He was yanked out of the dark dirty alley, through the manhole to a tiny lab. A skinny, grimy old woman covered in metallic mechanical prosthetics released him from her claws and strapped him down to the bloodstained operating table. Her gleaming eyes stared through enormous lenses, wild rainbow hair framing her head in a mocking halo. With saws and clamps, drills and machines she took him apart and put him back together filled with all sorts of shining new parts, which apparently he needed for something or another. Relentlessly efficiently and with no signal of emotional connection this creator of new men hurled his still half-finished self back into the dirty dark world, supposedly ready now for the unspecified challenges and the nameless fears.
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