The sound of glass clinking and metallic chimes made music, in the otherwise silent room. A red head man would pause momentarily to write something down before going back to his tinkering. The door opened behind him, making a screeching noise. The young man smiled as he walked through the door.

“Father, what have you been doing all day?” The man turned to the boy, whose red hair was a darker shade then his. “Studying my boy. I think I have found my answer.” The boy looked over at his father, a small smile crossed his face. His youthful appearance masked his true age. 

“You know father, I have an idea? The one you wanted? Why not me?” His old man stopped breathing. He looked at his son. The thought had never crossed his mind to use his own son. With that idea, his smile grew larger. 

“I’ve never thought of it before.” His son sat down looking at the papers, re-reading his father’s work. 

“But then again, I’m just content not being one of our projects.” The younger man’s eyes widened and his skin paled when he heard a click. The young man looked behind him. “Father, I was joking.” Trying to crack a smile but the look on the man’s face told otherwise.

His father walked forward. “You’ll see her soon. Then we can be a family again.” 

The young man pressed against the desk, looking for something to throw. In his blind luck, he found a metal bin. He tossed it at his father while the gun discharged. A clang was heard, making contact with the bin. With the freedom to escape in reach, he just dodged the first of six bullets he knew were there. Passing by the man he called father, through the door he came through.

He ran with such speed, that he could not stop before hitting a wall full force. Falling to the ground, he got up. Seeing his father was close behind him.

“Shit!!”

He got to the outside world, the snow falling from the dark skies. He ran down a dimly lit alleyway. He saw his exit at the end of it. But a single shot rang in the night, as it seemed to echo in his ears. The pain was short, as it was unreal to him. Someone close, his own blood, shot him. He slowly staggered as his world started crashing down. The snow below him, dragged him down. Hitting the cold, unforgiving snow. He came to rest underneath a street light. His gray eyes staring up and the dim light. Blood was rushing out, making the snow around him tinted pink. Then his reality hit him.

“OH GOD.”

Blood trickled out as he spoke. Talking to someone who wasn’t there. Seeing his breath slowly fade away with white puffs.

“I….I think I’m dying.”

He looked up at the streetlight, one of the last few things that would be burned into his mind before death.

Error 06

*

“You know who I am yet?”

“I am starting to, and I fear it.”

“Why is it that you fear it? Is it that you fear who you once were?”

“More like who you once was. Not me. Not who I am now.”

“Why not you. For we helped make this nightmare come to life.”

“No, not me, it was you. You’re the monster.”

“Monster? Then aren’t we both? The bringer of life and death.”

“Your problem is you play god.”

“Then I am your god. I created it.”

“Then if you are my god, then..”

"Then what?"

*

Clare looked out the company’s building window. She looked down below at the bottom. There she saw Rod talking to Will. She had wished she could read lips, to at least know what they are talking about. Then again, would she want to. She started walking towards her new office, when the office conversation caught her attention.

“So, what are they going to do with the Model Number 85.” 

“Well, she was used for sex but I don’t think anyone would want second hand goods.” 

“I know man and she’s cute too. But knowing she was that fat bastard’s plaything..” 

“I guess they will shut her down.”

 “Darn shame, she’s a new Model too.”

Clare frowned in disgust at her coworkers talk. Was it because she was feeling sorry for the Models now because of Will. Clare moved forward but stopped in the waiting room to see the said Model Number staring blankly at a wall. Clare, for whatever reason, walked over and sat down. She raised her hand up, patting her head. 

“85? Are you alright?” She asked concerned. The robotic girl looked at her. A sad face, somehow graced its programming. “I want to go home.” She said sadly. Clare looked up at the ceiling of the building, sighing. 

“There is no home to go back to. Your owner is dead.” 

85 turned and looked at her. “Not that home.” 

Clare was taken back. “What home?” 85 just looked at the wall. Clare grabbed her hand, pulling her along. Making her way down to the parking lot. She was stopped by a booming voice of the rent a cop. Clare cringed.

“Hello Randy, what is it that I can do for you?” Randy, the fat tub of lard, barked down at the woman with authority. 

“What are you doing with that thing?” Clare smiled. 

“Well, no one else was going to take her. So I’ll make her mine.” 

Randy eyed her. “Why would you want to take it. What is she to you? She’s nothing but a sex toy.” Clare cringed again. The way the words rolled out like that, she felt like 85 might have gone to Randy next.

“I want someone to clean my house and keep me preoccupied. Besides, I can’t cook to save my life.” Randy put his grubby hands in his pocket.

“There’s no qualification for you to take her out.” 

“Then I’ll do it tomorrow.” She grabbed 85’s hand and walked away to the parking lot. Randy raised an eye at her. He waited till she was out of sight before he made it back to his little office hidden in the corner. His grubby fingers reached for the phone. “Hello, Evanne. Could you connect me to Greg in Electronics.” Randy waited till he heard ringing on the other side. Randy gave an evil smile. “That bitch took my prize.” The phone on the other end was silent. Randy’s eyes looked confused, along with his face. “Evanne? Hello?”

Static rang in the phone. Randy hung up and tried again. This time, nothing. It was dead. Randy looked over at his video monitors. They started to white out and fuzz before going black. Randy put the phone down, pulling out his gun. Sweat started to fall down his chubby face as fear started to creep up. Horror movies passed in his mind, of all the horrors that could be around the corner. He looked around that corner and gave a little laugh. “Old boy, you’ll give yourself a heart attack with your imagination.” But his heart still raced, then for a moment, stopped. It was faint but he heard footsteps. It was rushing his way. Randy started sweating profusely now. He waited till the footsteps got closer, before he rounded the corner with the gun. He pointed and froze. As did the person on the end of the gun point. Randy looked down at a young woman. Her eyes wide with fear. She would have screamed if she had a mind to do so. Anger kicked in.

“Fuck Randy, get that thing away from me.” She yelled. 

“Evanne, I’m sorry. I thought…” Randy put his gun away. Evanne ran her hand through her short black hair, trying to shake off the idea that her brains could have been off the floor. 

“The power went out in Sector A.” She frowned. “A rat hit the breaker. I was told to come down here and tell you.” 

“Why running?” Evanne looked pissed. “I have to tell Floor Zero A to Floor 4 A. So I have to get it done! I don't want to end up dead like the others..."

Randy went back to his office. “IF that’s all. Then you can do the rest of your errands.” 

Evanne didn’t like the tone of his voice. “See ya, fatty.” She left, heading for the stairs. 

Randy was pondering if he should have put a bullet in her head.

He sat back down, hearing the chair screech in pain. He gave out a heavy sigh before leaning back. He was still angry at Clare. He closed his eyes, letting them rest a bit. He calmed himself down. In the distance, he heard walking again. “I’m getting paranoid.” He spoke to himself. The footsteps stopped. The next noise he heard, froze him in fear.

“I don’t think so.”

He opened his eyes. Looking directly into cold metallic gray ones. A scream tried to escape from his mouth but a sickening gurgle was heard instead.

A bloodied blade retracted back into 88’s arm, leaving a red line up his wrist. 88 looked over from his arm, over to Randy’s split head. The blood was gushing out like a river, as the earlier splatter painted everything around them. 88's eyes wavered, fixated on the red pool below the body. His mind was trying to recall something again. 88’s attention shifted when he heard echoing footsteps. 

Just as quietly as he had gotten there, he had left just as silent.

The passerby never noticed Randy’s little corner office. 

Nor did he notice the sound of dripping that echoed with a soft beat.

*

(Part 2 is next chapter, word count was too long. Sorry for the break in the work)