'Cause I'm broken when I'm open

And I don't feel like I am strong enough

'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome

And I don't feel right when you're gone away

­— Broken – Seether featuring Amy Lee

†††

Evangeline Kovac's boots thumped quietly on the cement as she strode down the sidewalk. The sun was low on the horizon and cast orange light on everything. She usually drove a Harley Davidson sportster motorcycle when she went out, but for some reason, tonight she felt like walking. The leather of her jacket creaked softly as she slid her hands into the pockets, eyeing cars and trucks as she passed them. It was in her blood to steal and con—she'd done it as a way of life for four years, until a botched con nearly got her in trouble—but she only did it occasionally, for extra money. Sometimes she'd lift wallets and take all the cash and credit cards, then leave the empty wallets behind, sometimes she'd boost vehicles and take them to chop shops to get whatever money the parts were worth.

She didn't really have any plans for tonight, but she had to get out of the house. She loved her grandmother, she really did, but the tough old bat got stuffy sometimes. Because of her minimal social life—or lack thereof, really—and no plans other than aimlessly walking around, Eva decided to do some prospecting. There weren't enough people out tonight to lift wallets, so she decided boosting a car would be the better choice. The cars and trucks parked out on the street were too open, so she kept walking. Nobody paid much mind to the short girl with the "emo" haircut in the ratty white tank top, dark jeans and leather jacket.

Passing a parking garage, Eva stopped and backtracked. The Rhine stones in her Harley Davidson belt buckle glittered dimly in the dim light cast by the street lamps. A virtual picnic, she thought to herself and grinned. She entered the parking garage and began a circuit around the ground level, scoping out the cars, trucks and SUVs. None of them seemed worth the effort to boost, until—

She stopped.

Between two SUVs, one wicked beast of a muscle car sat. The rear bumper was jagged, shaped almost like the teeth of a bulldozer shovel, and decorated with four menacing spikes. The taillights reminded her of a classic 1980's model Corvette. Tugging her riding gloves out of her jacket pocket, Eva moved over to the car. It was painted black with green accents, and she noticed all the windows—front and back windshields included—were tinted a sinister shade of red. Nice car... Too bad the owner will never see it again. She pulled on her gloves and ran her hand over the car's chassis, looking down when her leg caught on something. Even the hubcaps had spikes!

Stepping around the spiked hubcap, she moved to the driver door. She ran her hand up over the roof, then dropped it down and tested the door, jiggling the handle. To her surprise, the door popped right open. Grinning, she pushed the door open wider and slid into the driver seat. Despite how old the car looked, the door joints moved smoothly and the catch sounded strong when she pulled the door closed. The interior of the cab was all black and seemed to be leather, and the dash controls were green. Even the gauge needles were green. She ran her leather-clad hands over the seat, the skull atop the gear shifter, and the chain steering wheel. Even the gas, brake, and clutch pedals were done up as skulls with fangs appearing to bite into the footpads, which were flat, textured metal. Oh, this car was hot.

"Oh, nice," she whispered. Her voice was a quiet, coarse rasp and it hurt to speak—even whisper—but she couldn't help it. This car required vocalizing her thoughts. "Let's see how you roar."

And—was it just her, or another car going by on the upper level, or did this car shiver when she touched it? Eva shrugged and leaned forward, groping under the dash for the gap in the control panel where the wires were hidden. She found the cluster of wires and tugged it down, leaning over sideways to get a better look around the steering column as she tugged the blue and red wires free. She pinched the ends of the wires, twisting and breaking the plastic covering, then she tapped the bare copper wire together until the engine sparked and turned over. She twisted the wires together when the engine roared to life, then sat up and gave herself a smirk in the rear-view mirror, making a noise that sounded remarkably like a purr.

She leaned down and grabbed the lever under the seat, pulling it up on its track so she could reach the pedals, then she put her foot on the gas and pressed the pedal down. The engine snarled and roared, almost as loud as her Harley. She shivered in the seat and wrapped one gloved hand around the steering wheel.

"Ohh, that's orgasmic," she purred.

Flashing yellow lights caught her attention and she cursed softly, looking into the side- and rear-view mirrors as she pushed in the clutch and grabbed the skull on the gear shifter. She waited until the security truck passed before she put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space. Shifting into first gear, Eva drove the car out of the parking garage, waited until she was sure the security truck was gone, then sped through town. She took back roads, roundabouts and a virtual maze of turns, avoiding police patrol routes, until she came upon a lonely factory warehouse.

She pulled into the factory parking lot and drove around to the back of the building. Driving right up to the huge open doors of the warehouse, she stopped and parked the car, letting the engine idle in neutral as she got out. There was a group of people inside taking vehicles apart with saws and torches, and the sounds were nearly deafening as the pieces of metal and disembodied parts were tossed into separate piles. Entire engine blocks sat on crates and tire stacks. Eva hoped this car was worth a decent amount as she approached the man who appeared to be in charge of this chop shop. He was huge—probably over six feet—and full of muscle. His hands, arms and clothes were stained with grease and oil and his face was mean.

"I have a car for you," she rasped. "I don't know what year, make or model it is, it has too many mods, but it has a beefed up engine and rides nice." Oh, it hurt to talk.

The man smirked at her. He seemed mocking. "Alright, little lady. Where is it?"

Where is it? It's right back there, you jack-off. She figured he might be jerking her chain, so she gestured behind her. "Whatever it's worth, I want it split fifty-fifty,"

He snickered softly. "I don't see no car, chica," he said, gesturing.

What? Eva turned. And gaped. The car was gone! Where the hell did it go?! She turned back around, glaring up at the man as heat flooded her cheeks, then she left in a hurry, deeply embarrassed. They laughed as she jogged away. She jogged across the parking lot and slowed to a brisk walk when she reached a sidewalk, cursing to herself angrily. Looking up, she spied the car parked at the curb and stopped. What the hell?

Eva slowly—cautiously—approached the car and stepped off the curb. She crossed around the front end and stopped at the driver door. Cars don't drive themselves. How in God's name did it end up parked here? She reached down and jiggled the door handle and the door popped right open again. Creepy. She pushed it open and slid back into the driver seat, jerking the door closed and grabbing the steering wheel in both hands.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, to no one in particular.

Staring at the center of the steering wheel, she sat back and pressed experimentally on the gas pedal. The engine revved lightly and purred. She put the car in gear and rolled forward, but just before she reached the parking lot driveway...

...the engine died. Eva slammed on the brake and leaned forward, grabbing the wire cluster. The red and blue wires were still twisted together the way she left them, but she pulled them apart and tried to hotwire the engine again. It sputtered and refused to spark. She tried again and again, and it was close to three minutes before she gave up and threw herself back into the seat, her hands going up to her face.

Suddenly, the seatbelt shot out and attacked her, flying across her chest and lap, snapping into the buckle and cinching tight as the engine suddenly roared to life. Eva let out a hoarse cry of alarm as the car drove itself, peeling out onto the road at breakneck speed. The steering wheel, pedals and gear shifter moved of their own accord, as if a ghost or someone invisible was driving. She kept her feet away from the pedals and held her gloved hands up near her shoulders, watching with wide eyes as the car drove itself. Oh God! I boosted a demon car!

It took too many back roads to count—so far out of the way she doubted any police patrolled here. Homeless people were settling down for the night and watched with jaded eyes as a car roared past, stirring trash and litter and blowing it onto the poor folks. It drove recklessly fast through the alleyways and narrow roads. The further they got from the busier parts of Detroit, the more deserted and rundown everything got. Finally, the car pulled into an alley and stopped, the door windows opening a bit. It was dusk now and the alley was dark. The lights in the control panel on the dash came on when the headlights blinked on. The windshield might have been tinted red, but it was transparent enough that she could still tell the buildings on either side of the alley were grey. When the headlights came on, however, everything turned red. She gasped.

Eva grabbed the door lever and jostled it, pushing on the door simultaneously. The door didn't budge. She leaned over and tried the passenger door. That one stayed firmly shut as well. Sitting back in the driver seat, she trembled and gazed at the glowing control panel behind the steering wheel.

"This is a little creepy," she whispered to herself.

"No, creepy is having a fleshy crawling around in your back," a deep, rough and somewhat metallic voice rumbled from the speakers.

"Holy shit!" Eva jolted so hard only the seatbelt kept her in the seat.

"If you leak on my seats, you're gonna eat pavement," the voice growled.

Eva's eyebrows went up and she shook her head insistently, her hair swaying slightly and tickling her cheeks and nose.

"I'm going to undo the seatbelt. Don't break any windows," the voice came again.

The seatbelt popped out of the buckle and slowly withdrew and Eva held her hands out of the way. As freaked out as she was, she sat motionless in the seat, save for the slight trembling in her hands. A thought struck her suddenly, and it spewed from her mouth before she could restrain it.

"Are you like...that KITT guy or something? Or...one of those other...robots around town?"

A talking car might as well have come straight from Knight Rider...but then again, it could be one of those robots she'd seen around town doing everything from repairing freeway overpasses to rescuing people from burning buildings. Or fighting each other.

"KITT? Tch. Don't insult me! I'm more like KARR," was it just her, or did this car sound amused? "I'm no Autobot or Decepticon, girl."

She shifted, laying her gloved hands in her lap. "Okay," she rasped. Then she lifted one hand to her throat, fingering the ring in the center of the studded collar she wore.

The door swung open suddenly and the seat lifted up and tilted, unceremoniously dumping her out onto the pavement. She squawked, flinging her hands out to catch herself. She rolled onto her back when strange noises came from the car and what she saw made her scramble away, crawling and scooting backwards. The car was...it was mutating—for lack of a better word—into a huge robot! Her lips formed the word 'whoa'.

He was slightly barrel-chested, long and lanky, with mismatched parts and black Kabuki-esque markings on his ashen white face. His eyes were red. He stood over her and crossed his arms, leering down at her. His right hand was a hook. That unnerved her a little. She studied him while he stood over her, leaning back on her hands. His eyes were narrow and tilted slightly, his jaw stuck out a bit and—she found him handsome, even if he was a little creepy.

"Question," he said, "what possessed you to think I'm only good for spare parts?"

Eva's stomach clenched and she felt guilty, but she answered honestly. "Uh...I needed the money."

His narrow eyes narrowed even more. "Try bounty hunting. Much more fun," he sounded mocking.

Eva snorted and rolled her eyes. "That means I'd have to work for those people," oh, her throat was really starting to hurt.

His mouth twitched briefly and he kneeled down, bringing his huge face nearly level with hers. His eyes moved to her throat for a moment and suddenly she felt self-conscious.

"Who are those people?" he asked.

"The government," she said. "Bounty hunting here means hunting down criminals who've escaped. And I have a record. I'd rather stay as far away from those people as I can."

He chuckled softly, his lips twitching away from his teeth in a grin. "Would those scars have anything to do with your record?"

She looked down as her hand went up to her throat. He did see them... "Maybe,"

He shifted and stood up straight, muttering something under his breath. "Well, fleshy, do you have a name, or do I need to make one up?" he asked.

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "Eva," she replied.

"You can call me Lockdown, and..." he trailed off, raising his hand to the side of his head. His face twitched in a brief wince. "Great, somebody squealed," he muttered, then turned around and started walking away.

"What?" Eva asked, jumping to her feet.

Just then, sirens became audible and her innards clenched. She chased after Lockdown and he paused, halfway between biped and car.

"Don't leave me here!" she begged.

Lockdown was quiet for a moment, then said, "You were going to leave me there." He sounded hurt.

Guilt swept through her and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry!" and as she said it, she believed it. "If I knew you were...well...not just a car, I wouldn't have taken you to the chop shop! I wouldn't have even boosted you!"

He flinched and his hand went to his hand again, and he quickly finished his transformation back into a car. He was probably trying to hide it, but she saw the pain on his face. She frowned. His ears must be pretty sensitive.

"Cops never come down this alley. Police bots do, but never live people," he said. "Well, you never know which cars are alive around here, so maybe you should have checked a little better."

More guilt stabbed into her. "I'm sorry, Lockdown. How the hell was I supposed to know, anyway?"

"Maybe when I backed out without a driver?" there was a grin in his voice.

Eva walked toward him and reached for the door handle, but he reversed and backed away from her. She was pretty sure he was grinning, wherever his head was when he was a car. She frowned and put her hands on her hips.

"Those pig bots are getting closer," she said.

"Yeah, yeah, get in and shut up," he replied.

She flashed a smile and hooked her fingers under the door handle, opening and the door and sliding into the driver seat.

The door slammed shut before she had a chance to reach out and grab it, then he backed up into a garage. She hadn't even noticed the open door. The windows were closed now, but she saw a decaying pile of feces and made a face. It must smell horrible in here. The door descended and plunged them into darkness, and just a few seconds later, the sirens went by.

Eva glanced around the dark garage. She couldn't see a thing beyond the interior of Lockdown's cab. "You live here?" she heard herself ask. "What a dump,"

"I just sleep here...sometimes." He sounded insulted. "You're awfully fast about judging, aren't ya?"

Guilt stabbed her again. "Sorry," she said. "Grew up being juggled around foster homes. I wasn't a happy child." She hadn't the faintest idea why she was telling him this, but for some reason, she wanted to. "Why don't you come sleep in the garage at my Babička's—er, grandma's house?"

"Sounds like a lot of bruises," Lockdown mumbled. "And what the slag is a grandma?"

"It was... Half of all the fosters I grew up with had boys that liked to beat me up. And my grandma is my mom's mom," Eva answered.

She settled back in the seat and folded her hands in her lap, resting her head back and closing her eyes for a moment.

"What's the address of your place?" Lockdown asked suddenly. "And by the way? If someone's kicking your skid plate, fight back."

Eva opened her eyes and gazed up at the cab ceiling. "I try to. Being short works to my disadvantage most of the time," she muttered. Then she rattled off her grandmother's address.

"Mm," he sounded detached.

Lockdown didn't seem very talkative, and Eva wasn't much of a talker either, normally, so she didn't push conversation. His engine rumbled to life and a screen on his center control panel lit up, showing a GPS map. The garage door opened and he rolled out into the alley, taking more back roads as he headed back toward town. She watched the screen for a bit, then looked out the windshield, looking around at their surroundings as he drove. She'd never been this way before and she wanted to memorize it. Landmarks and where they were stuck in her memory like push pins with red string linked between them.

†††

Eva didn't know how much time passed before Lockdown started slowing down; she was beginning to doze off. She didn't know he'd stopped until his horn jolted her awake.

"We're here," he said.

She lifted her head and looked out the window. They were close to the house. "Oh. Thanks," she whispered.

The house was a slender, two story Victorian with a front porch railed in with fencing, and a small upper deck also railed in with fencing. There was a bench swing sitting near the front door, which was painted a powdery blue. The rest of the house was a soft, buttery yellow and the fence railing and trim was white. The house was topped with a grey roof.

"We had a deal, kid," Lockdown's voice rumbled from the speakers. "That garage better be empty."

Eva didn't recall making a deal—only inviting him to stay in the garage, but she said, "It is. Babička doesn't have a car. She takes the bus or walks, if she goes anywhere." Her motorcycle was parked in the garage, but it was at the back and hardly took up any room.

"Is she a flawed human to be...stuck here all the time?" Lockdown asked.

Eva found it an odd question. "She's just old. Living with her is the longest I've ever stayed in one place."

Lockdown drove forward and pulled into the driveway, rolling slowly into the garage. The garage was a decently large size, and he fit inside with room to spare.

"How old is she?" he asked.

"She'll be eighty-nine on her next birthday," she answered quietly.

"Only eighty-nine?!"

"What? Humans only live a hundred-or-so years,"

Lockdown was quiet for a moment. "I'm four billion years old, fleshy."

Eva's eyebrows went up. "Wow,"

The door popped open. "Better take care of that scar." He was quiet for a moment again. "How did you get it anyway?" there was curiosity in his tone.

Eva paused as she swung her legs out, then scooted forward and stood up. She hated remembering—it still gave her nightmares—but she told him anyway. "Stole the wrong man's money. He tried to cut my throat, but he ended up stabbing me instead. Severed my vocal cords. Surgery fixed them, but my voice is permanently fucked up. The scar here," she touched the horizontal scar across the hollow of her throat, "is from a tracheotomy."

"Meh, I'd hate to see the other guy's," Lockdown mused.

"I didn't get a chance for payback, except spending his money." Eva tugged her gloves off and stuffed them in her jacket pocket.

Then she reached up behind her neck and unbuckled the collar, taking it off and revealing the scars on her throat. She figured he could still see her, so she tilted her head back so he could see the scars better. There was a crooked scar going down her throat, curving around her larynx, and it sat an inch away from a gnarly, knotted scar right over her larynx; a permanent fixture left behind by the knife blade. Lockdown was quiet for a few minutes.

"Better go tend to this...'grand-ma' of yours," he said.

Eva felt naked without the collar and quickly buckled it back on, the buckle jangling quietly as she fastened it. Her cheeks felt hot and she wondered why in hell she was blushing. She circled around Lockdown's front end and ghosted her bare fingertips over his hood in a vague, friendly pat.

"Sleep well, Lockdown," she said, smiling briefly.

He muttered a goodnight in return and she stopped at the side door leading to the house and reached up to a box next to the light switch, pressing a button and closing the garage door. She looked back at him for a moment, then exited the garage and headed into the house, the soles of her boots thumping quietly.

It was just after nine and her grandmother, Cecilija, was getting ready for bed. Eva greeted her with a kiss on her wrinkled cheek and pulled off her jacket, hanging it on the coat stand in the living room. Her grandmother was a small, delicate woman and she was very old-fashioned. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved, ankle-length light pink cotton nightgown covered in a faded floral pattern, and silk slippers were on her feet. Her long, silver hair was loose and recently brushed, shining softly in the light from the table lamp on the coffee table in front of the couch. She didn't like how her granddaughter dressed, but she only made casual comments about her attire or makeup.

"Where did you go?" Cecilija asked. She had a heavy Eastern European accent. She came to the United States from Slovakia with her late husband in her late twenties.

"Just for a walk," Eva replied as she strode through the hallway to the stairs. And a drive with an alien robot.