"Why," Ellen asked, "would I want to get rid of it?" The idea baffled her. Oh, sure, if she had trouble maintaining and needed regular injections to stay alive, yeah, that would be a serious downer. But she didn't.
"It's all upside. I'm much, much stronger than I used to be. Stronger than any normal man, certainly. I'm faster. I've got better reflexes. I can survive things that would have killed me before, and recover from any injuries I do suffer almost immediately."
She'd been an effective soldier, but she'd gone into it knowing she'd never have the muscle mass and strength of most of her male comrades. She'd worked hard at making skill compensate for that as much as possible. She'd mastered all the weapons and close combat training she could get. But all else being equal, the stronger combatant tended to win.
Losing her arm had put an end to her military career in any case. Then Killian had come along, offering to give her arm back to her. And more. And damned if he hadn't done it. She was better, faster, stronger. What was there not to like about it?
She paused, considering. "And those are just the obvious effects. There are others. I can survive a blizzard in my birthday suit. Extreme heat? Even less of a problem. I'll never have a cold or the flu again. The germ hasn't been born that can survive the temperatures I can generate."
Ellen realized she'd leaned forward in her enthusiasm. She leaned back into her chair. "I appreciate the offer. I really do. And I suppose that someday I might want to take you up on it, but I can't really imagine that now."
She took another sip of her drink to punctuate the end of that topic.
"No, I don't have a job yet. I'm looking. If you know anyone who's hiring veterans with a few special talents, I'm all ears."