I let myself feel the flicker of hope for exactly three seconds before my datapad buzzed, reminding me of the looming mountain of paperwork waiting for my attention.
Sighing, I powered the thing on and was greeted with a slew of notifications. Each one carried the weight of responsibility wrapped in bureaucracy. Half of it was for her, the other half the mess from the mission itself.
Request for Asset Registration: Unregistered Non-Human Entity – Category D (Succubus). Submit biometric data. Apply tracking chip. Complete Form 447-3. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.
Incident Report Submission Required: Property Damage – Basement Collapse. Outline incident timeline. Submit photographic evidence. Responsible parties.
And more. Always more.
I sank into the chair by the desk, rolling my shoulders as I opened the first form. The standard-issue mess of questions scrolled onto the screen. Every one was deliberately designed to make me feel like I was documenting a piece of equipment rather than someone I’d carried out of a hellhole the day before.
I entered the basics: approximate height and weight, category of species, the “behaviors observed,” and dietary requirements. The last one made me pause, and I stared at the blinking cursor like it might supply the answer for me.
What did I even write? She was starving, feral, scared—but those weren’t behaviors, were they? Those were conditions inflicted on her. I typed a line and deleted it three times before settling on:
“Flight and fight instincts heightened due to prolonged mistreatment. No signs of aggression beyond survival-driven behavior.”
It wasn’t perfect, but it was accurate.
The rest of the form asked for biometric data I didn’t have yet. I could already hear the medics groaning about me dragging her into their sterile, too-bright facility again. Not that I cared about their opinions. This wasn’t optional. Command needed their damn chip implanted, and without it, I’d have hell to pay.
By the time I reached the incident report, my vision blurred with fatigue. I powered through anyway, documenting the chain of events as plainly as possible: the initial entry, the fight through the cultists, the flesh amalgamation, the structural collapse on the trapped stairs, and the discovery of her chained in the basement. Every detail was etched into my memory, but typing it out made it feel colder, more detached, like it had happened to someone else.
I submitted the last report and set the datapad aside, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The dull ache in my temples reminded me that sleep had been more suggestion than reality last night.
I glanced at the bed. She was still there, bundled in the blanket with her knees tucked up to her chest. Her pink eyes watched me cautiously, every movement measured and deliberate.
“It’s all set,” I said softly, though I doubted she understood. “Now we just have to get through the next part.”
Her claws flexed against the fabric, and I stood slowly, stretching the stiffness from my back.
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“This might be rough,” I admitted, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “But it’s the last thing we need to do before we can get out of here.”
She didn’t growl or hiss, but the tension in her body was unmistakable.
I held out a hand, palm up. “Come on. You’ll be with me the whole time.”
Her pink eyes darted to my hand, then back to my face. After a moment, she shifted forward, the blanket slipping from her shoulders as her claws brushed against my palm.
“Good,” I murmured. “Let’s go.”
The hallways were quieter than usual for this time of day, but the clang of her hooves against the floor echoed like gunshots in the stillness. She stayed close, her claws grazing my arm occasionally as if making sure I was still there. Her breathing quickened the closer we got to the medbay, and I felt her claws dig slightly into my sleeve.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “Just a quick procedure. Then we’re done.”
The medbay doors slid open with a faint hiss, and the antiseptic scent hit me like a wall. The sterile light illuminated every corner of the room, casting harsh shadows across the equipment and the two medics waiting for us.
One of them was Paul, the squad’s new recruit. His uniform was spotless, his expression smug, and I already hated him. He glanced at the succubus and snorted.
“You’re really bringing that thing in here?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
“She needs a chip,” I said flatly.
“She needs a leash,” Paul muttered, folding his arms.
“Careful,” I warned, stepping slightly in front of her.
“She’s non-human,” Paul said, as if that explained everything. “You do realize what that means, right?”
“It means she’s in my care,” I snapped. “And she’s getting chipped, like Command ordered. Now shut up and do your job.”
Paul opened his mouth to retort, but the other medic—a tired-looking woman in her forties—cut him off. “Just get her onto the table,” she said, gesturing toward the exam station. “Let’s get this over with.”
I turned to the succubus, crouching slightly. Her claws flexed against my sleeve, and her pink eyes darted around the room with mounting panic.
“Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Her breathing hitched, and she pressed closer to me.
“She’s not going to cooperate,” the woman said, already reaching for a syringe.
“Put that down,” I said sharply, shooting her a glare. “I’ll handle it.”
The medic hesitated but lowered the syringe.
I turned back to the succubus, keeping my voice soft. “It’s just one quick thing. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Her claws twitched, but she didn’t pull away as I guided her toward the table. It took time—too much time, with Paul’s judgmental eyes boring into me—but I eventually coaxed her onto the metal surface.
She whimpered as the needle went in, her claws scraping against the table’s edge, but she didn’t lash out.
“All done,” I said, giving her hand a light squeeze. “You’re good.”
The woman stepped back, nodding curtly. “She’s chipped. You can take her.”
Paul muttered something under his breath, and I felt my patience snap.
“She’s not a thing,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “And if you can’t handle that, maybe this isn’t the job for you. Maybe I'll have Reaper move you somewhere else. I hear Zeta squad are looking for a new meatshield now that their tank died.”
Paul glared at me but didn’t respond.
I helped the succubus off the table, her claws gripping my arm tightly as we left the medbay. The doors slid shut behind us, cutting off the too-bright light and the stench of antiseptic.
My car was waiting for us in the underground garage, a plain gray sedan that wasn’t flashy but got the job done. She hesitated as we approached it, her claws tightening against my sleeve.
“It’s okay,” I said, opening the passenger door. “It’s just a car. It’ll take us somewhere quieter.”
Her pink eyes flicked to me, then to the car, her expression wary.
I crouched slightly, meeting her gaze. “You’ll like it. No more noise, no more people. Just you and me. I promise.”
She didn’t move at first, but eventually, she stepped forward, her hooves clicking softly against the concrete as she climbed into the seat.
“Good,” I said, shutting the door gently before sliding into the driver’s side.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. She stayed curled in the passenger seat, her claws gripping the edge as she stared out the window. Her pink eyes were wide, taking in the city lights as they flickered against the rain-slick streets.
“You’re doing great,” I said softly, glancing at her briefly. “We’re almost there.”
Her gaze flicked to me for a moment before returning to the window.
The apartment complex came into view, its familiar gray walls a welcome sight after the chaos of the day. I pulled into the garage and parked, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief.
“We’re here,” I said, stepping out of the car.
She hesitated again, her claws nervously picking on her skin, before slowly following me out.
The apartment wasn’t much—a small one-bedroom unit on the edge of the city—but it was quiet and private. Exactly what she needed.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside. “Welcome home,” I said softly.
She lingered in the doorway, her pink eyes scanning the room with cautious curiosity.