Intermezzo.
…German third Reich Atlantic's fleet hereby mobilizes und begins its mission." Rip announced blood and paint still dripping from her hands.
"Very good lieutenant you may refresh in your quarters but return within 600 hours" Rip nodded and walked down the steps to her room. She could hear her music playing down the hallway, she had always loved classical, didn't matter where from as long as it was elegant. Entering her room she removed her bloody gloves and soaked them in bleach immediately, she had to have all of her clothes clean, pressed and presentable. Robotically she washed the blood from her jacket and pants. She hung them to dry habitually. She sat on her small bed wearing only her undergarments. There was a tense knot in her stomach, and she knew why, she knew her demise was soon approaching and that there was nothing that she could do to prevent it. All her dreams and ambitions were shattered and thrown out the window. Her undead life was over. She was screaming inside, outside she was singing.
She moved to the mirror and began to comb her thigh length hair, she contemplated braiding it. It was always so much easier to deal with when it was in one plait in the back of her head. Then again she always loved the feel of her hair on the back of her neck, and down her shoulders. It made her feel…feminine. She knew she didn't have the small waist and beautiful hips that other women had. She was plain, stickly and tall. She always felt so awkward around others.
She knew she would never be able to live the normal life that she wanted, she knew that long ago. Her entire family was Russian, they were targeted in the war, she didn't know why she was spared but she was. It was aggravating. She didn't want to live with the memories of her loved one's deaths. That's why Dok did all those experiments, put her to sleep for forty years.
She didn't want to live this way at all, but she had no choice, her life was no longer hers. She was forced to put her life in the hands of others. She didn't live her death on one occasion, but on everyday after, everyday leading to today. Every morning she went to sleep crying. Finally, today that would all be over.
She put her crisp clothes back on her body. Her hands shook as she buttoned her jacket. She looked over to her mirror, gazing at the terrified reflection that stared back at her. She sighed, picked up her musket and walked outside to meet her end.