"Again, Brooks," came the voice through the speaker above her.
How long has it been?
Who cares
I still don't know where I am...
Who cares
I don't feel right.
Who cares
Lyanne snarled and slammed her wolfish, purple- and white-furred body into the man in front of her, trying in vain to overpower him. He was handsome beneath his unkempt brown hair and unfocused eyes, despite his missing arm having been replaced with a frightening metal prosthetic. He merely plucked her off of him with the same silver appendage and threw her body forcefully against the wall where she collapsed, curling into the fetal position and whining like a wounded dog.
That is what I am.
"Again, Brooks!" the man shouted angrily over the loudspeaker.
I won't cry
I won't cry
I won't cry
She straightened with great effort, flexing her sore and bruised arms, readying her claws and baring her teeth. This time the man attacked first, grabbing her throat with his metal hand and strangling her just enough not to kill her, while her clawed feet scratched his chest in vain. Twisting her body up, she coiled her legs around his neck and squeezed as hard as she could, but he hardly reacted beyond beginning to shake her. With one last great effort, she brought her foot around to the side of his neck, dug her talons in, and dragged back, opening a gaping wound that just missed his jugular. He gasped and dropped her, clutching where she had gouged him. Suddenly a mist sprayed into the room from above and he collapsed. Lyanne breathed heavily, knowing the routine, and fell unconscious as well soon after.
When she awoke later in her cage, after what she assumed had been hours, she noticed them wheeling the now-healed man she had battled earlier back into his chamber, where he would be frozen until they needed him later.
How long until I have to fight him again? she wondered.
Does it matter? the other voice in her head responded.
I guess not.
She sighed heavily, lying on her side against the bars of her cage and smelling the air as they brought her a meal she didn't feel like eating. The soldier watched her with slight interest as she sniffed at the food with her snout, then merely rolled over, curled into a ball, and appeared to fall asleep. She heard his footsteps echoing out of the room, waiting until she heard the door shut behind him and she was left alone before sitting up straight. She looked once more with disinterest at the food they left for her – a small helping of some brown mush she assumed was beans and an ear of wilted corn. She was glad she wasn't hungry.
I won't cry
I won't cry
I won't cry
She did.