She woke with heavy eyelids, her weary eyes peering around the void as her mind tried to shake itself from her drug-induced sleep. Her tongue absent-mindedly slipped from her maw, the taste of metal and oil weighing heavy on the stale air.
A tiny red light flashed from somewhere in the void; the sensation powerful enough to warrant a few flustered blinks from the weary Adder as she gently cocked her head either side, the never-ending darkness stretching out forever with nothing but the rhythmic flash of the small mysterious light to keep her grounded in reality.
"Whe… where…"
Her voice echoed off into the cosmos, her breathy whisper reverberating off the walls she couldn't see. She dropped her hands to her chest, gently tugging at the cold metal machine that hugged her body from the thorax down, leaving her with no wiggle room whatsoever save for the tip of her tail idly flicking the air below.
She tried to pull herself free, but something sharp caught on her scales, a brief hiss echoing from her maw as a jolt of pain came and settled throughout her weakened body. Gritting her fangs, she settled back down; her rasp breaths quickening as she felt a dribble of warm yellow blood soak into the hem of her white top.
"Hello?"
Her own voice returned the greeting, echoing out through the room for a few moments before dissipating back into a mind-numbing silence.
"I… I'm stuck…"
The world flashed alight in a burst of white, an old floodlight flickering to life with a heavy clunk that laid on the air for a few moments. She shielded her eyes with her offhand; her focus falling to the contraption clutched tight around her body.
A metal machine akin to a funnel coiled her body tight, suspending her over the endless void below. A mush of electronics and metal gears alike took up the contraption's front, a small grated platform presenting both a hunting knife and a pair of rusted pliers extending from the side.
Her rasp breaths quickened as her hands took hold of the sides in an attempt to pull herself up and out, but a jagged piece of metal dug into her scales, the pain only multiplying tenfold as she slid back to a rest, the soft glint of a blood-stained razer blade staring back up at her from the machine's innards.
She pleaded with the darkness beyond the blinding light, her voice laden with desperation as her situation slowly began to set in. But no one came, no one responded; her desperate calls for help met only with another light for the blinding orchestra as the old-world CRT propped up in front of her flickered to life.
The screen lingered for a moment, a droning static filling the room before green-tinted footage of a white-faced puppet appeared, the red, beady eyes of a beaten marionette staring back at her.
"Hello, Ada." A deep, modulated voice echoed through the speakers, the puppet on the screen mouthing the words.
"H… How…"
"I want to play a game."
She shook her head in disbelief, her breaths growing faster as she tried for another futile tug at the machine hugging her body tight.
"Joshua, Manshu, Diane. Three prominent engineers responsible for the rebuilding of City 31 during the height of Unification Day two years ago, all victims of the Gray Phoenix's brutal warpath to throw away all that this city has provided."
"I don't…"
"You, personally, saw to the deaths of these three people on a misguided mission against the world you wish to leave so dearly."
"N-no, you've made a mistake, please, I'm not…" The source of the red light became apparent as her eyes fell on the bulky camera partially obscured by the darkness, the Adder silently pleading with the person who may or may not be watching from the other side. "Let me go… just… let me go, and I'll pretend this never happened."
The camera simply continued its rhythmic blink, indifferent to the Adder's desperate pleas.
The television caught her attention once more as the feed switched over, grainy security footage in the puppets place. She squinted, her mind trying to make out the blurry shapes and grey-scale figures that moved about the screen.
That's... me.
Two years ago in the backrooms of that warehouse, her old leather Grey Phoenix gear adorning her body. And there was that young Chinese native, Manshu; his hands bound behind his back as he made a dash for the cover of an old shelving unit, her past self in close pursuit.
She struck as the hostage broke cover in a futile dash for the fire exit, her tongue wrapping around the human's legs and sending him crashing to the ground face first. He struggled at the cuffs binding his hands, muffled cries for help echoing out from the television set as the Adder slowly closed in, wrapping the defenceless man tight in her unyielding coils.
Her kills had always felt quick. One moment the hostage would struggle against her with the vigour of a cornered animal, the next they'd lay limp, their face pale and their chest unmoving. But to watch it back on screen felt like an eternity of muffled sobs and fading cries for help—it definitely didn't seem as invigorating as it once felt.
Blood-soaked claws pressed down on his head, smothering his face into the concrete as she leant uncomfortably close in a moment of sick curiosity, slowly unhinging her fangs before striking his neck with enough venom to kill a hundred men. It didn't take long before he stopped thrashing under her weight, the Adder only relenting her bite a few seconds after the man fell limp to the ground.
She uncoiled, staring her kill up and down for a few seconds before her eyes darted around the room in search of any would-be witnesses. And only when she was certain the coast was clear did she take hold of the dead man's arms, tugging him away from the scene as the tape froze on the final frame with an electronic clunk, her past self staring up through the security camera and into her pale eyes.
The picture lingered for a few moments, the mellow static drowning out the silence before the screen flickered back, the puppet retaking the stage.
"What the fuck do you want?" Her voice was desperate, her yellow blood drying around the tears in her tail cover. She wouldn't dare move. Not unless she wanted to cut herself again.
"It may not seem like it now, but today is your lucky day, Ada. Today I am giving you the chance to start your life anew, should you choose to take it—but you can never expect to move forward without leaving your old life behind."
The machine clutched tight around her body whirred to life; her focus drifting to the darkness below.
"No no no no, wait a minute, what are you doing?" she called out, instinctively wriggling her body against the machine before the sharp pains in her side reminded how bad of an idea that was.
"The rules of the game are simple: You have two-and-a-half minutes to remove both your fangs through any means necessary and place them into the slots either side of you."
Her eyes widened, her struggles slowing. "W-what…"
"Every thirty seconds, the contraption currently binding you in place shall tighten, the jagged metal and razor-sharp blades digging into your scales and slowly bleeding you like a stuck pig."
"Y-you're… there's no…"
"The decision is yours. Live or die, Ada. Make your choice."
She laid unmoving; mouth slightly ajar in disbelief.
He was bluffing. There's no way she was going to play into this psychopath's little game. He was bluffing, and she was going to call him out on it.
A timer on the far wall flickered to life as the television fell dark, the soft red glow of an old analogue display cutting through the darkness. But her breathing quickened once more; her mind uncertain about how far this stranger will actually take it.
"I'm not going to play your stupid—" She cut herself off with a blood-curdling scream as the machine clunked to life with an industrial hiss, the metal twisting and turning as the blades tore through her clothes and dug into her scales.
She writhed, her fists clenching the air as she let out a rasp hiss, her frantic movements only serving to further swell the pain that ricocheted throughout her body. The machine slowed to a halt with another hiss, the jagged metal digging under her flesh as blood stained the frayed tears littering her clothes, her blue tail stained yellow as her blood dripped against the floor below her.
Her breathing grew choppier, her heart beating faster as the adrenaline coursing through her veins worked to numb the pain burning her body from the inside out. Her hand brushed against the grated surface affixed to the side of the machine, her eyes following as her claws nudged the handle of the sharpened hunting knife by her side.
She took a deep breath, eying the blade with trembling hands.
Two fangs. Two and a half minutes. That's over a minute per fang.
...Am I really about to do this?
She turned the knife to her mouth, her muscles tensing as she stared down the sharp end of the blade. Then for a moment she turned it to her neck, a second of thought passing her by as the tip of the trembling knife brushed up against her scales.
Tears swelled in her milky eyes; her mind unable to commit to either.
"Please," she pleaded into the void. "Please, just stop this. I'm sorry for killing those humans. Please."
Her eyes fell back to the timer that pierced the darkness, the digital clockface draining away with a mellow, rhythmic tick. The numbers struck two minutes, the screen pausing with a brief flash as the machine hissed to life once more.
Another blood-curdling scream cut through the silence as the bladed coil grew tighter, the metal twisting and turning as it tore at her scales, ripping into her flesh and coating the machine's insides with warm, yellow blood.
The machine stopped as quickly as it started, and with it, the Adder too; tears streaming down her face and her bottom jaw quivering as a numbing pain shot through her body.
She peered at the timer on the wall; the numbers ticking away without a care in the world.
No help was coming. That much was certain.
She peered at the knife in her hands, her stomach tightening at the sheer thought of what she was expected to do.
Just don't think about it.
Think of something else—anything else.
She unhinged her fangs from the roof of her maw, the taste of metal tainting her taste buds as she pressed the tip of the blade against the roof of her mouth.
But she hesitated once more, her vision falling blurry as tears fell from her eyes.
Just don't think about it, Ada.
Think about anything else.
She gently angled the tip of the knife into the fleshy base of her left fang, her fingers trembling as she tried her hardest to hold the weapon still.
But her mind slowly began to waver, her eyes falling to a land far beyond the darkness that swallowed her whole. She was back at the old warehouse, getting drunk off that liquor stash they plundered from the apartment of that female engineer that gave in to their demands without so much as a fight.
She was back in the crew's makeshift sparring ring, her blue scales glistening under the industrial lights above as she circled the Sectoid before her, cheap booze tainting both their lips.
An opening presented itself, and the Adder struck without warning, throwing the Sectoid from his feet with a well-placed swipe of the tail. She readied a swing before he even hit the ground, but the Sectoid was quick to react, dodging to the side and meeting her missed attack with a well-placed left hook to the maw. Drunken cheers filled the room as the Adder chuckled, the two of them climbing to their feet and tail alike.
"I'll give you that one!" she slurred, rubbing her jaw.
"Well, I've got a lot more where that came from!" the Sectoid said with a clicky laugh, a cocky grin plastered across his face.
The alcohol had sure helped numb the pain that night.
By the Matriarch, what I wouldn't give for a bottle of liquor right about now.
No.
Don't think about that.
The fight. What happened next?
This time the Sectoid broke their circling first, but Ada saw it coming from a mile away, ducking his swing and socking him in the side of his bony skull.
He tumbled to the cardboard mats, and Ada seized the opening without a moment's hesitation. She wrapped her tail around the fallen Sectoid, locking him in place as she struck down from above with a hit that was promptly blocked with a well-timed arm guard. She swung again, but found her arms taking on a mind of her own, her fists locked mid-swing as her muscles reluctantly loosened their grip from the Sectoid.
"Hey, not fair, no psionics!"
His mental grip fell, the Sectoid pulling himself up to grab the Adder by the neck of her leather armour before she had the chance to recover. "You get to use your tail, I get to use my psionics!"
The Adder chuckled, but her laughter was short-lived; the Sectoid pulling his arm back into the sky, before bringing it down on the sharpened hunting knife wedged beneath her fang with all his might.
Another chilling scream echoed into the void as the blade dug into the roof of her mouth.
The tip struck a nerve ending, a burning sensation unlike any other ripping through her mouth as the taste of metal and blood tainted her tongue. She raised her arm for another strike before her mind had the chance to protest, tears staining her cheek as she dug the knife in deeper, another muffled scream reverberated throughout the building.
For a moment she laid in a shocked silence, the knife falling from her maw as her bloodied fingers gently caressed her torn up mouth. Acidic saliva dripped down her claws, mixing with the yellow blood that dripped from her maw and ran down her neck.
It was close.
Just one last pull before it would come loose.
Her trembling fingers were wrapped tight around the handle of the blade, her forearm wet with blood.
But she hesitated, her mind catching up to her through the pain.
The machine let out another hiss, her eyes peering to the timer as it ticked past the minute-thirty mark.
"No… no, wait, plea—"
The machine reared to life; her fist clenching down on the hilt of the knife as the coil dug in deeper, the bladed bind twisting and turning as it crushed her body like a soda can.
Whatever energy she would've had left to scream was whisked away, a soft, pained whimper escaping the depths of her gullet in its place as her body tried its hardest to prolong her suffering. Tears swelled in her eyes, blurring what little vision she had left as her head drifted lifelessly forward, a few drops of blood dripping down her maw and disappearing into the darkness beneath her tail.
The world around her faded as the gashes littering her body ran cold, her eyelids falling heavy as a conversation she couldn't quite place lulled away at the back of her head. And when she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else; the insistent drivel of the hostage she held in an armlock boring away at her tired mind.
Two hours of sleep definitely didn't help the flaring hangover that swelled in the back of her head; her bruised jaw still aching from that botched sparring match with that Sectoid last night. No amount of alcohol was going to numb the pain of a psionically enhanced right hook that good-for-nothing cheat brought down on her.
"…and look, I know from the materials I've seen you bringing in and out that you're planning to do some damage, and you know what? I don't care, my mouth is sealed. I saw nothing as long as you just let me go, alright? Does that sound good?" the hostage piped up, his endless rambling seeing no end.
They came to a stop by the big metal double doors that lead to the warehouse garage; the Adder stumbling for the keycard clipped to her belt as the hostage's insistent rambling pounded at the back of her head.
"…But I know what you're thinking, right? Why would I ever keep my mouth shut about something as big as this? And, and, and… look, I am a man of my word, and heyheyheyhey, that hurts—that hurts!"
"Will you please just shut the fuck up?" she hissed, resisting every urge to dig her claws deep enough to draw blood as her grip on his arms tightened.
"Okay, okay, I'll shut up! I'll shut up!"
She let out a hiss as she shoved him up against the doors with a thud that echoed out through the empty hallway, twisting his arm behind his back and baring her fangs mere inches from his neck. "When I say shut up, I expect you to shut—"
"Ada!" Yarvo's gruff voice boomed from the hallway behind her.
Her grip dropped almost instantly, shoving the man aside before throwing her hands up in surrender at the armoured Muton storming towards her. "Come on, I barely touched him, sir!"
Yarvo's footsteps echoed through the narrow hall as he stomped towards her, his weapon strung around his shoulder and a datapad intended for much smaller hands clutched tight by his side. "This is the fourth time this month I've had to warn you about being so rough with the hostages. Joshua here's done as we asked, it's only fair that you show him the same respect he's shown us."
Her talons scrunched into the palms of her hands, a soft hiss escaping from between her fangs. "Sir, I know, but he just—"
"No justs, no buts, no more damned excuses, Ada," the Muton huffed from behind his helmet as he came to a stop in front of the two of them. "We'd be no better than the XCOM scum that have taken us prisoner on this planet for the past twenty years!"
Like she needed to hear this again.
Grey Phoenix was meant to be her place to get away from City 31's iron grasp, to slip back into that ADVENT routine she had grown so fond of over the past twenty years, yet here she was, getting grilled by a Muton that could probably pass as her XCOM Parole Officer if she were to squint her eyes hard enough.
She definitely had a lot on her tongue, and as much as she'd enjoy ripping into the hulking brute with every word weighing heavy on her mind, she instead gritted her fangs, letting out a drawn-out hiss before telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir."
The Muton's attention fell back to the datapad, his pudgy fingers tapping away at the touchscreen. "You've told me sorry one too many times, Ada. I'll be speaking to Custodian Xel. And once you're done getting that hostage out of here, I'll probably have her reconsider your role in our cause."
Her stomach dropped, the snark slapped from her face in an instant. "No, wait, sir, t-that won't be—"
The Muton hushed her with his free hand as he passed, his attention unwavering from the datapad as he retook his pace down the thin hallway. "You're lucky I have other things to attend to. Set him free, and when you're done, come meet me in the command centre. Don't be late."
She stood for a few moments, watching the Muton march down the hall before tugging the keycard from her belt with a scoff.
"Should I…"
"What did I just tell you?" she hissed, turning back around to face the hostage as the door popped ever slightly ajar with a confirmative beep.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm—"
She grabbed him by the arm, ushering him ahead into the underground parking garage. "Shut. Up."
The metal doors slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing out through the concrete parking garage that seemed to stretch on forever. The old ADVENT transport truck she was after sat in a parking spot by the tail's end of the bleak lot, a few rows of abandoned cars littered with bullet holes dotted about the remaining spaces between them—once the property of whoever resided her before them, now the unfortunate targets of their drunken, late night target practice.
"What'd that Muton say? You're letting me go? Cause honest to God, I could not be more grateful. I promise I won't tell a soul what I saw here, alright? My lips are sealed. I'm not speaking to any 31PD whatsoever, you have my word."
Her tail muscles tensed as she slithered towards the truck, her claws digging into the palms of her free hand as she clenched her fist tight, trying her hardest to drown out the insistent ramblings of the hostage in tow beside her.
Acidic spit salivated in her maw, a drop of drool trailing her lips before she promptly wiped it away with her leather gloves. It'd be so easy—a spit this close could send him writhing on the ground in mere seconds. That'd sure shut him up.
"I mean, hell, I've seen some bad things in the few years I've been here in City 31. Done some bad things myself, you get me? I know that's probably strange to hear from someone as lowly as an engineer, but it's true! And did I go to 31PD? Of course not. I kept to myself."
She flexed her claws in the air above the mag pistol holstered on her belt, her mind humouring her with the mere thought.
What if I just pulled it out and aimed it at him here and now? What is he going to do?
He has nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
Could I make him beg?
I bet I could make him beg.
What felt like a short eternity passed before the two came to a stop by the back of the truck, the Adder wasting no time before pulling the back doors open and taking a quick peek inside. But for a moment she found herself wallowing in the past—the long-faded ADVENT symbol adorning the back doors, the sleek black interior that laid beyond, the metal benches once filled with prisoners of all shapes and sizes lining the walls of the truck.
She could see herself back there in her ADVENT-issued armour, her old plasma rifle in her hands as she kept a watchful eye on the resistance soldiers captured in another of their midnight raids.
No one gave her slack if she pushed them around a bit too hard. No one batted an eye should someone take a buttstock to the face for overstepping their boundaries.
By the Elders', how I miss—
"Uhm… Ada, right? Excuse me?"
She snapped her head back around with a hiss, sending the man stumbling back with a brief look of fear strewn across his face as she flashed her claws.
"Heyheyhey, you can't hurt me, remember? You'll get in trouble with your… eh, boss."
And there it was. The rising confidence in the face of his captors, the lack of repercussions to fear should he step out of line. What was she going to do? She couldn't even so much as shove the bastard, let alone hurt him in any way, shape or form.
It'd be so easy to just slash him down where he stands, to teach him a much-needed lesson before she sent him away. No cameras. No other Grey Phoenix members around to scold her for putting a human in his place.
The hostage stood tall in her face, oblivious to the death stare that bored right through him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she moved before he could get another word in; a blur of yellow striking faster than she had intended, her talons instinctively stretching out as her hand met its mark.
A simple slap to put him in his place. To remind him who was in control here.
He hit the floor hard, a drop of blood running down her talons—but her momentum didn't slow, and with the first strike came another and another; her claws slashing down on the man hunched over on the floor with an unsated rage that came bursting out from deep down inside.
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."
Her voice echoed out over the parking lot as she towered over him, her left hand pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and her right dealing slash after slash, each attack coming down with more force than the last.
Adrenaline shook her body, her claws dripping with blood as she wrapped her hands around his neck, ready to end it once and for all.
There was no way she was coming back from this blatant assault. May as well make it worthwhile.
Blood dripped down the man's neck and soaked into his shirt, a look of pure fear behind his eyes that struck a chord with the long-seated memories of her past under the Elders' rule.
That fear. That pure, primal fear.
It's been so, so long.
Her grip loosened, his bloodied shirt falling from her grasp as the hostage scurried backwards, kicking and screaming as he struggled against the cuffs still keeping his hands bound tight behind his back. He rolled himself over onto his stomach, then to his knees. And with one last push, the man had made it to his feet.
And Ada stood, her blood drenched talons still clenched against her side as she watched the bloodied hostage stumble away under the sway of a sudden adrenaline hit.
He was going to tell someone. She'll lose her position here. Her friends. Her home. Her purpose.
Her bloodied hands moved to the stun gun strapped to her leather chestplate, a moment of consideration weighing heavy on her mind before she lowered her dripping fingers to the mag pistol holstered on her belt.
But her hands instead fell back to her side, the Adder watching in silence as the hostage stumbled through the desolate car park—every footstep echoing aloud, every painful wince reverberating off the far walls.
A wry smile crept across her face as she slowly crept after him, her leather chestplate brushing up against the cold concrete below as she lowered herself to the ground.
The hostage wasn't a hostage anymore. He was a young resistance soldier in over his head, making a frantic dash into the woods after slipping away from her unit's firing squad. He's going to get sent back to the firing line when she catches him either way. What difference would it make if she were his executioner?
Debris collected on the underside of her tail as she slid beneath the burnt-out shell of an old van, watching the hostage from afar as he stumbled shoulder-first into the doors, the sound travelling out over the otherwise silent parking lot as his bound hands fumbled for the door handle.
His sight fell on the keycard reader sitting idly by, and for the first time he turned around to scan the parking lot behind him, his breathing growing quicker with every second he couldn't spot her. Frantic calls for help broke the silence as the Adder skulked ever closer, freezing in place only to keep herself concealed every time he turned to stare down every inch of the parking lot behind him.
She slipped through the open interior of a white sedan, then beneath the undercarriage of a beaten 4WD, her pace picking up as she eyed a clear angle of attack. At least the resistance members she once hunted showed some semblance of skill, making up for their lack of combat experience with one hell of an evasive sense.
She took up cover behind the front tyre of a rusted pickup, her body flat to the ground as she watched the hostage turn back to the parking lot behind him, blood still trailing his slashed up face.
"A-Ada, right?" His eyes snapped left and right, unsure where to direct his voice. "Please, y-you don't have to do this. Just let me go, you'll never hear from me again."
The truck above her head creaked as she ever so slowly pulled herself out by the step bar, her tail coiling up as she readied herself to strike him down once and for all. And when he didn't notice her preparing her attack, she hissed; savouring the few seconds of fear plastered across his face as she slithered into the light, breaking the distance between the two in a matter of seconds.
He threw himself back against the doors as she pounced, her hands grabbing him by his bloodied shirt as her tail wrapped around his chest twice over before they even had the chance to hit the ground.
Whatever scream he had ready caught at the back of his throat as she tightened her grip around his stomach, her two hands tugging his head back off the ground by the collar of his shirt. "I said. Stop. Fucking. Talking."
A pained wheeze replaced whatever reply he had, his body struggling against her tail's unyielding grip. As easy as it would be to end it here and now, she wasn't about to let him off that easily—he disrespected her authority, and for that, he had to be taught a lesson.
His gasps for air slowed, his head drifting back against her tail as he peered up at her from behind blood-stained strands of hair, his futile writhing bringing back memories of the life XCOM stole from her.
She opened her maw to speak, but a brief knock at the metal door froze them both in place, their heads turning in unison as two voices echoed in from the hallway outside.
"You have to use your keycard, dumbass."
"I am aware."
A feeling of dread swelled in the pits of her stomach as a soft beep echoed over the air. She wrapped her hands around the hostage's mouth, pulling him behind the cover of a nearby car as the big metal doors swung open, a Sectoid peeking his head in and taking a glance around the parking lot.
"Are you sure you heard something?" the distinctive voice of a Python chimed up from the hallway behind him.
The hostage bucked against her tail's tightening grip, blood soaking between the scales of her hand pressed to his mouth.
"Don't," Ada hissed, pressing her fangs against his neck. But his struggle didn't seem to slow, his fight for survival growing stronger by the second.
"I didn't just hear them, Chelsie. I sensed them," came the Sectoid's even-toned voice, eliciting a curt scoff from the Python behind him.
"Then what do you sense now, psychic man?"
A hushed hiss escaped her maw as the hostage knocked her grip from his mouth with a well-placed elbow to the side, the plea for help that was about to come cut short by a brief gasp as she dug her fangs down into his neck without so much as a second thought.
Her breaths shook against his neck, his fading pulse thumping against her maw. She loosened her coil as his struggles slowed, a few involuntary spasms bucking against her grip as enough venom to kill a hundred men seeped into his bloodstream.
"Nothing. I think they must have left."
"Well, I think you're still hungover. Can we get back to work now?"
"That is a possibility. Heavy alcohol use does tend to disrupt our normal psionic pathways. Perhaps I'm just hearing things."
"By the Matriarch, you're weird."
The door slammed shut with a bang that lingered on the air for a few moments, echoing out over the parking lot before dissolving away into an almost eerie silence. For a moment she laid unmoving, her eyes slowly drifting shut as his final pulse beat against the roof of her mouth.
Her grip slowly loosened, his motionless body slumping back into hers as she finally slid her fangs from his neck, a few spurts of blood spraying back over her leather armour before she clasped down on the two pocketknife-sized punctures with the palm of her hand.
Warm blood coated her gullet as her fangs resided back into the roof of her maw, that almost therapeutic thrill she missed so dearly shaking her body.
But the darkness didn't disappear once she opened her eyes, the soft glow of the overhead fluorescents replaced with the blinding stare of the floodlight propped up in front of her. The warm red blood trickling from her maw turned to a cool shade of yellow; the body in her hands fading from her grasp, the cold hunting knife still wet with blood in its place.
Every breath elicited a sharp wince as her chest pressed against the jagged metal tearing into her long since numb body. She lifted the blade with her bloodied hand; once a just task for someone that brandished a ten pound rifle all her life, now an almost impossible feat for her dull and beaten body.
She peered to the timer on the far wall from behind tear-soaked eyes, her body not even granting her the energy to beg as the timer silently ticked over the minute mark. She closed her eyes once more, her claws clutching down on the weapon's handle as the machine came to life with a hiss. But even her body—deprived of almost all sensation—didn't hold back from making the jagged metal peeling her body open known, a shrill hiss breaking the silence as another fresh coat of blood stained her torn clothes and dripped to the cold concrete below.
The machine settled with a faint whistle that faded away into the silence; the light staring her down fading away as she grew light-headed. Her body burnt from the inside out, every minor movement only working to amplify the pain.
Maybe she deserved this after all. Maybe this was the Matriarch's own fucked up way to make her atone for the two years she's thrown away chasing a life she would never get back.
That's why Eve left her to slowly rot away behind her cheap bottles of booze. She just couldn't let go.
She brought the knife to her mouth, her body still falling tense as the taste of metal mixed with the blood gaping from her half-hanging fang hit her once again.
Maybe Eve will finally come back.
She just has to atone for her horrible past.
And this is her atonement.
She brought the knife to her mouth with trembling hands, her warm breath heavy on the back of her bloodied claws as the knife brushed against her maw. Her free hand rose to her mouth, a sharp hiss escaping her as her talon felt against the fang still clutched tight to the roof of her mouth.
A deep breath in, a deep breath out.
Just don't think about it, Ada.
Just don't think about it.
She idled for a moment, her heart beating from her chest as her trembling hands readied the knife her way. And before her mind could protest any longer, she lunged the blade back down into the less than clean gash carved into the roof of her mouth, her fang twisting and turning at unnatural angles as she sliced and pulled at the roots still holding firm, a multitude of pain begging for her to stop.
But she didn't slow until the blood coating her arm found its way between her palm and the hilt of the knife, her grip slipping with one last desperate stab and sending the knife tumbling into the pitch black below.
She instinctively lunged forward in a desperate grab before a sharp pain in her stomach brought her back with a hiss, a few centimetres of jagged metal sliding from her stomach as her body slumped back into her original resting position, the knife tumbling to the concrete below with a metallic clank that echoed away into the silence.
She scanned the void below, the throbbing pain throughout her body almost entirely offset by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her bloodied hands briefly fell to her side, her attention wavering as her claws wrapped around another metal tool sitting next to the spot she first found the hunting knife.
She brought it into the light, her mind taking a few seconds to process the rusted pliers sitting in her hands, the rubber yellow handle almost entirely worn through.
The timer kept to its rhythmic tick, her blood running cold as it trickled ever closer to the thirty-second mark. Without so much as a choice, she pressed the pliers shut against her fang with a pained hiss, undecided on whether it would be better to twist or to pull. But with the timer ticking ever closer, she simply did both, a sickly crack churning her stomach as she twisted the fang left and right before tugging with all her might.
But her efforts came too late, the machine hissing to life as the timer ticked over into the final thirty seconds. The jagged metal and bloodied blades digging into her body twisted once more before her breathy whimpers were cut short with a sickly crack that echoed through the darkness, her next painful wheeze for air hacking up a mouthful of blood that sprayed down over the machine clutching her tight.
Her head swayed, her vision slowly fleeting as every hoarse breath amplified the sharp pain echoing throughout her body. She brought the pliers back to her mouth, her mind too numb to protest as she clutched the tool down in her bloodied mouth, uprooting the fang with a final bout of energy that faded away with a snap as it fell from her mouth and into her bloodied hand.
Another painful wheeze tried to fill the lungs clasped beneath her cracked ribs, the cold, stale air hitting the open wound caked with blood and acidic saliva on the roof of her maw. She prodded the metal surface next to her, her talons brushing against a small slot just slightly too small for her claw.
She pressed the fang in with trembling hands; the slot snapping shut with an abrupt clunk that tensed her body.
Her head slumped back as her fingers brushed against her bloodied mouth, another sharp wheeze hacking up a mouthful of blood that spurted out over her talons and down her forearm.
She actually did it.
By the Matriarch, she actually did it.
But her fingers drifted to the other side of her maw, her talons brushing up against her right fang still standing strong. Her mouth quivered, her fingers wrapped tight around the handle of the pliers as she peered to the timer on the wall, silently ticking ever closer to the single digits.
She squeezed the pliers down with every ounce of strength left in her, her eyes unmoving from the numbers ahead as she twisted and tugged in every which way she could. But the fang refused to budge, her twists and turns only amplifying the pain as the timer ticked down into the final stretch. Her breath grew faster, a final bout of adrenaline guiding her actions as she dropped the pliers aside, pounding at the empty slot fixated beside her before making a futile tug at her body pinned to the machine below.
But it was no use. Not now.
The final tick echoed out into the unknown, a deathly silence overcoming the darkness as the timer in the distance flashed its end.
"No, wait, please—"
The machine hissed to life, indifferent to her struggles as the bladed coil made its last turn with a sickly crunch, the final twist crushing her body and hurling up a mush of gore and blood from the depths of her gullet as her hands slumped unmoving to the side.
Yet the pain was short-lived, slowly fading away into a numbing chill as the floodlight staring her down blurred and dimmed, the surrounding darkness finally taking hold.
But beyond the light came a shadow, her heavy eyelids struggling to hold on as a stranger emerged from the growing darkness. Her eyes widened as the figure moved into the light, sliding the black hood from their head as they stared her down with disappointed eyes.
She tried to find the strength to speak, but the crushing hold on her chest didn't even allow so much as a breath, the world around her fading away before she even closed her eyes. Her head slumped forward, a trail of blood dripping from her mouth and into the void below, and with one last frail breath and the face of the last person she expected burnt into her mind, she slowly slipped away into the sweet embrace of a long-awaited rest.