Something's wrong.

Crystal knew it in her bones, in every cell of her body. Something simply wasn't right. She stood at the window, staring out at the rain, watching, waiting. Fearing.

"Don't worry, Crys," Jet tried to reassure her. He got up from his studies and reached out to pet her waist-long cornsilk hair. "The storm's not bad. Mama will be home soon."

Crystal shook her head. Her young mind couldn't form the words she needed to explain her misgivings to her twin. He was the smart one, not her. Jet was going to be a scientist, of this she felt sure. Sometimes the thought of her brother in a lab coat with funny glasses made her giggle, but not now.

She wasn't bright or school-smart like he was. She probably wouldn't even know how to read if he hadn't helped her in classes. Maybe Jet should be a teacher instead.

Crystal never wondered what she was going to be when she grew up. "A bride," she would tell anyone who asked, but Jet always scolded her for that. She should think about herself first, he told her. Her life shouldn't be dependent on someone else's whims.

Crystal couldn't explain that to him, either. She couldn't even understand herself why, whenever she thought about her own future, she came upon a blankness of imagination so vast it seemed almost frightening. She couldn't picture herself grown-up, like Mama or Papa. She couldn't see herself in a long pretty white dress, like the bride she told other people she dreamt of being. She didn't really imagine herself as a bride. She didn't imagine herself as anything at all.

Sometimes she wondered if she was going to die soon. It didn't seem likely; she and her brother always had plenty to eat, and plenty of toys. Their mama obviously loved them, and Papa...well, Papa wasn't around much, though when he was, he tended to be very harsh with them. He spanked Jet so hard sometimes that the boy had welts on his buttocks and legs. It was because Papa didn't want Jet turning into a "sissy", he said. He didn't hit Crystal, though, maybe because Mama wouldn't let him.

Mama.

It felt terrible, sitting on the windowsill and looking out at the rain, afraid Mama wasn't going to come back, afraid of what would happen when she did.

"Come play with me, Crys," Jet urged, tugging on his sister's arm. "I'll even let you win, maybe."

Movement from outside caught her eye. "Mama," she whispered.

"Eh?" Jet leaned up to the window, his breath fogging the glass. "Mama's coming!" He jumped down and ran to the door to open it for her. "Mama, Crys was worried about you again!"

Sterling Silver paused in the doorway, looking at her son with wide, haunted eyes. Sterling had always been a beauty, even before she married the dashing Commander Silver; but now that beauty seemed faded. She seemed to have aged beyond her years in a matter of hours.

Jet's welcoming grin faltered. "Mama...?"

Quietly Crystal got down from the windowsill and walked over to where her brother stood. She looked up at her mother's pale, unfocused eyes, and somehow she knew.

"It's Papa, isn't it?" she said. "Something's happened to Papa."

"Don't be stupid!" Jet snapped at her, giving her a mild shove. "Papa's okay! He's a soldier, and a great fighter. Nothing's wrong with him! Is there, Mama?" He looked up at the woman for confirmation.

Sterling's face crumbled and she fell to her knees with a sob. "Oh, my babies, my beautiful babies..." She reached out and gathered them close. "What's to become of us now?"

A crumpled, wet sheet of paper fell from her hand to the floor. Crystal looked at it over her shoulder, struggling to string the letters on the page into words. All she could make out was "...COMMANDER SILVER KILLED IN BATTLE..." before the tears blurred her eyes.

Wishing you were dead
Why are you in my bed?
You're what's jeopardized
It's only me denied

Spring became summer, a summer which brought no joy, only long hot days and brief sleepless nights. The children didn't miss their father too much--they'd seen him so seldom--but their once bright and cheerful mother was slipping away from them, day by day. She never laughed now, never smiled. She went about her daily routine like a robot. The house was spotless, and their meals were always served promptly, although as the months passed the fare became less and less appetizing.

"We don't have any money," Jet explained to his sister. "Mama can't work, so we have to."

They collected cans, they did odd jobs for neighbors, anything to get a few zenni together to buy some food at the marketplace. Often the shopkeepers would throw in a bit extra if they could, feeling sorry for the two thin, pale-faced children; but it was a hard year all around, and everyone was having a rough time of it.

Autumn brought school days, and the children attended their classes faithfully, sitting proudly in class in their worn, outgrown and tattered clothes. The other children mocked them, but they didn't care. They had each other, and that was the important thing. Sometimes Crystal would have to fight back tears, but Jet always sensed her feelings and took her hand under the desk, and she would always feel better for it.

Crystal kept telling herself the worst had happened, and they had survived. Nothing worse was going to happen to them. Mama wouldn't get killed in a war, and Jet had promised Mama repeatedly he would never join the Army. People were saying the Army didn't even exist anymore--it had been destroyed. Crystal was secretly glad, in a way; no Army meant no more wars, and that meant nobody else would have to die.

One late November afternoon, the cold northern wind chased the twins home. It was getting bitterly cold, and their thin garments offered next to no protection, but all the same Crystal and Jet were glad to be getting back home to a warm house, to a decent meal, to their mother's presence, however distant she was these days.

"The house is dark," Crystal said as they approached.

"Mama's probably asleep again," Jet said. "She's been doing that a lot lately. You're going to have to learn how to cook, Crys."

"Maybe we should get Mama to see a doctor."

"And pay him how? We barely make enough zenni to be able to eat, and it's hard to find work now that school's started and we spend so much time in class."

"I could leave school. I don't do that well anyway. I could get a job."

"Don't be silly, nobody's going to hire a kid full time." Jet opened the door and peered into the darkened hallway. "Mama? Mama, wake up, we're home."

Crystal peered over her twin's shoulder. "Jet, I'm scared."

"Don't be a baby. Come on, help me wake Mama up." Jet turned on the hallway light and headed inside, fearless as always.

Mama wasn't napping on the sofa, as she so often was these days. Nor was she in the kitchen, or even in her bedroom when the children peeked in.

"Mama!" Jet called again. "Mama, where are you?"

Crystal noticed that the door to the bathroom was ajar. She wanted to call it to her brother's attention, but suddenly her voice stuck in her throat and no words would come out. She walked forward, drawn like a pin to a magnet, unable to stop herself or call out to her twin as he searched the rest of the small house. One small hand reached out and pushed the bathroom door open. It swung lazily into the darkened room. It bumped against something that started to swing in the darkness, making a low creaking sound. Crystal had to stand on tiptoe to switch on the light.

Mama was hanging in midair. Her head hung limply off to one side and her face was all blue and purple. A rope hung from the overhead light fixture and was knotted around Mama's neck. She swung slowly back and forth in the air, like a prayer-bell message in a soft breeze. A chair, overturned, lay below Mama's dangling feet. One of her shoes had fallen off.

Crystal's shrill, piping screams brought Jet running. He took one look at their mother's body and got his sister out of the room, yanking her around and pressing her face to his shoulder. "Don't look, Crys!" he gasped, dragging her away, pulling her out of the house with him. "Don't look at her!"

It was too late. The image of their dead mother would never leave Crystal's mind.

Oh, I'm dizzy hazy
Oh, will someone save me?
Oh, hypnotize me
Anesthetize the pain

The Social Services lady was very pretty and smelled very nice, but she wanted to put Jet and Crystal into what she called a "placement home".

"Poor little lambs," she cooed, ruffling Jet's hair (and ignoring his grimace), "what a terrible tragedy...your mother was obviously a very disturbed lady. You'll need a great deal of time to adjust to this terrible loss. The family at the placement home will help you learn to deal with all that's happened and before you know it, you'll have new families of your very own."

That night, Jet urged Crystal to run away. "They'll separate us, Crys," he whispered in the dark as they dressed. "We'll go to different places and they'll give us different names and they won't let us even write each other and I'll never see you again. I'd rather die than let that happen!"

Crystal was resigned to her fate, but she knew only one thing: having lost both parents, she wasn't about to lose her brother, too. She followed Jet into the night and never once looked back.

Walk in the park, fresh air
Shoot my drink, you're still here
A silent child asks why
You used to bring me here

It wasn't so hard to get by, really. They could find nice people sometimes who would feel sorry for two such thin, pretty children and take them in. Old couples, usually, or unmarried lonely women. They quickly learned not to trust older men. Strangers would feed them, give them clothes and a place to sleep. Sometimes they could stay for weeks before the questions began--where are you from, where are your mommy and daddy, shouldn't you be going to school? Then they would slip away in the night again, looking for another place, other strangers.

When they got to Highrise, the big city was even easier to hide in, and Jet developed new skills that helped them survive. He was a good thief, as it turned out, and they never got caught. He learned to lie as naturally as breathing; but he had to ensure that Crystal stay hidden and keep her mouth shut because Crystal was terrible at sneaking around, and worse at telling lies.

As the twins grew older, they learned to fight--they had no choice, really. The gangs didn't like two strangers operating on their turf, and there were a lot of older street people who wanted to take advantage of two attractive young teens. Crystal cried when Jet cut her hair short like his to make her look more boyish, but she knew he was right--a young, pretty girl on the street was an even bigger target than two young, girlishly pretty boys. She wore the same kind of clothes he did, and stayed out of sight as much as possible.

They had been surviving on their own for nearly ten years when Crystal got sick. It was winter, and shelter was hard to find. The two of them had been sleeping in an abandoned storehouse for almost a week, with no heat other than the pitiful warmth of each other's bodies. One morning Crystal woke with a bad fever, shaking uncontrollably, unable to breathe easily. Jet did his best to care for her, but she kept getting worse.

Jet was frantic. He couldn't let his sister die, but he didn't know how to help her. Even if he could break into a drug store or a hospital's supply room, he didn't know what kind of medicine to get her. By the tenth day, she was so weak she couldn't sit up, and she was refusing to eat. As much as he hated to do it, he had to get help for her.

"I'll be back soon, Crys," he said, covering her with the threadbare blanket they'd been sleeping in. "Just rest." He wanted to pray, but he didn't believe in God, hadn't believed since their mother had killed herself. His chest was tight with dread as he ventured out onto the street.

It was risky, going out in broad daylight, but Jet was willing to do anything to make Crystal well again. He had heard about someone else living outside the city--a crazy man, everybody said, who kept to himself and that suited those who had encountered him just fine. It was rumored that he was an outlaw, a fanatic, an antisocial psycho who performed bizarre experiments in his workshop and killed anyone who dared get close enough to his shack to knock on his door.

Jet had heard all these stories about the stranger outside the city. He'd also heard that the man was a doctor, and that he had once been in the Red Ribbon Army.

I have to get him to help us...the worst he can do is kill me for asking, and if that happens, it happens. I'm willing to risk my life for Crys. She's all I've got left, and I'll do anything to save her.

Anything.

Yes, I do need to feel love
And I'll use yours like a glove
But the memories come flooding back
And all I want to do is paint it black

It was warm. She had been cold, so cold, for so long she had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm and comfortable. She shifted; she felt the smoothness of linen against her skin.

"Crys? Crys, wake up."

She forced her leaden eyelids to rise and focused on her brother's anxious face. She managed to smile a bit, tried to speak, and coughed hard.

"Don't try to talk. Here, drink this." A straw was placed between her parched lips and she managed to swallow a few sips of cool, fresh water. "The doctor says you're going to be fine. You've been out for almost a week, but you're going to get well."

The straw was taken away, and Crystal swallowed hard. "Wh..where...?" she rasped.

"We're at the doctor's lab. We brought you here because he said he couldn't take care of you back at his house. You were too sick. He made you better, Crys. He's a friend of our father's. He's going to take care of us from now on."

A shadow appeared over her brother's shoulder; Crystal forced her hazy vision to focus. An old man, with long white hair and a tall black cap, his face craggy and grim. She tried to smile. "Thank...you..."

His watery gray eyes crinkled; he might have been smiling, but through the thick white mustache it was hard to tell. "Rest," he said in a thick, gravelly voice. "Your brother and I have a lot to talk about." His gnarled hand descended on Jet's shoulder, and the boy started. "Come along."

"What...?" Crystal saw something flit through her brother's eyes, something very like fear. "What's...?"

"Nothing," Jet said, too quickly. "Everything's fine." He patted her hand and flashed her a wide grin. "Sleep, sis. When you wake up, I'll tell you all about it."

Crystal felt a sting on her inner arm, and darkness rose up to swallow her. The last though to follow her down into dreamless slumber was: Was Jet lying...to me?...

You speak my name, I hear nothing
You share your dreams, I see nothing
Unconscious suicide
Aren't you gone yet?
You make me remember

The next morning Crystal was strong enough to sit up and eat a little. The doctor--Gero, he said his name was--brought her a simple breakfast. "Be sure to drink the juice," he said. "You need to regain your strength."

"Where's my brother?" she asked, not touching the food.

"He's sleeping," Gero replied. "Eat. I'll send him in when you're finished."

Slowly Crystal ate the tasteless fare; she had difficulty swallowing, but she managed to get it down. The juice did taste good, and after drinking it she felt much stronger. Gero sat and watched; Crys felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, painfully aware that she wore only a shapeless white shift and nothing underneath. Yet the look in his eyes wasn't sexual; that she'd experienced often enough. He wanted something from her, she was certain; but what?

When she'd finished, Gero picked up the tray and stood. "I'll send your brother in now," he said, turning to leave.

"Thank you," she said, but he walked out without another word. While she waited, Crystal looked around the room. The walls, floor and ceiling looked as if they had been cut out of stone; there were no windows, only one door. There was the bed, a chair, a lamp, and that was about it.

A familiar shape appeared in the doorway, and Crystal brightened at once. "Jet!" she cried. She swung her legs off the bed and jumped up to meet him. Her bare feet had taken only two steps on the cold stone floor before her legs gave way beneath her.

Before she realized she was falling, Jet was there to catch her. His hands held her arms tightly, almost painfully, as he moved her back to the bed. "Don't try to get up," he said. "You're still too weak to walk."

"Ow! Jet, you're hurting me!" she protested.

Instantly he jerked his hands away from her, and she fell to the thin mattress with a gasp. Her upper arms bore red imprints of his fingers. "I'm sorry, Crys, I didn't--"

"Your hands--they're so cold," Crystal said, as she rubbed the angry bruises he'd left. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong," he snapped. He sounded angry. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Jet, what's wrong? You know you can't lie to me, I don't care how well you lie to everybody else."

Slowly Jet sat down beside her. He moved carefully, but his weight made the bedframe creak alarmingly. He shouldn't have been that much heavier than her. "Sis...Dr. Gero said he could make you well, but he said he needed help with an experiment he was working on. So I agreed to help him. That's all."

"What did you have to do?"

"It's not important." He put his arm around her shoulders. "What matters is you're going to be okay."

She looked at his face; Jet would not meet her eyes. "Why won't you tell me? What did he make you do?"

He did look at her then, and his unblinking stare made her shrink away from him. "Not that," he said bitterly. "I would have almost rather--"

"What?"

"Never mind." He got up abruptly. "The important thing is to get you well and to get you out of here."

"Jet, where will we go?"

"Gero promised he'd give you some clothes and some money. You can go wherever you want." He started walking towards the door.

"Me? What about you?" Despite her weakness, Crystal forced herself to her feet. "You know I won't ever go anywhere without you."

He stopped and turned to face her. He looked both angry and ashamed, but his eyes pleaded silently for her to understand, to accept--what? "Crys, please...just do what I tell you. You've got to get out of here as soon as you can."

"I won't leave you, Jet!"

"Quite right, young lady." Gero stepped into the room, and Crys had the sudden certainty that their host had been listening to every word. "I would be...quite distressed if either one of you were to leave."

Jet whirled on him, snarling. "Crystal is not part of the deal."

"Ah, yes, our deal, young man. Not just your sister's life, but also revenge on the man who killed your father. Don't you remember?"

A wave of dizziness washed over Crystal, but she managed to stay on her feet. "Our father? He died during the war!"

Gero fixed his colorless eyes on her. "He was murdered by an enemy of the Red Ribbon Army named Son Gokou."

"Mu...murdered...?"

"Yes, indeed, my dear. Murdered in cold blood. When I told your brother, he was all too willing to subject himself to--"

"Shut up, old man!" Jet shouted. "Leave her out of this."

"Why, it's nothing to be ashamed of, my lad." Gero smiled quietly. "You're not just human anymore, you know; you're better than any human. Stronger, faster, more powerful--more than a match for the likes of Son Gokou."

"Jet, what is he talking about?" Crystal demanded, desperate. "What has he done to you?"

Jet glared hatefully at Gero, not answering his twin.

"He's a jinzouningen now, child," Gero supplied.

Crystal blinked hard. "An...artificial human?! That's crazy!"

"Nonsense. I needed a subject for my newest project, and your brother wanted help for you. As an added bonus, you will both have the chance to exact revenge for your father's untimely demise. I want Son Gokou dead for my own reasons. So we can...help each other, eh?"

"I told you, Gero," Jet hissed, fisting his hands and trembling. "Leave Crystal out of it. She's not part of the deal. Keep your hands off her!"

"If it weren't for me, the girl would be dead. You made your bargain, and I kept my side of it. What I choose to do with the girl now is none of your concern."

"Bastard!" Jet's hands shot out, reaching for the old man's throat.

"Jet, don't!" Crystal cried, taking a shaky step forward.

Unconcerned, Gero lifted one arm, pointing a small black box at Jet. He pushed the red button atop the box, and Jet froze, then collapsed.

"Jet!!!" Crystal fell to her hands and knees and struggled over to her twin. He wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. "You killed him!" she shrieked at Gero, trying to gather Jet's leaden form into her arms.

"Nothing can kill him now, girl. But never mind; soon enough, you'll understand." Gero reached down and grabbed her arm. She struggled, but she had no strength to pull away. He produced a hypodermic syringe and jabbed it into her arm. She burst into tears of pure anger, trying to fight Gero off, trying to hold off the oblivion that yawned open to swallow her.

"Don't worry, child," Gero said with mocking gentleness. "It'll all be over before you know."

All be over.

All over.

Over...

You touch my face, I feel nothing
You taste my lips, I give nothing
This starving soul must be fed
You make me remember things I want to forget

--Leah Andreone, "Make Me Remember"

*click*

Awake. Just like that. No slow rising to consciousness, no gradual emerging of awareness, not even the sense that anything had awakened her. The world around her was just suddenly--there. She was lying on a cold, flat metal surface, completely nude, only she wasn't cold. She could hear the hum and click of machinery, circuits and switches and gears --

--gears, or--

--Gero--

"Jet!" she shouted, and sprang up--or tried to. Her arms and legs were held immobile, and she could move nothing but her head.

"Very good," Gero said, nodding as he set the small black box on the counter. "You've survived the operation splendidly, my dear."

"Where's my brother?!" she demanded.

"Of course, you might be somewhat weaker than Juunana-gou at first, because of your illness, but your regenerative core should compensate for that soon enough. I daresay eventually your power will even outstrip his."

"What the hell are you talking about? Jet, where are you?! Help me!!"

"No need to shout, my dear; he's right over there." Gero pointed past her.

She turned her head and saw another table to her left. Jet was strapped to it, naked as she was, and the top of his head was gone. The horror was so great that for a moment Crystal could only stare at her brother's lifeless face. "What have you done to him?"

"I'm making him perfect, of course." Gero moved into her line of sight again, checking the cables that led from Jet's open skull to a monitor on the wall near his table. "Juunana-gou is entirely too rebellious. Once his memories have been wiped, I'm sure he'll be much less trouble to manage. Yes, I think going back to a human base was for the best, after all."

"What do you mean, 'Number Seventeen'? What are you talking about?"

"Never mind, Juuhachi-gou; very soon you won't remember any of this anyway." Gero went back to the foot of her table and picked up the controller. "The hardware has already been installed; all we have to do is remove your humanity. No memories, no anxieties, no emotions, no personality, no sense of identity...only the need to fight and kill. Son Gokou will die, and so will whoever else I choose to turn you loose on. You will both be perfect, flawlessly efficient fighting machines. No more tears, no more pain--you'll like being a jinzouningen, Juuhachi-gou. It will be so much easier than being an ordinary human."

Crystal drew in breath to scream for the last time.

*click*