#tftc

"Take the visor off." Alambra's voice felt rough, without feeling.

"Bu- But I nee-"

"I know." She cut them off, while her eyes twitched slightly, but the kid didn't notice. "I gave you an order."

They hesitated for a moment, turning their head towards General Praxis, but she just nodded back. "You've heard your captain."

The visor came off with a hiss as it detached from the bone anchors, and the patch of skin it was covering breathed for the first time in a while, a paler tone than it's surroundings. The recruit was shutting their eyes forcefully, shaking in their loosely fitting boots. "Please I-"

"Look into my eyes."

They didn't dare, trying to find an excuse, but no words came to them.

"I said..." The captain grabbed their face and got as close as she could, her voice still monotone, but bubbling with something weirdly similar to anger.

The sudden feeling of the leathery hand made the rookie recoil, opening their shimmering eyes, which found a deep dark well within their captain's.

A flash. A series of explosions. Pure light all around, followed by dark spots. Images of fallen soldiers littered their mind, holding onto hands that weren't theirs, screaming the captain's name. A birthday party for a child, then 34 more, all happening at the same time, the candles burning the recruit's mind as music from before the war screamed at them, coming to a halt with a scratch. Orders. Countless orders, shouted in unison, crackling with static. Then the feeling of fire coursing through their veins as needles pierced the captain's skin. They could feel every second of the operation that replaced her broken vertebrae. A result of the explosion, they can see the flames around them, a home turned inferno. A kid looks into the mirror as they face hell. They can feel the skin coming off after she runs into the street. The beginning of the war flashes before their eyes, they weren't even born yet. It's just as their parents said it had been, and then it's back to the war, back to barracks were drunken singing can be heard, back to barracks were lips met, back to barracks were...

They scream and fall to the ground, or at least their body tries to, but the captain grabs her by the shoulders. Her arms are firm, strong enough to hold back armies, with hands that have taken down endless battalions. They can feel vile in the back of their throat as their mind clears again, the thoughts suddenly leaving with only a slimy darkness as proof they were once there.