Hope was a scarce commodity in high demand, the absence of which darkened the sterile hallways of the CyberShadows facility. Seven trudged from the recovery room to the common area. Another operation and another piece of his humanity stolen. This time it had been his left hand—prized possession for having held onto it for so long. Perhaps that was the twisted reason it had been replaced by the same heavy alloy that weighed the rest of his fractured body; he no longer belonged to himself. If he ever did to begin with.

Simply property, a fact underscored by the cold ‘SUBJECT 704’ engraved on his new metallic palm.

Seven swallowed the acrid bile that burned a path up his throat. That, at least, was reminder enough that he was still human in some capacity—a small solace compared to the hollow shells his fellow CyberShadows had become, their minds retreated to happier times housed within the complexities of their fractured psyches.

The chipped blue sky painted walls of the common room welcomed him as the doors slid open at his approach. Seven eyes immediately sought—and thankfully found—you in your usual corner.

“Forgive me for being late?” he apologized, lowering himself in the seat across from yours. Seven made the first move in the game of chess you’d set up in anticipation of his arrival: pawn to e4.

Despite his hopes to distract you, your eyes were too keen, your heart too big. Seven stiffened as your own metallic hand closed around his newly attached one. A wry smile was all he could muster in the face of your brokenhearted gaze. “At least we match now, right?”