Hello again!

So, I fixed the dates. Which I fucked up. Sorry about that. I have a lot to keep up with while editing.

But to compensate, I also finished a chapter for you all!

So yah. Enjoy!

Also don't forget to leave reviews. Love Reviews. Seriously. Love them.

Cheers


Wednesday, August 14th, 2024

0700 Hours 00 Minutes 00 Seconds

I woke at exactly o' seven hundred, to an empty room, and the soft beeps of an EKG machine.

Well, I say that, but honestly woke may not be the right word to use here.

It implies that I was asleep in the first place. And asleep implies relatively inhibited sensory activity, and a decreased number of interactions with your surrounding environment. But I can't truthfully say that I had either of those things occur to me while I was "passed out."

Hypnagogic. That's the medical term for this phenomenon anyways.

The experience of the transitional state from wakefulness to sleep; the hypnagogic state of consciousness, during the onset of sleep.

Essentially, it's the feeling you get when you're not quite asleep, but you're not awake either. Only for me, it never ended. I never truly feel asleep and got trapped in this almost dream-like state, where hours can pass by in the blink of an eye, and you're seemingly aware of everything going on within you.

It's not common for this to happen, but it is a medically proven experience. One that I know of quite well due to my past experiences. Namely those from the training grounds main medial facilities.

The nurse who looked after me. Blonde woman who went by the name of Sharon. She told me all about it. On a Sunday? Yah.November eightieth, twenty-twenty-one. There was a funeral that day for four fallen commercials. Something about a training accident.

I shook my head a few times. Why couldn't I remember what had happened? A training accident is pretty big news. I would be surprised if I didn't hear about one occurring, even while stuck in the infirmary.

A memory, this one of a panic attack, flashed through my mind.

My brows narrowed further as I remembered having a number of major episodes while being held in the infirmary. The attacks were sometimes so bad they had to restrain me to my bed, in order to prevent any further injury.

Was that why I didn't remember the accident? Was I to unstable at the time?

Those episodes and the hypnagogic state did occur while I was under the influence of some very heavy pain medication to, so maybe the drugs had something to do with my lack or memory.

It would also make some sense that I would be experiencing the same thing now to. I mean, let's face it, who the fuck knows what they have been pumping into me, since they pulled me from the tank?

The tank.

I felt a sharp pain shoot into the back of my head as memories of the procedure flashed through my mind's eye. The feel of that disgusting material worming its way under my skin and burning me alive from the ins...

"No. Stop that." I whispered, taking several, deep, calming breath in an attempt to rid my mind of the thoughts. "It's done. It's over. You're not going back in."

I counted each breath. Ten seconds in, ten seconds out, ten seconds in, ten seconds out. Just like I was taught. Repeating the cycle over and over, until I finally felt my mind begin to ease itself back into more normal territory, and the EKG machine beep slowed to a tolerable level.

A tired sigh escaping me as I was finally able to relax a little. Though the feeling was almost instantly interrupted, as I felt the onset of a headache begin to emerge.

Seems whatever painkillers they had had me on before must have finally started to wear off.

"Great. Just fucking perfect," I muttered aimlessly to myself, as I tried to bring my arm up to massage my steadily throbbing temple. "Excellent timi..."

The words dying in my throat as realization swept through me.

My arm hadn't moved.

Frowning a little at the lack of any results, I scaled things back a bit, and tried to simply move my arm out from under the bed sheet that covered me.

Again, nothing. Not a single muscle movement to be seen or felt.

My frown slowly morphed into a look of both confusion and concern.

Why in the hell could I not move? Was I paralyzed? Did something get fucked up during the procedure?

The procedure...

A light shiver ran through my spine as memories of the hellish pain I had been subjected to flashed by once more. With my eyes closed, I could still practically feel the strange liquid tearing me apart piece by bloody piece. Liquidizing my eyes, and burning its way through my entire bod...

"No. Stop that private. Let it go." I growled, giving my head a quick shake in an attempt to quickly rid myself of those thoughts, and redirect my mind back to the current issue at hand.

Right. Deep breaths. Now. There had to be a logical, non-tank related reason for why I couldn't move right now.

Restraints didn't make any sense, as I couldn't feel anything other than the bed sheet on my limbs and chest. Nor was there any pressure on me to indicate any sort of invisible restraints. Nothing that felt like it would keep me pinned, anyways.

Paralysis did not make much sense either. I remembered being told at one point that paralysis victims felt nothing in the affected areas, and I could very much feel the bed sheet that covered my entire form.

"Ok. So what the fuck is going on then..." I muttered anxiously, as one by one, each of my limbs failed to respond to my mental commands.

Clearly, something was very much wrong with me, but what that was, I had no clue...

"Wait. Why the fuck do I still have my eyes closed?" I muttered absentmindedly to the empty room, before cracking my eyelids for what felt like the first time in year.

Piercing light stabbed straight into my pupils, effectively snapping them shut almost as fast as I had opened them.

Seemed my new eyes had not adjusted to literally any sort of light. Thus opening them in even basic room lighting right now, felt very similar to say staring directly into the sun.

"Great," I laughed nervously. "Bedridden, potentially paralyzed, and blind. Great decision on getting those Gene Mods, Private. Really smart."

Sigh

Eyes now permanently closed, I ran a quick internal check to make sure nothing else was wrong.

Taking a few deep breaths, I quickly tested my lungs first, and was pleased to find that I was still breathing relatively normally. Though the rhythm did seem lot slower than I was used to, but that could just be a side effect of any one of the drugs they had pumped me full of.

I could still feel all my limbs as well, so that was a good sign of possible recovery. My heart though felt a lot louder than norm...

Auxiliary and main heart-rate is currently synchronized at sixty-two beats per minute, lung expansion and contraction cycle operating at four-point-three seconds; circulation to limbs checked and intact; hearing, smell, tough, and taste all functioning. Eye sight unavailable; all limbs currently unresponsive. Reason currently unknown. Body functionality classified as limited.

My eyes snapped open in surprise, before closing almost instantly once more.

"Ok. What in the hell was that?" I muttered, grimacing slightly at the white spots that had appeared in front of me.

Creeeeeeak

Door opening. Left hand side of room, approximately seven feet away from current position. Currently not able to perform any combat maneuvers. Remain 'sleeping'' until threat level is determined.

Those thoughts rang through my head before I could even process the events. My mind, seeming to operate on its own accord, forcefully slowed my breathing and heart rate down to what I could only assume was normal for a sleep patient, with almost zero hesitation.

Beep... Beep... Beep...Beep... Beep...

The EKG slowing down right alongside my own heart rate, showing me very clearly that this was not some figment of my imagination. This was all very much real.

What. The. Fuck?

Two personnel entering. Due to current body functionality, threat level is currently classified as high. Heavy steps intermixed with delicate. Likely one male and one female personnel. Fabric rustling follows both personnel. High probability of trench coats or lab jackets. Possible medical personnel, or unknown threat.

Where the fuck were these thoughts coming from? They were not my own, and yet, judging by the lack of response they received from the rooms new occupants, it was clear that no one else had heard them.

Was I going crazy? Had the modding scrambled my brain up somehow? No wait, maybe I was just experiencing some sort of hallucination from the medication I was no doub...

Swish

I felt my mind go blank as the sounds around me, finally registered within my panic ridden brain.

The almost silent swish of fabric against fabric. A sound that, while not uncommon, was next to impossible for a normal person to hear from over seven feet away.

An icy ball of anxiety suddenly formed in my chest.

Just what the hell had they done to me?

Clunk

Polymer striking against wood. Possible clip board or tablet being placed on a table. New smell added to the environment. Sanitation solution. Standard procedure before physician medical checks. High probability of medical personnel. Threat level reduced to minimal.

I nearly started to choke as my chest loosened almost instantly, and sweet sweet oxygen began to flood my system once again.

Almost immediately I felt a petite hand shake my shoulder lightly, and a calm yet measured voice speak.

"Hey! Hey. Whoa there, private. Calm down. Deep breaths now. There we go."

It took me exactly thirty-three seconds to regain control of my breathing again. A fact that at the time should have interested me, but was lost amongst the sea of confusion that was my own mind.

"My name is Camilla Ester. I'm going to be your physical recovery therapist," the woman explained slowly, resting her hand lightly on my shoulder so I knew where she was. No doubt waiting patiently for me to calm down, and for my breathing to steady itself out again.

"Physical recovery therapist." I muttered absentmindedly as my breathing finally began to even out. "So I'm not paralyzed then."

"Nope. Never were," she laughed, removing her hand from me. "Now before we get started, I'm going to have to do a couple quick checks, just to make sure your airways are clear, ok?"

I nodded quickly, before almost yelping with surprise as a small metal circle was gently placed on my chest.

"Alright. Now just breathe normally please. In, and out. Just like that."

Subtle Spanish accent and common Spanish name. Pronunciation indicates most of her education was done in America. Likely born in Spain, immigrated at young age. Hands are smooth. Shoe sound indicates wedge type. Personnel designated as non-military. XCOM medical scientist. Age estimation based on vocals is between twenty six and thirty. Weight and height estimation based on hand size. Height, between five foot seven and five foot nine. Weight between one hundred and forty and one hundred and fifty pounds.

"Private? Hello?"

"Sor... Sorry Ma'am." I rasped, only now realizing just how dry my mouth and throat were.

"I said my partner here is going to help you sit up now. Is that ok?" She repeated slowly, removing her stethoscope from my chest.

Turning my head to where I heard her voice come from, I gave a few nods in response, before feeling a pair of much large hands hook themselves under my shoulders, and slide me up into a sitting position against the back of the bed.

"There you go," a deeper male voice echoed through the room, as I tried and failed to shift my unresponsive body into a more comfortable position.

Male, no accent. American born and raised. Use of term ''partner'' indicates prior knowledge of personnel. Likely worked together before XCOM. Professional relationship only. Hands are rougher, shoe type dedicated as boots. Possible military medic. Age estimation based on vocals is between twenty eight and thirty two. Height and weight estimation based on hand size. Height, between six feet and six foot two. Weight between one hundred and seventy and one hundred and eighty pounds.

"Do you want some water?" Camellia's soft voice snapping me again out of whatever thought process had taken over my mind, for the fifth time since I had woke up.

"Please" I quickly rasped out, nodding eagerly in her direction.

A small plastic cup was almost instantly placed in front of my mouth and slowly tilted back.

Water. Sweet, delicious water. To this day, I swear that those first few sips were the best tasting drink I have ever consumed.

Cold, and refreshing, I nearly shivered in pure pleasure as I felt the cool liquid begin to be dispersed to the rest of my body.

Of course I couldn't actually shiver, as I currently had the motor functions of a potato, but still. It felt nice, and after the last few days, that was enough for me.

"Camilla?" I asked tentatively in between sips, hearing her lab jacket rustles as she no doubt turned to speak with me.

"Yes private?" She replied calmly.

"This may be weird question ask but, are you by chance born in Spain, but schooled in America?"

One could practically feel her eyes narrow at me as I spoke.

"That is correct. Harvard to be exact," she tentatively replied. "How did you know that?"

"Call it a lucky guess," I sent a weak smile in her direction. "Also, since you're my physical recovery therapist, would you happen to know why can't I move any of my limbs?"

Silence, broken only by a series of slow beep of the EKG.

The distinct clips of shoes echoing abruptly through the room as Camilla carefully walked over to my bed side.

"I do know. However, you should already know the answer to that question as well." She paused. "Tell me, Private. What did they tell you about this procedure?"

I attempted to shrug in response first, but quickly remembered that my shoulders were currently unresponsive as well.

"Honestly?" I bit my lip, a bit of anger suddenly seeping into my voice. "Not a whole lot. They told me that it would involve a substance called MELD. And that by using that substance they could graft different genes to my own DNA and alter my physical form to use those genes. Or something almost those lines. And my Commanding Officer, she told me about ho..."

My voice teetering off as memories of Lock, no Abby, flashed by.

She had known about this. She had to have. But like all the other things related to the modding procedure, she had hidden this from me as well.

God's she was going to pay for her...

"You ok, Private?" Camilla's concerned tones bringing me back down from my own thoughts once again.

"Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head to get my thoughts back on track. "Lock. My training partner. She told me that after the procedure, that I would have an adjustment period. That it would take some time for my body to get use to the mods. But that was about it honestly."

"Well. That's all very true, but probably less than half of what actually happens," she explained, a tinge of anger entering her voice, as I heard her take a deep shaky breath. "The liquid you were submerged and injected with was the substance you know as MELD. And it is, as you probably have guessed, an alien substance. One that we have been recovering and capturing from various raids and crash sites over the past years."

"However," she continued. "It's not really a liquid. It's actually made up of billions of cybernetic machines. Nanites, if you will. Each one being made of organic and mechanical components alike, and designed to combine different organic materials together."

Anger and annoyance seem genuine. Unable to guarantee due to lack of facial profiling. Breathing and heart rate both normal. Likelihood of dishonesty rated as minimal.

"The part you're missing however, is not so much the what, but the how. How we program this substance to do what we want it to."

My ears perked up, listening intently as she stood and began to slowly pace back and forth in front of my bed.

"The truth of the matter, is that MELD is in essence, one big machine. So it needs a template to work with, or else it will just replaced everything. As an example, if we tell it to modify a leg with spider genetics, it ends up replacing the entire leg. Which trust me, is not a good thing to happen."

I nodded in understanding, while simultaneously attempting to ignore the voice, as it explained to me that the story was a bit too detailed, and had probably occurred in real life.

"So instead, we went a different route. We asked it to fix and combine genetic material only in damaged or scarred tissue and muscles. And that seemingly simple change resulted in the MELD being forced to keep the original shape and structure of the body part we were working on, while still upgrading it with the parts we wanted."

I nodded again, my head almost feeling like it was going to explode form the amount of information that was being shared and examined.

"There are still however, some side-effects," she began hesitantly. "Such as what you're experiencing right now. We call it neural overload. Basically the amount of physical changes that has occurred is too much for the brain to handle. So much like a sensory overload, the brain is 'shutting down' those areas while it tries to handle/sort through everything."

"Well that explains a lot." I muttered loudly to no one in particular. "Anything else I should know about?"

"Nothing you probably don't already know. All of the big ones would have been explained in your contract." She stated hesitantly. "You did, of course, sign a contract for this procedure right?"

"That I did." I growled out. A single piece of paper with my signature flashing in my mind as I spoke. "But humour me. What else can I expect?"

"Well, other than the neural overload?" She paused. "Um, there can sometimes be hormonal imbalances, as well as emotional overloads due to said imbalances. Potential mental overloads as well, due to increased sensory input. Oh, and of course you're now sterile due to the slight radioactivity of the MELD."

I felt my expression darken as her words washed over me.

She must have caught the change as well.

"They did tell you about that, right?" She asked, slight concern evident now in her voice.

"I think," I began slowly, gritting my teeth in anger. "That you might want to tell the Commander I wish to have a word with him. Alone."


Creeeeeeak

I listened carefully as the door opened for the third time today. Picking out the distinctive sound of freshly polished dress shoes gliding across the floor as he entered my room.

Door opening. Left hand side of room, approximately seven feet away from current position. Different personnel from previous. Subtle slid of shoes indicates dress shoes. Very little rustling of fabric. Either full BDU, or well tailored suit. Steps are slower and more pronounced. Physically larger personnel. Memory logs indicate similar features and dress for The Commander. High probability of being same person, due to previous inquiry to meet with individual.

Of course I didn't need my new senses to know who it was though. I could smell a sack of shit like him from a mile off.

"I understand you wish to talk with me privately." He stated emotionlessly, before closing the door behind him, and walking to within two feet from my bed.

"Yes. I have a few questions for you." I stated. Slightly irked that I was unable to meet is gaze as I normally would have.

"Very well," he remarked, pulling one of the doctor's chairs up to the side of my bed in preparation for what he assumed would be a long chat. "I am guessing this is about the procedure you just underwent?"

"You could say that," I agreed, turning my head to the direction his voice was coming from. "First question: What the fuck did you do to me?!"

If he was shocked or had any reaction to my outburst I didn't see or sense it, as I was still forced to keep my new eyes closed and protected from the harsh lights of the XCOM facility.

"What did I do to you?" He growled out. "I did exactly what I promised. I made you faster. Stronger. And most importantly, smarter than any other human on this planet. Just like I promised."

"Yah, you did! But at what cost though?!" I bellowed out, trying to instill as much fury as possible into my voice so he knew that no petty words would get him out of this hole he had dug himself.

"I don't seem to remember you caring about the costs when you signed up for this." His cold voice cutting right through my anger like a hot knife. "You were all about 'making a difference' I thought."

"You manipulative son of a bitch," I breathed more out of disbelief. "You offered me my fucking life back! The chance to make a difference in this god forsaken war! You may as well have offered water to a man dying of thirst! Of course I was going to sign up for it!"

"Yes, I did," he stated firmly, throwing my own mistakes back in my face with absolutely zero remorse. "And you signed up for it without asking about any side effects. So quit your accusations and get over it. By the time your physical therapy is done, I guarantee that you will not give a single shit about the fact that you couldn't move for a couple of week, or that we didn't tell you about how the procedure is a little bit painful."

"A little painful?!" I bellowed, glaring at him as best I could with my close eyes. "It was fucking Hell on Earth! I thought I was being dropped in fucking battery acid the entire fucking time!"

An audibly sigh in annoyance escaped him. "Again with this? My scientists assured me, several times, that it is not that painful," he huffed. "You're being over dramatic and letting your emotions get the better of you. It's a side effect we observed in Lockdown as well."

I felt his cold glare rest firmly on me. "And I do not appreciate being lied to, Private."

"I am not fucking lying!" I growled back. "You just do not get it! I know pain. I did the fucking cryo training for Christ sake! So believe me when I say this this shit, was at minimum ten times worse!"

For once, The Commander had the decency to at least not refute what I said immediately.

So I continued my rant full force.

"And what about the whole 'sterile' bit, huh?! Or the fact I can barely remember anything prior to my military career!? Or the fact that I now have voices in my head?! Are those all me being 'dramatic' as well?!"

Silence.

I heard the chair suddenly groan, as apparently having heard enough, The Commander got up and begin to walk away. The door opened and closing loudly behind him as he went.

Just as quickly as he entered, he left. Leaving behind nothing but more confusion and a hell of a lot of annoyance.

"Good riddance." I muttered tiredly, laying my head back once more to rest.

I felt like crying, but couldn't due to a lack of tear ducks.

I wanted to yell and scream until I lost my voice, but my throat was already horse from my blow up at the Commander.

I wanted to punch and kick things, until I couldn't stand properly. But of course I couldn't even fucking move anymore, so sitting in bed seemed to be my only current option.

My life had been flipped upside down and everything scrambled.

Everything was so fucked up, I couldn't even begin to guess as to what was going to happen next. What new and horrifying revelations tomorrow might bring.

Hell, I didn't even know who I was anymore...