I stood on the edge of my balcony as the sun rose over the horizon. I was scrolling through the news on my HoloWatch with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. Most of the day's top stories included pictures of Chase Huxley's stupid face. Most of the headlines said something along the lines of Up and coming model, Chase Huxley, caught in a devastating car accident. If only someone was there to warn him about his impending doom. Oh wait, someone did, it was me and if he'd taken my advice he could've avoided the crash. Chase died as he lived, drunk and stupid.
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I was so frustrated I wanted to scream, but I lacked the voice box required to do so, instead, I took a deep inhalation of the pink and blue smoke from my cigarette. In the year 2067, the masses had stopped partaking in nicotine. Humanity was ready to move on to bigger and better things. Well, that was until Bionic Corp created their very own type of cigarette. They called them Hazebriars. They produced smoke the color of rainbows, came in over 7,000 flavors, and happened to be ten times more addictive than any of their predecessors. I tried my first one when I was eight, I've been hooked on them since.
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I held the smoke in my bionic lungs until I couldn't stand it any longer. I let out a long exhale, releasing the colorful mist. I glared at Chase's photo. The last thing I needed was another person's death on my conscience. I gazed towards the sky with a look of pleading in my eyes. Haven't I been through enough? How much longer must I suffer for what I've done? If there was a way I could atone for the cyborgs I've killed, I would take it, but there isn't!
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I took another drag of my cigarette. I scowled at Chase's dumb picture one last time. He's not even that good-looking by model standards. He's just so confident, he misleads you into thinking he's more attractive than he is. He's the human equivalent of one of those bland oil paintings they sell in the bargain bin, pretty at first glance but completely lacking any substance.
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The door to the balcony slid open. I turned around to see my sister standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms. "I thought you said you were going to quit smoking."
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"I never said that," I replied, in sign language.
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She pursed her lips. "You need to stop doing that, you're going to get lung cancer!"
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"My lungs are synthetic, they can't get cancer." I signed.
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She blew a strand of her magenta-colored out of her eyes. "I'm worried about you."
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"If you're so concerned, why don't you come out here and take it from me?" I extended the arm holding the cigarette towards her. It was so close she could reach it, if she took a step outside.
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Marisa physically recoiled from my suggestion."You're a jerk." Tears welled up in her eyes. She stormed off without another word.
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That was a low blow, I'll admit it.
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Agoraphobia. An anxiety disorder that causes fear of open spaces, public transit, shopping centers, or in my sister's case leaving the apartment at all. She was first diagnosed when she was fourteen, but it's gotten much worse over the years. Patch doesn't know how to help her, neither do I for that matter.
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A few minutes later, Patch joined me on the balcony. "Your sister seems pretty upset."
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"I was being an asshole." I signed.
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"She loves you."
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I stared down at the ground.
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"She told me you started smoking again."
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"I never stopped."
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He gave an impassive nod.
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"Are you mad at me?"
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"For smoking? Nah." He pulled his own box of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if I did. What flavor do you have?"
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"Cotton Candy."
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He gave me a dirty look. "Now I'm mad. You need to graduate to a more manly flavor." He proudly displayed his beef jerky flavored ones for reference.
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I smiled but shook my head. Cotton Candy is the supreme flavor and nothing can top it.
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Patches eye drifted over to the news article on my HoloWatch, but he didn't say anything.
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"I tried to warn him, but it didn't make a difference." I signed.
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Patch put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Do you remember when you and Marisa dyed your hair for the first time?"
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I nodded, having no idea where he was going with this. Patch had gone away for the weekend, and Marisa had the bright idea that we should dye our hair while Patch wasn't there to stop us. I'd snuck over to the convenience store and bought two of the cheapest boxed dyes they had. She'd dyed her hair neon pink, and I'd chosen stark white. We didn't look too bad, but we'd trashed the bathroom in the process.
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"Do you remember how you took all the blame even though 90% of the stains were pink?"
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I nodded again.
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He sighed. "My point is, you always take the blame for things that aren't your responsibility. That's why I named you Atlas because you've always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. Stop that! It's not your job to save everyone."
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We sat in silence for a long time.
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"Think about what I said. Okay?" Without another word, Patch went inside and slammed the glass door behind him.
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I stared across the street at a strange figure sitting on a rooftop adjacent to mine. At first, I thought it might be a statue until I caught it move. The figure cocked their head to the side and stared me directly in the eyes, letting me know they were aware of my presence. I stared right back at them, letting them know I wasn't intimidated by them. The mysterious figure pointed at me, then pointed themself and gestured to an adjacent alleyway. The message was clear, my new friend wanted to meet. I wasn't oblivious to the fact that this whole encounter was most definitely a trap, but I didn't have any plans that day, so I agreed to the request.
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Ten minutes later, I greeted the enigmatic individual in the alleyway we'd agreed upon. The figure was terrifying up close. They were well over six feet tall, and had a masculine frame made almost entirely of pure muscle. They wore a full-face mask with a skull painted on it and donned a tattered hood that shrouded most of their appearance. I nonchalantly leaned against the wall. I was determined to seem collected even though my heart was pounding.
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The figure stared at me for a long time, then spoke, "I've never been a particularly sentimental man but, seeing your face, Curseword it really brings me back." The mask appeared to contain some kind of voice changing technology, so everything he said sounded gravelly and distorted.
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I glanced him up and down, trying to figure out who he could be.
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"You don't remember me, Curseword? After everything, we've been through? That hurts my feelings." He punched the brick wall, causing part of it to crumble. He was most likely a cyborg, most humans don't have that level of strength.
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I nodded towards his mask, daring him to remove it.
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He ran a hand along the edge of his mask. "No, I think I'll keep the mask on if that's okay with you."
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I shrugged.
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"Deep down you already know who I am, don't you?"
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I shook my head.
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"I am the deliverer of retribution." He pulled a pistol out of the holster and aimed it at my head. "Tell me who you gave the code to!" Any trace of sociability instantly left his demeanor. "Who did you share the Annihilation Code with?"
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I rapidly shook my head and mouthed the words, no one. That was the truth. The Annihilation Code is a secret I will take to my grave.
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"You're a lair!" He fired a bullet. I quickly ducked out of the way of the bullet, but it nearly grazed my ear. The man reloaded his gun. "Someone has been killing cyborgs left and right all over this city, and they're using the Annihilation Code to do it! You were the only one who knew it! Which means you told someone! Who was it?"
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I shook my head again. I didn't tell anyone.
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He aimed the pistol at me again. Just as he was about to fire when a loud crash sounded behind him. He spun around to face the noise. "What the hell was that."
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While he was distracted, I reached for my tranquilizer gun and fired it into the side of his neck, knocking him unconscious. What? Did you seriously think I'd walk into an obvious ambush without a weapon?
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I walked towards the cause of the sound. A small gray cat appeared behind from a knocked over garbage can. Good girl, Venus. You saved me. I picked up my beloved kitty and patted her on the head. She responded with happy purring.
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I turned around to get a look at the man who had confronted me several minutes ago, but he was gone! How was he gone? The tranquilizer is supposed to last for eight hours at least. Is it possible someone else moved the body? I didn't even hear anything, perhaps there was a sinister force hiding in the shadows.
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