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The journey to Sylas’s home took longer than expected, as neither Zach nor Cain could remember the address. However, even in their drunken state, they knew more or less how to get there. The trio made their way slowly towards Sylas’s apartment, Malak sharing his time between half-carrying the two humans and eliciting the next change in direction.
Eventually, they arrived at Sylas’s building. Zach pointed at an illuminated window.
“That’s his apartment. And he’s at home.”
Zach’s hand was waving all over the place. Malak needed clearer directions.
“Which one?”
“Second floor, second from the right.”
Cain realised that they were moving away from Sylas’s home as Malak steered the two drunks into a nearby garden.
“Where are you taking us, Malak?”
“We need a plan.”
This seemed perfectly sensible to the two drunks. The three of them huddled together to hear Malak’s plan.
The android placed the palm of his right hand on top of Zach’s head and the palm of his left hand on Cain’s head, and pushed downwards, forcing the two men onto their knees. He kept pushing, compressing the humans’ vertebrae, until their necks snapped, and left their heads wobbling unnaturally atop of their torsos. Leaning over Zach’s corpse he plucked the dead man’s right eye from its socket, an action not borne through revenge for the hundreds of sophonts who had suffered scooping, but through practicality. He needed the eye to gain access to Sylas’s building.
“Quid pro quo, humans.”
He walked back to the apartment block and selected an apartment number on a touch-screen, holding the eyeball up to the Iris Identification Reader.
Inside his apartment, the security system informed Sylas that Zach was requesting admittance. Thinking that his friend wanted reconciliation, Sylas authorised the killer android to enter. The external door opened.
Malak entered the elevator and ascended to the second floor. Striding purposefully towards Sylas’s apartment, the android dispensed with the niceties of knocking and kicked the door in, causing it to burst off its hinges and land noisily inside the apartment. Although he had been caught by surprise, Sylas squared up to the intruder, ready to defend himself.
Malak immediately launched a powerful right hook at Sylas’s head. It landed well, but Sylas shrugged it off like one might flick off an annoying mosquito. He responded with a solid body punch aimed at Malak’s abdomen and then followed up with three quick jabs to Malak’s head – but each blow just bounced off his opponent. Malak replied with another strong head punch and grabbed Sylas’s head, before hurling him to the floor with a resounding thud.
The apartment to the left of Sylas’s was empty, as the owners were visiting family friends, but Mr and Mrs Archer, who lived in the apartment to the right, were surprised at the noise coming from next door. All the apartments in the building were individually soundproofed but the force with which the androids were bouncing off the walls was creating enough noise to overcome even the most efficient soundproofing. Francesca Archer glared at her husband, Peter.
“What the hell is going on next door? Sylas is normally such a quiet person.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“How do I know? I don’t have X-ray vision.”
Sylas rolled and got back up in one swift movement, leaving an imprint on the varnished wooden floor of where his body had struck it. He threw an equally strong punch at Malak’s head. The two androids traded punches, matching uppercut for uppercut, body punch for body punch, and jab for jab.
Suddenly Sylas changed the tempo and charged forwards like a high-speed battering ram, driving Malak towards the open doorway. The killer android grabbed Sylas’s wrists at the last moment, twisting his adversary around and hurling him hard against the opposite wall.
That impact made Francesca almost jump out of her skin when the shockwave penetrated her apartment.
“Peter. You have to tell Sylas to keep the noise down. It’s not fair on the neighbours.”
Peter had no desire to interrupt whatever was going on next door – it certainly didn’t seem like knocking on the door and complaining would make any difference to whatever was happening. Plus, it sounded far too dangerous.
Malak moved in for the kill but Sylas dodged out of the way at the last minute. Instead, Malak punched a hole in the wall, trapping his hand momentarily. Sylas saw his opportunity and kicked Malak hard in the back, smashing him bodily into the wall.
Next door, Peter Archer was caught on the horns of a dilemma. If he didn’t do anything at all, he knew that his wife would make him pay for days – maybe weeks. If he did go next door to complain, he would clearly be putting himself in danger. Sylas was obviously in a rage about something and wouldn’t welcome a visit from his neighbour. Deciding on a compromise, Peter gingerly opened his front door and ventured outside his apartment, but only far enough for him to see that Sylas’s door had been ripped off its hinges. He quickly darted back inside his own apartment where it was safe. He looked over at his wife, who was wondering if she had married a man or a mouse.
“Before you say anything, I’m not going out there again. You know how strong our doors are?”
Francesca nodded as Peter locked and bolted their own front door. He had a look of incredulity on his face.
“Well, something or someone has broken Sylas’s door clean open. So I’m staying here. Call the police; they can sort it out. I’m not going out there again.”
Freeing himself from the wall, Malak span round and head-butted Sylas, knocking him off balance. If he’d been fighting a human, now would have been the perfect time to attack with his laser scalpel; against a sophont, the tool would be useless.
Sylas steadied himself and lunged forwards, bent double, intending to head-butt Malak again, but Malak read the signs and brought his knee up, catching Sylas under the chin. Sylas hit the floor once more. Malak stood over him ready to deliver the coup de grâce.
Suddenly, Malak crumpled to the floor. Philip stood behind the fallen android, grinning.
“Human frailty and fear. They still insist on a deactivation button.”
Sylas clambered to his feet and looked at the inert Malak.
“I think it’s safe to say that someone in authority knows about us.”
He fetched his toolkit from another room.
“I want his head. And we’d better do something about your own deactivation switch. My creator didn’t include one – I guess he wasn’t afraid of me – but we can’t risk this happening to you.”