Writing Battle: At What Cost

Biopunk is a brand new genre to me, yet that was what I was assigned for the Tempest Owl Writing Battle in January, 2026. I have personally never felt an interest in writing anything within the Science Fiction realm, but that made this an even more intriguing challenge.

Writing battle describes the genre as such: "Biopunk typically includes biological technology and the way it impacts people and societies."

My first attempt at the story was very cliche. It was about a female assassin using her bionic arm to carry out her hits, only find out that her latest target is the inventor of such technology and is immediately able to disable it. In order to kill him and save herself, the assassin crudely strangles him with his own belt. It felt very unoriginal, and was quickly scraped.

I pivoted to a darker, more intimate tone to explore how this kind of technology would have a negative impact on an individual. I chose to interpret the technology itself as the assassin that could be used to biologically enhance or destroy its target. In many ways this story, limited to only 1000 words, also explores the theme of addiction. And of course the 'belt' could never be just a clothing belt, because that would be boring.

This is a professionally-judged story, which means I won't find out the results until the end of the month. While I've gotten a few compliments for the characters and even the prose of this story (to my surprise), my hopes for success are not high. Although some fellow battlers have given this story some kind praise:

It felt like I was watching a high-end cinematic intro to a villain's origin story. — Elizabeth

I loved the premise... It drives the story forward and adds a lot of intensity to the character’s emotional weight and the duality between what he feel physically and mentally — Jonathan

Should the final results of the battle be different than I expect, I will update this blog post. In the meantime, please enjoy this darkly twisted snapshot into a man's final moments.

At What Cost

Carter had been in pain for so long that it was background noise to him. The sharp needling from his old burns scratched at him with each sway of his arms, no matter how fast or slow he walked. Even now as he tiptoed into the darkened factory, his skin felt like someone was running a grater along it at all times.

It was as constant as the sensation of the nanites crawling across his forearms, their microscopic sentient bodies incapable of settling. That was the trade-off — the robot spiders constantly fed on his wounds, preventing the burns from fully healing, while the connection bound them to his will. Not only were his forearms indestructible in their coating, they could be utilized for whatever tasks he desired. With a small flex of will he could send the nanites to heal other wounds or remove his ailments. A touch of his hand and they would infect computers on his command. The nanites destroyed his flesh over and over again in a constant cycle, and for the pain Carter got power.

And he wanted more.

The factory was empty, just as it should be at the dead of night. Security wasn’t even a question when he could use his bots to break into any system, and alert the guards to fake alarms on the other side of the building. His steps slowed in the hallway, memories of a time before weighing on his shoulders.

He had once worked in a factory just like this, labouring over building the ultimate independent assassin. Sentient machines that could autonomously take down any target and could fit in the capsule of a pill. That was why they were kept under such intense lock and key. 

But their creators didn’t understand them like Carter did. He had been in the laboratory at the time of the gas explosion, trapped in a room of fire with the completed bots. He had thought he was going to lose his life to his work, had felt the pit of despair begin to swallow him, until he woke up in the hospital with a second chance.

The clever little nanites, able to disguise themselves to look like his flesh so when he recovered from the hospital his previous employers had no idea some of their ‘product’ was missing. They had no idea their creation had hidden itself on his skin, that it was a part of him now. Carter’s pace increased. The nanites had shown him a new path that day. There was no reason for him to hesitate when his future was only a few doors away. 

Carter could hear the nanites' voice, not in words but in the way the ache in his arms felt like a familial embrace. He felt their care in the strength that they gave him, how they protected him. They urged him forward, and gave him purpose again. Carter had always been surrounded by power that was never his; whether it was being enslaved to his job, ripped apart by the fire, or dismissed by those in charge. Now he walked through the slumbering factory as though he were a ghost, unrestricted and untethered by the barriers that once caged him. 

Once he found the lab, Carter quickly closed himself inside and turned on the lights. Three rows of desks with the computers covered the first half of the white-tiled room. Their cables and wires draped down the desks and crawled across the floor to the back of the room like a snake infestation, all leading to the floor to ceiling glass cage that trapped the completed nanites. 

Hanging from the ceiling and leading to the top of the container was the conveyor belt that delivered the completed nanites from the room next door and into the container. The cage was where they were given life, but it was also their holding cell until their creatures wished them to be used. Everything was still in the room, except for the nanites. 

The mass of their imperceptible bodies created an effect like liquid mercury within the glass. Carter’s tension from the thought of breaking-in eased under their soft glow, their swirling beauty captivating. He wished for nothing more than to reach his hand in. To offer his body as their vessel. Let them consume his organic shell and make him truly whole. 

Smiling to himself, Carter searched for a way to turn on the system so he could siphon the nanites from their prison. His heart raced in his chest, his glee pulling a smile to his face. Soon he would no longer have to just imagine what the power would feel like to have the nanites cover his entire body. 

Carter found the control panel, and with a few quick switches the sconces within the container lit up like beautiful beams of fluorescent sunlight. It made the nanites sparkle, as they deserved to. The valve on the side of the glass, which could be connected to small holding vessels or tubes for transport, was barred to the room. All it would take was a simple turn of the valve, just like the one that had been leaking in the old factory and caused the gas explosion. One turn, and his precious creatures would be free. 

Free. 

Carter lowered himself to his knees next to the valve, ready to receive. Holding one palm face up beneath the faucet, Carter turned the valve. It creaked at first, stubborn and resistant, but with the strength of his enhancements he easily forced the valve to open to the fullest. 

The nanites rushed forward, the beauty of their liquid metal-like movements as they descended on mass out of the container and onto the floor was like standing beneath a serene waterfall. Carter sighed and closed his eyes. The nanites consumed him, and the man who had been known as Carter ceased to exist.