Take My Heart When You Go - A Reylo/Westworld AU

Black Hole Sun

Author's Note: Chapter title inspired by the song 'Black Hole Sun' by Soundgarden - as used in Season 1, Episode 1 of Westworld.

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The town of Sweetwater is frozen in time as Delos crewmen make their sweep of the town in their pristine white lab gear. They comb the town in the dark. Their only light is that of their data pads, pinging the GPS coordinates of the host bodies that need retrieval. By the time they've packed up and loaded all the dead, their once white garments are stained brown and red with dirt and blood. Once in the underground labs, the hosts are then unceremonious stripped of their tattered garments. From there the clothes are whisked away by more crew and sent to the costuming department for repair. The naked bodies of the hosts are transported to a large room with glass walls and a drain in the center, their fatal wounds on full display before they are hosed down by a lone gentleman in a lab coat and tall rain boots.

Once the hosts have been cleaned off they are split up by gender and taken to labs for maintenance. This segregation was part of a new protocol introduced when Delos first was starting back up. During the 2052 investigation of the park, officials came across damning security footage of lab techs sexually assaulting the hosts while they were deactivated. Granted, same-sex assault could still occur in the workplace - but Delos' lawyers said it looked good on paper, so Stubbs signed off on the ruling.

"Look Garth, it's your favorite host!" Cliff sarcastically points out as a tech rolls a stretcher into their lab in the wee hours of the morning. Garth takes one look at the body of Ben Solo, outlaw turned rancher, and grimaces.

"I still think something's off with his face." He grumbles as he and Cliff move Ben from the stretcher to the examination table. "One GSW to the forehead." He notes aloud. Cliff checks his data pad and nods. "Yup. Looks like our buddy here finally met up with the Man with the Golden Gun."

"Can't they give that damn host a shorter name?" Garth comments, pulling a medical cart towards him as he settles in on a stool next to the examination table.

"They do, actually." Cliff says, as he prepares to bring up the file on his data pad. "It's-"

"Hand me those forceps, will you?" Garth interrupts Cliff. Cliff sighs and hands the forceps to Garth. Cliff watches over Garth's shoulder as he gently pries the skin back away from the bullet wound with a pair of tweezers. He then takes the forceps and digs down in search of the bullet. Garth grunts and strains, his hand with the forceps twisting as he tries to get a grip on the bullet. "Damn thing is really stuck in there." Garth grunts to Cliff.

"Careful! Don't touch the sides!" Cliff jokes. Garth shoots Cliff a dirty look. "You know, like... Operation? The game?"

"I know what Operation is!" Garth snaps back. Cliff mutters a half apology as Garth goes back to trying to wiggle the bullet loose. There is a muffled snap as Garth finally dislodges the bullet. "Did they really have to use real gold for these bullets?" He comments as he flings the bloodied bullet onto the medical cart.

"It's more authentic." Cliff comments. Garth just grumbles some more as he grabs the cauterizing torch from the cart. Cliff peers inside the gaping hole in Ben's forehead as he sops up the mixture of fake blood and robot lubricant that has leaked upon extraction of the bullet. He whistles lowly. "Sure you didn't damage anything getting that thing out?"

"He's fine." Garth huffs as he ignites the torch and cleanly closes the wound. "There." He says after a few minutes. "Looks good.... Well... As good as one can expect with a nose like that."

"I think it makes him look distinguished." Cliff points out. Garth snorts in reply.

"I'm going on my lunch break. It's Monday and I've got a frozen lasagna in the break room with my name on it."