Waiting was hell.
She should've done something different than wait on her friend getting his arm implant. He lost his last one during a skirmish back on the East end with Markus's men, they never cared who they fucked with. She should've known Alex was going to get his ass kicked, but she never thought they'd steal his arm. Apparently one held him down, and another pressed against his ribs, yanking on the arm until it came loose. The socket was damaged and he needed it repaired, but he passed out until someone decent in that rundown street called medical.
Alex recalled they wanted his body off the road, and if they ran him over, the price of damaging more of his mods would be expensive. They didn't want to go through that, not with a few cameras watching the entire exchange.
Lily tore out the footage, and smashed it in front of Alex who scowled, passing over several rolls of cash before walking out. Lily wanted her to make sure that Alex wasn't alone when he got his arm replaced.
And here she is, waiting in a dimmed lit waiting room, sitting on a black plastic chair. Across from her was a woman in a white dress, tattoos ran along her arms and legs, different images that merged together in intricate designs. Her face had a mod around her right eye, and the lid was closed. Maybe she was getting that replaced. Sometimes these doctors really knew how to make their customers run back to their doorsteps.
Alex called it a rip off, and she simply shrugged her shoulders and said that was business, even how crappy it was.
"Amaryllis." She looked up at the old style box TV hanging in the corner with black wires dripping from the sides. The sound of her name startled her, and it was a man talking on a weather station. He wore a pristine blue suit, and combed back blond hair. He sat straight, and was staring at the screen with a mechanical smile.
Her brows pushed together, watching the news reporter speak about the week's weather. She didn't understand why he spoke her name. Maybe she was thinking too much, wondering why Alex was in that end of the city when he knew his implants were in danger of getting ripped out.
Markus wasn't a man that denied other people their pain, even if they didn't deserve it. Once she had worked with him, and that was the only time she was ever going to stand beside the asshole.
The screen began to glitch. A normal occurrence during these idle times, but with each glitch, her name was being spoken through the man in the TV.
"Marvelous." The TV continued, and the man clapped awkwardly toward his partner beside him.
She blinked a few times, her fingers going toward the bottom of her left eye where she felt the pressure of the plate beneath. When she was young, she was attacked by her uncle, and he stabbed her in the eye. One of his drunken nights when he sobbed on the floor, her trembling hand covering the bleeding socket where he had tugged out her real one. She stared with tears running down with her only functioning eye at the one that was cut through with the knife. It laid on the floor in a puddle of blood, her iris ripped in two.
The pain had been immediate, but she couldn't scream, and her mother had done it for her when she walked through the door.
Since then, she hadn't seen her uncle.
But he used to say that on a whim.
"Marvelous, my Amaryllis, is marvelous."
The glitching sounded when she covered her eye, and she looked up at the TV. The woman across from her didn't seem to notice, holding a white thin object that with a single click, revealed the holographic screen. Veins of green and pink ran through it, a soft glow. Except her gaze went back to the TV, over and over as the man continued to talk.
"Marvelous," he spoke, tilting his head to the side, his lips stretched into a comical tired smile, and his green eyes pleaded for it to end.
The glitch appeared, again and again, of an eye blinking at her.
Blinking. Blinking. Blinking.
She sucked in a breath, dropping her hand and turning toward Alex, a grown man in a white tank-top with something black staining the sides and the bottom hem, he wore a leather jacket over it, and he was arching a brow at her.
"Are we ready to go?" she asked, getting to her feet and noting the arm in the once empty socket of his sleeve, stitches made by Lily along the shoulder since the jacket came from a family member of his.
"Yes," he spoke, staring at her peculiarly. "I told you not to watch those damn shows. Getting you messed up."
She shrugged, following him out of the clinic. "I can't help it. I'm sentimental."
Total Words: 845
Notes: I've wanted to write something for the Cyberpunk genre, mostly because I'm interested in the game coming out, and I really do like the genre. I'm just unsure of my own skill atm. I've also been re watching game play of the game Observer_ that has helped in this inspiration for this flash fic. :)
I hoped you enjoyed!
Reviews are appreciative. What did you like about this story? No flames or bashing please.