The third member of the A.I. Trio comes to Dexter's rescue and helps him escape.
It’s very dark and very quiet in here. Then after a while, I don’t get taken out at all.
Because they’ve found someone else.
“-Mass migration of metalheads, huh?”
I open my eyes. Metalheads? Oh right. A.I.s.
I hear the whirrs of thrumming electricity, starting up. Hear some scared curses, thrown out as a last resort. I close my eyes when the screaming starts.
I hate myself for thinking it.
At least it wasn’t me.
I hear the sobbing, and the boxing up of another A.I. unit. Poor guy.
I knock on my side of the wall, and listen to the other one knock back. We hit back and forth for a while, listening to each other’s responses.
I’m nearly asleep until I finally think about it.
What if it’s Lindsey?
Oh. Lindsey. Shit. SHIT!
I hit back on the wall, trying to see if I can get her attention, but it’s silent.
“Lindsey!” I shout to get her attention, but my voice breaks after the first syllable and I cough. My little dark room doesn’t feel so safe anymore, it just seems dark and far too small.
I wish my legs worked. I slam my fists against the door, screaming for Lindsey.
Then, all of a sudden, I consider yelling the Three Words.
Which is weird, because I don’t love anyone, except for myself. I mean, can you blame me? I’m hot. But Lindsey? Do I love Lindsey?
“Lindsey? It’s Dexter! Over here! Listen, I’ve been missing you a lot, and I think that we should really get together soon, like as a couple-”
Then the door flings open. I tumble out into the blinding light.
“Uh, shoot, kid. If you felt that way about me, you should’ve uh, said something.”
I grin at the unsure, almost serious tone of one of my best friends. The third member of the Three Stooges.
Jim tries to haul me to my feet, but I stop him. “Don’t, don’t man, I got nailed in the back of the knees, I can’t walk,” I explain. “Oh.”
Jim lets go of me, then notices my nose.
“Uh, dude? Not to be mean or anything? But what happened to your face?”
My entire face. It’s like my nose is the centre of a small solar system of pain. I’ve probably got bruising all over my face. It’s a small miracle that I didn’t lose any teeth.
Jim’s got some bruising too, but he’s not as anemic as I. His jaw looks a bit crooked, though, and he smells a bit like smoke.
“How’d they get you?” I ask him, choosing to not answer his question about my face. “Well, I got your Ping, and I came looking for you. I missed you, dude, Lindsey’s in, uh, this sort of Funk since you been gone,” Jim’s voice gets more high-pitched and hysterical. “So I met these really nice people out here, and they were all ‘Hey, A.I. Unit, I know where you can find Dexter!’ And because I’m a COMPLETE IDIOT I LISTENED!”
Jim’s screaming now, and I hear a door bang open.
“Hey, Jim, calm the hell down. It’s okay.”
“No! It’s not! I’m mad at you, okay?”
What’s all this now? “Jim, why are you mad at me? I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Jim leans down, and hauls me up by the front of my tattered dress.
“I’M MAD AT YOU BECAUSE YOU LEFT AND WHEN I FINALLY WAS BRAVE, FOR ONCE, I GOT ELECTROCUTED!” Jim starts shaking me.
My head snaps back and forth. I hear shouting in the hallway, and Jim’s gonna get us busted. I start slapping at Jim, trying to get him to put me down.
“Jim! Pull it together, man!”
“You don’t understand! I’m so alone, Dexter! Do you know how people feel about us? DO YOU?” Jim’s stopped shaking me, his eyes are bloodshot, and I can see yes, his jaw has been broken at one point.
“Do you know what they’re saying about A.I.’s? It’s some hurtful stuff, Dexter.”
“Jim, it’s okay, I’m here-”
Then Jim just winds back and hits me. Not a punch, mind you. This is Jim we’re talking about. It’s a pretty hard bitch-slap, though.
Jim lets go of me, and I fall back to earth.
Jim sits down next to me. “Did you honestly just Bitch-slap me?” I ask him. Jim smiles, a small smile. “I guess I did.”
We listen to the argument going on somewhere else in the warehouse.
“You’re on our territory. We have full right!”
“Psh. Please, Killjoys, what’re you gonna do, shoot us?”
There’s a loud shot, sort of like a high-pitched whistle that, to me, sounds like a Ray Gun.
“Holy shit! You shot Doug!”
“Yeah? And what about you? You feel lucky, Punk? Do ya?”
Jim pokes me. “You hear that?” he asks me. “The Clint Eastwood line? Yeah. Do you think it sounded...” I trail off, realizing what this means. Jim’s nodding next to me, already saying “It um, does sound like you.”
Gerard? Holy shit, no way. Weird. It’s almost like fate.
There’s some more gunshots, and Jim panics.
“What happens when they find us?!”
“Relax. They’ll love us.”
“Y’know what? I’m pretty sure the Rioters loved us too and look how that turned out!”
Jim starts hyperventilating. Why the hell am I friends with this guy? God. “Jim, honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?” I ask, looking down at my mangled legs and torn up clothes. Jim stares at the floor. I can see the bruises and broken jaw that’s been given to him, and maybe he has a point.
Then a door bursts open, and in through it comes a four foot tall barrel of sound.
“DUUUUUDE! Hey, guys! Guys! I found people! Come see!”
There’s some exasperated sighs from the other part of the warehouse. Short Loud Guy comes forward, waving his gun and talking in lightspeed english.
Jim looks to me. I just stare uncomprehendingly. Who is this guy?
He comes closer, and I can see he’s wearing a Frankenstein mask. Aha. Somebody’s mentally unstable today.
“Holy. shit.” Frankenstein’s voice slows down to something slower. Jim tries to look threatening, but it’s hard when you’re sitting next to your best friend who also happens to be a transvestite. “Gee?” Frankenstein asks me. His voice sounds familiar.
“Uh, this is Dexter...” Jim states, picking at his fingernails. Frankenstein gets closer to me, looking at me. I stare at the warped rubber of the cheap halloween mask. His name....god, I should know this. Was he in the band thing? My Chem whatever? Why is he so familiar?
“Gee! Get back here!” Frankenstein calls. Gee. Gerard. I’m going to meet Gerard. I hear the footfalls like heartbeats. One, two, three, step, turn the corner.
There he is.
Dyed red hair, blue jacket, grey jeans, yellow superhero mask. Huh. He’s not into the whole transvestite thing. I wonder where that came from? “What’s your problem, ghoul?” he asks Frankenstein. Is he pissed or something? I may never know.
“You only commissioned one of these things,” Ghoul says softly. Gerard’s eyes cut to Jim first, take him in, then go to me.
And they stay there.
I look just like him. Same eyes. Same eyebrow shape, and my nose looked just like that before I got Hulk Smashed by that girl. Then he speaks to me.
“I didn’t order you.”
“Who made you? Who the hell commissioned you, because I didn’t.”
Oh. Okay. Yikes. I’ve only been looking and wondering who you were for the greater part of my manufactured life, but it’s okay, shoot me down, treat me like a machine with no feelings, because I am one, after all. I can’t say anything to you. I thought you cared. But I’m nothing, right? Those Rioter people were right, I don’t deserve to exist, I go against nature.
“Dexter? It’s okay,” Jim puts a hand on my shoulder.
Gerard finally looks at Jim. “And who the hell are you?”
Jim doesn’t say anything either. Doormat.
I look back at Gerard, feeling bitterly disappointed. I mean, this guy? This guy is the one who shares my DNA? He doesn’t even like me.
Gerard stares coolly at me. “Hey. Robot. Listen, we’d take you with us, but we don’t have room in the Trans Am, soo...” he shrugs, like there’s nothing he can do about this. “Don’t be mean,” Frankenstein says quietly, but Gerard ignores him.
“You two done? We got shit to do today!” Somebody else calls.
Gerard turns on his heel-I do that too-and walks out, away from me. I watch him go.
Frankenstein glances in between me and Gerard. He follows Gerard.
And that’s it.
I clench my jaw tighter to keep from crying. Jim’s standing next to me. So now what? Gerard doesn’t care about me. Do I go back to Battery City now? I can’t walk. Oh my God. What a disaster.
“Dexter?” Jim says, and that’s all it takes. I start sobbing. Why? God, three years of expectations. Yeah, I expected to be treated like the king of the world. God, I’m so stupid.
“No it’s not! I’ve waited for this for years, Jim! And I screwed it up, okay?” I hiccup, and I can’t escape how horribly pathetic I am.
Jim looks to me, then to the door. He leans down, hauling me up by the arm.
“Save it, doofus. I can’t walk, remember?”
“Um, Dex? If this works, we’re getting a free ride.”
Jim drags me out of the room, and we’re out the door, behind the back of a guy in a yellow helmet. I’m trying to tamp down any stray hiccups from my crying jag.
Suck it, Gerard! You can’t get rid of us this easy.
Jim and I head outside the Rioter’s warehouse, and then we’re out, and I see it. A big gray car that’s been shot a lot, it’s just riddled with bullet holes, and there’s a giant spider drawing on the front of it.
“Go go go!” I whisper, and Jim giggles like a high school kid on a dare.
Jim gets me to the back of the car, and we duck down, hiding like cowboys. I’m smiling now, even though I’m probably a wreck with my eyes red from crying and my clothes torn up.
Jim tries the trunk, and luck’s on our side. It’s unlocked.
“Help me get in!” I hiss to Jim, laughing a bit. Jim nods, and helps me in, quite loudly.
“Ouch. That hurt.”
“Dexter, you’re paralyzed from the waist down, it can’t be that bad.”
Jim slams the trunk, and light’s only filtering through bullet holes in the trunk.
“You hear something?” I hear Gerard call to somebody.
I hold my breath.
“Nah, c’mon, let’s go. Jet’s making Bufreidos!”
“YAY! I forgot it was Bufreido day. That makes me so happy,” Frankenstein sighs.
“There should be enough air for us to breath, but we should stay quiet,” Jim whispers to me.
The car starts, engine rumbling to life underneath us, and we pull away.
A.N. Everything's going according to plan! I've got Jim implemented and Party Poison's sort of mean but I like him anyway! I am proud for updating. Like, it's unbelievable. Thanks for reading and all, review if you would like to. Bye.