Nell spent the next few days after the ambush on the Matchsticks resting and recuperating. After all, bullet wounds aren’t very conducive to successful Fire Fighter work. At least the break– and the pretty tip she got from Ramirez’s friend– gave her the chance to put her life back into order. In between flicking through channels and gritting her teeth while re-dressing her wound, she got down to work cleaning out the muck of her apartment. Once she was finished, trash embarrassingly took up half the building’s dumpster. But hey, at least her neighbors can quit complaining now. She bought proper furniture, scraped mold away, and filled her fridge with proper food for once. Now her apartment was completely rejuvenated; no longer was it a bastion of self-loathing and sorrow.

By the end of the week, Nell was called back to The Basement. All the Fire Fighters had gathered once again albeit strewn away from each other. Harrison was laid back on the couch strumming an incredibly untuned guitar, Sickle was struggling to open the tab on a soda can, and Arkie and Erica were continuing their game of pool. Arkie, playing stripes, was losing terribly to Erica. Nell poked in between the two while Arkie was lining up a shot.

“Hey, what’d you need me for?”

“Nell! Good to see you! How’s the wound?” Arkie boomed. He completely missed the white billiard after a more than dramatic flourish to hit. Grimacing, he gave up to fully face Nell.

“Better, more or less. Still hurts like a bitch.”

“Good! Good, good. You’re really proving your worth!”

“If it was Arkie, he’d be rolling on the floor cryin’ for his mama,” Erica teased. Arkie shot her a scathing glare.

“I love my mother, is that such embarrassment?”

“Well, if she saw how you’re playin’, then I don’t think she’d reciprocate.”

“Why you–”

“Guys, quit it. Nell didn’t come here to watch you guys bicker.” Talia interjected.

The three glanced over. Nell never had a chance to formally meet her, so she finally got to take a good look at the one-and-only techie.

Talia was by far the shortest of them all. Her tiny stature was only amplified further by the massive sweater and overalls sagging almost to the tip of her boots. Hell, even her welding mask resting on her forehead dwarfed her head to make her appear like a reverse bobblehead. An army’s worth of tools filled whatever space they could occupy and caused her clothes to droop further on her numerous belts, straps and pockets. Her hair curled around in braids like ram horns on the sides of her skull that led out to drape over her shoulders down her back to stay firmly out of the way of her work. Even with the grease painting her face, her great green eyes still brimmed with eagerness and she always wore a bright white smile that split through the grime. Even though her hands were in her pockets, Nell could just barely make out the glint of cybernetics.

“We finally get to meet eye to eye,” Nell observed.

“Yeah, about time,” Talia murmured, almost wistfully. She cleared her throat. “But, y’know, better to meet now than never. Did Erica or Arkie tell you why you’re here?”

“No. I figured it was time to get back on the hunt for Matchsticks, right?”

“About that . . .”

“What?” Nell’s brow furrowed.

“How do I put this . . .” Talia rubbed her chin. “You–”

“You’re too weak,” Erica said bluntly. Nell whipped her head around in shock.

“What? No I’m not!”

Erica resisted the urge to burst into laughter.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Talia soothed. “Rather, you’ll need to get some steel if you’re going to continue the hunt.”

Nell had never thought about cybernetics before. Well, at least not for the past few years. When she was 18, of course she thought about it! To push against the limitations of nature– and her age– was something everyone thought about. For most people, it was a rite of passage into adulthood.

But, if she wanted to reach the big leagues, she’d have to stay organic.

Remaining without cybernetics was a major status symbol. It meant you were naturally ahead of the curve and didn’t need to be supplemented. You could afford all the tech, all the assistants– everything that a one-time implant could fix for the rest of life. If someone ended up in a corp, they’d strip themselves of iron to fit in. Nell was determined to never have to. So, she ended up never getting cybernetics.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Until now.

“Is it . . . painful?”

“I don’t want to make you worry, but for the first time? Almost always. Since your nerves and immune system aren’t accustomed to functioning with technology, they’ll try to fight the implant for about a week or so before it fully agrees and becomes like second nature. On the bright side, whatever you get next is painless.”

“Sounds like shit,” Nell mumbled. She felt rows of pinpricks poking underneath her skin and through her veins, as if her body was already combatting the implants soon to come. It was a horrendous sensation. Too faint, yet just enough for her to be conscious of it. She tightly hugged her arms to her chest. “I . . . I don’t think I’m ready.”

Erica placed a soft hand on her shoulder. The sensation fluttered away. Nell glanced over her shoulder to meet her warm gaze. “I get it, Nell, it’s a tough choice, ‘specially when you’re not a dumb kid anymore gettin’ wired for the hell of it,” she chuckled. “But if you wanna make it on these streets? Kinda have to. Every gunshot you get can’t put you out of commission every week.”

“I know, but–”

“Remember our first night? Your first taste of Fire Fightin’?”

“How could I forget?” Nell immediately replied. “I loved it. I wanted more.”

“This is a part of that more. All of us are wired. Everyone you’ve fought is wired. You need to be wired to keep up. ”

Nell looked down at her hands. She once took pride in how unmarred and pristine they were. In reality, these were probably the dirtiest hands in the room.

She thought she’d never have to.

Turns out, steel is the only way to cleanse them.

“You’re right, Erica, you’re right,” She relented. “What am I getting?”

Erica clapped her on the back, knocking the wind out of Nell. Hopefully, once she’s implanted, she won’t get winded as easily. “Damn right I am! Talia’ll walk you through it.”

“Trust me, you’ll love what I cooked up.”

Talia guided Nell to sit down on the bench she’s seen her working at every time she was in The Basement. She had to push away a couple WIP projects in order to make room. Talia settled herself in the swivel chair by the counter and pulled up her tablet.

“So, to start with, you’ll get the standard internal processor we all have on the nape of your neck. Are you okay with me shaving off some of your hair for that?”

“Do you have to?”

“Well . . . Yeah. Not really a choice in that one,” she giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it look nice. Erica’s is a prime example.”

“Her work is neon. That’s why we all have buzzes or undercuts.” Erica preened at the clean fade surrounding her mohawk. Nell lightly laughed.

“Alright, I’m fine with that. What else?”

“Well, seeing you in action gave me a few ideas. Namely, adrenaline spikers, overclocked neural systems, and sensory overloaders. I know, I know, it sounds terrible, but in reality it makes you more alert in combat and react with hair-thin precision.”

“What does that mean you’ll do?”

“Most of it is extra hardware on your internal processor, so it’ll be larger than others. However, I wanna exacerbate the link for your shooting arm, so you’ll end up with some visible cybernetics there.”

Nell numbly nodded along. She tensed her left arm in advance.

“I’ll try to make it quick so you can go back home and rest. As much as I love the place, you wouldn’t catch me staying the night here,” Talia joked. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, show me your back.”

Nell, albeit nervously, obeyed. She slipped her jacket off her shoulders and un-did the top few buttons of her shirt to allow it to hang around her elbows. She exposed her spine along with sickly pale spindliness of her body. If she didn’t breathe, one could easily mistake her for a skeleton. Nell tensed her body for what would come.

She felt something cold and wet. Her nerves stood at end.

She yiped out.

“Relax, it was just the marker. I have to write out where the implants are.”

“ . . . Oh. Right.”

Erica leaned on the counter by Nell’s side. “Don’t sweat it. It’ll be a breeze! We’ve all had to go through this, for better or for worse. It’ll be worth it, remember.”

“How many inspiring speeches did you steal from to patch that shit together?” Nell shot dryly.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a full list.”

“So that much plagiarism, huh?”

Erica shrugged. “You could say. I’d prefer the term inspiration.”

“Really? Because I think–”

Nell’s agonizing scream of pain interrupted her train of thought. Talia got to work carving out her brain stem for the internal processor. It was a white hot type of pain, like the bottle and the bullet combined into one precise fire getting injected right into her spine. Even when blood ran down her back, it didn’t cool the excruciating fever of the incision.

She endured it for the next three hours. By the end she was fully unconscious.