The ceiling of my kill room held no joy for me. Exhausted from my extended cardio session, I was now just laying on my old mattress on the floor. Staring and waiting. For what? I wasn’t sure.
Well into dusk now, I wasn’t sure if Roxy was back home yet and thought it odd to want to check. I’d see her soon enough tomorrow, assuming she had recovered from seeing me totally uncovered. Considering she had stripped me down most of the way to heal me the other day, I didn’t exactly feel bashful with the accidental reveal. Hopefully it didn’t affect our friendship or working relationship.
Sidekick.
Still left a bad taste in the back of my lack of mouth. It didn’t seem like Roxy would treat me as an underling, however - even if we weren’t playing along with the hidden plot the League had in mind.
So I’d probably have to pick a name, and we’d go punch up some villains or criminals. Shouldn’t be too hard. Roxy had mentioned that after the trials was an interview… which might be an issue, but after that I would be officiated. How Boss thought that could help me get information from the League, I wasn’t sure. Then I’d be playing double agent.
And hopefully earning double credits. Not that I had a lack of coin at present.
Given that I hadn’t bought much in the last few years, my view of affordability was somewhat skewed… but I understood that big number was good. Saving for nearly five years meant I now had options.
What those options were was a messy answer. Clara would need to fill in some of the blanks. What I was willing to change or what she was capable of. The ceiling above me gave no concrete answer to either of those things.
No messages.
I relented to just sleeping. Tomorrow was a more interesting day. Eyes closed, and the darkness took me in little time.
----------------------------------------
As soon as my eyes opened again, I checked for messages.
Roxy: Clara is already over.
Roxy: Pop by whenever.
A rather neutral pair of lines, but it wouldn’t do me any favors to read into that. Timestamps said… not too long ago. I stretched my arms and sighed in lieu of a yawn, before sitting out of bed. My legs were sore, but after I shuffled around and got a new cannister in my neck, I felt ready for the day.
I stepped out in the overcast late morning. Not quite as energizing as when the sun was out, but I wouldn’t let the gray cloud cover sour my mood. Clara’s van was parked just outside the green grass of the neighbor's garden, back doors open.
Dusting off some imagined dirt from my super suit, I walked my way over to the entrance to Roxy’s house. Just before reaching the porch, the unmistakably drab figure of Clara stepped out, her eyes of green light giving me a look up and down.
“Mr Dubs. Rockslide refused to take any pictures of you in your suit.” She gestured over to her van, and I followed her. “How unfortunate you are mostly flesh, but at least you are sidekick shaped.”
[Good to see you again, Clara.]
“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t looking forward to today. And I am incapable of lying.” She stopped by the doors of the van and tilted her head to the side.
[I feel as though that itself is a lie.]
“Perhaps. Occasionally, I will make a joke to hide my giddy nerves.” With her usual stoic poker face, she then turned her attention to the insides of her vehicle. “If you could carry this case to the dining room, I would forever be in your debt. Literally forever.”
I hoisted the long black case up with my left hand, maintaining eye contact while she stared impassively at me. Somewhat unsure as to her current mood, I felt as though I was a piece of exquisite meat she was eager to butcher up.
Took myself into the house and the designated room where the fated housewarming party had been held. Only now, instead of the white wooden table in the center of the room, there was a thick slab of a bed - closer to something you’d find at a morgue rather than an object you’d expect to do medical things on. Hopefully not a sign of how well things were going to go today.
In the top and bottom corners of the room, small square devices had been placed, and the chair at the side of the room had been requisitioned to hold several more cases, as well as a laptop device.
“Morning, Dubs. How was your evening?”
I turned to see that Roxy had appeared in the doorway, but any words of response took a brief pause as I took her in. She was wearing a bright yellow summer dress, small sunflowers dotted around the fabric. Hands on her hips, she didn’t have the usual brash confidence across her face, but seemed in good spirits.
[Uneventful, thankfully.]
“Does he usually pause before responding?” the voice of the techie came from behind her.
“Clara.” Roxy turned to glare at the shorter woman, who pushed past to direct me where to place the case. “I’ll go get refreshments. I guess I can’t really do anything for you, Dubs?”
[I am fine, thank you. Your consideration is appreciated, however.]
With a smile and a nod, she was gone. I watched the empty doorway for a second before turning back to Clara, who had apparently been watching me. I wanted to ask her what all this odd tech was, but I had a feeling that she didn’t want me to. Mostly because she had a finger pressed against her lips.
I placed the case down and watched her sit by the laptop and tap away. A residual hum filled the room and the corner-devices lit up a slowly pulsing red, before each turning green in turn. Once all were this color, Clara sighed and tapped a few more things, before turning back to me.
“I will need your help to test something, Mr Dubs.”
[Of course. I imagine you will require a lot of me today.]
She said nothing in response, but her eyes continued to stare into mine. Waiting for… something? I had been expecting instruction but perhaps had the wrong idea. Breaking eye contact, I turned to see Roxy enter the room again - a couple of plates and glasses in her hands.
“Mr Dubs, tell me what you think of Rockslide’s dress.”
I raised an eyebrow and looked at her, realizing that this was the test - as she was waiting to input something onto her laptop based on my response. Looking back at Roxy, the super looked like a deer caught in headlights.
[Oh. I believe it is very flattering, and the vibrancy of the color mixed with the general ambiance of your home decor brings out a… well, it makes you glow.]
We both stood in silence while Clara tapped away.
After a handful of seconds, Roxy blinked away the stare and shook her head. “Sorry, I think I blanked everything out after you said it was flattering. You honestly think so?”
“Of course he does. Mr Dubs is also incapable of lying.”
I looked between the two of them, partially unsure as to what was going on. Perhaps this was some manner of trap.
“Dresses are… well, I’ve never really worn them.” The super pulled a face as she walked over to place Clara’s food near her. “Just due to my figure, I’ve never really felt feminine enough.”
[But you’re wearing one now.]
“Yeah.” She gave me a shrug and revealed that her snack for the morning was a tub of ice cream. “Had it for a year, figured I might as well wear it once before I ruin my fucking career by eating too much of this frozen goodness. Not often I have a get-together like this.”
Clara picked up her toast sandwich and leaned past me to see the super. “Oh, the gift. Was there any plain ice-cream?”
“You mean vanilla?” Roxy took a scoop of her mint choc chip.
“No, that is clearly vanilla flavor, not plain.”
“Soooo, just ice then?”
I watched as Clara rolled her eyes and returned to her bread, while Roxy gave me a grin. As much as I would have liked to give her more compliments or reassurance about her outfit choice, the looming time on the slab had me feeling off kilter.
“So the reason for my question prompt,” the techie began, breaking me from my dissociation, “was to track our voices and see if the nullifying devices are working. Which they are.” She pointed a finger up to one of the green corner boxes. “I’ve essentially created a miniature Dead Zone within a space slightly larger than this room in all directions.”
[Oh. Nothing will go in and out?]
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I’m still working on that, but no communication channels will work, correct.” She maintained eye contact with me while Roxy choked on her ice-cream in the background.
[So, you’re on board then?]
“You could say I’m your biggest supporter, Mr Dubs. Rooting for both you and Rockslide to come together and achieve the unrealized vision.”
[That makes me happy. I was hoping you’d get involved.]
“If only. Inaction makes me frustrated and restless, but that’s why I brought some new toys to help us along.” She placed her sandwich down and stood, brushing down her slate-gray overalls. “If Rockslide would like to cease dying to her dietary choices and join us, we will start with some upgrades before we lay you.”
My eyes went over to the slab while the super wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to gain her breath back. Didn’t exactly look like a comfortable place to lose some of my dignity, but at least I felt somewhat better knowing we wouldn’t have outside eyes ogling us doing the deed.
[I assume you will want to look under my mask.]
“Correct. Do you have any reservations?” She stopped by a wide case and popped the latches.
[Some. But, it must be done, and I trust you.]
Clara nodded. “With the League inducting you, it would be wise to stay a step ahead. There are some benefits to being beholden to them, however…” she flipped the lid to reveal rows of cartridges - a kind I hadn’t seen before.
Roxy stepped up to us to peer over too, now recovered from her ordeal. “League exclusive tech. How’d you swing those?”
“Same way as how I got the communication blockers. Knowing who to bribe and who to blackmail.” She plucked one of the shells from the case. Light blue with two rings of yellow near the back. “League prefers non-lethal takedowns, and even Tazers or the Rubber shots you have to ricochet aren’t on their white list.”
[Ricochet?]
Roxy pulled a face. “You’ve been shooting people directly with those? That explains the hotel casualties.”
“Regardless, these are above and beyond both of those. League has some overcooked name for them but I think we’ll keep it simple and you can rename them, Mr Dubs. Essentially, the shrapnel from the shot does minimal damage, but sends a signal through the target’s nerves to make them believe it was a normal slug shot.”
[So people would be hobbled, or pass out from the imagined pain?]
“Correct. I have 72 shells here and can get you more in bulk with a couple day’s notice.”
I would have whistled if I had the capacity to. Essentially a full on replacement for my normal shot when going against anything that I wasn’t supposed to kill. Which, according to the law, was most things.
[impressive, thank you. I will now feel less like a monster being armed in public.]
Roxy nudged up beside me. “I got you cool stuff, too. Three more super suits.”
[That's very useful. I will need to rely on your washing services less. Or perhaps more.]
Clara placed the shell back in the case and raised an eyebrow at the super. “I’m surprised you haven’t just invited Mr Dubs to stay in your spare room. Your sidekick deserves better than to live in a hovel, surely?”
The super bared her teeth. “Clara,” she hissed.
[No, it is fine. I’d only feel like I was being a burden. If we are working together now, it would be better to not be constantly under each other’s feet - especially since my other job has me coming home half dead and covered in murder victims.]
With a shrug, the techie closed the case of what I’d call Nerve shot, and moved over to the next one. “The League aren’t usually as generous, even to those on the trial period. They bent a few rules, given that you are their favorite child at the moment.” Case unclasped, she lifted the lid to show a long metal shape.
Roxy and I both leaned over to get a better look.
“Power fist?” the super asked.
“Only D-Grade.” She tilted the case so that the light could illuminate it better.
Some odd mix between a fingerless glove and knuckle duster made of a brass-colored metal. Thick, segmented paneling ran down from it on one side - I assumed to enable me to use the gauntlet as defense for my left arm.
“Small V-Force boosters in the back of the hand, at an angle so you can punch a little harder. Use sparingly, as they will run out of juice in short order.” Clara looked up at me.
[Thank you, I can definitely see the use.]
She shrugged. “I wanted to get you a buzz-saw attachment or some manner of bayonet for your shotgun, but apparently the League doesn’t approve of that.”
Roxy shook her head as she ate her ice-cream. “I’m pretty sure Dubs wanted to feel like less of a murderbot, not more.”
“Is that true, Mr Dubs?”
I looked between the two women. One who seemed fully committed to expanding my cybernetic side for both her and my own benefit. The other who was determined to break away my awkward shell to reveal a more rounded person within. Neither side was wrong, nor took precedence.
[I feel like I can have both sides, if I want them hard enough.]
“Good answer. Rockslide is passionate about your rehabilitation, and I would not forgive you for letting her down. Likewise, my respect for you would crater if I didn’t feel as though you shared my vision for what I want out of you.” Clara turned, partially to clip the case closed, but also to potentially avoid the sharp glare the super was giving her.
Socializing with the two took a lot more energy than I had anticipated. That said, it was likely that I was about to have a lie down, anyway. I thumbed at the satchel on my side where I had stored the maintenance node. Nervous? It was difficult to say. I’d be at Clara’s mercy where plenty could go wrong, or she could expertly murder me if she so wished. But with Roxy close by, an imminent demise was always on the cards.
For some reason, an errant thought jumping up and down in the back of my mind gave me some renewed strength. I asked myself how I would go about fighting her if I had to.
“That’s all my surprises for now. I don’t like to bare all when we haven’t known each other for so long.” Clara returned to her laptop to retrieve the rest of her sandwich.
[Normally I am the same, although after yesterday I…]
Roxy slowly shook her head, her eyes wide and staring death at me.
The techie turned. “Oh? What happened yesterday?”
She hadn’t told her. More the fool me for thinking Roxy would almost immediately have gone to vent out her embarrassment to Clara. They seemed to talk about me in private, so felt like a reasonable assumption.
[Just with how my clothing looked after the gang beat me up. Is it time for you to open me up?]
I gestured to the wide slab, hoping my save was good enough.
She looked at me, then Roxy, then the table. “So eager, Mr Dubs. I can barely contain my excitement.” Her face was as impassive as ever. “Please make yourself comfortable and I will prepare my tools.”
With a slow sigh, I did just that. Hoisted myself up onto the flat table and arranged myself to lie down upon it. Staring up at the ceiling, I allowed myself to relax - just as the super loomed into view.
“Nervous, Dubs?” She looked pretty fed up with the turn of events, but was apprehensive about what we were about to do.
[Why? Would you hold my hand if I asked?]
“No.” She shoveled more ice-cream into her mouth before glancing briefly over at the techie. “Are you asking?”
[Whatever lies beneath my mask won’t be pretty, just to forewarn you.]
“I’m a big gal, Dubs. I assure you I’ve seen worse, and it won’t change how I feel about you. Our friendship and shit.” She exhaled from her nose and moved away, out of sight.
I wasn’t too sure about that. While we were both desensitised to some degree of violence and gore, it was different when it was someone you knew. Although… I’m not sure why I believed that, considering my life for the past five years had been in solitude.
Any further musing was interrupted as Clara came into view on my right. Now wearing a face mask and some manner of magnifying lense over one eye. A multi-tool in one hand, she gave me a look over before anything else. She tapped me on my cyborg shoulder.
“Bad news is that if you want anything other than a shotgun, it would mean replacing the whole arm.”
[Expensive?]
“The cost is part of it. I wouldn’t accept you having anything less than A-Grade. Not to mention needing to find the part itself - which would be restricted and controlled. Furthermore, you’d need an expert surgeon who specializes in synapse retooling and cybernetic grafting. So we are talking... millions of credits."
[And I suppose you are not one of those surgical experts.]
“If I were, I wouldn’t be here, Mr Dubs.” She tilted her head. “That isn’t to say I won’t give you all the love and care you require when under my knife, but there isn’t a lot of opportunity for hands-on learning at the League… unless you have deep pockets or the right connections.”
I grunted an acknowledgement. Perhaps I could assist her with the former, but I’d discuss with Roxy first to see if that would be socially acceptable or not. I’d be reaping some reward from any acquired knowledge, but currently, I wasn’t sure I’d be living long enough to benefit much from it.
“There are some improvements we can make to your current arm, but at the current grade… well, I wouldn’t want to put so much effort into something sub-par, unless you ask nicely.” She twirled around the multi-tool around in her hand.
“No chance we could cut the elbow off?” Roxy asked from somewhere to my left. “Get a hand on there that way?”
“Not impossible, but we are talking a lot more custom engineering work. Again, synapse retooling, which is… something I’d not risk Mr Dubs’ life for attempting myself.”
It was odd hearing her confidence waver somewhat - but I understood it. If something went wrong, it could cause my arm to be fully inert, and the surgery required to replace the nerves and synapse connections in my brain and into a new arm was invasive and dangerous.
“May I have your consent to open and remove your mask, Mr Dubs?”
I moved my hand up and pulled the goggles from my face, passing them over to Roxy by my side. The white of the ceiling made my eyes ache, but it felt more… medical, to have them free and uncovered for the procedure.
“Almost as bright as mine,” she noted. “Let’s see what other hidden surprises you are full of then, Mr Dubs. Stay calm and I will be as gentle as I am able.”
[Understood. Please proceed.]
She leaned closer to my face, her cybernetic eyes observing the seams where the gas mask met my skin. I felt a slight pressure on my left forearm, confused briefly before I realized that it was Roxy’s hand there. More for her own nerves than mine, I was sure, but considering this was our first friend-group activity, I would allow her that comfort.
A blunt bladed part of the multi-tool came and prodded around the seam near my right cheek. Small amount of uncomfortable pressure, and then it slipped beneath the seal.
“No pain, Mr Dubs?”
[Mild discomfort, no pain.]
“Very good. It is useful that you are able to speak while this is ongoing.” Her face moved over mine, close enough that her eyes illuminated me with a green glow. “Do not hesitate to speak up as soon as there is pain. You win no prizes for suffering through.”
[You have my word.]
“Doubtful, but a believable lie.” She moved back over to focus on the job.
Tool ran along, breaking the seal across my cheek, around the side of my jaw, and then down to my neck. Returned to move over my nose, which made me wince. Roxy gave my arm a soft squeeze in reaction to the change in my expression. Clara moved around the head of the wide bed to follow through to unsealing the left side of my face.
It was unpleasant, but made more reasonable due to the fact that I trusted the pair.
“Rockslide. If you could grab his package ready, please?”
“Huh?”
“In his satchel, the maintenance node that was in the package.”
I focused on the ceiling.
“Right, Mr Dubs. I am going to remove the magnetic clasps by your cheeks, and this should allow me to remove the mask from your face. I will do so slowly so we do not run the risk of detaching your re-breather.”
[Proceed.]
Pressure, and then a pop from my left cheek. Some odd relief, but also a chill as parts of me not usually exposed to air became so. Hopefully Roxy had control of herself, as she had the necessary grip strength to tear straight through my arm if she lost focus.
Pop from the other side. I took one last deep breath through my re-breather and closed my eyes.
“You ever peel this back yourself?” Roxy asked. The increased warmth against me telling me she was probably leaning forward to have a good look herself.
[Only one side briefly, to remove shrapnel one time. Didn't see much. Didn't want to.]
My mask moved away from the rest of me.
An odd feeling, and I kept my eyes closed. Slight pressure probably coming from my breathing tube being stretched as Clara tilted the gas mask for it to rest against my chest.
There were a few moments of silence as they took in a good eyeful of whatever horrors lay beneath.
“What the fuck?” Roxy said.