Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its associated characters. The characters in this writing so far are all original characters, but I make no claim over the existing characters.

Chapter 4

Aftermath

As we arrived at the main Argus base I took in what sights I could under the blackout conditions the base was operating in. It didn't look great, several buildings had been destroyed and the medical facilities looked to be working overtime with a constant flow of casualties in and out.

Private Wilks and our two mostly healthy soldiers helped the rest of the squad to the medical tents while the officers peeled off to give a report to their superiors. That left me standing by myself for a few moments before I decided to follow the wounded and see what help I could provide.

I stepped into one of the tents to see a surgeon working on extracting a bullet from one private's leg. "Hey doc, anything I can do to help out?" I asked.

"Not right now soldier" He said, sparing me a quick glance "just keep out of the way and-OH!" He did a double take, seeing for the first time the bullet holes and dried blood coating my armor.

"Son, you need to sit down right now, try to get out of that armor without hurting yourself if you can." He turned to the side and called for a nurse to help him finish with his current patient, clearly moving with much greater speed than he had previously been exhibiting.

My cracked ribs groaned in protest as I released the straps on my armor and pulled it off. The undersuit beneath my chest piece was worn and tattered bad enough that I would definitely need an entirely new one. Six distinct bullet holes revealed ugly purple splotches drawing a line across my chest, evidence of where I had been shot earlier.

The doctor spun back towards me, having finished extracting the bullet from his previous patient, bandages and a vial of plasma held in his arms as he approached.

"Wait" he paused, taking in the sight of my bruised but otherwise uninjured skin. "How are you not bleeding out right now? Judging by your armor you were shot at least a dozen times, and some of those clearly got through."

I looked down at myself. I knew that the belt I was wearing was abnormal, but without proper context it hadn't really occurred to me that healing through lethal wounds was probably not something people routinely dealt with.

"Uh" I stammered, trying to find a way to phrase it that didn't sound crazy. "I got better?"

The doctor paused, looking me square in the eye.

"Son" he started "Please define 'got better' for me. I'm just dying to know."

I took a deep breath, then winced as it caused my ribs to shift painfully.

"Okay" I started "So I got shot, then right after I got shot, I got better."

He just stared at me, blinking slowly, clearly waiting for me to elaborate.

I shifted nervously and continued "I think it's because of this belt, it's been helping me all day." I held up the belt in question, the scorched bullet hole prominent in the center of the buckle.

Concern.

"I see," he said "and where did you find this belt?"

I paused to think, my memories before today still an irritating empty page.

"Well, I woke up this afternoon because of the shooting outside, and it was just kind of sitting next to me."

The doctor shifted, then pulled up a stool and sat down. After sitting, he refocused all of his attention on me, his previous patient completely forgotten now that a nurse could finish his work.

"Where did this take place?"

"It was this abandoned office building, I think I was injured and somehow crawled in there."

"You think?"

"Oh, crap yeah I forgot to mention it. I have amnesia, or something."

I tapped a finger to where dried blood still crusted the hair along the side of my head.

"I don't remember anything before today. I can walk, talk, and fight, but I don't remember where or when I learned to do that."

The doctor didn't respond at first, he just pulled out a notepad and a pen, then looked back up at me over his pad as he began taking notes.

"So this amnesia, how did that happen?"

"Private Wilks thinks I was shot in the head, because there was a lot of blood and my helmet was missing when the squad found me. I was with the One Oh Seventh before I got hit, at least according to my unit insignia."

The sounds of pen scratching paper filled the air between us, strangely loud despite the sounds of medical professionals treating casualties throughout the rest of the tent.

"One Zero Seven. Light infantry..." He muttered quietly under his breath, the way he said it made it sound like it wasn't the first time he had heard of them recently, which gave me hope that maybe I could find someone from my unit.

After a moment he finished writing and looked up from his notepad. "Have you experienced any other cognitive effects besides amnesia?" He asked with a concerned expression.

I thought for a moment "No, not really. I've performed just fine all day. Honestly I had a headache for a while after I woke up but the belt fixed that for me."

"Yes…" He trailed off. "This belt. It helps you?"

Panic.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's great. it's been healing me and making me stronger and stuff, it seems to communicate through emotions and feelings too. Really it's a very cool piece of tech, I can see why they are so rare, the inner workings must be incredibly complex."

Terror!

At that the doctor looked up at me "You say this belt communicates with you?"

I shrugged "I mean yeah, but it doesn't seem to be capable of language, just sending basic feelings to the wearer."

Panic Panic Panic!

"Huh," I said thoughtfully. "It seems scared by something."

I glanced around the tent, trying to see what the belt was worried about, but didn't see anything to warrant its reaction.

'"May I see this belt?" the doctor asked.

"Sure" I said, and tossed the belt over to him.

Sorrow.

I felt a sudden psychic flash as the belt left my hand, then nothing.

The doctor examined the belt, touching the bullet hole, and fiddling with the metallic structure.

"So," I asked while he handled the belt. "Have you seen anyone else from the One Oh Seventh? I need to get back to them."

He shook his head distractedly. "I'm afraid not." He replied. "The last I had heard the entire unit was wiped out two days ago in an coordinated attack by Kratos and two other Pantheon members. You're the first survivor we've seen."

My breath caught in my throat, all hopes of reuniting with someone who knew me dashed in an instant. The doctor seemed oblivious to my reaction.

"Well" he said "It's certainly a unique belt, but I don't feel anything particularly interesting coming from it."

"Weird." I replied after a pause, still silently mourning the loss of friends I couldn't remember. I reached out a hand for the belt. "Can I have it back then?"

-/-

"No." The doctor declared flatly.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, confused.

"No, specialist you may not have the belt back, I don't think that would be good for you right now." The doctor made a motion to somebody behind me, then pointed at me.

I stood up. "Hey doc, give me back the belt, its mine."

"I'm sorry specialist, but I'm afraid you really should not be in contact with this belt right now, it would not be wise." He gestured to the belt in his hand. "I understand you're receiving some hard news right now, but there are better ways of dealing with loss than this. Why don't you take some time to clear your head, these gentlemen can take you to a nice warm bunk for you to sleep in tonight."

I turned to see two burly looking Military Police behind me, their armor lightly scuffed from what I assumed was brawling with unruly soldiers. The doctor began walking away, taking the belt with him.

"Hey!" I called out, "Give that back! I need it!"

I stepped forwards, intent on reclaiming the belt when the two MPs grabbed my arms, restraining me and hauling me backwards. I struggled, but with the lingering injuries I had and without the belt boosting my strength I wasn't able to break free.

"Come on specialist" one of the MPs said. "You're ok, you're among friends here, why don't you just relax and let us show you to your room right now alright?"

The two MPs bodily picked me up at that point, lifting me by under the arms and carrying me away from the tent at a rapid pace.

-/-

Giving up on fighting I slumped as we passed by several tents. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a command tent. Lieutenant Rivers was standing outside, likely because his semblance would prevent Lieutenant Stone from being able to deliver their report if he was inside.

I waved at him, not bothering to call out as he wouldn't be able to hear me. Just as we passed around the corner of another tent he glanced towards me, a raised eyebrow quickly becoming a furrow.

We passed several more tents without incident and arrived at the base hospital, which seemed remarkably untouched considering the damage dealt to several of the other buildings in the base.

Inside the hospital the MPs guided me up two flights of stairs before dropping me down in front of a desk. A tired looking clerk manned the desk, and I noticed a conspicuous sign behind him which read "Psyche Ward."

"Got another here for you Durin." The MP on my right remarked.

Durin looked up for a moment and we locked eyes. With a shrug he pointed towards an open room "Toss him in there" he said. "Dinner was already served so you'll have to wait till breakfast okay man?" He asked me.

"Come on, seriously?" I replied "I'm not insane."

Durin shrugged in an 'I don't get paid enough to care' manner.

"Doctor says you are, so you're staying here until we can get you checked out by a professional." He seemed empathetic. "Sorry dude, it's just the way it is."

The two MPs hauled me into the room, overcoming my renewed attempts at struggling. Unceremoniously they dumped me off on the cot in the corner, then slammed the door and locked it.

Looking around the featureless white room I called out "Hey come on, this isn't necessary!"

I got no response.

"Guys?" I called out.

Nothing.

"Belt?" I asked, more softly this time. No response.

"God damn it." I muttered in English.

-/-

That night I had a hard time sleeping. Every time I felt like I was getting close to slumber my mind would fill with visions of violence.

In my dreams I was perched above an encampment of Atlesian soldiers in the shipping district, hidden in the darkness and completely invisible to their sentries.

I wore a suit of jet black powered armor with a long black cape draped over my shoulders to pool behind me. My armor completely covered me head to toe, and I could feel the power of the suit as I shifted slightly. Electronic servos whirred almost imperceptibly quietly as I rose to a a standing position on the roof top of the five story building I was perched atop.

Having finished my scouting, I stepped off the roof and dropped down through the night sky. My black cape billowed around me in a semi rigid pattern, slowing my fall and allowing me to direct myself inside the perimeter of the Atlesian troop's makeshift encampment in the warehouse facility.

As I fell I pulled my weapon from my side, the magnetic holster releasing it smoothly into my palm. With the press of a button and a quick flourish my rifle transformed smoothly into a long bladed spear.

I dropped directly on top of one of the sentries. The blade of my spear smoothly pierced his helmet and carried all the way through his torso, the impact slightly breaking my fall.

Rising silently I withdrew my weapon from the soldier's body, then with another flourish I held an electromagnetic marksman rifle. I quickly sighted and fired on a half dozen targets in the span of a few seconds, the nearly silent subsonic rounds zipping outwards and easily piercing the Atlesian's armor.

A wave of disgust washed over me as I dreamed, these were my allies, my comrades, and here I was slaughtering them almost literally by the dozen.

With the sentries eliminated I delved deeper into the camp, seeking my target. I strode between small tents on my way to the main warehouse, unhurriedly examining them as I walked with a calm purpose towards my target.

The door to the warehouse was closed, and judging by the rust on the hinges it wouldn't open quietly. Instead, I took a running leap, launching myself easily over fifteen feet into the air and landing gracefully just below a large window that had been cracked open.

"The itsy bitsy spider..." I muttered under my breath, and suddenly my boots and the fingertips of my gloves took hold of the otherwise flat wall, giving me perfect purchase to stick to the wall of the warehouse.

I pushed the window open slightly more, wincing at the gentle squeak it emitted, then crawled up and through to enter the building.

Now inside, I walked with carefully padded footsteps through the warehouse, examining sleeping figures in cots until I saw who I was searching for. Lieutenant David Amber, second in command of team SAGE.

I approached softly, my armor's enhancements eliminating any sound my footsteps might have otherwise produced, and positioned myself directly over him.

I pulled one of two notes from a pouch on my belt, and caught a glimpse of the words before I turned the note around. "Move, and I pull the trigger" the note read.

I crouched down and pointed my rifle towards one of the other sleeping figures. With my other hand I held the note in front of Lieutenant Amber's face, then used my semblance to summon a small light above his eyes, illuminating the note.

With a gentle tap on the forehead he awoke, confused and disoriented. I waved the note in front of his face, drawing attention to the words written on it, then gave a meaningful glance towards the sleeping officer I currently held at gunpoint.

The lieutenant opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it, simply staring at me with a rising anger. Withdrawing the note, I produced a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to him, indicating he should put them on.

With an expression of rising anger he clicked the cuffs on both wrists, a subtle gray glow emanating from the cuffs indicating that his aura was being successfully siphoned away.

Nodding, I reached down and lifted him bodily by his collar. I made a small "shh" motion with a finger to keep him silent, indicating the rest of the soldiers sleeping in the tent, then stuck a needle into his neck.

He grunted quietly, and began involuntarily thrashing as the poison took hold of him, but soon slipped into unconsciousness.

I double checked that no one else in the warehouse had been woken, then slung him over my shoulders in a fireman's carry. I dropped the remaining note onto his pillow where he had been sleeping, then with silent foot falls I left the warehouse through the same window I had entered from and ghosted away into the night.

-/-

I awoke the next morning, confused and irritated by my visions. Why would I have dreams about killing Atlas soldiers and kidnapping our operatives?

I sat up in the cot in my quaint little padded cell, then stood and began pacing. I mulled over my thoughts while striding back and forth corner to corner.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back, turn.

By all accounts I was probably hallucinating, a result of the head trauma I had received. Adding to this theory was the fact that the doctor seemed convinced that belts healing you and communicating with you was impossible. A fact that seemed obvious in retrospect. Now, add in my entire unit apparently having been slaughtered and nightmares about killing my comrades, and I was likely suffering from some sort of post traumatic stress disorder.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

If I was suffering from PTSD then I should be exhibiting other symptoms. Aggressive reactions, stress, anxiety, an inability to 'switch off.'

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

I didn't feel overly stressed given the situation. Sure I was locked in a small room with no good prospects for getting out, but I wasn't panicking.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

I also hadn't healed at an abnormal pace since losing the belt, which was a point in favor of me not being crazy. In fact I also hadn't felt the surges of emotion that the belt normally sent my way since breaking physical contact with it.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

Of course this could all be a psychosomatic symptom, indicative of a larger cause.

I paused, where had I learned all these terms? Why couldn't I remember the context? Had I been to college? What was my degree in? What skills did I have that I didn't even know about?

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

Eventually my mind turned to other matters, like the belt. I definitely needed to get it back, along with the rest of my gear, as soon as I was out of here. There had been a package with a fresh undersuit in it in the room when I woke up, but other than that I had nothing to my name.

Beyond that, the belt seemed genuinely scared to be separated from me, and I worried that I had hurt its feelings by handing it off. I wasn't sure why but I felt a deeper bond to it than I should have, even if it had saved my life multiple times over the previous day.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

The day passed. I had three square meals, endless questions, no answers, and an uncountable number of steps.

-/-

That night I slept again, but it was another restless night. I dreamed I was scouting Atlas positions, recording and reporting details on troop movements, heavy armor brigades, and general unit readiness.

I got the distinct impression that I was searching for someone in particular, though I couldn't intuit who. I felt a distinct unease knowing how the information I reported back could be used. My only solace was that I didn't kill anyone in the dream.

The next morning I awoke early and began my pacing again.

Three steps there, turn, three steps back.

My reverie was rudely interrupted by shouting from outside my cell. I approached the small glass window set into the top of the door and tried to crane my head enough to peer down the hallway.

"Sir!" I heard the clerk from the previous night, Durin, shouting. "Sir you really cannot be in here!"

Suddenly the clerk's protests fell oddly silent, then picked up again halfway through "-must ask you to leave at once!"

Striding down the hallway with a clear purpose came a familiar figure dressed in fatigues. Lieutenant Eugene Rivers came marching down the hallway, and behind him the clerk shouted, apparently unaware that his protests were literally falling on deaf ears.

Seeing Rivers brought a flash of memory of my nightmares, and a sudden surge of guilt over what I had dreamed about doing to Lieutenant Amber. It was ridiculous of course to feel guilt over what I had to assume was a hallucination, but I still felt it all the same.

The operative approached my cell and looked through the glass at me, his cone of silence now engulfing me and cutting out all sounds of the clerk's hapless protesting.

He pointed at me, then pointed at the hallway, then cocked an eyebrow to indicate that he was asking a question.

I pointed towards the clerk behind him, then pointed towards my temple and twirled a finger around my ear, indicating that the clerk thought I was crazy.

Rivers just rolled his eyes and pointed to the hallway again.

I nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Satisfied, he unlocked my cell and opened the door.

I stepped out of the padded room, pointedly ignoring the irritated motioning and silent mouthing of the clerk, then walked out with Lieutenant Rivers. On the way out I spotted my breakfast sitting on the clerk's desk, and I stepped out of the bubble of silence for a moment to snag the meal, accidentally overhearing a snatch of conversation.

From outside the hallway I heard the doctor who had committed me speaking in an upset tone.

"Please ma'am, even if he has unlocked a semblance he is clearly not psychologically sound. He seems to have attached some part of his psyche to a belt he was wearing when he was wounded, this soldier is not of sound mind."

Another familiar voice spoke in reply, Lieutenant Stone with an air of distinct annoyance.

"Doctor Forsythe, I understand your concerns, but right now I need him, fully mentally stable or not. I don't have many options on this base for operatives, and I need a full roster."

Oh great, so she thought I was crazy too. This was going well.

Packaged meal in hand, I rejoined Lieutenant Rivers and rounded the corner to see their argument playing out silently. As we approached and Rivers' field enveloped them they were forced to stop. I noticed an extra bar on Lieutenant Stone's rank insignia, indicating she was now a captain in the Atlesian armed forces.

Rivers and myself approached Captain Stone, nodding in greeting. We avoided saluting despite being outdoors in case of enemy snipers, but the gesture of respect was still upheld as best as possible.

With a pointed finger, Captain Stone dismissed Doctor Forsythe, who threw up his hands and stormed off. Captain Stone spoke in brief sign language to Lieutenant Rivers, who nodded silently and departed as well, allowing the two of us to speak out loud again.

"Captain" I nodded to her again "Thanks for getting me out of the rubber rooms."

She winced, the subject of her promotion apparently a sore topic.

She gestured over her shoulder towards the retreating doctor. "That quack doesn't know a psych case from a cereal box, still you probably shouldn't go around telling people about a magic belt that makes you heal bullet wounds."

I shrugged "How else do you explain me surviving that battle?"

She grinned in response, "Oh, I've got a theory."

-/-

An hour later I stood in the operative training grounds on base, my armor and rifle were laid out on a table before me, and Captain Stone stood on an elevated observation platform.

"For the record" I called out to her "I don't think this idea will work without my belt!"

"Forget about the belt!" she yelled back. "You don't need some belt to use a semblance! And once we get you creating your aura shield you'll be right as rain!"

Maybe she and the doctor were right, maybe the belt was just some weird manifestation of head injuries and emotional trauma. I donned my equipment, checking the plates and straps on my armor, wishing I had the original helmet still. The replacement helmet I had gotten was fine, but I could see connection points for a helmet with a built in heads up display that this replacement helmet simply didn't have.

For the next several hours I practiced under her supervision, attempting to draw out my aura into a shield that could be formed around my body to protect me. Every time I felt like I was getting close, I would lose my grasp on whatever esoteric concept of my soul I was supposed to be reaching towards.

Eventually Captain Stone began to lose patience. "I think you just don't have the right motivation." She said after my thirty second consecutive failed attempt.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Is the threat of getting shot not enough motivation?"

"Nope" she replied "A threat is just an idea until you're actually face to face with it." she grinned, almost maliciously, "I can't shoot you, but that doesn't mean I can't give you something to be scared of."

"What's tha?-oof!" I exhaled sharply as she threw a jab into my stomach, her aura enhanced muscles driving the wind out of me.

She danced back, light on her feet, hands raised in a relaxed boxing stance. "Now you've got something to protect yourself from." She said, clearly excited to be getting into the 'fun' part of the training.

I put my hands up to defend myself, and for nearly twenty minutes she and I traded blows in two minute rounds.

Unfortunately for me, my attacks harmlessly deflected off her purple aura shield, while hers found their mark every time without fail.

"You have to feel the energy within yourself." She coached, offering advice in between punches. "Everyone has a soul, though very few people ever truly learn how to unlock its potential. You've already bypassed that step by unlocking your semblance, now you just need to learn how to focus and direct it consciously."

I sucked in air, fighting to keep up with her even though I was in excellent physical condition.

"What makes you think I've unlocked it?" I asked, slipping a relatively clumsy cross from her and landing an impotent jab to her torso. That same purple shield flashed annoyingly dimly, deflecting my blow without any real effort.

"There are a few ways to unlock your aura." She replied, having not even noticed my punch and instead continuing her attack with a jab leading into a hook. "A well trained instructor can sometimes unlock it for someone, though it's a rather personal affair as you are literally mingling your souls."

I backpedaled away from her attacks, then shot out a side kick to try to keep her at a distance to maintain my range advantage. She blocked the kick with a forearm and advanced, continuing her explanation.

"The other main way is to do it yourself, either through meditation or sometimes through a particularly dangerous and traumatic experience that forces you to unlock your own aura to save yourself or others."

I attempted to circle around her to gain space, but she suddenly darted forwards, closing the gap and blocking my path. She threw two relatively light punches to my ribs, the second made it through my guard, impacting my already bruised ribs and driving the wind out of me.

"My theory is that you're in that last category." She said, ducking under my retaliatory hook. "If your unit was wiped out, leaving you to wander around Atlas for over a day before anyone found you, then you probably unlocked your semblance as a means of survival!."

As she said 'survival' she popped up and delivered a final uppercut to my undefended chin. I rocked backwards from the hit, then tripped and landed roughly in the dirt. I breathed heavily, trying to regain some modicum of dignity after being handily beaten by someone more than a foot shorter and probably fifty pounds lighter than me who clearly had less fighting experience than I did.

-/-

"I don't think this is working." I said glumly. "I need the belt back"

She looked down at me, disappointed, then reached down and offered me a hand to help me back to my feet.

"Give it some time" she advised. "Your aura is the manifestation of your soul, of who you truly are as a person. Now that it is unlocked it will begin to exert itself over your physical body over time until your physical abilities match your true self."

"Really?" I asked, "Then why can't I even fight back right now?"

"It takes time." She replied confidently. "And like I said, it's the manifestation of your true self into the physical world, so the enhancements that your aura will offer will eventually make you stronger, faster, and tougher, but the actual balance of the three will be determined by your soul."

She gestured to herself. "For example, I'm the physically strongest and toughest member of Team SAGE, but my reaction time is noticeably slower than theirs, and I'm not nearly as agile as Sergeant Green or Lieutenant Rivers."

"Huh," I replied. "That's interesting, but I've only seen any physical enhancements while I was connected to the belt, so even if I shouldn't need it, how about we try it anyways?

She sighed, then acquiesced. Reaching into a black duffel bag she tossed the metallic belt to me, I caught it in one hand.

Family! It shouted into my mind immediately.

Turning and trying to hide my face as best I could I whispered to the belt.

"Yeah I missed you too buddy, it's been a rough few days without you."

Sadness.

"Yeah I was sad too."

Fear.

"Don't worry buddy I won't let anybody take you like that again.

Happiness! Helping!

I buckled the belt on and felt the now familiar warmth of the healing as it soothed my aches and cleared my bruises. New energy flooded into my muscles, and I felt stronger and faster than I normally did.

"Hey that's awesome buddy, listen if you're some kind of aura thing do you think you could make a shield for me? I've been trying to do it myself, but I can't seem to figure it out."

Safety?

"Yeah" I whispered, keenly aware that Captain Stone was watching and judging me for talking to an accessory. I didn't blame her, if she was right and it wasn't the belt that gave me the abilities then there was something seriously wrong with my head. "Something to keep me safe you know?"

Pondering.

"That's okay buddy, you keep working on it and I'll keep her busy."

I turned back to Captain Stone. "Alright ma'am, I'm ready for round two."

She snorted, "I think you mean round ten, specialist. But let's see what you've got now that you have your belt back."

We squared off for another go, then leapt into the fray. Her aura shield was still a significant advantage, and the gap between our physical strength and speed was heavily weighted against me, but with my body now enhanced by the belt I was able to compete to some degree.

I theory that I had more fighting experience than her was confirmed as I was able to drop easily into a proper fighting stance, then began mixing combinations of kicks, punches, and grabs together to create a seamless blend.

Her strategy by comparison was that of a mindless tank. Eating hits left and right in order to trade for a solid hit of her own. Now though, with my newfound strength, a good power hit from me was enough to make her stumble back and reassess.

I dealt a powerful cross to her jaw, but she powered through and delivered a swift uppercut to my undefended chin. My head clicked back painfully, tweaking my neck and rocking my brain inside the half shell helmet I was wearing. This time though I was able to stay upright and avoid tripping.

I stumbled back, disoriented, before hearing an excited sounding Success!

The next hit came in hard, but instead of healing me the belt focused its energy outwards. I could subtly feel it leaving me and forming outwards.

As Captain Stone's haymaker came in for the knockout punch, she instead collided with an almost transparent pure white shield just a millimeter in front of my face. The shield fizzled out on impact, and the punch still knocked me off balance, but it dealt no real damage.

I took advantage of her momentary surprise, dropping low and extending my front leg to sweep her front foot with a spinning kick, her back leg still out of position from her wild punch.

She hit the dirt with a *whumph* and looked back up at me with surprise. I extended a hand down to her, offering to help her back onto feet.

She accepted the peace offer with grace, standing and brushing the dirt off of her trousers. "Alright Specialist Phoenix," she said, "I think you'll do nicely."