Reality had become a shade of red murky heat that shifted in waves, altering his perception of what was real, and what was not. Imagery of teeth grinding metallic rods, the ripping of flesh and the breaking of bones occupied his mind; his body was a canvas that had been decimated and destroyed. Pain infiltrated every fiber of his muscle and inseminated his very being. With every passing moment he squirmed and writhed, flexing and contorting to a state of exhaustion, his mouth caked in dried blood-tinged saliva mixed with dirt. There was no sentiency left in him and when he did regain the very smallest modicum of clarity, it was only to question if he had died, or ever existed at all.
Time was a concept he did not understand. It was something he existed outside of and between simultaneously. Eventually, there was a warmth that claimed him, swallowing him whole and without mercy. There was a familiarity to it however, an odd sensation that removed all pain and stress. It made him feel innocent and he wanted to cry. But he had no eyes, and he had no mouth. Right now, he was fetal, and at peace. There was a false finality to it all that would not last.
Light flooded his sinuses as around him, the gelatinous fluid that held his battered body began to drain. Unable to move, in fever-dreamed desperation, he urged his hands to collect what he could of the liquid, to somehow force it to comfort him once again, but to no avail. Falling flat, he was wetly placed on a cold metal table. Whatever sedatives they had given him were still in effect, although their potency was beginning to wane. Surrounded by droids, their lifeless still bodies began to move, retrieving two pillars of thin black metal that were almost skeletal in appearance.
Drilling and grinding, the artificial legs were anchored to his bone and muscle, the sedatives did little to null his core; he could feel the pain and pressure increasing as if being strangled by metallic bands, crushing, and pulling his femurs until they would give. His teeth began to chatter sporadically, clanking together as if he was freezing to death. He thought his legs, or what was left of them, would snap off right then and there. The droids offered no comfort, they were silent and as soon as they had begun the procedure, they retreated back to the shadows of whatever laboratory he found himself in.
He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, once again feeling like a person, his nerves beginning to function once more, but delayed. Prematurely, he eventually mustered the strength to pull himself from the table, trying to stand but instead finding himself immediately collapsing, his newly fabricated limbs hitting the ground with a heavy metallic thud. Sitting and hunched over, he tilted his head up for the first time, finally able to make out his surroundings.
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