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Melissa wakes up and can immediately tell that it isn’t going to be a good day.
Her nose is blocked, and it feels like her head has been stuffed full of tissue paper. Worst of all, her throat burns like she swallowed fire. She reaches up to rub her eye, which doesn’t help. Not when her hand is metal. It just hurts.
She sits up, rubbing her head and sniffling. She can’t believe this. A cyborg with a cold? She’s half metal, not even human anymore. And she’s got a cold. This is entirely unfair.
Even though her body aches, she staggers to her feet and over to the sink. She leans against it as she gulps down cool water to ease her burning throat. It doesn’t ease much, but it eases a little. And then she huddles on her bed with her paper thin blankets, and prays that Verliezer doesn’t need her today.
Well, if a god is listening then they clearly hate her.
“Cyborg.” Savannah, unlocking her cell. She looks up, trying to look blank and professional and not like the sick mess she feels like. Her eyes itch. “Be sharp. The presentation is in a few hours, and this one is more important than normal.”
Shit. She forgot about that presentation. Where she needs to be on her best behaviour, needs to be the perfect weapon. And sickness is human.
She staggers to her feet, and opens her mouth. She tries to speak. But it comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Handlers, I’m not well.”
Savannah has to strain to hear her. “You’re sick? Oh, shit.” She rubs her face. “You’re not in a state to go on stage. Verliezer’s just going to have to do without you.”
“That isn’t going to happen.” Brick folds his arms. “He’s been going on and on about this presentation for weeks, some important people are going to be there. The cyborg needs to go on.”
“I’ll contact him. He is going to be so annoyed at us.” Savannah sighs, swiping on the slick band on her wrist. “Like I can do anything about the cyborg getting sick.” Melissa notices, not for the first time, that Brick and Savannah don’t seem to like Verliezer much.
A hologram pops out of her watch, and now Verliezer is in the room. “This better be good, I have things to do!”
“There has been a hiccup, sir.” Savannah now sounds polite and professional, no signs of her snarkiness. “The cyborg is ill.”
“Ill?” He sounds annoyed. Melissa flinches.
“Yes. She looks absolutely terrible, and she has lost her voice. She just isn’t in a fit state to go on stage today.” Brick chimes in.
“Let me see.” Savannah turns her wrist so Verliezer can see his cyborg. She flinches, straightening her back and putting her hands by her sides. Trying to look how she knows he wants her to. But her nose is running, and she feels both too hot and very shivery. “Well, she had better just put up with it.”
“Sir-“
“No excuses!” Verliezer thunders. “Cyborgs don’t get sick days. Cyborg, you will be ready to go on stage, or a little cold is going to be the least of your worries.” Before Savannah can try to argue again, the hologram vanishes.
Savannah groans. “Right. Let’s see what we can do.”
———
Melissa stands backstage. She has been stuffed with every medicine under the sun. Medicine to dull the pain, to soothe her throat, to clear her nose. Her handlers shoved her in front of the makeup team, who caked her face with makeup to make her look less exhausted and ill.
She still feels awful. But she prays that she can get through it.
She hasn’t tried to speak. Her throat feels less sore, so she hopes that she will be able to. She doesn’t irritate it by speaking, hoping that she might be able to speak enough to get through it. She has a microphone. She should be fine. She has to be.
Verliezer bustles over. He grabs her chin and tilts it up so he can look closely. She tenses, but keeps still and keeps her face blank. “You’ll be on stage and far away from the audience, so this should be fine. Don’t-“ His fingers dig into the fleshy half of her face. It hurts, but she doesn’t pull away. “-screw this up for me.”
He releases her and marches away.
After a few minutes, she hears her cue and walks out. The lights shine in her already aching eyes, irritating them further. She swallows back a sniffle, resists the urge to wipe her nose. She takes her place and waits.
Verliezer boasts about her. God, she hates this. She hates all of the eyes on her, pinning her to the stage with their revulsion and fascination. She hates being what she is. She hates what Verliezer made her into.
But today she is having trouble focusing on anything other than her clogged head. On her itchy eyes. Her runny nose. Her sore throat.
“Say hello, V-Cyborg.” Verliezer says, like a showman. Her cue.
She opens her mouth. She tries to speak, she tries to fight past the pain as much as she can. The words, nearly yelled in her desperation, scrape her throat up on the way out. But when they come out?
Hardly a whisper.
The microphone picks it up, and the entire crowd can hear it. But it is quiet. Clearly pained. Clearly not right.
Whispers flutter around the crowd like midges. Melissa stands, stock still, a shiver rattling through her. She risks a glance in Verliezer’s direction, and sees the fury in his eyes. Fury directed at her.
“It looks like the V-Cyborg is a little under the weather today. Apologies! She’ll be right we rain soon enough. Now, I-“ He continues. And she has to stand through the entire presentation, waiting in fear for the painful punishment she knows is coming.
At the very end, Verliezer waves to the cheering crowd (who seem to have forgotten about Melissa’s earlier struggles) and walks off. Melissa follows, practically shaking. She can feel the fury radiating off of Verliezer.
As soon as they are backstage, away from the prying eyes of the public, Verliezer turns and strikes her. She winces, taking the hit. He isn’t that strong, and she has been in a lot of fights since she was taken. But it still stings, and now her cotton-stuffed head is reeling.
Brick and Savannah approach. They immediately note the fury in Verliezer’s voice, and make the sensible decision not to say anything.
“You had one job. One job. And yet you still screwed it up.” She doesn’t fight, or even try to avoid it, when he throws her to the ground. “You’re a worthless piece of scrap metal. You’re lucky I don’t take you apart and dump you like the trash you are.”
He breathes heavily, fury flowing through him as he glares down at her. She curls up on the floor, protecting herself in the tiny ways that she can. “But I don’t have time to deal with you, so your handlers can do that. I need to go salvage that disaster.” He kicks at her once, before storming off. He aims for her flesh, avoiding the metal which won’t hurt as much.
Brick and Savannah sigh. Melissa doesn’t bother uncurling. Yeah, they’re much more reasonable. They never wanted her to go out there sick, and they tried to stop it. But they always do whatever Verliezer says. So it doesn’t really matter. It hurts just the same.
She sees them remove their tasers from their belts. She flinches, bowing her head and pressing it into her chest as much as possible.
———
Melissa huddles in her cell, blanket wrapped around her. And in the end, Verliezer was right. She is covered in throbbing bruises, and her muscles ache from being tased over and over. Her throat is even hoarser than before. She feels so much worse than just sick.