I noticed too late what he was planning, what he was willing to sacrifice to bring me and Isra down. A split second in which his smile widened too far, followed by a spark that turned into an inferno. Flashes of white and orange filled my mind. Pain didn’t even register until I was already flung against hard metal, then this immeasurable heat. I passed out before my brain realized that I was on fire, luckily.
And then?
I heard her voice, Isra talking to me, hysterical and frightened. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I barely noticed who or what was lifting me up, only that the pain vanished soon after.
Only nothingness remained, sweet bliss in which no thoughts crossed my mind, none except one: Is Isra alright?
I felt this endless void within myself, dragging me into a strangely familiar feeling, one I so deeply resented. This floating, empty sensation, black infinity stretching into endlessness.
Then, suddenly, I was sitting in a chair. The type that you’d be forced into when visiting someone’s office who definitely wasn’t kind to visitors.
I tried to look around but failed to make out anything except the chair I was sitting on, failing to make sense of my surroundings. I glanced down and saw… see nothing. I am here, I have no body, I have no form.
I try to move but no sensation enters my muscles. I try to see what is around me and finally realize that I am in the middle of a white, flat, and infinitely empty plain. There is nothing around me and I cannot see where this eery white light is coming from.
I attempt to open my mouth and talk. When it doesn’t succeed, I try to scream. But again, I make no noise.
I should be afraid, right? I should be absolutely terrified of what is happening. And yet, I am calm, I feel no fear, no emotions at all.
Then, a question crosses the otherwise impossibly empty landscape that is my mind: ‘Am I dead?’
“No, I am afraid I must disappoint you. Your body is damaged but you will live.” I recognize the voice, but how? Have never heard her before and yet, it is rooted deeper than any memory I can think of.
From nowhere, a form, a shape appears and my sensation-starved mind takes it in with greedy attention. A woman about my height in a black and white dress suit apparatus sitting atop the same type of chair I am sitting on. Her face is hardened with bright blue pupils and a long scar across her nose. Her hair is ash white and seems to float steadily at shoulder length. And again, I recognize her despite consciously knowing I have never met her before.
Her eyes are locked with where I assume mine should be, staring deeply into me with some emotion akin to curiosity. Then she raises an eyebrow.
“Welcome back, Luis,” she greets. There is a certain softness in her tone that makes it calming to listen to, like a gentle, flowing melody.
‘Where am I?’ I attempt to speak but with no mouth or vocal cords, I can only think about what I want to ask. But somehow, I know that she can understand me.
“That depends. Are you asking where we are currently, or where your body is?” She speaks as if talking about the most mundane subject there could be as if talking to a friend about something completely unimportant.
‘I…don’t understand… What is going on, who are you, what happened, where is Isra?’ Every thought of mine stops at the last point, memories getting caught up on the viper.
She closes her eyes for a second. When she reopens them, their color has changed to a vibrant, glowing purple. “One at a time, Luis, I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
‘No, what is going on?! ’ I find it within myself to display emotion, though I am unsure if it is anger or fear.
But the woman doesn’t react to my outburst, remaining seated and unchanged in her expression. “She is alright, as is your physical self. I can explain but I must ask you to remain contained, for your own sake.”
I stare for a moment longer, failing to wrap my head around everything that has accrued. But, without even having a body and now her talking about my physical self, I think I have no choice but to listen. ‘Alright, explain,’ I demand.
She crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knee. “I am Marschal Fetra, I am with the psionic specialist team – PST for short – of Xcom. You, along with several other involved parties, including the viper unit Isra, are within our custody. You were severely injured in a fight with a group referred to as the Cullers. While your body is healing and in a coma, I am talking with you here.”
‘Where is here? ’ I ask.
“This place,” she motions to the white void around us, “is what I call the subliminal space. It exists on the same plane that our consciousnesses remain in when we are not actively using it – you may think of it as a very lucid dream. Normally, all memory of it fades when we wake up, but people such as me are able to enter and have conversations as normal..”
‘And where is my… physical self, exactly?’
“In a medical facility in Spain, I am currently at your bedside.”
‘Why can’t I see myself but you have a body?’ I look her up and down, noting that her outfit has shifted from a suit to some kind of uniform, clearly belonging to a special force, markings betraying the xcom logo.
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“Because you don’t don’t have that kind of control here,” she explains as if it is only natural to know.
‘Why are you talking to me?’ I finally settle, though my mind is still drawn to my lack of a body, deeply unsettled by this feeling of etherealness.
“You’re bound to wake up soon. Your memories were important to a case I am building and I wanted to personally ensure you would be fine when waking up. Also, I promised Isra I would tell you that she is waiting for you to wake up.”
‘She asked about me?’ Warmth entered my chest at the thought.
She chuckles and smirks. “Constantly.” She leaned back to gauge my reaction.
I felt an immediate wave of rush of emotion overcoming me. Her eyes, in their strange, iridescent purple seemed to almost glow, I’m guessing sensing the thoughts that had formed in my head.
No, this isn’t what I should focus on. ‘A case, my memories, what are you talking about? What will my situation look like when I wake up?’ I shot out quickly.
But she was unfazed, responding within a breath: “You will be what you have always been, a mercenary. Only payment this time is a reduction in sentence for each of the objectives you will perform for us.”
I guessed, but hearing her directly threatening with it made it real. Still, my instincts kicked in and I begin trying to deny any accusation, hoping in some stupid way that she would back off.
“While you are here, you are speaking from your subconscious, though we need to thoroughly redefine neurology soon. It’s useless to even try to hide anything from me, you sound absolutely ridiculous when trying,” she speaks condescendingly, almost taking this as if it was a friendly chat with a friend.
‘A job then…’ I pause for a second. So why me?’ I of course have a theory but I want her to confirm it, I hoped dearly I was wrong.
“Because of who you were and obviously still are. You are a leader of a high standard, specifically quiet and quick. The infiltration branch doesn’t even cover some of the things I’ve seen you perform. And we need the new ideas, we’re running into a problem of them figuring out our techniques and adapting. Some of our experts believe that if we don’t take care of them quickly enough they could potentially rebuild their forces and return the conflict to before it got this close to ending.”
I took in the information silently, trying to make notes of my bargaining position and which cards she hadn’t shown me yet. It would definitely not be simple and so straightforward as she said, they can`t be that desperate, right?
‘How many excursions and what type?’ I asked, showing that I was agreeable to the offer, hiding my severe doubts.
“The number depends on how the mission goes. Multiple insurgents teams will be deployed along key points in France and Germany. This would allow us to advance and take the last fortified positions.”
‘If you’re gonna make me agree or disagree with a plan, at least tell me the details. What kind of team would you assign to me, who would even go on this kind of shit?’
She pauses a moment before responding, openly displeased that I was talking back. “A team comprised of people who have enough loyalty and stake in this to follow someone like you. I have compassion for you, Mr. Ringer, I have seen what you have been through and I doubt many would still have even a shred of humanity left. But as it stands, you have very little use besides this. The viper is the only reason you are not already dead, which allowed me to make a proposition to the commander.” Her eyes lit up for a moment and the intensity of her face grew stone cold. “This is a deal you do not truly deserve, and you know that, don’t you?”
I wanted to respond with something but my thoughts moved slow and uncoordinated. I tried to blink and shake my head but the feeling didn’t go away. The lady sits still and I believe I even see her smirk.
“I know your thoughts, I know how much you hope, wished that you would just never wake up again from that explosion. Your mind had already accepted it before your heart stopped. But now you’re here,” the feeling suddenly vanished as she leaned back and folded her hands over her knees.
‘ What will happen to Isra if I comply?’ I tried to shake her words away with a question, attempting to remain rational.
But she just smiled, I just waltzed in an opportunity for her to triumph over me again. “She has already volunteered for the mission I have just mentioned.” Her voice was confident and clearly underlined with sadistic satisfaction. Before it even became apparent to me, I knew she had seen my response.
I blinked rapidly, sorting through any point I could make or any possibility outward, like an animal trapped in a predator’s burrow, I was laid bare for her. I feel those tiny needles stabbing into my brain, taking a small chunk out of each one of my thoughts. Extremely thin, mist-like strands or shards appear to float in the air around me and each of these hundreds of needles leads back to the Marshal’s hand.
It is getting too much, I have to deal with it in a different way.
‘Fuck you! ’ I yelled out but as I turned, she was gone.
“I am giving you a chance to be more than a criminal and a murderer, Luis. I understand that you have been hurt many times and you don’t trust me. But I hope that we can eventually have mutual respect because I respect you for what you are doing for Isra. I will see you soon, goodbye,” without a point of origin, there wasn’t language, rather just meaning converted into thoughts.
Sweet unconsciousness embraced me, though the sting of Fetra’s words latched onto me like a looming shadow.
–––––––––––
Some time later…
How much time I don’t know, as the first initial sensations of consciousness, the noise of a heart monitor, the taste of strange, heavy air, pain, and touch in my right hand. Something is pressing me, it’s cold and rough on the exterior but there is a softness in what I make out to be fingers, long fingers.
My body stirs in a pulse of stinging pain in my upper chest and I clench my teeth instinctively, squeezing down on the hand that’s holding mine without thought.
“Luis, you’re alright, I’m here,” a distant, female voice bounces off the walls, carrying with it a slight dragging of the s.
The following choice of trying to open my eyes results in a blinding flash and a horrifying realization. “W-what is? My eye won’t open, what’s going–”
“Ssshhh, it’s alright, you were injured but you’re alright. You’re alright, I swear." The voice struck many cords within my head and my heart grows warm for a moment.
"Isra?" I ask hesitantly, afraid of being wrong.
I feel rough but smooth, glassy set of digits on my cheeks. "Yes, I am here." then, a strange sound. It sounds like someone trying to hold back sobbing. After a moment of confusion, I heard her voice again. "I thought you were dead, I didn't know what to do and they said you we--" Her broken voice trailed off.
I reached up to grab her wrist, holding onto it to comfort both of us. "It's alright. Everything is going to be alright."
Despite my eyes remaining closed, I can almost see her bright, blue gemstones staring back at me. What happened next, neither of us knows who initiated it. But it did not take long before I found my lips pursed, her long hand on the back of my head and mine on her cheek. I pull and am pulled closer at the same time. My heart races only for a few seconds before we make contact.
Her lips are somewhat softer than her other scales. She parts them slightly for me, imitating what I am doing. The feeling of intimacy, want and equal desire floods over me. Time begins to float, I do not try to hold on and simply float in the Vipers, in Isra's embrace.
Whatever would come next, nothing could take this moment away.