The clicking of heels resounded as the woman in a tightly fitted red qipao walked, her long and slender legs seeping in and out of the dress' slits, attracting the eyes of people anywhere she went. She treated the city streets like it was her catwalk. Men and women alike stopped to stare, the lady in red taking a long drag from the pipe she carried in between her fingers.
“No, please, stop!”
Screams could be heard from an establishment nearby. As its customers fled for their lives, a loud crash of a window sounded, followed by a loud THUD! as a body fell from it and onto the ground. The lady stops in her tracks, looking at the body that splattered right in front of her, it's blood staining her red heels an even deeper shade.
A group of men started exiting the building, carrying different kinds of blunt weapons — bats, crowbars. They wore suits, yet had the air of savages that wandered off into a much more advanced city. But the lady didn't look at them. Her eyes were still on the body. She knew this man. He was the owner of the restaurant he fell out from. However, his face was beyond recognition. His skull was protruding out of his crushed head like pieces of broken glass. The other passerby's stomach gave out as soon as he saw the mangled corpse on the ground, but the lady was yet to react.
As the savage-looking men formed a sort of line, one man exits the building last. He was big, towering over some men lining up in front of him, his muscles looking well-defined underneath the black suit he wore. Both of his arms and hands were covered by large gauntlets, one of which was bloodied.
The lady in red looks at the man who exited the building, blood dripping from his gauntlet.
So it was him.
His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, cold, and sharp as it scanned the surrounding area. Most of the people had already dispersed. When the man looked in front of him, his eyes met hers. A suspicious look crossed his chiseled face.
Her eyes were like emerald green orbs on her porcelain-like face. She bore a bored expression, arms crossed just below her bosom. She tilts her head slightly to the side before taking another drag from her pipe. As she breathes out the smoke, she didn't bother moving to the side and instead, just stepped over the corpse, walking away as if she didn't see anything.
“And that was?” came the man's deep husky voice.
One of his henchmen answer. “I believe that was the Red-Light District's finest attraction. The owner of the brothel named Scarlet Butterfly — Moira.”
The man continues to look at the woman's disappearing figure. Without looking away, he gives out an order. “Clean this up.”
As his henchmen move to execute the order, he pulls out a cigar, lights it up, and takes a drag before leaving the area.
Moira continues to walk, not stopping anymore this time. She had an appointment and she hated being late. That, and she hated having to deal with the consequences of it.
She eventually reaches her destination, taking one final drag from her smoking pipe before turning it over, spilling the ashes it now contains to the ground. She places the pipe inside her pouch that was tied around her waist before entering.
In some places, having a beautiful woman enter bustling machinery wasn't a scene most people would expect to see. But Beakmore wasn't like other cities, and it's locals all the more.
“And she finally arrives! Took you a tad bit longer than usual, eh?”
Moira takes a deep breath before turning around to look up at the railings, spotting the person she had meant to find earlier. In a dark blue overall was Luca, proud owner and head mechanic of Termina. He flashes a grin at her before jumping on a cord and sliding down from it to meet her at the entrance.
"I'm 10 minutes early though?" Moira retorted.
Luca landed on the ground with a huff before walking towards her.
"Well, either way, you're here. Come on, let's talk in my office."
Luca’s office was honestly just another workroom, except for the fact that only he and a selected few were allowed to enter. Moira was one of those people.
“Take a seat and I’ll get the tools ready.”
Moira scoffed. “You pester me to hurry up yet you haven’t finished preparing? Typical.”
“Hey!” Luca responded, offended, “I may look like this but I’m also a business owner, y’know?! I got things to take care of, too.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “If you were busy, you could’ve said so. We could’ve just set the appointment at a later date. Hell, even after business hours.”
Luca shrugged, pushing a metal cart towards her, “Your own shop opens at night. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your whole ‘don’t disturb’ rule. The only time I get to bother you like this is during the day.”
Moira says nothing as she takes off the lace glove on her left arm. Luca took her arm and secured the upper part with a leather strap. Tracing his fingers on her porcelain skin, he grabbed the arm roughly just a few inches below the strap and twisted it forcefully, the arm suddenly separating from the secured part. Moira hisses in pain as the wirings inside the arm started separating from her nerve endings, gripping the side of the leather chair with her gloved right hand.
“Hmm...” Luca watches the wires detach, seeing blood on the tips. “Just like I thought. This was going bad, too. Well, at least this time it took it about what? 4 months before the radiation would start damaging your body?”
Moira inhales deeply, watching him examine the prosthetic arm. “That’s barely an improvement from last time.”
Luca laughs as he stood up and placed the arm on the metal cart he carried with him. He took a pair of surgical scissors and some first-aid before sitting down beside her.
Moira bit her bottom lip as she felt the scissors dig into her flesh arm, hissing in pain as he plucked out remnants of the wires that were attached to her muscles. It was tedious, but it was a natural thing to do when the flesh starts to grow around the metal. At least this time, Luca didn’t have to cut a part of her already amputated arm just to get all of the metal out.
By the time Luca was applying medicine to stop the bleeding of the fresh wounds, Moira was breathing heavily, forehead covered in sweat. Her right arm would twitch, her own body still reeling from the operation. Normally you’d think something like this should be done by a doctor. But there was no doctor in Beakmore.
At least, not anyone Moira would be willing to show her situation to. The only one she trusted was Termina’s owner as she’s known him the longest in the city and he was the one to offer a solution to her problem. She needed someone to give her an arm, and Luca found it interesting that he could tinker with something other than plain machinery.
Luca went back to the metal cart and pulled out a different prosthetic arm the same color as her skin. At first glance, it looked no different from the last one she had used, but Moira saw the wirings, and her interest was piqued. The tip of the wires had thin and small ends that looked a lot similar to syringe needles. When Luca connected the wires to her flesh, Moira bit back the urge to scream.
These ones hurt. As if reading her mind, Luca forced a smile.
“Sorry, these probably hurt more than the last one. But it’s with good reason, I swear! Look!”
Face contorted with pain; Moira looks at her arm. The wires with syringe-looking ends were both pumping something inside her and circulating her blood into them.
“What… is that?” she asked in gasps.
“I made a breakthrough with my last robot project. Nanotech. The thing it’s pumping inside of you is nanotech infused chemicals to help with the recovery of the arm and all of the damages brought by the radiation from the previous models. The reason why it’s also taking your blood into the wires and circulating it is to make it into a very realistic arm. You still won’t feel anything if it gets damaged, but should the arm get cut or damaged, it will ‘bleed’ so no one will question if it’s real or not. Smart, right?”
Luca beamed with pride as he explained, feeling good about his creation. Moira thought the last bit was unnecessary, but she couldn’t bring herself to be a downer at the moment.
“The pain should be subsiding now. Try moving your fingers.”
Moira started to move her fingers slowly, watching the prosthetic arm. Looking pleased, Luca took off the leather strap on her arm and she moved the entire thing.
“How is it?”
She smiled. “Definitely better than the last one.”
Luca watched as Moira stood up, slipping on the red glove onto the arm.
“Well now,” he said, grabbing Moira by the waist, “Let’s discuss the matter of payment.”
