My name is Irene Kyanite, Daughter of the Fell and Son of the Undercity. It wasn’t my fault that my mother died nor was it my fault that I was told to lead thousands of men to their deaths during the war. 

I fully blame the weakness of the flesh and the insignificance of empathy. 

Weakness that I’ll willingly lose in exchange for my humanity. My once feeble limbs are now replaced by sturdy mechanical augmentations, my heart solidified by the years of living in this destitute land, and my soul forever burdened by the memories of the dead left unfaded. 

After years of servitude under the uncaring Empire. We, just like a hunter’s dogs, are shoved back into the kennel and starved before yet another hunt. The plutocrats rearing our bloodthirst for when the armistice finally reaches its end.  

I’d consider living inside one of the Faraday Cities more dangerous than roaming the irradiated Fellkralle Wastes. Who’d want to live inside a kennel full of rabid dogs instead of roaming free? Well, the answer of course are the wolves of society. For it is also the place where the powerful are exalted and the weak cheaply exploited.

Determined to not let my strength stagnate, I dedicated an entire year to amassing MK-4 modules. This involved either purchasing them from unscrupulous officials aligned with the Uppercity Plutocrats or delving into the Undercity Markets. At times, I was even forced to employ more assertive means of acquisition.

After spending weeks locked inside my large dim-lit workshop I finally see it within reach. The sheer amount of coffee in my bloodstream is duly noted in its contribution to this masterpiece laid in front of me. 

With only one sensor remaining to complete the array, I whispered to myself, "Steady… steady.. steady" whilst carefully inserting the last sensor and allowing activation of the advanced sensory array. This array will allow the swift and accurate relay of pulses to my sensory and motor nervous system; a truly marvelous feat especially in this hellhole.

This marvelous pair of MK-4 biosynthetic arms named “Karna”, houses illegal MK-4 modules encased in a sturdy metallic chassis, enveloped by a thin layer of Fellweave Wires. The intricately woven layer appears solid, yet still maintains the firm characteristics of authentic human flesh. 

Hurriedly I stood up from my my machining table and turned towards the ceiling-mounted MK-3 Augmentor located at the center of my workshop, carefully tracing my steps so as not to bump into the piles of mechanical augments and modules on the ground; which I refused to clean due to my undying belief of orderly disorder. 

 I spent a few seconds in a trance directly underneath the MK-3 Augmentor as the fatigue started to kick in, after a while I regained my senses and placed “Karna” on the central table prompting the terminal’s activation; announcing its presence with a robotic female voice many find either annoying, disturbing, or both.   

The Augmentor’s main mechanical appendage picked up “Karna” from the central table and thoroughly examined it. Looking for anything that might require a more specialized appendage during the augmentation process. 

The sounds of shifting metal permeate the workshop as the MK-3 Augmentor chose its tools from the hundreds of mechanical appendages each with their own specialty strewn about the workshop’s fitted ceiling.  

A pair of appendages removed the bolts from my mechanical arms in a quick succession and then moved outwards to make way for another pair of appendages to swiftly twist my arms off the connection points; a small metallic disc providing connection to my nerves.

One of the medical appendages swiftly scanned the connection point checking its activity and for anything it would consider a nuisance to the augmentation process.

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The main claws that held “Karna” dropped down and began to twist it into the connection point. The pair of biosynthetic arms don’t need screws and bolts to firmly attach and I’m sure the system knows that as well. 

Another medical appendage examines the newly fitted augments and double-checks everything that may or may not cause problems. 

This is the part I’m the most stressed about. Checking the augment’s maximum power output and deciding its Military Klass Tier by overloading it with a Core Implant; Mine being an External Core Implant it’s directly attached to my heart.  

MK-1 Civilian standard. Augment of this tier is the cheapest of the cheap but better than none.

MK-2 Government standard. Augment of this tier is always cheap enough for mass production.

MK-3 Military standard. Augment of this tier is expensive and deadly to both the wearer and the victim.

MK-4 Nobility standard. Augment of this tier is considered a priceless artifact only accessible to nobility.

“Was that a flutter? Interesting...” The system seems to be bugged; probably needing a reboot and update. Since the last time I checked its software was a few months ago the updates are probably sta- 

“ARRGHHH!!!” sudden intense heat crawled from up my chest. It may have urged a scream but I’ve been through worse sensations when I fought on the Fellkralle Front and this is nothing… but it’s becoming difficult to breathe… I can’t think. “HOLD IT TOGETHER!!!” Think! Think!! Think!!!

The External Core started to scald my heart and lungs, clutching my hand above my chest was the only thing I could do to try and relieve some pain, knowing full well that death awaited if I didn’t keep myself calm and collected through this ordeal. 

I needed to cool myself and allow my External Core to re-stabilize, knowing this I mustered my strength and headed towards my quarters that has a Medical Vat fitted with a temperature control unit for such dire situations. My mind's still in a daze and I kept tripping and stumbling, occasionally crushing a few of the mechanical modules lying on the ground whilst trying to go towards my quarters. 

Again, my vision begun to blur as the pain kept getting worse and worse, by the time I got closer to the blast door separating my Workshop and Quarters I could barely see the keypad, while trying to regain my footing I laid my hand on the wall near the blast door and I felt the rough granular texture of the wall. Touch and texture... 

Reminded that my hands were now equipped with an advanced sensory array. I used them to pat around the door's leftward frame where the keypad is located. Finally, I felt the keypad on my fingertips and in haste, I tried to dial the code 2 1 2 5 using the boxed outlines as a guide.

Seconds went past, the silence was overbearing. My heart burnt more intensely, evident signs that things were getting worse .

The sudden sound of the steel pistons moving and mechanical clutter gave me brief relief that I was able to correctly input the code. However, I couldn’t avoid the grim thought of burning from the inside out, leaving only a crimson soup of skeletal broth by the time people found my desecrated corpse.

Gripping my chest even harder and with the last of my breath I shouted "HOLD IT TOGETHER!!!" the same three words that allowed me to avoid a sorrowful death during the war.

The blast door violently slid itself open and I rushed towards the Medical Vat. Without enough strength and time to remove my clothes, I immediately hopped inside the vat, boiling the liquid solution for a brief moment from the heat radiating off my augments.

Heat slowly faded as the External Core started to stabilize itself. MK-4 Karna tried to siphon too much power and destabilized the energy flow. 

This ordeal wore me down and now my whole body being quenched in the solution provided a much-needed respite. Figured, I might as well get some sleep since it would take hours for the medical solution to fully heal all my external and internal injuries. 

Goodnight myself…. you did well. 

Again my vision faded, although this time voluntarily. 

I can't help but think another cup of coffee would’ve been nice before sleeping...

C & T