An encounter

Newland City..
Not his favorite place. But it was less crowded than Borealis – mostly, at least, it could be a bit hectic on and off.
This night it was quiet, and rather dark. Comfortably dark, in fact, as he glided through the shadows as usual. As much as a ‘Trox could glide, anyway.

His contact was late so he had nothing to do but walk about aimlessly, blending in with the locals, easy as he was wearing a black, hooded cloak and with a gun semi-concealed by his backpack. In his hand was a large bottle but despite the label it held only coffee. An old rule, never ingest anything that’ll cloud the mind while on a mission.
He whistled softly, an old tune: “I was walking through OA one day, in the merry, merry month of May..”

He saw a young woman walking along briskly, followed by a robot adorned with the OT logo, she was going towards a residential area. Not a nice area, either.
To pass the time he ran her visual through his recorded images and found a match. A little surprised he opened her file and in his mind he read the details of where (Galway County), when (a year prior) and how (she’d been practicing robot control when she came across him) he’d seen her before.
Her robot was a better model, but still not anywhere near a Slayer. He smiled inwardly, engineering was not such an easy thing to learn.
He decided to amble in the same direction she’d taken. It’d be fun to see what the robot would do when it spotted him, if that piece of OT junk could do that.

He kept some distance away, then he heard the familiar sounds of a scuffle and her voice, shrill with fear, presumably giving an order the robot, followed by the unmistakable sound of a robot tipping over.
He quickened his pace and just before he turned the last corner he stopped and peeked around the wall to see two men, one, looking like an opi, pinned her arms from behind, the other, clearly a soli, facing her while he ripped her gun from her hand. He considered his options. She was a nice girl and a little exercise would do him good.

He stepped out and put his hand on the opi’s shoulder, squeezing just hard enough that the opi-bones would creak and pass the message along to not do anything foolish. His gun appeared in his hand as if by magic, the muzzle nesting against the soli’s chin.
The scene had gone very quiet when he appeared. Amazingly, he heard the opi’s shoulder break under his hand and as he glanced at him again he saw that it was actually a nanobreed, now almost unconscious from pain. He clicked off the safety, it sounded very loud in the silence.

Holding the nano in the air, still by the mangled shoulder, he quietly asked the soli,
“Do you think you can dodge your way out of this one, creep?”
The man swallowed then very quietly said, “No sir. We meant no ‘arm, sir, jus’ ‘avin’ a bit o’ fun, sir, please le’ us go, sir?”
“Yeah, like you’d have let the young lady go, right?”
“Honest, sir, we wasna ganna ‘arm the lady none, just playin’.” The man whimpered under the ‘Trox’ unyielding glare.
“I’ll let you leave now, but I’ve already sent your images to the local guard commander. If you’re seen here again you’ll be in trouble. Do I make myself clear?” he said.
“Yessah, yessah, real clear, yessah. We’ll leave right away..”
“Good. I come here a lot. Don’t be here when I am. Now, get out of my sight – you stink.”
The man took off running, his stained pants making squishing noises.
He threw the nano after the receding figure. It landed with a satisfying crunch. He hated muggers almost as much as he hated stim runners.

He slung his gun over his shoulder, out of sight.
“Are you alright, Miss?” he asked.
She appeared a bit shaken but not injured. She nodded, looking at him with an uneasy expression.
“Miss, if you cannot walk I’ll carry you, but we need to get out of here. I mean no harm.”
She nodded, then looked at the robot.
“Shackle, blue, X-ray, on two.” She paused and appeared to collect herself, then said, “I can walk, thank you, no need to concern yourself about me.”
“Ok, Miss, whatever you say. Please let me see you safely to your destination, I’m afraid the vermin are out tonight.”
She looked at him doubtfully and he slipped the hood from his face, letting her recognize him.
“You!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, we meet again.” He smiled down at her.
She hesitated, then said, “My name is Kahava – or at least, that’s what my friends call me.”
“Thank you, Miss. I’m Jokzer. Shall we go?”

I’m going to visit with a friend of mine in Newland City this evening.
I finish up in the workshop after a long day of trying to finish a project involving household robots. (Boring stuff, but it is my final project before graduating from the academy and if I get a good grade I might, hopefully, secure a job with some big robotics company.) I put my tools away, get my coat - the one with the special pocket for my handgun - and tell my ‘bot to follow me, then go outside.

Passing a shop, I buy some wine for dinner and a little cake for dessert, my contribution as always. My coat has been designed to carry tools but the pockets works just as well for other things.
There’s the usual gaggle of people around the Whompah, then the odd sensation as I’m whisked across Rubi-Ka from Trade to ICC.
I check to see if the ‘bot is still with me – Whompahs can do weird things to ‘bots – and go via Bor to Newland City.
Again, I check to see that the ‘bot is still with me before I set out for my friends home. We’re both students so we can’t afford to live in the plush apartments on the right side of the tracks. I set out for the darker part of town.

The town isn’t crowded like Trade at the best of times but this night it is almost deserted, just a few loiterers around. The usual mix of races, the same worn and tattered clothing, the well-known sight of bottles in hands.
I walk down the same path I’ve taken so often before and am nearly at my destination when a man suddenly appears out of the shadows with an unpleasant smirk on his Soli face.
I’ve seen him around, he also lives in that area and he has a bad reputation.
“Well, ‘ello there, lass. Now where d’ya think yo’re goin’ t’night, eh? Y’batta’ com’long ‘ave a good time wi’us” he says. He doesn’t smell like he’s seen a shower in a while, quite unpleasant, really, even if I’m not a prude.
“No thanks, I’m already spoken for,” I reply, discreetly slipping my hand into the special pocket and gripping my gun.
Suddenly my arms are grabbed from behind. I give my ‘bot the order to protect me but the Soli casts a nanoprogram on it before pushing it to the ground, then proceeding to try and take my gun away.
Much as I try, I can’t break free of the grip on my arms but I know that a good kick can be painful so I place my heavy boot where it’ll do most good. It hardly even slow the man down, though, and I realize that I’m in quite a bit of trouble..

All of a sudden I hear a crunching sound and a grunt of pain behind me and my arms are free again. At the same time a huge gun is thrust in the face of the man in front of me and a deep voice growls something to him. I can’t quite hear what is said as I’m slightly upset by the whole thing and not terribly focused on listening.
The man in front of me goes quite pale and an even fouler odor emanates from him – or a part of him.
The deep voice speaks again, I feel somehow reassured by the sound of it, and after some more talking the man in front of me turns and runs away, never looking back.
A huge hulking form, I first think it’s a Slayer, moves into view. I see it’s a man – well, an Atrox – in a dark cloak. I watch it throw something after the running shadow. Whatever it is lands several yards away with another crunching sound and some more whimpering. While I’m still somewhat confused by the speed everything has happened the thing gets to it’s feet (obviously it’s a person) and staggers after it’s companion.
The big Atrox turns to me and looks me over from the darkness inside the hood. The deep voice speak again, asking if I’m alright.
I naturally answer that I’m fine – I’m supposed to be trained in combat after all – and then he – it – says that we have to get away.
I’m not too sure on my feet at this moment so I just look at the Atrox. It – he – removes the hood from his face, displaying a big scar/tattoo mix that somehow seems familiar. I search through my enhanced memory and find a match. It’s him, the clanner!
I had seen him just outside Rome while I was still in my first year at the academy and I’d confronted him, threatening to call the guards.
He’d looked at me and my first stumbling, almost failed, attempt at a robot, then raised his hands in surrender and begun talking in that deep voice. He told me that he was after a gang of criminals and he’d convinced me to let him go by providing evidence to corroborate his story. He could have killed me easily, yet he didn’t.
Now he’s saved me from a bad time, I don’t know exactly what would/could have happened but I don’t think it would have been pleasant.

He offers me his arm for support and escorts me safely to my friends apartment where he turns to me and says, “If you ever need help, outside of the war, please don’t hesitate to call me. Here’s my griddress.” He says the address, then gravely salutes both my friend and me before walking off into the night, softly singing to himself, “When the lights go on again all over the world..”

Those that say all clanners are evil are wrong. There are good people in the clans too.