《Augmented Agony》 Sufficiently advanced technology "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic -Arthur C. Clark Waking up to a knife lodged in your chest would be extremely alarming-and to be fair it is-but it can lose some of its shock factor when it''s happened several times in recent memory. Jace has been in and out of consciousness for the better part of three weeks, undergoing some non-voluntary body modifications under the "careful" ministrations of Doctor Wells. Across from him a tarnished mirror reflects his bloodied form. Shackled to a metal table, overgrown brown hair falling over icy blue eyes as his one remaining arm flexes against his restraints. Pushing past the agony that has become an old friend he reflects on what exactly brought him here. "You sure about this, Zack?" Jace asks. "Sure I''m sure, ''sides what do you have to lose?". Mulling over his words for a moment he reluctantly agrees, pushing onward over the rusted mounds of scrapped equipment while avoiding the jagged edges of some of the larger pieces. "I just don''t want to piss off some glitchy bot near the dump site, the last time that happened you almost died." "You''d have loved that wouldn''t ya?" Zack looks over from behind dirty blonde hair, green eyes sparkling with mirth. "Then you coulda taken my boots, the arm and the scrap from my bag and you wouldn''t be out here risking your ass to make rent!" Jace lays in a quick punch to his friend''s shoulder- which lets out a metallic thump with the impact- and sighs. "he isn''t wrong about that, I could really use a big score." The last month has been tough, between rising Nutri-Blocks prices, good scrap getting harder to find and the repairs he had to make on his place credits have been tight, any worse and the Overseer might think he''s worth more getting parted out or augged than as a scrapper. Speaking (Thinking?) of getting augged he looked over to Zack''s arm, Honestly the guy got lucky, a mostly functional arm with as few bugs as Jace had seen on any scrapper, The exposed metal was almost blue in tint, orbs of orange lining up the side of his bicep. "You keep checking me out like that you''re gonna make me blush" jolted from his thoughts Jace looked over at Zack''s light smile and waggling eyebrows. "shut up, you know I could do so much better, like for example a hound or-"Don''t start with that shit again!"-your sister." Smile gone like a gust of wind Zack shoves Jace, hard. Maybe harder than he means to, as with the whirring sound of Zack''s Aether Tech Jace is launched off his feet. For one heart-clenching moment he sees Zack''s face of horror; before he goes sailing through the air into a mound of scrap. Impact. Pain. As Jace opens his eyes he sees Zack''s panicked face over him. "No no please I''m sorry I''m so sorry!" Jace realizes he''s clutching at something near his chest and as he looks down he sees what''s causing that itchy, fiery sensation. Pushing through the meat of his shoulder and spearing through his ragged jumpsuit is a jagged metal blade, blood pouring around the rusted metal in small spurts, rapidly staining the faded blue cloth crimson. Frozen in shock, Jace looks past him, the colors of the yard dimming and blurring together into a monochrome gray. Zack fumbles at his waist for his satchel and pulls out a small metal sphere that has certainly seen better days, his bloodied hands pressing it near his wound. Thin metal tendrils quickly separate from the ball; forming into wiry legs as the beaten AutoDoc stands on Jace''s chest. Through the deepening delirium he remembers the time they found the little thing. Sparking and letting out trails of Aether near one of the more recent dumpsites. Little bugger tried to drill a hole in Jaces'' eye when he got too close, screaming that it wasn''t authorized to be used outside of "Protector '''' Gregory''s office. Ducking the drill and turning off the damn thing had been trouble but maybe it was worth- ¡°WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED USE DETECTED, PLEASE SEE OVERSE-diagnostic completed, probability of death without immediate assistance at 72 percent, emergency assessed, override conditions accepted, ERROR: no sedative or antiseptics located in reserves, commencing manual stitching, please remove object from site of injury, please remove object from site of injury...¡±. Blaring out on repeat, Zach quickly levers a hand under his fellow scrappers body and with a quick jerk; lifts him from the pile. A sharp scream of pain rips its way from Jace''s throat, his vision blackening with the ghoulish sensation of cold metal punching through hot flesh. Drifting in and out of awareness didn''t save him from the agony of each jolt, as Zack seemed to haul him over one broad shoulder, quickly hoofing it back through the junk and back towards the cell blocks. Zack can handle this without him right? Just gotta take a quick nap...Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Through the gray fog he catches snippets of voices arguing, "I have to, this run was his only chance to avoid getting parted out, he did it for us..." Zack''s baritone voice chimes. "It wasn''t the same, you know we have to look out for ourselves." A feminine voice replies. Something about the Overseer? Jace fights to stay coherent but loses the battle for consciousness against the pain and exhaustion of his injuries, quietly letting out a moan "fuck you too Sarah." Jace sat hunched over a table in his cluttered workshop, surrounded by discarded pieces of scavenged machinery. His hands moved with precision, carefully assembling parts and reconnecting wires. "Tinkering again?" Zack asked. "Trying to anyway, not gonna risk powering it on if that''s what you''re thinking." Jace replied. Spending all his free time watching Holovids on machinery repairs and AI theory crafting has to be worth something right? "If I can get one of these drones up and running then maybe I could push to be an engineer instead of scrapping junk until I keel over." Jace scratches at the fuzz growing on his cheeks. Sixteen years old and already having to shave... Awareness slowly returns to Jace as he peers around at somewhat familiar surroundings. His bleary eyes unfocused as he takes in the drab gray walls, simple metal furniture and the desiccated bunk he lies on. There''s a half-eaten Nutri-Block sits on the table next to him and the corner of a note sticking out from the bottom. Peering down at his chest he expects to see an ugly open wound but instead finds only a mesh-like pattern of metal over what should be a two inch hole in his right pectoral. The skin around it is puffy and red, a stark contrast to its usual paleness. Fresh out of a fever dream and mind wandering, he thinks of the first time he actually saw the sun, instead of the dull green glow of the sunlamp below the stacks. The horrible red burns he had from that day remind him of the searing heat that still lingers near his wound. Shifting inch by careful inch he reaches for the prepared Nutri-Block, never really one to turn down a free meal; particularly one with no strings attached. The dull brown cube may taste like rust flakes and machine smog but at least it keeps the hunger away for a week. Taking small bites out of the cube he reads over the holodisk note that was left for him. Honestly, it''s a miracle he can read let alone write, one of the topside citizens decided to do something nice for the rats a few years back, "probably to make themselves feel better about the privilege they have up there.", he snorts. Hey Jay-C I''m really sorry...I thought I was used to the arm by now, the glitches have been... well anyway, I''m heading over to the dumpsite, i''ll give you anything I pick up today after I take care of Sarah, she''s getting worse. Can hardly remember a time when she wasn''t sick...I should be back by the time they kick off the lamps but if I''m not I left a cube out for you, try not to fuck with whatever weird metal bandage the doc put on you, scared me bad when it pulled out the drill again, thought it was holding a grudge haha. Uh, not sure how to tell ya this so I''m just gonna say it, that bandage seems to move every hour or so, you screamed out when it happened but you weren''t bleeding like a stuck hound anymore, so I figured I''d let it be. Don''t follow me, I''ll be careful and it seems like this arm can really throw a punch so if I run into any SEC drones I''ll handle it. Besides, how many scrappers you know have Military Tech? -Zack Zack was heading to the damn site Alone! Crazy bastard is gonna get himself killed for sure! Easing himself into a sitting position took some doing but didn''t seem to cause any more pain at least. The metal binding sort of... Flexed as he moved which felt strange but at least he wasn''t gonna pass out again, still wearing his ragged jumpsuit he looked through his satchel, Holodisk, Water, and his multitool all accounted for he took a deep breath, felt his heartbeat pump against the adrenaline and headed back outside to save a friend. Escape ¡°How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.¡± ¨D Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo Walking through the cell blocks after the lamps kick off is always dangerous. You never know if a mutated Hound is going to Break past the fences that separate the blocks. They''ll do anything from smashing the roof off your place if you''re lucky (having experienced that once was enough thank you very much) or rip into you for a quick meal if you aren''t. Could be instead that one of the gangs high on viper would turn you inside out looking for compatible mods or just some quick credits to jack. Hell, even a scrapper down on their luck wouldn''t think twice about shiving another they think they could take in a fight, just to get another cube of Nutri-Block and ward off the hunger for another week. Jace gets it, he used to be one of those desperate scrappers. Shit like that is why you''ve got to find family, people to have your back and watch your ass as long as you do the same for them. It''s one of the only things that make it worth pushing your limits down here, go that extra mile to actually make it to the next week. What''s the point of keeping on if you don''t have anyone there at the end of the day? There''s more to life than just surviving and Jace would be damned before he loses the best family he¡¯s ever had. Aether knows his Bio family was a real treat. Abuse, neglect and beatings that only ended when he was shoved out on his ass at fifteen years old. Cheap bastards just kept him around to pocket the credit stipend he should have had for specialized training lessons at the simulator. The Overseer may be a cold bastard but at least he gives basic training on how to survive down here, even if it''s not enough to thrive. Jokes on them in the end though, they died a few weeks after he got kick out when a whole platoon of SEC drones went rogue, not much left of block thirteen now, even nearly two decades later. That was a bloodbath, It was the only thing splattered across the news for weeks. The Security Enforcement Company took a bit of heat for it for sure. It''s rare that topsiders care about what goes on down here in the Blocks but when the corporation they rely on for protection show they can''t leash an A.I suddenly it''s everyone''s problem. Come to think of it, that event might have been the final straw that pushed the the Guardians to limit A.I development in the first place, even going so far as to outright ban Quantum A.I. The official story was that the SEC Q.A.I project was sabotaged by some kind of terrorist within the company that resulted in the Block thirteen massacre but no one down here believed that for a moment. Jace knew better, hacking a dumb machine is hard enough already but A.I? Those things are a whole different level of impossible. Not a fair fight when the damn thing can know more about hacking in five minutes than you could possibly learn in your entire life. His theory was that the SEC were testing how effective a drone squad could be if sole control of the swarm was handed over to Quantum A.I. "Agitating myself isn''t gonna help me or Zack." Quickly shaking off his scattered thoughts of the past, Jace pauses at the boundary line between his block and the scrapyard. From here he can just barely make out two figures in Exo armor standing guard over what counts for a gate in block ten. Barbed tungsten composite around twenty feet high and an inch thick only really works to keep folks in. "At least there aren¡¯t any drones hovering tonight, that would have ended this suicide mission early for sure." The trick to getting out after dark has always been to go under the fence, bit easier to dig out dirt then risk cutting yourself to shreds going over barb wire; and no grunt in the SEC is gonna bat an eye at disturbed ground compared to a bloodied fence. Taking a few minutes to watch the routine of the guards "fairly lazy ones tonight, thank Aether." It takes a moment to pull his multitool out of his bag quietly-bulky as it is. The worn screen flickers worryingly for a moment before booting up. This thing may have cost him three weeks of scavenging working parts to put together and more credits than he''d readily admit to get it modified but it has been his edge over the other scrappers in his block. Having a tool that can identify all of the bits of robot wreckage he scavenges really lets him rake in some credits. Doesn''t hurt that with enough samples it can recreate blueprints-and with his modifications? Even replicate some of them. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Pulling up the tool he needs should only take a second but it''s the better part of a minute before he succeeds. He understands the problem immediately, he can''t get his damn hands to stop shaking. ¡°It''s not like you haven''t done this before Jace, calm the hell down.¡± But regardless of his words the shaking doesn''t stop, it just gets worse until he realizes what''s causing it. ¡°I''m scared?" I almost died today, and here I am about to go out after curfew, in the dark and near a hound nest to save the guy who almost killed me. He chuckles weakly "What the hell is wrong with me?¡± [it''s because you''re a coward Jace, you''re not special. When you die no one is going to miss you, but you know that already don''t you?] "No fuck not now please!" panicked hands scramble for his bag. Looking back at him from the screen of his Multi Tool is a ghost, a fat bastard who died over a decade ago. [I might be dead, but that doesn¡¯t mean you get to escape being reminded of your failings right?] [I mean you make it so easy! All this Guilt you carry around for each mistake and you have oh so many of them don¡¯t you?] Quickly reaching into his bag he fumbles for his pills, he might be running low but now or nev- [Oh so now you''re an addict too Jace? That''s low even for you, what would the lovely lady Kat now?] ¡°SHUT UP!" he screams in reply, Tearing the top off the bottle he jams two pills down his throat, shuts his eyes and clamps his hands over his ears. ¡°Shut up. You''re dead and I killed you, I''d do it again a hundred times if it meant I could get her back and a THOUSAND more to get you out of my HEAD!¡± ¡°Hey! What are you doing over there reject? Back away from the gate right now, nice and easy.¡± One of the pair of exo-soldiers waves the mounted cannon toward Jace, who takes a deep shaky breath, slowly holds a hand up and calls out ¡°I''ll go, I¡¯m going right now, please don¡¯t shoot, I just have a bit of Aether poisoning. You know how it is, right? I''m gone." So saying Jace carefully backs away from the gate, taking care to stay near one of the cells at all times. SEC goons are less likely to try and blow a hole through him if it would risk collateral damage but that risk is never exactly zero, paperwork be damned. After backtracking for the better part of fifteen minutes he makes his way back toward another segment of wall, almost floating as the pills really start wreaking havoc on his system. Fumbling for his multitool he selects the spider drill and absent-mindedly pays the credit cost, four of the solid disks of metal scattering into dust. Slowly, painfully slowly the dust floats down, seeming to pull at small bits of scrap that decorate the ground as the tool works its magic. Jace takes a measure of peace from watching the construction of the Spider Drill. The cloud of black dust methodically forming solid steel legs, eight of them taking shape over the next few minutes. They meet the hard chassis of the machine and flow along its smooth sides, etching a designation number as they go SD-003. Moving to the head of the machine where a pristine drill bit begins to form. Nearly three feet long and half as wide it should make quick work of the relatively smooth dirt beneath the fence. Job finished; the cloud of dust seems to shudder before collapsing into a small pile beneath the completed construct, it stands attentively single red "eye" glancing up at Jace. With a few careful motions on his multitool he directs it to begin drilling a exit. The newly named SD-003 eats away at the dirt for what feels like an hour but in reality is probably closer to five minutes. In place of once solid dirt there is now a space large enough for Jace to crawl under the barbed fence. Moving slower than absolutely necessary he takes in the state of himself, a little high and a bit injured from his accident earlier today (at least he hopes it was today). ¡°Survival rate is looking great¡± he mutters ¡°probably could have just skipped the autodoc entirely and saved us all the trouble.¡± Dusting off his jumpsuit as best he can-pausing slightly at the rusty, brown stains that decorate it- he begins making his way through a somewhat unfamiliar section of shipping crates and scrapped bots. ¡°No wonder I set the guards off; I''m a mess, should have cleaned up so I can leave a pretty corpse I guess." Snickering to himself at the bad rhyme. " Pills are hitting harder than I thought...the detour with them probably cost me an hour if I want to be careful though here.¡± Annoyance creeps into his tone, ¡°I swear man if I die out here and you turn around and make it somehow I''m haunting your ass forever.¡± Feeling mollified at his action plan as a pleasant tingle races up his spine he pushes on. Following what scrapper marks he can as he goes. " As long as I don''t miss one I should come up on the boundary of the site soon enough." "I''m coming buddy, please don''t be dead.¡± Junkyard Dog ¡°Magic--that''s just a label, you know. Completely meaningless. It wasn''t so very long ago that people were saying that electricity was magic.¡± ¨D Robert Bloch, Psyco After the heart pounding encounter at the gate Jace expected the first step he took into the junkyard post curfew to be contested by something, his addled mind conjuring a rogue bot or some psycho waiting for him to make a wrong turn. Basically any sort of encounter that would end with him face up under the dirt, assuming he got a burial that is... At least he still has the Spider Drill with him. How long these last is sort of up in the air though. He''s seen them go kaput anywhere from an hour to roughly half a day depending on how much heavy duty it has to pull¡­ or if it gets ripped apart by a Hound or one of the other damn creatures that wander the scrapyard. With any luck he''ll get his credits worth today though, "can''t afford to replace it so It better hold up." Moving through the yard at night is certainly dangerous but the ambient humming of the Aether stacks overhead is what''s playing hell on his mind. Pushing through the hazy fog of his head as the pills do their terrible work. Preventing him from overthinking-or doing much thinking at all really-is probably half the reason he came out here. Picking up and taking the nerve suppressants is a bit of a necessary evil though, hard to use the one good thing he got from his Bio family-his mind- when it¡¯s wasting time conjuring trivial shit he has to worry about. Or freaks from the past. "Anything that gets rid of that fat ghost bastard Barry is good in my book, credits be damned." Reassessing where exactly he is in the yard at this point is a little difficult, well traveled scrapper he may be but when the nature of the yard is changing as its treasures are plundered and new rubble is dropped off...every week it can get a little disorienting. Taking a moment to climb up what looks to be a heavily damaged mobile weapons platform Jace surveys his surroundings checking for marks left by other scrappers, or anything landmark-wise to orient himself. ¡°I¡¯m at the site from a few weeks ago, nothing worth picking up on the way¡­¡± muttering to himself he peers over the remaining metal its the work of a moment to catch the dull green glow in the distance, an eerie sight no matter how often he sees it. Recent drops-good ones anyway- always have a bit of residual Aether leaking out of the fuel tanks from the various machines that have been scrapped from something or other. Between the arenas they run up top or some twist of the power structure most of them end with a bit of juice left. A dangerous payday for any scrapper to be sure. Position identified Jace carefully makes his way back down the rubble, loyal spider drill following closely behind. Hitting the ground and moving into a quick jog Jace hustles his way toward the green haze on the horizon. He floats between the junkpiles like a flowing river, making excellent time; in moments he is standing just outside of a pseudo wall of crushed machinery. Unfortunately there is no easy traversal options, he orders his drill to get to digging. Ears straining to hear over the squealing sound of metal being crushed and broken under SD-003. A sudden crash reverberates from somewhere just beyond the wall, capturing his attention, but it''s the chilling howl that tears through the night air that sends a shiver down his spine. Hastily ceasing his drilling, realizing he''s nearly finished the footholds anyway, he strains his ears, listening intently for any sound on the other side. The unmistakable crunch of metal is easy to identify. "A hound. Sounds like a big one too," Jace whispers to himself. Fumbling with his MultiTool he quickly looks through his options, ¡°Mods are paying dividends tonight, knew they were worth it.¡± Dialing through the icons, he settles on one resembling a primitive handgun before initiating the change. Feeling the soft touch of metal particles over his right hand as the handy tool transforms into the familiar weight of a classic Sig Sauer P220. Jace holds the Sig Sauer P220 like the lifeline it is, it may be a crude antique now but having access to any kind of projectile weapon is a boon in the blocks, ¡°Might not punch through the hound carapace, gonna have to aim for the head or mouth while high on nerve pills¡­¡±His pulse pounds painfully against his ribs as he readies his weapon and positions the drill in front of him. Slow as it may be, being powered by Aether, it could draw the hound away from him. Given the choice, he''d prefer hard metal against soft flesh any day of the week. No sooner than the drill moves into position does he make out the hound at the top of the wall, four bright orange eyes moving independently at its surroundings take in the drill and Jace¡¯s huddled form. Hackles raise as chitinous armor plates shift and morph; it takes in the middling threat in front of it. Standing at just over four feet tall on all fours and armed with wickedly sharp claws and teeth it stands as a stark reminder of why exactly wandering the yard at night is known to be a death sentence.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The powerful limbs of the hound move in unison, capturing Jace''s attention as the beast lunges from the wall. It smashes into the ground with enough force to unbalance nearby scrap piles and send up a cloud of loose dirt in every direction. Fighting through the low visibility, Jace scrambles to find his target, hands abnormally steady as he directs his drill to search for available moving targets. The drill pierces through the dirt cloud, revealing the hound hurtling towards him. Lucky for him, it''s intercepted with a resounding clash of steel on steel as the Drill''s low-grade engine fights to hold out against nearly a ton of opposing force. Seizing the short window of opportunity, Jace steadies his arm and squeezes off a quick round of .45 caliber. He jerks with the recoil as the sharp sound of a ricochet reverberates through the yard. Peering through the settling dust, he notices a scratch running alongside the rightmost eye of the creature''s armor. "Damn it, not enough force! I have to hit the eyes. Even if it doesn''t kill it, I can lose it if it''s blind!" With his plan established, he readies another round, aware that he has seven left. Meanwhile, the drill continues its attempt to burrow into the creature''s underside, the sounds of screaming metal and ghoulish screeches merging as the hound struggles to free itself from the drill''s frenzied assault. Taking a crucial second to check the drill''s status, Jace realizes that it''s rapidly depleting its power and wearing down its engine block. Claw marks decorate its frame, evidence of the hound''s resistance. Jace jerks the trigger two more times, desperate to blind the creature. One shot goes wide, missing entirely, but the other punctures a hole through the weakened armor on the right side of its face, blocking its vision despite missing the eyes. Thick green fluid drenches the creature and the dying drill beneath it. "Undigested Aether!" Jace''s addled brain races as he recalls his safety training lessons. Hounds consume sources of Aether and process it to fuel their growth and mutations. However, in its raw concentrated form, Aether is a highly dangerous mutagen and it''s combustible. They were warned that if the explosion didn''t kill the scraper the saturation of Aether would¡­But it''s better to take the chance of maybe dying from the blast than the guaranteed death that would come the moment the hound sinks its jaws into him. With his heart pumping and adrenaline spiking Jace lowers his sights to the nearly spent drill. If he can cause an engine fire to ignite he can hopefully detonate from a safe distance. At this point, anything that increases his odds of survival is welcome. Plan in place and five rounds to make it happen he takes aim and says a quick prayer to whoever may be listening. Going over the drill schematics in his mind, he knows the engine is located in the rear thorax of the machine. He fires twice¡ªthree rounds left¡ªas he watches the bullets leave scars on the drill but fail to penetrate it. ¡°FUCK!¡± The grinding sound of metal against metal comes to a halt as his spider gives up the ghost, the Hounds orange eyes peel away from the metal carcass beneath it and focus on the remaining threat. Jace''s mind races as he realizes he only has three rounds left¡ªtwo more than it would take to kill himself before he gets torn to shreds and dies anyway¡­ "No, there''s no way in hell I''m going to die alone, you fucking thing," he vows, determination seeping into his voice. With that promise made, he steadies his gun, aiming it at the hound that now rushes toward him with an uneven gait, the drill dragging lifelessly behind it, anchored by the tip that had penetrated the creature''s abdomen. Despite the hound''s injuries, it''s still fast, certainly faster than he would be if he tried to run. grabbing a rusted iron pipe off the ground Jace readies himself for the end. It''s on him in seconds, giving Jace barely enough time to squeeze off a single round. By sheer luck, the bullet finds its mark, striking one of the creature''s eyes-more by accident then intentionally, the hound doesn''t falter though, it leaps, jaws out and heading for his throat. Time almost seems to slow as he sees his death approaching, green fluid trailing from the creature''s face and into its mouth in a macabre display of recycling. Desperate instinct has him throwing his pipe up to try and stave off the inevitable. Holding firmly to his gun time seems to pick back up, jaws crunching down on the pipe that may as well be a toothpick to the hound, metal shattering as the guillotine jaws crunch down, but instead of tearing into his neck as expected, the hound''s teeth sink into his arm that had been holding the pipe. Pain courses through him as he feels the teeth burrow down into bone, mercifully not going all the way through but that stalemate won''t last long. Falling to the ground with the force of the tackle he raises the gun toward the open maw coming down for the crunch that will render his arm-and his life- from him. The liquid Aether dropping onto his form is almost a mercy as an icy sensation spreads, overpowering any sense of pain. He fires a round into the teeth, shattering a few of them, which launch like shrapnel into the guts of the Hound. It lets out an ear shattering roar as he screams, shoving the barrel past the teeth and frantically pulling the trigger, Metal squeals as the round punches up through the roof of the hounds mouth and into its skull, a dent appearing to form like a comical head bump from a holotoon. With a burst of adrenaline, Jace manages to scramble out from under the falling hound, gritting his teeth to suppress a scream as he uses his damaged arm to free himself. Discarding his jumpsuit, now drenched in the green fluid of Aether, he tears a strip from his clothes and desperately wipes at its residue on his face and arms. Face paling as he notices the deep bite in his left arm, blood gushing from the wound. The numbing, icy sensation that had spread across his body begins to subside, replaced by a throbbing ache. In a panic, Jace quickly fashions a tourniquet together, using what remains of his jumpsuit and another discarded pipe. His hands shake as he secures the makeshift bandage tightly around his arm, hoping to stem the bleeding. Jace holds a hand to his face, for a moment fearing the liquid he finds is Aether but soon comes to realize are tears, He''s crying, and with the realization comes more of them. In the quiet night of the scrapyard he sobs in relief.