Shattered Glass

"Now I have to say that hanging around and being in constant brain-numbing pain is actually not that fucking bad compared to what came next. I mean, sure, the solution they pumped into my stomach tasted like ass, and just hanging there wasn’t exactly interesting either but when you get used to the pain, the constant muscle cramps, and the steadily increasing number of faces around you screaming random names and accusations at you, it eventually gets normal.

Which meant that I had time to think about stuff, like what the hell they did to my shit. Did it just vanish, was there some complicated system behind me I couldn’t see? I mean sure, those are pretty boring questions, but I could do either that or count the seconds. Which I actually did, just out of boredom. I mean, at the start this whole thing sucked major balls, but as time went on, I cried less and eventually just wondered what the hell I was there for. I had no memories of myself, but I did know that the second world war was going on, as a matter of fact as time went on I could remember more and more information. That ranged from the bank data of some German nobility to the exact names and executions of chess strategies. Amidst this sea of trivia, however, was never a single memory regarding myself, so it seems like they just pumped random knowledge into me or something.

Now I don’t want to say that getting used to that day to day routine was nice, the opposite in fact. I couldn’t even sleep back then, and I can tell you that not being able to sleep majorly sucks. At least I think so, over 70 years later and I still never closed my eyes for longer than a standard blink.

One day that door swung open. You know, the one at the edge of my vision. What stepped inside was the fuckass, asshole, hole fucker that had the brilliant idea of making me. "What is your name?" the dipshit asked me. ‘Good question,’ I thought, ‘What is my name?’

As a side note, I want to add that I didn’t use to swear back then and OH MY NON-EXISTANT GOD do I regret that.

Back to my name though. I had no fucking clue. The faces on the walls certainly had a few ideas, Victoria, Eliza, Emma; however eventually they seemed to agree on Thana, so that’s what I told the Nazi asshole.

Yes, I was made by the Nazi’s, not the Soviets, can the question fish face, I will answer it later.

For some reason that seemed to both make Josef Mengele, yes that is who he was, very happy and very annoyed. He mumbled something about blah-blah sub-humans, blah-blah, Nazi bullshit blah-blah. Long story short, he wanted to create the Übermensch and wanted to do a test run on the less clean races before creating the true Arian superbeing.

Well, he left and came back about a year later, yes, I was hanging around at that time too. That’s when things finally got moving. Moving, of course, meant: It got way worse.

“I find this result most interesting,” the racist cunt said, his hands deep in my guts. He had moved to another Illusion Barrier where he had a nice operating table. While I would have loved to rip him to shreds or anything, I was thoroughly sedated by the fact that the fucker had implanted a little something in my brain, which I only know because he told me about it. Well, he didn’t tell me, he told his pupil, some fucker who never took off his gasmask.”

“Wait a moment,” John intervened, “was it a male with a distorted voice, who also breathed green clouds.” “Why the fuck yes, you met him?” Thana asked and clenched her teeth when John pulled out another one of the Butcher’s Nails, a process that was ongoing throughout the whole story. “Man, this pain is so intense I almost don’t need to **** you anymore,” Thana giggled, “almost, sorry about that. Well, if the fucker is still around shiv him in the guts for me if you survive this.” “Ehm, sure,” John agreed, this whole situation was very weird.

“Back to the story though.

He opened up to his pupil that inside my brain was a metal construct that made it so that I was unable to feel emotions unless I was either harmed or fighting. While also making it impossible for myself to revert any changes he made to my body, hence why you have the great honor of fucking around and getting these things out of my body. He made an exception for himself of course. For the why he explained to his pupil that, if I were to fall into enemy hands and they would threaten me I would start murdering people until one of these cases rolled around: Either I would die or I would kill everyone around, become a potato, and then they could retrieve me.

This fucking thing in my head is the wonderful reason why I have to currently **** your girlfriend in the least sexy way just to stay sapient. It is very nice, I tell you, and I feel MORE the MORE pain I inflict or take. I really hope you bring you’re A-game later because I want to go out feeling alive, Johnnie boy. It is also why I ruined her pretty pink hair, needed to fight somebody constantly, sorry about that, but, you know, I am dying so giving a shit is not in my repertoire."

"I find this result most interesting,” I repeat to get back to where we left off. “I know that using a woman as base material…” Confirmed, I am actually a woman that existed before, no idea who though, no time to find out either, “…would lead to an inferior product. Well, we can see from her skin that evolution clearly favors the white race…”

Yeah, it totally wasn’t due to the fact that I had hung in a basement for two years or something, fucking idiot. “…but this white hair makes no sense; a true Übermensch would get blonde hair…” This, my ladies and gentlemen, is NOT how science works. If you are not aware, science finds truths by looking at the facts; it doesn’t pick an outcome and then only pick facts that favor that outcome. Not how it fucking works. “…also, she is small…”

Now I would have punched him in the face for that if I could have felt anger then. Actually, I would have punched him in the face for having his hands in my guts first, because I can tell you that having a guy try to exchange ribs inside your body while being fully-conscious is not fun. If the fucker at least would have had the decency to include pain into his list of things that my brain implant blocked out, BUT NOOOOOO I needed to be really fucking aware of what having your arm being sawed off felt like.

This went on for another year or so. Test about re-growing this, doing that, testing how my eyes worked - those apparently changed back then -, what my blood did to people, or my favorite of all: the fertility test, a series of 50 days where he tested to see if anyone could impregnate me. It didn’t work, but at least it broke the monotony. Funny story: You rip my heart out, and I grow a new one, record time being 2,8 seconds, but my hymen is gone.

Also interesting was when I learned that I no longer need to eat or breath. Apparently, I mutated to such a massive fucking degree that I transform mana into blood and all the other shit a body would need. Now, this is fucked up, but the best kind of fucked up, if it weren’t for some other rather grave medical news, I got one day."

_“She is dying,” that was the guy with the mask, never learned his name. Something about metal, I think based on a bad joke I overheard once. “What do you mean?” was the question of Sir Fuckface the First. Masked dude showed him some data, “her body is actively decaying, we didn’t notice until now because her regeneration was so high, but the data indicated that it is slowly failing.” “So, when the decay overcomes her regeneration she will die. She wasn’t a Übermensch after all. But she was made of Gypsies, Jews, and Poles, so who would be surprised by that?”_ Count Cunt answered.

"You are just going to let her die?” “Yes, she was a prototype, but it is time to move onto the true project.” “May I ask for you to give her to my division then? I want to make a few more tests,” the masked dumbass requested. Request granted, first Josef put these dumb nails into me though, and meat heap me was transported once again.

He threw in an ice-bath to slow my heart rate or something and then he did something truly dumb. He told one of his assistants he could experiment on me while he was gone. Now, the exception about who could harm me and who couldn’t did include Masky McMaskface, but it didn’t include random laboratory assistant 1 through 124.

The second that scalpel hit my body and I took my first action as a sapient being was an absolutely glorious gorefest. I took the guys hand, ripped it off, and used it to slap the shit of the next guy, then I broke out of the operating room, took a few bullets to the chest. Then disarmed the soldiers and slowly pressed their rifles through their mouths until their spines broke and other very graphical depictions of **** that I very much loved.

I also discovered that I could do that thing with my useless as shit wings. I mean they look nice, but they really don’t do much. Gives me a massive power boost though, so the fuck do I care about.

And then I had to find out that I was somewhere without an exit. I couldn’t find it, I mindlessly murdered everything inside, and now I had nothing and no one to **** or fight against to keep me even the faintest bit emotionally alive, and therefore, after destroying the whole facility in frustration, I was once again, a fucking potato.

Eventually the masked guy returned and actually spoke to me. I couldn’t react, but hey he addressed me. “I refuse to let you die,” the guy said, his messy grey hair hanging around, “I need you, I need what your body has, and mine hasn’t. I made a deal with the Soviets; this war is lost anyhow. They think your only use is that blood of yours; I will let them believe that.”

He proceeded to build that ‘stasis’ chamber you found me in and throw me inside. Got to say, between hanging around and being inside freezing cold water all the time, I actually preferred the former. Sucks that I was then inside that for 70 years because somebody rebelled against the Communists and stole me. Great thing that the thing was built to let me hear everything.

So, I was whisked away from the Soviets, floated around for 70 years, which I only know because I counted the seconds between. Then, you came along, accidentally broke me out, and then that girl that shot me got me jumpstarted. It wasn’t completely correct of me to just kill everyone, but you try to think after having the brain frozen and in agony for a lifetime. I beat up your girlfriend, repeatedly, while killing the remaining Bloodfallen when she slept. That didn’t always work out because I didn’t have enough cannon fodder lying around by the way. The Soviets came along; the idiots were descendants of people that had drunk my blood, so I made them kill themselves, which was glorious, then I sat down here, and finally you came along.

And this is the short version of the miserable life of a girl called Thana, who is surrounded by these fucking faces, in constant pain from these assnails, and the fact that she can feel her own body decaying while regenerating against that same fact. A girl who can only feel if she kills or is being killed and who just wants to die.

So, John, do me a solid and take your best shot.” Thana concluded.

John halted his hand above the last nail that was stuck in her body. “How much longer until the decay takes over?” he wanted to know. “How much longer? Bitch, it long since has,” Thana laughed, “I am at best half as strong as four days ago, now rip out that thing so we can move this on.”

He took a moment to think about what he just heard then he offered, “we can heal you, Thana.” She burst out laughing, “Ahahahahahaha, priceless. John, I don’t want this life, I want to sleep, I want to die, send me off and forget all of this ever happened.”

Could he do that? Could he just leave her to die like this? ‘One thing after another,’ he decided and exchanged a glance with Rave, who couldn’t say a word due to the hand still clamping down on her throat. ‘First I need to save you, and for that to happen, I need to fight her,’ John fixated Thana, pulled the last nail and used Observe.