Boothill - Cyborg

The lights above the operation table lit up.

He felt as if he had fallen into a deep sea. His flesh was wrapped up and then melted into everything around him. His body departed, leaving only his hollow thoughts struggling all alone.

Strangely, the emotions — terror, anxiety, loneliness, darkness, rage — didn't dissipate with his physical body. They remained in a different manner — and they were even heavier than before.

He smelled the scent of something being charred, and he even felt the doctor's soft breathing — She can breathe? He couldn't help but have that incongruous thought. The whirl of machinery buzzed around his ears and the new blue blood refused to flow towards his thirsty heart.

He really wanted to just fall asleep like this and never wake up.

Until he heard those crude songs and those gentle words, and memories of yore surfaced once again. The unforgettable hatred turned into a weak light in the darkness and he followed it to walk toward the end of it all, exerting every ounce of his strength to rise once again to the surface.

...

"Congrats. You're pretty hard to kill."

The doctor rubbed her blood-covered hands on her white coat and picked up the half-eaten sandwich again.

"Ya thought I was gonna die?"

He balled his hands into fists — hands that were now made of cold iron.

"Most people would have died,", the doctor stated candidly, "and it won't be because I'm bad at my job."

"Well I hav'a piece of good news for ya: I've been dead for a long time."

***

Boothill Character Story: Part 3