> Equius: Access The Damage
You look at her as a math problem more than you do as a person.
She’s splattered herself nicely against the wall. Like memorabilia of her latest tantrum -- a testament to her defiance of the better outcome. The only outcome, that is. What were you supposed to do, really?
Let her rot? Let her deteriorated body join the ranks of the undead? That wasn’t a befitting end for someone like her, nor was it elegant. You were convinced that she was (and still is) better than that.
It made you sad. She made you sad.
You bet you make her sad, too.
Bits and pieces of her breastplate were on the floor, so you make sure to pick up the important parts. Her ribs, bits of bones, fleshy material that could easily be recycled. And here you were hoping for at least four hours' worth of sleep, maybe even six if you’re lucky.
The cleanup crew has made their way onto the scene, and all you can do is bow your head low in an attempt to offer up an apology. Either they take it as it is, or they’re too scared to voice their acceptance.
You carry her to the lab, to your workbench, and lay her down carefully. As if she could feel whatever were to happen.
As it turns out, you can’t fix everything.