.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
⠀⠀⠀ IT'S NOT THAT Cyi hasn't seen blood before. She has.
⠀⠀⠀ Crik, she's lost blood too. Lots, actually.
⠀⠀⠀ But no one's ever drained the blood from her body.
⠀⠀⠀ Sure, there is that time a metal beam severed her pulmonary artery, and 84.3% of her blood soaked into blazing sand, but Cyi doesn't really count that. Gravity isn't a sentient being. Asir Pershing, on the other crikking hand, is. And now he's extracting deep purplish liquid - blood - from the frail body of a child.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi's eyes flicker between the blood and the doctor she's come to see as, well, at least somewhat decent.
⠀⠀⠀ It takes her a long time to pull her thoughts into something semi-coherent. Apparently, it takes Asir the same amount to wrangle his wits, because they start speaking at the same time.
⠀⠀⠀ "Asir, what's th–"
⠀⠀⠀ "Cyi, it's not–"
⠀⠀⠀ Both pause, waiting for the other to start talking. Asir speaks first.
⠀⠀⠀ "It's not what you think it is, Cyi," he says.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi points to the green creature on the table with a hand that would've shaken if she had nerves in it. "Asir," she asks, "is that a child?"
⠀⠀⠀ It's a rhetorical question, but he holds his hands up in defense.
⠀⠀⠀ "It's fifty years old, so... no?"
⠀⠀⠀ "What, and all species age the same way?"
⠀⠀⠀ "Cyi," he pleads, "it'll be okay."
⠀⠀⠀ "It?" she hisses. "It? Too coward to admit that's a child, are you? Who's from somewhere, who has a name, and who's unconscious because you're stealing their blood?"
⠀⠀⠀ "If I need to call the guards, I will," Asir says quietly. "Do you want your other arm or not?"
⠀⠀⠀ A difficult choice, truly.
⠀⠀⠀ She raises her hand, singular, in surrender. Asir points at the chair. "Jacket," is all he says
⠀⠀⠀ "Monster," she hisses.
⠀⠀⠀ But she sits down and dutifully begins struggling with the zipper. She will not let this discovery tamper with her plans.
⠀⠀⠀ As she wrestles back out of the jacket, Cyi's eyes flit between Asir and the table next to her. It's cluttered, with nothing special in particular. Pliers, wire. Snips of the SimSkin that will cover her reconstructions.
⠀⠀⠀ When Asir's back is turned, she reaches down and digs her nails into a chink in her calf. Gently, she pops the compartment open. Glancing at Asir's still turned back, she fumbles for a loop of wire and lays it gently in the little nook.
⠀⠀⠀ It's not the only thing there; she's already stolen a two pair of pliers and a small screwdriver over the past several days. The compartment shuts with the softest click. Then she returns to twisting out of her jacket.
⠀⠀⠀ It's not easy, but after a hot minute, the coarse gray fabric is off her, and the stump of her shoulder is bare again.
⠀⠀⠀ Asir carries her arm over. He glances at her as he sits down and begins to sort his tools.
⠀⠀⠀ "You know," he says, "you, of all people, shouldn't be calling others inhuman."
⠀⠀⠀ It takes Cyi a second to process his words, and another to process what they mean. A bolt of outrage strikes her, but before she can speak, Asir cuts her off, eyes wide as he realizes what he's said.
⠀⠀⠀ "No, no, no Cyi. I'm not saying you're inhuman."
⠀⠀⠀ "It kinda sounded like you were," she mutters.
⠀⠀⠀ "Cyi. Look at me."
⠀⠀⠀ She does. Finds nothing but kindness and sincerity. Doubts him anyway.
⠀⠀⠀ "You are not a monster, Cyi. You are not inhuman. In fact, I'd say you have more heart than anyone else here."
⠀⠀⠀ "But?" she prompts, because this doesn't explain anything.
⠀⠀⠀ "I was trying to tell you that you shouldn't call people with little to no bionic percentage inhuman," he says. "Because in their eyes, they will only see wires and metal and code."
⠀⠀⠀ "Isn't that why I have the SimSkin?" she asks. It forms her face, and normally covers the other places where metal gleams against her skin. "Plus, I wear long sleeves, and gloves."
⠀⠀⠀ "I know," says Asir. "And if you desire to keep that secret, I'm sure you can. But it would be a dangerous habit to have, if you ever wanted to leave that behind. You aren't that far from seventy five percent bionic, and Cyi, I am not everyone else."
⠀⠀⠀ His eyes wrinkle in a smile. "Generally speaking, I'm smarter."
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi snorts. "You tell yourself that," she says.
⠀⠀⠀ Asir shakes his head and bends over her shoulder. He begins twisting and splicing wires together, welding metal to the implants that will anchor her arm. He's silent as he works, and she turns his words over in her mind
⠀⠀⠀ But eventually she thanks him, because his words before comforted her, and his warning was well meant. And also useful.
⠀⠀⠀ "You're welcome," he says, and there's that crinkle in his eye that eases something in Cyi. Her soul hurts, but that doesn't make her want to inflict pain on others.
⠀⠀⠀ A memory comes to mind, a memory of the first time she woke up in Asir Pershing's lab. It was somewhere on an ocean, and he wasn't there when her eyes opened. But he'd come soon after, wearing the same coat, the same round glasses.
⠀⠀⠀ By that point, though, Cyi didn't care, because she realized that she wasn't whole anymore. Not really.
⠀⠀⠀ It's not a nice memory, and she wishes it hadn't sprung to mind.
⠀⠀⠀ After a while, Asir glances up at her. "This next bit is going to kill if you're awake," he says. It's a polite way of asking if he can knock her out. Gladly, Cyi wants to say. Instead, she gives her her other arm.
⠀⠀⠀ With little ceremony, he pokes a needle into one of her veins. Cyi takes a shuddering breath as her head begins to swim.
⠀⠀⠀ The world goes dark.
⠀⠀⠀ THE FIRST THING Cyi does when she regains (semi) consciousness is try to throw up.
⠀⠀⠀ The second thing is to thank herself for taking Asir's advice, and not eating for a few hours before her "procedure."
⠀⠀⠀ The third thing is to sit up and look at her arms. Wonder of wonder and miracle of miracles, she's got both of them.
⠀⠀⠀ She raises her right arm experimentally, moving it around in its socket. The motion isn't as smooth as it would be, if it were flesh and bone, but it's functional and so, so much better than nothing.
⠀⠀⠀ Satisfied with her shoulder, Cyi examines her elbow next. It doesn't creak when she moves it. A nice upgrade from her last arm.
⠀⠀⠀ Maybe I should thank the bounty hunter for screwing the wirings so spectacularly.
⠀⠀⠀ Her hand is the same as last time, stiff but nimble enough. Covered in overlapping plates that give her palm and fingers a wider range of motion.
⠀⠀⠀ "Lucky me," she mutters. Cyi smiles to herself, flexing her fingers.
⠀⠀⠀ Phase one of Operation You Thought complete.
.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
credit to
Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff
for the name and idea of SimSkin.
I did change it up a bit.
It's basically a material that imitates the texture
of skin, tho it doesn't have the same use.