You awoke, following the usual morning rituals and headed to your kitchen when you were ready. A glance at the clock on the wall informed you that you had an hour to go before your group session would start. You sighed, remembering that you owed yourself a big breakfast after that paltry supper you'd had last night.
You sniffed the air. Micen had been around, but for now the room was silent. Meaning they were either hiding or none were out. Oh well. There was always lunch.
After a bowl of cereal and some toast, you dressed in decent clothes for public and headed out, up the road from the mall into the medical centre. You checked in and made your way to the group room. It was a plain room, cheesy motivational posters along the wall and windows to the streets outside. Only three other people were present and you greeted them all with a simple nod. Two of them you recognized, both leonas close to your own age but the third was a new face, a small girl with bright yellow fur and a few peach coloured spots on her face and forearms. Her ears ended in small tufts that jutted from her brown hair. You wondered why she was here. Certainly not due to any kind of military ptsd like you and the other two.
The head doctor entered the room shortly after you and the session began once again like clockwork. The other two relayed their accounts of how their last two weeks had been, They both had a weary yet satisfied look on their faces at the end, typical of being able to let a load off. The girl went next. Her story was different. Having befriended a micen and promised him not to eat his kind, she'd been caught out by him in a moment of weakness. Shortly after while looking for her friend, she'd been kidnapped. A fire had helped her to escape, but she never did find her micen friend again.
You caught yourself smiling as the girl relayed the last part of her story, even though her friend was just a micen she had decided to forego eating them as a way of keeping her promise. You'd known a friendship like that once, but those days were long gone. And then all too soon, it was your turn to relive memories from the hell that had been your youth...
Heavy footfall followed you, though your armour allowed for stealthier movements there simply wasn't time. The conscripts were being routed and would likely flee any second. The platoons of infantry were meant to be here already, but they'd been sidetracked by enemy outriders. The commander was already dead, and you were the next closest thing they had to leadership. Nestled into a crevice in your rear shoulder armour, a micen friend named Erron had made sure no enemy had been able to take you from behind.
A scream of rage escaped your lips as you leaped a pile of rubble and impacted an enemy soldier under metal boot. Bones broke. Claws followed, slicing through flesh of the next soldier to raise their weapon against you. A bullet ricocheted off your shoulder and several more followed. You ducked behind a collapsed wall and weaved around before once more leaping into the air with a savage snarl. Three foxen had been hunting you, but now they were Hell Razor prey. Their cries failed to drown out your roar.
'I'm sorry.' You took a pause, trying to control your breathing as the three deaths you took in that moment flashed through your mind. One had been a middle aged foxen with blue eyes, the other two had been far younger, maybe even teens. You had ended them all. But this was the same day that...
You would be known by the trail of dead you left behind. Foxen and avon alike lie dead behind you, even a seraph had met your claws in battle and fallen thanks to Erron's warning. The conscripts had taken heart by your example. Many of them had pushed forward, holding the line and buying time for the reinforcements to arrive. But now someone else was here. You'd glimpsed them, atop the rubble of a destroyed armoured vehicle but they were gone by the time you'd made the jump only to appear behind you. Not a seraph, no seraph could do this... It was crazy. It wasn't possible.
You continued the pursuit but the enemy always seemed one step ahead, or one step behind as they seemed to dictate. But he was getting closer each time and his pattern was predictable. Still, one mistake and you'd be dead. Each time he was getting closer, it was only a matter of time before he struck. One of the conscripts, Jacob you remembered his name as, emerged onto the street. Your vision swam as something impacted your right shoulder, and you spun to see the avon had materialized and struck. You countered with a heavy blow, but he jumped back and disappeared. Within seconds he hit you from the other side with a strong kick that threw you off balance. But you managed to twist with the blow and spin your clawed arm around, dragging through his thorax as he leaned in for the killing blow.
'Take your time.' The therapist said. He knew this part was always the hardest, but he insisted that each telling brought you closer to coping with the aftermath better. Maybe he was right, usually by this point you were in tears. You took a deep breath as you remembered the last moments of that day...
The enemy was unlike any you had faced. In later years you would know him as a godsend, an assassin the avon would send for priority targets. But he had failed, lying dead upon your claws as you hefted his corpse to the side. Looking back, Jacob had nodded to your lead and you had set out to follow. Not a few seconds had gone by before the godsend was before you again, uninjured and ready.
You were terrified. Could these things even die? The same blank visage you had watched fade now stared back at you with the same impassive intent. It wanted you dead, and had endured its own murder in pursuit of that goal. You raised your claws shakily to fight, but it simply vanished.
Pain shot through an exposed joint on your leg. More gunshots followed, coming from behind you. Many hit your armour uselessly, but several found their mark in your flesh and ripped bloody wounds through your skin. With red tinted vision you fell forth, everything below your shoulders was in agony, and you blacked out. The last thing you saw before darkness was Jacob walking past you, smoke leaving the barrel of his gun. Why hadn't Erron warned you...?
You awoke that night, mostly numb and unable to move, in a medical tent somewhere. The reinforcements had come. You'd been found almost dead and they had rushed to save your life, Your armour was gone, given to someone of an able body and most of you was covered in bandages. The surgeon had told you that the shots had taken their toll on your legs and abdomen. One of them had sheared through your groin, missing your femoral artery but not forgoing harm. He said you'd learn to walk again... But you'd never be able to have children.
You leaned back in your chair with your eyes closed. No tears, but you could feel them coming. Your breathing was slow and shallow. Your eyes flickered and opened as you anticipated the condescendingly pitied stares of the others in the room. But no. They were proud. Telling the story with no tears had been a milestone you'd been after for some time and now you'd done it. Only the girl seemed to be saddened by your story, but she stayed strong and resolute once seeing how you and the others had reacted.
'Maron that was excellent.' The doctor said. The rest of the session felt easy, and it was over relatively quickly.
As the doors opened, a young leona was waiting outside, leaning on the wall in the corridor. You met her gaze as you walked by, something about her seemed familiar. She gae you a small cocky smile before turning to the therapist. Moments later the smile turned into a scowl.
'McGee?' She asked.
'Uhh, no. Sorry Ms. Sabar.' The therapist shook his head. 'Haven't seen him for the last four sessions.' You stopped walking. Sabar was Kre's surname, was this young woman related? Somehow you knew the name McGee as well... Right, he was one of the others who attended these sessions. Although somewhat more sporadically and halfheartedly, as though he didn't really want to be here but was being forced to go.
'Son of a bitch!' Ms. Sabar punched the wall and pulled a phone out of her pocket, dialing furiously. You weren't sure why, but this was an amusing sight and you failed to suppress a small laugh. The woman's ear flicked in your direction and she glared at you. She may have been trying to intimidate you, which would have been fun, but she got her answer and turned back away.
'Hello? Yea! No, don't give me that crap, you're supposed to be here!' She almost yelled, but managed to keep her voice down at least enough to not cause a ruckus. 'What? Yes I know that... Fine, but you need to stop missing these. I'm serious... Yes, I heard you! Alright... I'll talk to Dad. Don't miss the next session.'
Your smile turned into a smirk as she hung up and turned back to you. Now you knew. Her dad. Sabar, Kre. This had to be the daughter he told you about. 'Well hello Risa.'
'Don't give me that, Maron.' She growled back, stalking towards you. 'You've made the sensible choice to come here on your own, not everyone has that luxury.' She stopped a foot short of you and stared back, her shorter height making her intimidation factor nil. You were supposed to be cowed because she knew your name somehow?
'Does your daddy know what you do?' You asked, making her eyes widen a touch, just enough for you to catch. She stayed silent, but kept her stare. You nodded. This was a dangerous game, but one you weren't too fussed about losing, not at this late stage of your life. 'Well. Maybe I'll see you around sometime.' You nodded again and turned away. Time to go home.
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