Along an empty thoroughfare, a young man padded up to a bench underneath a streetlight. He joined a recumbent man upon its broad surface; the youth checked to make sure his companion was still alive, then seated himself and opened his lunch pail. He drew out a sandwich, cut upon the diagonal, and set about devouring one half as expediently as possible. Time was important. There was much he had to do, and little time. Presently, an intruder joined him. She didn't seem to walk. Rather, she would return to earth with every step to push off again. For a moment, the young man wondered whether she was real or a hologram. She looked, to him, superimposed upon the scene. "Hey lady!" Perhaps he felt lonely, perhaps he simply needed verification of this being's existence. She turned and looked into him. She stood around 160, with a short black ponytail and a pale skin tone. She was dressed in black--a tight black shirt, black vinyl pants, black boots, a black jacket with many buckles and pockets. Her face was quite unusual. There were four streaks of steel, almost as though they had been painted on her epidermis: two running vertically, perpendicular to her eyes, and two curving up from the pits of her mouth. They moved as she spoke. "What is it? How can I be of service?" "Why're you wearing that getup?" _What a weirdo._ "I'm on my way to visit someone." She drifted over and sat beside him. "Do you know of a Professor Desty Nova?" "Nova? Yeah, I know OF him." The boy wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "He's a crackpot. People keep disappearing near his place. What do you want with him?" "Well, son...I believe he can tell me how to get to Zalem." "ZALEM? You want to go to Zalem? Hey, me too!" "Oh? You don't say. What's your name, son?" "I'm Hugo." "I'm very pleased to meet you, Hugo." They were facing each other. The streetlight rained down upon them. The woman's shadow fell across her face, making her every feature--save the marks on her face--just a little harder for him to make out. "Why do you want to go to Zalem?" "'Cause of my big brother. See," Hugo shifted his weight onto his other buttock, "he made me realize what a dump this place is. I want to see somewhere new, with new sights to see from there. Zalem's the only place for me." "See new sights...you remind me of a young man I once new. But he's dead now." "My big brother's dead, too. A bounty hunter killed him." "Well, it seems the two of us have a good deal in common. So! A trip to Zalem for you and me both, then." "Uh-huh." Hugo drank from his water bottle, then glanced at his watch. "My boss, Mr. Vector, says that if I save up ten million chips, he'll send me to Zalem. No questions asked. Good deal, huh?" "Ten million chips is a good deal of money." "I'm a hard worker." The woman nodded, and reached into her pocket. "Here, let me give this to you. It's for a safe trip." Hugo took the locket from her. It was a golden locket; he had never seen gold before, except in electrical circuits. On the front, outlined in lapis, was a man hunched over with his weight on a staff, standing in the middle of a stream. On his back was an infant child. Hugo fumbled with the catch, and opened the two halves to read, "Behold St. Christopher... And go thy way in safety." "It's a good luck charm, to ward off evil." "Gee, thanks, lady...can't say..." He put the chain around his neck, "...as anyone's given me anything like this in a long time. Thanks. How'd you get it?" "The previous owner let me have it, when he reached his destination. Now, I think I must be going." She gave him a kind pat on his thigh, and stood. "Go thy way in safety, friend Hugo." "Hey, lady! Maybe we'll see each other in Zalem!" She turned and smiled at the sight of him. He was looking after her, misty-eyed, with the end of the locket clutched in one hand. His meal was all but forgotten on the bench. "Zalem's a big city, Hugo. But I'll look for you when I get there," she said. "OK! Sure thing! Uh...go thy way in safety too!" -- Everything will be alright Everything will turn out fine Some nights I still can sleep And the voices pass with time and I keep No time for tears No time to run and hide No time to be afraid of fear I keep no time to cry The Sisters of Mercy, "No Time to Cry" -- "All nineteen are in place, Yod-99." "Roger, copy. On my mark." "T minus nine seconds and counting, Yoko." "Mm-hm." _We always cut these things so damn close...but that's the way things will have to be, I guess._ She gestured to the man next to her in the alleyway. He stood and followed her in their customary shuffle towards the street, the tails of their trenchcoats flapping with each step... Ten meters away from them was a man, not much different from them. To the untrained eye, the only differences were that he was still a full-flesh person and that his posture was erect. What mattered could not be seen, but was manifest in actions. The man--their target--had spent less than six months on Mars, but was personally responsible for doubling the costs of many of the necessities of life, air and water chief among them. He was interested in securing as good a life for himself, and those in his circle of friends, as was possible. Everyone had to make sacrifices in life, and he dictated what their sacrifices would have to be. He was not to live to see the end of the day; and that was the actions of the party of the second part manifest. The gentleman in the street had been exchanging pleasantries with the man who had come to meet him at the depot, but paused as he realized that something was amiss. People all around him, the ordinary civilians, were turning their backs and clearing the street. He glanced about him, trying to find the cause of the odd behavior. Behind him, someone shouted. He turned on his heel, but before his mind could focus a window somewhere shattered. Another person let out a frantic scream. Someone jumped into the air hurling a garbage can. The man's mind clouded with panic. Something was going on, too haphazard and chaotic for his mind to adjust to. Turbulence. A woman cut through his stomach with her shiv. Pain exploded. His world became a little more primitive; conventions that he had taken for granted were being shrugged away. Survival wasn't a given. The woman shoved him, and he staggered around, only to be held by her partner, a man. He cut a piece of skin and meat away from his victim's face. The face is identity, and the man's composure was lost. He screamed in almighty fear. Less than two minutes later, the street was in ruins. A few hapless souls who had been unaware or oblivious, or simply unlucky, were panicked. Sounds of vandalism were coming from the surrounding alleyways. The target of the attack was bathed in his own blood. Most of the skin on his face had been hacked off, taking with it chunks of flesh. His torso, upper legs and forearms had all sustained mutilating wounds. His rectum had been violated by a particular knife jab. He--rather, his body-- lay on the dusty street, and no one gave it much notice at all. -- "You loved your homeland, didn't you, Yoko? You loved everyone who was born and raised like a good Martian, and you loved the towns they built for themselves. You loved to walk out of the bubbles...God, you remember those dawns atop Mons Olympus, and spending time alone in the desert near Argyre? Every single thing around you was an opportunity, or a promise fulfilled. It seemed like...like happiness was just a few lives away... "Take it easy, Yoko. Don't do this to yourself...I mean it..." -- The Netman executed the proper laser scan of the individual at its front. It blurbed, and displayed in its labial monitor: ID: Unknown Name: Unknown Criminality: Wanted for Inquisition regarding multiple deaths Comments: Extremely dangerous, presents a clear and present danger to the community. "Piss off, machinehead. This is of no concern to you." Please accompany Netman 736 to Factory 33 for Inquisition. "The problem with this conversation..." The Netman fired a piezoelectric dart into the cyborg's body. It penetrated 4 millimeters, then detonated. It sent a 400-volt power surge through the electrical and wetware systems in an effort to disrupt or terminate them. Nothing happened. "...is that you are utterly incapable of experiencing fear." Yoko drove her fist into the Netman's computer and seized the CPU. --Your guns and knives do nothing to me. Electricity and energy are as futile. And although you may not appreciate it, this is a curse. My hatred keeps me beyond the death of this world, and hence, immune to yours. --Now you listen to me, you arrogant Zalemon bastards. I have a message for you and your God. Tell one and all that the Crow has done this...and that it will all end by tomorrow night. There is much darkness left for me to cover between these times.-- So saying, she tore the CPU from the Netman's body. As it continued to eject sparks into the atmosphere, she looked with interest at it's laser, still at attention at its side. "736, have you any objection to my borrowing this? Thanks, I'll return it when I'm done...and a little wiring to go with this, oh you _are_ indeed a public servant."