“Mommy. Don’t make me do it again.”
“You’re going to keep doing it until you learn to resist.”
“But I want to,” Jelly huffed and stood up straight. She seemed taller than just a few hours ago. No longer a six-year-old, she resembled a half-cat adolescent of around thirteen years of age.
Wool covered her mouth with shock, “Jelly?”
“Ugh, what is it now?”
“You’ve… grown.”
“Yeah, so?” she complained like a typical teenager would.
Wool pointed at Jelly’s buds pushing through the chest area of her shirt, “And not just in height, either.”
“Mommy,” Jelly covered her chest with her furry arm, “Are you looking at me?”
“Okay, that’s enough. Over to the wall, please. I want to record your height again.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jelly stormed over to the wall, “I’m only going because you give me food. Remember that, bitch.”
“Jelly,” Wool barked in shock, following her to the wall, “Don’t ever say that—”
“—Don’t ever say I’m a damn Androgyne,” Tripp rubbed his face, looking at himself in the mirror, “Every time I wake up, I feel great. And then something reminds me.”
The Rest and Recuperation room provided quiet solace during the crew’s preparation for impending doom.
“I swear to God, I cannot go on like this.”
The cavity in his head had been patched up using Baldron’s synthetic skin. He may have looked a million dollars, but deep down inside he felt a million Lira.
He decided one, simple action could be undertaken to make him happy, “Don’t let me regret this. I never want to feel this way again.”
He removed his thumb cuticle and squeezed it in his right hand. The sharp, curved nail heated up and sparked.
“Let’s test those pain receptors,” Tripp angled his head in the mirror and placed the sharp end of his white-hot thumbnail at the logo on his skin.
The heat scorched through the Manning/Synapse logo, burning through to his connecting neck rod.
“Ngggggg…. G-God…”
The flap of synthetic skin containing the logo peeled away from his neck. He held out his arm and turned the logo to the mirror.
“How do we like me, now?” Tripp winced in the mirror, “Manning/Synapse… no more.”
He dropped the flap of skin down the drain and hit the rinse panel.
SWISSSHHHH!
It gurgled down the drain, never to be seen again.
“Ignorance is bliss—”
“—but weapons are more blissful,” Jaycee unclipped a semi-automatic rifle from the wall and presented it to Jelly, “I’m not sure you’ve got the muscle strength to be able to hold this.”
She held out her paws, “Let me try. I like guns.”
“Be careful. It’s loaded,” Jaycee pushed it into her chest. She caught it and felt the weight.
“I will.”
“The D-REZ semi-auto. Three round burst. You can flip the lever on the side down for single shot, or up for continuous.”
“Okay,” she fumbled with the gun in an attempt to get used to its weight.
“It’s light, easy to use and gets the job done. That’s why I like it.”
Her infinity claws didn’t get in the way as she gripped the gun in both hands. Jaycee lifted the nozzle away from his chest, “Don’t ever point your gun at the people you’re working with.”
“Sorry.”
Jaycee thumped the cabinet. A slit formed on the wall, producing a plastic handle, “Stand back, girl.”
He yanked a blast sheet out. The USARIC logo stretched out across its surface. He pointed at its circular target and bullseye, “Now, see that little notch at the end of the gun?”
She closed one eye and looked down the sight, “Yeah?”
“Match it up to the red dot in the middle of the circle.”
She did as instructed. Jaycee turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, Jelly. You’ve grown.”
“Everyone’s been saying that. I’m a big girl, now,” she said. “Can I shoot it?”
“Yes, wait a second. I’ll just take a few steps back—”
THRAA-AA-ATT!
The first bullet hit the red dot. The rest snaked their way up the blast sheet and popped a hole in the middle of the “A’ of USARIC.
“—Whoa, Jelly,” Jaycee picked himself up from the floor and shook his head. “Never, ever shoot until I tell you it’s okay.”
“But you said ‘yes’?”
“I know I did, but I didn’t mean to fire.”
Jelly thumped the side lever down and took aim at the blast sheet once again, “Well, you should be more careful next time—”
“—You should be more careful next time,” Bonnie grabbed hold of the punching bag as Jelly waved the pain away from her claw, “You can’t just keep punching over and over again. I don’t care how angry you are.”
Jelly squinted at Bonnie with evil in her eyes, “I was taking out the trash. Bonnie.”
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, young lady. You’re not getting so big that I can’t kick your furry little behind all over this place, you know.”
“I can do what I like,” Jelly growled and licked her infinity claws. She spat the liquid on her tongue at the USARIC logo on the mat.
“Ugh,” she winced, “Tastes like zinc.”
“Never lick your wounds, sweetie. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Force of habit,” Jelly said. “And, strange things happen when I try to clean myself.”
“What do you mean?” Bonnie asked.
“Mommy said I have to use the bathroom like everyone else.”
“Wool said that? Because you can’t fit in your tray, anymore?”
“It’s too small,” Jelly tapped the side of the bag with her paws, “I have to stand in that stupid spraying water like humans do to clean myself.”
“It’s not stupid, sweetie. It’s a shower,” Bonnie let go of the bag and took a few steps back, “It’s how we clean ourselves.”
Jelly struck the bag with her claws, bursting the skin. A tuft of horsehair poked out.
“It’s disgusting,” she said. “It’s more hygienic to use your own saliva and rub yourself down.”
Bonnie giggled and pointed at Jelly’s paws, “Concentrate, sweetie. Remember, keep your left paw up, and wait for them to strike. One-two, duck, and upper-cut. Use your claws.”
“One-two,” Jelly jabbed her left paw forward, “back, and upper cut,” she finished with a swish to the bag’s mid-section.
“If you ever find yourself without a weapon, you’ll need to take them off-guard.”
Jelly sneered at the bag, “Come and get me, bad guy. Step forward—”
Wool ran her detached thumbnail across the wall above Jelly’s head. She looked up at her ‘mommy’s’ elbow.
“Okay, step forward, honey,” Wool rocked to her heels and took a step back. A white light raced down the wall and hit the floor. It recorded the distance – five feet and four inches.
“In the past twelve hours you’ve gained two feet,” Wool looked at her forearm and spoke into her wrist, “Time check, please.”
The three black lines bent around and formed the current time on her skin – 20:00.
“It’s dinner time,” Wool looked at Jelly, “You’re nearly as tall as I am.”