#zyb

I now hereby headcannon that Zyb hates "Weird Science" by Oingo Boingo. I mean, from the description in Frozen Over it sounds like he looks like he would. So there. Have at it.

Characters come from my steampunk series in progress set in an alternative Pittsburgh.

The patchwork beast opened its terrible mouth filled with needle-sharp fangs, snarling. Before the jaws could snap close, Zyb kicked it away with his good leg, then rolled aside, snatched up his cane and slammed it against the mis-matched creature. This one seemed seemed mostly canine except for the diamond head and snake fangs. He’d seen uglier ones. 

The blow knocked the creature back, but not enough for Zyb to get to his feet--not that running was much of an option when his prosthetic wasn’t intended for that. He knew he should have built a new one after the “adventure” in the submersive sister-city. But really, he hadn’t expected to return to Steelsburgh and find it overgrown by forest and amok with patchwork beasts. He’d have thought his brother would have taken care of them all...unless of course his brother was dead along with the rest of his makeshift family. And Helena. 

The beast plunged its fangs into Zyb’s leg and he flinched, smacking it with his cane. Stupid beastie didn’t know which one was flesh and which steel and pistons. Stupid Zyb didn’t know when to keep his mind off people it was better not to think of. 

A gunshot silenced the patchwork beasts snarls. It squealed once, then shuddered and went still, mouth still locked around Zyb’s leg. Zyb didn’t notice that though. He sat stock-still, back straight as his cane, staring at the figure who’d fired the shot.

She wore a gasmask over her face, shiny black hair cropped short around her chin. The gun dropped from her hand and she barely caught it, before lifting up the mask and gaping at him.

“Zyb?” she whispered.

He was equally shocked. Helena. The last time he had seen her they had both been prisoners waiting to be turned into patchwork beasts. She thought he’d been dead then too. He couldn’t believe she was still here. 

All at once, Helena holstered her gun and sprinted down the street intersection toward him. She slid to her knees, flinging her arms around him and hauling him close. 

“I thought you were dead!” she cried.

Zyb couldn’t answer. He slowly, slowly wrapped an arm around her and then rested his head on her shoulder. Steelsburgh had stolen all of his best things, his cat, his music, his leg, his family--both families--but until this moment, it had never once given something back. 

“It’s about damn time,” he said, cracking a half-smile that had been absent for a long time.