One x One ╒ ╓ ╫ ╪ ┘ ┌Faded Beginning├ ─ ┼ ╞ ╟

[Xillia]

A spark. It took a spark from her brain to transfer into the mechanical device, her fingers tightening around the hem of the lid before rotating quickly and unscrewing the top off with ease. It'd take some time to get used to her arm, but that was years ago. Gorgeous locks of platinum blonde fell in a vertical tuft down to her mid back from the ponytail that'd been loosely tied near the base of her head. Her right hand extended, tips of flesh and bone stroking the soft bangs that fell swiftly in one direction across her face, brushed off and angelically falling to her jaw with all the poise of a well-trained strand--her hair that was, for the woman was far from an angel. 

No, crystalline eyes tore way through the veil of her eyelids, and she raised the bottle to her lips, taking down the cool liquid in bursts, one gulp, another, a third, a fourth and then, the crinkling of plastic in her hands. Claire had always been swift in whatever she did, and now it seemed, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't rid the soldier of herself. The war had ended a while ago, and yet, in the midst of it all, she'd never really let go. Crystal-blue eyes traced the surroundings in her relative area, pacing over the streets and corners, alleys and shops. It was alive in Chinatown on that evening, a fateful evening at least. With a swift gesture and swipe of her arm, the crushed plastic went toiling away into the darkness of a nearby alley for some rat to feast upon.

America had survived what was to be the last great war. Or so they'd said, but unlike wars in the past, the one thing Claire despised the most was that, despite the trauma, physical and mental a man or woman might go through, the medicine had grown so strong they would end up surviving anyway. It sounded good in a third party aspect, to fight a war casualty free, or with a severely minimized case. But that wasn't the half of it. Claire was just one of the many who'd been saved, though she'd been the first who had been subject to military augmentations. If she closed her eyes, sometimes she could see herself there, sand billowing around her as her rifle fell from her hands, smoke puffing from the barrel in exhaustion from the constant jamming of her finger against the trigger.

And then, she'd watch, her eyes skyward as a massive metal device that meant her death fell, it's low whistle was like a screech, but as a tired and wounded soldier, she had welcomed it. Yet, it had done no such kindness. In fact, she was perhaps the most cursed of anyone on that field that day, because she was the only one to survive. And when she next awoke, she was being shown pictures of her state post-surgery. Half of her upper-body had been completely obliterated, but they'd at least managed to keep her brain in tact. After seventeen extensive surgeries and more than a year of rehab, she was permitted return to active service, which, at this point, the military had practically mastered juiced soldiers. And with the culmination of an army twice the size of their enemy's and now twice as enhanced, it was only a matter of weeks and a few operations before Claire was returned home, the negotiations already undertaking their path.

A year had passed. The woman, twenty-two years old, was regarded as something ordinary in world she thought she would return to--ridicule. Everyone was like her, but so different. They saw it as a luxury, a peace to their unsatisfied lives, a way of bettering themselves. Unfortunately, despite their similarities on surface, Claire was unlike anyone else, her body and mind had undergone the worst sort of torture, and now, she was just trying to find out whether or not some of her was still human. Her enhancements, though maintained, were on a grade above even the government enforcement branch that had been established in case of a any rogue cyborgs. 

--At least there was a plus to this darkened world filled with circuits and voltage. Claire fished into the front pocket of her long-coat and whipped out a cigarette, stuffing it in between her teeth and lighting herself a fuse for the release of stress long before the eye could register what could happen, with augments, or without. Those military grade materials inside her, they made her fast, they made her strong, and what the scientists had seen most fond of prodding, was her brain. Her reflexes were enhanced on unforeseen levels.  In the end, it had been her parents that had confirmed for her to undergo the treatment. It'd been the only way to keep her alive. 

A slow breeze came rolling through that market street and it gave her pause to reach up and pop up the wind-breaking collar around her neck, and in the same motion, bringing a covering hand over her cigarette. The leather glove on her the left ligament covering her secret beneath, the secret of a legendary weapon. How many men had she killed with just the hardened plastic-meshed titanium alone? It mattered not, her life was a normal now, well... For what it was worth. The government had seen her too great a threat to return her to a civilian lifestyle, so they kept her on a close leash and assigned her to the New York Task Force for Augmented Miscreants. NYTFA for short. It was a mouthful and had no real ring to it, but it was a job at least. It put food on her table and gave her comfortable living in her apartment a few blocks off of the red light district. 

As far as her job went, Claire was basically an errand-girl for the government. Anyone who was caught stirring up trouble, she was sent out to solve the situation, and in the act of hostile provocation, eliminate the situation entirely. It was a grizzly lifestyle, but it was what she knew how to do. And even as the heel of her black cowboy boots clattered on the ground with her skinny jeans tightly grasping her well toned thighs, and resting at the crevice of her ankle over her boots, lulling herself off into a land of thought; she could never quite recall anything else she was ever good at. Her father had taught her how to shoot when she was young, and her mother had always encouraged her to be a dancer, but there wasn't much place in the world for augmented girls like her in those fields. Not to mention, she was quite certain it was against the rules.

With poise, she slipped her aviators over her eyes, in the brisk of night. She was on another assignment. Chief Bradshaw had sent her out to the district because he'd been tipped of a hit before it even happened. Unfortunately for Claire, it fell right under her jurisdiction. "Damn... More of the boys back at base could do with augments of their own to actually help take care of this." Aside from herself, there was only one other guy there, who'd also survived the war and had been put on a similar leash. Only his hadn't been near as tight. He'd been permitted to return and live with his family, a testament to herself; the prototype.

Her left eyes augment activated and immediately, a fresh list of data regarding every living and breathing figure, structure and history flooded her frontal lobe. It was overwhelming at first, but after awhile, Claire had slipped into the hang of it, like a real chip-off-the-old-block. 

The hit was on a woman. She didn't know what she looked like... But--

She carted her heel and rotated on it, climbing the steps to a nearby bar and restaurant where she was greeted and escorted in.

--She sure knew that an augmented renegade would create a big enough ruckus regardless for her to figure it out.

 

[Naeva Ami]

She hated this part. In this line of work, something would always go wrong. More often than not, when everything went smoothly before the exchange, the job resulted in a blow up. Firefights, murder, torture, she'd seen it all. She'd seen more than most, and it never got easier. A constant reminder of the trauma of it all hung limp to the left of her torso. All across the media, through the streets, the world was becoming more and more of a paradise. Slowly, things were getting better. At least it seemed that way on the surface.


Humanity was striving for perfection, yet one thing continued to elude their tireless efforts. The unfortunate. It had been the same for hundreds of years. Those of fortune, prospered. Those unfortunate, were cast aside. She'd come to terms with this reality long ago, though it seemed the more capable society was to help those in need, the less they actually did.


Mavra knew that her perspective was biased. She knew that for so many, things really were getting better. But like so many others, she wanted a little equality. The young woman was no revolutionary, no that would be foolish. The world simply didn't tolerate those types these days. Though it didn't stop her from thinking like them from time to time. Though what set her apart from those radicals, was a desire. A desire to be perfect. She knew it wasn't the same for everyone, but they always spoke of wanting the same perfection that regular people were now gaining access to. They were just as caught up in society's drive for forced evolution. Mavra, wanted no such thing. While having been often told she looked the part, she didn't want to be one of those dolls that the scientists liked to call humans.


Today's job, included one such 'doll'. Making her way through the crowded bar, her blurred vision took stock of the situation. Any dangers, familiar faces, or potential threats. She'd made contact with the woman a few days ago. A desperate actor Mavra had known for may years. someone who had traded their soul to become a doll for society. Someone who had a past lurking around every shadowy corner. Really, the woman was Mavra's least favourite kind of person. Though really, beggars can't be choosers. A jobs a job.


Over the years, she'd gained a reputation, more or less. With one dead arm, and one barely working eye, the name 'Pirate' stuck. A relic of a name, for society's outcast. Though in most regard, she knew it was a glorified way of saying thief. Problem being, noone liked to admit to themselves that working with a thief is acceptable. And so, she hadn't bothered to fight the nickname. If it drove more business, no sense refusing it.


"Mavie, hey, over here girl"


Then, there were people like her. She knew the voice. It had chanced since her surgeries, sure, but there was something about a person's tone that stuck with them. Cocking her head to the side, she pinpointed the source of the call-out. Sure enough, her client had arrived, and still hadn't learned the word 'subtle'.  Code names existed for a reason, after all. Dawn of all people, should have understood that. Such  perfect example of a doll on the outside. The twenty three yea old Japanese woman sat cross legged,  exposing her flawlessly sculpted, and blindingly pale legs to the rest of the bar. Moving up her body, a tight leather miniskirt and sleeveless, shiny top left little to the imagination. The woman's hair had been put up in an elaborate up-do, completing the look. Despite having come from the same upbringing, the two couldn't be more different.


"Kikyo" Mavra said in greeting, taking her seat across from her old acquaintance. Setting a dingy dufflebag down beside the seat, she had only a half moment to begin glancing up at her companion before a stinging sensation filled her cheek, finding herself staring out the window.


"Mavie! Its Dawn now, you know that. Honestly, child. One of these days we're getting you sorted out and perfected too. Maybe once you have a proper name of your own, you'll understand" she shook her head, placing her hand back down on the table. "And don't give me that crap about being unable to trust the doctors. Maybe a little trust would do you good. You're gorgeous you know. You'd do well perfected. Get over you're 'pure' nonsense. You could use you're arm again too. They'll fix-"


"Enough" came a sudden, low growl from the smaller, younger girl. "I'm here for your job, not to be indoctrinated. Hit me again and you're on your own" she finished venomously. This of course earning a predictable eye roll from Dawn. Though, she did shut up.


Despite being from a similar upbringing, the two couldn't be more different. While Dawn was tall, perfected, and an expertly manicured women of society, Mavra was a mess. Both girls were sickly thin, and while Dawn's was manufactured, Mavra's really was sickly. Instad of a fancy up-do, she sported a long mane of tangles, cascading in what may have once been thick girls, just past her waist. The Caucasian street rat wore baggy, unflattering clothing consisting of a holey black hoodie, grey short shorts, and worn down black boots, nearly knee high. The skin she showed off, wasn't as flattering as her well dressed client. Her skin too, a contrast. Smudges of dirt and grime hid what could have been a pretty face, once. Though unexposed to the naked eye, her ever limp arm covered by the sleeve of her hoodie.


"Your order is in the bag. Exactly as you asked for." Mavra resumed, lightly kicking the bag by her feet, to make a point.


"Thanks kiddo. Seriously, once the heat's off me, I'm taking you in for perfecting. You deserve it. I'll even introd-"


"Dawn" came that same low growl again. "I want nothing to do with your crowd. Its dangerous. I told you before, get out. If you want to be perfect, fine. If you want me to be a doll too, fine. But I won't get involved with those people" She declared, keeping her voice low. Dawn was already speaking too loudly for her liking. This was a bar, after all. "You're already in deep shit" She sighed, looking down to the table now.


So far, so good. A pain in the ass of a doll, but so far, things were quiet.

 

[Xillia]

And it wasn't long before the true spice of the evening would be added to the main course. For at least a few minutes time that it bought them, things were peaceful. Claire had taken her seat at the bar table and (despite what her relationship with her chief might have been, against his better judgement) took a shot. There was one thing her body still reacted to in this day in age, that was the swift burning trail of that luscious sake down into her stomach. She was earnestly tempted to have another, but her job would not permit it. No, she turned up the receptors in her ears, and in a matter of moments, she was receiving and interpreting a number of conversations from patrons around the establishment.

One in particular struck her interest. A deal? In the middle of a bar. It was an odd case, but she had already assumed that those were the targets. And like clockwork, the door cast itself open, a shadowed figure slipping inside. Male from the looks of it, by build size alone, perhaps Hispanic from the irregular sound of breathing that ejected from his lungs every three intervals or so. Her hands then slipped into her coat to massage her stomach, which was beginning to accept the brief moment of the satisfying liquid. And so, as the figure neared the location of the deal, she brought down her receptors and slipped on her music selection. Yes, the men at the research and development station had placed a portable music player into her temporal lobes, it helped her focus at least.

"Ahh... There's a real classic. Nearly a century old at this point, isn't it?" 
 










"Can't get much better than this though." And slipped off of her bar stool, moving inconspicuously in the same direction as  the shaded figure. She could see it now, a faint limp on his left leg when he stepped. A bionic set perhaps? If that was the case then... 

There's a chance this man could be one of the super soldiers that had been returned home.

After the extensive research done on her, Claire's files had been leaked to the medical world, and to the R&D fields, allowing a much easier process for installing combat-ready parts. This made men like him a step above the usual squabble. She lowered her stance and picked up her pace with her feet, cramping herself onto a corner and watched forward as the man drew a revolver from his waistband, firing it up in the air, resulting in a mass scream and panic. Though, the barrel of that 44. was soon aimed at none other than the fine Japanese woman sitting in the booth with her friend, a calloused smirk breaking from underneath the hood of the assailant. 

His finger began to squeeze down on the trigger when Claire made her move. Like a wolf, silent and deadly, she fronted forward, slipping her hand up underneath his revolver and coiling it in her fingertips, pressing her shoulder against the man, disarming him. With a stagger, he fell back to his feet, his eyes tracing the ground all the way to her form. His hands raised and fists clenched tight, the veins on his forearms were clenched tight, indicating he'd spent a long time working out at the very least, but the bulk would even it out to him just being a regular super soldier, someone who let the power go to his head. Claire's guess? He'd never actually found himself in any real challenge his whole life.

"I'll give you one chance to stand down... I'm going to have to take you in," Her hand flicked into her coat and revealed her badge of service as apart of the NYTFA. "...With you in one piece or without. But I'd really hate to smash that hardware in your leg..."

"The hell're you talking to, bitch?" He swung forward, definitely Hispanic by the way his accent rolled off of his bottom lip. But after years of training, and even some studying under Chinese martial arts instructors, she saw his blow coming a mile away, grafting it off with her free hand and slamming her far more powerful, left fist, right into the center of his stomach. He'd assaulted first, that was a federal offense on its own by attacking an officer, but she wouldn't let him get off that easy. When he bent over from the impact of the strike, her knee found his nose with a reassuring "Crunch"! Seconds later, his hand has retreated to the disgusting display of where his nose should have been, now a few inches off centered.

Though, Claire's vision seemed elsewhere, wiping at the blood on her jeans with disgust. "God...Dammit, do you understand how pricey these were? This isn't gonna come out again, you better be willing to pay me for some-- Woah." His hand came right past her face, and she'd dodged it by mere milliseconds in her turmoil. This got him caught with her outstretched right leg, ramming the toe of her boot into his temple and sending him into the wall in a heap. Unconscious... His brain clearly hadn't been augmented to withstand pain. Walking over, she knelt down, checked for vitals and sighed with relief. He was still alive.

She  took a pair of cuffs from the back of her coat and slipped them over his wrists, tightening them almost subconsciously.

Her right hand then drew to her ear, where an earpiece remained coiled to a walkie talkie down in her uniform. "Got the target. Bar, just off of Main Street, Chinatown." 

"Affirmative, we'll send officers to clean it up. Good job, Ash."

Ash... It was her code name. Something for her workplace to contact her by, so her real life identity wasn't intercepted and abused. Though, it barely mattered as her job was just her job, it had little room for names, standing now as she spoke to the rest of the bar, "You all hang tight, no one panic. Officers will be here shortly to check for injuries and get the rest of your evenings on the way."

But that drew attention back to the target. "You... What's in the bag?"

 

[Naeva Ami]

With that, her fears had been justified.


It was a dangerous life that she lead. The only life she saw available for herself however. She'd gone through plenty of injury, risk, and survived it all. Though bullets, bullets she couldn't stop. There was no running, no dodging. Not for a 'pure'. Sure the man had been aiming at Dawn, but that didn't mean she wouldn't have been next. Yet like everything else, things just had a way of working themselves out. Luckily, without casualty to her client this time.


The officer who'd stepped in, was another one of her least favourite types of people. Though there weren't many types she did like. While it wasn't crystal clear, Mavra was willing to bet that the woman was modified. Not just for beauty like Dawn, but strength as well. Agility. Reflexes. She was an angel at a glance, and an angel of death in action. More and more she'd seen their type. The robotically enhanced cops. Though most she'd seen were brutes, and more obviously enhanced. This woman was a little different. Though in the end, that was what made her scary. Far scarier than the man she'd subdued.


Neither her nor Dawn had freaked out at the gunshot, or the altercation. After all, both were used to seeing such things. But as the woman posed her question, the pair knew that now was the time to worry. With such a simple question, the officer had ruined so much. The whole bar had their attention on her, being such a badass, protecting them, and as a result, her question hadn't gone unnoticed by those around them. Mavra knew she'd never be able to use this bar again. It had been such a good location too. China Town had its fair share of weird or annoying quirks, but it was good for people like her.


However as it seemed that the officer was speaking to Dawn, the younger woman decided to keep quiet. For now.


"Personal stuff, Ma'am. Belongings" the Japanese woman answered with professional poise and tone. However, with all Dawn had evidently learned in being a 'proper lady', it seemed she'd forgotten her street smarts. She really was a different woman. The kind of woman Mavra was scared she'd one day be forced to become. What terrified her most, was whether Dawn wanted to become this way. Was all her changes, both physical and mental, voluntary? Was this who the old Kikyo wanted to be? Or had the doctors, had society molded her into a doll of their design? A part of Mavra wanted to know, oh so badly. Yet there was risk of a downright frightening truth. It seemed easier to simply assume that Dawn had changed by her own choice. That she'd thrown 'Kikyo' away on her own.


"We used to live together" Mavra piped up. Dawn's answer was poor, and hard to support convincingly, but it seemed a better idea to add to the story, than let the flimsy response lie open for attack. If the angel before them was as sharp of mind as she was swift, they couldn't get away so easily. "As you can see, She's moved up in the world compared to me. But some of her old stuff was still at my place, so I was dropping it off. Why, is there a problem, Officer?" she asked, using her natural child-like voice, a voice she hated oh so badly. Usually, she hid it with a bit of an edge, but in times like these, her ever present youth had its advantages. With any luck, an innocent story would get her off their backs.


Still, it was hard to know where they stood in this situation. The assailant clearly pointed the gun at Dawn. Mavra had run into enough officers in her time to know that they didn't leave situations half finished. Just as perfection in a human being was so highly sought after, perfection in society's mechanics was of equal importance. A world free of crime and corruption. A world of fair judgement and safety. While she fully believed it all to be thinly veiled lies, the law enforcement certainly put on a public face of believing in these ideals, at very least.


The last thing she needed right now, was an officer to find a bionic hand, spare parts, and Siloplex in the hands of a nineteen year old. The drug especially. Designed to stimulate the senses of an augmented individual to a heightened sense of pleasure and awareness, such a substance was useless for a 'pure' like herself. The story might be enough to place it in Dawn's ownership, but even if she took the fall for everything, having Dawn as an enemy wasn't a positive outcome either. The woman had connections now. She was perfected.


The more Mavra analyzed the situation, the worse it seemed. Though one thing was clear. Don't piss off the augmented cop. Her newly stained jeans certainly gave off that warning loud and clear.

 

[Xillia]

Claire huffed in a low breath through her nostrils, taking in her anger for a brief moment. They'd outright lied to her, not just one of them, but both of them combined. The younger girl had ruined it for the Japanese's convincing lie, having to explain the scenario before she even so much as gave it a second thought. Defensiveness often lead to carelessness, and from there. The blonde folded her eyes and tipped her aviators up, gazing at them both sternly for a long moment before staring down the excitable crowd. As she saw flashes of red and blue in the reflection of the window pane, she knew the back up had arrived and she was free to take care of this issue regarding the bag.

"Both of you, up, now. Bring that bag with you and follow me." And she turned on her heel once more, heading to the door of the bar, nodding to the officers that were walking in, muttering lowly to the Lieutenant as he passed. "Those two girls are with me. Looks like we've got a two for one tonight."

"Ever vigilant, yeah?"

"Something like that."

And so, Claire lead them to the adjacent alleyway where she gestured them forward, staying behind to cut off any access. "I'm disappointed in the both of you." Her fingers flicked her glasses from off of her forehead and quickly deposited it. "Not only did you lie to me, but you did so poorly. No doubt you both assessed me as an augmented woman from the get-go, and yet, you assumed I knew nothing about the current predicament." She tapped the flat of her ear with her index finger. 

"Eavesdropping augmentations, I heard everything. Your story doesn't nearly make as much sense as you may think. And before you try and run, I'd remind you what I did to that man's nose back in there. So, I'll ask again. What's in the bag?"

 

[Naeva Ami]

Mavra knew she'd screwed up the moment the shades went off. She could deal with thugs. She could deal with angry, entitled clients. The girl was certain she could deal with most anyone fine. But an officer was a new one. She'd tried to be so careful in the past. Whether her own actions screwed this one up, or Dawn's, or merely circumstance, she wasn't yet sure. But ultimately, it was her failure, and her coming punishment.


She'd stolen a glance or two at Dawn as the three of them left the building, but hadn't been able to get a reading at all. And when the blonde revealed her secret, Mavra felt stupider than ever. Angrier too. "You damn robot" Mavra grumbled, though not bothering to conceal it at all. The cursed machine lady was free to know her distaste. "If people knew their perfect society meant a lack of privacy at the dinner table, I doubt they'd be quite so eager to promote it. Really, whats the point of even telling you? You've probably got x-ray vision augments too" Mavra kept going, glaring the whole while. The woman was pretty, capable, and a monster. It made her wonder if Dawn too was hiding more than she knew. Really, this was the problem with people these days. Who could you trust? How many are still even human?


Still, now that the monster was in her face, there was little else to do but cooperate. Safety was avoiding the monsters, not being ready to fight them, after all. Mavra held no weapons. "One bionic hand, an Ebony Mark 2" she began to reveal, speaking to a model of hand typically used by performers, musicians and even models. High end, high cost. "A micro data slip, an analytics port cable, her old scarf that she did infact leave at my place years ago, and three vials of Siloplex" Mavra finished, crossing her arms, only to feel that hot sting across her cheek once more.


"Whore! Cheat! I did not ask for that" came the defiant, high pitched cries of Dawn, pulling her hand back from the slap. Immediately the dark haired woman turned her attention away from her old friend, and over to the angelic officer to plead her case. "I promise you I'm clean, Ma'am. I never asked for drugs. I would never take Siloplex" she declared frantically, words that resulted in what Mavra knew to be a double lie. Though it wasn't like she could prove it, and Dawn knew that.


Yet still, Dawn continued. "This... Wretch is trying to frame me or something. I thought we were friends!" she nearly yelled.


Though Mavra would not speak. Her anger, her glaring had subsided. Now, she only looked onward to Dawn, a look of sadness plastered across her face.


Who could you trust?


Who is still left human?

 

[Xillia]

The bitter angst of wolves turning against one another to save their own hides. Oh how the mighty had fallen, going so far as to forcible turn a friend's back around only to stab them punctually. Well, unlike war at least this was almost like a formality, and it made her sick to her damnable stomach--metaphorically due to the augments that prevented her from stomach acid build up or any sort of other internal aggravations. "Both of you, shut it. I don't have an evidence pinning anything on either of you other than that bag right there." Her gloved hand extended to make a gesture towards the encased illegals on the ground.

Though, it didn't stop her from walking in between them and planting some distance, her gaze aimed out at the street before she addressed the matter silently. "It would seem only one of you are lying. But the other... Is still just as guilty for selling drugs as much as doing them." Her gaze  shifted towards Mavra and she knew immediately what the girl's case would plead. "Against the wall, hands behind your back and feet apart, try anything funny and I'll be sure you never see the light of day again." Her head then cocked over to her other shoulder where the Japanese model stood, "Same for you. I can sense drugs in your system. Your blood pressure is irregular and high, so you're requesting purchase. Using your friend as well... That's low." She moved light lightning, drawing the cuffs from her coat and slipping them over her first wrist then jerked around behind her, slamming her hand towards her other wrist.

She dragged them together and tightened them to a pinch before lifting up a little with her index finger on the chain with her bionic arm, walking over to address Mavra. "Now... I take it you'll let me put these on easy, yes?" She released the first one and advanced forward, clamping her wrists in reinforced steel instantly, even with one available hand. "Now... You're going to walk out to that street and tell that officers what you've done." Her gaze shifted over towards the Japanese female, "You, for taking illegal drugs and requesting purchase for parts, and you--" Her eyes fell on Mavra, "For selling them."

She escorted them out and handed them over.

 

[Naeva Ami]

"Bartering" Mavra attempted to correct the officer before being taken back out to the street. For her, there was a difference. A matter of pride. Though, not like it mattered now.


While she still wanted to run, she couldn't. It would be beyond stupid. She was in the same place she'd always been, stomped on by those with power and money. A the blonde had cuffed her, she couldn't have done much to resist anyways, having one dead arm. She'd learned to get by with just one, but some tasks were definitely harder. Others impossible. Fighting was certainly difficult. Their strength was so vastly different, a healthy child would have an easier time. Even dawn was someone she could barely handle, and that was through a difference in experience, not strength.


Mavra cooperated as they made their way to the officers outside, and it was here that the key difference between her and Dawn reared it's head. It wasn't money, nor perfection. Only one of them had something to lose.


"Officer, this filthy bitch is trying to frame me in drug trafficking!" Dawn's acting flared up as they stood infront of one of the angel's fellow officers. The woman cast an angry glare over at Mavra before dropping to her knees. "Please, you have to listen to me. The other officer is blaming me for being involved, but I had no part in it, honest!" she went on. Though while Dawn kept playing up the innocent act, Mavra stepped in and told the officer what was happening. Partly anyways. She explained that she was in possession of the bag, told the man what was in it, and that Dawn was the one requesting the items. Though leaving out the details of money, payment, and 'selling'. No need to admit too might.


Ultimately, Mavra was scared. She was downright terrified. Her body language may not have shown it, but her eyes certainly did. In this world, punishments to crimes were alot more varied, and unknown to people like her. Some went to prison, whatever that meant. Others put into reform programs, humanity's continued effort to perfect people now available in law enforcement. The idea was simple enough. Make a person perfect, practically wipe their personality, remake them from the ground up. Remove the person who committed the crime in the first place. Of course, simpler punishments existed as well. Fines, surveillance, short lockup periods. She'd heard plenty of stories, the hard part was learning what was true, and what was merely a ghost story.


It seemed as if she'd find out a little bit of the truth of it all sooner rather than later.


The officer eventually had enough of Dawn's ravings, spoke with Claire, an the two found themselves in the back of van. Their deal was over.

 

[Xillia]

Claire's hands patted together and she found herself wandering away, just as she always did. An agent of the darkness, that is what she was referred as in the recreational room by officers of similar peers or lower. That seemed to be when most of her assignments were anyway. Relaxed eyes brought her engines down from their heated mode, the fight and focus was over, now it was time to do as she always did; wandering through those streets was like second nature for the blonde haired dog, paws pattering slowly against the slick ground of the evening mist. Her mind was at ease, processing the features of the events that had just occurred. 

Why on earth am I still doing this? What's the point of living? It's the same routine over and over again. All in this never ending job, I can't even recall the last time the government offered to let me return to my home, my real home... My parents still think I'm dead and I've no friends for social caliber in this damnable city. So, why hang around? --Because the government will catch me and threaten me again with something worse than my family I'm sure. 

She had become so lost and transfixed into her own thoughts that she was oblivious to the polyester ball that came sail right towards her head, and only in the last second did she turn, her hand shooting up with lightning speed to block the device from hitting the flat of her face. She held it up and inspected it for a moment, a flock of nervous children walking near. They'd been playing soccer and someone had clearly kicked it too hard, nervous that they might have hit a stranger, Claire hid any signs of cynical mischief and lowered the sphere to her ankle, popping it back towards the group. She even started laughing a little, letting them pass it back and forth to her before a car came screeching by, nearly hitting one of the kids that she'd yanked out of the way.

They all seemed to expel nervous air from their lungs before Claire stood, two cop cars with their headlights blaring already in pursuit. Though, the faces on the children as they cheered on the law brought her a ping of hope in the cold folds of her heart that was nearly all machine at this point. This is why I do it, for them, there is no war, only a world of happiness. They're safe from the things I fought to protect them from and now they live ordinary lives... --Ordinary lives. This is just what I get for being all sentimental.

She gave the children a brief nod, kicking the energy from the back of her ankles into gear and launching herself after the chase with enormous speed.

Just another day in New York City.

.  .  .

Eight months had passed since that night, and Claire stood before the chief. A portly man with a fat cigar rolled in his mouth, puffs of smoke passing through the underbelly of his lip every now and then, one hand stroking his bushy mustache and the other was thumbing through her reports. "Let's see here... Over sixteen in the last night alone?"

"Yes sir. I believe they're tied in with the gang, Static-Cyber. They're going to make their move soon, I can feel it in my gut."

"It's not like I don't believe you, Ash." --There he went with that name again.

"Then we should act--"

"--Not without the ample amount of intelligence first. We need to do this legally you know? This isn't the military anymore, you can't just free-ball everything and follow the 'everything goes' clause." He sighed and set down the reports, moving the log that was lodged between his teeth and blowing a puff of air off to the side of the space in between them. "Look, maybe you're just stressed. I know it really isn't in my power to speak out like this... But I want you to take a break. A serious one at that. Not just a night and right back in duty. I'm thinking something along the lines of a month."

"--Sir!?"

"That settles it." He stood, nearly two heads shorter than the woman who stood across the desk from him, "I'll file you for a leave of duty and get it passed, one way or another. You're still human, like the rest of us. This is our city as much as it is yours, and I think it's time some other officers start pulling their own weight."

He studied her scrutinized features for a moment before he cracked a queer smile. "Dismissed. Go and enjoy your month."

Claire exhaled a firm breath, retreating her posted arms from the desk and raised one of them to give the chief the firm handshake that he deserved, the only way she could see herself repaying him for his services at this time. "Thank you..." Though from the bottom of her heart, she was cursing him to all seven levels of hell. She hadn't wanted it, never did. There was just something so distasteful about returning to her empty penthouse for the better part of a month to spend it in isolation.

"Oh!" The chief called after her, stopping the woman from entering the elevator to return to the ground and begin her long walk home, "I almost forgot. For sake of your... Sick isolation... I've arranged for one citizen in this established city to go with you and share the same penthouse. It has to be a female though, don't want to hear some poor story about a sob who decided to get on your bad side and got tossed from the poolside balcony."

"Chief... How did you know my penthouse had a pool?"

The portly man cleared his throat and dismissed her.

.  .  .

It had bugged her for the first few days, but on that crisp summer evening, Claire lay with her chest just above water with a E-Cigarette lit in her mouth. Blowing out puffs of vapor, she crossed her legs in their watery encasement. Blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders and she'd almost slipped into a state of sleep. Her bathing suit wrapped tight around her features, giving her look on par with that of an athletic model were it not for the bionic hunk that jutted out from her left shoulder. She sunk down lower until her chin was just above surface, leaving the electronic nicotine in the edge of the waters, her bionic arm even dipping below.

That was the beauty about her design, she'd been constructed from living stem cells that helped regeneration in the swiftest of ways. But since it was entirely electric, it was waterproof with no logging or potential to mess up the response time and calibration between man and machine. The evening would have been almost perfect, half a bottle of whiskey emptied into the contents of her stomach, a cig, the beautiful night time skyline of New York... If it wasn't for the damned elevator door that opened, giving her head a spin. She rotated on her waist and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool, eyes fixated on the door that broke away to reveal...

"Well... When chief said I was getting a roommate, I didn't honestly think I'd be getting someone I'd once arrested."
 

 

[Naeva Ami]

A month could be a long time. Every day had felt like three. Every week, like a month. For a while, she'd lost track of time. For a while, she'd lost track of herself. Many would say time heals all wounds. Mavra would say otherwise. Time leaves only scars. Some scars are more than skin deep.


Stepping into the elevator, the girl turned on her heels, allowing the pure white room to seal itself. "Penthouse 4A" came the command of a light, singsong voice. Pleasant, youthful, almost childlike in a way. With a simple chime of acknowledgement, the soft hum of the elevator began, and off she went. Inside was a girl new to the world. Yet, all too used to it at the same time. A girl who had seen humanity at it's lowest, and its highest.


In only a matter of seconds, the contraption had reached it's destination, the doors promptly pulling aside. Wasting no time, the girl stepped out, reaching a uniform rhythm fairly quickly as she walked towards the woman who's immediately came into her view. A gorgeous blonde on the water. An angel. "I'm not sure I understand. I haven't had the cleanest past, but I've never been arrested" came the continuously high toned voice, clear as crystal. Closer still she walked. "I don't know you. At least, I don't think that I do" she stated.


The girl walked on legs like a dancer's, a frail figure covered by a dress as white as snow. A sundress, arms exposed, neck covered. The left arm was mangled, misshapen, hanging loosely by her side. The right shoulder, featured a simplistic block logo, an infinity symbol made to look similar to DNA. Known to very few, as the sign of the Rebirth Project. Upon her feet, basic flats. As white and blinding as her dress. Around her neck, at the top of the outfit's silken collar, a white, thin collar made from polyflex alloy. Nearly indestructible, yet flexible to a degree. A small, faint blue light lit up a circle over he throat.


Her rhythmic steps soon came to a halt as she approached the poolside, almost gracefully sitting down into a squat, staring down at the other female. "I'm Ashlynn Mavranna Morales. I guess you're my housemate" She stated, gazing at her curiously through white rimmed glasses, pristine and new.  No longer did she stare in a blur. However in this time, glasses were a rarity to see on someone as young as her. With tech where it was, eye correction, or bionic replacement were the norm. These days, glasses were used for sunglasses, or the older generation who never had access to correction. Further evidence of a change in the girl's presentation from a month earlier, came in her hair. No longer matted and tangled beyond belief, the overgrown locks now fell in a massive french braid, perfectly tight, no hair out of place. Longer than was practical but well taken care of. Her whole style was different. Her voice more true. Untainted. Though her body remained broken. A mind fractured.


"I uh, had been told I'd be living with someone else, but I wasn't aware you'd already been here a while. Your place looks well lived in" She observed, gazing about quickly before turning her attention back to Claire, eyes scanning over her well exposed body. Though she kept herself crouched down a few feet from the edge of the pool, watching the ripples as if they would jump up, and lash out. "You're Claire... right?" she questioned, now focusing more on the water, than the swimmer within.

 

[Xillia]

Claire's eyes acutely studied every inch of this woman's body, it was her, most definitely. Her brain didn't let her forget people for reasons that attained to security, and yet, her demeanor was something else, not like she'd been back at the bar, or maybe that's just how she was. She'd been caught in the act, and as such, she was more stiff than her loud mouthing counterpart. Perhaps that was simply what the woman was like in real life, though the sudden closure of proximity had set her on ease, unfolding her legs and standing in the shallow of the end of the water she had been previously indulging in.

But it was what the woman who'd introduced herself as Ashlynn Morales said at the very end that pricked her nerves on each end. "Well... That's quite the memory you've got there, Ashlynn. All things considered, I never once introduced myself..." Pensive reflections of blue shot her way as the officer-gone-civilian brushed beyond her to grab a towel and dab at her face, wrapping it around her chest once the smooth skin of her face had been purged of its moisturizing bath. She rotated her bionic limb a few moments, spacing from where she was at before walking back towards the young lady, bending down to pick up the half-empty bottle of whiskey and took a hearty swig.

It went down noisily, sloshing with its burning category into the contents of her stomach where is splashed and boiled, the native to the apartment moving towards the open sliding door, and passing through, vanishing then into one of the branching off hallways that no doubt lead to her room.

 

[Naeva Ami]

Like a lost and confused puppy, Ashlynn stood herself up from the edge of the pool, and plodded along after Claire. The way this woman spoke, it was odd. Almost like she was half speaking, keeping things to herself. She didn't much understand it, though ultimately she knew she had to push past it. They were to be roommates. She wanted them to be friends. Whoever this woman was.


As she reached the main room, or what seemed like the main room, Ashlynn stopped following, allowing the other woman to walk off on her own. The little duckling didn't want to invade privacy more than she already obviously was. However, the conversation hadn't finished, as far as she was concerned. "I heard your name from my coordinator. At the correctional facility" She called out towards the direction Claire had disappeared to, for now merely assuming she could hear her. "Mrs. Williams said she had arranged for me to stay with a woman named Claire for the foreseeable future" she explained, pausing a moment, unsure if the next part was needed, though she went on anyways. "The large man with the mustache said he was a friend of yours, that he thought you'd be a perfect choice for a role model. They said you'd make me a proper lady, or something like that." She finished. 


Ashlynn felt a bit silly, talking to the air. she knew of course that Claire was around, but that didn't mean she could hear her properly. All in all, it wasn't the warm welcome she'd hoped for. Though Ashlynn knew better than to expect it. While knowing nothing about this Claire woman, she did know that world wasn't black and white. She knew things weren't as they appeared, and that there were always two sides to any story.


Claire had already presented herself as a drinker, a clear distinction against the rules established by the facility. Just how good of a mentor and role model could she really be, if she was actively showcasing a 'destructive life style'? Regardless, this was going to be interesting. If Claire didn't kick her ass out.

 

[Xillia]

From within the bathroom, conveniently located closer to the main room than her actual bed was, she could hear the echoes of the woman's voice off the walls. The last bit had certainly caught her attention however. The large man with the mustache, referring to the portly chief who oversaw pardons from prison. That would have also explained the logo that she'd picked up on the uniform, a reform program. It was the same person, but a new woman that she was dealing with, and with a low exhale, she laid the glass bottle down next to an arrangement of pills for adrenaline and self-medicating practices. She groggily wiped the strain from her face, crawling back into her room and slipping on a white sweater. 

Then, she shimmied a pair of skinny jeans up to her hips where they fastened nicely, letting the baggy top hang over the hemline between the two. She sat on the edge of her bed, yanking two pairs of socks on before slipping on some athletic shoes. Once she'd gotten her attire on, she stood, letting her hair loose and down to the mid of her back, returning to the living room in silence. She plopped down on the couch, only for a moment as she eyed the stranger. They were going to be roommates, but for a time at least, it wasn't like this was permanent or anything. 

Recalling her earlier manners, she sighed, cooling her tone and speaking in a matter such as, her husky voice carrying a volume of relaxed and tranquil. "Sorry about a few minutes ago. Are you hungry?" Her brow raised with the inquiry, crossing one of her toned legs over the other.

 

[Naeva Ami]

Seeing Claire come back fully dressed, it was clear just how good her figure was. At least, in Ashlynn's opinion. There was no illusion of the bathing suit, she was stunning. Model quality. She was envious, a realization that came a little awkwardly to the younger female, a blush rising in her cheeks. One way or another she was determined to try and use Claire as a role model, as she'd been told to. Perhaps, her figure was the result of some routine she could mimic. One could hope.


"Its fine. I'm the intruder here" she shrugged, still tossing that idea around in the back of her mind. This wasn't a simple arrangement. This wasn't 'normal'. Though the woman's question still stood. "I suppose a little bit. I'm used to not eating a ton, so I don't need much very often" she explained. "I don't want to be a burden though. That applies to everything here, I guess. Its your home. I get that. I... don't want to get in your way, ya know?" she muttered, gaze turning to the floor. Closing her eyes a moment, she tried to recenter herself. To refocus her emotions. An important thing to be able to do, they had told her. Emotion had to be controlled and monitored. To lose control, would ruin all her progress.


The girl put her good arm across her stomach, holding her hip. Nervousness. A dangerous, uncomfortable emotion. Uncertainty laced with worry. "What did you meant earlier... About arresting me. Its bugging me" she confessed, now staring proper and directly at the woman. "Are you a cop? Are you sure that you know me? Or was it just someone who looked like me?" the continued questions flowed.

 

[Xillia]

Faint hesitation dug heel into Claire's mind before she dismissed the aggravating thought, peeling at her walls that she had set up. She was persistent, that much was for certain, but the blonde haired officer wasn't about to back down from the statement that easily, instead, rising to her feet and pressing the meat of her palms into her back, letting the ricochet of popping echo up her spine. 

"I really think you needn't worry about who I am, nor what you were to me. Odds are, we've never even met before and I'm just confusing you with someone from the past. Needless to say, you should probably relax." The fact of the matter remained that the emblem on her uniform indicated a reform program, and in the modern age of science, that meant tampering with memories along with other things. 

If she'd really ended up being apart of that, there was no need for Claire to scratch at an old scar, instead, it would be wiser for her to simply accept things the way they were. Redirecting the flow of the coversation back to her earlier question, she newly inquired, "So... You said you'd like something to eat, right? Maybe something small at least? It's the least I can do if we're going to be roommates."

 

[Naeva Ami]

The young woman was less than pleased with the evasive answer. Why was it so hard to say where you'd seen someone, or why you thought they were someone? It didn't seem too complicated to her. However, there was also no need to antagonize a new roommate. Relaxing was certainly something she'd been told to do too, after all. No unneeded stress, no extra activity, just relax. It seemed an easy enough set of instructions, yet regardless, she just felt restless. Uneasy.


Shaking it off, she took to considering the question that had come a second time. "I guess so yeah. Please. Something small would be great" she confirmed, hesitant to have Claire handle this, though grateful enough. "I'm not picky, by the way. I'll eat whatever easy and available" She further explained. Unable to recall anything she did, or did not especially like was alarming, in a way, though she quickly pushed the thought aside. The most important thing, was to be a good roommate, not to cause trouble. She had to be good. She had to be proper.


"I've uh, never done this before. Do you have any... ground rules I need to know for food and cooking? Anything I shouldn't do or touch? It looks like you've been here a little while at least, I'd rather stick to your rules than throw my own out. And I guess anything not food related I should know?" Ashlynn questioned, keeping a light, cheerful tone.

 

[Xillia]

Claire pressed up to her feet, moving her aching body towards the expansive kitchen that located itself adjacent to the waiting room in which they were stationed. Without so much as a second thought, she slugged her way towards her fridge and opened it up, eyes browsing for what they could with the ghastly white light being shone on her features. Once finished, however, she plucked the yogurt from its hiding spot and coiled it in her hand, then, with no hesitation, she flung the container back into the living room, flying right towards Ashlynn. 

"Heads up!" She called, but a bit out of place as the motion had already been made and it wasn't going to give her any time to react.