[Durability/Healing/Limit]

gistfile1.txt

I’ll tell you what else I
remember. Squiddie laying a bull’seye
on my chest the moment I
crawled up onto Battery Park. I
remember knowing beyond any
shadow of a doubt that I was
dying. I remember Prophet
dragging me across the battlefield,
stashing me in that warehouse,
stripping himself out of this suit
and bolting me into it. That took
time. It wasn’t even dawn when I
got hit; when I woke up it was
midmorning.
Tell me, Roger, do you think you
could hang in that long without a
 functioning heart? I know I
couldn’t. So however shredded up I
was back then, the ol’ ticker was
still beating. Had to be. And then
just a few hours later they scan me
outside Trinity and it’s nowhere to
be found.
Maybe it doesn’t even stop with
the heart. Maybe my lungs are
gone, too, by now. My liver? My
guts? How much of me’s actually
left—am I just a shell of bone and
muscle around a whole lotta empty
space? Put a zipper in front and I’d
have one big honking extra
allowance for carry-on, hmm?
You know what happened to
them, Roger? (Ah, I see you don’t.
Something else your masters didn’t
tell you.) They got recycled.
Because even this magical suit can’t
do everything. It’s a nanotech
miracle, it can turn blood into bone
and water into wine, but it’s gotta
start with something, capiche?
Needs raw material. Can’t magic
up mass out of nothing.
So the way I figure it, it had a lot
of shit to fix and not enough bricks
and mortar to go around, so it—
triaged. Robbed Peter’s heart to
pay Peter’s spinal cord. It can fill
in for the plumbing, that’s dead
easy. Alcatraz doesn’t need a bunch
of pipes and pumps when CryNet
Systems Nanosuit 2.0 is taking up
the slack. But the central nervous
system, now; that’s a whole
different pile of pigeons. You take
away that stuff and there’s no
Alcatraz left to interface with. So
this magic suit’s been hollowing me
out all this time, mining my
expendable biomass to repair the
more important systems. Maybe it’s
still at it, for all I know. Maybe it
won’t stop until there’s nothing left
but a brain and a couple of
eyeballs and a mess of nerves
hanging off the bottom.

Crysis: Legion, PILGRIMAGE