My trusted contact outside of the base is still poring over the surveillance tapes. Even though I managed to convince Mistress to let me investigate the footage, I had to make a copy and sneak it outside. There was no way that I would be given permission to take classified material to the outside world. There is a reason why people working in this base have an assumed job and identity.
To cover my ass, I have three people inside the base working on analyzing the clips. Out of those three, only one I can fully trust. The other two, however, I can't say with 100% certainty but I need them. None of the three, as far as I know, know that they are not the only ones investigating. Hopefully, by having independent reports, I'll have more chances of getting to the truth.
Here I am in my room, all alone, trying to piece together a game plan for tonight. I’m just sitting in bed, with a glass of water that’s already empty. The clinking ice cubes that I keep swirling in the glass resemble how circular my thoughts have been lately.
I must get into Mistress's office!
If I can find anything on Keira, then I can figure out what that nanochip is for and hopefully explain Keira's abrupt change in behavior.
The glass in my grip better not give. There's an uneasiness that churns my stomach anytime I think back to Keira in the Arena. Her screams, I can't get rid of them. They were worse than when she got branded!
I can’t think about that now!
I must push these thoughts out of my mind for now and focus on the task at hand.
I've finished my duties for the day and I already fed and gave physical therapy to Keira. There hasn't been any improvement since yesterday when she spoke. Still, that’s enough to make me smile. Oh, Keira…
I've mostly kept to myself during this time, avoiding any possible confrontation with Kristia, Cleary, or Mia. I can't risk putting myself in a situation that I know will make me blow up because Keira needs me right now and I know I'm probably hanging by a thin thread with Mistress. She's just not listening to reason!
Great, now I have to clean up this mess.
At least I vented a bit.
I’ll sweep the glass pieces later.
--
It's Thursday night, and many tend to gather at the makeshift bar that spawned in the gym that has the boxing ring. The Bar, as it was so creatively named, came about out of necessity for employees that had to deal with the stresses of work. Mistress had found out that many people were sneaking alcohol into the base and fights among the personnel were breaking out. In an effort to quell the behavior, she set up a dedicated space that also served as an entertainment venue when the prisoners were not the ones being forced to fight. The boxing ring, on the other hand, also lets us burn steam against any personnel that we might be having a beef with regardless of position or status.
Everyone is equal on the canvas.
No one is obligated to fight, but anyone on this base would be hard-pressed to decline one if they were called out in front of everyone. A couple of people choose to avoid The Bar altogether opting to not put themselves in the position of having to fight.
I've been in the ring twice already and won both fights. Both times were with trainees who thought they were too big for their britches. If they would’ve just apologized after I humiliated them in front of the base personnel and forced them to work the worst jobs for not following the chain-of-command and trying to undermine me, I would’ve let them back in my squad when they lost.
They didn’t, so I got rid of them and barred them from ever being in my presence.
If they didn’t agree with the way that I was training the squad, then sucks to be them. I wasn’t going to waste my time on a couple of nobodies who wouldn’t take orders from their superiors.
After my swift victory, they couldn’t even look me in the eye, literally. Their eyes were swollen shut for at least three days. They were in for a surprise when I sent them over to Kristia’s squad where they had hell to pay.
If they thought I was bad, they would soon be begging for forgiveness and wanting to return to my squad. Kristia sure as hell doesn't show any mercy with the trainees. Those who can’t cut it get turned into the next test subjects.
-
As predictably as ever, amid the chatter of the bar patrons and the clinking of glasses filling the air, Dahlia quickly spotted who she was looking for.
“Hey, Mitch! Hey, Joe!” Dahlia smiled at them.
In a dimly lit corner table, Mitch and Joe, Mistress's main bodyguards, sat sipping on their beers at the end of their shifts, as was their daily routine. On the rare occasions when they weren't enjoying an IPA or stout, they could be found simply soaking in the ambiance that The Bar and its patrons offered. After all, their primary duty involved standing guard outside Mistress's door.
While they didn't mind their job, the occasional loneliness would creep in, so they made it a point to fulfill their 'socialization quota' by spending time in a more public place after their shifts.
“Howdy, Dahlia!” replied Mitch as he wiped the beer foam from his mustache.
“Long time no see,” Joe said, tipping his head in a welcoming manner. “I heard Mistress has you working in the dungeons.”
“Yeah, I’m on Subject Waste clean-up duty for the time being.”
“Darn, that sucks,” Mitch drawled.
“I heard it was because you were trying to gatekeep Mistress’s new fleshlight,” Joe laughed, and Mitch reciprocated.
Dahlia stayed silent as she pressed her lips together. She loathed the crass behavior of many men on the base, especially after a few drinks.
Deep down, however, Joe had always unsettled Dahlia. She would be polite towards him, but there was something about him that made her skin crawl.
Perhaps it was the sparse, stringy, too-long hairs above his lip and on his chin that he tried to pass off as a mustache and beard. Or maybe it was the fact that his crooked teeth were permanently stained an ugly mustard yellow from the tobacco he always chewed. Whatever it was, she tried not to engage too much with Joe. Instead, she forced a smile and let out a small, mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, and that’s the reason why you tear through all of yours like a kid in a candy store."
Mitch laughed even harder, “C'mon, Dahlia! Yer hafta come up with a better insult than that!”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, at least I have a sex life,” Dahlia responded while fixing her sight on Mitch.
Mitch stopped laughing and lowered his voice in a menacing tone, “Low blow, Dahlia. Low blow.” Joe pursed his lips, dismissing Dahlia's words as friendly banter but still stinging his ego nonetheless.
Another perk that The Bar provided for these men was the opportunity to meet women. However, they weren't as fortunate in that department as they had hoped, although Mitch fared better than Joe.
The men had average appearances, with nothing particularly striking about them to turn women's heads, nor were they too hideous to scare them away.
What often proved off-putting, instead, was their approach. They preferred to skip foreplay and get straight to business, or if they managed to seduce a woman, they often couldn't last long enough for their partners to be satisfied.
Word of their reputation spread throughout the base, and soon their potential dating pool dwindled to a few newcomers or those left unattended in the hallways with a collar but no Keeper at the end of the leash.
"Fair enough, I see we both have our issues," Joe piped up. "I won't talk about that pretty little brunette like that in front of you." His almost-forgotten New Yorker accent would occasionally surface whenever he started to get irritated.
Dahlia simply nodded, not wanting to verbalize her feelings for Keira in front of these two.
"Do you gentlemen care for another round? It's on me," Dahlia tried to diffuse the tension.
"Yes'm!" Mitch spoke up first. "It's been a particularly boring day. Honestly, since yer rescued that girl - Keira, was it? Bless her heart - from Mistress's office before the fight, Mistress has been madder than a wet hen and mostly keeps to herself or has a conniption fit if we don't fetch her things. There hasn't been any real action for a week now."
As soon as Mitch finished his sentence, Dahlia remembered that she needed a translator whenever she spoke with Mitch. His thick Southern accent and odd phrases had come as a shock to her at first, but for the most part, she got the gist of the conversation.
“Ah yes, I forgot, you two get a kick out of eavesdropping on Mistress’s sexcapades,” Dahlia rolled her eyes not wanting to even think about what those two might have heard and certainly done afterwards.
“Don’t blame us! Mistress is looking real good, prettier than a glob of butter melting on a stack of pancakes, but it's like lookin' for a hoot owl in a thunderstorm. That cake is right there well within our reach. We look at it every day, but we can’t eat it, it really dills my pickle!" Mitch replied.
Although Mitch and Joe preferred women, if they were desperate enough to not find someone of the opposite sex to release their pent up sexual desires with, they would have to resort to men. If they were at their wits end, then they would even satisfy each other since they had lost most of their desire for self-gratification after engaging too frequently with it.
Don't let her catch you saying those things about her," Dahlia warned. "You know she won't take kindly to that. Besides, she has no interest in men."
"Oh, don't worry. We know. That's just us fantasizing about it. We're not stupid. We know what she's capable of, and we plan on keeping our heads, thank you very much," Joe interjected as he crossed his arms.
"Smart choice," Dahlia chuckled as she stood from the table and went to the counter to order a round of drinks. Carrying three pints of beer, she returned to Mitch and Joe.
"Sit a spell. What brings yer here to talk to us?" Mitch asked as he took a swig of his citrusy double IPA.
"I need a favor," Dahlia stated seriously.
Mitch and Joe raised their eyebrows, clearly intrigued but cautious.
"Go on," Mitch said skeptically.
Dahlia looked at her surroundings, then leaned in, her voice lowered. "I need you guys to help me gain access to Mistress's office while she's away. I think I may know why Keira's fight on Sunday ended the way it did."
Joe and Mitch exchanged quick glances.
Mitch gasped in realization, "Heavens to Betsy! I knew it! I told yer, Joe!" Mitch quickly lowered his voice at Dahlia's signaling, "Somethin' ain't right 'bout the way that girl moved! I've done seen that dainty little thing, and it don't hold water how agile she was or the way she handled that knife. If she were, she woulda escaped that day in the elevator." Mitch stopped and rubbed his arms at the sudden chill. "Ooh, a possum walked over my grave just now!"
Joe tsked and rolled his eyes while settling his focus on Dahlia, "Psh, there he goes again, ranting about his conspiracy theories." Joe swiveled his head towards his partner as he moved the tobacco chew to the inside of his cheek, "We are the conspiracy, Mitch! The whole existence of this base is a conspiracy."
"Yeah, uh huh. Why are we here then, Joe? Think about it. We, as in yer and me, are just bodyguards. But why is this base here? Why are Mistress and the other scientists goin' to town experimentin' on humans? It's to create better soldiers, ones who can obey without question, without lettin' morals or ethics interfere with their mission. It's about pushin' people beyond the limits set by their minds. This ain't new; many countries have attempted such experiments in the past, especially durin' wartime. Look at what happened during World War II. Human experimentation has always been a part of human history like white on rice. The American government hafta play possum. They simply can't risk takin' their public experiments to the extremes they hoped for, and that's where we come in. We remain out of sight and out of mind from the American people." Mitch finally took a breath. "They can't afford to tarnish that good ole’ American reputation. So, do you really think it's far-fetched that they've already done somethin' to that girl?"
Dahlia was surprised at Mitch's insight, for once he mostly spoke in plain English. Also, these thoughts were exactly why she wanted to uncover the truth about Keira.
With an incredulous expression, Joe responded, "And if they did do something to her, why should we care?"
"Because I reckon we gon' be next! And... I wanna know!"
"Okay, fine," Joe said suspiciously while turning to Dahlia, "what's in it for us?"
Dahlia hadn't planned to reveal any potential information she might find. Before she could answer, Mitch interrupted her thoughts. "I'm serious. I wanna know 'bout whatever you find in Mistress's office and don't you dare piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin'!"
Dahlia hadn't come with a bargaining chip for these two. She had intended to persuade them to let her into Dr. Garnett's office by sweet-talking her way. After all, she didn't perceive Mitch and Joe as having too much going on upstairs.
Today proved her wrong.
Dahlia was usually a planner, but whenever her heart overruled her head, she could be impulsive and proceed without a backup plan.
Today was one of those days.
"I don't care much for the information. I want something else," Joe countered, fixated on Dahlia’s chest. The subtle, rhythmic movements of his left arm under the table had gone unnoticed.
"What do you mean?" Dahlia knitted her eyebrows.
"I mean, today I was hoping to find some company, and you came to us willingly," Joe said, taking a deep breath and fluttering his eyes closed at the word 'willingly.'
Dahlia sensed where this conversation was leading, but she wanted nothing to do with it.
"What exactly are you implying, Joe?" Dahlia folded her arms over her chest and slightly turned away from him to break his stare.
"Don't be coy, Captain, you're smart. All I'm saying is that you need a favor, and so do I—"
"So do we," Mitch interjected with a lustful smirk as he also eyed Dahlia up and down.
"Yes," Joe drew out the word, emphasizing the 's'. "So do we," he repeated Mitch's words with an obvious touch of lasciviousness.
At this point, Joe didn't bother to hide that he was rubbing the inside of his thigh. He leaned back in his chair to give Dahlia a full view, making it clear what he meant. "It won't take long, maybe an hour, maybe two. It depends on how many rounds Mitch might want. That's a fair compromise, if you ask me."
Disgusted at the thought, Dahlia glanced at his growing, twitching erection and sighed heavily. "How about we settle this differently? I can pay you."
"No," Joe answered curtly.
"How about I find someone else for you?"
"No!" Mitch and Joe replied in unison.
Joe's sinister grin displayed a collection of jagged, yellow teeth that sent shivers down Dahlia's spine. "Dahlia, I don't think you understand the position you've put yourself in. We know what you want to do. How would Mistress take it if we told her what you're up to? You two aren't exactly seeing eye to eye lately. Who do you think she'd listen to, you or us?"
Dahlia was visibly irritated. She had walked right into a trap, one she had set herself.
"Now, the question is, where would we like to go for this?" Joe turned to Mitch. "How about the Captain’s quarters? I hear it’s more spacious than the poor excuse for a closet we currently sleep in."
"People will see you going into my room. Won't that be suspicious?" Dahlia tried everything to change their minds. "Besides, it's a mess right now," she said, recalling the broken shards that were left strewn about when she smashed the glass full of ice against the wall.
"Everyone who's not currently working a shift or sleeping is practically here, and if there were a couple hanging around your hallway, it's not too hard to evade them. Also, do we seriously look like the type of people to care about a mess?" Joe looked at Mitch, laughing. "Look, there's no way around it. Even if you decide to challenge us to a fight in the Square, you'd still have to publicly announce what you're offering as the ante, and I doubt you'd want to make this everyone's business." Joe had never felt more in control than at this point, and he intended to take full advantage of the situation.
Dahlia hesitated for a couple of seconds, pondering if there were absolutely any other options she could barter with.
"Fine," Dahlia huffed. "But you had better deliver on your end, or I swear I will cut off your dicks and feed them to you," she growled. "And I'll do it slowly, too."
"We believe you," Joe nodded. "We'll give you access. Just make sure to show up at 1030 hours tomorrow. Mistress usually takes 15 minutes of undisturbed break at that time when she walks around the base."
"Okay, it's a deal then. Let's go and get this over with," Dahlia said, annoyed and repulsed, exhaling loudly. She couldn't remember the last time she had been with a man, in this case, two.
Dahlia didn't care what parts or other dangly bits her partners had; as long as she felt a connection with them, she would proceed to the next stage. She was no stranger to one-night stands. They weren’t what she preferred, seeing as she’d rather have a relationship, but neither her hands nor her toys were a substitute for another person’s body and the soul that came attached to it.
-
As the three of them made their way to Dahlia's room, they found themselves alone in the elevator going to B5.
With Dahlia unfortunately flanked by both men, she couldn't distance herself enough to mentally prepare for whatever those two planned on doing with her.
The ménage à trois was inevitable at this point, but Dahlia still wanted to keep any physical contact with them to a minimum.
Joe inched his way closer to the redhead. He was relishing this golden opportunity to have such a coveted prize as the Captain Dahlia Rose Thorne.
Dahlia was well known to be rather selective in her choice of partners, and not once since working on the base had she been with a man. When Dahlia was asked for her preference, she stated that she 'wasn't one to settle on biological sex.' That answer certainly had the men pining for her attention at first, until they figured that they would have to invest too much effort for a few moments of pleasure that they could easily obtain from any of the prisoners, if they so choose, at no cost to them.
Having Dahlia agree to have sex with Joe had sent him over the moon to the point that he had to stop himself from ejaculating on the spot. No wonder he couldn't satisfy women.
Dahlia was just his type: taller than him, fit, and with a well-established reputation for being dominant in any scenario. On this Base, only Dr. Garnett could force Dahlia to follow commands, and even that was coming into question lately.
Joe always dreamed of exerting his “masculine” dominance over someone like Dahlia, so this opportunity was not one he was going to squander.
He extended his arm behind the Captain until he groped her plump, yet firm butt cheek.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dahlia's tone was calm but dangerously laced with a warning.
Joe didn't remove his hand. Mitch, on the other hand, hadn't even noticed what his partner had been doing. The Mississippi country boy had been too fixated on fantasizing about which positions he'd like to try with Dahlia.
"Just getting a sneak peek of the goods, darling. No need to make a fuss about it." Joe squeezed harder.
"Take your grubby hands off of me this instant. We are not in my room yet and you sure as hell won't get to enjoy a second more," Dahlia growled with such ferocious intensity that it snapped Mitch out of his musings.
"You're in no position to tell me what to-"
Before Joe could even finish his sentence, Dahlia had a knife to his throat and her face was inches away from his. On her other hand, she sported a second knife trained on Mitch, just in case they decided to gang up on her.
"You two will not get any action from me other than the bare minimum inside my room. Nothing more and nothing less."
"Dahlia, you don't have a-"
"Choice?" Dahlia laughed as she completed Joe's sentence. "Is that what you were going to say?" She mocked him. "No. See, that's where you're wrong. I chose to do this the hard way, for me, that is. It's quiet and clean. I could just as easily fight, maim, or kill you both to get access to Mistress's office. The choice is entirely mine to make, so when I tell you to do something, you do it. Don't you forget that."
Joe and Mitch's hands were up in surrender. "O-okay. You win. Whatever you say, Dahlia," Joe was suddenly afraid when he felt the bite of Dahlia's sharpened blade pressed down into his neck at the redhead's last sentence. For all his cockiness, he was terrified of dying, always had been.
"Slowly, hand over your guns. One wrong move and I'll drop you both here and now." Dahlia spoke in a measured manner.
Joe and Mitch were one of the few people who were allowed to carry a gun while inside the Base's premises. In their case, because they were part of Mistress's body guards. Only tier 1 security personnel, such as those in sensitive positions, rapid response teams, or personnel stationed outside perimeter entrances, were permitted to carry firearms around the clock. Tier 2 security personnel, primarily responsible for maintaining peace among the Base personnel and prisoners, were equipped with stun guns, tasers, rubber bullet guns, or any other non-firearm weapons capable of incapacitation. All other base personnel without a specific designated security role were limited, by default, to carrying only knives and pepper spray, unless they were deployed on a mission.
Mitch was the first to move since Joe couldn't.
"Release the magazine and place it and the gun on the floor, then come stand next to Joe," Dahlia's authoritative tone didn't leave room for second-guessing.
Mitch had no intention of raising an alarm at the moment, or causing any issues, all he wanted was to cash in on their agreement. He knew Dahlia would follow through on her word as well as honor her end of the bargain, so he had no problems complying.
"All right. Now, Joe, hand over your gun," Dahlia commanded as she sheathed the knife in her left hand.
Once Joe had unholstered his gun and handed it to Dahlia, she picked up Mitch's magazine and stored it in her left pocket. She then stored Mitch's gun under the back of her waistband, all while she had Joe's gun trained on the duo.
"Now that you know my rules, I hope that neither of you dare disobey," Dahlia sounded exactly like the Dahlia of old, decisive and authoritarian, one that shouldn't ever be questioned. "Do not draw attention as we get to my room. Once inside, then and only then will you be able to touch me. A deal's a deal." Dahlia's tone turned grave. "However, let me be crystal clear on one thing, because I could see it in your faces, if you thought for a second that I would have to take on the submissive role and do whatever you might have been deluding yourselves with thus far, then you're dead wrong. I'm the one who'll decide just how far you'll go. Is that understood?" Dahlia stopped to get their verbal confirmation. Both agreed. "Oh, and by the way, I top."
-
Dahlia had had one-night stands in the past, but they would usually leave her feeling rather empty the morning after.
This morning, however, she was seething with rage knowing that Joe ended up overpowering her and took advantage of the situation to forget all about her warnings.
Dahlia groaned as she turned over on her bed. The left side of her face was pulsating from the hit she received from Joe last night. She clenched her fists, momentarily forgetting about the new cut on her right palm - same hand with the bloody knuckles from beating Mia - until the pain forced her to open her hand again. It was hard to sit up and she was sore everywhere.
Nothing was going her way. When had she lost her dominance in this base? People seemed to have lost their fear of her.
The three of them were tangled in their web of human flesh, when Joe couldn't hold himself back any longer and throwing caution to the wind, decided he wasn't going to leave until the base of his dick was enveloped by Dahlia's gorged lips.
Fully opposed, Dahlia refused to take his penis in her mouth knowing the poor hygiene that Joe had. The smell of his pungent body odor every time he lifted his arms had already been enough to make her gag, but she had still followed through on her deal of having sex with them.
When Dahlia stopped them from going any further with her, Mitch backed away but Joe grew livid. With his full erection still pointed at her, Joe charged at her.
Dahlia stepped back and grabbed one of the guns she had taken from the men that was on the small corner table of her room. She took off the safety and pointed it straight at Joe.
Joe, lost in his lust, lunged at Dahlia with a closed fist.
“Stop!” Dahlia shouted as her grip tightened on the pistol.
Joe ignored her.
Dahlia pulled the trigger.
Click.
Click.
Joe landed a punch on Dahlia's left cheek and temple. This action sent Dahlia sprawling to the ground and the gun flying to the opposite wall.
Dazed, Dahlia felt as she was picked up by Joe and thrown back on the bed.
With the glass shard she had grabbed when she was on the floor, Dahlia blindly swung until the jagged edge made contact and Joe yelled.
Dahlia had been hoping to slash his genitals but just missed and instead slashed his pubis.
Reacting to the cut, Joe swung a heavy fist, butt of the gun first, down into Dahlia’s abdomen, making her fold up on the bed.
“Tie her feet, Mitch! This bitch is mine.” Joe ordered as he placed the gun Dahlia had not picked up on the nightstand and was already tying her hands behind her back.
“Uh, maybe this ain't a good idea, Joe.” Mitch wavered at the other end of the room bewildered at this sudden turn of events. He was satisfied with what he’d gotten from Dahlia, after all she’d made good on her deal.
“Look, if you just suddenly grew a conscience, leave. I’m taking my sweet time with this one.” Joe sideglanced Mitch.
Mitch, unsure of how to proceed, stood by as he watched Joe tie Dahlia’s feet then set her up higher against the headboard as Joe stood on the bed with both of his feet on either side of her.
“You shouldn’t have picked up my gun, dearie. It has a nasty tendency to jam,” Joe jeered as he looked at Mitch’s gun that he had once again picked up from the nightstand after placing Dahlia in the position he wanted.
Outmatched, Dahlia could only look at Joe with contempt. This was enough for Joe to show Dahlia who was in control of the current situation. With a spiteful look or even the slightest struggle, Joe would send a powerful blow to Dahlia’s midsection.
Grabbing Dahlia’s hair, Joe pulled the Captain back against the headboard while he pressed the gun to her temple. “Get to sucking,” Joe ordered as he pushed his throbbing, veiny erection against her lips. “Bite me, nick me, or try anything else and your precious little brunette might find herself in the middle of a terrible accident.”
Dahlia knew she was in absolutely no position to fight back if she wanted to get information on Keira. Dahlia needed to try and get Keira to at least come back to baseline and have Garnett drop her misplaced vendetta against the girl for believing the surveillance tape over Keira's word.
Mitch, who had been frozen to the spot, had picked up Joe's jammed gun from the floor. He watched as Dahlia almost threw up when she opened her mouth and had Joe's length forcefully shoved down her throat.
Mitch unjammed Joe’s gun and noticed that neither Dahlia nor Joe had remembered that the gun in Joe's hand was unloaded. If Joe knew the pistol had no magazine when he picked up Mitch’s gun, he sure as hell was putting up a convincing act.
Picking up the loaded magazine, Mitch, gun in hand, silently approached Joe.
Barely able to breathe, Dahlia’s urging eyes fixed on Mitch's as a couple of tears ran down her cheeks.
Mitch took a step forward and raised the gun.
“You might wanna switch my gun with yours. There ain't no bullets in the one you're holdin’,” Mitch calmly stated looking straight at Joe as he handed the gun without establishing further eye contact with Dahlia.
“Thanks,” Joe sniggered followed by a moan.
“I’ll see y'all later.” Mitch turned on his heel, dressed and left the room without looking back.
Joe kept up his assault on Dahlia, switching to different positions and different openings.
After he had thoroughly enjoyed himself and unloaded several times, at least once per major orifice, he untied her and covered her with the blanket.
“That was far better than I expected. We should do this again sometime.” Joe chuckled as he zipped up his pants. “Remember to meet up at 1030 hours in room 231 tomorrow if you want access to Mistress's office. You sure earned it now.”
With those words, Joe finished dressing and left.
—
Dahlia paced about inside the storage room located a few doors down from Dr. Garnett’s office. She shivered as she brought her hands up to calm the goosebumps on her arms.
This room had always given her the creeps. It held the surgical and preservation equipment that mainly Dr. Garnett used during autopsies and dissections.
Another unnerving shiver ran down her spine at the thought of cutting up a body.
Dahlia remembered the first and only time she had been in the autopsy room shortly after being employed by Dr. Garnett almost two years ago. Garnett wanted to see if Dahlia was going to be up to par in every scenario, including the gruesome ones.
During the autopsy - technically the dissection - of Subject 0098, a little over two years ago, Dr. Garnett had been thoroughly preparing the fresh corpse of "plaything #5" when she had the then Second Lieutenant Thorne assist her.
At 25, Dahlia had never had to deal with death before, except for the peaceful expression her beloved grandmother had when little Dahlia saw her 'grandmama' laying in her coffin at the age of 10. Dahlia, powerless in the situation, had been relieved when her grandmama appeared to be sleeping and was no longer hurting from the pancreatic cancer diagnosis that had turned the elder yellow and had been rapidly consuming her for the past 7 months.
Dahlia's short relationship with death had been a positive one, one that could seemingly rid someone of their incurable disease. At least that's what Dahlia's naivete led her to understand, when in reality it was the mortuary cosmetologist's expertise that had erased any trace of the sickly yellow that painted the 62-year old's skin. Dahlia's parents never corrected their child's assumptions, wanting Dahlia to keep a positive outlook of the entire situation and not have the tween be overwrought with a worse reality.
On the day that Dr. Garnett was performing the post-mortem examination of Subject 0098, Dahlia had been completely fine with acting as the diener, transferring the body to the frigid metal slab that was the autopsy table. She had been perfectly okay with helping Garnett do the initial prep of the cadaver, which had consisted of washing the corpse. Heck, she had even been fine with shaving the dead girl's body. But when Garnett had turned on the clippers, a sinking feeling developed in the pit of Dahlia's stomach.
The 25-year old thought that shaving the dead girl's head was to take away the last remaining bits of the girl's dignity and unnecessarily debase her further after death. Dahlia, however, did not say a word, fearing she would anger her new employer.
She hasn't told this to anyone, but to this day, Dahlia still regrets not speaking up.
With the sinking feeling still lingering in the pit of Dahlia's stomach, Dr. Garnett had already noticed the change in behavior in her Second Lieutenant. Once the last strand of hair was free from Subject 0098’s head, the doctor quickly disposed of it all, washed her hands, donned new gloves, and without a second’s delay reached for the large, shiny scalpel amongst the line up of other dissecting equipment.
The metallic instrument glinted under the pale bluish hue of fluorescent light as Dr. Garnett slowly and meticulously inspected the bistoury at eye level. Dahlia’s inquietude skyrocketed at the obvious anticipation that was building up in the physician's gaze.
With expertly trained movements, Garnett swiftly sliced open the corpse's skin. The deep, Y-shaped incision that curved atop Subject 0098’s chest arched above her breasts uniting the paths in the bottom part of her chest at the xiphoid process and continued in a straight line, with a slight deviation around the navel, until it reached the girl's pubic bone.
The knot present in Dahlia's stomach tightened when the thin layer of fat sitting underneath the skin showed itself as the scalpel split apart the integument. Dahlia was expecting a thick crimson river to follow the blade, but was instead met with a lurid, radioactive glow, a nauseating burst of vivid yellow that assaulted the eyes like a burst of sour lemon mixed with the unsettling hue of an overripe banana. Upon seeing this, the redhead fervently wished that blood would indeed spurt out of the body and cover everything in sight rather than have such an unexpected and awful reminder of the color that became her grandmama's undoing.
“What’s wrong, Second Lieutenant Thorne?” Dr. Garnett’s words were deceptively whimsical in nature, where each word playfully danced in pitch, concealing a malevolent undertone. “Feeling a bit… queasy?”
Dahlia pressed her lips into a tight smile while shaking her head, “No, ma’am. Everything is fine.”
“Really?” Dr. Garnett hummed skeptically as a mischievous smirk pulled at her lips. “You know, Second Lieutenant, I don’t like being lied to.”
Dalia gulped hard, “Really!”
“Hmm, okay then, if that’s the case, then you wouldn’t mind grabbing the rib shears on the table and bringing them over would you?” Garnett pointed at the object that looked eerily similar to gardening pruning shears.
“No, ma’am, I’ll grab them right away!” The ever eager 25-year old turned on her heels and sighed in relief at being able to tear her eyes away from the cadaver. She didn’t want to disappoint her new boss, but the butterflies in Dahlia’s stomach were growing out of control.
With the rib shears in hand, Dahlia made her way back to the opposite side of Dr. Garnett. By this time, Garnett was slicing at the muscle and other soft tissue underneath the skin. Dahlia’s face was pale and her hold on the shears was starting to waver.
Once Dr. Garnett had finished reflecting the skin on the right side of the body, she peeled it back to expose the structures below. She proceeded to do the same on the other side, and finished with the chest flap that was then pulled upward over the dead girl’s face. Dahlia was reeling trying to keep her composure.
“All right,” the words snapped Dahlia out of her stupor, “Lieutenant Thorne, you’re going to be doing this next part.”
Oh no. Dahlia was not ready for this. “I’m sorry?” she choked out.
“Use the rib shears to cut out the chest plate,” Garnett stated plainly.
“What?” Dahlia replied dumbfounded. What the heck was a chest plate? She had never done this before. On top of that, the 25-year old couldn’t tell where to even begin cutting.
“Are you hard of hearing or are you simply too busy thinking of your next lie to follow simple instructions?” Dr. Garnett was not one to show empathy for the ineptitude of others.
“I don’t know where to cut. I can’t tell anything apart,” a drop of sweat ran down Dahlia's temple even though the room was chilled.
“Take a deep breath and look down at the body, Lieutenant Thorne, don’t look at me.” Garnett paused until Dahlia followed instructions. “All right, see the white stripes? Those are the ribs. Now, start at the edge closest to you where the skin has been turned over. Yes, that's right. Now place the shears so that the rib is in between the blades, dig down a bit to get all of the bone, then when you have a secure hold on both handles, cut.”
Dahlia clutched the handles, shut her eyes, and pushed the handles in towards each other. At the sound of the bone crunching in between the shears, the redhead almost gagged. Oddly enough, it had been easier than expected.
“Good job. You snapped that bone effortlessly,” Dr. Garnett chuckled when she saw Dahlia's surprised expression. “She was young, so her bones are quite soft. You can save all of that extra effort for an old person whose bones would be more calcified and crunchier,” the doctor winked at her subordinate.
Dahlia smiled awkwardly, still trying to get over the distinct sound and the unsettling feeling of incising bone. Garnett's praise - a rare occurrence - had filled the Lieutenant with motivation and Dahlia just wanted to hear more of it; at the expense of bile bubbling up her throat.
With the doctor’s instruction, Dahlia held a steady pace until she managed to carve through the last rib.
“Great job, Lieutenant Thorne.” Dr. Garnett did not miss the sudden sparkle that lit Dahlia's eyes. “You can set the shears on the table. I’ll be taking over now.”
Dahlia assented with her head, thankful that she could discard the barbaric instrument.
Garnett made sure that Dahlia was back in her position and paying full attention to the next part. The doctor dislodged the anterior breast plate and handed it to the Lieutenant to set aside.
The redhead took the breast plate with shaky hands. Her fingers fit perfectly between the ribs, feeling little resistance in the intercostal muscles that held the breast plate together. Her wan expression was worse than before.
“Are you still okay there, Lieutenant?” Garnett said with a derisive half smile.
“Y-yes. E-everything is still okay, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m glad I have such a strong new employee. Many others have called it quits at this point. Keep it up and maybe you'll become one of the top soldiers. I need my soldiers to be able to stomach such an important part of my research since my other scientists are working on their own version of my project with their own assistants.”
“Wh-what project is that, ma’am?”
“That's classified, Lieutenant. Your only role is to keep my playthings in check and follow commands. It's simple enough.” Garnett didn't look back at Dahlia as the doctor began cutting the cardio-respiratory block.
With Garnett entranced by her work, Dahlia's eyes now wandered away from the corpse. The redhead bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing suppressing the squelching and slicing noises that came from Garnett's cutting.
“Here, put this over on that table,” Garnett observed Dahlia's reaction carefully.
Dahlia had not been paying attention until Garnett spoke and took whatever the doctor handed the younger woman. It was dark red, small, firm, and wet. The Lieutenant looked up at Garnett in confusion when she noticed that there was a hole and more organs coming from the girl's chest.
“Is this… her heart?” Dahlia's composure was at its breaking point.
“Why yes it is, Lieutenant. Good job!” Garnett grinned.
“Her heart…” Dahlia trailed off without breaking her gaze from the organ. How can such a small thing keep a person alive? “It's so–”
Dahlia couldn't finish her sentence, she almost dropped the heart on the table and without thinking twice she covered her mouth with both of her bloody hands as she ran out of the room in desperation.
The rising bout of sick spurted out from in between her blood-soaked, gloved fingers as she barely made it to the trash can to empty her stomach.
—
Dahlia was jolted back to reality when two loud metal rasps clanged at the door - the signal that indicated Garnett’s break time away from her office.
Slowly opening the door and inspecting her surroundings, Dahlia confirmed - for good measure - that Garnett was nowhere in sight as she made her way to the ornate double doors guarded by Joe and Mitch.
“You only have ten minutes,” Joe said.
“We’ll knock on the door when time’s up so that you can make yourself scarce,” Mitch added.
“Yeah, I get it. I held up my end of the bargain, hurry up and do yours,” Dahlia impatiently signaled for their keycard to be placed on the sensor.
“Be quick, we’re already risking enough as is!” Joe rushed.
Dahlia dismissed Joe’s worry with a wave of her hand. After what they did to her, Dahlia’s current attitude was nothing short of spectacular. She couldn’t care less if they got in trouble because in the back of her mind, she was already planning her revenge.
As soon as the doors closed behind her, Dahlia bolted for Dr. Garnett’s desk.
Garnett’s computer was the most likely place to find information on Keira, but trying to figure out the doctor’s computer password in ten minutes and with a limited number of tries did not seem like a viable option, that's why she brought back up in the form of a decrypting USB. In the meantime, Dahlia would have to settle for paperwork. She began opening the drawers to the desk and frantically searching for anything that could hold any information on the once spirited girl.
Dahlia came across several file folders with numbers on them, but one in particular caught her eye, Keira’s number - 0153. Dahlia discarded the rest and quickly inspected folder 0153.
-
MEDICAL PROGRESS NOTE
Date of Exam: 10/19/20XX
Time of Exam: 2:23:15 PM
Subject Number: 0153
Patient Name: Keira Sinclair
Chief Complaint:
Subject 0153 presents with a catatonic state believed to be triggered by a traumatic event involving the close-quarters execution with the use of a straight edge Ka-Bar fixed blade knife of another research subject, Subject 0145, following nanochip insertion.
History of Present Illness:
Subject 0153, a 20-year old Hispanic female, underwent posterior cervical nanochip insertion for experimental purposes. Seventeen days post-implantation, the Subject experienced a sudden loss of control over voluntary muscular actions during an Intra-Cell fight which resulted in an unexpected catatonic state after regaining consciousness from forced chemical restraint with a combination injection of 50 mg IM diphenhydramine, 5 mg IM haloperidol, and 2 mg IM lorazepam when the Subject failed to comply with security personnel’s orders to cease action. The exact mechanisms leading to this state are under investigation.
Allergies: NKDA
Medications: 1.5 g (1 g ampicillin + 0.5 g sulbactam) IV q6hr. Subject was started on venlafaxine ER CAP 37.5 mg PO qd on 10/02/20XX with minimal improvement, but has been non compliant since the episode of catatonia started on 10/16/20XX.
Past Medical History: Dissociative amnesia with depersonalization.
Past Surgical History: Skin graft on 10/05/20XX.
Physical Examination:
- General: Subject is awake and unresponsive sitting up in bed hunched over, with minimal voluntary movements. Sight is fixed on her intermittently shaking hands.
- Vital Signs: Heart Rate: 110/minute. Blood Pressure: 135/85 mmHg. Respiratory Rate: 20 breaths per minute, erratic and shallow. Oxygen Saturation: 97%. Temperature: 99.9°F. Weight: 121 lbs.
- Chest: Clear breath sounds bilaterally.
- Heart: Tachycardic, normal S1/S2; no murmurs, rubs, or gallops.
- Abdomen: Visual inspection demonstrates a 3.8 cm wound with clean edges approximated with 12 sutures. Unable to perform physical assessment, the subject was sitting up and noncompliant to commands.
- Extremities: 6.5 cm x 5 cm bite marks on the left trapezius muscle. 4 longitudinal deep scratches on the antebrachial region measuring approximately 10 cm each. 5 circular burns marks present on the right anterior femoral region consistent with cigarette burns. Bruises on bilateral anteromedial crural region.
- Neurological: Deep Tendon Reflexes: 2+ intact, symmetric. Absence of purposeful movements or communication, unresponsive to external stimuli. Marked disturbance in motor function characterized by waxy flexibility involving rigidity and adopting a fixed body posture. Unable to perform a full neurological assessment.
- Mental Status Examination: Appearance: Disheveled. No visual contact. Motor: catatonia. Speech: No verbal expression, spontaneous or otherwise. Mutism. Affect: Unable to determine. Mood: Unable to determine. Though Content: Unable to determine. Thought Process: Unable to determine. Perception: Unable to determine. Cognitive Function and Fund of Knowledge: Unable to determine. Insight of Illness: Unable to determine.
Investigations:
1. Imaging:
- CT scans reveal no acute abnormalities or structural damage to the brain.
- MRI shows the presence and placement of the nanochip in the cervical spinal cord.
2. Laboratory Tests:
- Bloodwork within normal ranges, ruling out immediate metabolic issues.
Assessment:
Subject 0153 is currently in a catatonic state post-nanochip insertion, with associated physical injuries and psychological distress. The exact etiology remains undetermined and may be multifactorial, involving both the traumatic event and potential neuropsychiatric drug interactions with the nanochip insertion.
Plan:
1. Neurological Consultation:
- Urgent consultation with an approved neurology specialist to assess the neurological aspects of the catatonic state.
2. Continuous Monitoring:
- Maintain continuous monitoring of vital signs and neurological status.
- Regular assessments for any signs of improvement or changes.
3. Psychiatric Evaluation:
- Collaborative evaluation with an approved psychiatric specialist to address the psychological impact of the witnessed traumatic event and its role in the current catatonic state.
4. Nanochip Software Review:
- Understand the specific functions and potential malfunctions associated with the implanted device and update software accordingly.
Follow-Up:
Ongoing assessments and consultations are crucial for determining the underlying cause of Subject 0153’s catatonic state and determining potential nanochip software instability.
This progress note is for documentation and collaboration purposes among the medical and research team involved in Subject 0153’s development.
-
“What the hell? Mistress was with Keira yesterday?” Dahlia muttered under her breath as she finished reading the first page in Keira’s folder. She was not versed in medical lingo and couldn’t make heads nor tails of half the information on the paper. She flipped through the other medical reports following the one she just read, but they were just more progress notes going all the way back to Keira’s first day in the compound.
Dahlia pulled out her phone and took pictures of the medical notes to figure them out later when she had more time.
Out of all the information present on that first page, what stuck out to the redhead was the fact that Dr. Garnett seemed to be just as surprised as Dahlia was regarding Keira’s current state. So Mistress was expecting the loss of muscle control but not the catatonia? Why?
Dahlia had missed out on the opportunity to be Mistress’s right hand soldier when she ran out of the autopsy room to throw up, proving to Dr. Garnett that Dahlia was not the person for the job. Since this time, Dahlia had been relegated to training the new recruits, a job that Dahlia excelled at, but it was starting to get old. The now 27-year old had been wanting more action or different responsibilities, something other than training self-entitled, snot-nosed kids who were sold promises of riches and a hedonistic life to boot.
Folder 0153 was not giving Dahlia absolutely any indication to explain Keira’s behavior. If the chip was expected to give the host loss of muscular control, how did that explain Keira’s movements and dominance of a blade? It didn’t!
Something was amiss.
With the stipulated deadline fast approaching, Dahlia knew she was not likely to find another opportunity to extract the necessary information. The USB that was inserted in Garnett’s computer was still copying information, but there was no guarantee that the data would contain anything on Keira. In any case, Dahlia was ready to pull the USB at any moment, with whatever information it had copied up to the point of removing it from its port.
Dahlia kept ruffling through Garnett’s desk when she noticed that the floor of the bottom drawer appeared to be shallower than the shape of the outside of the drawer. A false bottom? Given Mistress’s position, that’s not far-fetched.
After removing all of the contents in the bottom drawer, Dahlia removed the lid of the false bottom. Shit! It’s locked!
A key! I need a key!
Where could it be?
Dahlia had not known Dr. Garnett to keep anything on her person other than the keycard for access. It’s not like Garnett’s clothes contained pockets, except when she wore her doctor’s coat.
The Captain looked around the room thinking of where Garnett could possibly hide a small key. Too many possibilities.
An idea struck Dahlia, making her turn around to face the jars containing the human remains of Dr. Garnett’s past experiments. Dr. Garnett had always had a fascination with the creepy jars whenever Dahlia was in Garnett’s office, and Dahlia could not forget about her time with the doctor in the autopsy room. According to Dahlia’s experience, If there was one thing about Garnett that always held true is that she had an obsession with cutting into people. Why not keep everything together? No one else was comfortable with the specimens in her office anyway.
Dahlia began moving jars and blindly searching underneath the shelfs until her fingers came across a flat protrusion at the back of the second to last bottom shelf. It couldn’t be. The redhead used her nails to drum on the protrusion and sure enough it sounded like it was made of metal. She stuck her nails in between the edge of the small metal object and the shelf and pulled. It actually came unstuck.
Holy — I did it! Dahlia took immediate action and stuck the key in the lock. It went in! Moment of truth! The Captain closed her eyes hoping that the key would turn.
Oh shit! It worked! Dahlia let out a stifled breathy laugh as she couldn’t believe what she had done.
Wasting no time, Dahlia took out the false bottom, and staring back at her was a folder with big, bold, red letters stamped across it: Top Secret.
This has to be it! Dahlia thought to herself as she read the black text under the stamp:
TOP SECRET GOVERNMENT REPORT
Project Codename: NeuroGenesis
Classification: Eyes Only - Level Alpha
Dahlia had not come this far to start caring about the fact that she did not possess the necessary clearance level to even be in the same room as the report that was now in her hands.
The Captain cracked opened the folder and more bolded text jumped out:
Interrupting Corticospinal Tract Endomyelocervical (ICoTEMyC) Nanochip Implantation in Human Subjects Practical Application Report
The nanochip! This has to be what Keira has! Dahlia had no idea what the title stood for, but it said Nanochip Implantation in Human Subjects, so there was no doubt that this was Dr. Garnett’s secret research.
Dahlia had no time to read the report, so she quickly scanned it to confirm her suspicions.
Objective: …investigate… Nanochip… spinal cord implantation… enhanced human capabilities… super soldiers… emphasis on motor function… for national security purposes.
This looks good enough! Dahlia pulled out her phone again to take pictures of as many pages of the report as she could before Joe or Mitch gave the signal. She clicked on the Camera app, when an email message with an attachment icon flashed across the screen: The video is doctored! Missing timestamps and artifacts present!
A huge smile grew on Dahlia’s face, relieved to know that Keira was indeed telling the truth and there was physical evidence Dahlia could present to Garnett. In the Captain’s excitement, her thumb instinctively reached out for the top of the screen before the message window disappeared from view and clicked on it.
The phone’s screen switched to the white background of her email app to show the extensive body of text in the message and a video attachment whose thumbnail clearly demonstrated Keira’s surveillance tape footage that Dahlia had sneaked out of the base.
There’s no time to watch the video now, I have to take the pictures! Dahlia swiped her thumb across the bottom of the screen to switch apps again when the doors flew open with a bang.
“Stop right there, Captain Thorne!”