The Darker Side of Me

Mission of Destruction

Today is the big mission, and I'm practically vibrating with anticipation. The soldiers in the transport all cram in the back, trying to escape me. I can't stop smiling at their terror.

The commander, as usual, refuses to show any fear in front of his men. He sits across the aisle from me, rocking gently with the motion of the transport, his face a placid mask of eerie calm. I used to think he saw through me, but now I see through him, to the panic racing within his head.

The transport stops. I grin. I'm moving toward the door when Commander Teague says, "Wait."

Normally I wouldn't heed him, but I know he won't let me kill anything if I'm not compliant. I sneer, but allow him to pull me into his aisle, two black seats wide. He slides a thin bundle from under his chair as the soldiers file past, eyeing me warily.

"Well?" I say impatiently.

Commander Teague places the bundle across the seat. His strong hands grip my shoulders firmly.

"Look at me," he says. I roll my eyes, but lift them to meet his.

"Can I trust you to stay under control until I give the word?"

"You can never trust me," I smirk. He shakes me shortly, roughly.

"Will you keep it together," he demands.

"Yes," I finally say, exasperated. I can't wait to start. He stares at me intently. I stare back, a challenge in my gaze. He appears satisfied, and unwraps the bundle, revealing a rebel triteza. He extends the sword, blade down. I take it, savoring the familiar weight. Ever so slightly, I slide the point upwards. His hand grips over mine, stilling my movement. He glares, his eyes sending daggers of ice.

"Don't use it until I say."

My thumb caresses the button that sends electricity dancing through the metal. It would be so easy. My attention is fixated on the blade, but I feel him shift and know that he has lifted his hand. I let my thumb fall away.

Soon. But not yet.

_________________________________________

The moment I step out of the transport, I realize that this is no ordinary assault. There are over one hundred other units, each with their own killer. The man from the unit closest to me meets my eyes and smiles, sensing a kindred spirit. Madness dances in his eyes. I grin right back, a little too widely. He looks away, unconcerned. I hate that I cannot intimidate him. Maybe I will kill him too.

Commander Teague steps up, apparently the coordinator of this entire battle, though I see commanders easily twice his age. He gives a rousing pre-battle speech, which I completely ignore. I am too busy shaking with excitement, my thumb dancing all around the button, itching to press it down. When he points us towards the base and lets his hand fall, beginning the invasion, I charge, shrieking with glee.

The battle is glorious. Red sprays everywhere, limbs flying as I hack my way through the haggard rebels. They learn to run when they see my blade. I savor their shrieks, their cries of dismay. Yes! Let them feel my pain! Let them create their own black hole of a heart and fill their heads with carnage and darkness and despair! Let them morph and change to be like me, strong and powerful and dangerous! Let them suffer.

The laugh spilling from my mouth shifts into a shriek of glee as I spot a young fool attempting to fend off two soldiers with an iron staff. They must not have had enough swords. Ha. His light brown hair flops sweatily over his smudged forehead. He, like so many of his kindred, sees my triteza and mistakes me for an ally. He will be a fun kill.

"I can't hold them off much longer!" he chokes, barely blocking a blast of plasma with his length of iron. It blackens and crumbles to pieces, leaving him completely defenseless. Perfect. Until one of the soldiers levels his gun at the boy's chest.

I can't abide that. I fling myself at the uniformed man, ignoring the strict orders given to me days ago.

"My kill! MINE!" I screech in his face. He hastily twists his hand, but he is not part of my squadron. He can't affect me. I relish the fear in his eyes just before I plunge my blade into his chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the other soldier turn tail and flee.

I turn, laughing maniacally. He's mine now. The teenager stares at me in horror, unable to run, realizing he's facing something much worse than before. He has a face others might consider handsome, in a boyish sort of way, but I can only think of how much more beautiful his head will be when it is bashed in.

I heft my sword, blade sparking as I approach my victim. A thin red lock blows in front of my eyes, distracting me. Angrily, I catch the end in my fist and jerk my head back, ripping the hair from my skull. I savor the bitter pain as I throw the strands to the ground. As I stride forward, my victim watches me, fear etched in every corner of his face. Something like recognition flashes in his green eyes.

"Omigod," he whispers, reeling back and falling to the ground in shock. I smirk, and the oddest expression- joy?- falls over him.

"Jenna!" he exclaims.

I freeze. That name. I've heard that name before. That...

"That used to be my name," I say tentatively, fragmented broken pictures swirling in my mind. "I am Project Two-oh-Eight," I contest, returning to my firm voice, soldier voice, killing voice. It's easier. "Their best work."

He scrambles to his feet, sudden anger flaring like green fire.

"No! No you're not! You're Jenna! MY Jenna! You... you do remember me?" he finishes forlornly.

"No." I level my sword, bloodlust pounding through my veins. "I do not remember you. And soon no one will." I hate him. He's made me confused, thrown a cog in the machine.

"Go ahead, then," he says quietly. "Kill me. I've nothing left to live for, anyway."

I pause again, more confusion clouding my thoughts. People do not usually ask for death. And if that's the case, he will feel no fear or pain from me. But he should. What should I do?

My question is answered as I spot Commander Teague rushing past.

"What are you doing?!" he shouts. "Kill him!"

I raise the triteza.

"My name is Michael," the young man says, intensely looking into my eyes.

Something shoots through my body. Instinct takes over, and I describe a circle in the air with the point of my blade, swinging the sword. The flat of the triteza slams into his side, sending deadly electricity arcing through his body.

He spasms and lays still.