Nothing Personal

Dark Workshop

Dark Workshop (Photo credit: Daniel Y. Go)

I was strapped onto the bench, no escape from this hellhole of a workshop despite my augmented body parts.  Actually, it was because of my augmented body parts.

The workshop itself was one of those places you went to when you wanted something obscure or you needed some kind of specialist; you know the kind of place, out of the way down some side street, with a tiny reception and a big basement where they do all the work.  This one was a proper dungeon, know what I mean?  I mean it was dark and stank of engine oil, tools and rags littered around the periphery, half-assembled contraptions on the benches.

My kind of place.

I needed a new piston for my left forearm, and my right leg needed a tune-up; that was all.  Should have been in and out of there quick, wam-bam thank you maam, but instead I’d been sedated and put into plastcord restraints.  Turns out I was going to have stuff removed rather than replaced.

Nothing personal kid”, the decrepit old robot said as it walked over to where I was lying, inserted a flat-headed screwdriver head into a power drill and fired it up.

“Yeah, I know.” as it leaned forward and applied the torque to my leg.

I activated the heating element in my forearm by tapping my thumb and index finger together, snapped the restraint.  The robot looked up just in time to see my fist smash into its face.

Nothing personal.

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About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using Stumbleupon.com, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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4 Responses to Nothing Personal

  1. Sounds personal to me :S great writing though

  2. barbtaub says:

    One of your best!

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