Day 4's prompt? Posted on my fourth day of the month? It's more likely than you think!
So here's today's prompt: Loneliness! Get ready for a little angst, this one's a bit of a doozy. Trigger Warning for bad self care. See you at the bottom of the page!
What Right wanted to do, before anything else, was break Reginald out of prison. Unfortunately, that was much easier said than done. The chief getting arrested had sent a wave of panic over the clan, and if Right hadn't finally woken up when he did and assumed control, that panic likely would have brought the clan to its knees. Even with Right leading the way, tensions were still high, and it was a difficult practice to keep the clan functional and productive all at once.
So, no; Reginald would have to wait a little longer to be rescued. Luckily, Right had an idea of how to do that as quickly as possible while keeping the clan motivated- or rather, it was Reginald's idea.
Reginald had been working on something big before his arrest; the biggest plan since he started his reign as chief. An orbital space station, high above the ground and out of reach of any meddling governments, equipped with the means to self-sustainably support the clan, store their valuables, and most importantly: offer the ability to infiltrate and escape any location on Earth. It was ambitious, to the point of being considered impossible by some, but they'd said the same thing about Reginald becoming chief. Right knew that if he followed Reginald the way he always had, then it would only be a matter of time until Reginald was free.
There was just one problem.
"Sir," Carol Cross said, "a location has been found that should provide the privacy and defenses needed to begin construction of the launch point. Several teams are there now, ready to begin building. They're waiting for your orders now."
Right nodded stiffly. "Do it."
"They need to hear it from you, specifically, sir."
Right squinted at Carol. She stared back, gaze unwavering. After a moment, Right brought his hand to the side of his head and pressed a button. The left side of his vision, tinged red, flickered for a moment before a mark, shaped like a telephone, formed like a bright spot from the sun in his eye. "This is Right Hand Man, calling the teams at Dogobogo jungle. Begin construction of the orbital launch site immediately."
He released the button and his vision returned to "normal", and he turned to go back to what he was doing when the phone reappeared in his vision, unprompted. "Copy that, boss. Construction will begin immediately. Over and out."
Right grit his teeth as the phone disappeared again. The volume was way too loud and sensitive, making it sound like whoever had been talking to him was breathing right in his ear.
Whatever. It was fine. He could manage it.
He picked up his pen with his normal hand and set it above the document he was checking over, when he felt a presence staring at him. He glanced up. Carol hadn't left yet. "You're dismissed," he said, looking back down at his work.
"Sir, is there a reason you use the public communication channel for every call you make instead of the private channels?"
Right set his pen down with a click. "Does it matter? Not like it's a secret."
Carol hummed. "More coffee, sir?"
Right glanced at his mug, full of room-temperature coffee. He couldn't actually taste anything, and only felt the texture whatever he put in his mouth; not even the temperature. The thought nauseated him. "No."
"You're sure? You look exhausted."
He slammed his fists on the desk. "Dismissed, Cross."
Carol clicked her teeth, but doffed her hat to him and left the office. Right waited a second to make sure she had actually left, then relaxed his hands… or tried to, anyway. His normal hand released just fine, but his other hand- his metal hand- barely budged. He growled in frustration and began to pry at the fingers with his normal hand. Bit by bit, he managed to loosen his metal fingers from their position, getting about halfway open before the fingers refused to move any further, no matter how hard he pulled. He slammed the appendage onto the desk with enough force to loosen the fingers into releasing, leaving a large, splintering crack in the surface of the wood. He stood up quickly, nearly knocking his chair over. He needed to get out of this stuffy little office. He grabbed the papers he'd been marking with his good hand and marched out the door.
As Right moved down the hallway of the base he'd been working at, every Toppat he came across crowded themselves against the walls to stay out of his way, not making eye contact with him as he passed. He could feel their eyes on him once they were out of sight, though, lingering on the metal pieces that covered more than half of his body. If he stomped a little harder with each stare, he'd blame it on his metal legs. Stomping was easier than just walking, anyway, given the stiffness of his knees.
He entered a small common area, one he knew that Sven Svensson would pass through often. Sven could finish marking up the paperwork; he was good at that sort of thing. Right would find something else to occupy his time. More research on where Reginald might be held, maybe; something he actually wanted to do.
He spotted Sven and marched over to him, his footsteps shaking the tables he walked past. Sven turned to him quickly, staring up at him with wide eyes as he approached. Sven, at least, could look him in the face, even if he looked scared out of his mind when he did.
He pushed the documents into Sven's hands. "Finish these. I'm going to-"
He blinked. It was like his mind had turned blank for a second. He tried again. "I'm going t-t-t-to-"
Sven peered up at him cautiously. "Sir, are you alright?"
"T-t-t-to-to-to-" He couldn't get the words out. He was shaking with the effort, his heart was beating too quickly- did he even have a heart anymore? Or was that gone too, replaced with some metal lump that was meant to trick him into thinking he might still be human-?
Worried voices called out around him, but there were too many, too loud, too much. His legs were locked in place, he couldn't get away. Someone called him on his communication device, the screech of background noise and crackling audio that was too loud making him grab his head, wishing he could just pull out the noise and grind it beneath his heel, grind it like the way his bones and muscles had been grinded by the turning gears of the airship's engine when he'd been tossed into it and left for dead, dead, he was dead, he was dead-
Bright red lights flashed rapidly in his eyes, before it all flicked to black like an off switch.
Right took in a sharp breath, blinking quickly in the dim light. Half of his vision was still red. So it wasn't a dream, then. How fun.
He was lying down on a cot, not his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. The lights were on their lowest setting, and he turned his head to see that he was in the private medical room at the base. Carol Cross was sitting in a chair nearby, talking quietly into a cell phone.
Right grabbed the bed frame to stand up, but Carol snapped her fingers at him like a dog. "Get that paperwork finished, Sven. Yes, he's fine, he's coming to now. I'll handle it, keep everyone working. Cross, out." She snapped the phone shut and set it on the bedside table. "I guess it's true that Reginald was the brains of your little duo, hm?" Right glared at her, and Carol crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "You barely ate or slept for a week straight, and your cybernetics are in such awful condition that Vinschpinsilstein would kill everyone in the clan and then herself if she caught word of it. What were you thinking?"
"Go to hell, Cross."
Carol slammed her fist on the bedside table. "The Toppat Clan is barely functioning at this point, scrambling to fulfill your orders, and you can't even be bothered to take care of yourself! Dammit, Chief, we need you to-"
"I'm not the chief!" Right snapped. "Reginald is the chief. I'm just leading things until I can rescue him."
"Oh, really?" Carol countered. "And how do you think you're going to rescue him if you can barely walk?"
"It doesn't matter-"
"It does matter!" Carol stood and slammed her hands next to his head, effectively caging him onto the bed. "Reginald's going to be incarcerated for the rest of his life if you don't rescue him, and you can't rescue him if you're dragging your half-dead corpse around base because you can't! Take! Care of yourself!"
Right opened his mouth to snap another retort, but… he leaned back against the pillow under his head, blinking hard.
Carol slowly pulled away and stood up, arms crossed again. "Whether you like it or not, you're our leader right now. It's not just about what you want anymore; you have to do what's best for the clan."
"Reginald is what's best for the clan," Right said tiredly.
Carol sighed slowly. "Reginald can't get himself out of prison. That's why you took over, right? To break him out? And you want to use the orbital station to do it, right? The clan wasn't built in a day. These things take time, and you need to be smart with how you use that time."
"But we don't have time," Right insisted. "Reg is alone, with no one to keep him safe or tell him it's gonna be okay. He needs to be saved, I… we need him. He's so alone."
It was silent for a moment. Right's eyes slid to his metal arm. There were scuff marks all over the hand, though it looked like each joint had been oiled excessively, the remnants draining onto an old towel someone had placed there. His legs were ramrod straight, and the knee joints looked warped and bent.
Carol sighed and leaned against the wall. "If Reginald were here right now, what do you think he'd be telling you to do?"
Right blinked slowly. If Reginald were here, they wouldn't be in this mess. They'd still be on the airship, watching over the Toppats milling around them as they soared through the air. Reginald would be at the helm, and he'd be standing just behind him, and maybe Reginald would throw a knowing glance his way every now and again. And he could look back at him, with normal eyes, a normal face, a normal body, as a normal person, and give him an imperceptible nod before they both went back to their duties.
But Reginald wasn't here. They weren't together, and Right wasn't a normal person, not any more. If Reg saw him now, would he be afraid? Disgusted? Toss him away like trash? …Would he think Right deserved it since he failed to protect him? Or…
I do wish you'd take better care of yourself.
Reginald had said that several times since they'd known each other. Right would end up covered in cuts and bruises, and Reginald would tend to him, when they were alone. He'd bandage him up, gently caressing each wound, and murmur that little pearl of wisdom. You should take care of yourself.
Carol spoke again, drawing Right out of his mind. "Once you've got that figured out, we can start working in earnest again. If you're looking for a place to start…" She pulled a small booklet out of her pocket and handed it to Right. "I'd recommend starting from the beginning. Knowing what your body needs should be a good first step. Luckily for you, I found the handbook Vinschpinsilstein made hiding under your bed."
Right stared at the booklet. He hadn't really looked at it, determined to figure out the necessities on his own. Which… he had, technically, though it clearly hadn't been enough.
Carol walked to the door and set her hand on the knob. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go help Sven run the place while you recover. If you promise not to ignore everything we just talked about, I'll leave you to it." She opened the door and stepped out.
"Cross," Right called before he could stop himself. Carol leaned back into the room. "...I owe you one."
Carol gave a small smirk. "Once the chief is safe, we can talk about how you'll pay me back." She closed the door behind her.
Right sighed one more time (would she ask for cash or a favor? The possibilities were endless), then opened the book carefully to the first page. "Chapter one," he murmured to himself. "Your Cybernetics and You: A Custom Roadmap of Your New Body."
I like the idea of Carol Cross and Right Hand Man being buds, in some sense of the word, so here's a little treat for people who like that idea, too!
Poor Right... some of the loneliest people are the ones constantly surrounded by others. How can anyone relate to what he's going through? Having narrowly escaped death, changed forever into something that falls to the very bottom of the uncanny valley?
A lot of the issues that Right faces with his cybernetics here- his lack of taste, stiff joints, red vision, bad audio system- are all things he can have adjusted, as he later finds out from the handbook. I imagine that he avoided looking up what he can do/how he can adjust his body, in some vague attempt to deny that he's part robot now. Once he takes the time to research what he can do to make himself more comfortable, he figures out that he can adjust his visual settings so that everything appears in color, that he can adjust the volume and feedback settings of his communication device, and he can, in fact, taste things and move without jerking around robotically if he puts in the time to maintain his new body and rest when he needs to! Then the real fun begins when he starts figuring out the bonus features: laser beam eye, sword hand, gun hand, rocket legs... and more!
In case it's not clear, Sven is technically the one running the clan while Right rests, but he didn't have the conversation that Carol had with Right because, let's be real, Sven would not have the guts to speak that way to a higher up. Or most people, really. But we love him because he's a special little boy.
Anyway, what did you think? Leave a review and tell me your thoughts. I'll see you again tomorrow. Until then!