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Luke
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Joined: Tue Feb 10, 2015 10:12 pm
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Fan Fiction

Post by Luke »

Not sure if this should be in general, don't worry its blessedly short...


The Creator


The man whimpered feverishly, drool clung to the corner of his mouth in a thin line ending at his chin. One hand continuously shook in his lap and he desperately looked around the room with a wide eyed expression as though seeing the world for the first time.

“When did the symptoms start?” asked Togusa.

“He came in yesterday,” replied the hospital orderly. “Woke up, ate breakfast and went to work. Sometime before lunch he began to stutter, didn’t recognise the people around him. By the time he reached us he had completely lost the ability to speak.”

Togusa looked incredulously at the poor wretch before him.

“This happened in less than a day?”

The orderly didn’t respond, he wiped the man’s mouth with a cloth. Frightened, confused eyes looked back at him.

“Well thanks for your time.”

“No problem,” he heard the orderly say over his shoulder.

As Togusa walked down the harshly lit hospital corridor he opened a line to the Major.

“So does the MP look like another one of our victims?” she asked.

“Seems that way. Severe brain deterioration in a matter of hours, at this rate he’ll be dead by morning. The tests for micro machines will be back in a few days but given his work opposing refugee rights and the similarity between cases I think it’s safe to assume he was targeted.”

Before Motoko could respond, Chief Aramaki’s gruff voice chimed in.

“Where are we with this ‘Creator’ character?”

“Me and Batou are closing in on his location now, we’ll update you shortly on the worth of Borma’s lead and if it amounts to anything.”

“Ishikawa, have you managed to determine how the micro machine virus entered the previous victims’ cyber brains?” asked Aramaki.

“Not yet, the most likely guess is through their ports but I’ll keep working on it. Once inside the micro machines make their way to the brain and start to break down its functions.”

“Do you think he penned his own nickname, the Creator? Seems kind of contradictory when everything he creates only causes death” Togusa remarked.

“If you have time to ponder meaningless questions then you have time to dig into your MP’s list of enemies” said Motoko bluntly.

“Yes boss.”

The line went quiet all round. Motoko watched from a roof top as Batou crept up behind a man playing lookout. The guy looked as nervous as an escaped convict. A cap shielded his face from Motoko’s vantage point and he glanced nervously from the doorway where he kept watch. Batou crept along the wall beside him and waited on the corner, his back pressed tightly against exposed brick. As the man glanced away from the main street Motoko gave the go ahead. Batou rounded the corner and shoved the man passed the doorway into the blind spot of the alley. Before the surprised man could turn, Batou followed swiftly behind and wrapped his right arm around the guy’s neck. Grabbing the crook of his left arm whilst pushing the man’s head down and squeezing his elbows together he created a vice like lock. As his augmented biceps bulged the lock tightened on the man’s throat cutting off his air supply. Somewhere between a lack of air and a neck break Batou laid the unconscious man down and restrained his hands behind his back in the unlikely event he were to wake up any time soon.

Motoko watched the door for any activity but nothing moved through the thick glass. She threw herself over the side of the roof top, landing the two storey drop with ease. Batou raised his CZ-M100 automatic pistol and eased open the door, the Major slunk inside quickly clearing the room of any immediate threat. The place looked like a neglected office, desks and window thin monitors were coated with a thick layer of dust. Hard copy files and folders were stacked in impossible looking piles and a heap of office furniture was hastily stored in the corner of the room. Batou leaned, gun first around a stairwell.

“Clear” he declared without speaking aloud.

They made their way to the second floor where more desks and furniture were strewn along the landing. Navigating the narrow space they crept to an open doorway leading to another large office space. This one had been filled with more, modern computers, state of the art equipment and long work benches. The room resembled a futuristic version of Frankenstein’s laboratory. A thin, middle aged man, adorning a lab coat, frowned at a screen as he stood hunched over the monitor. He was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice the two members of section 9 who, having blocked the main exit were now working to block the second door to the rear of the room. When he finally looked up he was greeted by the business end of Batou’s pistol staring back at him from the main door.

“Fight or flight?” asked Batou playfully.

Although clearly a man of some intelligence the suspect had obviously never been confronted with this type of situation before. Batou imagined he could physically see the man’s thought process as his eyes shifted back and forth. He turned and made a mad dash for the second door in a desperate lurch. Motoko spun, found her target over her shoulder and dropped Dr Lab-coat with a reverse hook kick. He crumpled to the floor.

Lab-coat awoke, pain filling his swollen face.

“Did you have to dislocate his jaw?” asked Batou arms crossed.

The Major didn’t respond, instead she pulled a jack from her neck. The wire stretched to the suspect’s port where she connected to his cyber brain. Her iris widened as she zoned out of the make shift lab. Batou waited patiently while she questioned Lab-coat through the link, his broken jaw no longer a problem.

Batou looked around the room, a mesh of thick cables and wires ran back and forth like some alien nest. He turned as he heard the snap of retracting cord.

“It’s him” she said placing her collar back over her neck and lifting the suspect to his feet.

“The creator?”

“Hold on I’m patching in the Chief... Yes sir it’s him. He’s already found several buyers, some transactions have already taken place… yes sir I have a list, I’ll get it over to Ishikawa and the others now.”


Epilogue


Not too far away, situated in the refugee sector, a back street prosthetics surgeon leans over his latest patient.

“I have switched off your pain receptors so you shouldn’t feel a thing but if you do… feel free to scream,” he smiled in an attempt to put the man at ease but to any sane person it looked wholly sinister.

As the doctor made his way to the head of the metal table the nurse approached the bed. Pieces of her face were remodelled with old parts and stitched together with real skin giving a gruesome patchwork effect. One of her arms was also a prosthetic limb but it was twisted unnaturally toward her from the elbow. The patient grimaced under the cold watchful eye of the broken nurse.

The doctor raised the top half of the table, raising the man’s head and torso along with it. He slid open a panel in the shiny metal revealing the man’s neck port. Taking a large syringe he placed the end into the hole and squeezed the plunger. Nanotechnology contained within the liquid, worked their tiny mechanical bodies toward the man’s brain.

“Don’t worry; in a few short days you will forget you ever needed an operation. No more pain” cooed the doctor soothingly.
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GhostLine
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Post by GhostLine »

This reads very well. Good editing.
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