Impossible

They say it's impossible to feel more than one intense pain at the same time, that your brain just can't cope with it. They say that if, for example, you've got two deep wounds, one in your shoulder and one in your chest, each equally excruciating should they be felt on their own, your brain simply picks out the most painful, the worst injury, and allows you to feel that.

Blade thought that for this rule, Old Kingdom artefacts didn't apply. The collar burned through her mind, her neck, her stomach, her chest, setting her senses on fire and reducing her to a crumbled ball of pain on the floor.

"Stay still."

"Like hell."

Pain boiled inside of her. It was also said that after a period of intense pain the mind blanks all real memory of it from your mind, so, afterwards, you can never really tell what it felt like. This one she knew was true. Every time the collar was activated it was a new, fresh torture, a green, inexperienced pain that she couldn't tell whether she would cope with, always thought it was the worst pain of her life, when, in reality, it probably wasn't. The worst was the time before. The second would be the next time.

"Shit, this girl's a fighter, aint she?" one managed, grabbing her arm and forcing it behind her back.

"She wouldn't have gotten through the Crucible if she wasn't."

"Hell, she got through the Crucible? Really?"

"No way! That's impossible! Have you seen that thing?"

"I'm telling ya, she has. That's what I heard."

"No shit..." the Officer adjusted his grip on her wrists, dragging her backwards away from the doorway, "Come on, sweetheart, no need for that, is there."

She fought ferociously at their holds, and was rewarded by another clench from the collar. All fighting stopped and she grabbed hold of her head, pain splitting through her.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

No. They were dragging her away but she wasn't stopping them, she couldn't stop them, all that mattered was the collar, her head, her throat, burned raw.

"Come on. Get her over here. Yeah, that's right, there we go."

They bundled her away from the wall, pushing her down onto a table, on her back, forcing out her hands to either side of her head.

"Her stupid collar, stuck on the table."

"Get her back then."

The guy behind her grabbed the collar, using it to yank her back, adjusting her on the table so the metal spikes didn't force her head up. She hoped it broke her neck. It didn't.

Officer 249 looked at her, smiling slightly, "Heya gorgeous. How you doing?"

She looked at him. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest. She shook her head, slowly, "Mornin' Bradshaw."

"Bradshaw?

She was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. She shook her head, "It's your name. Your name, Bradshaw. Before you came to this hellhole."

The collar was squeezing down, and they could see it. They all frowned, wondering what she had disobeyed this time. Bradshaw didn't have a clue.

There is nothing outside these walls! You know this!

She ignored it, easily. It was just a pulse. A mark-four pulse, as she liked to call them. A warning. Don't remind the guards of their former lives. Or there'll be trouble. Just a warning.

Mark-three pulses were used by raw recruits, hesitant recruits, who didn't want to disobey but took no pleasure in the act. Mark-two pulses were used by the Commandant, who, after years of trial-and-error, had realised that lesser pulses of the collar could be just as horrific, and lasted much longer.

Mark-one pulses were used by guys like this. Officers with no restraint and no logic. And tore through your skull like it was made of butter.

Bradshaw shook his head, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah. I know."

The officer raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head again, giving a small, amused smile. Then he turned slightly, mucking about with something on his belt. He turned back, and he had a blade in his hand.

Jaina's eyes locked onto it, immediately. But '249' was clever. He looked at her for a second with a small, lopsided smile, and then passed the knife to a rookie next to him, "Here ya go, 534. Knock yerself out."

The guy took the blade. He couldn't have been twenty years. But the Spire had cast its shadows in his eyes. His hand on a blade was as natural as hers. Well. Almost as natural.

As he moved it towards her neck she yanked herself out of the officers' grips, smashing her hand into his forearm. He reflexively dropped the knife onto her chest and she grabbed it, sitting herself quickly upright, slashing round, cutting a deep slice into the nearest outstretched hand, and then round again, carving into a shoulder. She caused quite a bit of damage before the collar got her.

You will obey!

The knife fell to the floor with a clatter and she pressed her hands to her forehead, wincing, breathing caught, eyes squeezed shut.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

The next thing she knew she was back on the table again. This time the grips on her arms were much rougher, tighter, so tight she could feel the blood stopping, unable to get through.

249 stood over her, smiling again, the blade back in his hand, held loosely by his side, "Good one. You're very good. A proper Crucible winner, yeah? You've got fight in your blood, darling. Y'know what? I think I'm gunna forbid you from picking up any weapon. Yeah. Sounds good. So... no guns, no blades, no knives. Deal?"

The collar released, and she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, scathingly, "That's going to be difficult at dinner."

He smiled back at her, "Ooh, very quick girl."

"You think I can't kill you without a weapon?"

"No, actually, I don't. But it'll put your chances down a bit, right?" he surveyed her, his eyes taking on an almost distasteful look, "Nasty little pit dog, aren't you?"

"Sure as hell am. So go on. Try me."

He raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head, smiling. He opened his mouth to form a reply but then stopped.

Another Officer had moved in front of him, taken the blade from his hand, silently. Blade frowned at him slightly. He still had his mask on. He didn't have any identification stripes, and he hadn't said a word, so she couldn't tell him apart. Who was he?

Another officer smiled, "Oh, looks like 720 wants his go."

720? She'd never heard of him. And... despite that officer's cocky smile... she could see something in his eyes... something almost like... fear.

She watched him move closer to her, put a hand on her stomach. They had ripped off her jacket a few minutes ago, so all he had to do was undo her shirt and pull it aside. She fought, ferociously, twisting her wrists to try and get the officers off of her but they had their grips firm this time. She could barely move. 720 climbed onto the table, his knees in between her legs, one hand bracing his weight on the table beside her shoulder, then shuffling upwards so he could reach her. He paused, and then raised a hand to his head and pulled off his mask.


It took everything Blade had not to flinch. The automatic reaction upon seeing a face like that was well ingrained in her now - something like blind terror. It took some time for her to realise the differences, force her heart to calm. This wasn't him. This wasn't the Commandant. This was... another Commandant.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

She sometimes believed very strongly that whatever Gods there were up there had a very sick sense of humour.

"Well." She said, finally, managing to keep her tone level, "Another of our Lord's failed experiments, I see." she said, looking him up and down somewhat warily. He was the splitting image of the Commandant, only with a darker shade of skin, almost black.

The thing didn't reply, just gave a small, twisted smile.

"Not failed." Bradshaw corrected, firmly, "Improved."

She nodded, slowly, ignoring the officer, looking at the experiment in front of her, this time her distaste evident, "Yes, because I can certainly see how you've been improved. Cut a kid open, stick in a few bits of Spire and then stitch 'em back up again? Yes, that seems very like Fairfax's view of 'perfection'..."

"His view is logical."

"Yes. Very logical. Nothing human in him anymore, is there."

"You are Recruit 273." The thing said, suddenly. Their voices were the same. Him and the Commandant. Deep, dark, and somehow with a tint of metal. Grating through her head.

She nodded, slowly, "Yes. Does my reputation precede me so much?"

He didn't reply, instead seeming content to just look her over, thoughtfully, frowning slightly.

Blade raised an eyebrow, and then turned to Bradshaw, "Not a talker, is he."

"All the new Spire beings were warned about you." He explained, shaking his head.

"Who by, our friend the Commandant?"

"All guards were told that Recruit 273 is a rogue element. And must be broken at all costs."

"Yeah, and there's a promotion for whoever manages to do it, I kind of realised. So, what, you're thinking of cashing in?" then she shook her head, correcting herself: "Sorry, I meant thinking of trying to cash in?"

He tilted his head slightly to one side, smiling slightly, "Well, why not?" He glanced back up at 720 again, and then shot her another smile, "I'm sure our officer here can convince you to our cause."

"Your cause?" she shook her head, giving a small, sharp laugh, "It was never 'your cause'. It was Lucien's." she glanced up at the Spire being, firmly, "And when he's through he'll throw you to the side, just like all the others."

"I am obedient."

She shook her head, disgustedly, "I bet you bloody are. But that's because you don't know how not to be. You don't know anything different. You don't know freedom. But I do. And I'm not going to let that go so easily."

"We will see." He pulled off his gloves, slowly, exposing flesh just as cracked and altered as on his face. He put a hand on her bare neck. A shiver of disgust moved through her, automatically, as she felt his splintered skin on hers, and she recoiled, trying to get away from him.

"Hey hey, methinks she likes it."

She ignored the rookies, keeping her eyes on the main man, his hand moving down her neck towards her stomach, "Don't touch me. Get your hands off me. Now!"

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

His hand stopped, and then moved back up again. He was frowning again, looking her over. He motioned to the officers holding her arms and he flipped them over, forcefully, his eyes moving over the other side.

She looked at him, warily, "What are you..."

He didn't reply, didn't even acknowledge her. He continued looking over her skin, until he came back to her chest again. He put his hand over her heart, freakishly gently, pushing the strap of her bra down so he could see properly.

"One scar." He murmured, quietly, his finger feeling out the small, circular scar just below her left collarbone. Her skin crawled. "Just one scar."

She looked down at the hand, the finger circling the mark, and a mix of fear and anger seized her heart, "Don't touch me." She said, quietly, her voice shaking very slightly.

He ignored her. Then he turned to the nearest guard and pulled the gun out of their holster. He paused, thoughtfully, and then held the barrel to the mark.

Jaina's breath stopped, caught solid in her chest. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her one scar. The only wound she hadn't been able to heal in time. Supposedly she had come off lucky. Supposedly.

This wasn't what I wanted. But nothing must stand in my way.

She winced, and pushed the memory away, quickly. She couldn't deal with this now.

"What's it from?" 534 asked, curiously, "Gunshot?"

"Aw, no way man, look where it is! That's straight to the heart! Woulda killed her straight."

But the hybrid continued moving the gun over the scar. He was convinced. She glanced back at him, and he looked up at her, frowning slightly.

She looked straight back. She was shaking slightly, uncontrollably.

M'lord? What's happened? What's that light?

Was he wondering how she survived, like the others? Was he wondering where it was from? How she'd manage to heal all other injuries before they could scar, but not this one?

What? No, wait! NO!

She closed her eyes again, shuddering. She couldn't let them see this weakness. But she couldn't stop herself.

The metal left her skin, and she looked up again. He'd given the pistol back to its owner. And turned back to the knife.

He took it, moving it up slightly so he was holding it by the blade, looking at her for a moment. He didn't speak. She looked from him to the blade and then to the scar on her shoulder, her bare skin. She shook her head, slowly, "No. Oh no, don't you dare."

He gave a small, Commandant-like smile. Then dug down with the blade.


He didn't go deep. Blade brought in a sharp hiss of breath, buckling, fighting with the grips on her arms, trying to get away from the knife. Blood spilled down her, trickling down her chest and neck, sliding down under the collar to her jaw.

She fought ferociously, wrestling with the officers' grips, stabs of pain running through her.

The hybrid frowned as something seemed to go wrong with his cuts. He shook his head and moved further up her, knees either side of her waist, just below her arms. He leant down so he could keep his 'canvas' in the right position.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

"Keep her still." He said, softly, and the men instantly doubled their grips, forcing her down into the table.

Blade watched his hand, her breathing rough in her chest, biting down hard on her lower lip, bracing herself for the next cut. It came and her head smashed back, "Fuck!"

"Whoa, she's got a nasty mouth for such a sweet little girl, aint she?"

Another shook his head, "I dunno. I kinda like her mouth." He leant down, securing a rough grip on her chin, forcing her thrashing head to him.

She fought with him, letting out a low snarl and pain and anger, "Officer, let me be straight with you, you put your tongue in my mouth and I'll bite it straight off! Let go of me! 720, get off of me, get the fuck away from me!"

720 dug in another cut and she flinched, letting out a low snarl of pain, struggling again, "720... get off me. Now."

He shook his head, and continued carving her shoulder. Pain spread like fire across her skin and she looked up, looked at what he was doing. He was cutting circles into her shoulder, circles around the scar, where the bullet had gone in. He caught her looking and gave her a small smile, putting a finger on the mark, "Bull's eye." He said, still smiling.

Anger burned through her, and she fought with him, pushing out, trying to get him off.

Her head was yanked back round again, and, before she had time to react, the officer pushed his mouth onto her, forcefully, swallowing her next gasp of pain. At the same time 720 moved the blade, cutting down again in a new spot. She swore, violently, her voice muffled slightly, fighting with grips of steel, still not making any headway. The guy kept his grip firm, his mouth clamped on hers, so tight she couldn't breathe, and with the 720's show going on on top of her she was needing more breath than ever. He moved back slightly and she pulled away, dragging in gasp after gasp of breath, filling her lungs with oxygen.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

He smiled, "Oh, she's a sweet little bitch."

"How old d'you think she is, twenty-five? Thirty?"

"I dunno. How old are you?"

She shook her head, angrily, "I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"'Cause I don't know how long I've been here! I was twenty-three before I got to this shit hole, does that answer your goddamned question?"

"So she has to be at least thirty, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe older."

The guy who kissed her shook his head, smiling, "Still. Bet she's tight for her age."

She managed to yank her head back out of his grip, anger and disgust clear on her face, and he smirked, "Yeah, bet she is."

"You don't know, 340," Bradshaw said, smiling, "She might've had herself a little husband back home."

"Husband? I doubt it. She don't seem like the type to put all her eggs in one basket."

340 raised an eyebrow, curiously, glancing at the other officer, "You think she was a bit of a free-for-all?"

"Well, why not? She was a Crucible champion! Spent most of her time in Westcliff, as I heard it. We all know what it's like up there. She wouldn't have lasted long."

Bradshaw shook his head, "Y'know, I think I prefer the image of her stickin' it out with a husband. Thick and thin, y'know? Him waitin' for her to come home after the Crucible, worried sick about her with all those filthy Westcliff dogs."

"You think maybe she went off with all those filthy Westcliff dogs?"

"Nah, she's a good little girl! She wouldn't cheat on the love of her life! Bet she didn't even fuck him 'til they were married."

340 smiled, "Maybe." He turned back to her, smiling again, "What d'you think, sweetheart. How close to the quick are we getting? D'you have a man back home?"

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

She answered his question with a low growl, and moved her attention back to the hybrid, "720, GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

"Ooh, hit a raw nerve, I see? Well. It just so happens we've got ourselves a little way of making you talk. Haven't we."

Impossible to feel more than one pain at the same time? Bullshit. The collar sliced through her head as the hybrid dug in a little deeper with the knife. Pain came from both sides, and the metal compressed her throat, making her gasp for breath. And these officers didn't know the meaning of restraint. The pain in her head was excruciating. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her chest was on fire, every move she made spreading white-hot streams of pain through her body.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

The collar released, "Well?"

She shook her head, immediately, "I don't know. I don't remember."

534 laughed, shaking his head, "She's lying! She does have a guy back home!"

She gritted her teeth, "I don't know!"

"Aw, you're such a little liar, sweetheart! Go on, then, what's his name?"

"I don't know."

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

The collar pulsed. Pain split through her again. She couldn't cope with this for much longer. Her eyes were darkening.

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

"What's his name."

"I don't know."

Michael Rose Marie Mattie Michael Rose Marie Mattie

"Yes you do, come on, tell us."

Michael Rose Marie Mattie Michael Rose Marie Mattie

"I can't remember!"

"What's his name."

Michael. Michael. Michael.

"Michael!"

"You remember."


Blade looked up, slowly. Her heart had stopped in her chest.

The hybrid was staring at her, suddenly seeming much more alert, his antics with the knife completely forgotten. "You remember." He repeated, slowly, looking at her.

She shook her head again, almost desperately, "I don't. I don't remember, I don't!"

"You remember you're married."

"No."

"You remember his name."

"No."

"Holy shit, she has!" 340 said, giving a small, astounded laugh, "Shit. She's got herself a man."

"That's how she's holding on." She jerked her head round. Bradshaw was watching her now, an almost amazed expression on his face, "That's how she's stopped herself from breaking."

"She's got someone waiting for her." 534 said, slowly, his eyes too fixed on her.

No. No. Oh Avo, no. They'd worked it out. They'd figured it out. Now they could... now they could...

Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.

No! She couldn't let them go. She wouldn't!

But Bradshaw shook his head, slowly, and said the words she had known he was going to say: "We've gotta get her to the Commandant."