The Seahorse

I need a map or a layout.

I find another route to take. There is movement and sound on the other end. Oh, this is my body. I don't even recognize this woman. Lying on a tall padded table, molded to her form, a monster machine between her legs. An impressive spherical cage surrounds her. I can see the entire hanger from here. It is a camera! I can see through all cameras! The whole facility. Every chamber. Everything. So many walking about. Oh, look. These three are having a chat in a kitchenette. This soldier is flirting with a girl in a mini skirt. So much intel. I know where I am. I know how to get out. No other captives. My brother is not here.

Wait! I know this bastard. This video is inside an office. It's Dr. A, the guy in charge of the facility and my experimentation. He's talking on the phone.

"...the levels were high enough; visible deformation of the graphene straps was observed. Protocol dictates subject must be sedated once she -" Dr. A is sitting at his desk. Holding his glasses in his hand, a tell when he's nervous. Is he scared of what I did or from the caller, on the other end?

"We believe the increased food supply is the reason for her powers re-initializing-" Nothing happens for several minutes.

"Yes, sir. I'm looking at the readings, sir. The fetus is not showing any evidence of output. We thought we saw a brief spike earlier today, but the computers recorded a zero. Perhaps printer error. We haven't observed energy output since conception." His eyebrows are drawn. He stands and stares out his window, holding on to the phone. It's not to the outside. It's a window to the hanger with me, lying there unmoving.

"I don't believe these numbers will change, sir. If the fetus was viable, it should have already exhibited radiation or electromagnetic fluctuation. If you remember, I voiced my protest previously regarding sperm corruption-" Silence.

"If we terminate the pregnancy now, we can restart treatments in two weeks." A long pause and the doctor appears relieved.

"I'll schedule the termination procedure at 0800 tomorrow, can begin the fetal autopsy at 0900. You'll have my full report of abnormalities and DNA genome in one week."

"Thank you, sir." He returns to sit at his desk as I recede my consciousness back into my body.

It takes me some time to absorb what I heard. I'm paralyzed. Outward and inward. You have to understand, I came to grips with my pregnancy hours ago. I'm ashamed to admit it but at first, I thought it might be best if they kill it. They put it there against my will, and they should take it out.

Except... It's not its fault!

I've felt it now. It's beautiful. Can the humans even comprehend this singular miracle? What a crime it would be, to end its life? It's growing inside me and I'll be forever changed, as its mother. I hate my imprisonment, but I don't hate this baby. I don't want it killed. It is and will always be a part of me. An extension of myself. I'll defend it with every atom that I am.

My power detonates.

Never like this before. Divine fire coursing through my veins. My fury has such ferocity, it would have scared me, except for the clarity anchoring to my purpose.

The alarms are soundless; all equipment already disconnected. Time to pull out the tubes with my ka. The long one, lodged through my nose is the most excruciating, nearly making me vomit. The balloon in the bladder, IV in the vein, the one in the rectum are easier. There's no benefit to pain, whilst in battle.

Still silence. No one is watching. They are getting careless with me.

I focus my abilities on the accursed bands. From previous experience, I know their weakest point. Where they connect to the table. I direct and amplify my power on the thin pin, inside the hinge. Crack! One strap is done, five more left. This is by no means a silent mission, but the pops are discreet, compared to the cacophony of the medical equipment.

With all the bands open, I center my attention on the straight jacket. Contrary to what I was told, I know I can puncture it. The fibers can be separated, at the seams. Too obvious and will drain energy. The simplest method would be to open it, silly. I arch my back and untangle the buckles and slide the straps out with ka. I elevate a stiff arm but the movement is weak. Rusty joints, cragfast in position. I use my power to remove the blindfold. For the first time in weeks, I'm assaulted by light. I wait until my amber eyes adjust; raise myself with extreme effort then awkwardly roll over the edge until I'm airborne.

The wires release from my body with loud popping. I drop and they dangle above me, like snakes. I fall to the nuisance of my ankle bone exploding open. A man in a white lab coat and two soldiers are staring in shock.

The taller soldier composes himself first, yelling. "Stop! Stay where you are!"

Why would I do that? Using my abilities, I marionette myself up and move closer to the cage. Joints, ligaments and tendons, shouting in distress. Some muscle atrophies. Of course, far from optimal performance... given the circumstance. No matter.

The soldiers raise their weapons and I brace. I spin and lasso my energy ropes at marvelous speed, creating an impermeable, invisible shield. As I continue to walk one harrowing step after another, the scientist reaches for something under the desk.

A shrieking alarm interrupts.

At the sudden din, the shorter one panics and begins shooting. For the briefest moment, I consider his weapon: M16, 20 rounds, solid choice. Worthless against me. As the firing stops, the human eyes me in disbelief; the bullets orbiting around me. They are so quick you can barely make them out. I am... without a scratch.

I smile. How accommodating of him.

I select three slugs. Torpedo each one towards the three heads. The soldiers plop to the floor without pomp; the scientist hunches in his seat. What to do with my biggest obstacle? There are no physical locks or keys. If I had not given in to the rage and planned a bit, I should have opened the cage with the little one's abilities. As I am unattached, it's no longer an option. What was the point of all this, if I'll be trapped inside? Frustration fuels tenacity. Perhaps the same method can be used, as the bands.

I imagine the ka as a bomb. I propel it into the welded connection of the bolt, holding the hinge pin. It's an area of less than half a fingernail and I expend enough force, it could have destroyed a quarter of this chamber.

BOOM. The connection bursts.

I crumple to the floor in exhaustion but giddy with excitement. I follow suit with the bottom hinge, now at eye level. BOOM. Then levitate the pins up and with my remaining power, push up and pry the door open with an annoying sob.

Sadly, with this little demonstration, I am depleted. I slither on the floor towards the closest soldier. It takes forever, as I can no longer use my abilities to move my ineffective limbs.

The void urges me to join her.

I can't give in.

I inch my mouth closer and closer until I reach his foot. I lift his black pant leg, exposing naked skin.

"I accept your offering. May you be judged heavy, in the underworld." I croak and bite down the back of his ankle, right above the heel. Puncturing the flesh with my sharpened teeth. I sever the Achilles tendon and reach the juicy tibial artery. I latch on as a babe and suckle with great effort. Oh, sweet libation!

You don't need a beating heart to drink from a host, but blood pressure does make it far easier. It is against pride and principle to steal. I grant an end to suffering; never rob the living and unwilling. Thus, I'm well versed in partaking from the freshly dead. As the first sanguine liquid reaches my mouth, my core contracts and colors dance. I crawl on top of the soldier's body until I reach his throat and partake in an easier drink. Can feel my ankle bone, threading itself back together.

As I'm about to finish, I notice in my periphery, the scientist whilst still hunched -- his hand spasms. I leap to the body, smell his life, but just barely. I evaluate his odds of survival. I tilt his head. With this kind of traumatic brain injury where the bullet passed from the left frontal lobe tip toward the brainstem, his chance of mortality is high. His brain is mush. He has minutes if not seconds remaining. All healers are gone. No help will reach him in time.

I bite with my arrow-like incisors, on both sides of his trachea and puncture the carotid artery. If he could have screamed, he would have, but instead he gurgles, his air escaping in bubbles. Aah... The flow is heavenly. I do prefer to sup from warriors. The higher testosterone an iron content resulting in a superior yield; full-bodied and with an aromatic aftertaste. But this is no time for trivial predilections. I accept your offering. May you be judged heavy in the underworld. His dying heart is beating as fast as a rabbit's. Blood spills into my ready mouth and I gulp it down with little waste. Years of malnutrition and damage - restored. His beating dwindles and then stops, but I am now repaired in body and energy.

I saunter towards the metal gate. It is three times my height. Meanwhile, scraping off my body the white sticker pads. One of those new strange sensors, on the right. I can't open the door without iris recognition. Easily fixable. I hunch down to the body of the stubby soldier, conveniently located nearest the exit. I bend down and stick my fingers around his open lid. Forcing my thumb between the eyeball and the socket until his gouged eye pops out of the skull. Like a gumball from a vending machine. I giggle with a girlish laugh. I haven't felt this optimistic in years. I don't have time to enjoy myself. Already, precious minutes lost. I yank the ball from the optic nerves, severing it, hop to the sensor, and line up the slimy orb. Greenlight comes on, but the door doesn't open. Did I miss something? Oh! A keypad with numbers below.

Information floods back into my brain. Electronic door codes. But which code do I need? I'm wasting time! I return to Stubby, and as I pop his eye into my salivating mouth, enjoying its jelly texture, I study his body. What! It's a shame to waste a good eyeball. There's a security card clipped on his shirt pocket. I pull the card and hop back to the keypad. His name is Forrest Parry...... The strangest thought flashes in my mind: 'Parry F -- 070421'. I enter the combination. The gate draws up with a hiss. I ready my shield.

What a vision I must be to behold. Illuminated from the back, my nude body stands majestic, in the center of the large doorway. My hunger-induced, small build would trick you into thinking, I am an adolescent girl. No scars, wrinkles, or defects in sight. Courtesy of my slowly-growing child, the hint of roundness at my abdomen. Skin, golden, as the desert. Long curls, as black as charcoal, reach past my luscious bottom and generous hips. Only the blood dripping from my full lips would betray how truly dangerous I am.

Sure, I could have taken a lab coat to ease the cold, prickling my skin. But there is no advantage to this. I have no silly notions as modesty. My comfort is of no importance. I can't tell you how many times virile soldiers will delay shooting or attacking when they perceive my naked form. Giving me enough time to defend. Their reflexes, biologically programmed, are to protect not harm fertile females. My body is a weapon. Let their eyes have their fill. Since it's the last thing they will see, let them die happy.

The new room is dark. Only emergency lighting. I need a moment to adjust to the darkness, but... no time!

Someone discharges their weapon. Ten rounds, twenty, sixty.... Oh, several shooters.

My shield gyrates. The bullets swept up in vertigo around me. They stop firing. I can see them. With gas covers, M16s and other semi-automatic carbine rifles pointed. I flex my strings and the bullets reverse course. Flying outwards, hitting all at once. I grin, as I notice all the bodies have fallen in five neat straight lines, like bowling pins.

I don't have time to admire my craft. I shouldn't rush, but need to move. I've given the humans a head start. They've had time to mobilize the soldiers into stop points; evacuate non-military personnel. This is a research complex, but I've learned its part of a larger military base. Army reinforcements are on the way. They will do their best to stall me until support arrives. It's how I would plan this, anyway. From here on, I must use intelligence and ability.

I can't be stopped.

I tread down the long passage, but limbs grow heavier. A slight sweet scent. Oh, right. Forgot about the gas. I said intelligence, khem! But this isn't the first time I've been gassed. Or even the tenth. I hold my breathing, return to the soldiers. Grab a mask off one and put it on.

The alarms are off. How nice of them. It was getting quite annoying. I start my slow ascend up the tunnel. The floor, bathed in crimson, by wall potlights facing downwards and light-reflecting strips. It's cold, quiet and dark. Blood is buzzing with adrenaline. Feels like I'm hunting a monster in its lair.

Except... I'm the monster.

What a fun quest! I wish these humans had been so entertaining before. Born on the battlefield, violence is my native language. My truest virtue. Yes, not a virtue any coward will recognize as virtuous or leading to a pleasant outcome but it is a virtue, indeed, when the circumstances demand it. I bring fairness by destruction.

You can barely hear the steps of a lioness, as she's about to pounce on her prey. It's no surprise the soldiers, at the top of the ramp, did not perceive me. I exit the shadows, lunge at the one closest. With my bare hands, I snap his neck until a satisfying crunch. The others jump back and retreat, directing shaking firearms.

"Miss, ggg go back and we don't have to hurt you!" A soldier yells.

My body is a weapon. I killed their buddy before their eyes and they're still obeying their dicks and wasting precious seconds. If I ever perish in battle, it will be because I dropped dead from boredom.

I fucked up, though. I need them to attack. Shoot already! I should have voiced my command, but have you ever talked through a gas mask? You sound ridiculous.

The body of the fallen soldier is below me. I could pick up his weapon, but with the shield encasing me, shooting out would be pointless. Or risk exposure for the duration of the mag discharge with no protection.

I stumble on my prize. A hunting knife, hoisted from his waist. Naughty boy. That's not regulation issue. I propel it, flying straight into the neck of a tall target. The remaining shoot immediately. Their reactions, quick enough to surprise me with my barrier not fully active. Something tears through my shoulder. At least they are finally firing. All remaining bullets are captured, flying around me as little moons.

They stop.

This is my cue to reverse my satellites. Three bodies drop to the ground. The fourth is not mortally wounded and he is first crawling, then running away. His back to me. Doesn't he know? You should never turn your back to a predator. I get distracted and pursue until he's cornered. A crying, shaking mess, huddled on the ground, trying to disappear into the walls. I squat nude, in front of him. Can't see his face as we're both wearing masks but my toes feel his warm, liquid fear, pooling beneath him, arousing me. For a moment I consider mercy, but the humans need a reminder.

No force in nature,

is more vicious

than an angry mother.

I transform my energy into a blade, severing his spinal cord before he could feel any pain. As I regard his calm, lifeless body I think: there, that's all the mercy I had left.

Oh, I see.

You think I've crossed a line. From sympathetic captive to psychotic killer. Perhaps. But consider this before you pass your judgments on me. These soldiers would have kept their lives if they simply let me pass. It is no coincidence I choose to mold my power into a shield. Without the bullets of my enemies, shooting at me, I would have no weapons to kill them back with.

I turn around to face the doors of the elevator lift. I open my right palm and slide the security card into the slot. I enter the code and the lift doors slide open. Thanks to my earlier electronic reconnaissance, I know where I am headed and push the *L1 button. Whilst I wait in the small space for ten floors to rise, I slide down the icy-paneled wall, focusing on my wound. The lights flicker. I expected pain, a numb left arm, and blood loss, but there's not much damage. The bullet must have only grazed me. I swing my shield, ready.

The speaker makes a pleasant ding, indicating the desired floor is reached. Before the doors are fully open, a hail of bullets riddles every vertical surface with ammunition-sized holes.

Spent shell casings clank joyfully on the terrazzo floor, like falling raindrops.

I warp time a little to enjoy this instant. It's the little things in life that always get to me. The stunning barrage won't last long. I rest. Watch mesmerized the incoming projectiles, which then rotate into my power. As soon as it's quiet, I kill all the warriors before the flow of time could recoil. I move as the bodies fall in my wake.

I step into a well-lit lobby. Slide the security card; knowing it's the last time I'll be able to use this trick. The door slides left.

Before me is Loading Dock Three.

There are no trucks or vehicles left inside the large fluorescent space, with concrete floor and walls. Between me and the garage gate are over twenty troops, clad in dark uniforms and armor. All point various military-grade weapons at me. All except one. Dr. Asshole is in the middle. His white hair, beard and lab coat contrasting the sea of black. As usual, his face is unsatisfyingly flaccid... That's when it occurs to me. None of them are wearing masks. I guess they only flooded the lower levels.

Now, I feel silly.

I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender. Pull the cover off with the gracefulness of a feline, lest I spook my audience. Thus, freeing my tresses to spread out with a head shake. A welcoming breath, as my hands drop.

"I was overdressed for this party." I wink at the doctor. No reaction. But then I wasn't expecting one. They all stand there. Dr. A isn't saying anything. Is he even breathing? I guess now we start the staring match. My least favourite sport. Who's going to crack down and speak first, releasing some imaginary negotiation advantage? Oh wait! I've already spoken, because I'm sassy like that, so it's only polite for the gentleman to have a turn.

"Sekhmet, we can come to an agreement." Finally, he speaks!

Frankly, I'm disappointed. After decades together and all the times we've played this game, he thought bargaining with empty platitudes could dissuade me from my prize. When I'm one gate away. What is his offering? The lifeless body of my offspring, after he cuts it out of me? I can give him a response, exponentially more creative.

I drop the leather mask to the floor and open my right palm, still holding the security ID. My ka grasps the rectangular plastic, spins it in place with fantastic speed until it is a flying disk. I direct the projectile exactly at the doctor, cutting off his right arm, above the elbow.

He screams in agony. "Open Fire!"

Hundreds of bullets envelop me in jubilation. I watch and feed my cosmic strings. All power will be spent soon. I don't know how long I have, but at least I'll have the look on the face of the good doctor to remember in the afterlife. For all the times he cut me open, chained, raped, or electrocuted me; I take away his dominant hand. My 'agreement' to him.

After a minute of heavy shooting, luckily, they cease. I stand before them, in all my glory. With my last burst of power, I ricochet their lead back. I stroll into their midst. Most litter the floor either dead or screaming in pain, beneath my feet. A few are running away, but I have no interest in pursuing. The doctor, who fell almost immediately after his amputation, is clinging to his bloody limb. I gaze down with pure 'affection' and consider whether to take a second of my valuable time and pay him back for keeping me here.