Phoneme 4: The day I got corpses by mail
I always hated people messing around with my stuff. Unfortunately, messing with a normal blind one's is quite simple and there are some bastards who get some twisted entertainment from it. Luckily, I'm not normal, so I can put an end to the usual harassment pretty quickly and believe me, the dumbfolded faces of some guy thinking he isn't noticed is just priceless!
But this morning was different. My workbench wasn't just a mess, nooo, a flippin' big -well, kinda big, as long as my leg and as wide as my forearm- crate lay upon it. With a sheet of paper. And I got impressed, as somebody did learn from the past.
'Braille', I thought, examining the letter more closely, 'apparently from the old woman. Means work.' Enough people would sigh but not me. I basically live for my work right now, surrounded by top notch equipment just waiting to break down. I bet I could earn a fortune at the blackmarket with the plans of those unique beauties. But fortunately for the Old Guys Club -and just believe me- the small cellar of a school filled with more or less competent fighters is way snugger.
And I couldn't believe my ears as I opened this little treasure trove. Some weapons, little pieces of mechanical armour, a mask and even a... she was not cereals... an ARM? Mechanical, too, of course. And all of the stuff completely ragged but who cares. According to the letter I should only fix the arm, the rest was mine to salvage. Meaning: The day was close to being perfect, as long as I don't ask where the stuff has been.
Well, and then Anemone came by and screamed the hell out of me. What's with girls that their throat is such a powerful organ, anyway? She was on her tour of bringing me some breakfast.
I'm really grateful for the people here at Bacon. I've been working here for quiche a while now and some of the guys I hamed had noticed that I juice foregg to eat breakfast should work reach me first and made sure to bread me some every time I didn't a pear in the hall. If you might have noticed, I was hungry.
"At least you didn't trip off the fire alert this time", I rubbed my forehead as the sensory flood ebbed away. Connecting the door to the lights was one of the best ideas I ever had. Yet, it backfired at me cause Ane seemed to be slightly disturbed by the arm in my hands. And sadly she explained me why.
"Giannini... please tell me why you have lots of junk covered in crusted blood in your workshop."
So much for my good mood. I took a mental note to wash the stuff and to contact the Agency about this prank. This is what I've signed up for, yes, but not removing the blood because oh ho, the mechanic is blind. Fat chance, harlequins. Plus it was disrespectful to the stuff but who am I rambling at? Luckily my breakfast was still edible...
"Well, thank you for darkening my mood", I sighed, imagining the extra hours of cleaning my new possessions, "and the bloody stuff is a special order and replacement parts. By the way, thanks for treating me on breakfast. And you could save my life a second time..." Call me what you want to. Heartless bastard, egoistic idiot, selfish sucker. But because of my abilities to convince Anemone to help me clean the arm I prefer 'manipulative genius'. What? You don't believe me? Ok, I might have bribed her. What? OK, just stop looking at me like that! Truth is I had to promise to attend the meals regularly. You satisfied? Can I continue with the story? Thank you!
So, as we were cleaning the arm (and I seriously don't want to know what happened to the stuff. I might ask in my report...) in my new shower, the faculty agreed on me that I should get an own bathroom and within days construction was finished, I heard the door opening and someone sneaking in. Only one person would act this way, trying to make as little noise as possible in my presence...
"Nigh, don't you dare touch ANYTHING, I can hear you." You remember what I told you at the beginning? Yep, this is the moment you should feel your memories kicking in. Well, in Nightshade's defence, she gets some kind of twisted entertainment from almost any kind of prank she can pull herself without getting caught and without getting anybody injured.
"You are so no fun Giannini... To see things behind you is not fair!", she complained. It brightened my mood slightly. "Ane, lesson's beginning in a few minutes. You coming?" Riiight, students. Well, at least the arm was ready for repairs, so I thanked Anemone and sat down at my workbench. First I had to move the crate though... It wasn't as hard as I thought, once I moved the stuff piece by piece to where I wanted to have it.
As work began, the problems came. I hat to fix a mechanical arm. Fine. But tell me one thing: How do you repair something you have never worked with before and have no idea what's broken? From experience I can answer this question. Most times you're screwed. So I did the best thing I could at that moment: I dismantled the thing completely and even labelled the pieces I couldn't distinguish. At this point I call out to you Atlesian engineers: you are geniuses. No, I mean it. Going through my mental 3D-blueprint of this arm I was amazed. And here comes the but: I had no friggin' idea what was wrong this thing! No gear broken, no part missing, I'm confused. So I took a walk.
You know, solutions might come when you least expect it but just staring at the problem is useless most of the time. The best thing I could do now was putting on my glasses and taking a stroll around the campus. It actually works pretty well, as long as I stay near the walls. And indeed, as I walked around I somewhat ran into my solution: two fighting students. I heard sounds of combat and followed my instinct to check it out, one of the two was perfect to help me. I recognised the female combatant. Tall, long hair, gauntlets as weapon. Yang Ciao-somewhat, fourth year, famous for her short temper. But the other guy piqued my interest. He didn't appear to use a weapon but I wasn't fooled that easily. At least when it comes to this. You see, he appeared weaponless but I heard something. Clicking and rattling, very quiet, coming from his body. From his arm, to be accurate. So I did the most stupid thing I could and stepped in.
"Would you please stop figlumph", left my mouth as I was hit by something in the gut. 'Kinetic force', I remembered painfully, 'no echo...' One of the girl's shots found its way right into my sorry auraless body and I was smacked to the ground by it. Must've looked pretty funny, now that I think of it. At least the two stopped fighting to see if I was alright.
"Sorry man, I didn't see you", she apologized scratching her head. Never pick a fight with her, it's for your own safety. At this moment I was really glad not to be a huntsman. I mean, is it really so much fun to get your butt kicked for a living? I don't understand those guys... but as long as I'm allowed to repair their weapons, feel free to brawl!
"No problem, I'm still alive", I coughed, still not standing. I learned speaking is truly hard without air in your lungs so take this word of wisdom: don't forget to breathe. "You, prosthesis guy. Need your help, with me", I continued on my feet, still holding my gut. I decided to skip lunch, probably for the better.
"How do you...", he started. Judging by his face and his clothes I guessed he didn't show his arm's nature openly. But you see, I love startled faces, as long as it's not my own, so I didn't bother to explain.
"Less talking, more walking", was my simple but effective answer. He did start to follow me, introducing himself as Perdix and as he asked how I knew about his arm, I simply tapped my ears. As I entered my workshop I was relieved. Everything was where it belonged, the dismantled arm on the bench, piece by piece, not a single screw missing. After all, the Agency would toast me should I lose some of their property. "Tell the blind man", I noticed the students confusion concerning his task here so I did him the favour and began to talk, "what the fluff is broken? What's wrong with this arm?" He inspected the bits and pieces. Certainly he knew what he was doing. And the solution he presented to me was devastating as well as fascinating.
"Some of the wires are cooked and there are hairline fractures all over the gears. Better replace them."
This guy was good. He even told me where I could get the right wires and bowed out. So guys, always remember: sometimes you just need a punch to the stomach and some dude with a robot arm to solve your problems. And I learned one thing: cleaning mechanisms from blood is royal pain in the ass!
A/N: Here it is, chapter 4. Finally. The hardest part writing this story is the question "How could I put a spanner in Giannini's day?" or on the other hand side "How can I improve an otherwise terrible day?", though the first one is a lot more fun. I'm always grateful for feedback on story and style (since we all want to improve ourselves, won't we?) or even ideas, if you want. I hope you enjoyed ths chapter and I assure you, the next one will eventually come!