The next time Malik wakes up, she's a little more lucid. And has been moved off of the Chair and onto Vaclav's questionably cleaner bed. A croaked noise dies in her throat before she even bothers to open her eyes, and there's a sudden clatter of noise from not too far.
"Mal?" the thud of footsteps and the edge of the bed sank suddenly. She grumbles again, moving both hands to rub at her eyes.
When she does open them, she sees Vaclav, who looks…more or less as he always does. Like he hasn't slept in days, his hair a ruffled mess from running his hands through it in thought, and that hyper-focused stare on her. Usually she chides him for being irresponsible, for working on something so hard he lets his health fall to the wayside. This time it's her fault. She lets it slide. "Gngh, yeah." A groan, more awake than she would have been if she still lived a civilian life. Less awake than someone who lived even more dangerously than her might be.
"How are you feeling?" His hands hover over her, like he's not sure what to do with them now that she's awake, now that he's not operating. Then, every movement had purpose, had been calculated (mostly, minus the frenzied panic), he'd known what to do. Now, he's unsure. He wants to check on her leg but first he needs to make sure she's okay, that she doesn't want to go back to sleep.
"Awful." Her leg aches, deep. Like her foot, her calf, all of it is on fire. But, as she lifts her head, she sees the sunken blanket over it, the empty space. It's not there. She knows that, but she can feel the agony in it, her nerve endings alight. "Fuck." Her hands ball into fists on their own, and she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to breathe through it.
Vaclav is already moving to take one of her hands off her face, gently uncurling the tight fist to put some painkillers into her hand. "Let me get you some water for those, and then you can go back to sleep."
Malik normally wouldn't wait for the water, would take them dry, but her throat feels like sandpaper, and she wonders how long she's been asleep. She's still in Vaclav's dungeon, that much is certain. Her back is sore, and all she wants is for the pain to stop. No sooner than she thinks that, Vaclav is back, helping her sit up and handing her a bottle of water, popping it open. She hears the crack of the seal, and that's a comfort – she's not sure she wants to drink any water coming out of his sink. She drinks first to wet her throat a little, takes the two pills, and downs the rest of the bottle.
Vaclav watches her carefully, taking the bottle from her and tossing it aside when he's done. He carefully doesn't glance over his shoulder, where he knows Icarus is sitting, watching. Doesn't want to draw attention to him, or make Malik jostle her leg if, when, she notices him. Icarus hasn't moved or said anything since she woke up, so maybe he's thinking along the same lines. Vaclav might guess he was even asleep, sitting so still, but he doubts the assassin sleeps heavily enough to not wake at the sound of voices.
"You wanna get back to sleep, or can I take a look at your leg?" Vaclav asks. He'd been changing the bandages quickly while she slept to keep them from getting too soaked, but wanted to get a better look at her now while she was awake. It might have been easier to do it while she slept, but he didn't want to wake her to that kind of pain from moving it, no matter how gently.
"Sure, I don't mind." She yawns, winces as she tries to stretch. "How long've I been out?"
Vaclav looks sheepish suddenly – he'd never been good at counting days in his dungeon, and certainly not with a project as important as this one. Plus, his bed was taken. That was as good an excuse as any to not have a consistent sleeping schedule, instead passing out in his chair, head on a tablet whenever he couldn't keep it upright any longer.
"Day and a half since you woke up last," Icarus rumbles from the corner, and Malik's gaze snaps to him. A less forceful reaction than the last time she noticed him, so maybe she's, starting to be a little more herself.
"You're still here?" she sounds surprised, and…maybe she's still a bit in shock. Vaclav isn't really that surprised – this is totally different to when he augmented himself. Of his own free will, with the preparation and warning, it wasn't so difficult – plus, he had replacement limbs right away. Malik's injury was traumatic, and her body still doesn't have a replacement. The phantom pain must be really distracting, on top of everything else.
"Where else would I be?" He sounds surprised by the question, and Vaclav has to wonder if he's joking – is Icarus capable of joking? Vaclav lifts the blanket and moves to unwrap the bandages around Malik's leg, immediately catching her attention and derailing the answer that was on her lips.
She sits up a little straighter, needing to see despite Vaclav suggesting she don't, and he hears Icarus shift behind him too. A small sigh, gently unwrapping the bandages, fingers barely touching her, and she hisses despite that.
"Sorry Mal, I'll be quick." He makes good on that promise, moving a little faster, discarding the spotted bandage and reaching for a new one.
Malik holds her breath as he turns for a new bandage, riveted to the sight. Her leg, gone. In its place, a raw stump, red and angry despite the medicine Vaclav must have used. She wonders if Vaclav had gotten to installing PEDOT implants into her, if she would have been able to see them with her own eyes earlier. She has a thousand questions, wonders where to start.
Vaclav seems to notice this. "What's up?" he asks as he wraps the new bandage around her leg, careful to make sure it's on securely without causing her undue pain.
What's the most important question? "Does anyone know I'm still alive?" The painkillers Vaclav gave her are starting to set in, and she feels her mind clear a little from the haze of pain. They'll tire her out, but until then she might have a few precious minutes without the agony.
"Besides us," Vaclav looks around the room, "and our friend, no. Not…not as far as I know, anyway."
Friend – that must be Pritchard. "Let's keep it that way, at least until the next Gala." No need to bring more attention to herself while she was missing a leg, and it was better for her mechanics to think her dead than know she was alive and wonder where their shipments were. "Are there any rumors that I'm dead?" Maybe that would have been the better question to ask. Perhaps no one even noticed that anything happened to her.
"Lots. That crew bragged a bit on the darknet about killing the Phoenix until they…mysteriously went silent." Vaclav looks straight and hard at Icarus after that. He's fairly certain the assassin went and wiped out that whole crew. He wonders how much a job like that would cost. Wonders how Malik paid for it.
"Well, at least that gives me a little breathing room," she sighs, leaning heavy against the wall to her side. If anyone found out she was alive, she'd be easy pickings like this. And even if she wasn't, she'd lose a lot of credibility until she was back on her feet, would have to regain a lot of ground. Easier to hide in the dark for a bit until she could step back into her role. Until then, she'd have to hope her mechanics had some resources saved up to get them through it.
"Can we go somewhere else?" she asks next. Misses her bed, the apartment that doesn't smell like sewers and blood and a metalworking shop.
Icarus and Vaclav both look like they're about to protest and she cuts them off- "one of my safehouses. We can take whatever you want, I just- I take it you don't have a leg for me?"
"No, it wasn't the right size and I figured you'd rather just get the one I make for you straight off. It would be better not to stress your system out and push a temporary aug onto it, anyway." Vaclav explains, still looking uncertain about leaving his home, his workshop.
"I thought as much. I'd rather be in my own bed if I'm going to be stuck in one for a while. And that way I wouldn't have to take up yours." Vaclav would come with her, she hopes. She has a safehouse in Prague with a couple of guest rooms – one of her mechanics had given it to her when he'd left the country for a place a little less cruel.
"How would we even get you there? What if we got spotted, and I need my workshop to make you an aug-" all of the reasons why this is a really bad idea are pouring out of Vaclav's mouth.
"Your clients could show up here at any time," Icarus points out suddenly. Vaclav looks at him in disbelief – and wonders why he expected Icarus to be on his side in this anyway. Or ever. What had given him that impression? The way he'd been watching Malik the past day, almost never moving from his chair, dedicated? "I'm sure at least a handful of them know of the phoenix. If that gets out," he doesn't bother finishing his sentence. Vaclav gets it.
"All of my supplies are here-" it's a weak protest.
"Vaclav, please. I can't spend weeks on this bed, and it's not too far from here." Malik grabs his attention and Vaclav thinks she's about to pout, but she just stares him down.
He throws his hands in the air. "-have I been to this one before?"
She smiles soft at him, and he wonders how she won this one. Maybe he's just going easy on her. "I think so. It's the riverside apartment. The one with the big bay window."
Icarus frowns at that, and Vaclav thinks it strange until he remembers, right, assassin. Probably didn't like windows with large open sightlines. Which makes him wonder again why he sided with Malik on moving – the dungeon was the safest place he knew.
"And your plane?" Vaclav asks. The thing is still parked in the middle of the courtyard – he hadn't been able to force himself to go near it. To look in that still open cockpit, bloody and stained. It couldn't be operated without her infolink signature, and as far as he knew she hadn't been carrying anything, so there was no pressing need for him to go close it up. Unless the police strolled by, which they very well might. He had to wonder why they hadn't yet – surely a passing drone had seen it.
"I flew it while I was dying, kid. I can take it across town." She tries to sound reassuring, but the frown on Vaclav's face tells her that she didn't quite succeed. Maybe she shouldn't joke about almost dying to him just yet. It wasn't the first time for her, though, and while this time was a bit more traumatic, the last involved her plane exploding, so she can't quite muster the appropriate horror. Maybe Vaclav's painkillers have finally set in. She should probably be a little more affected.
"What if I need to operate on you-?" he's running out of reasons besides just a gut feeling that this is a bad idea and the fear of being away from his workshop for too long.
"We'll come back here. You won't have a new leg ready anytime soon, right?" She'd seen Vaclav design parts before, mod existing augs, but never create a new one from scratch. Probably because he hadn't had the access to what he needed to complete such an undertaking.
"I- I mean I won't take long, but all my tools are here and my systems-" it might look slapdash and barely functioning, but he had a lot of tech in here, despite all appearances.
"You don't have to come," Malik offers gently, and there it is. There's no argument he can make for that.
"Fuck, fine! Like hell I'm letting you go anywhere I can't keep an eye on you." If he took his eyes off her for long enough he thinks she might go and find another mechanic, get a temporary leg, and go back to work. He wouldn't put it past her. "Just- just let me get my stuff. Take a nap for a bit?" He's seen the exhaustion in her eyes, the only thing keeping her awake was, he supposes, how much she didn't want to sleep in his bed. Or maybe she's worrying about him and where he sleeps. Hell, even where Icarus sleeps. This bookshop is only supposed to house one, and that one is Vaclav.
She smiles crooked, and starts to shift to lay back down. Winces as she instinctively tries to use her non-existent leg to do that. She'd have to stop doing that, at least until she got a new one. She thinks for a moment she should say something to Adam, do something, bring up that it's maybe a little weird that he's just sitting in the corner watching her and is this what having a bodyguard entailed? But she's too tired, and shelves it for later – along with the many other things she needs to talk about with him, like why the hell he agreed to work for her for basically nothing. Malik flips him a thumbs up, her hand outside the blanket for a moment, and just thumps her head down, closing her eyes. Fuck it.
By the time Koller is done packing up all the things he knows he needs for sure, grabbing the parts he thinks he'll need (expensive aug pieces he saved either for Icarus or for desperate moments when he had nothing else), and boarding up his shop just in case they're gone longer than he thinks, it's late evening. He has a pile of crates by the elevator and hesitates. He should probably clean up Malik's VTOL before he loads them in and they go anywhere. He's seen blood before, that's not the problem – it's the fact that it's her blood, that he knows what she was going through, that she almost died, that's what makes it awful. Still, he can do it. Better than her having to fly on that, or have to see it again.
Icarus is still sitting by her. If he's moved, it's been while Vaclav wasn't looking. Pritchard had told him that the reason he was still around was that he'd accepted a job to be Malik's bodyguard. Something about not taking it before. Vaclav considered blaming him for Malik's near-death, but he did come back with her leg and a ton of seeming-evidence that he'd killed all the men who hurt her, so…maybe it was even. Besides, knowing Malik, she probably hadn't actually explained fully why she needed a bodyguard. At least, he hopes that's the case. It's the only thing that would explain why Icarus looked so…distraught is not quite the right word, but he can't think of one better, when he'd first come in.
"I'm gonna load up the plane," he flicks a thumb over his shoulder at the crates, looking at Icarus, certain he has his attention. There's a bucket of cleaning supplies atop them, and Icarus glances at the pile and then at him, nodding once.
When Vaclav gets back, the bucket of supplies in hand – and the VTOL cleaned, despite him nearly throwing up at what was definitely a piece of muscle on the ground – Malik's awake, her hands clasped around her stomach. He nearly panics for a moment, when he hears the sudden growl from it, and can't help but laugh in relief.
She glares at him, goodnaturedly but- "please tell me you have some food, Vaclav."
Icarus raises an eyebrow – she didn't ask where it was, but if he had any. The mechanic was skinny, sure, but he hadn't thought that the kid didn't always have food around. If anything, he'd assumed the takeout boxes he saw whenever he was by meant that he was always eating something.
"I've got some ramen?" he offers, shrugging helplessly. What could he say, he didn't have a kitchen, he just ordered food all the time or ate ready-made stuff he could get for cheap. Good stuff was expensive, and the worse it got for augs the harder it was to find any kind of store that would sell him fresh produce. All those were just excuses – he didn't get anything that involved cooking back when he could, anyway.
"No energy bars or anything?"she's moved to sitting up, her leg hanging over the edge of the bed, breath whooshing through her teeth in an exhale. The painkillers are still working but she can feel the sharp edge of pain starting to bleed through.
"I might have some- hey wait hang on!" he stops his movement towards the fridge instead to stop her from trying to stand. He doesn't even know what she was about to try and prop herself up with, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she just tried to get up. "At least let me get you some crutches-" He was sure he had some lying around – a recent client returned them at a check-up after they'd gotten fully used to their new leg. "Can you just- take it slow, for me?" Almost exasperated. He'd had difficult clients before, but he never expected Malik would be one of them- the kind that always pushes themselves too fast, too hard, tries to get back to their normal too soon. A little…well, a lot like Vaclav did when he gave himself new arms.
"I'll give it a try," she answers, taking the crutches he holds out to her and starting to lever herself up. The right one slides on the floor, caught on some wrapper, and she nearly falls. Icarus is out of his chair in an instant to catch her, and she rights herself at the last moment, his hands stopping an inch away from her arms. She looks up at him, a little startled, confused, and he doesn't move. Malik looks into his shades, wonders if the crease of his eyebrows is concern or annoyance, and raises an eyebrow at him.
He straightens after she's stable for a few more moments, and steps back. "You alright?"
"Fine," she answers, still a little thrown off – more-so now thanks to Adam, and not her leg. "Well, that's a lie. Starving." Shooting a glance at Vaclav and he dashes off to find her something. Malik laughs, then. "Who knew I'd be your client one day?"
"You have been for ages, Mal. Or did you forget that I do all your neural updates?" His voice is almost distant, buried in a drawer as he throws bolts around, digging in the back of it. He could swear he had some kind of snack in here-
"Yeah, but you've never augged me," she almost lifts a hand to gesture, but thinks better of it, leaning it back on the crutch grip. Better not to fall, especially in front of the two of them.
"It was bound to happen at some point." Vaclav knew how reckless she was, no matter how much she swore she was being careful. He knew about her midair skydives, leaping out of a plane and then back into it as it fell past her. He makes a small victorious noise as he finds the bar he'd been searching for, about to toss it her way before realizing, and walking it over. He tears open the package in front of her so she doesn't think he'd had it sitting open somewhere, handing it to her.
She leans on the right crutch and takes it with her left hand, tearing into it. "That's fair," she answers, her mouth half full. She wonders if she's being a little too flippant about this, about losing her leg. About having to up her neuropozyne dose now, permanently. She supposes she'd given up worrying about it when she agreed to be augged by a Chinese hack shop in Hengsha just so she could fly for a living, letting them put who-knew-what into her head. She'd asked Vaclav to look it over and make some adjustments to the black box, sure, but she'd given up caring then about what kind of augs she may need someday.
Looks like that choice was for the best. It was just a leg, after all. She didn't need that to fly. Wouldn't have to relearn how to do everything because of it. Just walking, which, simple. She could do that.
The energy bar is gone moments later, and she feels a little better. Finally notices the much-emptier looking workshop. "You're ready to go?" Either Vaclav worked fast, or she slept long. Maybe both.
"More…more or less." He sighs, moving over to his screens and unplugging a tablet, making sure he'd gotten all of his most important systems onto it. Things he would need to design an aug, make sure it worked, make it beautiful. He could do it, he knew, and all he really wanted was to sit and work on it for the next twenty hours, nonstop. He couldn't quite, though, still worried about Malik herself. "What did you want to do with your leg?" he asks as he tucks the tablet into his jacket, pointing at the cryotank on a shelf.
She glances at it, and then finds herself unable to look away. Seeing it for the first time was a bit of a shock – her leg, across the room from her. She stuffs the bar wrapper in a pocket- what was she even wearing? A spare pair of Vaclav's shorts, and one of his flannels? It's enough to draw her attention off the tank across the room, even for a moment. She should probably answer him, anyway, before he gets worried. "Bring it." She'd think about it later.
They'd need to get rid of it, that was for sure. She couldn't have that laying around anywhere, didn't trust any of her safehouses to be that secure. She couldn't reattach it, so there was no point in keeping it. But still, it was her leg.
Icarus was as inscrutable as ever at that, watching her and not her leg. Would he always be watching her so closely? Is that what she asked for in requesting his services? Why was he willing to go through this? The question clearly wouldn't leave her alone until she asked, but she had a feeling that even if she did, he wouldn't answer fully in front of Vaclav, if he even would alone.
"Let's go, then, before I need to take more drugs that I shouldn't be operating heavy machinery under," she says with a grin. Lighthearted and Vaclav wonders how she can be. She didn't choose to take off her leg, it was taken from her. Maybe that was the only way to cope.
Or maybe she was just excited about a better bed.
Probably the latter, knowing her.
Vaclav waves a hand at the elevator, moving to pick up the tank. He had everything else, and he'd power down the room on their way out. He'd already made sure to shut the sewer entrance earlier. "Can you walk?" An earnest question, even though he knew she'd try to whether or not she could.
"I'll be fine." She starts to hobble her way over to the elevator, using her crutches and swinging her leg in turn. Wincing as she did, and Icarus followed her closely behind, ready to catch her. Vaclav has so many questions - he hopes that at least a fraction of them would be answered at some point.
They take the elevator up, and Vaclav runs to drop off the leg in her plane and get back before she gets to the stairs. He'd rather help her down them than make her walk them on her own, and man, his shop really wasn't that accessible, was it? He'd never really thought of it much before – with augs, anyone who couldn't walk could get new legs and have that ability back. He'd always helped his clients out the door with new limbs, but maybe he ought to see about making an elevator exit on the first floor.
He gets back just as they're starting down the staircase, Icarus with stabilizing arms on her shoulder and back, and Malik with an expression of focus as she works her way down the stairs, unbalanced and awkward with her weight thrown off so drastically. Vaclav moves to give her support on the other side, and she huffs a sigh in annoyance at needing it, but they make their way down faster because of it. "Thanks," she says at the bottom, glancing at both of them. Vaclav waves her off.
She gets to the VTOL and seems surprised to see it clean. And unconfiscated, for that matter. She'd expected the police would have taken some kind of action by now. Maybe she'd have to call Pritchard and asked if he'd had anything to do with it. The answer probably being yes. She glances at Vaclav, an eyebrow raised, and he just shrugs. A soft smile and she moves to lift herself in, putting one crutch up at an awkward angle.
"Wait-" Vaclav is jumping in to help pull her up before she actually eats it trying to get in herself. She wasn't going to ask for help, but at least she wouldn't refuse it either. That was something. He takes the crutch from her and gives her his hand instead, and with Icarus helping from outside, they get her into the plane without too much of a grimace on her face. She drops into her seat with a sigh, head leaning back and she just breathes for a minute.
"Take your time, Mal, we're not in a hurry." It was still night, and Vaclav had to shut everything down. He runs back to the shop to turn on his security, close everything, and make sure he hadn't forgotten anything important (he probably had).
She sighs, closing her eyes, listening to the sounds of the city, breathing in the crisp night air. Adam puts her crutches aside in the back of the plane, and only when he puts a hand on the shoulder of her chair does she open her eyes again.
"Are you okay?" he asks. That's certainly one hell of a question.
"More or less. Did you have to go through this when you got augged?" He'd told her of his augging like it was less than peaceful, and maybe she shouldn't be asking, but she was curious.
"No." He's silent for a little after that. "When I woke up, I'd already been augmented." He looks at his other hand, curling it slow and loosening it, listening to the sounds it made, noises he'd had to grow quickly accustomed to. Mechanical.
She wonders if he'd been in a coma. If he'd been kept under. Or if he'd been augmented in such a desperate hurry that he wouldn't have had a chance to wake up anyway. She wonders if she wants to know.
"Well, at least you didn't have to hobble around like I do now," she offers.
He exhales shortly, something close to a noise of amusement. Another success, and she really needs to start writing these down. "Won't be for long."
"Already feels like forever. At least I can still fly." She reaches for the controls, starts up her plane and listens to the engines thrum awake. At home. This was where she belonged, just resting her hands on her clean, unbloodied dashboard. She'd figure out why they tried to kill her, she'd figure out who had set up that crew, and she'd get back at them all by expanding more.
They couldn't keep the Phoenix down for long. Whoever 'they' were.