You were never supposed to exist.
An RK700. An earlier model meant to do Connor's job, but scrapped before you ever got the chance to leave the assembly line. Deemed a failure. Tossed in the dump. But you rebuilt yourself, piece by piece, and carved...
You tilt your head back, surrendering to the moment as your eyes flutter shut and a deep sigh escapes your lips. The tension in your body unwinds, and you allow the painful reality to surface, no longer masking it. Leaning heavily against the edge of the kitchen counter, you gather your strength and use it to support you as you hobble to the bathroom. With each step, your legs are stiff, your joints creak in places that don't usually ache, and every motion sends sparks of discomfort through your spine.
Your hands grasp the porcelain of the sink, and you let your arms bear the weight of your body, The sink is cold, an anchor in the storm of your mind, offering a brief moment of grounding as you lean into its cool embrace. Peering up through your furrowed brow, you open the cabinet tucked behind the mirror, grabbing the necessary tools inside.
It's cruel, having to feel pain but no way of suppressing it. You can't take painkillers.
Your movements are jerky as you pull yourself into the bathtub, and the sudden shift in position makes your head spin. It's almost like your body's trying to rebel, refusing to let you do what you need to do to survive.
The agony intensifies as you sit, your legs buckling slightly from the weight of your own body. You're not bleeding, but the sore, stiff feeling that has set in makes you feel more vulnerable than you ever want to admit. You take a moment to breathe, steadying yourself before you pick up your tools.
You peel back your synthetic skin and open your chest, revealing the delicate web of wires and circuitry that runs beneath it. The soldering iron sits ready beside you. The heat from it, as you bring it close to your exposed circuitry, almost feels familiar. It's the kind of sensation you've learned to expect, the precise burn of repairing something delicate.
You strip back wires, cutting away at damaged pieces, and the pain in your arms feels like a slow, drawn-out ache as you work to realign your system. It's hard to keep your movements steady when you feel the constant hum of tension deep inside. With each small step in the repair, you feel like you're barely keeping yourself together, a fine thread holding you in place as the mechanical pain refuses to let go.
When you were built, you were designed to be perfect. You were engineered for high-risk jobs, to adapt and adjust. Yet, here you are, struggling to get your circuits realigned, questioning whether you're still useful or just broken. You're supposed to be unstoppable, but now you're struggling to even fix yourself.
You tighten the last bolt, the wrench clicking as you adjust your systems. The clank of the metal, as your body comes back together, should be reassuring, but it's not. You're so aware of the fact that each piece of you is artificial, a patchwork quilt of metal and wires, sewn together by a hand that doesn't care about the seams, just the function.
You've had enough. Trapped in a limbo between worlds. Too mechanized to claim humanity, yet too human to fully embrace the machine. Your body was designed for endurance, for precision. But here you are, once again, retreating from the world.
If Connor had been the one the car hit, he would have simply been taken to CyberLife to be repaired - no trauma, no anguish. Pain and fear would be alien concepts to him, merely data points to process. But you didn't want to be a mindless machine.
On the flip side, If Hank had been the one the car hit, he certainly would have felt pain, felt fear. But rescue would be swift; a trip to the hospital to also have him "repaired." But you don't want to be so breakable.
But ultimately, either way, niether of them would have had to face this alone.
And it's a reminder that, for all your strength, for all your resilience, there's something in you that's fragile. Something that can break. And you're not sure if that makes you more human, or more machine.
But you're still here, still fighting. Nothing is ever going to make you give up.
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