Chapter 1: Old Memories
''Darn thing...''
In a lone room, the RED'S (Reliable Excavation Demolition) Engineer was sitting on his work table. As a right-handed, it was difficult for him to repair the dominant prosthetic with its left counterpart.
The mechanical limb was getting old, some parts were rusting. It was a bad idea to not change them, but most were important to keep the metal hand running. If he removed them, it would take time to find a replacement and he needs the hand for the matches.
Although, it was a pain to keep it up. It's a memento of his genius. The first prototypes of his inventions were dangerous. He recalled try #4 and #6, wires were arranged in the wrong orders caused an explosion. He had to go to surgery to get the pieces out of his stomach and chest. He smirked, how dumb was he at such an innocent age. Sentry #12 was the worst, that model literally crushed his right hand like a can in a contractor. Bloody thing, just got up so fast his fingers got stuck when he looked away for a second.
And yes, it did hurt. More than he would admit it did. On a brighter side, he did had to learn bio-engineering to get that limb going and moving like a normal hand. A clumsy, can't-do-complex-holding, but still average hand. In less than 2 weeks! What genius he was and is.
Now, he just has to not break the sensible machine and he should be fine. The wiring is done. He sighed in relief and gave it a try. He fit the large yellow glove over and perform some tests to see if he still needs to do adjustments.
Grab that wrench, check. Grab that beer and take a good drink, refreshing. Take that pen.
…
Nope, the joints can't close further than that. At least he can grab the wrench and beer, those were the most important. He can work on the hand later tomorrow, after a match of capture the control point. If he can make a little safe haven for his designs, RED can win this easily. It has been a few matches were they lost this week, losing meant no payment and no payment made the team determinate to win. In hopes, it goes well this time.
He checked the time on one of those electrical alarm clock he made with scraps he gathered around the battlefields. It was close to midnight, he better get some shut eyes before Soldier decides to wake him up with gentleness of a crashing whale.
After a satisfying shower, he went straight to bed. As he made himself comfortable he couldn't help, but feel the prosthetic to be once again made out of bones and flesh. When he took a glance, it was still in full metal.
He only looked away, closed the light and started to count sheep's.