Hacking to the Gate (Zeek)

[Kurosaki]

A trash can fell over, causing the young youth walking down the streets to jump and his blue eyes to examine the vessel for what had caused it to spill it's contents onto the ground. Out came a small, beady eyed creature with a black mask that looked his way, sniffed the air and then took off running in the opposite direction, scaling a fence with ease and disappearing down a dark alleyway.

Standing there for a moment, processing what had just happened, his eyes shifted to the rest of his surroundings and the grisly, dimly lit pathway ahead of him. The sidewalk itself appeared to have been built a while back and then left to let the Earth take it back. Grass popped up between every crack and most of the squares were broken. The lights themselves looked to have at least been managed by someone who was concerned about it but there weren't enough of them to properly light the area. The store lights to the places still open at this hour were also casting different color hues over things, giving it a strange apocalyptic appearance.

The slim figure kept his pace at an even crisp walk as he continued. There was really nothing to stop to admire, after all.

Finally he came to a place that was marked as a hotel. It wasn't like any other hotel that he had ever encountered before. The sign was almost falling off, the 'O' flickering and it looked like several of the hotel room doors had been knocked down and hastily put back on.

"Odd," the casually dressed youth said to himself, feeling that the silence needed to be broken somehow. Frowning slightly, the humanistic robot wondered if it was a good idea to stay at a place that looked like this. It didn't seem safe.

Then again, it looked like Marines did not make a point of patrolling this area or it would probably be in a better state than this.

CRASH!

That was when a window on the second floor shattered and out came a burly gentleman on top of another gentleman. They hit the ground and rolled, punching each other until they were both bloody in the face. Glass was embedded in both of them in various places but they were probably too intoxicated to notice.

They rolled around until they were almost at Cell's feet but the small framed robot backed up quickly, almost tripping off the curb of the sidewalk in his haste to put distance between them.

"That's what you get for sleepin' with my WIFE!" shouted the one man as he reared back and punched the other straight in the jaw while he was on top of him. The other spat the blood that formed in his mouth back at the guy, blinding him temporarily.

Insanely adverse to violence except for when he had no choice, Cell tried to call out to them to stop but neither even seemed to hear his words. What was he to do?

[Badman Zeek]

"Ahh, so you're what a Cazador looks like.", said the silver haired marine addressing what he was told to be a newly deployed cyborg. According to the sheet listing it's specs that Zeekiel had glimpsed over moments before reporting for duty, this combination of biology and machinery was outfitted with a multitude of dangerous toys; all confined within a slender, lengthy frame clad in white. Surely there would be more secrets to the Cazador's body, and Zeekiel who had now stood at an obnoxiously close distance that would bother any normal person, seemed pretty intent on discovering them with the way he was scanning the cyborg.


The flesh bound machine stood as it's commands mandated, but the remnants of it's humanity sparked interest as to why this young man had taken such a liking to a mere tool such as itself. The Cazador adjusted the tilt of its neck selecting the optimal angle to maintain a vantage on the surrounding area while also being able to set it's eyes on the much smaller marine before it. "Seaman Recruit, Zeekiel Rellim, is there anything I may assist you with–" The CX model paused at the question it had just asked, trying to process all possible things a Marine of such low ranking would need in the current situation."Perhaps you would like for me to requests a substitute, so that you may evacuate your bowels?"


As the futuristic sound that was the Cazador's voice ceased in wait for a reply, so too did the intensely warm breath that the sensors along its right arm had been perceiving. The words drawing Zeekiel's attention away from trying to feel for weapon compartments he was convinced were located somewhere on the cyborg's freakishly long arms. Ha ha, very funny. No my friend, I do not need to use the bathroom. But I'm glad you have a sense of humor." By the time the recruit had finished his reply he'd returned to inspecting the large cybernetically altered body, stroking his beard several times while circling the cyborg before coming to a halt. "Oi, do you have a name? What am I to call such a magnificent work of art? I mean there is your model number, but that would be just plain rude."

The cyborg readjusted the tilt of its neck returning to its original ninety degree angle and brought a hand to his head scratching in confusion. It was a puzzling question, something no amount of processing power could properly compute with accuracy. So humanity took over once more; " If it is your belief that addressing me in a more direct manner would be of use to your success in accepting my presence, you may refer to me as Sixty Nine in accordance with my model number."

Zeekiel nodded with a halfhearted acceptance of what Sixty Nine concluded to be a name. Returning to his position a few feet away he let out a sigh. It was going to be a long night, luckily all they had to do was remain stationed on their respective side of the gate; keeping watch for anyone looking to bring trouble to the Eastern side of the island. Fortunately he had the good ol' cyborg to keep him company.

[Kurosaki]

There was a moment where the humanistic robot stood there watching the brawl happening right in front of him, indecisive. He had a few options but none of them were particularly good ones. He could try to jump in and break up the fight or let it continue until the two men wore themselves out. The other option might be to find some sort of law enforcement and bring them to the attention of the nasty fight but he was sure that there was no one in a position of power anywhere nearby.

The men were up on their feet now. The first man that had shouted something about the other one being in the same bed as his wife was wearing a now ripped white tank top, blood trickling down his face from a broken nose. The other gentleman wasn't wearing anything other than a pair of boxer shorts so his hairy chest was exposed. His back had taken a very bad beating from the fall and glass so it appeared he had been forced out the window first.

Cell pierced his lips together like he had seen other people do when facing a difficult predicament and finally settled on what he should do.

"Please stop fighting!" he shouted loudly, making sure that he amplified his voice to its highest setting. The two men paused, the white tank top wearing one in the middle of rearing back to slug his foe in the face. They turned their heads to look at him, both with flushed faces. The man in the boxers was shoved back by the white tank top man as he turned fully to face the thin-framed robot.

"Keep out of this pretty boy. This ain't your fight. It's this !@#$ that needs to be taught a lesson that you don't go around people's backs with their wives!" the burly man shouted at him aggressively before suddenly turning, getting down low and tackling the man almost in his birthday suit to the ground, landing on top of him.

Since words had done him no good, Cell figured he should probably take a bigger step now if he was going to break up the brawl.

Stepping forward, he pointed his right index finger and lined it up with the man in the tank, closing his right eye and lining it up so that he was within target. That was when his fingertip flipped open like it was on a hinge and there was a loud BANG like that from a handgun going off.

The bullet hit the man square in the head and he fell off the other man, landing hard on the pavement. Luckily for him, the now unconscious tank top man would wake up hours later with only a welt as proof that he had been shot since the bullet had been rubber and mostly harmless. Meanwhile, his hairy opponent had taken that lucky opportunity that had been presented to him to stumble back onto his feet and run back into the hotel.

Standing there for a moment, the black haired youth lowered his arm and exhaled, even though he had no real lungs to fill with the oxygen he breathed out or in. It was mostly an illusion of life that was built into him to make him seem even more humanistic. He knew all this, yet sometimes lately he had started to forget what made him different from humans. But this scenario reminded him that he really didn't understand what went on in their minds.

"OI, you dogs, did yah see that! That scrawny boy just shot our Captain!" came a shout from somewhere nearby, causing the robot to turn, his eyebrows furrowing a bit in confusion before he spotted a group of five men that were looking flabbergasted at the sight of the tank top man laying on the ground unconscious. Perhaps they thought with the amount of blood pooling from his broken nose that he was actually dead because less than a fraction of a second later, the small robot was having to run for his life.

[Badman Zeek]

"Hmm..."

A silver brow arched upwards in unison with Zeekiel's contorted face. He'd only given up on his infatuation with Sixty-nine for a brief moment, then found himself hunched over with his face no more than a few inches from the cyborg's feet. There was no particular reason behind why he had done this, but he just couldn't keep away from the cazador. It was like the new shiny toy that had just come out with all these cool features, and he had been the first kid in the neighborhood to get one to try out. However it was more like Zeekiel was the younger brother of the kid who had gotten the brand new toy everybody wanted play with, but he was forbidden to actually test it out. He could only look and touch; so he continued to do so, that was before nature proceeded to call upon him.

"Bleh. I'll be back Sixty Nine, thanks to you I now have to relieve myself" the marine said before recovering his natural height and strolling towards the darkened vegetation nearby. "Oh, and no need to call for anybody else. Just be sure to alert me if something looks suspicious I'm not going too far."With that the marine proceeded into the thicket.

Two shakes and a zip later and he was done, looking around at the surrounding nature. His mind wandered contemplating why the beauty of the nature of this side of the wall had alluded him for such a long time. The simple answer would be to simply blame the pirates controlling the west and the marines for not trying harder to reclaim the island. But of course the reality of things were much more complicated than that. There were normal citizens inhabiting the other side as well, who could end up as casualties if a civil war had ensued. Especially if they personally wanted the freedom of the lawless side.

Turning to head back towards the wall he couldn't help but feel that the Marines who were in charge of cleansing his homeland had given up. It was well known that they wouldn't dare to directly take on the leading crew that dominated the western side. But for them to have given up completely and turn to cyborgs to maintain this false peace they have become accustomed to was completely absurd. Besides, he thought as he emerged from the forest and set his eyes on the cazador, why the hell would they waste beautifully crafted weapons just to uphold order. No this was disgraceful to the cyborgs themselves. They were worthy of a much fulfilling cause.

Letting out a sigh Zeekiel returned to his post, resting his against the side of the wall so he could comfortably entertain his eyes with the sight of the starlit sky. Soon his time would come; a time where trivial matters such as control of an island would be solved at the drop of a dime.

"Soon...."

[Kurosaki]

Fleeing from enemies was something Cell wasn't unused to. He had done so quite often in the past. The first time was when the Marines had come to the laboratory in order to end the project around him. They were going to pull the plug but the Professor had stalled them long enough for him to escape; flying off using his wings. Then there had been the time when a Marine had tried to capture him to take to the World Government to be decommissioned and had captured the robot. Cell had managed to take his arm off at the shoulder in order to slip out of the handcuff on his wrist.

Those flashes of memory replayed themselves in excellent quality for Cell somewhere in the back of his artificial brain while he was running, but none of those circumstances were quite like this. This was the first time he had actually angered a group of everyday people so badly that they wanted to beat him to a pulp. And while their anger was probably justified in their minds, to the robot he felt like he was being unfairly persecuted. All he had been trying to do was help! Why couldn't they see that? He had thought he had gotten at least one thing right about life with humans but maybe he had been completely wrong.

While he had suffered some damage in his time traveling of his own volition, Cell had mostly done the repairs fine by himself. However, an alert popped up that his leg, the very same one that had once been torn almost completely off of the rest of him, was having a slight malfunction. One of wire connections wasn't sending the correct signals; probably because he hadn't reattached it properly. As he ran, he ended up starting to limp slightly.

Proceeding down the dark streets as fast as the robot could go, he heard the shouts and calls for his blood from behind him and turned to look at the group of men barring down on him. Some of them had managed to grab some makeshift weapons even: one had a crowbar he had picked up from somewhere and another was wielding something like a bat. The other three seemed to still be unarmed but their muscular structure told Cell that it wouldn't make much of a difference if they got a hold of him.

The lights in the area he was running into were beginning to get to the point where he was having a hard time making out what was in front of him. Somehow though, the men following him seemed to have no problems keeping on his tail. Maybe it was his loud footsteps but he also didn't know where to turn to lose them. Up ahead he could make out an area that was more brightly lit. In fact, it seemed like the whole world on that side of the Island was glowing blocked only by a large wall...

He headed in that direction, hoping maybe someone would come to his aid. He would hate to have to use violence against these guys...

[Badman Zeek]

Shouts and movements in the distance split the harsh silence and Zeekiel's flowing thoughts. He raised his left hand and stroking his beard, arched an eyebrow and positioned his head so that one ear faced the direction of the commotion. From the sounds he deduced that a crowd or mob of some sorts was approaching from the rowdy streets of Western Winchester. Laid before the young marine was now the decision to wait for the crowd to meet Sixty-Nine and himself with unknown intent, or go forth taking the initiative in order to assess the situation before taking further action.

The thoughts swam back and forth while Zeekiel stood contemplating the possibilities connected to each option. He'd given himself two scenarios to expand upon. It was a better thing to do when it came down to quick actions that could produce results from which he could work with. The first would play out with Sixty-nine and himself remaining at the gate awaiting whatever unforeseen mischief was coming their way. The sudden activity could possibly draw the attention of any nearby Marines on patrol; very convenient if he and his new comrade were drastically outnumbered. On the other hand, if this was some attempt to breach the wall's defenses and reduce Marine forces as part of a larger attempt to gain access to Eastern Winchester, then reinforcements would only suffice in playing right into the enemy's ploy.


The latter scenario would instead involve Sixty-Nine manning the gate, while Zeekiel flanked the road using the cover of night and dense vegetation to mask his presence. This preemptive approach offered the least risk in terms of casualties, with him being the closest to danger. The upside included the very basic idea of knowing the threat before it knew of him. Assuming the cause of the noise intended to bring the inhabitants of his home any harm. Shrugging his shoulders having already made his mind, Zeekiel thought about how funny it would be if the source of the threat was completely harmless.

"Sixty-Nine—" he began; his tone now devoid of its easy going and carefree manner and his brows lowered so that his eyes reflected his words. "I'm going to check out whats going on up ahead. Please remain here to ensure nobody is able to get through this way." As he spoke Zeekiel had taken a few steps towards the depths of forest before stopping and looking back at the Cazador."It may be of little concern, but I would like to check on things before they reach the gate. If all is well I will return shortly." With no additional words to express Zeekiel moved, merging deep into the darkness before creeping off with haste.

The were snaps and pops as twigs and sticks broke under the weight of his feet. Zeekiel paid them no mind, convinced that the sounds of the crowd would drown out his approach. He finally came to a halt when he voices grew louder and more audible. In the distance he could see the source of voices, a large crowd of crudely dressed men lead by a more refined and sophisticated looking youngster. The boy appeared very keen on keeping as much distance as possible between himself and the mob that had formed behind him. The voices of the men carried threats and a wide range of vulgarities Zeekiel had rarely heard in his time. But that was not all the Marine had perceived from beyond the shadows of the forest. It was evident from the boy's apparel that he was not from Western Winchester. In fact, straining his vision, it appeared to Zeekiel that the boy was not from Winchester Island at all.

It would be quite unfortunate if a tourist had fallen victim to the war zone that was Western Winchester. The marine needed to help but decided to follow alongside the group as they began to pass where he'd been couching behind a few bushes and low hanging branches. They all moved together in the most bizarre herd stampeding toward the gate. Zeekiel's breathing had quickly become erratic due to his mind being set on determine an additional course of action, frustration soon found him. He angled his body and pushing his legs harder, the marine directed himself to the group of persistent men. Emerging from beyond the trees and bushes Zeekiel set his sights on the rear of the crowd, kicking off the ground and launching himself at the man so unfortunate to be a follower.

He tackled the unsuspecting man to the ground. While attempting to recover from the ground he heard a few pairs of feet come to a stop. "Hey! Who the hell is that?" Zeekiel raised his head to see that he succeeded in grasping the attention of two of the men.

Sigh.

He was looking to distract more from their focus on the boy. Oh well, it wouldn't be long before they would reach Sixty-Nine. The cyborg would surely have no problem holding out until he had subdued the two approaching men along with the third who had staggered into a standing position; all of whom wielded redundant makeshift weapons. He let out another sigh, "Geez fellas...how dare you raise such mediocre things at me. I'd much rather be stomped to death than be struck by any of those arms you bare."The moment he began speaking Zeekiel's expression relaxed and the tone of his voice regained its playfulness. As the words continued to dance a hand moved to draw his Khopesh from its place on his hip. He held out for all of them to clearly see, "Now this is what you call a weapon. Please take time to examine its superior design."

He gently trailed his finger along the surface of his sword, with a smile so joyous it threatened to tear the muscles in his cheeks. He was going to enjoy this to the fullest. These men would learn the beauty that was weaponry.

[Kurosaki]

As he ran, the robot analyzed the path in front of him. Unfortunately for him, the wall seemed a little too high just to simply leap over. He'd have to climb something first and then jump over. Deciding that it was probably at least his best option at this point, since he would probably get corned if he continued to get chased while in the pirate's backyard practically, Cell veered to the right, following the wall at a parallel till he came to where forest was dense in front of the man-made division.

Not only that, but the dense foliage would offer him some refuge. Or at least, that was his hope. Somehow though, the five angry men that made up the mob were still keeping up with him as the smaller boy leaped and zigzagged between trees and bushes. Perhaps it was the noise he made as he crunched on the dry twigs and leaves that made up the floor of the forest, or maybe it was their thirst for blood that helped them sniff him out. Either way, Cell was beginning to wonder if he was going to be able to slow them down enough to scale up a tree and slip over the wall.

"Oof," he cried reflexively when his foot caught on a tree limb and he felt the world tilt. He almost fell on his face but managed to stumble forward and keep running. Which was lucky for him since two of the men were keeping very close behind him and would have been on top of him within moments.

He managed to turn to get a glimpse of his pursuers but only spotted two of them. He wondered what had become of the other three and still didn't seem them when he looked back again a few moments later.

The other two were keeping too close to lose them so Cell breathed in deep even though he didn't need to and turned around to face them, stopping and holding up his hands in a defensive position.

"Please, I don't want to fight! I did shoot your Captain but it was a harmless rubber bullet," Cell explained loudly, hoping that the other members would hear even if he didn't see them now. Now that he was stopped and fully able to take in all the details of the two men standing in front of him, looking flushed in the face and equally enraged, he could see that these happened to be the same ones that had the weapons; the crowbar and the bat.

That was wonderful.

If he had been more human, his eye would have probably twitched at this moment of realization.

One of the men slammed the crowbar against a tree seemingly in response to his statement and spat in the robot's general vicinity while the other just stared at the good-natured man-made machine with a grin, seemingly completely unaffected by the news that his Captain wasn't dead as a door nail like he had initially presumed.

"Doesn't matter. We're still gonna give you a lesson for laying a finger on him, boy," laughed the one with the crow bar as he took some steps forward, his buddy following closely behind, patting the ground with his baseball and then bringing it back in a mock swing.

[Kurosaki]

(Double Posting to end this thread since it's been abandoned.)

Continuing to run was not a viable option for him at this point. The thick foliage obstructed most of the paths and with the two angry brutes on his heels, he would most likely not get far. The sound of the wooden bat swooshing through the air was a disconcerting one, especially as the man slowly crunched his way across dry leaves headed toward Cell. A normal person would have probably begun to experience a surge of adrenaline as their fight or flight responses kicked into overdrive but instead, the robot stood there calculating the risks and observing the two adversaries warily with sharp blue eyes.

Since his protests had fallen on deaf ears, all that was left was to 'put up or shut up'. The machine recalled overhearing a conversation where a Professor had said that. What a strange thing to say, if you tried to break it down and analyze the meaning.

"RAH!" cried the overly sweaty bat wielder as he charged forward with all the subtly of a freight train, raising the bat high in order to bash Cell's brains in. Not about to simply stand around, Cell quickly moved inward, under the man's raised hairy arms. The mechanisms in his arm wound back and Cell was able to deliver a devastating blow to the man's chin in the opposite direction with the palm of his hand. The brute went down backwards like a ton of bricks, slamming into the ground and losing control of his weapon, which soared into the air before ironically coming back down to clunk him in the head.

He didn't get back up.

The man in the wife beater that was holding the crowbar took a step backward as his black eyes locked with Cell's cold dark blue pair. Sweat had already been pouring down his forehead and soaking into the white fabric but it seemed to increase and his hands were shaking. Eyes flickered away from the robot's and toward the trees as though expecting reinforcements to come through the shadows at any moment. When they didn't, he stepped backward another step and turned his head completely around trying to see if they were maybe just hiding back behind the oak.

"I don't think your friends are coming," Cell commented ominously as he took a step forward in the second man's direction, stepping over the collapsed form of his buddy. The nervous man glanced down at the unconscious form of the ring leader and back up at the robot as if weighing his options. If he retreated now, he might have to fess up to his group later, after all. Those thoughts seem to swirl in his head but when he turned his head back up and saw that the boy's eyes were now glowing with blue light, he fell over backward onto his bum in an attempt to scurry away from him. Tossing leaves in the air as well as twigs, then tossing the crowbar in an effort to backpedal away from Cell, the man's breath caught in his throat when the weapon struck Cell in the head and then bounced off uselessly.

"MONSTER! GET BACK! STAY AWAY!" he cried hoarsely before somehow managing to get his legs out from under him and back onto his feet. He slipped, crashed back to earth and ate some gritty dirt and leaves on his way down. The taste of soil must have been overwhelming because he spat and sputtered while scrambling away.

Cell stood still and watched as the man rushed back into the woods, leaving his comrade behind, out like a light.

He was still for a moment before a small smile actually crossed his plastic face and he leaned over with a hand on his chest, relieved. There had been no telling that his intimidation would have worked, or that the other three members wouldn't have caught up before he had scared that last guy off and given him more confidence. Regardless, it had worked and it gave him ideas for the future. Maybe, just the fact that he wasn't human would be enough to keep himself out of intense fights. After all, in the right circumstance, he could look pretty inhuman. The thought was encouraging since he really would rather not hurt someone if he could help it. As it was, his eyes shifted to the inert human on the ground, guilt evident in his eyes, realizing he was probably just lucky he hadn't broken the man's jaw.

The youth started to walk away, but turned back around and walked up to the body. Shaking his head a tad, he grabbed him by the shoulders and effortlessly dragged him over to a tree and used the oak to prop him up. At least this way his friends would see him and be able to retrieve him easily later. Since the Island was mostly inhabited, the robot doubted there was any animals in the wooded area that would be cause for concern.

Moving forward, the robot silently wished he hadn't been alone during all of this. He now knew he could figure out a way to get himself out of pinches like this but... It never hurt to have someone who had your back.