Chapter 332 – What’s Difference Between Chaos and Crazy?

December 13th, 2499

09:30 SCT

Wasteland

After the attack ended, John found himself in the back of one of the convoy’s cargo trucks, in a somewhat uncomfortable position. A rather famous reporter was interviewing him, and when he opened up the front of his armour, the man seemed to recognize him.

"Why do you look so familiar?" Michael Liberty asked, staring intently at him. The man was probably in his mid-forties, a little overweight, and beginning to go bald. He wore a soiled brown business suit and thick square-framed glasses.  

"I have no idea. I can't say I've had many run-ins with the press." John replied, his parallel minds all working through his memories as to why. He'd run into a reporter before, a Mr. Max Speer, but that was back in his outlaw days. He wasn't about to admit that, though. 

"Hmm... no matter. First, I want to thank you and your team for coming to our rescue. I hate to think about what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"No problem. You guys seemed to have it well in hand. Though what possessed you to fight those beasts without any armour on, Ma'am?" He said to the half-naked woman sitting on the floor between the legs of his armour as he used a first aid kit to dress her wounds.

"Just doing my job, Marshal Wayne. I needed to protect my charge, so that's what I did. You can rub that in harder; I'm not some delicate flower that needs to be pampered." Lieutenant Emily Swallow said with a laugh. Among her other wounds, the Confederate soldier had two long gashes going down her back, catching the claws of a Zergling from behind when she was rallying the militia and assembling their hastily set defences. "You don't happen to have any cigarettes? I could really use a smoke right about now."

"Yeah. One sec." He said, reaching into his jacket pocket. While he would enjoy a cigar once in a while, he didn't regularly smoke himself, but this body was a fairly heavy smoker and had a couple of packs tucked away in its jacket. "Here, take the pack." 

"Really? Thank you! You know these are like gold on the battlefield, right?" She said, pulling out a cig. He lit it for her with the Zippo-style lighter in his pocket, then went back to working on the wound.

"It's fine, darlin'. I've been meaning to quit anyway." He replied, pushing the antiseptic agent deeper into the gashes. He ran his Healing Hands magic through his fingers, trying to ease the pain she felt as he treated her wounds. He really wanted to cast Middle Heal, but wasn't ready to out himself yet, mainly to a Confederate soldier and reporter. 

"Mmm... That's the ticket. Like that." She said, taking a drag off the smoke. "Damn, your fingers feel amazing. I bet you would make a great field medic."

"I've heard that before."

"Anyway, that was crazy what you did out there today. How did you stand toe-to-toe with those Zerg? I watched other fully armoured soldiers fall to their claws, yet you stood your ground." Michael asked, the man ignoring the operation going on in front of him.

That man must be a saint; he hasn't even glanced at Emily's breasts since she took off her blouse. Injury or not, even I'm not sure I would be able to be that courteous if a woman got naked in front of me, mainly one as beautiful as her. Thankfully, her back is to me, so I don't need to test that temptation.

"I didn't have much choice. Once my Vulture was destroyed, I was stuck with that... thing between the Convoy and me. I just did what needed to be done."

"What needed to be done? If you were under my command, I would have promoted you immediately. If you were a bit younger, I would offer you a job working under me. Hell, even with your age, I could pull a few strings if you're interested. What do you say? Want to join the Military Police? I assure you, we don't normally stand on the front lines like that!" Emily interrupted, sounding positively ecstatic for some reason.

I know my magic feels good, but this is just a bit much. She should have passed out from the pain; being able to sit here and chat happily as I dress these wounds is insane. 

"I'm good. Now give me that arm; I need to clean those wounds before it gets infected." He said, grabbing her left arm. Her skin was torn to shreds from the shoulder to elbow; a Zergling's teeth had nearly taken it off before he grabbed it and pried its jaws open. 

"Ahh... hah... don't worry too much, I could just get a prosthetic. The medical facility up on the Norad II can do that easily."

"You want a fake arm over your real one?"

"As long as it works, why would it matter?"

"A young, beautiful woman like you? You shouldn't go giving up your arm just because you can replace it with a prosthetic. You won't always be in the military; you should consider what happens when you leave." He replied, and meant it. She didn't have Aqua's unearthly beauty or Ash's lithe grace, but the fit blonde woman was just as beautiful as Mia or Yu. 

"Oh...Well, thank you for the compliment, but I’m not that young, and my looks don't matter. I'll be in the military until the day I die." She said, turning her head toward him with a happy smile on her face.

"Until you die? Why?"

"She's a Resoc. Do you know what that means?" Michael said, taking a drag on his own smoke.

John combed his memories, finding the times he had seen and dealt with Resocs before. Using both chemicals and implants, they were usually dangerous criminals who had their brains screwed with, literally changing their personalities so they were a whole different person. They became fiercely loyal to the Confederacy and were usually used as cannon fodder, sent into battle to be purposely killed while normal soldiers would flank positions while the defenders were engaged with the Resocs. John didn't like it, but could understand it. The problem was that the Confederacy didn't just use it on criminals; they also used it on political dissidents and people who questioned policies. It was yet another reason why this body hated the Confederacy.

So... this blonde-haired angel could have been a murderer at one point, but now has had her mind brain-panned, turning her into a different person. Jesus... is she still the same criminal? Or is she... something else now? I don't sense anything malicious about her, just a happy, career-minded woman. Card.

[Name - Emily Swallow]

[Race - Human]

[Class - Military Police]

[Age - 31]

[Birthday - January 17th]

[Aliases - Man Flayer, Battle Princess]

[Likes - Guns, Combat, Order, Smokes, Alcohol, Steak]

[Dislikes - Traitors, Cowards, Her Past]

[Virgin - No]

[Cup Size - DD]

[Sexual Preferences - In Control]

[Favourite Positions - Cowgirl, Reverse Cowgirl]

[Emily grew up on the world of Halcyon, where she was abused by strings of men in her youth, twisting her mind and turning her psychotic]

[As an adult, she used her looks to attract young men in bars, take them to her home, tied them up and flayed the skin and meat from their bones with a fillet knife]

[She killed ten men in this manner before she was indentured into the military, her murderous impulses controlled via neural resocialization]

[The end result was that she was excessively perky and seemingly always smiling, her only remaining vice being a liking for cigarettes]

[She became very enthusiastic about serving in the military and had a proficiency for combat]

[She eventually became an officer and was awarded a position within the Military Police, serving there since the last major conflict]

[While now a career woman, she dreams of what a normal life could have been]

[Current Thoughts - I guess it's time to tell another civilian about my past. Damn it, they always treat me differently when that happens. And he was so nice, bandaging me up and giving me these smokes. Now he'll walk on eggshells around me, afraid he will set me off, then disappear the moment he can. Oh well, I'm a soldier now, and nothing is going to change that.]

He read through the whole thing a couple of times before closing the window, then looked down at Emily. Her platinum blonde hair was cut in a bob, and her pouty lips were upturned, giving him a small smile, but he could see pain in her soft gray eyes. 

Damn it. I already have enough chaos in my life; I don't need to add crazy as well. Besides, she is loyal to the Confederates. From what I can tell, they are going to become my enemies in the near future. No need to complicate things in this world any further.

"Yeah. I know what a Resoc is. It's fine, I don't need to know your past, darlin'. In my opinion, what was done to you... more than paid for your crimes." He said, patting her undamaged shoulder once before returning to work on her arm. 

Yes, this body had been that of a murderer, but from his understanding, that person had ceased to exist. The person in front of him had their personality rewritten, then they forced her to remember crimes her mind never actually committed. On some levels, it sounded like a worse punishment than entombing the guilty into that Godslayer sword in MHA. 

Taking someone with severe mental issues, making them sane, then punishing them for their previous actions when they weren't in control. If they could do that, why wouldn't they just wipe those memories completely? Why didn't they just execute them instead of sending them to prison? I have so many questions about how this Resoc program even came about. Bah, I got bigger problems right now.

"Now, Michael. I'm just a Marshal here on Mar Sara, appointed by the previous Magistrate and have been here for years now. Hardly front-page news. As for the relocation, I've had little to do with it, as the Confederacy had tasked me to investigate a bunch of strange deaths of these Zergs."

"You mean strange deaths caused by the Zerg?"

"No. There were dozens of dead Zerg around the relocation zone in the wasteland, and they had tasked me to investigate what killed them. This is before the militia knew they were the aliens attacking the planet."

"Really? When was this? Because I have known about the Zerg since Chau Sara fell a week ago."

"Yesterday. Let me tell you what we discovered, though it wasn't very enlightening..." John said, deciding to feed this reporter the same information he had given the Confederacy about his hunting trip. Aqua had mentioned she was supposed to be forming a rebellion against the Confederacy, and with what he knew, that government deserved to fall. If he could feed this guy some information, it might help in some small way to paint them in a bad light. 

And hopefully not look too deeply into my past. The last thing I want is for him to find out about my desertion and my time as an outlaw. Not that this body had much choice in the matter; it was that or be killed because our boss was going to kill our whole squad while making deals with the enemy. (Book - StarCraft Devil's Due)

John continued to bandage up Emily while talking with Michael, putting her busted arm in a sling and even taking his T-shirt off so she could cover herself; her blouse was a complete write-off at this point. She kept twitching and reached for the back of her neck a few times, but stopped, then lit another smoke instead. He asked what was up, and she flipped her hair to the side, showing him her implant on the back of her neck and told him it was her stimpack and that it was meant to be used when she was under a lot of stress.  

He knew what marine stimpacks were normally used for, though they were supposed to be used only in battle and as a last resort. It was a powerful mix of synthetic adrenaline, endorphins, and a psychotropic aggression enhancer. It was basically the chemical version of what his Ki did for him, except the side effect list for a stimpack was as long as his arm, while Ki made him hungry and horny. 

She smiled at him again, saying that she was in a lot of pain, but the smokes were helping her not activate it. He placed a hand on her shoulder with Healing Hands activated and left it there. She leaned into it slightly as she smoked, unable to really move anywhere in the cramped confines of the truck anyway. He shook his head slightly; A systemically corrupt bureaucracy, child soldiers, brain-panned criminals, and a government willing to sacrifice its own people for no apparent reason. This world didn't even need the Zerg to be a nightmare.

I need to talk to Aqua when we get back; we should start planning our exit soon. I only wanted to come here to prove to myself I could fight those nightmares now; I don't have the bandwidth to deal with yet another world full of war and suffering.

The rest of their journey to camp was uneventful, with Brian giving him updates every twenty minutes. They lost another person, and their Vulture; the man had slowed too much, and the zerglings swarmed the vehicle, but the remaining four riders got out unscathed.

Once behind their lines, he helped the two of them out of the truck and ended up carrying Emily over to the field hospital, the MP barely able to stand on her own. She grabbed his arm before he walked away, begging him to watch over Michael while she recovered, since that was her task and she didn't want to fail. After he assured her he would, he and Michael walked to the Command Centre, where the reporter wanted to interview Aqua, and John needed to update her on their mission.

Stepping into the CAC, John realized something was wrong: two marines in Confederate colours were levelling rifles at Aqua. A holographic head of Colonel Edmund Duke was blown up above the holomap table, the translucent green image doing nothing to hide the sharp-faced man's anger. 

"Magistrate, I told you not to interfere, that we had it handled and yet you still sent your men. I'm done indulging your blatant disregard for my orders. Effective immediately, the Mar Sara militia are under Confederate command, and you are under arrest for suspicion of inciting insurrection. Now, come along quietly, and no one else needs to get hurt." Duke said.

Well, shit.