Warning: All characters in this story are at or above the legal age of 18. This story contains nonconsent/reluctance which may not be suitable for all readers.
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2ND FLOOR. CLOVEHILL VALLEY.
AGENT HEADQUARTERS.
HEALTH AND STAMINA REGENERATED. [HP:5] [STA:4]
Rolling onto my side, the motion awakens the soreness built from dragging the scientist across half the map.
I come to full consciousness as I hear twin industrial doors yawn, the whistle of air decompressing and bolts retracting rattles my brain.
The background ambience of faint conversation and foot traffic pours into the room. An informative message chants over an intercom, "Please be advised, agents returning from hostile areas are subject to quarantine evaluation."
I sit up from a padded surface, blood rushing to my cranium as black noise crowds my vision. I rub my bare palms against my eyelids, furiously blinking to regain my sight.
The heavy doors flush into alignment as they close, the authoritative sound of combat boots tapping linoleum approaches my direction.
I instinctively stand as my fight or flight mode activates.
"Sit down, Rookie." A firm grip catches me between my neck and shoulder, rudely pinching a pressure point as I recoil.
"Ah!" I shriek, cradling the swelling bruise. "Commander?" I recognize her voice as the superior who had barked orders at the other end of my communicator.
"Still disoriented. How convenient," she says mockingly, her tone is sultry and patient.
After a few more blinks, my pupils properly focus as I notice that the Commander's chest is centimeters from my face, covered in full plate armor.
I slowly crane my head back to meet her gaze, easily losing my awareness as I stare into the intensity of her cosmic blue eyes.
Did the programmers have to make this NPC so attractive?
The Commander towers over me in height, wearing metallic plates connected by the same Kevlar fabric my bodysuit has. The futuristic armor appears custom made and expertly suits her, hugging her definitive curves and moderately muscular build.
The buxom female smirks in amusement as I stare. "How convenient," she repeats, her accent seductive and temper cool.
She must be the quest giver. Her equipment looks like it could be the max level version of mine. Wait, where's my bodysuit?
I snap from my trance as I notice the protective outfit that once adorned my hour glass frame has been replaced by a soft cotton tank top and immodest shorts.
"Confiscated," she answers my unasked question, the curves of her biceps stretching the Kevlar as she idly crosses her arms.
"Confiscated?" I ask surprisingly, surveying the room. The fluorescent lights above eliminate any opportunity for shadows. The only furnishings in this area are the metal surgical tray beside me and the examination chair beneath me.
Is this the current floor's infirmary? Why am I here? I thought checkpoints were disabled.
"Is this the infirmary?" I say in disbelief as well as confusion, spotting leather restraints on the chair's padded arms.
What type of medical bed has leather- Oh fuck. Is this an interrogation room? Is this.. A torture room!
Just then, the Commander and I lock eyes as we anticipate each others' next move.
I launch myself from the chair, motivated by pure adrenaline. The Commander counters my attempt, fluidly swaying like a serpent stalking a helpless meal.
ENCOUNTER INITIATED. YOU HAVE CHALLENGED THE COMMANDER.
That counts as initiating a combat encounter? This is BULL-
The Commander snatches my throat and chokeslams me into the interrogation chair. I gasp as the sweeping motion thrusts my back into the hard padding, knocking me down with the force to suppress a wild beast.
YOU: [HP: 5] [STR: 1], COMMANDER [HP: 10] [STR: 15]
YOU LOSE. [HP: 0]
YOU ARE FATIGUED.
Aches reverberate through every circuit of my slender physique as I weakly struggle against her gloved hand, my muscles trembling from a blend of pain and exhaustion.
She's so overpowered. Why is this happening? I completed the quest! Is this floor glitched?
"This-This is a misunderstanding," I stammer, raising my hands beside my head as I surrender.
In two swift movements, she snaps my wrists into the chair's restraints. I squirm as my hands start to numb, the leather belts fastened one hole too tight.
"It must be. For a moment, it looked like you were trying to escape the evaluation for your failed mission." The Commander leans in to get a good look at me.
"Ff-Failed mission?"
As she draws close, I'm able to view her features more clearly. I observe a scar over her left eye, peaking through short blond hair. One side of her head is shaven with a scorpion tattooed to her skull.
Why does that look so familiar? I feel like I've seen that symbol in real life, or from a different game.
As my mind wanders, she curls a finger around my chin and forcefully turns me directly to her.
"I didn't-I didn't fail," I clear my throat, discovering the fresh pain of the chokeslam.
"I gave you direct orders: Extract civilians to safety," she growls. "During the scientist's evaluation, we discovered that she's infected with an alien contagion. Apparently, she was involved in unsanctioned biological experiments."
The Commander crouches over me as I lay on the reclined chair. She shifts her weight so that a knee is resting between my legs, the cold metal of her armor sends goosebumps up my thighs.
