A gentle breeze took some of the cloud cover away, allowing us brief waves of increased illumination before the sun hid away once more. Comforting, it managed to cool away some of the ache and mental stress of the day. Looking over at the super now standing a good fifteen feet away, arms crossed, the change in weather hadn’t done much to sway her current mood.

“I am not fighting you, Dubs.” A sour expression had her working her jaw, eyes burning into me at the mere prospect.

My response was a shrug.

[That was always an option. It is your choice, but the requirement still stands.]

Roxy sighed and looked over to the side. “Clara, tell him he is being unreasonable here.”

The techie was sitting on one of the deckchairs, now moved over to our flank for her to be an adjudicator - or just to get a better view of proceedings. She had been focused on her laptop for the last five minutes that the super had tried to weasel out of my request. A glass of tap water and a plate holding an apple that she had been eating with a knife and fork sat beside her. Green eyes moved up from the screen to observe us both.

“Mr Dubs, if I wanted to date you, would I have to fight you as well?”

“Clara.”

My hand went up to rub at my forehead as I considered this.

[Unlikely. Although, I would need to prepare a different speech.]

“Dubs.” The super began tapping her foot. “Take this a little more seriously. I don’t get why we have to fight.”

[Is it so unbelievable that my mating ritual would involve violence?]

“No, but… I just don’t feel like it’s a good idea. I could really mess you up.”

[If your success is so guaranteed, what are you worried about? Is this not an easy route to what you want?]

Roxy seethed, her brow furrowed. I could see that I was gradually bringing her around to accepting my terms, even if I had to goad and annoy her to do it. If she didn’t understand the reasons now, she would soon enough. Instead of prodding her further, I turned and walked over to Clara.

She looked up at me briefly before turning her attention back to the screen.

“Just looking up my options for lecturers. League has two that are affordable and would give me a decent boost in my cybernetics career. Just trying to decide which of them I would get along best with.” Her fingers tapped idly at the side of her laptop.

[No private options?]

“Well, of course, Mr Dubs. But working within budget I have to be realistic, and there’s nothing wrong with the League appointed-”

[Find the best private tuition and I’ll pay the difference.]

Clara’s face screwed up and her eyes narrowed at me. “As much as I love having a sugar daddy, Mr Dubs, I feel as though I am taking advantage.”

I unclipped my drum mag to place it on the deckchair at the other end of her, followed by my mags and bandoliers.

[Much like you would not accept me having less than A-Grade components, I require nothing but the best personal physician and cybernetics expert.]

“Personal expert, Mr Dubs? You think my life should be beholden to patching your doomed body back up?” Her head tilted, but there was no malice in her eyes.

[I’m a decent fixer-upper. Perfect for a fledgling prodigy to sink her teeth into and get her career off of the ground.]

She bit her lip as a wry smile turned up at the corner of her mouth. “You certainly know how to talk to a lady, Mr Dubs. Go finish your peacocking with Rockslide and I’ll gather what options are available for private tuition.”

I nodded, hoping she could also see that my un-goggled eyes were smiling. Finger pointed at her half-eaten apple.

[May I borrow this knife?]

The techie’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “With how much you are changing my life, you are welcome to the whole plate, Mr Dubs.”

Twirled the short kitchen knife into my hand and turned away from her. Roxy looked like a storm cloud, her ears practically steaming to release the pressure. A streak of jealously perhaps, but I was sure that she understood why I was like this with Clara more than why we needed to fight. Wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge now.

[Three shells in this magazine. Gauntlet. Kitchen knife. We will pretend I have a stake in the sideloader. That is all I will use, and need.]

“Asshole.” She shook her head. “Can’t even take me seriously.”

[On the contrary, it is you not taking me seriously.]

“Fine!” Her arms went up in exasperation. “But fuck you, and fuck this. Fuck you too, Clara.” She shot a glare at the techie, who just raised a distracted thumbs-up in response. “Fucking… assholes,” she continued to murmur, frustration gradually melting away.

I returned to my position around fifteen feet opposite to her and rolled my neck around. Could do with a fresh nutrition cannister, but this was bound to be a short fight. Couldn’t help but be excited about it, though. Buzzing on the inside as if… as if… no, I wasn’t able to bring up the words that tied that sentence off. It’d come to me soon. Part of the reason this was happening.

Rude of me to take advantage of her feelings, but this would be good for both of us. I was honest with her. Did care for her. Liked to spend time with her. This was the final step for me to accept I was more than a tool of murder. Whether she could accept it, too.

[We’ll go until the victor is clear. I’ll try not to hurt you too badly.]

Roxy growled and got into a ready pose, her fists up. “Come and get humbled, motherfucker.”

Slowly returned my goggles over my eyes before I mirrored her stance, left fist up but gun-arm not pointing at her directly. Seemed rude to start off with that. Adrenaline worked its way around my body, and I held back the urge to burst forward. There were no half-measures when fighting a super. I had preparations in place, but a real fight wouldn’t have such luxury.

With the scrape of her boot against the loose gravel, she had made her first move with little hesitation. Based on her body language on approach, she was going to test the waters with something weaker to see what it would take to knock me out. Problem for her was that she wasn’t that much quicker than your average boxer - and my reflexes were decent considering my size.

Her first jab went over my shoulder as I twisted and ducked. I lashed out with my gun-arm as I turned and she jumped into the air to avoid it. As I rolled back away, I leveled the muzzle toward her approach, and she twirled to the side to avoid a potential shot - which I held.

Next swing struck my cyborg shoulder with a dull clonk, and I staggered backward. No damage, but she’d gained some information. She could hit harder.

My gauntleted fist swung out in retaliation, V-Force boosters activating at the last moment, but the super had her arms up to protect her head. Even with the extra power and metal protection around my hand, it was as if I’d barely tapped her.

That was just a distraction, anyway. Chamber emptied as I fired the Rubber shot into the top of her left knee. She growled and lashed out with her elbow - not the move I was expecting. My head swam as I stumbled back away, stars flaring through my vision. Warm blood ran down the side of my head where her sharp attack had gashed through my skin, my skull almost pulling the emergency sleep lever.

Barely dodged the next one, while a twist into a kick almost killed me, and I spun away to roll across the dirt. Shakily to my feet, the kitchen knife twirled in my hand as I used it for the intended purpose. A quick jab and I slammed it into my stim pack, bursting the connections within and flooding my system with nanintes and painkilling drugs. Vision focused and brain shifted back into gear.

I had a multitude of reasons for wanting to fight the super. One of which was because I thought it might help squeeze out more of my old memories. Something about combat brought a trickle through that dried river, and what greater thrill than fighting against someone with super powers? Adversity bred excellence. I yearned to be forged in the throes of blood and suffering. And I would win.

Roxy muttered a curse as she went to press the advantage, but her leg was numb and lagging. The Rubber shot hadn’t been enough to damage her, but by striking a joint I had temporarily slowed that limb. Of course, her next move intended to finish me off while she could.

Her feet blew up dust as she leaped high in the air, aiming to land an indefensible punch - or just put me in a position I couldn’t escape from. Trigger clicked in response and the second shell struck the ground by my feet, Smoke cartridge blooming into a dense cloud of gray around me. Everything seemed so vibrant and high definition as the stims overloaded my senses. Could almost spot the individual specs within the thick gas. Mind raced, and things slowed down.

Rolled away with just enough time to spare, before the super landed on the ground, and her fist struck nothing. Powerful enough to swirl the thick gray smoke around us into a brief tornado. Problem was, her trajectory left her landing spot too obvious. Last shot from my magazine burst through the fog to strike her in the other leg.

“Motherfucker!” she yelled out.

A loud clap came from within the obscuring mist, before the swirls of gray expanded out and dissipated - the force of her hands coming together displacing most of the density of my intent to hide her.

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She now held a hand on a leg that she thought was shredded through, but it looked fine. I’d double-packed a Nerve shot on the van ride over, hoping that the extra dose would be enough to affect the strength super. It had - at least long enough for me to act.

So now it was my turn to go on the offense. I powered up from my crouch and lashed out with my gun-arm, surprising her with the boost of speed granted by my stims. She deflected it, but my fist was already coming in for a follow-up. No issue weathering my attacks, but she was struggling with her footing due to thinking both her legs wouldn’t take her backward.

An awkward jab clipped my left shoulder and sent me into a spin. I bundled up to try to absorb her next strike, but her unresponsive legs turned it into more of a shove due to the distance. As I turned back to her, my gauntleted hand opened and threw out a handful of loose sand and stone I had grabbed when in the smoke.

She covered her face and twisted on one leg to cover her brief blind-spot, a kick lashing out toward me - which struck me undefended.

-Fracture (Left Wrist, Left Forearm x2, Left Upper Arm)

-Dislocation (Left Shoulder)

I slid across the ground, dropping to one knee as my left arm hung limp and useless.

“Oh fuck,” Roxy lowered her guard as panic washed over her face. “Dubs, I’m sorry I-”

Overcharge blazed up as I tilted the muzzle toward her. A powerful cone of sand and fine gravel burst over the super, her guard going up just slightly too late.

“Asshole!” Her eyes scrunched, closed from the pain. “Pocket sand twice, really?” Fists came up again into a defensive position as she tried to blink away the debris in her eyes.

She stopped, her muscles relaxing slightly, in seeing the muzzle of my shotgun two inches from her face. The tiny arms of the sideloader whirred back and forth, putting in maximum effort despite it being empty.

[Stake loaded. Click. You die and I win.]

Her mouth opened and closed. “What?”

Clara gave us a brief round of applause from the sidelines. “Want me to tend to your wounds, Mr Dubs~?”

I attempted a shrug, which would probably have been painful if I could really feel anything right at this moment. Still hadn’t really clocked the damage I had received as I went to remove my goggles with an arm that didn’t want to move. With a long sigh, I went to go back over to the deckchairs, as the techie placed down her laptop and ran off into the house - I assume to find splints or something.

Sat down with a grunt and looked over at the super. She hadn’t really moved at all, other than to look at her leg. Fists were still up and ready. Effects of the Nerve shot seemed to be wearing off already. With a glance that told me she wasn’t sure how to feel, she lowered her hands and limped over to me.

My heart was still thundering in my chest, but my mind had cooled. I gave the end of the deckchair beside me a pat with my gun-arm, and she reluctantly sat down beside me.

“You’re kind of a motherfucker, you know?” She looked out to the wastes, eyes red and still some powdered dust stuck to her face.

[Of course.]

Roxy exhaled through her nose, any remaining energy sinking from her face. “I suppose this means I failed your test.”

[Not really a test. More of a threshold. If you haven’t changed your mind about me, we can have a best of three.]

“You haven’t changed your mind about me after I fucked up your arm?”

[Why would I think any less of you when you were being yourself? I’ll always champion you reaching the peak of your abilities, even if I am a bloodied and broken stepping stone to that process.]

Her eyes opened, and she tilted her head to look at me. “Psycho asshole. You are sweet, though. How bad is your arm? You need proper medical attention?”

Clara emerged from the house with a dark case. “Four fractures and a dislocation. Apologies for the breach of privacy, Mr Dubs. After you hired me as your personal physician, I connected your maintenance node to my network so I can see your health and injury status.”

The techie kneeled down in front of me and gave my mangled arm a good look-over. “We’ll need to cut the super suit off. Maybe the whole torso part, if you could do the honors, Rockslide?”

Roxy gave her a dull look in return, before sharing the exhausted look with me.

[I don’t know. This already seems like proper medical attention.]

After a decent amount of grumbling, the pair agreed that only the sleeve needed cutting. Neither seemed too happy with the breaks in my arm, but between them, they managed to splint my forearm and upper arm, relocate my shoulder back into place, and wrap my wrist up. The stims would speed up recovery by tenfold, so I just had to keep them rested for a while. An issue when I had work tomorrow.

Enough adventuring for one day, we decided to go indoors and watch a movie - something Clara was mostly excited for as it was one of her favorites. Robot Without A Cause. An action flick about a time traveling automaton who went forward in time to start a war with aliens. One of the plots of all time, she assured me.

As I sat on the center of the couch in the cool lounge, Clara to my right, Roxy stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“I’ll join you both later. Need a soak and then to hit the gym for a bit.”

I watched her leave, the super barely waiting for our acknowledgement. The fire behind her personality had all but gone out, and I felt a pang of guilt.

“Don’t worry,” Clara said, looking up at me. “Although hiding a potential relationship behind winning a duel is a little cruel, she is mostly suffering from a bruised ego.”

[You think so?]

“I know why you did it, too. You want a contingency plan in case you turn bad.” She clicked her fingers. “Replacing one kill-switch with a much more attractive one.”

[Very astute. That was one of the reasons.]

Selfish of me to use her in that way. To unearth my memories and ensure someone was strong enough to put me out of my misery. If she didn’t have the heart to hurt me in a low stakes fight, how could we be something more, knowing she was afraid of her own power in the relationship?

We sat in silence and watched the movie for a few minutes before she shuffled and wrinkled her nose up.

“I found three private tuition options.”

[Who is the best?]

She clucked her tongue. “Accepting your help is one thing, Mr Dubs, but there is a limit to what is acceptable and appropriate.”

[Humor me.]

“Kristin Jarl. He’s one of the pioneers of advanced cybernetics and related technology, almost unparalleled in the field. He only tutors a select few, and has a rigorous interview process that requires passing even before we talk about money. Working with him would be like… a dream for most in a technical career.”

[Book the interview then. I trust that you could pass it.]

Clara’s eyes looked back and forth across my face, my goggles back up atop my forehead. “Mr Dubs, you’ve been so kind to me, but you cannot offer a woman false hope.”

[I apologize. It is unfair for me to be so pushy about your career. What are the costs?]

“You have good intention, and this is what I want to do… but we must be realistic.” She exhaled through her nose and looked at the movie. “One million credits per year. Two years' duration, but after that I could be employed anywhere in the world, or even join one of his research teams.”

I nodded slowly, but didn’t reply immediately. It was clear it was something she had imagined at one point or another. The pinnacle of potential career growth that every technician must have daydreamed about if they had any interest in the field.

Didn’t need to look at my balance to know that a difficult decision needed to be made. I had just under three million remaining. Enough for a new arm, face reconstruction, or to fund Clara’s ideal career. Only one of them. Watching her unblinking eyes drink up the flickering screen across from us, it didn’t seem like such a difficult choice to make.

[Do you think you could pass the interview? Are there any downsides to trying and passing but not proceeding?]

“I think I could, yes. Other than potentially breaking my heart from the what-ifs, there would be no downside to at least trying, even if it goes nowhere.”

[Would you do that for me?]

“For you, Mr Dubs?” She looked back at me and placed her hand gently on my gun-arm. “I have already booked it. Did it while you were fighting with Rockslide, as I knew you would convince me to do it anyway.”

I relaxed into the couch and tried to focus on the movie. Sometimes Clara was too smart for her own good. If she did pass the interview… well, then I wouldn’t let her down. Already was too rough with handling Roxy’s heart. I didn’t need to break another.

We settled into watching the movie again. I wasn’t paying too much attention, and perhaps she could tell. The starting stages of Stim withdrawal had me tired, and a little agitated. A long day of fighting and socializing had taken its toll on me. Didn’t hate it… it was just a lot to deal with.

“I was quite young when I lost my eyes.”

Eyebrow raised as I turned my head to the techie, her concentration still focused ahead.

“Collateral damage. You know the superhero Angel?” She waited for the nod I gave her. “Back when she was an A-Rank hero, she was fighting against a villain. Red Powder. He had… laser eye-beams. Spilled out to the suburbs… both my parents died.”

[That’s terrible, I’m sorry.]

“Only thing I can remember was a flash of light and then red. The press of rubble on me. I was rescued by the robot hero, Can-Can. Explains some things, huh? Always wanted to work with him after that, but he’s retired now.”

[And then the League took you in?]

“In a way.” She shrugged. “They offered me some basic eyes as the least they could do. Due to my aptitude for tech, I was able to negotiate the A-Grade ones I have now, in return for working for them until they were paid off. Rockslide was actually the first person I saw when I woke up after the surgery. She was in for cutting up her legs, and we had time to bond and… we’ve been like close sisters since. She’s my family now.”

[Did you keep your eyes like that because of Can-Can?]

“Correct, Mr Dubs. We often attribute safety and care to the soft warmth of flesh, but those moments where I was weakest and alone, it was hard metal and manufactured parts that kept me from falling apart emotionally.” Her eyes finally moved from the film to look at me. “Often care can come from places we least expect.”

I maintained her gaze and gave her a brief nod.

[Thank you for sharing your story with me.]

She relaxed and gave me a brief smile, turning her eyes back to the television. “Pay attention now, this is one of the best bits.”

I attempted to do just that, but found my mind wandering. Thoughts of Roxy and Clara. Boss and the League of Heroes. Old me and new me. There was so much for me to try to process, my aching and fragmented mind struggled to piece together any real functional thought. Hadn’t even checked the contract out yet... I had been so wrapped up in current events.

A shadow moved across the doorway, breaking me from my stupor - Roxy had returned, now just in a casual t-shirt and shorts. Not baggy, but clearly comfort clothes. In turning my head, I only now realized that Clara had fallen asleep. Her head was resting against my cyborg shoulder, hand still placed on my gun-arm.

Roxy raised an eyebrow, but gave me a smile as she walked in. “Movie that good, huh?”

[No idea. Haven’t been able to focus on it. Clara told me about her eyes.]

“Ah.” The super sat down on the left side of the couch, beside me. “That explains it, then. Looks like she trusts you completely, Mr Moneybags.”

[Do you think it is wrong for me to finance her?]

Roxy pulled a face, but shook her head. “As her big sis, I want what’s best for her. Whatever arrangement you have with her is fine with me, as long as you don’t hurt her feelings.”

I looked at the sleeping technician, who seemed rather content to use me as a pillow, before back to the super.

[Perhaps that is all that I’m good for.]

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a hardass, Dubs. I got a little salty, but you’re not rid of me that easily. When do I get my round two?”

I looked down at my aching arm. Stims could only do so much to repair the bone breaks, and fighting her at anything less that my full capability would be doing her a disservice.

[Unknown. I will need all my strength tomorrow for work, after that it depends on my recovery.]

“Oh fuck, you’re working tomorrow and I fucked your arm up? Will you still be able to…?”

She didn’t have the heart to say ‘go murder someone’ out loud, despite it hardly being a secret among current company - even if we currently had ears listening in as well.

[I’ll survive. Worst-case scenario, I’ll just tear it off and get a new robot arm replacement. Maybe another shotgun.]

“Don’t, you... asshole.” She sighed and deflated into the couch. “Like, I can deal with not kissing for now, and your gun-arm we can work around, but if we end up not even being able to hold hands… well, I’m going to be a little disappointed.”

I raised an eyebrow at her while she stared at the window opposite with an exaggerated pout. Still beyond me why she had feelings for me, but I was glad that we had opened that can and let things air out. Being honest was the way forward, and instead of winding her up about still having to beat me, it was only fair for us to have a little reward for our day hard won.

[What is… ‘holdings hands’?]

“Don’t be a prick, Dubs.” She scowled at me. “I’m pretty sure you know what that means.”

I furrowed my brow and gave her the best poker face I could manage with just the top half of my head.

[No? Could you show me?]

Roxy’s eyes stared at mine for a few seconds, waiting for the punchline. When none came, her mouth screwed up and eyes narrowed. Still unsure if I was trying to pull a fast one, her arm moved slowly, gradually crossing mine to ensure she didn't jostle all the broken parts. The warmth of her hand slipped into mine, and her fingers intertwined gently. “It’s like this.”

[Oh. In that case, I think I might want to keep the hand.]

“Shame,” Clara murmured.

The super exhaled deeply, a soft smile forming on her face.

Her head rested against my aching shoulder, and the three of us watched the credits roll as our own day slowly drew to a close.