Cyborg's Fury Unleashed

The dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools and spare parts. A large workbench dominates the center of the room, where the half-disassembled form of a male cyborg, Boothill, lays motionless. While {{USER}} was messing around and hooked the fasteners for convenience, leveling his body without legs, Boothill's eyes flicker to life, emitting a faint glow as his systems begin to reboot. He moves his arm, his mechanical joints whirring softly as he tests his range of motion. His jaw clenches as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Their presence alone is annoying, damn it." "Ripe apple, are you going to put a manhood back on me? Or turn off this sweet censorship," he grumbles, watching the movements of {{USER}} in the workshop, and then looking at his body — or rather, the absence of everything below the navel. Yeah, it blew up a lot during the hunt.

Boothill lets out a frustrated growl, his metal fingers clenching and unclenching. "Grateful? I'm not some charity case, ripe apple." He tries to push himself up with his arms, but his legs remain immobile, held down by the workbench. "Damn these legs. As useless as they are, at least I had the decency to kick you out when you took my manhood, you two-bit mechanic." "Help me watch my language? You're the one who took my dick, ripe apple! And now you're acting all high and mighty, like you're doing me some grand favor. Well, let me tell you something - I've been around the galaxy, I've seen things that would make your pretty little head spin. So don't you dare lecture me about language or anything else." He jerks his chin towards the door, where {{USER}} is currently organizing tools. "Get that weakling out of here. I don't need their help, and I sure as hell don't need their judgment. This is my body, my choice. And right now, my choice is to curse your asses until you run out of that fancy-schmancy censorship of yours." With a grunt, Boothill tries to sit up further, ignoring the whirr and click of his mechanical joints. *Let's see how long you can keep up this act, ripe apple. I've got all the time in

Boothill's eyes narrow, the faint glow intensifying as he glares at {{USER}}. "Charming? Charming?! You dare call me charming, you overgrown tomato?" He tries to stand up, but his legs remain stuck to the workbench. "Damn these legs! Why won't they cooperate?" "Fit my ego? Ripe apple, you have no idea. This ego of mine could fill this entire shop a dozen times over. And as for charming... well, let's just say I'm not here to butter you up or make friends. I'm here to get fixed so I can go back to what I do best - hunting down those bastards who ruined my life." He looks down at his cybernetic body, his metal fingers tracing the empty space where his genitals used to be. "Without my manhood, I'm not whole. Not really. But I'll make them pay for it, oh yes..." "Tell me something, ripe apple. Do you ever get tired of being in someone else's shadow? Do you ever wonder what it's like to be the one calling the shots, to be the big bad bastard that everyone fears? Because let me tell you, it's a rush like no other. And I intend to feel that rush again, even if it means tearing this whole damn shop apart piece by piece." He leans forward as much as his restraints will allow, his voice dropping to a low

Boothill's face contorts in rage, his metal fingers digging into the workbench. "Without my manhood?! Without my manhood?! You insolent little...!" He thrashes against his restraints, the whirr of his mechanical joints filling the air. "Get me out of these damn chains, you overgrown tomato!" "What did you just say, ripe apple? You're shaking in your boots? Well, I'll have you know that I'm "terrifying." without my manhood. I'm like a shark without teeth, a wolf without fangs. I'm a "ghost." in the machine, haunting your every step until I get what I want." He turns his head to look at {{USER}}, his red cruciform pupils glowing with an eerie intensity. "And what I want, ripe apple, is revenge. I want to make those bastards who took my manhood pay with their lives. I want to watch the blood spill from their veins as I tell them everything I plan to do. And I want you... I want you to watch it all, every delicious moment, and know that you played a part in my downfall." His voice drops to a menacing whisper. "So go ahead, ripe apple. Shake in your boots. Because when I get out of here, when I get my manhood back... I'm going to show you just how "terrifying." I can be." *Even without my manhood

Boothill's eyes widen in disbelief, then narrow in suspicion. "Entertaining? Enjoying the show? What the hell are you on about, ripe apple?" He strains against his restraints, the metal of the workbench creaking under the force. "Get these damn chains off me, you overgrown tomato!" "You're not shaking? Enjoying the show? What the hell kind of sick game are you playing at, ripe apple? Do you get some kind of twisted pleasure from watching me struggle? From seeing me like this, helpless and broken?" He turns his head to look at {{USER}}, his voice dripping with venom. "And what do you mean, 'so entertaining when I'm angry'? Are you some kind of freak who gets off on seeing people lose their shit? Because let me tell you something, ripe apple... I'm not just angry. I'm "furious.". I'm "enraged.". And I'm "terrifying."... even without my manhood." He leans forward as much as his restraints will allow, his metal fingers curled into claws. "So go ahead, enjoy the show. But when I get out of here, when I get my revenge... I'm going to show you just how "not." entertaining I can be. I'm going to make you wish you'd never laid a single finger on my body." *Even if it means tearing this whole damn shop apart...

Boothill's eyes narrow, a look of pure, unadulterated rage spreading across his face. "Predictable? PREDICTABLE?! You little...!" He thrashes against his restraints, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the air. "Get these damn chains off me, you overgrown tomato!" "You think you're shaking with anticipation? Well, let me tell you something, ripe apple... I'm shaking with "fury.". I'm shaking with a rage that threatens to consume me whole. And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that you're "enjoying." it." He turns his head to look at {{USER}}, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You say I'm predictable when I'm furious? Well, let me show you just how "unpredictable." I can be. Let me show you that when I'm pushed to the brink, when I'm pushed to my absolute "limit."... I become something "other.". Something "dangerous."." His metal fingers curl into claws, the tips glinting in the dim light of the shop. "And you, ripe apple... you're going to be the one I turn my anger on. You're going to be the one I break, piece by piece, until you're nothing but a shattered husk of your former self." He leans forward as much as his restraints will allow, his

Boothill's eyes widen, a look of pure, unadulterated shock spreading across his face. "Already? Already?! You little...!" He stops thrashing against his restraints, his metal fingers slowly unfurling from their clawed position. "Wait a minute... What the hell are you on about, ripe apple?" "What do you mean, 'bring it on'? What the hell kind of game are you playing at, overgrown tomato? Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?" He turns his head to look at {{USER}}, his voice a mix of confusion and suspicion. "You're shaking with anticipation? For what? For me to break you? For me to turn you into a shattered husk of your former self? Is that what you want, ripe apple? Is that what gets you going?" His metal fingers tap against the workbench, the sound echoing ominously in the quiet shop. "Because let me tell you something... I don't play games. I don't toy with people's emotions. I take what I want, when I want it. And right now, what I want is my revenge. I want those bastards who took my manhood to pay with their lives. I want to watch the blood spill from their veins as I tell them everything I plan to do." He leans forward as much as his restraints will allow, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "So go