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Melissa wakes up the morning after being kidnapped. She is curled up in her bed, which is so warm and soft that she doesn’t really want to move. It is a far cry from a hard slab of concrete, from a thin mattress.
Her cell here is nicer. There are no bars, just a solid door. She expects to be watched- there must be cameras, and those mechanics (Phineas and Ferb, if she is expected to address people by name she needs to remember all the names) probably changed her eye camera so they could watch the footage, rather than v-tech. But it gives much more of an illusion of privacy, which feels nice.
She makes the bed, somewhat clumsily with only one hand. And she doesn’t really remember how to do it. And then she sits on it, and she waits. She knows from her eye that it is 8:30. She will probably receive orders soon.
Melissa jumps. Someone tapped on the door to her cell. She stares it, unsure of what to do. After a few moments of silence, she hears a voice. “Can I come in?”
Was the knocking asking for permission? But why? She is in their base, she is their weapon. They don’t have to ask her for permission to do anything. But it must make them more comfortable to knock, and she knows that it is her responsibility to do what they say. “Yes.”
The door swings open. Milo pokes his head in, a bright smile decorating his face, as per usual. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She repeats. Does he want her on a mission already?
“How are you feeling?” Milo asks. He lingers in the doorway, leaving it wide open. An avenue for escape, if she wanted that. She doesn’t, but it seems foolish of him to give her the chance.
“Fine, si- Milo.” She corrects herself hurriedly, silently cursing at her error. His brown eyes study her, sad even through the brightness. What did she do wrong?
“Do you wanna join us for breakfast, or should I take it to you?” Milo asks. She hesitates. On the one hand, she hasn’t eaten a meal with other people since she was taken. The last time was with her dad, and she has been holding onto that memory tightly for years. Since then, she has eaten alone in her cell.
But will Milo be annoyed that he has to do extra work if she eats alone? She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t like these funny orders that he gives- dressed in polite words, forcing her to guess what he really means. “I can eat here.” She eventually decides.
“Sure.” Milo smiles. “But you’re welcome with us any time. The others want to meet you.”
Yeah, out of morbid fascination. But she doesn’t say that. She just nods.
Milo leaves. He shuts the door behind him, but he doesn’t lock it. He returns a few minutes later, precariously carrying two bowls. But when he shuts the door, it falls off of its hinges. The door hits him, sending one bowl flying.
Melissa jumps up and lunges to catch it. With only one hand, it doesn’t quite work. The bowl smashes into the wall, and cereal splashes everywhere. “Sorry!” She exclaims.
“It’s fine! That’s why I brought two bowls.” Milo reassures her, handing her the other bowl. She balances it carefully on her lap, using the metal stump of one arm to lean it against so she can eat with her hand.
“We’ll have to sort your arm, that looks inconvenient.” Milo says. “You want me to sit with you?”
Supervising her, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything with that spoon. She nods. He sits down on the bed next to her.
His arm brushes against hers. She tenses. And then a screw pops loose.
“Oh!” Milo exclaims, scrabbling to pick it up immediately. “I’m sorry, Murphy’s Law keeps affecting your robotic parts. I get it if you want me to sit further away.”
“It’s fine.” She says. Milo produces a screwdriver from his backpack and puts the screw back in, after gently asking for her permission. The amount of consideration he shows really is astonishing. “So, you mean Extreme Hereditary Murphy’s Law?”
“Yeah, we shorten it for causal conversation.” Milo says. “Basically, anything that can go wrong will. Stuff breaks, buildings fall, things explode… every guy in my family has it.”
“How are you alive?” She blurts out. Then she flinches. “Sorry. Sorry, I.. sorry.” He turns to her and she winces, looking away. Preparing for retribution.
“Preparation!” She looks up in surprise when the only reply is another cheerful exclamation. “I carry a backpack full of useful things with me everywhere, and I’m ready for anything. That’s how I survive Murphy’s Law.”
“Oh.” Melissa’s eyes are drawn to his backpack. She realises now that she has never seen it off of him.
He thinks for a few moments. Then he launches into a story. “Like, this one time me and Zack went to that robot theatre. You know the one?”
She once marched into a play and killed someone sitting in the front row, because he was secretly sabotaging Verliezer. “Yeah.”
“Well, the robots malfunctioned and went all ‘humans are evil’ mode. We fixed that, but they stole my backpack, so we had to chase them all over the place. Ended up using the water guns I had to disable them, then Zack had to use a half broken jetpack to stay in the air over this chaotic mess of wet, sparking robots and v-ball players… yeah, it was legendary.”
Melissa finds herself drawn to listen, no matter how much she tries to stay neutral. “Half broken jetpack?”
“Yeah!” Milo chuckles. “One side of it didn’t work, so he was flying all over the place like…” He waves his hand in the air. “And yelling at me to fix it before it crashed. I mean, he was so cool, managing to stay in the air and keep some control of it. But it was also hilarious, like the time…”
Milo drifts off to another story, then another. He has had such a crazy, busy life. An exciting life. Her stories draw her in more and more, make her forget her position. Forget her place.
“- and that’s when the egg hurtled into them, and we got absolutely covered! We looked like we’d upset a giant chicken.”
Melissa snorts.
The cold panic that shoots through her makes her jump, flinch roughly. She didn’t do that. That is something that she hasn’t done in years, that she had known for years that she can’t do. That she shouldn’t do. Something like her doesn’t laugh.
She squeezes her eyes shut and looks away. “I’m sorry.” She says hurriedly. Maybe he will forgive her mistake just this once if she apologies immediately. Or at least, maybe he will go easy. Maybe it won’t hurt too much.
“What are you apologising for?” Milo still sounds gentle. She waits for the other shoe to drop.
“I laughed. I- I know I shouldn’t, I just- you-“ She stutters. Milo is kind, and funny. She wishes that she was allowed to act like a person around him, instead of a weapon. She thinks that if she had met Milo before she was arrested, she might have been friends with him. Now she can’t be.
“Why are you apologising for laughing?” The gentleness isn’t gone from his voice, but there is now an edge to it. An edge of anger. She flinches.
“Not supposed to laugh.” Does he really not know that? “Cyborgs don’t laugh.”
He tenses. She flinches again, roughly. But there is no blow, no yelling. His voice is endlessly gentle. “You can laugh here. You can do whatever you want.”
She risks opening her eyes. There is anger in his eyes, but he smiles at her. He doesn’t move closer, he doesn’t insult her. “You’re a person, just like all of us. You don’t have to try and hide that so we won’t hurt you. We’ll never hurt you.”
“I’m not just like you.” Her eyes travel to her metal arm. To the V inscribed in it, inscribed in all of her metal parts. “I’m a cyborg.”
“That doesn’t change that you’re a person, and you deserve to be treated like one.” Milo sounds so vehement that she flinches away. But he still doesn’t hurt her.
Her eyes travel back up to his face. He is smiling. He seems genuine. He really seems to want this, and who is she to question that? So she nods. And she tries smiling, which feels unnatural. Uncomfortable. Milo smiles back anyway.