Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Reactor Failure Imminent. 
Reactor Failure Imminent. 
Reactor Failure Imminent.  

Ow, gods, her head is pounding. 
What the fuck happened? 
It’s pitch black in the cockpit, with not even the instrument cluster being illuminated. If not for that reactor warning blaring in her ears, Juniper would assume she’s dead. She should probably take stock of the situation and get her bearings. Well, one thing is for certain, the reactor is failing, so that’s great? 
There’s an odd stench in the cockpit. Hard to describe it exactly, sort of a copper smell. Usually it’s more of an oxygenated smell, mixed with an electrical one. Fuck, what is that smell? It’s nauseating. 
And gods, she’s tired, so tired and… cold, weirdly cold even with her jacket on. When she attempts to zip it up, she screams out in pain. It hurts to move her right arm. That fine motion control isn’t there either, her hand fumbles aimlessly, unable to zip up it up.
Ixion Stryx is on its back, she can tell that much, but anything else? Unknown. Need to climb out of the cockpit, but also need to hope that L—L—Handler hasn’t been hurt. 
Okay, take stock of injuries, worry about Her after. Juniper can’t explain it, but her left arm feels off. Right arm? Well, it hurts, and her tank top is soaked; don’t know if that’s blood or sweat, hard to tell in the dark.
Both legs still function, but they hurt like a motherfucker, so that’s probably good? Her neck hurts too, but that might to be from the neural hook disengaging in the crash. She powers through the throbbing pain of her right arm to slowly reach up to check on her muzzle. It’s now that she realizes it’s being held with only the right strap, while the left is somehow torn away. Her left arm is— Wait, her left arm.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. 
She brushes it against her cheek, only to scream out in agony. Too dark in here to know how bad the damage is, but— Fuck her head is pounding. How long has she even been down here for? L—L— Handler, must be worried for her.
A pained moan echoes in the cramped dark cockpit, everything hurts so damn much.
There’s a tightness in Juniper’s chest and when she breathes, it’s as if they left the knife in her and it's ripping its way out with every breath Okay, definitely something broken. Worry later, punch out first. Her hands fumble around the pitch black cockpit, pulling the ejection handle underneath her seat.
Ten seconds pass.
Thirty.
Sixty.
One Hundred.
Nothing happens.
Right, removed during refit, weight saving measure. Okay, new plan— She fumbles around yet again, pulling the emergency hatch release, and once more waits.
Five seconds pass.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Steam hisses, building to a crescendo and blowing the hatch clean off into the moonlit skies above. The skies are a deep shade of crimson for some reason, while the stars are… green? Probable concussion, worry later.
With moonlight streaming in, Juniper at last can at last take stock of her injuries. Her right shoulder is weeping blood, staining her black tank top a deep shade of sanguine red. She dare not attempt to pull up her top to take stock of her body, gods only know how bad it is. Her throat feels like its burning with blood, all iron and acidic.
And then there’s the damage to the cockpit: Monitors shattered on impact, though she can’t seem to find any of the glass. The airbag must have deployed, but much like the glass, she can see no trace of it. Odd; but then aren’t oddities just the life of a mech pilot? Probably too damn concussed to be thinking straight.
She turns her head, staring at her left arm. The monochromatic prosthetic is mangled to pieces. Everything below the bicep simply doesn’t exist. There’s only a jagged piece of machinery left where much of her arm used to be. The rest of it? In pieces on the floor of the cockpit.
Just what the fuck happened?
She tries in vain to eject what remains of the prosthetic, but can’t remember how to. Perhaps they never taught her to? Unsure, too… too cold, and tired to think right. What… was she doing again?
Gods, she just wants to sleep.
It takes her three long and agonizing minutes to finally remember what she was doing: Getting the fuck out. She clicks her tongue in frustration, climbing out of the cockpit. With only one arm it’s difficult to climb out, especially with her injuries being what they are. There’s a chill in the air that makes her shiver. Hurts to shiver, hurts to think and—Worry later, get out first.
Finally out of the cockpit, she slides down the side of Ixion Stryx with a whimper, landing on muddy terrain. Her baby looks banged up bad, but she shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, should be worried about her own injuries, but— Fuck. 
Ixion Stryx went down hard. 
All around the shallow crater lies bits of gunmetal gray parts. Various armor plates, wing assemblies, shit—the scythe somehow survived impact! But the reactor is definitely fucked, she could see a large gouge through the plating on exit. And they just repaired it too.
Sorry Stryx, looks like we’ve gotta sit the rest of this one out, eh? 
Juniper pats the side of her mech, limping out of the crater to huddle underneath an unfinished building. She should probably just stay put, wait for rescue. But, she doesn’t. Part of her brain is telling her to keep moving, don’t stay still. After all, there’s probably(?) a mech fight still going on. She can’t hear it, nor see it, but that might also be on account of her mind and body failing her.
Yet, despite these struggles, she stands, using the brick wall as support for her ailing body. Maybe it’s because she’s freezing, or because she’s tired, or simply because even now, running is all she knows. Maybe She’s out there somewhere, waiting for her to come back. That would be… nice.
The ground is muddy, every step taken hurts more than the last. These old combat boots have seen better days, just hope they aren’t soaked through with blood. Ugh, gods, her shoulder hurts, this was a terrible idea.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
And then there’s that stupid reactor warning, still ringing in her ears for whatever reason. Perhaps she’s truly lost her sanity and this is the end result? Oh, who knows or cares?
She’s stopped to catch her breath underneath an awning, holding onto the metal support for leverage. It’s painful to breathe, but she can’t exactly stop breathing. Before moving again, Juniper checks to ensure her muzzle is still there. Still that tattered fragment of leather clinging onto the metal where the other strap was  She wishes she could remove it, store it in her jacket pocket, but she’s unable to will herself to remove it.
Come on June, where’s that willpower? That fire? Did She really snuff it out?
Instead, she leaves it resting uncomfortably, where it occasionally shifts and almost falls off. Because she doesn’t have the will power to remove it. Because she’s just a broken down mutt, who needs Her to fix things. Hah, wish it weren’t true, but it sadly is. That’s just the shitty hand life dealt her, it seems.
Was always terrible at poker, fuck, L—L—Handler used to beat her all the time. Wait, was that Her or was it—Gods, it hurts to think.
Juniper stumbles across the nameless city, following the green(?) stars. The stars are green. She still doesn’t understand why, but she chooses to follow them. For some reason when she stares up at them, she feels warm and her injuries don’t feel so bad. Gods, is this what dying is like?
What happened to this once proud ace?
Oh, right. Ha ha ha, she failed, that’s what. If laughing didn’t hurt so much right now, Juniper would be laughing at herself, because obviously she failed. This whole damn situation she’s in? A product of her failure.
After Furlo Pass, they made her a captain, a fucking squad leader. Only they didn’t give her a squad until much later, just occasionally working with a merc and ex-Imperial. She never wanted to lead, but they didn’t give her much choice. And the end result? Three dead, because she couldn’t fucking step up as a leader.
Vera died after being stabbed, because she got wrapped up into a mess that wasn’t her problem. Eris, because her leader was insane. Juniper killed herself fighting Her. Mara and Aurora? They’re next. They’ll die by their former leader’s hand, and Juniper won’t be able to feel an ounce of remorse for them.
She continues her walk through the nameless city. Not that there’s any set destination in mind, nor anywhere to go. It’s an empty city. The streets aren’t even paved, it’s simply mud. Why does she continue along? Perhaps it’s just to continue running from her problems, if only for a little while longer.
Keep running; it’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?
As if she could run.
She tried that, tried living for herself, and what did it get her? Oh, that’s right, a fucking muzzle. A fucking muzzle that isn’t even staying affixed. Just having to constantly adjust it makes Juniper want to break down into tears, because she’s failing Her, isn’t she?
And even if she could run, where would she go? 
Hard to live a normal life with her mug plastered on posters, especially with those seven stars on her collarbone. Getting out of the country is near impossible without cash, and she spent whatever reserves she had on Ixion Stryx.
And even then:
Ixion Stryx is fucked, no amount of field repairs will get it to move again. Never mind her injuries. Shit—she’s… she’s cold, and tired, maybe if she just— No, can’t stop, if she falls asleep, t-that’d be bad, right?
Juniper rubs her eyes, sighing deeply. Just keep walking, get somewhere warm, go from there. Handler will find her and then? She’ll worry about Her partner hound just like the old days. Fuck, She always worried about the little stuff and had the softest smile too. But they’re not themselves anymore.
One of them is a handler.
The other, a fucking hound. 
A useless hound, so damned useless.
If even that. This entire thing feels more like a nightmare, or the inane ramblings of a dead woman. And so, yet again, Juniper must wonder to herself if she is dead? Shit, maybe she died in Tarsus and everything after has just been the last vestigials of a dying mind. Certainly it would be more fitting than gods know whatever has happened since. Could just be that this her journey through to the underworld—the actual underworld— and nothing more. Someone like her, with the amount of blood she’s spilled? She would certainly wind up in Hades, where she belongs.
You’re not dead; you’re too stupid to die, aren’t you?
Hah, at least her intrusive thoughts are right. She is too stupid to die. Death would be too good for someone so soaked in blood as her. They called her an Angel of Death, because death followed swiftly in her wake. So, this is reality. A cold, painful reality, wherein all she wants it to stop bleeding out. But she doesn’t always get what she wants, now does she? 
Thought the same damn thing in Gormo, and now she’s back to the same train of thought; Shit, just how fucked is her brain?
We both know the answer to that.
Juniper continues stumbling, clinging to whatever she can for support. Everything hurts, her shoulder especially. She wishes she could tourniquet it, but with only one arm, that’s impossible. Besides, what’s the point? 
If she were lucky, this nameless city would be her final resting place. But she isn’t that lucky. No, fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for her, L—L—Handler will find her first. She wouldn’t allow Her hound to go missing, not after everything She’s done.
Even so, Juniper’s legs give out from the pain and she’s forced to sit on the muddy ground, in an attempt to catch her breath. She’s staring aimlessly at a puddle, at her reflection in the puddle. Gods, look at her, her face is battered, but there’s thankfully no blood. Just marks on her skin from where the muzzle continuously falls from. There’s a tired look in her eyes, which has become natural for her.
One massive flaw sticks out: Her muzzle is damaged.
A wire is bent out of place, coming close to poking to her face. It’s wrong, so fucking wrong. She won’t forgive a broken muzzle, or a broken partner hound for that matter. But that’s all she is, right? Just a broken person mutt who needed Handler to make everything right.
As Juniper continues staring, she sees something strange being reflected it’s— Ixion Stryx flying at an impossibly low horizontal angle, inches from colliding with the ground. It, it’s… chasing something— No, not something, Argus, and it’s damaged for some reason? 
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Juniper clutches at her head in pain, fighting back to the urge to scream. Her mind’s failing her, she’s seeing things and none of it makes sense. Just how hard did she hit her head? And for that matter, why can she still hear that reactor warning going off?
It’s as she blinks, that she realizes: She isn’t in the nameless city anymore. Or more succinctly, she isn’t sure where she is. It’s cold, and it’s dark, and her shoulder feels like it’s still somehow gushing blood, but she isn’t in the mud anymore.
… Was she ever?
Hah, who knows?
She was supposed to be better than this, all so she could prove to Her, that Her love wasn’t meaningless. But wasn’t it? L—L—Handler, loves her, but what does love mean?
Mara Saparlo, the ex-Imperial loved pitied Juniper. Oh, right, Mara never loved her, she loved the idea of Juniper Sladek. Mara actually pitied her, saw her as nothing more than a broken down mutt.
Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? A broken down mutt, who isn’t useful to anyone?
Juniper is beyond broken, she knows that. Can’t even finish off her opponents, is it any wonder why she keeps failing Her? L—L—Handler would be better off with a new hound, one who isn’t afraid of her own damned shadow.
And yet, as Juniper blinks again, she realizes just how damned dark it is. There is no moonlight anymore; only a blinding darkness, leaving her to stumble through it with barely a functioning arm. It forces her to push through the pain, because despite it all, she knows that somewhere in this darkness, She is waiting. Waiting with that smile that she fell in love with, still falls in love with, despite that voice in the back of her head that tells her otherwise.
Mara never loved you, but Handler does, She’ll love you as long you continue to obey Her.
Maybe this is all some sort of nightmare and she’ll wake up in L—L—Handler’s arms, just like she always used to. Because She loves Juniper, She fought for her, when everyone else abandoned her. Handler is her reason for existence. Without Her, life just isn’t worth living. They’ve been together for years, after all.
Juniper opens her eyes, staring at her reflection, as she has been for gods know how long. Awful place to fall asleep, Sladek, come on. You need to be better than this, otherwise She won’t love you.
Eh, it doesn’t matter anyway, her shoulder is still bleeding and she’s so very cold. If she could close her eyes and sleep, she would do so, but those green stars? They’re so very bright, to the point that when she does close her eyes, they’re all that she sees. Yeah, she should probably stop staring, but what’s the point?
Find Her; She’s waiting for us, isn’t She?
Unconsciously, Juniper stands, continuing her walk across the nameless city. Half-finished buildings litter her view, each one of them standing taller than the last. This is the true face of her homeland— decay. Aurelia deserved to die, of that she knows to be true. Druzi was a shithole, the Empire did it a service by leveling it. Once upon a time, she desired vengeance for a country that fell due to its corrupt leaders.
Now?
She doesn’t know what she wants anymore, maybe some shuteye in her quarters? With or without the blanket, she’s learned not to be picky. Once back at base, they’ll patch her up and that’ll be the end of it all. The thoughts of running will fade away, and she’ll take her place at Her side. 
The buildings all look the same, half-finished metallic skeletons that haunt the crimson skies. Every thudding step as she limps across the half-frozen mud pretending to be a street sends new pains shooting throughout her body  Every last part of her screams for rest, but she can’t. Need to find Her, make everything right.
Limping through the city, there is no sign of life, no sign of anything, as if she’s the only living creature here. Whatever happened to the mech fight isn’t her problem right now, she’s too wounded to fight, and tired, so damned tired.
How long has she wandered for?
Ah, it doesn’t matter. Juniper is no closer to wherever it is she should be going than she was before. It’s an aimless walk that requires her to constantly stop to catch her breath. Though, she doesn’t know for certain, it feels like the bleeding in her shoulder at least stopped. She could check, but even turning her head hurts at this point. Better to save what little energy she has.
At some point she has to stop walking, coughing up blood onto the muddy ground. It hurts to cough, should be alarmed at the sight of blood, but she is just too tired to care. Whatever damage she’s accrued doesn’t matter.
You’re just replaceable, aren’t you?
Juniper has to chase away that thought, because while she knows she is, it hurts to think about it. Drives her anxiety insane, makes her want to break down crying. Wasn’t she supposed to be past this? 
Hah, no. 
She’s still Juniper Sladek: The one who stands alone atop a mountain of bloody corpses.
Stumbling through the nameless city, one thing is abundantly clear to her: The smell of cigarette smoke. Dried fruit, with a heavy malty stench to it; not her brand. No, she always had the cheap shit that supply convoys brought in. This however? It’s too upscale, something only someone with cash would smoke. And the only person she knows that smokes it? Vera Glass, the ex-mercenary and Wardog.
Except she’s dead, watched her bleed out in Tarsus.
Doesn’t make sense, doesn’t— “Look at you, Sladek,” The all too familiar cadence of Vera Glass, rings out. “Gods, you look like shit. And you’re wearing a muzzle again?”
Juniper comes to a stumbling halt. This makes no sense. She has to be seeing things. 
Leaning against a wall with a foot resting against it, Vera is smoking away as if she didn’t die. She always preferred the top shelf smokes, said they had a better taste. Her strawberry blonde hair is shaved on both sides, contrasting against the mane she had in Tarsus. An orange jumpsuit is tied off at the stomach, with a forest green tank top that does nothing to hide her muscular figure and black leather boots that look to have been shined recently. How in the hell is this fucking bitch alive? It shouldn’t be possible, Juniper saw her die, even gave her last rites. Is this just the product of a dying mind, or is she actually staring at a dead woman, right now!? 
“Y-You’re—” Juniper’s voice comes out hoarse, her throat burning as she speaks. Has to be seeing things, there’s no way in hell this bitch is alive. She’s… She’s lost her remaining bits of sanity, hasn’t she? “Alive? I—I—How!?”
“Yeah, no shit I’m alive.” Vera grins, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Come on Sladek, of all people, you should know that the dead don’t stay dead.” 
“… I’m sorry.” Juniper sighs, knowing that all too well. “I got you involved in my mess and—”
Vera laughs that same arrogant laugh that she always laughed. Annoying, infuriating, but all Vera, especially when she raises a middle finger. “Bitch please, I got involved because I’m a cunt.”
“I—Yeah, I know,” Juniper quietly mutters, squatting next to Vera. It hurts to squat, but then so does standing. “Guess it’s true that I’m a bad omen then, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah you are. I’d love to stand here and dissect your problems, but you look ready to keel over.” Vera leans down, fishing a cigarette out from her back pocket. “You still smoke?”
Juniper doesn’t honestly know, when is the last time she had a cigarette? “I—I don’t know, maybe? C-Could you—”
Vera removes the muzzle with a finger, placing it in her squad leader’s hand. “What the hell happened to you?” She digs in her back pocket, pulling out a cigarette and sticking it in the mutt’s mouth, sparking her lighter a few times until the cigarette is lit.
Stiff fingers hold onto the cigarette for dear life, but in seconds, Juniper is inhaling the intoxicating nicotine, as if everything that’s happened to her never happened. She’s just that ace again. “I don’t know, but—It’s my fault, isn’t it?” That broken, anxious ace.
“Dunno, probably? You seem to get your ass into these situations pretty often.” The former Wardog stares out into the dark abyss of the city, one hand buried into a pocket, the other grasping hold of her cigarette. “Honestly, I expected you here sooner.” Her voice, though usually callous, is quiet, sounding almost sad.
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Juniper tilts her head taking a long drag, blowing smoke into the darkness. Gods, that hit of nicotine helps her to ignore the pain. For a brief moment, she can feel normal again. She would be lying if she said she didn’t miss this, despite L—L—Handler always trying to get to her to quit.
“Isn’t it obvious? Styx.” Vera still sounds quiet, odd coming from the mercenary with a loud mouth. Feels like her last moments in Tarsus all over again. “Have to realize it’s time to die, you’re no good to anyone anymore.” 
“I—What? But—I need to find Her, can’t… can’t disappoint Her, not again…” Juniper takes another drag, anxiety creeping in at the thought of disappointing Her again.
A shrug. “Look, Juniper, just admit it, you’re falling apart. I mean, gods, you’re covered in blood.” The way Vera speaks makes her think of the bar back at base, where they spent time commiserating and drowning their sorrows in liquor. “You’re out of time to lick those wounds. Stop fighting already.”
“NO! … no,” Juniper says it much quieter. “I—I can’t die, She’s waiting for me, isn’t She? T-That’s all that matters in the end, right?” 
Vera groans out in annoyance, flicking the ash from her cigarette. “Stop bullshitting yourself, she’s just going to put you down like the rabid mutt you are.”
This is why you should have run, worthless mutt.
Juniper goes wide eyed. “For what!? I—” And receives swift punch to her already ailing ribs, screeching out in pain, falling into dry heaves. 
“Sladek, just shut the fuck up for once. We both know you attacked that insane bitch.” Vera rolls her eyes. “Why the hell do you think you’re here? You attacked her, and then tried to run because you’re a fucking coward. Better hope that she’s feeling merciful, or well, y’know.”
Lying; Vera has to be lying, she has to be. Except she isn’t. It’s far too clear to Juniper that she did in fact betray Handler. The details are blurry, but it’s far too obvious that Juniper simply didn’t want to remember what she’d done. This fucking broken mutt apparently can’t even recognize her own master.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure.
For an Imperial pilot, they would face the firing squad. For a hound? Juniper won’t get the pleasure of an execution, they’ll force her back into service, but only after burning away every little bit of Juniper Sladek that remains. All the tiny little remaining shreds of anything that once resembled someone or even a human removed. A mindless corpse lacking even the ability to die.
Stupid, useless, mutt can’t even remember whose side she’s on.
“H… How do you—”
“For once in your damned life, listen to someone other than yourself.” That familiar anger of Vera’s rears it ugly head at last. “Like I said, you’re out of time. You gave it your best shot, but it’s time to give up.”
Juniper nods, because she’s out of fight, out of… everything, really. A little sleep will set her right, maybe even numb the pain long enough to get back up. Hah, except that she knows better. The cold, sweet embrace of death never comes for her, because she doesn’t deserve it. No, she hasn’t earned a rest and must wander the earth in service of L—L—Handler, until She has forgiven this corpse’s sins.
When Juniper opens her eyes next, Vera is still there, smoking away. “I can’t die, not yet. I still love Her, and She… She loves me, despite all of my fuck-ups. Sorry, Vera.” Everything hurts, but that’s the one thing that makes sense right now.
Vera sighs, blowing another puff of smoke. “That’s your choice, huh?” She shrugs, shaking her head. “Can’t say I blame you, but I really thought you’d just go quietly.” 
“We both know I’m too stupid to die.” Juniper wheezes out a laugh, coughing up a storm. Her words are pathetic, but then she is pathetic, isn’t she? Hopelessly devoted to someone who sees her as nothing more a broken mutt.
Vera squats down next to the rambling war dog, extinguishing her cigarette right on Juniper’s neural port. “Shut-up already, gods, what happened to confident cunt who led Wardog? Weren’t you supposed to bring us back in one piece?” 
It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns, It burns. Paralysis is quick to set in, leaving her unable to so much as writhe on the ground in pain, let alone scream. Everything grows dark around her. Minutes, perhaps even hours pass before she finally recovers enough to open her eyes.
“Fuck, I can’t believe a coward like you did me in.” Vera kicks the ailing mutt, laughing hysterically. “At least some things haven’t changed, no matter how much you try, you still can’t beat Helios.”
Staring Juniper in the eyes, Vera unties her jumpsuit and lifts her tank top, revealing a gaping crimson void where her stomach should be. “You got me killed, you stupid bitch! All you had to do was lead us and you couldn’t even do that, could you!?” Her laughter gets more intense as the seconds tick away. “Oh, but don’t worry Sladek, I’ll see you in hell.” Without another word being said, something is poured over the mutt.
Juniper can’t look up at her, it hurts too much to move, hurts too much to breathe, to think, to exist. She can’t fight back, not in this state. Vera sparks her lighter, tossing it onto the corpse calling itself Juniper Sladek. And in that next moment, she’s on fire, burning due to her failure. Her entire body throbs, and aches, and burns so much. Crimson flames spread across her body as the darkness encapsulates her. 
This is how she dies? Immolation from a dead woman? 
Hah.
She doesn’t get that privilege, the flames are snuffed out by someone; leaving her aching on the ground and coughing up blood all the while. Why does she not burn? What the fuck is wrong with her head? 
Aha, what’s right with it? 
“Gods, you look like absolute shit,” An all too familiar voice says. It’s her own voice, younger, far more haughty. When she steps out of the shadows, it becomes so clear. Dirty blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail, clad in a black jumpsuit, her hazel eyes are so full of life to them, compared to now. The younger-Juniper stares down at her older and broken self, tossing a cigarette onto the muddy ground next to her. “Is this what I become? Some cowardly dog? Gods, kill me now.” She laughs the way Juniper used to laugh, as if the weight of the world weren’t constantly on her shoulders. So full of piss and vinegar.
All those years ago, when an Imperial agent offered this dying bitch a set of lungs in exchange for her service. Oh, she wasn’t the only one, far from it. She was part of a squad, but one by one, she became the only survivor. The only who didn’t have the courage to pull the trigger on herself, or overload the reactor. 
“C’mon June, perk up!” Her younger self stomps on the older half’s ailing ribs, laughing harder than Juniper has in years. “Stop cowering already, it never was a good look on us. We’ve created a mountain of corpses and spilled enough blood to bath in. But that’s not enough for you, is it? Poor broken Junie, sold her soul to the Empire for lungs. And in return, they let her fly. Face it, this is your punishment.”
“I—I didn’t have a choice, I—”
The younger Juniper spits on the cowering dog. “Yeah, yeah, we didn’t have a choice. Thing is, you’ve always been pretty stupid, haven’t you? We killed people whose only crime was living, we destroyed families. And now you feel guilt over it? Fuck off. All you’ve ever done is run away.” There’s a look of disgust in her younger-self’s eyes that makes Juniper cower much more.
“I KNOW THAT! I—I—I’ve killed so many, so why? Why am I still alive!?” Juniper coughs up blood. Gods, she feels tired, so tired, so cold, she should close her eyes, but she’s lost the willpower to do even that.
“Because our soul is chained to a beast forever, don’t you get it? No matter how many times we get hurt, it gets back up, it hungers for more souls.” Her younger half pulls out a lighter, that same black and gold lighter they’ve had since selling their soul. “Don’t worry June, I’ll make it painless.” Flames once more consume Juniper’s vision, engulfing everything within its scorching embrace.
A single green eye pierces through the flames, and from within them, a monster with only one arm crawls forth. Metal scrapes against the ground, sending a shockwave of pain through her ears. The ground crumbles underneath the weight of this crawling beast. On its chest, that all too familiar barking dog rests. This shouldn’t be possible, Juniper remembers the crater, the— the reactor warning. Despite its heavy damage, Ixion Stryx crawls forward, inching ever closer towards its mistress. Crimson flames dance in a ring around both pilot and machine, making its presence known.
“Juniper Sladek, unlike myself, you had a choice. You chose to turn me into a weapon of murder. I’ve given you my power, my strength, and in exchange, you’ve sentenced five hundred eighty four souls to eternal damnation. You may have chosen to forget the number, you may have marked only thirty five, but I remember it all. They once called me an angel, but now? I have become an ill omen. With the swing of my blade, you have corrupted this symbol upon my chest, no longer marking freedom, but damnation for all who witness it. But I have not come to collect your head, not yet my dear mistress.”
Ixion Stryx rages, flames spreading ever closer to the pair. Juniper wants desperately to run, but every attempt to stand ends with her falling back to the ground. It hurts, it hurts so damned much. Even her as machine edges ever closer, there is nothing more she can do, aside from pray for a quick death.
But that won’t happen, will it?
“W-WHAT CHOICE DID I HAVE!?” Juniper croaks out a response, coughing up blood. “I—I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO STAIN MY HANDS WITH BLOOD!”
Ixion Stryx inches ever closer, its one green eye staring deeper and deeper into her soul. “Come now, my dear mistress, I wish you no harm. No, we wish for the same thing, do we not? Feed me more souls, Juniper Sladek, and I promise you my power in exchange.”
No matter how much she may wish for it, Juniper will never die on her terms. Forever damned to life wearing a muzzle to pay for her sins. As the crimson flames grow in intensity and spread ever closer to the pair, a burst of light emanates from the chest of her beast. It glows a deep, sickening green, much like the color of its remaining eye, silently urging its mistress to take her place. There are no words that need to be expressed for her to know what she must do. Despite her lack of strength, she crawls, crawls with all her might into the glowing green cockpit of Ixion Stryx. Because as always, she needs the power of her phoenix, otherwise she’ll wind up discarded and forgotten and unloved. Within the seat of power, both pilot and machine are finally whole. “Come on then, Ixion, give me your power, I’ll stain the battlefield red for you.”
A scream tears through the cockpit, crimson flames swallowing the beast whole, plunging them into absolute darkness. In their final moments, Juniper remembers it all so well know. A usurper demanded her power, demanded she kill her master. Those words so sickeningly sweet, forced her to kill, but even so, she was not powerful enough to kill Handler. In her final seconds of consciousness, Juniper is plummeting towards the ground, guided by the those damned green stars that continue to singe the edges of her vision. Every time she blinks, there are even more of them, each brighter than the last. They burn through her subconscious, leaving nothing in their wake.
And once again, it’s dark, so very dark.
Light pierces through the darkness, not allowing this mongrel even a second of rest. A blurry figure stands, as if expecting her. “Take my hand, I promise I won’t let you die alone.” Handler’s voice rings out. 
For Juniper, there is no hesitation; she grabs hold of Her hand without so much as a thought. With that one gesture, it’s over. Reality crashes through on the realization that something metallic is stuck to her face. Unable to blink, her eyes are forced open by a cold, metal eye speculum, while tears gradually stream down her cheek. Flashing lights have been tearing through her psyche for an inordinate amount of time. Despite her best efforts to scream, not even a whimper leaves her throat. Rather, she’s forced to lay on the metallic table until such a time as the flashing lights in front of her finally end. Though she can’t see it, she knows there’s a IV in her fleshy arm, drip feeding her that precious glowing drug. 
 When the lights finally meet their end, a familiar voice bellows out. “Good morning, hound, I trust you’ve slept well?” Simply hearing that voice makes Juniper want to scream out in fear. Dark skin, white lab coat overtop an Imperial black uniform. Her once blazing red hair has been dyed(?) a bleach blonde. It’s the Veterinarian, of course it’s her. Everything until now has been a nightmare induced by the conditioning, hasn’t it?
Guess you didn’t kill her after all, now did you Vera? You dead, lying bitch.
“W… Where am I?” Juniper’s voice is hoarse and ragged, it hurts so much to speak.
“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t remember. Don’t worry, you’re just in conditioning, your handler hasn’t abandoned you,” The Veterinarian’s reassuring voice quells the anxieties within the hound’s head. “After all, she still has use for you.” The eye speculum is first to be removed, allowing Juniper to blink at long last.
Millions of things run through Juniper’s head all at the same time, but none of them make it to her throat, leaving her to only nod. Once the restraints and IV are removed, she’s helped off the table and onto the cold tiled floor, immediately collapsing, having forgotten how to walk. But that doesn’t matter, Handler hasn’t abandoned her! That’s all that matters!
Juniper stares at her body for a long time, taking note of her wounds. She isn’t bleeding, but there are stitches across her right arm—she dare not lift her gown to check underneath. Though her muzzle is missing, that’s expected from conditioning. Bloodied and dented dog tags still hang from her neck; still Hers. A relieved sigh leaves her dry lips.
Yet, as she stares at her left arm it’s so very clear that her prosthetic is missing. Only a bandaged stump remains on the bicep. Part of her wants to break down sobbing, but she’s out of tears, out of everything, really. She attacked Handler, this is simply her punishment.
So, why? 
Why is Juniper being shown mercy?
“Ah, poor thing, forgot how to walk, did you?” The Veterinarian chuckles, helping Juniper to her feet. “Come along now hound.” An arm is placed around her shoulder, guiding the broken mutt. “You don’t wish to keep her waiting, do you?”
“N-No, Ma’am,” Juniper mumbles. The halls of the kennels are cold, cold enough that dressed in only a hospital gown, she’s shivering. A familiar stench of bleach stings at her nostrils, reminding her all the same that this is reality. Whatever dreams she may have had were only that, dreams.
It doesn’t take long for them to stop in front of a white door. Metallic and heavy much like the others, but there is no scanner attached to it. This isn’t the way to Her quarters, so where exactly are they? The Veterinarian knocks three times, followed closely by a buzzing that unlocks the door.
Ushered inside, Juniper is uncertain as to where she is, but it’s warmer in here. Black carpeting lines the floors, a small metallic desk in the center of the room. Along the concrete walls, a faux wooden paneling is half assembled. A large leather chair behind the desk brings it all together. Handler is sitting in there, going over paperwork. Since when did She have shoulder-length hair, and Her scar visible? She only ever showed it when it was just them.
“Ma’am, your hound,” the Veterinarian speaks in a reserved tone, closing the door behind them. “Fresh from conditioning, as requested.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Handler on the other hand has a hint of joy to Her voice, it feels so warm. “You’re free to go about your duties, I’d like to speak with Juniper alone.”
The Vet nods. “As you wish, ma’am.” Without another word, she turns around and walks out, leaving Juniper alone with Her.
A soft, warm smile appears on Her face, once it’s just them. “I missed you, June.” Those words alone are enough to fix the nightmares, because She missed her! She… She didn’t fail Her!
“Sir?” Juniper tilts her head.
She’s motioned over to the desk, where Handler stands next to, pulling her into a tight hug. It’s so full of a tender, but undeserving love. Just like the old days, when it was them against the world. “I’m sorry, love. I let you down, when you needed me most.”
She did? But wasn’t it Juniper who failed them?
“Sir, I—”
Handler laughs, and it’s oddly compassionate? It makes Juniper question her own sanity. “It’s okay, when it’s just us, I give you permission to use my name, okay?” H—Laila, says. “Come on, sit down, I’ve got a bed prepared for you.” Laila points to the right corner of the desk, where a black dog bed lays next to it.
Once the hug is broken, Juniper nods, sitting down in the bed. Surprisingly enough, it’s soft and quite comfortable. “Sir, I—I—I’m sorry, I… I attacked you, didn’t I?”
“You did,” She admits, sitting back down. “But I forgive you, because you weren’t you. Oh, I’ll admit, you gave me a nasty cut, but it’s okay, I failed you.” Laila turns Her cheek, allowing Juniper to see a deep cut on Her cheek. It looks to be still healing, but it’s enough to make her worry.
“L—Lails, I—”
Laila shakes Her head, sighing deeply. “I was afraid of seeing you for you, this was just the consequence of my failings. Turns out, once I grasped hold of that power, it wasn’t so hard. But unfortunately for you, my failing means that you’re on the shelf until further notice.”
Shelved? 
Right, that… wasn’t a hallucination brought on from the conditioning, Juniper really did get shot down. Guess she should be lucky that the reactor didn’t go off? “I’m sorry, Sir, I… I’m useless now, aren’t I?” She mumbles, staring at the floor. 
“No, far from it.” Laila strokes Juniper’s hair, speaking in a gentle, reassuring tone. “It just means I have more time to mold you into my weapon. See, I’ve realized my weakness, June: You. You’ve been my weakness for so long. Oh, but don’t worry, love, I’m not abandoning you.” The way Her tone sounds so reassuringly sweet, despite Her sickening words is enough to make Juniper smile just a little. Because despite her failings, they’re still in love! 
“However, I can’t let you think that failing has no consequences; As such, I’ll be stripping you of your privileges, until such a time as you’re combat ready.” That loving tone abruptly becomes ice cold, dripping with venom. Reality truly is its own form of hell. “Once you prove yourself in the field again, perhaps we can look into you bunking with me with again. Until then? Well, you can keep Eris company.” And then, She’s laughing again. “Oh, don’t give me that pouty face, you know I’m weak to it. Tell you what, I’ll let you keep the collar, after all you’re mine.” Never once does Laila stop stroking and twirling Juniper’s hair. It’s just an idle thing for Her.
“W-What about m-my arm, Sir?” Juniper sputters out. “I—I don’t have… I don’t have a left arm.”
“Hm?” Laila raises an eyebrow. “Ahh, right, well, unfortunately for you, it wasn’t repairable. Shame really, but that’s life, right? I’ve submitted a request for a new one, but with you and your machine out of commission, you don’t need it, do you?” Those deep blue eyes stare into Juniper’s very being.
“… No, Sir,” Juniper quietly agrees.
Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure, Failure. This is the price you pay for failure.
“Oh, but don’t worry love, I’ve still got one gift for you.” From within Her desk, a muzzle—her muzzle— is pulled out. The brown leather straps have been replaced with black ones, while the bent bar has been replaced, the metal wires all shined to perfection. “Come on, Junebug, what do you say?” 
That name… gods, it’s impossible to resist Her sweet words.
Juniper stares, and stares, and stares, and stares at the muzzle, transfixed by it. The muzzle makes everything right, without it, her world doesn’t make sense. She just wants the pain to end, so that she can stop failing Her. “… Please, Sir.”
She loves Her smile, the halo above Her head, how soft Her dark skin is when Juniper nuzzles against it, those blue eyes that are so easy to get lost in, and especially loves Her gloves, with how they caress her cheeks, stroking her ears to fasten the muzzle around her. Where it belongs. That’s all it takes to make the world make sense again for Juniper.
A long, deep breath is exhaled and she relaxes slightly onto the bed, knowing full well that She still loves her, despite her failure. She will fix everything, shape her into a proper weapon, fit for Her hands. “I love you, Sir, thank you.
“I love you too, darling. But it’s time you realize that you fell in love with a monster.” Before Juniper can begin to question what Laila is talking about, those three simple words are spoken, “Juniper: Off the Leash.”
And then, Juniper Sladek ceases to exist.