Chapter 86: Chapter 79: Duty and Prejudice

I just wanted to watch a movie. Gamma-18 panicked, lying flat on his belly on the main road leading to the nearest shelter. The day had started excellently; his brother praised the prepared breakfast, which, in hindsight, was already a portent of an incredible ominous event to come. Beta-18 never appreciated his brother’s efforts to introduce him to proper cuisine, preferring to gorge himself on bags of chips and throwing darts at Zurkov’s photo in an attempt to curse the misguided individual.

Their business was booming thanks to Social Services, who gave their small center a sum eclipsing their annual earnings just to treat the Wolfkins for free, and the twins couldn’t be happier about it. Seeing a steady line of soldiers waiting for their turn outside, more customers had dared to venture into their humble establishment, and Gamma-18 cut two hours from his sleep, baking foods for the visitors, until Beta-18 told him to cut it off and replaced him at a stove. Two Orais had a word with the protesters, and since then there had been no disturbances outside their parlor.

Life was changing for the better, and Gamma-18 had decided to celebrate such an occasion by visiting a cinema, convincing himself that he could stand the bigots shouting about him being non-human. It was a necessary obstacle to overcome if he wanted to work in a military hospital. Beta-18 wasn’t always going to be at his side to protect and support him. No one screamed at him in the cinema, but rather many screamed with him when the terrorists attacked.

If it hadn’t been for that brave Wolfkin, they’d have been dead by now, because the door outside was jammed. The brave woman shielded them long enough for Gamma-18 to get close to the jammed door and knock it off, along with part of the wall. Outside was no better; it was as if the entire city had gone mad. Quakes, billboards exploding, the ground erupting, cars driving over people…

Houstad wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was a civilized place, where Gamma-18 hoped to build a comfortable life for Beta-18. Here, police responded to calls and arrived quickly, ready to help anyone, regardless of background, and social workers regularly visited their massage parlor and assisted the bioweapons in adjusting and filling out paperwork.

Gamma-18 came to love this city, and so he tried his best to keep everyone safe. His skin was tough enough to mostly ignore shards of glass and pieces of metal, and the occasional cut was nothing to fret about. But the familiar streets had changed; crashed vehicles and fallen buildings clogged the streets, and fires raged in the alleys. Dead, shot and trampled, blanketed the ground, and the stench of urine, gas, and burning bodies was nauseating. Thick smoke made orientation difficult. Navigation through the network wasn’t working. But when all hope seemed lost, unusual drones swooped in, beaming an updated map of Houstad, and a confident voice from Mayor Jaquan and Wolfkin Kirk gave them strength to fight the fear.

“I… sorry,” said a lanky kid in a leather jacket, holding an unconscious girl close to his chest. The child had tried to bite and scratch her out of the blue, then lost her conscience after headbutting a hardy Orais’ knuckle. Several people succumbed to a strange bloodlust and had to be tied up or knocked out for their safety.

“Hm?” Gamma-18 inquired nervously, arching his eyestalks under his head. They took forever to regenerate, and several scalds from overheated metal already adorned his head. He wasn’t the only New Breed helping to keep everyone safe, and an Orais distributed them evenly around the line, giving the bioweapon the hardest area.

“About yelling at you to fuck off from Houstad.” The kid swallowed, his eyes red, soot and scratches covering his face. “We thought… it seems so bullshit now... we thought your kind lured humans and ate them, like the rest of the bioweapons. We… I didn’t… Sorry. About everything.”

“No, I much prefer meat borscht. Beef brisket on the bone, thin strips of beef, pork ribs, chicken if I can’t afford pork. And no sour cream! Mhhhmmm… Heavenly!” Gamma-18 grumbled, using pleasant memories to combat the horror and keep moving.

He recognized the young man; his ass was throwing rotten fruits at their building. He had half of a mind to tell him everything he was thinking about his ilk, how stressful it was for the poor Beta-18 and how Gamma-18 had to budget their expenses, often cutting back on food because those lousy nits were scaring away clients, but who would this help? And it felt too hollow and childish to hold a grudge in the face of the carnage.

“Let’s forget the past,” Gamma-18 sighed. “Tell you what, sir, come visit us for a few sessions and we’ll call it even. First time free!”

Bio-weapons did indeed have a terrible reputation, to the point that they were hated in many lesser countries more than even Malformed. It wasn’t entirely undeserved. When the Old World was dying, hordes of creatures were unleashed from the secret laboratories, murdering entire cities. Gamma-18 and his brother were of a more enlightened sort, and after being cleared by the specialists at the Investigation Bureau, they opted into a program designed to rehabilitate the public perception of their kind. It didn’t involve any work; all they had to do was live their lives without breaking the law, so the government could later point to them and say that bioweapons were exactly the same as everyone else.

“You treat Normies too?” The kid glanced at him.

“Our specialty lies in massaging New Breeds.” Gamma-18 beaten aside a rock that was falling on a woman nearby and began to explain enthusiastically. “You see, it is natural that very few specialists work with New Breeds’ bodies…”

“I don’t get it. Why is it natural?” the kid asked.

“Multitude different body types.” Gamma-18 pressed a hand to his own chest. “I lack a heart. Not emotionally speaking, but physically. Orais evolved to have hardy, rough hides, almost impervious to conventional kitchen knives.”

“Impervious!” boasted an Orais knuckle-walking in the middle of the group.

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“If you say so, sir,” Gamma-18 agreed. “Several of our clients’ organs are in constant flux. Imagine a brain migrating through the body on its own. There are also chitin plates of Insectones and sub-dermal exoskeletons of Wolfkins. Or poison spikes, intense heat, or, the rarest of my career, a brain radiating unnatural fear. Each requires a unique approach. My dearest brother and I have aced that mastery.” He stopped; the worry about Beta-18 spread like the sharpest needles piercing his chest.

“He should be okay,” the kid tried to cheer him up. “It can’t be that bad everywhere, right?”

“Thank you,” Gamma-18 said honestly. “Regardless, Normies’ and human-shaped New Breeds’ bodies lack complexity for the lack of a better term. It doesn’t take as much time to learn their inner workings and how much pressure to apply for a proper relaxation session. Don’t take it as an insult.”

“None taken,” the kid chuckled. “You are passionate about your work, mister…”

“Just call me Gamma-18, sir, and of course I am. I take tremendous pride in my craft.”

“Where is your center, again?” asked a blonde woman.

Gamma-18 gladly began to explain, advertising their humble services to the best of his ability and trying to further pique the crowd’s interest with an offer of perfectly baked homemade treats. It was a little distasteful to be involved in a potential business discussion in the current situation, but none of the inhumane things happening today were his doing, and Beta-18 insisted that Gamma-18 needed to socialize more. Besides, a pleasant conversation helped the group forget about the deadly dangers around them.

When they almost reached the bunker, a rocket struck a building on the side of the road, showering a rain of destruction down at them. Gamma-18 reacted far faster than ever before. Twenty of his arms pushed those closest to him into the safety of the Orais’ embrace; ten more pulled those behind him into the safety of his expanding body. He had never imagined himself capable of such speed and reaction. Less than a second ago, he was engaged in a pleasant conversation with his newfound friends, and the next, his body was moving on its own, knowing exactly what to do to save lives.

The building collapsed, dropping its heavy weight on Gamma-18’s back as he did his best to spread himself out over the trapped people, trying to lift tons of stone. It wasn’t easy; he and his brother preferred columnar shapes for a reason, but it wasn’t impossible.

His eyes spotted trembling pebbles, and he heard stomping feet approaching. Gamma-18’s hope that they were rescuers soon turned to fear as a one-armed terrorist emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke, letting go of a rocket launcher. His armor was shredded by claws and firearms, blood gushed from a stump of his arm, an eye was missing, but he giggled half madly and reached for an oversized rifle strapped to his belt.

“If... if you... s-surrender, I promise to arrange for your survival!” Gamma-18 tried to offer, but the armored giant spat something in an unknown language and aimed his weapon at his head. He repeated his offer in other languages, screaming desperately, but nothing helped. “Beta-18. You are the best brother ever...” Gamma-18 whispered, awaiting a shot.

A click of an empty gun startled the terrorist and saved Gamma-18’s life. A figure in green riot gear burst through the smoke and struck the helmeted head with the buttstock of his shotgun. The strike produced a thud and did little else, and the terrorist began moving his own rifle when a stun baton’s tip landed straight in the gaping wound of the missing arm. Yells filled the street, and the larger opponent recoiled, trying to retreat as the officer continued frying him. A headbutt to the face cracked the officer’s helmet, and a strand of white hair showed through the crack.

Zurkov, Gamma-18 couldn’t believe it was him, rammed his empty shotgun against the faceplate of his opponent, shattering the visor and sending razor-sharp shards of reinforced glass into his eye socket. With a roar, the terrorist let go of his rifle, wincing and convulsing from the electric shock coursing through his body. He rammed a knee into Zurkov’s stomach, bending the man over, and added a heavy blow from above, denting the armor.

“Bastard.” Zurkov’s hand closed on the dropped rifle, and he leveled it at the giant’s crotch. “Drop dead already!”

Bullets hurled the screaming terrorist against the building. New holes appeared all over his armor; he tried to put a hand over his face, screaming in a foreign language, but the officer was merciless, emptying the entire magazine. Swaying like a drunkard, Zurkov rose to his feet, kicked the larger body to see if it was dead, and picked up his weapons.

“Citizen, you are alive; stay still, everything is going to be okay; help is close by…” Zurkov stopped, reloading his shotgun, and recognition crept across his face. “Freak,” he hissed. “So many people have died and your soulless kind is still alive…” The shotgun shook in his hands, frightening Gamma-18, but then the officer secured it to his belt and knelt, trying to push the rubble up. Through the cracks in Zurkov’s helmet, Gamma-18 saw a bruise swollen around his eye and blood streaks across his face. “My armor is damaged and malfunctioning, and I am not a New Breed,” he said, face red from exertion. “Might be a tad uncomfortable, but you should…”

“God bless you, Zurkov!” Gamma-18 laughed. Live, live, he was going to live! He’d have to ask Beta-18 to stop trying to curse this bizarre officer. Gamma-18 placed his hands on the ground and strained himself, raising the rubble. “Just you wait, I will give you a monthly… no, a lifetime subscription!”

“What… How did you?” Zurkov’s shock didn’t last long, and he immediately grabbed the unconscious people under Gamma-18 and dragged them to safety, one by one. Only then did the bioweapon slip out from under the rubble and wrap his arms around the officer. “Let go of me, creep! Don’t you defile God by mentioning him with your abominable mouth!” Zurkov struggled in vain against the embrace.

Gamma-18 let go of him as other officers emerged from the smoke to check the civilians’ pulses and help them wake up. The bioweapons refused medical aid, pointing to a closing burn on his shoulder.

“Neat.” Zurkov shrugged. “My men found the rest of your group and escorted them to the shelter. You best follow them. It isn’t safe…”

“Sir! More wounded!” An officer yelled, trying to remove a steel plate from the collapsed building. Another officer held his hand over the wrist of a pale arm visible from underneath the rubble.

“Stop it,” Zurkov commanded. “None of us will lift this. You two lead the civilians to safety. I’ll report to the command…”

“I can help!” Gamma-18 eagerly volunteered, thrusting his hands under the plate. There they stuck to the surface, and the bioweapon lifted the plate vertically so the officers could crawl underneath and get the wounded out. “If you need help with the heavy lifting, I am ready! Just please call my brother and ask if he is okay.”

“I’ll do it right away, and you are heading to the shelter,” Zurkov said.

“Sir, we could really use extra help,” a police officer said.

“It… He is a civilian,” Zurkov snapped. “We do not endanger civilians, Jane.”

“Not unless they volunteer to help, sir!” She saluted. “Please. There are not enough hands to help the trapped, and our military is still fighting. Every second counts. Lives are at stake.”

“So we should put others…” Zurkov shook his head and clenched his fist. “Fine. Beta-18, right?”

“Gamma-18, actually!” Gamma-18 corrected him.

“Yeah, understood. I hereby accept your assistance, and on behalf of Houstad, thank you for this generous offer. Stay behind us; don’t even dare to peek until we secure the area and give you permission…”