Taking on this new life...

I never thought that I would be here. A commander. Who is, well, I'm literally covered in blood. While holding the head of the enemy that I just decapitated. My coworkers say that I'm way to obsessed. Am I? Hell no. Should I be? Hell yeah! I've been searching for the dip-shits that killed my family for years. I've been all around the Galaxy in search of those bastards. I don't know what I'll do to them. But may the gods have mercy upon them, because if I get my hands wrapped around their throats we should all know that I won't.

Dropping the head to my left, I swat some blood that was on my hand to the right of me.

Can this job get any more disgusting?

Placing my blade back in its home, I reload my guns and I'm off. Off to my next "adventure".

As I walk through the darkened city streets, mothers with children scream lightly (a lot more lightly then when they saw me take a seven and a half inch blade and within the flick of my my wrist some dude, who decided he would try something stupid, head come off.), as they run back into their buildings and lock their doors. Damn. People now days are to freaking dramatic! So what! Big deal I killed someone. They should be thanking me. What if he had messed with their daughters. Or even their sons!

What a perv!

Holding my head up high, I walk past a father and his son who is smiling like he just met his hero! Sorry kid. I'm no hero. I'm just someone who was given a bad hand and still played my cards right.

I make my way to my Fighter. Taking a deep breath as I pass everyone that is still on my ship, I speak loudly. "Get ready to launch. I want to be out of this atmosphere before I get out of the shower." To my every word they listen. They hold on to it. Absorbing everything that comes out of my mouth. I know they don't like me much. But I personally like to think that they listen to me because if I repeat myself someone gets stabbed or shot. I don't really care. It their choice. To me well its fun!

The water is hot. Really hot. It's relaxing though. I run my fingers through my wavy dark hair that's getting darker with every drop of water that makes contact. Inhaling the intoxication of my cleanser I close my eyes. Trying hard to remember a time that I was able to be a kid. I would sit on the beach letting my mom braid my hair down,while she yelled at my older siblings to get my younger ones away from the washed up stingrays and jellies. My older brother would run to my younger ones and they would scream in excitement as they knew they would be getting chased.

Snapping back to the present, I puff. Rinsing the blood off of my skin, I look at my body in the shower mirror. I'm not talking about the beautifully thick women that is staring back at me along with those luscious curves. I'm talking about the women who smiles to hide her scars. I reach up and trace the scars that are on my body. Being able to feel my heart breaking even more, I stop before I start to cry. Maybe if I don't cry. Maybe. Just maybe. I won't feel anymore. Cleaning myself the rest of the way I take a towel and get out.

I pat myself dry. And get dressed. I put my bra on. My under-shirt. And then my baggy black shirt. Along with a grey sweater. I pull on my black tights and walk out of the bathroom. It takes only a few seconds to get to my room. There I wrap my hair in my towel. I grab my socks and my dark grey nearly black boots and finish getting dressed.

Once I feel my hair is dry enough I let it out of its cage. I crunch it to give it volume and a little flare. And I walk out. Not caring about my war paint.

There was a time when I cared about what everyone thought. Now I could give less than a shit then I do now. It doesn't matter how much makeup someone can wear. It only matters what's beyond the surface. It matters what's in the heart.

"Commander. We are out of the atmosphere. Where do you want me to set our destinations to?" Lieutenant Payn asks in a 'on the edge' tone. It's funny. To me at least.

"We are going back to base. I have a situation I need to take care of." I tell him and I'm gone. Darting through the halls on steady feet, not running, just walking. Really really fast walking. To make my way to the ice-box.

The Fights kitchen is the kind of kitchen house wives drool over. Or the kind of kitchen that Gourmet chefs would kill to cook in. And my kitchen is just the top of the iceberg.

Opening the refrigerator I find shrimp, crab legs, an onion and a pound of cheese. Setting the ingredients on the marble countertop, I pull out the container of rice-noodles, and a saucer.

Preparing the meal takes no time at all. Once everything is finished and the dishes are washed and my plate is clean, the leftovers are in the refrigerator; I head to my desk.

After What seems to be forever of cleaning and organizing my desk I'm able to sit and get my work done.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Sign this. Sign that. Commander Kerce, you need to sign this So we can allow this.

Why? Just why is this crap so necessary? Oh well. I guess I have to do my job so I can get paid!

Hours (And hours) later I'm able to get up from that very uncomfortable desk chair. The illumination of the hallway starts to dim. Only then do I know how long I have been working. We are entering the atmospheric level of Base.

Making my way out the the Flight Tunnel, I shield my eyes from the roaring light that dares to blind me. Once adjusted to my surroundings I find a very angry, short, but angry General standing in front of me.

Damn it! Whatever I did, he's pissed!

"Kerce!" General Kaechele screams in his booming voice. Now he has my full, undivided attention. No more cracking jokes about him being a crack baby or him being Lieutenant Dan!

"Sir." I speak up. It doesn't come out like it should out of a commander. It comes out like a mouse just squeaked. "Follow me. I have you a new assignment. I think you may like this one." He tells me as I am right on his heels.

Okay to be honest, I'm scared shit-less. He may be short but this man has me by a leash if he says jump; my ass better ask how high. Because if I don't. Well I'm fucked!

Breath Kerce. He won't take your job. He won't kill you. You've done this a million times already.

Kaechele has told me since I was nineteen that I would not make it. Bitch watch me. Before its all over with, I'll be the one running the show and I'll have him by the balls. Whimpering at my every demand.

Ahh. It's good to dream isn't it?

We are in his office where there are mountains of paperwork, folders, and Golf-balls?

Shaking my head, just trying to get the image out of my head of what this funky little man does on his free time. It's the most ghastly image that would ever flood my thoughts. Not even dipping my brain in a five gallon bucket of acid would cure these burning images...

General Kaechele, hands me a folder from the middle of his unruly stack. I open it to find my worst nightmare has come to life. I have to go back to my home planet. Where I found my families cold, lifeless bodies on the floor. Feeling a heavy swelling begin to grow in my chest I cover my mouth to muffle my sounds. Rain clouds start to fill my eyes begging for the dams to break lose.

Whipping the tears away I greedily take the folder. I can't change my past. It hurts. But I can't.

"You can't fix the past Renee. You can only look to the future. I don't see why you insist on putting yourself through all of this hell. You're a good kid. You'll do what's right." He says. I go to speak. As always to stop me he holds up a finger.

" You're not the only one who lost their family. I lost my twin sister. I literally felt when her heart stopped." He was finished.

"Uncle Jacks, we all grieve differently. They stole my family from me. I was eleven. They left me alive! They tortured me. They did unspeakable things to me. I want revenge. And I'll get it. With or without your approval.

On that note I take myself and the folder and storm out. "KERCE!" My uncle screams and follows me. I can hear him in the background once he stops. And he chuckles. I stop. Why a chuckle? Of all things. A chuckle? I ponder over this for a few seconds. I turn on my heel.

"Thanks Uncle Jacks!" I holler back. And I hear him say something that I haven't heard in so long.

"Just like your mother. I'm proud." He says. I stop. Taking in the most valuable words that I have heard in the past thirteen years, in. Choking back tears I turn and give him a hug.

"Thank you. I won't let you down." I whisper. He may be short for a hybrid. But this man is huge. And for the last thirteen years he has been my Father figure. He and his wife welcomed me with opened arms. Now the man who didn't have to love me or take care of me hugged me tightly.

"Just don't get yourself killed. Your Aunt would have my ass if something such as a hair was missed placed on your head." He says. I nod and laugh. That is true. If something happened to me, my aunt would go looking for blood. And she taught me a good bit of what I know. So just think of how good she must be.

Keeping good on my word I head off. Not only will I need to brace myself for the truth that I'm going to uncover, I will need to prepare for the fight of my life. Even if it is my last.

Walking up the shoot to my Fighter, I feel the urge to look behind. But if I do that, I'll never be able to leave. I have to. If not for me. Then for the lost family that never got to grow old. Or see grandchildren play. Or anything nonetheless.

I start my Fighter. And within minutes. I'm on my way back to Earth. This time to fight some real demons.

Once I'm landed, docked, and stationed. Heartbreakingly I make my way to my old home. The city has changed only so slightly. The school I once went to, is under new construction. The Drug store my father owned was demolished. And the hair Salon that my mother worked for was still there and running.

Out of curiosity I turn and walk in. As soon as I walk in it's like all eyes on me. I try to avoid eye contact. But it's inevitable. My mothers dearest friend looks up from her station, her eyes automatically lock with mine. Out of fear of recognition, I turn. And I'm in my old house with in twenty minutes.