In which HSD has been a little too comic-book-geek-y and should also stop referring to herself in the third person.
Also: No, this is not fanfiction. It's just a girl with a metal arm named Hanan. Which may be a short-form for Buchanan...
BECAUSE I CAN NAME MY CHARACTERS REALLY WEIRD THINGS AND AS THE AUTHOR, NOBODY CAN STOP ME! MWAHAHAHA
"You're not a machine, Buchanan," she tells her, removing the screwdriver from her shoulder.
Buchanan laughs humorlessly. "Yeah, I am," she says to the other girl, "the bones in my left arm are not marrow, they're metal. My fingers are steel-plated, and my shoulder has iron in it. That's pretty much the definition of machine, Sadie."
The mechanic's expression turns hard, and she marches around the bench to face Buchanan and starts to speak, pointing a wrench at the 21-year-old's face. "Now listen here. You sure as hell ain't a machine, because machines are man-made. You are flesh and blood with a tad of technology added in." In her anger, her voice had reverted back to some of its Southern drawl.
"I'm twenty three, and you have taught me more about being human than I've learned in a lifetime working with mechanics. So when I have to fix the kinks in your arm, I don't mind. Because I'm not fixing a mindless machine, I'm fixing you."
The other girl stares at her for a moment before her face seems to soften. "I'm sorry," she tells her, guilty eyes looking down at where her flesh-and-blood fingers are twisting the fabric of. Her worn jeans. They're folded up to above the ankle, and are the only thing she's wearing except for the baggy sweatshirt.
"Come on," Sadie sighs, holding out a hand. Nervously, Buchanan places her metal one in it, and the mechanic pulls her up and back to the house.
They live in a sweet little blue-painted wooden house, a short ways away from the shop. Sadie's father was a mechanic, so she had followed, doing well with her fascination with machinery.
Buchanan had been her childhood friend. But she had disappeared off the grid four years ago. When she finally reappeared, it was with a mechanical left arm.
The government had wanted to examine her, but the scientists had flatly refused. The government couldn't find anyone that was actually willing to do it.
So custody had been turned over to Sadie's father, according to Buchanan's parents' will. Two years after their daughter had vanished, they had been in a horrible car accident. A drunk truck driver. There was no chance of survival.
So Buchanan stayed with Sadie, living with her in their small house and helping run the shop. Sadie's father, John, was a sweet man who had treated them both like his daughters. He still helped out at the shop occasionally, but for the most part the ageing man just let the two young women handle it.
So Sadie took care of Buchanan, and they were okay.
Until Anne came along.