Sevika spent the night thoroughly tinkering with her arm. Her shoulder had been bugging her earlier today. From all the modifications and repairs over the past years, and with the expansion of Silco's empire, hardware had started to fray.
She figured being her own doctor saved time for more important things, Silco's shimmer plants were being hit on the daily.
On top of the desk sat a buzzing lamp with iron decals. A glass of rum and a bottle accompanied her project.
The concrete walls held the room in a firm, yet comforting grip. Once the clock was punched and the world locked out, Sevika's breathing settled into a slow, steady rhythm, aligning with the quiet, unshakable stillness of the room around her. The flat's stillness modeling her ideal of leadership—stable, consistent, and grounded in trust.
She backed her chair making space to lay out her arm. The final panel popped off with a meticulous pry of her prongs. A thick cloud of smoke coughed up out of the bearing's gills.
"Oof." She fanned at the wheel.
She poked with the sharp end of her tweezers and fished around, feeling for a small hole. She swirled around the joint, hit a dip, and pushed. The socket hissed before popping loose. She pushed the arm from her shoulder, sweeping the liquor aside before setting it on the desk.
She examined the contents of the rotator. Sevika leaned back and sighed. She was going to need replacement parts. Sevika reached for the bottom drawer to her right, pulling it out. The creak of the old desk filled the room as the wood slid. She held her core and searched, still not leaning far enough to see its contents. Not feeling anything, she stood from her seat.
"Huh." She kneeled down and tilted her head to see into the back. The custom nature of her arm made it difficult to source parts locally. She wondered if, with power balanced, the undercity would ever be respected.
She pushed the drawer back in and walked over to her bunk, kneeling again. She opened the bench cabinet and pulled a thick black case from underneath, swinging her sheets back down. With a thud, the case landed on the bed. Sevika scrolled through the combination lock. With a click, it opened, revealing a scribble of an angry monkey.
""That fucking girl," Sevika muttered, slamming the case shut—instantly, a cold splash of paint slapped onto her face.
"Aeugh!" She wiped her eyes with her arm as bright pink paint covered everything within a five-foot radius.
Trailing paint behind her, she left her room as it was, not bothering to throw on her poncho. She needed a word with Silco, this had gone too far. Jinx could have anything she wanted. What could she possibly be doing with Sevika's spare parts?
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With her remaining flesh arm, Sevika pushed open the office door. With an exhale, she slowed, coming to a stop, the door closing behind her.
"That brat has been going through my things." She growled.
"This is a curious age." Silco replied, his back turned, eyes focused on the compact cushion.
From the corner of his eye Silco saw the henchwoman, closed the mirror and turned in his chair.
"You look terrible," he jibed, fingertips tapping the top of the mirror.
"JINX!" Sevika yelled. "In my STUFF!" Fuming.
"Don't take it so seriously. She's a child" he stood up, brushing himself off.
"She's a terroist." Sevika reminded him.
Silco's tone changed, his eye twitching.
"I'll deal with her." He snapped.
He stepped around the paint-stamped boot prints with his toe.
"Clean this mess up," he said, tapping her limbless shoulder.
"The look is bad for business." He exited the office.
"Fuck me…" Sevika sighed.
She puttered around the shelves for a towel and bowl. Silco's office was scattered with bits of Jinx in every corner. Atop his desk, a painted mug and his ashtray were covered in animals. What was she thinking? In Silco's eyes, Jinx was perfect. Explosions? An accident. Fires? A creative outlet. Someone injured? Their fault.
She pulled a drawer out—BANG! A cloud of blue smoke flushed her eyes.
Soft giggling emanated from the ceiling.
It had gotten old now. Sevika held in her reaction, releasing her breath she laughed.
"It's gonna take a lot more than exploding bears to finish me." She looked up at the rafters. A young Jinx kicked her feet from above.
"You found my monkey!" she exclaimed. "I was looking everywhere for that one."
"You don't fool me," Sevika said. "Freak."
Jinx jumped down onto her father's desk. She chuckled, playing with Silco's things.
"Y'know, I was following two fancy boys around the lanes yesterday," Jinx said.
"Is that so?" Sevika replied.
"They said they were looking for you." Jinx bantered.
"What for—?"
"QUIET!" Jinx snarled at the space next to her.
"Dunno? But they seemed so lost." Jinx picked up Silco's compact foundation and flipped the mirror up.
Sevika was not about to witness another episode, the girl's unsteady reality was unsettling.
"Can't you bother somebody else?" Sevika bent down, wiping paint from her boots.
"No, they can't," Jinx said, reflecting a green light into Sevika's face.
"You take annoyance to a whole new level," Sevika spat, holding her arm in front of her eyes.
"Brat." She scrubbed the towel over her entrance prints.
Jinx hopped off the desk and meandered toward the crouched Sevika.
"Looking good, toots!" Jinx spun her pistol and reached for the door, hoping to catch Silco on his way down to her workshop.
——————————————————
A day had passed, Sevika still uni-armed.
The flat's plank floor was streaked with pink-stained veins. New sheets were neatly folded.
She looked out her window, exhaling a puff of her cigarette before resting it in a dish. She thought about the men in the bar, the drugs they had given her, and how she had kept them on her body since that day. Other than herself, Jinx's recent messes had been minor.
She walked to the mirror, fitting a cropped black shirt over her shoulder. It was funny seeing an incomplete version of herself. She reached for a thin palette, an eyeshadow brush, and a black hairband. She buttoned the clasps on her top, holding the makeup in her mouth. Closing one eye at a time, she dipped the brush in brown pigment, wiping it across both eyelids. With black, she repeated, and in her head rehearsed the day's route. She lifted her arm to gather her hair and started to laugh.
Flipping a red poncho over her head was her last ritual before she stamped on her boots and headed out.
Closing the door, she saw an envelope taped at eye level.
'S,' it read.
She took it off, using her thumb to lift the flap. It contained a paper, bulleted with specs, measurements, and a list of chemtech parts. At the bottom, an address.
——————————————————————
Sevika footed the way, scanning the signs above the street windows. A tent selling tanks and bowls, some empty, others full of green liquids of different shades, prosthetics floating in the preservative. An unfamiliar lightness handicapped her left side. Within the hour, she'd be back in her flat, reunited with her hand.
She coughed into her elbow and paused at the intersection. When wasn't a deal set back by Jinx? She was a distraction, and with age, she had become a ticking time bomb. Even so, she was Silco's daughter, his precious weapon.
'Of mass destruction,' she thought.
The parts shop was down an alley, its storefront halfway down the block.
She approached the door, a sign in the window reading "Open."
She knocked before opening the door with her body. An iron bell rang above her as she stepped onto the welcome mat.
"Hello?" she called out.
She browsed the shelved wall, organized baskets of gears, bolts, and screws, remembering her left arm. She chased a dream—independence, liberation for her people. She had been whole then, in a physical sense, but her faith in the rebellion was fabricated.
Accepting Vander's inability to take steps toward change was a pivotal point for her nature. It felt as though, in losing an arm, she had gained her ticket to achieving power.
"Welcome! What can I do for you?" a friendly voice called out from behind the counter.
"Yes, I was told you would carry these." She pulled the list from beneath her poncho, handing it to the smiling man.
The shopkeeper reached for the paper and lifted his glasses from his neck to his eyes. His eyes scanned, reading its contents. He looked up, with an elbow raised.
"How do you know Smeech?"
"My boss is an old friend," she said with a smile.
"Oh, the owner's known Smeech since he was a kid. He helped start this shop." He pointed to the board behind him, a photograph of a boy wearing a welding frock and a Chembaron Yordle.
Silco had brought her to Smeech after the explosion, a Scrap Hacker bio mechanic. The Yordle's entire body had nearly been replaced with enhanced prosthetics. She woke up, forgetting her arm had been blown off, the augmentations now fused to her nervous system.
She didn't mourn, at least not right away. Instead, the potential her newfound strength offered consumed her.
At Silco's side, things began to change. Legions were made, alliances bloomed, and the industrialists of Zaun worked tirelessly toward one goal: respect, with technology that would beat Topside at its own corrupted game.
"We keep this stuff in the back, so feel free to browse around for a bit while I get it boxed up for you!" the clerk said.
Sevika sighed in relief.
'I wouldn't be here if it weren't for that brat,' she thought. She'd planned to visit the smith to change her locks. As cute as she was, her personality was unstable, unpredictable, and explosive.
Sevika toured the shop. On the counter, a jar labeled 'Mixed Size' held multicolored bionic fingers. The board featured thank-you notes, photos of cars, and conversion charts.
A photo of a young Silco was half-covered by an article, his unscarred face fully visible. A large figure in iron gauntlets peeked from behind the article. Early Silco and Vander started with a shared vision. Sevika tensed her arm, eager to fix her prosthetic. Vander, a natural-born fighter, eventually grew soft, rejecting power.
The parts salesman came from behind the back curtain with a box.
"All ready for ya!" he said, sliding the box onto the counter.
"Thank you," she nodded, placing a bag of coins in the counter. She slid the box it to sit at her right hip.
The clerk hurried to the door, holding it open.
"Good day."
She stepped out of the shop, the ground crunching under her boots. Sevika headed toward the lanes.
