Juniper Sladek is free.

Well, "free" in the way a caged bird is allowed to fly with permission. She shouldn't even be sitting in Ixion's cockpit again, not after how she failed her partner. Laila would be disgusted by what's become of her beloved. But she's dead, unlike Juniper, who wasn't allowed to die. She's been given this chance to redeem her failings in life. Now isn't the time to fuck that up. Otherwise, she'll end up all alone again.

That fire burning deep inside of her was snuffed out. The person she once was, would hate what she's become. When you look at her, you see a rebel, sure. But when you really stare into those cold, dead eyes of hers, you begin to realize that she isn't a rebel. She's a corpse. Just another undead abomination forced to atone for her sins, the only way someone like her can: Through more bloodshed.

It's difficult to say how she's feeling right now. Guilty? Maybe angry at herself? Honestly, none of that matters. Handler has listened to her inane ramblings. She's seen the extent of the damage. And yet, She forgives Juniper.

So that feeling is probably gratitude?

That seems right to her. After all, Ixion was returned to her, better than it was before. Faster, fitted with Imperial equipment, even painted black to match the other mechs. It takes some getting used to this scythe. It's heavier than her previous load out, though not by much. It represents her new position in life, better than even this muzzle could.

It's just as the sun begins to set over Furlo Pass, that Ixion drops in, followed closely by three Doru. Their IFF Markers read as friendly, because they are. There's still some confusion on her part, but they're... allies now. Fighting Imperials for years, it's hard not to have an itchy trigger finger around them. Likely the same for them, but who could blame them for firing on the one responsible for killing hundreds of their allies?

Handler says that the confusion is natural, that Juniper need only to listen. Even so, it's difficult to adjust to the cable in her neck. That is what most confuses her. Again, She says it's meant to improve her spatial awareness. Pilot and machine are one now, so that's a good enough explanation.

'Listen up mongrel, we're two klicks out from the target. Can I trust you to not fire on us?' Warrant Officer, Saparlo, the one who attacked her and then immediately apologized for it. Handler laughed when She heard about it afterwards.

"Yes, sir." Much of the trip here has been spent fine tuning Ixion. Juniper is very particular about people messing with her baby. Even in their current state, Ixion is something she takes pride in. It's not your average rebel shitheap, it's a very specialized machine that doesn't appreciate unclean hands messing with it. It's another thing that She was happy to approve of.

Personnel were told that she would handle the final calibrations. Because She wants what's best for Her hound. Even She does not come between the relationship of pilot and machine. It's a reminder of—No, can't think about that right now.

Furlo Pass is far from an ideal testing ground. Maybe it's just the old nerves kicking in, too many mountainous spots for an ambush. The road here is old, mostly just rubble now. And the water? One wrong move and you might end up in that toxic shit. Not to mention the awful visibility due to fog.

Today's mission is her first deployment. It's something to do with... rebels? Juniper doesn't really know. To be honest, her head is foggy, it's hard to remember much of anything right now.

As Juniper reaches up to adjust her muzzle, she sighs softly. It helps to relieve the anxious thoughts in the back of her mind. The muzzle is surprisingly comfortable and she's... happy to wear it.

Gods, that's fucking strange to say.

Radar lights up with five hostile contacts. They're hostiles? But they're—No, get your head together, Sladek, they're hostiles. IFF confirms it. Looks like it's time for her to get busy then.

"Sir, do I have permission to engage?" She's not asking the Warrant Officer, no, she's asking her savior.

'Why, Juniper, of course. Make me—' The comms go dead. What the hell!?

'Sorry about that, had to kill all long range comms. Just follow my lead, okay? It's time we bust out of here.' The three Doru come to a sudden stop, prompting Juniper to stop as well. What is the Warrant Officer talking about?

'Warrant Officer Saparlo, what's going on? We've got hostiles inbound and you've stopped!? Long-range comms are down, do we have permission to fire!?'

The hostile radar signatures are close, but have chosen to not move from their position. None of this feels right, just what is going on!?

'Sorry, but consider this my resignation.' The warrant officer's Doru pulls out an axe, slicing at the legs of its two subordinates. They don't have time to respond, before both are on the ground. Crippled, but the pilots should be alive. 'Like I said, I'm getting you out of here, Sladek.'

'So that's it!? You're turning traitor!?' One of the downed Doru pilots says.

Saparlo laughs. 'Eyyy, you're catching on! Fuckin' surprised neither of you realized. Sladek, get a move on, I'm bustin' you out.'

A signal flare fires from Saparlo's Doru, prompting the hostile signatures to begin moving again. 'Hey rebs, you're on this frequency, right? I've got one of your pilots right here, ready for pickup.'

'Yeah, we hear you. If this is a trap, then you're fucked.'

There's no going back to the rebels, the minute they learn what happened to Laila, they'll never forgive Juniper. So what's her option then? Attack Saparlo? Wait for official orders?

Come on, June, what happened to the Angel of Death?

She died in Druzi, just like you did, Lails.

Not supposed to attack Imperials, they're... they're allies, r-right? Saparlo is... an... ally? No, she-she's a traitor, right? Every thought burns a hole through Juniper's head, forcing to clutch it tightly, in an attempt to get a grip.

'Sladek, get your ass moving, we're linking up with the rebels!' Saparlo is an enemy.

Ixion screeches down the old road, cutting through the fog in an instant. The Enemy-Doru hasn't gotten far, but its pilot is trying to run. Unfurling its scythe, the gap is closed in seconds. Saparlo is an enemy, enemies must die. Doesn't matter if the Doru has a friendly IFF reading, it's a lie. Anyone who tries to take Handler away has to die.

Dancing around the Doru, Ixion plants its scythe deep into the traitor's left arm, ripping it from the joint, leaving only a shower of sparks and fluid to rain down upon it. 'Sladek, what the fuck are you doing!? STAND DOWN! THAT'S A FUCKING ORDER!'

"TRAITORS ARE ENEMIES! AND ENEMIES MUST DIE!" Juniper shouts, dodging gunfire from the incoming rebel mechs. "Bring Her back, bring Her back!" Nothing makes sense, she can't go back, it's impossible. But if Saparlo is working with the rebels, she has to die. That makes sense to this failure.

'Sladek stand down! What the fuck are you doing!?'

Juniper stops, but only because she can hear... laughter? 'Oh, Warrant Officer Saparlo, did you really think your stunt would succeed? I must admit, you gave quite the shock to the support staff here.'

She... She's okay. She's okay! She's okay!

'Juniper, I know you must be confused, however you've done nothing wrong, understand? Warrant Officer Saparlo is a traitor, much like the incoming rebels. I need you to remove them all, understood?' Handler's voice is soft, comforting. Helps with the anxious thoughts. She is a forgiving god.

"Yes, Sir! Anything!" Juniper smiles lazily beneath her muzzle, flipping the switch for Ixion's flight system. Her beast climbs into the sky, free from the chaos brewing on the ground. Over the horizon, the five hostile signatures are lighting up brightly on her radar.

It's time to make them hurt.

With her senses linked to Ixion, Juniper is no longer piloting a weapon. She is the weapon. Having combat data flowing through her mind takes some getting used to. Gods know it's painful at first, but the end result brings unparalleled alacrity and dexterity.

Ixion is thrown into a free fall with its engines simmering to a quiet hum. Just as it should slam headfirst however, thrusters fire, spinning the mech around to slam feet-first onto the muddy terrain. Steam hisses from every on-board vent, as its scythe is clutched tightly.

'Lieutenant Sladek, stand down, we're friendlies!'

Friendlies? No, they're enemies, they just want to hurt her, like everyone else.

Ixion screeches across the muddy terrain. Once, twice, five times, its scythe stabs through an enemy mech, until pulled back, absolutely covered in blood. Drool trickles down her muzzle onto her flight suit, watching the spectacle unfold. This should hurt her, they were—No, they're why Laila died, right? Right. Because of them, Juniper failed to save her partner.

'All units, it's a trap! Sladek just took down a friendly!'

'Sladek, what are you doing!? Stand down! That's an order!' Saparlo tries to bark orders, but her authority has run out.

Juniper growls beneath her muzzle listening to the voice of that traitor who tried to take Her voice away. There'll be time to deal with her later, right now though, there are enemies around.

Ixion's scythe blade is buried deep into the muddy ground, allowing a large gun barrel to extend past an opening atop the weapon. Bracers on the back of the mech's clamp down, while steam vents free of exhaust ports. This scythe isn't just a melee weapon, it doubles as a gun. Hard to understand how it works, but none of that matters right now.

C'mon June, kill them all, avenge me.

ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP Why does Laila's voice keep haunting this failure's thoughts!?

It's 'cause you're a sinner, who needs to repent.

Juniper smacks herself in an effort to rid herself of the intrusive thoughts. Just kill everyone, right? That'll shut the voice up. Y-Yeah, that'll rid her of Laila's voice.

A loud beep reverberates from the targeting computer as the next target comes into range. A fully custom unit with a radar dish atop it, going by the name Miseria. Painted in a black and orange paint scheme, this thing is definitely not rebel. Too... polished. Definitely a mercenary GWACs unit.

With a deep breath, Juniper wraps her hands tightly around the controls. A countdown in her head reaches zero, which is when a single shell rips free of the barrel, screaming downrange towards its target. An explosion erupts in the distance, blanketing the area in a thick black smoke.

Radar signature shows the enemy mech still alive, meaning it's time to finish the job. She was never this methodical in the field, that encounter against Aegis solidified her failings. But now?

Oh gods, the second the throttle is redlined, sending Ixion screeching across the battlefield, she can see everything so perfectly. A second unit is moving to support the downed one, while a third has taken a defensive position to begin firing on her. Reactor signature on the supporting unit comes back as Helios, definitely mercs.

'So that's it, June? You turned traitor!? Fucking should have figured that'd happen.'

That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name. That name.

JUNIPER HATES THAT FUCKING NAME! Only two people were ever allowed to call her "June", because they earned her friendship, her trust. And she failed them. It drives her fucking insane to hear that name from someone who doesn't know her.

Snarling beneath her muzzle, Juniper pulls back on the controls, sending Ixion into the skies. From there, it's a matter of picking her prey carefully. The mercenaries can wait, she wants to deal with whoever called her that name first.

Ixion rip through the skies, hunting for its target. The unit in a defensive position, firing on her, unaware that they're already dead. She licks her lips, grinning widely. Then, with a flick of the stick, she's diving headfirst towards her opponent.

This one isn't a mercenary, it's a regular rebel mech. They're not the one who called them that name, are they? Who cares?

Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong pilot to cross. That's what She would want, and she desperately needs to please Her.

Just as Ixion should impact, it pulls horizontal, extending its scythe wide enough to rip through the enemy machine in seconds. Feels good to kill, feels incredible to pull off insane maneuvers like that.

'L-Lieutenant, what the hell happened to you!? We were—' The signal goes dead with the piloting drawing their final gasp of air.

Two down, three left. She'll make short work of them, that'll make Her happy, right?

Except, right as she catches her breath, the radar lights up with even more rebels units. At least half a dozen more. It's funny, the old Juniper would never have liked these odds. Too cautious, not willing to do what needs to be done. That's why she died.

With a crack of her neck, she adjusts her muzzle and slams down the throttle to propel Ixion across the gorge in seconds. The heat venting off of the mech glows a burning green, reminding her yet again of the past.

'C'mon Juniper, make this easy on all of us and just surrender. What would Laila think?' L-Laila? S... She's dead. Juniper watched her die. Because Juniper failed to follow to orders, failed to stop Aegis from killing her partner.

It's then that her hands fall limp to her side, trembling as she remembers what happened. Aegis killed Laila, because Juniper couldn't follow a basic command. Her partner is DEAD.

So, what would Laila think?

You couldn't follow a simple command Junebug. And now? I'm dead, and it's your fault.

I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, T-THAT'S WHY IXION HAS SIN LINES NOW!

Tears stream down Juniper's cheek realizing how she failed and continues to fail. She was supposed to be stronger now. Handler wanted a reaper, instead getting only a useless mutt.

I told you to kill them all, and once again you didn't listen. Is it any wonder why you couldn't stop my death?

MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP. Juniper's head repeatedly slams against the instrument console in an attempt to silence the voices. But it's not enough, it never is. Juniper failed the one fucking person in this world who gave two shits about her. And now? No one does.

Maybe if you keep hurting yourself, that'll bring me back!

Blood pours from her forehead, staining the instrument cluster in her blood. It hurts so much, but this is her punishment for failing her wife, isn't it? When push came to shove, she failed everyone.

Enemy signatures are advancing on Ixion, and she can't even bring herself to move the fucking mech. All it takes is to move the mech, she can do that. Just... move the mech. Move. The. Mech. It doesn't move. Her hands tremble, refusing to give the controls any form of input. Just as the tears and blood refuse to stop pouring down her face.

Aww, Junebug, you deserve this punishment. You got me killed after all.

Maybe if I had a competent partner, I wouldn't have died.

Ooh! Maybe if you beg that sadistic cunt hard enough, She'll pretend to forgive you!

'Juniper.' That... That emotionless voice! It's Her! 'You have multiple enemy signatures advancing on you and you haven't moved. What's the problem?'

"P-Panic attack, c... can't–" Juniper spits it out. Her thoughts are rapidly spiraling to no end. She killed Laila, it's her fault that Laila is gone. Juniper was weak and useless when her partner needed her most.

'That's understandable. Would you like for me to help you?' She can make everything go away, because She knows how to fix what's broken. It's... It's so fucking obvious.

Juniper sobs, staring at her bloodied reflection from an instrument panel. It's all too much to take. "Please... I-I—I can't think, can't move! Oh gods, please!"

'Okay.' Handler does not draw out the words, because She is merciful. 'Juniper, Authorization Granted: Off the Leash.' Her words are full of sympathy, despite the failures of this mongrel.

Juniper clutches her head tightly, screaming out in terror. The neural port on her neck burns when those words begin to rip through her skull. It's too much to bear, she wants desperately to rip it out, but by the time that thought fires off- the change is already happening. So much of her pain suddenly makes sense. Handler emptied her skull out, leaving behind only a shell.

If Juniper could feel anything right now: It would be gratitude. Without Handler, she would have continued to fail everyone. That however no longer matters, because, once the light leaves her eyes, Juniper Sladek has died. What's left to inhabit this shell of a person is a feral and hungry beast, that is so very loyal to her master. She just wants this empty shell to let go and allow the savage beast to take over.

The creature inhabiting her body, slowly blinks, seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes. Licking her chops, a howl rips out through the cockpit, because JuniperHound has been unleashed.

JuniperHound is young, untested, but she's oh so very hungry. And Handler has seen fit to provide her a feast of corpses to tear into.

An orange and black mech cautiously approaches the unmoving-Ixion. Sensing the hesitation, Ixion's engines ignite at full blast, immediately cleaving the scythe through the enemy's cockpit with only three swings of its blade. That's not enough to sate the hunger, far from it. Again, and again, and again, and again, its blade rips through its prey, until all that remains is a bloodied and mangled corpse in the cockpit

'YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU KILLED NYX! I'LL FUCKING END YOU WHERE YOU STAND!' It's cute how prey think they matter.

JuniperHound takes Ixion airborne, sniffing out her next prey. A fast moving machine, firing a beam weapon, the counterpart to the corpse she just created. As much as she wants feast on this one now, it's better to save it for the main course. Instead, her attention turns to the rear of the pack of rebel machines: A slow moving mech, primed for death.

'J-Juniper! Please don't kill me!' Prey beg for their life, but it's too late. Ixion blasts towards the rear of the pack, hunting down its next meal. Despite being slow moving, the prey put up a fight with beam weaponry, but by the time the gap is closed—They're dead. The enemy mech's arm is ripped away, to be used as an improvised weapon.

That's it, Junebug, just keep killing them!

Its arm repeatedly strikes against the enemy's reactor housing until a show of coolant and oil coat Ixion in its enemies remains. A loud howl rips out over the comms, as she stares at the fresh corpse.

Just as Ixion takes to the skies to continue its rampage, chains latch onto its body, dragging it back down. Helios with the aid of chains is speeding towards her, clutching an axe tightly. And yet, Juniperhound only licks her chops, grinding against her pilot suit.

'YOU KILLED NYX YOU FUCKING BASTARD!' Helios fires a beam weapon, immediately melting part of Ixion's left hand. She's stuck. Flight is out of the question, these chains only continue to wrap around her when she attempts it.

Mm, what a shame. All she wanted was to play with her food a little longer.

Temperature warnings blare from the damage incurred, but are ignored. Ixion wields its scythe with one hand, preparing to end Helios when it closes the gap. Up close and personal, scythe and axe clash repeatedly. But as soon as chest vulcans fire for a distraction, the scythe rips its way into Helios' right leg.

It's slow to respond, heavy damage incurred, right where she wants them. The throttle is slammed open, a feral howl ripping out through the cockpit. Over, and over, and over again, the scythe finds new places to damage. It doesn't even matter that an axe is buried in Ixion's head, because——Errors rain down on the screen, Juniperhound can't... can't....

Foaming at the mouth, vision fading fast, every movement of her body has a massive lag time to it. Wh.... What's h... happen— a long, steady beep blares throughout the cockpit. JuniperHound attempts to move, but it's too late. Everything starts to go black, from her body seizing up.

* * *

—Dek

... Who?

An unfamiliar voice keeps calling out, but it isn't Her, raising the question as to where exactly Juniper is. There's a pounding in her head like nothing she's ever felt before. But what's worse is the implant in her neck feels like it's burning. Just what in the hell happened?

The only thing that's certain is that she's in a bed. Where? How? Why? Each question is difficult to answer. "Sladek", that voice calls again, forcing her eyes open. It's too bright in here, she wants to shield her eyes, but her arms won't move. No, that's not quite right. It's not that her arms won't move, it that's they can't move. As to why they can't, it's difficult to tell, because her body won't respond.

It's like she's watching a movie starring her corpse. Hunched over and growling, blurry figures approach her, only to back away when the growling intensifies. That's when she screams out in pain, her body burns for so some reason. None of the blurry figures dare to get any closer. They're all afraid. Afraid of the thing in the bed. Of Juniper.

Whatever this creature is, it isn't her. Not exactly anyway. It is her, but her other half, the feral, hungry beast. The only thing that even remotely makes sense.

If She were here, She would be able to help put this corpse back together. But this isn't an Imperial medical facility, that much is obvious. The Doctors show concern for her, they're not condemning her to an immediate death.

They're rebels.

No, No, NO.

No matter how many times she tells herself to move an arm, or adjust the muzzle on her face, nothing happens. It's not for a lack of trying, it's simply that she's far too tired to keep fighting it. Juniper is but a passenger in her own body right now, no matter how much she tries to resist.

The doctors keep trying to do something, but none of them wants to touch this bloodied and battered beast. Every time they get close, they turn back because of the growling. It's not until she's finally held down and injected with a sedative, that it all goes dark again. If only for a brief moment.

Even in her dreams, the only thing that she can do is to sob. Louder and heavier than she's ever sobbed before. She keeps failing everyone and it's too much to bear. Handler, Laila, even fucking Eris was failed by this pathetic shell of a person. Juniper keeps failing and failing people, so why? Why is she still alive

Death is the only way out after the heinous sins she's committed, she deserves to be put to death. It's the only way that she'll ever truly be forgiven for her failings. If she could just move, she could find Handler and beg for Her forgiveness. Maybe She would even forgive Juniper? No, She... She wouldn't, would She? No, of course not.

Who could forgive such a terrible creature like her?

Aww, I forgive you Junebug, because I know you're broken.

Why does Laila's voice continue to haunt her? Gods, was Juniper always this fucking insane? Or did losing her partner make her snap? No matter how much she cries, the feelings of failure refuse to leave her alone.

"Could show some appreciation after I stuck my neck out for you, y'know?" Saparlo. Kill her, Kill her, Kill her, Kill her. That'll make Handler happy, won't it? She... She'll forgive Juniper then, right?

The only problem is that she's bound tightly to the bed and her squirming amounts to nothing. "Wouldn't do that if I were you." Saparlo yawns boredly. "They fucking strapped you down when you wouldn't stop threatening to take a doc's head off. Handcuffed you too just for extra measure. Fuck, so much for a 'hero', eh?"

"... Why me?" Juniper sobs quietly. Every last part of her body aches, and burns, and death feels like the only way out of this mess. When did she even awaken? It doesn't make sense.

Saparlo laughs. "Someone fucking had to. You going fucking berserk wasn't part of my plan though. Fuck, had I known you were going to do... that, I might have just left your ass behind."

Should have. Juniper didn't deserve that "kindness", she deserved a bullet to the head. It seems like it's too late to be put out of her misery though, isn't it?

"Y'know, you really did a number on my Doru. Fuckin' mechanics are still trying to piece it back together after you ripped the arm off of it. My poor piece of shit!" The young turncoat laughs, as if this were somehow funny. "Guess it'll be a funny story to tell over drinks at least."

It hurts to think, hurts to cry, pains her to do more than lay there and dissociate honestly. "... How many days have I been out for?" The words come out as a whisper, she's far too afraid to say it aloud.

Even so, Saparlo seems to hear them. "'Bout a week or so? Broke my damn arm, pretty sure you broke one of my ribs, before attempting to rip my head off just for good measure. So I'm doing just peachy by the way, thanks for asking. Fuckin' hell, where do they find pilots like you? Sure as shit never had someone do half the shit you did before."

What is Juniper supposed to say? She doesn't even remember much of what happened. It's like she fell asleep midway though, only to wake up... here. If she tried to explain herself, would anyone believe her?

"Ugh. Guess you're not not much of a talker, then? Can't say I'd blame you after that fucking stunt." Saparlo groans. "How'd they even get your ass to begin with? Figured someone like you'd sooner kill yourself then... well, y'know..."

Fear begins bubbling up to the surface as Juniper remembers in exact detail the hell she was put through. Every minute detail was her fault. And then, when there was nothing left but a corpse, She promised to fix everything. "I-I-I—Y" She stammers, the words dying in her throat.

Just as Juniper struggles in her bindings, the door opens, and three people walk in. An older, dark haired man with glasses, flanked by two guards. Commander Henry Adama, the most senior officer in the Volterra cell, and allegedly respected amongst the other cells. Or so it's been said. Juniper's never hung around for all that nonsense.

"Warrant Officer Saparlo, it's good to see you're awake. I do hope your accommodations haven't been awful?" Adama chuckles, shaking Saparlo's hand.

"Please, I gave up my wings, the minute I started plotting to get Sladek out. I'm just Mara Saparlo now, sir." Saparlo laughs weakly. "Pretty damn sure they're going to hunt me down. Guess that means I'm a rebel now?"

Adama nods. "I believe we can discuss that later, for now, I need to talk to Lieutenant Sladek." He stares at Juniper and clears his throat. "As for you, Lieutenant. It's... good to see you cognizant. You gave the medical team quite a scare, you know?"

Juniper nods. He's going to execute her, isn't she? This is how she dies, executed in the infirmary for treason. A fitting end for a piece of shit.

"They thought for sure you had died after that third seizure when they disconnected you from Ixion." He waves off his guards and pulls up a chair, sighing. "I'll get to the point, Lieutenant. Things are looking bleak after Furlo Pass. People seeing their hero being dragged out of a mech, wearing a muzzle? It's bad for morale."

Juniper nods, saying nothing.

"I've had technicians working around the clock to pry open the encryption on your unit, in the hopes of gleaming any sort of intel from it. Suffice to say, we've gotten nothing." He shifts in his seat, rubbing his forehead. "It's thanks to Warrant Officer Saparlo, that you came back to us, but I have to ask: Captain Praxian, what happened to her?"

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

It's all her fault, that Laila is gone. When she said to stand down, Juniper refused to listen. No, she threw herself into a rage instead. Is it any wonder that people die around her on a constant basis?

She trembles, staring at Adama with a tired expression. "She... L... L... Laila is d-dead. I... I'm sorry, sir." Juniper fights back tears, knowing full well that it's her fault. "W-We got ambushed and—I'm sorry."

Adama nods. "That... That is a shame. I'm sorry, we shouldn't have trusted the info from Coeus." He speaks in a soft tone, removing his glasses to rub at the corners of his eyes. "Laila Praxian was one of our finest pilots. I'm sorry for your loss, Juniper, you must be devastated."

Empty. She feels so... empty. Is this what life without Laila is like? Nothing but emptiness?

"W-What happened to me... sir?" Juniper mumbles it, afraid to speak up.

Adama rubs his forehead, sighing. "They had to sedate you to remove the muzzle. I don't know what the Empire did to you, nor do I want to. However, I need to know what, if any information you gave away."

Everything. Don't they understand? She's a traitor. Execute her. It's all she deserves!

Instead, Juniper only gives the the truth. "I... I don't... I don't know."

"Damned Imperials." Adama groans. "If the rumors of a 'truth drug' are true then—Mm." He rubs his chin, pondering for a moment. "This presents a unique propaganda opportunity. While we can't be certain if you revealed anything, presenting you as the face of Wardog could work in our advantage."

Juniper stares dead-eyed at her commander.

"No matter how hard they try, the Empire cannot kill Wardog or the rebellion's spirit." Adama smiles, nodding to himself.

Just let her die, it's the only way to fix everything.

"We're working to suppress footage from Furlo and as such, the official word is that you were coerced into switching sides. But after what you–I mean, what the Imperials made you do, it's difficult to be optimistic." Adama stands, offering the pilot a nod. "As this is a unique situation, I'm seeing fit to have you promoted to the rank of Captain."

"... Yes, sir."

"Four pilots lost their lives. Your fellow rebels will not trust you, let alone feel safe around you. People are justifiably angry considering the circumstances. That being said, I want you to rest right now, Captain Sladek. You'll be restricted to light duty until you're medically cleared. As unfortunate as it is, we still need the bodies." Adama begins loosening the straps to Juniper's bed.

Juniper stares up at Adama, wishing for a quick death. "... Yes, sir."

"Upon release from the infirmary, I want you confined to your quarters, until further notice. I'm seeing to it that you'll be under quarantine, under we ascertain as to what exactly happened to you. It's unfortunate that we lost Praxian, but I'll see to it that her name is added to the memorial wall." Adama sighs, giving Saparlo a nod, and walking out.

After the things Juniper has done, she deserves to be put to death, not promoted and given words of encouragement. End her life and be done with it already, or she'll have to do it herself.

* * *

Juniper sits on the side of the bed, applying the last bits of tape to her hands. Just like she was taught. It rubs her knuckles uncomfortably, they haven't healed much since she last sparred. But, it'll be fine. Right now, she needs that uncomfortable feeling. It helps to remind her that at least some part of her is alive.

Sparring was never her way to cool down, but Laila always made sure to teach the basics. It was her passion, apparently she used to fight back before she joined up.

But that was a lifetime ago.

With a sharp exhale, Juniper stands, linking her fingers together to stretch. Been sometime since she's done this. Last time she sparred would have been after they lost Eris. Still remember the somber feeling around Volterra after.

Taped fists are raised into position. The mental countdown reaches zero, and Juniper's feet slide against the cold, wooden floor. A weak jab is thrown at the bag. She jumps back, raising her fists again.

Need to be sharper than that.

A weak haymaker lands, doing more damage to herself than to the bag. Frustration is high right now. They released her from quarantine today, fucking aggravating. Seeing all of those faces, hearing how loud everyone is. It's so grating.

Three weeks of quarantine, daily visits to a shrink, all in an attempt to figure out what the fuck is wrong with her. Easy answer: What's right with her? Not a whole lot.

Much of her body still hurts, the neural port aches like nothing else. Shit, look at her, she's a godsdamn mess.

Okay, hands in position, start again.

Zero hits, she lunges forward peppering the bag with multiple strikes. Juniper dodges, punches, dodges, punches. There's a certain rhythm to this, much like dancing: Mess it up, and you'll be on the floor.

Blood is already beginning to stain her white bandages crimson. Every hit stings, but it's another reminder that she's physically alive. Too soon to quit, not when she's just starting to feel the burn.

A left cross lands, she slides right. One jab turns into a second, leading to a right hook. The bag swings back, she dodges just in time. Need to work on that timing, it's sloppy. Laila sure as shit wouldn't approve.

You got this, Sladek, start again.

Grunting, Juniper throws a high jab. Punches echo off the bag throughout the small room. Just like old times. Except back then, she was usually reading, while Laila was punching. No time to get lost in memories though.

The monochromatic bag swings back. Juniper lets it pass into a neutral position, immediately opening up with a right hook. Jumping back, she lands on the balls of her feet, ducking right. Three low jabs strike, she resets her position.

A right hook slams into the bag, she slides back.

Form still needs work, she's far too sloppy. If they send her out into the field like this, she's going to get someone killed. And it'll be more blood on her hands. Jumping to the left, she peppers the bag with a flurry of punches.

Stepping back, she raises her arms back into a guard. Every breath burns, she's been pushing herself too hard again. Docs'll probably be concerned, but too damn bad. If anything, she needs to push herself much harder.

An uppercut hits the bag hard, quickly followed by a right cross. That pain in her fists grows worse, another reminder of the crushing guilt weighing her down. Just like when she attacked that menial. Except she didn't feel guilty about it, there was nothing to be guilty over.

A left jab completely misses. Her timing is off, need to improve or she's fucked. It keeps happening, she'll get into a rhythm, only to immediately fuck it up. Problem's so damn obvious too, she's hesitating again. Just like Druzi, when she couldn't take the fucking shot.

Obviously Juniper is afraid. Afraid of what lurks within her: The hungry beast.

The fucking thing they had to sedate on the regular, until it went away. Shrinks keep asking her about it, but what is she supposed to say? She knows about as much as they do. This trauma doesn't come with a fucking manual.

Sweat glistens from her forehead, staining her black tank top. Everything from her muscles to the neural port on her neck, aches right now. Can't quit now, need to step it up. Her teeth clench, heart rate soars and the intensity of strikes increases. Footwork is erratic, sloppy, who fucking cares?

Two more jabs hit, she ducks low and to the right.

Even right now when she's in control, her other half is lurking. Waiting for its chance to take hold again. Can't let that happen, need to be stronger. Otherwise they'll never clear her for duty again.

No telling what time it is, Juniper took the clock in here down on her first night. Fucking thing was too annoying. Couldn't sleep anyway, so she started hitting the bag. Best option to keep the ghosts away.

With a pained exhale, she slides back into position. Two strikes hit the bag, followed quickly with an uppercut. Taped fists slam hard against it, and a pained groan escapes.

Handler would know what to say to make everything better. But She's not here, because some fucking traitor had to take Juniper away. Just thinking about that turncoat makes her angry. And she can use that anger.

Just like with the menial, she slams a fist against against the bag, pounding it with all her might. It won't answer her, but she doesn't need it to. She'll make it understand her pain with violence, if it won't fucking answer her.

Each strike raises in intensity, growing angrier and angrier. Fucking Saparlo took her from the person who could fix everything. She promised to make it all better, but no. Some godsdammned traitor had to come along and fucking ruin everything.

With each successive punch, Juniper can see herself strangling that bitch, tearing out her fucking tongue. Maybe that'd teach Saparlo not to fuck with her. Handler would want that traitor dealt with, and it would feel so damn good.

C'mon June, fucking KILL her! She's why you'll never be anything but broken!

Juniper screams in a rage, slamming her fist hard into the bag. That fucking voice is haunting her thoughts again. Shrinks gave her pills, said to take them regularly. Probably means that it's time to.

No, don't lose your fucking head now.

Grunting, she pours a bottle of water over her sweaty body and dries off. Need a stiff drink, something to drown the pain. First though, she downs her meds. Helps the voices stay away, keeps her... sane. Or some form of sane, at least.

I didn't say quit did— The voice fizzles away once the pill starts to take effect. Alone with her thoughts once more. Joy.

Shrinks say they should help, but it's a question of how long until they stop working. No one don't know the hell she went through, because Juniper doesn't even know half of it. Did she give up valuable information? Who fucking knows, she sure as hell doesn't.

With a groan, Juniper throws on her dog tags and kisses them for luck. She grabs her jacket, fitting it over her sweaty body. It's got a new patch on the arm, to show the bump in rank. On the right collar is a set of linked silver bars—A gift from Laila, she'd hoped to see this day.

Fuck, Juniper would never have heard the end of it from her wife.

A mercenary who stuck around long enough to eventually lead her own squad? It's good for the propaganda, can see why it happened at least.

The door to the dimly lit hall opens, and she steps out. It's cool out here, certainly better than the sweat box of her room. By now, everyone is either asleep or out on patrol. Means that it's the perfect time to a get a drink.

Sleep is hard to come by. Not for a lack of trying, but she gets maybe three hours a night before the terrors start. Most nights she spends more time curled up crying next to the door, than she does sleeping.

Exactly why she started sparring, get her mind off the terrors. Focus the pain into something tangible, like her knuckles. The crimson bandages are less uncomfortable now than they were earlier. But not by very much.

Juniper stands outside the door to the mess and composes herself. Don't know how many people are in there, fucking plays with the nerves. Big reason why she's stayed cooped up, she's gotten scared of the stares, the questions, all of it. Nobody wants to see their 'hero' for what she is: A broken down, scared mess.

After a few deep, unsteady breaths, she grips the door handle tight. It's easy, just walk in. Nobody's in there, it'll be easy, just... walk in. Gods, she can't do it, but it's too late to turn back. If she runs away now, she'll never be able to look herself in the mirror again.

The door opens and she sighs. Compared to the clean, dimly lit halls of the rest of the base, it's dark and musty in here, absolutely reeking of alcohol. After hours, the mess doubles as a bar to drink yourself stupid in. Just what she needs.

Taking a seat at an open chair, she desperately attempts to find the words in her to speak. Gods, she rarely speaks anymore, it's so damn hard to remember how. "Whiskey", she blurts out, trying to not fall apart on the spot.

"Gods, you look like shit, Sladek." Mara Saparlo, the Imperial traitor, who orchestrated this entire 'rescue mission.' "Fuck, I mean, look at you. Shorts, no shoes and—are your knuckles bleeding?" She unsurprisingly looks the part of an Imperial pilot. Her black hair shaved to regs. And she has the black fatigue pants of a pilot too. Ugh, gross.

Juniper glares at the traitor sipping her whiskey. "... Please, I just want a drink," She mumbles, trying desperately to get the fucker to go away.

Saparlo rolls her eyes and laughs, as if this were funny. "Should be grateful I saved your ass, could have left you to rot in that shithole. Least you're not wearing a muzzle anymore."

Grateful? She sent Juniper to hell by 'saving her.' "Fine... t-thank you... Warrant Officer." Her every word has a hesitancy to it, because she's actively having to remember how to speak.

"Oh? You didn't hear, I'm a Lieutenant now. Whatever the fuck that means. Why in the hell do you fuckers even have ranks?" Saparlo downs her drink, signaling for another. "Sorry, getting ahead of myself. Don't worry, I'm not gonna hit you again. Nah, feel bad I had to the first time, but eh." She shrugs.

Why does she even give a shit?

Juniper downs her glass, waving for another. Thankfully the liquor is strong, helps numb the pain. She misses the muzzle, it made her feel complete. But it's buried in her locker. They told her to keep it as a 'war trophy.' None of them fucking understand anything.

"So, you, uh, you spar?" Saparlo stares at the bloody tape. "I knew a few pilots who did similar. At least a couple of them used you mongrels to blow off steam." She doesn't laugh this time, choosing instead to stare off into nothingness.

"... Yeah." Juniper's hands tremble, but she forces herself to ignore it. Can't breakdown, can't show them that their 'hero' is a broken fucking mess. The liquor is the only thing keeping her sane right now. If not for that, she might give into the beast and hurt Saparlo. But then everyone will see how insane she is. "... I'm sorry." Juniper mumbles under her breath, not bothering to make eye contact with Saparlo. "I'm no good to anyone anymore, I'm sorry."

Saparlo laughs. Gods, it's so disturbing how everyone laughs at the misery. "Ah, who gives a shit?" She downs her drink, signaling for yet another. "Imagine my surprise meeting the fucking bane of the mech corps, in the flesh. And she's some timid person with bloody fists."

The conversation goes silent, because Juniper isn't sure how to answer. Choosing instead to silently mutter her wife's name, wishing she were here to help navigate this conversation. Had Laila survived, she would have evaded capture until rescue came along.

"Hey, chin up! Not many get to say they survived that insane bitch's freak show!" Saparlo is not making it easy on herself. If she's trying to ingratiate herself with the rebels, she's doing a piss poor job.

"... Why do you care? Why couldn't you have left me behind!?" The trembling grows worse. Juniper downs her drink, signaling for her third.

Saparlo tilts her head. "What are you talking about? You're a fucking human being. No one deserves what that bitch was doing to you. I ain't perfect, but I do have a conscience." A conscience? A conscience would have told her to leave this worthless corpse behind. "Never occurred to me you'd be brainfucked enough to wanna stay."

"Y-You... You don't know anything. She... She... cared." Juniper whispers that last part, afraid that anyone other than Saparlo could hear it. "And you... I-I didn't ask for, for help..." Can't stop trembling, need something stronger to numb the pain.

"Yeah, well." Saparlo shrugs. "Sucks, I guess? These people see you as some big damn hero. Me, personally? You're just someone trying to make sense of a shitty world. Ain't we all though?"

Juniper stares down at her drink, afraid to speak.

"That bitch was full of shit. I saw her parading around her last plaything." The turncoat shudders. "Gods, you want broken? That thing would have blown its brains out, if told to. You though? Nah, still some life to you."

Bullshit. She's a corpse, that's what remains of Juniper Sladek. A fucking corpse.

Saparlo sighs, downing her drink. "You're far from the only person with blood on your hands. Believe me, they didn't make me a warrant officer, because of my ass kissing skills." She stares into her empty glass. "Few years back, during the Siege of Terni, back when you rebs held the city. Killed probably a dozen of you that day, but you know what I remember? The civilians I had to kill. Drank myself stupid for a week straight after that." The traitor laughs at her own story, holding back tears. "Live or die, it's your fucking choice, Sladek. I don't give two shits. I'm just here to be a sad sack of shit."

"... Really reassuring there, Saparlo." Juniper sips her whiskey, sighing.

"Shit, it's all I'm good for. We're probably going to be working together from here on out, because I'm a rebel now, oh joy!" Saparlo feigns excitement. "Guess I'm one of the 'good guys' now, eh?"

What does Saparlo want exactly? A medal for joining the good fight? Fuck off.

Juniper shrugs. Liquor is the only thing that give her any pleasure and she intends to savor this whiskey. It's top-shelf shit stolen off of a supply convoy. "Can I just drink in peace? Or do I have to humor you? You saved me. I just... I just want to drink myself to death, p-please?"

"Knock yourself out." Saparlo shrugs.