( Hello! I'd like to preface this by saying that this is an older scene I wrote in Google Docs which I pasted here. There's a lot of context to the character in this story, Zero, and the world/plot at large, but just enjoy the ride for now! All you need to know is that Zero is a vigilante who is rumored by some to be an android, or otherwise inhuman. )
Mature themes.
TW: violence, psychological horror(?), threats, references to human trafficking, strong language, vomiting
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Away.
The only destination he had was away.
The man stood motionless, staring at the headlights that scattered the light of rain which fell from an inky sky. Fear gripped him too tightly to yell at the driver that nearly ran him over. Adrenaline worked against him as his flight response kept trying to yank him into another dash, but he stood frozen as though the street under him had sucked in his feet and locked him into place. Finally, desperation took over. His legs unrooted themselves, and he took off once more.
He had to run. Away from it. Away from that thing.
The man forced himself not to look back as he tore through alleyways, breath catching in his throat. He grabbed a chain-link fence, pulling himself up and weeping curses under his breath as he heaved himself over the edge of it and tumbled hard into a puddle on the ground below. He pushed himself up, shoes scraping against the slick pavement as he scrambled back into his wobbly sprint through the wet alley.
The man rounded a corner sharply, nearly losing his balance, and skidded to a halt to lean against the wall of a vacant building. He bent forward to rest his forehead and palms against the wet brick, coughing, and heaving as his throat and lungs burned like acid. He wasn’t sure if the burning was from running or from the vomit he just choked out.
Still spitting out bile, the man sucked in a sharp breath when he felt his palms sting. Slowly, he peeled one trembling hand off the wall to inspect it. His skin was covered in jagged scratches that remained deep in red no matter how much rainwater washed them.
“Oh, fuck,” he cursed between ragged breaths, realizing how badly he screwed up, the situation he was now in, and what it would inevitably face him with. He couldn’t call his partner for help. All communication lines with him were cut the moment his sector was compromised. Ghosted him like a coward to save his own skin.
"Backstabbing snake," he whispers.
He thought the worst that could happen was the police busting him and taking him in. Ten to twenty years, rotting in prison. Now it was all he hoped for.
Why did it have to be the android? Or whatever the hell that thing was.
The fucking terminator of vigilantes was hunting him down like some mechanical hellhound, and all he could do was run until, eventually, he would be dragged into the pit.
The man stood, catching his breath for a few precious moments until he heard something smack into a puddle around the corner he had just run from. Could’ve been the rain — might’ve been nothing. But he wasn’t about to find out.
Gasping, he staggered away from the wall and started looking for an entrance into the building. Finding a broken window, he heaved himself up onto the ledge and crawled through the opening. Once he was teetering over the building’s floor, he pushed one knee through, and then the other, and jumped down.
His hands fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a battered burner phone, wet, trembling fingers slipping and sliding on its slick surface. The phone was old — practically ancient. He had to actually put a plug in a hole on the phone to charge it, the touch screen glared in bright lights, making it annoying to look at, and it was so fragile that dropping it on the ground or in water could render it useless. But it was cheap and the outdated technology meant that his activity would be harder to trace.
He switched it on, using the dim, flickering light of his screen as a torch to navigate the dark. Aside from his burner phone, the only other light source came from street lamps and was filtered through windows with grime so thick he could rub off a path with his finger. From what he could make out, the inside was in disrepair: graffitied walls and pillars, cracked concrete floors, exposed pipes and wires from the crumbling ceiling.
He held his phone up, its light barely cutting through the darkness of the building. The deeper he ventured, the filthier the air seemed as the light from his phone caught flecks of shimmering dust that hung in the air.
A sharp crunch beneath his foot made him halt. Glass. He cursed silently, slowing his steps to avoid making too much noise. The brittle silence pressed on him, amplifying every sound. He moved forward again, mind racing.
In an effort to look in front of him, he neglected to look below. With his heart lurching, he tripped over broken rebar that was left over from the crumbling ceiling of the first floor. The man caught himself before he fell down, but his stomach dropped as the metal grated harshly against the bare concrete floors, disrupting the silence. He froze, hand flying to his mouth and nose to muffle the sound of his heavy, quickening breath as panic flooded him.
From the corner of his eyes was a fleeting glimpse of movement that seemed to melt into the darkness. So subtle he wasn’t sure it was even real, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
The man unlatched his shaky hand from his face and picked the rebar up, gripping it tightly and ignoring the scathing scrapes on his palm. The palpitations in his chest intensified, and his ears filled with the sound of pumping blood. With wild, darting eyes, he searched for something he could swing the piece of metal at or thrust into.
“Come out, you ugly bastard, so I can impale you!” he rasped. He meant to sound menacing, but his voice, thin and shaky, only choked the words out. “I’ve got a mechanic friend who’ll love ya,” he muttered weakly under his breath.
He refused to call it by its name. Zero. That’s what some called it. They named it like it was some sort of savior. Or maybe it named itself.
The man frantically swept the screen light around the room, eyes darting from one corner to the next, then back to the window he crawled through. Nerves frayed, he stood frozen, each second dragging on as he searched for any trace of movement.
What felt like minutes of dread went by as he stood grounded in place, but there were no more signs of a presence. The weakness in his knees ebbed away as tentative relief washed over him. He might have actually outrun the damn thing. He could hang out here for a while, at least until sunrise. Stay the night and let the piece of junk go on a wild goose chase searching for him.
The man turned away from the window, pointing the light from his phone in the direction he wanted to go. As the beam swept the area, something glossy caught the light, reflecting back at him just a few feet away.
A sharp yelp escaped him before he could stifle it. He swung the rebar towards the faint glow on the android’s faceplate as hard as he could. It was so damn close to him that he was sure he wouldn’t miss it if he just gave it a few swings.
The android moved with eerie precision, leaning to the side and dodging with an oddly natural grace. The man swung again, all intent focused on bashing the piece of metal as hard as he could into its head. He felt the rebar make contact and his chest filled with glee — until he realized it was caught mid-swing in the android’s firm hand.
With a sharp yank, the metal was torn from his hand, sending him staggering. Before he could recover, something struck his legs, knocking his feet under him, losing his position at a dizzying pace. He got back up to break into an uneven sprint again, only to get struck in the back of the head this time as if by the shadows themselves. His body twisted, and he smacked hard onto the concrete floor, the impact rattling through him. His thoughts scattered as his phone flew from his hand, the light from it going dark as it skidded beyond his reach.
Everything spun, senses shaken, leaving him disoriented. His hands stung — glass biting into his palms as he pushed himself up — and the cold floor pressed against the front of his body. The red lights of Zero’s body flickered awake, emerging from the darkness and approaching him.
He flipped himself over and scrambled backward away from Zero, but it merely stalked closer to him in a slow prowl. His crawling retreat came to an abrupt halt as his back hit a wall. Trapped, he sank back to the ground, bending his knees towards him, arms outstretched in front of his head to protect his face. He peeked through the space between his hands, looking up at the android from where he lay. His face was written with terror as he whimpered.
“Quit the hysterics,” it said. The voice was deep and distorted, ringing with a metallic timbre, devoid of feeling. Its cadence was close enough to human that it only made the voice more unsettling. It was taller than the man by a few inches — had to be — and covered from head to toe with black cloth and plating. In place of a face was a cold, sleek fiberglass shell. But even expressionless, there was a taunting edge to its words — words which dripped with cold disdain.
“You think I’m being hysterical?!” He screeched, his breath tattered and broken by sobs.
There was a pause as Zero gazed down at him, motionless, its unreadable face tilted slightly as if considering. “Yes,” it replied flatly.
It was mocking him. He could feel it. Humiliation burned through wet eyes. His face, already melted in the weeping mess that it was, twisted in anger. It was fucking making fun of him.
He imagined launching himself at it, throttling the android, tearing it apart limb by limb, piece by piece. But the fantasy crumbled the moment Zero took a step towards him, instantly replaced by a desperation to get away.
“The way you’re feeling now,” it spoke again, still towering over him, statuesque, “I wonder if that’s how they felt too.”
“I don't know what you’re talking about —” the man stammered, his voice cracking.
“Don’t insult me,” Zero cut him off, its voice dropping to a lower, more threatening tone. “The children.”
His stomach churned, hands shaking as he pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could disappear in it. “I never touched them, I just —”
“Facilitated it?” It took another step.
“I didn’t have a —”
“Be quiet,” Zero snapped. “You profited off of their misery.”
With eerie calm, Zero descended into a crouch, reaching for the cracked burner phone. It picked it up and inspected the glass, small pieces chipping off as it turned the device over in its grip. Without a word, it slipped the phone into a pocket on its cargo pants.
The damn thing wears pants.
Why the fuck does it wear pants?
“And your misery?” Zero’s voice grew slow and deliberate. “I won’t profit from it. But I don’t have to.”
Still crouched, Zero upturned one gloved palm, and just above it, a soft, throbbing orb of light hummed to life. Though small, the orb radiated an intense heat that hit the man’s face like a blazing sun. As the heat pressed against his skin, he turned his face away.
With Zero’s free hand, it reached down to its boot and withdrew something small and metallic. Resting an elbow on its knees, Zero directly faced the man, who still cowered against the wall. The light of the orb caught the edge of the object, and the man’s breath stopped as he recognized it even in darkness.
Zero’s distorted, quiet whisper filled his ears, cold and final, like the blade in its hands.
“Tell me about your employer.”
Mature themes.
TW: violence, psychological horror(?), threats, references to human trafficking, strong language, vomiting
----------------------------------------
Away.
The only destination he had was away.
The man stood motionless, staring at the headlights that scattered the light of rain which fell from an inky sky. Fear gripped him too tightly to yell at the driver that nearly ran him over. Adrenaline worked against him as his flight response kept trying to yank him into another dash, but he stood frozen as though the street under him had sucked in his feet and locked him into place. Finally, desperation took over. His legs unrooted themselves, and he took off once more.
He had to run. Away from it. Away from that thing.
The man forced himself not to look back as he tore through alleyways, breath catching in his throat. He grabbed a chain-link fence, pulling himself up and weeping curses under his breath as he heaved himself over the edge of it and tumbled hard into a puddle on the ground below. He pushed himself up, shoes scraping against the slick pavement as he scrambled back into his wobbly sprint through the wet alley.
The man rounded a corner sharply, nearly losing his balance, and skidded to a halt to lean against the wall of a vacant building. He bent forward to rest his forehead and palms against the wet brick, coughing, and heaving as his throat and lungs burned like acid. He wasn’t sure if the burning was from running or from the vomit he just choked out.
Still spitting out bile, the man sucked in a sharp breath when he felt his palms sting. Slowly, he peeled one trembling hand off the wall to inspect it. His skin was covered in jagged scratches that remained deep in red no matter how much rainwater washed them.
“Oh, fuck,” he cursed between ragged breaths, realizing how badly he screwed up, the situation he was now in, and what it would inevitably face him with. He couldn’t call his partner for help. All communication lines with him were cut the moment his sector was compromised. Ghosted him like a coward to save his own skin.
"Backstabbing snake," he whispers.
He thought the worst that could happen was the police busting him and taking him in. Ten to twenty years, rotting in prison. Now it was all he hoped for.
Why did it have to be the android? Or whatever the hell that thing was.
The fucking terminator of vigilantes was hunting him down like some mechanical hellhound, and all he could do was run until, eventually, he would be dragged into the pit.
The man stood, catching his breath for a few precious moments until he heard something smack into a puddle around the corner he had just run from. Could’ve been the rain — might’ve been nothing. But he wasn’t about to find out.
Gasping, he staggered away from the wall and started looking for an entrance into the building. Finding a broken window, he heaved himself up onto the ledge and crawled through the opening. Once he was teetering over the building’s floor, he pushed one knee through, and then the other, and jumped down.
His hands fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a battered burner phone, wet, trembling fingers slipping and sliding on its slick surface. The phone was old — practically ancient. He had to actually put a plug in a hole on the phone to charge it, the touch screen glared in bright lights, making it annoying to look at, and it was so fragile that dropping it on the ground or in water could render it useless. But it was cheap and the outdated technology meant that his activity would be harder to trace.
He switched it on, using the dim, flickering light of his screen as a torch to navigate the dark. Aside from his burner phone, the only other light source came from street lamps and was filtered through windows with grime so thick he could rub off a path with his finger. From what he could make out, the inside was in disrepair: graffitied walls and pillars, cracked concrete floors, exposed pipes and wires from the crumbling ceiling.
He held his phone up, its light barely cutting through the darkness of the building. The deeper he ventured, the filthier the air seemed as the light from his phone caught flecks of shimmering dust that hung in the air.
A sharp crunch beneath his foot made him halt. Glass. He cursed silently, slowing his steps to avoid making too much noise. The brittle silence pressed on him, amplifying every sound. He moved forward again, mind racing.
In an effort to look in front of him, he neglected to look below. With his heart lurching, he tripped over broken rebar that was left over from the crumbling ceiling of the first floor. The man caught himself before he fell down, but his stomach dropped as the metal grated harshly against the bare concrete floors, disrupting the silence. He froze, hand flying to his mouth and nose to muffle the sound of his heavy, quickening breath as panic flooded him.
From the corner of his eyes was a fleeting glimpse of movement that seemed to melt into the darkness. So subtle he wasn’t sure it was even real, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
The man unlatched his shaky hand from his face and picked the rebar up, gripping it tightly and ignoring the scathing scrapes on his palm. The palpitations in his chest intensified, and his ears filled with the sound of pumping blood. With wild, darting eyes, he searched for something he could swing the piece of metal at or thrust into.
“Come out, you ugly bastard, so I can impale you!” he rasped. He meant to sound menacing, but his voice, thin and shaky, only choked the words out. “I’ve got a mechanic friend who’ll love ya,” he muttered weakly under his breath.
He refused to call it by its name. Zero. That’s what some called it. They named it like it was some sort of savior. Or maybe it named itself.
The man frantically swept the screen light around the room, eyes darting from one corner to the next, then back to the window he crawled through. Nerves frayed, he stood frozen, each second dragging on as he searched for any trace of movement.
What felt like minutes of dread went by as he stood grounded in place, but there were no more signs of a presence. The weakness in his knees ebbed away as tentative relief washed over him. He might have actually outrun the damn thing. He could hang out here for a while, at least until sunrise. Stay the night and let the piece of junk go on a wild goose chase searching for him.
The man turned away from the window, pointing the light from his phone in the direction he wanted to go. As the beam swept the area, something glossy caught the light, reflecting back at him just a few feet away.
A sharp yelp escaped him before he could stifle it. He swung the rebar towards the faint glow on the android’s faceplate as hard as he could. It was so damn close to him that he was sure he wouldn’t miss it if he just gave it a few swings.
The android moved with eerie precision, leaning to the side and dodging with an oddly natural grace. The man swung again, all intent focused on bashing the piece of metal as hard as he could into its head. He felt the rebar make contact and his chest filled with glee — until he realized it was caught mid-swing in the android’s firm hand.
With a sharp yank, the metal was torn from his hand, sending him staggering. Before he could recover, something struck his legs, knocking his feet under him, losing his position at a dizzying pace. He got back up to break into an uneven sprint again, only to get struck in the back of the head this time as if by the shadows themselves. His body twisted, and he smacked hard onto the concrete floor, the impact rattling through him. His thoughts scattered as his phone flew from his hand, the light from it going dark as it skidded beyond his reach.
Everything spun, senses shaken, leaving him disoriented. His hands stung — glass biting into his palms as he pushed himself up — and the cold floor pressed against the front of his body. The red lights of Zero’s body flickered awake, emerging from the darkness and approaching him.
He flipped himself over and scrambled backward away from Zero, but it merely stalked closer to him in a slow prowl. His crawling retreat came to an abrupt halt as his back hit a wall. Trapped, he sank back to the ground, bending his knees towards him, arms outstretched in front of his head to protect his face. He peeked through the space between his hands, looking up at the android from where he lay. His face was written with terror as he whimpered.
“Quit the hysterics,” it said. The voice was deep and distorted, ringing with a metallic timbre, devoid of feeling. Its cadence was close enough to human that it only made the voice more unsettling. It was taller than the man by a few inches — had to be — and covered from head to toe with black cloth and plating. In place of a face was a cold, sleek fiberglass shell. But even expressionless, there was a taunting edge to its words — words which dripped with cold disdain.
“You think I’m being hysterical?!” He screeched, his breath tattered and broken by sobs.
There was a pause as Zero gazed down at him, motionless, its unreadable face tilted slightly as if considering. “Yes,” it replied flatly.
It was mocking him. He could feel it. Humiliation burned through wet eyes. His face, already melted in the weeping mess that it was, twisted in anger. It was fucking making fun of him.
He imagined launching himself at it, throttling the android, tearing it apart limb by limb, piece by piece. But the fantasy crumbled the moment Zero took a step towards him, instantly replaced by a desperation to get away.
“The way you’re feeling now,” it spoke again, still towering over him, statuesque, “I wonder if that’s how they felt too.”
“I don't know what you’re talking about —” the man stammered, his voice cracking.
“Don’t insult me,” Zero cut him off, its voice dropping to a lower, more threatening tone. “The children.”
His stomach churned, hands shaking as he pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could disappear in it. “I never touched them, I just —”
“Facilitated it?” It took another step.
“I didn’t have a —”
“Be quiet,” Zero snapped. “You profited off of their misery.”
With eerie calm, Zero descended into a crouch, reaching for the cracked burner phone. It picked it up and inspected the glass, small pieces chipping off as it turned the device over in its grip. Without a word, it slipped the phone into a pocket on its cargo pants.
The damn thing wears pants.
Why the fuck does it wear pants?
“And your misery?” Zero’s voice grew slow and deliberate. “I won’t profit from it. But I don’t have to.”
Still crouched, Zero upturned one gloved palm, and just above it, a soft, throbbing orb of light hummed to life. Though small, the orb radiated an intense heat that hit the man’s face like a blazing sun. As the heat pressed against his skin, he turned his face away.
With Zero’s free hand, it reached down to its boot and withdrew something small and metallic. Resting an elbow on its knees, Zero directly faced the man, who still cowered against the wall. The light of the orb caught the edge of the object, and the man’s breath stopped as he recognized it even in darkness.
Zero’s distorted, quiet whisper filled his ears, cold and final, like the blade in its hands.
“Tell me about your employer.”