Do your duty

A/N: Please note that the the chapter labeled 'chp 2' is a draft and never meant to be published and has been deleted. This chapter is the true second chapter.

Warning: Contain themes of abuse and rape. Affected portions will be highlighted.

XXX

He knelt on the ground, awaiting his judgement. All around him, cyborgs in black uniform welding bulky rifles stood at attention. Ahead of him was a concrete wall riddled with bullet holes.

He knew what awaited him. The ground itself smells of blood.

"Are you ready to accept your fate, traitor?" Someone asked. He tried to turn his head but the person stood directly behind him."You can't kill me. I am an idea, a hope that will never be extinguished."

"Well, you will be extinguished today," the voice taunted, still irritating out of sight. 

Who are you? Davout screamed in his head but the body - his body - refused to bulge. Only his mouth moved, speaking in a voice distinctly different from his.

"You can try. But I will be back. I'm a fault in the system, a part of your empire. You can never kill me."

"Maybe. but I can kill them."

Davout felt himself twisting and caught a glimpse of a woman hugging two children. A wave of panic ran through him, even if he didn't know who they were. "How? I told you guys to escape. This can't be happening."

She sobbed. "I'm so sorry darling, but I cannot… how can I live without you?"

"They mean something to you, huh? Let me cut you a deal. I'll let them go. I'll even provide them with all their needs for life. In return, you die here. Forever. End this cycle."

Davout looked at the dry cracked floor, a feeling of anguish flowing through him. What is happening? I don't understand anything! Who are these people, and who am I?

{CAUTION: CONTAINS RAPE}

Whoever was monologuing leaned closer to him, their voice laced with venom. "And if you don't cooperate, I'll make sure that they would suffer until their dying breath. I'll send your wife to the deepest pits of my dungeon, where the darkest monster created by science would ravage and assault her without mercy. Her tender body would be torn apart, only to be healed to be tormented again and again. I'll sell your children to the most depraved of buyers. Day and night they shall know no rest as their innocent minds are broken by the cruelty of men. And I will tell them - 'your father abandoned you to this fate'. "

{SAFE TO CONTINUE}

"You can run all right. Be reborn into the world, grow up again, have fun. Fly far away, free from the long reach of SoT. But these… apes you call your family - they will pay the price for your treachery. So what do you choose?"

He gritted his teeth. A drop of tears dripped onto the floor. He turned to his family, still huddled together. The younger of the two children pressed her face into her mother's skirt. The older one stood by his mother protectively, despite bleeding from his head and covered in patches of bruises. For a split second, he could see the four of them together, enjoying their simple life, free from the worries of the greater things at work.

His voice came out gravelly and broken. "I… I'm so sorry. I love you guys with all my heart. I really do. But I am on a mission, and now it is time for me to do my duty."

He made his choice. With a sudden ferocity, he twisted out of his bounds and grabbed his executioner. "You are going down with me!"

"Security compromised. Initiating Protocol Downfall. Self-destruction in 5, 4…" an automatic voice said, originating from his core.

The figure merely laughed. "I can't be killed, anymore than you can. You should have grabbed your family instead."

The world exploded in a flash of light.

Davout gasped a deep breath and jolted awake. Just like that, he was back to the sewers. For a minute, he sat in silence, trying to drive the bizarre memories out of his mind.

"Mister Davout? Are you alright? You were twisting around just now," a voice asked gently. He turned his head. The girl he picked up yesterday looked back at him with concern in her eyes.
"I'm fine. It's just a bad dream. Go to sleep. We have a long way to go."

"Alright, Mister Davout," she replied and laid back down, shivering. A dribble of snot made an appearance before she sneezed. She groaned and wiped her nose. "Sorry. I'm wet and cold and this wind just keeps blowing on my back."

"I always forget how frail the human body is," Davout remarked. "With augmented limbs, you don't feel anything."

She nodded and stared at him hopefully.

"You should try sleeping," he suggested again.

"I was thinking, Mister Davout. Since you have metal limbs, you must not feel the cold."

"Correct."

"Well," Angie said, breaking the silence. "I'm cold."

He turned back to her, trying to understand what she was trying to say. "That is very... unfortunate."

"... Yeaaahhhh. Very unfortunate. Nice coat you have there, by the way," she pouted and closed her eyes.

Davout hissed in annoyance. "Why the hell did I save you?"

She didn't answer. Perhaps his words were too soft for someone without physical enhancements to hear.

He stared at her petite frame, huddled into a ball with her hands around her knees. She was thin, but not bony. From her soft curves he guessed that she was chosen to be a breeder before his accidental fight caused her transport to crash.

Breeders are carefully selected for their ability to reproduce and create manpower for the Government. They are trained to be obedient and gentle, following orders like a flock of sheep.

But she was no follower. She was kind enough, but there was steel in her too - not many dare to stand up against a two meter tall cyborg armed to the teeth.

Despite shaking like a branch in a blizzard, she stood up for someone she barely knew. There's few such people left in Atlant City - and Davout happened to know a few of them.

They would agree with her, he thought. Especially Meave.

He considered the risk of bringing her to meet the rest. She would be a great help to the organization, but introducing someone he knew for barely half a day seemed too hasty. He barely knew anything about her yet.

Or maybe I could keep her by my side to learn more about her. His internal drive started heating up at the thought. No, the organization is better equipped than me. They can better access her threat level and conduct a thorough background threat. I should get her to a safehouse as soon as possible.

Having decided on his next course of action, the cyborg resumed a state of steadfast vigilance. He had placed miniature motion sensors in the sewer tunnels around the small maintenance cupboard they were sheltering in. On top of that, a combination of a built-in portable radar mounted on his left thigh as well as thermal vision and ID Detector of his augmented eye lenses ensure that nobody can sneak up on them. Years of body enhancements allowed for prolonged periods without rest - there weren't many organic organs remaining anyway - and so he sat in the darkness and waited.

Sometime later, the girl woke up with another explosive sneeze. Coughing, she rubbed her flushed nose. "Morning, Mister Davout. Is it time to go?"

"Positive. By now the search on topside should have slowed down. We will head for a nearby safehouse and make new plans from there," Davout replied, retracting his extended radar into his thigh and standing up.

Angie's jaw dropped. "Safehouse? In Atlant? Where is it?"

"Four kilometers from here. And yes, there are safehouses all over Atlant City, sheltering escapees, organizing raids. You are not the first of the so called 'Stocks' to break their chains."

Her eyes were as large as a saucer. "But who would help us... are there more people like you?"

"Like minded people... Yes. We share similar goals. The Resistance, they call themselves. Fighting to protect the oppressed. They have supporters all over the city."

Angie followed him wordlessly, no doubt trying to absorb the fact that someone was there for them. The Resistance was one of the best guarded secrets in Atlant, with only those involved knowing its existence. For the commoners and Stocks, the organization is at most a rumor, nothing more.

"Are the Resistance members Evolved?" She asked finally.

Davout phrased his words carefully. "The organization doesn't use such terms to demarcate between cyborgs and pure humans. Augmented or not, are we not all the same species? I might have a synthetic heart, but I still have emotions and feelings, just like you."

"Oh well, you probably are missing a few feelings," Angie replied snidely. "Down there."

The cyborg stopped in his tracks. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"It's just a small joke. But yeah, I agree with you. If only more people think like you do, the world might be a better place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a good person, you know? If you knew what I did in my life…”

“Well, maybe you aren’t perfect. You have a tendency to shoot anything that moves, that’s true, but I can tell that your heart is in the right place. Trust me.”

“Trust you? I trust you as much as you trust me,” Davout smirked. “But you barely knew me for a day. You won’t be so sure a week down the line.”

That shut her up, but what she said nagged at him throughout the journey. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can be good. The thought made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

They emerged from the underground tunnels some ten hours after they first entered from Krisse’s apartment. The long trek had brought them to a run-down area of Atlant City. The towers around them were old and dilapidated, their walls stained with layers of grime and rust. The floor was strewn with trash and riddled with potholes. A few shady figures quickly disappeared into the shadows as soon as they saw them.

Angie looked at the graffiti covered walls around them. To her surprise, many were borderline rebellious, with some openly calling for the demise of the Government. “Are we still in Atlant? I can’t imagine those in power would tolerate stuff like this.”

“Not really. They aren’t really affected by the changing of the Government.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t the Government the rulers of this land?”

“That’s what most people think. But there is actually someone higher than them, pulling the strings behind the curtains.”

“And who is that?”

“I’ll tell you next time. We're here,” Davout replied as they stopped in front of a closed store. He knocked on a metal door beside the gate. A latch slid open.
“Who are you?” An accented voice asked.

“Davout. And my… associate. We need a place to crash.”

The door swung open, revealing a man in his late twenties. He wore a loose tunic with little yellow triangles printed all over them, tied at his waist by a braided string. He broke into a grin as soon as he saw them. “Davout! My friend! How have you been?”

“Hi, Muthalath. It’s been a while. Let’s talk inside.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course. Pardon the mess. Had I know there will be visitor i would have tidied up-”

“Like you actually would!” An old lady interjected, emerging from behind the door. Her silvery hair was tied up into a bun and she wore a white apron over a simple pink dress. Raising her roller, she smacked his head lightly. “Everyday I tell you to clean up the house but you never listen. And now you throw our family’s name in front of guests.”

“Sorry, Jida,” Muthalath mumbled.

“And you, Frog. What are you waiting for? Come on in,” she continued. However, the sight of Angie shivering behind him made her narrow her eyes. “Who’s the poor lass behind you? Why is she not wearing anything? Frog, what have you been doing with her?”

“It’s not what you think, Jida. Mister Davout saved me,” Angie hurriedly explained. “He rescued me from a Government transport.”

“And dragged you through half the sewers of the city, no doubt. I can smell many things, and now my nose tells me that you are in need of a good bath. Follow me, we’ll get you cleaned up right away,” she said, grabbing the girl’s wrist and pulling her deeper into the store. “Make yourself at home, Frog, although I ought to give you a good earful. Making a girl run around Atlant with nothing but cold wind on her back? You must have no shame. Think of how she felt!”

Something clicked in his mind. “Oh, so that’s what she wanted.”

For a moment he wondered if he should apologize, but the two ladies had long since disappeared into the back of the store, which doubled as a living room.
“Ahh well, excuse my Jida. She is pretty eccentric sometimes. Now just let me lock the door… and would you take off your shoes please? Thank you,” latching the last lock in place, he turned to face the cyborg, now slouched over to avoid hitting the low ceiling. “How can I help you, my friend?”

“I need a secure line to HQ, and maybe a place to chill for a while. They are probably still looking for me up there.”

"Sure, but what happened?" Muthalath replied, adding some tea leaves into a pot of boiling water.

Davout shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Same as usual. Went on a mission, nearly got caught, crashed into this Government transport carrying a bunch of girls."

"And where are they now?"

"Dead. The transport exploded."

The darker man froze, his two remaining organic fingers twitching. "That's a pity."
"Yeah."

Muthalath threw a glance at the back of the store. "And what about her?"

"She's the lone survivor of her group. I asked if she'd rather join me or die, and she chose the former."

"You're a charmer, aren't you?" He poured some tea into a cup and offered it to Davout together with some cookies. "Have some, Jida made them today."

"Thank you," he accepted, inhaling the cookies in one go. His biofuel generator went to work, transforming the carbon based fuel into energy to run his augmented body. "They are delicious. On a side note, can I use your communicator?"

"Yes, of course. Give me a moment."
The cyborg nodded and leaned back, surveying the store. Muthalath ran a small business selling second hand machineries and augmentations. Thus the shop was filled with all kinds of hardware, from engines made from salvaged materials to body modifications pried from bodies from the morgue.
It was kind of creepy seeing some of the equipment lying around came from those who have died. It was like a butcher's shop for cannibals. But Muthalath was a good man. He would never go so far as to end a life for the sake of money, or at least Davout hoped so.

"There, it's done," Muthalath said as the machine he was working on whined and flickered on. A hologram appeared.

"Muthalath, why did you call us? Is there something to report?" The projection was wavy at first, but slowly solidified into the form of a man. Wearing a dark suit, he slumped in his chair, as if there was a heavy load on his shoulders. His hair, sparse from stress, was swept neatly to one side, glistening with oil. A pair of thin, dark eyes regarded them tiredly, heavy eyebags hanging below like heavy storm cloud.

"Greetings, Sun. I'm calling on behalf of Davout, who has something to tell you."

"Ah, Davout. It is good to hear from you again. I assume the mission went well?"

"Positive. The package has been delivered."

"Good. We are one step closer to our final goal," The figure nodded approvingly. "What is it that you needed to say?"

Davout took a deep breath. "There is someone I'd like to join the Resistance."