Oh boy, how the days have lost their perception of time while melting in God's hands is beyond me. His angels provide defense, filling my aching body with imagery of peaceful grass and singing seas that were thought only achievable by slumber. 

A place where every sane man would want to leave. In the end, something in me is sane enough to bring me back.

A bright light above forces my eyes to adjust, however, my eyes don't need to stabilize to know where I am. The number of tables, the row of receiver beds, and God's little angels hovering above them all. 

I previously witnessed many of these angels come and go sometimes taking my friends with them. Sadly, this place is still surrounded by their shadows that welcome me back home.

"Look who's finally awake." A voice says, making the hairs on my arms slither up my skin.

I wobble my head from left to right slapping my brain over and over until a picture is surreal. The visualizations are dead giveaways. Even still I ask hesitantly

"Lisa is that you?"

The shadows respond, "In the flesh, my good confidant."

My ears detect the voice of a familiar modulator, only if they spoke with a lateral lisp and a hint of gruff. Almost like the Grim Reaper, she emerges from the shadows, jumping out from a table. Still sporting the white double-breasted tunic with gold cufflinks, buttons, and shoulder pads to match. Only covered by her short shaggy brown hair.

The darkness from the shadows still follows her hands, even in full view. One holds a clipboard while the other carries a step stool. The closer she gets, the sight of a clotting smirk on her face becomes clear. 

The taunt that only people from a certain clink would understand. A clink from what I know has its youngest member at nine years old.

Nonetheless, it stays stationary as her tiny legs swing back and forth like a swing dancing in the wind from the step stool. Her mirroring eyes take moments to glare down at me, only to return seconds later to the safety behind her clipboard, just like a certain dead Buzzard would do.

"How are you feeling Joseph?" She asks as if I were dead.

"Well, I think fine," my body lags, "Is a good sense of the word."

Almost like she can see into my muscles that want movement so badly, her next words keep them below freezing point.

"I wouldn't be so hasty if I were you. It took me two days to get you stabilized and I wish you wouldn't ruin such hard work."

"Wait, I 've been out for two days!?" The music orchestra inside my body starts to play the song of pain. A tone I'm greatly familiar with. Until the back starts to go off-key causing me to grunt.

"I'd warned you, otherwise correction, you were out for three days."

The snarkiest in her voice phases within like a ghost that never possesses me. The only thing to show for it is the daunting look Lisa witnesses in my eyes.

Like a doctor diagnosing her patient, she gives the summary of "Don't worry you didn't miss much." Her body exhales, stopping her for a moment. "Things have been pretty tiresome around here while you were out." 

At least my brain has something to feast upon, though one thing still pecks at its tastebuds.

"Where's Heavy?!" I ask, surprisingly because it took me this long to ask about him. My eyes ran around trying to find his healing body but comes up empty.

"For starters, we have Heavy in another room. He requires more stitches within my personal quarters to fix his injury. Hardcase watches over him. You just missed him too. He came to check up on you earlier. And well, for the other question you're probably thinking about, let's just say you were quite lucky. A hover that Lincoln called for you two arrived right before the bots and acolytes swarmed in response to that trip mine."

"Lincoln" I mutter to myself. Just the sound of his name reminds my brain that Lincoln was there and that he chose to save my life over himself. Flashbacks appear like a drive-in theater, keeping everything stoned as it plays the last moments of rocks and his blood.

Life's funny like that. If it wasn't for Lincoln's crap driving, then I wouldn't be here to hate myself. Lisa being the good doctor she claims to be, examines my face. Already having the idea that metal can bleed, the idea of people being able to copy stone isn't too far-fetched. 

The board finally stops as two stoned angels look at one another, both sharing a similar pain and yet can't shed a single tear.

The silence has to be broken; the real question is who is going to break it. My eyes buckle and my eyebrows narrow as my mind tries to put it into words. Lisa's shoulders turn as her head tilts down slightly, pulling off her glasses. A sign of respect that's rarely seen.

"Well, Joseph...You were all alone when they found you. Afterward, bots swarmed the place and cleaned it out...We even had a search team scoured through the building's debris once the coast was clear, and with all their efforts; they couldn't find a body."

Even after I get another confirmation that Lincoln's dead, I still can't bow up my tears. I want to bathe in them using every single drop stockpiled up, for him. However, I can't find the switch. 

Maybe my tear ducts were damaged in the explosion making a switch impossible. Though what I consider to be the reason deep down I knew it's the same reason his signet would never shine again.

'It was all my thought.' In vain I try to disarm this notation, but my mind accepts it.

"I'm sorry Joseph..." her hands press deep upon my shoulder. "He meant a lot to both of us."

Lisa timidly puts back on her glasses, activating a switch that makes things seem like they never happened. "Anyways, I think we should get back to the business at hand."

"Business?" I ask confusingly

"Well for starters, I'm surprised you haven't questioned me about the little upgrade I've given you."

How could I ever imagine this as my eyes dart to the left? My mind flashbacks to the days when Lincoln would tell me the tales of seeing Devastator tear the flesh of any soldier who was unlucky enough to cross him and use them for experiments to combine metal and man. 

I had never seen such shivers come from him when he told me so. My face has every part of me wanting to bulge out of my skin. Kactus was right. Devastator has my limb, and he replaced it with his own.

My body became paralyzed going out of its way to outshine everything except for it. Like a starving child admiring bread, I continuously turn it back and forth. The craftsmanship of the silver plates, the lingering gold hiding in the creeks and folds. 

Then its structure, my brain contemplates accepting it as if it is my arm painted grey and gold. My ears and eyes are in awe of how fluid the sounds of its metal fingers crunching together form a sound of harmony. 

"How could you do this?" I mutter out.

Lisa went on to explain how she needed a test subject and how I was right there and available. Though in my mind her explanations just fade into background noise. Every cell focuses on the arm to the point where lighting can't even strike it. 

Lighting tries though and my eyes catch it too. The shaping of a rock registers inches away from my cranium. After that little performance, my mouth can't help but slide in a smirk.

"So, you like it I presume?" Lisa asks on the edge of her seat for my answer.

Going deep down to the depth of my being, it all still appears blank. I know one thing for sure. The strength, the speed, and the reflexives that this arm gives are something from their world. Devastator's world. 

Realizing that a grin you would only see from a hero within a story presents itself. Following the words "I'll accept it," crushing my fingers to turn that once rock into pebbles.

"Excellent." Lisa proclaims while her fingers tie themselves forming a human centipede. "Now you might want to get your rest."

"Wait!!" my words stun the shadows, keeping them away from her a little bit longer. "What about Project Timeline?"

A brief pause fills in the space that separates us. Her body narrows back. The sight of me once more has her glasses trying to flee, but she pushes them back.

"Ah yes, my apologies. I should've told you sooner." The words took a cementer lead as they both inch their way back into the light. "To great success, I was able to use the part you and Lincoln received to complete my machine. I'm having General Peter oversee the op-

"I'll do it!" The crackle in my voice bounces all over the walls, springing Lisa's brain back into focus.

"Hmmm, so you say?" She groans

"Come on Lisa, you know I'm up for the task."

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure." The board that lays in sorrow is once again acquired by Lisa's hands. "According to this, your injuries are quite tiresome and combined with the unpredictability of my invention. Your skin could rip right off your body, tossing you aside, and go get a smoothie afterward."

Drivel that all might be, my eyes still find a way to go clockwork. Doesn't help that she complements it with her eyebrow escalating to the top of her head.

"Plus, General Peter bears a signet." The snarkiest shining all the way through. As if more salt needs to be added to the wound.

"I'm just as qualified as Peter is, with or without a signet."

"He might just have a point there, Doctor." A voice claims, lingering from the shadows. It sounds like a bell placed on the highest tower. With this place feeling crowded enough, this room can always use more familiarity. A viewpoint my mind adopts right away.

The shadows try to pull him back in as he emerges. The teen's deep blue armor suit, which embodies his shoulder pads, and his signet shine, makes the shadows shirk. 

My back is the most determined to get front-row seats. Ignoring the orchestra of pain, no matter how loud it becomes. It only stops as I meet his gaze. In the end, my mouth can't help but chuckle at his little performance. Yet putting it into words is even funnier.

"You know, I knew something loud and in your face was missing when I woke up." Thank you, Peter, for making that wish a reality."

"Well, I would have been here sooner to grant you your wish, but I and some of the others scoured out to find you this." His smile glimmers like his shiny apple hair.

Peter's arm taking shelter behind his back finally got the nerve to reveal itself. It carries a nice yellow sunflower, similar to the signet that he bears upon his shoulder pad. A nice dark red flower is the choice for Peter's signet. A symbol for the 99th battalion. 

The sunflower might bow down to me introducing itself, however, Peter's dark red flower lays upon the bell of an enemy with a crack smack dead in the middle. The cringe of my thoughts combined with the cringe of his aura made the corners of my mouth rise back into the skin.

"Hmm, is that flower supposed to be for me?"

"Hehe. Well, when I first came here to see you, this place looked quite dead and depressing. So hopefully this will brighten it up.

His proximity triggers my ears to loosen up enough to hear the flower streaking in between his hands. For the first time since I woke up, my left arm isn't bedridden, but jumping in the air. However, I must note that the sensational taste of O2 is lacking from the pressure of colliding with Peter's hands. 

While both our bodies sway to the shockwave our hands create, his three freckles lanced underneath his eyes pop out of his skin getting a good look at what his hand collided with.

"Woah nice arm there Jo." His words roll off the tongue. "Lisa put you together a good one. Now we both sport their spoils, wouldn't you say?"

I can't tell why my eyebrows twisted themselves together so fast after hearing what he said. In a way, we do sport their spoils, but that's just it isn't it? Staring into the crisp blue plates of his armor, it looks too much like theirs. 

In my mind, he might sport that bot's armor and spray-painted it blue as a suit, but I'm the one who's stuck with it as a punishment for my failure. My face spoke volumes as his words tried turning me away.

"I guess maybe not, but I do love the craftsmanship. Lisa really outdid herself on this one."

"Hmph don't let her hear you say that" I snark.

"Yeah, I'll be taking that." She dashes for the flower leaving a gust of wind in her place. "Wouldn't want your hands to crush such a little thing. Here allow me to go find you a home."

"Well, Jo speaking of hearing things, I may have overheard you and Lisa's conversation, and frankly. I gotta agree with her on this one. I wouldn't want you to get any more hurt." 

From his eyes to his body, they all present themselves as downcast leaving only a face of haggardness to glance upon. It has me showering in droplets of my disbelief.

"Peter please, as a friend." My voice shakes under the pressure. "I and Lincoln finished it...and I think I need to be the one to see it through. 

The room even seems surprised, regurgitating my words like a boomerang hitting Peter in the back. The pushback makes Peter's eyes dig deep into my own. They examine every cell too, every atom. Once he's done the sun rises from the shoreline cutting off halfway by his simper.

"Well Jo, the signet warrior in me should make this a direct order. Though if you need this that badly, then as your friend, I won't oppose."

"Hm, my man" I grin. My back aches, crunching its skin in between the fibers seeking out the pressure our hands made, but I don't care.

"Hmm, so I guess it's settled then," Lisa says, surprising me to the point that my soul should be hovering above my head. The tiny figure, stationary for the longest time, carries only her flower friend in a vase.

"You Folium's really know how to pop your heads out of nowhere," I remark.

"Hmm only to you, apparently." Underneath her words, I can hear Peter snickering to himself, trying to cover it up with his suit.

"Wait hold on a minute-."

"However, you leave immediately. I'll prepare your things and meet you at the hanger."

Without a second more her little legs rush themselves out of the light, letting the shadows consume her once more. I am reminded of her warning as my back screams to move out of the bed too quickly. 

"Here Jo, let me help you up and then we'll go to the hangar together." 

At this point, my back would have separated from me if I hadn't taken him up on his offer. My legs with the help of Peter's arms sprung themselves up from the woodwork of our hospital beds, stabilizing enough to hold for the shadows. 

Before that, I arch my head back to see the flower waving back at me from its watery home. Knowing that the next time it sees me in here. It would be weeping over my corpse.