My senses momentarily rejoiced at the freedom I felt after becoming unshackled, but reality set in as I realized my newfound liberty was a mere illusion. The Commander stood outside, patiently waiting for me to emerge. I exhaled deeply, having gone through all that trouble just to prevent her face from being the first I saw upon waking from the coma, only to find that my efforts had been in vain. Her face was indeed the first sight I had the misfortune of encountering after coming out of my coma. Sigh. As I realized my short-lived emancipation was about to fade once again.
"Smudged man!!!"
Is it too much to ask for a moment of peace in this place before facing execution? I'm not demanding much.
"Coming, Commander," I responded.
Silently dismounting from the bed, I carefully circumvented the pool of vomit, avoiding any contact, and made my way out of the chamber. The corridor remained illuminated, yet all other systems within the truck had been switched off. Her right foot incessantly tapped against the floor, creating a quick and constant rhythm.
Should I comment on her attire? I previously complimented her perfume, but what about her hair? Should I also commend that? However, her hair appears unchanged, cascading down in its usual long and flowing state. Would such a hairstyle even qualify as a style? Not really, is it? After all, this is simply how her hair looks in its natural, unstyled form. Yes, perhaps it's best not to draw attention to her hair, as there is nothing noteworthy about it, and she would likely become angry if I mentioned her unstyled locks.
"Follow me," she commanded before I had a chance to utter a word. Given her demeanor, I anticipated that questioning our destination would likely yield either silence or, worse, a painful response. It seemed more likely that the latter awaited me. Reluctantly, I followed her lead, remaining silent as she led the way.
We promptly exited the colossal truck and ventured into the open air. The Eighth Base remained as it was when we left; considering we had been gone for only a few days, it was no surprise that little would have transformed in our absence. Having only recently relocated to this base a month ago, I was still unfamiliar with most of it. Regrettably, I will not survive to explore the remainder. I pondered if the execution would take place in an unfamiliar area I had yet to discover.
The Commander pressed on, and I followed her lead without falter. The Commander paid no mind to the greetings she received along the way, her gaze fixed firmly ahead. Gradually, I began to infer our destination as we traversed the base. In the heart of the base, there stood an imposing, familiar building. Our path led undeniably in its direction.
The Commander swiftly swiped her card across the iron door, triggering its automatic opening. Rather than having to stoop to enter, I passed effortlessly through the doorway as if a normal human being. Similarly, the elevator provided enough space for me to stand upright, granting me a rare moment of not having to constantly watch my head. We stopped on the fifth floor, revealing a sprawling apartment that was the Commander's personal dwelling.
The Commander wasted no time, and it appeared her patience had finally run out. The very instant I entered the room and the elevator door sealed shut, blocking my escape route, her hair began to move in an unusual manner... literally.
The only source of illumination in the room was the faint light seeping through the hefty curtains, casting a crimson hue across the space. Everything appeared neat and orderly within the chamber, and there was a pleasant fragrance pervading the air. However, in this moment of heightened tension, I scarcely noticed any of these details.
Her hair, now animated like writhing serpents, commanded my complete attention. Despite her back still being turned, her hair began to soar through the apartment. Before I knew it, stray strands encircled me, and her entire dwelling transformed into an unearthly kingdom of flowing hair.
I had anticipated that she would employ her imaginary weapon, but I hadn't anticipated that she would be quite so relentless. It seemed she would spare no effort to ensure my final moments were tortuous. There was little I could do to change that, and yet, in spite of the inevitable suffering that lay ahead, I couldn't help but derive some measure of satisfaction from the gesture. After all, that spit was well worth it.
The hair slipped silently into my attire, carefully divesting the outer layer. I stood motionless, not resisting the unwanted attention. I believed it was futile to struggle, and besides, I knew she would relish the sight of my resistance even more. So, I chose to remain still, denying her the satisfaction of seeing me squirm under her control.
I expected the hair to go further, stripping me completely, but the hair instead bound me into a cruciform position, raising me off the ground. The Commander turned around, her face contorted in a menacing smile.
"You won't be taking my underwear off, are you, Commander?" I challenged her in a tone laced with mockery, my body hanging in the air.
"Silence, you filthy beast. A Lady of noble birth need not concern herself with the contents of your trousers," she retorted.
The chain around my arm tightened to the point of crushing. I could hear my bones cracking gradually. I shivered, and my body wanted to break free and writhe reflexively, but the anguish grew worse, as if my movement had dealt the final blow and shattered what was left.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."
I wanted to shout and hate the crazy woman who began laughing uncontrollably, but I wouldn't give her that. Tears welled up and began to pour, and I laughed along with them, a laughter full of sighs and anger.
This was a scene of pure torment, but in response, the Commander's laughter only intensified as she observed me contort and writhe in agony. Her hair extended until I reached her, and she produced a handkerchief from her garments, using it to methodically wipe away my tears.
"Fear not, I have a whole box of tissues, and I shall personally dry your tears whenever they fall."
With a deliberate gesture, she placed the handkerchief in her mouth and swallowed it before dramatically opening her mouth wide to demonstrate the deed to me, for reasons unknown.
This woman was clearly a total oddball. How had she ascended to the rank of Commander? Shouldn't there be some kind of personality screening process in place? Shouldn't they exercise greater control over individuals with such unsettling behavior?
"You know," she mused, her fingers tracing my face, "I put in so much effort, even convincing my brother to help me, just so you'd be assigned to my division." Each touch sent chills down my spine.
"How pleasant. Despite your enormous physique, you surprise me with your sensitivity and the smoothness of your hairless skin. I almost envy you." Her lighthearted pinch on my cheek sent a powerful twitch through my body. Escape seemed impossible—how could I extricate myself from her grasp?
Once again, the hair's hold on me grew even tighter, triggering another guttural cry of pain.
"This was retribution for the humiliation you inflicted upon me in front of the other commanders and the Emperor."
"As for the saliva...hahaha..."
The Commander's words heralded the beginning of an extended evening of torment.