Work Text:
Mari-Anna hates these gowns. They were always so flimsy and scratchy.
At Least in her gear, she has the merit of the leather material being far more durable than some paper medical gown.
Was this paper? It felt more like plastic. Which, for someone like Mari, would make sense. Her slime coat would probably just soak an actual paper gown.
Who cares? Mari was far more focused on taking the precious time she had to stretch. As nice as it felt being out of her gear, nausea was never fun. Nor was the accompanying dread of wondering how long she had until she was stuffed back into her metallic confines. 20 minutes? An hour? Such a brief time to make up for weeks of chronic pinching and headaches.
Curled into the corner of the small chamber Mari was in, she took the time to carefully run her tendrils over whatever surface area she could think of. Back, head, tentacles. It felt strange to stand without struggle, Mari hadn’t been this lightweight in a long time… the synthesizer was heavy, but she had gotten used to the additional 10 or so pounds she had to lug.
The last stretch managed to get a big sigh out of Mari in relief. Despite her anxieties of her captivity, it did feel nice to actually get one of the gear breaks she craved so dearly in her day to day. Her attention fell onto the bandage along her left limb, the entire reason she was taken out of it in the first place.
She had gotten out of a physically taxing mission, sure. But several hours of bloodletting wasn’t really a fair trade. Hours of being hooked up to multiple needles with no break certainly had taken its toll on Mari. The medical team had drained her of at least a good gallon in her body.
What for? She had no clue. The extraterrestrial wasn’t allowed to know those details. Mari had quickly learned they wouldn’t bother telling her even if she begged. They took what they wanted from her, and then it was right back to the battlefield.
Mari’s arm ached. Hard. She could feel it the moment she woke up from her slumber (passing out). Her body always did. If her gear wasn’t enough of a ball and chain, the afterpains of any procedure was an easy second place to the persistent reminder of her captivity. Mari hated that she could never get a read on what SaFel wanted from her. Torturous medical treatment and being thrown into life threatening fights as if they didn’t care if she lived or died, but using whatever they had and could to keep her alive, if barely. A mixed message of being both nothing but cattle and an extreme asset for the company. Back and forth; hot and cold.
Huddled in her small corner, Mari wrapped her other tentacle around the bandaged limb. A nonexistent brow furrowing in thought to herself.
Mari hated it here.
And moreso, she hated SaFel.
Everything they did to her and others. What was the gain here? What was the point?
No matter how much she tried to reason, there truly was no reason to her that they’d need to push her to the brink of death. Nor anyone else. From everything the shopkeeper had described to her, they had been doing this for years and years, all with little progress. Mari-Anna and Stocky weren’t the first lifeforms taken by SaFel, and surely would not be last once they had used all they could out of them.
And to think this was the same company she had heard her coworkers praise.
Mai-Anna wasn't a naturally violent person, not by a long shot. Adjusting to how the other HEP’s were was actually quite the culture shock for her. But something about how Garbo and Matador had spoken of the company couldn’t help but leave her with a boiling pit in her. The urge to scream at them to shut up. She was frustrated at the idea of how anyone could sing such high praises about her abductors. It’s not like how they treated her was a secret, either. The breaks she was given from missions just to have a day in the lab. It felt like entering one layer of hell to another.
With a grip tightening on her wounded arm whilst processing her frustrations, Mari finally loosened her hold on herself with a huff.
Good god. She had to get out of here.
No matter how much the abuse of the staff wore her down, Mari knew she had to get out. They owed to herself not to give into any doubts she had about just laying down and giving up. As appealing as keeling over and dying sounded to Mari when grovelling, that truly would get her nowhere.
SaFel was smart, but Mari was smarter. Whether it be through watching and waiting or the junk she had begun accumulating in her room that the higher ups routine inspections had missed, she knew an opportunity would arise some way or another to get out of here.
Afterwards? Who knew. Mari was pretty sure that her capture had also included her aircraft. But she’d work something out. First things first; get out of SaFel’s facility.
“Mari-Anna.”
A voice called, snapping Mari out of her thoughts. There was a familiar distinct coldness in their tone that made Mari’s stomach churn. She knew it far too well.
“The synthesizer is ready for you. Let’s go.”
Maybe tomorrow would be better.