Jet wasn’t sure how to feel when the new numbers started showing up. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but at least he wasn’t alone. Well, it wasn’t as if he was alone from the start, but it felt… weird talking to an actual baby, even if Ivan’s vocabulary was often leagues better than his own.
Françoise didn’t say much at first, especially when the newly imputed sensors made her own words pound against her skull.
And Albert talked too much. He had the audacity to joke and laugh, and it made Jet’s blood boil. It was only when he saw Albert’s metallic legs and hands peek under the slits in his uniform that he understood why. What else was there to do when they were already so broken?
It couldn’t get worse, surely. It was bad enough that he was starting to forget what New York looked like. It was bad enough that the guilt of killing another man weighed heavy on his young heart. It was bad enough that his foreign, prototype limbs were heavy and aching, and he knew that they’d just get taken and replaced with a newer version after the scientists’ field tests.
So Jet thought it was a sick joke when gloved fingers pried him open on the operating table. The dry push and pull hurt more than his own body being torn apart and screwed back together. At least then they used anesthetics (he remembered hearing them laugh, “Can’t have this one dying, too” as he washed in and out of consciousness), but there was no care when a cock slotted against his hole, pushed and pushed and pushed until it finally breached and sheer, white pain tore a silent scream from his throat.
Jet wasn’t a romantic, but he expected his first time with a man to be different. Preferably in a bedroom with a man he knew the name of. Hell, he wouldn’t have minded it in an alleyway, quick and desperate because at least they’d both cum.
It lasted an eternity. His body coped with arousal, and it took all his strength to not cry as his erection rested on his stomach. He heard more laughter, but it was more cruel of them to input a translator in his head.
“He’s almost more useful like this.”
He felt sick.
“You were gone for a while.” Albert poked his head out from the lower bunk. Jet was used to seeing him without pupils now, though it startled him the first time he saw Albert’s literal blank stare.
Jet clicked his tongue, and Albert smiled which made his stomach turn. Usually it’d be a welcome sight, but he was more concerned on hiding his… rape assault injury.
“Yeah, well,” Jet grumbled, trying to ignore the pain in his lower half. It didn’t stop him from limping to the stairs to his bed. “You know they love to take their fuckin’ time.”
Albert must have noticed his gait because he put down his book and sat up fully.
“002.” His voice was soft, gentle, patient, and Jet hated it because he wasn’t fragile, broken, or deserving of kindness.
“What?!” Jet’s hand gripped the side of the metal stairs so hard it left an indent of his fingers. He cursed to himself and hurried up to the faux safety of his bunk. He felt like a kid, pulling the thin blankets over his tall frame to hide himself from the world. Like usual, it was for naught, and the clang of Albert’s hands and feet made it apparent he was following him up.
“...Jet.” They didn’t have privacy, not with the amount of cameras trailed on them, but Albert spoke so quietly that he felt like the only one who could hear it.
“Leave me alone. I don’t need your pity.”
“Pity?” Jet felt Albert sit down on the bed, making a noticeable dip in the bed with the machinery in him weighing him down, and he somehow still gave Jet a few inches of space. “There’s not a pitying bone in my body. Actually, I’m not sure if I have any bones left.”
That made Jet laugh. Well, more like a chuckle meshed with a snort, and he covered his mouth to fruitlessly muffle the noise. Albert let out a laugh of his own, soothingly deep, and Jet tried not to linger on the desire to hear it over and over again.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and knowing Albert, Jet knew that it wouldn’t be long until—
“We don’t have to talk about it, but,” Albert shifted, crossing one leg over the other, “it might help. I’m no shrink, obviously, but I can be an ear, if anything else.”
Jet hesitated, curling inward to pull his body closer to himself. Teeth against lip, he chewed until the taste of plastic made his skin crawl. With a sigh, he finally unsheathed himself, throwing the blanket up and off the bed with a yell. The sight and sound obviously startled Albert, and even without pupils, he could see the widening of his eyes and surprise on his parted lips.
“...Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I get it.”
More silence, more avoiding gazes, and more anxiety-driven foot shakes later, and Jet finally felt strong enough to open up.
“Well, uh. You know better than anyone that the, uh… ‘surgeries’ aren’t great.” Jet couldn’t meet Albert’s eyes, but it felt worse to stare at Albert’s limbs, so Jet opted to stare at his own lap.
He waited for the motion of Albert nodding before he continued.
“Sometimes they do… more than that.” The absence of Albert’s usual interruptions made his throat dry. Maybe he was hoping for Albert to just… know, but the thought of him or any of them going through the same thing was the direct opposite of comforting. “Um. They do whatever they want, obviously. And, uh…”
Fuck, why was this so hard? Every time the word came to mind, he could feel phantom touches against his skin. His lip trembled, and his arms wrapped around his sides, and he could feel cold sweat on his temple, and—
Warm. The hands on him were warm, not quite as lively or brutal as the scientists’ own, more like the calm, static glow of a fireplace. It grounded him, made him return back to the present, and he didn’t realize he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw Albert’s head tucked into his shoulder.
Jet should push him off, grab him by the collar and make him regret the comfort, but Jet just… couldn’t, his shaky hands finding themselves on Albert’s back, instead. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and Jet almost laughed, they had to breathe and eat, so it made sense they had to cry, too.
Jet didn’t recall when they fell asleep, but when the blaring alarms signaling their next training session rang off, their limbs were intertwined, faces inches from each other. They scrambled to get themselves ready, and while Jet adjusted his clothes, ready to rush out the door, Albert stopped him with a pull of his wrist.
“What?”
“No matter what happens, I’ll be right beside you.”
Jet didn’t know how true those words were, but they made his cheeks burn, nonetheless.