The Shadow

Chapter 2

"My name is Garrison and you're in some deep shit."

The man on the bed struggled to move his head closer to the suited man behind the panel. The tubes down his throat and the oxygen mask that covered his face restricted his movement. Failing to move his head, he attempted to move his arms. There was something stopping him and he couldn't see what was restricting his arms.

Garrison smirked. "You think you can move right now?"

The panel separating Garrison and the man lowered into the floor and Garrison stepped into the room. He walked over to the bed and looked down on the disabled man as he looked back up at him.

Garrison took out a slender glass-like rectangle and touched the corner. The small piece lit up with light and he navigated the menus and folders within the small, vibrant machine.

"Dagon Gent...Found dead in your apartment with glass shards in your face, multiple compound fractures and several sources of internal bleeding. I'm wondering why you're still alive; because with the damage you took, we would have left you to stay dead."

Garrison undid the straps binding Dagon's legs and arms.

"Now, we had to do a lot to save your dead ass, so we decided to slap on some nice enhancements to your body because your arms and legs were unsalvageable, I mean whoever left you for dead tried to make sure you couldn't be repaired, but they did a shitty job."

Dagon didn't know what he meant by that last sentence.

Garrison continued separating Dagon from the table and the cold machines that had kept him alive for the preceding months. Finally, Garrison took the oxygen mask off of Dagon's face and the tubes out of his throat. Dagon coughed violently when the tubes were taken out.

"Sit up," he said setting the mask and tubes to the side and stood back to give Dagon room. Dagon was reluctant to move as he turned onto his side and pushed himself up to a sitting position, letting his legs drop over the side of the bed. The action did not use much energy and even though he had been in comatose for months, he did not feel exhausted from sitting up.

Garrison held his hand up, almost trying to stop Dagon from doing anything else.

"Now, before you-"

Too late. Dagon had looked down at his arms and legs and found no familiar patch of flesh. All that was left of his limbs were sleek, cold machinery, much like the machines he was attached for the duration of his coma.

"I tried to warn you. Stuff like this, well, it doesn't happen often, so we have to take it slow. But you took a peek before you were supposed to."

Dagon touched his face and felt the cybernetic implants on his forehead and temple. He moved his fingers to his eyes and pressed. He felt no pain from the pressure applied to his eyes and the eyes did not squish like normal eyes do. Dagon slowly dropped the foreign arms to his side and spoke.

"What did you do to me?"