Powerful

You feel powerful as you strut along the starship corridor, relishing the sensation of your genhanced muscles shifting just beneath your perfected skin. You let out a sensual moan as a sudden jet of hot air from the vents plays over the syn-skin bonded to your frame, swivel on elegantly pointed toes when you hear your name.

You feel powerful as your insert-pod seals shut around you, an exquisite spike of pain marking the point when your nervous system is connected to it and your consciousness expands. The speeds your pod reaches as you drop through the atmosphere is thrilling, mind racing with calculations as you dodge around incoming weapons fire with moments to spare.

You feel powerful as you finally burst from the insert-pod, everything seems to be moving in slow motion around you. You can see sweat trails on the lone soldier who's investigating your landing, almost feel tempted to swat her hastily-loosed bullets from the air. You cross the space between you and her with just a few lengthy strides, watch her eyes start to widen in fear. With a click a blade extends from your gauntlet, gleaming in the sunlight, and you bury it in the woman's heart.

You feel powerful as you dash through the maze-like complex, corpses marking your passage. A full squad fills the corridor in front of you, arranged in two rows, and you dive into a roll, twisting your body around their massed fire. A soldier recoils as you emerge from your roll directly before her, startled by your appearance, but you lash out against the soldier to her left. Blood fountains into the air when you take her head off, painting the corridor and everyone in it a vivid crimson. Blood is still spurting as you slaughter through the rest of the squad, watch two kill each other as you dart between them. The sergeant is the last to still stand, resigned to her fate the moment she laid eyes on you, and you reward her compliance by thrusting your blade deep into her throat.

You feel powerful as you approach the inner sanctum of the complex, the location of your target. A terrified soldier drops her rifle as you approach and sprints off along a side-corridor, face-planting a moment later as you but a bullet into the back of her head. You use the code supplied at the briefing to open the thick security doors, padding with a feline gait into the command center.

You feel uncertain when you look upon your target, see the face normally seen in the mirror staring back at you. You can see your handiwork on the screens behind her, see the scores of corpses, and a measure of power returns. Your lookalike rises from her throne-like chair, identical to you from crown to toes, and a blade slides from within her own gauntlet.

You feel powerful as you put yourself to the ultimate test. None outside the command center had posed a challenge but your lookalike... You sway backwards to avoid her swing, your return thrust dodged by a sinuous contortion. You snatch up a pistol from besides a computer monitor, wondering which girl you killed was its owner, and your bullet sparks as it is deflected, a large screen shattering. You backflip over the desk, managing to catch your lookalike's chin with the very tip of a foot, and her blade drives into the metal, severing cabling and plunging the command center into emergency mode.

You're alive beneath the soft red, it's like being in that corridor again, and your blade flicks out with a flurry of strikes. One blow throws sparks into your lookalike's face, they jerk back, and a second digs into her leg under the kneecap, her screech a sound you've never made before. With a flash you strike again and this time you are frozen. Your lookalike is impaled upon your blade, shock on her face as reality sinks in. She falls forward when you withdraw the metal, skipping back in case fight still exists in her, and quivers atop the desk for a second before stilling.

You feel powerful when you place a booted foot on her corpse, feel like howling in triumph. No, not feel powerful. You ARE powerful.