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Terminal This fanfiction article, Something Felt Wrong. . ., was written by Slower Than Most. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.

Something felt wrong. . .

It wasn’t just the cloned organs, the completely new spine, or the various drugs meant primarily to sedate and calm her in the wake of several hours worth of intensive surgery.

Aylla couldn’t quite trace it down as she lay in her hospital bed; one secluded and distant from any eyes not meant to see the true faces behind those heroic helmets. She had been instructed to remain there for the next few days at least, if only to monitor all the new bits and pieces inside of her as well as to give herself some time to relax.

After the hell that was the entirety of her Team’s last stand, she couldn’t help but simply lie down in a sort of contemplative state, trying to piece together what had happened in that entire accursed battle and however many days had passed since.

Despite victory finally having been achieved, Aylla felt nothing more than emptiness, her revenge shallow and meaningless in the face of billions of lives extinguished at the hands of a beast that had rather torn itself apart rather than be dealt a killing blow by humanity itself. Her team’s last stand at Titan was little more than a diversion meant to kill a group of stragglers, meant to delay them from heading to Earth and finishing what they had started.

Stevens and Joan were dead, that much was absolutely certain. The records might list them as Missing in Action but that wouldn’t stop her from remembering their half charred corpses lying in the rubble. Mike and herself, or what was left of them by this point, were the only reminders of Estoc’s existence. Mike himself had certainly come out of that fight looking far better than she did at least, though more likely than not he wasn’t in any real mood to talk either.

The fact that Joan of all people had to die while she herself simply laid in bed left a bitter taste in her mouth. ‘He should have walked out, I should have died’ began to ring in her own head, leaving her to chuckle slightly at the predicament.

It had finally dawned upon her.

Everything she ever knew had all had been destroyed. Her family was now dust, Aylla never to see them again. Her revenge, shallow and unearned, simply leaving her broken along with the rest of humanity. Her deathwish remained ungranted, what should have been her place in the afterlife simply filled by others, others far less deserving of their fate. Her purposes for transforming herself into a living weapon had all been rendered for naught.

These thoughts had clouded Aylla’s mind far more than any drug within her, nearly bringing her to a more wicked laugh. There would be another time, there had to be another time, knowing the fragile world humanity now inhabited. . .

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