Repaired Flesh and Binding Steel

Connor opened his eyes to see a ceiling crisscrossed by wooden beams.

He blinked, the cushy sight taking him a moment to process. The last thing he remembered before his fight with Silas was saving the two women in the hallway. Then the cracked concrete and tile below him. Going from such a utilitarian space to a plush one almost caused him to jump. Yet he maintained his breathing, glancing to the side. 

There was the blonde girl, staring down at him. 

Connor clamped his lips closed to keep from crying out. The woman didn't move, green eyes boring holes into the scrapper's face. Before he had a chance to say anything, she had cleared her throat. Nothing happened for a beat. Connor was about to speak when the girl finally opened her mouth.

“He’s awake,” she said quietly.

“What’d you say, Muse?” came a hoarse response.

“He’s awake,” Muse said a bit louder.

A chair creaked. From behind the woman named Muse strolled a middle-aged man. Black curly hair was held in order by a faded baseball cap. He wore a grease stained polo shirt, cigarette pack jutting from his breast pocket. A yellow smile formed under his thick mustache.

“You’re alive?” the man shouted. “Thought you’d never wake up!”

Muse turned to leave. Connor watched her go, noticing her gait. Most likely a mechleg. The scrapper tried to raise himself. The mechanic rushed in to stop him.

“Easy, kid,” he warned. “That good arm of yours is fine. It’s the other one that gave us a mountain of trouble.”

Connor was about to ask what he meant, when he felt it. 

His left arm seemed heavy. 

The scrapper couldn't suppress a grin. Raising his seemingly repaired mecharm revealed a sight for sore eyes. Yet this new model was vastly different. The original was extremely basic. Nothing more than a few rods and servos held in a thin metal tube. Connor even had to swap out the hand portion for one with a chronometer. 

The scrapper’s new arm blew the old one out of the water. It was covered in wires and protrusions, thicker and sturdier than before. His shoulder even had a small plate coming off it, sort of like armor. Connor flexed it a few times, getting reacquainted with it. It felt strange, as if he was wearing a compress. Then the scrapper's eye fell upon a rotating switch at the base of his wrist. A lightning bolt was carved out of the center.

The scrapper instinctively reached for it with his good arm.

“Ah, don’t do that!” the mechanic cried.

He grabbed Connor’s right hand. The scrapper jumped, not expecting the reaction. He looked to the mechanic, who stared back. Slowly, he released his grip. Connor laid both arms on his blanketed legs. The mechanic popped a cigarette from the pack and put it to his lips. Before he lit it, he glanced back at Connor. The scrapper nodded.

“That there is somethin' I never could have come up with on my own,” the man said around the cigarette. “Armor like that takes a special sort of design. Lucky you we had Muse and Sara both to advise me on what to do.”

"So what is it?" Connor asked.

"Armor, plain and simple. Your new arm, and all its newfangled abilities, now belongs to you. That metal on it binds whatever's inside of you. You let it loose with that switch on your wrist. So don't be touchin' it without permission."

The mechanic withdrew a small lighter and lit up. He drew in deep and breathed out with a sigh. Connor wrinkled his nose but said nothing. Wasn’t the worst thing he had ever smelled. Better than the gunk in Landlord’s nasty habits. Before the scrapper could actually process what the man had just said, a pounding broke on the staircase broke.

The door bounced off the wall as two newcomers burst in.

The mechanic immediately scolded the one in the lead for the damage. Connor was surprised he didn’t hear more than the man’s footsteps. The guy had to have been wearing at least 5 pounds of chains and trinkets on his leather jacket. Connor knew the type. Somebody who thought the peak of music was pounding drums and thrashing guitars. The guy even came with a patterned bandana, old ripped jeans, and combat boots. 

Behind the guy came the black woman. Connor had a vague memory of her, mostly Silas’ callous thoughts. Instead of her parka, she was now wearing a tie-died cutoff. Leather pants and boots showed a bit of the guy’s style rubbing off. Their eyes had locked as she stepped into the room. Somehow, her violet eyes glowed a tad bit. Connor could feel some sort of connection to her.

Before he could say anything, the blonde with the mechleg stepped through the door.

Connor remembered the mechanic calling her Muse. She strode in without a care in the world, taking in the scene coldly. A light jacket was zipped up to her neck, black pants and flats on her feet. Connor watched her green eyes swing over the crowd. When they finally reached him, he was once again surprised by the deadness of them. Like looking into a green pit. The woman was about to speak when the guy piped up.

“So, dude, you’re the one who rescued the babes,” he shot out, crossing his arms.

Connor had to fight not to roll his eyes. Instead, he simply nodded. The guy grinned and threw up devil horns. Connor almost lost the battle then and there.

“Righteous!” the guy exclaimed. “I’m sure you’re out of it right now, but you can call me Smith. This lovely senorita is Sara, and the quiet one is Muse. Much obliged you rescued them from old boy’s tower.”

Smith punctuated Sara’s name with a slap on her shoulder. The women huffed and smacked him back.

“Smith, it wasn’t just him!” she cried. “There’s something inside of him. Like me.”

“Yes, you’re also a host for a Pinnacle,” Muse said quietly. "But which one, we have no idea."

“What’d you say he can do?” the mechanic said around his vice. “Shoot lasers or somethin’? That arm of his took so long to make, he better do something fantastic.”

Quick as a flash, Sara snatched the cigarette out of his mouth. The man protested as she ground it out on the hardwood floor. Smith smirked as Sara pointed directly into the mechanic’s face.

“What have I told you about smoking!” she cried. “That stuff kills you faster than you know! And we’re already on the chopping block!”

“Oh come on darlin', let me live a little! Besides, this is my clinic. Doctor’s orders stand.”

“Dude, this is the top of the shop,” Smith said while knocking on the wall. “And you’re as much of a doctor as Muse is a talker.”

Connor watched the trio get into it over some inside cause. Muse was the only one watching him. The scrapper could tell she wanted to say something to him. Instead, she turned to intervene in the fight. Connor looked down to his new appendage. The mechanic had mentioned it was the trigger for his new abilities. And he didn't want him touching it without permission. The scrapper had always been one to keep his head down. Look where that got him. Might as well go out with a bang.

Let's see what this baby can do, Connor thought to himself. 

The scrapper cranked the valve on his wrist to full release. The circle swiveled, the lightning bolt glowing brighter and brighter. Just like in the hallway, his arm crisscrossed with overflowing power. The iron mask formed on his face, Connor's eyes now red as rubies. A deep humming sound could be heard as the energy inside of him began to pour out in droves.

 Connor felt as if a wave of tar had swallowed him whole. He could feel his mind start giving way. Silas was unleashed from his newfound prison. Giddy at the liberation, he began cackling. Everybody in the room except for Muse and the mechanic panicked. Both rushed to close the valve. Muse was first, slamming the gateway closed. Silas gagged and found himself drawn back into the mecharm.

All at once Connor’s powers had evaporated. He sat on the bed, panting and sweaty. Sara sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, then slapped Connor on the face. The scrapper’s head swung to the side. He began rubbing his tender cheek.

“Now why would you do that?!” the woman yelled.

“I just wanted to try it,” Connor grinned. “See what it was firsthand.”

“You’re an idiot, dude,” Smith piped up.

Connor’s smirk was still plastered on his face as the final member climbed the stairs after his team.