Orlok and The Cold Turkey

Orlok sighed, stood over the corpse he'd *apparently* not brought back to life.

So, it turned out he'd been hit with some stronger drugs than he'd thought because just about the only thing he remembered correctly about the last week was killing some thugs with an RC Car bomb. Even then he was only sure because of the massive pile of corpses in the corridor.

Also, he'd for some reason decided to write a note to Rowan of all people *in corpses*. He had no idea how in the fuck that was supposed to help him. It wasn't like Rowan could see the damn thing...

He could swear he heard chuckling just then. Fucking place was haunted.

"And of course, THERE IS A DEAD BODY ON MY NICE CLEAN TABLE *AND I AM MISSING A PHALANGE!!!!!*" Orlok roared and upended the table and the console that had been resting on it, as well as some leftover guts and a human skull.

That had made him feel pretty good but now he wanted more.

He was far from in good shape physically and he was injured. Right now a twelve year old with a pen could put him down. Still, he kicked the screen in after a few tries.

"Such bullshit. I'm 6'4 but I got my shit handed to me by a fucking DOG, [i AFTER I WAS DRUGGED BY SOME ASSHOLE CRIME, AFTER THE CORPS SCREWED ME OVER, Presumably!!! It's not like i know or anything because FUCKING AMNESIA. and there's blood all over my stuff and my pom is ruined and I miss my favourite pinkie.[/i]" He gave the monitor one more kick for good measure.

He turned to the corpse, breathing heavily. In his drug-addled idiocy he'd covered it in engine grease and tried to give it guns for arms. He sighed and pulled his shades off, chucking them into the bin.

"Fucking well done Orlok. You tried to make frankenstein. I could do that if I had access to a fucking top-knotch Osec lab but *don't* because *fuck the system*. Fucking Bastiocorp and fucking Kreeger. and fuck these guys that burnt to a crosp before i could get any usable shit off them.

Orlok pulled his trenchcoat off and sagged against a wall with a sigh. He put his hands to his ears to block out the incessant scratching noises.

His life was not fun right now. His head was a mess and he was *losing* his grip on his sanity. He could feel it slipping away faster than it ever had in Bastio's pits. The weird mental happy place he'd forced himself into to get through the grind wouldn't help here, he was being confronted with the full reality of this bullshit.

Fuck Rowan Kreeger, that bitch ran this place. He *knew* she'd sent those fucking goons. He didn't know why but he just knew that bitch wouldn't let him go that easy.

He tried to remember how he'd escaped from her place and then it clicked. It had been too EASY. She had enough spare cash to build an entire arena but couldn't afford security doors that didn't short out.

Combined with the fact that he clearly remembered something flash on her features when he mentioned Bastiocorp. He still couldn't remember whatever Bastio had blocked off. She must have had some reason to just let him go.

So, he'd pissed off a crime boss and had injured himself getting away from her, which was exactly what she had wanted. Pff. he turned to his wounds.

There was a reason he was called Frankenstein, he supposed. He was fucking good with any kind of tech if he had enough time to get to know it. The human body was just another kind of tech and he was able to patch himself up after being bisected, granted he couldn't for the life of him remember how.

Maybe that was what Bastio sealed up? Some weird ass medical knowledge. No, that made no sense. They were a mining company, not med research.

...

This was ridiculous. He was never going to get away from Rowan like this, not if she knew where he was well enough to send in hit men for shits and giggles.

He got up and was rejoiced to find that his wounds weren't bleeding at least. It had been, like, a week or two since he got into that stupid Thunder-dome ripoff? He was probably fit to be out and about right now, even if it was a little sore.

Okay. So he really only wanted two things right now. A place to crash that wasn't a sewage plant, and whatever Bastiocorp had stuffed in him. Getting payback on Rowan would be nice but at this point just wasn't going to happen. If he could somehow convince her not off him and help him out that'd be great but he wasn't willing to approach her again when he wasn't in a position of strong bargaining, otherwise she could just kill him when she got what she wanted.

He thought about going to somebody else but there WASN'T anybody else. The bitch controlled the whole mini-region and he wasn't going to get past checkpoints any time soon.

What could he do give Rowan pause before offing him? Blackmail wouldn't work, she'd just laugh at him for thinking she could be embarrassed about anything. Money might talk but seeing as he had none...
...
...
...
"Sexual favors are out of the question... She be fuggles..."
...
...
...

Mind control cheese? Nope, too hard to find? Right now he was alive because he was amusing, Rowan had stated as much back in the flesh pits *and*because she wanted whatever Bastio had in his brain.

...
...
...

That had been a pretty intense look on her face back in the pits. He wondered how much this information was worth to her. He felt this really weird itching at the back of his head.

He scratched at it in irritation and then he felt the tiny scar at the back of his head. It wasn't a wound. It was a clean crisscross pattern. Surgical.

...
...
...
Somebody had tried to connect a port to the base of his spine. And had been successful if the deepness of the cut was anything to go by. Somebody had used a brain cable on him and it HAD finished the last stages of connecting to his synapses.

Huph. Thank god for all the time he spent reading medical journals. He'd probably been in Rowan's place for at least a few hours and at most a week. He couldn't do anything more than guess considering he'd been high at the time.

Rowan had gotten into his brain alright. The connection had been made. The question was, then, why did she feel the need to let him escape if she had the information she wanted?

...
...
...

New plan.