11 The Pet

11 The Pet

The Pet. That's how they called me. They thought I don't know, of course. The Captain wanted to name me, but names are for humans. Back then, I wasn't sure what I was. But I knew what I wasn't, I knew what I didn't want to become.
               "Your sickening innuendo with that thing is unacceptable!" the Colonel just yelled at the Captain.
               "Sir, with all due respect, she is standing outside your office. Please, sir, show me the proper way to treat her. Feel free to order her to prep for the next mission, sir. Actually, sir, if you find my results unsatisfactory..."
               "One more word, Captain," the Colonel warned him.
               The Captain went silent, but I knew he had a smug look on his face. I wondered if it was wise of him, to enrage his superiors like this. To use me as a shield in this little power game. They were all frustrated and tired. I helped things to get better for them, but by that, I showed them how powerless they are. They hated that. They hated me.

               "I'll go with you. The others want to join us, if you want. Your call. We will follow you. Without questions. Respect you. You'll be the leader, a real leader," he started a few days after that.
               We were at some research facility, packing whatever was useful. We had a team of volunteers, twenty six men and nine women. We worked well together. They listened to me. First because whoever didn't, died slowly and painfully. But they started trusting me.
                I went first, checked the area, killed anything dangerous. Why waste ammo, right? The Captain came after that, assessed the place. Then he called the team. I was on the lookout, making sure they were safe. They knew how far they can go to still be protected. They knew what to avoid. They were light and fast, efficient. They had no problem to leave the fight to me.
               The Captain stayed with me. We planned ahead. Or just talked. He talked, I listened. He talked a lot. The others wouldn't dare, but he was crazy enough to fully trust me. With everything. A perfect second in command. Because they trusted him. Because he picked only those he could trust.
               And he was smart enough to try and get all the women the base could offer. A good strike team, a few scientists, doctors and medics, fifty people tops. Much safer. Easier to protect than hundreds of soldiers stuck in a large complex. Mobile, adaptable. Not bad, not bad at all.

*     *     *

Is that any way to treat a lady?

Alice, Resident Evil: Afterlife, 2010