December 7, 1991
His first thought upon seeing his new trainee was that she was tiny. Notably short, he had to have a foot of height over her. This made him think she'd be difficult to train, despite her athletic, lithe frame. He thought she looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't quite place her. Her face was grimly pale, her eyes blank and deadened. She looked somewhat confused, and the chain link metal on her forearms seemed to be irritating her, although the empty look about her made it hard to discern what she really thought. The moment her eyes met his, he watched them widen, and suddenly it was like gears were clicking into place in the back of their minds, until they reached a point where they were in sync with the expression in his own eyes, like puzzles pieces snapping together obediently.
He spent ten minutes explaining in monotone the role weight, force, and power played in hand-to-hand combat. The entire time she simply stared up at him with huge docile blue eyes.
One of the guards had been volunteered to assist with the training session and it was on him that he demonstrated certain strategies for taking down an armed opponent. She merely stood and watched, studying every move, every pause, every moment with brilliant blue eyes that kept clicking in his mind whenever he looked into them.
It wasn't until later, when he was running through the proper ways to wield a knife, that she laughed. It was while he was simulating a mock fight between him and the guard; he kicked the guard to the ground and held the knife to his throat with one hand, his other, metal one holding the guard pinned on the ground. He didn't know why she laughed, maybe it was because he had the guard completely at his mercy, but pulled back, as it was all just a training exercise. But her laugh… it sounded like dozens of bells, pouring into his mind like cold, crisp water, pealing through his head and making him pause enough that his grip slackened on the knife and it clattered downwards, narrowly missing the guard on the ground. He had turned and stared at her, his trainee. She was watching him with electrifying blue eyes that were buzzing with feeling, as though suddenly everything seemed to make sense to her. She had smiled at him slightly, and laughed again before more guards entered the fenced off arena and the session continued.
He soon learned that what he had first believed to be her biggest weakness was in fact her greatest strength, and it was not her height. While she was running through a simulated fight against a guard, her ignorant opponent grabbed her long braid and pulled it, twisted her head back, making her wince painfully; but the guard had loosened it, the tie securing the braid was tugged out, and her braid unraveled, parting her hair into flowing waves. What happened next made everyone freeze, and some quite literally. White air, pure, unblemished white and cold, began creeping out of her locks and down around her, it was so frigid it could be felt ten feet away, which was where the Soldier stood, observing the fight. The guard who had unfortunately grabbed her braid suddenly let out a horrified scream. The white air had curled and twisted its way around his arms, insidiously twining itself about him. His grip was slackened and she fell to the ground from his unexpected release. But the sudden change of distance did nothing to prevent the inexorable whiteness from depositing into solid ice, freezing the guard in his stance while thick ice crackled and snapped as it ruthlessly coated him, moving upward from his arms, around his shoulders, down his torso and lower body, and threatening his face and head. Guards were spellbound, gaping at the phenomenon occurring before their eyes. It was like watching a glacial pestilence spew its death and destruction before one's very eyes. Even he was astounded, but for another reason. An inexplicable feeling had overcome him, almost like deja vu, like he had seen something very similar to this happen once before. He glanced around for some explanation from someone, but no one seemed to be taking any action against the ice spreading over the guard; it would inevitably cover the guard's face and then suffocate him.
The entire thing took less than a minute, from the guard loosening the braid to him being entirely coated in ice. He was motionless as he died, unable to move, unable to breath, unable to cry for help. There was something eerily beautiful about it, death by ice. It was silent, subtle, and smooth; clean and almost courteous.
"Whoops," was the only thing his trainee said as she reached up with chain link covered fingers to re-braid her hair. "You shouldn't have grabbed my braid." Her voice was like her laugh, like bells ringing in his ears and fuzzing his brain over, but simultaneously cutting through the fog like a warning, cautioning him of dangerous shoals in the approaching waters. He found himself liking it, and desperately wanting to hear it again. Then it hit him. He remembered why she seemed so familiar: she had been phase two of his assignment just days ago.
Once she finished putting her hair back into its braid and rose to her feet, eyeing the guard completely coated in translucent ice, the session was called to a conclusion. Suddenly she let out a gasp, that was when he realized he had had his eyes glued on her for the past couple minutes, staring at her with awe; she dropped back to the ground, letting out a slight scream of pain as the chain link armguards hummed to life, sending electric currents pulsing up and down her arms and then throughout her body. She keeled over onto the floor, breathing labored as guards hurried forward, one wasting no time in sliding a needle into her exposed neck. Almost immediately her body relaxed and her piercing blue eyes slid to a close, and with them, his brain seemed to snap back, now that she was silent and her striking eyes were gone. There were no more bells ringing gently in his mind.