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A knock sounded on the door, making Amelia bolt upright in the darkness of her room. Carefully untangling her legs from the bed sheets, she moved off the mattress and towards the door, flipping the light switch. Pulling the door open a crack, she peeked out to see who her visitor was.
The Captain looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers before he took a step back, tilting his head to the side.
He wants me to follow. Amelia gripped the hem of her shirt tightly, twisting it nervously as her hands began to sweat. She just knew. Oh, no. Oh, no.
She mimicked the Captain in taking a step back. "That…"
A few seconds passed, and when she made no move to leave the room, the Captain took a step forward, pushing the door open further. It seemed that a refusal would end in her being carried or dragged somewhere she did not want to go.
Reluctantly, Amelia inched forward, thinking the silent man might throw her over his shoulder even if she demonstrated that she would follow him willingly. But seeing her compliance, the Captain did not advance, instead stepping back again to let her exit the room.
As they left the laboratory, Amelia noticed that the Captain walked next to her, standing closer than he usually would. He probably imagined she would try to run away from a fight. As if I could move faster than him, or run on such weak legs, she thought, her lower limbs shaking beneath her. I told myself I would do something. And I have to do something if I want to get away from this place. But I don't know what I can do. She glanced at the Captain, who had slowed his pace to match hers. At least he was considerate enough not to rush her into battle. Her eyes flickered back to the walls, looking for signs that might tell her where they were going as her guide turned her down another unfamiliar hall.
When she was at last ushered through a door, she was surprised to find herself inside a hangar. The hangar itself was larger than a football field, with numerous skylights running along the ceiling showing the purple and blue colors of dawn. Several large wooden crates were stacked in one corner, while a row of wound hoses and electrical equipment were pushed against another wall.
In the middle of the hangar stood two people, and as Amelia approached, she only recognized Doc. One look at the second member of the pair and she felt like she was going to be sick. Although the person possessed a feminine physique, there was something masculine about the way she carried herself. The woman, in turn, took in Amelia's appearance and sneered, adjusting the item on her shoulder.
This must be whom Schrödinger was talking about the other day. Dragging her gaze away from the female's tattoos and asymmetrical facial features, Amelia eyed the weapon. She has a scythe. Nothing good came from anyone who carried a scythe outside of agricultur.
"This is the little rat? Pathetic." The woman spoke up, a barking laugh directed at Amelia. "She won't last five seconds."
Doc stopped writing on his clipboard to look at the woman, capping the pen. "You know the rules."
He then addressed Amelia. "This is First Lieutenant Zorin Blitz. She will be your opponent."
Amelia began to step backwards, only to feel a hand on her back, preventing her from taking the full step. Unconsciously, she leaned towards the Captain, as though he might serve as a barrier, protecting her from the dangerous-looking woman.
"We'll be observing everything," Doc noted, nodding in the direction of a door and a one-way sheet of glass embedded in the wall beside it. "Fatal strikes are not allowed, but I would suggest avoiding blows when you are able, Miss Harker. I imagine there will be some injury to your person but know that you are free to attack too. I recommend you stay light on your toes." Then, turning, he made his way to the door in long strides, calling over his shoulder, "Major's watching!"
The hand left Amelia's back as the Captain moved to follow Doc. Instinctively, Amelia reached out to grab the sleeve of his coat, her expression conveying the fear of a rabbit amidst a pack of starving wolves.
The Captain halted, looking at the sleeve in her grasp. It took Amelia a couple of seconds to realize what she had done, and as the man's hand reached for hers, she quickly released his coat. It was only natural that she wanted to cling to life when facing death. As she watched his retreating figure, she felt her hope slip away. This is it. No weapon to defend myself. No choice. They're just going to watch. They're going to watch me be torn apart.
The door by the window slammed shut, signaling the start of the match.
Zorin's mouth twisted into a cruel smile as she brought the scythe down from her shoulder. In a second she closed the distance between them, slashing up with the scythe in hand.
Caught off guard by the woman's agility, Amelia staggered back, feeling the blade shred through her clothing to break the skin of her left forearm that she raised in defense. Gasping at the sting, she clutched her arm, blood painting her palm as she attempted to stop the flow.
But the First Lieutenant was just warming up.
The scythe came at her legs from the side and she jumped, the blade narrowly missing her feet. As she landed, a boot slammed into her stomach, the force of the kick propelling her back several meters until she hit the floor.
"Fuckin' waste of time," spat Zorin, casually walking over to her as she tried to stand. "I expected more than a little bitch so easily thrown on her back."
Oh God, she's going to kill me! She's coming! I have to move, or she'll kill me! Amelia's mind screamed as she pushed herself off one knee, tears in her eyes. She coughed, attempting to take deep breaths as her opponent drew near. The power behind the kick was much stronger than normal for a woman, whether she was a trained fighter or not. With a grunt, she managed to pick herself up and move away from Zorin, adrenaline partially distracting her from the pain as her instinct for self-preservation took over. Having no weapons, the only thing she could do was stay on the defensive and keep her distance from the other woman.
The First Lieutenant did not seem to approve of her strategy. "No attacks, no speed, no power. There's nothing special about you."
Again the First Lieutenant came at her, and while Amelia managed to dodge some of her attacks, she was hit more often than not.
Panting hard, she pressed a hand against her left side, where blood was beginning to stain the torn fabric of her shirts. The wound wasn't deep enough to damage her internal organs, but it was bleeding profusely. There was also a slash along her right thigh, and both of her shoulders had been cut.
Taking a few unsteady steps back, Amelia nearly lost her balance as her vision swam. I can't keep up. I'm losing too much blood. She blinked, trying to stop her vision from blurring, before she felt a sharp blow against her cheek.
For an instant, everything went black.
When the light returned, her head was on the floor and a pair of boots in front of her face. One boot lifted and Amelia watched it come down, her eyes widening in late realization as it landed on her injured forearm. She screamed, thrashing on the ground as the bones cracked under the force of the stomp, tears rapidly streaking down her face as she desperately clawed at the boot to try and push it off her arm.
"Got a little fight in you now, eh? We'll fix that."
Amelia looked up at Zorin, whose hand was outstretched towards her, a purple mist encircling it and a glowing third eye opening on the palm. Cringing, she shut her eyes tightly.
When there was no additional pain she dared to open her eyes, finding Zorin gone, along with the hangar. For a minute she remained on the floor, trying to recognize her new surroundings. A small room with a bed pushed against one corner, a window with light blue curtains facing it on another wall. There was a closet in one corner, a picture of Paris hanging next to it.
"Home?" She whispered in confusion, wiping at her eyes. Very slowly she sat up, cradling her left arm. This was her father's room.
Something stirred beneath the covers of the bed, startling her. Using the wall for support, she pushed herself to her feet and edged away from the bed.
"Amelia? Is that you?" A soft voice called as the figure beneath the covers emerged.
Amelia's bottom lip quivered, and more tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she looked away, determined not to glimpse the person's face. She pressed her hands against her ears, shaking her head.
"No, no, no!" She sobbed. "This isn't right! I was with you when… The doctor s-said…" She opened her eyes, staring intently at the floor as she yelled at the man. "You died!"
"Don't say such terrible things, Amelia." He sounded hurt.
Amelia flinched back, a pair of feet suddenly opposite hers, barely a step away. Despite covering her ears, she could still hear him speak.
"Y-you're not my father! He was buried. The funeral – I remember everything about that day! He left me and I was alone. I am alone."
"Amelia? What are you saying? You're my daughter. I would never leave you to fend on your own. I know you're scared about going to university, but don't think I'm abandoning you. I'll visit you, once a month at least; you can call whenever you want to talk."
Amelia looked up then, unable to stop herself from gravitating towards the person she had missed so much. His grey eyes were the same ones she saw every day in the mirror: cold at first glance but vulnerable and gentle. As always, his clothes seemed one size too big, making his small frame even smaller.
He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" Her eyes were alert, but she could feel her strength decreasing quickly; she was already depending on the wall at her back to keep her standing.
"Amelia…" He looked down at his hand, smeared with her blood. "You're bleeding."
Reality started leaking back in. "Who –?" Her question was cut short.
"And now you're dying."
Amelia coughed, felt her blood spilling over her skin, splattering on the floor, onto her feet. Her eyes travelled the length of her father's arm, coming to stop above her right breast, where his hand was partially buried.
"Zorin!" A far-off voice shouted.
"It's going to be all right, little one. We can stay together."
Mouth agape in horror, Amelia choked as his bloody hand withdrew from her chest. Eyes shining green, the visage of her father smiled at her, the skin of his face and neck peeling away to fall at his feet in a wet pile of blood and muscle.
"I said that's enough!"
The room and her father suddenly faded into blackness, and for a moment, there was nothing, her body feeling as though it was floating in water.
But the darkness quickly brightened, blurry shapes moving in her line of vision and voices attaching to their forms. Her eyes focused, and she glimpsed the hangar skylights above her. I'm…back?
"Bring it to me, now!" Doc's angry voice echoed through the hangar, followed by a screech of static. "Damn that woman!"
A moment of silence passed and his temper calmed a little. "Staunch the bleeding with this."
A familiar brown-coated figure moved Amelia so that she was lying in a more upright position, leaning against him. The Captain's shadow hovered over her, and she tried to move her left arm, letting out a whimper when she could not. His gloved hands took ahold of her shirt and began to carefully tear it down the front. In a panic, she tried to sit up, only to find she did not have the strength to do so. Still, she reached out with her right arm to grab one of the man's hands to stop him from ripping her shirt any further, not fully understanding his actions.
"The fight's over, Miss Harker." Doc said from a couple meters away, several medical utensils spread out in front of him. His voice was tight as he held up a test tube of red liquid, giving the container a small shake as he examined it in the light. "Calm down. You've been stabbed, and your right lung may be punctured. It would be wise to not move around too much." As if realizing his last comment would not be of much solace, Doc added, "I'm working on it."
A firm pressure against the wound on her chest made Amelia tighten her hold on the Captain, and she looked away from the doctor to the other hand now pressing a cloth to her wound. For a minute she stared at the hand in hers, watching the white glove absorb the blood on her hand as she tuned out the world around her.
Her eyelids began to lower and she jerked her head, trying to stay awake but only succeeding in making the room spin. Can't sleep, she worried, afraid that she might not wake up again if she lost consciousness now.
Doc suddenly appeared on her other side, pulling her hand out of the Captain's. "Make sure she doesn't move; I can only hypothesize what might happen. This is all that's left."
Amelia turned towards the doctor, trying to make sense of his words. And then she saw the hypodermic syringe filled with dark red liquid in his hand. She struggled weakly, but he refused to release her wrist. The Captain steadied her right arm, mindful of the shoulder injury, and wrapped his other arm around her back, restraining her movement.
After a couple of seconds, Amelia felt the needle puncture her forearm, followed by an uncomfortable itching sensation that spread up her arm. The injection successfully administered, Doc released her wrist and stepped back. The itch began to burn and she winced in pain as it spread from her shoulder to her chest. As soon as the Captain released her arm she put her hand to her chest. Her skin didn't feel warmer than it usually did, and her arm was not red or showing any signs of irritation from the injection.
"It's… hot." She croaked, the pain in her chest increasing as she spoke. The Captain looked from her to the doctor, who had grabbed his clipboard and pen and started muttering to himself as he wrote. Behind him, another man, dressed in a military uniform, recorded the scene on a camcorder.
Stepping closer, Doc peered at the wound on her left arm before nodding to the stained cloth over her chest. Moving her hand away, the Captain peeled off the compress for Doc to examine.
A few seconds more of scribbling and the doctor stood up from his crouched position, looking towards the hangar's exit. "Let's get her back to the lab." Replacing the compress and adjusting her in his arms, the Captain headed for the door through which they had entered the hangar, the soldier with the camcorder following.
Feeling the burning sensation spread further, Amelia shut her eyes. Breathing was beginning to feel like a heavy exertion, and the accompanying dizziness made her nauseous.
By the time the small group returned to the laboratory, she had lost consciousness.