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Melissa is huddled in the corner of her cell. She is used to the cold, used to the hard floor. Her arms- one metal, one flesh- are wrapped around her. Her metal foot is tucked underneath her. Her new eye is taking a while to get used to- the blue that covers half of her vision can be disorienting, as is the information it shows her.
When her handlers step into range, the screen shows her where to aim. Where to shoot. She wishes that she could, wishes it with burning rage that comes with fear.
She has no way of following that wish. When they step inside, all she can do is lower her head and wait for them to speak. Every inch of her burns with anger, humiliation, fear, but she has been forced to learn how to not show that.
“Cyborg.” Savannah’s cold voice grates. “Verliezer has a mission for you.”
Melissa’s stomach churns. More people to murder, probably. Gun down in cold blood, for no reason other than the man she hates most orders it. Or capture, drag off to a cell like hers. So they can be tortured. The hatred that burns inside her is for herself as much as it is for her captors.
“Yes, ma’am.” The words are polite, but they have to be dragged up. Showing any respect for these monsters rubs. She has to do it, to keep herself from being hurt any more. But she hates it. She stands up. She walks behind them, following at a quick march. Her head lowered.
Once they leave the cells, as they walk through the storage area, they occasionally pass other people. V-Tech employees. They always stare at her, with a mixture of fear and revulsion. She doesn’t react, doesn’t even look at them. She keeps her head down, acting every inch the weapon they want her to be.
They leave the storage area, march through the corridors. Finally, they reach the meeting room. Verliezer is already inside, and he nods in greeting at her handlers. To her, he gives only a cold look.
Her handlers sit down. She is expected to stand, she knows that without being told. She takes her spot by the door, stands as still and straight as possible.
“It’s a watch mission, I suppose you could call it that.” Verliezer explains. “I simply need her to stand guard. Be ready to fight, of course, but a fight isn’t expected. I am going to be in this building, holding a conference, for several hours. I need her her to be on guard the whole time.”
Melissa finds herself relieved. For once, she may not have to kill anyone. All she has to do is stand still and watch. She can do that, she does that almost every day.
“A reminder.” His cold eyes turn back to her. She winces. As much as being treated as an object, a part of the background, feels horrible, Verliezer paying attention to her is never good. “You will stand still the entire time. You will not move a muscle, unless you are required to respond to an active threat. If you find standing still for that long painful, just imagine how painful it will be if you fail me.”
Melissa swallows. “Yes, sir.” She practically spits, her words full of bitterness. Of anger. But she doesn’t let that show, can’t let it show. She has felt the consequences of disobeying, over and over again. So no matter how much hatred burns in her heart, she does her best to keep her blank mask up.
———
She follows Verliezer out of the car. He strolls into the building, nodding and smiling at passing citizens. All of the citizens stare at her. At the V-Cyborg, Verliezer’s weapon. At a girl made of metal, a girl who feels nothing. A girl built to protect, to hurt.
She follows him into the building. Everyone’s IDs are checked when they walk in. Aside from the two of them. Verliezer, of course, because everyone knows Victor Verliezer. And her, because who would check a weapon’s ID? Bitter amusement rises in her and she shoves it down. She can’t show it, can’t react.
Up the stairs, and to a conference room. It looks nice. She takes her position outside. Puts her arms behind her back, stares straight ahead. Verliezer completely ignores her as he walks into the room and shuts it with a slam.
12:05. She can see it in her eye. Verliezer is five minutes late, because showing respect for anyone else’s time is just impossible for him.
At first, it is alright. She stands still, she watches. Every person who walks past, she knows her eye records. Savannah and Brick can see, are probably watching the footage right now. But none of them are threats, although most do a double take when they see her.
And some just let their eyes pass over her, like she is simply a part of the wall. A glorified security camera, she thinks bitterly. And Verliezer has enough security cameras, enough surveillance.
12:35. Half an hour. She has stood still for much longer, on other missions. Even during meetings between her handlers and Verliezer. She doesn’t move a muscle, keeps her expression blank. Neutral.
13:05. One hour. Still ok. Her legs begin to ache, sure. But she has had worse.
14:05. Two hours. She desperately wants to move. Even just to shift her feet around, to relieve it a little. She doesn’t do that. She isn’t that stupid.
15:05. Three hours. It really, really hurts. Not just her legs, but her arm. Her neck. It all burns, aches and screams. She lifts one foot, then puts it down and lifts the other. Even the tiny amount of relief feels like hours of rest to her aching legs.
Her earpiece buzzes to life. “Cyborg. No moving.” Brick’s voice is cold. A shock of electricity floods through her when she hears that. They’ll hurt her for this, later. That tiny amount of relief will be followed by hours of pain. Days, depending on what they decide to do.
She has plenty of time to think about her regret.
16:05. Five minutes after the conference was scheduled to end. Of course, they started late, so finishing late isn’t surprising. But she is absolutely desperate for it to end.
17:05. Over an hour late. This isn’t fair. It’s not fair. She is in agony, in so much pain that she is practically going numb to it. And Verliezer is late.
Tears threaten to burst out of her eyes. She pushes them down, pushes everything down. She needs to stay blank, to stay neutral.
“Excuse me, miss?” Someone is addressing her. An older woman, in a professional looking suit and tie. “Are you alright?”
She failed to hide her emotions. Someone saw. She can imagine the tutting from her handlers. Can imagine the retribution later. “Thank you, citizen.” She keeps her voice as neutral as possible. It still shakes. “But I am well. Have a nice day.”
“Are you sure? You look terrible, and you’re standing in the same place you were standing when I came past in the early afternoon. Would you like to sit down for a moment? I’m sure that your boss wouldn’t mind. Better than you collapsing.” The woman is motherly, comforting. It is all Melissa can do to not follow her advice, sit down immediately. Give into her desire for comfort. Beg the woman for help.
But she can’t do that.
“I assure you, citizen, that is not required.” She should be robotic, no one should care for her. “I do not require rests like a human does. Thank you for your concern. Have a nice day.” Internally, she begs her. Leave. Leave me alone. Stop making it harder.
The woman does leave, with an uncertain smile as she goes. Melissa barely hears the telling off in her ear, stares at the wall again.
17:30. The door slams open, and Verliezer walks out. Melissa suppresses her flinch. He says goodbye to the others, then beckons sharply for her to follow as he marches down the corridor. Finally, she moves.
Her legs cry out in pain. She stumbles and tips forward, her head spinning. She crumples on the floor.
Verliezer turns to look at her. Anger flashes in his eyes, cold and cruel. Fear floods through her as she scrambles to stand on her burning legs, readjust her expression to neutral. Too late to save herself.
“Sorry, she is still a prototype.” Verliezer rests a hand on her head. He digs his hand slightly into her flesh. A warning, a reminder. She swallows down her vomit. “Once all the required improvements have been made, there won’t be any more accidents like that.”
Another sharp beckon. She follows, head bowed. She tries not to stagger, but she can’t help it. She can’t, what does he expect? He left her standing stock still for hours! It’s like he wanted her to fail.
He probably did want her to fail.
When she sits down in the car, there are tears burning in her eyes. She can’t stop them. Verliezer speaks, finally. “I will be speaking to your handlers about your performance.” He says. “But considering the pathetic display I just saw, I’m sure it will be poor.”
He turns his head to glare at her. “I am extremely displeased, cyborg. You just had to stand still for a few hours, and you couldn’t manage it. What use is a weapon that I can’t leave on guard?”
“Sir.” Her voice shakes. She hates it. She hates being so frightened, so meek. No matter how much she hates him, she never risks expressing it out loud anymore. “I just- my legs, I…”
“Did I give you permission to speak?”
She shuts up immediately.
“Your legs.” He looks closely at them. She is sure that they must be swelling. Her one none metal foot is surely swelling. “Well, weak legs can be fixed.” She doesn’t like the look in his eyes. “But a weak mind? Weak willpower? That can only be fixed through training. I know you’re not docile, cyborg. You’re more like a caged tiger. That’s no use to me, any more than your weakness. I can see through your act.”
She shudders.