Shura

Life had always been simple for Shura, as the only child of a military Father and home-body mother. Moving was to be expected, changing of scenery, friends, schools, was like a well-oiled clock, predictable. She never really got upset by it, facts were facts and really? She wanted to join the military one day too and be like her Daddy. 

Aspiring to hunt the dangerous freaks and rebels that threatened the lives of honorable citizens. Unstable, psychotic freaks that couldn't control the unholy 'gifts' they had. The animals that caused countless dollars in destruction, in lives. They would pay with their blood. 

Dutifully working her way through her studies, the young woman excelled at the classes her parents enrolled her in after hours. Training in various martial arts she threw her all into becoming a good soldier. On her eighteenth birthday Shura did not hesitate to enroll, believing in the cause but not all was to be smooth sailing after her graduation from bootcamp.

On a routine scouting mission her group was ambushed by rebel faction. That day Shura had wished for death, to die in combat would have been better then to be left crippled and impotent to carry out her mission. She was discharged honorably with several others from her squad.

Ill-content with her lot, the panda struggled to get by. Therapy was a nightmare of temperamental outbursts and emotional breakdowns. It was years before her second chance would come, before an experimental program to even the odds was being tested out. Needing subjects they sought out former soldiers, down on their luck or disabled in action. Shura fit the bill well enough, though self-sufficient the offer to return to duty as more then a paper pusher thrilled her.

Of course, one might see the deal as a little lopsided and more beneficial to those making it, but isn't that how they normally work? Shura didn't care, a chance at life again, at walking, at ridding the world of those bastards was worth the price she'd have to pay, even if it blurred the lines alittle. 

Reporting to the base, Shura took up residence there in a special ward with those others who had been selected.  Assigned a room with another ex-soldier, treatments began slowly. Injections of nano-tech plasma were given once a week. Slowly, painfully so, it became three times, five, before everyday her blood was being replaced with these small machines. 

It was only later that she would discover, they were in her food, in her bath supplies, in everything she ingested or used. The progression of various types was different though, ones meant to mend, to heal, to strengthen. Their purposes were numerous and soon, ones that self-replicated dividing and taking over the functions of her body.

The process was excruciating, maddening some and driving them to suicide to escape the pain. Shura would not bend, would not break, would conquer this and find her redemption in their blood. Though survival of the process was only just the beginning for her. Control, the sheer strength and power forced her to relearn things. her rage, the adrenaline that surged and sang through her veins, that chemical with the nanos could berserk her.

To steady her, to monitor her, to control and track her a metal collar was slapped around her neck, the bracelet not an option for the panda. Unmindful to the device, she strove for success. Working her way through each test, each practice, until she could get back out on the field again. And as surely as she tried she would be cleared for and returned to active duty.

Assigned a new squad, the only nano-user in her group, she carried out her missions dutifully and with a passion. Hunting, tracking, stumbling upon, however she found them, they would die.