Oz scowled into his drink. His body was aching everywhere, thanks to the little fight he had yesterday with a random stranger. He had at least three or four major bruises, two of them on his face, and they were painful. He thought it made him look dangerous, though in fact he just looked like a stupid kid who got in a quarrel.

He took a sip. He had no idea where he was, other than Eden, vaguely. He wasn't even sure where was Augustium, the capital. He'd probably have to ask around, and maybe even get a horse. He smiled at that thought. Oz loved horses, and rode them whenever he had a chance to. And money. In fact, he wasn't sure if he had enough money to get a horse; obviously, the owner of the establishment didn't think so. The beady eyed owner glared at him subtly.

Oz sighed. At this rate, he'd never get to rule all of Zelpha! He couldn't even rule Eden at this point.

A door opened somewhere, and Oz heard heavy footsteps. He looked up, unintentionally glaring at the person making the footsteps.

From the footsteps outside the door one would expect a giant of a man. Someone extremely tall and either very fat or very beefy. However, when the trail of footsteps reached the door many would be surprised. The door swung open, and in walked a fairly average woman. A few people had looked up to see who walked in, but most went back down when they found nothing unusual.

The elvaan who walked in could be described as attractive, though the blankness of her expression seemed odd. She took a few dead eyed glances around the tavern before making her way to the bar. Her footsteps remained strangely heavy.

Once she sat down she signaled the tender over with her left hand. She spoke a few words to him to which the bartender simply nodded and went to fetch something in the back. After a few minutes he returned, placing a glass and a bottle in front of her as well as, strangely, a few mechanical parts. The bartender nodded again and moved on to other customers.

The woman picked up the strange parts with her left and moved them into her pocket, then poured a some of the bottle’s contents with the same hand. Oddly, her right, covered arm remained at her sides at all times. Many wouldn’t notice, but an astute observer would surely find it strange.

Oz was surprised when the heavy footsteps turned out to be an average woman. Many people had looked up at her, and turned back, but he remained staring. It was suspicious; how could such a tiny woman make such a heavy sound? Perhaps she was magic-ed. But who would put a spell on someone to make them heavy? Was it a curse, or was it somehow supposed to help her?

Perhaps she carried a lot of weaponry on her. But why would someone need that much weaponry? And for that matter, how could she carry that much? Oz knew he wasn't the strongest person around (he specialized in intelligence and magic), but the weight was still too much.

He observed her, not exactly openly, but not hiding it either. He raised an eyebrow when the bartender poured her a drink and gave her mechanical parts. Perhaps she had some sort of super technology, and was carrying it around. For that matter, why was she only using her left hand?

By the time the woman poured her drink into the glass, Oz had deeply convinced himself he was staring at a mystery. He hoped it was some sort of enemy assassin, come to kill someone important; that way, when he apprehended her and turned her over to the authorities, the important would-be victim would be so grateful, Oz would be granted some important position. Then, bam! He could usurp the throne from whoever ruled the country. He wasn't entirely sure whom. But it all counted on him apprehending the woman.

So Oz grabbed his drink, and moved into the seat beside the girl. He tried hard to erase any negativity on his face, and smiled at her.

"Why are your footsteps so heavy?" he demanded. "What are you carrying?"

The woman, Ject, payed no attention to the man next to her. She could care less whether someone was next to her or not. She took a few more gulps of her drink when suddenly Oz spoke to her. Still expressionless she looked up, examining his bruises with dead eyes. After a few moments she opened her mouth to speak.

“Why are you so beat up?” her voice was flat and monotonous. “Did you get into a fight with the other boys?” She had no intention of answering the strangers questions, though at least he didn’t dance around the subject and just came out with it. She responded with an honest, if somewhat mocking, question on his state.

She turned away from the man and back to her drink. Ject took a few more drinks and poured herself a bit more.

Oz scowled, and flicked a purple strand of hair out of his eyes. "I'm not a boy!" he exclaimed. Then realized how it might sound weird, and hurried to explain. "I'm a man. And for that matter, you haven't answered my question."

He bit his lip in order not to blurt out what he wanted to say, and tried to calm down. He sometimes had a problem with getting edgy at stupid comments. Remember, he told himself, no emotions. Emotions are bad. Be as ice, or a cyborg. He breathed in deeply, and took another sip of his drink.

More calmly, he said "Are you trying to assassinate the ruler of Eden? Because I won't let you." Belatedly, he hurried to adjust himself into a confident position; he straightened his back, unhunched his shoulders, looked straight into the cold, dead eyes of the woman, and almost shuddered. He cleared his throat, and continued. "Out with it. Are you trying to assassinate the ruler, um..." Oz realized he talked himself into a pickle, and cursed himself. "Whatever their name is?"

Note to self, he thought. Find out more about the ruler of Eden.

Ject took another drink, completely ignoring his firm declaration of his status as a grown up. It had nothing to do with her and she had no reason to care. If she ignored him perhaps he’d leave her alone. She swirled her glass a bit and took another drink.

A few more silent moments passed, and Ject thought that perhaps the stranger had given up and would leave. However when he made his next demand of her a sigh escaped her lips. So absurd was the question that it caused a reaction from the amazing stoic Ject.

“And if I am?” Ject didn’t look up from her glass to speak this time. She took another drink before continuing in her traditionally dead manner. “Would you try to do something about it?”

"Well," Oz was taken aback by the question. He had a clear idea on how the encounter was supposed to go. She would either deny it, or would attack him, and he was prepared for both. She was never supposed to question him. "I suppose yes, it's my duty," he said, sounding generally unenthusiastic. Realizing that this contradicted his earlier statement, he cleared his throat, and drew himself higher again. "I mean, yes, of course! So you should just tell me now, whether you're an enemy or not."

He was beginning to regret this whole thing, but future rulers of Zelpha didn't back off once they started something. Oz took another sip of his ale, and tried to smile. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Oz. What's your name?" he asked.

Ject gave an extremely short chuckle. Though normally such a thing would mean something positive the blankness of her face and the lack of emotion in it gave it an odd, creepy quality. Ignorance is such an amusing thing, even to one such as Ject. Judging from the bruises all over him Ject figured he wasn’t much of a fighter and wouldn’t last a moment against her.

Once again she ignored his declaration to stop her, wavering confidence and all, and instead focused on her drink. Again there was silence, again it was broken by Oz, and again Ject had no intention of answering. “What does it matter to you?” She responded hollowly, still not looking at him.

Why this fool was so interested in her Ject didn’t quiet understand. What she did understand was that he was beginning to annoy her. She contemplated whether she should make him go away.

Oz was wary of the chuckle. He always believed you know what type of person someone was by the way they laughed; this girl looked like she was just going through the motions of laughing, but in all honesty did not care a bit. That didn't bode well for him, he supposed, so he became warmer.

He smiled nicely, as nicely as he could. "I just want to know!" he said, noting with disgust that his voice sounded like a nine year old's. Honestly, being a two faced, lying, manipulative bastard was all fine and well, but not when he sounded like a kid. What to do next? Physical contact. he raised a left hand, still smiling, and placed it on the woman's shoulder, not expecting what happened next.

Ject ignored him some more, continuing to find her drink far more interesting then the man before her. He could want to know all he wanted, though she suspected he didn’t really care and was using the approach simply to ask another question. She had found his original line of questioning far more tolerable. Trying to be her friend wouldn’t make her any more likely to talk to him.

Then he had to do it. Though Ject obviously couldn’t feel it she knew he had touched her shoulder. She could feel the weight on her arm, if not his hand itself. Almost as soon as the hand was placed her right arm shot out and gripped Oz’s side through the cape. There was an awkward moment of silence before Ject looked up. For the first time in the entire conversation she looked into Oz’s eyes. Her cold, dead stare told more about the condition of her soul then a thousand books.

Again there was a silence, though this time it was broken not by Oz’s voice but by a bizarre noise. It was a loud crackling, like the sound that would emit from a light socket it you were stupid enough to stick a fork into it. Oz’s body suddenly filled with electricity, and within moments he was out cold.

Ject removed her hand and returned to her drink, allowing Oz’s limp body to fall to the floor. Several people looked up, but quickly returned to their own business. No one wanted to mess with someone who could do that.

Whatever words Oz was about to utter died in his throat as the girl stared at him. She was awfully pretty, he distractedly noticed, as her cold, dead eyes bore into his own. It was as if his very soul was frozen by the intensity in hers, and he was amazed.

He was about to say something else, anything else, when he felt it; what felt like a thousand volts of electricity coursing through his body. It was shocking, in more ways than one. He had never felt a like pain. He saw a light, and within a split second was out.

It was what felt like several hours later that Oz woke up. His body was crumpled on the tavern floor, and his side burned with a mind numbing pain.

He leapt up, banged his head on a table he hadn't seen before, and went down again, cursing, a pain in his forehead adding to his existing bruises and the burn. His hands and feet also burned with an intensity that surprised him. He groaned.

He got up again slowly, this time careful of the table and any other potential hazards. He was already sore all over, and didn't want to add another injury. When he finally managed to climb to his feet, he swayed and nearly collapsed. It was still painful. He staggered a couple of feet and sat at the accursed table.

It was night. Oz didn't remember it being night when he was knocked unconscious, so it was probably a few hours he was passed out. The bar was empty, except for one person.

He leapt up when he saw her, getting tangled in his cloak and nearly crashing face first again. Instead, he steadied himself on the table and pointed a finger at her.

"You!" he screamed out. "What the hell are you?!?! What kind of magic do you have?"

"And where can I get some of it?" he muttered under his breath.

Hours had passed, and it was night. The bar was empty, thanks to the tender. After the incident he knew Ject well enough to close up early. She would want a few words with Oz. While the weren’t friends the old bartender was definitely a good acquaintance. Ject also payed well for old machine parts which could easily make up for the lost revenue from an early closing.

Ject could here Oz stirring behind her, though she didn’t bother to look. She didn’t doubt he would have some words for her soon. She no longer had a drink in front of her, though she stared at the tabletop as if there was.

After a few more moments of Oz attempting to get up the shout she was expecting came. She cared little for his questions of what she did. Like many of his question she ignored it. However on the quieter question of how to obtain something similar, she gave a frown. Ignorance could be very amusing, but it could also be very annoying. This was a case of the latter.

Still looking at the table, Ject spoke. “You don’t want it.”

Oz frowned when the girl ignored his questions. Dammit, that was annoying! How was he supposed to figure out what to do if he didn't know what he was up against? Really! His side ached, and he was annoyed.

He rolled his eyes when the girl looked all-suffering and said "You don't want it". Apparently even the creepiest warriors weren't immune to what Oz called the Tragic Past syndrome. "All right, fine, fine, I don't want it, whatever," Oz said, sighing in disgust, crossing his arms. "You still have to tell me your name, and what the hell that was." He stared at the girl in what he hoped was a condescending look.

Ject could care less what Oz thought of her and her response. His mocking repeat of her words meant nothing to her. She quite nearly ignored his second line of questioning as well. She didn’t have to tell him anything. She decided to give him a small amount of information however, as she wanted to ask something of Oz. Give and take was the best way to achieve that.

“Ject.” she said, giving him her name. She ignored his second question. There was another silence, ending as Ject turned in her chair. Once again she stared blank faced into Oz’s eyes, piercing him. There was another moment, and finally Ject spoke.

“Why did you touch my arm?”

"Ject," Oz rolled around the word in his mouth. "That's a pretty name," he said, surprised that he was being honest. It was an unusual name, but then again, so was 'Oz'.

He shivered as Ject turned her gaze on him again. It was still cold and dead and scary, but most of all, last time she looked straight in his eyes, he got electrified. Literally.

"I-I don't know," he responded to her question. He often forgot why he did stuff in hindsight. He tried to remember, but nothing. "Why...why was you arm so hard? What sort of magic is it?"

Ject ignored his comments on her name. Like many things he said it had nothing to do with her, it seemed to be a habit of his. Oz’s opinions on what constituted a good name was his business, and she had no reason to discuss it. There was actual business at hand.

As soon as Oz said he did not know Ject turned back around. She went back to staring at the counter. He continued his questioning as she did. She sighed again. It was something she didn’t like to remember, yet had to every time she looked in a mirror. At the very least, her unsaid question was answered.

“There is no magic here.” Ject said, standing up. She took one quick glance at Oz, still blank faced and dead eyed. Quickly she turned away, and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Oz frowned, and hurried after her, only slowing when he was right beside her. He ignored the pain, and tried to walk as steady as possible. "If it's not magic, what is it?" he wanted to know. Was she some different race of creature? Was she born like that? Was she a cyborg? Was it a secret weapon or something of that kind? Oz needed to know.

And if it was possible, how to get it. She said he probably didn't want that kind of weapon, but he did. It would be so great to shoot lightning out of his arm. Or fire! That would be even greater. Shooting anything dangerous out of his arm would be nice, though. Oz clenched his fists, and yelped as his fingers went in contact with the burns on his hands.

He supposed it was an effect of the electrical shock; one of his friends was a medic, and she said that sometimes, after people got shocked, they had entry burns, like the one on his side, and exit burns, like the ones on his hands and feet. Though Oz remembered that, he could not for the life of him remember how to treat them.

"Do you have any burn ointment?" he asked Ject. He conjured up some bandages reluctantly. He hated summoning object to stay long term; they drained on his energy and made him tired. The bandages were a necessity, though. Even if she hadn't any burn oitment, which seemed likely, at least he could keep his burns from hurting by being wrapped in bandages. Unless that would just make his burns worse. Oz was willing to try it, though.

Ject had left the building hoping the conversation was done. She sighed slightly when she found Oz walking down the road next to her. At this point she needed nothing from him and was determined to ignore him until he left. There was no point in prolonging his company.

At least that’s what she thought. His continued want to know what she did began to bother her. If anything she suspected it was because he wanted to do the same thing. Ject began to think he wouldn’t leave until he understood why he didn’t.

When Oz summoned the bandages Ject was given an angle to work with. She examined his ability for a moment before turning away and speaking. “Magic. You cannot use magic with what I have.”

She paused a moment. “You don’t want it, nor could you get it.”

Oz snorted. "It's not like my magic ever got me anywhere useful," he muttered, wrapping up his hands and trying to walk at the same time. He wasn't about to reveal it to a random stranger, but his magic was very limited. He could only summon things for a limited time unless he wanted a killer migraine, he could only summon things without the intent to harm someone, when he summoned something to help someone, it gave him a tingly, happy feeling, etcetera, etcetera, blah blah blah. It was very limiting for a future evil Emperor of the World.

The more Ject avoided his questions, the more curious Oz became. It must've been something extremely powerful. In fact, he was probably lucky to be alive. Oz nearly swooned in his bottled up excitement. He wanted it!

"Come on," he said, reasonably, in his opinion. "If you tell me what it is, at least, I'll leave you alone. If you stay silent, well..." he grinned. "I'll follow you around until you tell me." Oz sounded like a ten year old, not that he knew it.

Ject sighed again. It looked as if there was no avoiding it, she had to show him, or kill him. However while being a fool can annoying it isn’t a valid reason to kill someone over. Ject stopped, then slowly turned.

As she turned a blade sprouted from under the cape over her arm. At the same time her arm shot forward, placing the blade against Oz’s neck. It could be seen that the visible portion of the blade was not all there was to it, as about a foot of the cape covered half of the weapon.

Ject stared once again into Oz’s eyes. She had a somewhat menacing look, though the lifeless quality of all her expressions still remained. There was a long silence. It remained until Ject grabbed the cape with her left hand and pulled it off.

At last her right arm was exposed, and the reason for her to hide it was made clear to Oz. She did not hold a blade in her hand, instead her arm was the blade. A two foot sword had sprouted from the forearm of her metal limb, extending above her hand. The mechanical arm extended into her torso, and the crude connections to her flesh could vaguely be seen.

Ject stared into Oz’s eyes and spoke, her words far more firm then any before.

“You don’t want it.”

As the blade shot out to stop right before his throat, Oz could hardly breathe. This was the second time his life had been threatened by that one girl in the last few hours. It was obvious she had no qualms about killing him, and he wondered if this was going to be his last breath.

Ject was staring at him again. She really did have a cold gaze. Oz has never met anyone with eyes quite as hard and dead as hers; if he did, surely he would have remembered it.

He blinked as she pulled back her cape, and then stared in awe (mixed with fear) at the metal limb. So that's why...that was why she walked so heavily, and her arm was so hard. She was a cyborg. A cyborg.

Oz. Wanted. It.

He could deal with pain; a little physical pain never hurt anyone. Not as much as stabbing people with your own arm, or shocking them would inflict. And Oz might lose his magic, but it's not like he needed his magic. Though he would miss being called special by anyone who really cared...

Oz looked back at Ject, at her cold, cold eyes and frowned lightly. "I don't want it," he lied, but if there was one thing he could do without complaining, messing up or becoming bored, it was lying.

The blade in Ject’s arm retracted a few moments after Oz spoke his words. She had made her point, whether Oz was lying or not didn’t matter. She was done with him, and hopefully now she would be left alone.

Turning from the man before her she began walking down the road once again. She threw her cape back over her arm as she walked, beginning to retie it as well.

Once her arm was completely covered once again Ject spoke a single word as she headed off to her next destination.

“Farewell.”

"No, wait!" Oz waited a respectable amount of time (two seconds) before hurrying to catch up with her again. He didn't know why, but he had a distinct feeling it would be easier for him to become a cyborg if he followed her for a while. He had heard rumors of cyborgs originating from ZEAL, but he had no idea whether that was true or not. He had to get more information, and a real life cyborg seemed like his best bet.

He had no idea what to say now, so he decided to stay silent. Walking along beside Ject, it felt almost right. Not completely right; he would have been much happier walking by himself, or with anyone else. But he didn't feel terrified, like he should have after Ject almost killed him. Twice.