.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
m*cMPo2k{^gNWcqt/R:.
<eRRoR>
'OGto/s3AN^^g9HWm*
...-e--ot-ng.
<eRRoR>
...R-bo-ting.
...-ebooting.
<eRRoR>
Rebo-ot -Ai--d.
w--ning: --ng --n-Am-nAte --te-ted.
-AR--ng: lu-g c-ntA-i--te d-t-ct-d.
<eRRoR>
wAR-ing: lung c-ntAm-n-te -et-cted-
<eRRoR>
...Rebooti-g.
s3AN^o2k*g9HWm/
Reboot successful.
wARning: lung contAMinAte detected.
puRge RespiRAtoRy system?
Acknowledge commAnd.
wARning: lung contAMinAte detected.
puRge RespiRAtoRy system?
Acknowledge commAnd.
Acknowledge commAnd.
Acknowledge commAnd.
<eRRoR>
commAnd/oveRRide:Acknowledged/
...puRging RespiRAtoRy system.
⠀⠀⠀ CYI WAKES TO to a drowning feeling. The oxygen has seeped from her body, and she cannot breath, cannot move.
⠀⠀⠀ Several horrible seconds pass, and she wonders if she's going to die. Then air rushes back into her lungs, and her body jerks as she gasps for air.
puRge complete.
> thanks, i can see that.
⠀⠀⠀ The words are, in fact, the only thing she can see. Red on blurry, brilliant white. Lasers on a hazy target.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi takes a tentative breath. Her lungs feel paper thin, like they'll collapse - again - if she breathes too hard. A little like they did the last time she woke up with letters in her eyes.
> a little warning next time if you don't mind.
⠀⠀⠀ But something else has seeped away along with her oxygen, because her head is growing clearer by the second.
⠀⠀⠀ The world does not come into focus. Weird. Normally, Cyi's eyes adjust quickly to any change in light. Now everything is blurry. She closes her eyes tightly. Either the knock to her head goofed her processors, or her wirings are entirely out of whack.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi tilts her head back. She's got problems.
> run diagnosis.
...-u-ning d-Agn-si-.
to/s3QNm*cMPi:.
<eRRoR>
...Running diAgnosis.
diAgnosis complete.
> i'm waiting.
oculAR pRocessoRs dAmAged.
wRist to hAnd [R] wiRings pARtiAlly impAiRed: mAnuAl ReAlignment necessARy.
<eRRoR>
o1jfd/t0ihKT-bz%i3a/.
ARm [R] unResponsive.
> great.
> any other cheery news?
computing pRocessoRs ARe Also dAmAged.
> yeah, that'll have to wait.
> analyze lung contaminate.
AnAlyzing tRAces, just A moment.
'OqiG/tos3AN*
<eRRoR>
contAminAte is A highly concentRAted modified nitRous oxide compound.
> which is...?
nitRous oxide is A non-lethAl sedAtive gAs. This pARticulAR compound seems unusuAlly potent, suggesting slight moleculAR modificAtion. unfoRtunAtely, i Am unAble to AnAlyze fuRtheR.
> non-lethal sounds excellent.
> reboot ocular systems, would you?
commAnd Acknowledged.
unAble to comply.
> uh... what now?
unAble to comp3AN*MPo2k{^gNs3AN/Rcomply.
<eRRoR>
comply2oAN*/s3^unAble to.
t%s3ANm*cMPo
<eRRoR>
⠀⠀⠀ "Oookay," Cyi breathes. Apparently, Cyi 2.0 is also having issues. That's her final thought before the world goes dark again.
⠀⠀⠀ CONSCIOUSNESS COMES MORE slowly this time, and when Cyi forces her eyes open, the world is still fuzzy, still painfully bright. But in an instant, she realizes that she's got more problems now. For one thing, she's not in the hunter's ship any more.
⠀⠀⠀ "Oh crik," she whispers. "Crik, crik, criiiiiiik."
⠀⠀⠀ Effectively snapped from her daze, she strains to distinguish the world around her. Her eyes refuse to focus, so she turns to her other senses. The room is perfectly silent, which makes her head hurt; it's uncomfortably chilly; she's lying on something hard.
⠀⠀⠀ Hospitable little twits.
⠀⠀⠀ When she tries to move, she realizes that her body is oddly numb. Worse, she's been restrained by whatever scientist they've got poking around her brain this time. She doesn't blame them for that, because it's what she would do, but it's still mightily inconvenient.
⠀⠀⠀ The room around her is, as far as her goofed eyes can see, bleak, white, and empty. Why is it always a white room?
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi struggles against the cables that hold her, and that's when she finds another problem to add to her list. Beyond being numb, she can't move her right arm. At all.
⠀⠀⠀ She tries again.
⠀⠀⠀ Nothing.
⠀⠀⠀ "What the crik?" she mutters. Cyi raises her head off the table, and looks down at her body.
⠀⠀⠀ Oh no.
⠀⠀⠀ Oh crik no.
⠀⠀⠀ It doesn't take perfect vision for Cyi to see what the problem is. Her arm is completely gone. Shoulder down, someone's removed it entirely. Hopefully to fix it.
⠀⠀⠀ Well, at least that explains why it wasn't responding.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi lets her head thunk back down, and like blood pouring from an open wound, the day's events - or maybe they're yesterday's? - rush back at her.
⠀⠀⠀ The cantina.
⠀⠀⠀ Speeding across the ice.
⠀⠀⠀ The blizzard that almost gave her freedom and the hunter that took it.
⠀⠀⠀ The hunter.
⠀⠀⠀ The hatred that swells in Cyi scares her. She's never wanted to kill someone before. It's terrifying and electrifying and horrifying all at once, and she clings to it because anger is easier than misery.
⠀⠀⠀ She wants to pry that helmet from his head and see how he likes having his head smashed against a metal post. See if he's still cold and silent without armor to protect him. See if he pleads for the mercy he'd denied her. She hopes he will - she won't say yes.
⠀⠀⠀ Of course, Cyi knows that she's really not in a position to be making death threats, deserved or otherwise. She's alone, disarmed in every sense of the word, in a compound that she couldn't break out of if she tried - and she's tried. Or has she? She realizes that she doesn't even know if it's the same place as last time.
⠀⠀⠀ At that, hatred surrenders to cold misery. Cyi tilts her head back against the cool surface of the table, willing the ache between her eyes to go away.
⠀⠀⠀ She stays like that for a long time, head back, eyes closed.
⠀⠀⠀ If anyone bothered to wonder, or bothered to care, they'd be met with a sad sight. A broken girl drowning in misery. A girl who should be lying in a warm bed, not a cold table, whose dark skin meets gleaming metal in too many places.
⠀⠀⠀ A sad sight indeed.
⠀⠀⠀ Maybe it's sadder that no one does care.
.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
me writing this, definitely not crying:
"no omg Cyi i would literally
die for you ahh don't be sad"
*proceeds to make her sad
like the hypocrite i absolutely am*