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024 stood within the dimly lit hall, the back of his shoes pressed against the wall behind him. The only sound that broke the air was the breathing he and his superior shared, almost in tangent with each other.
He was in terrible shape; a long, predominant laceration was etched from his shoulder down to the palm of his hand, oozing with both fresh and crusted oil. It was deep enough to have pierced through the armor of his forearm and shred the skintight suit underneath open, rendering both coverings essentially useless. Another gash marked his left side, though it was less extensive and thus lower on his list to be concerned about.
His superior, 302, was (thankfully) in much better shape. The only thing he had suffered that warranted attention was a cleave into his shoulder that had broken his shoulder pad in half. It was deeper than 024’s shoulder wound and angled enough to graze 302’s neck, but according to him, it had failed to damage any of his systems.
024, though, could feel his entire arm numbing up from the shock of his own injury.
He supposed that this was the very reason that he had been summoned first, waiting for the looming metal door before the pair to slide open in order to be seen by someone. Being in the poorer condition, it only made sense that one of the Masters would tend to him first.
He grimaced at the thought of being “tended to”. He had heard many stories from lower-ranking Kuiper Droids to know that the process would not be pleasant. With the condition of his arm, it was likely that it would simply be replaced entirely. 024 would have to be online for that. 024 would have to be conscious for that. Awake and aware of the pain.
“You scared?”
024 blinked in surprise, looking over at his superior. Upon realizing that he had begun to slouch forward, he quickly straightened his posture and turned to look at 302. “N-no, sir!”
302 cackled loudly. It bounced off the walls, the cadence almost relaxing to 024 despite its volume. Kuiper Droids were not meant to be very expressive, but 302 had always been an outlier in that regard. That kind of behavior didn’t always go unpunished...but no one else was around to witness them right now. And so 024 smiled gingerly in response.
“You always have been the worrywart type,” 302 continued, only just ceasing his laughter. “Though that’s probably a good thing for your rank. Always out on the frontlines...gotta be on your toes if you wanna save most of your skin.”
024 watched as 302 narrowed his eyes at the inferior’s arm. It was a gaze of scrutiny more than a gaze of disappointment. 024 looked away in embarrassment regardless. “It isn’t a bad thing, you know. If anything, you’re bound to get more points for it. From the Masters, I mean. You know how they are about “risking our lives for the greater good” and that drivel-”
302’s spiel halted the moment the metal door slid open with an audible “whirr”. Both Kuiper Droids faced the entrance and stood to attention, though 024’s movements were noticeably sluggish. For a moment or two, nothing happened, and 024 briefly wondered if the door had opened on accident based on a potential motion sensor.
And then Master Terra walked into the hallway.
024 practically slammed his arm against his chest in an automatic response, fist reaching his shoulder pad - only to be forced to drop said arm back to his side when his wound erupted with hot, intense pain as a result of the sudden movement. 024 keened in pain, desperately digging his fingers into his leg in some attempt to distract himself from the hotspot of agony that had become his entire left arm. It was an utterly humiliating display, and if he hadn’t been entirely engrossed by the panging of his open wound, he would have been attempting to dignify himself in some way.
In the corner of his eye, he could see 302 glance at him with the most distressed expression he had ever seen another Kuiper Droid display. His entire body had tensed up, like he wanted to move, to do something, but couldn’t do so. 024 understood. And 024 didn’t say anything. He knew that irritating Master Terra was an effective death sentence. Especially since 024 himself was stepping into the line of fire with his outburst.
Master Terra, though, looked at him with an entirely neutral expression. As he continued to examine the Kuiper Droid, 024 swallowed hard and attempted to remain still.
Eventually, Master Terra leaned down towards him. “..024, is it?”
“Yes, sir,” 024 said carefully, only just managing to avoid allowing his voice to crack or pitch.
“Ah, yes, I remember Sunstar quite literally kicking your unit around the other day,” the commander mused with a wry smile. 024 could only frown at the memory; he had been one of those spared from the occurrence. What in Ra Moon’s name did that have to do with anything? He kept his mouth shut, however, watching as Master Terra motioned for him to enter the room behind him. He obediently shuffled past the metal door.
He jumped a little in surprise when it shifted to close behind him. Master Terra had already stepped past him, and although 024 assigned that mostly to his taller frame, it still caught him off-guard nonetheless. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry for his superior, being left outside of the room, but he pushed on and forced himself to look around. It was quite spacious, pistachio-green walls of titanium decorated with an assortment of plants that hung from hooks. He had seen a few of those plants before during his different missions, though most (if not all) of them had been from different planets entirely. High bookcases were stuffed with different tomes, a majority of them once again being of varying origin. In one of the corners of the room stood a large charging pod.
...was this Master Terra’s room?
His train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he collided directly into the commander, who had evidently stopped in the middle of the room. 024 made a pained noise and stepped back, looking up at the Stardroid with a panic-stricken expression. This was the second time he had stepped out of line, within a few minutes of the first. At this rate, he was bound to get sent to the scrapping zone.
But Master Terra seemed to be entirely amused by his error, tilting his head at the Kuiper Droid with a hand to his chin. “...024...that makes you a more lower-ranking Droid, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Not surprising. Sit on the desk.” He waved his hand towards a wide secretaire, which 024 noticed had been cleared recently. A lengthy gathering of papers and tools lay to the right, but he didn’t even dare look at them more closely in fear of coming across something that wasn’t meant for his eyes. He stepped up to the workplace, struggling for a moment to haul himself over the edge (he had seen a desk before, but they were usually shorter than this particular one) before having to give up due to the pain in his arm - he had been forced to cradle it against his chest, and he was unable to release it in order to do as Master Terra ordered.
A third failure.
024 remained still in front of the desk, his mouth tightly clamped shut. Fear washed over his systems like a tidal wave, gripping his core and making it difficult for him to stay afoot without feeling absolutely nauseous. A third time. There should not have even been a first. The fact that he hadn’t already been shut down and sent off for scrapping was nothing short of a miracle, but for him to continue making these mistakes…
He knew his time was coming to a close. Death took the form of his master, and it was only a matter of when Master Terra was going to turn around from whatever he was occupied with to realize that 024 hadn’t been able to follow his command through.
As if sensing his thoughts, Master Terra turned his head to glance over at him. The movement itself was awkward, and the look in his eyes was one of...surprise? “...are you scared?”
024 balked at the very same phrase 302 had asked of him earlier. Of course he was scared. But admitting to that before Master Terra, in this situation? He refused. He remained silent, forced to hold the Stardroid's gaze out of obedience.
But Master Terra cracked him a thin smile. “Even if you don’t say anything, I can tell. Your eyes have changed.”
“...what?” 024 offered dumbly, mentally glossing through his optical systems to confirm that, indeed, the sclera of his eyes had shifted to black. Had that been a reaction to fear? He knew that he could do it - with or without his direct input - but it was such a rare occurrence for him to witness even in other Kuiper Droids that he was momentarily stunned by the truth. He forced his eyes back to normal, blinking several times in order to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room (how had he failed to recognize that his vision had become darker?).
In the time it took for him to recover, Master Terra stepped directly in front of him. “It’s a silly question; you should be scared. That’s how this whole operation works. The more afraid you are, the more likely you’ll toe the line.”
He suddenly reached down and grabbed 024 with both of his hands, only narrowly avoiding the Kuiper Droid’s side wound. The gesture still shocked 024 enough to force out an awful squeak from him, both from the aggravated pain in his waist and the abruptness of Master Terra’s actions. To 024’s utter dismay, the Stardroid snickered at him, and with relative ease did he lift the Kuiper Droid off of the ground to place him on top of the desk.
What.
“Oh, you thought I was going to do something else?” Master Terra raised a knowing eyebrow. “You’re very easy to read. More so than other Droids like yourself...tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m interested.”
“W-what do you mean? Sir,” 024 added hastily, mentally kicking himself for continuing to stutter like an idiot. It made him sound undignified.
“You panicked when I picked you up. Why?” It sounded less like a question and more like a demand. “I want to know. There are no wrong answers, and I have no reason to punish you for honesty - unless, for whatever reason, you start speaking treason.”
“No!” 024 protested. “No, I...I would rather not be sent to the scrapping zone, sir. If I can avoid it. Also, my wounds…”
Master Terra clicked his tongue, turning away from him to move to the opposite wall of the room. 024 hadn’t noticed a set of lines etched into the metal that created a rectangle before, but it had his attention now that the commander was tracing a finger over it. 024 watched as the section suddenly slid open, not unlike the very door he had entered the room through originally. Inside the newly formed alcove rested a synthetic container roughly the size of Master Terra’s forearm, which he pulled out to observe the contents of.
Instinctively, 024 looked away once more. Better to be safe than to unwittingly pry into business he wasn’t involved in.
“I will tell you a secret, 024,” the Stardroid suddenly announced, still turned away from the Kuiper Droid in question. “There are a select amount of Kuiper Droids that we decided to program with the potential to reach the same amount of intelligence we are at.”
024’s eyes widened. If he wasn’t already clenching his jaw shut, it would have dropped open. “I...I don’t understand.”
The commander glanced at him briefly before returning to the case, thumbing through its contents. “It was an experimental decision. To test the willpower of soldiers capable of acting on their own will. Surely you’ve noticed that the majority of your companions are more robotic than an individual like yourself.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the desk, staring hard at the floor. Master Terra was right, of course. It had always been something that he was curious about, the difference between him and many of the other members of his unit. He and 302 were alike in that regard...did that mean that 302 was another Kuiper Droid that Master Terra had been describing?
“I heard you speaking with your superior outside.” The commander had turned to face him now, an eerie shadow cast over his face. “If he were not like you, he would fail to possess the capability of laughter. He would have no emotion to express it with. Kuiper Droids are nothing but empty shells that are meant to take orders; they do not think, they do not feel, and they do not speak unless spoken to.”
Self-defense protocols suddenly booted up when Master Terra paced towards him, and 024 nearly pushed himself further across the desk. But he stifled down the temptation, for the sake of avoiding any further pain in his arm and the sake of not wanting to offend the commander in any way.
Instead of lashing out like expected, the Stardroid merely placed the container onto the desk and sat down on the chair that had been pulled out from underneath the end of the desk. The close proximity between them was perturbing, to say the least. “But...you are different, and so is 302. Your reaction to pain? That is intriguing. Your ability to express fear? That is even more worth studying.”
“Does...this mean that I haven’t dishonored myself?” 024 tried with just a sliver of hope in his tone. He jumped in surprise when Master Terra barked loudly in amusement.
“Dishonoring yourself...is that what you Kuiper Droids call screwing up?” he snorted behind his hand, as if he was trying to contain it. “Such an interesting pick in arcane jargon. I wonder who decided to program that into you all.”
Silence was 024’s most effective approach when it came to any scenario he was unsure of how to act in, and so he opted to fall back on that policy. Master Terra, for his part, didn’t follow up to his comment. Instead, he popped open the case next to 024 instead and pulled out a folded piece of cloth.
“Take off your-ah, wait. Can you remove your forearm armor by yourself?” Despite the wording, the Stardroid seemed genuine enough.
024 glanced wearily at his injured arm, reaching over to fumble with the screws keeping the armor locked in place around his wrist. He managed to get a few popped off, but Master Terra made his impatience plain; setting down the rag, he reached over to pull apart the armor from where it was torn open with his bare hands. 024 frowned at the noise of metal being crushed, but otherwise remained still for the procedure (he REALLY did not want to revitalize any pain if he could help it).
When the covering had been removed entirely, Master Terra crumpled it up even further and dropped it into the wastebasket that stood on the side of the desk opposite to all of the moved paperwork. “Run a diagnostic check on your arm for me. I need to know the extent of the damage before even thinking about closing this.”
“Closing it?” 024 asked simply. “You...aren’t going to remove it?”
“That would be the typical operation,” the Stardroid agreed. “But I’ve been meaning to observe how functional your self-healing system is.”
024 nodded, both understanding what he meant and also being entirely confused by the implication. Stifling his curiosity, he forced his prognosis system online. He scanned his arm mentally and began analyzing the data he received from it. “Heavy damage to the nervous wires. Elbow joint has been dented, limiting mobility. Hemorrhaging has ceased, but the amount of oil lost is risking perilous levels,” he listed off methodically.
Master Terra hummed in acknowledgement, picking up the folded piece of fabric once more in one hand and holding out 024’s arm in the other. The movement, though minimal, was enough for his pain receptors to flare to life once again, and he made a hissing noise in response. The sound had been enough to make Master Terra halt in his inspection. He studied the Kuiper Droid with a sharp look in his eyes. “Hm...what level are your pain receptors at?”
“Seven,” 024 replied within an instant, the answer automatically filtering through his processor.
“Seven?” the commander repeated, eyebrows shooting up as he leaned back an inch. “Who authorized that decision? You should only be able to reach level five on your own.”
“Master Sunstar.”
The tension in the room suddenly snapped. 024 forced himself to sit up straight, watching in alarm as Master Terra tilted his head back with narrowed eyes. “Of course he did. It’s always him. What other changes did he make to your system?”
“My center of gravity is off by five degrees to the left.”
“No wonder Pluto absolutely mauled you during training today,” the commander mumbled, swaying back in front of 024. “Lower your pain receptors to level three. I’ll fix your center of gravity when I finish.”
The Kuiper Droid nodded slowly, his Combat Mode briefly engaging so that he could manually lower his pain receptors to the required level. His arm had mostly deadened itself due to the snapped and splintered wires, and so in order to test the waters, 024 thrusted his arm to his side. Only a sliver of discomfort shot through his arm this time. Satisfied with the results, he offered the limb to Master Terra.
Finally was the commander able to start wiping his arm clean of the black fuel that had caked his wound. “Sunstar has no business tampering with you like this,” he began, agitation thick in his tone. “Can you believe the gall? Altering your systems - for fun!”
024 wasn’t sure if that question was rhetorical, so he remained politely silent as Master Terra continued to scrub the crusted oil off of him. He was only partially paying attention to what the Stardroid was speaking to and at him now, his processor slowing to defrag itself for a brief period of time; shuffling memories around in correct order and throwing away the ones that were unnecessary. 024 couldn’t fully allow himself to defrag, though - that would make him susceptible to shutting down involuntarily in order to focus all of his on the process.
And he didn’t want to shut down in the presence of Master Terra, let alone anyone of authority.
Thankfully, the commander ceased his ranting for a moment. “Tilt your arm to the right…”
024 did so carefully, not wanting to force the movement to be jerky. While he wasn’t accustomed to self-repairs (having never done it himself), he knew that melding wires together was an extremely tedious process that required absolute precision...lest one of the wires become faulty, or fuse improperly. He had to practice keeping still, otherwise his arm would have to be replaced entirely if the melding went wrong.
He watched with held breath as Master Terra put down the black-stained rag and picked up a long, metal device (024 knew that was a torch; what else would it be?), trying to keep himself from squirming in discomfort. The Stardroid flicked the cap at the top of the object off, a thin stream of fire bursting to life.
024 forced himself to freeze up, opting to close his eyes the moment he decided the flame was too close to his arm for him to be at ease watching directly. Master Terra did nothing to stop him. The Kuiper Droid scrunched up his face the moment his pain receptors finally detected the increase of heat within the wound of his arm. It didn’t hurt, per say, but just the idea of the little flame licking the wires inside his arm made him...squeamish. His self-defense system was begging for him to pull away.
“It won’t take long.” Master Terra’s voice nearly made 024 jump in surprise. “None of your wires are snapped completely. Only a few of the strands…” He paused, likely to keep himself focused. “...only a few need to be melded back together.”
“And...then what?” 024 asked with a twinge of recklessness, cracking open his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions, really. But sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.
“I’ll sew your arm. You’ll have to keep off of it for quite some time, but I’m willing to wait to see the results.”
024 avoided looking directly at the torch nestled into his forearm’s crevice, even if he could still catch a glimpse of it from the edge of his gaze. “The results...of the self-repair system?”
“Mhm,” Master Terra murmured in agreement, suddenly pulling the torch away. Was he already finished? “I imagine your self-repair system will take several weeks in order to close this deep of a wound. You’ll have to keep your arm in a sling in order to prevent the stitches from breaking.”
“But that means I’m not going to be of much use,” 024 pointed out somewhat dejectedly. “Am I going to be online the entire wait?”
“Naturally. And you aren’t entirely useless. I need an assistant anyway,” the commander replied with ease. As if he had been waiting for the Kuiper Droid to bring up the subject. He plucked the torch’s cap from where he had placed it on the desk, screwing it back in place over the tool’s opening before returning the item into the case. “I don’t know why in space Ra Moon insists on keeping physical files for practically anything when we can easily store it online.”
024 steeled himself. “Am...am I allowed to ask what exactly we have paperwork for..?”
Master Terra exhaled through his nose. “Records, mostly. Of models that are made and resources that we require. It’s awfully boring. But leaving this to Sunstar or any of the other Stardroids a recipe for disaster. Might as well just do it myself.”
“Is there any way I can help?”
There was a lengthy pause after that. Master Terra’s gaze seemed distant, until it snapped back to 024 with renewed interest. “I’m allowed temporary charge of you until I return you back to your unit - and Pluto’s jurisdiction. I'll think of something.”
Silence fell over the room again as the Stardroid pulled out a handful of tools, such as a spool of suture, tissue forceps...a needle...and a needle drive. 024’s eyes darted at the needle in particular with a tense look.
“Shall I have you lower your pain receptors even further?”
024 snapped his head back to make eye contact with Master Terra. The question had been entirely deriding, but in a strange, humorful way. As if he was teasing the Kuiper Droid.
“...no, I can handle it,” 024 finally insisted after a beat, sitting up a little further. He continued to hold out his arm, the gesture itself becoming something of an invitation for Master Terra to continue.
“If you say so.” Master Terra used the needle driver to grab the needle that the suture was attached to. Carefully, he raised the forceps to 024’s arm and compressed a portion of his exposed skin, closest to where the cut began, on one side. Even though 024 barely registered the pressure, the pinching feeling of the cold needle piercing through his synthetic flesh was what caught his attention more. The thread passing through the new opening did not feel any less strange.
It was a process that was repeated several times. Thread and needle went to and fro, the movement broken only by the occasional pause when Master Terra tied the thread into a knot. Back and forth. Back and forth.
And then it stopped suddenly.
024 fluttered his eyes a few times, perturbed. Time had seemed to skip an entire beat for him; not a moment ago, the commander had begun his operation. How was he already finished?
“As mentioned before, you will have to be careful.” Master Terra leaned his head to the side, hunched over to inspect his handiwork with a scrutinizing gaze. “You wouldn’t want to sit through this a second or third time...isn’t that right?” His eyes flicked up to 024, the look within the cerulean irises making clear that he already knew the answer.
Regardless, 024 nodded. “I-I will,” he promised. He might have left it at that, but a dull sensation along his side reminded him of the other neglected problem in the room. “Oh, Master Terra…”
“I know,” the Stardroid interrupted calmly. “That hardly requires stitching, but I have to sterilize these first.” He didn’t have to do that...but he was going to do so anyway, 024 realized as the commander began to clean off the tools he had used with a fresh cloth. The Kuiper Droid watched with a troubled furrow to his brow, resisting the urge to kick his feet in the air idly. He knew the commander’s inclination towards cleanliness was something of a derisive topic among the other Stardroids, and he was beginning to realize just exactly why it was. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but it was frustrating to be forced to wait through Master Terra’s insistence on cleaning every little thing.
Master Terra’s eyes suddenly drifted to look at 024. “I can sense your impatience. Heh...I’m almost done,” he persisted, wiping down the needle driver before putting it away. “Perhaps Kuiper Droids do take from their overseers. You remind me of Pluto more with each passing inspection.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?” 024 asked wearily, keeping his posture straight as Master Terra grabbed the roll of gauze from the medical container and began wrapping the strips of fabric over the wound lining his side.
“Depends. Depends on what exactly you take away from him. Depends on how much you wind up mimicking him. Depends on what you do with that newfound resemblance.”
024 didn’t need to be told twice to understand the implications.
Master Terra drew back from 024, inspecting his handiwork. 024’s arm was stitched entirely shut, his side was properly covered, and everything seemed to be taken care of. He stood up from the desk and turned away from the Kuiper Druid to rummage around in the medical alcove, however, and 024 watched in bewilderment.
“Sling,” the Stardroid said, as if reading the confusion in the air. “For your arm.”
“...oh,” 024 murmured, raising his good arm to scratch at his jaw. Of course. How had he forgotten so quickly? Master Terra laughed under his breath, facing the Kuiper Droid once more with a sling in his hand.
“Need I put this on for you?” he asked mockingly, leaning forward and holding out the device towards 024.
024 resisted the urge to pout. “I can do it!” he insisted, reaching out to take the sling from Master Terra. The commander looked like he was tempted to pull it out of his reach, but his hand remained still, and 024 gingerly received the sling.
It took him a moment to fumble with getting the strap over his shoulder without jostling his arm, but eventually he managed to slip his arm through the opening. It was a strange sensation, his arm being slack against his chest.
“It’s not meant to be comfortable,” Master Terra pointed out, stepping up to 024.
“I can get down,” 024 blurted out suddenly. He moved to slide off of the desk’s edge, but the Stardroid suddenly lurched forward and planted both of his hands at either side of 024, effectively blocking off his path. They were close enough together now for their noses to almost brush together, and 024 nearly flung himself backwards out of instinctual surprise.
“...do not let your independence convince you that you can make any decision you like,” he uttered firmly, violent intent flashing within his eyes as they narrowed at 024. “Certainly not under my charge.”
024 swallowed hard, struggling to keep eye contact with Master Terra. His core felt like it was about to lurch out of his chest cavity, the weight of it making him feel nauseous. Stupid, he chided himself internally. He shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t his place to do so.
The commander suddenly drew himself straight, looking down at 024. His expression became unreadable once more. “...alright then. Get down, if you are so inclined to do it yourself.”
The Kuiper Droid didn’t hesitate in practically throwing himself off of the desk - which was an immediate mistake, he realized too late, as the impact of him landing on the ground caused a spike of pain to shoot up his arm. He flinched; despite his pain receptors being turned down several levels, he could still feel that particular wave of discomfort.
“See? That’s why I didn’t want you to do that,” Master Terra said, crossing his arms over his chest armor with a disappointed huff. “At this rate, you won’t even last a day before you break one of the stitches.”
“I apologize...it’s my fault,” 024 said with a pang of helplessness in his tone. He wasn’t wrong. It had been his idea to simply jump down like that. And it was stupid in hindsight, fueled only by base instinct to please without thinking over his actions. Stupid, he repeated to himself.
“Perhaps you’ll start taking my words into consideration more.”
“Yes...I will.”
Both of them were motionless for a time until Master Terra leaned down to pat 024 on his good shoulder, a sly grin accompanying the dark look on his face. “Good. Now go fetch me 302. Quickly. But not quick enough to ruin your arm,” he added, giving 024 a little nudge towards the door.
“Master Terra, what about the-”
“Your center of gravity will be fine being off a few degrees for a while longer. 302 is more important,” the Stardroid interrupted pointedly - again without needing 024 to even speak what was on his mind - waving his hand in a dismissive manner.
024 knew to take the hint and began shuffling towards the exit. The door slid open automatically for him, and he ducked out of the room with more pep in his step than he had intended to convey (he hoped Master Terra hadn’t noticed, at least). He came to a grinding halt when he saw 302 in the hallway. His good side was leaning against the wall, and he looked like he was on the verge of shutting down while standing up. Not an impossible feat for a Kuiper Droid, but it still worried 024 nonetheless.
“Captain!”
302 blinked his eyes open in surprise, pushing himself off the wall to stand straight. “O-oh, you’re...back. Ugh, just when my systems were going offline…” he yawned, stretching out his uninjured arm. “What’s up?”
“What’s up is Master Terra is done seeing me,” 024 said with a dry edge. “He wants to look at you now.”
302 remained quiet, opting to look directly at 024’s arm for a good minute. “...he really fixed you, huh?”
“What? What does that mean?” 024 demanded. “Of course he did! Why wouldn’t he?”
302 shrugged. “Beats me,” was all he offered before walking away from the wall and towards the door to Master Terra’s room.
024 stood there in dumbfounded silence, slack jawed until he caught himself and closed his mouth. He lacked the energy to let his superior’s words filter through his processor. Now he wasn’t even sure what his next course of action should be. Did he need to return to the room? Or should he go back to his own? The latter was a ways away, at least a good few floors below the current one.
He kicked at the floor in silent consideration before ultimately stepping up to the wall, turning around, and sitting down on the floor. Falling asleep against the wall was unsightly, yes, but at least this way he could allow his processor to defrag properly. He needed it, what with the cacophony of mish-mashed sounds accompanied by lingering thoughts plaguing his CPU. He looked ahead at the dull, metal-colored wall. With a flicker of his eyelids, darkness overtook his sight and mind.
Offline.