Rose stared out the window, trying to ignore the lurching in her stomach as the bus swayed with every curve in the road and slight breeze outside. She didn’t used to get carsick, but everything was different now. Her head pounded far worse than a hangover. 

It took a lot of willpower not to panic. She kept reminding herself that there was a complimentary, waterproof bag tucked into the seat in front of her because people got sick sometimes. But another part of her knew she had never felt quite so miserable before. Another lurch in her stomach forced her to close her eyes and slowly breathe in and out.

Why? Every part of her wanted to chop off the entire left side of her head just to relieve the pain.

It’s only temporary. This will pass, just gotta keep it together. A cold rush of sweat broke out along her back. Breathe.

It would be worth it, she reassured herself. Her grandmother had told her about a facility down to the southeast. They made genetically modified humans there. Like her family. She’d been reassured that they weren’t the only ones. There were others out there, some like her and some not. But why did that lab decide now to go after her family? Why try to kill her parents and grandparents but not… her brother and her. It didn’t make much sense.

There was a twitch in her side as the bus got off the highway and entered a wide turn. It was becoming quite familiar to her now. A twitch on some gland not so different from the adrenal gland. She had milked it dry the other day but now… her head pounded again as her body demanded whatever hormones or chemicals had swamped her system and permanently messed up her brain chemistry. The addiction was bad. She had been careful not to try anything too addictive throughout her life, so this was quite an alien feeling. The need. The itch.

The bloodthirst.

She leaned her head against the seat in front of her. Soon, she reminded herself. Very soon, the bus would be stopping soon and after that– yes. After that she would be free to roam as she pleased. She would roam deep into the darker parts of this city. Maybe she’d play a little with her prey. Whatever would make her feel good. Whatever made her feel alive again.

It was a long trek up the back stairwell of the building. It felt longer because of the twenty or thirty pounds of gunmetal slung across Iris’s back as she went up and up. Four stories felt like so many more and she paused at the very top to take a quick breather. Some days she wished she was made into a different rank. Sure, she could hit a flying squirrel a hundred yards away but the blue ranks never got winded for anything. It was actually disconcerting how fast and how far they could go, even with heavy loads.

Iris continued, finally. In front of her was a small room barely big enough to stretch her arms out with a door. It was labeled with a warning that it was alarmed, but she knew her partner had already disarmed it earlier in the day. It swung inwards with a gentle pull and Iris had access to the rooftop.

At least they were doing this after the worst of the day’s heat. Crouching on a hot rooftop wasn’t an activity she enjoyed. That being said, she got her bipod set up on the concrete barrier on the Eastern side of the building and adjusted the scope to account for the wind. A light breeze was gently blowing across the rooftop but it made a difference the farther the range was. Four-hundred meters away was the operating area where the black-squad would be doing the mission. Her purple comrades were set up on the rooftops around her to get as many different vantage points as possible.

She settled in to wait. "Purple three in position, ready to stand by," she radioed in.

"Copy that, purple three," came the response from Corp Brooke.

Iris kneeled by her rifle and looked over the city blocks. It took a while for the others to all check in, but they were all accounted for. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. The purple ranks were only there just in case anyway, it wasn’t likely anybody was going to get sniped today.

The sun began sinking rapidly and the shadows grew long as the last of the black ranks checked in.

“Operation commence, t-minus ten seconds,” Corporal Brooke announced.

Ten seconds later Iris could see the members of the other squad split away from their waiting points. They were all dressed in plain-clothes. This was a city after all. They didn’t want to bring any extra attention. She followed her assigned objective with some binoculars, watching for hostiles, or anything that might be a snag in the operation. For the most part, it was boring. 

Until things went wrong.

The extraction process was mostly completed. They didn’t ask questions about what they were retrieving. That was on a need to know basis.  Her objective turned his head unexpectedly and said something. Iris could make out the lip reading as “huh? I’m just…” he trailed off.

A man came from behind a vehicle and approached the worm child.

“I’ve got interference on Black Three,” Iris radioed.

“Copy that,” said Corporal Brooke. Somewhere in the vicinity, her attention shifted to observe what Iris was reporting.

From Iris’s vantage point, she could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation. It seemed this older man was concerned as to why a young adult was lurking about. It didn’t help the Black Three had dyed his hair coal black way back when and styled it to be as angsty as possible. And maybe worse still, for plausible deniability purposes all of those black ranks down there didn’t carry weapons. Black Three had an illegal switchblade, but that was a personal choice he’d probably get in trouble for. But most difficult for this situation was that it was clipped onto the outside of his belt and his fingers were resting on it, waiting to draw if need be.

“Purple three, take the shot.”

“Eh?” the sound came out of Iris without intention. “Repeat that?” she radioed.

“Engage hostile, lethal force.”

“Copy that,” Iris managed. She went fully prone to look through the scope of the rifle and found her mark. The man was giving Black Three a hard time. It was obvious, but there didn’t seem to be a justification to shoot him.

Orders were orders though and Iris put her finger in the trigger guard and disengaged the safety. Her skin felt sweaty against the warm metal as she lined up the shot. The man wasn’t much older than her. Perhaps worse, he looked a bit like John. Probably wasn’t that much different than John, either.

“Purple Three,” Corp Brooke said. “Take the shot.”

But Iris couldn’t. She froze as the world seemed to rumble around her and the sharp explosion of a gunshot ran out over the city.

The people down below startled, but it wasn’t until they realized the man was now bleeding out on the sidewalk that they panicked.

Black Three retreated, and got out of the area with the rest of the Black Ranks.

Iris swallowed. She’d seen carnage before, but it didn’t make it easy.

“Retreat to point beta,” came the order.

Iris stood, her legs wobbling as she hauled the rifle onto her back and started back down the stairs. This was not okay.