Arnilo

"urghhh" she growled as she woke up. In the mirror, a tied face looked her back. "What are you looking now?" she barked to herself, as she sit down in her bed."UGHHH. I wish I was really a cyborg. So I wouldn't need to deal with these damned hangovers.""Good day!!" she heard a perky, energetic and happy voice behind the door, greeting her."The doors closed, dammit, I don't want greetings!!" she barked. "Stupid, happy Jakos" she mumbled to herself, looking around her room if there was any alcohol left. "Damn I need a drink".Recently, a group of Jakos -mass produced artificial humans- moved to her depressing appartment building. Clearly, they where fresh out of the cloning vats. Surely they had pooled their savings together to get an appartment down in the city to get to experience "the real city life", rather than these aseptic, characterless buildings of Kasparov CIA that provided her clones as housing. Damn, she missed these cozzy buildings. Surely sooner than later, these perky Jako neighbors will get aofcity life, and they will return to the Kasparov complex.She sighed.She would like to return there."Stupid hangovers" she growled to herself, waiting for her body biochemical auto-balance to began to kick-in, to sort out the mess she had made for herself yesterday. "Well, not a cyborg, but better than these poor sods of theshe thought.Thewhere the Biological born humans: natural humans in contrast to the artificial, cloned humans. The Biological humans had to go all over a hangover of a wild night, and she was quite sure they couldn't mix drugs and alcohol like she did...well, one of the perks of being a damned Dreselandes clone, she thought, staring to the mirror.She should get some water....and she should get a damn grip on her life."Stupid life" she grumbled.All was so easy, when a fresh clone of Kasparov CIA. She had a work, a mission, and a purpose. Being a Special Ops officer of a Private Military Contractor of Kasparov CIA paid well. Was easy. And come with a damn good health insurance. When she lost half of her right foot to an Improvised Explosive Device on Gerfan, they simply did the operation, no questions asked, and reeplaced her lost leg with a new, cloned and lab raised leg, inserted back to her. She was whole and back on the battlefield in only six months. Six-fracking-months....Damn, really she would have loved to be a Jako. With their brain balanced bio-chemistry. It was said, because of that, Jako clones almost couldn't get a depression, and where extremly resiliant to many mental diseases and problems... meanwhile she was a wreck. What's the use of being cloned with a superior brain, if you can't make a living?That was her problem....... she overthinked stuff. She was a dreselandesa, she fracking knew. Like how she knew she had this stupid anti-cursing conditioning. Frack it. Fudge. ARGH, so annoying...and so, she overthinked stuff. She knew she was superior. So when her contract with Kasparov CIA ended after seven years of service, rather than signing again with the corporation that cloned her, she knew she was inteligent and could do better without Kasparov CIA: she was a Spec Ops Officer of a PMC... of course she could do better!!Now, she was owner of her own time, free to do as she pleased. And she left Kasparov CIA. And as she expected, there was plenty of work for somebody knowning how corporate warfare worked, specs ops, blacks ops: anything, and she knew it.It wasn't a very legal job... oh, fudge it. It was extremly ilegal. And lucrative. Too bad she spended much of it on drugs... and too bad, you need strong chems to get a kick as a Dreselandesa. DNA designed for that, and all the such...So when she got her damned arm blown up, she didn't had a ton of saving. Needless to say, she didn't had either healthcare provided by her contractors, that's sure.Yeah, indeed they made the first operations and first aid, but they reduced every last bit of it from her payments. She actually ended in debt with them...And without an arm -her firing arm-, it wasn't like she could get back to her line of job to pay it...So in the end, she got a prosphetic cyborg arm -or "robot arm" as some people said-. Clearly, while durable, it wasn't even a fraction as having her own limbs. Or getting a lost limb reeplaced by a cloned limb, custom made from vat to exactly fit you."Fudge it all" she said, as she dropped back into the bed. Her head was much clearer now... but really, that didn't helped sorting out her life.What had she done so far? She only had for all her elf years of existence, a cybernetic arm, and an appartment she was soon to get kicked from it. Meanwhile, all the shiks of her generation had a little family thing going on, bringing their children to school already, being the little perfect wives. Part of that conditioning from the clonation vats. Conditioning she was too smart to simply accept, and she decided to built her own way, her own life... and now she fracking would love to get back to that clone dream conditioned into your brain while being grown up...But people didn't needed broken clones. They had plenty of brokenalready, and perfect little clones. There wasn't a place for the ones like her..."I need a drink" she thought.Then, they knocked. Either the landlord, or the Jako's neighbors. "Get out!!!""Mrs. Neschast'ye?" she heard in the door. She didn't knew the voice -well, she didn't knew the person. The voice she knew... it was a voice of an old series of shiks -corporative clones-, long ago discontinued for clonation..."What?""I'm here for a job proposal" the voice behind the door said"a Job?"an envelope was pushed under the door..."had you heard, about the"the what?" Natalia Neschast'ye said perplexed."Meet you on rooftoop in twenty minutes" the voice behind the door said, before leaving...