Step By Step

Ren was adjusting well to his comfortable routine under Viktor. Wake up, stretch, attach the leg, stretch again, and sketch improvements for his limb until Viktor came. And when Viktor did show up, he would drink his breakfast smoothie and head out for strength and balance training. All the while, Viktor would lecture him on the parts of his new limb, the superiority of metal to flesh, and other mechanical maintenance information he had deemed important.

If Ren were being honest though, he only paid attention to half of what Viktor would say. He was a citizen of Zaun, and in Ren's mind, that alone was all the mechanical knowledge he would need. Additionally, the extra brain space that Ren would have been spent on listening to Viktor was instead better spent on thinking up his own theme music he wanted to blare as he introduced his new leg to the world and the designs, which always ended up being more flames, he wanted to paint onto it to make it as eye-catching as possible. Only the break for lunch would he put his internal personal soundtrack on pause to eat. And lunch would, again, be smoothies.

Smoothies. Every breakfast, every lunch, and even every dinner had been smoothies. Always damn smoothies. At first, Ren though it was because his stomach may still be recovering and may not be ready for solid food, but then he realized that Viktor himself didn't eat solid food. He knew that Viktor wouldn't have absconded from food out of solidarity for him, so something had to be off. His suspicions grew as Viktor placed another set of lunch smoothies on the table between them.

Ren sat down and sloshed the smoothie around his glass.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Ren said.

"But you are about to." Viktor completed.

"No," said Ren, "I was going to say that I had a question. Aren't you science types the kind of people who love questions?"

"Ask your question, N-12." Viktor said dryly.

"OK, Ren will ask his question. Why is it that we always drink smoothies? Do you have some hidden agenda to drown the world in liquid fruit or something? Do you not know how to cook?"

"I know how to cook. Smoothies are more efficient. There is no need to waste time with excessive preparation or waiting for ovens to reach adequate temperatures or reading cookbooks."

"You," Ren paused for a moment as a sly smile slipped onto his face, "you don't know how to cook, do you?"

"I will not repeat myself. I know how to cook. It is simply a waste of valuable time."

"Can you prove it?" Ren challenged, "I think the scientist in you would be proud I am questioning the world around me."

"He is more annoyed. I do not need to prove anything to you. You are my guest."

"Fine, I won't ask again, but I will go on assuming you don't know how to cook."

Ren finished his smoothie with a smug expression on his face.

Viktor scowled, but under his mask, the expression was unseen. Even if it were something foolish, Viktor did not enjoy having his abilities doubted.

"You believe I am incapable of cooking," Viktor said, "then I shall make a bargain with you. I shall make you a meal if you are able to walk across the beam without leaning on the crutch within the next three days."

"Prepare to eat those words and then something that isn't a smoothie!" Ren said as he got to his feet as quckly as he could without losing balance.

He walked over to the beam and stepped up, still using the crutch as support.

"No crutch." Viktor reminded him.

"I know," Ren replied, "just needed it for a quick boost."

Ren straightened himself up and took his weight off the crutch. But rather than dropping it, he held it in his hands perpendicular to his chest, to aid him in balancing, and began to walk. Step by step, he inched across the beam. The crutch wobbled as Ren fought to maintain balance. His thigh above the prosthetic shook from the unaccustomed strain of his full weight. Despite all the shaking, Ren kept his eyes focused firmly on the wall before him.

He took in more detail with each step.

"The wall is a dull metal," he thought.

Step.

"It looks like numbers and lines were painted here, but I can't tell what they mean."

Step.

"That trail of rust looks like a creepy long finger."

Step.

"Those rivets look new, I wonder if that part had been replaced?"

Step.

"That scorch mark is pretty big."

By now Ren had made it more than half way across the beam and he had begun softly to himself.

"With a wicked rocket leg, I bet I could cause scorch marks like that."

Step.

"I bet I could stomp things with it really well too."

Step.

"I could smash that smoothie machine and then I wouldn't have to drink those damn smoothies again."

Step.

"Then I could dash lighting fast to the market and buy real food."

Step.

"And then we can cook it together, as equals."

Step.

"Equals."

Ren went to put his next foot forward, but found that there was no beam left. He immediately lowered his crutch for support again. He had made it to the end.

"There," he said after a long sigh, "I did it. So, what's for dinner?"

"Nothing." Viktor answered.

"But," Ren stammered, "but you said, if I could do the beam you'd cook?"

"I did, but tomorrow's procedure requires you have an empty stomach."

"Procedure?"

"I believe that you are ready to receive your proper augmentation."

Ren blinked in surprise.

"Really?"

His voice was more a gasp than a word.

Viktor nodded.

"I'm ready," Ren said, any frustration he felt instantly switched to joy, "oh yes! I'm so ready! Flame strike leg, here I come."

In his excitement, Ren lost balance and fell to the floor. Even as he lay on the floor, Ren continued to smile. Then he began to laugh. He tried to stifle it at first, but he failed impressively. So even though his muscles ached, Ren laughed and cried with a big grin on his face. After a long month of recovery, he was deemed ready to be augmented.

With a sigh, Viktor looked down at the kid and shook his head.

"Physically ready," he noted internally, "mentally, still in need of improvement."