Adventures of a Drunkard Pilot

Chapter 11: Poor Ole' Ting Ting

"0316!" I exclaimed, looking at my reenlistment orders, "What the fuck is that?"

"No idea," Mitch offered, "but it sounds fun. 03 is infantry shit."

"How the fuck did i go from Motor T to infantry?" I asked the gunny who was giving me the orders packet.

"No idea, son," gunny Mac replied, "but sounds like you guys got picked for that new high-speed-low-drag shit they talked about putting together."

"SF stuff, huh?" Arthur piped up.

"Yep," gunny responded, "hope you guys like heights."

"Huh?" I asked. i had my jump wings, but i had heard the new SF unit had something to do with heavy armor. "Are we driving tanks out of planes at altitude?"

Gunny simply laughed, "Yeah, something like that."

"FUUUUCCKKKKKK!" was the last thing i remembered yelling, and it as the first thing i woke up yelling. i thrashed around, feeling the cool metal of an operating table on my bare skin. i sat upright, tearing the IVs out of my arms.

"Calm down!" Vox shouted at me. i looked at her. she was in a set of medical scrubs covered in blood, probably from me. i looked past her and examined the room. it was identical to the room i wope up in, except instead of bare walls there was assorted medical equipment and screens everywhere. i looked back at Vox.

"What the fuck is going on!" i shouted.

"Calm down, you just came out of a coma." She said firmly.

"What?" i demanded, getting even more worked up. suddenly it all came back. Our shitty plan, the shitty plan going bad, and us not clearing the blast. "Where are Arthur and Mitch? Where's Smith?"

"Calm down, they're all fine." She said, just as firm as before. "Just calm the fuck down." I remembered something else, and looked at my arm. Matte grey metal met my eyes where my right arm used to be. i stared at it shocked for a second, then brought my good arm up to it and felt around my shoulder. I saw where my skin stopped, about 3 inches down from my armpit. it ended in a blackened char, where it continued as metal. i slowly lifted my arm and moved it around a little.

It appeared that my right arm was a robot.

"When did this happen," i asked, a strange calm coming over me.

"We couldn't find your actual arm in the wreckage, "Vox replied, looking concerned, "so we had to improvise. R&D mad some prototype prosthetics, so we gave it a shot." i raised my hand to my face. it looked like a metal skeleton, complete with joints and alloy tendons. i closed it, and to my surprise the hand responded just like my old one had. i rotated my wrist and looked at the marvelously horrid addition to my body.

"Not bad," was all i could say. Vox looked back at me with concerned eyes. "Hey, i dont know why im so calm either," i came back with. "Give it time. What about the others?"

"Eh hem," someone cleared their throat behind me. i turned around and was Arthur standing there. he looked back at me with different eyes.

"Shit dude," i commented. his left eye had been replaced with what looked like a metal golf ball with a robotic iris. the scar tissue was still charred from him cauterizing himself.

"No kidding," he shot back, "Mitch made it fine. well, sorta."

Before i could ask what he meant, Mitchell walked in the door. Hobbled in would've been more accurate. he was wearing only a pair of running shorts, so i could see where his legs ended mid-thigh and where his prostetics started.