One month later.

Throwing her head back, she tore the air with a malevolent war scream. War zone, what she was born and bred for, the battle field. Eyes of silvery-green, she knew no fear. Blue tinted black hair cut close to her scalp gave her the soldier's edge. Dressed in standard Krimzon Guard armor of red and silver, she was amazingly light on her feet. Helmet less and fearless, she fought with her bare hands, breaking the necks of attacking Metal Heads.

"COME ON!" she snarled to the onslaught. The rest of her platoon had fallen back long ago, but she, the youngest had fought on. Her ears, docked close to her head, allowed her to turn faster than her long eared comrades. Some said she was insane, that one day alone in the barracks she had cut her ears herself. Others said that she was captured by the Metal Heads and tortured, but most believe she loved pain. Grabbing an enemy by its forehead and drawing it back to face the sky, she tore its throat out with her teeth. Blood and gore streamed into her eyes leaving her blinded. Staggering, she tore at her eyes, the dark eco burning her face.

"COME ON YOU FUCKERS! YOU WON'T LIVE FOREVER!" she laughed. Swarming onto her like hornets, the Metal Heads wrapped her in a living prison. Blood burst from the lowest attackers, pulling free, she cut them down one by one with her twin blades. Carved from the bone of her first Metal Head kill, they were sharper than any metal. Their hilts, carved into snarling Metal Head faces, her prized works of art which she gleefully used in any campaign. Three small scorpion Metal Heads struck her with their stingers.

"Is that all you got?" she chuckled grabbing the nearest ripping its tail off. Throwing the two sections to the ground, she smiled watching them writhe. The tattoos on her face, which looked like flames emanating from her eyes, were another of her works of art which she bore with pride. "Your mine!" Leaping onto a stealth Metal Head to her right, she wrenched its head this way and that until it lay limp down its back.

Standing smiling among the dead, she laughed, a sound that disturbed the other Guards.

"Well done Meya. You'll make a fine sergeant." Turning, she saw the one who spoke, Erol. The other Guards warily followed their leader to Meya, who stood glaring at them for their 'cowardice' as she called it.

"Like I needed help." she growled below her breath. Striding over to one of the dying, she crushed its skull beneath her boot. Placing her blades in her hip holsters, which would have been used for small guns, she stared at Erol. "Permission to lead the next attack, sir."

"Denied." Erol spoke relishing the look of distaste on her face. "I need you refreshed for our next campaign. Return to the barracks and rest." The other Guards groaned wishing they could take leave. They were also jealous of this fifteen year old girl.

Letting the water run over her burned face, Meya enjoyed the feeling of it running over her tattooed body. Leaving the showers completely nude, she paid no attention to the few other men and women there who glared at "earless" as they called her.

"Yo, Earless! Nice work on those Metal Heads." a man scoffed at her. Whirling around, she planted a bullet in the shower wall above his head.

"Thank you." she smiled at his confusion. Dropping the firearm back into the locker where she pulled it from, she gathered her tattered black underclothes from her armor.

"Need these tailored." she mused poking her fingers through the three holes on the right ankle of the black fabric. Shrugging, she pulled on her bra, wiggled back into her undies and pulled on the heavy black fabric. Hoisting the red metal armor, she pulled on her boots and stalked off to the barracks.