text: Your hands were restrained with a magnetic lock. Even the innate strength conferred to you by your genes could not break them apart. The dark red and white uniforms of the Second Sol Commonwealth were distinct in the dimly lit interrogation chamber you found yourself in. You were asked many questions but you were allowed none of your own nor did they listen to any of your requests. That is until one of them brought a holo-projector which displayed an ongoing speech by none other than your father, August William the second of his name, and the patriarch of House Harridan.
  
  https://i.imgur.com/nxNXTlq.png
  
  "... There is only truth and hope to be found in our cause. I vow this now, death to every foe of our blessed Aristocracy! The betrayal of my spawn changes nothing, it is but proof of her/his failure. (S)he too will find, like all Commonwealth lowlifes, that siding with those who vainly uphold an evolutionary dead-end shall naturally and inevitably lead to extinction." August spoke with fervour, both of his hands clenched in front of him. His perfected features were twisted in anger.
  
  "We shall fight them at every turn! We shall not falter in our conviction! The future rests in our hands, us, the superiors to all, the final evolution of humanity. My degenerate spawn has given up such a responsibility; preferring to mingle with the decadent remains of the Commonwealth. They proclaim the equality of all? Where has that led them but to slothful and greedy rulers who have little interest in anything but profiting off an eternal war with us?" His uncanny eyes, a steely blue, bore uncompromising ruthlessness.
  
  "Our Solarian Aristocracy has ascended beyond such petty conflicts. We stand united. As one. You, my misbegotten son/daughter, are watching this now. You will pay dearly for betraying your kin and your people." You knew that to an ordinary onlooker, your father may have looked all the part of a regular human from afar, if handsome to an unusual degree - yet the eerie tone and inflection of his voice, his unnaturally precise gestures and unblinking, overly attentive stare betrayed he was not of wholly natural, base human stock.
  
  "I have to admit. They didn't train us for this. We always thought defectors were an impossibility in the Aristocracy, due to how each and every one of you freaks are engineered like some god-damned vegetables," the intelligence officer leading your interrogation spoke, Lieutenant-Commander Abram Valerio, his tag read. "This changes everything if, and I'm insisting on the if here, this isn't a very poor play. We're going to be making some progress with you and maybe this war as well."
  
  "So let's do this one more time, except I am going to be nicer this time," the Lieutenant-Commander sat down in the chair in front of you. He motioned for the guards behind you to release the magnetic locks. It was a gesture of goodwill, but you could tell you were not truly free yet. "We're going to need you to tell us everything you know. What drove you away from the Aristocracy?"
  
  > say "My father was overbearing and tyrannical. I often conflicted with him on various issues. Our latest disagreement was the final straw."
  "Interesting." Lt.Commander Valerio intoned. "Tell me more about your father, and about House Harridan. Their place in the Palatium Superioritatis of Victoria is well-known but..."
  
  The interrogation dragged on for hours. You did not tire, you could not, you stood straight and dignified on the crude chair and answered every question as best as you could and with total honesty. Eventually, your tormentor got tired of it all and guards were replaced several times throughout, unfortunately extending your interrogation for several days.
  
  Your hands were restrained with a magnetic lock. Even the innate strength conferred to you by your genes could not break them apart. The dark red and white uniforms of the Second Sol Commonwealth were distinct in the dimly lit interrogation chamber you found yourself in. You were asked many questions but you were allowed none of your own nor did they listen to any of your requests. That is until one of them brought a holo-projector which displayed an ongoing speech by none other than your father, August William the second of his name, and the patriarch of House Harridan.
  
  https://i.imgur.com/nxNXTlq.png
  
  "... There is only truth and hope to be found in our cause. I vow this now, death to every foe of our blessed Aristocracy! The betrayal of my spawn changes nothing, it is but proof of her/his failure. (S)he too will find, like all Commonwealth lowlifes, that siding with those who vainly uphold an evolutionary dead-end shall naturally and inevitably lead to extinction." August spoke with fervour, both of his hands clenched in front of him. His perfected features were twisted in anger.
  
  "We shall fight them at every turn! We shall not falter in our conviction! The future rests in our hands, us, the superiors to all, the final evolution of humanity. My degenerate spawn has given up such a responsibility; preferring to mingle with the decadent remains of the Commonwealth. They proclaim the equality of all? Where has that led them but to slothful and greedy rulers who have little interest in anything but profiting off an eternal war with us?" His uncanny eyes, a steely blue, bore uncompromising ruthlessness.
  
  "Our Solarian Aristocracy has ascended beyond such petty conflicts. We stand united. As one. You, my misbegotten son/daughter, are watching this now. You will pay dearly for betraying your kin and your people." You knew that to an ordinary onlooker, your father may have looked all the part of a regular human from afar, if handsome to an unusual degree - yet the eerie tone and inflection of his voice, his unnaturally precise gestures and unblinking, overly attentive stare betrayed he was not of wholly natural, base human stock.
  
  "I have to admit. They didn't train us for this. We always thought defectors were an impossibility in the Aristocracy, due to how each and every one of you freaks are engineered like some god-damned vegetables," the intelligence officer leading your interrogation spoke, Lieutenant-Commander Abram Valerio, his tag read. "This changes everything if, and I'm insisting on the if here, this isn't a very poor play. We're going to be making some progress with you and maybe this war as well."
  
  "So let's do this one more time, except I am going to be nicer this time," the Lieutenant-Commander sat down in the chair in front of you. He motioned for the guards behind you to release the magnetic locks. It was a gesture of goodwill, but you could tell you were not truly free yet. "We're going to need you to tell us everything you know. What drove you away from the Aristocracy?"
  
  > say "I grew to dislike and tire of the Aristocracy's authoritarian and regimented lifestyle. I sought the Commonwealth's advertised freedom, to take my own path."
  "Interesting." Lt.Commander Valerio intoned. "Tell me more about your father, and about House Harridan. Their place in the Palatium Superioritatis of Victoria is well-known but..."
  
  The interrogation dragged on for hours. You did not tire, you could not, you stood straight and dignified on the crude chair and answered every question as best as you could and with total honesty. Eventually, your tormentor got tired of it all and guards were replaced several times throughout, unfortunately extending your interrogation for several days.[Themes: sci-fi, science fiction, female protagonist, superhero]
  
  "Facts and possibilities mean nothing when one's own memory and experience tells them otherwise." --Dr. Elias Hoffstein and the First Imprints, pub. 2089
  
  [Author's Note: For Endmaster's Manifest Destiny contest. The following is a depiction of true events which took place between July and September, 2262, verified as fact by the Luna-Mars United Archival Project. (The finished version will contain two more paths and be more than twice as long, watch for it after the contest is judge. Note that this happens after major past events in the main character's life and it's meant that some of it will need to be pieced together. This is the first story in a "series" but chronologically one of the last.)]
  
  > say "Why am I still alive..."
  Waking up always hurts. The piercing lights, the slow pounding in your head as the kaleidoscope of thoughts and memories swirl around and try to find their place, your mind a jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces left over no matter how you try and put it together.
  
  Usually you end up feeling like you just don't want to be here at all. There are more than enough others to take your place. Whoever you are. Memories are frustratingly elusive right now.
  
  "Maelstrom, how are you feeling?" a voice asked. Not one of your own this time. An older man, it sounds like.
  
  You blink a couple of times to try and focus. Everything is so bright, but also blurry. You're wearing an oxygen mask and you think there's some other medical things connected to you, and you realize after a moment you're trapped in some kind of frosted glass capsule, being spoken to through a speaker. "Terrible," you croak out in answer to the question.
  
  "I'm not surprised. If it's any consolation, you've technically just made history here. No one has ever been successfully removed from a cryogenic state after such a long period. Although your method of entering that state was a bit...unusual. I have to say, I wasn't sure what to expect when I-"
  
  "Why don't you cut the shit and get to the point? And get us out of this box!" a voice growls from your throat, as deeply as it can manage when speaking through a 14 year old girl. That would be Samson, he gets impatient easily and likes to bust into conversations the way he used to bust through walls. In fact right now you sense he'd like to bust right out of this capsule and start demanding answers. You feel your muscles twitch in anticipation and it's tempting just to let Samson slip behind the wheel and take charge for awhile.
  
  "Fascinating. So the records were correct about your condition," the voice says dryly. "Tell me Maelstrom, what is the last thing you remember?"
  
  Your head is buzzing. Lots of voices are starting to clamor for attention, and Samson is still trying to shove his way to the front of the crowd.
  
  > let him.
  Finally some freedom to act. You are Maelstorm but you are also Samson, and strength surges through you. You interlock the fingers of both hands into one mighty fist and bust out the glass overhead.
  
  It flies upward in an impressive reverse rain before the pieces shatter all around the capsule on the sterile white tile. Only a few small cuts to show for it and there are plenty of people inside you who can heal those in a jiffy. This is why Maelstrom...the original girl you mean, this is why she trusts you more than some of the others, you get shit done but don't do anything too crazy.
  
  You're already sitting up, ripping away tubes and restraints, tearing the oxygen mask off your face and inhaling deeply, coughing slightly. Something about the air in here is a little off, sort of thin. But you remember being several people that can easily adjust to that. Meanwhile the man on the intercom is shouting something, but anyone that's capable of taking the wheel is pretty used to ignoring voices. The glass lid of the capsule is in two segments, and finding a latch on the bottom half you swing it open, climbing out on that end without cutting yourself. Good thing too because you're completely naked.
  
  You look at your reflection in a tinted one way window that stretches from floor to ceiling. Yep, you're a girl with boobs and everything. That's always going to be weird. Little on the short side too. But the body appears to be the same Maelstrom as before: Frizzy honey blonde hair, amber skin, shrewd and eternally conflicted green eyes. So you weren't downloaded into a new one or anything at least. You just need to find some clothes as soon as possible.
  
  [And some shoes. Nice ones.] One of the girls chimes in. [But get us the hell out of wherever this is first.] Another one insists.
  
  "Yeah yeah, I don't need everyone's opinions, I fucking know."
  
  [Can we kill anyone yet? Please! I want to kill someone!]
  
  You give an irritated shake of your head, shutting that one up quick and look around the room. Besides the window, there's a metal door. Other wise it's just a bare white room with the capsule you broke out of in the middle of it and some medical machinery. You don't want to go back over there though because of all the broken glass.
  
  > go through the door.
  Even with all your strength, this is a solid steel door. It takes a few minutes to batter it down and makes your shoulder sore.
  
  A few minutes was enough time to allow a team of security...droids? They do look very science fiction-ish...to get into position. Dozens of little red lights train onto your torso.
  
  You can tell you have to proceed with utmost caution to avoid being shot into a bloody mist, so it's most unfortunate when one of the others you're sharing this body with lets out a banshee scream and leaps at the nearest one. You feel fangs extending, claws erupting from your fingers and coarse hair springing out all over you. Without being able to see it you know your eyes have turned red.
  
  This display, while it would be most terrifying to a human, doesn't impress the security drones one bit. They hold their ground and open fire at point blank range.
  
  (What a disappointing end for Maelstrom, it's almost like the author was in a hurry!)