Games of Chance

Twenty Two- II

Ravenna seemed satisfied with this answer, so she remained silent as the Eagle turned his attention back to the object on the table in front of him. She could now make out that it was a bubbling metal pot on what looked like a portable stove. The Eagle reached down with a pair of tongs to move whatever was in the pot, muttering softly to himself as he inspected it.

"Are you... cooking?" Ravenna attempted her signature smirk, but it came out more like a brief grimace.

The Eagle crossed his arms over his faded grey t-shirt. "I just spent the past few hours saving your life, and all you think about is dinner," he shook his head. "I'm boiling your new kneecap. It's the only way to sterilize anything in this dump."

"You're boiling my what now?" Ravenna sat up, stretching her arms upward and letting out a relaxed sigh when her back popped loudly. She attempted to stand up, but her legs immediately buckled and she fell back down on the couch. That was when she noticed her right knee. Her metal kneecap, which also served as a directing point for all the artificial nerves in her lower leg, had been ripped out, revealing a pinkish cartilaginous mass that made her nauseous to look at. The strands of metal had been torn roughly out of her calf, leaving trails of coagulating blood across her skin in their wake. Her breathing began to quicken as she stared down at the the useless lump of muscle and skin. Her movement system was compromised. She was paralyzed again. Trapped again. The little girl in the wheelchair was back- the frightened little girl helpless against the abuses of-

She tried to force the memories from her mind, but she was already hyperventilating, her breaths increasing in speed and intensity every second. "Oh, God," she whispered, burying her head in her violently trembling hands. "I'm an anxious mess. She messed me up in the head. She's gonna die! I'm gonna kill-"

"Rave!" In seconds, the Eagle was in front of her. One of his hands held a pair of tongs attached to a dripping metal oval while the other rested reassuringly on her head. Ravenna looked up as he stroked her hair, shocked by the unusual gentleness of his touch.

"Look at me, Rave. Breathe. You're alive. You're damaged, but I can fix you. You just have to be still for long enough for me to put the new kneecap in- can you do that for me?" He had taken the barking edge off his voice, and even though he wasn't doing a very good job of it, Ravenna could tell that he was doing his best to calm her.

"Yeah," Ravenna nodded, her voice finally coming out clear. "I can do that." She looked down at her bloody denim shorts, this time prepared for what she would see. Grabbing her right leg with both arms, she lifted it up onto the couch.

"Ready? It'll be a bit of a prick when the nerves go in." The Eagle squatted in front of Ravenna's leg, dropping the tongs on the dirty carpet and holding the metal kneecap a few inches above her knee. Before Ravenna could respond, he placed the prosthetic on her skin, pressing it down with both his palms.

Ravenna had experienced many painful things in her life, but this... this feeling was indescribable. Her head rolled back and she let out a blood curdling scream as the long, thin strands of metal attached to the kneecap cut through her scabs, reopening the wounds on her calf like a thousand worms simultaneously burrowing into her skin.

A bit of a prick... yeah right.

And then, as soon as it had begun, it was over. The metal nerves stopped moving, coming to a stop in what were presumably their planned, functional positions. Ravenna slowly opened her eyes, marveling at how naturally the shiny new plating blended with her skin. She experimentally wiggled her toes, smiling when they moved at her will.

"You did this in a few hours, in what's basically a garage...That's incredible! Just think about what you could do with the kind of resources the Order of Chance has." Ravenna shook her head in disbelief, but her awe quickly faded into anger. "The world should be praising you- they should be giving you a damn Nobel Prize for this- but what do they do? They call you a terrorist. They put you on their Most Wanted list. They hunt you like a dog, they-"