"Lay off, ya pieces of shit!" Petra yelled, squirming uselessly against the two gonks dragging her through the dirty plastic curtains. Her torn jeans and short sleeves displayed a neat collection of bruises and scrapes, as well as the dull metallic shine of her cybernetics. Her right arm and leg hung uselessly, totally disabled - at least for now. "Not like you fuckwits need the chips anyway!" Despite her protests, they threw her up against the wall behind some heavy-looking crates and toolboxes, and shackled her useful hand to an exposed pipe. She spit after them, still cursing, but the saliva splattered uselessly to the ground a couple feet away.
After a moment, Petra noticed the woman nearby, similarly restrained against the wall. Either these chips were about to go flying off the shelves, or these asshats had gotten themselves into a lot more shit than she'd expected. The girl looked a lot more like a fighter than a kidnapping victim or a joytoy, so the best bet seemed to be that these guys had their heads on the chopping block. Based on the creepy back-alley hospital setup and the weapons stashed around the room, they probably deserved it. Broken walls and plastic sheeting usually weren't features of a reputable establishment.
"Listen, dunno what kind of BDSM shit you think is, but I'm not consenting!" Petra yelled again, and one of the guys who carried her in whipped around to point a gun at her face. She stared him down.
"Shut the fuck up." He grunted, flicking the tip of his gun in her direction. "You'll get your damn turn."
As if on cue, the neighboring room lit up with sparks, followed by a short scream. Something buzzed, like a saw or a drill of some kind. That's probably what the doc's chair had been waiting for. Petra shook her head admonishingly, and the guy with the gun turned back around to meet up with his numbskulled buddies across the room.
"Hope you don't mind if I cut the queue," Petra said, looking back at the other woman. "See, I really need the doc to take a look at my busted parts." Almost like she was emphasizing the point, Petra rolled her good leg underneath her and started trying to swing her lifeless cybernetic arm into her cuffed hand. "Hard to be a workin' gal when ya... aren't workin' - sure ya understand." She huffed a little between words, working hard to get her arm swinging high enough. If she could just get the tools from her fingers, she could get herself running again.
Across the room, the gonks that dragged her in leaned against some low shelves, smoking and discussing plans or some shit. Their third partner broke off from the group, heading through a hole in the bricks to an adjoining room. From what Petra had cased already, she was pretty sure they were near the middle of the hideout... meaning that it was going to take some doing to get back out of here again. Didn't help that the doc's chair was probably waiting for her and her fellow prisoner if they couldn't delta fast.
@Sly