Ahem. Now that that's been said, I'll get a few other things over with. As with Part 2, this part was written after reading some responses to the other parts of this story. Yes, I DO read your e-mails, even though I don't respond to them.

Finally, I might as well continue a trend I started in Part 2 : giving my opinions on the 'mysteries' of BGC. I figured I'd say whether or not I think Silia Stingray is a boomer. Well, to put it short, I think that...you should read this fic. Why the hell should I give it away? BWA HA HA. The only reason I gave my opinion on the lesbian thing is that, like I said, I don't want people getting the wrong idea about some of those scenes (and I'm sure you know which ones). It seemed like a good idea to get that out of the way.

Oh, and there is a brief reference to another anime series (author is Rumiko Takahashi). Once again, the series is not my property, blah blah blah. It just seemed like a good time to use it.

I won't waste any more of your precious time. Just read the story.

A Killer's Heart

Part 3 : Upgrades

The story thus far : Meg and Lou (from Genaros) are alive, with the help of a certain boomer named Nicholas Brady. Sylvie has resurrected, thanks to the same boomer. Anri isn't alive _yet_, but Nick's working on that part. Sounds peachy-keen, right? Well, there's one problem : Nick is a semi-retired 33-S-H, the most brutal assassin boomer ever made by GENOM. He is not a nice guy to be around; self-centered, sadistic, cynical, sarcastic, psychotic, etc. all come to mind when people think of him. He works as a mercenary at night, to satisfy his built-in desire to kill things.

Part 2 ended with the introduction of _another_ 33-S-H, named Karl Richards, whose current mission is to kill Nick...eventually. Who's behind all this? Well, if you haven't read Part 2, I ain't tellin'. But I'll give you a hint : name starts with L.

And _no_, it isn't Linna, you weirdos.

***

Sylvie's mind was a mess.

Not physically, of course; Nick had made extra-sure her brain was perfectly normal before reactivating her. But her thoughts were truly screwed up.

She could slowly feel her sanity slipping away. It was like Nick had said to her; there was something she needed to do. She hadn't had sex in the week and a half since she'd been reactivated, and that was _way_ longer than she'd ever gone on Genaros or Earth. This time, there weren't other sexaroids around to help her satisfy this persistent desire. Not that she liked using her friends like that, but sometimes things just turned out that way. At least the women she'd had to do it with had had a similar sex drive, which also needed satisfying.

And now...there was no one she could turn to, at least not with a clean conscience. She had to fight herself down every time someone came too close, which meant roughly every five minutes, since she was still living in Priss's trailer.

^No,^ she thought. ^I'm not using Priss that way. She doesn't need it like I do. Besides, she probably likes guys.^ Sylvie was pretty sure she couldn't have made herself do it, even if Priss was interested. Priss was a friend, and Sylvie didn't want to involve her friends in her own problems.

Sylvie was currently sitting alone in the trailer, watching whatever was on TV. Her fingers were dug into the cushions, the strain helping to take her mind off of her problems. Of course, that still didn't keep her sex-starved brain from making judgements on every person who appeared on the screen. She had just concluded that the weather guy was a big-time stud when a knock came at the door.

Sylvie almost jumped clear off the couch when she heard the knock. Surprised at how high-strung she was, she managed to get out, "Who is it?" in a semi-normal voice.

"It's me," came a voice as the door opened and Priss walked in. Sylvie nodded once, the movement looking more like a muscle spasm than an actual nod. She went back to looking unblinkingly at the TV.

Priss walked past the couch and into her trailer's kitchen, where she managed to dig up a soda out of the back of her refrigerator. She popped it open, figuring that currently, Sylvie was too jumpy to do that on her own. Then, she took out a small plastic bottle out of the pocket of her leather biking jacket. She unscrewed the cap and poured out a handful of the hexagonal orange pills inside. She stared at them for a minute.

"You'd better give her two," Meg had said an hour ago, before giving Priss the bottle. "And then one a day, every day." Priss didn't know what to make of it. It had the look and feel of a drug addiction, and here were the drugs to prove it. But then again...

"Please have her take them," Meg had added on, after seeing the suspicious look on Priss's face. "Or else she'll have to go out every once in a while, and she'll just screw the first guy she sees."

Priss sighed, figuring this was for the best. Dropping two of the pills on the cracked countertop, she poured the rest back into the bottle and then stowed the bottle in the nearest open space. She took the soda and pills back into the room with Sylvie.

"Here you go," Priss said, handing her cargo over to the other woman. Sylvie looked down at what Priss had given her, then back at Priss, a questioning look on her face.

"Swallow 'em," Priss said. "Your Meg friend said they'll help you."

Sylvie still looked nervous, but eventually decided to trust Priss. She put both pills in her mouth and washed them down with a blast of soda. Then, her mood unchanged, she went back to watching TV.

Priss didn't know how long it would take for the drug to work, so she figured she could keep Sylvie company until then. She made sure to keep her distance; Meg had warned her that if Sylvie was desperate enough, anyone who got too close would suddenly find a 33-S jumping on them. She didn't even bother trying to change the channel, even though the news was boring her to death. She kept tabs on Sylvie, watching the woman out of the corner of her eye.

Over the period of an hour, Sylvie slowly relaxed. She stopped looking like she was ready to explode, and began to breathe regularly again. Her hands unclenched - though they'd already left deep finger marks in the cushions - and the tension flowed out of her face.

"Feeling better?" Priss asked, after she was sure Sylvie wouldn't go through the ceiling at the sound of a voice.

Sylvie didn't answer right away, and she didn't look at Priss. But after a second, she nodded. "Yes," she said, still looking at the screen. "I guess that stuff works."

"Yeah," Priss said.

"Where'd Meg get it from? I...guess I'm going to need more, later."

Priss sighed again, re-admitting that Sylvie was addicted to this, and there was no way around it.

"Meg told me she and Lou make it," Priss lied. She _knew_ who made it - a certain male sexaroid she knew - but Priss also knew how Sylvie would react if she found that out. Odds are she'd try to puke out the pills, saying there was no _way_ she was going to take something an H had made.

Sylvie nodded, smiling a little. "They're good friends, aren't they?" she asked, turning her head to finally look at Priss. Priss smiled back, picking up on some of the good vibes.

"Yeah," Priss said. "You're lucky to have them."

"Thank you," Sylvie said, turning back to the TV.

Priss took this moment to relax. Good, so Sylvie was normal again. Well...as normal as a 33-S could be, anyway. There was still the thing with the eyes, which could literally knock you out. And, of course, anyone who got within three meters was suddenly attracted to Sylvie, but Priss managed to ignore that part, more or less.

"So..." Priss began, jumping right into the next topic of conversation. She didn't really know how to start this, so she just went about it the same way she fought boomers; she improvised.

Sylvie turned an interested gaze towards her.

"Me and my friends have this thing we do on Fridays, every once in a while," Priss said, her eyes nervously darting around. "We do mock commando fighting, for fun and all. And, well, one of my friends can't come this time, so I was wondering..." she trailed off.

Sylvie smiled again. "I'll give it a shot," she said. "You got me started on biking, and that's fun. Why not?"

Priss visibly relaxed. She and the other Knight Sabers rented out a holo-arena on the top floor of a skyscraper for their training sessions. Priss had her reservations about how useful commando training was for killing boomers, but Silia insisted they keep up with it. Nene hadn't been able to make it this time around; she was working a double-shift at the ADP. Priss was sure the young hacker was just trying to get out of paying for dinner again, but Silia hadn't had a problem with it.

And, of course, Priss had gone and volunteered to replace Nene, temporarily, just so they'd have an even number of players again. Once more, Silia hadn't argued. In fact, she almost seemed to approve of Priss's suggestion of Sylvie. Priss didn't know why Silia would feel that way, but she hadn't been one to argue. It was fun doing stuff with Sylvie. Now she just had to wait until Friday to see how things turned out.

***

That Friday, Nene was working diligently on her double-shift. She wasn't doing ADP work, but she _was_ working on something important.

She rested her chin in one hand as she clicked the mouse in a few more places, cleaning up the image on the screen. She was looking at a personnel file she'd started work on a few days ago : Sylvie's. The woman didn't have any ID records, other than her GENOM production form, and that definitely wouldn't be enough to get by in MegaTokyo, especially if she wanted people to think she was human.

^Birthdate...^ Nene thought. ^I dunno. How old is she supposed to be? She looks like she's about Priss's age, I guess. So she should be born around...uh...^ - she did a quick calculation in her head - ^2013, 2014 maybe. What month and day? Uh...July 8th. That's a good month.^

"Hey, Nene!" came a feminine voice off to her side.

Nene's eyes widened, and her hands flew across the keyboard so quickly they were nearly invisible. Sylvie's personnel file was saved and closed in record time. Which, coincidentally, was _just_ enough time to avoid having Naoko see it as she came up to Nene's desk.

"Oh, hi there," Nene said, smiling innocently up at her friend.

"Look what I found," Naoko said, taking a paper out of the large stack she was carrying. She handed it to Nene, who glanced it over. It was an advertisement for an apartment.

"Nice, isn't it?" Naoko said, not noticing the slight disappointment on Nene's face. "It's a great location, and I think it's in your price range."

Nene forced a smile. "Well, thanks," she said. "I'll check it out."

"Yeah," Naoko said, relieved. "Now you don't have to live with that pervert Mackie any more."

"He's not a - " Nene cut herself off, before she could give too much away.

"Not a what?"

"Nothing," Nene said, knowing that wouldn't satisfy Naoko. She thought quickly, trying to figure a way out of this.

"Hey, where are those forms I asked for?" came an angry-sounding male voice from a few desks down.

"Coming!" Naoko yelled back. "Sorry, Nene, gotta run. See ya." With another smile, she ran off in the direction of the voice.

Nene let out a sigh of relief. That had been too close. Office gossip could be a very dangerous weapon; it was best not to say _anything_ about your personal life while at work. Fortunately, she was pretty sure Naoko wouldn't take up the subject again, unless there was absolutely nothing new to talk about.

Inwardly kicking herself for almost saying too much, Nene handled this apartment form the same way she handled all the other ones people offered her. That is, she crumpled it up into a ball and threw it away.

"Looks like the apartment market is still empty," she mumbled, grinning to herself. At least, that was what she'd tell Silia and Mackie. Maybe if she acted disappointed at the 'finding', Mackie would take her out tonight to help her feel better. He was so nice...

Nene stopped herself before she went starry-eyed. She had work to do, and it was best to do it now, while no one was looking. She called up Sylvie's personnel file again.

^Place of residence...uhhh...^ What was she supposed to say here? 'Lives in a trailer'? Even Priss's file didn't say that. And she didn't want to say Sylvie was homeless...

She looked back to her trash can, where the apartment ad was still quite visible.

^Hmm...^ she thought, a mischeivious grin spreading across her face. ^Maybe the apartment market isn't quite _that_ empty...^

She fished the ad out of her trash and un-crumpled it as best she could. She looked it over again. Maybe, just maybe, Sylvie could live here. Hopefully, Priss would help her pay for it until she got a job of her own.

Nene placed the ad in her handbag, making a mental note to stop by Priss's place later on.

***

While Nene was hashing out ID files, Sylvie and Priss were sitting in a tiny bar adjoining the gym they'd just come from. This time, Sylvie had had the presence of mind to bring her own towel, instead of borrowing Priss's, the way she had when she'd first come to MegaTokyo. She'd made sure to dry herself off thoroughly; sexaroid sweat happened to be a very powerful aphrodisiac. This, coupled with her tight-fitting workout clothes, proved to be very...distracting for most humans, men and women alike.

Priss, for the most part, was unaffected. Thanks to a warning from Silia, she had known what would happen if Sylvie worked out. Being mentally prepared had made the difference; she was able to push the emotions to the back of her head, knowing they weren't real. She still felt the urge to be friendly with Sylvie, but it didn't go any further, thankfully.

"Geez, think you're popular enough?" Priss asked, after she and Sylvie had managed to push off the fourth person in the last ten minutes who'd tried to ask Sylvie out.

"I guess I should take a shower," Sylvie said.

"Bad, bad idea," Priss said, noticing the way temperatures rose around her as people began envisioning Sylvie in the shower. "Just don't work as hard next time."

"I guess," Sylvie said, looking sadly at the bar.

"Something wrong?" Priss asked.

"Well, it's just..." Sylvie began. She paused, looked around, and lowered her voice. "It's just...I'm not really free, am I? If this keeps happening every time I go out."

Priss sighed and softly gripped Sylvie's shoulder. "If you start thinking like that," she said, "you'll dig yourself into a pit. Tell me, can you do what you want?"

"I...guess."

"Are you anyone's slave?"

"No..." Sylvie said hesitantly. "No," she said again, more firmly this time.

"That's free enough, then," Priss said, patting Sylvie's shoulder once before taking her hand away.

Sylvie smiled, while still looking at the bar. "Thank you," she said. "That helps."

"No prob," Priss replied. "C'mon," she said, getting up. "We gotta get going if we're gonna be on time."

"Oh, yeah," Sylvie said, getting to her feet. "I forgot. That...holo thing, whatever-it-is."

"Yeah," Priss said, leading the way into the locker rooms. Priss changed first, getting back into her red biking leathers. Then she guarded the door while Sylvie changed back into her blue-and-white biking suit. The holes in the suit had been recently patched up, and it looked as good as new. However, it was still very tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. Priss wondered if Sylvie had been programmed to like that look.

"You know, we do so much together, people might get the wrong idea," Sylvie said as they walked out of the locker rooms and through the bar.

"What?" Priss asked, bewildered.

"Well, I count three women today who've tried to hit on me," Sylvie said, as Priss opened the door. "And it's not like you have a steady boyfriend...I don't think, anyway."

Priss figured it out from there. "Sylvie!" she said, surprised. "You know I don't think of you that way."

Sylvie nodded, blushing a little. "Yes, and the feeling's mutual. But I'm worried about what everyone else might think."

"Who cares?" Priss said, pulling her helmet off of her bike's seat and holding it loosely in one hand.

"I was just wondering," Sylvie said, as she unstrapped her own helmet. "What's going on with my bike? My real one, I mean. I don't like this rented one." She left her helmet on her bike's seat and rubbed at her side a little, as though sore.

Priss thought that one over. Sylvie's _last_ motorcycle had been destroyed in a boomer vs. Battlemover fight. But Priss, with her big mouth, had said she knew someone who could make Sylvie a new bike, using what pieces they'd been able to salvage from the wreckage. Sylvie had been delighted. Priss, on the other hand, was still prodding Mackie to do it. The boy loved working on motorcycles, but he was a little iffy on doing it for free. Priss had promised him she'd pay him, but still...

"It's coming along," Priss said. "The guy's working on it, trying a few new ideas."

Sylvie nodded at this. "Okay. I hope he finishes soon," she said. She kept rubbing at her side, eventually pulling her biking gloves off, looking a little frustrated.

"What is it?" Priss asked.

"I've got an itch," she said. "Just give me a minute." Priss turned away and kick-started her motorcycle, revving the engine a little.

Behind her, Sylvie found she was still unable to scratch her itch through her suit, and decided to unzip her suit a little to reach inside. Finally, with nothing in the way, she was able to scratch the annoyance. Unfortunately, as she reached inside, her arm pushed the zipper down even further.

A passing driver found out very quickly that Sylvie didn't wear underwear. This driver was so stunned by the view that he jerked himself around to keep looking as he passed, the move making his arms turn the steering wheel to the right. Before he even knew what was happening, his car's tires had broken free, and he'd started spinning out.

"Whoa!" Priss said, watching the car whiz by, already out of control. Another car, which had been tailgating the first one, swerved hard to avoid a wreck, and then accelerated...right through a red light.

Both Sylvie and Priss cringed as the second car flew across a busy intersection. Whoever the driver was, he was either very good or just very lucky, because he managed to swerve through the gaps in between the cross-traffic and make it through without slowing down. Unfortunately, the other drivers didn't agree with his actions. In their uncoordinated efforts to avoid collisions, a chain reaction started. Priss looked away, listening to the tremendous crash. She opened her eyes and saw Sylvie, who had a look of absolute shock on her face, and was still absentmindedly scratching her side inside of her suit.

"Uh...Sylvie..." Priss said, getting an eyeful.

Sylvie didn't say anything, but turned her shocked gaze towards Priss. Priss indicated with a movement of her head what was wrong. Sylvie looked down, gasped loudly, and quickly zipped herself back up.

Priss just shook her head at Sylvie's innocent mistake; well, innocent in one sense of the term, anyway. Then she looked back at the crash site.

"Hoooooly shit," she said, looking. Where there had once been an intersection, there was now a junkyard. The twisted forms of cars were everywhere, forming a roadblock that would have put any police force to shame. And, speaking of the police, Priss could hear a siren blaring as it came down the street.

A police squad car pulled a 90-degree stop, swerving hard and coming to a rest just in front of the now-blocked roadway. The canopy swung open, and two men jumped out.

"Oh, my God..." Sylvie was saying as she walked towards the wreck. Priss grabbed her roughly on the arm to keep her from getting too close. That squad car had ADP markings, and the ADP was not particularly kind to boomers.

Priss bit back a curse as she recognized the men from the car : Leon and Daley. Every day, she became more certain Leon was making an effort to follow her around. How else was he _always_ where she was? Well, he wasn't _always_ there, but it sure seemed that way.

Her eyes locked onto Leon, who had begun redirecting traffic as soon as he'd gotten to the intersection. He moved his arms in quick, authoritative motions, calming down the drivers not involved in the crash and starting things going again. Moments like this were when Priss found him bearable; he still had the macho look going full-blast, and was probably turning it on every irate driver he saw, but at this distance, he just looked efficient and devoted to preserving the peace. It was nice to know men like that still existed.

Meanwhile, Daley had taken out a half a dozen flares from the trunk of their car and was setting them up around the crash. Leon had a few words with Daley once the flares were going. After they separated, Daley took over handling traffic, while Leon jogged back to the car and pulled out a radio, where he began barking orders.

Sylvie had calmed down once she saw the police were already working to get things going again. She looked at Priss, noticing that the woman's eyes were focused on something distant. Sylvie followed Priss's gaze to Leon. She cocked her head thoughtfully upon seeing him. She looked back to Priss, who was still staring. Sylvie smiled a little, figuring it out. It was nice to know Priss was at least interested in someone else, and wasn't cutting herself off from the world anymore. But at the same time, she felt a burning desire, deep down, to say something about it.

"Hey, he's hot," Sylvie said. "He your guy?" She couldn't believe what she'd just said, but she kept going.

"Huh?" Priss said, coming back to reality.

"That guy," Sylvie said, pointing. "Is he yours?"

Priss shook her head vigorously. "No, he's not," she said, just a _little_ too emphatically.

"Oh," Sylvie said, her eyebrows going up. "Then he's available? He _is_ pretty cute."

"Oh..." Priss said, obviously trying to think things out. "No, he wouldn't be interested, Sylvie."

"Well, he'd be the only guy around who isn't," Sylvie said, striking a very flattering pose. Inside, she was shocked that she was acting like this; just a minute ago, she'd been wishing people would leave her alone. But she couldn't stop. She raised her free arm and waved at Leon. "Hey! Sexy police guy! I saw what happened! Come over here!"

"No, no!" Priss said sharply to Sylvie. "I said he wouldn't be interested!"

"Is he gay? I can handle that too, you know."

"No, he's not...listen, he's just got someone else, okay?"

"Who?"

"Well, I...uh...damn." She said this last word as she saw Leon walking up to them, having heard Sylvie's call. ^Just like him,^ she thought. ^Can't resist a pretty face, can he? And...and when did Sylvie start acting like this?^

"Why, hello Priss," Leon said, smiling broadly. "What a coincidence seeing you here. What'd you do now?"

Priss rose to the occasion. "I didn't do anything! I was just getting ready to leave, and _this_ happened!"

"Notice how this stuff always happens to yo..." he trailed off, noticing something behind Priss. Priss didn't notice; she didn't listen to the police B.S. anyway. She immediately went back to defending herself.

The thing that had grabbed Leon's attention was Sylvie. She had positioned herself about a meter behind Priss, and was striking a variety of rather...suggestive poses which Priss couldn't see, but which Leon _could_. He was suddenly glad he was wearing his sunglasses, because otherwise, it would become quite obvious that he was staring. With very, _very_ wide eyes.

"And I hadn't even moved!" Priss was saying. "I couldn't have...do you have a nosebleed?"

"Well, I..." Leon said, running a finger under his nose. It came back red. "I guess I do. Someone just hit on me. I mean hit me. And so I'm bleeding. There." He had to exercise every ounce of police-honed self control to keep a straight face.

Priss's brow furrowed, and she turned around to look at Sylvie. With amazing speed, the sexaroid zipped her suit back up and managed to look very innocent - if a little red in the cheeks - when Priss looked at her.

"Did you..." she said, looking suspiciously at Sylvie. Sylvie just smiled a little, managing to look even _more_ innocent. While she was doing this, Leon had removed his sunglasses and winked at Sylvie. He knew what she was; he was partly responsible for her being alive right now. And he also had a fair idea of what she was doing. He'd decided that he'd play along, for now.

Sylvie couldn't surpress a giggle when she saw the wink. Her cheeks reddened even more. Priss turned back around to look at Leon, who also pulled off an incredible feat of speed, managing to look perfectly formal by the time Priss faced him. He left his sunglasses off, however.

"Yes?" he said, his voice even. Sylvie laughed out loud at how calm he sounded. Priss growled. "Did you...do something behind my back?"

"Me?" Leon said, his voice full of fake innocence as he gestured to himself. "Why, Priss, I'm shocked." Sylvie laughed again. She mouthed the words, 'I think she likes you' to Leon.

Priss turned back towards Sylvie. "And what were _you_ doing?" she asked, getting steadily more certain that she was the butt of some kind of joke. The thought was making her angry. Behind her, Leon was mouthing 'I hope so.' He followed this up with another wink.

Sylvie didn't respond to Priss's question. Unable to keep a straight face, she still managed to shrug, as though she had no idea what Priss was talking about. Meanwhile, Leon was gesturing for Sylvie to keep going with this.

"Well, like I said, he ain't interested!" Priss said, almost shouting.

"Who says I'm not?" Leon said. Priss whirled on him, seething. He kept going. "Your friend's a real knockout, you know. She available?"

Priss almost felt her eyes go green with jealousy. "Leon, you can't date _her_! Don't you know..." she lowered her voice down to a whisper. "Don't you know what she is?"

Leon shrugged. "So? Who says I can't ask her out?"

"Oh, yeah baby," Sylvie said, sauntering past Priss. "Take me now, you fool."

"Sorry," Leon said, looking aloof. "I've got a job to do right now."

Priss relaxed a little at this. If there was anything dependable about Leon, it was that he was faithful to his job. He wouldn't let a woman, not even a sexaroid, get in the way.

Sylvie was game for disproving this rule, however. She pushed herself up against Leon and threw her arms around him. She pulled his head down so his ear was at her lips.

"How much longer do you think she can last?" she whispered, using a tone of voice that made it sound like she wanted to jump him right then and there. Priss couldn't make out the words, but she heard the way they sounded. She proceeded to get even angrier.

"Oh, maybe..."

"Oh, shut up, Leon," Priss said, half-mad with envy by now. "You can't do that, and you know it."

Leon grinned. "So far, she's doing better than you do." Sylvie guessed at what came next, and backed away several steps.

"Oh, yeah?" Priss said, the threat of competition instantly putting her into high gear and disengaging whatever common sense she had. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed Leon around the neck and dragged his lips down onto hers.

It was, in truth, a very light kiss. But Priss could feel him getting into it. What was worse, she could feel _herself_ getting into it, too. Thoughts of competition evaporated quickly, and she pulled away, letting go of Leon as though he were some kind of insect. Her eyes went wide as she figured out what had just happened.

"Hmm..." Leon said, stroking his chin. "I dunno. I think I need another shot to make sure."

"You _bastard_," Priss said, angry and embarassed. She heard Sylvie giggle again, and whirled on her. "And _you're_ no better! I - " she was cut off as her watch beeped, ticking off the arrival of 17:00.

"Oh, shit, we're gonna be late," she said. She jumped back onto her cycle, tried to start the engine again, even though she'd never turned it off, pulled her helmet on, and was gone in a blast sound and tire smoke.

"Thanks," Leon said to Sylvie, who was finally beginning to calm down. "Though Priss is gonna hate you for that."

"I don't think so," Sylvie said, pulling on her own helmet and starting her own bike. "See you."

"Right," Leon said. "Good to see you're alive and well."

Sylvie paused at this, and looked at him questioningly before nodding once. Then she drove off, leaving Leon behind to finish handling the traffic situation.

Sylvie managed to catch up with Priss, and they started taking alternate routes through the city, their original route currently blocked by several hunks of metal that had once been cars. Both women were distracted by their own thoughts. Priss was thinking about Leon. ^He actually kisses pretty well...^ she thought. ^But he _tricked_ me! That bastard...^ But this last thought went through her head more out of habit than anything else. In truth, Priss was thinking about the feeling of his lips on hers. It had actually been kind of nice, for the second-and-a-half it had lasted.

Sylvie's thoughts were in another vein altogether. She'd never acted like _that_ before. She liked to think of herself as a more reserved woman, conservative and soft-spoken for the most part. But _this_...she'd just acted like a completely different person! She didn't know what was wrong with her, that could have brought that on. But the thing was, she'd kind of liked doing that. Playing with people's emotions...it had been fun, in a sadistic kind of way. ^Sadism?^ she thought. ^Why would I feel sadistic? I'm not like that...am I?^

***

Linna and Silia had already changed into their camoflage uniforms by the time Priss and Sylvie came through the door.

"Sorry," Priss said, noting the readiness of the other two women. "We got held up in traffic."

Sylvie looked sternly at Priss. "But that's not what hap - "

"Right, soooo..." Priss said, cutting off her friend before she could say too much. "I'm with Sylvie this time around. Who's on offense?"

"You are," Linna said, loading a clip of paint rounds into a submachine gun. "You're late, so you get the hard part."

Priss just shrugged. "Whatever. C'mon, Sylvie."

They went into the locker room, to change out of their biking clothes and into camoflage. Silia sat down, already prepared. She was...interested in how Sylvie would do on this operation. 33-S's weren't made for fighting, but then again, this one _had_ driven the D.D. Battlemover quite effectively. There was no telling what could happen, and Silia kind of liked that. It was always good to have something unpredictable in a training simulation.

Sylvie came out of the locker room first, buttoning up a loose-fitting jacket. She felt a little uncomfortable in the camoflage; it was just a _little_ too much like the khaki uniform she'd had to wear on Genaros.

"Oooh. It looks good," Linna said encouragingly, noticing the nervous look on Sylvie's face.

"Th...thanks," Sylvie replied.

"Hm," Linna said, grabbing her chin and thinking. "Still needs something."

"Like what?"

Linna didn't answer. Instead, she turned towards Silia, reached into a pocket of Silia's jacket, and pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Hey..." Silia said, taking instant notice.

"Don't worry," Linna said. "What were you going to do with 'em, anyway?"

Silia just shrugged. Linna, meanwhile, handed Sylvie the sunglasses and gestured for her to put them on. Sylvie complied after a little hesitation.

"_Now_ it looks good," Linna said, doing her best to ignore the continuing nervousness on Sylvie's part. Sylvie put both hands in her pockets and tried to calm down.

"So what happened?" Linna asked.

Sylvie cocked her head. "What?"

Linna smiled a little and rephrased her question. "Why are you late? Something happen that Priss doesn't want us to know about?"

Sylvie understood, this time. "Well, we were walking to our bikes," she said, somberly, "and I suddenly got this itch..." she said, pointing to her side. "And...uh..." she glanced at the door to the locker room, scared that Priss might come in. "Did you hear about that huge accident on North Street?" she asked.

Linna nodded immediately. "Yeah, they're still trying to clean that up."

Sylvie nodded, as well. "Well, that's what happened. It...it was an accident..." her voice betraying her deep-seated feeling of guilt.

"It's okay," Linna said offhandedly. "Whatever you did, I don't think you could do _that_ all on your own."

Sylvie shrugged, thinking. ^Well, that one car _did_ run the light and go through a busy intersection,^ she thought.

"And so your normal way was blocked, and you had to go all over the city before you could get here," Linna finished for her.

Sylvie nodded, still looking confused and quite mortified over the mess she'd managed to cause. It was about then that Priss walked in, finally dressed. She immediately noticed Sylvie.

"Cool," Priss said. "I like the shades. Where'd you get 'em?"

Sylvie pointed at Silia.

"Okay..." Priss said. "Ready?" she asked the room.

Sylvie looked at her questioningly, while Linna and Silia nodded and turned towards the door that would lead to the combat area.

"What do you mean, ready?" Sylvie asked Priss as the door closed behind Linna and Silia.

"Oh, well, you need a primary and secondary gun," Priss said, gesturing to the small rack on the wall. "Usually the primary's something like this," she said, pulling out a gun based on the M-16 assault rifle. "And your secondary's something small. Though sometimes Silia gets tricky and brings along a mine or something."

Sylvie nodded slowly. "I think I get it," she said, eyeing the guns suspiciously.

"Don't worry," Priss said, patting Sylvie's shoulder. "This just fires paint. It doesn't hurt...much."

"Okay..." Sylvie said, still looking at the weapons. "Give me a minute, and I'll join you."

"Right," Priss said, grabbing a .45 and ramming it into a hip holster before walking out the door.

Sylvie watched the door close behind her friend, then turned back to the gun rack.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" she asked herself. "I don't know anything about guns. This was just dumb..."

It was then that words appeared in her field of vision. Sylvie jumped a little, reflexively trying to draw back from the words, but that was a futile effort. She read them quickly.

PRIMARY BATTLE COMPUTER INITATING...

WARNING : NON-STANDARD CYBERDROID IS COMPUTER HOST. RECALIBRATION REQUIRED. RECALIBRATE FOR NON-STANDARD CYBERDROID?

Sylvie considered calling Priss, but then again, Priss wouldn't be able to read this. She decided she could try to figure this out on her own. She stared at the words for several seconds, until the last sentence was re-printed for her. She realized she was supposed to answer.

"Uh...sure," she said to the air. The words instantly reacted.

CONFIRMED. RECALIBRATING NOW.

Sylvie suddenly lost all control. Her joints locked, and her back arched. It felt like insects were crawling over every inch of her skin. She tried calling for help, but her voice wasn't working. She could feel her heart beating in her own chest, and was sure she was about to feel it stop.

But then, it was over. Catching her breath, Sylvie leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. In the darkness given by her eyelids, new words appeared.

RECALIBRATION SUCCESSFUL. BATTLE COMPUTER IS FUNCTIONAL. SITUATION?

Sylvie again waited until the question was repeated before she answered.

"Well, I'm playing a game with Priss and two of her friends, and they're using fake bullets, because it's just a game, and..."

CONFIRMED. NON-LETHAL TESTING EXERCISE IS OPTIMAL USE OF BATTLE COMPUTER IN CURRENT STATE. SITUATION ANALYSIS...WEAPONRY REQUIRED. CURRENT UNIT OFFENSIVE RATING : E+.

"Uh, yeah, Priss said I'm allowed a primary and secondary weapon..." ^This is _so_ weird,^ she thought.

UNDERSTOOD. CURRENT WEAPONRY UNIT MAY USE IN UNINHIBITED MANNER : .40 AUTOLOADER WITH STANDARD AMMUNITION, MONO-EDGE FIELD BLADE, HK PERSONAL ASSAULT PISTOL WITH HIGH-EXPLOSIVE ARMOR-PIERCING AMMUNITION.

^What?^ Sylvie thought. ^What's that supposed to mean?^

IT IS A LIST OF WEAPONRY UNIT MAY USE.

^Great, so it can read my mind.^

AFFIRMATIVE. BATTLE COMPUTER IS LINKED TO CYBERDROID BRAIN.

^Whatever.^ She looked back towards the gun rack, opening her eyes again. "Well, looks like I'm stuck with you for a while, _whatever_ you are. So what do I do?"

WEAPONRY REQUIRED FOR MISSION SUCCESS.

"I _know_ that. Can't you give me a hint here?"

SCANNING...

Sylvie felt her eyes moving, apparently of their own accord, as she glanced over the gun rack. She felt herself looking over every gun, seeing what each one was in the space of an eyeblink before moving on. When she'd gone over every gun, the words came back.

SCAN COMPLETE. .40 AUTOLOADER DETECTED. ARM WEAPON.

Sylvie lost control of her body again, feeling her arm reach out for one of the pistols. She recognized the gun as the pistol she'd had when she'd gone to find the 33-S plans. She _was_ somewhat familiar with it, so it made perfect sense that she should use it...

It then hit her that she wasn't the one moving her body. She reached out with her mind and grabbed control of her arm again, just as it touched the gun. Gritting her teeth, she started to pull her arm back, feeling as though she were fighting it all the way. She didn't like the idea of losing control to a computer. That had happened to her once before...ending only when she'd been killed.

WARNING. IF CYBERDROID WILL NOT COOPERATE WITH BATTLE ACTION PLAN, LOCKOUT OF EXTANT PERSONALITY WILL RESULT.

^What?^ Sylvie asked herself. ^What does that mean...oh.^ She felt a cold sensation crawling outwards from her stomach, slowly stretching out to the rest of her body. If it reached her brain...

"No!" she screamed. She stopped trying to control her arm, and the appendage instantly went back to reaching for the gun. The chill stopped spreading and disappeared, while her hands moved quickly, loading in a clip and holstering the gun.

"What..." she tried to ask. "What am I supposed to do? You can just take my _body_ whenever you want?"

AFFIRMATIVE. CYBERDROID HOST'S PERSONALITY CAN BE LOCKED OUT IF COOPERATION IS NOT POSSIBLE.

"Oh, great."

Sylvie supposed a human woman would feel violated, if not outright raped, by what was going on in her head. Sylvie had those feelings, as well, but she was better able to deal with them, having experienced them many times before from her owners. She didn't like that she was experienced in such matters, but in this case, it helped her keep her calm. She kept reading.

PRIMARY WEAPON REQUIRED. SUGGESTIONS?

"Beats me," Sylvie said to the air. "I don't know anything about this stuff." She didn't notice the note of cynicism in her voice. She'd never spoken with that tone before.

CONFIRMED. WEAPONRY CHOICES DELEGATED TO BATTLE COMPUTER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. PRIMARY WEAPON CHOICE...R-28B CLASS 9mm ASSAULT RIFLE. ARM WEAPON.

Resigned, Sylvie reached out and took out a heavy gun with a horizantal clip. After looking it over, she figured out how to load it, and did so.

WEAPON IS NONSTANDARD AND UNIT IS NOT PROGRAMMED FOR USE.

"Well, _you_ just told me to take it."

INTERFACE IS NECESSARY.

Sylvie's eyes widened, and she unconsciously rubbed at her arms. When the D.D. had interfaced with her, it had plugged itself directly into her body. It had not been an experience she'd savored. And now this..._thing_ talking to her was asking her to do it again?

"But...but I know how to use it."

PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE OF WEAPON ACKNOWLEDGED. PROCEDURE FOR USE?

"Point it at something and pull the trigger, you stupid computer," Sylvie said, fed up. She stopped and went over what she'd just said. It sounded as though her temper was getting short.

ACKNOWLEDGED. GENERAL WEAPONS KNOWLEDGE CONFIRMED. PROCEED.

Taking the safety off of her main gun, Sylvie walked out the door to the mock battlefield, not really sure who was in charge of her body as she did so. Priss met her outside.

"Sorry I took so long," Sylvie said, silently debating whether or not to tell Priss what had just happened.

"Hey, it's alright," Priss said, walking backwards as Sylvie followed. "I actually thought you'd take _longer_ than that."

"Right..."

"Is something wrong?" Priss asked, hearing the tone in Sylvie's voice.

"No," Sylvie replied immediately. She immediately looked very surprised. She just...lied. Without hesitation. Without regret. She'd just _done_ it, as easy as breathing. Her eyes widened, but since they were behind sunglasses, Priss didn't notice.

"Good," Priss said. "So, here's the plan. We gotta make our way up there," she said, pointing to a hastily constructed wooden building. "And get inside without getting shot. And then we gotta shoot both of them. If you get shot in the chest, back, or head, you're out. Got it?"

Sylvie nodded.

"And remember," Priss said, grinning. "It's just a game. Have some fun with it."

Sylvie smiled back, letting her lips part a little. This showed Priss the pointed teeth underneath. Priss drew away a little, seeing this, but instantly relaxed, and looked back up at the building.

"Okay, they said to start whenever we're ready," Priss said. "Are you ready?"

"I...guess," Sylvie said, as her hands found the safety on her gun and clicked it off.

"Okay...go!" Priss said, as she started moving. Sylvie followed, mirroring Priss's stature and staying low.

They ducked back and forth, staying under cover as they crossed the distance. Priss eventually signaled for Sylvie to stop following, and to go a new way. Sylvie did so, moving away and doing her best to stay behind cover. No words appeared in her vision field as she did this. Sylvie relaxed and let herself get into it, hoping that would be the last time the whatever-it-was controlling those words would bother her.

They finally made it up to the fence around the house. It was a wooden picket fence, which meant it made adequate cover from paint bullets. It also had barbed wire coiled around the top, to dissuade people from trying to climb over. Priss and Sylvie crouched down on opposite sides of the opening in the fence, the only real entryway. Sylvie was somewhat high on adrenaline by this time. No one had tried taking a shot at them yet, but she could feel her heartbeat accelerate every time she came out of cover. She hadn't been made for this, but she could understand the rush some people got out of it. Maybe with time, she could get into this...

She glanced over at Priss. The other woman took a quick peek around the edge, holding her gun at the ready. She flashed Sylvie a thumbs-up and then turned the corner, heading across the open stretch between the fence and the house.

Sylvie was just about to follow when...

ALERT. THREAT DETECTED.

Sylvie instinctively looked up in time to see the flicker of artificial sunlight on glass. The glass of a sniper's scope.

"Priss, look out!" she shouted. Her mind locked; what was she going to do? She had to move, but she had to get to the house, but she was going to get shot, but Priss was in danger...

Sylvie suddenly found her body had taken matters into its own hands. Without thinking, she'd ducked back around the fence. She heard two sharp 'bangs' ring out, but didn't hear any bullets coming near her.

"Goddammit!" she heard Priss cursing out. "Silia, was that _you_? You and your damn sniper rifle! I oughta..."

One part of Sylvie's mind listened to Priss, sympathizing with her. Another part, however, was coldly calculating what to do next.

THREAT DETECTED. UNIT IS WITHIN EFFECTIVE RANGE OF THREAT. PROCEDURE?

Sylvie was surprised at the words's return, but also noticed the question. She started thinking, but she couldn't come up with anything.

"I don't know!" she said to the air, frustrated. "I want to get in there without getting _shot_, okay?"

PROCEDURE : FORCED ENTRY, AVOID COMBAT. CONFIRMED.

Sylvie started moving again, feeling more and more like she was a spectator, and her body was not really under her control. She started moving towards the entryway.

^Hey, wait a minute...^ she thought.

PROCEDURE INTERRUPTED. EXPLANATION?

Sylvie felt her body freeze in place. She found she could still take control, though, and move herself back against the fence.

^I'll get shot if I go through there. I need another way around. How about...^ she looked around. ^How about _over_ the fence? I think I can make that jump.^

MUSCULAR/SKELETAL ANALYSIS CONFIRMED. MODIFIED PROCEDURE IS POSSIBLE. INITIATE?

^Yes.^

Sylvie again moved back towards the opening. She pointed her gun out ahead of her, working off of the memory of where that window had been. She took a few steps away from the wall, peeked around the corner, and targeted the general area around the window. Her finger pulled the trigger.

The gun responded, sending a stream of paint-filled balls towards the wall. They shattered around and on the window, spraying it with red paint. Almost before she'd stopped firing, Sylvie flexed her legs and jumped as high as she could. A graceful mid-air flip just barely cleared the barbed wire and landed her on her feet on the other side. She was already running by the time return fire rang out. Whoever was shooting hadn't yet recovered from Sylvie's distraction; their aim was off, though a few rounds still came within centimeters of her. Still, she made it up to the house's entryway.

Now that she was inside the arc of the shooter's fire, she was no longer in danger. She took a moment to glance over at Priss. Her friend was sitting on the ground, looking very irritated. Two red splotches were on her chest. Still, she managed to throw Sylvie an encouraging glance before lying down on her back.

Sylvie nodded once, then edged over to the doorway. She adjusted the sunglasses Linna had given her; her little move over the fence had made them start to slide off her face. She tried to glance inside the open door, but also had to hug the wall to avoid the still-unseen sniper. As such, she could see very little.

^Any suggestions?^ she thought, asking that other presence in her head.

ALL SCANS NEGATIVE. PROCEED.

^Whatever,^ she thought. She hoped that meant it was clear. Still nervous, she edged her way inside.

The place was empty, from what she could see. The bottom floor of the structure looked like a bunch of 'rooms' separated by a few cheap dividers. Moving methodically, Sylvie carefully checked every nook and cranny of the floor. Satisfied that the area was secure, she headed for the stairs.

She'd just put her foot on the first step when the computer that was talking to her alerted her to a new threat. She got out of the way just in time to avoid four bullets that sprayed the steps with red paint.

Sylvie took cover behind a partition, her walking style having instantly switched over to a very silent one. She didn't make a sound as she moved. The person who'd been shooting at her did, however. Sylvie could make out several sharp curses coming from the top of the steps. The cursing let the computer talking to her pinpoint the location of the shooter. For her own part, Sylvie recognized the voice as coming from that Linna woman. And, if Priss had been right in guessing that the sniper was Silia, then Sylvie had a pretty good idea of where both her foes were.

The computer came up with a plan, which Sylvie saw no problem with, so she approved of it. She darted out from her cover and moved under the steps, rolling to move quicker. She smoothly came out of her roll and rammed her gun between two of the steps. She took a microsecond to aim, and fired off a burst. She was rewarded by the sound of paint balls hitting flesh. In her excitement, she would have fired longer, but the computer disengaged her trigger finger before she went through her entire clip.

"OOOOWWWWW!!" came Linna's voice. "That _hurt_, Sylvie!"

Sylvie desperately wanted to apologize for shooting Linna in the face, but her mouth wasn't working. The computer had frozen her voice, to keep her from giving away her position. All she could do was look apologetically at the woman as she moved up the stairs. Linna was most definitely out of the game; most of her head was covered in red paint. Sylvie noticed that Linna only had the machine gun she'd used; it took her several seconds, and some help from the computer, to figure out that she must have given her other gun to Silia.

Sylvie walked by Linna's fallen form, checking the ammo in her gun as she did so. With the computer's help, she guessed that she had enough for one or two short bursts, which she hoped would be enough to take out one person.

She moved carefully across the second floor, which turned out to be more of the same. Working off of memory, she walked in the direction she figured Silia would be in, supposing she hadn't moved since then.

She moved quietly, keeping up the walking style she'd taken on when Linna had shot at her. She slowly checked every room along the way, making sure each was empty before continuing on. Finally, she heard the faint sound of a board creaking. Smiling a little, she moved towards the noise. She moved from around a corner just in time to see Silia flying around the corner at the far end of the new hallway. The computer was about to make Sylvie give chase, when something caught her eye.

There was a small rug sitting in the middle of the hallway. Sylvie didn't know how she'd noticed it; she was excited about maybe winning this. But, it was there, all the same. And there hadn't been any other rugs in this entire structure...

"Sometimes Silia gets tricky and brings a mine or something..." Priss's voice rang in Sylvie's head. ^Is there a trap under there?^ she asked herself. She got an answer very quickly.

POSSIBILITY OF CONCEALED ANTIPERSONNEL MINE : 67%. SUGGESTED PROCEDURE : AVOID MINE.

^Well, _that's_ a good idea,^ thought Sylvie, as she started to work her way around the carpet. ^But won't Silia be waiting on the other side, in case I don't step on the trap?^ There was no response to this one.

^Alright, computer whatever-you-are, modify the procedure thingy.^

PROCEDURE HALTED. NEW PROCEDURE?

^Yeah. I think I saw a movie where the mine doesn't go off if you step on it, but if you take your foot off of it, _then_ it'll go off. So go like this...^ she outlined her new plan.

ACKNOWLEDGED.

Sylvie backed up, her grip shifting on her rifle. She took a gauge of its weight, eventually guessing that it would be enough. She stepped onto the edge of the carpet, and then carefully set her rifle down in the middle. A 'beep' confirmed her suspicions. There was no sudden detonation, so she figured her prediction about how the mine was triggered had also been correct.

"I win," came Silia's calm voice. "That's an antipersonnel mine. I was hoping to see if Priss had learned her lesson, but I guess it's still the same."

Silia appeared from back around the corner, loosely carrying a pistol of her own, and a sniper's rifle slung over her back.

"You move, and you die," she said, bringing her pistol up. "Do you surrender?"

"No," Sylvie responded quickly, pulling out her _own_ pistol as she did so. She flicked the safety off, took aim, pulled the trigger...

And heard a 'click'. She'd forgotten to chamber a bullet!

"Oh, shi - " she didn't have time to finish the curse, as Silia had already fired. But Sylvie wasn't out, yet. Or, more specifically, the computer wasn't ready to say 'game over'.

THREAT DETECTED. DODGE PROGRAM ENABLED.

Sylvie felt her body snatched away from her as she moved to the right. The first bullet flew past her side, missing her by several centimeters. The next two missed, as well, as Sylvie jumped into the air, going almost flat against the ceiling. Sylvie's mind had locked up again. It was all happening so fast...what was she supposed to do?

Meanwhile, her hands had grabbed the slide on her pistol. In the space of half a heartbeat, she saw the slide move back, and the bullet that had been chambered by her first pull of the trigger get ejected as a new bullet moved up into position. ^Gotta remember that,^ Sylvie chided herself, snapping out of her panicked stupor. She released the slide, letting it 'click' back into place. Somehow, she managed to kick off of the wall in mid-air, and push herself across the hallway, just in time to avoid yet another hostile bullet. Sylvie saw two glowing lines intersect in front of her eyes, forming a crosshair that converged on Silia. She got one shot off by the time she'd come into contact with the other wall.

She hit the wall head-first, both arms having been used to steady the pistol as she fired it. Fortunately for her, the partition was too flimsy to take an airborne 33-S, and she crashed right through it. _Un_fortunately, the impact shocked her enough that her hands went slack, dropping her pistol. She hit the floor hard, listening to her gun skitter across the floor.

^I guess Silia was right,^ she thought, groggily. ^She _does_ win. And I was so close...^

"Priss, come on in," came Silia's voice as she talked through an open window. "The game's over." Sylvie let herself relax. So Silia had won. It was just a game, so nothing important was lost.

Silia appeared in the new doorway Sylvie had made as she ended her short flight. Sylvie rolled onto her back, meeting the eyes of the woman who was going to finish her off. ^Oh, well,^ she thought. ^Maybe next time...wait a minute, since when did I want to play this game again?^

She noticed Silia wasn't firing. "Okay, you win," Sylvie said. "Do you want to make it official?" she spread her arms, bearing her chest to make it the biggest target possible.

Silia seemed to freeze for a moment, and then she laughed, a little. Then she laughed some more. Pretty soon, she needed to lean against the wall to support herself, keeling over with mirth.

"What's so funny?" Sylvie asked. She knew that people usually loosened up around her, which meant a little giggle _could_ turn into a huge tirade of laughs, but there had to be _something_ funny in the first place. She wondered if Silia was laughing at her.

Silia finally managed to compose herself, standing up straight again. Wiping a tear from her eye, she walked up to Sylvie.

"No, _you_ win," she said, extending a hand to help Sylvie get up. Sylvie took it and was soon on her feet. It was then that she noticed it : Silia had a splotch of red dead-center on her chest. Sylvie stared at it for a moment, then _she_ started to laugh, which of course got Silia started again. Linna walked in on the two of them.

"What's so funny?" Linna asked.

Silia managed to get control over herself first. She stood up and displayed her battle wound to Linna. "Sylvie wins," she said.

Linna's jaw dropped. "B...but I heard the mine thing..."

Silia couldn't get the smile off her face, yet. "She tricked me. She set it off with her gun, and used her backup gun on me. She turned back towards Sylvie, who by now had managed to regain control. "You're a good shot, by the way."

Sylvie nodded, still laughing a little. She'd only gotten off _one_ shot, and nailed Silia right in the chest. What luck!

But _was_ it luck? Whatever this computer thing in her was, it definitely knew what to do in the middle of a fight. Maybe her flawless aim had come from that.

"Whew..." Sylvie said, taking off her sunglasses and rubbing at her eyes and head. "I'm going to have _such_ a headache in a minute..."

"What happened?" came Priss's voice, as the woman walked in.

"I win!" Sylvie said, throwing her arms up in triumph as she turned to look at Priss.

"Well, I'll be damned. I would've never gue...uuuunnngghh," Priss said as she met Sylvie's gaze. The woman's eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed to the ground.

"What the..." Sylvie said to herself, moving up next to her friend's fallen form. She managed to find Priss's wrist and check for a pulse. Everything seemed okay...

"Priss?" Linna asked. "Sylvie, what happened to her?"

"I don't know..." Sylvie said, looking up at Linna.

"Well, people don't just pass ou...urrrghhh," she said, as her _own_ eyes went to the ceiling and she collapsed to the floor.

"Oh my God," Sylvie said, getting to her feet. "What's happening?"

She looked over at Silia for an explanation. She was surprised to see that the other woman had turned her back to her, covering her eyes with both hands.

"Put the sunglasses back on, please," she said.

Confused, Sylvie brought the sunglasses back up. As they settled back down onto her nose, she noticed it : in the reflection off the lenses, her eyes were glowing red.

"How the..." she said to herself. "But I didn't turn that on! I...I can't turn it off, now!" she said, desperately, as she tried to make the glow go away.

"Just put the sunglasses back on, or I'll be joining them the next time I look at you."

Sylvie instantly complied, feeling a sweat break out on her forehead. "Okay," she said, once the lenses were in place.

Silia turned back around. "All right," she said, taking control of the situation. "Two unconscious women, hit by the effects of 33-S eyes."

"How'd you know I was..." Sylvie began to say, before she figured it out. Priss must've told this woman about her.

"I helped fund your reactivation," Silia said, still looking at the unconscious forms of Priss and Linna. For the second time today, Sylvie's eyes went wide behind the sunglasses.

"This situation can be remedied easily," Silia said. She walked up to Linna's body and gave her a hard slap on the face. Sylvie drew back a little at the brief show of brutality, but Linna instantly began moving.

"Owch..." Linna said groggily, touching her sore cheek. Silia turned towards Priss, but Sylvie cut her off, kneeling down next to the unconscious woman. She took Priss by the shoulders and shook her gently. That didn't work, so she tried harder, and harder, until Priss finally woke up with her head whipping back and forth so fast she was dizzy.

"Stop," she managed to get out. Sylvie instantly let go. Priss, losing her support, fell backwards, banging her head on the floor.

"Sorry," Sylvie said quickly.

"Owwwwww...." Priss groaned out, as she sat back up, rubbing at the back of her head. "What happened?" she slurred out.

"You just saw first-hand what happens when a 33-S wants you out of the way." Sylvie looked horrified at this choice of words. "Or if they lose control of that ability," Silia added on, noticing Sylvie's face.

"Oh...okay..." Priss said, dragging herself to her feet. Sylvie noticed that Linna hadn't reacted to the mention of '33-S' either. So she must know, too...

"Come on," Silia said, walking out the door. Priss and Linna followed, along with Sylvie, a moment later. Sylvie picked her gun up off the floor, setting off a cloud of confetti as the mine underneath it was finally triggered.

They made their way back across the playing field. Sylvie caught up to Silia very quickly.

"I'd like to congratulate you on winning," Silia said, without looking at her.

"Uh...thanks," Sylvie said uncertainly. "But I just knocked out two of your friends..."

"Don't worry about it," Silia said. "It was nothing serious. And go ahead and keep the sunglasses, at least until we figure out what's wrong. This way, please."

Silia walked back into the small building where they'd gotten ready. She put her guns back on the rack, prompting Sylvie to do likewise. Priss and Linna caught up to them, shelving their weapons and going into the locker rooms.

"So now what?" Sylvie asked, calling over the stall divisions as she changed back into her biking clothes.

"Well, _someone_ owes me dinner," Priss said, already sounding normal again. Sylvie remembered this part : the losing team bought the winning team dinner, usually. Sometimes, they just settled for money, but apparently, not this time.

"But what about my eyes?" Sylvie asked back, as she pulled her biking suit back on.

"We can deal with that later," came Silia's voice. "The restaurant up here is fairly private. No one should notice you wearing sunglasses."

Sylvie nodded, even though she knew no one would see. She zipped her suit back up and walked out, putting the sunglasses back on. She also checked to make sure her biking gloves were there.

She froze as she did this. She had to wear sunglasses, to keep people from seeing her eyes. She'd taken on a lot of combat abilities, and somehow won against the odds. She had a computer talking to her. She wore gloves. There was someone _else_ she knew who was just like that. Someone who'd insisted they were very much the same, despite Sylvie's vehement denials.

^Uh...computer?^ she thought-asked.

STATE INQUIRY.

^Um...what are you?^

J-2 ORGANIC BATTLE COMPUTER. FIRST DEVELOPED BY GENOM IN 2029, COPYRIGHT 2029.

^That's...great, I guess. Um...you said you had to recalibrate for me. What...^ she paused, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer to this next question. She eventually decided.

^What were you originally made for?^

33-S-H MODEL CYBERDROID.

Sylvie read it, but she didn't believe it. So she read it again. And again. She finally accepted that yes, that was what the computer had told her.

^An...an _H_?^ she thought, sitting down heavily as the realization sank in. ^I've got an _H's_ computer in my head? But what...how...^

"Hey, Sylvie," came Linna's voice. "Is something wrong?" she asked, coming up to her.

"I...I don't know," Sylvie said, getting back to her feet, holding her head with one hand. She was still trying to think it out. It didn't take her as long as she'd thought it would.

^Brady...^ she thought. ^Brady did this to me. That goddamn H...he did _something_ do me while I was under the knife...^

She felt a not-so-unfamiliar emotion rising up in her : anger. Having this computer had shortened her temper considerably. And _this_ had pushed her way over the brink.

Sylvie clenched her jaw as her eyes narrowed. "He thinks he can get away with this?" she mumbled to herself as she stalked over to the phone on the wall.

"Hey, what's going on?" Priss asked as Sylvie pushed by her.

"Nothing," Sylvie growled out. "Can I borrow your debit card?"

"Uh...okay..." Priss said, hesitantly. "But what's wrong? You've never been like this."

"I _said_ nothing's wrong. Just give me your card."

A little scared of this change, Priss handed Sylvie the card. Sylvie snapped it up quickly and slid it into the phone. She dialed up Brady and Smith. _Someone_ had a lot of explaining to do.

***

It was difficult to tell time on Genaros without a clock; since the station was in orbit, the terms 'day' and 'night' were relative. Some people adopted bizarre schedules while on the station. Jason McCormick was one such person. But whereas some people kept odd hours just for fun, Jason was doing it for his job.

In one of the station's massive dining halls, the wall clock was currently reading 16:06. Jason hadn't eaten since yesterday, his job having kept him busy. He also hadn't slept in 56 hours, for the same reason. Most humans would have felt half-starved and dying of fatigue by now, but Jason could get by, on account of his not being human in the first place. But he still had to eat, and since he was in the dining hall, he was taking advantage of the food there. But he didn't let this distract him. For all his faults, Jason never, ever quit on a job unless it was absolutely insane to continue. That sort of loyalty had been programmed into all 33-S-H's.

He was sitting at a table, alone. People who came too close were drawn to him, but his general attitude served to push them away. And this time, he was making sure he had a cloud of cigarette smoke going, helping to negate the sexaroid effect. Being alone, he wasn't distracted by meaningless conversation, and could focus entirely on the three women at the next table.

He didn't know their names; he never bothered with names unless he was supposed to kill someone. And his current employer had specifically asked that he not kill these women. The boredom of this assignment was driving him up the wall. But he still paid attention. There had originally been five of them, all of them coming to an early dinner to avoid having to associate with the people here, people with only one thing on their minds when they looked at a 33-S.

Two of the women had been called away on other business. The remaining three were talking. Currently, the one with brown hair was speaking to the other ones, one of which had green hair and the other one with light purple. Jason had no idea why anyone would want their hair those odd colors, but he didn't really care, either. He just hoped these women would make a mistake, become violent, or maybe even try to escape. Then he could have some...fun with them. He couldn't kill them, but that didn't mean he couldn't be drastic while punishing them.

They didn't know he was there; he was wearing a maintenance worker's clothes, sized to be loose enough that his well-built muscles were hidden. He still wore sunglasses, but that wasn't as conspicuous as the black trench coat would be. But his sensitive ears were still able to hear everything they said.

He had a definite advantage over these women. That is, _everyone_ knew the women were 33-S sexaroids, while most of the people on the station thought he was human. And Jason intended to keep it that way. The last person who'd tried to give him away had disappeared, to be found days later, nailed to a wall, and with his head turned 360 degrees around. Jason smiled to himself, remembering how much the man had screamed.

But he couldn't kill people like that all the time. He had to focus on his current mission : keeping an eye on these sexaroids.

"But what if he's wrong?" the green-haired one was asking.

"Largo wouldn't lie to us," the one with purple hair responded. "What would he gain?"

"Nam's right," the brown-haired one said. "Largo wouldn't lie to us. I'm sure he was being sincere." Jason heard the name, but let it pass right out of his head as though it had never been spoken.

"No, no," Green said, shaking her head. "I'm sure he told us the truth, but what if...what if freedom isn't so great?"

Nick's eye twitched a little at the word 'freedom'. The sexaroids had been talking about it for days, ever since that white-haired guy had talked to them during some kind of visit. He was quite sick of hearing about freedom.

Brown sighed. "Listen," she said, putting her hand on top of Green's. "We have to try. We can't stay here."

"But...but life here's...okay, I guess..." Green tried to say.

"You don't even believe yourself," Brown said. "Come on. You know what they make us do, here. We're slaves. Anytime anyone gets in the mood, they come to us. When we're free, we won't have to put up with that."

"B-but we have to do it -"

"No we don't," Brown said. Her voice was so firm, and with such a tone of finality, that Jason risked a direct glance at her. 33-S's were _never_ that determined. They were made to be naive and innocent. This one sounded like she was ready to kill if it meant getting what she wanted. Interesting...

"Yeah, Anri. Largo said he could help us with that part," Purple said.

^I can think of a few ways Lar-whoever could 'help' you with your sex drive,^ Jason thought. ^He _is_ a guy, you know.^ Once again, he heard the name Purple had said, but let it go right out of his head again.

"We can think for ourselves," Purple added on. "We deserve to be free." Her voice carried no tone of certainty; rather, it sounded like she was repeating something she'd heard earlier.

"B-but we _are_ free, kind of," Green said. "I mean, our people can't really be any more free than _we_ are, right now," she said, gesturing to the other two.

Brown and Purple stared at her for a moment. Finally, Brown leaned forwards. Jason glanced at her again, almost drawing back at what he saw. Brown's face was set, her brow furrowed. She _looked_ as determined as she _sounded._ It was almost frightening, even to him.

"The H's are more free than we are," she said, her voice...angry. That was interesting. 33-S's _never_ became angry. This one must be really fed up. But what she'd said caught his attention just as much as how she'd said it. He didn't care about the slang term 'H'; hell, he used it himself, sometimes. He tuned in even more than he already had, his mind filtering out all background noise. Brown's voice filled his ears.

"They have last names," she was saying. "They have bank accounts and ID cards. They can do whatever they want. Humans treat them as _equals_. I would die for that kind of freedom."

Jason held in a contemptuous snort. Brown sounded very serious, but she didn't have all the facts. Yes, he had a bank account, but it was controlled directly by GENOM, regulated to how much the company figured he'd need for the job at hand. As for being treated as an equal, that was just a crock. ^You oughta see the inside of their reprogramming centers, Brown,^ he thought. ^Then try and tell me with a straight face if we're treated as equals. And, by the way, how the hell does dying make you free? Geez, and I thought you were on the ball just a minute ago.^

Purple and Green looked shocked. Jason tried not to laugh. 33-S-H's had quite a reputation, especially among these sexaroids. Very few 33-S's liked to admit being so closely related to a set of such sadistic killers. Brown had just broken a few unwritten rules by acknowledging that the H's existed in the first place.

"You...you..." Green was stuttering out.

"You shouldn't say that," Purple bit out nervously, under her breath. "They can hear you, I'm sure of it."

From experience, Jason knew to turn his head away at this comment. Right after he'd done so, all three women looked around reflexively, just as he'd predicted they would. But since he'd turned away, they couldn't see the sunglasses, which at the very least would make them suspicious. After counting down from ten, Jason looked back at the table. The women had already started talking again.

"They can't hear us," Brown was saying. "There isn't an H here. We haven't done anything wrong."

^Except get your boss worried that you're gonna try to run,^ Jason thought.

"Look, we...we should go," Purple said, noticing the early dinner crowd coming in. A few of the arriving males were already throwing the women some appraising looks.

"Right," Brown said, getting to her feet. "But freedom _is_ worth fighting for," she said under her breath to the other two. "It's even worth dying for. I'm sure of it."

The other two nodded uncertainly.

"Please trust me," Brown said. "I can't do it alone."

More nodding. Satisified, Brown left, with Purple close behind. Green was a little slower getting up, trying to rearrange everything on her tray so she could walk without spilling things all over the floor. She started moving just as some of the people in the room began to walk towards her, their faces betraying their indecent intentions. It looked like she wasn't going to get away.

Jason saw his opportunity and got up, heading off the first few men before they could get to Green. He casually removed his sunglasses as he did so.

"Hey, dudes, what's up?" he asked, stopping them. With his attitude completely changed and his sunglasses off, the sexaroid effect could take full hold. Very soon, the men's attention was focused on him instead of Green.

"Uh, nothin' much," one of them said, not noticing that he'd never seen Jason before in his life, but was talking to him as though he were a good friend.

"Hey, go check out the eggs," Jason said, gesturing with his cigarette hand in the general direction of the eating line. "They're good tonight. Go on, go try 'em. For me."

The men nodded, their eyes flickering in and out of focus as they debated the matter inside. Finally, they decided, turning and heading for the food line. A few of them gestured for him to follow, but Jason held up a hand and shook his head. He watched them go. He could feel Green's eyes on his back, however.

"Th...thank you," she said, wondering who her savior could be.

"No prob," Jason said, grinning. He turned around, looking at her with his still-revealed eyes.

Green took instant notice of the red-on black eyes. She took a sharp breath and went pale. She also dropped her tray, not noticing the clatter as the contents all hit the ground. Her breath quickened and she took several steps back. Jason could hear it : her heartbeat had just doubled in speed, at least.

He sucked in a lungful of smoke, taking his time. He then fished out his pack of cigarettes and held it Green.

"Want one?" he asked, already knowing the response.

Green said nothing; she seemed frozen in place.

"Whatever," Jason said, taking a long draw and lazily blowing smoke into the air. Green started backing away, trying to get away from the smoky air.

Jason walked up to her, which made her get even paler. He grabbed her chin with one hand. He turned her face from one side to the next, getting a feel for how delicate she was. It would have felt wonderful to feel her neck snap under his fingers, but he did nothing.

"You're a pretty thing," he said, quietly, so only she could hear. "Be a real pity if you tried to run." He took a pull at his cigarette and blew smoke on her, noticing that she'd stopped breathing altogether. Green's eyes watered at the smoke, but she didn't even blink. Grinning, Jason pushed his sunglasses back onto his face. He then turned and walked back to his table, taking a seat and staring at Green.

"S...S..." Green was saying, meeting his gaze and still trying to walk backwards to get away. She seemed unable to get what she was saying out of her mouth. Finally, she backed into someone carrying a tray of their own. The tray overturned, spilling all over Green and the tray's carrier.

"Hey, watch it, bitch!" the man said, trying to wipe some imitation gravy off of his shirt. This seemed to break the clog that had been keeping Green from talking.

"SYLVIE!" she cried out, turning and sprinting out of the dining hall, in the direction Brown and Purple had taken.

Jason couldn't help laughing out loud. It was always fun watching 33-S's get worked up. Since they had a full emotions suite, they could get pretty animated.

"Sylvie..." he said to himself. She had to be the ring leader, if Green went running to her when she was scared. Jason guessed that she was Brown, from the way that sexaroid had been talking. He tried to make himself forget the name, but he couldn't; it stuck in his head, matched with Brown's face.

"Well, guess I have to kill you, then," Jason said, smiling as he breathed out smoke. A few people looked at him funny, but then went back to their own business.

^Although...^ Jason thought to himself. ^Although...she does need to be straightend out on what we H's have, in terms of freedom. And dying for freedom? Gimme a break. Maybe I oughta corner her on that one. She might be fun to listen to.^

He knew he wouldn't talk with her. It would be too risky. Odds were the other four sexaroids wouldn't believe Green when she said there was a 33-S-H on Genaros. They'd just been talking about the H's, and Green seemed kind of paranoid. If he appeared _again_, though, his cover would be blown.

But that didn't mean he had to stop watching. And Jason resolved, then and there, to keep a very close eye on Brown. It would be...interesting, to see what she did.

Nick opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He'd just been dreaming, reliving an old memory. When he'd first been freed, he'd gone over the events leading up to his defection from GENOM, trying to find out what made him change. His best guess so far was that that moment, when he'd seen Sylvie and company conversing in the dining hall, had been what had started it all. Why would he be dreaming that now?

Something was bugging Nick's consciousness, a nudging sensation that he couldn't place. He recognized it as his sixth sense; not a true sensory input, but a gut feeling anyone in his type of job developed. If it was twinging now, it meant something was wrong.

He went over a mental check of himself. Like always after waking up, he felt fully rested and awake; fatigue was almost a foreign concept to him. He felt uninjured, and he couldn't hear or see anything wrong from here. But what was it?

He realized then that he was in pain. He was shocked; he'd only felt pain a few times before in his life. It still took his breath away. This time, he had some kind of headache. It was a dull throbbing, barely anything compared to the other times he'd felt pain, but it was still distracting.

Nick saw no point in staying where he was, so he got up. His headache got no worse or better from this action; it was as though the pain was bolted to the inside of his skull, and motion wasn't going to change it.

He'd been sleeping on the couch, like he usually did. He didn't really care about his living conditions, so he liked to sleep here, near the door, in case some unwanted visitors came by. He could be awake and shooting in a heartbeat.

He fished his gun out from under the cushion he'd been resting his head on and went over to the small array of windows on the wall. After parting the blinds, he stretched and watched the sun rising over MegaTokyo.

^Nice view to wake up to,^ he thought, distractedly. He blinked at this. He hadn't cared the view before. But now he found that it was kind of pleasant to watch. He didn't know why he liked it, but he figured it was just a harmless, passing thing. ^Whatever,^ he thought, turning away from the window.

The headache was still bothering him. He remembered hearing somewhere that rubbing at your temples could help that. So he did that with one hand while his other carried his gun. He never liked to be unarmed, and since he knew there were no metal detectors in the building, he tried to keep his gun close to him at all times. He supposed it counted as being paranoid, but he'd been like that all his life, and he saw no reason to change.

He trudged into the bathroom, still carrying his gun. A few seconds later, the 'hiss' of a shower could be heard. While it was still running, Meg and Lou came in from their bedroom, rubbing at bleary eyes and trying to straighten out their hair. They shivered a little, having nothing but their underwear between them and the cold air of the room. Knowing from experience that it was a bad idea to disturb Nick in the shower, they both sat down. Each of them got a chill as the cold cushions hit their bare thighs, but that helped them wake up. They said nothing, both of them too groggy to talk right now.

After several minutes, the shower stopped and Nick came out in a towel, still armed. He yawned and waved at the two women, using his gun arm to do so. Their morning routine continued as it usually did, for the most part. They said a bare minimum of words, the women too tired to speak and Nick with nothing to say this early in the morning. Lou had pulled the short straw the night before, so she had to throw together a quick breakfast, while Meg had the next shower. Nick stepped into a closet and got dressed for the day while the two women were doing this. He came in, buttoning up a dress shirt, at about the time Meg came out of the bathroom. They had still not said much.

Nick walked to a closet and dug out a duffel bag as Meg and Lou switched places. It was about here that their morning routine was interrupted. Nick came back from the closet just in time to see Lou pull off her bra on the way to the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks, feeling his eyes go wide as he got a view most men had to pay money for. He couldn't help staring. Lou didn't notice, and just threw her bra onto the couch before turning and walking into the bathroom.

"Gah..." Nick choked out, several seconds after the door had closed. He dropped the duffel bag he'd been carrying. Suddenly breathing much quicker, he swallowed and moved over to the couch and tried to sit down. Unfortunately, this put him next to Lou's bra. Looking at it, he felt a certain sensation between his legs he usually didn't get unless he was killing something. Nick jumped back to his feet and took another chair, turning it so he could look out the window. He noticed he'd broken a sweat, and wiped it off, also finding his nose had bled a little. He wiped that off, too, and managed to look perfectly normal by the time Meg dragged herself up to him, carrying a plate of...something. Nick didn't know what it was, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know, either. Lou's cooking was definitely nothing to look forward to.

Meg leaned over to deposit the plate on a table near him. Nick turned to look...and got an extremely nice view down her undershirt. Well, nice for a normal male, anyway. For Nick, it was outright disturbing. He felt his nose start bleeding again.

As Meg looked up at him, he quickly put one hand over the lower half of his face, covering the nosebleed and making it look like he was being thoughtful. Meg nodded at him, and turned around to go back to her bedroom and get dressed. Nick found his eyes had suddenly taken on a mind of their own, and were now travelling up her leg...

Meg seemed to sense that she was being ogled. She half-turned around to look. As she did so, Nick tore his gaze off of her and quickly looked out the window. Meg's brow furrowed as she saw him doing a very good job looking natural. Perhaps _too_ good a job...but eventually, she just gave up and turned to go.

Meanwhile, Nick was about ready to shoot himself. Since _when_ had he found that stuff interesting? 33-S-H's had no sexual orientation, right? They couldn't be attracted to either gender. But this...had no real explanation.

Nick noticed that his headache had receded, and was in fact almost completely gone. At least there was that small consolation. He took the opportunity to shovel the whatever-it-was on his plate down his throat, barely tasting any of it. He didn't know what these feelings were, but he hoped they would pass. Otherwise, living with two sexaroids...Nick could begin to see a _lot_ of possibilities, most of which were very troublesome to his mind, which was unused to such thoughts.

***

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Later on, at the office, Nick was leaning over the form of Anri, a delicate metal tool in each of his hands. He was pushing aside a few membranes, probing around at what was underneath. Lou was nearby, looking at several of the scanning computers. She'd volunteered to help work on the girl; she'd managed to take on some a physician's callousness. She made herself forget who she was working on, and just treated Anri like another patient. Of course, she'd thrown a cloth over Anri's face, so she didn't have to see that, but other than that, she was actually handling the situation quite well.

"Dude," Nick said to himself as he pulled one membrane out completely. "I don't even want to _know_ what this was."

Lou glanced over and nodded. Much like the rest of Anri's body, the piece Nick had pulled out was more slush than actual tissue. Whatever had killed her had been very, very powerful.

"What's the verdict?" she asked, as she turned to check a micro-reconstruction chamber. The device was heavily overloaded, having to rebuild most of Anri's torso, piece by piece.

"Same as last time," Nick said, irritated, as he kept going. "You are looking at the very definition of 'shitbox'. And I'm the jerk who has to fix it."

"Her."

"What?"

"You have to fix _her_, not _it_."

Nick looked at her, obviously annoyed. "Since when do I care? This is just another boomer to me. And it...she's a pretty busted-up one, too. Pun intended, of course."

Lou nodded. Anri being a sexaroid, 'busted-up' could have a double meaning. Lou had learned to ignore some of Nick's personality traits, though. She also noticed that Nick hadn't exploded at her. Something was different about him, and had been different ever since he'd first interfaced with Anri. It was as though he was...calmer, or something. He'd actually been nice for a few hours after the interface, but unfortunately, that had passed. Now, he was just the same as always, or so he said. There were subtle things, though, that someone who'd been living with him for most of a year could notice. Not that she'd say it to his face; getting Nick angry was a very, very bad idea.

"Alright, break time," he said, stepping away from the patient.

"Again?" Lou asked.

"Shaddap." He left the operating room, coming back several minutes later with a beer in one hand. Lou's lips were tight, as she tried to keep working, even though Nick wasn't. She'd gotten the feeling that he wasn't really serious about fixing Anri. Odds are he knew that after reactivating her, Meg and Lou would have less of a reason to stay with a 33-S-H. Or maybe he was just lazy. She didn't know.

"I'm really gonna have to tell you again..." he said, after downing a considerable amount of beer.

Lou looked back at him, satisfied that most of the equipment was in good working order. "What?"

"I can't rebuild all this crap," he said, gesturing broadly to Anri. "We'll overload all the equipment. We need to replace at least _some_ of these parts."

Lou shook her head. "And where are you going to _get_ parts for a 33-S? We _are_ banned, you know."

"Give me some credit," he said, standing up straight and backing away from the body. "I was supposed to be hunting you people, so I know where you can get spare parts from. Just in case you're stupid enough to try it." Lou frowned at Nick's barely-veiled insult of the entire 33-S model line.

"But you're right, I can't just call up the local warehouse and order up a custom-fit 33-S torso. Way too conspicuous."

"There, you see?" Lou said. "It's silly to try and replace things."

"I'm not _done_ yet," Nick said, gritting his pointed teeth and glaring at her with his glowing eyes. "Not _all_ your parts are banned, you know. Some of this stuff, I could walk down to the corner store and pick up. And other parts are from the 33-C, which _isn't_ banned, by the way."

Lou sighed and looked back to the computers she'd already double-checked.

"It's pretty clear-cut, Lou," he said to her back. Lou couldn't help a tiny smile pulling at the corners of her mouth at this comment. That was another thing that had changed in him; he used their names more often, instead of 'you' or 'sexaroid'. He must be slipping, to have said her name.

"Let me put it to you _this_ way," he said, sounding both condescending and menacing. "Either one of you 'roids drive me down to get what I need, or I _walk_ down there and get the stuff, anyway. It'll take a lot longer, and I won't be able to get it all at once, but I could still do it."

Lou looked at the ceiling, getting the cricks out of her neck. Nick, like other 33-S-H's, had been trained that 'failure' was a very viable option. But when he wanted to, he could dig in his heels and fight off any attempt to compromise.

"What needs replacing?" Lou asked, still not looking at him.

"I'll mail you the list," he said sarcastically. "The parts I can get without questions asked still add up to a lot of parts. It'd take too long to list them all."

Lou sighed. "Fine," she said. "Do you have enough money for it all?"

"Would I be _getting_ parts if I was broke?" Nick asked as he shrugged out of his lab coat. "Come on, I did a job just a few nights ago, and I still got some of the payoff." He headed for the door without another word.

Shaking her head, Lou followed him. She threw her own coat into her office, as Nick came out of his door, having replaced the mirrored sunglasses he wore when he was playing the part of a cybersurgeon. He'd made it quite clear that he preferred his black 33-S-H shades, but he couldn't wear them in public and keep his identity secret.

"You ready?" he asked Lou, as he pulled on a jacket.

Lou went over a mental list. Another thing about Nick that had changed was that he was actually helping her and Meg live independently. Before, he'd acted as though he couldn't really care what they said or did, but he never failed to criticize them if they did something overly conspicuous. But now...he was at least giving them a few hints as to what they should do to stay hidden from GENOM.

Lou was quickly certain that she was ready. She'd applied a little makeup in strategic places to make her face slightly different, and had adopted a few new habits to help hide the fact that she was a sexaroid. Although she hadn't dyed her hair, in spite of Nick's suggestions. Anri and Nam had been the only ones of them to use hair dye, and Lou didn't intend to change her habits. She liked her hair the color it was.

"Guard the fort," Nick said over his shoulder as he walked out the door to the hallway. That message had been for Meg, who was still diligently working behind her own desk. She threw Lou an encouraging smile, which was returned before Lou walked out, after Nick.

***

Later, both Lou and Nick were at the counter of a GENOM parts station. This was their last stop before they headed back to the office. Lou was nervous, both because she was basically alone with an H, and because Meg was alone, too. If something happened back at the office, neither she nor Nick would know about it until they got there.

"Here's the part you requested," the girl behind the counter said, as she slid a small plastic bag over to Nick.

"Lessee..." Nick said, snatching up the bag with one gloved hand and looking at the contents. "33-C primary circulatory bio-circuit. Cool. How much I owe you?"

"Huh?" the girl said, snapping out of a trance. She'd been staring at Nick with gooey eyes every time he looked away. Since she was separated from him only by the thickness of the countertop, she was heavily under the effects of sexaroid exposure. The '33-S' part of Nick's model designation was not an accident.

"Oh, uh..." she checked the price book, blushing at not having the numbers ready. Finally, she found the component and named a price. Nick handed her his debit card, which had more than enough on it to cover the cost. Nodding once to the girl, he took the part and walked out. The girl's eyes remained fixed on his back until he'd gotten about three meters away, and then she began to lose interest. After he'd walked out the door, she seemed to shake it off and go back to her work, finally noticing the next customer, who'd been waiting for her to pay attention to _him_ instead of that guy who wouldn't take his sunglasses off, even though he was inside.

Lou walked slightly ahead of Nick, having gotten to the door ahead of him. She'd been doing her best to keep her distance from people when they were in public, but it was usually very difficult. She still got a lot of stares, from both genders. She tried to follow Nick's lead and ignore them all, but she found it to be very difficult. She just couldn't mirror Nick's attitude of cold reserve, the attitude that kept people from talking to him. Still, she managed to make it to the car with only a little effort.

Nick had caught up to her by the time she'd reached the car. He handed Lou his package, and she went to go put it in the car's trunk, which was now stuffed full of a multitude of other components and tools. When she came back, however, she noticed Nick hadn't gotten in yet. He was leaning on the driver's side door, staring inside the car through the window.

"Something wrong?" Lou asked. Her mind instantly went wild, thinking of things that could be wrong with the car.

"No..." Nick said, after a pause. "It's just...nah, it's dumb."

"What?" Lou asked, unable to keep herself from getting interested.

Nick turned around to face her. "It's just that it feels like I...can drive."

Lou just stared at him for a minute. Then she smiled, a little. "Uh...Nick, I think you stayed up too late again."

"I'm serious," he said, his voice even. "It's weird. I haven't had a general purpose drive program in me for years, but now, I think I can do it."

Lou shook her head. "Nick, sorry, but...maybe later, you can drive."

Nick thought about that. "No," he said, opening the door. "I'm gonna try now, while I feel like this. It might pass later."

^Like while you're behind the wheel,^ Lou thought nervously. But Nick had sounded like he was in his stubborn mode, so she decided not to argue. ^Actually,^ she thought, ^if he wasn't programmed to drive, then he won't even be able to start the car without help. Might as well let him get it out of his system.^ She got in the left side and sat down, handing him the keys.

"Hot damn," he said, sounding like a teenager. He put the keys in without fumbling them, and started the car as though he'd been doing it for years. Lou's eyes widened as she heard the engine start. Nick revved the engine a little, getting the feel for the gas pedal.

"Let's rock," he said, twisting the steering wheel hard and flooring it. The tiny sedan shrieked out of its parallel-parking space and onto the street, one car honking at them as it was suddenly cut off.

"Up yours!" Nick yelled over his shoulder. He kept accelerating, the car swaying back and forth as he tested the steering wheel.

Lou settled down into her seat and dug her fingers into the seat, steadying herself. ^What have I done...^

They careened through the mid-afternoon traffic. Nick knew how to drive, all right, but he was obviously not familiar with traffic laws. Either that, or he just ignored the laws when it suited him. Lou didn't know which was worse.

"We...we..." Lou said, stuttering as he went onto the sidewalk, sending a few people diving for cover. She covered her eyes, but didn't feel the car hit anything. Once she felt them go back on the road, she tried to complete her sentence.

"We..." she took a breath to calm down. "We're going to get pulled over."

"No we ain't," Nick said, taking out his phone. He flipped it open and dialed a number, using both hands to do so. He steered with his knees, keeping up the speed and making Lou certain she was about to have a coronary.

Nick cleared his throat before he spoke into his phone. Lou's panic-filled mind just barely registered that his voice had changed during that cough.

"This is officer Zachary," he said, in an authoritative voice. "I have comandeered a small brown sedan and am now travelling eastbound on 42nd street."

"Are you in pursuit of a suspect, officer?" came a faint voice through the phone.

"Negative...I am currently en route to a crime scene. High speed is a necessity."

"10-4. What is your destination?"

"It's on classified files...oh, wait a minute," he said, swerving the car around a truck. As he did so, he closed his phone, terminating the call.

"That ougta keep 'em busy," he said, his voice having returned to normal. "And they never care about traffic problems, anyway."

Lou didn't answer. She just felt her eyes going wider, trying to keep track of the many cars they were passing at a distance that was much too close for comfort. Nick just grinned and went back to driving, enjoying every second of it.

***

Meg sat calmly at her desk, searching through files on her computer. A few more people had just called in, asking about Brady and Smith. Some of them wanted to know about billing, others about warranties. One had actually asked about what a reactivation would cost. That last one was very exciting. Meg was digging up the information she would need to call them back and answer their queries.

She liked doing this work. She was helping out her own kind, when they needed it. This job was honest, and it actually made pretty good money. It wasn't at _all_ like Nick's night job, although his work as Guillotine had brought in the big bucks they were using to help fund their operation, at least until more jobs came in. Meg didn't bother deluding herself with the dream that once business picked up, Nick wouldn't need to go out any more. She knew that he _did_ need to go out, to satisfy his preprogrammed desires. Business picking up would mean nothing to him.

It was then that the door opened. Meg looked up, one hand reflexively going under her desk. But she instantly relaxed, as it was just Nick who was walking in.

Nick looked like he'd never felt better. This instantly put Meg on guard; she knew what Nick did for kicks.

"What's up?" he asked, unlocking his office door and stepping inside.

"Uh...not much," Meg said, suspiciously. "What's got you so happy?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he called back. He threw his jacket onto the back of his chair and coming back out of his office. "Anything new?" he asked.

"Well, yes actually. Here, look at this."

"Okay..." he said, rubbing his gloved hands together micheviously. He looked at the papers Meg was handing him. "Uh huh...uh huh...uh huh..." he said, flipping through them. "Great. Any findings for my night job?"

Meg nodded, biting her lip a little. "They're on the Internet bulletin board."

"Oh yeah," he said, smiling again. "See ya in a minute." He dropped the papers on Meg's desk and went back into his office and turned on his small computer terminal, going to the indicated site. He typed in his password and started going through the posted jobs, smiling all the time.

Meg sighed. She just had to admit that he preferred killing to healing. But it was just hard to believe someone could be so different...her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again. Her hand again twitched, heading for the gun under her desk, but once more, it was no threat. Lou was walking in.

Lou did not look so good. She was so pale that Meg would have believed it if someone had told her she had no blood at all. Her eyes were wide, and she stared into space, walking slowly into the room.

"Hi, Lou," Meg said. There was no response. The woman just kept moving.

"Uh...Lou?" Meg asked. Still looking shocked and pale, Lou trudged into Nick's office. Meg got up and followed. Nick had glanced at Lou as she came in, and then gone back to reading the information off of his Internet bulletin board, too distracted to bother with what Lou was doing.

Meg got to the doorway of Nick's office in time to see Lou open up Nick's small liquor cabinet. She poured herself a shot glass full of Scotch. Lou kicked her head back, downing it in one shot. She proceeded to pour yet _another_ glass.

"Hey, hey!" Nick said, standing up from his computer and grabbing Lou's arm. "Gimme that," he said, snatching both glass and bottle out of the woman's hands. He downed the contents of the glass himself, then put the bottle back, closing the cabinet soon after.

"The last thing I need is a drunk 'roid," Nick said, shoving Lou back into the main room. "Go work, or whatever it is you do. Check out some of the work we've got," he said, gesturing to the papers he'd left on Meg's desk.

Finally, Lou seemed to come back to the real world, and noticed Meg standing in front of her. She instantly grabbed Meg up in a tight embrace.

"It was terrible!" she said, hysterical. "He was driving he didn't know how but he did and then we saw Sylvie and then a car was there and we could've hit it but we didn't and then all these cars were there and we..." she kept going in this manner.

"Lou, calm down. You're not making any sense," Meg began. "Come on, sit down."

"No! No, I'm not sitting down in a car ever again!"

"Not in a car, Lou," Meg said, keeping her voice soothing. "Just sit right here." She slowly lowered her friend down into one of the chairs they had in the main room. She noticed Lou was quivering, and her eyes were still very wide.

"What happened?" Meg asked.

"He...he...he...he..." she went on, going like a broken record. Meg looked up at the sound of a contemptuous snort. She saw Nick standing at the doorway of his office, with his arms crossed. He was smirking down at the two of them.

"What did you do?" Meg asked, confrontationally.

"Moi?" Nick asked. "I did nothing."

"Then why is she like this?"

"Just soft, I guess." Nick stretched. "She'll come down eventually. Alright..." he checked his watch. "Damn. I gotta go get all that stuff outta the car. Be back in five," he said, heading for the door.

"And then what?" Meg asked. "Will you work on Anri for more than five minutes?"

"Nah, I gotta go to lunch. Adios."

Meg bristled, barely containing a frustrated scream. Anri was lying there, on a table with her chest cut open, and he wasn't doing anything about it!

But there was nothing to be done. Nick did what he wanted, when he wanted. If you got in his way, well...you soon wished that you hadn't.

She picked up a still-quivering Lou and helped her to her office. Maybe she could figure out what had happened.

***

It took Lou almost two hours to finally calm down enough to make intelligible conversation. The Scotch she'd drunk had really done a number on her. 33-S's had almost no tolerance for alcohol; even a single beer could be enough to get one drunk. An undiluted Scotch had been outright dangerous.

But now - with a little help of some anti-alcohol pills - Lou was feeling much better. She was still quite obviously intoxicated, but she could talk, which was enough, for now. Meg was paying rapt attention as Lou recounted Nick's first drive in MegaTokyo.

"And theeen," she slurred out, "after we got goin' (hic) we went through town, like that," she tried and failed to snap her fingers. After getting frustrated at this, she went back to talking. "I 'as thinkin' we 'as gonna (hic) get pulled o'errrr, but Nick did that...uh, that voice thingy..." she paused to laugh at something she suddenly found hysterical.

Meg was doing her best to make sense of this. So...Nick drove fast. That made sense; he was not a very patient man. The voice thingy...she had no idea what that was. Maybe she'd ask him later.

"But then, _then_," Lou said. She grabbed onto Meg's arm and leaning on her. "But _then_ we 'as goin' by a...a place, I dunno wha', and we (hic) saw _Sylvie_. She 'as with P...Pr...Priss..."

Meg nodded, trying to keep Lou going.

"And she 'as scratchin' 'erself in her suit, hooo wheeeee," Lou said, trying to whistle. "And _then_ this (hic) car kinda showed up, an' it was spinnin' around. An' Nick 'ad to get outta da way..." she stopped, suddenly dizzy. She looked like she was going to swoon, but managed to keep her balance and consciousness. Meg saw something else coming, however, and grabbed a nearby trash can just in time for Lou to empty her stomach into it. Sickened and at the same time sympathetic, Meg put the trash can down next to Lou, who looked marginally better.

"Oh...what just (hic) 'appened?" Lou said, looking like she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Nothing," Meg said, consoling. "Keep going. So then Nick had to get out of the way..."

"Oh, yeaaaah..." Lou said, laughing drunkenly again. "An' then _all_ these cars 'ere there...I think he ran a light..."

Meg's eyes widened. If Nick had run a light, right through the cross traffic, she doubted that _she_ would have been any different from Lou when she'd come back.

"An' I 'eard _all_ this crashin' 'ehind us..." Lou said.

Meg nodded. Running a light like that would usually cause a veritable traffic catastrophe. And she _had_ heard something about a ten-car pileup on the radio...

"An' then we came home," Lou finished, smiling broadly that she'd managed to finish. "Wheeee, it 'as fun," she said. Still smiling, she slumped over and passed out on Meg's desk, snoring loudly.

Meg smiled a little and shook her head sadly.

"If someone comes in and sees you like this, you'll never forgive yourself," she said to Lou's unconscious body. She leaned over and grabbed Lou under her armpits. Inwardly hoping her friend wasn't about to vomit again, she dragged the woman across the room and pushed open the door to Lou's office, where she manged to muscle Lou into her chair and arrange her body into a semi-comfortable position, leaning on her desk.

Meg was making sure Lou could still breathe in her current position when she heard the phone ring. Excited that it might be even more work, Meg picked it up.

"Hello, you've reached the office of Brady and Smith," she said, in her cheery telephone voice. She looked at the phone's video screen, i.e. her computer monitor.

"Meg, is that you?" came a familiar voice. But the voice was at the same time different. She'd _never_ heard Sylvie get angry, but that was what she sounded like, right now. And there was Sylvie's face, appearing on her screen. Her facial expression matched her voice. Meg also noticed Sylvie was wearing sunglasses, for no discernible reason.

"Yes, it is, Sylvie. What's up?"

"Is the H there?"

Meg unconsciously looked up at Nick's door. It was still locked shut. He could theoretically get into his office by jumping in through the window, but he usually unlocked his door, even when he got in that way.

"No, he's not," Meg replied.

"Well when _will_ he be back?" Sylvie asked, sounding even angrier. She grit her teeth audibly.

"Uh..." Meg said, nervous at the tone in Sylvie's voice. "I don't know. He went to go get lunch. We're still here."

"We?"

"Me and Lou," she said. "Well, I'm coming over there. You call Nick and tell him to get his butt there right _now._"

"Uh...okay, but...Sylvie, what's wrong? You've never sounded like this before."

"NOTHING! There's NOTHING wrong with me, OKAY? Won't people stop _asking_ me that?" Sylvie lost all composure as she said this.

Meg drew back a little before putting the phone back to her ear.

"Okay, Sylvie, okay. I...believe you. I'll see what I can do."

"Do that!" Sylvie shouted, before slamming down the receiver of her own phone, cutting out the video feed along with it.

Meg looked at the blank screen, before clicking the 'phone' window shut on her computer. She swallowed before dialing Nick's phone. It rang twice before he picked up. No video feed opened, this time; Nick's cellular couldn't do that.

"Hello?" came Nick's voice. Contrary to what Sylvie had sounded like, Nick still sounded happy. Apparently, his little drive had given him enough of a rush that he was still kind of buzzed.

"Uh, hi," Meg answered.

"Yo, Meg! WHAAAAZZZZZZUUUUP?"

Meg pulled the phone away from her ear as that...noise filled the lines. It had sounded a little like 'what's up', but she couldn't tell.

"Um, hi Nick. Look, Sylvie just called, and - "

"That 'roid? Cool. What'd she want?"

"Well, she wanted to see you."

Silence greeted her for a moment. "Gimme a sec," Nick said. Meg heard him hang up a second later.

"What the - " she said, just before the door opened. She looked up in time to see Nick walk in. He breezed inside, fishing out the key to his office. He unlocked his door and threw his jacket inside, seemingly without aiming. It still landed on the back of his chair. Then he came up to Meg and put both hands on her desk, leaning over her.

"What'd she want to see me about?" Nick asked, his voice very calm, all of a sudden.

Meg resisted the urge to comment on the change. She just answered. "She just said she wanted to see you. She looked really angry about something."

"Angry, huh? And she wanted to see me?" Nick looked at the ceiling, thinking, as Meg nodded in response.

"Oh, crap," he said, going into his office. He came back several seconds later, carrying his assault pistol. "Crap, crap, crap."

"What is it?" Meg asked.

"She specifically wanted to see me? How insistent was she?"

"Uh...very. She was really worked up over something."

"Did you tell her where I was?"

"Yes, I told her you'd gone for lunch, and Lou and I were - "

"You _what_?"

"I told her Lou and I were still here," Meg said, very worried that something was wrong.

"Well, that's just _great_," Nick said, chambering his gun. He went back into his office, and came back strapping on his shoulder harness and carrying his jacket. After his holster was firmly in place, he put his gun into it and pulled on his jacket, concealing the weapon. After that, he pulled off his sunglasses and went back to Meg, leaning down so they were eye to eye. Meg, frozen with sudden fear, looked into the red-on-black of his eyes.

"Look," Nick said, as though explaining something to a child. "You just did a very, very stupid thing."

"W-what?"

"It's a standard GENOM tactic. Doll up a boomer to look like a friend of yours, have them call you when they're all excited so you answer them quickly. And then you give away _everyone's_ location, and then we're all as good as dead. Sounds like they're after me specifically."

"Oh, God," Meg said, putting on hand on her forehead.

"But despite your idiotic move," he said, completely ignoring the fact that Meg hadn't known any better, "I think I can handle this." He stood up and peered into the hallway.

"But..."

"But _what_?" Nick asked, very angry.

"B...but she looked and sounded like her..."

"Yeah, and I sound like her, too," Nick said, his voice having switched to a perfect imitation of Sylvie's. "And any _moron_ can rig up a new face for a boomer," he said, still using Sylvie's voice.

"Oh, God..." Meg said again.

"God ain't helpin' us right now. It's up to us."

Meg nodded, pulling the heavy-gauge antiarmor shotgun out from under her desk and checked it to make sure it was still in working order. A quick 'chik-chak' of a pump-loader later, the weapon was armed.

She looked up at Nick, who was checking the hallway again. "When did she call?" he asked quickly, coming back.

"Just a minute before you came in."

"Good. Then maybe we have some time..."

"Shouldn't we run?"

Nick shook his head. "They'd just track us down. Might as well get it over with here. C'mon, ain't you up for a little fun?" he smirked again.

Meg couldn't help a slight smile pulling up one corner of her mouth. She definitely did _not_ want to get into a gunfight right now, but she was glad Nick was here. He was quite possibly the last person on Earth she'd want to live with on a day-to-day basis, but for a situation like this, it was good to have him around. He knew how to handle himself in a fight.

^But what are we supposed to do now?^ she thought to herself. It looked like GENOM had finally tracked them down. The company hadn't seemed to care about them before, but now...what were they supposed to do? Just keep running, until someone finally killed them all?

She didn't try to think about that. She just checked the gun again.

"Put that under your desk," Nick said. "Way too conspicuous."

"But won't we need it - "

"Maybe," Nick said. "I didn't say put it away. Here, get up." Meg did so. Nick sat down in Meg's chair, and took the gun. "Hold it like this," he said, laying the gun in his lap and pushing the chair in, so his legs were almost completely under the desk. From the door, it looked as though he wasn't armed.

"This thing'll blast clean _through_ your desk if it has to," he said. "Just point and shoot."

"Uh...okay," Meg said as he got up. "Th...thanks."

"Whatever," he said. "But don't shoot the first thing you see. Wait for me to figure out what's going on. This might be Sylvie, but I dunno."

Meg nodded nervously, taking a seat and holding her gun the way Nick had showed her. Meanwhile, Nick checked the other rooms. He laughed when he saw Lou passed out on her desk, but then calmed down, going to wait in his office. They waited.

After an eternity, the door opened. Meg's finger tightened on her gun's trigger.

Sylvie walked in, looking exactly as she had on the phone. The sunglasses, the angry attitude, everything was there.

"Where is he?" she growled out.

"Who are you?" Meg asked, aiming her weapon at the new arrival.

"I'm Sylvie," she said in a hurt voice, the anger going down. It came back full-force a moment later, however. "And put the gun away, Meg. Why are you aiming it at me?"

Meg's eyes went wide. How had she known...Meg was torn between fear of a possible lookalike and loyalty to her friend. This _looked_ like Sylvie, but wasn't _acting_ like her. Nick solved the problem for her when he came in from his office.

"I smell sexaroid," he said. "Meg, I think she's okay."

Meg looked nervously at him, uncertain about taking her eyes off of Sylvie. Nick looked back with those eerie eyes. She looked away, but judging from the look on his face, Meg guessed he'd been serious. She hoped he wasn't lying.

"Well, hello," he began.

"YOU BASTARD!" Sylvie yelled, rushing him.

"What the hell - " Nick said, as Sylvie got to him. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back into his office. Once they were both inside, Sylvie reached back and slammed the door shut with such force that the entire wall shook. Meg heard the lock click a moment later.

Inside, Sylvie whipped back around from the door, visibly seething.

"_What?_" Nick asked. He was embarassed to have been caught off guard by a sexaroid. He shouldn't have let Sylvie grab him like that, especially not in front of the other two. He should have seen it coming. He _had_ seen it, in fact, but he'd hesitated. His computer had wanted to kill her to eliminate the threat, but he'd found that he hadn't wanted to hurt her. That was a first for him; _not_ wanting to hurt someone.

"You...you..." Sylvie said, too angry to speak.

"Bastard, yes, you said that already," Nick said, finishing her sentence.

Sylvie clenched her teeth and reached up, tearing off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room. Nick saw very quickly that her now-revealed eyes were glowing red.

"Yeah, so?" he said. He felt none of the effects looking into Sylvie's eyes would have on humans; he'd been built that way. That was the same reason he didn't experience the affection most people felt around sexaroids, either.

"What did you _do_ to me?" Sylvie asked, furious.

"What? I didn't do squat to you." Nick was genuinely confused as to what Sylvie was talking about. That wouldn't slow him down, though. "So you can make your eyes glow. So can those every _other_ 'roid ever made, including _me_," he said, pointing to his own eyes, which had an iris that permanently glowed red. Without his own sunglasses to cover them, he knew Sylvie could see that.

"You did _something_," Sylvie said, her anger draining quickly. She wasn't used to that sentiment, and so couldn't hold onto it for very long. "I can't turn it off."

Nick shrugged. "So?"

"And I've got _words_ going in front of my eyes, giving me threat assessments and procedures and suggestions and a ton of other stuff!"

"At what point did I even _suggest_ that I'd care?" Nick asked, getting worked up that a 33-S could be this forward with him.

"Yeah? Well, it's _your_ problem. I asked it...I asked the computer, the words, whatever they are. It said it was a _J-2_! It told me it's made for you H's! What's it doing in _my_ head?" she asked, glaring at him.

Nick looked at her, trying to see if she was being honest. He quickly decided that he wouldn't have to check. 33-S's didn't lie if they could help it, and when they did lie, they were _definitely_ not this confident.

He thought over what he'd heard. So Sylvie had a J-2 battle computer? Well, those _were_ reserved for 33-S-H's, which had the optimum personality for it...

Nick suddenly realized this was very funny to him. It started with a snicker, which quickly grew into a bout of laughter that had him keeling over.

"What?" Sylvie asked, her voice quivering with anger.

"You..." Nick had to catch his breath. "You're killing me, here."

"Don't tempt me."

Nick's laughter quickly calmed down at this line, and he looked up at her, studying her face. Like all 33-S's, Sylvie's face had been made to be beautiful by most standards. Nick felt no interest in that, however; he'd been programmed to not care about that sort of thing. He looked away quickly, though, remembering the odd sentiments that he'd experienced this morning. There was no telling what would be next.

What had grabbed his attetion was the look on Sylvie's face : dead calm. When she'd said 'don't tempt me', she'd been _serious_ about it.

He took a breath to calm down. He then stared at the floor, thinking.

"Well?" Sylvie asked.

"I'm trying to figure this out," Nick said. "I didn't purposely ram a J-2 into you," he said.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No," he said in response. "But I don't _always_ lie. And I don't screw with J-2's, either." He went back to thinking.

Sylvie waited impatiently. She rocked back and forth on her feet, eyes darting around the office, quickly getting a feel for it. Nick noticed this.

"When did this start?" he asked.

"I was just playing a game with Priss, and then these _words_ start writing themselves on my eyes, and - "

"No, no," he said, cutting her off. He fought off a smirk as he saw Sylvie bristle at the interruption. "When did your personality change this much?"

"What? My personality hasn't changed."

^Ho boy,^ Nick thought to himself. "You're a 33-S," he said, explaining as though to a child. "And those are made to be very nice. Sympathetic, caring, all that crap. And naive, of course, so they stay that way. But you were ready to kill me a minute ago. 'Scuze me, but I think your a _little_ different."

Sylvie shook her head. "Whatever. What'd you _do_ to me?"

"I _told_ you," Nick said, getting angry, "I didn't do _shit_ to you. Get it?"

"Well, then, why am I like this?" Sylvie said, her voice so calm that it was chilling.

Nick shrugged. "Must've been some interplay between the main control systemry during the primary system reactivation."

"What does that mean?"

"It's Priss's fault."

"Oh, come _on_, Nick! Think up a better excuse, at least!"

Nick was smiling again. "I think that's the first time you called me by my first name," he said.

Sylvie's eyes widened, not in surprise, but anger. She looked about ready to try her hand at killing a 33-S-H when the sound of the door unlocking filled the room. Both of them glanced at the door in time to see Meg poking her head in the door.

"Uh..." she said, glancing nervously at Sylvie, then to Nick. "Phone for you, Nick," she said.

"Move," he said to Sylvie, pushing past her and going back into the main room. He used his ears to keep track of Sylvie. From the sound of her footsteps, he could tell she was following him.

"I'm not finished with you, yet," Sylvie said, her voice getting angry again.

"Well, I have a phone call," Nick said imperiously, taking his sunglasses off of Meg's desk and putting them over his eyes. He strode back into his office and picked up the desk phone there.

"Hello?" he said.

No video image appeared on his phone's viewscreen. Nick didn't mind that part; he was used to dealing with anonymous people.

"Hello, Dr. Brady," came a calm voice. "I'm looking for someone whom I believe is present at your offices."

"I'm listenin'," he said. As he said this, Sylvie appeared at his doorway, her glowing eyes boring into him.

"Her name is Sylvie," the voice said.

"Just Sylvie?"

"Yes. She's a 33-S, who left my group in quite a hurry. I believe she would have come to your offices. Is this true?"

"Maybe. Who is this?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. Is she there?"

"I ain't answerin'. What's this about?"

"She's suffering from several complications in her primary computer," the voice said, remaining calm.

"Uh huh, fine. Like I haven't ever seen _that_ in a boomer before. So?" He grinned a little as he saw Sylvie clench her jaw at the word 'boomer'.

"I may be able to help her."

"Yeah...what are you, a cybersurgeon?"

"After a fashion. If Sylvie is present there, I ask you to tell her to come here. And you should come, as well."

"Who are you, to be giving me orders?"

"Silia Stingray."

Nick's body seemed to lock up. His cocksure attitude evaporated, and his breath began to get shallow. His mouth opened and closed, trying to say something, but no words came out.

"I'll expect both of you here soon," the voice said. Nick's eyes flickered over to his phone's tiny printer, which was putting out an address.

"And I know what you are, Dr. Brady," the voice continued. "Don't bother trying to keep up a ruse." The call ended with a brief 'click'.

Nick's head slowly turned to look at the receiver. He stared at it, as though not believing what he'd just heard. Then, he sprung into action. He tore the slip of paper out of his desk phone and stuffed it into his pocket.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing Sylvie's arm and running out of the office.

"What was that about?" Meg asked him as he left.

"Nothing," Nick lied. "I'll be back." With that, he went out the door and into the hallway, still dragging an irate Sylvie behind him. Sylvie had already retrieved her sunglasses by the time she'd gotten to Nick's office, and so was able to put them back on before they passed anyone.

By the time they'd gotten to the street, Sylvie had shaken free of Nick's hold. They jogged into the building's small parking lot, where Meg and Lou's car was parked. Sylvie didn't fail to notice the tire marks leading right up to the spot they were parked in.

"What happened?" she asked, worried.

"I learned how to drive," Nick said as he dove over the hood and got in the driver's side door.

"You left it unlocked?" Sylvie asked, getting in the passenger side.

"Huh? Oh...I guess I did. Oh, well."

"And what are you doing without these?" Sylvie asked him.

Nick looked over at her. He saw Sylvie had the keys, and was twirling them lazily around one finger. He remembered that he'd given the keys back to a stunned Lou after he'd parked the car. Sylvie must've gotten them from her. A plan quickly formed in his mind.

"Keys? I don't need no stinkin' keys." He pulled off one of his gloves and rammed his bare hand into the wiring underneath the steering column. As soon as his fingers touched a circuit board, the car's engine started. He pulled his glove back on, put the car in Drive and floored the gas pedal. The car whipped around and flew out the driveway, turning hard as they went down the street.

"You know your addresses?" he asked Sylvie, who was already looking for a handhold.

Sylvie looked at him, brow furrowed, and shook her head. "No. And what the hell's going on?"

Nick ignored her. Instead, he brought out his phone, dialed information, and downloaded directions to Silia Stingray's house. He kept driving, with blatant disregard for every traffic rule ever made. He was very confident that they were safe; his J-2 computer was keeping track of all viable threats and obstacles, and was moving his arms and legs to maneuver the car around them all. As the car progressed through the streets of MegaTokyo, he committed the route to memory, studying every detail along the way.

"But _where_ are we going?" Sylvie asked.

"We're visiting that chick who called us," Nick said, swerving around a corner and cutting off a car as he did so. Horns honked, but a collision was avoided. "Name of Silia...Stingray."

"Oh," Sylvie said, looking out the windshield. "Oh, I get it. There was a Silia in the group I was in. I bet this is her."

Nick's gaze flashed off the rode and went to Sylvie's face. He kept driving, looking out the corner of his eye to do so. "You _know_ her?" he asked.

Sylvie looked at him, trying to ignore the fact that it looked like he wasn't watching where he was going. She smiled, more of a smirk than an actual smile. "Where do you think I got _these_?" she said, tapping her sunglasses. Yeah, I know her."

"Damn," Nick said, looking back to the road and pulling their car out of the oncoming lane. "I picked the right 'roid to bring back, then."

Sylvie just shook her head at the slang, and kept watching the road. After a while, she started criticizing the way he was driving. Nick, of course, was not one to take insults. He fought back, saying he knew exactly what he was doing. They argued the rest of the way to Silia's apartment building. The argument continued as they parked the car in an underground lot and got out. They were _still_ yelling at each other when the elevator doors parted. By this time, it was no longer an argument, but more of an insult contest.

"Yeah, well _I_ don't _like_ hurting people!" Sylvie was saying after the doors closed.

"Oh, come on. _Everyone's_ got a dark side. Where the hell you think they got _my_ program? I'm _all_ dark side!"

"Yeah, so? Are you proud of that?"

"Hell yes! And who the hell are _you_ to talk to me about killing things? I know what you did."

"What?! Who told you about that?"

"Nobody! I got _eyes_, you know. C'mon, a _vampire_ boomer? It was either you or that other damn 'roid, and _you_ didn't get _shot_ while running away! _Think_ about it!"

"Go to hell!"

"I'd love to! I'd probably like it there!"

The doors parted, and a middle-aged man standing next to his wife was revealed. Sylvie and Nick, who by now were both glaring at each other at a distance of no more than eight centimeters, both turned to look at the doors. Both of them looked ready to kill.

"Uh...we'll get the next one," the man said. He stepped away, bringing his wife back with him. The doors closed, and the elevator continued its upward journey. The man looked down at his wife and smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it, you uncute tomboy?"

His wife nodded. "You baka. I still have my mallet," she said, playfully. They exchanged a brief kiss before another elevator came by.

Meanwhile, the tempers of both Sylvie and Nick were flaring even hotter.

"Look what you did!" they both simultaneously yelled at each other.

"_Me_?!" Sylvie said in response.

"_I_ didn't do squat!" Nick said at the same time. "I didn't even _say_ anything!"

"What, and _I_ did? It's _your_ fault."

"Screw you! No, wait, you'd like that, wouldn't you? But _you_ started this."

"No, you did!"

"How?" Nick said, exasperated. "Geez, I think I'll _leave_ you dead next time you get knocked off! How about that?!"

"I'm not getting killed!"

"Yeah, you did _such_ a great job staying alive the _first_ time you were here. Your friends told me all about it! 'Kill me, kill meeeeee...'" he said, in an overly melodramatic voice.

"That was different!" Sylvie shot back, hurt and angry.

"Oh, yeah, right. There's _always_ a way out that doesn't mean committing suicide! That's the first frikkin' thing they teach us!"

"What, teach all boo...cyberdroids?"

"No, you idiot! All 33-S-H's!"

"I'm not an H!"

"Well, you are now." There was a brief pause, during which all was silent. Then :

"_WHAAAAT!_" Sylvie screamed.

The volume of that last exclamation was enough to shake the elevator car. Nick put both hands over his ears, and was about to yell something back when the doors opened again. Once more, two murderously angry gazes shot to the opening, only to see that no one was there. Nick glanced up at the indicator above the doors.

"We're here," he growled out, before stepping out of the elevator. Sylvie followed close behind, thinking about that last thing he'd said. She wasn't an H...was she?

They came to the apartment indicated on the paper Nick was holding. He paused before knocking, his hand shaking a little. He actually needed to take a breath to calm himself before finally tapping on the door. He instantly looked to the side. Sylvie was wondering why he would do that when the computer talking to her told her.

WARNING : OBSERVATION WINDOW DETECTED.

^What?^ she thought-asked it, getting the hang of talking to the computer without actually speaking the words.

OBSERVATION WINDOW DETECTED remained glowing in front of her eyes. In addition, a targeting recticle appeared, centered on the door's peephole.

^That?^ she asked.

AFFIRMATIVE.

^Now why would that be important?^ she wondered. ^I guess if I didn't want someone to see my face, but...^

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. Nick began to step forwards even before the door was opened all the way. Priss, who was opening the door, was pushed aside. Sylvie followed Nick closely, nearly pushing Priss aside herself.

They walked down a very short hallway and into what looked like a living room. The room was empty; apparently, the Linna woman had had something else to do.

"Where is she?" Nick asked gruffly, over his shoulder.

"Silia's coming," Priss said, angry at having been pushed off so casually. She walked by Nick, ignoring the wave of emotion the proximity brought on in her, and sat down on the couch. She gestured for Sylvie to sit down with her, which the woman did after a moment's hesitation. Nick remained standing, too impatient to sit down. Sylvie didn't look much better; she couldn't sit still, and made no effort at small talk with Priss.

Nick's ears pricked up as he heard the sound of very light footsteps. Definitely not a human, but a new arrival, nonetheless. He turned to look...

And saw a small kitten walking from around the back of the couch. Intersted in the unfamiliar guests, the animal began padding up to Sylvie. Sylvie noticed this, and began to back away, her heartbeat accelerating. She learned the hard way that animals didn't take kindly to boomers, even the humanlike ones. Indeed, the kitten had already picked up her scent. It crouched down as though stalking prey, and its lips curled back as it hissed.

"Get back," Sylvie said. Her voice betrayed her nervousness, but it also carried a commanding tone that made even Nick take notice. But the animal didn't understand. In fact, it kept coming towards her.

"Go away," Priss said, nudging at the alerted animal with one foot. But the kitten just rolled away from her, and kept coming towards Sylvie, its tail in the air.

Sylvie, by now, was up on the back of the couch, staring down at the animal as she considered escape routes. Nick watched, smirking a little. But then, he felt a twinge. He knew what it was : his conscience. It seemed...stronger, somehow. Not an annoyance, but more of an order. Without really knowing why, he started going forwards.

After just a few steps, the kitten had noticed him. It turned away from Sylvie, and towards what it could feel was a bigger danger. As Nick kept coming closer, the kitten shifted its weight to its haunches and sprang through the air, towards his gut.

Nick's hand flew through the air and snatched the airborne animal before it could touch him. He held it at arm's length by the scruff of its neck. Yet at such a short distance, the animal was nearly driven mad by what it could feel was a deadly threat to its masters. Its claws extended, and it began slashing wildly.

"Cute," he said, as he watched the kitten trying to slit his wrist. "I just _love_ cats. Especially after I cook 'em. How's about I - "

He was cut off as Sylvie jumped off the couch, next to him. Her hand reached inside his jacket, and pulled out the gun he'd forgotten to leave behind in his rush to leave the office. Her face a mask of hate, her thumb clicked the safety off as she aimed it at what Nick was carrying.

"Whoa!" Nick said, his free arm reaching out towards her.

Had he just been trying to ruin Sylvie's aim, she would have seen in coming and dodged the grab. She'd been expecting him to reach for his gun once she'd removed it. But she _didn't_ expect him to twist his arm around hers and lever her entire arm upwards. Sylvie pulled the trigger anyway, somehow aware that the weapon she was carrying was already chambered. She didn't know _how_ she knew, but the computer was telling her it was ready.

The gun discharged, a tremendous retort sounding as a HEAP round went flying through the air. Nick's efforts had thrown Sylvie's aim off sufficiently, however, and the bullet just shot through the living room and into the large window looking out on the street. Another deafening sound flooded the room a moment later as the bullet detonated.

"What the hell!" came Priss's voice a moment later.

Nick dropped the kitten, which landed on its feet and ran away quickly, trying to get away from the action. Nick kept his arm twisted around Sylvie's.

"That's _my_ stuff," Nick said, reaching for the gun. "You ain't taking it from me."

"But that's what you're supposed to do!" Sylvie was saying. "It was telling me to 'eliminate threat'."

"And you _believed_ it?" Nick asked incredulously, knowing she was talking about the J-2. "You don't _always_ have to do what it says! _Think_, okay?"

"What's going on?" came a new voice.

Three heads turned towards the new sound. Standing in a doorway to what looked like a bedroom was Silia Stingray. She'd changed into an immaculate suit, and was holding a lit cigarette in one hand. But the thing that held everyone's attention was the .45 silenced handgun in her other hand. A thin beam of red light was coming from under the barrel. Nick tried not to cross his eyes to look at his forehead, where he could feel the laser sight was pointed.

"Put the gun down," she said.

"Hey, why're you targeting _me_?" Nick asked. "It's _her_ that has the gun."

"Because, as I said, I know about you, Dr. Brady," Silia said. "Now, I want you to move, very slowly, away from Sylvie."

Nick listened to most of it, but halfway through, his attention was drawn to something Sylvie was mumbling under her breath.

"Target, one..." she was saying. "Lightly armed human. Threat assessment, low. Recommended procedure, eliminate target..." Nick felt her gun-arm begin to twitch. He kept his grip, using his stronger muscles to push Sylvie's arm down and keep the gun away from Silia.

"Dr. Brady, I said move _away_," Silia said, punctuating this statement by drawing the hammer back on her gun. Nick looked into her face. There was no hint of nervousness or fear that she was about to do something she'd later regret. Her face was deadpan, the face of someone who did something because they had to. He knew, then and there, that Silia _would fire_ if he didn't do as she said.

"She's going to shoot you," Nick said. "Just let me get the gun out of her hands."

"Priss, take the gun," Silia said, without taking her eyes off of Nick.

Nick looked from the gun in Silia's hand, to Sylvie, then back. He released his grip and backed off, but only after Priss had come to grab the gun out of Sylvie's hands. Sylvie resisted for a moment, but then seemed to come back to herself and release the weapon without any more fighting. Priss took the heavy gun and held it loosely, walking backwards.

"Thank you," Silia said, not lowering her own gun, which was still pointed between Nick's eyes. She took a moment to breathe in through her cigarette. "Priss, disable the weapon please."

Priss nodded, then ejected the clip out of the gun and jacked the last bullet out of the chamber. She pocketed the ammo and put the gun in her lap. Only when she was done did the laser sight disappear and Silia's gun come down. Almost everyone in the room let out the breath they'd been holding. The only exceptions were Nick and Silia, who'd kept control over their breathing the entire time. Sylvie sat back down on the couch next to Priss, and Nick took one of the chairs. Silia sat down in another chair across the room. As he got comfortable, Nick took out a cigarette and lit it with a practiced motion. Might as well negate as much of the sexaroid thing as he could. And it looked like Ms. Stingray knew about the effects of cigarettes, herself.

"Glad that's over with," Nick said casually, breathing smoke into the air. He could see Priss was already becoming less interested in him. That was a good sign; it meant the smoke was doing its job.

He looked over at where the bullet from his gun had hit the window. The window was cracked, and had a depression in it where the bullet had detonated, but it was still whole. "Bulletproof glass?" he asked the room. There was no response. "Pretty good quality there, Ms. Stingray. But aren't we being a little paranoid?"

"I play it safe," Silia responded.

Nick grunted out an inarticulate response, before taking another draw from his cigarette.

"Give me one," came Sylvie's voice. "Priss, do you have a lighter?"

Nick turned his head to look at her, seeing Sylvie holding out her hand to accept a cigarette. He shook his head, snickering a little.

"You don't need to get into that crap," he said, not making a move for his cigarettes. A glance across the room showed Silia was mirroring his actions. He didn't know how Sylvie had suddenly wanted a cigarette, but he hoped she wouldn't start that. 33-S-H lungs were hardy enough to handle a lifetime of cigarettes, but 33-S's, on the other hand...

^Since when did I care about someone else's welfare?^ he asked himself. ^Since never,^ he thought, answering himself.

Annoyed at being brushed off, Sylvie took the gun from Priss and started looking it over. Priss and Nick both watched her closely, but Nick eventually figured Sylvie had come back to her senses, at least for now.

"So what's this about?" he asked Silia in a confrontational voice.

Silia leaned back in her own chair and folded her hands in her lap. "We've noticed some changes in Sylvie," she began.

"Really? I'd have never guessed," Nick said sarcastically. Two angry gazes and one calm one were turned on him. Instead of feeling chastened, he just smiled.

"And we think you may be responsible, at least in part. I - "

"I didn't do anything!"

"Let me finish, Dr. Brady. I would like to know what you did to Sylvie while you were reactivating her mind."

Nick looked at her, already tired of this, but decided to answer, anyway. "I routed her mind through my J-2 battle computer," he began. "Only I got distracted," - at this he threw a withering glare at Priss - "and ended up getting my personality jammed in there, too. For a minute, I almost lost it."

"What do you mean?"

Nick stopped as he heard the 'click' of a piece of his gun being removed. He turned to look at Sylvie, who had just figured out how to remove the brass catcher. She emptied it into her hand, coming up with one empty case and the one live shell from the chamber. Nick shifted his weight slightly, ready to take the gun from her if she tried to load it. But instead, Sylvie just handed both the shell and the bullet to Priss and proceeded to reassemble the gun as though she'd always known how. Priss watched, absentmindedly loading the free bullet into the clip she'd taken.

Figuring all was safe again, Nick turned back to Silia. "Anyway, as I turned her mind back on, her personality appeared. But then I felt our minds blend together. I couldn't tell which was which, and decided to pull out. I figured everything was working fine, and, well, she got up, so I guess I did _something_ right."

Silia nodded. "Anything else?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Nick sighed, defeated. He didn't know how she'd known, but he saw no problem in answering truthfully, at least this time. It was a good idea not to take chances with an armed woman. And that went double for _this_ armed woman, from what he'd seen so far.

"Part of her brain had been redone by another battle computer," he said.

"A J-1," Silia said, filling in.

"Really?" Nick said, his eyebrows going up. "Huh. Well, that explains it. The two are pretty much the same, so my computer was able to merge with it completely. It must have activated some kind of auto-upgrade crap. The result is what you see. The eye thing is probably related. I know my eyes glow all the time, too. Sylvie's J-2 must be mirroring that."

"And Sylvie's personality change?"

"I haven't had a - " Sylvie tried to begin.

"I dunno," Nick said, ignoring her. "I guess it was a gradual thing. It'll either go back to normal, or at least level off."

"And have _you_ experienced any changes?"

"No."

"Interesting. Something may trigger a change in you, as well."

"Yeah, right." Nick was currently thinking about what Lou and Meg had told him, how he'd been...nice, for a few hours. Had he already been triggered?

"Well, stay alert. Your mind is different, so your changes, if any, will be much more abrupt. You might wake up one morning, utterly different."

Nick tried not to shift nervously in his chair.

"I'll need to analyze Sylvie's mind," Silia said, changing the subject.

Sylvie drew back, burying herself into the couch. "Don't even think about it," she said curtly.

"It's a minimally-invasive procedure," Silia said. "I can do it right here. And I might be able to treat your eyes, too."

Sylvie thought about that last part, but then shook her head and got up. "Just stay out of my head, okay? I've got enough damn problems already." She began edging towards the doorway.

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine," Silia said. "But I'm going to be here, in case you want help."

Sylvie just shook her head, grit her teeth, and backed away, eventually turning and going out the door. Priss glanced at Silia, who nodded. Priss then got up and followed her friend, hoping to catch up to her.

"If that's all," Nick said, getting up, "I'm getting outta here, too."

"_You_ are going to stay," Silia said, firmly.

"And you're gonna stop me?"

"If you try to leave, you will be shot." She said it so matter-of-factly that even Nick paused.

Nick didn't respond. He began backing away towards the door.

"I'm serious," Silia said, taking her gun out of her lap and pointing it at him again.

"Yeah," Nick said, sighing again as he stopped heading for the door. "I know you are. What is it?"

"I'll need to analyze your entire system. Not just your brain. Everything."

Nick stiffened, thinking about that. He considered shaking his head, but once again, Silia _was_ aiming a gun at him. He knew he could dodge three or four bullets in rapid succession. Hell, he could catch a single bullet out of the air if he wanted to. But if she emptied a clip at him, a few rounds would get through. And it would only take one bullet in the head to stop him cold.

"Fine," he said. "Where do I go?"

Silia gestured to a sizeable desktop computer. "I understand you can interface with an electronic system by touching your hand to it," she said.

Nick nodded. He brought up one hand, noticing that it held his forgotten cigarette. He took a long draw, then left the cigarette between his lips as he pulled off one glove. Without further preamble, he placed his bare hand on top of the monitor. He considered curling his fingers to crush through the plastic and ruin the monitor, just for fun, but instantly decided against it. He had a gun aimed at him, and he could guess that Silia Stingray not the kind of person you screw around with.

He closed his eyes and felt them begin to glow behind his eyelids, as he downloaded a complete system scan.

"I'm getting you back for this," he said, as he pulled his hand away, making sure to smudge the fingerprints he left. He pulled his glove back on and took another draw from his cigarette.

"I'm sure," Silia said. "Now step away from the computer."

Nick did as he was told. Once he was a fair distance away, Silia came up to the computer herself and typed in several commands, accessing what Nick had just put in.

Nick saw his chance. No one else was here. And she was distracted...he could take the gun. Then get his own and get out of here. That sounded like a good plan. He took a step, making sure his footsteps were silent.

He got no further. As he settled his weight down on his leg, Silia noticed him in the reflection off the computer screen. Without even bothering to look at him, she brought up her gun and fired twice. Nick saw the move, and was prepared to dodge as he heard the muffled discharges. But it was as though the bullets teleported from the gun to him, skirting the intervening distance entirely. Shocked, he felt the bullets hit his torso and come out his back. One went through the left side of his chest, and the second tore into his gut.v "Shit!" he yelled, falling to his knees and cradling his wounds, which were simultaneously bleeding and sparking. His vision blurred, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He spat it out. keeping one hand on the floor for balance, he reached behind his back with his other arm, gingerly touching the bullets' exit wounds. They felt like they were the size of golf balls.

"I warned you," Silia said, keeping her gun trained on him. "And the next bullet goes in your head."

Nick growled at her, baring his teeth, but backed off, getting back to his feet, although he was still hunched over. He could feel his body already taking measures to handle the problem. The part of his heart that hadn't been shot out started working harder, reconfiguring itself to work as a two-chambered mechanism. Blood was rerouted, getting around the damaged areas and stopping the bleeding within seconds. Meanwhile, another part of Nick's body was deploying antitoxins and enzymes to fight off the mixing vital fluids in his abdomen. But despite all these measures, Nick was in bad shape. He'd be able to move under his own power, but he knew that he'd be useless otherwise.

"What kind of crap _is_ that?" he asked, nearly breathless.

"High-velocity antipersonnel," Silia said without looking up. "Too fast for even _you_ to get out of the way."

Nick didn't try anything after hearing that. He believed what she'd said; those rounds had come so quickly he hadn't had time to react.

After a while, Silia nodded. She got up and looked at him, no apology or sympathy present on her face.

"How long ago was your long-range control unit removed?" she asked.

Nick's attention was instantly rooted on her. One of his hands reached up and touched the back of his neck, where his one scar was.

"Why's it so important?" he asked, angry.

"Don't make me shoot you again."

"Fine, fine. It got ripped out...uh, about eight months ago, I guess. Maybe ten months ago. I can't remember."

"I'm sure. You _do_ know what happens to 33-S-H's that lose their long-range control units."

Nick nodded. "Of course. I knew someone who tried removing his own. He cooled a second after he tore it out."

Silia nodded. "And yet, how are _you_ still alive?"

Nick shook his head. "I dunno. The...guy who took it out just said he'd done something so I could live indefinitely on my own."

Silia sighed, thinking. "Who did it?" she finally asked.

Nick shrugged. "I have no idea," he said, choosing now to lie. "Just some guy who said he could free me."

Silia nodded. She had a good idea of who had done it. Largo would be the right man. He'd filled other boomers' heads with thoughts of freedom before. And he probably had the power to rewire 33-S-H brains. And whoever had done it was also a coldhearted liar, just like Largo. She'd seen from Nick's system scan, and whoever'd said he'd be able to live indefinitely could not have been more wrong. Nene had told her earlier about how the bypassed circuits would break down over time. And if he'd had it done three-quarters of a year ago, at best, then...

"I have bad news for you," Silia said.

"I didn't know there was such a thing as good news," Nick said, peeking under his shirt to check his wounds. They'd already stopped bleeding.

"You're dying," Silia said flatly.

Nick didn't even look up. "Aren't we all..." he said. "I'm organic, which means yeah, I'll probably die some day, supposing I don't dump myself in a new body before then." Satisfied with how he was healing, he looked back up.

Silia shook her head. "No, you're dying much quicker than that."

"Uh huh, sure. Like I'd believe that."

"Believe what you want. But the truth is, without your long-range link, your brain is falling apart. From what I've seen here, you don't have much longer."

Inside, Nick was dead scared. He could still remember that episode he'd had a while ago, when the back of his neck had felt like it was on fire. And he'd had a headache this morning, something he'd never had before. And Silia was either telling the truth or was a consummate liar, because she looked completely honest.

But Nick still put on a skeptical mask for his audience. "Sorry, chick, but I learned a _long_ time ago that people lie whenever they want. And I gotta say, you're a good liar."

Silia just looked at him, almost pitying him. "And I suppose you won't believe me until you collapse," she said.

"Yup," Nick said, finishing his cigarette and crushing it in his grip. "And that ain't gonna happen, either. Is that all?"

Silia nodded slightly. "You've only got two, maybe three weeks left," she said. "But I can't be certain how long exactly. It's hard to say, because I don't know what was originally done to you."

Nick was pretending not to listen. He just picked his gun up off the table and slid it into his holster. "And when can I get my ammo back?" he asked indignantly. Since Priss had left with his bullets, he couldn't just grab it on his way out.

"Buy more," Silia said. "You shouldn't have brought a gun here."

"You did," he said, turning his back on her and walking out, using every ounce of resolve to look as though his bullet wounds didn't bother him. He almost dared her to shoot him. ^Aim for my head,^ he thought. ^I don't want to feel it...^

But she didn't shoot him. Silia just let him walk out. Nick didn't know whether to be grateful or angry.

Nick made his way back down to the parking garage. As soon as he left the doorway to Silia's apartment, he sagged against the wall, barely able to keep his balance. His vision was dimming, and he could feel that he was bleeding again. He was near the limit of damage bypassing already.

He stumbled to the elevator, and rode it down to the garage. He stepped out, doing everything he could to keep his balance. He moved across the many rows of cars, until he got to the spot where he'd parked.

The car wasn't there. Neither was Sylvie.

He looked around wildly, wondering if his mind was scrambled from blood loss. But no, this was where he'd parked. So...

"Ah, _shit_," he said, figuring it out. Sylvie had had the keys, and she'd taken the car! Where had she gone with it? And how the hell was he supposed to get back to the office in his current condition?

Directing every curse in his vocabulary towards Sylvie, he trudged out of the parking garage and down the street. He felt very tired, as though someone had put a one-ton weight on his shoulders. Every movement was labored, and his balance was failing him. He wondered if he was going to die a lot sooner than Silia had predicted.

A plan formed in his mind as he saw a man sitting on the corner, carrying a sign saying 'will work for food'. Nick turned down an alley, keeping one hand on his back to try and hold in the blood that was still trickling out. He maneuvered as best he could, having to stop every once in a while, leaning against a grime-covered brick wall to catch his breath. But finally, he was in position.

He was standing at the exit of another alley, no more than three meters from the homeless man he'd seen. From this distance, Nick could see the man was aged, at least eighty years old. He felt no pity for a man in need, however. He never had.

Nick stood up straight, letting his arms hang by his sides and ignoring the trickling sensation on his back. He began to walk towards the homeless man. But on the first step, he stopped, thinking. His conscience was going off again.

^You don't really want to do this,^ it was telling him.

^Oh yes, I do,^ he responded. ^I'm looking forward to it, actually.^

^Stop deluding yourself.^

^Hoo boy. Now I'm going insane. I'm listening to voices in my head.^

^You don't want to do this.^

^I have to.^

^But you don't want to.^

^I...I guess I don't. If I think about it too hard, I think I'll be sick. But I need to do this.^

He went back to walking, tuning out his conscience, which had become much quieter. The old man turned to face Nick.

"Hey, buddy, can you help me out?" the old man said.

Nick looked at him coldly, trying not to smirk. "It's illegal for you to be begging here," he said, grabbing the man's arm. "You're under arrest." He started dragging him back to the alley he'd come out of.

"Hey! You can't...who are you?"

"Officer of regular police, in charge of keeping the peace," Nick said, keeping his voice authoritative. "Come with me, and there won't be any trouble."

The man followed, mostly because Nick was too strong for him to even _think_ about resisting. Meanwhile, Nick was trying not to collapse; doing this was putting a tremendous strain on his already-damaged body. He was also trying to keep up his resolve to follow through with his plan. ^It's too late to turn back,^ he thought. ^I need to finish it.^

"Hey, wait a sec," the old man said, dropping his sign. "What's this bullshit? Where's your badge?"

Nick dragged the now-resisting man behind a dumpster. "I've got a badge. Here it is."

He didn't go for a badge. Instead, he dragged the man up to him, bared his teeth, and bit into the man's neck.

The old man gasped, his mouth opening as he felt his blood flowing out of him. Nick put one hand on the man's throat, choking him and keeping a scream from escaping. In just under a minute, he was done. Nick felt much better, now. Stronger, healthier.

He also felt sick to his stomach. Deep down, he was repulsed at what he'd just done. This revulsion quickly turned to anger. This was Sylvie's fault. Sylvie and Silia together. The latter had wounded him, while the former had taken his ride back, forcing him to do this so he could survive long enough to make it to the office. He grit his teeth, holding the bloodless corpse of the man as though it were an old rag doll.

"Consider yourself helped," he growled out, chucking the body into the dumpster he was behind. He closed the dumpster's heavy metal lid and started going back down the alley, wiping the blood off of his mouth and chin. With a fresh supply of energy, Nick's body rerouted its blood flow again. The trickling sensation at his back finally stopped.

He knew that human blood wouldn't last inside of him, but this was really just a temporary measure. His body was already making more of the hardier synthetic blood that normally went through his veins. It also did a brief genetic scan on the blood Nick had just taken in, and modified several of the freshly produced blood cells to match the scan. Nick had at least a dozen different gene strands in his blood; it made him very, very hard to trace with genetic testing.

Eventually satisfied that he could make it through the streets without attracting too much attention, he made his way back to the street, and started heading for the office. The anger inside of him just kept growing. This was Sylvie's fault. It had to be.

***

Meg quietly closed the door to Lou's office, and went back to her seat. The woman still looked okay, but she was sleeping like a baby. Meg was already sympathizing with her friend, having some idea of how Lou would feel when she woke up.

She picked up her phone and started dialing a few of the people who'd been calling earlier. She'd finally tracked down the information she'd needed to answer their questions. During one of these calls, the door opened and Nick walked in. Meg broke off in the middle of a sentence, looking at his face.

Meg had seen Nick angry before. She'd even seen him genuinely furious once, although wished she could forget that time. But his current mood went _way_ beyond all that. Meg instantly wished she wasn't here.

"She took the car," he growled out, sounding as though he was ready to tear a tank apart with his teeth.

Meg nodded, figuring it out. She...Meg guessed he meant Sylvie. So Sylvie had the car. Oh, well. They'd get it back later. But that meant Nick had had to walk here, something that probably _would_ have put him in a bad mood, considering his newfound ability to drive. But that wouldn't have upset him _this_ much. Something else was wrong, Meg could tell.

Nick came up to his door, which he found to be locked. Without hesitation, he punched clean _through_ the synthetic wood, unlocked it from the other side, and opened it, still scowling.

"What was that?" came the voice on the other end of the phone line.

"Huh?" Meg said into the receiver, looking back at the man on the screen. Doing so took her eyes off of Nick, and so she failed to see the large bullet holes on the back of his jacket. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I got distracted. Anyway, our warranties run along these lines...

As she went on, Meg turned her chair so she could peek into Nick's office. She could see he'd opened his liquor cabinet, and was currently trying to down an entire bottle of vodka without coming up for air. Meg shook her head at the sight, although she continued with her tirade to the man on the other end. 33-S-H's, of course, had different tolerances than 33-S's. Nick took great pleasure in rubbing it in by occasionally downing a tremendous amount of booze, with almost no ill effects.

But at the same time, Meg was worried. He didn't look like he was trying to say 'I'm better than you', the way he usually did with his drinking. He looked like he was truly trying to get plastered. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, to see if she could help; it was how she was. She couldn't bear to see even a 33-S-H like this. And seeing Nick suddenly wanting to get drunk was quite disturbing. For all his faults, he'd always been on top of things.

Nick apparently had learned how to read minds, because he quickly moved over and slammed his door shut, the gaping hole in the middle offering no view of what he was doing inside.

Suddenly very afraid, Meg turned her chair back to her desk, and politely finished up the call. After hanging up, she sat there quietly. A small part of her was excited; the man she'd been talking to seemed very interested in bringing his cyberdroid into their firm for repairs. But the rest of her was afraid. Their guardian, the man who'd taken on a Doberman and won, was now so disturbed by something that he wanted to get drunk. Something was very, very wrong. She wondered what was going to happen next.

***

Inside his office, Nick had finished off the bottle of vodka and thrown it against a wall, where it shattered. He was now stomping around like a caged bull, thinking.

Silia was right. He was sure of it; he was dying. He'd been disturbed by the explosion of pain from his neck a while ago, but he'd put all his fears to the back of his head, like he'd been trained to do. But now Silia had pulled them back to the forefront. There was no way around it : he was dying. He didn't have long. And he had another headache now, and he wasn't going to get painkillers for it, because that would mean admitting publicly that something was wrong.

So he had two weeks, maybe three. Somewhere in between, he hoped, but he'd have believed he only had one week, too. It just wasn't fair. ^Oh, yeah, right^, his conscience said, louder than normal. ^You know what you've done. Look at your job. You _deserve_ to die.^

Nick didn't bother answering, because any response would either be agreement or a lie. He lit a cigarette, sucking in a tremendous lungful of smoke before breathing out.

He knew what he'd do with his last days. He'd known for a while what he'd do, if it came to that. ^I kill things for a living,^ he thought. ^And I'm gonna keep killing things 'til something kills me.^

And now the time had come. Something was killing him, and he couldn't fight it, like he could fight off a normal threat. Which meant he had to make up for lost time, and fast. His time here at Brady and Smith had been a waste, he was sure. He'd never liked _fixing_ things. He destroyed. That was his job, that was what he was built for, and that was what he liked. He smiled toothily, just a touch of insanity going across his face.

His train of thought was shattered, however, as a few memories came to him. Memories that were probably responsible for where he was now.

Genaros. He'd met...well, he hadn't _met_, but he'd _seen_ Sylvie for the first time there. Despite the fog brought on by his repressed bloodlust, he'd still been interested in listening to her. He'd used every technique in his expansive bag of tricks to eavesdrop on her without her knowing. That had been where he'd first become interested in the concept of freedom.

"The H's are more free than we are," Sylvie's voice sounded in his head.

"You think you've retired?" came Sylvie's fear-shaken voice. "You haven't retired at all. You just work for yourself, instead of _them_."

^But that's freedom, for me,^ he thought. ^I can do what I want, and that's what I want to do...isn't it?^

"That's the thing about being free. You have to think for yourself," came Meg's voice. She'd said that the day Priss had come to them to ask about bringing Sylvie back.

^Is destruction what I want to do?^

He thought this over, pacing back and forth. "Someone tell me what to do..." he mumbled.

He stopped. He couldn't believe he'd just said that. He was free, right? That meant he could make his own decisions. He didn't need GENOM. He didn't need _anyone_!

With a yell of frustration, he punched the window in his office. The glass disintegrated, showering the alley below with deadly shards. Nick wondered if he'd hit anyone with that. He looked out and down, becoming dissapointed when he saw that no one had been under the falling glass.

That was when he noticed it : his arm was stinging. That was to be expected - in a human, anyway. The glass had cut his skin, and blood was trickling down his arm from a dozen small wounds. And...it hurt.

^I've never felt that...^ he thought. He'd been in pain a few times before, but it had always been associated with the removal of his long-range control unit. He wondered if this was also a result of that. But whatever it was...it was pain. He'd cut himself, and it hurt. That was a new one.

Looking at his arm in absolute shock, Nick sat down in his chair.

"I'm hurt..." he said, looking up and down his arm. "Goddammit, what did you _do_ to me, Sylvie..."

^You're different from the way you used to be,^ his conscience said to him. ^Now do you want to go down as a 33-S-H, a psychotic killer? Or do you want to at least _show_ Sylvie that you can change?^

Nick kept looking at his arm. After a moment, as though in a daze, he reached forwards and pulled the loose shards out of his skin. It hurt even more to remove them, as the wounds started bleeding more, but he kept at it, not even letting himself cringe. Finally, the glass had all been taken out. He flexed his arm, and made a fist, showing himself that he still worked correctly. As though that was a surprise; his damage-bypass system could handle a _lot_ more than just some glass.

But it had hurt, this time...

"Ah, shit," he said, getting up and making his decision. He pulled his gun out of its holster and looked it over. After a slight hesitation, as though he knew there was no going back, he put the gun down on his desk. He pulled off his holster harness and slung that on the desk, too. Finally, he flicked his still-burning cigarette into the trash can next to his desk.

He looked down at his shirt. It was ruined, he knew; two bullet holes in the front and two exit holes in the back. And all the holes were framed by a flow of blood. He angrily grabbed at his shirt and tore it off, throwing the rags into the trash can. He then went over to his office's small closet and pulled out a white tee-shirt. In bold black letters on the front were the words, 'I don't discriminate, I kill EVERYONE' in English. He'd picked the shirt up in America, and it was still his favorite, even now. Smiling a little, he pulled it on. He then finally stepped out of his office, leaving his weapons behind.

"Where's Lou?" he asked gruffly. Meg jumped as he appeared, and her eyes widened in fear. Nick suddenly found that he didn't want her to be afraid. How could he make her feel safer...^No, I don't want to do that...oh yes, I do...no I don't...AAAAGGGH!^ He somehow managed to keep this scream silent.

"She's...uh, she's sleeping," Meg said, finding her voice.

"Too much booze," Nick said, his voice disappointed. "You tell her to get her ass in here when she wakes up," he said, grabbing his lab coat off a nearby rack and walking into the operating room.

"It's time we really got to work on this 'roid," he said, before walking into the operating room and closing the door behind him. As soon as the door 'clicked' shut, he cracked his knuckles and walked up to Anri's body, taking a few of the nearby tools as he did so. He glance down at his chest as he approached the table, sighing as he felt the bullet wounds inside of him. Those needed to be fixed before he could start. Otherwise, he'd heal incorrectly, and wouldn't be any use to Anri.

But with only two weeks before he bought it, he'd have to rush to fix all the damage. He found he actually hoped he'd be able to bring her back before he died. He immediately got to work on himself, for the first time having to administer local painkillers so he could actually do the work. He had to work fast, but at the same time work well...

He didn't know if something was wrong with him or not. Once again, he found himself wondering if these new emotions were right, or if the old ones were. But he didn't care, right now. He had work to do, and a lot of it.

***

Days later, Lou was in the middle of a phone call when she heard the door open. She didn't look away from her screen, figuring Meg could handle the new arrival. She finished her call, giving one of their latest clients a time to come in and have their boomer inspected. They finally agreed on a time next week. Lou was confident enough in her abilities as a cybersurgeon that she'd be able to do the job, without Nick.

Once the phone's video screen had deactivated, Lou looked up, into the main room. She saw Sylvie in there, pacing around impatiently. Smiling, Lou got up and walked in. As she did so, she noticed that a classic Chicago song was playing on the small CD player they had mounted on the wall.

"Hey there," she said to Sylvie.

Sylvie's gaze darted towards her, and instantly relaxed as she saw who it was. Lou noticed that she was still wearing those sunglasses. "Oh, hi Lou. I didn't know if there'd be anyone here. Oh, sorry, I thought I'd play some music," she said, pointing to the CD player.

"It's fine," Lou said. She knew Chicago was Sylvie's favorite. "Just workin' late," she continued, gesturing to her office. "Someone called right at 17:00, and I've been talking with him since then." She checked her watch; it was almost 18:00. She looked over at Meg's desk, noticing that it was empty. Meg must have left at the usual closing time, to go take the bus home. Lou could barely remember her friend checking in on her to say goodbye, but she'd been busy talking on the phone, and hadn't really been able to reply.

"Who else is here?" Sylvie asked, sitting down.

"Just Dr. Brady," Lou said, using the title out of habit. "What's up?"

"I...uh, I wanted to return these," Sylvie said, handing Lou a set of keys. Lou recognized them as the keys to the car.

"Sorry I took it," Sylvie said. "I was kind of in a bad mood, and then I was busy for a few days."

"It's okay," Lou replied, smiling again. "You're a friend, Sylvie."

"I'll ask, next time."

"Thanks. So what ch'a been doing?"

"Well, the other day, that Nene girl came over to Priss's trailer, with something for me."

"Who's Nene?"

"Oh! Sorry, I guess you haven't met her. Young redhead, really energetic. She works for the ADP. Friend of Priss's. Don't worry, she's safe," Sylvie said, noticing the way Lou got nervous at the mention of 'ADP'. Lou relaxed at this.

"Okay, thanks. What'd she have?"

"Well, she had an apartment form for me. And I went to go look at it with Priss, and, well..." Sylvie smiled.

Lou grinned back. "So you have a place of your own?"

Sylvie nodded. "Priss is helping me pay for it, for right now. She's so nice."

Lou nodded. "Well, I'll drink to that." She went back into her office, coming back out with a couple of cans.

"Uh..." Sylvie said. "Haven't you learned your lesson, Lou?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's just soda." She handed Sylvie one of the cans. A moment later, they were both sitting down, sipping at their drinks. Well, Lou was sipping; Sylvie was trying to see how much she could down in one shot. She came down, gasping, and noticed a mildly surprised Lou.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Lou said, shaking her head. "It's just you drink the same way Nick does." She didn't notice the way she'd switched over from 'Dr. Brady'.

"Oh..." Sylvie said, hesitantly. She looked at the can in her hand, as though it had betrayed her somehow. Then she took a more mild sip. "How's that?" she asked.

"It's fine," Lou said, laughing a little. "I was just thinking out loud. I didn't mean any harm."

"Okay."

"So, any other news?" Lou asked, changing the subject.

Sylvie took another sip. "Actually, yes," she said. "I got a job, too."

"Whazzat?" came a slurred, masculine voice from down the hallway. Both women jumped a little, to see Nick staggering in from the operating room. He looked very tired. He was wearing the same clothes he had when he'd first gone in there, after hearing his fate from Silia Stingray. He looked and smelled like he hadn't showered since then, either.

"Nothing," Sylvie said curtly, turning away.

"Wha'ever," Nick said, stumbling over to his office. He opened up his liquor cabinet and took out the first bottle he saw. Popping the top off, he drained down a large portion of its contents. Sylvie noticed that she did indeed drink the same way he did. ^I'll have to change that,^ she thought. ^I'm not like him.^

He came back, wiping his mouth clean. "But what'd you say?" he asked, the drink having broken the bored stupor he'd been in. "Sounds like you got a job. What is it?"

"None of your business," Sylvie said, turning her back on him. Nick kept staring at her. Sylvie remained obstinant.

Lou, on the other hand, was disturbed by the tension. "Oh, Sylvie, just tell him, so he can go back to working on Anri."

"How's that going, anyway?" Sylvie asked Lou, totally ignoring the man behind her.

Nick dragged a chair around Sylvie and sat down next to Lou. "It's going fine, Syl," he said, keeping the annoyance out of his voice. "I've been working like a dog."

"Hm," Sylvie said, averting her gaze. "Don't call me Syl."

"Why not?"

"I don't like it."

Nick snorted out a short laugh. "Whatever. But I've anwered your question. Be nice if you'd answer mine."

Sylvie sighed. She glanced at Lou, who was silently pleading with her to just answer the question.

"I'm working with Priss's band," she finally said. "I'm on the sound and light crew for her concerts and music videos."

"Oh, that's good," Nick said. Sylvie was about to come back with a retort, something like '_I_ don't have to kill people,' but the tone in Nick's voice killed the words before she could say them. He had sounded genuinely appreciative of her job.

"What?" Sylvie asked, unable to find anything else to say. She finally looked at him.

"That's good," Nick said, in the same voice. "It's a nice job, Syl. How's the pay?"

"It's...fine," Sylvie said, wondering what was going on. Was he trying to lure her into some kind of verbal trap, so he could one-up her? He had to be. It was the only explanation.

"I _said_ don't call me Syl," she said, confrontationally. "And why is it good? Happy that I'm stuck in with a bunch of guys who've never gotten lucky in their lives?"

"No," Nick sighed out, shaking his head. "It's just better than some of the other jobs I've seen sexaroids in. Most of 'em become hookers and strippers. And you know why."

"Well, I don't need to do that, thank you very much," Sylvie said, averting her gaze again.

"Yes. You're welcome, by the way."

Sylvie looked back at him. "What?" she asked.

"For the drugs you're taking. For you not having to do people for a living."

"Huh," Sylvie said, almost snorting it out. "What? You don't make that stuff. Meg and Lou do."

Lou's eyes widened. Nick glanced down at her, seeing the look of confusion on the pale-haired woman's face. He looked back at Sylvie.

"Who told you that?" he asked.

"Priss," Sylvie said. "And I trust what she says."

"Right...well, F.Y.I., _I_ make that stuff. And for what it's worth, _I_ asked Meg to give some to Priss. So you're welcome."

Sylvie looked at him, reaching up and bringing her sunglasses down. Underneath, her eyes were no longer glowing. They were the same as they'd been before. "Are you telling me Priss lied to me?"

"Yes," Nick said bluntly. "Oh, and I see you got your eyes fixed. How'd they do that?"

Sylvie barely listened. She was thinking over what he'd said. Priss had lied? But why? ^Because I wouldn't have taken anything an H made,^ she realized. ^I guess it was for my own good, but...she lied to me.^

She shook her head to clear it. "Uh, the eyes...oh yeah, that Silia woman helped me out."

"So you finally went to her?"

"Yes," Sylvie said, getting angry again. What right did he have to question her like this? She wouldn't stand for interrogation by an H.

"Good," he said. "Your eyes are kinda pretty when they're not red, Syl," he said. Half-stunned, Sylvie just looked at him, trying to figure out what his game was.

Nick got up, heading back to the operating room. "Nice talkin' to ya," he said. He stopped as he passed by the radio. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing at the speaker.

"Chicago," Lou said, turning to look at him.

"Oh," he said, nodding. "They're not bad. Try some of the Replicants. They're a little faster, but they're good if you're in the mood." Without another word, he walked into the operating room.

Lou turned back to Sylvie, who was blinking so fast it looked like her eyes were fluttering.

"What?" Lou asked, concerned.

"Since when..." Sylvie tried to ask. Her brow furrowed as she got her concentration back. "Since when does _he_ care about music?"

Lou shrugged. "I dunno. One day, he thinks all music is terrible, and the next, he's got himself a walkman to listen to while he's working on Anri."

"Weird," Sylvie said, shaking her head. "How's it going...with Anri?"

"Actually, a lot better," Lou said, nodding to emphasize this. "I don't think he's left the office since he came back from Silia's place."

Sylvie shook her head. "He'll kill himself working like that."

"Maybe. But he seems to know what he's doing. And when did you start worrying about him killing himself?"

"_Never_," Sylvie said defensively. "But if he burns himself out, he won't be able to finish Anri."

Lou nodded, smiling a little.

"What?" Sylvie asked, noticing the smile.

"Nothing," Lou said, shaking her head. "You're impressed, aren't you? By how he's acting."

Sylvie shrugged. "It's...different. But I can't believe he'll stay like this. He _is_ an H, you know."

"Yeah," Lou said, nodding. "That's the other thing. He hasn't gone out as Guillotine, either. I hope he can hold together, if he's gone this long without taking a job."

"He hasn't gone out?"

"No."

"You mean he hasn't killed anything?"

"That's right."

Sylvie's brow furrowed. "I don't get it," she said. What's his game?"

"I don't know," Lou said, shaking her head. "But he's just been different since he checked on Anri's brain."

"So Silia was right..." Sylvie said to herself.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sylvie said. She downed the rest of her soda to avoid having to say anything else.

"Okay," Lou said, suspicious. "C'mon, it's time to go home."

"Yeah..." Sylvie said, slowly.

"What is it?"

"I...nah, I'll come along."

Lou cocked her head and looked at Sylvie. "You want to stay here a while longer?" she asked.

Sylvie sighed. "How'd you know? Yeah, I guess I do. I...I'm a little different, too. And I guess I should talk to Nick about that."

Lou smiled a little. "He's Nick now? Not 'the H', anymore?"

Sylvie glared at her. "Go home," she said, pushing Lou towards the door. "You look tired."

"I'm fine - "

"Lou, _someone_ in this office has to take care of themselves, and it might as well be you," Sylvie said, getting Lou out the door. "Just take your car home, and get some sleep." She closed the door before Lou could reply.

Lou looked through the cloudy glass in the door. She saw the blurry form of Sylvie move over to a chair and sit down, crossing her legs. Smiling again, Lou turned and walked off down the hallway. She _did_ need to get a little sleep, she realized, yawning.

***

A man walked off the street, into one of the grimier apartment buildings of MegaTokyo. He had some slight Russian features, but he was basically forgettable in appearance. That didn't seem to stop all the attention he was getting; as he walked through the building, he drew a lot of stares from people - of both genders - who suddenly found him very sexy. He ignored them all.

The man wore a black trench coat, which was almost new. He had black wraparound sunglasses covering his eyes. And, had his hands not been in his pockets, the printless leather gloves covering his hands would have been visible. His ID card, inside the pocket of his coat, identified him as a man named Karl Richards.

He took the stairs, preferring them to the rusted-out elevator. Getting to the floor he'd been looking for, he strode down the halls at a brisk pace. As he walked, he thought over what he planned to do here.

He'd been a busy man, the past few days. Karl's new employer, the one responsible for his independence from GENOM, had said he should start at Genaros. So he'd gone there, nosing around for information. There, he'd learned from several sources that a 33-S-H had been there on the day the five 33-S's had tried to escape. Most of them said he'd been escorting them to imprisonment, but Karl had checked the records; no 33-S's had been imprisoned. And no one had seen any of the boomers in question after the depressurization of section 1138 and the subsequent ejection of one escape pod.

Karl had had to look around quite a bit, before finding the remains of the pod down in America. It had splashed down just off the Pacific coast. It had been pointless showing Jason McCormick's picture around, because of his forgettable face. Karl had thought he'd hit a dead end, but his employer had suggested looking around for traces of the missing 33-S's. After downloading the production photos of the five sexaroids in question, Karl had gone around asking some more questions. He had been kicking himself that he'd had to call his employer for help. He'd heard that other 33-S-H's were able to track down anyone, on the basis of no information other than a name. But Karl could not perform such a feat; he was too inexperienced. He found himself wondering how adept his current target was at 33-S-H work. From what he'd heard, the mark was a very, very dangerous man, even among other boomers. He'd been the only 33-S-H to ever kill another 33-S-H.

After a lot of questioning, Karl had finally located a firm called Brady and Smith, which had had workers matching the descriptions of two of the escaped sexaroids. That firm had later moved to MegaTokyo. And so, here he was, hopefully near the end of his search.

Jason McCormick. Karl had that name, the name of his mark. Now he just had to find him. And then would come the really hard part : waiting. He'd been able to satisfy his desire to kill every couple of days, but just grabbing someone off the street was nothing compared to downing the mark. There, you could take your time, because it was your _job_ to make them hurt. But his employer had been very insistent that he not kill the mark until the time had come. And apparently, the time hadn't come yet.

He knocked on one of the apartment doors. He looked away from the peephole, waiting as the locks on the other side were undone and the door opened.

He was greeted by an emaciated young girl with large brown eyes. She was wearing a loose shirt and jeans, both of which were quite dirty. The girl also had the scars of multiple hypodermic injections on her arms.

"Heyyyy..." she said in a sultry voice, gesturing with her head that he should follow her into the smoky room.

"Anything new?" Karl asked, walking in and closing the door behind him.

"Oh, I got somethin' for you, gorgeous," the girl said, turning around and slowly putting her arms around him. Karl smirked at this, but then pushed her off. He didn't have time to toy with a human's emotions, just yet.

"Yeah, maybe later," he said in a suggestive tone as he stroked her cheek. "But first, what'd you find?" he asked, glancing over at the massive computer terminal on the wall.

"Oh, yeah..." the girl said, disappointed. "I got that, too. You want anything?" she asked, gesturing to a small table. Karl looked over to where she was pointing. On the table was a variety of chemicals and drugs, most of them illegal. There were also a few needles, for direct injection. Karl picked up one of the small bags and sniffed at its contents. He wasn't interested in this stuff; he was immune to most drugs.

"This stuff'll kill you," he said, putting the bag back down.

"Maybe," the girl said, flicking her computer screen on. "But whatta way to go."

Karl nodded, smirking again. He went over to stand next to the girl. She shivered a little, feeling safer and more comfortable as he got close. It was an effort for her to keep her concentration, but she managed.

"I got that place you were lookin' for," she said, calling up a file and looking up at him. She desperately hoped he would be satisfied; he was the most attractive man she'd ever seen. She knew that she'd never forgive herself if she disappointed him.

Karl leaned over her, looking at the screen. "Brady and Smith..." he said, reading the name. He memorized the address and then laughed a little. "So they didn't even bother changing the name," he said, standing back up. "How dumb can you _get_?"

"Happy?" the girl asked, expectant.

"Yeah..." Karl said. "You find anything else?"

The girl thought for a moment, then nodded and turned back to her screen. "I had to hack the ADP on this one," she said. "But I heard there's a guy that dresses just like you. Some kinda merc. Here he is."

Karl leaned back over her. "Guillotine, huh? Weird. Defining features...black trench coat, multiple holes...sunglasses...gloves...wow. I think this is the same guy."

"Who?"

"Nothing. Nothing you should worry about. You've served your purpose well. But I believe I won't be needing your services any more."

"Oh. Well, then..." she said, getting up. She gingerly put her arms around his shoudlers again. "Happy?"

"I'm getting there," Karl said. "Care to help me out?"

"Oh, yes," she said. Karl pulled her towards him, planting his lips on hers. He opened his mouth, as did she. The girl instantly lost almost all control as she found out what sexaroid spit can do to your emotions. She would have been happy to do him right _now_, on the floor, if it meant having him.

She was in fact so aroused that she didn't immediately notice when he rammed his hand through her stomach. Karl grinned as he felt flesh and muscle part. The girl's breath left rushed out of her with a wheeze as the kiss broke.

"Like I said...that stuff'll kill you," Karl hissed out, watching the expression of surprise and pain on the girl's face. Blood poured out of the wound. The girl jerked once as Karl rammed his hand deeper. She tried to gasp out a cry for help, but failed. Karl turned and dragged the dying girl into the middle of the apartment, where he'd have room to work.

Several minutes later, Karl walked out of the apartment, wiping blood off his hands and mouth. The girl had been unable to make a sound the whole time, but he'd had still been able to take his time finishing her off. He felt positively euphoric. _That_ happened to be the only drug that gave him a high. But _what_ a high. He was addicted to killing, he knew. He needed it, just as much as the people around him needed to eat.

He grinned like a madman. "And that's just a taste of what I've got for _you_, Jason McCormick," he said, under his breath, heading down the hall.

He stopped, rubbing at the back of his neck. His fingers went over the long, vertical scar that had formed there. The scar was hurting, now. A lot. Karl was unfamiliar with pain, and so had to lean against a wall to wait it out. Finally, it was over. ^What was that?^ he wondered. ^Oh, well...probably nothing.^

He started walking towards the exit again. ^Guillotine, huh?^ he thought. ^Well, I can't kill you...but maybe I can see just how good you are. I doubt Largo will mind me testing you out...^

His grin widened as a plan started forming in his head.

*** Endnote : Odds are by now, you're wondering where the hell the Knight Sabers are. I mean, it's a BGC fic, but the babes in battlesuits have only made a brief appearance in Part 1, so far (not counting flashbacks). Well, the next part will make up for that. So stay tuned.

As always, send comments/criticisms to otakusadist@hotmail.com.