I sat there on the edge of that cold medical bed, stitches pulling tight across my torso with every breath I took. The old lab smelled like rust, dried blood, and the faint chemical bite of whatever Maria had used to keep me under. My bionic arm hummed softly where it had reconnected to the stump, blue patterns pulsing in a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Pain throbbed everywhere—sharp in the fresh cuts, dull and heavy in my ribs and shoulder from the fall and the creek. But I was alive. That voice in my head had made sure of it.
Maria moved around the room with her back to me, packing tools and notes into her bag with quick, efficient motions. The staff was collapsed at her hip again. Her clothes were still damp from the sewers, hair messy and sticking to her neck. I watched her for a long moment, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The dissection table, the mask, the self-destruct threat. It all felt like a fever dream, but the pain was real.
I looked back at her and spoke slowly, my voice rough and cracked from screaming against that mask.
"Why were you robbing those people?"
She didn't answer. She kept folding a small cloth around a set of scalpels, placing them neatly into a side pocket.
I tried again, louder this time. "Hey. Why did you do it? Why were you robbing people back there at the stadium?"
Maria zipped the bag shut with a sharp sound. "Stop playing hero," she said flatly, not even turning around. "It doesn't suit you."
I pushed myself up a little straighter, ignoring the way the stitches tugged and sent fresh fire across my chest. "I'm not playing anything. I'm asking. Why did you rob them? Why did you dissect me like some lab rat? And why the hell are you walking around loaded with weapons and gadgets like you're expecting a war?"
She finally turned, slinging the bag over her shoulder. Her eyes met mine—sharp, calculating, a little tired. For a second she just studied me, like I was still on her table and she was deciding where to cut next.
Then she spoke. "Tell me where you got that arm and who made it. If you tell me the truth, I'll answer your questions. Fair trade."
I paused, breathing out slowly. The arm felt heavier than usual, still warm from the reconnection. "What if I made it myself?"
Maria let out a short, dry laugh that echoed off the lab walls. "After everything I just saw? I doubt you have the mental capability to design something like that, let alone the physical capability to use it properly. And your power—the time slowing I mapped while you were under—doesn't seem like one that would help you build a super bionic arm of this caliber. So try again."
I looked at her for a long moment. The lab lights flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows across her face. Part of me wanted to lie, to keep things close. But what was the point anymore? Jonathan was gone. I was barely holding myself together. I breathed out and told her the truth.
"My mentor made it. A crazy strong, crazy annoying guy who took me in after I was kicked out on the streets a few weeks ago. He found me half-dead in an alley, patched me up, and gave me this." I flexed the fingers slowly, watching the blue lights trace elegant patterns under the plating. "He's the reason I'm still breathing most days."
For a second, something shifted in her expression. A flicker of sympathy, maybe. Her lips quivered slightly as she glanced back at the arm. Then it was gone, replaced by that cold curiosity again.
"I got separated from my brother," she said quietly. "Needed a source of income quick until I found him. That's why the robbing. Not the full story, but it's not a lie." She paused, eyes locked on my arm again. "And this arm… it interests me. No, it does more than that. It's one of the most intriguing pieces of engineering I've ever seen. Even if the software is subpar in places, the hardware is beautiful. The stuff I use, I built myself. All of it. That's that."
She turned to leave, heading toward the lab door that led back into the dark tunnels.
I forced myself up off the bed, legs shaky, pain shooting through every fresh stitch. "A good man died because I tried to go after you," I said, voice cracking. "If maybe I was a second earlier to that train station… if I hadn't seen you… maybe he would've lived. Jonathan pushed me out of the way. Took a drill through the middle for me."
Maria glanced back over her shoulder. "So what?"
The words hit harder than any blade. A single tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away angrily with my left sleeve.
"I don't think you're a bad person," I said. "You're definitely insane for the dissecting bit, but… you want to find your brother? Let me help you. I know someone who can definitely find him. Mr. Wyvern—he has resources, connections. We could work together."
She looked me straight in the eyes for a long beat. Then she shook her head and kept walking. "You're an idiot for trying to play hero again. This isn't your problem to fix."
"Wait!" I called after her, taking a stumbling step forward. Pain flared so bad I had to grab the edge of the bed. "I need your help. I'm weak right now. I won't make it out of these tunnels alone, and I want to get back my friend's body to give him a proper burial. You're part of the reason my body's fucked up right now. The least you could do is help."
Maria stopped. She sighed loudly, spun around, and started cussing me out in a low, furious stream. "You're actually stupid, you know that? Believing I would help some guy who just threatened to blow me up along with himself. The only reason you're not dead on that table is because I felt a shred of pity and because that pathetic stab of yours wasn't even a real attempt to kill me. Grow up."
My body started shaking. The pain, the exhaustion, the memory of Jonathan's halves on the ground—it all crashed down at once. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, back against the bed frame. "Please," I begged, voice breaking. "I can't wait to heal and then ask Mr. Wyvern for help. God knows what they'll do to Jonathan's body by then—experiments, disposal, who knows. I don't know anyone else smart enough or with the resources to pull this off. Not after what you just did to me. Please."
I lifted my right bionic arm slowly, the blue lights reflecting in her eyes. "I won't trade it away. But I'll let you experiment on it a bit more. Maybe even give you one of the passwords. Real access."
That made her pause.
I could see the conflict play across her face. She should leave. She should be heading back to find brother. But that arm, my arm, was too good an opportunity. I watched her eyes trace the lines of it, the way her fingers twitched at her sides. She didn't care about me or Jonathan's body. Not really. But if helping meant she could prod deeper into the tech, unlock whatever section she couldn't hack before… she'd be an idiot to pass it up.
The lab fell quiet except for the faint hum of old generators somewhere in the walls. I stayed on the floor, breathing carefully so the stitches wouldn't tear. Every second stretched. Maria stood there, bag slung over her shoulder, staff at her hip, staring at the arm like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I waited, heart pounding, wondering if she would walk away and leave me here to bleed out or find my own way. The voice in my head from the void was silent now, but I could still feel its echo—*we must not die*. Jonathan's face kept flashing behind my eyes. The train station explosion. The child's body hitting the ground. Catherine's red knife. All of it pushed me to keep talking even when my throat felt raw.
"Come on," I said softly. "You saw inside me. You know how bad it is. I'm not asking you to be friends. Just… help me get his body back. In return, you get time with the arm. Passwords. Whatever you need. We both win something."
Maria shifted her weight. She looked toward the tunnel door again, then back at me. Her lips pressed into a thin line. I could almost hear the calculations running in her head—the pull of her own goals fighting against the temptation right in front of her.
The silence stretched longer. I flexed the bionic fingers again, making the lights dance, reminding her what was on offer. Pain radiated from the connection point, but I kept it steady. This was my only card. If she left now, I'd probably die down here trying to climb out alone. Or worse, the black-armoured teams would find me first.
Finally she exhaled sharply through her nose.
"Fine," she muttered. "But only because that arm is worth more than your pathetic begging. One condition—you do exactly what I say, when I say it. No more hero speeches. No more tears. We get the body, I get my time with the tech, then we go our separate ways."
I nodded slowly, relief flooding through me even as fresh pain followed it. "Deal."
She walked over and offered a hand to help pull me up. I took it with my left, the bionic one staying at my side for now. Her grip was stronger than it looked. As I got to my feet, the room spun for a second before settling.
"You're still an idiot," she said under her breath.
"Yeah," I replied with a weak smile that hurt my face. "Probably."
We stood there for another moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us. The tunnels waited outside. The King's Gambit loomed far above. Somewhere out there were answers about the bomb, the drill, Jonathan's body, and Maria's brother. For the first time since the station exploded, I felt like I wasn't completely alone in this.
But trust? That was something neither of us had. Not yet.
Maria adjusted her bag and nodded toward the door. "and put on some clothes. Let's move before I change my mind. And keep that arm ready. We might need it."
I grabbed my stuff and slipped it on then followed her out of the lab, each step careful, pain constant but bearable. The blue lights on my arm pulsed brighter for a second, almost like approval. Or warning. I wasn't sure which.
The long tunnels stretched ahead, dark and echoing. Whatever came next, at least I wasn't falling anymore.