SEGMEX

here at last! not sure if this is the main deviation, will upload some more shots soon

<sub>WHO IS ///SEGMEX HESH?
I was dead, Sunea thought. That was all she could think, and yet she realised she was thinking it. She'd never believed in after-life stuff, that was reserved for the religious or the superstitious. Or both, she didn't care.
All she could care about, all her body was allowing her to care about right now was the scent of burning synthetics; rubbers, metals, plastids - a mixture of smells she thought reminded her of childhood - but not in context.

She could only care about these things, and the burning, torturous pain all across the left side of her body, starting above her ear and ending at the end of her leg - the foot. The foot and shin she felt the pain in,
that tormented her mind, clawing at the nerves severed by searing hot metal below her knee. She still felt like her left arm, thigh and ear were being pressed against burning hot roke - the coals which lay scattered around these lands.
Not even having looked at her body in fear of shocking herself even more grossly, she attempted to push up with her arms and get up on her one good leg. Covered in sand and blackness, the girl brushed her once-blonde hair out of her eyes with her shaking fingers,
looked up ahead of her, and pressed her elbows against the sand. Then, transferring the force from her elbows to her shivering hands, she pushed up. Her whole body tremored, making her feel only the weaker. She fell back down to her elbows, letting tears fall down her cheeks, into and off the sides of her mouth, not caring for the salty taste.
It was mixed with the taste of blood. She coughed, spattering the dirty ground with fresh filth. I should be dead. The thought was prevalent in her current haywire thought process, if you could call it a process.

Thinking again and again of death made it irresistible for her to look at her own body. Collapsing over on her back to gain her breath, she then crawled backward to the nearest piece of drift-met. As she pressed her back up against it, it was surprisingly [and pleasantly] cold against her battered, scarred skin.
She rested there for a moment, contemplating nothing, then looked.

What she saw, through her blurred vision, was frightening. A torn vest revealed several wounds lacerating her chest and stomach; shining with fresh blood in the bright sunlight, and causing her to feel them more as wounds than simple aches now.
What was below was worse.
Oily, dirty workpants, always slightly too big for her, were now torn to shreds, revealing on the left side a bloody, menacing stump and mottled burn marks trailing up her leg and up to her hips, where presumably her arm had taken the rest of the damage.
Feeling the pain start to pulsate once more, she once again tucked her messy fringe behind her ear. Shakily, her fingers trailed up the side of her head, fringe in tow, only to find that the rest of her hair had gone. Not all of it, but a large part of the left side of her hair and skin were missing.
Instantly the pain came rushing through. Clutching the top of her head, she cried again, feeling the tears try to comfort her wounded head as they trickled down the side of her face, her head tilted against the large piece of metal.
She knew she had to clean and cauterize all her wounds as soon as possible; there was already sand seeping its way into her gashes and broken skin, trying to bring her down, to be one with the ground, expecting her just to lay there and die like any other animal.
Never would she do such a thing so long as she was Hemme. She was Segmex Hesh and she demanded that the world let her live again.

When Borgunn Zoh fired the rocket that nearly killed Sunea, it did not suspect for a moment that it would not have found its target. That was it's first mistake.
The second mistake was neglecting the site of impact. In the harsh sands of the planet Thion, a girl was flung from her speeding buggy vehicle by a blast from a 20 pound rocket travelling near-mach.
Half a leg torn off and severe burns down her left side, life had given her chance enough to live. She did not waste the opportunity. Buried in and around her were pieces of the vehicle she was thrown from - gears, axles, rubber plating, and too many metals to name. Over the coming weeks, no one suspected that in the middle of an arid landmass, stretching for thousands of miles, she was healing, recovering, and building herself a prosthetic leg that she could use to make it back to civilisation. Her technical, mechanical and electrical knowledge was by no means advanced enough for robotics; however no electronics were needed. All that was needed was a support for her aching thigh and the strength to use it. What she had not expected was that her weakened body, and mind, would start to make her see herself not as organic, but as synthetic.////</sub>