Day One: Morning

[Aero]

The bathroom door slammed shut in Aero’s face; he could feel the air swipe against his nose. “Hey, that’s not the nicest way to treat the guy that basically saved your asses!” he shouted, and even pounded against the door with a closed fist before trailing off back towards the bedroom. “Women and their emotional problems.” He could hear the sound of half-dissolved food splashing into the johnny.

The hotel bedroom had been fully decorated with two beds (he almost knew that he’d be sleeping on the beige carpet), each having his and hers night tables on each side with the typical lamp centering them. There was even a mini refrigerator located in a corner of the room next to the only window provided.

Slowly he sat down on one of the beds (it was Tempur-Pedic, he wagered, by the amazing softness and its willingness to be embedded by his bottom). “I’m not scared of that Seventeen guy,” he muttered, fondling his weapon in both hands. “I’m scared of nobody. Not no android, not no ‘RAGE’, and definitely not no gay host. Fucker made me move from my spot.”

Seventeen. The human effortlessly recalled the words that the android said to him. You’ll soon discover the nature of Dante’s Abyss, Aero . . . and it’s not a very captivating nature either. And he was right—the nature was not captivating. Though his journey still in its earlier stages, Aero had been ambushed and essentially excluded from the mysteries of the two females’ discussions. And they were supposed to be teamed.

Celipa and Zangya flushed the johnny, its swirling reverberation rumbled throughout the suite. Aero took a peek up at the door and then tilted his head down towards the floor, hunching over his knees.

Creeeeek

The bathroom door slowly opened and the two women walked out. Celipa seemed worried, Zangya appearing in a healthier condition than she did entering the restroom. She wiped away a small trickle of green and orange leftovers from her chin and ran her hand through her orange hair to cover the stain of blood left on her cranium by the blow dealt from the ambush.

“Ah dun thank wur in eny condtion to muv,” Celipa slurred. Her jaw had been cracked and it obviously affected her ability to speak articulately. She rubbed Zangya’s back with a hand, trying to ease the Ader’s troubles away.

Aero left the bout with only a slightly scuffed arm and an aching head. He was lucky compared to his female counterparts, though he didn’t eye it in that perspective. Seventeen did not leave empty-handed. He had stolen all three of their bags, taking their basic supplies for survival. That’s not what troubled Aero, however. He could care less about the supplies taken. Seventeen had left with something far more important—Aero’s pride. He would’ve rather been left dead, cratered in the bowls of the bus than castrated of his honor. He had defeated—aka, owned—Aero in battle and had the impudence to grumble smartass remarks as he made his leave. Just lingering over the reflection made his blood boil. He wanted to exact revenge—embarrass the synthetic man, like he was embarrassed.

“Aero,” Zangya called. “Did you hear Celipa?” She was finally speaking to him again. She must’ve remembered that like it or not, they needed each other.

“Yeah,” he replied, depressingly. “I heard her perfectly.” He looked up at them with fiery eyes. He was craving for another opportunity at the android, regardless if he'd leave alive. “I say we hunt that fucker down,” he remarked with a grimacing undertone. His muscles tensed up. “He stole our fucking supplies! We’re lost now because of him. I say we fucking track him down, ambush him like he did us, and fucking redeem our shit, along with his.”

Both of the females could read that Aero was not bluffing to impress them with over-masculinity. He was speaking from his heart—with veracity but also foolishness. The carefree side of Aero had coiled back into its shell and the determined one had reared its head. The game had officially commenced in Aero’s mind.