It had been about three weeks since the chance encounter with Oz. Since then Ject had traveled south towards Vulcan with her annoying pseudo-companion. Ject was reluctant to simply kill him on the basis of being bothersome, though in the last week she had at least begun to tolerate, though not appreciate, his constant presence.

They were staying in an inn for the night, lying on the Vulcan side of the Vulcan-Eden border. While the environment was still moderately lush the advancing desert was easily apparent. This was likely the last inn available before heading into the desert itself. With the desert so close Ject had begun doing maintenance on her limbs far more often then normal. Sand tended to foul machinery quite well.

Ject had taken her own room, forcing Oz to both stay in his own as well as pay his own fare. Ject had taken the silence and alone time as an opportunity to perform maintenance on her arm and legs. She stripped down to her bare skin, exposing her scarred body, and sat on the bed. She opened the small compartment in her shoulder and removed her tools.

It had been about three weeks since he started trailing Ject, and Oz was about ready to kill someone. He just wanted to take his dagger, plunge it into Ject's chest and rip out her still-beating heart. If she even had one. Not that he could have even gotten close to her, what with her electrocuting him whenever he even breathed in her direction.

So it wasn't that bad. Ject didn't hurt him that much, and though he was very nearly broke, he managed to con himself some money every other town or so. What was killing Oz was the fact that he was ignored all the time. Even when he was traveling by himself, he wasn't quite so lonely. He would stop to talk to strangers, flirt with pretty girls, bicker with some hotheaded young men, anything. With Ject, he didn't have time to talk to anyone other than Ject, and she didn't listen!

Although Oz would deny it, he was attention starved and furious. He didn't think as he was marching down the hall towards his companion's room. He didn't think as he raised his foot and kicked down Ject's door. He hardly even looked at her as he began to say "Look, lady, I'm sick and tired of your bull-"

And it was then he saw the scars, and the words died in his throat.

The door opened and Ject dropped her tools. Before she even knew who it was she was springing towards the door. By the time the door was open and Oz was beginning to speak she had her metal hand covering his mouth.

There was a short pause as she stared into his eyes. She contemplated killing him again, briefly, but ultimately resorted to a technique she’d used many times on him before and filled his body with electricity.

Ject released Oz’s limp body from her grip and allowed him to drop to the floor. After a moment of contemplation she grabbed his feet, dragged him into the room, and closed the door. Picking up the tools from the floor Ject returned to what she was doing and began maintenance on her limbs.

Several hours later Ject had finished and returned her tools to their place, as well as gotten dressed. She was sitting in a chair and reading a book. As she heard Oz stirring behind her Ject spun her chair around to face him.

“You’re awake.” It was the first time she’d spoken to him in three weeks.

"Yeah," Oz said, blinking up at the ceiling sluggishly. It was a fine ceiling; cracked plaster and yellow-ing parts aside, it was flawless and looked sturdy. His nerves were still shot from the latest bout of electricity; his arm burned, along with his hands. He flexed his fingers experimentally and winced; yes, his hands were burned, again. Burns upon burns.

Oz's mind was wandering, so he told himself to get back on topic. He didn't know what the topic was, but he wanted to get back to it. First of all, he needed to get up. Oz climbed up on his feet wearily, tired and aching and still annoyed. And he needed to dematerialize his bandages soon; he had summoned them two days ago, and he could feel the pressure of the migraine building in his head.

The bed looked warm and inviting, so Oz dragged himself over to it and plopped himself down. He concentrated a bit and the bandages disappeared, relieving his head. He smiled, then got out a small bottle of burn ointment he stole a week or so ago, and began working.

"So," he asked casually, his awkwardness only belied by the fact that he wouldn't look at Ject. "What's with the scars?"

Ject watched him climb into her bed and begin covering himself in ointment. She was about to turn around again when he asked his question. She frowned slightly before returning to her book, still facing Oz.

“You’re a bad liar.” She said, referring to his desire to have a mechanical limb. It hadn’t been hard to figure his real motives for the questions he constantly asked over the last three weeks. She continued to read her book.

There was a moment of silence before she continued. “What do you think they are?”

Oz cocked his head at the 'liar' comment, but decided he didn't care. At her question, he frowned. "You decided to join the circus and tried to learn how to juggle swords, unsuccessfully," he deadpanned. "I have no idea."

Which wasn't exactly true, since he could figure out that she probably meant something to do with her cybernetic arm. It seemed like whenever Ject said something, it always had to do with that. To warn against it, to imply some horrible past centered around it, to just comment ominously on it. She didn't talk much, though, so Oz never got any useful information on it, which bugged him.

Ject closed her book at set in the table. She supposed that no matter how much she tried to ignore the issue she would at some point have to tell her story to the fool. Sooner then later it would have to come out, so it may as well be sooner.

Meeting eyes with Oz, Ject began a short, to the point tale of how she got her arm. It was neither long nor descriptive, but it got the job done. Within an hour Oz knew why she discouraged his pursuit.

“You’re a bad liar. If you truly wish my abilities, fine. You know where to go.” She turned away, picked up her book, and began reading again.

Ject had talked more than he had ever heard her talk before. And, of course, it had to do with her arm; another sob story. Oz listened carefully, trying to commit each detail to memory in case he needed it. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to become a cyborg, but that wasn't because of anything Ject had told him.

"ZEAL," he said musingly, tasting the word. He had talked about ZEAL before, but never with those implications. He shrugged it off.

"What are you reading?" He wasn't sure where'd he be by next evening. He might stick with Ject, but he would probably leave. He might visit home again, get his house in order, or he might go straight to ZEAL. Either way, though, he would want to have some lasting memories of Ject besides her sob story and the continuous pain he had felt over the past three weeks.

Ject didn’t look up from her book. She had no more interest in Oz. From over her shoulder Oz would be able to see the page she was turned to, which was a diagram of a mechanical leg. The unnamed book, which started as a blank journal, was Ject’s ‘workbook.’

In the pages of the tome were maintenance records, design theories, modification specifications, limb designs, and multiple diagrams. To most it would seem like scientific gibberish. However to those with the knowledge of machines the book would be a priceless store of information.

Setting the book on the table Ject removed her cape again. Opening her shoulder compartment she removed her tools once again. Next she rolled up her left pant leg. After a few moments of fiddling with the leg beneath she was able to detach the leg from it’s main connection to her torso.

The sudden manipulation of nerves was, to put it simply, extremely painful. After years of connecting and reconnecting her limbs, however, Ject had become quite used to it. She hoisted her disconnected leg up and set it on the table.

Referencing her notebook a few times Ject began to disassemble her leg using her tools. Taking care to handle each part gently she set all the pieces out in a way that the parts resembled a leg, only each part disconnected from each other.

Taking a pencil from a drawer Ject began making some notes in her book. The truth was that despite having had her limbs for so long she didn’t completely understand how they worked. She was, essentially, attempting to reverse engineer the technology.

Oz was used to Ject ignoring him, so it hardly registered. Instead, he began watching her work on her leg. It seemed fascinating, in an odd way. Oz was one of the people who grew up around magic and no cybernetic technology, so he found the idea of mechanical limbs fascinating and strange. Especially when they weren't being used to harm him or random wild animals.

He asked questions, every now and then, about the process, which were mainly ignored. Oz always hated being ignored, but with Ject, he had to suck it up.

If he became a cyborg, would he have to be emotionally dead like her? He hoped not, because he would never be able to achieve it. He'd burst out with suppressed emotions and have a breakdown at a most inconvenient time. He'd tried suppressing emotions before.

Oz had to know. So he asked, this question louder and clearer than the rest to get her attention; "Are all cyborgs emotionally dead?"

Ject didn’t look up from her work, continuing to fiddle with parts, making notes, and reassembling and disassembling the limb. She seemed to have a passion for it, and indeed seemed a lot more alive then any previous talk with Oz.

Taking a probe Ject prodded one of the joints connected to the artificial muscles. There was a slight twitch in the joint. Ject gave a small smile. It was actually warm, unlike anything given before.

When Oz asked his question Ject didn’t look up, instead prodding a different section of leg and releasing a small puff of gas. She continued working for a few minutes until finally acknowledging Oz. Her voice, while still blank, possessed a lot more life then before.

“Most people don’t get tortured in the process.”

Ject made a few more notes in her book, as well as began a small diagram of her boosting system.

"Hmm," Oz made a humming sound, mentally noting Ject's answer. Good, if he decided to become a cyborg, he probably wouldn't be tortured. A definite advantage.

He fidgeted uncertainly on the bed for a while, before deciding to come up to the table to better observe Ject's work. Oz climbed to his feet, found an empty chair, and brought it over to the table, a reasonable distance away from Ject while still close enough to see what was happening.

The leg had a lot of different mechanical parts, which shouldn't have surprised Oz. It looked complicated and scientific, but extremely effective. It was convenient that the leg was disassembled, because Oz could observe the different parts and try to puzzle out how the mechanism worked. He had done that often in his childhood to different items; clocks, toy steam engines, anything. To summon a complicated item such as a clock took a lot of practice, usually; Oz had to summon all the gears one by one, at first, and have a clear mental image of how they fit together before he could even think of beginning to practice summoning the clock all at once.

Oz looked at the leg, at the complex mechanisms, and decided to try. He picked a relatively common gear to summon first, as a warm up. Shutting his eyes, he briefly concentrated. A flash of warmth tingled through his fingers, and with a dim light, the innocent gear appeared. He smiled, dematerialized it, and picked something else to summon.

He summoned and dematerialized random mechanical parts for a few minutes with relative ease, figuring out how different parts connected, what their purpose was. Oz had just dematerialized a screw, when he looked at the next thing he was supposed to attempt to summon. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It seemed complicated, with its own gears and shapes hidden inside it. He frowned. He couldn't summon it unless without examining it. So he asked Ject; "Can I touch one of these?"

He figured if he asked, there was a smaller likelihood of her shocking him again.

Ject had begun reassembling the leg. Piece by piece the jumble of parts became something more recognizable. Oz’s attempts of creating parts through magic didn’t concern her. He wouldn’t be able to actually succeed in his recreation efforts without any training, and the simple act that he was attempting to create a limb through magic was somewhat ironic considering how incompatible they are.

Only when the leg was half reconstructed did Ject acknowledge Oz’s desire to examine one of the pieces, which still sat on the table. Her reply was blunt and to the point.

“No, you’ll break it.” Ject had no doubt he’d do something foolish in his unsuccessful attempt to copy her limb and end up dropping or simply be too rough with the fragile piece.

"Aw, come on," Oz whined, curiosity piqued by this strange mechanical part. He wanted to see it. "I'll be careful, I swear!" He felt like a five year old again, trying to convince the orphanage matron to let him play with a dagger. Except the little technological part probably wasn't as dangerous as a dagger, and he was much more mature than five years old. And he wouldn't be playing with the object; he was using it for research, for his magic.

He tried to summon the parts of the limb he already practiced. It was only a small part, about the size of a timepiece, but it had many, many parts. Flipping it over, Oz noted that the outside part looked right. At least, before the entire contraption fell apart. He dematerialized it with disgust. Pouting, Oz looked up at Ject. "Please?"

Ject picked up the small piece Oz wanted and placed it into position, ignoring the man’s pleas. She made a few more notes in her book before handing it to Oz. It was much less fragile then the part he wanted to examine so she decided to at least toss him a bone, though the book was probably more valuable for it’s information then just examining the part ever would, though it’s not like his magic would get him anywhere. Ject doubted Oz would ever have the proper training to actually make the thing truely functional..

Oz went back to reassembling the limb. She didn’t need to reference her notes to do that. However she gave a instruction to him reading the book.

“That should be in the same condition when you return it.” Though it sounded reasonable enough, coming from Ject it seemed rather threatening as if there was an unsaid ‘or else’ at the end.

"Great, thanks!" Oz instantly brightened up, and grabbed the book. Opening it, he realized he had no idea what any of it meant. He would read it, though, and hopefully learn more about the cybernetic limbs.

He flipped through the small book until he found the page with the strange mechanical part he wanted. He bit his lip in concentration as he read the notes surrounding it. From what he could gather, this was part of the vital mechanism for the high speed the cybernetic leg could bring. Hmm. That could prove useful. Oz read through it a few times, trying to assure the components of the tiny thing.

It wasn't too difficult. He closed his eyes and tried to summon it. Wait, was the screw screwed in clockwise or counter clockwise...? Oz opened his eyes, concentration broken, and checked the book. Clockwise. Closing his eyes again, he concentrated, vividly picturing the mechanism in his mind.

When he opened his eyes, he grinned. While the mechanism he summoned was a bit too large, and the wrong kind of metal, it looked good. Until he lifted it up, of course; it immediately fell apart, and Oz's face fell. He would have to remedy his comprehension, figure out what went wrong. For now, though, he'd try to summon another mechanical part. Oz flipped a few pages forward, and started reading again.

Ject had begun reconstruction the last fourth of the leg. She tested a few things here and there to make sure everything worked properly. Barring some major catastrophe the leg would be completely together again in a little over half an hour.

Oz’s apparent fascination with the book didn’t matter to her, so long as the book was in perfect condition when returned. Still working, Ject gave Oz another directive.

“When this is done I want that back.” Once again there was a hidden threat. She would have her book back, and Oz would be wise to comply.

"I won't," Oz muttered, clearly not paying attention to a word Ject said. He moved his chair slightly nearer the lamp distractedly, trying to better decipher his companion's handwriting. This cybernetic technology stuff was really neat. It wold be even greater if his summoning powers could summon something permanent, and he could summon a cybernetic device he could use forever. But no.

If there was one more positive thing about meeting Ject, Oz though, it was that his life was becoming more ordered. Now, he wasn't just going wherever he felt like, impulsively settling down and leaving and picking fights with strangers. Now he had goals; find out more about cybernetic engineering, fix his magic, combine his magic with cybernetic engineering. At least he knew where to go for the cybernetic stuff; ZEAL.

Oz kept attempting his summoning. He was fairly confident that if he had a couple days with the book, he would be able to summon any single part without consulting the notes. After that, a few months, and he might be able to summon an entire cybernetic limb. He smiled.

Ject finally finished reassembling her leg. She hoisted it up from the table and positioned it against the stump of her leg. There was a few minutes of fiddling until only the final connection remained.

Giving a deep breath Ject swung the last switch, connecting the nerves in her body with the artificial ones in her leg. She winced slightly but quickly returned to normal. She stood up, took a few steps around the room, and sat back down.

Ject plucked the book from Oz’s hand, not considering what he was doing with it. She closed it and returned it to her pocket.

“Time’s up.” She said. Her voice returned to it’s normal hollowness and her face became totally blank once more.

Concentration shattered when Ject grabbed the book out of his hands, Oz opened his mouth to protest before promptly shutting it. "All right," he said pleasantly. "Well, I'm going to bed, good night. Same time tomorrow, right? You working on your cybernetic parts, me quietly reading..." he was practically hitting the meaning over Ject's head. She would get it.

Oz stood up and yawned. He sincerely hoped Ject would just let him read the book tomorrow. It could save him a trip to ZEAL, and he could go home for awhile. Make sure he wasn't kicked out of his home yet for leaving without a word. That'd be nice, but only if Ject agreed.

Ject put her right arm on Oz’s shoulder. Her eyes couldn’t be seen through her goggles, but her face remained as blank as ever.

“Yes. Goodnight.” Her hollow voice was the last conscious thing Oz heard as the next moment he was once again filled with electricity and on the floor.

Once again alone Ject was alone, or at least close to being so. She stripped out of the majority of her clothes, tossed them casually onto the floor, and crawled into bed. Many would likely consider it improper for a woman to sleep half naked in the same room as a man (despite the fact said man was knocked out on the floor and not sleeping) but petty things like that didn’t concern her.

Within moments Ject was fast asleep.

Oz woke up several hours later to darkness and silence. He blinked several times, to clear his swimming vision, and assessed his surroundings. He was lying on his face, head bent at an awkward angle, on the dusty floor. Frowning, he rolled over, and faced the ceiling of a cheap inn room. His neck ached. No doubt Ject had shocked him again, but why?

Oh. He had been going to...bed? And Ject had shocked him. He scowled. What was wrong with her? He hadn't been bothering her at all, and had she waited even a minute, he would have been gone to his own room. It was mildly disappointing; Oz had known it would be dangerous traveling with Ject, and he had accepted that, but he was completely unaware she was sadistic.

Her soft breathing was the only sounds in the room. It seemed to be late at night, only a few hours before sunrise. Ject was fast asleep, though Oz would wager that she was a light sleeper and would stir at the slightest sound.

Standing up, Oz didn't much care about whether he awoke his companion or not. He cracked his neck to the left, stretched. Searching his pockets, he managed to procure a piece of spare paper and a pen, and wrote down an ancient curse of bad luck, smiling cheerfully. Sometimes, it was great to have a friend who studied and broke curses. Throwing the piece of paper on the desk, he hoped Ject would happen to read it.

Having accomplished that, Oz sneaked out to go back to his own room, hoping to catch a precious few hours of sleeps.