With a mental command, I will the small band of fabric to activate.
A cool sensation spreads across my skin as a sleek black suit materializes, expanding out from my navel to the rest of my body like a black, gooey, semi-solid before molding itself perfectly to my body and solidifying.
It's nowhere near as warm or as comfortable as the thick combat fatigues I am accustomed to, but it'll have to do.
Now to get out of here.
Frustration claws at me as I slam my fist against the chamber door one last time.
Dead. Useless. Good thing I'm well versed in taking care of myself.
Glancing around, I spot the emergency release, complete with a label, tucked away in a corner.
It's still a mind-fuck that I know what the alien writing means.
With a grunt, I rip the panel off, exposing the lever. I reach out with my left arm and pull on it until I hear a click.
I'm just about to push the glass away when I freeze.
My arm doesn't hurt. I rotate it around, then flex the muscle hard. That would have caused spikes of agony before.
I use my newfound control over my clothing to make the fabric recede and inspect it. The surgery scars are gone.
The surgeons were sure to point out all the pins and plates they had to use to get me even that limited amount of movement. The skin at the back of my head prickles as I absorb this new development.
Considering all the weird shit we started to see on deployments and all the rumors that circled around, the whole alien thing isn't exactly a surprise. I just never thought it would impact me, for good or ill.
Stupid thinking.
I mean, I guess a functioning arm is a pretty decent trade for this ridiculous hair.
Too bad it also included slavery and crash-landing.
"Fuck me sideways," I mumble out, tamping down the giddiness that bubbles out of me at the idea of having my fucking arm back.
I will have to save that for some other time when my life isn't in peril.
I eye up the glass cover and leave my mixed feelings about my arm for later. Right now, it'll be really damn useful. Throwing my weight against it, I feel a satisfying crack as the glass pushes out now that it's no longer held fast.
Before I can fully leverage it off, it shatters.
Shards rain down around me, some glancing off my suit. Others cut me as they bounce off.
I hiss at the sting and return to my grumbling. "All their tech and they don't make this shatter-proof? Fucking amateur hour in the universe."
Now that there's no glass to block me, I sit up, raising my head slowly as I look for threats.
I'm at the bottom of a small crater. Nothing but jagged red rocks and grit.
Good, that will give me time to get my shit together.
Ignoring the sting, I grab a shard, the sharp edge reflecting the gold-purple light with an unsettling glint. It's no scalpel, but it'll have to do.
Without so much as taking the time to appreciate not being stuck in an alien transport cell anymore, my fingers find the perfect balance on the shard, and then I go to town across my pink nightmare.
The hair falls away in satisfying chunks and within minutes, the obnoxious bubblegum mane is reduced to a short, curly pixie cut.
Leaving the rest of the hair on the chamber floor, I carefully gather a handful of the longer strands.
