Chapter Text
As the record spun under the phonograph capsule, Florian Brand took a sip from his glass of whiskey, amused by how the ice cubes seemed to dance to the song.
“Your fanatics are truly considerable.”
“Oh, come on, it's not like I make a big deal about it!” Florian exclaimed, not wiping the smile off his face. Martha felt a bead of sweat trickle down her cheek. “They are the ones who follow me. After all... a hero can't proclaim himself so.”
“They even gave you this bottle.”
“If the general public asks for a show, you give it to them! We have to set the flames inside their hearts ablaze. How do you think we’ve come so far?”
“Still, the police are breathing down our necks.”
“You’re worried about the cops?” Florian’s smile simply widened, playing around with a throwing knife. “I’d say that’s the least of our worries. They only have one human Sheriff in town. But the amount of robots… I have to admit the intelligence work of that singer is quite the big deal.”
“Agreed. She appears in every flyer that comes from Metropolis lately.”
“That’s not the worst part. Do you know how to keep your people happy, Martha?”
“I wonder what’s the punchline…”
“You need to master their desires. Make them believe they’re in control of their own lives. Free will and all that jazz. And she has many points of charisma. Who doesn’t love her angelical voice?”
Martha looked at the reflection in her drink. The ice had started melting under the evening’s light. From afar, she could see Metropolis’ skyscrapers.
“Speaking of wishes… I hope it’s all settled how we’re supposed to split next mission’s loot.”
“We’re about to party, Martha! Straight into the City of Lights! And you’re thinking about that right now?” Florian exaggerated, but he knew it wasn’t enough to distract Martha from her goal. “Fifty-fifty. Sounds good?”
“… Almost too good. So much it makes me suspicious, but I’ll take your word.”
“Always a pleasure to make business with you, Skeleton Key”.
The usual routine, tinged with the glow of neon lights and the murmur of airships, began in absolute tranquillity. The sheriff adjusted the watch hanging around his neck: it timed the minutes it took him to fix his prosthetic parts.
The machines were becoming increasingly efficient: a perfect mechanism that allowed for no programming errors. The bodies gradually began to receive the cold spark that the metal inlays unleashed in their brains, almost like a kind of ecstasy.
When Officer Gupta finished screwing the last loose ends of his arm, he put on the gloves he always wore. They were so white to the eye that it was easy to see the dirt. There was no sign of wear or corrosion.
Until, of course, they became stained again.
With the news bulletin echoing through the lonely police station, the sheriff soon discovered that, unfortunately, the most important things often escape the reach of light.
"Dear listeners: what a quiet routine! Everything seems to be in its place, doesn't it? Even if we can't watch the sunrise..."
The sheriff turned up the volume on the radio on the counter, frowning with obvious annoyance. Although he hated to hear those words, he needed to report the situation to Michiko.
"Wake up, citizens of Metropolis: if you continue to swallow the same lies you are so accustomed to consume, it will be the last thing you ever see. The world is full of beautiful sunrises, without the need for artificiality. Think about it: you have lived your whole life in Metropolis. You will probably die here too, unless you decide to do something about it. Is it, then, your homeland? Have you ever wondered what a homeland means to you?"
For Ganji, the speech on the radio was a buzzing noise capable of numbing anyone. Whichever way you looked at it, it was indoctrination. Michiko was the one who gave him a home and a role to play; she had given him the freedom to...
Freedom for what, exactly?
"Is it the place where we live... or is it the place where we want to die? Think about it, inhabitants of Metropolis: do you want to die surrounded by this metallic conformity?"
Those words echoed through the station, whose white walls seemed to reflect the light from the advertisements. Behind that large window, the city breathed life. Almost like a beehive, everything around him functioned thanks to the singer who soothed metropolitan hearts.
And yet, why did he feel that, even though his skin gave way to the coldness of metal, something was missing in him?
"Nice try."
He blurted out, and the tension between his eyebrows was crystal-clear to the androids, who turned to look at him as they tilted their robotic heads.
"Your cortisol levels are higher than normal, Sheriff" the robot's voice pronounced each syllable with absolute perfection, and for the first time in a long time, it sounded... strange.
Clearing his throat, he dismissed it as unimportant and sent a patrol of androids to check the radio antennas in the city. As he abruptly turned off the power switch, Ganji looked out the window one last time before searching for the culprit behind the interference.
It was a splendid night. Michiko was the one who had allowed them so.
And yet... Why did the world before him seem to have no past?
"Isn't it a lovely view? The airships roar, the neon signs cover almost everything, and that clock over there looks very sophisticated," Florian pointed to a clock tower in the middle of the city, where the loud ticking of its hands could be heard. "Do you think we could take it with us?"
"Well, we're already on too many wanted posters to worry about being chased in another city."
"It would make a nice decoration," he said, amused by Martha's response. However, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the configuration of the hands. Something seemed strange to him.
Although, to be honest, everything in Metropolis did. Either way, it was only a matter of time before the city's robots realised that one of the airships did not belong to the local patents.
They had to move as fast as a fox. And Florian was particularly good at living up to that title.
"But, as funny as it sounds, we don't have time to steal a clock," the joke was, of course, entirely intentional. "Our target is the casino. You'll make your way in wearing a fancy suit: choose whichever one you like. After that, you'll make sure the area around the vault is clear. That's when I come in."
"Are you going to stay up there waiting all that time...?"
"Don't you trust me?"
But Martha didn't answer. She just kept her eyes fixed on the building that, that night, would be assaulted by two of the most wanted criminals in the neighbouring city.
"We'll do it, Martha. It'll be a perfect night."