Do you ever feel alone in life? Do you ever feel like no one is there to listen to you? If you've ever felt that way, here's some good news, you're never alone. Literally. The Bionic Corp is always watching you. They listen to everything you say. At least, they try to.

I've been evading Bionic Corp for over thirty years. You may be asking yourself, how is this possible? Well, believe it or not, I used to work for them. I was one of their cybernetic soldiers; I was pretty damn good at my job, too. Until I found out about all the dark secrets the company was hiding. My real name is classified, so everyone around here calls me Patch. I got this name after my grand escape from the BC left me with only one eye. I'm not offended by the nickname. I'm very proud of my patch. It's a reminder that I'm the only person who's ever successfully deserted. Well, at least I was until tonight.

On this stormy evening, I was tinkering away in my workshop like I do every night. I've started my own small business of doing repairs for underprivileged cyborgs at a cheaper rate than Bionic Corp charges. I've never really been the charitable type, but I'm willing to do anything to screw over Bionic Corp. On the night my life changed forever, there was a faint knock on my door. "We're closed." I shouted, not looking up from my project.

The voice of a young girl responded. "Please sir you have to let us in!"

I scoffed. "No, I don't."

She began to sob loudly outside the door.

Dammit, she's going to cause a scene. "Listen up kiddo, I'm putting my foot down," I literally stomped on the ground to make my point. "Nothing you say is going to convince me to let you in here."

"Please," she sobbed. "Catalina Contreras told us you'd help. She said you were the best person in the world at fixing cyborgs."

I flung the door open. "Who told you that name? Was it the Corp? Did they tell you to say that?"

The girl shook her head.

"Then where the hell did you get that name?"

The girl trembled. "She was our mother."

I scanned the girl up and down. There was no denying it, she was the spitting image of Catalina. I hadn't seen my sister in decades, but when I looked in this girl's face it was like I was back in Chile, counting the sailing ships with my sister again, and I don't know what to do with these emotions and memories I've locked away for so long. "Come in." Is all I managed to utter.

She stepped inside the workshop. She cradled something wrapped in an old tarp in her arms, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Do you got a name?"

"Marisa." She whispered.

"What's in the tarp?" I ask with my arms crossed.

She set the tarp on the ground and gently unwrapped the precious cargo.

It took me a while to fully realize what I was seeing. It was a cyborg. His cybernetics were completely destroyed. Both of his arms and legs had been ripped to shreds, along parts of his face, and most noticeably, his voice box had been violently ripped out in a clearly intentional way. Why would someone do that? It was hard to believe there was a time when he was human. There was nothing but scraps left of him.

"I need you to fix him!" The girl held him in her arms.

I sighed. "There's nothing I can do for him kid, he's too far gone."

"Please he's my brother!"

"You stating his relation to you will not change the fact I don't know how to resurrect the dead."

"He's not dead!" She placed a hand on his neck. "He still has a heartbeat."

I crouched down to feel for a pulse. She was right. He still had a heartbeat.

"Most of his human parts are still okay. He just needs new cybernetics."

"Listen, I'll do everything I can to help him, but this doesn't look good, and I need you to be prepared for the worst.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve and nodded.

I picked up the boy and moved over to my workbench to begin his repairs. "Hey, can you go fetch me some bandages?" I asked her.

She nodded.

"There's a first aid kit under the sink, in the bathroom, down the hall."

She didn't need to be told twice. She sprinted down the hall and returned with the first aid kit in hand.

"This next part is going to be pretty gruesome. Why don't you go get some rest while I work?"

Marisa crossed her arms in defiance. "I'm not leaving him. Not again." She whispered the last part, so quietly it was barely audible.

She was so determined I nearly let her have her way. If she wanted to be mentally scarred for life who am I to stop her.

Dark circles had formed under her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to fight it she was exhausted.

I crouched down to her level and pointed to the couch. "Why don't you sleep right there, and I promise if anything changes I'll come to wake you up? Okay?"

She hesitantly made her way to the couch. Once she laid down she fell asleep almost instantly.

Now it was just me and the boy. After sanitizing my hands and the wounds. I plunged my needle into his flesh and began stitching. My cybernetics were programmed for emergency medical work when I was in the military, but I never really had the right personality for it.

His eyes shot open as I plunged the needle in for the third stitch.

Dammit. I was hoping he'd stay unconscious while I worked. I don't have any Lidocaine to numb the pain, and I'm not even remotely finished. "Sorry kid," I muttered without stopping my stitching. "This is going to hurt."

The kid barely flinched though he was clearly in pain. I think he would've let out a whimper if he had a voice box. Silent tears filled his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Poor kid. "You've clearly been through hell," I gestured towards his wounds. "And you've been very brave so far. I wouldn't judge if you needed to let those tears out." I'm not usually soft like this, but this boy reminds me of so much of my past self back when I was first drafted into the cyborg army. The difference is I was all alone.

He accepted my invitation cry. He didn't stop, even after I was done treating his injuries.

I let out a sigh. "I've got you all patched up, but your body can't handle new cybernetics until you've healed more."

He nodded solemnly.

I wiped away his tears because he was unable due to his current lack of limbs. For the first time, I noticed how young-looking his face was. I was seventeen when I was drafted. This kid looked much younger than that. How old was he?

"Were you drafted into Bionic Corp’s cyborg army?"

He nodded.

"Me too. Were you seventeen when they took you?" I asked.

He shook his head.

I looked at his youthful face again. There's no way he's older than seventeen. "Were you younger than that when they took you?"

He nodded.

"Were you sixteen?"

He shook his head.

"Fifteen?"

No again.

"Fourteen?"

Still no.

"Thirteen?"

He nodded.

Thirteen? This was a new low even for Bionic Corp! I've known for a while Bionic Corp was despicable, but I had no idea they were recruiting kids this young! I still get flashbacks from all the times they ripped me apart and put me back together again. Slowly replacing my organic parts with cybernetic ones. I can't imagine what kind of nightmares this kid has had to live through.

He gave me a concerned look as if he was asking if I was okay.

"I'm alright, I was just  reliving  some bad memories."

He gave an understanding nod. You could tell by the look in his eyes he understood trauma far too well for someone his age.

I gently caressed his cheek. He had my sister's eyes. That must be why these kids are making me sappy. I usually hate children. "Don't worry kid, your Uncle Patch is going to take good care of you."

He smiled faintly then nodded towards his sister, who was snoring loudly on the couch.

"Yeah, I'll take care of her too."

For the first time, a genuine smile spread across his face.

His inability to communicate made conversing difficult, I didn't want to leave him alone with his thoughts. "Hey kid, do you like music?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

I made a wireless connection from my cybernetics to his and streamed my Playlist directly into both of our ears. I have no idea what kind of music the youth listened to, but he didn't mind my Playlist of oldies from the early 21st century. He'd even lip-synced a few of the lyrics if he knew the song.

I'm not sure if this kid will survive much longer. To say his condition was precarious would be an understatement, but at least I managed to make him happy one last time and maybe that's enough.

Turns out he did survive the night and the night after that. He recovered faster than I would've thought possible. I should've known better than to underestimate him. That boy is tough as nails. I shouldn't expect less from a nephew of mine. Damn, I still can't believe I'm an uncle.

Nearly a month after the kids arrived at my doorstep, I installed one cybernetic arm on the boy's body. I'll admit the design was primitive, but it was the best I could do on short notice. With this new arm, he could write notes which means we can finally communicate properly.

I handed him my holopad and stylus and pulled up a chair in front of him. I bounced my leg up and down in anticipation while he wrote his first words on the holopad.

He spun the pad around, so I could read what he wrote. The handwriting was pretty sloppy, but I was able to read the words: There's motor oil in your beard.

"Seriously, I saved your life and that's the first thing you have to say to me." I grabbed a nearby dish towel and bitterly wiped my face.

He erased his last words and wrote the word: Sorry

accompanied by a drawing of a frowning face.

I sat back down. "Where's your mom?" I held my breath because deep down I already knew the answer to that question.

He scribbled the word: Gone.

"What happened to her?" I pressed.

Both of our parents died in a Hover-Train crash. Marisa and I weren't there when it happened. I was drafted not long after that.

I clenched my fists in anguish. I always thought my sister would outlive me. She was the gifted one, she was supposed to go far in life. I was the one who always messed things up. I loved her. We were each other's only family. We used to say it would always be the two of us against the world. That wasn't true anymore, she was gone, and she left me with two kids. I force myself to regain my composure and look up at the boy. "What's your name? I've never asked." I'm a pretty terrible uncle.

I am Cyborg 3118121519 Call sign: Curseword

"No, what's the name your parents gave you?"

It doesn't matter what my name was. I can't use it ever again.

"Why not?"

Because if anyone finds me they'll kill me. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but you made a mistake by saving me.

"Why is that?"

Because I know the Annihilation Code.

"Impossible."