Word Count: 825

It was a familiar face she saw that night, though she did not know the Captain's name. She knew so few of the names of her captors. Only Apatite, and she'd not yet had the displeasure of meeting the General-Queen. No other name had been offered to her, at least not any she cared to remember. Faces were enough. She would not soon forget them.

Tonight she remembered a dimly lit room, the hearth in front of a fire, and a rod with an end twisted into the shape of her symbol. She remembered the pain, the smell of burning flesh, the hands which held her down. She remembered the Captain's voice, and every word it had spoken.

“You show so much pride in yourself, we thought you might appreciate a more lasting reminder than the mark upon your forehead.”

“On your knees.”

“Right here will do nicely, I think.”

“Take her away.”

So few, but so impactful.

Ganymede stood across from the Captain now. Only a few yards separated them from one another. She did not feel anything as she looked at the Captain's face. She should have felt anger. Instead, she felt numb. The Captain stared back and looked uneasy, aware of the difference between their power levels. The Captain had been confident and unafraid when Ganymede had been weakened from frequent energy draining, and held down against her will. But at full strength, with her memories to strengthen her resolve, Ganymede was a more formidable opponent.

“Senshi,” the Captain said. It sounded as if it was meant to be a greeting.

There was nothing especially recognizable about her. In a sea of other Negaverse agents, she would not have stood out, with her mousy brown hair and her dull gray eyes. Her nose was hooked, her complexion without much color. She was of an average height and slight of build. There was something very sharp and angular about her looks. Her uniform was unremarkable; it was lacking in adornments and sported very little color. Dark gray and drab. She looked dull next to Ganymede's vibrant red.

Ganymede did not return the greeting. Her mind went cloudy, her vision unfocused. She remembered the sound of her own screams. The memory was loud and vivid. She saw it more than she saw what was now in front of her.

A year had passed. Until now, she'd not had the opportunity for vengeance.

“On your knees,” she said. She whispered the incantation for her Eternal spell.

The Captain dropped to the ground. She screamed as invisible flames tore through her. Her screams split through the night air, a piercing cry that carried far. For a moment Ganymede just looked at her. This should be enough, she thought. This should be all the retribution she needed. There was no desire to kill. This Captain was not dangerous enough to warrant that.

But she should know pain and humiliation. She should know what it was like to be forced down against her will, to have her skin marred.

Ganymede had only seconds before the spell ended. A minute at most.

She kicked the Captain's weapon away. The Captain was too overcome by pain to call it back to her. Ganymede circled behind her. She grabbed the Captain's uniform and tore it away from her shoulder. It was an easy task. The Captain had no strength the fight back.

There was a jagged piece of glass only feet away. Ganymede retrieved it. She considered it for a moment. Even then she felt nothing. It glinted in the moonlight.

It would do.

“Right here will do nicely, I think,” she said.

She dug the glass into the Captain's skin, into the flesh between the Captain's neck and shoulder. Blood welled up and spilled down the Captain's back. Ganymede's hands were soon covered in it, but she paid it no mind. The Captain's screams grew louder. Ganymede dragged the glass to form a curve. She moved it again to form another. Then she slid it down, to the right, and down again.

It was lopsided and imperfect, but it was unmistakably her symbol.

“Just a little something to remember me by,” she said.

She threw the glass aside when she was done. Ganymede surveyed her work and felt satisfaction. Beneath it was horror. She felt ill that she could do something so heinous, but for the moment it was weak, overshadowed by the memories. By the numbness.

It would grow later, when she had time to reflect on what she'd done. She would feel conflicted, unnerved by it, but not guilty.

For now there was nothing. No remorse. No pride. No relief that finally, finally she could get revenge upon those that had caused her and others so much pain and despair.

As her spell faded and the Captain's screams lowered in pitch, Ganymede turned and walked away.

She did not look back.