Pain Case

Part VIII

My trip to New York was less than comfortable. First of all, Nome to JFK Airport is one hell of a long trip. Not to mention that getting in to NYC is like coming from carefree Alaskans to hateful New Yorkers. Yes, it's the greatest city in the world but hell if it ain't because of the people.

I took the train to Brooklyn. Odds were that the man with the eerie, green eye was holed up in the apartment above the jewelry store; it had only been a week since the article and the picture showed him coming out of a door next to the place. In addition to this, I had an uncanny feeling in my gut that he was there. It was that same feeling that you get when the person in front of you, on a crowded platform, is talking about you in a different language. As I got closer, the feeling intensified and it was almost as if my body was preparing itself for a fight.

The train stopped a block away and I felt my heart rate increase. My muscles began to bulge and spasm like an excited virgin on the wedding night. All of a sudden, my mind was racing with fight scenarios and defense strategy but I consciously could care less. My eagerness was simply to meet this man and find out more about what I am now and as I stepped up to his door, I felt that it was this resolve that caused me to control my body and calm it down.

I knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
I knocked again.
No answer.

"Now, see here, mister...."

"Boom!"
A foot came through the door, instantly crushing and breaking my nose. Now, I was mad and the adrenaline surged through me with renewed vigor.

Using the door as a shield, I pushed it into the person behind it. He retorted by using his other foot and pushing off the door to land on the ceiling and pull an FN Five SeveN on me.
Sneaky bastard.

The bullets flew and I pulled my military side arm, a Beretta 9mm, and returned fire. Shreds of paper made it seem as if it were snowing and time its self seemed to slow. I could see the bullets slowly moving around while our bodies continued to move at regular speed. I watched as two bullets collided head on as I moved through mid air to hide behind a wall.

The tiny apartment was shredded and it looked like leopard skin adorned the faded orange walls as the dust began to settle.

[Are you alive?] A voice said in my head.

I didn't know how to answer in my head, so I simply yelled out, "Да! А у меня еще два клипа , мать ублюдок !"

What the fuck? When did I learn Russian?

"Good! You know some Russian," I heard a voice say.
"No! None at all," I said.
"Then why do you continue to speak it?"
"What?" I said.
"You're speaking Russian right now, asshole." He said.

It sounded to me as if I still spoke English but to him, he understood me in Russian.

He must have heard my thoughts because in my head, I heard [you're implant works but you don't. Your self control is impeccable to silence it but how foolish you are to not use it simultaneously to detect danger. Your reflex enhancements are working but... I wonder...]

From behind a corner and then in a flash from the ceiling, he shot me twelve times in the gut.

"It hurts; I know, but your nanites will heal you. You're like a child, doughboy..."
"My name is Ron!"
"Ron, then."

The bullets made their way to the surface of my skin and fell to the floor.

"You dirty sonovabitch..."
"I had to test you, American. Your government gave you 'our' technology and told you nothing? What do you know?"

I stood and stared at him like a lost dog. In all honesty, I was lost. Was I really a glowing green eyed roboman like this guy? I had no idea what was inside me or what "we" were but I'll bet he'd pondered it to no end.

"Actually, I just started thinking about 'us' as a 'we' and please don't refer to me as some sci-fi robot monster."

I forgot the Ruskie could read my mind.

We spent the majority of the night training and discussing the potentials of our device. He told me about the nanites and how they'd fixed me in the armed conflicts I'd been in. He even shot me a couple more times and let me shoot him to see them at work. He told me about torture and a dark essence stirred in me and I have to admit I think I might have liked it. He enjoyed the soldiering tales I had but I think his years of torture taught him enough about human beings that he'd probably have made a better spec. Ops boy than me. I say boy because we both still seemed to look like boys even though we were in our 80's. The nanites kept us young as a side effect of the healing.

To back up for an instant, I found out these nanites were attached to the ocular implant; like a blood, or virtuous humor, that gave it depth when being installed and then reproduced and spread out once inside the body.

In any case, boring and personal information aside, the dossier now set to a man named Hayao Mitzurugi. Apparently, he was the master of "our" device that held the missing links to end the limits on what we knew how to do with it.

So the torturer and the soldier sought the assassin. I may finally have a chance to feel my face again and find the department head that took my humanity and gave me this thing.

"Easy killer. We'll get there."
"Get out of my head, you Ruskie psycho."