The Darker Side of Me

Picture of a Risen Sadist

That man had been right when he said I would lose myself. If only I remembered who he was. If only I remembered who anyone was.

I know faces. I know the emotions I tied to those faces. And I know that I want to destroy every. Single. One of them.

I don't know who I used to be. But now I am a well-oiled machine.

They call me Project Two-oh-Eight. There are two-hundred and seven others like me out there. I feel that once, I would have found that abhorrent and terrifying.

But I am no longer so weak.

I am their star, the perfect murderer.

I am very, very good at my job.

I wasn't ever supposed to find the opportunity to kill one of my conditioners. But I did.

I am not like the two-hundred and seven others. I think. I reason.

And then I kill.

They tell me I have stayed here for three months, far, far longer than their previous projects. But now, I am leaving.

They enter my padded cell cautiously, hover-handcuffs proffered.

"Now don't give us any trouble..." the wiry man holding them whimpers.

He releases the cuffs, and they float toward me. I grin, tempted to see how much trouble he can take before falling apart. The muscular woman accompanying him shoulders past his bony frame and locks eyes with me. Her black hair is chopped just below her ears.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she growls.

I nod, incredibly slowly, never taking my eyes from hers. My smile remains intact.

"Then you'll let these cuffs attach, no trouble, and let me take you where you've got to go. Understand?"

I nod again. I have already found her weak spot. Right kneecap, bullet wound from years ago, before projectile weapons were banned in favor of cleaner, plasma ones. The leg is still stiff. I could kick it and render her helpless, bash the nerdy guy over the head with his own handcuffs, and run. But I'd never make it out. I've already tried.

I hold my hands out agreeably, but the woman must've sensed my scheming, because she knocks the floating metal rings back towards the man and moves a step closer, forcing me to look up to continue our staredown.

"Listen here, little girl," she threatens. "I ain't scared of you. I ain't scared one bit. And if you think you can take me out, you ain't as clever as they all say you are."

Oh. Well now I have to try. I giggle. She thinks I can't see right through her? The giggle deepens. Every time someone says they're not scared, they are. No one isn't afraid of me. They all know what I can do.

I keep laughing until I'm doubled over, clutching my gut. I cut it off abruptly. That always makes them nervous. I straighten, face deathly serious, and watch in pleasure as both of them step back, the man nearly falling over in his haste. I tilt my head, a smile pulling at one corner of my lips. It breaks into a blinding grin.

Then I pounce.

I kick the woman's knee and savor her shriek of pain. I snatch the handcuffs from the man, but before I can bash his head in, he's taken off. Oh well. I can always kill him later.

Laughing, I take off towards freedom.

A large hand snatches my wrist, pulling at it cruelly and cutting off my desperate escape. Skillfully, the hand's pair grabs my other arm, wrenching the two of them behind my back. I whip my head around, grinning dangerously.

My captor has long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. I know those eyes.

He is the one that warned me.

"You were right, Commander," I have time to say before someone clubs me over the head. "I'm dangerous now," I whisper just before I succumb to the pull of the darkness.

Now he is the one that is afraid.