How did we get here? The answer is simple: me and my stupid mouth.
Apparently, when you point out that someone is dressed exactly like a rebellious daughter running away from her insane scientist father, you’re going to get dragged off to go shopping. Not that I would deny the fact that we needed clothes, mind. I just would have liked to have a bit more input on what I’d be wearing.
“Here, try these! I’m sure they’ll fit you great!” Amelia chirped. She threw a whole-ass outfit onto the bundled mess already in my arms. The pile even included underwear, socks, and a new pair of shoes! At least the sneakers looked comfy.
I just sighed and turned towards the smirking clerk. “Anywhere I can try these on?” I asked, not even bothering to hide the misery in my voice. That just seemed to amuse her further.
“Of course, dear customer. This way. We do have options to model your appearance using our app, but plenty of our customers still prefer trying out clothes in the real,” she replied demurely, leading me to a door that slid aside as I approached.
I mumbled a ‘thank you’, then paused when the door closed and sealed behind me.
The room was spacious. Comfy. Even had a couch on one side, a whole wall covered in a massive mirror, and a small bar, just in case you needed refreshment after a long fashion-session. It was almost a nicer ensemble than my apartment. Well, former apartment.
And that kind of pissed me off.
The trip from the megabuilding over to the shop had been one memorable experience. Everything was so… nice. Clean. There were actual fucking flowers planted along the pavement, shielding walkers from the cars.
People were relaxed. Stores were plentiful. Kids were just casually spending time in a park, playing games.
No fear of getting snatched and suffering a horrible fate. No constant sound of gunshots somewhere in the distance. No same-y streets you’d get lost in if you weren’t intimately familiar with them.
Then there were all the colors. Neon signs and painted storefronts surrounded me, demanding attention and promising to satiate any need I might have. I only avoided being overwhelmed thanks to my superior mental stats.
But I still wanted to scream. To rage and hurt someone. Here they all were, just being happy, while the entire slums were probably little more than a burnt-out mess right that second, and…
I dropped both the clothes Amelia had piled onto me and the lab coat my arms had been bundled up in. Leaning my forehead against the mirror wall, I took deep breaths as I stared right into my inhuman eyes. I barely had enough of my wits about me to send out a ping. Thankfully, this confirmed that there were no cameras in the room.
It could have been bad if someone caught a glimpse of my hands.
The reason why it was necessary to hide them was still messing with my head a little. Apparently, reality as I saw it differed wildly from what everyone else was treated to.
When I looked at my arms, I just saw grey-skinned cybernetics. I was still getting used to the color, but otherwise, they appeared normal to me.
Amelia insisted otherwise. She’d practically strangled me back in the lobby of the megabuilding, catching the collar of my shirt from the back to stop me from just barging out into the street ‘looking like that.’
I didn’t doubt her, of course. After all, I still remembered the way my new arms had looked when I first saw them on the operating table, before they were attached to me. They’d seemed to fizzle at the edges while flickering in and out of visible reality.
According to the good doctor’s daughter, they were still doing that. If anything, she said the effect was even worse. My arms were ‘a trip and a half just to fucking look at’ because ‘they either look like they’re barely there or they look like they’re in four places at once’.
So, to solve both our problems, she had shed her lab coat, bundled it up over my hands, and then booked it for the nearest clothes shop that wasn’t too close to the wreck of her father’s lab.
She had claimed that hiding my arms was top priority. But now? After seeing the absolute joy on her face when we slipped into the clothing store? I had a sneaking suspicion that her enthusiasm had a lot to do with the fact that her father hadn’t given her many chances to shop for herself.
Or any, ever.
I gave one last glance at my hands, sighed, and started stripping. Which, hey, at least I was getting out of the dead-people clothes! They’d been a step up from the flimsy hospital gown thing the doctor had left me in, but not by much.
Of course, once I was free of them, I took some time to eye up the current state of my body.
In spite of what I’d gone through recently, I honestly looked better than ever. My body was toned. Muscled. I even had a six pack! Well, sort of. A shadow of one, really. Even the signs of starvation had been mostly burned away between the intense workouts Mela had put me through and the good food the Kittens afforded their members.
The Kittens, who were probably all dead. Because of me.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I waited for the crushing guilt to slam down onto my shoulders, then frowned.
Nothing.
Oh, I didn’t feel great. It was my taking of those cybernetic eyes in the first place that had sent Amelia’s father into a spiral of anger, which led to his demand for the slums to burn. But it wasn’t like I’d organized the theft. That had been Jason. And even if I hadn’t been there that evening, he’d have fucked everyone over regardless.
I’d been telling myself that for months, but having met the monster that was the good doctor, I suppose the truth of the matter had finally registered properly.
Or I was enough of a monster now to shed any and all signs of compassion. Either or.
I gave my naked reflection a sardonic smile as I stared at the cybernetic arms. The reaction they’d had to my eyes had caused them to run wild, their eldritch nature trying to subsume the rest of my body. That had left me with swirls of pale gray flesh along my shoulders, reaching up my neck and down to my chest. It almost looked like I was marked by the tentacles of some eldritch creature, which…. wasn’t that far off the mark, honestly.
Not that the change in skin color was the only thing I got out of the deal.
I… huh?
The experience gain for my skills wasn’t what briefly made my mind glitch. I’d been ignoring the alerts while I fought off the guards, and most of the improvements I’d gotten made sense to me.
It was the Essence stat that was the cause of my confusion. Specifically the drop in the stat. That confusion only quadrupled when I watched the 7 flicker and turn into 8 (10).
Essence is a consumable resource? But… when did I use any?
I cast my mind back, then squinted my eyes in suspicion as I locked onto a tiny little detail.
The one time I’d decided I needed to shadow up a guy myself, I’d broken out into the shadow-speak and gripped the man’s face, leaning over him to stare directly into his eyes. In that moment, it felt like something had dripped out of my eyes and into his. Something, well, essential.
I’d overlooked it as more eldritch bullshit at the time, but…
I should have expected something like this.
It wasn’t like just listening to shadow-speak was enough to turn someone. I’d mouthed off to the doctor, and even Amelia had heard me talk in the eldritch tongue. Neither of them showed a single sign of turning…
I was so caught up in my musings that I almost missed the sound of the door sliding open.
Almost.
I spun around, the suspiciously cat-like paw pads on my fingers flexing as long, deadly claws popped out of them.
Happy humming turned into a choked squeak as Amelia dropped the armful of clothes she was wearing and stared at me with wide eyes. Eyes that slowly dropped from my face down my very naked body.
Her face erupted into a flush so red, I could practically feel the heat.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I spun away from her, then quickly realized that was sort of useless since I was standing right in front of a mirror.
I’d like to call the following scramble for clothing ‘graceful’, but it was too full of awkward hopping. There were a couple close calls when I almost tripped and was saved only by my newfound preternatural grace of movement and stability.
Amelia had turned her back to me and started wringing her hands. Once I finally had my underwear and pants on, I breathed a sigh of relief and finally decided to address her.
“It’s fine now. And, um, I really am sorry. I got distracted, and —”
“It’s fine! I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t think she would lead me to your changing room, and… um, just… sorry…”
She turned around. To my surprise, she made another one of those weird squeaky sounds. Her face went through several interesting shades and expressions, ranging from embarrassment to horror.
I glanced down at my bare chest, then arched my brows when I looked back up at her. “You’re not embarrassed by this much, are you? Weren’t you watching when your father decided to, you know, lop off my arms? Besides, I thought you were a ripper?”
“That’s… That’s different,” she stammered. “It’s hard to feel anything when you’re about to cut into someone, okay?!”
I shrugged. “I guess that’s fair.”
I finally threw on a t-shirt, closely followed by some kind of long-sleeved sweater. It felt surprisingly light and airy. I luxuriated in how soft the entire ensemble was, and how well it fit me.
On that subject…
“How’d you even know what size my clothes should be?” I asked casually as I pulled on the socks and sneakers, which also fit perfectly.
“Oh, um, well… I did have all those scans of your body, and your measurements,” she admitted cautiously, like I might bite her head off for it.
I just chortled in amusement. “Yeah, that checks out. Well, thanks.”
She clearly wasn’t expecting that, but I ignored her confusion for the moment. I was too busy moving around and testing the range of motion my new outfit allowed me. Honestly? The clothes were amazing.
I’d never find something of this quality back in the slums.
“You… you don’t mind?” she asked slowly. “About the scans, and how much I know about you and stuff?”
“Did you kidnap me, force me through testing, lop off my arms, replace them with eldritch cybernetics, and then plan to murder me later?”
“No?”
“Then no, I don’t mind,” I replied dryly, shooting her a sharp grin. “It’s your father I have a grudge against.”
That helped her rally enough to send me a smile of her own. “Makes sense, yeah. Let me know when you want us to storm my dearest father’s home or something, okay? For now, here. Take these.”
She bent down to rummage through the clothing pile she’d dropped earlier, coming away from it with a pair of pitch-black gloves.
I took them with a raised brow, which made her blush for some reason.
“For your hands, remember? I mean, they’re still messing with my head. I just thought these could help, and…”
“Amelia, you’re rambling.” I rolled my eyes and wormed my hands into the gloves, once more noting they were a great fit. “Really, no excuses needed. And thanks. These are super comfortable, actually. Though… how are we going to pay for all this stuff?”
At long last, the familiar smirk make its way back onto her face, along with some of her old brazen confidence.
“I told you before, didn’t I? I’ve been planning a potential escape for a while now. My dearest old dad’s going to be paying for all our expenses. Not that he’ll ever know!”
Now that, I could totally get behind.
if you have a Patreon subscription.
- Fodder Imp ($3) - 5 chapters (10k words / 5 days) ahead.
- Mortal Footsoldier ($7) - 5 chapters (10k words / 5 days) ahead.
- Demonic Sergeant ($10) - 5+ chapters (and growing) (10k words / 5 days) ahead.
EPUB and PDF downloads of published and unpublished books at any tier!
https://www.patreon.com/ATValentine
---
Please don't forget to follow and favorite if you enjoy the story!