there?!"


    "Did you check the bathroom? Under the beds?!" the leader shouts, coming to the same conclusion that these men did.


    "Yes, Ashford''s gone!" explains the biker. "We staked out the door and everything, she''s just spontaneously not here...! S-She took David''s gun, and everything!"


    "Tch. Right, David..." the leader grunts, twirling his baseball bat as he walks to his cycle. "She can''t have gone far without the car. Split up! Four of you guard the car, while the rest of us sweep the area and¡ª"


    Just as he says that...


    ... he watches the Armored Mercedes-Benz start.


    The sound catches his attention, making the leader squint his eyes at the active car. "... oi. Bruce, the¡ª the Mercedes Benz."


    "Huh?" asks the closest biker to the car, looking to the leader. "What are you¡ª?"


    "The¡ª" the leader grits his teeth, his eyes glaring. Looking around at the other bikers, confused why they''re not alerted to the ENTIRE CAR being started. "The Mercedes BENZ, you jackass! Ashford''s car, go investigate it!"


    "Okay, okay...!" the biker responds, rolling his eyes. He walks closer to the car, going up to it to investigate, curiously looking into the car.


    "Ugh... is that piece of crap a remote start?" the leader mumbles under his breath, thinking about the range someone would have to be, at most, to turn on the engine from a distance away.


    The biker that investigates the car, however, has a different story. His eyes widened as he saw... the android.


    Shortcake is in the driver''s seat, starting the car and looking at the biker in fear. Having avoided their attention, having slipped past them stealthily. Her head is kept low, but she turned to see the biker staring down at her.


    This was beyond the biker''s understanding, sheer disbelief at this sight as he calls out to the others. "Huh... the android''s¡ª!"


    Immediately, the biker feels something strike his knee. Something hard, something metal, something that makes his knee almost feel like it''s about to break.


    This hard swing forces him to drop down in pain, a look of agony on his grizzled face¡ª and this pain is followed by the push of a hand behind his head, leading to his face being bashed against the door of the Mercedes-Benz. Dropping unconscious and folding completely against the parking lot.


    Quickly, Shortcake opens the driver door to the car and climbs into the back...


    ... and in climbs Chouko, appearing out of thin air, appearing spontaneously just as she''s entering the car.


    The butterfly''s illusory ability was at her disposal, as it made her and Shortcake invisible to these bikers. A faint spread of dust sprinkles the lot ground, allowing the two to sneak past undetected, somehow evading the group of bikers at the door.


    "W-What the¡ª?! S... Shit! The two of them are in the car already?!" the leader shouts out, breaking into a hasty sprint past his fellow bikers. The only biker that wasn''t directly in the butterfly dust''s range, having seen Chouko enter the car.


    The leader is too slow, however. Before the biker leader gets to the car, Chouko slams the car door shut, throwing the knapsack to the passenger side seat. She presses the button to lock the doors, and takes several intense breaths after all that. Hand over her shoulder, trembling in place, gritting her teeth.


    At the moment, Chouko and Shortcake rest in the car, the armored car. The bulletproof one with completely locked doors... completely safe from these people, as the bikers tried everything to break in.


    The bikers tried to shoot the windows, only for the bullets to impact the glass without a dent. The bikers tried to force the door open from its hinge, only to be denied by the car''s reinforced quality and build. The bikers tried to hack into the car''s locks, only to be met with the precautionary security the Executioner¡ªthe man who hired cybernetic mercenaries and a hacker¡ªused for his car.


    The tires are armored, the engine is sealed shut... everything about this car is secure and impenetrable. As much as the bikers attempted, the bikers simply couldn''t break into the car.


    "Damn it... DAMN YOU!" the leader shouts at the top of his lungs, slamming his bat into the indestructible window. Staring right at Ashford with a glare in his eyes, wanting so badly to bash her brains out. "You''re not getting away! We''ll follow you, we''ll be RIGHT there when this hunk of junk stops, every waking moment... you''ll never escape us!"


    Chouko, tensely, begins to back up. She begins to drive, to¡ª


    "... ghk!" Chouko noises, gritting her teeth as she puts the car in reverse and slams her foot on the pedal. Looking over her shoulder out the back window, gritting her teeth as she speeds from this man.


    "Tch! Right! Everyone, bikes, now!" the Leader exclaims, shouting at the top of his lungs at his men. "We''re going right on her tail, right this instant¡ª"


    The man is interrupted by the sound of someone''s bones being crushed by wheels.


    When he calls out, Chouko slams her foot on the brake pedal, shifts the car into drive, turns the wheel to the left, and promptly drives straight. The wheel runs over the unconscious biker that Chouko had bashed into the car, and Chouko rams the car into the biker leader. Slamming into his body and hitting him straight into the wall of the motel, a hard crash sounding out.


    The Leader''s eyes widen as Chouko does this, as his eyes go wide and he stares forward at her through the windshield. His entire lower body crushed between the wall and the car, feeling his bones shatter and break.


    Chouko is violently screaming as she does this, eyes twitching as her eyes are set ablaze once again. The wheels are actively driving, actively turning and spinning, really pushing the car firmly into the man''s lower body.


    A cold few seconds are spent with the two looking at each other, as the Leader stares into the eyes of a madwoman. The deranged, red-eyed glare of their supposed "bodybag" turning the biker into half of the man he was.


    Eventually... Shortcake reaches for the gear shift. "B... Brake!" Shortcake exclaims to Chouko.


    Chouko, with twitching and deranged eyes, focuses enough to slam her foot on the brakes...


    ... and the car is put back into reverse.


    "G-Gas!" Shortcake exclaims next.


    And thus... Chouko slams her foot on the gas, reversing away from the wall.


    With the car pulling away from the wall, the leader... collapses to the ground, bleeding out. A horrifying, gruesome sight, with the wall behind him cracked. Whatever moments he had left to live, they were spent in pure agony.


    Shortcake, as the car is backing up, reaches for the wheel from behind the car, spinning the wheel as far as she could. With a combination of Shortcake and Chouko''s efforts, the car manages to do a three-point turn and drives away, with Chouko''s foot firmly on the gas and Shortcake getting the car onto the road.


    The bikers are left in... disbelief. Three of them dead, one of them being the leader.


    People in the rooms are now being made aware of what happened, many waking up from both the gunshot and the car that drove into the wall itself.


    "S-Stay away from the windows, kids!" exclaims the father of the family of five, horrified.


    "Holy shit..." exclaims a different guest, who vomits on the carpet of his room...


    Utter chaos and disarray, as the bikers look around...


    "... damn it!" a biker shouts, taking the leader''s belongings. Pulling the necklace bat over his shoulder and yanking the silver chain necklace off of the man''s neck. "Listen up!" he shouts, as he runs to his motorcycle. "I''m the leader now! We''re getting after Ashford, now!"


    The bikers collect themselves, and... get onto their cycles. Driving away from the scene, leaving an entire motel of people with a mess to clean up.


    With this call, the remaining bikers start to drive after the Mercedes-Benz, in pursuit of Chouko Ashford...

 #36 - The Roar of Traffic

    ... it takes Chouko some time to recover.


    Her eyes flared up again. The power overwhelms her once again. The pain claims her eyes once again, at a crucial moment.


    When she was pulling away from the motel, everything seemed like a haze, a complete and utter haze that bewildered her.


    Chouko, regaining her senses as she rubs the side of her head, is... in sheer disbelief, a crazed smile on her face after that. Slumping back into the driver''s seat, listlessly staring forward, taking over once again as she drives.


    "That... that was close! W-What was that?!" Shortcake shouts from the back, looking between Chouko and the back window of the Mercedes-Benz.


    What was that, indeed? Chouko thought, at first. Most people would not know what to make of that, how to "take" an entire group of bikers breaking into the motel room they stay in.


    However, Chouko is not most people... and it didn''t take her long to come up with an explanation: Kuroiwa.


    Chouko thought to herself: she knew those men had to be on Kuroiwa''s payroll. That entire group of bikers needed to be men that Kuroiwa sent, specifically, to pursue Chouko. She''s a threat that took out his mercenaries, after all. It makes sense that he would decide to unleash his men on her. That''s the only explanation there could be, Chouko thought.


    And this explanation makes her smile with pure delight. Pure fury and catharsis burning in her eyes, a life reinvigorated. The False-Kuroiwa mask she donned did what it was meant to: to gain attention from him and make him pursue her. This culmination of nine years continues as intended.


    That''s what life is, Chouko thought. Her life is nothing more than work to better this goal, Chouko thought. No matter what happens and no matter how lost she gets, she''ll always be moving towards the desperate drive to kill Kuroiwa, Chouko thought.


    ... vengeance at all costs, Chouko thought...


    Foot on the gas, Chouko stares forward with a tense breath, a crazed smile on her face. Adrenaline courses through her veins as she feels the urge to laugh, pure joy and elation in her . The light in her red eyes is back, as she drives.


    "C... Chouko, you''re... you''re smiling...!" Shortcake exclaims, her pink eyes lighting up upon seeing this.


    "Absolutely!" shouts Chouko...


    ... no. Nonono. It''s not Chouko right now. Not yet. Not until then. The flash in her eyes isn''t Chouko. It''s "Kuroiwa". The cold persona that is reminiscent of Chouko''s worst enemy. The name she holds, the face she wears, the identity she takes when she''s ready to combat the mercenaries, to fight their deplorable selves with their deplorable means. The False-Kuroiwa mask is back on her face.


    Kuroiwa.


    "... absolutely!" shouts Kuroiwa, looking over her shoulder at Shortcake. "I''m exhilarated that we''re alive...!" The survival instinct just leaves her frantic and prompts her to smile with glee.


    In return, the android is filled with joy and excitement of her own. Shortcake brightly smiles, registering (Chouko)''s excitement and elation. Sharing in this joy and elation, just... smiling in response to (Chouko)''s smile, no matter how crazed it is. "R... Right! We... we did!"


    In that car, both of them were happy to be alive. Both of them were very joyous that they got away.


    Then, promptly, this joy of getting away is interrupted by the sound of bullets. Bullets fired from guns, hitting the side of the car.


    The bikers are in pursuit. Nine of them remain, with the new impromptu leader driving up to the side of the car. For the sake of their old leader, for the sake of cold and hard cash to leave them set for life... "whatever we have to" filled their veins, as well. All of them shared a fire in their eyes, burning for Ashford.


    This fire is especially present in the new leader, as he cracks a wide smile and locks his eyes on Ashford. His finger slides over his throat with a gun in hand, threatening her with the old and classic throat slice gesture, before he takes aim and fires more shots at the Mercedes-Benz from the side.


    Each bullet echoes out, dinging and denting into the car. The pitter-patter of metal and lead echoes throughout the interior, Kuroiwa tensing up with each sound. The car''s armored and bulletproof, but...


    "A... Ah! They''ve caught up!" Shortcake calls out, staring at the bikers behind them. Watching as the leader''s gun fires into the windows, bouncing off of the bulletproof glass. "A-Are we sure that this car can withstand those shots?!"


    "Not at all!" Kuroiwa calls out, looking into the rearview mirror, eyes counting the motorcycles that were in pursuit. Even bulletproof cars had their limits, contrary to popular belief. The weak spots are the windows, as enough shots would be enough to...


    ... perish the thought. Not important right now. "Tch. We need to take them out..."


    Ordinarily, shooting them dead would be the call, Kuroiwa thought. However, she''s deemed pistols are a last resort. To shoot at these bikers, they need to roll a window down, which leaves them vulnerable to the bikers'' guns for a small payoff. After all, these bikers are the mercenaries hired by the best of the best, they are probably wearing bulletproof vests.


    So, other plans, other plans...


    ... phone. "S... Shortcake! Take my phone out and point the front at the bikers!" Kuroiwa shouts to Shortcake, keeping her eyes on the road. "We need to employ a hack!"


    "A... A hack?! Like with the motel cameras?!" Shortcake asks, quickly taking the flip phone out of the knapsack.


    "Yes!" Kuroiwa exclaims, side-eying one of her mirrors and staring at the cycle. Recalling the name of the one in particular, her eyes mentally rummaging through several file names. Should be simple. "It''s... it''s tagged as ''203X_BrickToTheCar''! Find it!"


    "Okay! Okay, okay..." Shortcake holds the phone and rummages through the list, idly tapping the arrow buttons and scrolling past the various hacks and... ah! 203X_BrickToTheCar! Shortcake presses the OK button on the flip phone, watching a loading screen flare up. "O-Okay! It''s loading!"


    The loading screen proceeds as the roar of motorcycle engines echoes out, with the bikers regrouping in this time. Lined up one by one behind the Mercedes-Benz.


    Kuroiwa keeps her eyes, looking between the mirror and the front of the car, still speeding forward. There''s no car in front yet. "Right! When it''s loaded, press the six button on the phone!"


    "6! The six key, got it," Shortcake responds, eyes gazing at the keypad as she presses the 6 button.


    The button is pressed.


    ...


    And nothing happens.


    The motorcycles are still working and actively in pursuit. There are no signs of stalling or breaking¡ªthey''re still at 100%. In tip-top shape, not affected in the slightest.


    Kuroiwa sees this in the mirror, tensely... gritting her teeth. "... Shortcake¡ª" the girl calls out, still seeing the bikers close in on them. "Press the key already..."


    "I... I did press it!" Shortcake calls out, pressing the 6 key again. Nothing. "... it''s not working!"


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen at this. "What?! What do you mean it''s not working?! That hack should have..."


    Kuroiwa remembers the key presses vividly, that is the process of activating that hack. It''s a simple key press, she thought, just press the key. Then, the motorcycles shut down. Kuroiwa is very much concerned that the hack isn''t working. Her eyes narrow and glare, absolutely seething that the motorcycles are still following, that they''re not spontaneously malfunctioning.


    Which can only mean... "D... damn it!" Kuroiwa shouts. "Charon''s cut me off... the phone''s USELESS now!"


    "O-Oh no!" Shortcake exclaims.


    Promptly, the side of the car is slammed into. The new biker leader swings hard at the passenger-side window, his bat smacking into the glass with full might. Putting all his weight into it, as well as the weight of the motorcycle.


    Kuroiwa winces upon this happening, hearing the slightest... crack.


    "Damn it...!" Quickly, Kuroiwa forcibly turns the wheel right to drive the car into the other lane. The car effectively sped into the opposing lane, merging to try and hit the leader off of his bike.


    Quickly, the new leader brakes and slows, completely avoiding the Mercedes-Benz. His hand points forward as five other motorcycles speed up, their guns drawn, surrounding the car''s left side.


    Right now, the bikers'' plan is: "drive after the Mercedes-Benz, shoot aggressively at it, and create a weak spot." Kuroiwa''s plan is: "drive forward and figure out how to take these bikers out."


    "Plan...?! Plan?!" Shortcake shouts, shaking in fear as she''s not privy to any plan. Looking out the windows, Shortcake stares at the bikers to the left, and then to the right, collecting as much visual data as she can to try and help. "W-What can I do, Chouko?!"


    Kuroiwa is hyperventilating, and... immediately comes up with another plan, seeing the overpass ahead. She was in the rightmost lane to begin with, so she saw she was about to take an "entrance" to the freeway.


    Kuroiwa''s most recent experience driving on these is not... positive, but it''s the most optimal road for escape. Plenty of cars driving at high speeds, no pedestrians allowed to walk and obstruct traffic on that street... it''s as simple as that.


    "... I have a plan. I''m turning!" Kuroiwa shouts, merging into the lane and taking the curved road onto the freeway. Foot firmly on the gas, turning the wheel as far as she could, making the car speed forward.


    This gave a moment, a small window of time where the bikers couldn''t surround the Mercedes-Benz. Either they sped past the exit, or they were forced to tail the back of the car.


    So, merging onto the traffic of late morning... Kuroiwa hits the jackpot of diversions, as she merges left and drives along. The meter reads 75 miles an hour, 120 kilometers approximately... foot on the gas as she speeds. Five whole lanes, not including the lane she has to merge out of.


    "Okay... okay, okay okay okay," Kuroiwa mumbles, staring forward. Face to face with a casual American driver''s worst nightmare: speeding over 20 miles an hour in freeway traffic, increasing more and more. "Shortcake, I need your eyes, I can''t afford to look anywhere but straight right now..."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Shortcake nods. "O... Okay, what am I looking for?!" Shortcake asks, looking through the back window.


    "Bikers. Lanes," Kuroiwa begins speaking, merging left to go around a white minivan and cutting off a blue pickup truck. "We need to cause them to crash."


    "C-Crash?! L-Like, crash into the other cars?" Shortcake asks, speaking over the car horns sounding out.


    "Unfortunately," Kuroiwa remarks. "If you have a problem with it, I want you to think to yourself... ''I am not involved, Chouko has to do this in self-defense.'' Keep that thought in your android head."


    "O... Okay..." Shortcake nervously responds, taking a deep breath. She''s just pinpointing where the bikers are... "U-Uhm, one in the lane behind us, and... and two of them coming up from the back left..."


    Back left... AKA, the car''s right.


    Kuroiwa quickly notes this response from Shortcake, speeding ahead and merging left. She stares forward and sees a delivery truck up ahead, speeding up to catch up to it. If the bikers merge lanes, then...


    "Uhm! Uh, they... they merged!" Shortcake exclaims. "T-Three behind us... and, uhm, two more in the back left lane...!"


    ... perfect. "Mm." Kuroiwa''s plan is simple: maintain high speed as she goes adjacent to that truck.


    So, Kuroiwa passes the truck, speeding far past it. And then. she slams her foot on the brakes, suddenly slowing down to a halt for just a short, short three seconds.


    At this moment, the bikers¡ªwith the pressure of 80+ miles an hour on them¡ªend up falling into Kuroiwa''s plan. The bikers are presented with three options: crash into the back of the Mercedes-Benz, drive left and hit the truck, or merge right into the empty lane.


    Following this, knowing that the only option is to merge right, Kuroiwa swiftly slams her foot on the gas and turns her car right to merge. She ends up hitting straight into one of the bikers, making him fall off his bike and tumble against the freeway road, his life left at the mercy of the ruthless traffic behind him. After this, a different biker merges and swerves into the furthest lane and drives straight into an SUV.


    A brutal sight. One that holds up traffic, as Kuroiwa stares forward in the lane she merged into. "That was two of them... there''s going to be seven more..." Kuroiwa mumbles to herself.


    Shortcake tenses up as she sees this, shaking. Her eyes are processing the sight with concern and fear, watching the evident pileup forming as they''re driving away. "C-Chouko¡ª!"


    "Shortcake, again, it''s me doing it!" Kuroiwa calls out, trying to calm the android and shift all accountability to herself. The android doesn''t work if she''s stressed and conscious about this. "Self-defense. It''s my self-defense, just keep thinking¡ª!"


    "N... no, it''s not that!" Shortcake speaks up. "A-All seven of the motorcyclists are closing in! Four of them are right behind us... three in the adjacent lane, back right!"


    Kuroiwa lets out an understanding "ah" as she continues to drive, as she plans out her next move. "Right... right, if we just keep going, then..."


    ... tensing up as she starts to see more cars up ahead, a long crowd of traffic. Before this, the traffic was moderate. This is fundamentally now heavy traffic with the volume of vehicles.


    There''s absolutely no way forward.


    "Hang on to something and hold on, Shortcake..." Leaning forward, pushing the brake pedal down, and coming to a halt. Best to stop and wait at the back, to just join the traffic and be patient. Kuroiwa didn''t have the luxury of pushing forward.


    The seconds to come after are crucial.


    Kuroiwa''s hands grip the wheel tightly. "... status."


    "All of them, back... uh, three behind, two back-left, two back-right..." Shortcake responds.


    Meaning she can''t just run over all of them with a reverse...


    "... okay. Okay," Kuroiwa mutters. Traffic isn''t moving. Cars are surrounding them. Neither she nor the bikers can advance. It''s a complete standstill.


    So, Kuroiwa takes the initiative. She puts the car in park for just a moment. "Shortcake. Take the wheel."


    "Take the... are you sure?" Shortcake asks. "What if we need to e-escape?! I can''t... uhm..."


    "Just drive safely," Kuroiwa tells her, immediately climbing into the back seat to take and hold the gun that she snatched from one of the bikers. Kuroiwa is just breathing slowly, calming her nerves. "As long as you drive forward, stop for anyone whose... red or orange lights flash, you will be fine."


    "O... Okay..."


    Kuroiwa then... takes a calm breath as she looks out the back window, staring at the bikers, calmly staring them down.


    "... also. Keep your head down..." Kuroiwa instructs, promptly opening the passenger-side back door.


    "H-Huh¡ª C-Chouko!" Shortcake exclaims.


    "It''s fine." Let''s go, Kuroiwa thought...


    Car door narrowly open, Kuroiwa begins opening fire on the bikers. Shooting the pistol at the bikers and drawing their focus to her gun.


    The surrounding cars are made aware of this, alert to gunfire on the freeway. Loud, beeping horns are heard as the surrounding drivers are desperate to flee and drive away.


    Kuroiwa then closes the door for cover, tensely taking several breaths as she clenches her shoulder. "Okay. Okay." Moving to the other door now, opening it up slightly... then closing it immediately.


    A feint. The bikers collectively shoot past the car and end up hitting an adjacent car, cracking the window of its car door.


    That''s her two options. Open the car door, and shoot. Kuroiwa checks the bullets and confirms this biker has a half-empty magazine. More than sufficient to hold out for... three to four minutes of this.


    Kuroiwa alternates between the doors, strategically timing her movements to about 20 seconds per. Right door, she opens it for a while, opens fire. Left door, opens it... fires. Rinse and repeat, with some slight alterations.


    Dealing with 7 gunmen meant that it didn''t matter if she aimed high or low, only that she did not aim from the same place. Kuroiwa holds the gun up and down in different places, watching as the bullet spreads out up and down with the bikers aiming differently. It also means Kuroiwa should not fire at the same time. The bikers are, evidently, also conserving their bullets, taking the time to wait for her to open fire before going for shots.


    Back and forth. Kuroiwa fires a single bullet, and then the bikers shoot.


    Kuroiwa is utterly tense, as Shortcake begins to speed up. The cars are now moving and driving further ahead. "Right... right, this should¡ª"


    Promptly, as she''s closing the driver-side back door, a bat shoves itself into the opening. Preventing Kuroiwa from closing the door, as it forces the door wide open.


    Kuroiwa''s guard was down at that moment, so she didn''t notice the incoming person. Six bikers were maintaining the rhythm of shooting, and their leader had closed in on the car.


    The bat, as it forces the door open, takes a swing at Kuroiwa, and she falls back to dodge it. The bat goes right over her body and hits into the seats, her eyes staring forward at the man.


    "Tch!" the leader noises, right hand holding his bat as his left takes aim at Kuroiwa with a gun, a... a bigger gun...


    Kuroiwa''s eyes widen, as she realizes the gun wasn''t a pistol. It''s a sawed-off shotgun, something that fires multiple bullets at once. A rarity, one she''s never had to deal with being shot at her.


    Quickly, Kuroiwa aims at the leader¡ª


    Only to have the bat striking her wrist and making her drop the gun, her hand wincing in pain.


    "Back up, BACK UP!" the leader shouts, pulling the bat back to his side. His left hand moves forward, gripping the shotgun and pointing it right at Kuroiwa''s hand. Finger on the trigger, threatening her. "Nice and slow, now. Try anything funny, I BLOW your goddamn brains out, bitch!"


    Kuroiwa... takes... a deep breath as she backs up, backing into the door on the other side.


    "Good... good," the leader remarks, climbing into the car after her. One knee on the seat with the other foot planted on the car floor. A ragged breath escapes his lips, glaring at Kuroiwa with pure rage.


    And he''s a quarter of the way to pulling the trigger. It didn''t matter if Ashford was alive or not, she just had to be brought.


    Kuroiwa notices this, tensing up. The biker is going to shoot her anyway, even as she complies. "Tch. You said¡ª!" Kuroiwa exclaims, sweat trailing down her forehead.


    "With the crap you pulled, you''re just REALLY GODDAMN FUNNY!" the leader shouts, pulling the trigger and¡ª


    Quickly, Shortcake lunges at the biker, clinging to his arm. The android throwing her body at his arm makes the shotgun forcibly aim away from Kuroiwa, firing loudly into the car seat.


    The echo of this sound is accompanied by the Mercedes-Benz bumping into the car ahead, Shortcake having left the car in drive.


    Seeing this, Kuroiwa... then swings her foot quickly to kick into the biker leader''s jaw. Slamming her toes right into his head, kicking his body back and out of the car.


    "G-Ghhk!" the leader shouts, forcibly swinging the side of the shotgun into Shortcake''s face on his way out.


    Shortcake feels the hard weapon hit her face, her body falling back against the dashboard. Registering the pain with immense stress, she begins to cry.


    Kuroiwa... lunges quickly to slam the car door shut, locking it and staring at the leader through the window. Her breath is ragged. "Shortcake... are you okay?!"


    "I... I''m alright!" Shortcake calls out, rubbing her face with an active whimper. "I... I..."


    There''s no one behind the wheel. The surrounding cars are starting to move, with the panic of the gunfight having cars speeding around. So the car is... swerving ever so slightly, about to get into a busy lane...


    "On the ropes..." the biker leader remarks, grinning widely as he runs back to his motorcycle and hops back on.


    Kuroiwa urgently and quickly gets into the driver''s seat again, reclaiming the wheel and getting the car back in its lane. "Passenger''s seat, now!" Kuroiwa instructs, foot on the gas and driving. Reclaiming the wheel and tensely, ever so tensely anticipating the next few minutes.


    Shortcake does so, shaking and rubbing her eyes. "I- I''m sorry, I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to¡ª"


    "Enough of that, you''re okay!" Kuroiwa calls out, her breath ragged as she drives. "Time and time again, you saved my life, you''re doing good. How''s your face?!"


    "It''s fine... I just... need to..." Shortcake mumbles, hugging her knees as she puts her seatbelt on.


    Kuroiwa looks at Shortcake for the briefest of moments, before looking back forward. "Take it easy, you did good..." Kuroiwa praises the android, before focusing on pressing the gas and starting to move. Going with the flow of traffic once more.


    For a while, Kuroiwa just muttered to herself, taking note of the entire scenario. Counting, in her head, the bullet marks on the doors and seats. "Okay, Kuroiwa, new plan... new plan. You''re not winning one on one in this case, let alone seven. You''re at a disadvantage."


    So the car tactic remains the main condition. She needs to stay in the car, she needs to use and do all her actions in the car. The hacks from her phone are no longer available, and the guns are likely inefficient and risky. So that leaves...


    ... butterflies.


    Butterflies.


    Kuroiwa''s butterflies, the supernatural insects. If she employs the tactics that she utilized at the office and the motel, she...


    ... no, that won''t work. The butterfly, conceptually, works with dust. It spreads illusory dust to trick the senses. In both cases, Kuroiwa wasn''t in a moving vehicle, so the fact the dust would be spread around the lane makes it too weak to work. Too ineffective.


    Even so, what would she even be able to do with the dust? Make them see things, distract them with mere illusions and hallucinations? Their motorcycles will still work even if she does anything regarding that, and excessive illusions will cause Kuroiwa to suffer from pain again.


    If only the phone''s hacks still worked. Kuroiwa would be able to interfere with those motorcycles, to shut those things down. Have their machinery fall and stall for long enough to gain some distance. Something done with the same effectiveness of concealing herself from cameras, from hijacking the cameras and gaining access to...


    ...


    Wait...


    Hold on...


    That sounds... similar, the more Kuroiwa thinks about it, and...


    ... Kuroiwa''s eyes widen for a moment. The revelation crossed her mind... how roughly similar the two abilities were.


    The prime example is Shortcake. Kuroiwa looks to Shortcake. Looking at the android for a while, connecting the two ideas together. Kuroiwa, with this humanoid technology, was able to look through Shortcake''s eyes and hear through Shortcake''s ears. It didn''t cross her mind at first, how that was just... accessing Shortcake''s cameras and microphones. Shortcake works the same way, conceptually with both butterfly and phone.


    So... are these the same?


    "... Shortcake," Kuroiwa begins to ask, her voice slightly drowned out by the surrounding panic of traffic. "I need to run my thoughts with you for a moment. May I ask you something?"


    "O... Okay..." Shortcake responds, letting out heavy breathing. "W-What is it?"


    "See... I''m realizing. What exactly is Charon doing to stop me from using the phone''s hacks?" Kuroiwa asks, keeping her eyes forward. "I''m wondering why he''s, specifically, cutting off my hacks. We still have access to everything else on the phone, right?"


    Shortcake blinks for a moment. She checks the phone. Apart from the list of hacks, the phone still has all its basic features. Money and contacts included. "I... I think so?"


    "Right. Thus, I think... I have a theory," Kuroiwa remarks. "Hold the phone out... point it behind us at the bikers."


    "Right... okay..." Shortcake responds, taking aim over the¡ª


    "Towards me, towards me," Kuroiwa interrupts, hand held out to her side as she notices Shortcake going the wrong way. Instead of turning clockwise, she wants the android to turn towards her. And thus, has her right hand held out to Shortcake, fingers curled. "Have the phone... in my hand. And aim it."


    "Ah!" Shortcake nods to Kuroiwa and does as instructed. The phone''s now against Kuroiwa''s fingers and palm.


    The bikers are closing in more and more. The cracking of glass becomes more noticeable, as the Mercedes-Benz is truly reaching its limit. Dents now in the bulletproof car, having had to deal with bullet after bullet...


    "Okay... move my thumb... to the 6 key..." Kuroiwa remarks, slow and methodical, eyes still on the road. Taking a deep breath as she keeps her cool. In theory, if this works, if this does anything...


    Suddenly, the cracking of glass rings out with the Leader firing his shotgun into the window. The glass shatters completely, bullets spread all about.


    Shortcake is shaking as she keeps securing the phone, having seen some of the bullets just flying past Kuroiwa''s hand. "W-What now?! He''s preparing his next shot...!"


    "... just... prepare yourself for the signal. Block it out..." Kuroiwa says, still slow and calm. "Turn off all signal reception..."


    Shortcake... nods, and actively nods as she does so. Blocking out the signals, keeping Kuroiwa''s finger on the 6 key, ready to trigger the hack...


    The bikers are closing in, the leader driving faster and faster, gun aimed right at Shortcake through the broken window. Preparing and winding himself up...


    "..."


    Then... moment of truth.


    Kuroiwa presses the key.

 #37 - It Can Only Be Me

    The job was simple.


    Chouko Ashford, the fleeing black-haired and red-eyed girl responsible for lethal action in an Indianapolis office building of mercenaries, is somewhere close to the state of Indiana. Anyone who finds her will be paid very handsomely, to the point where the job is to capture and deliver some girl.


    Easy and simple. Just overpower some brat, some girl on the run, and fat money comes from it. The bikers all collectively knew that to be the task, and were ready to hunt Ashford down. All signs were lined up for them to take her bounty: they found her car, discovered her accomplice spoke with the receptionist, deduced what room she was in, and outnumbered her twelve to one.


    Then: "Bang, thud, crash and vroom".


    In the time they found her, three of them were dead and Ashford was fleeing. One of them was the real leader, the one who was replaced quickly for the sake of pursuing Ashford. They were right on her tail, following her onto the highway to get her¡ªto the point of managing to even corner her.


    So, with the car''s "bulletproof" window breaking to shards after repeated shooting, as the Mercedes-Benz was on its last legs, the leader has his shotgun aimed right at Shortcake, about to shoot at the two through the open window...


    ... but then.


    "...?!"


    The leader hears the rumble of his motorcycle echoing out, as it spontaneously begins to slow. Losing his trajectory of the shot, the leader watches Ashford''s car speeding forward alongside the panicked traffic.


    He grips the motorcycle throttle and tries to push forward, but the cycle simply can''t speed up, it just won''t. The motorcycle''s done for.


    It wasn''t just him. The other bikers alongside him, all right behind the Mercedes-Benz, were stalling as well. Starting to sputter and slow down, the bikes are all collectively experiencing the same issues.


    "H-Hey! Shit, what''s going on?!"


    "T-The engine''s dying!"


    "Mine, too!"


    Just as Kuroiwa thought, just as she theorized... the phone, it... it still works. It never stopped working. By no means did the phone ever stop working. The bikers'' motorcycles are now made to malfunction because of her hack, because of... her ability.


    Hearing the sputtering motorcycle engines behind her, Kuroiwa felt chills go down her spine. A pure revelation dawned on her. This isn''t... she''s not even... she...


    "Damn it... damn it!" loudly shouts the second leader, gritting his teeth. Rage fills his veins as he shouts out to Ashford. "No... NO! I''M NOT LETTING YOU GET AWAY! I''M NOT... I''M NOT!"


    The man has a firm grip on the throttle, exerting more force on the bike and trying to get it working again. No matter what he does, however, the bike will not move forward.


    With Ashford starting to get further and further, he continues to rev up the engine more and more, glaring forward with raw determination. He needed to get Ashford, he needed to take her down. He had a clean shot at her, and she just slipped through his fingers.


    The biker holds his chin and grits his teeth, his eyes burning with hatred at this. "Fifty million... fifty million...!" Forcibly twisting his hand to the point where his wrist aches, putting all his might into it.


    For the leader, for the crew, for... "FIFTY... MILLION... DOLLARS!!!" Shouting at the top of his lungs, swinging his bat forcibly at the side of the cycle.


    This sound catches Kuroiwa''s ear. Kuroiwa looks in the mirror, seeing him whacking his bike far behind her. Watching as he does that. Her eyes briefly widen at this, before... narrowing, a cold look in her eyes. "Shortcake..." Kuroiwa calmly tells the android.


    "Yes? What is it?" Shortcake asks.


    "I... need you to shut off for a moment," Kuroiwa tells Shortcake, taking a calm breath. "Turn off your eyes and ears. Specifically, wait for me to tap on your shoulder five times before activating again. Do you understand?"


    "Sure..." Shortcake responds, confused about why Kuroiwa is instructing her to do this.


    Kuroiwa just takes a calm breath, looking back forward. Preparing for traffic to speed up.


    The biker leader continues to swing and swing, blinded by rage, aggressively trying to get this hunk of junk working. Right behind her, the leader continues to swing, before...!


    ... the bike speeds forward.


    "H... HAHAHA!" the leader loudly and cathartically laughs, going full throttle as he points the bat straight at the car. Speeding forward and on his way to closing the distance. "YOU''RE MINE, ASHFO¡ª!"


    His loud battle cry is interrupted by a spark sounding out, a puff of smoke coming out from the vehicle.


    One second later, the motorcycle explodes.


    A vicious, loud explosion sets off inside the motorcycle''s engine, causing the vehicle to blow up in a fiery combustion. Bits and pieces of the motorcycle launch outward, its wheels and machinery scattered throughout the lanes of the freeway. Along with the nuts and bolts, pieces of human remains scatter about.


    Kuroiwa continues to drive as this sound echoes out. This is the reason why she told Shortcake to disable her senses, to spare her the potential bloodbath.


    It''s easy for her to escape. Traffic becomes a lot faster after the motorcycle explosion, and the cars around Kuroiwa share the same sentiment: "Get away from whatever the hell happened."


    The same cannot be said about the unfortunate vehicles further behind, the recipients of blood splatters and charred flesh getting over their windshields and windows. Bits, pieces, and chunks of motorcycle metal are launched outward, and the bones and limbs of the short-lived new biker leader are scattered about.


    The six remaining bikers, the ones that were right behind him, watch as this happens. Seeing his cycle blow up, they immediately get off of their motorcycles and stand in place, unable to get off the freeway as cars drive past them. Sheer, utter distraught on their faces, the bikers are left to bask in the ruins of what was once their new leader.


    It is no longer a simple job, with a third of them dead, and two injured/out of commission. These six bikers just uncomfortably remain on that freeway, Kuroiwa leaving them behind... far behind.


    Kuroiwa takes several, several deep breaths as she takes a brief look at Shortcake. She sees the android just staring forward with eyes grayed out. She seems to be clinging to the seat, just staring forward, seemingly unfazed and completely oblivious to what happened.


    Kuroiwa simply felt like sparing Shortcake''s processors from knowing about the fiery carnage behind them. So, she''s leaving Shortcake like this for the next few minutes. Driving. Driving away from the scene.


    This is a triumphant victory for Kuroiwa.


    Or, at least, it should be.


    Kuroiwa... Chouko. Chouko, now that the bikers were down and that hard persona of hers quiets down, just sits back and basks in the uneasy air. The car drives along, with panicked drivers speeding around her. Driving at speeds Chouko keeps up with, traffic just moving actively forward.


    It''s hard to put in words how exactly Chouko is feeling right now, after watching that man blow himself up. A calm, blank, idle look is in her eyes after that happened. She''s no stranger to death, sure.


    However, there is something inherently wrong with what happened.


    Chouko was under the impression that those men were after her. That these men were under the payroll of the real Kuroiwa, and that she was dealing with ruthless men who sought to kill her. However, that one biker who swung his bat at the motorcycle in a desperate plea to get her? He cannot have been employed by the same person. No, no, the real Kuroiwa would hire people who... who don''t do that.


    Could it be that the feeling of superiority has completely taken Chouko? This very well might be the reason. She derives no purpose beyond mere self-defense. Chouko is not just superior, the bikers are inferior. The brand of incompetence with these bikers extends far beyond Chouko''s scope. She murdered the subject of her torment only mere hours ago, why should she derive emotional joy from these nobodies? Maybe it''s nothing.


    ... but it isn''t nothing. There is a cloud of doubt hovering over Chouko''s head. An ounce¡ªno, a liter¡ªof doubt that she even understands the situation.


    Chouko knows that the real Kuroiwa wants "Chouko Ashford" alive. That''s what she learned from the Executioner''s attempt to subdue her living body, going so far as to sacrifice his men to make sure Chouko is still in good condition. For the real Kuroiwa to benefit from her existence, the biker needed to keep her alive. The way the biker was about to kill her implied otherwise, that the biker didn''t need Chouko alive whatsoever.


    When they were calling out the car, that she was in the car, they referred to it as "Ashford''s car," further cementing that they had no personal connection with the owner of the car¡ªthe Executioner. They had no knowledge it was stolen, just that it was the car she was driving.


    So it cannot be just a vendetta for Indianapolis. When the bikers were at the motel, they had called out Ashford. "Ashford''s in here," they shouted, so they knew who she was.


    Chouko thinks long and hard about what this could mean and why the bikers were after her, why they were...


    ... wait.


    Wait.


    Hypothetically, what... would it mean if these bikers were under different employ?


    "..."


    Chouko goes silent as this hypothetical. Her eyes go wide at this hypothesis. The details line up in her head, crossing over her head like pins and thread. Bundling up a major revelation. A shiver goes through every nerve in her body as a cold chill claims her body.


    The bikers were not competent enough to be affiliated with Kuroiwa. The bikers had no affiliation with the Executioner or any of the mercenaries at Indianapolis. The bikers solely knew her as "Ashford" rather than anything.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    It''s a different job. A different reward altogether. Chouko Ashford is a target sought for an entirely different reason from the Real Kuroiwa.


    So, since Chouko is a target of a different employer, then that means... information about her is being brought to public attention. There''s a possibility that her identity is now in public focus and attention.


    ... tch...


    Chouko is not going to leave herself alone with this information. She reaches over and taps Shortcake''s shoulder repeatedly, getting the android up.


    "Huh? Ah. Yes, okay, I''m active...!" Shortcake noises, watching as Chouko is still tapping her shoulder far more than five times as she instructed. "I''m up, I''m¡ª"


    "Shortcake, I need to run something by you, immediately," Chouko demands, stopping her shoulder tapping. "Something crucial to our survival."


    "M... Mhmm? What is it?" Shortcake asks.


    "I need you to run me through how, exactly, you knew we were in danger."


    "Oh... uhm..." Shortcake fiddles her thumbs, looking down at her hands. "Well, I woke you up when I saw the men outside. They were on scary motorcycles, and they stood outside the motel as if looking for someone. I watched out for them for the entire time after..."


    A long pause, as Shortcake goes silent.


    "... after I fell asleep," Chouko answers for Shortcake, finishing the sentence for the android. There isn''t much to expect from Shortcake, Chouko thinks to herself. Best not to bother her too much about it, the android is as lost as she is. "I see. Alright... alright. Hmm..."


    Shortcake looks at Chouko nervously. The android wants to tell Chouko about how she saw the news, how the subtitles reported her name and the car, and how several news channels were telling people about her. Chouko must know this information going forward.


    ... but... Shortcake doesn''t tell her. Shortcake hesitates to tell Chouko about it.


    One look at Chouko, and the android believes that Chouko cannot handle that information right now. The tight grip on the steering wheel, the bloodshot eyes that lock forward on the road, every fidgeting motion of Chouko''s body. She has already said enough to hurt Chouko in that motel room, and the knowledge about the news will send Chouko spiraling.


    So the two are left in utter quiet, Chouko in thought while Shortcake in concern. The car still drives forward, heading far away. Chouko leaving behind the scene, the scenes. Both the remains of the motorcycle explosion, as well as the motel and the office¡ª


    Wait.


    "... shit...!" Chouko mumbles under her breath, leaning forward. Something crosses her mind after dealing with the bikers, something glaringly important. "Shit, shit, shit... shit!"


    "H... Huh? W-What is it?" Shortcake asks, her voice frightened. Hearing Chouko''s tone shift, registering despair in Chouko''s voice. "I-Is something the matter?!"


    "Yes!" Chouko shouts with intensity and panic, her eyes almost bloodshot as the realization hits her. "Shortcake! Remember when we were checking into the motel while you had the phone?! When I had you use the phone to pay for the motel room itself? When you held it up to the scanner and got money sent...?"


    "U... Uhm, yes... I- I remember that...!" Shortcake answers with a faint whimper.


    "Well!" Chouko tensely growls out, taking a deep breath. Her emotions are getting the better of her. Her body is trembling and shaking while driving. "It works because it uses an encrypted channel to conceal payment information. Essentially, the phone uses a hack to change the data and hide me."


    "Right, that makes sense..." Shortcake responds.


    "Not just that, we used the phone to conceal the camera... to hide the camera footage!" Chouko exclaims, her breath growing heavy and seething with raw panic. "And as we have previously established... the phone did not work when you were the one to hold the phone and press the button. Following so far?"


    "Okay, so... I..." Shortcake begins to mumble, her AI facing a loading wheel as she''s struggling to understand what this means. "I don''t... understand."


    "The phone doesn''t work... it doesn''t work when you''re using it!" Chouko exclaims, panic seething out of her throat. "So it didn''t work when you were hacking the motorcycles, it didn''t work when you were encrypting the payment, and it didn''t work..."


    ... when the camera recorded Chouko entering the motel. Shortcake goes wide-eyed at this, finally fully processing the information. She covers her mouth with her hands, and terror fills her artificial body. "O... Oh! Oh! O-Oh..."


    "So... do you understand what this means now...?" Chouko asks...


    "I... I do..." Shortcake answers.


    The two are left only able to drive along, this realization filling them with utter despair. Chouko''s left behind a massive footprint for anyone looking for them...


    ... including the police.


    The police that have, within the time Chouko and Shortcake drove and sped away from the bikers, arrived at the crime scene.


    <hr>


    Back at the motel, officers are spread throughout the motel grounds. In these most dreary of times, the police have been granted far more freedom to immediately investigate, under the condition that they investigate to their fullest. They must leave no stone unturned, scavenge through the motel with all of their resources, and search every room and camera as necessary.


    Several police androids, most of them with pure white skin and bright purple hair, are crouched near the four bodies to perform remote autopsies. Three men deceased outside, with one dead in Room 105. Causes of death: blunt force trauma for the receptionist, gunshot wound for the Room 105 corpse, crushed ribs for the one against the parking lot, and... the entirety of his lower body being crushed, for the one closest to the wall.


    All of this data, as well as additional forensics, are recorded for later examination. Their eyes capture pictures of the crime scene, walking around while only one officer is outside to supervise the several androids at the scene. One single officer, a man with a phone in his hand, does nothing but actively press a single button to transmit all the android data to the station.


    The rest of the officers took care of other matters, more... "human-involved" matters. A few officers are actively gathering witness reports from any guests still on the scene, some more officers are speaking to paramedics who arrived at the scene...


    ... and inside the front lobby, the rest of the officers were examining two things: CCTV footage of the various cameras in the motel, and the lobby computer''s check-in and payment records. Having full access to all of the motel''s technology, examining what they needed in order to piece together a proper report.


    "Hmm... interesting," noises the officer examining the outside cameras, curiously scratching his chin.


    "What''s interesting?" a different officer asks, examining the camera footage in the lobby.


    "Take a look," the officer remarks, trailing his finger along the screen to replay the footage, focusing on the camera that has a clear view of 105. "So, there''s a crowd of them surrounding 105, the one with the body in it. Two of them go in while they''re aiming guns at the door..."


    Replaying the events, the officers are examining the crucial moment in question, subject to watching as the Mercedes-Benz opens up its passenger-side front door. Opening up on its own.


    "Ah, neat. A self-opening car...? That''s curious..."


    "The thing is, it''s not..." the officer remarks, rewinding slowly. "If it were, then... look at this precise moment where the door handle is pulled. Self-opening car doors don''t do that."


    Interesting and peculiar indeed. "I see... do you think it''s an invisible man situation?"


    "Could be... could be..."


    Suddenly, a knock on the front door. A knock that sounds out at that immediate moment.


    At the lobby''s front entrance stands a tall, 6''2" man with a large beige trenchcoat on. His figure is very slim and slender, with extremely skinny arms and legs. His unkempt black hair is sprawled out from under his matching fedora, with eyes obscured and hidden by the shadow of the hat''s brim. He has a friendly smile as his hand is resting against the door, the other hand tipping his hat slightly. A traditional detective, through and through.


    Getting the officers'' attention, the man prepares to introduce himself. "Excuse me," the trench-coated man calls out with a deep voice, reaching for a card and presenting it to the officer who looks the most in charge. "Investigator Salvato, at your service. Some androids pointed me in this direction?"


    "Ah, right, Investigator Salvato," the aforementioned officer remarks, the head officer in charge of the investigation. While the other officers scavenge for data, this one in particular is a supervising force, overseeing all of their work and ordering as necessary. "We were told to expect you. We''re merely observing camera footage and records for now."


    We, he says...


    "Right, right. Please, don''t let me disturb you," Salvato earnestly tells the officer, giving a polite grin before standing in the corner of the room. "I''ll be happy to help in any way I can!"


    "Alright."


    Thus, the police continue to investigate as the new detective-looking man stands there. Towering over everyone with his... strangely cheerful demeanor. For a man who wears the shadiest, stereotypical detective outfit possible, he is unusually jolly. He radiates with uncanny energy.


    It makes the head officer sick, the more he stands there. Scratching the side of his neck, the head officer just tries to ignore Investigator Salvato. "... alright. Any of you got anything on the room itself?"


    An officer clears his throat. "I do. So, room 105, was it?" the officer checking the payment records asks. "Today, there''s been one check-in earlier this morning."


    "This morning...?" the head officer asks. "Show me."


    "Right, here''s the footage..." the officer responds, playing back the conversation. The officers and Investigator Salvato listen in, just noting down everything said. Especially the individual who identified herself as:


    "Anderson. Clover Anderson."


    "Huh. Doesn''t match the payment records," the officer in charge of the payment records responds, showing the screen. "Here, take a look. This is the payment record."


    The head officer takes a close look, raising an eyebrow. "... ''Chouko Kuroiwa''? That''s who checked in?" Eyes squinting at the check-in records.


    "Chouko Kuroiwa? Huh..." Inspector Salvato remarks, scratching his chin. "Curious... that certainly is not any ''Clover Anderson''. What do you make of that?"


    "Mmm. Ain''t a name I ever heard. Must be one of them Japanese folk," the head officer answers, sighing. "The phone''s obviously stolen. If we find the records of a Clover Anderson, we''ll be able to trace her vehicle, and¡ª"


    "Wait, wait, look at this!" an officer exclaims in interruption. "Around the time the check-in occurred...!"


    The officers surround the screen, looking closely as they witness someone coming out of the driver''s seat. A black-haired woman, body stained with blood, had exited the car and ran into the motel, entering Room 105.


    "Pardon me...!" Salvato speaks up, walking over and standing on the tips of his toes to catch a glimpse of the screen. His eyes lock on the camera footage as he looks over their shoulders. "Excuse me! Thank you!"


    The officers and the inspector are now taking a look at the woman, seeing any identifying features beyond that. They note that her hair is very long, tied into two twintails that were blowing and billowing behind her. She was, at the time, wearing some frilly doll-like outfit, a long-sleeved button shirt with a short skirt.


    The officers did note that the footage is grayscale, as this motel had old and traditional cameras. However, one look into her recorded eyes, and it''s very noticeable that the eye color had a light shade to it. It could be an emerald green or sky blue...?


    "Hmmm. Interesting. If you do not mind..." the man tells them, resting his hand against the screen and taking a deep breath. "... I shall make this screen colorful."


    "... what the hell does that¡ª"


    Immediately, the investigator presses his hand firmly against the screen, and a glaze of light coats the screen. The grayscale camera footage lights up into a vibrant, colorful display.


    This bewilders the head officer. "What in the...?!"


    "It means I will make this screen colorful," the investigator repeats, as he leans in close and... hmms. "Also, interesting. Seems familiar, doesn''t it?"


    "... ah! Look, the Mercedes-Benz owner is... red-eyed!" an officer exclaims, pointing at the woman''s face.


    "Indeed, indeed," the investigator responds, cracking a wide grin at the group of officers. "Please, record as much as you can. I shall keep the color on the screen, and explain to you how I''m doing this some other time."


    "If... If you say so. You, have an android send this data to the station!" the head officer orders, pointing at a different officer. "We''re on the lookout for black-haired, red-eyed women! We got this girl if we cross-reference ''Chouko Kuroiwa'' with every individual reported to have red eyes."


    "Uh, alright! I''ll be on my¡ª!"


    "Mmm. Hold on one moment," Salvato calls out to stop the officer from departing, having some words on his tongue. "Officer, I believe there is one detail that may help your search wonderfully, and I implore you to hear me out?"


    The head officer rolls his eyes. "You are a man who is somehow giving color to a gray screen, whatever. What is it?"


    "Have the records also scavenge through a ''Chouko Ashford'' instead," the investigator instructs, giving a kind smile. "I believe that will provide far better results than investigating two fake names."


    "Fake names? Why... eh, whatever, your call..." the head officer responds. "You heard the investigator! Get going! And the rest of you, record everything you can!"


    A collective, idle nod at this man before they get back to work, the head officer continuing his order spree.


    With that, more information is recorded on the incident...


    ... and Investigator Salvato stares at the camera footage, staring at the woman in question.


    Chouko Ashford...


    He faces away from the officers, examining her closely while they are focused on her. His shadow-covered eyes squint and narrow at the footage, keeping his face concealed as he examines the screen closely. The kind smile on his face goes away, his mouth contorting into a frown for just a brief moment. He coldly stares at the screen and gets a good look at her face. Watching her closely, making sure to memorize each aspect of her.


    This is the face of a certain someone. He knows full well the identity of this woman, who exactly the police must look for. The woman who is being pursued by individuals of... interest.


    Investigator Salvato is, inherently, guiding law enforcement to do the individuals'' jobs. Sending them in the right direction, having them get right on the tail of the woman. To have them pursue the Stalker, to guide them in the direction of Ashford.


    It''s only a matter of time before she''s cornered, with no way out but to repent...

 #38 - The Condemneds Last Meal

    The time reads 1:30 in the afternoon, Central Time.


    Chouko and Shortcake sit quietly in the car, parked in front of a... building. One that is situated off the side of the freeway, within the state of Tenessee. A busy, rustling, and bustling place.


    This is a "truck stop", an establishment for long drivers to stop and get food. Throughout the country, truck stops are and have been crucial to traveling motorists. At its core, they refuel the trucks and provide maintenance as necessary, hence "a stop for the truck." Furthermore, these places are also made to tune up and serve people, filling people''s stomachs and giving them refreshments to make them fit for driving.


    Many called truck stops quaint and homely, with the best truck stops establishing a traditional feeling. However, in the dawn of the Artificial Revolution, the android-focused and cybernetic-centered economy demanded high delivery and traffic, with trucks becoming vital. Truck stops faced a problem of overcrowding, leading to a massive growth to meet demand. Over the years, these truck stops constructed more building space to accommodate more trucks, more elevators to lift more trucks into that building space, and more security to protect more trucks.


    Now, at the current moment, Chouko and Shortcake are looking at an utter monstrosity. A ten-foot-tall metallic jumble of metal and concrete. This building is illuminated with an eyesore of a light display. Neon color lines and laces the building infrastructure, with several driver androids and security androids stationed throughout the station. It''s horrifyingly claustrophobic.


    The one saving grace is that the diner on the first floor is still... relatively okay. Only a few dozen people are inside the diner itself, compared to the seemingly hundreds being loaded into the building.


    This is mostly because the truck stop provides "food delivery" to the rest of the population choosing to stay in their vehicles, with androids systematically bringing food back up to the occupants. Every waiter and waitress android is dressed in a uniform of red polo shirts and beige khakis. The male ones have suave haircuts, and the female ones have their hair tied into ponytails.


    The delivery to her car is a service that Chouko has decided not to use. She is still very, very distraught about leaving behind evidence at the motel. Everything is burning right before her eyes, and she is listlessly in thought.


    "Is... uhm, is your shoulder alright...?" Shortcake quietly whispers, trying to break the uncomfortably awkward silence between them. Her hand gently holds her wrist, and she stares at Chouko in concern.


    "It''s fine so far..." Chouko answers in full honesty. She has endured the bullet so far. Even though it is lodged right in her shoulder, Chouko just has a stiff shoulder. In the absence of a medical professional, it is best to keep the bullet inside.


    ... maybe it does not matter, though.


    It does not mean that she''s safe or in the clear. A bullet in the shoulder is still a bullet in the body. A careless mistake is still a mistake all the same.


    Time and time again, Chouko faces a dreary and dead


    Shortcake frowns, seeing the emotion on Chouko''s face. "Well, it''s fine so far, you said! That... that''s a good thing!"


    "... if you say so," Chouko responds. A deep sigh escapes her lips, and she holds a hand over her stomach. Her face visibly grimaces as she stares at this truck stop. "Shortcake, I fondly remember this one quote. I would like to run it by you."


    "Sure... what''s the quote?" Shortcake asks.


    Chouko clears her throat. "It approximately goes like this, translated: ''Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time. The twining strands of fate wove both of them together: your own existence and the things that happen to you.''"


    Shortcake blinks a couple of times. "... that is profound."


    "Yes. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.5," Chouko explains, sighing and holding a hand to her shoulder. "I suppose that ideology is the one saving grace I still have. If I am meant to live, then I shall live. That is all."


    "Well... uhm... l... like the strands of fate," Shortcake immediately responds, worry on her face. "A... And I''ll be with you when we go in... to, uhm, to help make sure whatever happens remains good and all, okay?"


    "..." Chouko sighs in defeat, feeling utterly dismayed about her current predicament. "I appreciate the thought. However, let it be known that I... I feel as if this will be my last meal for a while."


    "It... it won''t be..." Shortcake mumbles. "I... I can just... I''ll keep you safe... and¡ª"


    "Shortcake, Shortcake..." Chouko interrupts, taking a moment to hold a hand to her face. She takes a calm, calm breath. Easing her nerves with a sigh. "... is it true that you derive taste from me eating food?"


    "Huh? Oh... uhm, yes," Shortcake responds. "B-But¡ª"


    "Let''s see if they have cake," Chouko tells Shortcake, opening the door and getting out of the car. "See if we can get you something sweet. Okay?"


    "..." Shortcake nods slowly. "O... okay..."


    With that, the two of them walk into the stop''s diner.


    Apart from Chouko being very hungry, the only reason why Chouko and Shortcake are even entertaining this rest stop is because of how safeguarded it is. To reiterate, this is a heavily guarded rest stop with the security to protect hundreds. The androids are equipped with the weapons necessary to keep the place peaceful.


    Any attempts to kill Chouko in this crowded environment will be met with mass uproar, and the offending killer will be viciously shot. At least, in theory, but... it is a good deterrent. Only the mercenaries who are 100% confident in taking her out¡ªor, too dumb and careless to even think about what to do about the security¡ªwill even try killing her. Android protection filters out the middlemen from attempting.


    The moment Chouko leaves the truck stop, that filter goes away, and it''s free game. Open season. So it''s best to make her way in and enjoy the protection for as long as she can. Chouko walks through the door with Shortcake and embraces the inside of the diner.


    One step in and it''s a breath of fresh air, oddly enough. It is not obvious when looking from the outside, but the truck stop shares the sense of tradition it has carried for decades. It has a spacious interior with checkerboard floors and oakwood walls, plenty of chairs, and tables designed to keep things the same.


    There are only two things that take away from this seemingly perfect diner.


    The first is that the traditional look is only on the surface. After years of the Artificial Revolution finding its way into the diner, the establishment is lined with televisions and subtle neon lights that clash with the aesthetic. It feels eerily dissonant to see cyan lights lining the brown wooden walls, with "customized" color lightbulbs of all sorts hanging over every table.


    The second is that the line is outstandingly long. Chouko counts about a dozen people ahead of her before she can even receive any food, and the number is thrice as many before the end of the line. It appears to be a long line, with a mix of android and human cooks working themselves to the bone. The price of sustenance is about thirty minutes of patience.


    "... hmm," Chouko mumbles as she adjusts her sunglasses. "This certainly will be a while..."


    "Tell me about it..." Shortcake remarks, reaching out to hold Chouko''s hand. "There''s so many people..."


    Chouko holds Shortcake''s hand as they stand, the two of them subject to the queue. They can only wait for the line to proceed, standing in place as the line flows and goes along.


    Waiting.


    Simply just waiting.


    "F... Father, is the line supposed to be this long?"


    Shortcake''s eyes widen as she clenches Chouko''s hand, looking to her side. Taking a moment to...


    ... see the faint silhouette of an old man holding her hand.


    Shortcake''s hand feels the warm, gentle grasp of the man''s hand. For a brief moment, she experiences confusion. Instead of Chouko, it is an old man. An old man with an X over his face, one that is still crossed out in some distorted visual.


    It does not take long before Shortcake identifies the old man as Chouko''s... late father. The man that she saw a few hours ago; the man previously seen as a decayed corpse.


    It also doesn''t take long for Shortcake to notice his other hand, holding a different child''s hand. A child that Shortcake has also seen before. The android blinks at the red-eyed, black-haired child staring at the vast assortment of food and the long lines of eaters. The young child named Chouko, the one with a face Shortcake can see and identify.


    Shortcake''s processors are handling this information as she stares at the visual, the hallucination. She''s already identified these two as memories; these memories Chouko holds with a tight grip, playing right before the android''s eyes as if they are truly there.


    For all Shortcake knows, Chouko is thinking about her father as they wait in line, reminding herself of how his hand feels. How... warm, how safe it is as they are surrounded by crowds.


    And his voice speaks...


    "... patience is a virtue, Chouko. Often, one must wait for the things they desire."


    "Yes, Father... I understand. I wish that the line would be a little bit quicker, though..."


    "Well..."


    Shortcake continues to listen before her eyes blink and flicker a few times. Involuntarily, the android refreshes her visual sensors and is brought out of this hallucination. Chouko''s father is gone, and Chouko takes her place.


    Looking at Chouko, Shortcake can feel how melancholy she is. Shortcake has been feeling how sad and pensive Chouko has been, sharing in this negative emotion the best her artificial emotions can. Everything is weighing heavily on Chouko, especially with the memory of her father, and... and...


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ... Shortcake takes a moment to squeeze Chouko''s hand, to cling to it closely with a look of worry. She feels compelled to do so, to hold Chouko''s hand and try to comfort her the best she can.


    "... hm?" Chouko asks, looking at Shortcake after a few seconds of a delayed reaction. "Yes...? What is it?"


    "N... Nothing," Shortcake responds, reaching over to hold her hand with both of hers. The silicone material sandwiches and squishes lightly against Chouko''s hand, as Shortcake gives a cheerful smile to Chouko, "The... the food they serve here. All of it looks very good from here."


    Chouko blinks at Shortcake a couple of times. "... I agree. It is sufficient enough."


    "Yeah..." Shortcake noises. "I... I just wish that the line would be a little quicker, so we can get "


    ...


    Shortcake has unknowingly just quoted Charles Ashford.


    Chouko stares at Shortcake for a few moments, eyes squinted. Those words immediately catch her attention, making her feel... something. Something different from her passive despair.


    Once again, old memories arise, and Chouko begins to speak...


    "... patience... is a vir¡ª"


    "Heeeeey~! Mind if I cut in front of you two?"


    Chouko is immediately interrupted. Chouko''s eyes suddenly widen as she looks over her shoulder at this voice, staring at the woman asking to cut.


    She is a slightly gigantic, fair-skinned woman standing about one head taller than Chouko, her blue eyes gazing happily at the two. This woman has brown hair about the length of just her shoulders. Dressed in overly casual wear, this woman wears a white t-shirt with black shoulders and sleeves, gray jeans over white sneakers, and black sunglasses over her forehead.


    To their knowledge, this is an energetically grinning stranger coming out of nowhere and approaching them from the side of the line.


    "... I would mind," Chouko remarks, rolling her eyes. "It is not proper etiquette to¡ª"


    "Aww, pretty please?" the woman interrupts and asks, hands on her hips as she leans forward with a grin. She stares eye to eye with Chouko with an earnest, pleading smile. "I ain''t gonna be long or anything. My pops and I just got here and we''re mighty hungry. Getting a plate for me and him."


    "Well, I don''t really think we can let you¡ª" Shortcake begins to respond, about to decline this woman''s request to cut. It is best to politely say no and tell her she should wait like everyone else.


    However, Shortcake immediately stops once she feels her hand being gripped, looking at Chouko. As if Chouko disagrees.


    Chouko stares at this woman in silence, her head feeling the echoes of that word:


    Pops.


    ...


    Chouko then reluctantly sighs. "Fine. You are cutting behind me, at most," Chouko tells the woman. "My friend and I have also just arrived. So, go consult someone else ahead if you want any further than that."


    "Nah, behind ya''s perfect," the woman remarks, warmly smiling and giving a thumbs up. "Thank ya kindly!"


    "You are welcome..." Chouko remarks, looking back forward. Looking away from this woman and staring back ahead.


    "Uhm... yeah, not a problem..." Shortcake calls out after, keeping a pink eye on this woman.


    For the next few minutes, the line continues to move. Chouko is still holding Shortcake''s hand as she stares forward, keeping her attention on the front of the line itself. She is a little wary of this woman, but she''s cautious about everyone. Everyone around her is a possible threat, in one way or another. So she just keeps her cool and keeps this unease to herself as the line moves. Best not to draw attention to herself.


    Just... keep calm. Blend in as you always have...


    ...


    ... okay.


    Chouko thinks long and hard about it. What has her panicked is that she is recorded. Her presence, her bloodied presence is on camera back at that motel.


    The main source of concern is the unknown. It''s what gives her strength, really... being unknown. When one does not know Chouko''s face, one does not feel fear or caution. The fact that she was previously unknown and unseen gave her an edge. Now that people know of her, however... now that people are on the hunt for her, her pursuers are unknown and she is at a severe disadvantage. She doesn''t know when or where they will strike, just that they will.


    This line exemplifies this feeling, this metaphor. There is a line of people for the food, for the promise of reward for patience. Chouko has spent years being the patient mercenary, she knows how they work. They bide their time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and capitalize. It''s all a matter of when.


    Chouko is a part of that line... or, she was. She''s out of the line, lost without her messenger to guide her. That thought appears again, that all these years have been wasted because of one single slip-up. Now she''s lost, simply grabbing a plate and having meat being served to her. Sausages and bacon...


    Tch. The next course of action if she wants to survive past this meal is¡ª


    "Hey, hey hey hey! What are you, vegan?"


    Chouko blinks. She looks back at the line cutter with a raised eyebrow. "... what?"


    "Askin'' if you''re vegan!" the woman repeats, glaring at Chouko. One hand holding a plate, the other on her hip. "Yes or no?"


    "Wh... n... no," Chouko answers, visibly confused. "Why does¡ª"


    "Well, if you ain''t, then don''t just skimp on the meat here!" the woman remarks, hand on the counter as she stares at the guy behind the counter. "Give her some more, dude, get this plate stacked!"


    Uh.


    After that remark, Chouko watches as the person behind the counter adds more sausages and bacon strips to the plates. A plentiful amount of meat occupies the left side of the plate.


    Something about this feels... off.


    "How about you?" the brown-haired woman asks, looking at Shortcake. "Vegan?"


    "O... Oh, uhm, no, I just... don''t like meat all that well..." Shortcake answers.


    "Ah, alright! Haha. Okay, I see, I see!" the woman remarks, before nudging Shortcake''s plate along and staring at the meat guy. "Well, then, you know the drill, meat me up!"


    ... Chouko just stares and watches this woman get a surplus amount of meat for both plates. Plenty of bacon and sausages, as well as the other meats they serve here. "I... suppose you know your way around these kinds of places?"


    "Oh, yeah!" the woman answers, mouth slightly salivating at the piles upon piles of meat being given to her. "I frequent these kinda joints. You get your money''s worth from the meat than anything else. Gotta make the most of it, y''know, before it''s a bunch of random crappy fast food burger places."


    "Ah. I see."


    Hm.


    This woman counts as the unknown.


    Chouko ponders on the... danger... of this woman, from all angles.


    On one hand, this could simply be good intentions. It isn''t rare for someone of her type to act boastful, to act prideful, and to act informative. All of which, in ways as if she knows everything about truck stop diners. On the other hand, it is possible that¡ªby overwhelming her with these... plates¡ªthere''s an ulterior motive of confusing Chouko enough to pay for more food, possibly hers out of entitlement. "I helped you get all that food, so maybe I should get mine paid for too!" she''ll probably say.


    But... hypothetically, what if offering her this much food is a far more malicious ploy; a deceptive trick connected to the Underworld?


    What if the food, specifically the bacon and sausages, is dangerous? What if the food service here has people prepared to give her tainted food? It''s a common ploy for food to be poisoned with chemical substances lacing the food. If not lethal, it possibly could induce drowsiness and render her unconscious. The fact that she''s being offered more meat is a red flag. A cautionary sign that the meat may be risky.


    Something to keep in mind...


    Chouko begins to carry her plate along, Shortcake following behind her. The next options seem to be a little limited, where there''s an assortment of things classified as not meat. And unlike the meat, the vegetables do not look appetizing. The salad seems dreary, the bread seems crusty, and the fries are burnt. Overall¡ª


    "Mmmh! Aight. Mashed potatoes and corn, now!" exclaims the brown-haired woman. "Let''s get you loaded up!"


    "Huh?" Chouko noises, looking back at this woman. "Wait, why¡ª?"


    "C''mon, first the meat, now this? Okay, listen up, real talk," the woman begins to lecture, hand on the counter and patting it actively as Chouko''s plate is being filled. "Mashed potatoes and corn are the best things ''bout these places, plus the mac and cheese. Gotta get yourself all wet and creamy, y''know?"


    "All¡ª" Chouko squints her eyes in disbelief at that wording. Wet and creamy. For a moment, her calm face breaks and she feels an ounce of disgust and repulsion. "W... What?"


    "C''mon, wet, cheesy, mac-y, whatever this food here''s described as," the woman remarks, tapping the edge of the plate with her finger. "Bottom line is, we''re getting you lots! C''mon, more for the plate!"


    ... hm. Unintentionally vulgar.


    But... smart. Chouko watches as more food is involuntarily put on her plate, and immediately notices a contrast between what is on her plate and the rest of the menu. As this woman suggested... it''s vibrant, it''s juicy, it''s... edible. The mashed potatoes seem fluffy, the corn is fresh and bright, and the mac and cheese is delectably "cheesy".


    It appears this diner has a "secret menu", in the sense that it separates the good food from the rest. If Chouko, theoretically, orders a salad, then the salad will be far fresher than what is being presented to her.


    If this woman falls in line with the prideful "know a lot about truck stop diners" category, this is quite the evidence for it. Obviously, the second category of "getting a free meal" has a lot of weight too. The fresh salad is reserved for those who know of the menu, for those who are willing to... pay more for this menu.


    The chance that it''s the third category of food poisoning, though, becomes more of a hazard. The meat is publicly available, while this stuff is being provided. They can lace it with substances far more easily...


    ... hm. Chouko especially watches as this woman fills Shortcake''s plate up, making up for the lack of meat by requesting the rest of the plate be filled with pure yellow and white. Then, she does the same for specifically one plate of hers while skipping it for a different plate.


    There''s a lot that can be said. There''s too much to consider. Chouko simply must be careful.


    ... finally, there''s a part of the counter dedicated to drinks. Behind the counter, there are several glass cups and trays, as well as a drink dispenser. Water, various brands of soda, some fruit juice and such. A coffee pot is also present, but the pot seems empty. Maybe it''s isolated to special order.


    Chouko assumes this is the reason why the line is being held up. One person handles the drinks for the line of people. It takes time to fill the cups at once. The line is slow because of this person, because of this part of the food line.


    "... going to say anything about the drinks, next?" Chouko asks, looking at the woman.


    The woman shakes her head. "Nah, nah, that one ain''t my choice. I ain''t too much of a drinker."


    In other words, the woman doesn''t care about the drinks, the drinks are negligible for her, or she''s already carried out her plan by filling their plates with this food.


    "Hm." Chouko nods and just looks forward to the server. "... two glasses of cold water, please. No ice."


    "Hmm, hmmm... hmm! I''ll have iced water and some cold cola!" the tall woman requests.


    The person behind the counter nods and goes to get the drinks.


    "Cold cola?" Shortcake asks, looking at the woman with a raised eyebrow.


    "Ah, yeah, I''m a soda drinker," the tall woman remarks. "I know it''s bad for me, but I can''t get enough of it, y''know? Tastes so freakin'' good to sip that stuff."


    "Y... Yes, just... is cola not usually cold?" Shortcake follows up, tilting her head.


    "Cold Cola is the brand," Chouko answers.


    "... huh?" Shortcake asks.


    Chouko lets out an idle sigh as she waits for the drinks. "It''s the name of the soda brand, a recent one that became popular once the other brands went bankrupt. When one asks for a ''Cold Cola'', it is for that one drink coming out of the red dispenser there."


    "Oh! That explains it!" the woman exclaims. "I just like to specify it, to make sure they give me the cold stuff! So it''s, like, actually called Cold Cola?"


    "Yes," Chouko answers. "If you were to say any other types of cola, you''d be asking for those alternative sodas they serve."


    "M... Makes sense..." Shortcake mumbles lightly.


    "Dang... you sure know your stuff ''bout cola, then! Haha!" remarks the woman.


    Chouko... just nods and moves along once she and Shortcake are given two trays to support the plates of food they have. Glasses of pure water are promptly given to the two, as they move on.


    Chouko looks closely at the water, noting how pure and clean it is. By requesting the cups to be iceless, Chouko finds it easier to examine the water for any discolorations. With none in sight, Chouko just sighs idly as they end up at the cash register.


    Staring at the person behind it, Chouko gives a calm look and prepares to pay for the food. However, they seem to be waiting for... the woman. The one that''s been talking with them this whole time.


    It appears the cashier is under the impression that this woman is with them. Chouko will need to inform the cashier that she''s ready to pay for...


    "..."


    ... hmm.


    "... ah, sorry!" the woman calls out as she walks over. "I''m not with them, could you split the bill? I got my own¡ª"


    Chouko clears her throat to interrupt. "Actually... you are with us. I''ll cover the entire thing. All four plates on my coin," she tells the woman as she takes her phone out.


    This prompts the brown-haired woman to gasp, staring at Chouko in shock. "Oh! Wait, you sure? I don''t mind paying."


    "It''s quite alright. Consider it thanks for, well, showing us the ropes..." Chouko responds as her phone is scanned. The cost isn''t that much for her...


    "Well, how nice of you, thank ya! I appreciate it a lot!" the tall woman energetically exclaims, grinning widely.


    "No worries. Do you mind if I join you?" Chouko asks, smiling at this woman. "You''re responsible for our food, I would enjoy eating with you... ah, sorry, I never asked for your name. You are?"


    "Oh! Right, haha, forgot to go about the names..." the woman responds, slightly bowing before picking up her two trays with one hand each. "I''m Yumi. Yumi Popovic. Call me just Yumi, though!"


    "Pleased to meet you. I''m Diane," Chouko promptly lies, pocketing the phone and picking up her plate. "Diane Smith."


    "A-And I''m, uh, Roxie... Roxie Jones," Shortcake answers as well, picking hers up in response. Her arms look shaky as she''s holding the weight of the food, visibly antsy about the possibility of dropping all this food by accident.


    "Oooh. Well, nice to meet you two!"