What was visible of the Desperado Captain's face was twisted into a scowl. Monsoon did his own fair share of pranks, but upon hiring Minuano came the fact that the Brazilian Samurai did as well.

How annoying.

He knew that Sam were on the premises, but he had paid no attention to him when he entered the employee lounge. It weren't until that foreboding'click' he heard behind him that the small artificial heart in his upper most section felt as though it had dropped.

Even the Cambodian had to half-scream when his head hit the floor—visor snapping shut as a defense mechanism. Even if Sam had not found that spare polarity device of the Secretary's design, his head striking the ground would have caused his body to shatter regardless. Anything that jarred the Lorentz force generator in his visor would cause enough of a pause in the mechanism to scatter him no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

His head had lulled across the floor and all he saw, after that, was hands grabbing his dismembered head. Long, serpentine optics twitched under his visor as he caught sight of the perpetrator.

Monsoon's visor unclasped to half-mast again as he laid an earful into the newest 'unofficial' Wind—the aggravation in his tone evident. Sam appeared not to have a single fuck to give over any of this which only caused the other cyborg to groan in a deeper frustration. This was one of the most heinous things anyone could do to the Captain, and Sam knew it.

The fact that his hands were this close to his face didn't put him anymore at ease either—the Cambodian hated people close to his face for reasons other than the generator in his helmet. These reasons ran deep and lead all the way back to the very reasons he'd been cyberized.

The only reason he let his Secretary get away with anything of what was discussed was because he trusted her—Minuano he didn't yet. To him, currently, he were just another highly skilled operative that he occasionally shared missions with. Sam had a debt just like himself and that was, typically, all Monsoon needed to know. He kept to himself most of the time these days and just did what he were supposed to. At least that way he could remain off of Armstrong's radar and be left alone—no unneeded attention, no unnecessary work.

Sam's face were straightened in a poker face and suddenly he released him. The Cambodian's face twisted and he half-expected to fall to the ground, but instead he were frozen in place. The realization came to him that he were stuck on the refrigerator. This unleashed a fresh wave of angry words that twisted back and forth from English to Khmer. His brow furrowed under his visor around his optics and the icing on the cake was watching him pick up chunks of his body and further decorate the fridge with it.

He were so mad right now he could feel the heat rising in the visible range of his cheeks—typically pale face livid in color.

If he could move right now he'd of probably thrown Sam through a wall. He hated this so much.

By the end of it, Sam had turned to take his leave and, as mad as he were, being called 'snail man' were just sprinkles to this little fucked up cake the Samurai had just fed him.

Monsoon continued laying into him—threatening him with everything he could think of and, as he heard the elevator called, switched to uttering low malice-filled curses on the man's name—this alone said quite a bit for just how angry the, normally soft-spoken, cyborg were.

When he knew for sure that he were no longer on the floor the Captain sulked. Aside from the sheer humiliation he felt right now, what bothered him more were being useless. He couldn't stand not being able to move around more than anything in the world.

All of this stemmed back to the days where he'd felt powerless to save his parents from being mercilessly killed before him and had only deepened when he'd been betrayed in the syndicate—laying in that hospital bed wrapped up in bandages immobile and blind.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but it scared the shit out of him too. He thumped his brain casing against the back of the refrigerator in protest. It was a simple attempt to keep such pervasive thoughts quelled as a sigh escaped him.

None of the men came on the officer's floor, thankfully. He'd never be able to live that down if even one of them saw him 'trapped' like this.

Mistral were out on an escort mission, Sundowner in the thick of some overly bloody combat mission, and then the perpetrator had made it apparent that he weren't planning to help him anytime soon with his exit off the floor entirely.

He really had only one option and he didn't want to bother her, but being stuck like this was bothering him something bad. Opening his CODEC he dialed the listed frequency and a soft groan came from the other side.

"Sir…?" a sleepy voice came.

"I'm sorry to have woken you," his tones painting the picture of embarrassment, "I know you stayed up late on paper work again last night, but I need your help. You know I wouldn't have…"

"Sir, its fine…" she mumbled cutting him off.

He could already hear sleepy shuffling—probably to make herself decent.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"In the kitchen. Please bring your polarity device…"

"…yes sir…?"

—

The secretary were a bit puzzled by his request, but she grabbed her tablet regardless. She had retired her other device (the one that Sam had now gotten his hands on) with her drawing tablet. She'd engineered an app that ran just like. Not even the captain could get to it since said tablet it were installed on—even her phone were password locked.

The app made use of the magnetic grid in their screens that made them 'touch' devices and, as long as she were close to him, they could be used to reverse the polarity on his body or even return it.

She knew how much he hated when she did it which lead to her puzzlement over such an odd request.

—

Entering the lounge her eyes widened as she resisted every urge within to start laughing. As cruel as she were with the little device she'd made, she'd of never of done something quite this mean.

His lower lip were poked out and she found that look to be quite endearing—his pride were clearly wounded as she smirked a bit.

"How on Earth did you—" she started.

"Just repolarize me…please…" he said with a tired tone—one that made her straighten a bit as she closed the space between them. It were clear he weren't in the mood for her to poke fun so she wouldn't.

She was careful not to disturb the remaining body pieces that weren't haphazardly stuck the the fridge as she peeled his head section off it to, at least, help him feel a bit more dignified.

Walking past the parts again she sat him on the small dining table as she took a seat and unclasped the leather bindings that protected her tablet. Unlocking it, where he couldn't see the password obviously, she opened up the polarity app and leaned it closer to him as she touched a button. Nothing visibly occurred but she gave a thumbs up.

"Don't move," he mumbled as pale purple engulfed his limbs—generator active as he pulled himself back together. Standing at his six-and-a-half- foot plus height again he rolled CNT musculature before his arms fell to his sides.

A foul scowl were still stretched across his face but with the Secretary's assistance he let it drop—deciding to simply be happy he were back in one piece again.

The secretary had taken to rubbing her eyes and said nothing. She knew Sam were here for maintenance with the reports that she'd filled out and nobody else would be stupid enough, of his men, to do this.

She would have to have a discussion with the Brazilian swordsman over the return of her polarity device though.

"Thank you for leaving your sleep to help me."

The southern woman had locked her tablet back and flipped the case it were in closed again as she raised her head giving her own small smile, "Hey, don't worry about it. You know if you need something I'll come. Sort of my job anyway."

If he had eyes she knew he'd of shot her a look—one that were half-present with the twist of his lips but she ignored it and shot him a playful one in return as she slid out of the chair she were in. She knew that look were something more than just dissipating aggravation.

Stretching she prepared to leave back to her room to finish counting sheep after the all nighter when the Captain's voice called to her.

"While you're up, can I offer to make you some breakfast?"

She paused in step and shook her head, "That's okay, sir, I'm gonna head back to sleep, but I really appreciate the gesture."

She knew it weren't often that he extended something like that out, however, she had more than one reason to decline her Captain's offer—primarily because she knew in that body he couldn't join her. She found it to be very rude and unnecessary torment for a man who had told her thoroughly enjoyed eating before certain incidents had taken place.

With that, the woman slid back down the hallway to her assigned room, "Have a good morning sir."

"Thank you, as do you with your sleep."