"You really want to know Amanda?" The doctor asks. "You want to know the truth? Okay, I'll tell you. I did this for your own good." he says.
"What! How the hell do you figure that taking away my limbs is for my own good?" You question him.
"Because it's the only way I know of to stop you from continuing this vendetta of yours until it kills you! And make no mistake, one way or another, it will kill you. You've come far too close to dying too many times already. The very fact your still alive right now is a testament to your will to live and my own considerable surgical skills. Every injury you sustain shortens your life just a little bit more, makes it a little bit harder for your body to recover. Combined with the stress put on your internal organs by those limbs of yours, it's only a matter of time till you have a stroke or a heart attack, or some sort of organ failure and save the criminals the trouble of killing you." Doctor Franklin explains.
"That's not your decision to make Doc! You had no right to do this to me, and I demand you fix it right now!" you argue.
"Fortunately for your continued survival, it's not your decision. Not anymore." Doctor Franklin replied. "Have I ever told you about my past?" he continued. "How I came to be where I am today? I was a top flight surgeon and medical researcher once. But I made a mistake. Several mistakes actually. I cared about my patients too much. I cared more about their health than about the law, or the bottom line. If I could help a patient, I would, it didn't matter if it was within hospital policy, or even whether it was legal or not. The last one is what got me in trouble you see. I had just invented a new cancer treatment for terminally ill patients. Now it hadn't been approved yet, not by the hospital, or the FDA. In fact, it hadn't even been tested on humans yet. Still, there were several patients in the hospital at the time dying from the very same form of cancer my drug was designed to treat. I knew that they didn't have time to wait for human trials to take place, and the wheels of bureaucracy to decide whether or not the drug was safe. So, I did the unthinkable, injecting as many of those terminal patients as I could with my experimental formula in the hopes that they would get better. There wasn't much chance of them getting worse. And low and behold, the majority of them actually began to recover! But not all of them. That was my downfall you see. Apparently my supervisors got wind of what I was doing and rather than applaud my success, they decided to make me and my drug their scapegoat when three of the patients suddenly died. The drug wasn't to blame of course, the patients would have died anyway, but the damage had already been done. I was disbarred from the medical profession, and my drug labeled as unsafe, even though it could have saved thousands of lives."
"What the hell does all that have to do with me?" you demand.
"What it means is that I still care too much about my patients, and like it or not, your one of them. If the only way to save you from yourself is to render you helpless and hold you against your will, than I'll do it, even if you hate me for it for the rest of your life. You've fought the good fight Amanda, and you've done a lot of good, but no matter how many bad guys you kill, there will always be more to take their place. You've avenged your family a hundred times over by now. It's time to let go of the anger and hate, to stop living for revenge and start living for yourself, thinking about what you need. You have a lot of scars Amanda, but there not the kind you can see, at least not anymore. Their in here, and in here." The Doc explains, touching first your forehead, then your chest right over your heart. "I can help you heal those emotional scars of your if you'll let me, but it will take much longer and be much more difficult to heal than the physical scars were. Please Amanda, I'm asking you, not just as your doctor, but also as your friend to help you defeat your inner demons and start living your life again. Come on, what do you say?" Doc said, gazing deeply into your eyes, desperately trying to convince you of his sincerity. You were having a really hard time trusting him though, seeing how the last time you were forced to trust him you'd woken up without any limbs and sporting a pair of stripper tits the size of your head.
"What do I say?! I say your a liar, a monster, and a crack pot. Your also insane if you think I could even begin to trust you enough to share my private thoughts and feeling with you after what you've done to me! And furthermore... wait a minute, while you were saying all that other crap, didn't you say something about healing my scars?" you suddenly ask.
"I sort of mentioned it yes. Do you want to see?" the doctor asked.
You lick your lips, which have suddenly gone dry. You've carried your scars for so long now, and even though you've tried not to think about it, they've always bothered you, made you feel ugly, even more so than when you'd replaced your original limbs with the cybernetic replacements that have, or rather had, made you so powerful. The thought of suddenly not having to carry that burden anymore is something you'd always dreamed of. You decide that you have to know if it's true, if the doc really has been able to remove your scars. If it does turn out to be true, you'll still be angry over the loss of your limbs, but you'll be a lot more inclined to listen to what he has to say. "Show me." you reply.
"Alright, up we go." Doc replies, pulling back the sheet and picking you up, grabbing your ass with one hand, and wraping the other around your front with the palm of his hand resting firmly on your right breast.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing you pervert?! Nobody gave you permission to touch me there!" you complain.
"Heh! Sorry, couldn't help myself." Doc replies, shifting his grip so that his hands come into contact with some of your less...private areas.
Truthfully, if you weren't so angry at the man for robbing you of your arms and legs you'd be tempted to let him continue. Doc's a little too old for you, somewhere in his mid to late forties, but still decent looking and in fairly good shape. It's been so long since you've been intimate with anyone, not since daughter and husband were killed, and you've found your cold metal fingers to be a poor substitute for the warm embrace of another human being. You won't give in though, you've got far to much pride to let the sick fuck make you into his own personal sex toy without a fight.
Moving over to a large mirror in the corner of the room your in, doc holds you close to it so that you can see yourself. Taking a good long look, your shocked by your own appearance. Your mechanical limbs have been completely removed, that much you already knew, but not only are the limbs themselves missing, the special sockets embedded into your flesh to accommodate them have been removed as well, the spot where they once were having been covered over with a coating of fresh, healthy skin. In fact, all your skin looks fresh and healthy. Your scars are gone! Suddenly, the lose of your limbs doesn't seem quite so important anymore. It's almost like you were... happy?
"How the heck can I be happy about this?" you think to yourself. "I mean, the scars have always bothered me sure, but I guess I just never realized how much. It's like a great weight has suddenly been lifted off my shoulders." then you suddenly become aware of the irony of your most recent thought, and can't quite suppress a slight giggle.
The giggle quickly turns into full fledged laughter. "Ha ha! w-why, ha ha, why am I ha, why am I laughing?!" you finally manage to get out, only to realize that your crying as well. You don't feel sad though, although your still pissed about your limbs being gone. As odd as it seems, your forced to conclude that the tears your shedding now are tears of joy! "Doc, what's wrong with me? Why am I so happy about this? I haven't been happy about anything in ages!" you wonder aloud, unable to comprehend your current state of mind.
Doc didn't answer right away. He seemed to be gathering his thought, carefully considering his words, before finally answering "It's the relief of a great emotional weight being lifted. Those scars you carried for so long had not only marred your physical appearance, but robbed you of your inner beauty as well. Don't worry, it should pass soon enough and you'll be able to go back to your old angry bitter self. That is, if you want to. You don't have to you know. You can be happy again if you let yourself, the way your feeling right now proves that. You just have to find it within yourself to put aside the past and move on with your life. Do you think your up to the challenge?"
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