Arthas Needs a Hand

TW: Fu**ing swe@ring.

“We have to remove the leg, probably the arm as well.” The droid doctor said it to newly reinstated Detective Arthas Jacques in a calm New Delhi accent.

The detective fought back sobs, body trembling as his blue eyes scanned from his functional black metal right hand to the mangled leg in a cast, held tightly in place above the bed. His prosthetic left leg was right as rain, unlike his crushed left hand.

“Save my hand, please.” Tears rolled down the stubble on his papyrus coloured cheeks. His accent was the Arab-French blend of the Martian capital.

“We’ll do our best, of course, Mister Jacques. Should we be unsuccessful, a cloned hand is well within the budget allocated by your father.” Dressed in well worn scrubs, the droid had the face of the actress who’d lent her likeness to it flickering across the wrap around screen across its skull.

“I don’t want his money. I don’t want anything from that sack of shit.”

“To borrow a term from humanity, Mister Jacques, don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. Don’t live in pain to spite your father. If he’s that bad, he won’t care.”

“I agree with the doctor,” said the all black droid with amethyst coloured eyes sitting in the visitor’s chair next to Arthas’ bed. “Take the best option. If that means draining your father’s accounts dry, all the better.” The accent to go with Purple’s amethyst eyes was of Newcastle. “All of us agree on that.” The droid pointed to its own head.

“Take everything the fucker has,” said Green in a Dublin accent, as the eyes of the black droid turned emerald. The other programs within the Spectrum droid chimed in to agree, the eyes changing colour each time.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Arthas smiled at the droid. Healing cuts across his lips stung in response.

Why did I do this to myself? Every time I stick my neck out I lose a limb. He curled his right hand into a black metal middle finger. It soothed him.

Discharged from the hospital a month later with a new prosthetic leg and hand, Arthas was at an all time low. He rang the doorbell of his brother’s Spanish villa looking home and waited. Above him, the dome over the city kept the Martians safe from their own planet.

This is my dome, he thought, there are many like it, but this one is mine. He’d walked the streets beneath the thick glass from his childhood mansion to the local school. He’d stared up at the sky, wondering when he would leave the red planet to adventure among the stars.

The door opened, revealing the beautiful face of his ex-fiancée. “Oh it’s you,” Konnie Jacques' private school accent conveyed her disappointment. “Lukas and Lyra are out,” she said of his brother and niece.” From her stance and her glowering, he guessed she had her foot to the back of the door in case he tried to come in.

“That’s alright I’m here to apologise to you.”

“What?” After years of his grudge turning to venomous sarcasm, it was hardly surprising she didn’t believe him.

“I’m sorry for being a shitty boyfriend. I’m sorry I was away so much when we were engaged. I’m sorry I couldn’t look past my own pain when you and Lukas found each other. You make him happy and my love for him should have been enough to set my own pain aside. I’m sorry for the years of insults I’ve thrown at you. I’m sorry for undermining you in front of Lyra. She’s the most beautiful, wonderful niece I could imagine. She’s the very best of you and Lukas, except she’s better than that. Tell her I love her when she gets back. Bye, Konnie.” He turned, hearing the door open wide behind him.

“You lost your arm?” Her brown eyes widened as she looked for other signs of injury.

“And the leg. I’m waiting on cloned versions. They won’t be ready for a few months though.” He looked at his metal hands. A bitter smile boiled up from his gut.

Konnie threw her arms around him and embraced the cynical detective, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You still smell the same,” he said before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “For the pain I caused you. Do what you have to do to get better, Uncle Arthas. Lyra was worried about you. We told her you’re tough as old bolts.”

“Made of a few now as well.” Arthas licked dry lips as she let him go and leaned back. “Can you get Lukas to come to my ship when he gets the chance. I want to talk to him about father.”

“Sure. Look after yourself, Arthas.” Smiling at him softly in a way she hadn’t for decades, she closed the door behind herself. His droid nodded approvingly before they began walking together.

“Detective Arthas Jacques?” asked a woman’s voice as he caught sight of his ship, the Morrigan. “Can I have a word?”

“Conversation usually requires several. I’m in a generous mood. Talk.” He cast eyes over a punk/goth throwback with one pink pigtail and one purple. She’d look better without the white makeup, he thought. Black eyeliner does it for me though. If the Crow and Harley Quin had a Vietnamese daughter. Wait. “Are you?” His eyes narrowed.

“Could we talk in private?” She smiled, flashing perfect teeth, a teardrop tattoo was swallowed by a dimple.

“Come aboard.” Arthas waved his new arm at the Morrigan. The magnificent black spaceship swallowed him and the newcomer. Purple’s gaze was icy death as it followed behind them, never taking its eyes off the woman.

As the door closed, hydraulics hissing, she sighed. “Thank you, Arthas. It’s good to see you again. You look good.”

“Liar,” he said in an angry growl. His long black detective’s jacket creased as he sat in a chair swiveled to look at her. He motioned for her to sit opposite him. “I thought you were dead?”

“I was. That was the thing about Deus ex Sapiens, death was more of a set back. Dirt naps were just the kind of nap Lord Banks could wake you up from.”

“You had surgery?” Her face was different, it was the voice, the body language and her timing that had given her away.

“DNA alteration treatments. It’s something the Martian Security Agency has been sitting on for a while. Means I could go back to work. Being presumed dead is a bonus in my line of work.”

“Congratulations,” he paused, about to say her name. “What should I call you. I doubt I ever knew your real name.”

“Thao is my new identity. Thao Minh.” She held out her arms, as if showing off a new outfit. “The DNA transplant was painful but it seems to have rejected most of the Deus ex Sapiens nanites that were in me. Some of it had to be surgically removed. I’ve probably had more operations than you have since we last met.

“Don’t bet on it.” Arthas said deadpan, thinking of an X-Ray of his face with all of the bone chips highlighted. Nothing was as bad as his former leg. The bones resembled the pottery on the walls of the Segrada Familia.

“I’m here officially to offer you a job. The MSA wants you to join them. Your duties would be similar to those in Off World Crime but you’d have more tools, a greater budget and better pay.

Unofficially I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner with me sometime. Whether you join the MSA or not.”

He stared, eyebrows converging in confusion.

“You’re serious?” He asked after a long pause.

“On both counts, yes.”

“How could we possibly have any kind of relationship? Our first meeting was you using me, lying about who you were and what you were after. You never stopped lying. Then you tried to kill me.”

“I didn’t try, Arthas. I just pretended to try.” Her frown said he was a dick for smearing her character like that.

“It felt pretty fucking real.” The bite in his voice, subdued as it was, sent her back in her chair.

She shook her head. “It had to. Lord Banks had my neck in a noose.” She leaned forwards, making no effort to avoid a show of cleavage. Arthas wondered if that was intentional, subconscious or simply habitual from a lifetime of manipulation.

“I understand that. But I can’t trust you. And I’m not going to put myself through the same pain of always wondering what was going to go wrong next.”

“I’ll be honest with you. We can start again.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Thao. You’ll find someone in a heartbeat. It’s not going to be me. Be honest with them. From the start. Maybe leave the MSA behind. You’re dead after all. Have a real fresh start.” Arthas looked at his silvery new fingers. Looking at her just made it harder to turn Thao down. There were tears in her brown eyes.

“I can’t do that.” She sat back and folded her arms. “It’s my life.”

“Best of luck to you then. Perhaps we’ll see each other at the MSA. I might take you up on the job offer. I need to start fresh. Even if you don’t.”

“See you around, Arthas.” A wall of ice had come down. All of the sincerity and passion was gone.

“Goodbye.” He watched her walk out of the hatch Purple had opened for her.

“Probably the smartest decision you’ve ever made,” said the droid in its Newcastle accent.

“Thanks,” said the detective. He turned his metal hands over, then curled them into trembling fists. “Can you give me a moment? Alone.”

“Sure.” The metal companion stood, nodding. “Will I turn off the ship’s microphones?”

“Please.”

The black metal clanked across the floor of the Morrigan and out into the hangar. Hydraulics hissed again as the hatch shut behind it, leaving Arthas alone. Closing the shutters over the cockpit window, he watched the last beam of light shrink to nothing.

“FUCK.” What followed was a primal scream lasting until his lungs were empty and his vocal chords aching.

“Lights on,” he told the ship computer in a newly croaky voice. Washing his face in the basin, he looked at his flushed face in the mirror. His eyebrows had newly grey hairs he’d never noticed before. The bags under his eyes were deeper. “Open the shutters and the door.”

Purple stepped aboard again. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Exhausted down to my bones. Not that I have a lot of bones left. Lonely. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lonely.”

“You have us,” said the droid in a Dublin accent, eyes flashing emerald.

“All of us,” it said with a Parisian accent as the eyes flashed ruby.

“Including me,” said Blue, the scene documentation program in its Glasgow accent.

“And me,” said the financial expert program, Orange, in its Washington accent.

“And me,” said Yellow in its Berlin accent.

“Thanks guys.” Arthas wrapped his arms around the droid in a hug, metal clanking against metal.

“You should try dating,” said Purple, pushing Arthas gently away by the shoulders. The droid held him at arm's length. “Just do me a favour?”

“Yeah?”

“If a woman seems like your type, steer well clear.”

Arthas’ smirk cracked into laughter. He patted his companion on the shoulder, smiling from ear to ear.

“Good advice. Let’s go somewhere, Purple. Somewhere far away from here. I’ll set up a dating profile when I get back. For now, I need a change of scenery.”

The black droid with purple eyes saluted casually and sat in the pilot’s seat. The Morrigan began to vibrate with the rhythm of a cat’s purr.

“We’re getting a call,” Purple said. “Martian Naval Command.”

“Father,” said the detective. “Put him on, thanks.”

A projection of Randal Jacques appeared in front of Arthas. Full colour, enough detail that the son could see his father’s pours. The old man was just an older version 

“Leaving? I was about to offer you a job.” Randal’s voice was unusually jovial. His accent was the same Arab-French blend but dragged through gravel.

“I’ve already accepted an offer for a job that suits me better. No need for nepotism.” His soul grinned at the anger fuming beneath Randal’s salt and pepper buzz cut. Worn versions of Arthas’ blue eyes assessed him and found him wanting.

“What could be better than serving on the front line of defense for your country?” Admiral Jacques growled. “You’ve put yourself in the spotlight for tracking down Banks. Surviving the massacre at Garrett Xander Nielsen Station is worth a lot right now, Arthas. But memories are short. You need to cash in on your good publicity now if you’re going to make the most of it. A few months from now, no one will give a shit that you fought monsters.”

“I’ve already cashed it in. I’m going to work for the MSA. Doing what I do best, just with proper resources and more jurisdiction. I don’t want a job that requires killing.”

“How the hell did I end up with a soft son like you?”

“Must have fucked up when you cloned yourself. Maybe I’m just you with a conscience. Great talking to you, dad.” Arthas used air quotes for the last word.

“At least I have Lukas,” said the admiral, looking away.

“Remember to tell him the truth next time you talk to him. If he doesn’t know what he is when I talk to him next, I’m telling him. I’ve kept that secret too long. Fuck you for not telling us both from the start. Fuck you for doing it in the first place. Maybe you could have had kids who would have made you proud if you’d been brave enough to roll the dice the first time. No one’s better than Demi.” Arthas spoke of his sister, the only true child of the woman who’d raised him as her son.

Randal hung up the call without another word.

“Wow, he's pissed. Today just gets better.” He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Play me something old. Something beautiful.”

Purple played Journey of the Sorcerer by the Eagles as the Morrigan sailed towards the stars.

“What are you going to do if Randal ends up like Banks?” The droid asked.

“He’s already got a god complex. If he starts using the shit we got from Banks to try to take of the universe he’ll end up the same as Lord Banks did, I doubt it mourn much after swinging a sword at his neck.”

“I hope Mischa is alright with Demi,” Purple said.

Arthas looked up from a copy of The Hobbit. “She couldn’t be in better hands. Demi is the only one in the family with her head screwed on properly.”

“You never thought about adopting her?” The droid asked, meaning the daughter of a notorious hitman whose life Arthas had saved during the battle on GXN Station.

“I’d need to give up my work for that,” Arthas shook his head. “She’s a wonderful girl, but she’s safer with with Demi. Anyone I’ve ever arrested could come back for me. Mischa has enough problems if anyone ever finds out who her dad was. Also, I’d be a shit dad.”

“Enjoy your book then. I’ll find something nice to look at out of the window.”

Arthas turned pages, finding himself in the Shire once more.