Mardock Scramble полностью

She was the one who had always had to wonder why and worry about what exactly it was that she’d done wrong, turning it over in her mind in minute detail.

She had never imagined that the shoe could be on the other foot.

That she could be the one to break a promise, to make the other person suffer.

The very idea that she could hurt someone who trusted her—it had never even occurred to her.

“It’s a type of self-defense mechanism, a bit like hyperacute rejection of transplanted organs. An automated response to when my user becomes my abuser…” Oeufcoque spoke between breaths as he lay prostrate. “It’s due to my fear of being disposed of…but don’t worry…I’ll get over it soon.”

The elevator suddenly stopped.

The doors creaked open and revealed a vast expanse of darkness.

From within the small box bathed in orange light, they could see the windswept concrete rooftop and the night vista of the city sprawling out below them in the distance.

Balot stared out at the view in silence, knees still to the ground.

She had no idea what she should do.

She had no idea what the right thing to do was.

She shouted in an empty whistle of a voice.

It sounded like a draft in a wind tunnel.

“…Sorry about all that. I’m better now,” Oeufcoque said. He raised himself up gently and looked up at Balot.

Large tears still poured out of her eyes.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to explain all her feelings to him.

But in her deep confusion she wasn’t able to say anything, and the best she could do was try and stop her confusion from pouring out. She didn’t want to hurt Oeufcoque anymore.

“Try and stand up. It’s no use staying here. Let’s get out of this box.”

Balot took a deep breath. Nodding repeatedly, she stood up and stepped out of the elevator.

She wiped her tears away with one hand, carrying Oeufcoque along ever so carefully with her other.

There was nothing on the roof.

Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

The cold night air only reinforced Balot’s sense of isolation and helplessness.

“…We need to buy ourselves a little more time. See if you can close all the shutters in the emergency staircase and turn off the elevators.”

Balot manipulated the building’s security system, snarcing it as Oeufcoque had suggested.

But she was under no illusions that this would be enough to stop that man forever. No trap or obstacle was ever going to be able to do that.

“If it comes down to it he’ll just walk up the building’s walls. Keep a lookout for him.”

–He was walking earlier. On the ceiling and the walls.

Just remembering that scene sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

–What is he, exactly? My bullets had no effect on him either.

“PGF—PseudoGravitational Float, it’s called—developed to give soldiers the power of independent movement in space,” Oeufcoque explained. “Powerful magnetic field generators are implanted into your brain and limbs, allowing you to create an artificial gravitational pull in any direction you want. This omnidirectional gravity field allows you to walk along any surface you want—or to deflect the path of any bullets. The reason he can use that enormous revolver is also due to his PGF. Boiled was the prototype—or, you could say, the first victim—of the technology, just before Scramble 09 was enacted.”

Oeufcoque’s eyes were downcast now, and he groaned. “I should have told you all of this before today…I really messed this one up.”

–Why didn’t you? Because you used to be friends?

“Whenever he decides to act, he gives off a characteristic odor. The cold, harsh smell of a mercenary going to war.”

He raised his head and returned Balot’s gaze.

“As long as I could avoid it, I didn’t want to have to speak about him—or how his body worked—behind his back. In the same way that I wouldn’t want to talk about your past or your body in front of other people.”

Balot’s eyes softened.

–You’re so thoughtful.

That was all she said. That was all she could think to say. And then she thought of herself, and how she had forgotten about his thoughtfulness, and she was ready to start crying again.

But then she heard a gunshot down the stairs. The sound of shutters being ripped apart.

She hadn’t bought herself much time.

–Where should I go? There’s nowhere left!

Balot was at the edge of the roof now, hands on the iron railings that ran around the perimeter.

“The Doctor should be here. Close by. Can’t you sense him?” Balot looked up at the night sky. The clouds drifted slowly, revealing the sharp crescent of the moon.

She sensed something from a distance that was gradually coming toward her.

“As soon as he received my emergency distress signal, the Doctor started heading back. He can’t be more than a few minutes away.”