Chapter Text
Fire. The stench of burning flesh amongst the rubble, smoke slowly climbing into the sky, dripping water from broken pipes hitting the dry ground. This area was still mostly still and quiet, though he could hear the frantic medical teams off in the distance. They still had a large area to cover and would not get here in a while yet.
Dr. Kuseno walked slowly among the horrors all around him. He had arrived too late. Again. There were no signs of elevated energy levels here, nor signs of any other life for that matter. Same as the last time, same as every time. At least, that was what he thought until his careful walk brought him to what remained of a small house. A large collapsed wall stood in his path, under which he found yet another broken body. He had already witnessed many of them, today and other days. But this one, according to his handheld medical scanner, was in fact not quite gone yet, though the signs of life were so weak that the device in his hand had not recognized them until he had come this close. He leaned in towards the still body, though there was little hope on his face. This would not be the first time he would come across a person who would die before he could save them. He had learnt his lesson of not getting his hopes up long ago.
The unmoving body was badly burnt, most facial features unrecognisable. A few tufts of pale hair remained on the scalp, but little else could be clearly discerned. He must have been in extreme pain before succumbing to his injuries, that much was evident.
The doctor blinked slowly, inching closer. Gentle hands carefully checked the vital signs of the person before him, trying to avoid moving the body more than necessary. Limbs were bent in unnatural positions, likely fractured upon forceful contact with the debris now littered around them. Was the neck broken as well? Careful fingers prodded before he sighed quietly to himself. That portion of the unmoving body still appeared intact, at least. He ran the scanner over the person again, reading the vital signs and warning messages carefully. Brows furrowed and he hummed to himself, considering.
As a doctor and a scientist, he had been trained to have a critical eye, to not let his feelings stand in the way of reason and practicality. He knew that this person had very little time left, would likely not survive for more than hours at most, shouldn't be alive even now. That he should call for the medical teams in the distance, to let them take this person and do what they could to ease their suffering. And yet, he hesitated. There was... something... to how this person seemed to cling on to their life still, despite the horrible injuries they had sustained. Maybe it was the simple fact that this was the first rampage survivor he had come across. They should not be alive with injuries like that. Yet they were. An extreme amount of dedication, of sheer strength of will, must reside in that broken body.
He had worked with many badly injured people before. He was a professional, one of the best in the world in his field. He had created advanced prosthetics, replacements for just about every body part a person could damage in some way, ranging from minor skin transplants to replacing a whole portion of a body. He had replaced lost senses and destroyed nerves, even done what he could to stabilize an injured mind. He had an incredible knowledge of human anatomy that few could rival. His laboratory was full of testaments of his work, including a collection of parts just waiting to be used on future willing patients.
And yet, this person... they were so very badly injured. He could make no promises even if they managed to cling on to life until they had reached his laboratory. A highly specialized laboratory where he would be able to give them care rivalling the best hospital in the city. Maybe, just maybe he could help them heal enough to be transferred to receive regular care and rehabilitation to go back to what life they could. He found that despite himself, he could not deny that struggling flicker of life, however weak it was. He had seen too much death in the last months. He had to give them a fighting chance.
*
A weak gasp.
Dr. Kuseno leaned closer to the bandaged bundle before him. If not for his grievous injuries, the body could have appeared almost comical, wrapped up like a mummy from a children's cartoon. But the doctor saw no humour in the pitiful form. He was still in life-threatening condition and entirely dependant on the machines around him, monitoring every bodily function still working and aiding those that no longer could perform their duties.
A boy, somewhere in his mid-teens. That was about as much as he had been able to estimate, so far. They were still waiting for the full report on the causalities from the latest cyborg rampage. Whoever he was, so far he appeared to be the sole survivor. The doctor had done a simple DNA assessment on the youth while performing a blood test. He was still awaiting the full results, though knew he wasn't likely to get a direct match. Unless the youngster had a criminal record, he wasn't likely to be listed anywhere. Still, it might yield a link to someone related to him, as a start. At the very least, it would help pinpoint his appearance prior to his injuries, making it easier to match him to the missing person reports going around.
He had been so very weak when they arrived, which had done nothing but to spur the doctor on further. Truth be told, had the boy instead been taken directly to the hospital, he likely would not have survived even his long. The equipment in this laboratory was unparalleled. The medical staff, long-time acquaintances and colleagues, knew as much and the arrangements had been made on the spot to have the boy officially put in the care of dr. Kuseno until further notice. But even so, it was clear he would never recover from his injuries. There might be... options... but dr. Kuseno would never do something so invasive to someone without their consent, which he did not assume he would ever get in this case. True, he had done everything he could to help the boy, but he knew it was unlikely that he would wake up again, no matter how strong his fighting spirit was. A human body could only take so much damage before giving up.
As a result, he had jumped in surprise that late evening when one gasp turned into two, three. It had been pure luck that he had been there right then, just about to do one of his many daily check-ups on the boy. The broken body had stirred, moving unevenly. He lacked the strength to do any more than that and the strong painkillers in his system kept him from being fully aware of his surroundings. He got no further before stilling again. That time.
Some time had passed. Days, already? A week? The boy had stabilized, somewhat, though his body would still not function on his own. Left in this state, it probably never would. And yet, that fighting spirit remained and seemed to grow only stronger every day. As a result, dr. Kuseno was in fact not as shocked as he might otherwise have been, when eventually one day the youth spoke in his presence. His voice was low, broken, gasping with effort, but he could just barely make out the single word.
"Where..?"
Dr. Kuseno had kept it short. He did not wish to overwhelm his patient and he was not certain how much he remembered of what had happened, how severe the mental trauma was. Nor how conscious he was of his current surroundings or indeed entire situation. His face was still almost completely covered, bandages over his missing eyes. His world was dark. The doctor had told him, in gentle words, that he was the lone survivor after the cyborg's rampage, that he was in safe hands now.
He had dealt with many patients after terrible accidents, he was prepared for the shock, the denial of the situation. The anguish, the pain, the desperation.
What he was not prepared for was the carefully controlled anger.
In truth, neither was the boy, though the doctor did not know that at the time.
His awareness seemed to come and go, with no way of telling how much time had passed in between each glimpse of clarity. He could not see anything and his other senses seemed dull and pained, making it hard to discern what was real and what was feverish fantasy. Often he was plagued with never-ending repeated sensations and memories inside his mind. Blazing fire, the smell of something burning, pain. Pain, never-ending pain searing through every part of him. And then death. Or near death. It must have been near death since he was still here now, but it had felt so much like what dying must be like that he was not entirely certain that he was actually alive now. And his physical state made it difficult to want to even try to survive this. What life did he have to go back to? Everyone, everything was gone. Perhaps this painful desperation was why he chose to focus on that tiny seed of fury instead, a quickly growing demand for revenge on the mad cyborg who had done this to him. It was easier to pay attention to that than on his own pain and loss. He felt so weak, so broken. And it was all that cyborg's fault. He had destroyed his entire world and everyone he cared for.
"Please" he had begged the doctor, eventually, days later. During his clearer moments, he had considered his situation more in depth and come to a conclusion of his own. Quietly gasping the words, trembling with determination.
"I must!"
He had not known he had it in him. He had never been that type of person before. He had been a fairly quiet young man, keeping to himself most of the time. Dealing with people was often difficult for him. He had known to not make others notice him too much, to not to give bullies the chance to single him out as a target. There had been times when he had had to run as fast as he could to get away from them. Back when he could run. But now he couldn't run. Running hadn't helped that last time, either. Now, for some reason he could not himself understand, he wanted to fight instead. Was it because running was no longer an option? He wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered any more.
The doctor could not lie to himself. There was a certain feeling of... excitement, growing in him, as he watched the boy struggle to survive each passing day, when he saw his absolute resolve. And now, he had not only permission but also the boy's encouragement - his insistence - after the doctor had tried to carefully go over their options for his future, holding his hand to keep him anchored, talking patiently during the moments when the pain and sorrow were not overwhelming the young mind. He had spoken about himself, a bit, what his profession was and what he had done for others. This had excited the boy and through his wheezing gasps, he had all but demanded the doctor's aid in this.
Dr. Kuseno could not deny that the idea was intriguing. It would be a culmination of all his knowledge, all his vast experience, poured into a single crescendo. The idea of restoring full life to this boy was exhilarating to his scientific mind. Restoring people, helping them - that was his passion, after all. He had done it before, but never quite like this.
He had grown quite attached to this boy with his fighting spirit and wanted to do everything he could to help him. But he also knew, better than anyone else, that it would change the boy's life forever. That there was no promise he would even be able to adapt to such big changes. This type of transformation, especially one so severe, was an irreversible life change with no possible turning back. It would be a brand new beginning.
"Please make me strong!"