Mardock Scramble

A new voice echoed down the line, one that Shell had never heard before, and he was hit with another bolt of fear. His whole body was now drenched in his own cold sweat.

–We’ve already finished evacuating the other guests from the hotel. We are going to solve this case according to official procedure. In order to do so we need to ensure that Shell remains safe. We have no desire to fight with you, Boiled.

–We are just tools, Oeufcoque, born into this world in order to create nihility. You’re a self-aware tool, and I’m a human who wants to become a gun. Even your current user really wants to be able touse you to kill. She just wants to do so legally, that’s all.

–Stop talking such garbage, Boiled. What are you hoping to achieve by killing Shell? What use is there in massacring everyone in sight? What will be born of that?

Shell frowned.

–It’s not my job to be concerned about what may or may not be born, Oeufcoque.

–So you’re throwing your lot in with OctoberCorp, are you? That’s your choice, is it, Boiled?

“Boiled! Are you planning to kill me? You are, aren’t you? You’re planning to kill me!”

–Mr. Shell. I really do think we would have worked well together. We could have been far more than just patron and client…

Shell’s face twisted. Boiled continued in his characteristic whispering tones.

–It’s a shame that circumstances have changed.

Then there was another noise—a number of sounds screeching together. The phone went dead.

≡

Shell stood rooted to the spot, the lenses in his Chameleon Sunglasses changing from pale blue to stormy black. Everything was unreal, a dream, but then Shell snapped to and snatched up his Boston bag and checked its side pocket for the reassuring feel of cold steel.

He pulled his automatic handgun out, not even bothering to check the magazine before pressing it down against his leg, then hauled his bag over his shoulder. He felt more rooted, more secure.

Suddenly his cell phone started ringing again. Shell gritted his teeth and answered.

–This is Oeufcoque-Penteano here, PI and Trustee for this case. We are going to take you into our protection. Remain there until we secure a safe route for your escape. When we arrive, we will expectyou to hand over all your weapons and come peacefully.

“Fuck off!” Shell yelled, flinging his phone to the floor and grinding it with his foot. The phone was destroyed, the sound cut off.

Breathing roughly, his shoulders heaving up and down, Shell ran around the room quickly to turn all the lights out.

The bedroom was on the second floor. Shell hid behind the curtains, peeking out of the window to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening outside.

The lights in the room all flared back on. Suddenly, of their own accord. Shell watched in shock. The night lamp was on, the bathroom light was on, and the ventilator in the bathroom was on, roaring. Shell’s face was soaking wet—it was impossible to tell where the sweat ended and the tears started.

Then there was another sound. It was the old television, right next to Shell. There was white noise, and then the image of a girl appeared on the screen. Her mouth opened in a round shape, and her wide eyes and rigid fingers seemed like they were about to reach out for Shell’s throat at any moment.

–I didn’t want to die.

Shell watched in horror with bloodshot eyes as he listened to the girl’s voice.

–But I was killed by you anyway.