" Sergeant First Class Mavick." A man spoke up next to her bed. "My name is General Picken, I was in charge of the mission your squad carried out." She sat up and hissed as her shoulder sent shooting pains towards the rest of her.
"Sir, I apologize, I am not able to give you proper salute." The injured woman said. She heard the man chuckle. "No do not stress yourself about that."
"Sergeant First Class Mavick." The man started. "Your injuries prove great, and I apologize that you had to go through this," he referred to the loss of her squad. "We value and respect your service. You will be Honorably discharged. You had already applied to re-enlist with us, and after consideration we have decided to give you the re-enlistment bonuses that would have been yours and of three of your teammates," What?
"Sir I couldn't possibly do that." Clara protested.
"They would have wanted you to have it. It is already decided. The army will give you a comfortable monthly stipend of $4,300.00. Which is your gross income by rank, divided by months." Clara was shocked.
"I don't have where to stay, outside of the army sir." She said.
"Taken care of. You will be required to go to a psychiatrist. We expect you to keep in contact with us, answer the phone when we call. In your file it states that you are a linguist, three languages, if we need your services, for the next three to four years, you will be a consultant. We suggest you learn Braille Sargent." Clara heard the tapping on the floor indicating he was leaving.
"Oh and Clara?"
"Sir."
"We expect you to not tell anyone of what you saw on your mission."
Oh. So that was the reason for all that green. "... Yes, Sir."
"Good, congratulations veteran."
.•.
A week later.
Clara spit out the mouthwash, still in her pajamas. Soft music echoed through her home as she walked back into her room and slipped on a knitted sweater. Shoved her feet into her flip plops and walked into her kitchen, hands finding the counter automatically. She scrunched up her face, and made her way to her trash can and started taking the bag out.
As she put a new bag in she hummed to herself, "Alexa, search Fangtasia Bar."
"I'm sorry, did you mean, Fantasy Car?" The robotic lady asked back and Clara sighed.
"Search Vampire Bar near by."
"I have found a club that is owned by a vampire at fifteen minutes from Home, would you like to mark it?"
"Yes, please. Notify Adam, to pick me up at seven, for Fangtasia."
"Yes Carla."
.•.
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