Fiction: Live. Fight. Die

[kethni]

Name: Live. Fight. Die.
Pairing: K(Matt clone)/Adam
Rating: 18
Warnings: Implied strong sexual violence
Note: Toy ‘verse fic. With gratefully thanks to boudecia7 for the edit and dragon6593 for the story suggestion.


Then

Stinks today. OK976 body not moved. Body going bad. Excreta voided onto floor. Body leaking. Eyes open. Crawling things everywhere. Feel them in the dark, wriggle, wriggle.

Door to open; hear the sounds. Too much light. Always too much light. Kneel down; look at floor. Hands behind back. Hear others moving too.

‘KZ316, on your feet!’

Hands on collar. Another fight? Early.



Light burns on skin. Unknown place. Smell the Reals. Females. One bleeding. All excited. Aroused. Smell it.

‘Jesus, it stinks!’

‘We brought it up from the cells. You want it scrubbed clean?’

Fingers on skin; hand on chest. Small and soft hand. Aroused and frightened.

‘Has it killed lots?’

‘A bunch, yeah; nine mining units and a couple of dozen pleasure models. If you look at the back you can see the strike tattoo for each kill.’

‘A mining unit up against pleasure models hardly seems fair.’ Other female, young, quiet.

‘The pleasure models get knives or the like. But so far none of them have come close to shutting it down.’

Hand tugs at hair. ‘How do you know it wouldn’t hurt us?’

‘KZ316, wallop the female in front of you, go on. Give her a good hard thump.’

Female panicking, excited, thrilled.

‘Oy, KZ316, I told you to thump the woman in front of you. Why’re you standing there like a great lemon? Hit her!’

‘Real human.’

Applause. Laughter.

‘How does it know?’ the female owning the hand asks.

‘Eh, they can always tell us from them,’ Master says. ‘Doesn’t matter if they’re blindfolded or nothing, they can pick out real humans from artificial.’

‘One day we might regret that,’ she says.

‘So do you want it? Or shall I have another fetched up?’

‘Elle says she hurt one.’ Different female, heavy breathing, arousal spiking. ‘She said she was allowed to. Could we do that?’

‘That’d cost more and it’d be only certain stuff you can do. It’d cost us a shitload of money if it missed a fight.’

‘Make your sales pitch.’



Something in mouth. No screaming. Smell of blood, burning, flesh. Stink of females; arousal, excitement, fear. Skin tight under drying blood. Sound of laughing, arguing. Squabbling for a turn.



L waiting in cell with bowl of water.

‘Where have you been?’ it asks, washing away grime and blood on this unit.

‘Rented to females.’

‘Females burn and cut you?’ L pours away water. ‘Sold to male once.’

‘What for?’

Pleasuring. That hurt.’

Pleasuring male? No orifice. ‘Pleasuring how?’

L laughs. ‘Why, want to try it?’

‘No!’

L laughs again. ‘Funny K.’

‘Where been?’

‘Med bay,’ it says. ‘Miss me?’

Quiet without L. Other units moan, cry, whimper. No talking. ‘Yes.’

Rubs its face against this unit’s face. Smell is wrong, faulty.

‘Missed you,’ it says.

‘Malfunctioning?’

‘Liver bad,’ it says, exhales slowly. ‘Need new.’

‘Take mine.’

‘Only got one!’ L hits this unit’s shoulder with hand. ‘Then you would cease functioning and go to the Creator incomplete!’

‘Don’t care. Wait there. When you arrive Creator will sort it out.’

L laughs. ‘Could be long wait.’

‘Good. Many questions for Creator. Long conversation.’

L touches this unit’s chest. ‘Brand is damaged. Might need another. Reals need to know who is winning.’

‘Back brand?’

L moves behind. Fingers on skin. ‘Back brand is good and tally too. Many wins. Think they truly release after fifty?’

‘No.’



Arena. Dim light. Reals shouting, cheering. Different faces; same mouths, same noses. Same hard, bright eyes. Food and drink on hands and clothes. Eating, drinking. Throwing bottles. Stamping feet. Calling for blood.

Six pleasure models: four female, two male. Carrying knives, ropes, long pieces of metal. Easy kills. Two males jump forward. Break both their necks. Female drags knife across arm. Take knife away, slice throat. Second female screaming, leave for now. Third female shouting and waving rope. Take rope and strangle quick. Fourth female, stab in heart. Second female weeping and calling on Creator. Break neck. Reals jeering.



‘How many fucking times to I have to tell you?’

Master angry. Violent. Kicking, slapping, pulling hair. Kicks shoulder so this unit rolls onto the floor.

‘You don’t just fucking kill them, not pleasure models! They have ropes, so tie them up and do them one at a bleeding time. Killing them right off is too fucking easy, it’s boring. Understand? People pay to see units get messed up. So hurt them, rape them, whatever, but don’t fucking kill them all in under five bleeding minutes!’

‘Define rape?’

‘Jesus! Shove your useless cock in them, in their mouth, in their cunt, or arse, or in their fucking ear if you want. If you do it to someone who doesn’t want it, that’s rape. Does that fucking compute?’

Protuberance is flaccid during arena time. Rape would not be possible. Malfunction?

‘Kill pleasure models inefficiently.’

‘Don’t fucking kill them too quickly. Torture them; you know what that means don’t you?’ ’

‘Yes. This unit is familiar with torture.’

‘Good,’ Master says. ‘Hurt them in different ways and take your fucking time. Humiliate them, piss on them, that sort of thing. If there’s a female unit that catches your eye then feel it up, rape it. Give the punters a bit of showmanship, K.’



OK976 body gone. Cell smells better.

This unit has missed feeding. L has hidden food for it. It is sufficient.

‘Touching self not working, K?’

‘Checking function.’

L touches. Protuberance responds.

‘It appears functional. Are you to be hired to females again?’

‘Master said to rape during fights. Protuberance flaccid then.’

L frowns. ‘Tumescence during fights seems inefficient, distracting. What is rape?’

‘Rape defined as pleasuring when it is unwanted.’

‘Ha! All pleasuring then.’

‘L?’

‘Yes, K?’

‘Can stop checking protuberance for response now.’



Arm hurting. Taken to medical. Doctor Angela smile, smile, smile, grab, paw, hurt.

‘This cut in your arm is infected. They should’ve brought you along right away instead of waiting until you became symptomatic. I’ll give you some antibiotics and clear it right up. We don’t want one of our top fighters being out because of some piddling scratch now do we?’

Cold and bright room. Shiny, sharp things on table.

‘I’m taking the opportunity to give you a thorough examination.’ Big smile. Hungry. ‘Let’s see what’s what with you all over. Get some preventative maintenance done for once. Get on the bed, put your feet up into the stirrups, and slide your wrists into the restraints. Let’s just tighten those up shall we?’

Metal cold. Stirrups rough. Restraints coarse and cut skin.

‘Let’s have a look at you shall we?’

Gloved hands. Cold wet. Strange touch. Not pleasant.

‘Your record says you haven’t been hired for pleasure by a man.’ Frowning.

‘No.’

‘You’ve been penetrated anally by something, and recently.’

‘Females. Some have objects.’

Nod. Smile. ‘Aah. All you have to be concerned with from males is being beaten to death, hmm?’

Fingers inside. Cold.

‘Have you affected release recently?’

‘No.’

Smile. ‘Not even with the females?’

‘No!’

Shakes head. Clicks tongue. ‘Not keen on women, hmm? Interesting. You shouldn’t let too much seminal fluid go unexpressed. You’re the primary fighter in your unit aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Consider using one of the less successful units as a repository; the pleasure models are trained for it.’



Tube, long plastic. Pushing inside. Cold and unpleasant.



Poked, injected, measured. On back, on front, standing up. Blood out and fluid in.

‘Not bad condition for the amount of fights.’ Doctor Angela writing and talking. ‘Nothing seems to need replacing just yet, which is fortunate as we don’t keep any replacements in stock. There’s such a high turnover with mining units. Alright, you can get dressed now.’



L sleeping. Curled up on bunk. Lay next to it and it adjusts to make room. All mining units here from different batches, scavenged, stolen. Some have mined. Most have not. Fight, die, go to Creator. Then? Don’t know. Must be better. Must.
L moves closer. Warm body, strong, soft. Quiet time when all asleep. Is it like this when with Creator? No Reals, no fighting, just quiet and warmth.



Arm stiff. Aching. L fussing.

‘Oy, lovebirds, get up. Jesus Christ, K, don’t cuddle up with the other mining units. That’s just fucking weird.’

L sleepy, confused. Eyes yellow.

‘Fuck, look at you two. Make one decent fighter between you. Both of you get out there. K, remember what I said, don’t kill them too quick. Hurt them bad and kill them slow. Piss on them, shit on them, rape them if you can. Understand?’

‘Yes.’



Waiting to go into arena. L slow. Stomach hurting.

‘Stay behind, this unit will fight.’

‘Your arm is hurt, K.’

‘Still got one good arm.’

‘I have two good arms!’

Doors open. Pushed through. Inside shouting, jeering.



Knife. Wide, broad, heavy. Machete or cleaver. Silver in air. Like punch. Or kick. Like kick in leg, then blood. Blood and L screaming. Sawdust on floor, blood, urine, excreta. Blood so bright and hot. Steam rising from leg. Quiet now. L ripping up clothes. Tying around leg.

‘Stay awake. K, stay awake!’

‘Stop.’

‘What?’

‘L stop crying. Not infant.’

‘Stop bleeding then!’



Reals running, grabbing, shouting.

‘... almost completely severed. There’s far too much damage to repair the tendons although we have stopped the bleeding.’

‘Can we stop the screaming?’ Doctor Angela. See her looking down. ‘KZ316 be quiet.’

‘He’s our best fucking fighter! You’ve got to fix him up. Jesus, do you know how much fucking money we’ll lose?’ Master, stinks of panic and anger. ‘The useless sack of skin with the crapped out liver is perfectly fine, not a fucking scratch.’

‘Ahh, now there’s a thought.’ Doctor Angela tapping this unit on the hand. ‘We could use that unit and patch up K here and some of your other mining units, then freeze the other organs.’

‘Could you do that? Because LKG973’s on its last fucking legs anyway...’

‘No! No! No!’

Doctor Angela injects something. Light gets soft. ‘Be quiet K.’

No. No. Not L... not L...



Medbay. Bright. White. Stink of cleaning material. Medicined. Head full of... Can’t think. Ache. Leg aches.

L. L! L! L! L!

‘Jesus Christ! What is it trying...’

‘Get the restraints! We did not operate for eighteen hours for him to cut the damn thing off with a scalpel!’

No! No! No! L! L!

‘Shit! He broke my fucking nose! He broke my fucking nose!’

‘Stop screaming. Melba get a sedative. Melba! Leave Jason, his nose can wait. Get the sedative. We’ll have to put him back on a low dose of the feed.’

‘But they don’t fight good when they’re on the feed!’

‘This is not the time for a debate!’




Cold. So cold. No L to keep warm. No L.

Light. Bright light.

‘Shush, it’s okay.’ Mining unit. Smells clean, healthy. Wearing Real clothes. ‘We’re with the resistance and we’re going to get you out of here. What’s your medical condition?’ Frowns. Turns away. ‘I need medical help in here. Got a clonelife in restraints and a bandaged up leg.’

‘KZ316.’

‘What?’ Sits down on bed.

‘KZ316.’

Looks at this unit’s chest. ‘Oh, that’s your designation? My name is Matt, do you have a name?’

Touching, hand touching this unit’s hand.

‘KZ316. Can use K.’

Pleasure model walks in. Peter unit. Hair strange; purple at ends.

‘Hey man, you found the leg guy?’ Walks over to Matt, hand on shoulder. ‘The computer says this guy is a leg transplant.’ Looks at this unit. Smiles. Nice smile. ‘Hi buddy, I’m Cameron. We’re going to get you out of here.’

‘A leg transplant?’ Matt looking at leg. ‘Is it safe to move him?’

‘Well uh I’ll get in touch with Doctor Suresh; we can work out how to do it safely. They’ve been doing some like really experimental stuff here. There’s a freezer full of fresh organs out there that...’

‘L! L! L killed and organs taken! Going to Creator incomplete!’

Held down. Talked to like in pain.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’

Cameron sitting, squeezing this unit’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find L’s body and bury the organs with it. Won’t we, Matt?’

‘I’ll do it myself. L won’t have to... to go to the Creator incomplete.’ Matt smells of someone else, smells of a Real. It doesn’t smell of fear or pain. Excitement, anxiety, and no fear. All mining units here stink of fear, always.

‘Leg, L’s leg. Take it. Take it.’

Matt looks at Cameron and then looks at this unit. ‘They gave you his leg?’



Now

Chaos. Units running everywhere. Hospital should be quiet, calm. Not people shouting and running.

‘They’ve only bloody lost Boo,’ Adam unit says. Out of bed and stealing pills. ‘I ask you, lost him. He’s not exactly the stealthiest is he? Would you care for a painkiller?’

‘This unit is not in pain.’

‘Oh you don’t need to be in pain.’ Bright smile. ‘Best if you’re not in pain I find. Actual pain rather distracts from the more enjoyable aspects of painkillers. You might want to consider referring to yourself as “I” or “me”, as appropriate. Just a little FYI. The “this unit” business tends to be something of a distancing mechanism.’ It pours a glass of water from the jug. ‘So does referring to other people as “it” while we’re on the subject.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Ooh, a coherent question! That is an improvement.’ Shrugs. ‘I’m missing an arm and you’re something of a patchwork man. I feel a certain affinity. Besides you’re not currently screaming or trying to hack off your leg, the novelty caught my attention.’

Humour. Never understood it. ‘Stealing medicine is counterproductive. Medicine used incorrectly can be toxic.’

‘I’ll consider myself told off then.’

Its eyes are very blue. Like the sky. See sky through the windows.

‘Boo gone to Creator?’

‘Oh good Lord, no! He’s just snuck off somewhere when they weren’t looking.’ Puts hand in lap. ‘You have quite a dark turn of mind don’t you?’

‘Fight. Die. Go to Creator. What light is there?’

It shrugs. ‘That was then. There’s no fighting here. They can be rather depressingly boring about things like drinking and painkillers but that really is the worst I can say about it.’

‘L is with Creator.’

‘Ah. Was L your lover? That can be difficult to cope with.’ Smiles. ‘The dying I mean, not having a lover. That can be jolly pleasant if you do it well.’

‘Define lover.’

Adam raises its eyebrows. ‘Admirer, beau, courtier, swain. No? Boyfriend, fuck buddy, sperm dumpster?’

‘Repository! No! No!’

‘Calm down lamb.’ Hand on leg. Touching, touching, L’s leg. ‘Lover is not a bad thing.’

‘Pleasuring bad! Hurt, bleeding, screaming...’

It bites this unit on the mouth, but not. Not teeth. Just lips.

‘There, that wasn’t so unpleasant was it?’ Smile. ‘What’s up, lamb, never been kissed before?’

‘No.’

‘Well it shut up the shouting,’ it says, standing up. ‘Things appear to be calming down. I better get back to my bed before they start counting pills.’



‘You didn’t get too disturbed with the noise last night, I hope?’

Cameron good at hydrotherapy. Never hurts. No splashing.

‘Talked to Adam.’

‘Oh yeah? You just be careful with that one.’ Frowns. ‘He’s a lot older than you.’

‘It kissed this unit.’

Cameron rolls eyes. Not angry. ‘Pleasure models. They think any problem can be solved with sex.’

‘Cameron not a pleasure model?’

‘Cheek!’

‘Cameron, define sex? Kissing is sex?’

Cameron rubs face. ‘Sex is a good kind of pleasuring. Kissing can be part of it.’ Smiles. ‘Did you like the kiss?’

‘More than pleasuring!’

Laughs. ‘Yeah, well buddy that’s because you’ve only had the shitty stuff.’

‘Adam is clonelife. Clonelife pleasure Reals.’

Cameron shakes head. ‘Not necessarily, plenty of clonelife date other clones.’

‘Define date?’

Cameron rubs face again. ‘Man, I am going to give Adam such a talking to.’



See Doctor in afternoon. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t hurt. Smells of Matt and medicine.

‘Are you having pain?’

‘No, Doctor.’

Taps restraints on this unit’s wrists. ‘I don’t like keeping you in these, is it necessary?’

Nothing sharp nearby.

‘No.’

Doctor undoes restraints. Sits back. ‘You’re doing much better physically. I’d like to see you doing more therapy: start taking some steps, probably in the small pool. You have very good muscle tone and I don’t want you to start to lose that. Once you do gaining it back becomes very difficult.’ Folds arms. ‘Can I ask to accept for a moment that you won’t be cutting off your leg any time soon?’

‘L’s leg.’

‘It’s your leg now! If you cut it off you’ll bleed to death, do you think that’s what he’d want? I was told L was your friend, well, what kind of bloody friend would want your death?’ Breathing fast. Smells agitated, angry.

‘Mohinder, can I have a word?’ Matt, voice tight, hand twitching. ‘Outside, hmm?’

Doctor’s cheeks red. ‘I apologise for losing my temper, K. Matt, can we talk later? I wouldn’t like to wander off in the middle of K’s appointment.’

Matt looks at Doctor, looks at me. ‘K, are you alright to carry on?’

Threat level from Doctor: low to very low. Frustration with this unit consistent over time. Anger aimed as much at self as at unit. No inclination to violence.

‘Shouting causes no injury. Master would beat when angry.’

Matt snorts. Shakes head. ‘Listen Mr Macho; there are more injuries than the ones you can see.’

‘Matt, I can handle this,’ Doctor says. Quiet. Ashamed.

Matt touches Doctor’s hand. Gentle. No touching Reals! Not permitted!

Doctor smiles. Squeezes Matt’s hand. Smell of each other.

‘I’ll see you in the ward, K,’ Matt says. Lets go of Doctor’s hand. Walks out of the room.

‘I’m sorry I lost my temper,’ Doctor says again. ‘I appreciate that this is incredibly difficult for you. Not all of the fighters made it and it just... it frustrates me. You’re healthy and there’s no reason why you can’t make a full recovery.’

‘L cannot face Creator incomplete.’

Doctor folds arms. ‘What will happen to him then? If he can’t face his Creator what happen to him?’

Gentle voice. Not shouting.

‘L... L have to wait. Wait until this unit dies.’

Doctor sits down on examination table. ‘I don’t really know much about your religious beliefs. Matt hasn’t spoken about them. Is it... bad where L’s waiting?’

Allowable to tell Reals? No injunction against it.

‘Not bad. Not good. With Creator but not judged yet. Not able to enter bliss.’

Doctor nods. ‘That’s good. What happened wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t be punished...’

‘My fault! My fault! Leg damaged... L died for... L died...’

‘Oh God. There, there. Please... please don’t cry. I’m not the person you want to be crying on, I’m really not good at this kind of thing, I’m not... I’m not the right person for this kind of thing...’



‘K, can you drink this? It’s a very mild sedative. It’ll help.’

Matt. Threat assessment: low to moderate, stated aversion to violence. No apparent disinclination to this unit. Unit is capable of causing severe damage to already damaged unit. No necessity to drug or poison.

Take drink. Tastes of orange. So many more tastes and textures here.

‘Don’t let Mohinder upset you. He’s not a bad person, but he’s uncomfortable with displays of emotion.’ Matt shrugs. ‘It’s a natural born man thing.’

‘Doctor didn’t... didn’t cause distress.’

Matt pats hand. ‘He’s a bit brusque, I know, but he takes the health of his patients extremely seriously. He takes it very much to heart when patients die.’

‘Explanation unnecessary. Doctor’s motivation not in doubt. This unit, I, capable of returning to health. Doctor wishes it so.’

‘Do you want to die, K?’

‘Life is finite. We live, we fight, we die. Nothing is gained by foreshortening life.’

Matt nods. ‘If you cut off that leg, the leg that L died to give you, then you’ll almost certainly bleed to death. You’ll die without ever having done anything but fight. There are so many more things in life, K.’

‘L’s leg.’

‘Yes,’ Matt says. ‘What was done to him was horrific, but you didn’t do it. You’re not responsible. What was done to him was also done to you.’

‘L dead!’

‘You cutting off your leg, you bleeding to death, that won’t bring him back.’

‘Not stupid!’

Matt smiles. ‘No. Mohinder’s arranging for you to see the therapist they have here. There’s a whole world of things you’ve never been allowed to see. Not least of which being cheeky blond painkiller addicts.’ Rolls eyes. ‘But you have to want to live to see them. Only you can make that choice. We can stop you dying but we can’t make you live, not really.’

L died. L would not want this... would not want me to die also. The Creator will take care of him while he waits.

‘That was rather preachy wasn’t it? Are you feeling any better?’

‘Yes. Much better.’

Matt nods. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

‘Like to see Adam.’

Matt smiles and nods. ‘I’ll get him. Will you be alright do you think?’

‘Don’t know. Will find out.’

The End