Machine
I was past the portal. It was a one-way exit. The space on the other side did not lead back into the mansion. My talons clamped hard against the stone. Grey rubble, studded with rebar and cement, surrounded us.
The sun was up, same as it was before. It was as if no time at all had passed within the mansion. However, its heat was nothing compared to the inferno that roiled within my chest. I met Shen's gaze. He shot me a wink, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Come on, let's meet up with the others." He stood before me, calm, focused. The alcohol searing his vessels was irrelevant to him.
He turned around and began to strut away. Not a sliver of worry within his steps. My fists clenched. The pressure within my joints grew inexorably. He had disrespected me, stolen what was mine, and now he was turning his back. This was inexcusable.
I should have simply accepted it, walked with him, and feigned indifference. However, I couldn't. Not anymore, not after being shown such… humiliation.
I rocketed forward. Windows shattered as I drew my fist back. The ground cratered as I planted myself behind him. Force flowed upwards, through my feet, then my knees, into the snap of my hip, and then into my fist.
It launched like a missile, a megaton impact that would leave nothing but a red smear behind. The wind broke, air compressing and ripping away from me. My knuckles felt his skin, then—
I stepped back.
What?
I grabbed my head. I felt it. I was beheaded just now. I should have been dead, but I wasn't. It was still attached.
I looked up at him. He had turned his head partway, one of his eyes piercing me. I had seen it, the moment of my demise. I saw his leg slice through me, yet it never happened.
I looked at my hand, my rending claws. They trembled. What? What is this?
He turned around, then walked up to me. My combat systems raced to analyze him, understand what happened. But they had no time. He was right in front of me. He squinted. In response, I lashed out.
My waist turning, my shoulder dropping, my fist flying—
I didn't throw an attack. I couldn't throw it. He had already countered.
He tapped my shoulder, gently, mockingly. He had tapped it just as my blow was about to commence. He didn't just see me, he saw through me. Understood me.
At this moment, I accepted that I had been defeated. He slew me without throwing a single blow.
"You gonna come with us?" he asked, gently tapping my forehead with the back of his hand.
I had no reason to follow. I had planned to just leave and continue my journey. However, if I stuck with these soldiers, then perhaps I would be able to find a constant supply of battles to sustain me. The thought was nostalgic enough to almost convince me by itself.
But now I had another reason to stay. This man had done something to me. He had humiliated me, mocked me. But now, he humbled me. I felt no rage now. Only a quiet calm that fueled a deeper certainty. I wanted to defeat this man.
He began to walk.
So, I followed.
...........
The group had marched silently for hours. Roland seemed to be in a better state than expected. Idris had treated his injuries through his sorcery. Kiara had bandaged the wounds that remained.
He led the pack, still projecting confidence even after his thorough beating. Meanwhile, I walked near the back, paying little attention to the ruined streets.
My lenses always kept Shen in frame. I felt a sort of hesitation wash over me with each step, especially when he glanced back. His eyes were like brands, making my combat algorithm flare into a cascade of predictions at the faintest twitch of his body.
I would have him soon.
Steven and Kiara stood by each other. They both seemed lost in their own worlds, gazes unfocused and glassy as they marched. Shen occasionally looked towards them, briefly cooing as he registered their proximity.
Soon enough, we had set up camp. I stood by, back leaning against the wall of an alleyway. It was a dead end, a defensible position is what Roland called it. I agreed, but my mind was somewhere else.
Steven had gathered paper and cloth from a nearby office. He had bundled up wooden rulers and shattered desk legs and carried them over to the alleyway. Roland gave him a brief nod as commendation.
He positioned the wood over the paper and then used Roland's lighter to set it ablaze. Kiara sighed, then leaned closer to the crackling flames.
Steven sat down beside her and studied the orange glow that stretched along the walls. He withdrew a wooden instrument that I quickly recognized as a guitar.
Roland raised an eyebrow. "You find a guitar?"
He strummed one of the cords before giving us an easy, yet strained smile. "I sure did."
My hand tensed, the clawed end of my fingers carving small furrows into the ground. These apes intend to amuse themselves with silly sounds. There is no reason to think William won't come after us. We are wasting—
It felt like a gentle rainstorm, like a falling leaf. It felt like the ocean tides washing over me. It was beautiful, like any storm of violence. Like any volley of artillery or staccato of rifle fire.
Each tug on the cords was like a lover's caress. I felt my mind go silent, the war without reason that directed my kind was choked down like a damp cloth covering an inferno.
I looked around me, no longer analyzing, but seeing. The soldiers remained silent. Their faces felt more familiar now, welcome almost. Their spirits lifted almost at once. I could feel their muscles relax, their frowns fade.
The song ended.
I felt sullied, corrupted. When I reflected on its sound, I could only feel a sense of disgust that shook me. One of my optical arrays rotated and the lenses refocused with a grating click. I stared into Steven. He had stained me with that song.
I was not meant for this. I was not designed to witness beauty nor creation. I was not meant to appreciate the beauties of this earth. Never for me should this song have been sung, never for me was this soft melody.
I was solely to sing praise to the art of violence.
So, why have I stood up and snatched away this child's instrument? Why do my fingers move to pinch and grope the cords?
Why must I violate myself to hear this song one last time?
I played it. I copied each movement he had made. I maintained the same rhythm, and I constructed each sound perfectly. Yet this time, I felt nothing.
The others were shocked, uneasy. It wasn't because of my sudden movement, not solely. It was my music that unsettled them.
Steven shot up. He shook his head, disappointed, before reaching out and grabbing the guitar. I wanted to hold on, but I relented and he took it back.
He spun it around, checking for damage, then he squinted his eyes in what I could only fathom as pity.
"A thing like you should stay away from music," he whispered beneath his breath.
He stepped away from me and leaned back against the wall. The others had lost their good spirits after my performance. But he was offended.
"I played it exactly as I should have. I played it better than you did. My precision is unparalleled in all endeavors," I spoke, my hands still outstretched.
Steven grit his teeth, then pushed off the wall. He approached me without hesitation nor fear, as if he was a mother defending her child. "That's the problem. It's not right. Music is something human, and humans are flawed."
"Music is sounds apes make to pass the time. It's something to enjoy as you wait for a saber-tooth to maul you. I produced the right sound," I replied, stepping forward to meet him. Thankfully, Shen seemed disinterested.
"No one liked it." He roughly swept his arm out. Idris nodded along, backing him up as he continued his tirade. "Music is the melody of the soul. A clanker like you doesn't have one."
My fists snapped shut. He flinched at the sound, but the rage never left his eyes. "You can't play music. You only know how to make noise with some string. Don't touch my guitar ever again."
Was that a threat? Does this mere monkey think he can make propositions or enforce his will on me? My jaw began to tense. The gears began to grind. My combat algorithms began to decipher his obliteration.
Then he picked up Kiara by the forearm and helped her up. "We are going to go stand watch?" he stated briefly, glancing at Roland.
"Yeah," Kiara whispered.
The pair stepped out of the alley, and I lost sight of them. I was angry, but it ran deeper than a simple insult. I was struck with the knowledge that Steven was wrong, but I didn't know how to prove it myself.
He was right that I couldn't elate this crowd with my music. But in one of my distant memories, I was sure it wasn't impossible for my kind.
I stomped over to an open spot by the fire, then squatted down. I folded in on myself, hugging my knees to my chest. My wings shifted and compressed till my profile was reduced.
This position felt better. It was comforting in a way. The cloth that I wore could better hide my metallic frame.
It could better hide me.