So. Many. People.

Maybe not too many? I felt horrible just thinking that, but really, 'only' forty people getting hurt in a densely urban area? That was pretty fucking lucky, all things considered.

Then I remembered that the number of dead might be quite higher, and I felt guilty all over again.

Amelia was a trooper, though. Once she'd figured out the Essence use thing, she started going through patients at an alarming rate. Out of the forty-something people brought to us, she handled thirty-two on her own.

She just kept pushing. Not only did she use every scrap of Essence she regenerated, but she was also constantly learning how to use it more effectively.

In spite of that, when the day wound down, she had a crushed expression on her face.

Three of those people couldn't be saved. A mother and her kid, and a cop.

The kid ran out of luck just before Amelia got her hands on her. Amelia was bent over the tiny form, willing the flesh to shift and heal, for a solid minute before she leaned back and stared at the corpse blankly. Then she shook herself and moved onto the mother.

Her, Amelia managed to heal. But the woman was put down soon afterwards, out of our sight. Apparently, she was 'brain dead', in spite of Amelia's best efforts to put everything back in place.

Then we heard Melania screaming her head off at someone. I quickly messaged her for information, only to find out that the woman hadn't been brain dead. Her insurance did not cover the kind of care that would be required for a long-term patient, and she had no other family. The corp she worked for had simply chosen to put her out of her misery. They'd dispatched people to do the job as soon as her company-issued cybernetics alerted them to her condition.

These people had killed her. In our clinic. While tearing out any 'essential employee cybernetics' to prevent 'theft of valuable data and assets.'

Amelia tried to get past me and tear them apart, but I managed to stop her. Not because I wasn't outraged, or because I believed in forgiveness or whatever, but because letting her assault corpos would definitely put us on the radar of the rich and powerful. Call me selfish, but I didn't want her father to find out.

The cop was a mess and a half.

He was beaten up so badly that he resembled mincemeat. Of the sketchiest variety. With Amelia right there, of course, he still could have made it.

What finished him off quite nicely was the grenade concealed inside him.

Maybe 'concealed' is a bit of a misnomer. Someone had shoved it into his chest so deep that no one could spot it, and the field scans had failed to pick it up due to the interference from all his city-issued cyberware. I assume the grenade should have gone off much sooner, but the circumstances lined up just right to prevent that.

Then my heart-achingly dedicated ripper shoved her fingers inside him to start helping, and the stupid fucking thing went off.

Well, it would have gone off right then, had I not reacted.

Imagine it. One second, you're sitting there, trying to offer silent support to your lover. The next, the world around you jumps forward and is consumed in fire, shrapnel, blood, and pieces of bone.

Let me tell you, it is stressful.

I don't think I ever moved faster in my life. I jumped across the room and landed on top of Amelia, throwing us both underneath the operating table and covering her body with my own.

The sudden, violent jostling of the cop's chest cavity set off the hidden disaster. Fire washed over the ceiling. Metal, viscera, and bits of bone dug into the walls.

Shockingly, the operating table we were hiding under survived with minimal fuss. The thing was apparently built to survive any kind of apocalypse. It came out slightly singed and dented in a few spots.

"Amelia, dear?"

"Mmmm?" the wide-eyed ripper answered, still dazed after the explosion.

"We're buying a bunch of these operating tables, and we're making armor out of them."

She scoffed, then giggled, then broke into helpless laughter. I hugged her as hard as I could without hurting her. Someone insistently banged on the operating theater's door and demanded to be let in, but it was neither of our employees, so we were content to ignore them.

Once our shared mild meltdown ended and we managed to get a hold of ourselves, things got a little trickier. We had to contact Melania in a hurry. She had a hell of a time convincing the cop's buddies of our slightly altered version of events. Namely, that she was about to start working on their friend, but he blew up before she could even walk into the room.

Still, with those horrific hurdles overcome, the rest of the day was… not good, but bearable. Amelia zoomed through the emergency patients, we stayed out of sight, and our clinic was bound to rise significantly in public esteem based on the day's results.

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Of course, several things marred the occasion. Most obviously, all the death and destruction.

It was a cyberpsycho that had caused the entire mess.

Apparently, with so many ex and current military types living in this section of the district, the risk was well known and accepted. At least it was, until someone actually flipped out and started killing people.

In this case, it was one Jeremy Davis, a retired sixty-year-old veteran. His military grade cybernetics and implants were doing a number on his aging body. He should have had them removed and replaced them with either 'lighter' chrome or some organic clone option. He didn't, because he never fully felt safe anywhere, not even in his own skin.

PTSD and paranoia were apparently good enough reasons to get him discharged from the corp army he'd belonged to, but they weren't enough for said corp army to ever follow up or organize some actual therapy for him. Because fuck anyone who goes beyond the basics for their employees, right?

Even worse, the guy was genuinely sweet and kind, if all the TV reports and eyewitness accounts were to be believed. That's why, when he suddenly collapsed and gripped at his chest, people had surged forward to help him.

He'd cut them to ribbons. He had then demonstrated exactly why strict disarming measures should be a part of every vet's retirement procedures. The beloved local figure rampaged through the street and pulled out a whole host of concealed weaponry, including the grenade that had almost killed us.

They took him out, in the end. Kind of inevitable, when one side's got tactical coordination and the other is tearing around like some mindless animal. Predictably, the casualties were high.

As for the mercenaries, they were utterly useless. The instant that trouble started, the so called local 'protectors' had turtled up inside their HQ, relying on their guns and defenses.

Actually, one of the cops who reached the scene first had tried to force the issue, deputizing them to put down a dangerous cyberpsycho.

He was 'unfortunately gunned down in the confusion and fear.' Read: the fucking mercs shot him to get him to stop trying to involve them. The rest of the cops got the message and left them well enough alone. Still, that particular maneuver hadn't bought the mercs a ton of goodwill with the locals.

At least, that's what Tirgo told me and Amelia when we demanded an explanation.

The second major issue I was dealing with was hardly as impactful on a grand scale, but was much more important to me personally.

Amelia, for all that she'd used work to distract herself, was freaking out.

I could see it in the subtle trembling of her fingers, in the way her eyes kept darting around the room, and in the way she'd stiffen when I approached, taking long seconds to respond to hugs.

At one point, she'd even stopped letting me talk her into brief breaks between patients. She looked like she needed to keep working to stop herself from exploding.

So, when the work day finally wound down and we trooped into our apartment, she knew what was coming. It explained her huffy mood as she collapsed directly into the cuddle pile pit, producing a rather amusing thump when she hit all the pillows.

"Okay. Out with it. I can see it eating at you," she groused, refusing to look at me.

I was not to be deterred. I took my sweet time climbing down, shucking off my jacket, and then prodding her until she moved. Only once I had my arms wound around her and most of her draped on top of me did I speak up.

"Something's wrong, and it upset you. Seriously upset you. Is it so bad that I want to know what that something is? If I can fix things, just let me know, and I will."

The answer came slowly, but it came nonetheless. "N-No. Can't fix this. I just… I mean, you know that I used Essence before, right? To shift my hands around better?"

"Mmmhmm. Great work on that, by the way. You were amazing out there today."

"Yeah, well…" She grimaced. "That's exactly the problem. I did a little too well. I mean, I tapped into the skill like last time. My fingers were transforming, and I was eager to start, and then… and then…"

She struggled, screwing her eyes shut.

"You can tell me anything. You know that."

"I started healing that poor boy… and it wasn't enough, okay? Even before I was done, I knew it wouldn't be enough! I wanted to keep working on him and making changes." Her eyes opened, but she still couldn't seem to look at me. She stared into space as she forced the words out. "Could he be as easily hurt if he had bones two times thicker and four times denser? What about tougher skin? Extra eyes? More limbs? Just consider the possibilities! And the closer I got to finished, the worse the urges got."

I admit I froze up for a moment when she got to the root of what was freaking her out. It wasn't because I was terrified of her, though. I'd just… hoped, I guess, that she'd never inherit any weird instincts from her package.

Apparently, I was a fool.

"Working on different people helped," she went on slowly. "The arms… it's like they love being used. They want to experience healing different physiques and age spectrums. Still, that didn't stop the urges forever. It just kept delaying them. I-I think I can do the obedience thing that Menders are known for too, now. It would take a bit of messing with the brain, but… I just know I could do it. And I don't even know how I know that!"

My heart broke a little for her, and for the utter indignation painted all over her face.

I understood. She was literally the ideal assistant for her father now. Well, she would be, if he could find a way to install supernatural obedience in her. Or had he believed he'd already achieved that?

But I didn't want to go into any of that right now.

"None of this is your fault," I said instead, knowing the stubborn menace would likely try to ignore any such reasoning.

"I-I think I need to work on the Essence exercises more. They're nice. I find them relaxing, but… I didn't spend as much time on them as I could have. As I should have. I just didn't think —"

She clammed up as her eyes finally met mine, staring right through me.

"That you'd need them to protect your mind," I finished for her, as gently as I could. That made her tense up in my embrace, but I just brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Hey, I understand. And I get it that you're shaken. But if you're worrying about me finding you disgusting or whatever… Don't be. I mean, seriously? After what you saw me do, from my literal point of view?"

"That was different! That was — was — You weren't tempted to hurt your own patients, Adrian. These are people who put their lives in my hands!"

"No, I'm just tempted to murder or transform random people on the street for looking at me a bit too long. Oh, and let's not forgetting eating their corpses afterwards." I hesitated, but only for a second. "You do realize you still let me kiss you, right?"

"That's not…! I mean, I — oh, shut up, I let you do a lot more than kiss me!"

She swatted at my chest, breaking down into the most stressed giggles I'd ever heard in my life.

Still, that manic edge slowly faded away until she was genuinely snickering, long since having drawn me into chuckles of my own. We'd collapsed on our sides by then, strewn over our cuddle pit like a pair of wrinkled suits after a very long and stressful day.

Still… In spite of everything that had happened, I couldn't help but feel both hopeful and excited. Amelia might have been ready to doubt herself, but I wasn't.

In my books, what the day had left us with was yet another weapon to use against the mercs.

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