PROMPT: Fought for the City of Iron in the war, got injured very badly but left for dead. Most of the android parts they sport are desert-made, working for the pirates is supposed to pay off that debt. Fought for the City of Iron in the war, got injured very badly but left for dead. Most of the android parts they sport are desert-made, working for the pirates is supposed to pay off that debt.
ROLE: The Soldier
NAME: Eshir
BIRTH: City of Iron
AGE: 30
GENDER: Cis Female
PRONOUNS: She/Her
OCCUPATION: Pirate
SPECIES: Android
ALIGNMENT: Pro-War
FC: Tsunaina
rubbing sand from your eyes, mechanical whirring, low hum of electricity, blank stares while firing shots, hissing through teeth, turning on the charm, bubbling rust, not flinching, out for yourself, ultrasonic, the hard crack of metal, eyes rolling into the back of your head, heavy robes, bullet holes, silk lingerie, designed to perfection
TW: GORE, VIOLENCE, INJURY, BATTLE
The war had not been kind to anyone, and it had certainly not been kind to her. The battle raging, her body had operated perfectly as designed. Weapons built into her forearms had executed many. Far from alone, she had collaborated with the others effortlessly, a swarm of bees.
One moment of weakness, her head pulled back in a growl of laughter was all the vulnerability needed. A missile to the abdomen reduced her body to parts, sent flying, sick and comical, bouncing off dunes. She had laid in the sand for days, only energy from the sun keeping her going. Her body severed from the ribs down, the back of her head shattered. She was left immobile and memoryless.
Those days had been endless, the hot black sand caught in and around her chest, her head whirring in panic. Memories had come in waves through her mind; scenes from a life of servitude in the City of Irons. Black thick tar filled her eyes and meant only shadows crept through. When the battle had moved on and raged elsewhere, pirates scavenged for weapons left behind. They had flung her onto the back of their truck.
They had patched her up the best they could. This period was spent numb, her mind searching for memories and processing the loss of her sleek weapon of a body. She had been left with echoes of personality that led her to who she once was. Her preference for violence was simple, years spent in battle. And her vanity suggested to her she had once been celebrated for her looks. In the quiet of the desert nights, a memory would fling itself into her mind’s eye. Men’s hands scaling her thighs, programmes downloaded into her systems that made her stay up all night, eyes wide and charming, the thick scent of alcohol. This new body was repulsive to her, but the calm posture inherited from many years of being a beautiful person stayed.
Nowadays she was all teeth of copper, the back of her head bright brass and hairless. Her legs carbon composites with yet more copper, rusting, small bubbles of acid at her knees and ankles. The backs of her eyes never fully shook the thick tar that had leaked during the explosion, so they shone black and other-earthly. Clothed in the heavy calico robes of the pirates, all of this was not visible. Where they had sown ribcage onto legs there was a thick, stapled line through which black tar seeped, whispering of the chaos within. In moments of silence, she heard the electronic whirring of her chest heavy with tar full coughs and bubbles. A high pitched wheezing. She spoke rarely, as her voice was now harmony of low heavy mechanical grumbles and ultrasonic squeals. It made her pirate colleagues shiver.
Previously a killing machine, she was hard-wired for skill and accuracy. The explosion had made her less so but positioned her healthily amongst the pirates. They weren’t friends. Their arrangement was transactional. She assisted their crimes, in return for saving her life. What she was left with now was the deep desire to own herself. Not a soldier, not someone’s pleasure android or indebted to the pirates, but independent.
