He knew what his kind looked like, each Cyborg intimidating on his own, but together they were frightening, large, and imposing. Always ready for war. Always ready to defend.
And always expecting to kill.
Metal encased in muscle, covered in black suits, heavy boots, and far too dangerous looking to be mere men.
They were Cyborgs after all, and that was difficult to hide from the general population. Some could, but not him nor Zeph whose eyes were a bright lime green.
Netto clenched his teeth together, already over this mission. It didn’t help that the smell of sweat permeated the air, mixed with ship exhaust and strange wildlife.There’s nothing like the smell of human sweat.
An older woman approached, her lips curved up in a delicate smile. It wasn’t forced. It threw him off-guard.
“I’m so glad you could come!” she beamed and stopped before them, looking up at their faces. “My name is Sheryl Montihan. We’ve been expecting you.”
Zeph bent forward and took the woman’s hand, placing an easy kiss to the back. “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Montihan. My name is Zeph and this is my partner, Netto.”
He waved his hand in Netto’s direction. The older woman nodded her head.
“We’re here on behalf of your husband’s request. Is he nearby? Once our business with him is settled we can be out of your hair.”
“Nonsense, you’re not in my hair at all! I haven’t seen one of your kind since I was a young’un. You saved so many of my kindred’s lives, my family and I will forever be in your debt. Our home is your home. Come this way,” she preened and, in a gait that suggested strength beneath her clothes, ushered them toward the large house on the bluff.
Netto hated every step he took away from the sanctuary of the spaceship; he hated every step he took toward human civilization. He ignored the eyes of the few people who had stopped their work to come out and gawk.
Zeph was on Sheryl’s heels, complimenting her in any way that he could. Netto split his tongue over a razor-sharp tooth.
“Quinten is on his way back from the lots,” she called out behind her. “I’m making a feast tonight. I got some Kepler-grown potatoes in the crock,” Sheryl continued regardless of his misgivings, saying the things he didn’t want to hear. “We’ll discuss over dinner.”
His face, his body, every calculated movement Netto made and every step he took appeared uncaring and emotionless. Until he wore the facade of a man who was cold, uninterested, and intimidating.
If they were afraid of you, they didn’t talk to you.
Netto followed her into the estate, meeting the eyes of a windblown child. She dropped the rocks she was throwing into the sea and stared.
Chapter Three
***
