Dark alleys at night, bursts of light.
Alcohol makes it all a little hazy, drugs help, but only a bit.
Sudden movements. To be quick, agile, but also smooth, and fluid. Some say that is no easy task, call it art. Some claim that it is just muscle memory, entertrainment for masses, pasttime for cattle. Fuckers. I am no cattle. Will never be. But what do they know?
Like a bird, I was thrown out of a nest to check out if I can fly. I dont blame them, with family so big as ours, you sometimes have to do it. I have never gone out of touch, tho. It was great to have cousin or uncle here and there, especially if its middle of the night, you are hungover as fuck, you have no money or memory of the past few days. Uh, anyway. I was 16, bag on my shoulder, New Tokyo's "Spire City". A set of giant towers, piercing the sky like divine spears. I went to school, briefly, so I knew a guy that liked me. Liked, like a person, ok? No messy stuff. Kintaro-sensei taught dance as a side job, and thought I might be talented. So I went into this shit, learned how to be like water, move like a viper, putting observers into trance, stupor, giving them pleasure. As time went, I learned that most of the lifetime dancers just shut their brain off, letting the body do the job. It was strange for me, though, I am always there, have no sort of "autopilot" for this shit, always doing it myself. So, I paid of my debts with Kintaro-sensei with my first gig, swinging my hips on stage for a local singer who was so fucking afraid that nobody would like his stuff without a chick at his side.
Years went, time passed. I earned money, improved quite a bit, Met a lot of people, most of them bad, cynical kind of guys, but some of them were nice. But who I am to judge? I thought Yukio was nice at first, as well. Fucking Yukio Takamara. I danced at a bar at the time, and he just happened to come. Bachelor party, I think? Cant recall it clearly. Anyways, he claimed to be pretty big fish in the music industry and it was pretty much the only thing he told me that was not a lie. I was 22 at the time, when my big chance arose. At least so I thought. He promised to make me an idol. A program would analyse my voice and sing for me on stage. I just had to move well and look cute. A dream job, eh? The problem is, he did not just want me. He wanted me. I was no stranger with sex, obviously, being a dancer for five years now, but something about this man made me hesitate. His eyes. Eyes of a predator, a tiger. After one night of a painful, shameful struggle, I ran away. Hid again where I thought I was safe. The Spire City C-1125. But he had never forgotten, and he found me. Or it was him, I think. I was just after a gig. High spirits, friend of everyone. Met some guys at the bar, had a drink, had another... and I woke up in a fucking metal chest, chip in my neck, barcode on my wrist.
A slave. Slavery, just like that. I think it was arranged from the start, but cannot say for sure. I do not want to speak of this period. I was used, in many ways, but never grew numb, never went hollow. Mind sharp all the time, a coiled snake ready to strike when opportuinty arises. And it will arise. Humans make mistakes, right? Yeah...humans. We were in Outcast Space, I think? Was cooped up on a ship for a few weeks now, with around 100 others, maybe? No cryo, which was strange, but its not always affordable to cryo your slaves for a short trip, so maybe it was suppossed to be short. Anyways, There was a transfer. We were docking to somebody. Myabe I could break off and fire myself in an escape pod? But then I saw the client. A great, green husk, ridden with cables, and cameras. So strange...so alien. And the ones who went to pick us up. Not even humans,weird metal scarabs. And for the first time in my whole damn life I just stood there, paralysed, unable to do shit. The metal arm grabbed me....and I dived into the darkness.
And so I woke up. Strange buzzing in my brain, enveloped by void. On a....ship? What the flying fuck? I cant pilot this thing, I am gonna die here. Thats what I thought, but just a look at the controls. Theres the engine, theres the thrust, theres the handling. These are for turrets. Before me lies a single metal plate, engraved with words.
NAME: ALICE
SURNAME: NAKATA
CODENAME: SUGARCANE
PROJECT_EMISSARY_01
GOOD |LUCK| OUT THERE, ORGANIC
I dont try to make any sense of all this, I just act, and use the chance I got. Back to Kusari space, to contact my family, and to find Yukio, this malevolent fucker. I will settle my business and then just...fly away, to space, find myself a new life. And hopefully these machines will never come for their slave ever again.