The Mechanic

A wise man once said "peace in our time". What it means is up for debate. Humans can't live in peace and they are afraid of change, nothing new. However the days prior were one move for peace that no one wanted.

The half torn machine on the table was the creator of mass panic only a couple of weeks ago in Sokovia. The thing that- according to the news- Stark had created to make peace but caused havoc. A plan to destroy humankind in order to save it thwarted by the Avengers. That's how it always happens, right?

The single, white fluorescent light that sat above the metal heap bounced off of the broken chrome, reflecting dimly back. The soft clinking of tools resonated throughout the room before a box made contact with the table. The old bench graning for a fraction of a second with the increase of weight.

A rapid thrum of fingertips sounded out as the other hand pulled out a single drill bit, attaching it to the drill itself as the thudding of fingertips against the cool metal table echoed into the basement air. The experimental pulling of the drills trigger told the owner that it was ready.

Blue loomed over the broken and torn figure, drill in one hand as the other began to pull apart metal plates. The pulsing of crimson LEDs attempting to turn back on. The figure had spent too much time trying to get this machine back to her sanctuary to just have this machine up as a cool knick-knack. No, she needed it to work again- maybe she could alter the programming? It's an A.I, right? It couldn't be too hard.

It has almost been three weeks since she'd received it, almost four since it went down. There had been ups and downs but her hope was beginning to dwindle as her funds got low. Eyes narrowed as she detached a piece of machinery carefully from the torn figure. The metal creaked as she pulled it away, revealing a slew of disconnected wires and broken, oil smeared bits and pieces. Lips pulled apart as an annoyed huff left the figure before she turned around, leaving the drill on the surface as she moved across the room to a tall tool box. She began searching the drawers, tanned hands gliding over various odd contraptions and tools. Tangling themselves in short wires of various colors. The longest wire in the whole toolbox was only four inches long which wasn't long enough to work with in this case. However there was some more upstairs.

Marching up the stairs they met the small, cramped kitchenette. The evening light shone through the single window that sat above the sink. The pink orange hue casting solid streams onto the pale blue linoleum flooring as bare feet padded around the countertop. One hand sliding over the bumpy tile counter, lightly calloused fingertips threatening to be caught in the grain as the other hand opened the junk drawer. Said fingertips twitched as they began their search, placing various items onto the countertop as the sunlight tickled toned calves.

One of the items placed onto the dark blue tile was a finger fork which she stared at for a moment, trying to figure out why she had such a thing before placing it lovingly onto the tile, resuming her hunt. Deft hands gliding over bits and ends of various items before blue eyes widened, a smile falling across her face as she took the eight inch wire into her hand, clutching it and bringing it to her chest before she began to shove everything into the cabinet. Pushing it closed with her hip when she finished with a hum she moved to the basement stairs once more before stopping. A soft click of her tongue left her as she looked back.

She hadn't eaten in a while, sense ten this morning at least. Now it's nearing eight at night. The inner debate was writing itself across her face as she looked back for a moment before her stomach rumbled, making the choice for her as cobalt glanced down, pocketing the wire.

Why was she in such a rush now? She wasn't any closer than she was before, what would it hurt by taking a small food break? Passing the countertop once more with a glance to the open cook book to the left of her with a neutral look she began to make her decision.


Flicking the water off of her hands as she looked out the window that sat just above the dirty soap sudz from her meal of chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries. The sky was dark now and she could make out the soft glow of stars in the distance. But the glare of the light behind her made it appear a lot dimmer.

As her hands dried she made sure the wire was still in her pocket. Patting the area of it before delving her hand into the flannel pajama bottom and pulling out the almost neon green coil. The smile from earlier reasserting itself on her face as she made her way to the stairs again. When her feet met the top stair the smile seemed to widen the smallest fraction, but her giddiness was almost exuding her. Maybe this would help set this whole project up! Maybe she could correct one of the biggest egg heads out there. That would be something to brag about! Fixing Tony Stark's mistake and making it better?

A squeak almost left her as she pawed down the steps, feet meeting frigid concrete and allowing a shudder to pass through her as she brought herself to the edge of the table once more.

Placing the strand back into her pocket she delved her hands into the opening, smearing jagged, tempered metal further with oil as she began to undo the frayed machinery. Carefully she drug her hands through a puddle of oil. Where this one appeared from is something that she couldn't quite figure out. Maybe it was some of the fresh grease she had given it some time last week. Or maybe it was leftover from Sokovia.

The soft 'click' barely sounded in her ears before there were two slates of metal crushing her left hand. A pained yelp left her as electricity flowed through her, making her hair stand on end before she could yank her hand out of the machinery.

She landed on her back, one hand clutching the base of the other as she hissed in pain, teeth grinding as the drone on the table illuminated further. The pulsing of an inactive light was no longer frail and dim, now it shone brightly and even refracted off the tip of her nose. One eye cracked open to view the machine suddenly coming to life.

Fear flooded her body.

She had only ever attempted to reconstruct the body. She hadn't even begun her reprogramming process. That meant this was the same machine that just attempted to destroy life as humanity knew it. The slow raise of a metallic, partially shredded hand caused a brief moment of panic to flood her senses. Her in-injured hand flying up and a sudden bolt of electricity manifested from her fingertips, striking the metal and causing it to jolt, becoming rigid before slack. The light brightening before popping, hot sparks of white light falling onto the exposed flesh of her legs and face.

She didn't dare breath as she forced herself to stand, shaking.

What was she going to do now?