I wanted it off.
Over the next few hours I contemplated methods of executing the gruesome feat, but at some point I was able to calm down and ease such violent solutions from my mind.
This was my fault.
I wanted my body back by any means necessary. I was the one that wanted to lift myself up from this hospital bed and reclaim the shattered fragments of my life. I was the one who signed the release waiver and allowed this to happen.
Removal of one outstanding piece wasn't going to help me - in fact, it'd only complicate my condition further. It'd give the State a reason to declare me mentally unfit, perhaps storing me away in a cellar somewhere in the hospital to rot with whatever hidden corpses they kept there.
I sighed, taking in a deep, considerate breath.
I'd just have to try to ignore it for now.
It wasn't going anywhere, but I couldn't let it dominate my thoughts.
I had so many other things to consider in the near future, the first of which was eliminating the soreness that seemed to emanate from my lower body every few moments.
The worst was my waist, which throbbed and coursed with a stinging sensation, as if someone had poured alcohol on it and allowed it to soak in for an extended period of time. I felt as if I could literally come apart at the seams at any moment, and it quickly pushed the thoughts of that other thing to the side.
It'd been a few hours since Ester had been in here, and I decided that it was time to get started on rehabilitation. As the pain subsided mildly, I reached up to the left side of the hospital bed and pressed the small red button, indicating that I needed assistance.
It was late at night at this point, and though the buzzing sound of the alert echoed through the room, the other patients in the room lay silent.
Soon I could hear the clicking of her high heels down the corridor, and the rusty door swinging open. It wasn't long before her delicate fingers pressed against the curtain and tossed it to the side, revealing her lush silhouette.
In the darkness of the room, however, her glare was truly haunting.
Her serpentine eye met my uncertain glance, tracing me up and down with a smile.
"You rang?"
I was filled with the same mixture of emotions that I was confronted with each and every time that I saw the Serpent.
Was this going to be something I enjoyed, or regretted?
"Captain Juventus!"
I found myself staring at the detailed wood paneling of the military tribunal, my mind replaying the violent explosion of mortar attacks that I had seen throughout my tour of duty.
"CAPTAIN….JUVENTUS!"
A slam on the council table shook me out of my horrifying thoughts, focusing my glance on the wrinkled and stern face of the male colonel who was in charge of this proceeding.
"Y-Yes Sir!"
I emerged from my daymare with what have must been a startled look, similar to a deer first sighting a speeding vehicle. Like I was staring the fate of thousands of my kind right in its eyes.
"You said you transferred Corporal Ires to the 33rd Infantry for what reason?"
I sighed, looking away from him for a moment, before sitting up in the chair. The tribunal desk was a massive half circle, seated with each of the eight members, the highest ranking judicial officials in their divisions. They sat elevated on a perch, while the person giving the statement was in a lower, smaller area, seated in a small block near the entrance.
The room was tight and stuffy, no doubt a psychological tactic by the Service to force out the answer that they desired from whomever was seated within. They called these depositions, but they held that name in title only. These were interrogations.
They were piercing inquiries into the reasoning by critical military events.
The tribunal gathered and ascertained information, using it to cover up, reveal, or manipulate current events for the favor of the government. If they took my statements seriously, it could pose a risk to security, or worse.
Honesty was frowned upon, but I nearly always gave my accurate statement of events. Previously, this hadn't had an effect on my promotions or my stature. In those instances though, they were statements against the enemy - my statement this time was more against our own negligence.
"I transferred her, sir, because she no longer had a role in the 14th."
"Is that so?" cawed one of the other colonels, an elderly woman. She was diminutive in size, her head nearly the only thing visible from my position.
"Yes ma'am. She was a repair technician and was highly skilled with tech and equipment, I found her far more suitable in the 33rd. They were short on personnel."
Silence.
"You did, however, realize the nature of our operations there?"
"Yes Ma'am. At least, at the time. I was told we were running training there."
"But did you recognize the true nature of the op?"
"No. I didn't realize at the time it was a cover for an extermination."
The Colonel at the head of the table leaned over, baring down on me.
"And what did you do when you found out the nature of the op?"
"I reported to my superior, Major Fells."
He glowered over me, his massive body seeming to cast a dark shadow across the room.
"And what did you report?"
"I reported that she should be pulled from the op, Sir, as I received incorrect and incomplete information, rendering the transfer invalid."
"Were you given this permission?"
"No Sir, I was declined by my superior. I was told that the operation was on going, and that I was told it was training for the sake of security."
He leaned back, determined to extract whatever information he could. I felt overpowered, but I continued to push through my version of the story, not altering or wavering from what I believed was right.
I'd spoken this way about Rebels, but this was my first time outlining any incompetence in our own ops. Our division had lost forty-two soldiers in the past month alone, and Mayala was the seventeenth soldier assigned to my own battalion.
After so many deaths, it was only right to make an inquest. It was only right to ascertain our own fault in all of this, but that didn't seem to be the objective here.
"So, if I am hearing this correctly, you are claiming officers from the 33rd were dishonest about the nature of the op, the transfer, and the welfare of the soldier?"
"Yes Sir."
"And you are saying that subsequent transfers to the 33rd Infantry should have been invalidated, based on the violent nature of the operation?"
"Yes Sir."
I cleared my throat, squirming a bit in my chair as I looked up towards the massive obsidian table. I removed a handkerchief from my military uniform and lightly dabbed my head, before placing it delicately back in the pocket of my jacket.
"I am saying that. We cannot operate effectively as a military if we are issuing transfers that are unclear. It leads us to allocating resources to the wrong locations, it places soldiers untrained, or under-trained, for those situations vulnerable."
One of the other colonels, a thin, pale man, leaned forward. His medals and commendations hung from his uniform, sparkling in the stiff light of the courtroom. His slight build seemed as if it would topple over from the sheer brass attached to his chest.
"Dishonest or not, were you not the Commanding Officer for this soldier?"
"Yes Sir…"
Shit. He had me.
"And did you engage in combat training with this soldier?"
"Yes."
He leaned back and conferred silently with the others, their murmurs hovering over my head.
"So whether she was assigned to the correct unit or not, she should have been adequately prepared for the situation at hand, training or not?"
"Y-Yes S-Sir but -"
"Captain Juventus. It is your job to ensure soldiers in your battalion are properly trained. It is not your job to ascertain the quality, or clarity of assignments. This is war. Though you are highly accomplished and skilled in combat in your own right, you are not above the Rank and File system."
His sharp voice cut through the air, leaving little space for retaliation or retort.
"Every incident in this war is a training exercise. Though the report from the 33rd was that it would be simply training, they could not account for the possibility of a Rebel attack. Whether you were aware of the extermination assignment or not, an atrocity happened."
A pause.
"You should analyze your own training methods and leadership. This Council does indeed find the officers in the 33rd negligent based on your testimony, but finds the 14th negligent as well. We simply cannot account for enemy attacks at every moment of this war. It is unpredictable and times are ever changing."
"We can have no weak links within The Service. We thank you for your testimony, but the State remains blameless in this affair. Consider your thoughts noted."
"But Sir!"
The hulking Colonel at the head of the table snapped, taking over.
"You are dismissed!"
"S-Sir!"
"Dismissed!"
He struck a gavel against the obsidian table, and for a moment I feared it would crack.
The only thing left truly shattered was my self esteem, however.
My hair fell gracelessly out from underneath my military cap, the hair-spray wearing off. As the door at the back of the room shut, I was left alone, save for the recording camera watching my every move.
I looked up at it, wondering how much of my testimony would be edited for "clarity", before grabbing my purse and strapping it around my shoulder. I rose out of my seat and sighed, feeling as if their piercing words hadn't been entirely incorrect.
It was my job to train her, and in that respect, I fell horrendously short.
It didn't matter if I'd been told by the other officers what kind of assignment it would be - she should have been better prepared.
But who is prepared for a massacre?
Who runs an operation and colludes it's intent from a Commanding Officer?
It was disjointed communications like this that caused me to put in my retirement packet. I only hoped that the documentation would come into effect soon - I still had another seven days to await approval or denial.
We weren't a team. The State preached unity, but this dysfunctional and secretive military was hardly that.
I'd seen enough death, and had enough broken promises. I didn't need any more.
I walked down the long hallway towards the large wooden door, my heels clicking against the floor with the sound of spacious loneliness.
My head was slightly down, the thoughts of the past hour painfully pounding at the forefront of my mind.
Life would have been easier if I said nothing, but how could I not? I had to do this - for her, for some remainder of the person I was before all this. I had to at least speak my mind.
It was naive of me to think I'd have accomplished much of anything. I had the small moral victory of saying something, but that didn't seem to mean as much when it was all said and done.
They had been ready to dismiss my testimony as soon as I placed any blame.
Unless it was going to be on myself.
I placed my hands against the wooden door and slowly opened it, stepping out into the snowy streets of Excelsior City.
My sleep tonight would be restless.
I had no justice on my heart, only guilt.
"That's right, just one more step."
This was going to be a lot harder than I'd bargained for.
My legs seemed at the best unresponsive as I used my arms to propel crutches forward. Ester was having me walk from one end of the rehabilitation room to the other, and at each end touching a white "x" marked with chalk. Periodically I'd switch legs and make the journey again.
The distance wasn't terribly far, but crutching along was excruciating. My leg would impact the ground, causing a sharp pain to travel up to my waist. I'd stop, grit my teeth, and push on.
From her small, white chair, Ester directed me by simply waving her index finger. It was perhaps even more painful watching her sit so casually as I struggled to make even small progress towards the end of the room.
The room itself was bleak, like much of the hospital. It had some faded blue matting on the floors, plain, white walls, and a broken mirror which covered most of the left side of the room. On the opposing wall was a set of weights, medicine balls, and pads; as well as balancing beams, boxes and chairs.
It, like most of this operation, was poorly funded. Since I was the only person other than Ester utilizing the room, I could only estimate rehabilitation was a remarkable and significant rarity within the hospital.
I put my head down to breath heavily, placing the palm of my hand against the white "x" on the wall. I could seen from my reflection in the broken mirror that I was showing all the signs of exhaustion. I surely felt it.
"Good work…" she crowed, making her way over to me with a small clap of her hands.
"Now let's guide you back."
She wrapped her arms around my waist delicately, causing me to wince and sneer. She had a way of seeming gentle, but her touch was far from deft. Still, as the pain subsided a bit, there was a small amount of joy as her warm hands touched my bare flesh, gently moving me towards one of the mats.
She took the crutches out of my hand and laid me down with a tenderness previously absent, placing me on my back and letting to the softness of the mat ease me onto the floor. I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath from what had been only a short exercise.
"Tha-that…" I wheezed, trying to pace my words.
"That seemed easier on its face, than actually doing it."
Her serpentine eye followed me, her tongue gently flitting in and out of her pert lips.
"Even with the nanobots working for you, it isn't an easy recovery. You were strong to survive it, and even stronger to begin your rehabilitation just a few days after."
She sat the crutches to the side and gently picked up a bottle from a nurse's bag she had placed to the side of my mat.
"You did great though. Now just relax and allow me to apply a bit of anesthetic and relaxant to stretch you out."
"Alright."
She quickly worked the mixture into her hands, and I could feel her gently kneading my up my calves and thighs, her soft hands digging into the muscle. The first touch felt like extreme pain, akin to a stab directly into my brand new nerves. In the subsequent moments, however, all of the sensation was worn away.
Her hands seemed to merge with my new flesh, the soft skin of her palms working and palming the supple surface, fading any pain into the far backdrops of my mind. Her knead changed into more of a rub as she moved up and down each leg, moving from the top of my thigh all the way down to my brand new toes.
I would have said my legs felt amazing, but they were numb. All I could feel was a warm, pulsating throb, the muscles in my thighs responding emphatically to the expert practice of my serpentine nurse.
My breathing became eased as soft, and I reached my hand up to undo my hair from its hastily tied ponytail. My purple locks flooded down my back as I allowed the numbed, warm sensation of my legs to pulsate and the muscles to loosen up.
"This is...definitely something else." I said, easiness filling my voice. "It made me forget about just about everything for a moment. It made all the work wor-"
There was one thing I could feel, and all of my ease and relaxation began to transfer into anxiety as a problem began to emerge.
This was a similar sensation to earlier. I didn't have any knowledge about this kind of thing, after all, my previous experiences had been far, far different.
"Worth it?" she snickered, wiping her hands off with a sanitary wipe and scooting closer to me, her eye following from my waist upwards to the blush on my face.
She placed a pillow near the small of my back, guiding me upwards so that I could attain a seated position, snickering the whole time.
"It isn't professional to get carried away like that with your caretaker." She teased, now so close that her sweet and warmth breath could be felt tickling the edge of my face.
I covered face with my hands, my eyes filled with a malevolent glare as I looked at her, emotions flooding through me as my blood and my heart raced.
"Shutup!" I said through my hands, shaking my head in pure embarrassment. "I don't know why it's doing that! Alright! It must just be a side effect of the relaxant."
It was quite similar to how I felt before. Before all this. When I was with another woman who stimulated me physically, mentally, or emotionally, it seemed that all the nerves in my body converged on that one spot and urged me on.
It was all encompassing then. It would make my thighs tighten, my heart race, my head swim. I felt only the desire of wanting them. It was like my instincts to be a fighter, but more honed. More precise. I felt like an equal then, with a desire to merge, to share and indulge into a mutual sensation.
This wasn't as all encompassing. It didn't pull and tug at my emotions and my mind - it wasn't as focused or central. It was sheer carnality. A desire to dominate. It wasn't mental at all - but it was intense and powerful.
"Oh?"
I couldn't believe this was happening. Her warmly washed hand lightly reached under my gown and began to move, the pressure on the tender flesh causing me to gasp, my hands still raised to my face as I shook my head frantically from side to side.
"Ester, don't! That's...that's…"
She leaned in closely and kissed my face, her wet lips touching near the exterior of my hands. The sensation moved like a waterfall down my body, streaming into that one area, the feeling tightening in her grasp. My hands fell down to my side, the muscles in my arms going limp as she adjust her lips to kiss mine.
Her serpentine tongue flitted in the back of my throat as her hand continued to move up and down, applying pressure and gently making the flesh swim between her fingers. She moved and changed her grip, her face leaving mine. She gently rested her head on my shoulders, as I moved my hands to cover my face again, partially in pleasure, partially in embarrassment.
My mind went blank as she continued, squeezing, pulling, moving. My hands seemed to melt into the cushion of the pads as the motion moved so fluidly.
I could hear her seductively hiss into ear, the warm air of her breath driving my mind wild.
"We have to see if everything is in working order…" her voice moved softly, flowing into one ear and gently out the other.
"S-stop...S...stop…"
I wasn't putting up too much of a fight. I panted out desperately, my self-respect pathetically falling to the wayside as the relaxant continued to work its way through me. I laid back into the pillow, fully relaxing, relenting.
Her hand gently pulled and stroked, seeming to match the pace of my feminine, delicate pants.
Suddenly, I could sense something tense up inside of me, a feeling that rushed through me. It felt like pure pleasure, but also uncertainty, vulnerability, and danger.
"Go on.." she led, slowing the movement of her hand, instead focusing on pressure.
"I don't know what...what is….wha…"
I covered my mouth with my hands as the feeling surged forward, her hand releasing as I felt the feeling exit me, my entire upper body coursing with wave after wave of unrelenting euphoria. It wasn't as complete as my previous body but it's sheer force was joy in itself. I leaned forward, girlish gasps escaping my mouth.
My purple hair thrust forward, covering my eyes as I could feel sweat dripping down my face.
"What...that…"
I could feel the sensation of the sanitary wipe beneath my gown, delicately cleaning me as my body fell backwards, pants still escaping my mouth. I could hear the sound of the bag closing, my eyes blocked by the lengths of my long purple hair.
"Making progress, I'd say."
She leaned in and gently kissed my cheek, giving me a moment to lay down before clearing my hair out of the way.
At a loss for words, I continued to let pants escape my mouth. I felt so sullen, so dirty, but a part of me felt complete in the most primal way possible.
"I'd say."
That's all I could say..
"We'll do some more serious work tomorrow." she said, looking around for my crutches.
"Take a moment to rest, then I'll help you back to your room. Get you cleaned up.
The relaxant should be wearing away by now."
Though my thighs still were a bit numb, some soreness did return.
I wasn't sure how much I could attribute that to her 'other' work.
I still wasn't sure what had happened, but I reached over and grabbed her hand, the other palming for my crutch.
As I found the cold metal of the device, I could feel her serpentine eye trace me as I held my delicate hand in hers.
"It'll be a shame when you go, you know." She chuckled, giving me a boost upwards and assisting me on to the other crutch.
"Such a shame."
My head still swam with the thoughts of the past moments. My body still pulsated with the remainders of the medical relaxant.
But I could honestly say that I felt the best I had in weeks.
"Right…."
I crutched my way, still lost in a bit of confusion, towards the exit of the rehabilitation room.
The deposition was longer than I'd thought it would be, for by the time I had begun the trek back towards my apartment, the sun had already receded into the horizon.
Excelsior City was massive, the architecture creeping into the sky and blotting out any sense of natural growth. The snow was the only thing that gave the metallic behemoths any sense of organic essence, it's heavy fall seeming like nature's intent to cover the city.
In these frigid conditions the roads were empty. Cars were buried in the storm, their locations frozen in place, jam packed together by the squabble for prime positioning.
I clutched my black military jacket close to me, huddling my body inside the warm fabrics. There weren't too many things The Service did well, but designing gear happened to be one. My warm black gloves insulated my hands, while the jacket did it's best to prevent my body from exposure.
The frigid winter wind did it's worst - trying to infiltrate and perforate my jacket, searching for any crevice or crease to cause me suffering. I writhed and moved, clutching my purse tightly, fully intending on protecting my body from any further suffering on this blistering night. My only regret was the utter impracticality of being forced to wear heels to the hearing.
Chilly air wrapped my feet and legs, but I managed to high step into shallower areas. On a scale of one to ten, I'd succeeded in managing a strong six at warmth, my feet notwithstanding.
It seemed every building I passed was a skyscraper. In a city of uniformity and sameness, this kind of blending was just par for the course. If it wasn't a massive skyscraper or location of industry, it was a by-the-numbers military encampment. Or a laboratory. Or a hospital.
I found myself wondering where all the life had been sapped to. I faintly remembered days where things didn't look this way, but I found myself questioning whether I was simply forcing nostalgia on myself.
It seemed one day the city, much like the people, relented.
The cold whispers of the night seemed to breeze past me as I walked underneath dim streetlights towards the alleyway that crossed over towards my apartment building.
After years of work, I had been able to elevate myself to a decent living situation a few blocks outside of the city core. It wasn't much, but it was home, and after a long day of hearings and meetings, I was ready to just relax.
I needed some movies, some wine, and perhaps even a bit of dessert so I could reset for the next day.
Clutching my purse tightly, I waded through the snowy depths of the alleyway, the singular streetlight giving me a sense of security. After trudging for a bit, I stopped to catch my breath, my building just a few feet in front of me.
The light from the street flickered a bit, and a shadow seemed to catch my eye. I shrunk my arms in closer, my body's natural reaction towards what it perceived as a threat. After all the trauma, I considered the alternative I could have simply been seei ng things.
I turned away, only for an especially rough breeze to blow past, as if preventing me from taking another step forward.
A blue shimmer fluttered across my sight, causing me to turn back again, the light in the alleyway flickering dim.
"Cecilia."
Hollow. Vacant. Masked.
He wasn't kidding.