Twisted Metal Heart - Eve Langlais Page 0,5
tradesmen in other kingdoms with looser laws on imperfections, seeking to make themselves more efficient to greedy lords looking to heighten their gladiators. Fighting for entertainment was popular, especially in the cities.
“It is kind of brilliant, I suppose,” Alfred mused. “However, keeping him on as a patient means rescheduling our visit to upgrade the Duke of Sapphire’s champion.”
“I forgot we were going on a business trip,” she mumbled.
“I really wish you would remember these things, because the duke was willing to pay extra to have it done quickly.”
A rub that meant they needed the funds. “We’ll reschedule the duke. He can wait a while longer for a champion with iron fists.” Literally. “Our guest won’t take more than a few weeks.”
“Weeks! Guest!” Alfred didn’t sound in the least convinced, but he went about doing his work.
She glanced at the craggy, relaxed features of the stranger, the shaggy cut of his hair. Perhaps she’d trim it.
The arm came off with the cauterizing swipe of a laser. Then the machine went back and neatly finished all the nerve endings and tied off blood vessels. Rerouted a few as well. According to the computer’s estimate, it would take one hundred and two hours to do all the needed repairs to the flesh. Then a few days longer for the natural healing to kick in and finish it.
While the robot arms did their work, she trimmed his hair, shortening it and making it straight. She shaved his jaw, working quickly with a blade, her movements efficient.
During the repair time, where she ensured his feeding and hydration tubes kept him replenished, she noted his size. It was one thing to see numbers on a holoimage, another to experience it. Despite him being stretched out, she could tell he was taller than her but only by a few fingers. Wide and muscled. The scans she’d run taking his measurements showed a body fit and hard. The musculature utterly impressive.
She’d seen muscled men before. The gladiators they upgraded tended to be fit. Yet there was something so intriguing about this man with his tan lines. A rugged man unafraid of the land.
What had he been doing in this part of the Wasteland? She lived here for the express reason it was out of the way. No one just came wandering by. If they did, she’d either handle them well before they posed a problem or ignore them, letting them pass blithely by.
She should have done that with him. Let him die under teeth and claw.
Instead, she’d taken a chance, and now she spent more time than usual checking the scanners that watched in every direction. Should it become necessary, she could escape.
The sensors registered nothing but the usual wildlife. Violent predators and the prey that fed them. She spent many a night watching them from the safety of an electrical dome on the citadel roof, her night goggles letting her see epic battles play out. But she’d never seen anything as deadly as this man.
On the fifth day after his arrival—the machines done repairing what they could—she roused him from the coma. It took him a few minutes before he blinked his eyes and stared at her with incomprehension.
“Hello there. I’m Riella. And you are?” She went for direct.
“Titan.” He squinted. “Where am I?” He turned his head slightly to look to his side.
“You’re getting treatment for your injuries.” She leaned over him and shone a light into his eyes.
“Too bright. Ugh.” He groaned and shut his eyes tight.
“Open them.”
“No.”
“I need to see your pupils.”
“Still no.”
She blinked at him. “Why not?”
“Don’t wanna.” He kept his lids shut.
“How am I supposed to examine you?”
“How about you don’t?”
“I’m going to insist,” she retorted hotly.
“If you must, then could you at least turn off the light first?” he demanded.
“It’s not that bright.”
“According to you,” was his rumbled reply.
“You can’t keep them shut forever.”
“Says who?”
“Must I grab an extractor and pry them open? I wouldn’t recommend it as I hear it’s extremely uncomfortable.”
“You’re not being nice.”
“I’m trying to help you. You’re the one not cooperating.”
“Fine.” He squinted one open.
She watched the pupil contract. Then she did the other. “How’s your vision?”
“Seems all right.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like I got run over by a herd of tigber. Wait. I did,” he complained, shifting on the bed.
“You shouldn’t have been out at night. It’s dangerous.”
“Don’t you lecture me on danger,” he growled, his glare intent on her. “ Any reason you didn’t let me in earlier?”
“Don’t you give me attitude. You’re lucky