#maybe YOU want to watch a girl in a big frilly dress shoot rainbows

[lesbiansanemi]

Ripping apart everyone whose response to “I want more and better women in shounen” is “just watch shoujo” biting and maiming and killing

[condenscedchaos]

Sneak peek at Chapter 1 (not the final edit)

1

“If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.”

-Charles Bukowski

Brooklyn, NY

     The interrogation room was sweaty, it smelled of piss and sick. It was as if all the disgusting things that have passed through this room somehow left their mark on it. Embedded themselves in the linoleum and cheap furniture. Cleanliness wasn't a priority outside the protected zones of the city. They had much bigger problems to contend with, how to stay alive, where your next meal was coming from. Chances are if you wound up in this interrogation room things aren't going as planned.

    Mickey was sitting there bleeding, bandaged, and sore, eating some soy cheese puffs. Some would say his ability to remain calm was a big part of his charm, others just thought it made him seem like an asshole. The Police Interrogation Android or PIA for short was what they used so they didn’t have to hire as many cops as the city really needed. It was a piss poor replacement for human interaction. It wheeled itself in, it’s wheels squeaking and making lots of noise. The doors unlocking as he entered. It had a fiberglassed exterior housing a sturdy mechanical body. It looked like it had been attacked a few times before and even had some graffiti on it’s face and duct tape holding together it’s less than vital bits. It’s was top of the line for those living outside the city’s walls.

The PIA’s synthesized voice abruptly cut through the silence. “Do you know why you are in our custody today?���

Mickey without even looking up shot back a response “: I don’t know; you don’t like eating alone?”

The PIA, unphased continued with it’s pre programed line of questioning. “No sir. You are here today because we want your account of events for the record.”

Mick finally looked up from his bag of soy cheese puffs “Why? You know what happened.”

“We have an accounting of the events, but anything you say can be used to assist you in court.” The PIA responded with it’s programed empathy.

“...or against me” Mick mumbled halfway under his breath

“Sir  you have already been notified of that” the robotic voice stated dryly. It reminded Mick of one of those old timey robots from the 1950’s. Like at any moment it would wheel itself around the room wildly and yell “Danger! Danger!”

“Alright copper, what do you want to know?” Mick said while trying to do his best gangster voice. He leaned back in his chair picking at a bandage on his arm. It had some sort of cartoon character on it and it was a bright pink with rainbows.

“We need your accounting of the events you were involved in” it stated dryly

“You mean the truth?” Mickey asked with the hint of a grin

“Yes.”

Standing up abruptly and yelling at the android “You can’t handle the truth!”

The PIA was again unphased “A Few Good Men 1992” Very funny. Please sit back down and continue Mr Grey. These investigation androids were designed to interact better with humans, they didn’t get offended by humor, unlike the ones that patrolled the streets.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.” and he sits down slightly pouting, “Well it all started on Thursday night, I was just getting finished up fighting some battle bots for the prize money down at The Forged Hammer in Red hook. A couple of buddies were planning on meeting up with me there to grab a few drinks and shoot the shit.

     The Forged Hammer was a blue collar bar. One of the larger bars in Red Hook. It was in an old cattle processing plant. Most people went there for cheap food and to watch someone get their ass kicked by the robots that fought in the cage. They would bet on how long someone would last in the cage. They called it “Asimov’s Doom.”  The owner had the idea to get a bunch of fighting droids and even a few military and police droids set up to fight. So these things were harmless if you stayed away from them. However if you tried to get past them to the door they were protecting they would kick the holy hell out of you.  If you made it out of the cage they would deactivate. Most people would last seconds. A few might make it into the minutes.

     So usually every few months I would come back for some extra cash. Most people couldn’t fight droids, and especially not battlebots.  Luckily I wasn’t a typical fighter. I  was one of the ones that discovered they had magic in them. I didn’t know how to cast spells or anything fancy like that but he learned that if he concentrated hard enough I could pretty much make my body do whatever I really needed it to do.

“Sir are you claiming that you have some sort of magical ability?” The PIA queried.

“I’m not claiming anything, I’m flat out telling you.” Mickey’s face serious now.

“There has never been any definitive proof of magic and the Federal government doesn’t recognize magical abilities as authentic. Is there any way you can prove that you have these abilities”

“Sure.” and he held his index finger over the linoleum table and small arcs of electricity bridged the gap between his fingers and the table.

“How did you do that, sir?” The android asked unperturbed.

“Well everything has electricity in it, humans have it in their nervous system, in our brains. In each molecule and atom. Everything in this world that has an electron has electricity in it. I just focus on producing more and more of it until it is visible.”

“Thank you sir, this has been recorded for further reference. Please continue.”

“So after I made it through the cage the place was a mad house. The music bumped on in the background, a holographic band played in the corner. A cover of a South Korean pop artist being played in flapper style got all the hipster girls bobbing and dancing along with the beat. I made a cool six thousand in cash that night and all the free drinks I wanted. Life was good.  I had my choice of any of the bot fight groupies, but tonight was for the boys. A sultry redheaded waitress named Karla walked up to his table winked and dropped off a bottle of beer I didn’t order. It had a heart drawn on the napkin stuck to it. She was a short little thing, barely would be able to see over the table on this stage without those platforms she wore. She was wearing a short frilly little jean skirt and oh lord it had me thinking things. She was foxy in that “ I will flirt with you and kick your ass” sort of way. I guess that’s the sort of attitude you need to cultivate in a job like that. Especially outside the walls of the city.

Life was dangerous out here, more brutal than the wild west. At least in  the old west they didn’t have androids chasing you down and curb stomping you for breaking a law. Guy got killed just the other day for Jaywalking. I still walk past the stain he left on the sidewalk two weeks later. They made a statement claiming the droid was decommissioned but we all knew that was a lie. It would just have it’s exterior plates changed or painted and back out on the street in a few months.

Thinking about shit like that always brought Boris to mind. He was one of the guys who was coming to meet me there that night. That crazy Russian bastard could control almost anything remotely. It was always weird how he was tinkering with all sorts of tech when we were younger, so I guess flying drones for the Air Force was a logical evolution. Bastard even took over a train one time because it was passing his stop. It made me laugh while I was sitting there drinking by myself and bleeding.

You get strange looks while you sit at a table bleeding and drinking by yourself, or maybe it’s because I’m covered in blood and beat up seven battle bots by myself. Either way the crowd was keeping it’s distance. The music shifted, and a different hologram singer came on, her voice was deep and throaty. This one was different, it walked around the room, it wasn’t a static hologram like the other one. The band behind her began to snap its fingers. She was wearing a long sequined dress that pushed up her ample bosom, she had long crimped red hair. Her lips were as red as fresh blood, and every word out of them was making love to me.

I can't see where you comin' from

But I know just what you runnin' from:

And what matters ain't the "who's baddest" but

The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby

And you feel like you feelin' now

And doin' things just to please your crowd,

When I love you like the way I love you,

And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

Every time I close my eyes, I think,

I think about you inside,

And your mother, givin' up on askin' why -

Why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make

A fool outta she...

I can't see where you comin' from,

But I know just what you're runnin' from.

And what matters ain't the "who's baddest," but the

Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

    A loud bang on the table broke my hypnotic gaze on the music “MICK! Comrade, get the fuck over here!” as he wrapped his huge hairy arms around me squeezing the life from my body. I could almost hear him cooing like some sort of giant fucking pigeon.

    When he finally let go I could feel my face flushed with blood. His big broad grin shined through his beard.

“How the hell are ya? Where’s Keane?” I asked still trying to catch my breath

    “He’s running a little late like always. He’s been obsessing over this new program he created. He just ordered a custom hard light holographic projector; so who knows what the hell he’s up to.”  After a few rounds and stories told, an almost skeletal thin tall man walked in, it wasn’t hard to miss him. Over six foot tall dressed in all white and with matching white hair something that contrasted against his dark skin. His steps were measured and he did well to weed throughout the crowds as best he could without anyone touching him. His jacket had the sheen of an anti photography coating. The type that blizzards the lens when someone snaps a shot of you. You had to wonder if he had something similar going on with his hair. Keane always was a little paranoid, and working for these tech companies didn’t help anything.

    That same red head from before dropped by with a bucket of beer for the table. “Want anything else Mick?”

“Me? All I want is you red, but maybe ask these guys” Motioning to Keane and Boris.

Keane coughed while asking “Can  I please have a tea with honey and lemon?” He asked with a little bit of his Trinidadian accent coming out.

“And throw a little whiskey in there too” Boris added without being asked.

    Karla came back with his tea and a shot of whiskey on the side. Keane handed it to Boris and it vanished in an instant. It was a good time and then once it got later into the night with the help of some liquid courage some guy got the guts to give Asimov’s doom a go. He towered over Mickey and his arms were wider than Keane’s torso. He was a biker, one from around the neighborhood. Good guys actually, they were known for making sure people got home safe late at night, they even had a community garden that they grew real food to give children and struggling families.

    He stepped into the cage, shirtless and covered in tattoos. Shouts of his buddies all wearing the same cut yelled and told him that he could do it. He stepped forward and activated the first android. It was a new one they had to pull from the storage, an older model than the ones that Mick fought. Most likely some cheap Yugoslavian knock off from back in 2038. He punched it where the neck met the head, it’s weak spot. He broke his hand badly, blood erupted into the cage, the fight was done. Then it grabbed his arm, the forearm and shoulder and with a swift movement twisted and jerked it him so that he was facing the ground. It broke his right arm in two places before they shut it down. Poor bastard. They had to rush him to the local doc to try and get him fixed up.

    Soon the place quieted down, most of the crowd cleared out a little after midnight. That just left the three of them and the regulars that usually closed down the place to drink and talk late into the night.