Laden with Hatred

I fidgeted with the wisps of uncannily white hair that barely covered the back of my neck, grimacing when I felt the edge of a chip that was shallowly burrowed beneath my skin. I was a test subject once, after all, only because I was Metamorphic. I detest it.

I stilled and became acutely aware of my heartbeat pounding against my skull when I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, nearing the warehouse I was hiding in. I pressed my back further against the cool surface of the steel crate behind me, tautly curling my fingers around my trusty gun - the same gun I trained with back when I was a Royal Guard for the Madrahn kingdom. I smiled wistfully. Two years ago, that was-

"I think she's here, Falcon!" I gritted my teeth together. Falcon, that bastard, I thought bitterly when I was reminded of him taking the only true family I had, forcing them to become his guards and workers for his organization. Pierce Maverick was a mere, petty thief - he didn't need to be involved, against his will, with the major underground disputes between Kiven and Madrah. Niagara and Lysandra were both stripped of their Royal Guard status because they defended me.

Hot anger slowly surged through my limbs, upwards into my neck and towards the back of my head, finally finishing its course when it slowly, horribly ran down my spine. I tried to take control of it, to no avail. My vision began to recede at the edges, threatening to throw everything into dark oblivion. I became dizzy and lightheaded. That is the worst part of this evil power...slowly losing myself under its authority.

Loud, resounding gunshots were suddenly fired at me. One of the hot, laser bullets grazed against my upper arm, burning me instantly. I grit my teeth to subdue the involuntary outcry of pain. In my peripheral vision I watched as smoke smoldered from the wound on impact, combined with a dribble of blood that steamed and dispersed into the air. Crying out in pain again, I clutched my arm. Damn it. Now they know exactly where I am, and now I'm wounded.

When I heard the click of the safety being pulled behind me, I instinctively rose to my feet and skirted across the room in mere seconds. My agility had already raised. I was far too lost to go back now.

With more instinct than thought, I released a random gunshot, catching a guard in the thigh. Blood glinted, illuminated by the blinding ceiling lights above. The man cried out and fell to one knee. An involuntary, small rise of my lips - a smile - took me by surprise, but only a small part of me seemed to mind. I didn't have time to react to my disturbance.

Now, Falcon. Squatting behind the massive spacecraft, Hukai, I glanced around the premise of the warehouse, eagerly searching for the distinctive, black trench coat, the dark hair, the jagged scar that marred the left side of his face.

I gasped when the indiscriminate coolness of a barrel pressed against the back of my head, where my chip was. A warmth surged through my arms and dispersed throughout my fingers before the all too familiar blue aura began to dance off my fingertips, growing in intensity. I stayed frozen as fingertips briefly grazed against my skin, pushing short strands of hair out of my neck. A shudder ran down my spine. I could sense a cold, puncturing gaze fixated on the chip, at my topmost vertebrae. 'We're putting the chip at the topmost vertebrae, near her brain stem. If you take the chip, there's a chance of taking her life with it.' The unfamiliar, hazy voices and words that belonged to supposed doctors I didn't know still somehow retained in my memory. I clenched my jaw. I was just a Metamorphic to them; a human so affected by a genetic mutation, so precarious and inhuman, that I was rendered to the point of being classified as not human.

"You were a test subject, too. No wonder you're such a difficulty." Falcon. His hot, abrupt breath suddenly hit the back of my ear, sending another shiver through my spine. 'Too'...? Wait, what...?

Acting on my indignation, I pivoted suddenly, facing him. I aimed the barrel of my gun at his face, the scarred side of it. My hands trembled. Despite wielding a gun for five years, the weapon suddenly felt heavy in my grip. My power began to dance off my whole hands, rising and coiling in the air. Everything was increasingly more controlled by instinct, by emotion. No. No, I told myself. I can't lose myself...not again...

"I pity you, Eroana. I know what it's like to be controlled by the damn chip." He paused. "But what you have done against my organization and against me - giving out information that others shouldn't have known - is unforgivable. Not to mention this scar that you gave me." The final part of his statement came out as a snarl. Half-listening to his words, it still struck me that he was a test subject...just like me. No. Having something in common with this man, being marked by the same pain as him...it didn't feel right.

An aura, colored a deep crimson, began to flicker off of his skin. Something dark and insidious unfurled in his smoldering eyes. There was an indescribable..pain there. Betrayal, anger, hatred, sadness, heartbreak, loss. Somehow, I sensed every emotion that lay beyond the untold. He was just a broken person. Life had treated him cruelly and indiscriminately-

My pity twisted into resentment. No, damn him. He caused me pain too. He took people I knew, people I loved, and forced them to work for him and his organization.

As I stared into his face - directly into his face - I realized that I was staring at a reflection of myself. Something unfairly hurt me and led me to do certain things. Now I was controlled by instinct, by a chip that was forcibly shoved into the nape of my neck. It hit me as if I crashed into a wall.

I hated what I saw.

 Click.

Click.

In unison, our triggers were pulled by our energy-laden fingers, destroying the agony of being Metamorphic. The loud bang silenced everything.

Finally.