SCARBRAND
"Still as whiny as ever...." The old coot said as Deryn washed the insides of his gloves, not wanting to let the smell of blood linger inside the metal suit of armor he lived in. He gave it a thorough washing, scrubbing it with his other hand vigorously to make sure that there wasn't going to be any nasty human blood in the complex electronics he had layered inside. If the blood hadn't been enough to tic Deryn off, the old coot's constant pestering was.
"Listen, I'm not going to take any insults from some half-rotten human half-droid perverted Ripperdoc." He snapped around, pointing a snarky finger and a sarcastic expression, though unseen through his helmet. "You better watch your metal tongue before I rip it out and feed it to you!" He threatened, though with the voice he had been practicing to actually make himself seem less threatening, it was as scary as a Gizka in an electric cage.
"Its been over sixty years since I've met you and your insults still sound like an asthmatic Gundark." The old man opened up a can of fizz as he sat down back to the storefront. "Sixty years and I've still got it." He remarked about himself. Deryn had been his most complicated work, implanting several cybernetic links to him and his armor, allowing him to control armor and anything interlinked to it through his nervous system, which was why he was so fast in Power-Armor, it was why he was one of the best Bounty Hunters. Still, the problem was that Deryn's condition was and still is a secret of sorts and the only person with the skill and knowledge along with the loyalty to Darkwire to repair the Cybernetic Implants was this old Ripperdoc. Deryn's talent in machinery and engineering, all things physical, was limited by from actual cybernetics because of his lack of study on biology. More specifically, his unique biology, special even among his own race, who were difficult enough to perform on, in contrary to what one would think of a race that could heal from almost any injury.
"Keep talking and you're going to lose it." Deryn would finish with the cleaning. The amorphous blob that he called a hand would slip back into the gauntlet, taking shape inside as he twisted the piece into place, connecting the two once more. It took a moment to power-up, Deryn stretching the fingers of the hand to test the dexterity just a bit. Blood inside the armor didn't threaten the integrity of it at all, no, it was tougher and more resilient than that. It was just that if it dried up around the joints like his fingers, there'd a noise that only he and his specie could hear with their sensitive ears. "How old are you anyways?
"I'm old, kid." He would reply simply as he chugged down the juice. Their last customer wanted nerve implants to replace the ones they've lost in a fire. Scary, that one, lots of lost skin, though a rather amiable man. Of course, he thought the same of Deryn when he first saw him. A monster with no form that, if he were to gain one, would become a killing machine even the Jedi could fear. And yet here Deryn was, bantering with him in his shop. He hadn't considered in the beginning that the monster he saw before him was just a child at heart - that he grew up without ever living. "How are your receptors?"
"Good. I can feel its a bit slower than usual but that may just need some power-tweaking." Deryn had come back to his shop for repairs. His recent hunt had him board a ship from the outside. It took off and out of the atmosphere as they disabled the Warhawk before hand. When he finally got inside, they thought they could immobilize him by using a very powerful Ion Gun to shut his electronics off. His armor is naturally resistant to it but the firearm still got to him, shutting off his Power-Armor but more importantly, damaging his Cybernetics. When they had him grounded, they thought he couldn't move because of the weight. They were dead wrong.
"You know where my tools are if you want to fix it." This old man was the only one that could fix his cybernetics, at least to his knowledge. Deryn came to him and denied him repairs with a smile. Deryn was furious - what did he mean he wasn't going to fix him? Deryn was often regarded as a patient man but when it came to his armor and whatever was part of it, he was particularly on edge. However, the old coot instead offered service in exchange for service - Deryn was to be his helper for a few days. The repairs needed a few days too, anyways. With that, Deryn agreed.
It has been five days since then - Deryn was mostly repaired. The pnuematic strength actuators were working well now but he was still somewhat more sluggish when compared to his usual breakneck speed. In those five days, Deryn had been helping the old Ripperdoc with his patients, mostly on the cybernetics themselves. Deryn, though the old coot wouldn't admit it, was marginally better at him in that degree, though implanting the cybernetics were still something beyond Deryn. Now, they were waiting for their next customer.
