There was a dustbin right beside the shutters that closed off the station. With a quick look around me, I turned on the shield dampener and placed it behind the bin. My original decision to put the gadget inside the bin was overwritten by Clover, who berated me with, “The bins leads to an incinerator, you dumbass.”

Annoyed, I replied, “Hey, I'm new here, alright? No need to get you panties in a twist.”

Skipping past me again, she instead asked, “You remember the plan?”

“Of course I do, it's my plan!”

She simply nodded, and I wondered if she actually heard me. It's entirely possible that in her 'ignore everyone' mentality, she just saw my mouth move and thought it was an appropriate response.

She continued, “I'm going to head back to the warehouse and wait for you there. Remember, you only have one charge. Any more and your arm will burn out, so make sure you only use it when you are sure it will work.”

“Yes mom...” I replied sarcastically, “Just make sure you get the room ready by the time we get there. I'll stall for as long as I can.” I waved her away. Childishly out of character, she stuck her tongue out at me before heading off to the warehouse.

I watched her back grow smaller in the distance before ducking out of the dome. I did one final check of my surroundings and after making sure no eyes were on me, I gently lifted opened the station shutters and slid under it, quietly lowering the shutter to a close once I was inside.

Standing within the still empty, abandoned station, I stood still to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I no longer felt the tingling sensation that I had in my arm when I first neared the border, which I could only assume was the work of the shield dampener or a really effective placebo. Either way, I had no idea, nor the necessary knowledge or training to know if the gadget was working. I just had to trust that it was. When my vision finally returned and I got a good look around at my solitude, the muffled sound of happy park goers behind me, my situation sunk in. I could hear the grinding of my clenched teeth from the stress, and try as I might, I could not relax myself enough to ease them.

There were a few up-sides to not being able to physically feel. I don't get tired as easily apparently. There's also that whole situation where I can withstand injuries that should knock a normal person out with the pain. And when things get tense, I don't feel that uncomfortable grip in my stomach.

With deep, hesitant breaths, I headed back to the rebel camp, empty handed and alone. Down the steps into the station, passed the broken gates, and passed the graffiti walls. Onto the train tracks, I tracked the dark cave perimeter to where the dug entrance was. Through the small, cramp, makeshift tunnel, light slowly building up at the end, I stepped out to be surrounded by Jason's men, all with their guns trained on me. Held as human shields on the front line was Amelia, John, and Lindsey, hands bound behind them, a gun to each of their backs.

Jason stepped out of the crowd and onto centre stage, a personal greeting to me. “Sorry Milton, but I had to make sure that you held up the end of you deal.” A twisted grin stretched the man's face. “Did you find the bomb?”

From their lack of reactions, I assumed my grandchildren had already found out about the plan. I asked him, “No casualties. You remember saying that?”

“Yes,” he agreed, circling around me. I calmly faced forward, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thought that I might fear him. From behind, he punctuated, “No human casualties.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“What about cyborgs? What about all the people in Roagnark who needs technology to keep them alive?”

“Those things aren't human.” He stepped back into view. “They stopped being human when they let those machines inside them. They're just monstrosities now.”

“What about me?” I asked fiercely. “Am I a monster too?”

“No...” He stepped up to face me, a glint of madness in his eyes, a fanatical timbre to his voice. “You're too cowardly to be a monster. Too weak.”

“It's not a weak thing to have a heart.”

He jabbed a finger at the cage of my heart, “You're a machine, Milton Jones. You just have to do as you're told. Go save the world. Serve your purpose. You don't need a heart. You don't have one.”

“No,” I coldly replied. “You don't have one.”

For the first time, the cold, calculating, heartless man seemed taken aback. His eyes widened in shock, his nostrils flared angrily. He raised his right hand in signal and his men pushed John forward onto the ground. John knelt down, a gun to his head, execution style.

Jason threatened, “If you don't bring me to the bomb-”

Without flinching, I replied, “I'll bring you to the bomb.”

“What?” He must not have expected to hear that, for again, his eyes popped opened in surprise. His deep brown irises were surrounded by bloodshot white as he strained to make sure sense of what I just said.

“I'll bring you to the bomb.”

Amelia shouted, “Don't do it, old man!”

I ignored her. Getting emotional would do nothing to help the situation.

Seeing through me, Jason asked, “What's the catch?”

“There's no catch. I'll bring you to the bomb,” I answered. “But you have to bring the three of them with us. And you can only bring two of your men.”

“No deal.”

“Don't be stupid Colonel. This is a fortified city. You can't just walk in there with Platoon Bootlick marching behind your ass.” Amelia's dictionary was rubbing off me. “You'll get us all killed before we can even take a step!”

“And why should I trust you?”

I swung my arms opened and the Colonel jumped back, pulling his pistol out. His men did the same, putting me in their crosshairs. I exclaimed, “Why shouldn't you? I'm alone. I'm unarmed! Figuratively speaking.” I shook my robot hand. “You have hostages, you have guns, you have people! You have every conceivable edge on me! What are you afraid of?”

I could see Jason and his men contemplating the situation, though not for a second did they lower their guns. I hoped the bluff worked, because I do have one hand above theirs. I had a plan.

John grunted, “Don't do this! Those people are innocent! They are not part of your stupid war!”

John's rebel soldier rewarded his outburst with a rifle butt to the head. John hunched over to the ground in pain as Amelia screamed, “Leave him alone you shit shot, or I'll rip your eyes out!”

I shouted, “Stop it! Both of you!”

“Shut up, old man! If you think we'll thank you for saving us by committing genocide, you've got screws looser than the old fart knuckle!” Of course, fart knuckle being Colonel Jason.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled back furiously. “If you got nothing smart to add, then shut your trap and let me handle it!” I was starting to see where Amelia would have gotten her foul temper.

Jason watched our exchange intently, as if trying to read my face for any signs of deceit, which was ironic, as he had not a moment ago, said I wasn't human. He cocked his head and I met his stare. We were two grown men with the fate of millions of lives on our hands, reduced to a childish staring contest. Of course, with artificial eyes and physical immunity, I won.

Finally, slowly, the Colonel lowered his arms. “Fine,” he grunted, slightly displeased. He turned to his men, “Hamilton! Loyde! You two with me. Small arms only. Bring the prisoners.” He turned back to me. “Like you said, we're the ones with the guns. If you take even one step out of line, we will shoot everyone. And not just your little party, but anyone we see.”

“Got it,” I replied. “I'll take you to the fucking bomb.”

With a twisted smile, he says, “Good. Now let's go kill us some cyborg people.”