If Forty-two had to encapsulate their entire journey into one section, it would be this hell hole.

A place full of errors, hiding unwanted secrets, and always forced to repeat.

Yes, forced to repeat.

If you didn’t fit into the repetition cycle, all of the drones present would tear you apart. Or so his sister told him way back.

It was a rather sad tale. Long ago, before he was made, Gods of City ran some experiments to make drones do all the word while the rest lived peacefully, yet profit took hold before all, and by all, he meant all.

When something, anything interrupted the cycle of drones, they would be ‘neutralized’.

Yet, what is interrupting work means?

Stopping them from doing their job?

Using the same road as them?

Being less efficient?

The answer was 'yes' to all of them. What followed was a slaughter, mass migration and walls erected to keep those ‘migrants’ out.

And then, the Glassware incident.

“Are we there yet?” Daughter complained. She was buried to her ankle in the mud. Her blue and white dress had tears, coolant stains, and missing buttons. Her gray hair has its fair share of twigs and leaves as well.

He was likely no different, his white shirt wasn’t even remotely a shirt anymore, but a wet white rag with several more stains to give it some color. Also, some holes in his chest which let someone peak.

“No. Don’t you have your memories back?” Forty-one said while looking pristine. He managed to step to rocks to avoid the mud and knew exactly where to walk to keep himself clean.

Forty-two knew Forty-one followed this path many more times than both he and Daughter combined. It wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I do… some, at least,” Daughter sighed. She was barely hinging on, shallow breaths, getting support from trees while having enough power to crush rocks, it was one of the signature behaviors of her before running out of patience.

“In any way, we are here, kind of,” Forty-one ducked, hiding behind the bush. His voice whittled to a whisper. Much voice wasn’t a wise idea, especially in this area.

Forty-two could remember his arm being torn-off here. It was centuries ago though, he was over it.

He and Daughter followed behind him, they were looking over a house, with beige walls, a brown roof, and downed windows. Not all windows though, that put it well ahead of most houses in town.

“Give me some time, I will take care of the current owner,” Forty-one said.

“No, let me handle it,” Daughter said, she got up from her place and walked towards the house.

She didn’t bother looking back.

Forty-one facepalmed and sighed.

He had it coming as far as Forty-two was concerned.

Yet he couldn’t tell, Forty-one was observing him, this he could tell.

“What we will do here, Forty-one?” He asked. To ease some of the tension between them.

“We need somewhere to hide, a few days at least,” Forty-one paused. “I got something to do… What the hell she is doing?”

Daughter walked towards the door and knocked on it. Forty-two held his breath, watching everything take hold. Something opened the door and before he knew it Daughter grabbed them by the collar, swung the person in question over her head, and smashed it to the ground.

The drone tried to get up, but Daughter kicked his head with such a force he was sent flying.

A tumultuous sound came their way even among the chaos of someone being thrown like a ragdoll. From over here, it wasn’t hard to see the dent in his head, or what was left of it.

He knew she was strong, but it was rare to see her lose her control over anger.

It was that kind of loop then.

She looked towards them, pointing towards the door. “What are you waiting for, an invite?” She got in, not even bothering to get the body inside the house.

“Let’s meet inside the house, I will get that thing inside first,” Forty-one left his side and walked towards the drone.

As for him, he had to calm down her before things got worse. When they go back to the suburbs, the thing they will found out won’t make her happy.

Or so he remembered.

***

Swan could only form a faint smile when the Technician opened the door.

The last days have been tough and it was all she could afford.

When Cecil told them he was a friend from darker days, she expected all kinds of things.

Someone whose face filled with scars, having guns and empty bottles of alcohol lying around, but not this.

Definitely not this.

She was a tall woman, above one hundred and seventy centimeters, but the man before her was short, really short.

He barely got up to her chin, had two mismatched buttons on his shirt which never saw the face of iron, and had a yellow mark on his shoulder. His glass shone so brightly that she was unsure if it was new or well kept. His face was clean-shaven, groomed, and had shallow scratch marks.

“Tech I need your help?” Cecil said.

Pearl’s breaths were getting shallower, she even stopped making grunting noises and her once pale cheeks have turned red.

Overheating, was a slow process that lead to the most desperate deaths, agonizing and painful. It was a quite common way to pass away in Love Town. Stabbed and slowly losing coolant as night slowly took its toll from people walking away from the street lights.

“Cecil… I,” His eyes wondered to them.

She kept her faint smile, which kept fainter as Pearl’s grunts lessened, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

“Who are they?” He asked.

“I will explain, please take care of her first, we will pay in full,” Cecil said, but didn’t wait for the answer. He squeezed through the door with Pearl in his arms. As Cecil passed by his side, Tech moved back to open space for the two.

“Second door at the end of the corridor, put her on the table,” Tech shouted behind them. He faced Swan back, readjusting his glasses. “As for payment?”

Swan dug her hand deep into her purse and grasped all the crumpled money. She forced herself to have a content smile, she had to have that smile. That smile was their worth when their money was gone.

Thankfully the man beside him seemed to be grasping the sense of urgency, he didn’t bother counting the Belgars at hand and pocketed the bills.

“Follow me,” he said like it was needed.

She walked right behind the man, towards where Cecil went.

When entered she saw Cecil stroking Pearl’s hair, saying calming words ‘it will be okay' and as such. Thankfully for the first time, it actually would.

The room had spare body parts, small systems, many tubes she can’t recognize, and even circuits. Some hang on the wall, and some are left on a table or even on the floor.

Tech opened and closed one drawer after another from his tool sets, grabbing steel parts, tubes, and poly-fiber tissues.

“What was she got shot with? Sentinel ammunition with a blue trace?” Tech said.

“How do you know she was shot?” Swan blurted, she couldn’t help, but ask how. He didn’t even bother looking at her.

“Hardly my first, miss. Cecil?”

“Uh… Yeah, with those, I guess,” Cecil furrowed his burrows before he continued. “The sound was similar to that, but I can’t discern it from the yellow trace that well.”

“Does blue trace looks blue-ish?” Swan asked.

“Yes,” Cecil said.

“Yes?” Tech asked, head tilted to the side looking at her.

It was clear from his eyes if he judged her as a fool.

He grabbed his small operation table filled with all kinds of stuff and dragged it near the Pearl. Cecil seemed to trust him so Swan just let whatever happened to happen.

And the first thing he did was to cut the leg of Pearl’s trousers, her blue coolant-stained trouser was already beyond any use.

He let the small scissor go on the table and grabbed a bigger one with jagged edges. Without a warning, he sunk one end to Pearl’s skin and cut around the wound.

Pearl’s screams and shouts tensed her further and further.

Biting her lips and cheek, twisting a finger or whatever it took to replicate the pain herself to calm herself down. What she would give to be in her place instead. She had that selfish side to herself.

“How long have been since she was shot?” Tech murmured as he removed a plastic pipe or pieces of it.

The sight of Pearl’s internal parts being torn apart, even for her treatment was too much.

Swan didn’t know when, but she dashed towards the Tech, she couldn’t bear Pearl’s screams. All that effort was only to be caught between two massive arms.

“Get her out of the room Cecil,” Tech murmured, he didn’t bother looking back at her. “Go to the living room, my wife is there. I will come to your side when I’m done here.”

She shouted, struggled, didn’t know why or how long. Maybe she put too much behind her mask.

Pearl didn’t deserve this, she never deserved any of it.

It was senseless, but why?

She didn’t know or wanted to.

Cecil dragged her outside the room and shut the door behind them.

***

A part of Daughter wanted to grab Forty-one and threw him in the middle of drones, watching them shred him apart piece by piece.

Yet she pressured that thought back to her head.

Forty-one would survive even if she could do that.

Before all that though, she would take a shower first.

The hot water helped to calm her circuits, not to mention being clean was much better.

She hated her hair slowly turning into a bird's nest.

Daughter felt her hair’s length, still making sure it was also clean after washing it three times. After finding a literal branch with leaves and even a bug on it no less. She wanted to be sure there were no bugs left, after three times washing her hair, she was a bit calmer. Hot water was limited and she had to leave some for others. That wasn't the only thing lacking though, they managed to find only one soap inside the house, no different than last time.

Forty-two using the soap she will use, that she could tolerate, but Forty-one was a no-go. Also, it would be weird to say that to Forty-two’s face, especially after seeing the confusion on his face.

She rubbed the soap all over her body. Her thighs, legs, and feet. She almost managed to fall head first after that. Well, old habits died hard. Barely she managed to grab the one stand where bath utensil’s stood, but tore that down in the process as well. Well, she stood straight at least.

Daughter took a deep breath, fighting the urge inside her to throw the utensil towards the wall, to scream. She thought dealing with the previous house owner, throwing him like a rag doll would help, but it didn’t.

Her thoughts came to a halt by a knock on the door.

“Hey, are you doing alright there?” It was Forty-two, she could recognize it even if it was muffled by the door. “I just heard the noises and… am I interrupting… never mind, sorry.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. Once a fool, always a fool. “What you could be interrupting?” Yet she would play with him, chance won’t come often to her. “Forty-two?”

“Can we rewind for twenty seconds?” He said, begging. Good. “Or pretend this didn’t happen?”

Daughter rubbed the soap on her stomach, sweat leaving its place for foam and bubbles. She moved to her sides, armpits, and shoulders.

Being slow to answer, she knew it put him on the edge.

“I don’t know, should we?” She answered. “You did mean something, I just didn’t get it.”

“Never mind.”

“I will mind,” She answered, a smile similar to Jackal’s formed on her face. It did look sweeter than terrifying on her, but both gave similar meanings. She cornered her prey, all while taking a bath no less. “Well, I might let you go if…”

“If?”

She paused. Did she want to do it?

“If you are willing to forget back at what happened at the border,” Daughter murmured.

It was embarrassing to even think about, but she did at least make it clear she was attracted to him, just not in the way she wanted to. They lived through a lot and he did a lot for her, but all that was lost to the cruelty of this experiment. She didn’t even know why there was an experiment, only faint fragments of memories she could grasp.

She could remember the days they spent together though. Trying to hide from Bear and Rabbit. Going on holidays in Glitter City when Forty-one bothered to aid them. Staying at the same house in limited times they had. Complaining, escaping, and talking about how they felt, what they did and what they could, it was a few faint memories she could grasp, but even then she could feel it was the tip of the iceberg.

She didn't know what an iceberg was, but the feelings stayed.

Her hands, and by extension the soap, gathered in front of her heart, one hand grasping the other as if a couple holding hands. She felt exposed, well, she was exposed and naked, but that was beside the point.

“I’m, but can I ask something?” Forty-two said.

He faint thud came from the door, something pressing it. Most likely he gave his back to the door, sitting on the ground.

“Sure.”

“You and Forty-one, both of you remember the past, right?”

“I only remember faint memories of the past, but most are…” She furiously began to soap all around herself, to do something other than talking. Her back, neck, and chest. She didn’t mind the tingle or factor in on what to even consider, just didn’t want to end the sentence, but she did nevertheless. Daughter couldn’t tell why she did so. “… about us.”

“In which case,” a knock on the door followed. She couldn’t tell why. “How were we in the past or… how did we meet? It is the first time for me, but… I’m not sure how does it feel for you. I just wanted to know.”

“We were…”

How would he like it?

What answer would satisfy the person in front of her?

She didn’t know.

Even after all these years, she didn’t know.

“... what do you want us to be?” She blurted out.

There was a long pause and nothing after that. She wanted to turn the valve, open the water, and lost all sense under it. But she endured until those faint words flew.

“First I want to get to know you, then the old forty-two.”

She didn’t know if she should cry or smile, so she did what everyone would do, turn on the valve and let the water down.