Seven was having an incredibly hard time waking up. Every time he came close, pain would swamp him, and he would slip back into unconsciousness. When he finally woke up, he found that he was sore. Not sore as in working out for a few hours or lifting some heavy boxes, sore as in it felt like his body was on fire. He could hardly move, and doing so made his limbs turn to jelly and shot sharp stabs of pain through his nerves.

All of his body’s wiring was fried. Some places felt overly numb. Others were tingling fiercely like they had grudges against him. Mostly, it hurt just laying there, and now that he was fully awake, there was no way on this planet that he could fall asleep again. So, Seven laid there on his bed confused and fuming.

He was mad. He was mad at stupid Andan Bach for showing up out of nowhere and ordering him to be strapped to a chair and treated like a lightning rod. Mad at Director Nero for acting friendly with the stupid Bach. Mad at the scientists who kept their distance, and the fact that he couldn’t even curse their unknown names. Mad at Johan, the Johan who was the only one who ever smiled at him. Who brought him little trinkets and sweet things. Who joked with him and got mad at him like dads got mad at their kids. Who betrayed him and let Andan do those things to him and would probably keep letting the stupid man do whatever he wanted.

But, most of all, Seven was mad at himself for being caught off guard, for even letting his guard down in the first place. He knew something was off, and even more than that, he knew that these people thought of him as an object. He had hoped that Johan was different, but he had been wrong, and now he was paying the price.

Tears were sliding down his face now. They burned, leaving stinging tracks across his checks and forming hot pools in his ears. He stared up at the ceiling unable to do anything about them, and in the end, not wanting to.

Seven’s body started to itch. It was an uncomfortable feeling. It also signaled that his advanced regenerative abilities were beginning to heal his body. Bruises faded, cuts closed, torn muscles re-knit themselves together, burns lost their heat, new skin regrew, and nerve endings began working properly. Even his missing fingernails began to develop. In a few hours, the trauma his body received from the tolerance test would be completely gone.

The process was still painful, though, and honestly, it was hard to tell if it was any less painful than when he woke up. It was also the first time he had been hurt more than a simple cut. Seven’s self healing abilities surprised him. He didn’t know he had them. He found it rather disturbing as he watched new nail pushing out from his nail bed at a slow but noticeable pace.

To distract himself from his pain and unease, he looked up stupid Andan’s background. The man had told the truth. He was a sergeant of the People’s Army of the USCU. He didn’t have the best reputation. In the few skirmishes he had been in at the borders of the USCU and the Coalition Nations of New Poland, he had created quite a stir, enough to be mentioned quite extensively on the interweb for being only a sergeant. People talked of how brutal he was and of his sadistic nature. Not only his enemies, but often the men under his command he would torture.

One incident in particular was brought up quite often. The commentators on the subject held Bach with fear and revulsion. It was then he earned his nickname, Blood Wode. After incapacitating a soldier from the opposing New Poland, he then proceeded to break the man’s limbs to the point where the man could no longer move. While that was bad enough, Andan made sure to video tape the whole thing. Watching the poor man scream his lungs out as his bones were ground to dust sent chills down Seven’s spine and made him dry heave.

Seven soon found out that this was mild compared to what came next. Andan leaned over and whispered something in the man’s ear to quiet for the feed to catch. He did it while slipping a knife from his belt, which he then placed against the man’s neck. Ever so slowly, Andan began sawing off the soldier’s head, a process that he purposefully took twenty-five minutes to complete, smiling all the while.

Seven threw up. His body shook. It was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. He wished he had stopped watching the video when Andan had first started breaking bones, or rather, not even watched it at all. The whole thing was utterly disturbing.

The man was sick, and Seven had the pleasure of being his guinea pig. Seven had to wonder how Bach kept his rank. Surely, no army would keep such a person in a position, even a lowly one, of command.

Looking around, he found that Andan had risen fast in the army. In a little under two years, he went from private to sergeant. Soon, Seven found the reason. It was a simple reason, really, and rather obvious if one looked into it.

Andan’s great uncle was one of the four generals of the People’s Army, General Vorcious Bach. They had the same last name, so there couldn’t have been just a few people who had connected the two. The fact that hardly anyone on the interweb mentioned it told Seven that the People’s Army was trying to cover it up. Why they would hide Andan’s relation with the Vorcious was probably to keep up the general’s reputation. Having a sadistic killer for a nephew wouldn’t help others see you in a better light.

Only, the USCU didn’t try very hard in hiding it. It was a bit too easy to figure out. Seven’s guess was they only recently began trying to cover it up. Andan had released that video only weeks ago, and it a huge impact throughout the interweb. Andan’s punishment must have been being sent to Pandora.