Aerienna, better known as Elissa or as the Wise Owl, looked at the message file (sent to her on an encrypted email browser that she was scared to use lest she break anything) and tried to stop trembling as she deleted the file and wiped the computer’s proxy address.
[i]Get it together, Ellie. They’re only just now trusting you. Don’t you dare break down and lose that faith now.[/i]
Talking to herself in her head. That was a bad habit she’d picked up… No. She would not gratify that dark place in her mind with any of her attention.
With a sigh and a slight gasp of pain, for some of the muscles in her back hadn’t entirely healed yet and objected to sudden movement, the slight girl rose from her desk, fully intending to go to the medical supply room. She pulled a pad of sticky notes from the drawer, along with a pen, and scribbled a note.
[i]“I’m inventorying and taking supplies for tonight. Don’t lock me in, okay? ~E”[/i] with a little flower doodle. She studied the pale purple sticky-note. Chatty, kind of childish and sort of flirty, especially if one considered the innuendo. The girl supposed that it would be something most teenagers would write. Not that she’d know.
Her feet padding softly on the floor, Elissa walked to the small closet in her room and rose up on tiptoe, jumping slightly, to peer up to the top shelf. She took another jump, trying to ignore the shooting pain in her back and quads, and just barely hooked her fingers through the loop on her backpack that contained all of her equipment and protective gear.
Not that she had much. A bulletproof vest that was easily three sizes too big for her, a pair of combat boots that were again much too big for her, and the backpack with its hydration bladder and incredible number of pockets to hold gear. But the bag also held her favorite pistol. A Walther p22, the only pistol in the entire base that she could comfortably shoot one-handed, because of how light it was and also because of how little recoil there was. She clipped the gun to her waistband.
She slung the backpack over her shoulder and held her sticky note in her right hand as she went to the medical supply room, sock-covered feet making little sound as she walked through the halls. Everyone was probably in the common room; she had no desire to join them. Even just the silence of these halls was almost deafeningly loud… Elissa shook her head to physically steer herself away from that train of thought.
She got to the supply room, put her sticky note on the door, and left the light off as she went in. She could see well enough in the dark, after being shut in the box… She shook her head again, her default reaction when she got close to dangerous subjects, and started scanning the shelves. She picked several sedatives, both injection and liquids. The liquids she tucked into her backpack, along with handkerchiefs to soak in them closer to the time when they’d be used. Then she realized that the other thing she’d want, a tranquilizer dart gun, would be in the weapons room. She cursed, for that meant she’d have to go in there with a group of other people and their aimless chatter.
As she was getting ready to leave the medical room, she noticed something that made her breath catch in her throat, the silvery glint of scalpels laying on a tray. She approached like she might approach a wild dog, wary and triply cautious. For a long moment she stood over the tray, breathing hard, trying to calm her racing heart; finally she reached over and plucked one blade from the tray. For later, when she would wake up terrified, soaked with sweat, convinced she was back in the dark with only her own fear. Pain helped to anchor her. It always did.
She slipped the scalpel into her pocket and sat down against the wall opposite the door, trying to calm her fluttering heart and mind, taking deep breaths and letting herself float through only the happiest parts of her imagination.