Alex walked swiftly through the crowd, dressed in an old cloak that was close to falling apart, but it served its purpose. He had the hood pulled up so that it hid his facial features, and the cloak stopped just above his feet. As long as no one looked at his feet or directly at his face, he would pass as a normal human. It did not take him long to realized that cyborgs like himself were not considered equal to humans, and he learned to hide his more noticiable 'features' so as to avoid the cold, judging glares of the public.<br/><br/>His robotic left eye glowed a serene blue as it scanned the crowd, looking for suitable targets. After his first few months of freedom, He learned that there was very few ways for those like himself to make a living. You had to either beg. serve. or join the various groups of space outlaws that dotted the galaxy. Alex had to much pride to beg for his living, and he refused to be belittled and demeaned by some pompous upper class family, an experience he had already experienced first hand. He felt his blood run hot when ever he thought of her, what little blood he had left anyway. Her name was Erinn, she  was from a rich family, and it showed as she bossed him around, treated him as if he was expendable, less than equal, and it drove Alex to the point of near insanity. So he left that job, and he went down the only path that was really available to him, a life of crime.<br/><br/>In his past life Alex would have never thought that he would resort to crime to make a living, but then again he never thought he would be turned into some human machine hybrid. He spent a few weeks searching for information, finally finding the leader of a small time group of space bandits that was looking to expand. He was a mouse of a man, small, greedy, and almost as insufferable a the girl, but he was cunning, and saw the advantages of having Alex join his group "<span style="font-style: italic">you have to show your worth though</span>" the man had told him as he sat across from him in the dim lit corner of a bar "<span style="font-style: italic"> Its going to cost you five thousand big ones to show that you are serious about joining us</span>" Alex couldn't believe what he was hearing and stood up and slammed his hands on the metal table, leaving a sizable dent where he brought his metallic right hand down on it "Five thousand credits?! i don't have that kind of money!" The man shrugged in a way that told him that it wasn't his problem, and Alex left the bar before he acted on his growing anger.<br/><br/>So now Alex was scouting the crowd, looking for suitable people to mug for money. He hated having to do this, but a part of him relished it at the same time, revenge for looking down on him for something that he could not control. As he started tracking down a rich, middle aged looking man, Alex's circuitry malfunctioned and before he even knew what happened his right hand shot out from beneath his cloak, knocking down a women dressed in rags who was stopped in the crowd. Alex's arm quickly came back under his control and he knelt down to help the women "Shit, I'm really sorry for that, I can't help it..." He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, they had saw what happened, they knew what he was. His rage would boil up as he turned to the crowd and shouted "Can't you people just mind your own goddamned buisness!" He then remembered the women and brought her to her feet "Again, I'm really sorry about that, my circuitry doesn't work so well and..." Circuitry, his circuitry, just another reminder of what he had become. He fell silent as he looked down at his robotic right hand, forgetting the women in front of him, just remembering what he was, and what he was before.