Ain't War Hell?
By: Maximillian von Fischgeist
Chapter Ten
Pressure
"Good morning, Dr. Odem."
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Continued in Part Eleven!
Destro's voice was deep, commanding. Stirring. Wildcat always felt a certain chill upon hearing it.
And, perhaps, a certain thrill. It was enough to stir Odem from his sleep. From her position behind
Destro, she watched as Odem raised a dazed head and froze upon seeing the foreboding figure
towering over him.
Giving him no time to react or even to think, Destro continued. "We shall talk this morning of your
importance to me."
Odem sat up, ran his fingers through his oily hair. "How about a shower first?" he croaked,
managing a weak smile. He was a man who, in situations of stress, turned to humor, however
inappropriate it might be. "Can't make a good impression during an interview looking the way I
do." Wildcat noted the crude beard filling in, the unhealthy pallor of his flesh. He might have been a
handsome man, but who could tell now? Stress and isolation had planted in his eyes a gleam of
untouchable distance and pulled his skin into a strange mix of tightness and sag.
"This is no ordinary interview, doctor," Destro said. "I shall come directly to the point. Your
research for controlled famine; I want to know everything."
Odem let himself fall back flat onto his cot. "I am not at liberty to discuss that." He closed his eyes,
perhaps hoping for sleep to once again favor him.
"I believe I can free your tongue, doctor," Destro said, motioning to Wildcat. She turned and
gestured for the outer guard to send in the girl who was to free Odem's tongue. The guard shoved
the girl (perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old) toward Wildcat, who caught her and steadied her.
She was only half-alive. Her face (it, too, had been handsome once, but now was smeared with
dried blood and darkened by deep bruises) was turned down, which was the direction her whole
body wanted to go. The list of abuses inflicted on the girl must have been many, and Wildcat didn't
care to speculate what they included. She wrapped her arm around the girl's neck and pulled her
in a slight backward arch to keep her on her feet.
Odem watched groggily. Wildcat saw some of the distance in his eyes disappear, however. He
said nothing, but she could tell this new situation made him nervous.
"I don't know this girl's name. I don't care what her name is," Destro said with a shrug. "She
probably has lived a very normal life. Perhaps she is a gifted musician or a talented artist. Again, I
don't know nor care. But you, doctor..." he paused for dramatic effect. "I imagine that you are just
weak enough to care. I give you now an awesome power, Dr. Odem. You alone shall decide this
girl's fate. You will determine whether she lives or dies. It's very simple. Co-operate and she lives.
Defy me and you condemn her to death."
To drive the point home, Wildcat forced the girl to her knees (actually, the only force needed was
to keep her upright on her knees) and leveled her pistol at the back of her head, cocking it.
Hearing the click of the gun, realizing the immediate potential for death, the girl froze, her dark hair
falling over her face. "Don't kill me," she whispered to no in particular. Wildcat, standing behind
her, could not tell where her eyes might be focused.
"What's to keep you from killing her anyway?" Odem asked. There was a tone of muted anger in
his voice.
"I have stated the situation," Destro answered impatiently. "Hesitate no longer. I equate silence
with defiance."
Odem sat and considered a moment.
Destro didn't move for perhaps five seconds. Then he flashed to Wildcat the hand signal that
meant "kill." Wildcat wasn't ready for it to come so fast and found herself hesitating a second. The
silver face turned to her, and she submitted to the order. A loud pop drowned the cell in deafness.
A splash of blood stung Wildcat's face, and she let the girl's corpse fall, needing a free hand to
wipe away the fresh blood. The body slumped to the floor, the opened head coming to rest in an
odd imitation of its normal shape. Dark blood crept from the hole, spreading slowly over the
stones.
Why did I hesitate? Wildcat wondered. Indeed, a swell of strange distress rose in her chest.
Why
do I feel remorse? I have killed before. But there was always a reason, a need. Not with this
girl. I have murdered for no reason!
Wildcat needed an excuse to take her gaze from the death at her feet. She found it by looking at
Odem. His eyes, now wide with horror, were staring at the mess. "Why?" he whispered. "You
didn't give me time..." His quiet voice trailed off.
"Shall I bring in another?" came Destro's cold voice, made inhuman by the sound-distorting metal
that hid his face. "Need we continue playing this pointless game?"
Odem shook his head. "Whatever you want to know."
Wildcat saw Destro's dark eyes staring out from the silver, fixed on Odem. "I've already made
clear what I want to know. You may begin now. And when you're done with your introduction,
you will produce your poisons for testing."
Odem's eyes remained fixed on the dead girl. "I'd need my notes for that."
"Then you will tell me where I can find them," Destro said, the impatience finally beginning to
succumb to the realization that his work was to be much easier than expected. As Odem began,
shakily, to talk, Destro dismissed Wildcat with a nod of his head. She withdrew, closing the cell
door.
Major Bludd stood from a chair and approached. He had been sitting nearby, waiting, assumedly
listening in. He extended a callused hand (his left; the right arm seemed to her a mechanical -
entirely covered in a casing of black metal - mystery, and he seemed to favor the left) toward her
face and brushed some of the girl's blood from Wildcat's forehead. "Not a pretty scene, eh?" he
said with a hint of a smile.
Wildcat felt her jaw tighten and noticed the anger welling up in her. Her ears grew warm with the
angry blood swirling in her veins. "I'm not here for this," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm not a
common butcher!"
Bludd's good eye (the other was hidden behind a patch) narrowed and his smile faded, replaced
by a hardening of his ugly features. "You are what you are ordered to be, Wildcat."
She stiffened. He relaxed. "You're a young woman with so much future ahead. Take a day off.
Perhaps you need time to consider your commitment to this organization. And your loyalty to me."
She nodded silently.
Bludd reached for her face again. Two hard, almost-inhuman fingers (and these were of the more
human of the two arms!) stroked her cheek. She felt revulsion, but didn't move. "Use the time to
think long and hard, girl," Bludd wheezed. His eye gleamed at her with urgent warning. "And don't
disappoint me."
"Is that a threat?" she demanded as proudly as she dared.
Bludd's vague smile returned, but the softening of his face made it no less ugly. Oddly, he
appeared only more repulsive. "As with all things in this world, it is only what you make of it."
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