A Mentor of Old

[Miranda Frost]

The operation was going smoothly. Miranda's vitals were steady and unwavering. The multitudes of the droids' slim arms darted in and out of her wounds with surgical precision and lightning speeds. The tray holding the misshapen rounds withdrawn from the woman's body rattled from the sheer speed that the tall, tower like droids worked. They spoke very little, their focus unimpeded at the task at hand. The old woman glanced at the taller woman's face. Even when unconscious she didn't seem to be at ease. Her brow was furrowed with long stress lines etched from the corners of her eyes. Her face was tense, as if she felt every bit of the work the droids were putting on her.

 She'd bring her hands at the wheels, propelling herself slowly towards the operating table. The droids were done at this moment and shifted away from the woman,  letting the doctor examine the droids' handy work. Her grey eyes scanned over the exposed body, her fingers testing each stitch that bound the bullet holes shut, ensuring that each thread was tied taut. "Good good." , she'd commend the droids before pulling a small pad from the breast pocket of her lab coat. The symbols designating the function of each of the numerous buttons had since faded away during her stay in this wonderful tower, but at this point she had long committed them each to memory. She'd  press one of them, but nothing would happen right off the bat. Clicking and whirring could be heard just behind the the nearby wall before it opened up. A metal beam would extend, carrying with it a rather large frame. To it was secured a large suit of grey, unadorned plate armor, or so it appeared. Its  back faced the crippled woman, its large back pack featuring a small compartment in the center of its structure. She'd press another button, causing that small hatch to open. Having the armor here now would best revealed at this moment.

 Grey would hold out her hand. "Scalpel", she'd command, and the droid would drop the tool within  her hand. The doctor would lean over the unconscious girl, her eyes tracing about her body. Primes had the innate ability to regenerate, yet she had chosen to retain them all. From long jagged lines to star shaped puncture scars, each one a potentially lethal wound. From the bite mark upon her neck to the large patch of pale skin beneath her breasts, each one was significant enough to her that she'd keep a hold of it, a reminder of the events that had transpired. That's why she bore the creation Grey had given her so many years ago when she and her colleagues fished her out of the burning red sands.

  The doctor would bring the scalpel down, its blade centered upon the woman's chest, but the blade would not move beyond Miranda's flesh. The Doctor hesitated, her eyes glancing at the woman's face. Frost wanted help, as her messenger had told, but she never explicitly asked for what she was about to commit. The Doctor's plan could possibly backfire and cripple her if not outright drive the tortured soul mad. Her teeth gritted tightly together, her index finger laying over the cold spine of the steel tool.

 "Step one.", she'd mutter, applying the pressure needed for the precision device to slice through the skin.  She'd drag the tool down the woman's torso with ease. Her assistant droids moved in closer, their thin insect-like arms reaching around the doctor as she worked, gently pulling the separated skin apart. She'd pause catching a glimpse of the rudimentary mechanics that dwell within. Miranda would fool the old woman. While the surface would indicate great trauma and damage, the steel crystal housing located below her diaphragm along with various other power hubs and centralized data storage for her systems. Everything looked as pristine as the day Dr. Grey installed them if not more so. Not a single bit of rust could be found upon the components nor anything as small as a scratch for that matter.  One of the droid's many arms would bring about small tray filled with a sanitizing solution. She'd drop the scalpel into its clear surface and return her hands to the massive cavity.

 "Step two", she'd continue, her finger sliding across a black, glass-like space upon the surface of Miranda's crystal housing. The screen reacted to her touch, the surface illuminating in a bright cyan hue before fading into the black in which it came. Slowly the hexagonal cage would open and unfurl, revealing two long, jagged crystals,  a bright one emanating a peaceful glow  the other darkened one devouring any bit of light that strayed too close.  levitating in the same space it was contained. The instruments' monitoring Miranda's vital's would sound a distressing alarm. Grey didn't need to look up to see what the blaring siren represented . The body regarded these two objects as vital necessities. Its energy allowed the body to live and thrive and Grey had just cut that off from the rest of the body.

"Step three", she'd growl  her eyes narrowing and her brow dripping with sweat. She'd reach down into the space, her hand attempting to grip at the dark one. "Cold..", she'd wince the bare skin of her hand sticking to the crystal by it sheer icy temperature. Quickly she'd yank it free from its zone and deposit into the armor's open power bay.  The other hand would frantically shut the cage, her index finger sliding over the illuminated surface to engage its seal. Only then did she roll herself away from the table, cradling  her mist covered hand. 
 
 "Step four and five... complete", the old woman sighed, getting a glimpse of her  now less than functioning hand. The skin lining her palm  had been pulled away, completely reduced to a state a non existence. Id didn't bleed, but the exposure to the air around her left it in a throbbing state. \

"I need to stop taking risks like these. I might live longer."