The Scavenger’s Sister

Leon was still lost in thought, his mind grappling with the possibility that she was a Splicer, when the faintest movement caught his attention. He froze, his breath catching behind the rebreather.

The woman shifted, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. At the same moment, the flames around her began to flicker—then, without warning, they started to fade. One by one, the dark, eerie flames died out, their oppressive heat lifting from the air. It was like someone had flipped a switch.

Leon took a step back, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and wariness. "What the hell...?" he muttered, watching the last of the flames vanish into nothing, leaving the woman lying there, still and vulnerable. The oppressive weight of the sulfuric air began to ease, though the stench still lingered.

She stirred again, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her head rolled slightly to the side, and for the first time, Leon saw her eyes—half-lidded, dazed, but alive.

"Hey!" Leon called out, his voice muffled through the rebreather but sharp enough to pierce the eerie silence that now filled the room. "You awake?"

Her eyes fluttered open, barely registering his presence, and she blinked slowly as if she were just waking from a dream. The galaxy-like shimmer of the flowers around her still flickered faintly, but the strange fire that had once surrounded her was completely gone.

Leon's heart pounded in his chest as he crouched down, keeping a cautious distance. "Can you hear me?"

The woman's lips parted, but no words came out. She blinked again, her gaze unfocused, as if she didn't quite understand where she was—or what had just happened. She was awake, but barely, and the realization sent a chill down Leon's spine.

What the hell had he just stumbled into?

Leon barely had time to process what was happening. The woman stirred again, a small groan escaping her lips, and then—click.

His blood ran cold.

Something shifted in the ground beneath them. The faint sound of grinding gears echoed through the space, and Leon's heart dropped. A trap. She must've triggered it when she moved.

"Damn it!" he cursed, his eyes darting around the room. He didn't know what kind of trap this was, but he wasn't about to wait and find out.

Without thinking, Leon lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm to pull her to safety. But the moment his hand touched her skin—whoosh—dark flames flared up from the point of contact, searing through his gloves. The heat was immediate and brutal.

"Shit!" he yelled, jerking his hand back as the flames consumed his gloves, the sulfuric stench filling the air. He ripped them off, throwing them to the ground just as they disintegrated into ash. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through him.

"Are you trying to get us both killed?!" he shouted, frustration boiling over. But as his eyes locked onto hers, he realized something was wrong—deeply wrong.

She wasn't fully there. Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, stared blankly ahead, like she wasn't even aware of what was happening around her. Leon had seen that look before—on soldiers who had been through hell, on people who had seen too much. Trauma. Whatever had happened to her had left her broken, lost in her own mind.

But he didn't have time to deal with that now.

Leon's instincts kicked in. He scanned the room, trying to figure out what kind of trap they were dealing with. His pulse quickened as the gears continued to grind, the faintest sound of something heavy shifting above them.

No time.

"Alright, snap out of it!" he yelled, his voice edged with panic. But there was no response—nothing from her but that distant, haunted stare.

"Damn it, I don't have time for this!" He glanced up, his sharp eyes catching the faint outline of something—blades, maybe—beginning to lower from the ceiling. Whatever it was, they had seconds, maybe less.

Leon grabbed the strap of his scrap pack, his mind racing. Think, Leon, think.

The plan was simple now. Get her out. Get them both out. But how the hell was he supposed to move her if she burned everything she touched?

Leon's heart pounded in his chest as the grinding sound from the ceiling grew louder, signaling that the trap was almost fully engaged. He didn't have time to waste. The woman wasn't going to move on her own, and he sure as hell couldn't touch her again.

His eyes darted to the scraps he had salvaged earlier, a mix of mechanical components and half-functional devices. Think, Leon. Think.

With a sharp breath, he dropped to one knee, yanking open his pack and rifling through the parts. His hands moved quickly, pulling out bits of tech—a stabilizer core, some old magnetic coupling plates, a few loose wires. He didn't have much time, but he had an idea.

"I just need something that'll push her. Doesn't have to be perfect," he muttered, his fingers moving deftly over the parts as he worked. "Just needs to work."

The sound of the ceiling mechanisms grew louder, a warning that time was almost up. Leon's breath hitched, but his hands never stopped moving. Within moments, he had rigged together a crude device—a makeshift grav gauntlet. It wasn't pretty, but it would get the job done.

Leon strapped the gauntlet to his wrist, his mind racing as he calibrated the power output. "Alright," he muttered, glancing up at the woman, still motionless on the ground. "Let's hope this works."

He aimed the gauntlet at her, flicking the activation switch. There was a brief hum, and then a burst of force shot out from the gauntlet, hitting the woman's side. The grav field wasn't strong enough to hurt her, but it was enough to jolt her body, pushing her a few feet across the ground.

The dark flames didn't flare up this time.

Leon breathed a sigh of relief, but there was no time to celebrate. The grinding of the ceiling trap was reaching its peak, and whatever was coming down wasn't going to be friendly. He activated the gauntlet again, sending another burst of force toward the woman, pushing her further away from the center of the room.

"C'mon, just a little more," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he kept firing the gauntlet, forcing her body inch by inch toward safety. He could feel the tension in the air—the trap was about to spring.

Leon glanced up, his eyes widening as he saw the massive blades descending from the ceiling, inches from where the woman had just been lying. Close call. Too close.

"Don't you dare burn me alive after this," Leon muttered under his breath as he grabbed the last of his gear and bolted after her, making sure they were both clear of the danger zone.

Leon breathed a sigh of relief as the trap blades receded back into the ceiling, leaving them in a moment of silence. He glanced over at the woman, still lying on the ground. For the first time since stumbling upon her, she looked... normal. Or at least as normal as a half-mechanical woman could.

As the tension began to ebb, Leon wiped sweat from his forehead. "Well, that was close," he muttered to himself, rubbing his still-tingling hands from the earlier burn.

Suddenly, the woman's eyes snapped open, wide and clear this time. Leon tensed, watching her closely. Her gaze darted around the room, confused, until her eyes landed on him. For a second, they locked eyes, and Leon felt a jolt of unease.

Then she sat up—quickly, too quickly for someone who'd just been unconscious—and glared at him.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, her voice sharp and accusatory.

Leon blinked, taken aback. "I—what?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "You got a hearing problem, scavenger? I asked you a question." She looked around, taking in the ruins and the flowers that had somehow survived the flames. "Where am I?"

Leon scowled, feeling his earlier patience drain away. "You're welcome, by the way. Just saved your life."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Did I ask you to save me? No. So don't go acting like I owe you anything."

Leon's brow furrowed, his irritation rising. This girl can't be serious. "Are you kidding me right now? You were literally seconds from getting sliced in half. If I hadn't—"

"Blah, blah, blah," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "What do you want, a medal?" She stood up, brushing herself off, and started inspecting her mechanical parts as if Leon wasn't even there.

"Unbelievable," Leon muttered under his breath. He crossed his arms, watching her with a mixture of confusion and growing annoyance. "You know, normal people say 'thank you' when someone pulls them out of a death trap."

The woman shot him a sideways glance, smirking. "Good thing I'm not normal then."

Before Leon could fire back, something strange happened. The dark flames, the ones he had thought were gone, flickered back to life around her mechanical parts. But this time, they weren't just sitting there. They started to spread, crawling over her exposed machinery, searing the air with that familiar sulfuric smell.

Leon's eyes widened as he stepped back, instinctively reaching for his rebreather. "What the—"

The woman's smirk disappeared, replaced by a look of fear. She clutched at her arm, where the flames were licking up her skin, her eyes wide with panic. "No... no, no, not again!" she shouted, her voice trembling. The flames wrapped around her, dark and oppressive, and then—crack—the skin over her mechanical parts started to regenerate.

Leon watched in stunned silence as the flames began to rebuild the organic tissue around her arm, bit by bit. But it wasn't a smooth process—her face twisted in pain, her body trembling as the fire burned and healed her at the same time.

"Argh! Damn it!" she cried out, her voice ragged as she fell to one knee. She clutched her arm, gritting her teeth, clearly trying to fight through the pain.

Leon, stunned by what he was witnessing, took another step forward, his mouth hanging open. "Wait... you're regenerating? How the hell—Splicers don't just... regenerate like that. Especially not organic stuff!"

He dropped down beside her, his scavenger's curiosity overriding his caution. "How's it working? Is it tied to your mechanical parts? What triggers it? Is it automatic, or do you—"

"Shut up!" she snapped, her face twisted with a mixture of pain and anger. "I don't know! Just shut up!"

Leon blinked, taken aback. "You don't know?"

"I said, shut up!" she yelled again, trying to push the flames down with sheer willpower. It was clear she had no control over it, and every second the regeneration continued, it was costing her. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps, her body shaking as the flames finally started to recede, leaving behind fresh skin over the once-exposed machinery.

Leon, still dumbfounded, stayed where he was, staring at the newly regenerated parts of her arm. "But... how is that even possible? You're a Splicer. You're not supposed to—"

"Shut! Up!" she hissed, her voice strained. "I don't care what's supposed to happen! I don't know how any of this works!" She glared at him, her eyes burning with frustration and pain. "And you asking a million questions isn't going to help!"

Leon, still processing what he had just seen, opened his mouth to respond but quickly thought better of it. Clearly, this wasn't the time to press her for answers—not when she was barely holding herself together.

Leon watched as the last of the flames finally died out, leaving the woman hunched over, panting heavily. The skin on her arm, now fully regenerated, looked almost seamless, as if nothing had ever been damaged. The contrast between her flesh and the mechanical parts still unsettled him.

The woman groaned, her body trembling from the pain and exertion. She slowly got to her feet, her movements stiff, her face pale but defiant.

"See?" she muttered, her voice weak but dripping with sarcasm. "I'm fine. No thanks to you."

Leon stared at her in disbelief. "Fine? You were literally burning yourself alive five seconds ago!"

She glared at him, brushing off her arm where the flames had been. "I said I'm fine. What's your problem?"

"My problem?" Leon's voice rose, his irritation boiling over. "My problem is I just watched you regenerate skin like it was no big deal, and you're acting like it's a normal Tuesday!"

She rolled her eyes, clearly fed up with the conversation. "Ugh, what do you want me to say? That I'm a freak? That I don't know why this happens? Well, newsflash, genius—I don't!"

Leon ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. "No one said anything about being a freak! But this—" He gestured to her arm. "This doesn't just happen. Splicers don't regenerate. They replace. You shouldn't be able to—"

"I don't care what I 'shouldn't' be able to do," she interrupted, crossing her arms defensively. "I didn't ask for this. It just... happens."

Leon shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "Okay, fine, whatever. But at least try to explain—what triggers it? The flames? Some kind of tech you've got spliced in?"

She scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "I don't know, okay? It's not like there's a manual for this stuff."

Leon sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get any useful information out of her. She was either too irritated, too scared, or simply too clueless to explain what was going on. "Fine. Forget it."

"Good," she muttered, brushing past him like he was the one wasting her time.

But as she moved, Leon couldn't help but notice her wince. The regeneration might have healed her physically, but it had taken its toll. She was still hurting, still vulnerable, even if she refused to admit it.

For a moment, Leon thought about leaving her there, letting her figure things out on her own. She was clearly more trouble than she was worth. But something about the way she stumbled, the pain she was trying to hide, made him hesitate.

"Hey," he called out, his voice less sharp this time. "You sure you're okay?"

The woman paused, her back to him. She didn't turn around, didn't respond. For a second, Leon thought she'd just keep walking.

Then, without looking back, she muttered, "It hurts, okay? But what do you care?"

Leon blinked, her response catching him off guard. He hadn't expected her to admit that. "You're not exactly making it easy to care, you know."

She shrugged, still not facing him. "Guess I don't know how."

Leon sighed, his irritation softening into something else. "Yeah, well, maybe start by not setting yourself on fire."