Somnambulance [Retconned]

[Toaster]

The explosion's concussive blast hit Olivia like a speeding train, slamming her into a pile of crates as though struck by the hand of god itself. Heat and debris washed over her body, bags and boxes falling to the ground around her in a chaotic cacophony. Foodstuffs and medical supplies torn free from their containers rained down, charred and broken.

Olivia groaned, feeling spears of pain flash through her body. Her ears rung and she could sense several cracked ribs in her chest, splinters and shrapnel lacerating her legs. She struggled to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows, only to immediately collapse back to the floor as her left arm gave out from under her. Squinting through the tears in her eyes, she looked down at her arm ... or rather, what was left of it. Her eyes widened in horror.

The limb was torn up, chunks of flesh ripped free. Shredded skin and muscle hung in flaps, revealing white bone beneath, blood pouring forth. As though waiting for her to discover the injury, the wound's pain set in. It struck her with all the mercy of a raging torrent, clawing at her consciousness. Olivia screamed, writhing in agony. Even with her mind clouded by the suffering, she knew that the pain, injuries, and blood loss should have left her unconscious. Yet - torturously - she remained perfectly awake. Something, she realized, was keeping her conscious.

It is my turn, a voice spoke in her mind, piercing the veil of torment like lightning piercing the night sky. It sounded like her own, but different, distorted. As though combined with another. I will finish this.

Suddenly, Olivia's squirming stopped. Then, her body jumped into motion, seemingly of a will of its own. Ignoring her ripped arm and injured legs, she rose to her feet. Waves of pain crashed into her mind, but she remained perfectly lucid. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching her position; men muttering to one another. Her right, undamaged arm reached down and pulled her knife from its sheath, clutching it tightly in her hand.

Watch.

One of the remaining smugglers stepped through the littered mess of the supplies, rifle swinging lazily from a shoulder strap. Gazing around the mayhem, is eyes landed on Olivia. His eyes went wide at the sight of her bloodied, battered form.

"Holy shit," he uttered in disbelief.

With a howl of rage that wasn't her own, Olivia's body leapt toward the man. Before he could react, her knife plunged into his neck, a geyser of blood spouting from the wound, splattering Olivia's face. Her hand tore the blade free again and the man went down, crimson fluid gurgling from his throat.

"Zach?" Someone called out from behind the upset heaps of boxes and crates. Olivia watched herself step out from within the mayhem of scattered goods, coming face to face with the three remaining men standing a dozen yards away.

"What the fuck?" One of them cried out at the sight of her. Two of them raised their weapons.

Olivia's body dropped into a crouch, then lunged forward with incredible strength. The steel floor beneath her feet dented from the inhuman force her legs exerted on it as whatever was controlling her ignored her body's natural inhibitors. She felt the muscles in her left calf tear from the exertion, pain shooting up her leg. It was intense, but it felt oddly distant - like loud music heard through a closed door. She tore towards the three men at a speed she should not have been capable of and crashed into the closest. Olivia heard her opponent's neck snap from the sudden impact as they both went sprawling to the floor.

"Shit!" The man standing to her right shouted as he spun towards her, leveling his rifle at her. Olivia's body scurried across the deck, coming up to its feet and spinning around the smuggler. She watched as her right hand rammed her knife into his back. She left it there, reaching up instead and grabbed at his face from behind. The man let out a cry, muffled by her hand covering his mouth. She clutched tightly and yanked. The man went silent as his neck broke.

Olivia's body turned around, letting the corpse topple over. A few yards away, her last opponent stood, staring at her, frozen midway through the process of reloading a breach-loaded grenade launcher. She took a step towards him and, with a yelp, he came to, shakily trying to insert the explosive round into his weapon. Olivia dashed forward, bringing her right hand up in a clenched fist. It shot forth and struck her enemy square in the chest. He cried out in pain as ribs cracked from the blow. Olivia felt the bones in her fingers snap from the impact. It hurt, but, again, the pain felt muted.

The force of the punch sent her opponent stumbling backwards until he tripped over his own feet and fell sprawling to the floor. The grenade launcher clattered uselessly down beside him. Olivia's body strode towards him as he pleaded, groaning in pain, for her to spare him. Instead, Olivia was forced to watch as she raised her right foot and brought it down on the man's face. He fell silent.

She stood still, the warehouse suddenly eerily quiet around her.

This is what we can do together, the strange voice that both was and wasn't her own spoke again. Then, it vanished, as did the wall that had stood between Olivia's mind and the pain of her broken body. The agony washed over her like a tsunami, ripping away her consciousness.

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Olivia Sable