PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

September 6, 2025

14:50 CST

S.A.F. Medical Facility

Cedar Rapids IA.

I sat in a waiting room just down the hall, staring at Director Staroko while we waited for Dr. Volkova to come get us. The doctor had made it abundantly clear that if we continued our pissing contest and caused another scene, she would personally kick our asses. She even warned the director that she would gladly follow through with Star’s threat to turn him into a rug if necessary. I had to admit, her intensity was intimidating, and neither of us dared to move.

Even though I kept my eyes on Staroko, I didn’t say a word. My jaw still throbbed from the punch Star had landed on me in the bathroom. For a moment, I worried she might have broken it, but Dr. Volkova assured me it was just bruised. She also made it clear that I was lucky that was the extent of Star’s reaction, calling me an idiot for pointing out her tail instead of reassuring her. But, damn it, I was as shocked as she was. She had transformed into something—no, someone—utterly different, and I hadn’t handled it well. I should have been more delicate, but the truth is, I found her transformation... captivating. The mix of human and reptilian features was oddly beautiful, in a way I wasn’t expecting.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, I broke the stare-off with Staroko and leaned back in my seat, my worry for Star growing with each passing minute. It had been nearly an hour since Dr. Volkova had left us in the waiting room, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something might be wrong.

Just as my anxiety was about to peak, the door to Star’s room creaked open, and Dr. Volkova motioned for us to come in. I wasted no time, quickly moving past Director Staroko and heading straight into the room. As I entered, I saw Star sitting on the edge of the bed, her back turned to me. She was still in the same form as when I left—her claws, tail, and horns all present, her posture slumped in a way that made my heart ache.

I slowly approached her, stepping into her line of sight. She was staring down at the floor, nervously fidgeting with her clawed hands. Her tail hung limply off the side of the bed, and her horns poked through her hair like dark, ominous crowns. She didn’t look up as I came closer, the worry etched across her face making my chest tighten.

Kneeling down to meet her gaze, I studied the ridges and scales that had appeared with her transformation. They were mesmerizing, and I found myself marveling at how striking she looked. But that wasn’t what mattered right now.

“Star?” I began softly, choosing my words carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes still glued to the floor. I waited, giving her the space to find her words.

“Can you accept me like this, Cayro?” she whispered, her voice so quiet it almost broke my heart.

I took a moment, letting her question settle in my mind. I knew the answer instantly—I loved her, and I always would, no matter what form she took. But I needed her to feel that, to know that my love wasn’t just comforting words. Leaning forward, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close in a gentle embrace.

“Yes,” I whispered back into her ear, holding her tightly. I felt her arms circle around me, her talons lightly pressing into my back, a subtle reminder of the changes she was still coming to terms with. But to me, she was still Star—the girl I loved, no matter what.

“Thank you, Cayro,” she whispered before releasing me and leaning back onto the bed.

As I pulled away, I blinked in surprise—no longer was I looking at a creature from a fantasy novel, but at Star, back to her normal self, as if nothing had happened.

“Star! You’re back to normal!” I exclaimed, unable to hide my shock.

“Yep, I can control it,” she responded with that familiar devious smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Before I could fully process the change, she closed her eyes and instantly shifted back into her scaled form. That smile—I knew it well. She had played me again, and the speed at which she could transform was nothing short of impressive.

“I see,” I said, raising my eyebrows in genuine surprise.

With another wicked grin, she ran a talon lightly across my jaw, right where she had punched me earlier. The touch was gentle, almost apologetic, but with a hint of playful retribution.

“Maybe next time, you won’t tease me about how I look. How’s your jaw doing?” she asked softly, her voice carrying both concern and a teasing edge.

“It’s sore, but I deserved it,” I replied, my tone serious. She nodded, acknowledging my words before shifting back into her human form. Standing up from the bed, she placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed me back, her touch firm yet tender. Without a word, she walked over to Dr. Volkova, took the bundle of clothes the doctor was holding, and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“Will she be okay?” I asked, turning my attention to Dr. Volkova.

“From what I can tell, she should be fine. However, we need to contact Dr. Zaraki and figure out what has happened. My understanding was that the two of you were supposed to have the same abilities and outcomes. That clearly isn’t the case anymore,” she explained, a worried expression clouding her features.

“What do you think went wrong?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted, her tone professional but laced with concern. “We’ll discuss this further at the mansion once she’s dressed and ready to leave.”

It wasn’t long before we were back at the mansion, sitting in a conference room just down the hall from Dr. Zaraki’s office. The room was a blend of elegant decor and modern technology, with a large table in the center that matched the house’s sophisticated style. I sat on one side of the table, Star beside me, her hand firmly intertwined with mine. Across from us sat Director Staroko and Dr. Volkova, both looking serious as they faced the large OLED monitor mounted on the wall. On the screen, Dr. Zaraki’s face appeared, his expression a mix of concern and exhaustion.

“So, what’s prompted this unexpected late conference call, Stephan?” Dr. Zaraki’s voice carried a tone of urgency.

“Sir… We have a…” Director Staroko began, but Dr. Volkova cut him off, taking the lead.

“Dr. Zaraki, the augmentation didn’t go as planned. Star experienced some… unexpected side effects,” she explained, her tone professional yet heavy with implication.

“Unexpected side effects?” Dr. Zaraki echoed, his brows furrowing.

“Correct, sir. It may be imperative for you to come home and see for yourself. I don’t have the expertise to properly handle this,” Dr. Volkova continued, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of urgency.

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon, Katrina. I’m currently stuck in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on board the Autumn. We just managed to get the sat link back online an hour ago,” Dr. Zaraki replied, frustration evident in his tone.

“Is everyone okay?” Star suddenly interjected, her voice filled with concern.

“Just a few minor injuries. Nothing serious, sweetheart,” Dr. Zaraki replied, his gaze softening as he looked at her through the screen.

“Thank you, Dad. Please keep them safe,” she whispered, her voice tinged with worry as she looked away. The concern etched on her face spoke volumes—her thoughts were with the crew, the people she cared about deeply.

The room fell into a heavy silence as we all turned to face Star. It was almost unheard of for her to address her father as "Dad." She had made it clear to everyone, including me, that her feelings towards him were less than warm. But something had changed. I shifted my gaze back to the monitor and saw tears streaming down Dr. Zaraki’s face. It was the first time I’d ever seen him show such raw emotion, and I was pretty sure this was the first time in years that Star had said something kind to him.

Dr. Zaraki quickly composed himself, his tearful expression hardening as his gaze snapped to Director Staroko and Dr. Volkova.

“What did you do to my daughter?” he demanded, his voice a deep, gravelly growl that sent a shiver down my spine. It sounded eerily similar to the tone Star used when she was in her other form.

“Nothing, Father!” Star shot back, standing up so quickly her chair nearly toppled over. She glared at the monitor, her eyes blazing with anger as she shifted into her other form, scales glinting and talons ready.

Dr. Zaraki’s reaction was one of complete disbelief. His jaw dropped, and he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.

“They’ve been nothing but kind to us,” Star continued, her voice a low, menacing growl. “And they’ve shown me just how much you actually care—for everyone, and especially for me. So don’t go assuming you know how my mind works because you don’t.”

Dr. Zaraki’s eyes widened even further, his expression a mix of shock and something that might have been fear. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to gather his thoughts.

“My apologies, Star. I shouldn’t have assumed,” he finally said, his voice noticeably calmer.

Star held his gaze for a moment longer before grumbling and sitting back down. As she did, I watched in awe as her scales and other features melted away, revealing her human form once more. The transformation was seamless, almost like it had never happened.

“That would be the unexpected side effect I mentioned earlier, sir,” Dr. Volkova interjected, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

“I see… That is unexpected. I assume they know everything now?” Dr. Zaraki asked, his tone cryptic.

“Um, about that…” Director Staroko began, his voice hesitant.

Dr. Zaraki’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean, about that?”

“Stephan here got into a pissing contest with Cayro and, well, he wolfed out because Cayro challenged him,” Dr. Volkova stated bluntly, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Katrina…” Director Staroko muttered, his voice a sharp whisper, as if scolding a child.

“Don’t ‘Katrina’ me, Stephan. You knew damn well Cayro doesn’t follow our laws and that neither of them had any idea what we are,” she snapped back, her voice carrying an edge of frustration.

Dr. Zaraki let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples as he watched them bicker. He finally had enough.

“ENOUGH!” he barked, his voice echoing through the conference room with authority. “Stephan… Katrina… You two now have the privilege of explaining everything to Star and Cayro. You’ve exposed them to things they weren’t ready for, and now you’re going to make sure they understand it all,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” they both replied in unison, their expressions shifting to one of concern.

“Now, about my daughter’s situation. Katrina, do you have any idea what happened?” Dr. Zaraki asked, his tone more measured but still tense.

“Um, no sir, I don’t have enough data to make a proper, educated guess or to give you a definitive answer,” the doctor admitted, her voice tinged with frustration.

“No, but I do!” came a familiar voice over the monitor’s speakers, causing everyone to blink in surprise.

“Scuzball?” I asked, recognizing the voice instantly.

“Duh, who else would I be? The talking numbskull on board the Autumn?” Scuzball retorted, using his digital paws to shrink Dr. Zaraki’s video feed down to a fraction of its original size. He then padded down to the far-right corner of the screen and, with a snap of his toes, made a new window appear on the monitor.

Here's the revised version of the section:

“Scuzball, what are you doing?” Dr. Zaraki grumbled, clearly irritated.

“Well, Dr. Numbskull, I’m doing what I do best: fixing your mess-ups. As I was designed to do,” the AI responded with a smug sense of pride.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, but Star wasn’t as successful. She started with a giggle and quickly escalated into full-blown laughter. The expression on Dr. Zaraki’s face—a mix of astonishment, surprise, and fury—was priceless. I looked down at the table, trying my hardest to suppress my own laughter, but it was a losing battle. I trembled in my seat as I fought to maintain my composure.

“Don’t make me decompile your snarky ass, Scuzball,” Dr. Zaraki grumbled, his voice low with irritation.

“Ha! You wish! You’re currently stuck on an airship that’s barely functional at the moment. So why don’t you just sit back and shut it, almighty powerful one, while I fill you in on what happened to your daughter?” Scuzball retorted, his digital grin wide and unrepentant.

“I should have never allowed you to become self-aware,” Dr. Zaraki muttered darkly.

“Tough shit, you did, and now you get to live with it,” Scuzball shot back, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

As Star’s laughter subsided and I managed to regain some semblance of control, I noticed that Dr. Volkova and Director Staroko were sitting stiffly, looking as though they were afraid to even breathe.

“Uh, Director Staroko, are you okay?” I asked quietly, noting his tense posture.

“Yep, but I’m staying out of that mess,” he replied, pointing toward the monitor with a subtle nod.

I glanced at the screen and saw that Dr. Zaraki’s expression had darkened considerably. I couldn’t blame him for being angry—Scuzball was really pushing his buttons.

“Dad! Stop arguing with the AI and let him explain what’s going on, would you?” Star finally shouted, cutting through the tension.

Both Dr. Zaraki and Scuzball fell silent, momentarily halting their bickering. Scuzball cleared his digital throat—if that was even possible—and continued.

“Now, where was I? Ah, that’s right,” the AI resumed, snapping his toes as two x-ray images appeared side by side on the monitor. Each image showed a human skull, with what looked like small pieces of electronic equipment embedded inside.

“What you’re currently looking at are x-rays of Star Zaraki, taken five years apart—one from five years ago and the other from today,” Scuzball began to explain, zooming in on the electronic devices within each skull. “This is the hormonal balancing agent tube located within the sub-cranial neural communications implant. The implant was designed with dual purposes: during the growth of the subject, its job was to use the suppressive hormone stored inside to keep the grafted DNA from the first operation inactive for up to fifteen years, or until the final augmentation was completed.”

As he spoke, the images zoomed in further on the tubes he was referencing. “Now, if you take a closer look at these x-rays, you’ll notice something interesting. In both of Star’s x-rays, the hormone levels in the tube haven’t changed. Before anyone jumps in with questions, let me just pull up Cayro’s recent x-ray from his augmentation,” Scuzball said, opening a new window with my x-ray.

I didn’t even realize they had taken an x-ray of me during the augmentation. Sure enough, as Scuzball zoomed in on my implant, the tube he was talking about was completely empty.

“If you compare Cayro’s implant to Star’s, you can see that his hormone tube is empty—completely depleted. Star’s, on the other hand, is still nearly full. This led me to dig deeper into Star’s medical background, and what I discovered was quite enlightening,” Scuzball explained, his tone growing more excited as he continued.

“That makes no sense though, Scuzball. If her implant was malfunctioning, it would have sent out an alert to the Autumn like Cayro’s did when his hormone levels ran out,” Dr. Zaraki stated, his confusion evident.

“Ah, but Doctor, did I say that her implant was malfunctioning?” Scuzball replied, his tone almost mocking.

“No, but what you’re showing us indicates that it malfunctioned,” Dr. Zaraki insisted, his frustration mounting.

“On the contrary, Doctor, that’s incorrect. It functioned exactly as designed. Its job was to read specific hormones released by the grafted DNA when it became active within the host’s body. Let me show you,” Scuzball said as he opened a third window displaying a three-dimensional double helix—a model of DNA. Zooming in on a section of the image, the AI continued. “As you can see here in this section of Cayro’s DNA, there’s the grafted DNA that was added. Now, I won’t go into all the details because, one: it would be long and drawn out, and two: it’s not really the point I’m trying to make.”

“Then what is your point?” Dr. Zaraki asked, his impatience barely contained.

“My point is that you’re an idiot. Now, let me continue,” Scuzball retorted without missing a beat.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, quickly looking down to hide my smile.

“Not funny, cat…” Dr. Zaraki growled, his irritation palpable.

“Oh, but it is… See, what you failed to consider, Doctor, was how your DNA would be affected in all of this. Or better yet, how your DNA would influence the outcome of what you tried to do with your daughter. Let me show you,” Scuzball continued, clearly enjoying himself as he opened yet another window with another DNA model.

“What am I looking at, Scuzball?” Dr. Zaraki asked, arching an eyebrow as he examined the screen.

The AI chuckled again before responding. “What you’re looking at is Star’s DNA sequence from earlier today. Now, let’s zoom in on the grafted DNA.”

As the image zoomed in on the three-dimensional model of Star’s DNA, the difference between her DNA and mine became clear. From what I could see, it looked like Star’s DNA had somehow incorporated the grafted DNA into its genetic makeup, where mine had not.

“It looks like the grafted DNA was absorbed by Star’s natural DNA, making it a part of her as if it had always been there,” Dr. Volkova chimed in, her tone one of realization.

“Exactly, Dr. Volkova. Star’s DNA assimilated the grafted DNA, integrating it into her genetic structure. This, in turn, altered the hormonal makeup released by her body. Because of these changes, the implant didn’t detect the specific hormones it was designed to monitor and, therefore, didn’t release the suppressant. This led to a very interesting outcome: Star’s body underwent the augmentation naturally over her normal growth period as the grafted DNA was assimilated. Dr. Zaraki, would you like to explain why Star was placed into the program, or should I do the honors?” Scuzball asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Dr. Zaraki’s eyes narrowed as he grumbled, “I will explain it.”

“Perfect! I’ll fill in any gaps that might slip your decrepit mind,” Scuzball replied cheerfully, clearly pushing his luck.

At this point, it was obvious the AI had a death wish. It’s one thing to poke the bear once, but Scuzball was practically dancing on every nerve Dr. Zaraki had, and I had a feeling he wasn’t done yet.