“T.E.N.A.N.T.”

Author’s Notes: Right so… “What the Hell?” right? Okay, moving right along…

Masa knelt, staring. Tenshi? Angel? What the Hell? The man sitting on the chair in front of him wore a coy smile as he looked up at the soldier with his beautiful dark eyes.

Silence engulfed the room. No one moved nor spoke, even when Toshi burst through the door, holding aloft a headset, and called to Cha who stood no more than three meters away. "Lieutenant!"

The other man blinked, clearing his dazed mind, and turned to his subordinate. "Yes? What is it?"

"It’s headquarters – they want to speak with you."

Cha nodded and took the radio. A brief discussion between the blonde and the unseen officers on the other end ensued. Lowering the mouthpiece and covering it with his hand, he stated, "They want to talk to me in person about this new ‘incident.’"

"Don’t they want to see him to?" Ren inquired, pointing at the man in the chair, who was still utterly fascinated with Masa.

Cha shook his head. "No – not yet. Soon, though. Masa, You – I want you to come with me. Toshi, take the second regiment onto patrol." The other nodded and headed out the door.

"What about me?"

Turning, the lieutenant regarded the redhead. "You baby sit."

Ren’s eyes widened in rage. "What?! No way! I’m not staying here with that!" he practically shrieked, pointing at the man sitting in the chair.

"Look, I need someone to stay with him."

"He was by himself all night – he’s quite capable of taking care of himself..."

"Ren..."

"What?!"

Cha looked into his eyes. Pleading, "Please...? I promise we won’t be gone long, and you can always call us if you get bored out of your mind, right?"

Ren seemed to struggle with his defiant footing but eventually gave in and fell to the other’s wishes. He sighed quietly, "...Fine..."

"Alright, let’s go."

*****

They left him. He couldn’t believe they left him. With that. Ren sighed in frustration. Stalking over to the fireplace, he picked up the clothes that You had placed there and handed them to the thing sitting in the chair. It looked at him, confused. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get up, go in there..." The soldier pointed at the door leading to the building’s main bedroom, "...and change." The thing blinked a few times, completely befuddled before it stood, took the clothes, and headed to the room. After about ten minutes of total silence from inside the chamber, Red began to worry. The redhead sighed and, with brisk steps, entered without warning.

There he found it. Standing in front of the mirrored glass, the thing touched the cut on its face, smearing the blood with its finger. It looked down at the digit in confusion. What was this red fluid? Why did its face hurt?

Ren watched the creature in bitter amusement. Tenant turned invalid...what a comedy of errors this was turning out to be... You’s plainclothes – which he never wore anyway – were in complete disarray on it. The buttons were in all the wrong holes and the corduroy jacket's sleeves hung far past its wrists and over its hands, only adding to its lost-and-alone orphan appearance, which had so captured everyone. Why was he the only one to really see this thing for what it was?

It might have done us a load of good if You didn’t have that damned heat-vision and it HAD frozen to death out there... he thought, anger boiling again, threatening to break lose. Ren gritted his teeth.

As if hearing something, the creature turned and regarded Ren. It blinked, confused, almost worried, at him. "Oh...kay?" It struggled on the word as an infant would.

"No, I'm not okay," Ren snapped, glaring at this strange thing that invaded his home. Like it did before... Ren shook his head and walked without delay toward the door to the room, but stopped by the basin of water someone must have left earlier. He glanced at it, and the rag lying on the table next to it, and then back at the thing. It stood, rigid, unsure, child like in his too-big clothes and wide eyes.

Sighing at his own weakness, Ren snatched up the rag and basin of water and walked to the card table, which was set up in the middle of the room. Placing the basin on the tabletop, he dragged over a wooden chair and placed it next to the creature. He pointed to it and ordered, "Sit."

Looking at Ren then down at the piece of cheap furniture, the robot moved and sat upon the chair. The wood creaked under the thing's weight, but the noise went unnoticed by both occupants of the room.

Dipping the rag in the water and wringing it between his hands, white knuckled, Ren pressed the dap cloth against the pale, synthetic skin. The creature jumped slightly, shock at a sudden pain etched into its dark eyes. Ren took a deep breath, cooling his heated anger. "...Sorry..." he whispered as he touched the rag once again against the other's flesh, gentler this time.

He washed away the blood on the creature's face, taking his time, so as not to make it jump again, lest he knock something over, or lash out in anger...neither outcome something Ren looked forward to.

As he worked, the gkassy robotic eyes watched him, never blinking. Ren's movements were studied, calculated, categorized...The redhead shivered and looked at those eyes. Those eyes which gave him nightmares...

"Close your eyes..." His voice sounded weak, pleading, frightened...

The other complied, letting the shutters close over the windows into his artificial soul. Ren sighed and continued to clean the thing's stained face.

*****

You stood at attention behind his commanding officer and abreast Masa. They had been summoned to inform their superiors of this new...discovery. The android listened in on the conversation without appearing to be doing such, a feat of which few were capable. The men in dark suits bore many colored bars across their chests. They spoke of the man from the woods as they did and in animate object, like the walls around them and the chairs supporting them, or perhaps a dumb animal.

...Like they spoke of You, himself...

...It made him...

...angry...

"What I’m amazed by, Lieutenant," began the man at the head of the table, "is why you didn’t dispose of this nuisance when you should have." His gray eyes were cold, callous. An android has more compassion than you... thought You.

"You have orders to do so," added a man with a goatee to the right of the first speaker. He idly rubbed the stubble at his chin.

"I realize this," stated the lieutenant, seated between his companions from the 4th. "And I understand why you are concerned but, as a moral man, I could not leave another – injured, and possibly an innocent, maybe even another one of the Sovereign’s victims – to die of cold and blood loss, much less kill him myself."

"Lieutenant..." began the man to the left of original speaker. He leaned forward, shifting his weight and clasping his meaty hands upon the table. "I know you are, what you say, a ‘moral man,’ but war does not allow for moral men. In your quest to do good, you very well may have done unto this fighting force an evil we cannot contend with."

"How so?" the lieutenant sounded doubtful.

"Well, he could be a spy, or -- " the man stopped short.

"Or?" Cha insisited.

You’s eyes flicked to the back of his fellow’s head before returning to his steady gaze. A cache file – no, a memory – of a passed conversation came to him. "If you don’t put a damper on your curiosity, you’re likely to get burned."

"I’ll take that into consideration. Meanwhile, I’ll continue asking questions as I see fit."

You blinked and came back to the present.

"…or this finding is an even bigger threat than an undercover agent."

At this point, the man at the head of the table picked up the conversation. "It’s been passed through our intelligence that the T.S. base north of you has lost an android, and a violent one too. He brutally murdered ten men without any sort of weaponry. He escaped into the forest but unfortunately, they lost his trail shortly after assembling to look for him."

"You say ‘brutally murdered.’ How brutally could he have killed them without weapons? And how do you know do you know that he murdered them instead of defending himself? How did he kill them?"

The superiors looked annoyed, but the goateed man answered, "Two he strangled, three he bludgeoned to death with his fists, and the last five he…" the man struggled to speak, "…he disemboweled."

You had to force himself to remain stoic. Disemboweled? How the Hell…? He heard Masa take a sudden intake of breath. Cha leaned back in the seat, awestruck.

"What doesn’t make sense…" muttered Cha, more to himself than anyone else, "Is that TS-made automatons are cold, jaded…the man we found…" He shook his head.

"What is it Lieutenant?"

Cha jumped, surprised to find he had been speaking aloud. "Anou…it’s just that the man we found wasn’t cold, wasn’t indifferent. Hell, he was terrified of us, of the sight of guns. He was injured, suffering, in pain…TS Automatons don’t feel pain. They can’t. They can’t feel fear. How could he?"

"You still believe that all of this is only coincidence, I presume," said the man with the large hands.

Cha sat silent, musing, before he responded. "If he is indeed this fugitive Automaton, something happened to him, erased his memory, and left him, terrified, in my sector. I’m determined to find what that was."

"And I don’t care," stated the man at the head of the table, standing up. The blonde lieutenant, out of habit more than respect, stood as well. "I want it – whatever it is – destroyed. Now." He turned and headed to the door.

Chasing after him, Cha called out, "Sir!"

"That is enough Lieutenant."

"It’s enough when I say it’s enough."

All was silent. Tensions were thick. The man standing at the entrance turned slowly around and stalked back into the room. "What did you say…?" he inquired of his subordinate. Hate dripped from the words.

"You heard me," was the cool answer. Before his commanding officer could silence him again, Cha pressed on, "Sir, all I want is to prove he’s not the killing machine you fear he is. I want to know who he is, where he came from…"

"Does it occur to you, Lieutenant, that you keep digging your grave deeper, and deeper?" questioned the goateed man, who had stood with the large-handed man and were now coming up behind Fujimura.

"You’re discovery is of no use to us," he made to leave again.

"That’s bullshit and you know it. What if he’s an innocent? To shed his blood would be in vain and would soil our objective. What if he’s an enemy? Showing mercy to him would make us far better than the Sovereign, don’t you agree?” After a split-second, he added, “What if he’s like You?"

Silence again. The officers’ eyes flicked to the Automaton standing rigidly where he had been planted. You stared back, unwilling to show any hinting of emotion while in the room. Emotion was not for here, not when he had to play the role of the obedient foot soldier.

The leader turned again, but paused. Looking over his shoulder, he stated, "I give you a month. That’s all I can spare." And with that, he was gone, his lackeys following.

*****

"So we have a month to prove he’s capable of acting human." Cha nodded. "Easier said than done."

The subject of conversation sat on the floor in his borrowed apparel, looking up at them. His eyes seemed…sad in a child-like, uncomprehending fashion. When the speakers paused to look upon him, he blinked, and turned his face down to the earthen floor. Stretching forward a pale finger, he drew a series of dots, dashes, and lines. Seeing the creature was sufficiently preoccupied, they returned to their talking.

"Easier said than done, indeed. Considering he’s not human to begin with."

"Do you know something that no one else does, Ren?"

The other grew suddenly silent.

The collection of dots, dashes, and lines grew.

"Maybe."

The man on the floor crawled on his hands and knees as he continued the simple pattern.

"‘Maybe.’" The lieutenant sighed. "Ren, you know damn well about our regulations involving withholding information…"

"Yes, I know…sir, but quite frankly, you can go look it up in the psyche records on the database if you really are interested."

"I see."

Ren nodded sharply, clicked his heels, and pivoted, and walked out the door…tromping through the sitting man’s arrangement of dots, dashes, and lines.

The artist looked at the footprints that marred his artwork, dejected.