In the distance, a barrage of bombs collided in a most terrifying manner. From such a distance the city wavered like smoke in rain. Lena ran from the smell of soot in territory estranged to her. She crept around the corner and inched on puddles clinging aged brick walls. The sirens kept her heart pounding. In her peripherals, she met red in the alley's exits. Were they already on the case? Could her face stay in the public eye? They already labeled her as an outcast; if a police unit found her she was done for. Beyond disastrous thoughts, her breath remained stable. Her flat wasn't too far from S.C. Just a quick sprint to the metropolitan district and then a run to the middle-class housing.
Time passed like drops of rain into the sea. How long has passed since she left that rogue unit's abode? Her neuragear was still on, though untouched; she rather not use it before another notice was sent. Above all else, the hellish night of near-death experiences and becoming a wanted fugitive, home was in sight. Lena's plan was simple, "Get all my stuff, change my appearance and go back home to live as an oyster farmer….goddamnit," a tear rolled with her home close.
What awaited was a police vehicle and machines performing searches in the red apartment complex. On the furthest right door of the third floor of the complex was police tape. Two mechanical officers stood outside the door. Lena stammered. She stepped away. Her foot screeched in mud. Both PD units faced her with a grip on their weapon switches, "Umm…." neither side reacted. A third unit exited the apartment with the door shutting behind. With the spotlight on Lena once more, she began plotting. A ping disrupted her thoughts. A text from the credit bureau. Depression wafted over before it was opened..."Huh?"
Dear citizen. Due to an error in our automated systems several individuals have experienced sudden and unexplained dips in their credit score of varying amounts. We have fixed this discrepancy and hope that you continue business with the Gottenfall Credit Union.
That's what the notice read along with the fix in credit all the way to seven hundred. Lena was too preoccupied with the note she didn't see the three PD units who now stood beside her. Her hands quaked and heart thumped. Nevertheless, they did nothing to her. All three didn't deter their gaze before rolling up the police tape back and entering their vehicle. Alone Lena remained, scratching her head pondering with the smell of smolders rich in the atmosphere accompanied by the police's engine, "What just happened…" while Lena hurried to their apartment she searched for the reports and articles of the incident online; scouring for the ones with her name. No results.
A few reports mentioned a triple decommissioning in a construction site, however, the speculated units were 'two effeminate males' along with blurry images from the scene. It was her...a sigh of victory escaped once scaled the floors to that previously yellow door. Her adrenaline pounded rose near the door. Something shifted within; the bow was ready for the worst. The handle turned. She pushed the door open to greet the scene….nothing was different. Wooden floors with grey stained walls visible due to a lack of furniture. What was there shared the same colors, couches, and tables, simple ornaments painted dark, and the flowers near the window. The storage was untouched and so was her bedroom. She knew a search was done. That was the scariest part.
"PD doesn't joke around….not one trace," her face collided with her pillow after everything. The veil of dreams and exhaustion draped over her and the warm blanket from the cold September night. Her head warm from the thoughts and alcohol that lingered forced slumber unto her mind with heavy eyes. Lena went off to a better place. Before she fell completely asleep, there was a knock on the door. She was shaken to the world of the waking. The knocking persisted.
"The cops again?" her thoughts went to the worst scenario. It was inevitable that she'd crawl out of bed to meet the call, but what stood there wasn't expected.
"Hey, neighbor," Strider stood forcing his eyes to stay opene. He wore a gown too big for his frame that meekly clung to his neck, along with glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose. He had a faint laugh with a wave.
"I got the morning shift tomorrow so I thought I'd call it in early, didn't expect to see feds comin' and raiding your place though," he summarized the events, "Who did you murk this time?" he joked, though the sweat forming on Lena didn't help neither of them. "Umm….so anyways they came around questioning people about you and woke the lot of us up from our beauty nap, then they said something about the wrong person and left."
Strider was left scratching his head with the case, "I have no clue to be honest," Lena lied as naturally as she breathed, "I did see some stranger earlier and guess I got mistaken there…" her words eloquent, mixed with her tired tone it was hard not to believe her. Both were overly exhausted with the exchange under the eye of the moon. A few words were shared with words of good luck before the door shut once more. Before Lena hit the mattress, another ping alerted her. This time from an unknown number.
Hey, it's your one of a kind dynamic friend over here :D I talked it out with the PD and this uptight officer and told him you're not part of the case. I got 'em to blur out your face and all of the hit pieces made so far. I think they already reinstated your credit using that old 'automated error' excuse they like to use, even throwing in a little extra. Anyways see ya and good luck on the job hunt!
Lena stood frozen in place for a moment. Not frozen alone in thought. This complete stranger that she met for less than a few hours managed to get not only her phone number but the slanderous claims against her erased from the web..."How did he know I was unemployed…" her imagination ran wild. The bed was her friend as she gulped. One thing lost from her was laughter.
Laughter, the same thing that odd machine did.
Dynamo laughed all the way through the streets. Midnight his companion in the empty highways with his head sticking out of a limo's window gulping a bottle of wine. The insides of the limo was velvet, gentle to the touch with a screen behind the driver's seat. Near his lap was a table with the richest pile of steak. He wasn't alone though, "Mind your manners," parallel to Dynamo was the worn lady of metal. Amelia Dyson, chief of Gottenfall police along with her robotic guardian. Both detested the sight. Amelia was a woman like iron with steel in her veins. Every inch of her body was a masterpiece sculpted by a thousand craftsmen; the epitome of human physique wrapped in a woman's grace. As the active chief, under her floral green robes was a suit made of nanomachines than particles clinging to her skin. With the tilt of a head, long strands of gold followed.
"You may have sensors on your tongue and a 'stomach', but don't lose your manners in such a situation, Legbuster," Cerise was to the point with his words. Dynamo nodded with a belch of fire.
"Yeah yeah, wew you wish you had this type of tech installed," some light humor for the mood. Luckily the vehicle was self-driven so nobody could crash even with the attempts made. Amelia's glance behind a metal lens was enough to make the machine straighten up, "Yes, now concerning the unit labeled Z2-00173, otherwise called Zaltras," with the click of Cerise's optical unit a display was shown. "There is no current make or model in the market like this. I checked all current and upcoming units and this one isn't on any database, a nuclear make is more of a Seigen or Doubhan style and the explosive double core seemed unique."
A switch was struck somewhere in Dynamo's mind, his laughter died, replaced by a hard drive slid across the table, "That has more information on what occurred in Skylandria maximum as of late- Grant and Beryl are hiding the tale from those pesky reporters," Amelia rolled her eyes. Her gaze focused out the window and on the giants decorated in lights. The civilization that grew for thousands of years from only a dream and a reminder of the continent's biggest tragedy. Fischgrab. An age-old tale of loss. What they could face now. "There was a shipment of rogue units to the prison, before they could get sorted one became irate and exploded the same- they're still cleaning the scene."
Not even the engine's purr was enough to settle the silence, but news like this wasn't uncommon. Soon the drive found itself plugged within the port on Dynamo's skull; his interest bloomed, "Hmm? The Dragnoks are searching into this too?" he spoke clearly despite the barrage of information entering his brain. Dragnoks, owners of the family business, Dragnok Ironworks. One of the most substantial mass producers of electronics in the modern age. Almost every robot in Gottenfall stemmed from them with few importations. Such a prominent company had ties. Imports, and exports to many others in the same industry. They had no suspicion, but before any befell their current head was performing searches in all partners and distributors. "That old lady doesn't want to lose a dime, does she?"
Amelia snickered before clearing her throat, "Well neither PD, Dyson nor Rote holds suspicion to them, when the news breaks the public will conspire…" her mind drifted, "They'll believe more of these bombs are in the city which-"
"They're already here, aren't they?" Dynamo read her mind, "Got a speculation on the amount?" both shook their heads. Fears rose and heads lowered. On assumptions alone, they assumed Rote would increase security in all areas in secret and sent agents to investigate...but that wouldn't deter an attack. More planning needed to be done. Dysons and Dragnok needed to cement their rule. Dynamo glanced out the window. "Oh- Here's good."
The limo stopped per request at the entrance to the red-light district. Sleazy streets with red lights strung about followed by shades of eros. Awful scents of liquor blew on the winds strong enough to make someone puke, though the patrons here cared not. The paths may have been empty, nevertheless, the place was crawling with life. Not the type of place a Dyson would wish to be seen.
Dynamo hopped out and prepared to shamble in with the rest of the degenerates before being pulled back by the collar. Cerise held his head out the window, "And a quick reminder, this is the last time you're tapping into citizen information," the threat was laughed off by both the machine he held and Amelia. With nothing left to say, the parties went on separate routes. Night was short, they carried on. Cerise reached to the food scraps and burnt them within his secondary engine. Smoke fettered out his mouth and the sides of the windows.
"Phew...Amelia," he queried, "Are you sure that we should keep him on the case?" He had cause for concern with that man involved. A troublesome background matched the troublesome job...but there was more to it. Amelia waved her hand.
"It's quite fine, Cerise," she calmed, "He'd insert himself no matter how much you tried stopping him," the stern unit didn't approve, but knew it to be true. That troublesome man, now Dynamo Legbuster. Quite the strange one in this age. Amelia couldn't help but recount, "Twenty years ago…." time flew fast. Dynamo Lebuster, C.C. was the last thread of Vulcan in the current age. Though his body and secrets were lost in the dragonfall war, Dynamo hounded after them. Hunting the thing made by men beyond the reach of gods. A heaven of fortune in the eternal paradise of yore. "The Blue Eden Project."