"When a man's an empty kettle, he should be on his mettle"

"Is there anyone besides me who does this crap? And still I never get so much as a friendly nod... which begs the question why do I do this?"

Cebra used his abilities repairing the side of a small corner store that not an hour ago he'd been slammed into telekinetically. Not only that building but a few buildings around the neighborhood were swarming with patches of liquid metal and nanobots doing work. People stood a good distance away observing Cebra with accusing eyes yet still curiously watching his repairs. The police present hadn't let up since the largely destructive fight between Cebra and a certain on again off again nemesis of his. Not the normal cops either, the special force were out on display this time as alert as ever. More than once Cebra has been forced to evade capture from these off leash hounds, not that it was any great feat to escape them.

With great ease Cebra could kill every one of them and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. This was one of few thoughts that Cebra smiling every time he glanced in their direction. It would not be a far stretch to think this was also the one thought that kept the special forces from taking any action, likely as not they were there to make the civilians feel safe. Cebra at face value didn't care what people thought of him, he did what he did to protect humans like petulant children. Deeper inside the sting of loneliness picked and gouged away at his soul with ever scornful glare. He was starting to long for something, something no machine could give him. A single word kept coming to mind, a word of multiple meanings though through the simple ability to read a mans face it's intentional meaning was clear... The word was mate.

Cebra kept up his repair work making sure to return all the damage he and his opponent caused to normal. The most difficult aspect of the job being how to deal with the unintentional casualties of the fight. Normally Cebra could evacuate an area quickly enough before a fight but this was just one of those times. Hero was certainly not a term Cebra wanted to be called, it was hard to feel like those other heroes beloved by so many and pillars of good. How could he be a hero when so many people died because he was being hunted? Cebra was often conflicted with humanity somewhere between hate and pity, between adoration and contempt. Cebra finished the last bit of repair work on a department store making sure to even clean up the rubble, he then turns face and heads to the exit only to be met with another depressing sight.

Before Cebra stands a squad of special forces units all armed with some manner of new energy based weaponry aimed at Cebra. Cebra feeling utterly drained of will lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Can we please not do this today? I'm dead tired after saving your lives for the umpteenth time ya know?"

"OPEN FIRE!"

Without so much as a 'put your arms up', Lieutenant Casey-Anne Miller whom Cebra is quite familiar with commands the squad to fire on Cebra. The squad opens fire hitting Cebra with something he didn't expect, EM stun bolts hit him all over. The combined effect not only knocks out use of cybernetics but also renders him unconscious.

When Cebra wakes up he's bound to a table made of chrome or silver, something he cannot manipulate. There is a small device on his chest with a red light that blinks ever couple of seconds. The room around him is stark white and sterile like a surgery room, this concept immediately crept into Cebra's mind. As he lay there contemplating what was to come he wondered if this was inevitable, if all his efforts were empty and meaningless. He was just a thing, a weapon, a tool for wealthy men to instigate the change they wanted. Why had he bothered to fight so hard to do the right thing when everyone else was just looking out for themselves? Cebra wondered though already with some idea if anyone would look for him? If anyone would know he was missing?