Sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic was not how I thought my day would go.
One failed mission and a backstabbing later and there I was,
careening to Earth,
nothing but water as far as the eye could see.
All in a Super day’s work.
Slamming through the surface, the cold shocked the breath from me,
reminding me how a desert might meet a comet.
No soft landing. No silken embrace.
All I felt was pain and fire...
...which really pissed me off.
Give me a blissful ending.
Let me die of a clogged artery on a beach somewhere next to a half-clothed man
a cold drink in my hand.
My eyes stung from the salt water.
I kept them open anyway.
To witness my end...
Or perhaps to center myself during the composition of my first prayer.
Please God, let me come back to haunt the shit out of that bastard man.
Raider. My partner. My supposed friend.
The Supe who’d plunged a knife in my side while my back had been turned.
My descent into the freezing abyss slowed.
With the last of my strength I pulled energy from the life around me
and told my atoms to shift, to lighten.
Vision darkening, I floated upward as I gazed down upon the depths.
Dark and lonely, the sea accepted the flow of my GMO blood.
A flow that refused to stop.
At the surface, I sucked in air and gripped my side to assess the damage.
The cold wouldn’t kill me.
The cold wouldn't kill me. Nor would I sink.
But my sudden inability to heal due to the blade in my gut?
Now that was a problem.
One the government probably should have better tested.
But they had a motto over at the SOOPs Operation:
Never harm your prize mare.
God I hated Supers.
Cocky son's of bitches beyond morals or remorse.
It was really too bad I was one.
If I didn’t die, I was going to quit.
The water around me surged. A strong current rolled me like a whiskey barrel and
a wall of muted black emerged.
A whale come to eat me?
A megalodon hoping for a bite?
At this point it was all I deserved.
After awhile I picked up the distant scrape of metal, the loud shouts of men.
Ah, it was 'big brother' come to get me.
The government always did like to let me down.
I drifted on the open sea,
my mind in a stall,
It could have been eternity or a blink,
but before I was ready rough hands hauled me from the water and dropped me on a hard surface.
They poked and they prodded.
They poked and they prodded. Each touch made me hiss.
“Get her to the Doc,” a voice yelled, louder than a C-class destroyer.
“No,” I told them,
“No,” I told them, less human and more croak.
“Get me to your Commander.”