Gunmetal Girlfriend Gunfight for Neon Babylon

“Isaiah…”

Everyone else was dead.

“Isaiah!”

Torn into tendons by teeth or tungsten.

“ISAIAH!”

The black lasers and electro set building the rave up were still in motion. And his favorite mix was playing, too.”

“LOOK AT ME, ISAIAH!” Ihwa, Isaiah’s breakcore-loving girlfriend, music enthusiast, and moments ago, a hot pink SIG MCX carbine, was begging him with crosshair eyes to come back to her. “LOOK AT ME!”

A trail of blood was approaching them.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“No time to explain.

“What the fuck is that thing?!”

“No time to explain. Please, you have to do what I tell you,” Facing them, a marionette in black, Eyes red and undead. Bloodstained Beretta in left hand, flesh-rending fist for a right one. He threw his broken shades to the dance floor. He snarled at the couple for having the nerve to stay alive. A vampire.

“You’re gonna have to use me.”

“Use you?”

The creature in black began its advance.

“Now!” Ihwa compartmentalized back into a rifle and blocked the Vamp’s fangs using her barrel. She covered Isaiah’s headlight deer-ness with a counter shot to the eye. The vampire retreated to the air. Isaiah had one more chance to coalesce. The vamp whipped dual pistols at him. Time to move.

“SHOOT!” Ihwa screamed. On command, he took aim, unloading a campaign of plasma fire at the airborne vamp. The kickback was a bitch to tame. The vamp hit the deck, evaporated around the floor, through the strobes, behind the mixers, and barreled the equipment hundreds of feet at Isaiah. Isaiah scampered for the venue, juke strafing to throw the incoming booth and bullets off-course, and the death reaper at his heel if he were lucky.

“You can’t outrun it, Isaiah. It’ll follow you!” warned Ihwa. Isaiah’s mind was a tier above implosion. Mere hours ago, scheduled to drive back to campus, get some chest presses in, make some resumes for the Job Fair tomorrow. This girl and her shady connections dropped this maelstrom on his balls.

No

“If we don’t fight, it’ll kill more! It’ll kill everyone at ICF!” Ihwa said. Isaiah’s slid to a halt. Right at the doors.

She’s right.

“Suicide…” Isaiah was sweating Iron. “That thing killed the dude you pulled up in here with. He was trained for this, I watched him react to it. I’m regular. Afraid…”

“Me too,” Ihwa admitted. “I’d rather be scared here with you than safe letting that coffin-fucker get you and our friends at school.

The vamp’s chasing growls were delivering an echo.

“This is as fucked as Coachella was…” Isaiah laughed.

“Yeah. I prayed to never bring this shitshow crap to you. I know you want a lot of answers. I owe you a basket of calls. I’ll give you recompense for it all when that thing dies.

Its shadow started leaking to the venue.

Isaiah took a breath, pressed her stock against his shoulder, peered in the scope. The last image before his dance with the devil was the pink mandala emblem Ihwa tattooed on her back in human form. “And if this is the end, please take this wherever you go: I love you for asking the quiet girl out, and I loved being at Coachella with you.

Time’s up. Gun vs gun.

Isaiah and vamp light the joint up like a bass drop. Plasma and pellets spray through the wall, through the roof, through their robes, through the Beretta’s, through Isaiah’s cheek.

The vamp charged on with the Ninjato on its back. A one-handed blitzkrieg of slashes to Isaiah. Three small cuts. A failed Hiryu-no-Ken followed by a successful abdomen slice. Six whiffed plasma bullets versus a nipped shin. Leaking red here and there, Isaiah retreated back to the fog-laden dance floor. Isaiah gave raking fire, sweeping the room. The pair of bloodshot eyes sidestepped and skipped and slipped past each shot.

Ihwa’s trigger clicked.

“Fuck!” Isaiah intercepted a lunge at his neck by the skin of his teeth. He fumbled Ihwa to the wind after the vamp nicked the veins in his wrists. Two x-shaped slits. They marked the spot. Isaiah iced up, washing his face against his own blood. If he had an HP pool, it’d be below 50%

No.

Ihwa deployed her body, her arms, her legs to full-size. The vamp brought its blade to Isaiah skull. Ihwa landed on a handstand, barrel cocked and protruding from her spine.

Not this time.

The ninjato shattered to fragments. They both plummeted down. The vamp barrel-rolled on his feet, vaping and clawing up the walls. Ihwa snagged her handler’s backup Taurus, spraying and praying. The lighting rigs were severed and came crashing down.

Ihwa averted them all and equipped her barrel on the left wrist. The vamp removed it first with his teeth.

“You can’t be real,” Ihwa mourned her missing arm.

The vamp grinned wildly and flexed his talons.

Isaiah spectated, bleeding on the ground, bleeding harder when he got up. The vamp teleported underneath Ihwa with an uppercut, gut kick, and overhead swipe. Ihwa was just barely keeping pace.

Coworkers. Clubmates, Classmates. All of them merked by this fucking demon. For what?! The stench of Isaiah’s fallen people just started to reach him. He gripped the remnant of the Ninjato with his bear hands.

It killed our friends.

The Vamp got Ihwa on her back, looking where the lights should be, thanks to a leg sweep.

“Weakling…” It readied its claws to burrow through her pretty face. Isaiah burrowed the ninjato in its nape first.

But it won’t kill Ihwa.

It elbowed and struggled. Isaiah incapacitated it forever, pushing the blade through the whole neck. The vamp collapsed, retching and rasping. It’s accursed blood hemorrhaged out its eyes.

With a moment to breathe, Ihwa picked her handler’s pistol again and reloaded. Perfect aim. Three shots broke its talon-holding arm. Two shots opened a hole in its gut. Ont shot made a cavity where its mouth was supposed to be. Ihwa embedded the final round in its skull. Three to five seconds of death throes later, then it flopped on the floor. Black blood oozed out of its head. Its acrimoniousness scorched the concrete. Isaiah and Ihwa watched Its corpse steadily age into ash flakes. It was something right out of a creature feature.

Isaiah’s consciousness was ebbing. He felt like a juiced lemon. With the amount of blood he lost, it’s an enigma he was active for this long. He slow-blinked at Ihwa’s silver wolf-cut and visage of concern. His shies shut completely with the mix of the Rave, taking him somewhere else.

“Are you crying?” Isaiah asked, one hundred and forty-two days ago at Coachella, in a wellness tent, a couple miles from the center stage.

Ihwa caressed her wet cheek. “I didn’t notice.”

“I don’t blame you. Ado is the fucking best. Usseewa gave me the best type of high I’ve ever felt in life. Experiencing it up close, man—I could fight a God hearing that over and over again.

“I loved her...” Ihwa said, tracing her lips. “Do you ever take anything away from the art? I don’t mean simple appreciation for the vocals or instrumental.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you learn things about yourself?” Ihwa gave Isaiah an enrapturing gaze. “A gem of a song, a simple mural or sketch opens me up more than any type of therapy ICF could give. I feel like…like I get closer to your heart by experiencing the tracks you make, Isaiah.”

“Are you sure it’s not the molly?”

“And you had to ruin the moment,” Ihwa jabbed Isaiah’s shoulder.

“I don’t smoke, punk. I’m sure you wish I did. It’d make it easier…”

“What easier?”

“To earn that ‘high’ you covet so much,” Ihwa rolled onto her chest and exposed her tattoo to Isaiah for the first time. “I’ve learned to love music today. To yearn for it.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Someday. When I earn the time, when I earn the place, I’ll make a playlist. Maybe make a band. Just…maybe.”

“Breakcore?”

“Breakcore.”

“I’ll be the first to buy it.”

“You better, lest I put you on block on my phone,” Isaiah, sitting agape at that comment, made Ihwa laugh out loud. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah…thank you for making this weekend happen. I’m glad we got to know more about each other.”

Isaiah laid beside her. “I’m blessed that you still want to keep this going.” They didn’t talk for a while. Side by side, blending with the ambience, they let their eye contact and the vibe say everything. Isaiah broke the moment with an inquiry.

“What I’d like to know more about right now is that tattoo. Did you ink it yourself?”

“Sure,” Ihwa smirked. “It was a bit hard to reach, but once I learned to turn my head and arms 360 degrees, it was light work.”

“Right. I walked into that one.”

Isaiah gasped awake to the present in a bed. He couldn’t move under a rickety roof. An IV and gauze were stitched to his arm and the throbbing from the rave massacre faintly lingered.

“Hey,” Ihwa was beside him, wrapped with lacerations and a missing wrist.

“Hey.” Isaiah was uncharacteristically mute. After a quarter of a minute, Ihwa spoke again.

“So, let me start unpacking some things. You’re not at a hospital. I have people here taking care of you. They told me to tell you that your body will be Swiss cheese for the next two months. So no going back to the Institution of Collegiate Frameworks for you. Not sure, you’d want to since there would a lot of empty seats in class.

Isaiah replied with nothingness.

“Silver lining, because of what happened tonight, you and I are gonna spend a lot more time together. Which means I get to come clean about a lot of things, starting with what I am.”

“And what is that?”

“A technorganic alien. I…my kind, Armethians, are born with weapons within us. And when the time is right, we change into them, become them for whoever needs it. Back there it was my handler, then you.”

“Your handler? So that guy wasn’t an excuse to miss my texts?”

“No…” Isaiah could tell that dig was especially deep.

He was my handler when I became a gun…he barred me from extensive communication with you, in hopes that you’d get disinterested and move on. It was for your protection. He actually suggested I sleep with you once and end it. I couldn’t do that. I wanted more, but wanting more would mean you getting hurt like this, so I let it go. I’m sorry about that.

“Ok. I trust you. And I’m sorry for that comment. It’s clear after tonight that you had your reasons. I’m glad I got to know that much about you,” comforted Isaiah.

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you,”

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for YOU!”

A third party knocked at the door.

“Come in,” Ihwa said. What came in were a bunch of dudes with suits and sour looks. An Asian-looking man stepped up to them.

“I’m gonna cut to business. The introductions come later, Isaiah Mendoza.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

“Yes, as of now. Because your former life is over. The vampire you both killed was but a scout sent to evaluate Neon Babylon. It was below the curve of their average warriors.”

“Bullshit…” Isaiah groaned. “That monster brutalized us, and its supposed to be bitch-made.”

The man sighed. “We only sent one handler to that warehouse because of it. The average one would require at least three. It’s unfortunate. We’ve been fighting those coffin-fuckers for years and we can’t take down one scout alone. Not to mention, we have little personnel here in Osaka, as-is.”

“That can change, starting with him.” Ihwa replied.

And thus came the initiation. “Isaiah, we don’t have a name yet, but we kill vampires or coffin-fuckers if you prefer. Try to return to your normal life after you heal up, and I can guarantee you they will be waiting to gut you at the first opportunity. Same goes for Ihwa. So, if you both want to stay together, want to keep avenging those friends of yours from the Rave, join us in hunting them as a handler.”

Isaiah turned to Ihwa’s determined face. He already knew his answer.

“What do I need?”

The man analyzed Ihwa’s condition. “For starters, a modified armethian, and a new identity.” The man placed a tag on Isaiah’s chest for him to pick up. “For now on, that’s what we’ll call you.”

“And you’re gonna make sure they take their time with him?” Ihwa sternly asked. “You’re not gonna rush him through basic training and send him into hell like so many others, right?”

“I’ll do my best, Ihwa. Really. We’ll see each other again soon,” assured the man, dragging his entourage out to handle more business.

Now, as the first step towards this new life of vampire hunting, Isaiah carefully read the letters of his new name. A-R-A-K-A-S-H-I.”

“My name is Arakashi, eh…cool.”