"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.
RINGING. SHARP, VIOLENT RINGING is all that could be felt as the woman's head flicked forward lightly. In an instant, she snapped to life with a loud gasp and a combination of sweat and blood droplets running from her chin. "What....the-", she coughed violently spitting forward another glob of blood to the floor in front of her, "-fuck. Where...?"
Alyse slowly clung to life as she began getting her bearings about her surroundings. Glancing around, she could see that clearly the job hadn't gone as planned. Between the hazy vision and ringing in her ears she found it damn near impossible to get a good sense of where she was but she knew that it was essential to her survival. After a moment she realized what had woken her as she watched another woman get dragged in and pinned up beside her. Poor girl looked like she had the shit kicked out of her and her arm looked especially fucked up. Between the wheezing and blood-filled coughing she couldn't muster the energy to laugh when the other prisoner smarted off a sex joke but she knew that was a good sign because clearly she was in better shape than herself. Pushing through the pain, Alyse managed to force her head back enough to catch a glimpse of the biomonitor on her wrist, she felt like shit but she would live. As she leaned her head back, she felt the immediate rush of warmth down the back of her neck and back. Quickly she flipped her head back down as she was obviously gashed in the back of the head, and from the amount of sensation she felt it must've been pretty substantial.
Rolling her worn face and foggy vision over towards the new woman, she watched her struggle towards her gimp arm. Seeing that there wasn't much progress being made, Alyse realized that she needed to help if either of them were going to stand a chance. "Fhhhhhuhhh-fhuhhh-fuck, hol- hold on." She muttered, coughing a sizable amount of fluid out onto her own chest and legs. Letting her head hang for a moment to recollect herself, she gritted her jaw and began releasing sounds of raw effort as she managed to move her right leg towards the arm. All at once she threw what bit of movement she could towards kicking the arm towards the woman but narrowly missed as she felt her restraints pull back on her wrists. She let out a puff of agony as she saw the kick graze past, pulling herself back against the wall. "God...da...dam...damnit!" she mustered out as she caught her breath once more. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind as she tried to prepare herself for the next attempt and she felt the survival instincts screaming that she needed to get this done.
Swallowing a bit of blood that had tried to escape her mouth, she put everything she had into her next kick. Falling limp nearly immediately, she had felt the resistance as her leg went around, surely she had kicked it close enough...? A surge of pain rushed over her as she hung her head and body from the restraints, listening for the sound that told her the effort wasn't fruitless. Unable to speak as she attempted to build strength, she prayed in her mind that this woman would be sensible enough to help her escape as well or else she was as good as scrap.
So, the other girl wasn't much in the mood for banter. Understandable, in her condition, but it wouldn't shut Petra up. She caught her limp arm as her fellow prisoner kicked it into the air, and shot a wink back in return.
"You're a real pal, you know that? Tell ya what, I'll even let you cut me so you can get yourself all stitched up!" Petra nimbly retrieved the head of a screwdriver from one cybernetic fingertip, stashing it between her teeth. "How'sh zhat shound?" Rather slowly, she used her good hand to lift and rotate her arm until an open panel of wires faced her, and she delicately tightened a screw before looking back up at her compatriot one more. She raised her eyebrows, letting out a dramatic sigh, and used the screwdriver to short the connection between two pins, sending up a small shower of sparks.
"Mozher phucks!" She cursed, convulsing in pain, but held the screwdriver in place. The shock ran through her shoulder, where the cybernetics connected, and through her chest like a lightning bolt. Hurt just as bad as the stun cane those fucking gonks used to knock her out a little while ago. Slowly, Petra recovered and rolled her neck, eliciting a series of cracks. "Shit!" Eyeing her arm warily, Petra watched her cybernetic fingers begin to curl, then threw her head back in celebration. "Phuck yeah!" She dropped her arm quickly when she drew the attention of one of the smoking gonks, and sucked the screwdriver head into her mouth. "Fuck you!" She jeered, and received a gesture in kind.
Petra spit the screwdriver head out into her newly functional hand and worked it back into her fingertip. "Who needs a doc if home remedies do the trick, right babe?" Petra spoke quietly, then grinned like an adrenaline junkie about to jump from a plane, before shorting the circuit in her bum leg. "Fucking fuck me!" She cursed again, crashing her shoulder and head against the wall as the sparks shot up again. The shock was nearly enough to make a person shit their pants, especially as it tore through her pelvis, but she managed to hold herself together. Her eyes rolled for a moment, her brain threatening to faint, before she recovered with a deep, heavy breath.
"Holy hell!" Petra widened her eyes at the other girl. "That wasn't a request, by the by. Sorry." She smiled, despite the tears slipping down her cheeks. "See what I can do, eh?" She nodded her head at the shackle, then quickly picked it with a tool from her finger-arsenal. After a few moments, broken by her paranoid glances at the goons across the room, Petra broke her wrist free and she rolled it in brief celebration.
"Right, should I repay the favor?" Petra said, but she wasn't looking at the other girl this time - as lovely a sight as she might be, all covered in blood and such. The third goon reappeared from the hole in the bricks, carrying a heavy black case of something. Petra quickly moved her shoulder to cover the busted shackle, watching him cross the room back to the friends he left to their smokes. He dropped the crate with a crash onto one of the metal tables, and Petra used the distraction to shuffle along the wall toward the other girl.
"Ready, babe?" Petra asked quietly, pressing close to the other girl as she leaned in to pick the set of shackles. "Call me Fix, by the by. Though I'm better with tech than all... this." She meant the head wound, which was especially apparent as she breathed in the metallic stink of blood. She wasn't a fan of blood by any stretch, but tamped down the heaving feeling in her gut so she could focus.
Get in and find out if these were the lokhi who'd taken the cybernetics from their dead operative. Those were his instructions. So that was what he did. He'd stayed outside, watching, waiting for the perfect time to slip in. He'd watched them come and go, hidden in the shadows by his suit's them-optic camouflage systems. It didn't take long for him to have figured out their patrol patterns and sentry postings. For bottom-feeding scum, he had to admit that their operation was still running as though it was being managed by someone with a semblance of intelligence. That just meant that it was going to make things a little more interesting for him.
It didn't take long for activity to pick up. The source of activity was revealed to be the latest victim of these assholes. Based on their estimated 'processing' rate, he assumed that they'd be on high alert now, given that they'd only recently brought in their latest victim. As much as he wanted to help, going in now would be a mistake. That mistake wasn't going to get him killed, but it would likely get whoever was just brought in killed. It was around when they'd brought their second victim that Vasily noticed their activity more or less returned to normal. For both the sake of getting in, and for the sake of the two who'd just been brought in, now was the most optimal time for him to make his move.
Carefully, he retrieved his rifle and shouldered it. Connecting himself to his weapon, Vasily watched the diagnostic text display in the corner of his vision before the weapon's optic replaced the vision of one eye on command. Increasing the magnification slowly, he sighted in on one of the far sentries before he slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked familiarly in his hands, a quick spray of arterial blood indicating that the round had hit home. One sentry down, one more to go. He didn't need to search for the man, he'd memorized their positions to such an extent that his hands were guided by memory alone. Once more, his crosshairs settled on yet another target, and once more he squeezed the trigger. As was the way of things when tungsten carbide, lead and copper jacket met flesh and blood at high velocity, the second sentry went down immediately, long dead before he even hit the floor.
Vasily put his rifle away carefully into it's carrying case and slowly began making his way over to the entrance, keeping to the shadows as he did so. On the way, he made a detour to one of the sentry's corpses. It only took him a few moments of searching through the dead man's personal effects to find an access card. It was a crude little magnetic stripe card for what was likely to be an equally crude magnetic stripe reader. As he swiped the card, he kept his right hand on the grip of his pistol. Fortunately for him, his foresight paid off. Unfortunately, it was because there was a hostile right in the doorway.
Vasily moved extremely quickly, his augmented strength and agility giving him a decided advantage over the low-life scum he was engaging. His pistol coughed once, twice and then thrice as he performed a perfect demonstration of the Mozambique drill. Watching the man begin to fall in slow motion, Vasily reached out to grab him. Watching his hand reach out in painful slow motion, he barely grabbed hold of the man's shirt in time to stop him from falling down the stairs and giving his arrival away immediately. Breathing a private sigh of relief, he pulled the man out of the doorway and gently leaned him against the wall. That, was a little too close.
Quickly and quietly, he made his way into the building these cyka were using as their base of operations. Slipping slowly through the plastic curtains erected, phantasmal figure barely visible, he could almost be confused for the dead spirits of any of their victims come to exact justice from beyond the grave. Even that, was only if the urod standing around were perceptive enough. His suit's motion tracker and radar kept him apprised of the positions of all hostiles in the building, and he was about to move towards the largest collection of them, when he saw two women who he'd bet his hardly substantial paycheck were these cyka's latest victims. Soon to be, in any case, if they didn't find a way out.
It seemed however, that one of them was in more of a shape to do something about her position than the other, who looked to be in pretty bad shape. Vasily considered helping, when he watched the two of them go into action. Silently impressed, he watched for a moment as the woman with the cybernetic arm and leg worked to reactivate her cybernetics. He could only wince when he saw the fruits of her labor. Given what he could see of the next room, he could conclude one thing with absolute surety; no one deserved what was happening here.
He knew it was a reality of life, places like this were hardly rare. They kept popping up no matter how many of them were raided and shut down. He was, however, in a position to help here. However much he wanted to help, he still had to bide his time and wait for the best opportunity to do so. Then, just like that, the opportunity presented itself. He saw one of them walk by with a large crate in his hands. What was inside was probably not too hard to guess, given what little he could see of the other room. He heard the crate clatter to the table with a resounding clang, and wasted no time whatsoever. Still hidden by his suit's thermoptic camouflage, he moved up behind the man, and in one swift action, snapped his neck. Only as he slowly started to lay the body down behind some of the stacked crates, did he turn his attention to the two women. "Can you walk? If you can, can you help her out?" he inquired as he searched the dead man for anything useful.