laying down the law (narrative)
backdated.

"You don't know the first thing about how to run a business."

"Well, it's not like it's hard. The FBI gives me a name, I go smoke 'em."

"Is that what passes for 'humane'?"

"What's your idea of 'humane'?"

"Taking them somewhere, somewhere they can be rehabilitated..."

"You don't rehabilitate guns that backfire. You feel bad for the guy that lost a hand."

"And what about the replacement hand? It's a machine."

"Yeah, well, it shouldn't be."

A car horn blared but he hardly heard it. Hanging desperately onto the metal rail which edged the roof of the bus, Skandra was aiming with his other hand. The problem with aiming like that was all the flashes from inside the bus - tourists. God damn tourists were going to be the end of this city. And there he was in the middle of all that traffic, running hard. Harder than a human. Weaving in and out of a crowd. It wasn't like Skandra was pointing a 9mm at the guy. He couldn't just start popping off shots into the crowd - nobody stood up after a .500 Magnum round destroyed half their body. Sirens were flashing somewhere but he didn't really hear them. He was just aware of them. Cold rain. Dim lights. The entire world had a melancholy filter over it, and that was probably the worst part.

"MOVE!" Skandra roared above the crowd, but nobody heard him.

The city was alive. It didn't have time to move for one man's personal whims, did it?

At last he jumped down from the bus and hit the ground running, laying about him with elbows and swinging the pistol wildly to clear a path as the AIA turned a corner. They were being pursued by the cops, but Skandra was gonna be damned if some civil servant piece of shit was gonna rob him of his money. They didn't pay you for putting in all the leg work and not getting the kill shot. They paid you for doing your fucking job. Pale trench flaring out behind him, Skandra disappeared into the alleyway right behind the AIA. Cirrhosis or not you didn't lose your subject. And he could still run. It burned. Everything burned. Hurts so good, that's what sarge had told him in basic and that's what he remembered to this day. Hurts so fucking good.

Alive.

He was alive.

"God damn it, stop!" Skandra bellowed at the AIA unit - the human wasn't gaining on the renegade, but he wasn't losing ground either.

Yet.

"Stop or I'm gonna kill you twice, motherfucker!"

"If someone benefits from the machine, then what's the problem?"

"When I was a kid we had a word for guys who lost their hands and didn't get them replaced."

"Poor?"

"Heroes."

Another car horn, this one blaring as it hit the AIA. Running out into the middle of a busy intersection was a bad idea. Rolling up onto the hood as more horns blared, as another car hit the first from behind, the AIA didn't take long at all to recover. Shattered windshield. Glass sticking out of its arm. Didn't seem to notice. And then its hand went under its coat. Skandra was nearly at the mouth of the alley when a second roar of metal and plastic sounded out. More people screaming. Skandra couldn't tell them apart from the rest of the ambient noise, at least not as well as he wished he could. And then -

Explosion.

The mother fucking AIA had dropped a grenade.

One of the lighter, more modern cars was actually hurled into the air at the blast. Whistle of shrapnel all around him as more people screamed. All of the car windows shattered at once, along with a few on the first floor of that skyscraper right across the street. Bright orange fireball streaking skyward, phoenix rising into the night. Skandra narrowly avoided being crushed by that flying car, stutter-stepping and hurling himself onto the hood of another stopped vehicle. Metal and glass were colliding more frequently now, but one was louder than the others. Out of breath. His gun barely staying in his hand. That flying car, tossed like a rag doll by the grenade, had landed on top of the car Skandra was lying on. And now he was about a quarter inch away from being pinned between them. Staring at the ruined, shrapnel-studded hood of that modern vehicle Skandra could only see one truth.

He was gonna fucking kill that thing.

"Are you hurt, mister?"

He was hurt. One of his ribs was broken. Skandra had jumped onto a Buick, which had cushioned the fall of that modern car. If the roof had caved in any more than it did... Skandra worked on sliding himself out from under the car sandwich as smoke and screams swirled around him. Someone was grabbing his hand. Grabbing at the gun. Skandra jerked the revolver away and pointed it at one of the bystanders, all of whom backed up.

"I'm fine, now get the fuck back!" Skandra raged as he fell onto the pavement.

Lip bleeding.

Broken rib.

Jesus, he was starting to get pissed.

"Not every advance is evil just because it's unusual."

"Well answer me a fucking question then, since you're the expert. How come a military vet with no hands can't get a replacement limb, but a senator's daughter can?"

"That's got nothing to do with the machine."

"You think not? What makes you think the people who make that shit are any more responsible with their new toys than they are in distributing them?"

"JH Corporation isn't evil, Mr. Skandra, even if it's popular to think of them that way."

"Well they sure as hell aren't the good guys."

"And you are?"

On any given day the lobby of this particular skyscraper was probably alive with people. The hubub an atmosphere of business, of deals being made and work being done. All of it orderly, proceeding as normal. Today was not like any other day. Bodies were on the floor. Shot. Skandra's boots crunched on glass as he ran through that lobby. Glass slippery with blood. At least four guns taken from dead security guards. He saw it on his way by, running faster than he ever had before. Trail of bodies, trail of blood. All of it led to the elevator.

Skandra pulled up short, sliding to a stop with his gun raised. It was there, the AIA unit, standing over the body of a secretary. And as the doors closed it turned and smiled, a false smile. The face was male, but AIA weren't human. They were animals. It reminded him of back then, of that smile Nurse had given him when the doors were closing. Too fast to see, too fast to shoot. Skandra's first Magnum round passed through the glass door, but it was on its way up.

The bounty hunter holstered his pistol and snatched up the 9mm of a dead guard, still slipping and sliding on blood-slick marble, grunting in frustration as he stumbled into the second elevator. Only a heartbeat behind the AIA. No way of knowing which floor it was going to. Skandra stabbed the button for the top floor and released the safety. Fast kill. The guard didn't even have time to get a shot off. Using the butt of the pistol, Skandra smashed out the glass on his elevator. All of the walls were pure glass. Easy.

Firing up the tube like a rocket, feet unsteady. From his position he could see the AIA's feet, and took aim. In comparison to the beast he carried with him, the 9mm had no kick. Firing repeatedly was as easy as breathing. An animal scream rang out as the elevators still fired upward, passing the 50th floor. And then the robot started firing back.

Skandra jerked away from the window, toward the opposite side of the elevator, as bullets pinged all around him.

There was nothing to ricochet off, thank God.

Or good planning.

"Is that all you've got, you-"

Cut off as the AIA's elevator stopped. Without thinking about it, Skandra got a running start. Hurtling toward the open wall of the elevator he jumped, and nearly lost his lunch at the long fall that presented itself. At least two floors. Coat flaring out behind him like a super hero's cape, imbuing him for just those few seconds with the death-defying immortality bestowed upon such fantasies. The top of the elevator was metal, and wide enough that he could tuck into a roll - but the momentum of his roll carried him over the edge, and only a hasty grab for one of the maintenance handles saved him from toppling off to his death. Cursing under his breath as the 9mm fell away from him, Skandra brought his other arm up. Pulled, as hard as he could.

"I gotta lose some weight... god... damn..."

At last he pulled himself up, onto the top of the elevator. Gloves were slippery on the maintenance hatch, covered with his blood and others' blood. Simple lever lock. It even hissed, all proper and science-fictionesque, as he opened it. Boots made a nice thud when he dropped into the elevator - and the doors were closing, AIA unit retreating. All around him was shattered glass, and a bit of blood. Must've hit it at least once, but it was still trucking. Skandra barely caught his boot on hard plastic, leg fully extended to keep the doors open. A button had been pressed - the AIA had tried to get him stuck on a moving elevator with no way of knowing which floor they'd stopped on.

"Now I'm gonna kill you three times!"

"We're going to shut you down if this office doesn't get put in order."

"That's it?"

"What are you asking me?"

"That's the only reason you want to shut me down?"

"You're proving to be almost as much of a menace to the public as the AIAs you're tracking down, Mr. Skandra."

"That skinjob killed sixty-seven fucking people today, in case you forgot!"

"And how many would it have killed if you hadn't tried to apprehend it in public?"

"Wait - Pinnochio breaks and you expect me to take the blame for it? Even a regularly psychopath doesn't go on that kind of killing spree, you asshole."

"Watch your mouth, or I'm going to give as unfavorable a report as I've ever given."

"Fuck you! Try to shut me down, jerk-off! I've had five newspapers calling me about this - and you wanna try and shut me down?"

"I wouldn't encourage you to go public."

"Why the fuck not?"

"There are worse things than being shut down, Mr. Skandra."

"You didn't just threaten me."

"No, I didn't. I informed you."

A door, somewhere, was being opened softly. A mother was reminding her child gently that only the prettiest girls remembered to close the door. It was working. Cookies were being baked somewhere, just like his mom had made him summer of '99. Watching those poor bastards rioting at Woodstock and eating cookies. Dad came in and bugged the hell out of him about something or other. On this day in New York, there were no doors being opened quietly. Skandra's pistol spoke, a plume of smoke jetting out behind the bullet. And that quickly the doorknob was ruined, and Skandra kicked open heavy metal to expose the roof of the building. It had come up here - but where the fuck did it go?

Casual backhand. Slap of flesh on flesh as Skandra reeled, his world turning colors all around him. Hang on to the gun mother fucker. Hang on to the gun. A second shot, this one barely missing the bastard. A kick. Where was the edge of the building. Skandra fired at the son of a bitch, but it was too fast. Then the gun got kicked out of its hand. All around them AC units and backup generators were humming. A police helicopter overhead as rain beat down on them. Spotlight. More on the way. Something over a bullhorn, telling them to cease and desist. Skandra grunted as the thing actually picked him up, and hurled him at least ten yards. This scratch-gravel they used on the roof had to fucking go. Cheaper than cement, and probably lighter too, but it burned furious when you used it to cushion your landing.

"Robert Skandra. I read about you, Mister Skandra."

"Yeah?" Skandra blinked blood and sweat and rain out of his eyes as his head came up, searching for the metal gleam of that Raging Bull. "They compliment my eyes?"

"No," and a hand was on his collar, lifting him up. "They said you're one of the top bountymen in the city."

"I don't wanna brag or anything..."

Blood rushed out of his mouth as the motherfucker punched him in the gut. Hematemesis, the doctors had told him. Bloody vomit. Symptom of the fact that your body's crapping out on you. Bad time to be reminded that he should have been dead years ago. Another punch, and another. Skandra coughed as blood bubbled out of his nostrils, and the AIA let him fall to the ground. Jesus Christ, that thing hit hard. And he'd been running too long. Fuck, just keeping up had cost him a lot. Blood in his eyes now. Rain falling harder. This was how it ended, up here on a rooftop?

"Look at you now! You're all the same, you know. Just sad sacks of flesh killing what you hate, hating it because you don't understand it."

This guy talked too fucking much. Skandra needed to start carrying a backup piece. Crawling toward the Raging Bull while the AIA grandstanded.

"So what are you informing me of?"

"Use that loan, Mr. Skandra. Use it to buy yourself a secretary and an assistant."

"I don't need an assistant."

"You do if you want to stay in business."

"One of the top bountymen in the city, hurled to his death by the lesser robot. That ought to make the news, don't you think?"

"Only if American Idol isn't on," Skandra's hand fell heavy on the nylon grip of his pistol.

"As for myself-"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" Skandra rolled onto his back, and fired again.

That was four shots, wasn't it? He couldn't remember. Three shots? Four shots?

Fuck, how many? It was still coming, that robot. He'd missed.

The AIA grabbed him by his collar, lifted him up again. Skandra let the blood bubble into his mouth. Rain beating down even harder now, like the Biblical floods of old, washing away the world. It was washing everything away starting with the two of them. God had to hit the rest button more often than every five thousand years, didn't he? Otherwise what was the point? They were coming closer to the edge of the building, the AIA apparently building toward his big finish. Hurling one of the top bountymen in the city to his death had its appeal, Skandra could admit. As long as that top bountyman wasn't him. Skandra still had shit to do, and he needed a fuckin' drink.

Or ten.

"Do you believe in God, Mister Skandra?" the AIA asked with narrowed eyes.

Skandra spat a mouthful of blood into his eyes. The creature reeled back - Skandra brought the Taurus up between them with the weapon pointed skyward, pressed the barrel right against the motherfucker's elbow and fired. Cybernetic AIA arm was blown in half. Severed hand still grasping Skandra's collar, the AIA jerked away with a scream of agony. Skandra raised one booted foot and kicked as hard as he fuckin' could. The scream of the AIA as it plunged over the edge of the building was still audible for quite a long time. An animal scream. Terrific in its magnitude. Below he could see flashing police sirens. Above the helicopter still shone a light down on him. This was gonna make the fuckin' news. Pressing the bloody head of his revolver against his chin, Skandra squeezed the trigger.

Nothing but a click.

Five shots after all.

"Not anymore."