#1 Shades of Gray Noir, City Shrouded By Darkness- Sci-Fi Horror Suspense Serial Read online

  A six-wheeled robotic Street Sanitizer the size of a small car rumbled down the potholed road past the alley. Nozzles in the front of it and the middle sprayed a cleaning agent. Scrubbing brushes just behind each set of nozzles scoured an oily residue on the road left behind by the Tainted Rain. A vacuum in the back sucked up the dark liquid and stored the polluted water in a large tank. The small vehicles kept the highways and byways from becoming cesspools and without the cleaners, Noir would come to a halt. The loud Street Sanitizer rumbled on, passing a Grub Filter sitting on the sidewalk against a building. The eight foot square metal beast also known as a Grubby pulled in air, filtering out the petroleum based pollutants caused by Dry Clouds. Usually four Grubbies covered each block, but this was Wayfaring Lane; they were lucky to have the one.

  Evening approached as more people filled the street. Some wore Winnow Masks, marking them as recent immigrants to the Dark Half of the planet, but most of them didn’t wear the air filters, having lived in Noir long enough for their lungs to become accustomed to the pollutants. Kat stumbled onto Wayfaring Lane, fleeing the Un-Man with the knife. The Un-Man attacked her four days ago and since then, it had been chasing her in a sadistic cat and mouse game. For the moment, it hadn't found her again, and she knew that because the Un-Man would have triggered her bio-mecha warning like the Un-Men had done when they first entered Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse. Kat also knew she couldn't stop running until she found a place that was safe. Blood caked her left shoulder where one of the Un-Men's bullets had grazed her, and dried plasma crusted the knife cut on her left forearm. Since waking at Etna, she had only eaten what food she could scrounge from trash cans and slept only minutes at a time. Exhaustion and mental anguish were taking their toll on her.

  Weary to the bone, Kat sprinted down an obscure alley, looking over her shoulder and splattering through puddles of Tainted Rain. The black water that smelled of petroleum speckled her t-shirt and pants. She turned the corner and ran into a man who wore a black trench coat. She stumbled back, and he said nothing to her only eyed her curiously, so with a trembling hand, Kat raised her gun and aimed it at him.

  “There’s no need for that,” he said. “My job isn’t to kill you.”

  She was too tired to understand and took two steps back to bolt. Her face showed fatigue, and her eyes had the look of a lost puppy.

  “I’m Argus. My employers the Council have some information for you.” He took a step forward, pushed the gun down to her side, and noted her wounds, including the large bruise on her forehead. He told her, “The Un-Man that the Factory sent after you, the Rogue, is no ordinary bio-mecha. There’s a glitch in its programming. The Council wants you to be extra careful with it, and they also want me to inform you that the only way to defeat it is to reach the Delta Phase of your metamorphosis.”

  Katharine's view...

  I don't understand what he's going on about, so I look to the sidewalk as if I will find the answers there. The world I awoke to is so scary and confusing. Why doesn't someone help me?

  I smooth my left hand over the stubble of my shaven head, trying to wrap my mind around what's happening to me. This has to be a nightmare; it has to be. I finally mumble to him, “You said the Council. I’ve heard that name before. Who are they?”

  Argus starts to leave, so I desperately grab his wrist and plead, “Please tell me. You must at least know me. Please, tell me what my name is.”

  “You don’t know your name?” This bit of information seems to surprise him, and he tells me, “You're the Pandora Project.” He grabs my arm, turns my hand over, and places a 9 mm magazine in my palm. “To survive the tests, never run out of ammo.” Argus turns and starts to head down the street.

  “No! Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Tell me what my real name is! There must be more... I must be more than a project.”

  He pauses and says, “I’m not here to kill you, but I’m also not here to help you. You’re on your own. Though it’s regrettable you have no memory.” He turns to me and sounds sincere as he says, “It must be very frightening not knowing why bio-mechas are trying to kill you.” His face softens for a split second as if he pities me. “It’s simple. You’re being tested, and they’re being tested.” A black sedan pulls up, and he gets in as he yells, “Know one thing, stay alive.”

  The car drives down the road.

  I'm on my own? I don't want to be on my own. What he told me hits me hard as if I just received a death sentence from a judge. I walk over to a building and turn as my knees buckle, and I slide down its rough wall and land in a lump.

  “Someone help me,” I whisper as I put my head on my knees and rock back and forth. “Please, help me.”

  End Katharine's view...

  In the sedan...

  Argus removed his cell phone and made a call as the vehicle turned off of Wayfaring Lane. “I have some new information for the Council,” he started and waited until he was patched in. “Pandora claims to have no memory of who it is and there does appear to be a wound on its forehead.” He paused, listening to their reply. “Understood. I'll continue my surveillance and tell Pandora nothing about itself. As the Council wishes, so it will be done.”

  Back down the street...

  Katharine's view...

  I clench my gun, trying to understand what he told me. Argus said the Un-Men are sent by the Factory, that the one I can't kill is called the Rogue, and that it's no ordinary Un-Man. Who or what is the Factory? Why did they want me dead? The coldness of the sidewalk chills my body, and I wrap my arms around me as I continue to rock back and forth. I find little comfort in my own embrace. Argus said the Council wants me to be extra careful with the Rogue. Is the Council on my side? I don't think so, and what's the Delta Phase? What am I supposed to turn into? I don't understand. What's happening to me? Argus calls them tests, that I'm being tested, and that the Un-Men are being tested. What's the purpose?

  I stare at the Dry Clouds in the dark sky. I know I should get up and flee, but I'm so exhausted, and I'm tired of running and consider letting the Un-Man capture me then I decide against it. I'm more afraid of capture than tired, so I slowly start to rise when panic sets in as my heart sounds the bio-mecha warning.

  End Katharine's view...

  Ultra-Epi rushed through her veins as she stood and franticly looked across the street and searched for the relentless hunting machine. Kat ejected her old magazine and with a shaky hand placed in the new one. The e-field of her body altered as her eyes shimmered with blue electricity. She would later find out the light coming from her eyes was called Ult L-E (Ultra-Epi Light Emissions).

  The Rogue walked toward her down a dark cluttered street lit by neon signs and street lights. The Type Four Model of Un-Man had short, brown, wavy hair and a pale chiseled face. Black smudges from Tainted Rain covered its brown suit. The Rogue passed three hookers and their pimp.

  “Hey there big guy,” one of the women said, sizing up what she thought was a man. “Looking to party?”

  “Yeah,” another said. “Mr. Shades. What ya hiding behind those glasses anyway? Did yer old woman black yer eye?”

  The Rogue turned to the second hooker, and its polarized spectacles reflected a XXX red neon sign. “Old woman? No, but if we party, I will show you what is behind them,” the Rogue spoke as it removed its large knife, grabbed her wrist as the other two women ran off screaming, and then it said, “Let us party.”

  The hooker tried to pull away from the maniac waving a knife.

  “Hey, none of that kinky stuff till we discuss a price,” the pimp demanded as he walked to them.

  The Rogue punched him in the abdomen as it told him, “Mind your manners. I am talking to the lady here.”

  The pimp grabbed his stomach as he snarled, then he pulled a small gun, and spoke, “It isn’t how things work here.”

  “How things work?” it questioned, then still hanging on to the woman, the Ro
gue grabbed the man’s hand that held the weapon, twisted it, and broke his wrist. It stated, “This is how things work in my world.”

  The pimp cried out, dropped the gun, and collapsed to his knees, holding his wrist. “My hand! You broke my hand! Pucker!” he cursed. “You’re going to pay for this!”

  Down the street...

  Kat fled in the other direction, but stopped as the pimp cried out. She glanced at her gun. Everything within her screamed for her to escape while she had the chance, but one small voice told her save them. The flow of the e-field increased, and the blue stage of the Ult L-E glowed brighter. Save them.

  Up the street...

  The hooker, horrified by what she witnessed, tried to pull away and bolt, but the maniac yanked her to him.

  “Do not be rude and leave before the party has started,” it said as it pulled her close and whispered, “Pandora. We have to wait for Pandora.”

  “Pandora? Sick mother-pucker! You can get yer freak on with someone else. Ya creep! Let me go you pucker!” The woman screamed, pulling against his hold and yelled, “Let me go!”

  Kat arrived, raised her gun, and aimed at its forehead as the color of its dot-light changed to a fiery crimson, and a wicked grin slithered across the Rogue’s pale face. She said, “You can release her. I’m here.”

  It looked up. “Ahh... Pandora...” The Rogue paused and then asked, “Let her go? Why would I do that?”

  “Why? I’m your target. Why do you need to hurt anyone else?”

  “Yours is a valid question,” the Rogue stated as it twirled the hooker around, wrapped her up in its arms, and placed its blade against her throat. The hooker whimpered as it continued, “I enjoy it, but bio-mechas are not supposed to feel anything, so that makes me something special, does it not? I think that is why my creators are afraid of me, and why they want to destroy me.” The Rogue scanned Kat, noting her fear and exhaustion. It also noticed her eyes’ bluish afterglow in the darkness of the day and that the light was not normal for a human. The Rogue told her, “It is also the reason you want me dead.”

  “I don’t want you dead. I just want you to stop hunting me!”

  “I cannot,” the Rogue replied as it examined every feature and minute scar of Kat's face and imprinted it to memory. “I am still a machine and at least for now, I cannot escape my programming.”

  Kat hated depending on the gun for her survival and tried to talk her way out. “Maybe your creators are afraid of you, not because you have feelings but because you have the potential to disobey your programming.”

  “You mean like you,” the Rogue accused her and then it laughed. “No, it is my potential for evil that they fear. I am sure of it.” It cut a tiny slit in the hooker’s neck and made her whimper louder. “But what would a machine know of evil? Am I not the product of my creators' hardware and software or was some other thing added to me that makes me different from the other bio-mechas?”

  “I don't know. I only know you're hurting that woman,” Kat answered as she started to pull the trigger.

  The Rogue ducked behind the hooker, so she had no shot as it demanded, “Drop your gun or I will slit her throat. Do it!” It cut deeper into her neck.

  “Okay! Okay!” Kat uttered as she placed the gun on the ground, making herself vulnerable. “Just don't hurt her!”

  “Excellent,” the Rogue spoke as it smirked.

  “Now what?” Kat asked, not sure of her next move and witnessed the Rogue's grin widen.

  It said, “Now you watch me kill her!”

  Before Kat had a chance to utter no, a man came up behind the Rogue.

  “Hey!” the man shouted.

  The Rogue turned as the man swung a metal bat, striking it in the head, and the Rogue stumbled back and released the hooker. The attack knocked its polarized spectacles off, and the damaged frames fell to the street. Kat grabbed her gun and fired two shots, but the Rogue with lightning reflexes evaded the bullets, and then it backhanded the man, knocking him to the ground. It then turned on Kat and froze, seeing a black van with tinted windows speeding their way.

  The Factory had found it and would capture it if the Rogue didn't run, so it turned and fled down an alley, shouting as it ran, “We will finish this another day, Pandora!”

  The hooker rushed over to the pimp and questioned him, “Are ya all right? Oh, yer hand. Let’s get ya to a hospital.”

  The black van sped by them in pursuit of the Rogue as the pounding of Kat’s heart lessened, so she set the safety and tucked her gun in the back waistband of her pants. Her irises lost their radiance as she walked over to the man. He rubbed his bloodied mouth and looked up at her.

  She offered her hand as she said, “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He grabbed her wrist, pulled himself up, and then introduced himself, “The name’s Preacher.” He picked up his metal bat and glanced into the alley the Rogue ran through. “That thing was no man. What was it?”

  “They're called bio-mechas, that model is an Un-Man.”

  “They? There are more of them?”

  “Yes, there are more,” she said and muttered, “There are so many more.”

  “No kidding.” He walked up to a stoop and picked up a white Bible as he commented, “Noir’s getting wilder every day.”

  Kat moved to the Rogue's broken polarized spectacles, picked them up, and peered through them. The lenses were mostly intact and intermediately fizzed and crackled between green lettered readouts across tiny square screens. She realized the polarized spectacles did more than hide their eyes; they relayed tactical data from the Factory and from each other. She dropped them, crushed the polarized spectacles with her shoe in case they carried tracking beacons, and then she started across the street.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Preacher asked as he ran after her.

  Still tired, Kat turned as he placed his hand on her shoulder, and then she repeated, “Where? I... I don’t know.”

  “Well, you look like you could use a meal and clean up a bit.” He noticed the dried blood on her forearm and shoulder and added, “And some first aid.”

  She stared at the thin scraggly man with shoulder length, stringy, black hair. Preacher wore a worn navy blue t-shirt and broken black rim glasses taped in the front. His blue-gray eyes and pearly white smile caught her attention, and they made her feel safe and welcomed. Kat noticed he saw her staring, and she blushed.

  Preacher waved his free hand, thinking she was looking at him as if he was a weirdo. “I’m not being perverted or anything. I run a shelter, the Kitchen. It seems to me you’ve been on the go for a while, so I thought you might be hungry.”

  Kat nodded as her stomach growled.

  “You aren’t much for talking are you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Shy. That’s okay. Come on. I believe grilled cheese and tomato soup are on the menu tonight.”

  Chapter Seven

  Farewell My Friend

  Seven months later...

  32 A.D.C...

  May 25...

  Tuesday...

  7:30 P.M...

  A helicopter flew over Wayfaring Lane just beneath the looming Dry Clouds, and a gust swept up an old newspaper, tumbling it down the potholed blacktop as Preacher and Kat sat on a stoop in front of the Kitchen, watching the people in the neighborhood. He glanced at her and noticed how depressed she appeared. Preacher had never seen someone so lonely or lost, so he rested his rough callused hand on hers. They had been sitting there in silence for about twenty minutes. She was always so distant; he couldn't seem to connect. He knew that they were from two different worlds, but...

  He asked her, “What are you thinking?”

  Katharine's view...

  I stare up at the ever present nemesis of Noir. I've always wondered how something so fluffy and so soft looking could beat back the might of the sun; it's only another question to my endless list of questions. Since a
wakening in Etna Toys, I've discovered nothing about my past. What's my real name? Why am I hunted and tested?

  I glance at my hand. Usually his touch makes me feel better, but not today. Only answers will fill the hollowness of my soul, so I gently pull my hand away from his and rest my hand on my lap. I will do almost anything to find some scrap of my past. If I can just find out if Kat's my real name and where I came from, I'll be happy; it hurts too much not knowing, and I don't think Preacher understands. He doesn't understand how frustrating it is and that in itself hurts. I'm alone in a void of uncertainty and because of that, I'm a stranger in our relationship, but I don't know why I haven't shared this with him and I don't know if I can. Will he understand? I don't think I can take it if he doesn't, so what should I do?

  End Katharine's view...

  When she didn't answer him, Preacher looked down at the Bible he always carried. He was unsure of what to say and searched for words that would comfort. “Katharine, don’t you know there’s more to this life than what you can see?”

  She focused on the book he held and replied, “You have told me, but still there’s something within me that wants to discover who I am.” Kat stared at her worn shoes and spoke softly, “And yet, there’s this part that fears what I might discover.” She turned to him, hoping to find a sympathetic heart and a look of understanding.

  Preacher peered at the street, his attention drawn to a group of kids playing. He smiled, knowing even in Wayfaring Lane children could find time to be children, and he didn’t notice her searching gaze.

  Kat frowned when he didn’t look at her, turned her attention back to her shoes, and then said almost in a whisper, “What if I’m a bad person? What if I’ve done terrible things?”