Sadistic |Simon 'GHOST'//CLASSIFIED|

[Chapter Eight] The Tower

TIME: [UNKNOWN]
DATE: 2014, JANUARY 14TH
LOCATION: [UNKNOWN]
FRAEYA 'SIREN' THKOUVA, ALISDAIR 'MOLOCH' BLAIRE
[ALISDAIR FACECLAIM: BRETT DALTON]
[FRAEYA/SIREN FACECLAIM: ADRIANNE PALICKI]
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[The Tower]
When The Tower card appears in a Tarot reading, expect the unexpected – massive change, upheaval, destruction and chaos. It may be a divorce, death of a loved one, financial failure, health problems, natural disaster, job loss or any event that shakes you to your core, affecting you spiritually, mentally and physically. There’s no escaping it. Change is here to tear things up, create chaos and destroy everything in its path.
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  If there was ever a monumental person that had been in Fraeya's life, it was Alisdair Blaire, the most obnoxious man she'd ever met. Their relationship had always been....complicated.

"Sergeant Thkouva this is General Ward, come in, over."  A woman's voice crackled through her walkie talkie, sitting upon the surface of a busy desk. Files were laid out with papers spilling from it's internals, entirely indistinguishable from one another. On the floor of her barracks room were piles of papers that had started out neatly stacked, but with Fraeya's ADHD they were quick to be stepped on or thrown around.

Hearing the General, Fraeya rushed to stand from her bed which had its own graveyard of files, forgetting about the papers she had been looking at as they fell from her lap, crashing to the floor. As she hurriedly made her way to the desk, her foot slipped against a piece of paper, causing her outstretched hand to slam against the desk while attempting to regain her balance. Her digits curled around the walkie talkie, letting out a softened groan before clicking the receiver,
"This is Sergeant Thkouva, over." She breathed out, kicking a piece of paper that had stuck to her foot.

During the year of 2014, Fraeya had been transferred from Italy to a military base in Texas, residing in the on-site barracks because, frankly, she had nowhere else to go. Fraeya spent most of her days on recon missions or solo operations, and when she wasn't doing either of those things, she was training or in the gym. She lived alone, watching the empty bed opposite to hers gather dust with each passing day. Since she'd arrived on base most of the marines avoided her, admiring her from afar like she was an exhibit at the zoo, and the reactions she got wasn't from the lack of trying to establish a connection. Despite the base always being rotated with new gossip every day, the stories of The Siren always failed to fall upon her ears. The marines whispered about her day and night, from the mess hall, to the guard stations, to even the showers. They feared her, her growing collection of scars like horror stories of their own each time she passed a marine. She'd smile as they walked by, only for their eyes to widen, their lips to quiver, and their pace to quicken away.

If you asked her today how she had felt about the segregation of her fellow soldiers, she would say "I couldn't give two shits an a monkey's left nut.",

But if you had asked her then with her cracking, struggling smile and quivering brims, she'd have said, "I just don't understand, I've tried, you know?"

"We have a transfer coming in from California, he's being assigned to your squadron. He should be arriving within fifteen minutes by humvee, meet him. You will be bunking with the Corporal until you two ship out."

Since arriving, General Ward took a personal liking to Fraeya for reasons, even to this day, she would never understand. The highly decorated woman was always sending assignments her way, each one growing increasingly complex. She didn't realize it then, but The General had been challenging her, pushing her to be a better version of herself because she believed she saw greatness in Fraeya. She understood the hardships a woman had go through in the military, the stigmas and stereotypes, and she believed it would end with her.