A/N: So there are a lot of evil cyborgs in SWTOR. The game seems to operate under the assumption that Cybernetics Eat Your Soul, save for a very few exceptions—most of whom seem to be of the unobtrusive implant variety, not the prosthetic limbs/massive bodily reconstruction variety. Plus, well, there's a lot of implied anti-cyborg prejudice, particularly in the Republic. My (mostly-machine) Bounty Hunter disapproves.

Affront to Nature

o.O.o

"This is garbage," Crayce mutters, tossing the datapad aside and attacking the casserole with a fork brandished like a deadly weapon.

Mako sniffs. "Well, excuse me for not being the galaxy's best maker of comfort food—"

"Not the casserole. Casserole's fine. Great, actually." She stuffs another bite into her mouth, then jabs the tines of the fork at the datapad. "This? This's shit."

Mako cranes her neck to peer at the screen. Her eyes narrow. "Seriously?"

"Is it the organic ignoramus contingent again?" Kiall says from behind the galley counter.

"Uh-huh," says Crayce. "Something something cyborgs are scary and cybernetics eat your soul, blah blah blah, what is a kolto allergy, what is catastrophic rejection, what is not having access to cloning tech, what is being poor, how can we make your life more difficult today? I mean. It's fiction, but still. Ugh."

Kiall moves around to the other side of the counter, plate in one hand, fork in the other, and perches on the edge. "Charming."

"So which is it? Are we monstrosities built for warfare? Or are we pathetic wrecked souls living a sad half-life?" Mako says in scathing tones.

"Oh, to be able to see with human eyes again!" Kiall wails, gesturing wildly, putting his food in imminent danger of flying off the platter. "Eyes which required laser surgery to function properly in the first place, but, well, eyes."

Crayce bares her teeth. "I used to see people. Now . . . I see targets."

"I—I never knew the purity of humanity," sobs Mako. "For as long as I remember, I've been a wretched creature, neither machine nor organic, never belonging—oh, the horror!"

"The anguish!" blubbers Kiall.

"KNEEL BEFORE ME, MEATBAGS!" roars Crayce.

A long silence follows. Then Mako shrugs and gets up for seconds. "Well, that was fun. Can we get back to fantasizing about killing Tarro Blood?"

"Oh, yes, let's," Kiall says.

Crayce smiles benevolently and returns to her dinner.

o.O.o

end