AUTHOR: Ruby
RATING: PG (language)
DISCLAIMER: Original movie character property of Dreamworks
WARNINGS: None
NOTES: On their way to Rouge City, Cal and Nicky have an unexpected
encounter.

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The road that stretched between Haddonfield, New Jersey and Rouge City, Pennsylvania was a quiet winding trail through centuries-old trees that had withstood the test of time and the elements, where state protected flora and fauna quietly disguised rusted train tracks and the occasional teenaged couple from prying eyes. A light mist crawled over the road, while butter-yellow sunlight only just began to peek shyly from between leaves glistening with fallen rain, creating a mottled carpet of light and shadow on the asphalt and rolling grass of the gently curving shoulder.

The sudden screaming of rubber against road sliced through the morning's stillness like a hedgehog through a Popsicle. Admittedly, the driver of the untagged vehicle barreling down the peaceful country lane had no idea what that last sentence meant, but it sounded good and undeniably clever, so she decided to stick with it for the time being. The steering wheel was clenched in the white knuckles of a woman whose cigarette dangled dangerously from between tightly clamped teeth, gray eyes glistening like wet asphalt over the gold rims of dark sunglasses. Her head bobbed awkwardly with the beat of the roaring music and the motion of the car, both competing for attention from the headache ripping through her skull. Her name was Cal McPherson, and she had never learned how to drive a car. This, however, was a minor concern when compared against her immense hangover, so she didn't let it bother her.

Beside her, shrunken into the passenger seat with a mask of blanched terror replacing his normally wary appearance, sat Nicky Panzini, assistant, gopher, and metaphorical punching bag for the crazed madwoman in the driver's seat. He glanced quickly to his left, muttering something under his breath that only the Archdiocese would truly understand, and breathing in short gasps like a stranded fish every time the gears creaked underneath them or the smell of burning rubber pierced his brain like a thunderbolt. he jarring guitar from the radio tore through his head and the heavy cloud of smoke issuing from the orange tip of the cigarette in Cal's mouth wrapped around his remaining senses, shroudlike and unwelcome.

"...and so I told him, cos y'know I ain't too keen on those kindsa ideas in the first place," Cal rambled, oblivious to her surroundings and damn happy with that fact. "I said, 'Rory, y'dumb fuck, just what the Hell are ya goin' on about, lad?' And so Rory looks at me, and he..." she took another drag on her cigarette and tapped an ash into the cup holder. "He says, 'Look, sweet'eart, I'm just tryin' t'make a livin' here.'" The car filled with rough laughter vaguely reminiscent of an emphysemic hyena, and Cal rested her forehead on the steering wheel, collapsing into a puddle of giggles. "Just tryin' t'make a livin'... ah, Jaysus, lad, ah Jaysus! And when y'think about all t'other times he --"

Nicky coughed, pulling his shirt over his nose as he fumbled for the window button. "Jesus, Cal, will you put out that damn cigarette?" He complained, waving the smoke out the window. "You know I'm not coded against cancer, and once more, I don't think you are, either."

Cal raised her head off the steering wheel, looking over at her employee with a frown. "Of course I ain't, lad. Only the first one outta the rest of us got coded against it, and where he is, the only way he can get cigarettes is through the exchange of painful sexual favours. And for fuck's sake, lad, will ya roll up that window all ready? I'm gonna catch me death of pneumonia. Now, if ya'd only listen t'me for once, then..."

"Holy shit!"

There was a solid thump on the windscreen, a screech of tyres spinning out of control, and then the country road was quiet again, reclaimed by the soft morning sunlight and rolling grass. A butterfly perched delicately on a silver-tipped leaf before fluttering off in exquisite loops, coming to rest again on the rear bumper of the untagged maroon sedan resting in the roadside ditch, back wheels spinning lazily in the slight mist, a blaring guitar solo still fading into the morning vista.

Otherwise, the car was silent. Cal rubbed her forehead for a moment, her brain attempting to chew its way out of her skull, and glanced over to her right. “Y'dead?"

The only answer was a groan from the next seat, but years of experience had taught her that the tone she heard was one of irritation and resignation rather than pain. "No, unfortunately."

"Ah, cheer up, lad. Takes a lot more t'be rid of me. You see what happened?"

"We went into a ditch."

"No, really?" Cal shook her head and opened the door, pulling herself upright before climbing up the slippery embarkment onto the road. She glanced down at Nicky, who stood beside the wreck with his thumbs shoved in his pockets, eyeing it critically. "Well, Mr. Edison? Can she still move?"

Nicky squatted in the grass and checked under the body, nodding a little. "Yeah, it should... maybe. The front axel's a little banged up, and you might have hit the transmission."

Cal shrugged. "Ah, well. Ain't my car, any road."

Nicky's tone brightened as he scrambled up the mud to join her. "Oh, well, it's all right then, isn't it?"

Cal caught his sarcasm but decided that she was too tired to deal with it and so ignored him. She stood in the middle of the road, looking around at the peaceful flora she'd contrived to drive into, and narrowed her eyes as she noticed the kid gnawing on his thumbnailabsently. "For fuck's sake, lad, stop doin' that," she grumbled irritably. "You're gonna get thumb cancer or summat."

"Thumb cancer?"

"Y'know what I mean."

Nicky opened his mouth to say something, but it just hung there, a pink crescent in the breeze. There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the light chirping of birds, before Cal blurted out, "What? Have I suddenly grown a tit in the middle of me forehead, lad, or is there something y'need to be tellin' me?"

Nicky swallowed and pointed to a spot behind her left shoulder. "Ah... to put things lightly, you just made puree out of a hiker."

Cal raised an eyebrow and glanced behind her. "Huh, so I did. Well, c'mon, lad, let's see what's going, shall we?" She turned and walked briskly towards the prone body lying in the middle of the road, all traces of her morning headache vanishing with every step. As she neared closer, a metallic glint caught her eye and a little voice in the back of her mind was telling her that this new disaster could either be very profitable or cause more headaches than it was worth.

This morning, she chose the voice of profit.

The man lying on the ground was maybe a little younger than herself, green eyes open and staring up at nothing, with hair that was too perfect for any Orga and thus laid her one small, latent concern to rest. He seemed to have come through his encounter with her fender relatively well, his cranium intact and with no obvious denting to the rest of the body. Cal jiggled the head a little with the toe of her boot, shoving her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose absently. "Late generation lover model," she announced to nobody in particular. "Pretty banged up, from the looks of it."

Nicky stuffed his thumbs in his belt and shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you run over somebody at mach 3."

Cal looked back at him irritably. "Lad, what I don't need is none of your cheek, all right? Anyway, you were distracting me."

"I --" Nicky looked ready to say more, but instead shook his head sullenly, scratching a design in the roadside gravel with his shoe, an expression of futility flashing across his features before vanishing again.

Cal lit her fifth cigarette of the morning and squatted next to the still figure,looking over him with a critical eye. "Late generation lover model," Cal repeated, glancing over the skeletal structure peeking through partially melted derma down the Mecha’s left side. "Fairly new, though, not all that bad condition, once you look over the fact that he appears t'have thrown 'imself into oncoming traffic, doused 'imself in petrol, lit a match and then rolled through a mud puddle t'put out the flames. No, really not all that bad at all...maybe worth fifteen, eighteen thousand, once he's patched up. Derma's pretty damn melted, maybe a little structural damage but the head's intact, so's his neural cube's most likely all right. Probably just went off-line." She straightened up and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke through her nostrils. "Right, lad, back up the car, let's try and get the ball of shite home. While we're at it, why don't see what we can get for this fine piece of mechanical arse before us? Here, help me get 'im in the back."

Nicky stared up at her, one eyebrow raised incredulously. "We can't put him in the car, Cal."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because the car is still in the ditch."

Cal sighed and waved off his words as if she was brushing away flies. "Details, details!"she said. When Nicky still stood staring at her, she sighed and rubbed a sore spot between her eyes "Nicky... fuck, I dunno, do somethin' with it, I'm busy. Jaysus... "

Nicky said nothing, his eyes darkening with annoyance as he turned on his heel, reciting a regular chant of what sounded like, 'I hate my life'. She was used to this, so she didn't give it a second thought. All second, third, and forth thoughts were directed at where to unload the Mecha she was secondhandedly now responsible for, how much she could conceivably get for it, and how exactly she was going to get Rory's car back to Rouge City in one piece.

The final thought was the one that really mattered. "Right, I'm ringin' the tow truck," she announced to nobody in particular, pulling her cell phone out of the inside breast pocket of her coat and punching the buttons. "Get the robot into the bushes, I don't trust these fuckers one bit."

"Well, there's news for you," Nicky muttered under his breath, but bent down and grabbed the Mecha's arms, the pebbles in the road scraping painfully against the smooth plastic of his coat, a fine layer of mud-dust following the body with every inch. Nicky gasped and released his grip, bending over to catch his breath. He was what was affectionately referred to as 'a lightweight'-- in the real world, a heavy breeze could probably knock him flat. The fact that the scale registered him at 160 pounds must have been God's idea of a joke, because he couldn't for the life of him figure out where any of that weight went. He bent down and grabbed the Mecha's head, fitting his fingers in the smooth grooves behind the robot's ears, heaving towards the bushes.

His progress was significantly halted by the knowledge that the Mecha was staring up at him, alert and comprehending. It blinked once to clear the dust away from its eyes, and they darted towards him, scanning an examining him with such calculated criticism that it made Nicky vaguely uneasy. One mud-streaked hand reached up and grabbed the sleeve of Nicky's jacket, his mouth creaking open and a mechanical squeal emerging from within. "Rrrraaavvviddd!"

Nicky stared blankly down at him, clearly uncomprehending. "Excuse me?"

The Mecha paused before attempting again. "Mrrrah rihh Rrraaavvviddd?"

Nicky narrowed his eyes, a million interpretations that made no sense coursing through his mind, before choosing the one that seemed at least slightly possible. "You want Ramen?"

The Mecha said nothing, but closed his eyes in a gesture that Nicky knew meant he was wrong on many levels. The Mecha opened his eyes again, infinite patience appearing to make another attempt, when an agitated voice cut him off. "Now, listen, I've got a car in a ditch... yeah, I said 'ditch', what the fuck didja think I said? Jaysus, if you start with me... "

The Mecha's expression brightened and he swung his head around to look at Cal, pacing across the road, the muscles of her neck beginning to tighten with every passing second. He released Nicky's sleeve and began to stumble to his feet, correcting himself as he swayed on the road, a look that was all too familiar crossing his face. Nicky swallowed slowly as the look registered in his mind. Years of playing lookout while Lucia Panzini strutted her stuff on Rouge City's back streets had accustomed him to that look, and right now, it was the most unwelcome thing he could imagine. "Uh... Cal?" he called out, his eyes still firmly trained on the Mecha beginning to walk unsteadily towards her. "Cal, I think you should come and look --"

Cal didn't look back but held up a hand, effectively strangling the words before they saw the light of day. "Yeah, I hear ya... seventy-five? Seventy-fuckin'-five? For that much I could get me car picked up, towed, fixed, and serviced at -- well, I ain't ringing them, I'm ringing you... "

Nicky cursed under his breath and tried again, addressing the Mecha, whose confidence seemed to grow with every step. "Uh, listen, Mister Mecha? I reeeeally, really wouldn't do this if I were you... hey, listen, I'm not kidding, you're... " he stopped when he saw his words were having no effect and buried his face in his hands, the thought that he must be made out of a sheet of cellophane crossing his mind.

The Mecha paused in his walk and ran his hand over his head, his eyebrows knitting when he saw it come away caked in mud. His features took on such a look of obvious dismay that it would have made Nicky laugh if he hadn't been steelinghimself for the holocaust sure to follow. The Mecha lifted his left hand and the morning sunlight glinted off what appeared to be a mirror imbedded in the palm, looking with an almost human expression of horror at the damaged, mud-caked being that stood in front of it. He shook his head in a gesture of disgust and opened his left arm, extracting a self-contained cleaning unit, running the machine over his face and scalp until it resembled a little of its former glory before slipping the device back into his arm.

He smiled a little as he looked himself over again and stepped boldly forward, and with a final, jaunty curve of his mouth, the Mecha swung round in front of Cal and bowed deeply, his eyes shining in the only manner of seduction he could really manage at the moment. He reached his hand slowly out to hers, taking careful note of her reaction and planning for it, ready to halt at the slightest sign of unwillingness. But there was no sign of unwillingness from the Orga woman in front of him -- actually, there was no sign of any movement whatsoever. She stood frozen in place, her mouth hanging open a little and her eyes glazed in a look of total incomprehension. The hand holding the phone fell slowly to her side, the smooth plastic gliding from her fingers to shatter on the asphalt below. Even this latest catastrophe didn't seem to register as she watched the Mecha, with an air of gallant romanticism, brushed a gentle kiss on the scarred knuckles of the other.

He looked up at her, warm jade eyes staring intently into hers as if she were the centre of his universe, the only thing that mattered in the world. He clicked his head fluidly to his left, once, and elegant music drifted out into the early morning quiet:

"Heaven! I'm in heaven! And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak..."

He parted his lips a little, a small, knowing smile illuminating his features, as his voicebox emitted a crackling squeal that somehow managed to be seductive all the same. "Mmmmrrrrr?"

Cal could do nothing but stare, all scenarios of his purpose crossing her mind but none clicking in place. "Are you...are you talkin' t'me?"

"... and I seem to find the happiness I seek..."

His smile became warmer, deeper, and he nodded a little, an ebony eyebrow arching gracefully as he spoke again, his lips moving with words his voicebox couldn't convey. "Rrrr-mmmrrrr."

"... when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek..."

A brief spurt of laughter reached Cal's ears from the side of the road. and with a sudden, horrific flash of realization, she instantly understood the Mecha's intent. She tore her hand out of his and staggered back, holding out a hand as if to ward him off. "Ah -- oh, hey wait a Goddamn minute here, lad, if you think I'm gonna... I mean, I-- crap, listen... Nicky!"

"Heaven! I'm in heaven! And the cares that hung about me through the week..."

Nicky grinned from the side of the road, his eyes moist and his cheeks burning with a red that looked downright unnatural on his stark skin. "No, please," he managed to croak out between rolls of laughter. "Go right ahead, I don't mean to interrupt such a beautiful moment."

"... seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak..."

The Mecha grinned in triumph and twirled round in front of her to her other side, breaking into another dance step that, had his gyro been working properly, would have come across as charming.

"... when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek..."

His smile was absolutely brilliant, his mechanical confidence bursting with the knowledge that she finally had got it, that the hardest part was over and his favourite job awaited him. He struck a pose and extended his hand again, his eyes shining, bits of mud cracking off his coat after all that swirling of coattails. He looked into her eyes invitingly, the only way he knew how, and opened his mouth again, flashing small, perfect teeth at her. "Mrrrrrr..."

"... Oh, I love to climb a mountain and to reach the highest peak..."

Cal glanced towards Nicky and then to the preening, musical Mecha before her, quite aware that the situation was out of her control and not appreciating that fact one bit. She cleared her throat and spoke in a gently, authoritative tone. "Listen, mate," she began, trying to be casual and faintly aware she was failing, "it's six-thirty in the morning, I'm tired as Helland more than a little hung over."

"... but it doesn't thrill me half as much..."

The Mecha's expression turned sympathetic, and his vocal rumblings became soothing. "Rrrr-mmrrrr..."

"... as dancing cheek to cheek..."

Cal continued, a little faster and sharper. "And -- and I ain't been laid in goin' on six months, so I've probably forgot how t'do it. So, sorry, I ain't interested."

The Mecha's face became saddened at this news, while on the side of the road, Nicky stared with such an expression of horror that it was clear that had been more information than he had ever wanted to know. The Mecha, for his part, bowed to her again, acquiescing to her wishes, and with another left-click of his head turned off his internal jukebox. Suddenly he seemed to take notice of his surroundings. He looked up, then around, turning a slow circle in the quiet September morning, and his head suddenly whipped around towards the trees across the road. He took a stumbling step back, his jade eyes widening, and to Cal he looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation-- and if that wasn't a bad sign for business, she couldn't think of another.

The Mecha didn't have time to think before he found himself with the barrel of a handgun trained firmly between his eyes, the woman on the other end staring at him with calm authority. "Right," she barked, tossing her head towards the upended car. "Put'cher hands on the bumper, and don't move. I will only say this once. And, Nicky, when you are finished having a good laugh at my expense, getcher arse over here."

The Mecha froze, looking at her for a moment, his eyes darting across to the kid standing up and brushing off the seat of his trousers, before he made his way to the car and did what he was told. He twisted his head around over his shoulder, his voicebox straining to form a question. "Rrrraaahhhhrrrr... rrrarrra rrrr ah?"

Cal didn't attempt a reply, but flashed her bounty hunter's license before putting it away again. "My name's Cal McPherson, I'll be your confiscator this morning. Do not move or otherwise make any threatening motions or motions that can be perceived as threatening," she caught her breath, the strain of it making her accent clearer showing. "Or I will be forced to fire. Do you understand?"

The Mecha nodded and made no sign of taking his hands off the bumper, but looked around him at the forest ahead. He tried again to speak, a little more successful this time around. "Rare ar Ah?"

Cal narrowed her eyes, her gun still trained on him. "D'ja say somethin'?" The Mecha eyed her warily, then dropped his gaze to one side and was silent, clearly resigned to his unknown fate. Cal continued the speech she'd recited a hundred times before. "I am obligated to tell you your rights: you don't have any. But you be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you -- you got that?"

The Mecha nodded again and his eyes followed Nicky, who hovered at Cal's side, waiting and attentive. "Well? Whaddya need?"

Cal tossed her head towards the car, keeping a steady eye on her new charge. "Make yourself useful and scan 'im, all right? I'm busy."

"Obviously," he muttered, but dutifully slid down the embankment and opened the back door of the car, rooting around for a moment before emerging again with a portable police scanner in his hand. He scrambled back up the bank, clearly annoyed with the mud streaking his formerly clean clothing, and smiled apologetically at the Mecha. "This will only take a second..." he reached out and cracked the Mecha's collar and prepared to scan him when his eyebrows knitted a little. "Ah, Cal? It's not gonna work."

Cal frowned, incredulous. Not gonna work? What the fuck d'ya mean? I just bought that thing three weeks ago!"

Nicky lowered the scanner and shrugged. "No, I mean, it's not gonna work because he doesn't have a license to scan."

Cal closed her eyes for a moment, her headache beginning to worm its way back into her awareness. She opened her eyes and stared at the Mecha intently. "Jaysus... all right, where the fuck did it go?"

It was Nicky who spoke. "He can't talk, Cal."

She groaned and turned her gaze on him. "I know that, lad, it's a rhetorical question." She sighed and lowered the gun, slipping in back into its holster. "All right, we got ourselves some problems," she continued, ticking off her fingers as she spoke. "First off, we got a broken-down car. Second off, it ain't exactly our car t'begin with. Third off, we got a Mecha wants collecting. Fourth off..." she paused, mulling it over. "Well, I can't think of a fourth problem, but I'm sure there is one. Now," she said with the air of a university professor. "Just what are we gonna do about this, hmm?"

Nicky jerked his thumb to a steep asphalt drive cutting through the woods, shrugging. "There's a house right there... we could go in and ask for the phone or something."

Cal turned her head, noticing the road for the first time. "Huh. So there is." She paused for a moment. "All the way up there?"

Nicky shrugged. "I guess... why?"

"Nothing..." she trailed off, shaking her head a little. Cal frowned at the steeply sloping drive, less concerned about the workout it would give her admittedly weak constitution than what she knew waited at the top. Hills were to property values now what beachfront homes were before the waters began to rise. The higher the elevation, the more money lay at the top; this was a rather steep hill, and Cal didn't like it one bit. But, there was a car in a ditch that didn't belong to her that needed mending, so she'd act as proper as she could and get this latest problem dealt with, personal prejudices aside.

They climbed the drive in silence, their footsteps and the distant calls of birds echoing in the woods around them, Cal's muscles beginning to burn while the Mecha stayed in perfect rhythm with each step equal to the last, a steady beat of leather against the asphalt. Nicky's hands were in his pockets, eyes downcast towards the road as they continued their climb, only removing them to stifle a yawn that broke the silence like a gunshot.

Then the house rose suddenly over the drive, emerging from the woods like something out of a fairy tale, cold and foreboding despite its air of hospitality and warmth. In front of it lay an elegantly sculpted garden, lilacs and roses competing for sunlight among rows of smaller, more delicate flowers. The whole place seemed unreal, like an overly detailed dollhouse or modern art sculpture. Nicky had fallen silent, looking at the gently sculpted garden and clean-swept drive with an expression hovering between awe and incomprehension. He moved a little closer to Cal, whose jaw was set in a strange manner that didn't suit her, her hands opening and closing tightly on themselves as they neared the sheltered front doorway. When they approached the door Cal halted in her tracks, her posture more erect than Nicky had ever seen it, her eyes staring straight ahead, silent.

"Well?" Nicky finally said, glancing up at Cal. "Aren't you gonna knock?"

"Of course I am goin' to bloody knock," Cal spat, tuning sharp eyes towards the wooden slats. "I am gonna knock, and you're gonna shut up and let me do all the talkin'. You hear me?"

Nicky nodded sullenly. "Yes, Cal."

"Good," she nodded and plastered on her most winning smile. "Don't let them fuck with your head, lad," she advised, and slammed her fist on the door.