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Melissa stands stiffly next to the table. Verliezer and her handlers are sitting at the table, but she is expected to stand while they talk, often for meetings that last for hours. She is very used to standing for long periods of time.
“Alright, cyborg, here’s your task.” She was already standing at attention, but she jumps imperceptibly and straightens even more. “You’ve failed to get these two multiple times already, so you better not mess up this time.”
The hologram in the centre of the table flickers and changes to a picture of two boys. Two rebellion members, who she knows far too well. When she first met them, she was sent to hunt them down when they were just civilians who saw too much. And when they survived, they started causing actual problems for V-Tech.
She knows that the brown haired one is called Milo Murphy, because he was already known to V-Tech. His condition regarded with interest as well as caution. The black haired one is called Zack, which she knows from surveillance.
She doesn’t like to identify them by name. It just makes things harder.
“I won’t, sir.” She says, her voice a practised neutral. Her metal hands are stiff behind her back.
“We have intelligence that they will be in this street around midday. Try to capture at least one, I want information. But if you have to kill them both, do so. I am sick of these two.” Verliezer scowls at the hologram. Then he turns his cold eyes to her. “And I am sick of your failure. Get them this time, prove you’re more than scrap metal.” His cold eyes make a shudder run over the flesh that remains, send fear shooting into her heart. “Or the consequences will be worse than for your previous failures.”
It was bad enough the last times, how could it be worse? She wants to tremble, but she knows that trembling only makes things worse for her. “Yes, sir.”
“Go on then, shoo.” He flaps a dismissive hand. Her handlers stand up and she follows them out of the room. Once, she would’ve had to be dragged, kicking and fighting.
They fit her with her weapon, escort her to the exit. “Don’t screw this one up again, ok?” Savannah says. “You need to stay useful to Verliezer, he doesn’t like things which aren’t useful to him.”
Upset burns in her stomach. She barely ever fails. She is useful, even if it hurts her to be. She puts herself into life threatening situations, pushes herself to the brink and sometimes past it, all to follow her orders. And she is still punished cruelly for every failure.
She shudders. She can’t fail this time.
A sharp shove rocks her. “Pay attention. Are you ready to go?”
It doesn’t really matter if she’s ready or not. “Yes, ma’am.”
The door is unlocked. They march across the concrete to a gate, to the huge electric fence. That is unlocked too. She steps out, and it locks behind her.
Once upon a time, she would’ve taken this opportunity to run. She isn’t so stupid anymore.
———
She waits for a while, hidden in the dark of an alley. And sure enough, she soon sees two familiar boys walking around the corner. Masks hide their faces, and they are talking to each other. She waits until they are past her, then jumps out and fires.
The black haired boy dives out of the way. The brown haired boy moves so his backpack is in the path of the shot. Her blast rebounds right off of it, forcing her to duck to avoid it.
She backs up, aiming at the black haired boy. Her robotic eye targets him, helping her aim. She fires, but he ducks just in time. His hair smokes a little. She can practically see her handlers watching, shaking their heads at her mess up.
The boys start running away, dodging and blocking her attacks. She chases after them, her metal limbs propelling her faster than a normal human. She chases them down the streets. A few passers by look frightened when they run past. People tend to be scared of her. She hates it. She is used to it.
When they run into another side street, the brown haired boy removes something from his backpack and tosses it against the wall. She is distracted for a moment, wondering what he could be doing. The ball rebounds against another wall, and then flies right into the barrel of her weapon.
She tries to pull it out, but it is tightly wedged in. She could probably remove it, but she doesn’t have time now. And she thinks that firing it while it is blocked could end badly, it might explode. She doesn’t really want her arm to explode if she can help it.
Her handlers will not be pleased, Verliezer will not be pleased. But she can’t win hand to hand, not when one has an axe, and the other has what seems to be some kind of high powered cattle prod. She just needs to retreat, get this thing out, and then try again. She runs.
She runs, but they follow. They’re trying to kill her, which makes sense. Everyone’s life would be so much easier if she was dead, she knows that. She wants the rebels to win, she just… doesn’t want to die.
She rounds the corner, which is when she discovers that it is a dead end. She turns to run back, but they are in the entrance to the alley. Blocking her, weapons drawn. She starts to back away, scanning the walls. Maybe she can climb? Or fight, she could fight them.
The brown haired boy is drawing a weapon. She prepares to dodge, mind racing. She didn’t expect him to have anything ranged. Why didn’t he used it before? It’s probably a firearm, or maybe a taser?
He presses the trigger on the weapon. And she immediately knows that she can’t dodge it. A wave of invisible force hits her. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t knock her over. But her arm goes dead. It hangs loose, a useless rag doll of an arm. So does her other one. And when her leg and foot do the same, she topples to the ground.
Her robotic eye shuts out, limiting her vision. Her head is beginning to go fuzzy, she feels dizzy. The last thing she sees before her vision leaves entirely is the brown haired boy walking towards her. Vaguely, she notes that she might never wake up again.
———
Melissa wakes up.
She is on a soft surface. Definitely not her bed, which is hard, cold concrete. When she tries to move her arms, she discovers that she can’t. They are bound behind her.
Panic hits her, dissipating her bleariness. She cranes her neck to see her hands, which are bound with rope to a bedpost. The weapon has been removed, and her claw hand hasn’t replaced it. She wiggles, but the bindings are good.
She turns her attention to the room. It is small, and empty. There is the bed, there is a chair, and that is about it. There is no window. The door is locked.
She speaks out loud. “Handlers, can you hear me?” She tries. She hears nothing from her electronic ear. They must have disabled the microphone. She looks down at the top of her oldest arm, and sees the small panel which usually hides her tracker has been removed. The tracker is gone.
Whoever kidnapped her must know a lot about technology. That’s probably why they have taken her prisoner, rather than killing her. They want to study her mechanics. She winces, imagining what could happen. What they could do.
Or they might want information. She winces again, cold fear squirming in her stomach. Will they torture her? Probably. If they’re the rebels, they’re the good guys, but that doesn’t matter. They might not torture a person, but she isn’t. She’s not even Verliezer’s minion or servant, she’s his weapon.
The door squeaks open. “Excuse me, are you awake?”
She recognises the voice immediately. Milo, one of the boys she had been trying to kill. Oh, she is screwed. “Yes, sir.” She tries to keep her voice neutral, her face neutral. She’s a V-Cyborg, people think that she doesn’t feel. That she doesn’t feel fear, guilt, anything. That she can be treated however they want, because she can’t have an opinion to the contrary.
So when the lights flicker on and she sees the slightly awkward, but compassionate smile on the face of her captor, it surprises her enough that her mask slips for a moment. “Not sir, I’m not even thirteen yet.” The boy laughs. “Call me Milo.”
“Yes si- Milo.” That feels weird.
“What’s your name?” The boy comes further into the room, although he maintains some distance. She is grateful for that, although she’s sure that it’s only due to trepidation around her. His cattle prod weapon is still strapped to his side, easy to access. She is sure that would hurt. Her handlers used tasers a lot.
“V-Cyborg.”
“And you don’t have any other names?” He checks. There is a funny look in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she might mistake it for pity.
“No.” She replies neutrally. Not anymore.
“Oh, ok.” The boy says. Someone enters the room behind him. The boy with the axe. Oh, this is shaping up to be a great meeting. He shuts the door behind him. Locking her in with them, trapping her. She hopes that her shiver isn’t noticeable.
If it is, neither of them say anything. “I’m Zack.” The other boy says. She nods. “But, uh, I guess you probably already knew that.”
She hates all of these pleasantries. She almost wishes they would just get to the interrogation. The anticipation is almost as terrible at the actual pain. Not quite, though. “So, we’re sorry about all of…” Milo gestures vaguely. “… this. We didn’t know how else to talk to you without getting murdered.”
Melissa doesn’t reply. Her head is lowered, so she can’t quite see his expression. When he takes a step closer, she holds her breath. But he doesn’t do anything else. “You should also know that V-Tech can’t track you, and they can’t hear us right now. So you’re…” Whatever he was about to say, he doesn’t say it.
She decides not to tell him that they can watch through her robotic eye. She doesn’t want to give them an excuse to start tearing her eye apart, leaving her half sightless and vulnerable. Even more vulnerable than she already is.
“We need to ask you some stuff.” Milo continues, and she mentally prepares herself. Here it comes. “Do you actually like V-Tech?”
Ok, whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. She is so surprised that she looks up at him, and he looks serious. Compassionate. Almost gentle. She doesn’t answer, because how could she answer that? Of course she doesn’t like V-Tech. She hates them. But she is also their weapon, so her feelings don’t really matter. Can’t matter, if she wants to survive.
“You can answer whatever you want.” Zack adds. “They can’t hear.”
It feels impossible. She can’t answer that, the consequences are too great. She doesn’t say anything. The boys exchange a look. “I remember when we first met.” Milo says. She remembers too. She was ordered to kill him. She failed to do so. “It was at a presentation. I got called up on the stage to do the audience participation bit. But after the show I heard strange noises backstage, so I looked and they were hurting you.” He looks sad. “That’s why I became a rebel. Because of that day.”
Yes, because she nearly killed him. That’s obvious. But the way he puts it, it almost sounds like he became a rebel because he saw how she was being she was mistreated. Which makes no sense because who would care about that?
“My point is, I don’t think you’re an emotionless robot. I’ve seen that you aren’t.” Milo says. Her stomach squirms. “I think that you’re being treated very badly, and I want to help you.”
“How could you help?” The words are out before she can stop them. And they aren’t even neutral. They are somewhat hopeful, but that is buried beneath a layer of scorn and bitterness. And fear.
“You could join us.” The boy says, smiling hopefully. “We could keep you away from them. Being a rebel isn’t really safe, but I don’t think working for V-Tech is very safe for you either. Is it?”
They captured her to ask her to join them? Then this isn’t a request, not really. Because if she says no, they’ll lock her away forever. Take her apart for parts, then throw her away. Maybe just kill her. This is an order, disguised as a choice. She hates those more than regular orders.
She’ll just be the weapon of someone else. The rebel’s weapon, rather than V-Tech’s. Which, overall, might be better. Same cruelty, same purpose, but at least she will be pointed by the people who want to get rid of the evil dictator, rather than at them.
So she nods. Milo smiles, but his eyes still look sad. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He says. He steps closer, which makes her flinch. She doesn’t quite hide it, her guard dropped by her confusion. The cautious happiness drops from his face like a stone. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says. “You know that, right?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” The strange way this pair act is messing with her, messing with her carefully built walls. When she says that, they both look even sadder. She can hardly believe it, but it looks like they feel genuine pity. For her?
“Because that would be wrong.” Milo says. He stays planted where he is. “I don’t hurt people. Not unless it’s necessary, and never just to hurt them.”
“I’m a cyborg.” She murmurs. “And your enemy.”
“You’re still a person.” A jolt of shock shoots through her. “You still feel emotions, and pain, so hurting you is just as bad as hurting anyone. And I don’t want to be your enemy. I want to help you.”
Melissa can’t help but lift her lowered head to stare at him. He looks genuine, so genuine. Kindness shines out of him, kindness that she is never shown. That he is showing her. He looks into her eyes, when she is used to people looking down on her. Expecting her to lower her head when they talk, or stare past them while they ignore her because she is just an object, part of the scenery.
“My name was Melissa.” She blurts out. “Is Melissa.”
He smiles. “Nice to meet you, Melissa.” His eyes look like suns are shining in them. She is drawn to him, drawn to believe him. This feels unbelievable, too good to be true… but god, does she want to believe it. Even if she is still a weapon, being a weapon for someone who sees her as still deserving of basic decency sounds like heaven after years of torment.
“You’re not hurt, right?” Zack asks. “They said that it wouldn’t hurt you, just temporarily disable.” He really looks like he cares about that. She nods, her head spinning. They went out of their way to not hurt her while capturing her, they are concerned about her well-being. How kind are these people?
Milo comes closer, and she tenses. When he reaches out, she flinches. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He promises. “I just want to untie you.”
She nods, surprised. They aren’t treating her like something dangerous, inhuman, like a deadly weapon that could hurt them. Something that needs to be trapped and controlled to be safe. The ropes are removed, and she wraps her arms around herself.
“You could come out to meet everyone else now,” Milo says, “but I’m guessing that you’d rather stay in here and rest for a while.” She nods. This is overwhelming enough. Meeting more new people? People who treat her like this? Or maybe even people who don’t. There’s no way that everyone here can be as weirdly kind as Milo and Zack are. And then another thought hits her.
“They can watch through my eye.” She blurts out. She doesn’t want them to destroy it, but she would rather that than let the people who are being kind to her get caught and captured or killed because of her.
“Oh.” Zack says. “Our friends can fix that, don’t worry. They’re really good at this kind of stuff. They’ll be able to stop them from seeing what you can see without damaging the eye.”
Another surprise, in a day full of them. She murmurs a thank you, lowering her head. “It’s cool, dude.” Zack says. “You hungry? You do eat, right?”
“I eat.” She confirms. “And I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Her stomach growls loudly. Her face heats. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologising for?” Zack frowns. She winces, expecting retribution for annoying him. What she doesn’t expect is for him to walk for the door. “I’ll get food, and I’ll find them to fix your eye.”
“Go tell the boss about her too.” Milo requests. Zack nods, leaving and shutting the door behind him. She’s pretty sure that he doesn’t lock it.
“Are you not the boss?” She asks, uncertain if she can ask questions. He doesn’t seem to mind. He sits down on the bed next to her. She resists the urge to move away, and once again he doesn’t hurt her or do anything aside from sitting there. So she relaxes, fractionally.
“Nah. We’re part of a whole group, the two of us are actually the most recent members.” Milo explains. “But don’t worry, everyone’s really nice. You’ll like them, and they’ll like you.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, then adds. “Can I put my hand on your shoulder? It’s fine if you don’t want me to.”
“Whatever you want.” Is her automatic response. Then she thinks about it, really thinks about it. It doesn’t seem like he will get upset if she refuses. And that is what drives her to accept. “But, yeah.”
He reaches out slowly, so slowly. So she can watch him do it, so she can change her mind if she wants. But while she can’t help but flinch, she doesn’t change her mind. He touches her shoulder, and it feels… odd.
It’s not like she never gets touched. But she never gets touched like this. Not gently, not carefully. It feels weird, but nice, and she finds herself leaning fractionally closer to him. “I’m really glad that you’re agreeing to stay. Verliezer is really awful.”
“He is.” She wants to clap her hands over her mouth. She is so used to holding her tongue, she now tenses for serious retribution. Even when Brick and Savannah complained about their boss, any sense of agreement from her would be met with swift punishment. But Milo just laughs. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?” He says. “I’m sorry that all of that happened to you.”
“You didn’t do it.”
“I still feel bad.” Milo says. “Because it’s terrible that they did it to you.”
“I’m sorry for trying to kill you.” Melissa replies, feeling that she ought to match his apology with one of her own. Especially since she actually has something to apologise for.
“They forced you to.” Milo points out, squeezing her shoulder. He is so gentle, so compassionate. She is almost unbalanced by that foreign gentleness. “They hurt you.”
“I’m still sorry.” She looks away, lowering her head. “I hated it, but I still did it.” Why is he being so kind to her, after everything she has done? Does he not understand, does he not know? Why doesn’t he want to punish her, get his revenge? Maybe he is just waiting until she is settled, her guard down. He doesn’t have to worry about her trying to run, she knows that she would deserve the revenge. And it would still be better than V-Tech.
Another squeeze. “I’m sorry, that’s horrible. They’re horrible.”
And then he lets go, and her shoulder feels cold. “I’m gonna help you. You’ll never have to fight again if you don’t want to, I promise.”
“What use is a weapon that doesn’t fight?” Melissa asks dryly. That just makes him look sad. She keeps doing that, when she doesn’t intend to.
“You don’t have to be useful.” Milo says. “And you’re not a weapon.”
She doesn’t believe him. Not really. But it’s still a kind thing to say.