~ Sanctuary ~

Chapter 11

The crackle of the ground lightly sounded around me as I felt the stiffness in my face. The wind had been blowing for a while, longer than I could even keep track. And nor did I care to, I just wanted life to be sucked from me like it had my entire family. My lips and throat felt dry, to where I couldn't even speak. But I heard noise nearby me. I tried to open my eyes, or even my mouth to say something, ask what was going on, but there wasn't much that my eyes saw.
There were certain figures around me, all not easy to make out through my squinted eyes. They were dark and unrecognizable, and I didn't really care. I'd given up on paying attention to details when I was so close to unconsciousness for eternity. I felt arms and hands lifting me up, and I felt my body raise, without the help of my muscles or body strength at all. Everything moving me was external. And the way that they carried me was as if I was light as a feather. I felt a heavy wind pick up and blow by me, and I saw a last glimpse of the sky.
It was a bit more colorful than I remembered back when I first fell asleep, trying to accept the eternal sleep that never entered my body. The sky was colored oranges and purples, with a hint of blue and pink here and there. As if a paint collection had spilled into the sky. But it was nice to know that I could still see a bit of color before I am being whisked away by an unknown force or team. But I think it was the sun rising.
There was a harsh ringing in my ears, and the color from the sky disappeared from my vision, and my vision was met with darker colors. Blacks, grays, dark grays, excetera. My ears continually rang, and they weren't ringing before I was lifted, and my eyes burned, so I had to shut them. I wanted to pay attention to what was around me, but I couldn't. I knew it would just be better to have my eyes remain shut for as long as possible, and be able to open them periodically. I kept my eyes open long enough, and I knew it was time to just trust what was whisking me away. Because the way that they were handling me was shockingly gentle. It wasn't like I had expected, which was to be thrown around and not really have any care in transportation when I seemed to be near to my deathbed.
The ringing eventually ceased, and I heard loud flapping noises, wind noises carrying with the flapping noises, along with footsteps on metal ground near me. I felt like my body was flying. My stomach floated around in thin air, and made me feel uneasy, but I was laying flat so I didn't feel like I was going to be sick at all. So thankfully I could just remain still without any struggle.
What dreaded me during my time in and out of consciousness was the fact that I left Charlie, Flynn, Blake, Felix, Griffin, Seth, Cassidy, Banner, Fraser, Finn, Gunner, Max, Forrest, Fern, and even though she's a carbon copy of me, Mackenzie, behind.
The fact they're still there, their bodies rotting into the ground as we speak, albeit over a slow period of time, doesn't mean they didn't deserve a proper burial. But I'm sure that even if any of us were still alive, we wouldn't have been able to be given one, or even give one to those who died after we found and reunited with the ones that did survive. And of course, I was the one to persevere and survive this horrible tragedy, just because of some simple disease that killed off my whole family. Fuck me, dude.
I thought back to the time when I first met Charlie, and she, along with her other comrades who would soon become my brothers, helped me find myself.
When Flynn offered for me to give myself a name, that was the start of my identity finding. I've been on a search for it ever since I was created. I've been searching for a title, a purpose for myself. Although, not a lot of people find their purpose in life until it finds them unexpectedly, and even then, the purpose, at least their own, changes just like the winds of different seasons.
I will say, I only ever read about seasons. We never experienced them in Sanctuary. It was just a valley of desert, with tumbleweeds here and there, with a bit of dust particles blowing softly in the wind to give it the proper atmosphere for where we resided. I wish we kind of did, it would be peaceful to see trees losing their leaves and flowers, and then growing them back once winter was over. It would be nice and magical to see snow falling onto the hard ground every year, and the ground covered in reddish and yellow leaves. Seeing flowers and pollen floating through the sky, traveling wherever the wind would take them, it would just be really nice to see all of that. But nevertheless.
Back to leaving my family behind, it's probably going to be the most painful part, living as the lone survivor of an entire race of cyborgs. An entire race.
Did you get that?
An entire race.
I know wherever I'm going, I'll be thankful that they took me in and gave me a place to reside. But there was no way the trauma would leave me quickly. It'd take a lot of time to get over losing your entire family and race of who were your brethren, in one sunset of a night.
Thoughts and memories swirled in my brain, so much so that it would cause me to doze in and out of consciousness. And I was okay with that. Reliving the certain moments in my life that were granted to me, living through the most painful ones as well as the happy ones. Until we got here, when I realized I was all alone. I was one of a kind once more, but even more so. Honestly, reliving the good parts of my memories were more painful than living through the devastating ones because every time I'd come out of a happy memory, it'd remind me that those happy memories can't be made with the same people. The same people I'd made happy memories with, weren't there to make happy memories anymore. Because the people who are taking me somewhere where I don't recognize, seems like a more humane thing to do. I would've done it for another human if they got stranded on our wasteland. So it's got to be humans taking me in and rehabilitating me. Because me, and my team, would've done the same thing for their kind.
Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of not knowing where I was, the flapping started to slow, and some air audibly seemed to slow as well. As if the air was coming from somewhere artificially. I took a deep breath in and exhaled normally. I knew I was halfway conscious, but not enough to function enough to keep my eyes open for very long or move my body from place to place.
I heard footsteps on metal and hard ground around me, and the sounds of the footsteps reverberated off the walls. Out of nowhere, I felt the arms and hands that carried me before raising me up again suddenly, like I was some form of cargo. I was immobile on my own, so I pretty much was. But at least they were being more careful with me like they would with other cargo. I'm sure as hell thankful for that. I took a deep breath and tried to force my eyes open, and I caught a glimpse of some more, brighter, and lighter color themes. Like as if the sunset from the sky became pastel and painted walls inside buildings that weren't crumbling at the seams. It reminded me of when we went into the Toymaker's office, how it looked like it was going to fall apart at the seams.
After a bit of travel, I felt a soft cushion beneath my body as I was laid down gently, which knocked me out of my train of thought swiftly. I didn't move so as to not cause any disturbance to everyone else around me, because there couldn't have been any machine carrying me. It was beings of some sort. Aliens? No, that's stupid, aliens don't exist...or do they?
I shook the thought away and laid perfectly still until I heard no noise emerge from the room around me. The beings seemed to be respectful though, so that's always a plus. There was not much time until the noises, shuffling, and clinking of metal ceased, and the room went quiet, still, and didn't stir one bit. And so I let myself relax, knowing that I wasn't in the proximity of any threat, and eventually, I dozed off once more, into a deep sleep.
The deep sleep that I had was a lot more comfortable, a lot more peaceful. Of course, nightmares of reliving the past still visited me, and kept waking me up here and there, but it wasn't constant. But the place I was laying was oddly comfortable and soft from what I could feel. I would've turned over to lay on my stomach, but I wasn't sure if I was alone in the room, so I didn't wanna risk movement. The nightmares didn't come every single time I would doze off. It would just creep up on me out of nowhere from a perfectly happy and fun dream, turn into a nightmare before it jolted me into consciousness. And I think it was because of how I was laying. So even though I didn't want to risk anything, I knew I'd have to change my sleeping position so I'd get actual good sleep. I didn't have enough strength to jolt up in my seat though, I knew I needed more sleep until I could do something like that. So, without opening my eyes, I rolled over and placed my hands up and by my head, with my legs outstretched, and then I let the comfortability take its toll on my body and let myself sleep.
Back at the desert, I slept a little bit because I was willing to accept defeat, and accept the death that was slowly approaching me to get me like it got all of my brothers and sisters. But no such eventuality came to fruition. Now, I'm here, in a far more comfortable but unusual and unfamiliar place, able to sleep. But I don't know if I'll wake up again.
The thought of not waking up again didn't bother me, even if nightmares plagued me like crazy as I was dozing.
Then, to my own accord, after I'd sat in darkness for a while, and had fun watching the pleasant and sometimes horrific pictures of the past couple years, possibly, flash by like a whirlwind, I had enough energy and motivation to slowly open my eyes. It didn't take much force or thought, thankfully. My eyelashes give a flutter ever so slightly to the reaction to the bright light over me. I looked above me and it was a bright light over me that came from the ceiling, and I felt my body gain back some more feeling.
My entire body felt like pins and needles, felt like static on a TV screen. You feel like that when you lose circulation and feeling in your body. That's what I was feeling. I let my eyes open all the way to look around the room as I waited for my body to gain back consciousness, that way I could sit up, walk, lift my limbs, what have you. It was easy for me to roll over because I just had to engage my hips. But I guess I was sleeping in the same position long enough that it lost circulation quickly and easily.
The room was painted a pastel green, maybe classified as mint green, and the floor was white tile. The bed I was laying in, or I can assume it's a bed, was a shade of darker green with white accents, with a bit of beige in the stitching of the covers. I turned my head to face some of the walls, and on my right, there was one that had a window that led to the outside. On my right was a window, but I couldn't see through to the other side, with a door just to the right of it.
The room didn't feel threatening or like a torture dungeon like Gordon's operating table and room was, but nevermind that. I looked to the wall ahead of me, and on the shelves, there were some trays with medical equipment lying everywhere. Then, I felt the static feeling leave my body, and my body was back to normal.
I took a deep breath and put some weight on my palms against the bed, hoisting myself into a sitting position. My whole body was stiff from laying down in the same position for so long. So I took my hand and held my chin, before leaning my head to the side, hearing a few pops from my neck. I did the same to the other side, and of course after the pops, it was relieving, so when I readjusted to a resting position, my neck felt better.
"You're finally awake," a voice boomed suddenly throughout the room. My eyes shot more open since they were closed from popping my neck, and I noticed an individual standing in the doorway. All I could see was his silhouette, and anywhere else, I would have assumed a fighting stance. But I didn't have enough strength to do something like that. And I didn't feel threatened at all, just a smidge startled. So I sat there, preparing to meet this man who most likely saved me.
"Yeah, as awake as I can be," I groggily said. "You startled me," I chuckled, coughing a slight bit as moisture spread through my mouth with ease. After not talking for so long, so I'd gotten used to the dry feeling from the desert on my tongue and lips.. The figure walked through the doorway and it closed silently behind him with a click. He walked up to the side of the bed, and I slung my feet over the edge so I was sitting up and facing him. Once he came into the light, I saw his features looked very familiar. Strikingly familiar.
He had a very angular face, very chiseled, and his cheekbones were as pronounced as a lunar eclipse in the middle of the day. His figure seemed very well kept despite it being as thin as a number two pencil, maybe even thinner than that, and his hands were boney, but coordinated. He knew how to use them based on how he held himself, and they were definitely the hands of a doctor because of his precision about how he directed them. His nose was thin and slender, and so were his lips, and his eyes were piercing and noticeable.
"You remind me of someone, is that you Morgan?" I asked timidly, but with curiosity lacing my tongue. The individual chuckled, and I couldn't help but tilt my head. "What's so funny," I pondered aloud. I felt bad for asking, because I felt silly asking about someone he probably doesn't even recognize.
"It's just you said a name I strongly recognize, however I am not said man, my dear, don't worry about it," he said politely. His words made me relax a little. "He was my brother, actually. You mean Doctor Morgan right?" he asked. I nodded, and he nodded back, not saying another word and grabbing a clipboard that was on a bedside table near the bed I was placed in. "Well, considering everything, you survived quite a predicament, young lady," he said, with a bit of a smile. I still was pondering on the fact that the man that was standing in front of me was somehow related to Morgan.
"What do you mean," I asked again, lost in my own thoughts but somehow still remaining present. I was at a loss for words and how I was still alive as well, because I should've died alongside the others, yet I'm here and still living. What is this witchcraft? I thought I was supposed to die like the others with the diseases spreading to us, why didn't it affect me?
"Well, Morgan, my brother actually, sent out a distress call, one that I hadn't seen used in centuries, but I recognized it because it's obviously my brother," he said, boasting a little. As soon as he realized he was boasting, he cleared his throat and situated himself in a lot more of a professional stance. It was funny but I didn't laugh aloud or tease him about it. He's a doctor who's helping me, for crying out loud. "That distress call was called a while ago, and of course when we got there, it seemed like a mass genocide had taken place. In the distress call, it was reported to wear hazmat suits, so upon request, it was executed," he explained.
It all started to come back to me slowly, the sickness. Once the alarm had been sounded, I guess Morgan knew that the sickness would get to most of us, but we would need help from external forces to get the remaining surviving ones out of there. It's interesting what Morgan has invented in his time, but it's unfortunate that he couldn't properly reunite with his brother, since I'd imagine they'd been separated for a good while. Because if he lived all the way in Sanctuary, and away from his brother forcefully, his brother seemed to not believe his brother was dead.
"That emergency signal also had a tracker, so we found his body, me and a couple other individuals, and then we scoured the outside of the perimeter and inspected each cyborg with care. And we quickly realized that you, along with a couple others, were still breathing and functioning. Your vitals were positive, even though most of you were stuck in a coma. You kept drifting in and out of consciousness on the flight here, so if you felt like you were elevated up in the air at any time, that's probably what you felt," he explained even more.
So that's what the weird feeling in my stomach was.
I sat there and continued listening to him explain the inspection process, and he even had some of my medical charts on file, and showed them to me on his clipboard.
"Okay, first off, when the war happened between humans and us, and when the war was over, were you told that your brother was dead," I asked. The doctor in front of me seemed to ponder for an answer, as if he was trying to remember. He nodded slowly after looking up at the ceiling in wonder, then turned his eyes' gaze back to me. "Now, so, you're saying I surprisingly survived the diseases that were spreading through that desert?" I questioned. I got a silent nod as my response, and I nodded back, understanding that not all my questions would be fixed with an audible answer.
As I processed everything, I realized that I was pretty much the only one that was alive, and here, wherever I was. And it started to make me feel goosebumps all over my skin. That's never happened before. Odd.
"Now don't panic," the man said, snapping me out of my train of thought. "We're going to do some operations on you so you'll be able to get adjusted to the new air quality here. You've been living on a filter through a mask, and now that this is naturally more lush and better for your lungs and air flow, that sudden adjustment might throw off your immune system. So we're going to replace some of your digestion systems and natural systems you had within you, that way the sudden change won't affect you as drastically," he detailed.
"So, there is gonna be some surgeries done for me?"
"Yes, but we'll show you the progress of what the other cyborgs we've taken in have already gone through. There are two in our lab that remained in a coma, and they wouldn't have come back alive if we hadn't elected them to have the same surgery you will. Of course you're conscious now, but the sooner the surgery happens, the better off you'll be," he finished, clutching the clipboard close to him.
I sat there and thought about it for a second. And then the thought alarmed me. Wait.
There are others.
I looked down at my hands, which I'd been clutching together and sweat had built up in my palms. I released my grip on my hands so the sweat could dry before I led my gaze up to the man related to Morgan.
"There are others you got from the site," I said wearily. He nodded silently again. I'll have to get used to that response with him seemingly. "What's your name," I asked, rubbing my hands together gently and absentmindedly, the sweat seemingly dried up now.
After some hesitation, and a bit of a dreamy look in his eyes, he answered my question. "Sebastian," he said with a small smile. It was more of a smirk than anything, with a bit of dorkiness to the smile itself, but it was for sure there.
"Sebastian, okay...well, Sebastian, can I see the others you've been working on, so I can understand the procedures I need to go through from an outside perspective, and understand them a little better before I go under for surgery?" I pondered aloud, standing up gently.
Sebastian nodded silently, before holding out his arms to me to let myself stabilize on him. I hesitated on taking the help, and tried to step down on my own, but as soon as I did so, my legs gave out easily, and I quickly realized I would need it. I put my hands on his shoulder, and he put one of his arms around me, making sure I was stabilized to walk alongside him and out the door.
At first, the hesitancy of letting him help me caused me to hold out an open palm to him. He was respectful enough to honor my wishes, but after realizing quickly I couldn't start walking on my own just yet, I held my arm out to him. He quickly came to my aid, and I made sure not to weigh too much of my weight onto him. It was awkward trying to get a right stance to get me to walk again, but we got there.
The motivation to walk and get to the ones, who I thought we'd left behind, who were here in this other world or place with me, caused me to want to see them again. Even if I had never interacted with them in Sanctuary, I still wanna know which ones were salvageable and alive. To know I truly wasn't alone. And maybe, just maybe, even if there are no souls of my kind left, at least I got to see their bodies one last time as final closure.
Once we exited the room, the walls and floor seemed more like a hospital. I was looking around the walls and floor, and I realized then, that I had been changed into more comfortable clothes, with the absence of socks and shoes. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt, just a smidge longer than how long my arms and hands were, but it'll make do. I walked, feeling the cold tile on the soles of my feet, and we walked hallways upon hallways. I slowly but surely, with each few steps, started gaining my strength back and was walking on my own. It took a couple minutes to get used to it, but I got there eventually.
I took confident strides as we rounded multiple corners, and the awkwardness filled the hallways. I felt the silence between me and Sebastian while I heard certain technical noises coming from adjacent rooms. I wouldn't be surprised if this entire building was filled to the brim with straitjacketed patients with mental problems. And here I am, laced with them most likely. So my curiosity got the better of me, and I managed the bravery to speak up about it.
"Was this an old mental asylum," I asked, sometimes dragging the top half of my body along to inspect tiny little windows that opened up the doors that lined the hallways. Sebastian seemed to admire my intrigue, and also endorse it. But also, I probably could be curious about anything when it came to new surroundings. If Charlie were here, she'd know and be able to communicate with others about it. It'd be nice to have her here.
"This used to be a mental institute, yes, but we don't really let mental patients in here anymore. It's more or less a research conductive hospital, with operations here and there on patients that come and go," he shrugged. I aimlessly looked into different rooms through their porthole windows, and actually enjoyed the plain view in them sometimes. Back in Sanctuary, most streets were ridden with dirt and mess, but looking at these rooms, it felt oddly different, and oddly comfortable. I only ever felt safe with my group, and even though I'm alone, I still feel safe. Somehow.
There were some rooms that were meant for mechanical parts, or inventing new things with parts made out of metal, steel, titanium, or anything that could be created from metal and wires. That's probably where Gordon would give any limb to work in, as long as they weren't his hands. He'd probably give his right and left leg to work in those rooms. Maybe he did before he got put into Sanctuary to build humans fighting cyborgs. Just maybe.
There were some rooms that had medical equipment, with empty operating tables, but some blood splattered on the floor and nearby cushions here and there, with bright lights shining from within the rooms themselves. That's probably where Morgan would work if he was here. Maybe he worked alongside Sebastian in those rooms. It would seem plausible.
We came upon a hallway that seemed abandoned, and we waltzed straight through it, coming out on an end that seemed identical to the one we were just in with the invention and operating rooms.
"All those operating rooms are meant for our engineers. The nearby operating rooms to those invention rooms were meant for anyone who got injured during an invention process and needed medical assistance, that way, they didn't have to go far to get fixed up," Sebastian elaborated.
My curiosity kept climbing through the roof, as we kept strolling. But I didn't really have the words to demonstrate my curiosity to its fullest. Then after a few more steps, we finally reached a hallway that seemed like it's where we were meant to be. Mostly because Sebastian seemed to be slowing to a stop in front of some double doors. Context body language clues are always something I pay attention to now. I make a habit of it.
"Alright, here's the room, you'll meet some seemingly familiar faces possibly in the operating room, and before they take you to the others, they'll explain the procedure, so when you see the other cyborgs that are being operated on, you'll understand the aftermath of the operation and make your call. If you decide to not have the operation, however, it does come with restraints and consequences," he explained. I nodded, and pushed the door ahead of me as Sebastian followed in after me.
It swung open with ease, like a professional kitchen's doors in a restaurant, but without the cushion fabric on the doors. There was a huge amount of people running around, with clipboards, ipads, and everything they could get their hands on. Some carried scalpels and syringes, with chemicals in vials, and blood in vials as well. They ran around like ants in an ant farm, it was crazy, and a slight bit disorienting if I'm going to be at all honest.
I looked around and there were colors, symbols, and everything eye-catching dancing around on screens. Whether it be charts, or heart rates on the monitors, or anything that had to do with typing information on a sheet before printing it out on an insanely quick printer. The whole room seemed like it would explode with electricity, or just the amount of usage of it. But it also seemed to be kept under control to a point where actual work could get done within the rooms that were connected to the one we were idling in.
It overwhelmed my senses before I was grounded back into reality from a simple touch and holding of my shoulder from behind. I turned and saw Sebastian had noticed my distraught and confusion, despite my curiosity fueling me in the first place, and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Although I knew I couldn't keep them closed for too long. I had people to talk to and information to be given.
I opened my eyes back up and looked into a room ahead, and there were multiple individuals surrounding operating tables that seemed to be situated respectfully, to where the individuals could see whoever or whatever was on the operating tables.
I walked over, gently pushing some of them aside, before I realized the two that were on those tables, unconscious.
As soon as I laid my eyes on what they were all surrounding on the operating tables, all I could do was freeze.
"Do you know them," I heard Sebastian's voice boom from behind me. I was still frozen, and in my shock, I knew I had to shake myself out of it, that way I could've addressed an answer to Sebastian. I finally whipped around to face him before grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the way so the doctors, nurses and operators could do what they had to without worrying about a newcomer or visitor panicking over something they didn't expect to have to deal with.
"So, were these the only ones you found alongside me? Or at least when you found me and inspected the rest of the crowd of cyborgs?" I asked. After my question had been answered with a silent nod, partially because I think I scared poor Sebastian, but also because of how loud and bustling the operating room actually was, I took a deep breath again and cocked my head, referencing the door we'd come out of earlier. Thankfully, he got my reference to go out those doors to let the doctors and operators work freely.
Both me and Sebastian walked out that door and waited until it closed to say anything to one another. And frankly, if I was going to cry, I didn't want anyone to hear me through any doors or anything like that. It'll save me and them the same amount of trouble and annoyance, I'm sure.
"Yes, they were the only ones found with you, why?"
As soon as those words left Sebastian's mouth, I sank to my knees and started sobbing. He knelt down and held my body as my hands immediately clutched my face, feeling the tears streaming from my eyes and down my cheeks to my chin, then further down to my neck before it left a somewhat absent stain on my collar.
"I just am so fucking glad I'm not the only one you found salvageable," I started to sob. Sebastian seemed to hear my cries and backed away from my slunken over body to hear me better.
"What do you mean, dear," he said breathlessly, trying to project his voice enough over my cries for me to hear him. Thankfully, it worked.
"I was in a team once called the Hunters, and then they were called the Mercenary. The reason why Morgan called that distress alarm in the first place is because we successfully defeated Gordon, aka the Con Man, and we'd breached containment from the place he'd kept us trapped in for years on end," I sobbed. My tears littered the floor, and it made the tile shine with a bright shimmer, but I tried not to take notice.
"Well, what happened to you all? I know the diseases got to most of you, but there were a couple that were either somewhat conscious, or salvageable for parts to use on the actual conscious ones who had damaged machinery," he elaborated. Without hesitation, more of the waterfall flew out of my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry more, miss," he stuttered as he knelt down near me, trying to get closer to me.
"No, it's okay, it's just back when we had to live in Sanctuary, we had to pay for our living materials by taking apart old cyborgs for parts when they'd be close to passing and crumbling away anyway, and trading them in for what's called agony, and for some other cyborgs, remnant, based on how old the cyborg's build was," I tried to explain, stuttering here and there. I looked at Sebastian to see if he was retaining this information, and to my surprise, he had his full attention on me.
"As you were saying," he trailed off. I hadn't realized I stopped my conversation trail, or my train of thought, and to my surprise, he seemed interested and concerned about what I had to say. So I continued, and I tried to be as stutter-free as possible.
"Because of that, we were the pioneers who led the charge, who led, essentially the revolution to our victory and escape, and of course, Charlie, the leader of all of us and my sister," I said trailing off, before recorrecting my train of thought so I wouldn't lose my composure on mourning for her.
"She didn't think about the diseases that surrounded the Sanctuary, and it got to most of you, killing her in the process? And you thought it was going to kill you but it never did," Sebastian said. It's as if he spoke my mind, but forgot a few details here and there. I nodded, with gaping my mouth, and so did he.
"He knew about the diseases, and I think two of the members of my group, Griffin and Charlie, went into a room and found vaccines and antidotes for those diseases. I know that one of the experiments that Gordon worked on had made a horn that sounded for our community that we were free, and it was laced with as much antidotes as he could steal from Gordon himself before he passed," I continued, but realized it was impossible to describe how Max's story worked, so I stopped.
"Simply put, he knew about the diseases, it's just the antidotes and stuff like that, and didn't get absolutely everything right," I finished breathlessly.
I felt my tears still running down my cheeks and against my chin, feeling them slowly dry on my face. But I didn't care. I didn't realize until I walked into that operating room that I wasn't the only one they saved and possibly brought back. And I'm relieved that there will be others like me. Fitting in with a bunch of humans that most likely just want to experiment on you is disorienting, so if I wasn't alone, I'd feel better about it all.
And feeling better I did. The tear lines, the dried up tear lines, still felt weird on my face, so I tried wiping them with my sleeve, which helped a little bit.
"Well, those that we found are technically brothers," he said. I didn't answer, because I knew they were.
They were the ones who helped keep me captive while they were captive themselves. The ones that helped us escape after they were freed from Gordon's control. And we were glad to have them on our team. But I just simply nodded in response to Sebastian's words, trying to focus and breathe evenly and stop hyperventilating from crying so much.
Forrest and Fern. The brothers.
"I know they're brothers, they were the ones we helped breach control, because of that, they have been loyal to us ever since the containment breach. They had dogs laying with them, they laid with their dogs right outside the protective wall, and I thought they'd passed eventually. I didn't think they'd still be alive," I stuttered breathlessly. I could feel my vocal chords shaking from shock, and I couldn't stop the chills going down my spine. But at least I spoke up about it.
"Well let's go back in there and check them out, we haven't removed their masks yet, we wanted to wait until we knew the surgery was complete and done correctly, and waited for you to wake from your semi-coma, then remove the masks to make sure they'd be breathing the air properly," he explained. I nodded and he took my hand, helping me up to stand.
"Yeah, let's go see them," I said, reaching up and grabbing his forearm, before switching my grip to his hand. I kept a firm but gentle grip on his hand so he could guide me, and stood up with struggle, but ease followed through swiftly.
We went through the doors again and everyone seemed to be calmer and not as frantic because they weren't running every which way. After some inspection, the surgeries must've recently finished right when we walked in the first time, or some inspection must've been finished, I'm not sure which. So when we left and walked in a second time, everything was more mellow, and not as overwhelming and disorienting.
Sebastian and I walked over and looked at Forrest and Fern, who laid lifeless on the operating tables that were propped up so we could see them properly.
"Once we take the masks off, they wake soon after," Sebastian said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but I knew the warning and detail was just for me, and for the doctors to act upon.
I walked toward Forrest, who had the bear mask and the accents of purple along with white, instead of me and Fern's pink accents. His mask had marks of wearing on it, but it still remained its signature color, and still kept the shininess of it in places. I lifted my hand to the sculpted cheek of the mask and stroked it softly. The hard metal, mixed with the artificial plastic that was installed on top of it, the mask didn't falter or crumble. It held its ground. Some of the must and grime wiped off with the stroke of my finger against the hard metal.
I tried to look into the eyes but they were black and hollow, even though I knew past the mask laid some eyes that I would come to understand So I just knew those eyes would eventually open up with time after the mask is removed.
I turned to Fern who was on my right, and looked at his mask. The sharp and conniving teeth had grown yellow over time, but the other colors of the mask still shone brightly. Then some typing on a computer, mixed with some nearby chatter from doctors caught my attention and drew my attention away from the brothers.
I looked past Fern to see the doctors looking at a computer with heavy interest. I took it upon myself to walk over. They started growing quiet and their stares locked onto me as I approached the machine. They seemed to notice my intrigue, and then backed away from where they were paying their attention, clearing the way for me. I looked at the screen they were studying and what I had in front of me was things I recognized.
Blueprints. The original files were somehow saved with each cyborg, so anytime they had to hook up to a database for knowledge transfers or be able to be fixed up, the fixer or mechanic wouldn't have a hard time navigating us creatures. But their blueprints were unique.
It was only their inner workings. The heart, lungs, intestines, brain, the spinal cord, and other pieces of the immune system. The rest of their bodies weren't labeled, but only the inner workings had labels on them. Past those blueprints on the computer screen laid some directions on repair if you were working outside of the skin.
Skin. That word rang in my head like church bells.
But something else also rang in my head. Something familiar. Where had I seen just isolated robotic inner workings of a cyborg before? Where had I seen it?
"Is this the only robotic part of them," I asked aloud, projecting my voice as much as I could, letting anyone openly answer. An unidentified doctor to my knowledge, stepped a slight bit in front of the crowd of other doctors and Sebastian to speak and answer to me.
"Yes, it seems so. It seems they only are made robotic in those parts of them, hence why their skin, and outer bits were so easily replaceable or repairable," she explained, letting her hands and arms do some of the explaining as she spoke.
I considered this and turned back to the brothers, admiring their sculpture, especially since only their insides are the robotic parts of them, and nothing on the outside led me to believe they were robotic. Still, that rings an eerie bell.
"There's also something you should know," Sebastian's voice creeped. I turned around to face him, so he could know he had my full attention. "Their blood is recognizable. We recognized their blood and genetics from old soldiers of the government, who went to fight in the war a long while back, the one that was against Gordon himself and his legion, and the government itself," he began. It rang familiar that every single cyborg was a human before they were operated on and turned into a cyborg. That was just common sense. Otherwise Gordon would have to be mailed pieces of skin, and they'd look disheveled if they were separate from a body or something like that.
Gordon had explained that to me when he was talking about operating on me and transferring the parts from me to Mackenzie. He detailed how most of the creatures and cyborgs who do and don't work for him, all came from the battlefield of said war. I was from it, the brothers were from it, The Hunters, Veterans, Scavengers. You name it, they came from there, or at least their bodies did. And over time, he'd use one body after another, who knows if there's still bodies there decomposing in that factory. Probably, but they'd be non-salvageable.
I snapped back to reality to let Sebastian continue as I realized I had been zoning out at that moment.
"So, of course, we did involuntary blood tests because of unconsciousness, and they're brothers. But we still need to do some blood tests on you to see if you're related to anyone still living, because I guarantee you, whatever chemical Gordon was pumping you all with, it kept your bodies alive and well, and it kept you young. So you're probably, on average, about two hundred and fifty years old, with them being the same age, but looking a bit different physically," he said.
That sentence hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't realize that much time had passed. I turned back to the brothers and stood there, pondering everything. The words left my mouth with complete autonomy, with no control of it. But my curiosity was behind the words themselves, as if my curiosity had a separate consciousness off of my own.
"Unmask 'em," I commanded. Sebastian's eyes raised as he kept his gaze on me and snapped his fingers. The doctors ran around and everything worked like clockwork with occasional hiccups here and there. They decided they were to remove Forrest's mask first before Fern's.
The doctors all positioned themselves and prepared the lift, and took it slowly off after unscrewing the back piece from his head. The operators had some materials to cover up the holes in the back of their heads that were once taken up by those screws.  They also were preparing new clothes to replace the clothes they both were wearing, which was dirtier than some like to admit. As the mask came off, his face was revealed.
Pale white skin, with simple and long platinum blonde hair, nearly white, which fell quickly before the facial structure was revealed. It was in the style of simple long hair, not a mullet, but it was styled well to fit his face frame. And the hairstyle fit him extremely well. And his face was also eerily familiar. Pink rosy cheeks with a bit of rosyness to his nose and the tip of his lips. His cheekbones were chiseled to perfection, and even his eyelashes were nearly white. My breath was stolen from me at that moment, and I just sat there in shock.
Why does that face and color palette look so familiar?
I turned to Fern just beside Forrest, and saw the doctors were already working diligently to operate on Fern, taking his mask off with precision, clarity, and swiftness like they had on Forrest. I turned to him as I watched the gentle lift. His face was revealed, and it was short platinum blonde hair, nearly white.
The hair was done up above his forehead, in more of an updo so it wasn't in his face. Like as if when he didn't wear the mask, it would fluff up and stick out, covering just enough of his forehead. He wasn't too far off in facial structure to Forrest, nearly identical, not a surprise there, his face was just a bit more slender, whereas Forrest's was more rounded. But they were still similar. Almost like identical twins, but just a slight bit off. At least there was at least one difference, that way people could tell them apart.
Fern had the same rosy complexion paired with the pale skin that Forrest had as well. I also looked down at their body builds as they remained asleep. Their hands were similar, so were their arms and legs. The muscle builds were nearly identical like their faces. As if someone took a piece of paper, put it on top of a copier, but only ninety percent of the original copy transferred over onto the new one. It was astonishing to see it, and the thought struck me again.
Why does this look so familiar?
Then it hit me. "Does anyone have a mirror?" I asked, looking around the room and behind me. I may have seemed a bit frantic, but the inquisitiveness was killing me. A couple doctors seemed to scramble through their bags, and one woman doctor pulled her hand mirror out from her purse. She walked up to the front of the crowd from where she was working, holding the mirror up so people would make way for her. She handed it to me, and let myself admire it before facing the mirror toward me.
The face that stared back at me was one I knew too well.
Pale skin. Slightly white freckles. Platinum, nearly white hair. Rosy complexion on the nose, cheekbones and lips. And a good chiseled jawline along with good face sculpture. "Someone get me a blood test, and run it alongside their blood before we wake them with pumps of oxygen. And someone get me an X-ray in between that," I demanded, because I had a suspicion, and my intuition was screaming at me. And I had to find out whether I was just crazy or not.
My voice commanded the entire room of doctors and operators, some rushing to where the blood vials were stored, some rushing out of the room, and some rushing to a nearby x-ray machine. Everything ran by quickly, and they led me to the X-ray room once it was prepared, which didn't take much time at all.
I didn't have to take anything off because of urgency, and the X-rays ran with no problem, now I had to do a couple finger pricks for a blood test. My fingers obviously swelled from pain after three pricks, one in my thumb, one in my index, and one in the other index finger. We bandaged them quickly and I returned to the brothers' sides who were still unconscious.
The doctors remained in their offices, waiting for the blood test results, and taking good snapshots and reports of the X-rays before bringing them forward. I could tell everyone was working with utter urgency, and curiosity of this case that's just arisen. And it was electrifying, for sure.
After some minutes, some doctors emerged from the blood testing area, with one doctor with a clipboard in hand, clutching it to his chest, with a woman following behind him with a cart of blood vials. Some of them were labeled with pink labels, and some purplish blue. For Fern and Forrest, respectively. And there were some on top that were labeled in lighter pink, which I assumed were mine. Who else's vials could they be, y'know?
Then the doctors who had access to the X-rays sent one of their doctors out with a folder, and he seemed timid, but smart. So I knew this was going to line up perfectly if my assumption was right.
"Show me the X-rays first, good sir," I said politely. He held the folder to me, and I took it. My hand was a lot more sculpted and a bit bigger than his. So with his hand, the folder somewhat dwarfed his hands, whereas it seemed normal size in mine. I slit open the folder and brought out the X-rays.
The perimeter of my body was there, and all of my intestines were perfectly outlined in white, as if someone traced my intestines onto these results. But I knew that was correct. My insides were metal, and the rest of me was completely human, just like the brothers. And I remember Charlie being very curious before we left the factory about looking in Gordon's files. Of course, she was too worried about the people surrounding her, which is understandable. But if she'd just tried to look for my file, we might've come to this news sooner. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes before letting the X-rays slide back into their folder and handing it off to the timid doctor.
"Keep these on file alongside their files," I said, referencing the brothers' bodies behind me. The doctor didn't say a single word and just nodded, before toddling off to the office he resided in to go file the X-rays. "Now the blood test, what're the results," I asked, turning to the other doctors.
I clasped my hands in front of me awaiting an answer, and trying to remain as physically polite as possible. Even though my body was bubbling in waiting.
The entire room stood still and silent, and I stood there politely. Anticipation was boiling under my skin, but I didn't want my voice or stance to give that eventuality away. But I'm sure everyone near me and within the entire room was awaiting an answer just like I was.
"We're going to wake them in just a moment, but they're of your blood, Madelyn Withers, and your brothers are Fern and Forrest Withers," the doctor said. It's as if his voice echoed over the entire room, and it shook me to my core. It's as if no one else was in the room but that doctor, me, and the brothers themselves.
I turned back to them to see them still unconscious, but my emotions and thoughts were clouding my ears and thoughts. You could even say they were clouding my eyes, because tears would be there, but shock was just reverberated through my body. Because something I didn't realize was the possibility of cyborgs that were created by Gordon to have blood compatibility.
They're my brothers.
I turned back to the doctor, pondering my next moves and words. I thought I was shaking, but no such quivering was happening. It's as if the whole room froze and I was the only one moving still. As if time had stopped. Finally, I gathered enough words and understanding of how I was phrasing things, and politely asked a simple question, "are there any other relatives?" I had to check. Just in case.
"None that we can account for. You're said to have a younger sister, Mackenzie. But we have not accounted for her," he said with a tone of unfortunate lacing in his voice. Mackenzie. The only reason he was okay with transporting parts between me and Mackenzie was because we were compatible by blood. Wow. But the fact that he knew that I was related and still was willing to rip me to shreds. Just to fix the younger sister. Honestly, it makes sense, parents always favor the youngest sibling out of them all anyway.
But, Mackenzie was my sister. Because our bodies were blood related, and we fought alongside each other, as humans in the war, it was easier to reuse bodies of the same molecular structure and blood type. It's more compatible for repairs, hence why I think the government indulged in having siblings fight alongside each other, and for Gordon to prefer working on siblings. Because he could exchange parts without worrying about damaging anything. After a bit of thought, I finally turned back to Fern and Forrest, and actually said the news aloud to the whole room, not caring whether they were as shocked as I was or not. Because it was my news to process, and eventually, it'll be the brother's news to process as well once they were pumped of oxygen. And my shock just cascaded down my spine, in a way that I wish I could describe. But there were no words to express the shock. And my blood continued to run hot and cold, back and forth, until the words finally escaped my mouth after a couple tries of trying to force it out of myself.
"They're my brothers."