Iron Drumbeat Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Sitting there in the rusty, dented, old airvan, I took stock of my situation. I was all kinds of fucked up, compared to what I was before. I mean, by the stinkin’ underways, I just gave myself a new name!

It weren’t just the new name either. I had whole different bits between my legs, which I was rapidly approaching the need to make use of them. Urgently. Spirits, but I needed to piss.

“Hey tink,” I said, looking over at my fuzzy friend. “Where do I take a piss?”

Tink didn’t even look up from her project, she just pointed with her tail towards the closed van door. The airvan had two sliding doors, one on either side up near the cockpit, but I just assumed the closed one was rusted shut.

When I tried it, it was definitely in working order. Shit, it was actually super well oiled. How was—

To my surprise, beyond the door was a cramped set of open plan rooms that I could only describe as an apartment. I smacked my head on the ceiling almost the moment I walked in, and doubled over rubbing my forehead. That movement brought my chunky armoured legs into view, and the subconscious control I had over them evaporated.

Flopping to the ground like a sack of bolts, I swore loudly. God, falling on your own legs was crap at the best of times, worse when they were made of angled metal. Also, somehow I'd been blissfully ignorant of the dull ache that was still pulsing in my thighs and stumps.

Ignorance was bliss...

Groaning softly, I shifted and watched the internal components of my legs flex and move. Up until recently on a historical scale, Cascarton and the wider Oceanic region used magic, enchantment, steam, and other like technologies to power our industry. Well, the whole world was forced to use all that stuff to do everything for a couple hundred years, but when the fog’s miasmic effects started to recede, it saved our little shithole corner of the world to last.

All that is to say, the tech that was jammed into my legs was completely foreign to me. I understood what the wires were, obviously, but even they were jacketed in heavy eld-fog shielding and fireproof kevlar. The cylinder parts looked like they were powering the movements, but I had no idea what they were. As for the seam between leg and skin— wait, what was that?

Curling down my legs like angular vines, a series of gently glowing tattoos were reaching out and into my mechanical legs. Even as I watched, I saw them creep another few millimetres down the dark metal plates. Back on the fleshy parts of my thighs, the vines were receding back into invisibility, although I could sense that they were still there, just hidden somewhere my eyesight couldn’t follow. Was this the eld-fog claiming my new bionic legs as a part of me?

Spirits, but I had so many questions and nobody to smack until I got answers. My bladder pulsed with renewed urgency and threatened to burst right then and there. At least the muscles I needed to clench to keep the piss in were the same.

Pushing myself carefully back to my feet with a groan, I tottered over towards a corrugated metal sheet that appeared to be a door in the loosest sense, I moved it aside and found the toilet behind it.

* * *

That… was an experience. Nothing to aim with, except my torso, hips, vague guesswork and prayer. Contemplating my changed body again, my stomach did flips and a disturbingly accurate imitation of my earlier freefall..

Getting back to the van, Tink handed me an old tube of ointment and gestured to my bandaged thighs. Alright. I guess they had a point. I had to wonder how much was changed? From the feel of it, things were more than what meets the eye."Hey Tink, did Mi-DOS replace my thigh bones too?"

Nodding, she mimed taking my leg off with a set of clips and a careful twist. Then, she mimed the reverse. Honestly, I didn't know what the fuck she was trying to communicate, but I nodded and made humming noises like I understood. Little critter saw right through me and rolled her eyes.

She did the same actions again, but now she picked up a grease stained cloth and pretended to hold a squirt bottle in the other. Spraying and wiping at the top of the imaginary prosthetic, I got the gist pretty quickly.

My bones were replaced to allow for the leg to attach and have support within my body, and I needed to take them off sometimes and clean them, plus rub ointment on the stumps. Who knew losing your fuckin' legs would lead to more hygiene? Like, I had no feet to grow fungus and stink now. Surely… but nah, the universe likes to make us all struggle.

Somewhat worryingly, the surgical wounds were still all gross, bloody, and raw. Honestly, I figure I should've had time to heal before the legs got slapped on.

Once I was done tending to my stumps, I sat down on the makeshift bed I woke up on and leaned back, closing my eyes. Bloody hell but I was tired.

Subconsciously, I reached up to rub at my face, and… holy shit. The other hand came up, and together they cupped my cheeks, moving softly across my skin. How was it so soft?!

Which begged the question, what did they feel like?

My hands dove up under my shirt, only to halt tentatively above my new breasts. Oh gods, what was I doing? Was I molesting myself? No, I mean… they were mine, right? We caught Pix playing with hers sometimes. That meant I could. Yes, it did.

Turns out, being gentle tickled more than just confidently grabbing them, so I did that. Bloody spirits, they were really fucking soft! The skin was the softest part, more so even than the breast itself. I trailed my fingers over the skin on the side of them and knew that if I didn’t watch out, I’d get addicted to playing with them. Not even in a sexual way either, they was just comforting and soft and squishy. It made my brain happy.

I fell asleep sitting like that.

I woke up to Mi-DOS having a huge metallic hissy fit just outside the van. My head pounded with each metallic word he spat out of his voice modulator, and I winced. Fucking balls—uh, recently departed balls? Whatever. I had no idea how much sleep I got, but it definitely wasn’t enough.

“This is why biologicals are inferior to mechanicals!” he screeched. “When I repair something, I expect it to be repaired. There is work to be done! I will not abide freeloaders in my kingdom!”

There was a moment of silence, and then the robot howled with outrage and frustration. A second after that, a small gasping yelp could be heard.

As fast as my unsteady and newly attached legs could move, I stumbled up and hauled the door to the van open. “Stop!”

Outside the airvan, I found a small courtyard at the centre of what appeared to be a compound made of random junk vehicles and even buildings. All of it was rusty, mouldy, and partially overgrown with moss and lichen. Everywhere I looked, I could see some poor hunk of once-useful crap that was nothing more than a source of heavy metals for the dead soil.

The centrepiece of the junk compound was the front of a massive old aeroplane with a faded red kangaroo logo on the front. It sat there looking like the tip of a metal baguette that a giant ripped off and forgot to eat in the place where in a more normal compound would’ve had the main building.

Right outside the airvan, on the gravel of the courtyard, Mi-DOS was hovering above Tink. The robot’s single eye stared daggers down at the little animal, who was writing in agony on the ground.

“Stop,” I huffed, already feeling out of breath. “I can… I can work—”

Pain erupted through my body, and I collapsed down to the ground like I’d been clotheslined by a two metre tall rugby player.

While I writhed helplessly on the ground, he yelled, “Do not tell me, King Mi-DOS, what to do!”

All I could think was pain, all I could feel was the writhing of my body, and all I could say was, “Y-yes, Mi-DOS. Your m-maaaajestty.”

He finally let up on the shock collar that I’d ignored until now. I really should’ve paid more attention, but there was just so much happening in my life right now.

“Good, that is the proper deference that your new monarch and saviour deserves, hmm?” he asked, arching his singular metallic eyebrow. Why did he even have an eyebrow?

“Yes, your majesty,” I coughed, pulling myself back to my feet. My body still twitched and ached from the shocks.

Fucking nutty egotistical twat. Oh, and I couldn't forget that he sliced me up without so much as a casual 'yeah, or nah?'. Of course, then the memories from the surgery slinked their way back into my thoughts and my whole body went numb and cold. No, no, no! Do not go down that memory!

As much to distract myself from the absolute meltdown brewing in my head than anything else, I asked, "What would you have me do, your majestyship?"

"Majestyship is not a word, nor an honorific, peasant. However, I will give you credit for the attempt at proper respect," he told me in his discount posh accent. "As for your first task, I require you to investigate sector 5b and mark down the most promising pieces of salvage you see."

"I don't know—" I started, then quickly rethought what I was going to say when he began to frown. "Ah, that is to say, I am just a… dumb organic peasant, your majesty. I don't know where that sector is. I uh, I might need a map."

The frown cleared. "Of course, of course. Assistant! Find the peasant a tablet with a map on it, will you?"

Tink rolled their eyes but hopped up off the dirt where they'd been squatting and rushed off on all fours. They were back in a flash with a dirty old tablet that looked like it was made right after the invention of shielding.

Handing it to me, the adorable little animal flashed a series of little hand gestures at me. I gave her an apologetic smile and shrugged. I had no idea what her little gang signs meant. Oh, wait! It was probably like, sign language or something?

“Now that you have a map and a way to inform me of choice cuts from the scrap heap, I bid thee away! Go, peasant!” Mi-DOS interrupted, causing me to twitch and glance around for a gate out of the junk compound.

“Yes, your majesty,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear my teeth grinding with frustration and a growing seed of hate.