The Doctor's Monster

He Knows

The night is still and silent.
Adrenaline courses through his veins as he sprints.
Cold sweat beads on his forehead.
The humidity isn't helping.
For months this man has been looking somewhere he should not be looking.
Getting into business that wasn't his.
Detective Andrew Tolls.
He's gotten close to discovering something that should stay hidden.
Political activists and important figures in the FBI have gone missing under mysterious conditions.
All of them connected to the case of Mikel Keepers.
The search for him continues.
Everyone who touches his case, goes missing.
Detective Tolls wants to know why.
But this, this was not what he was expecting.
An answer came in violent form.
His escort was attacked directly in front of him as he was driving home.
The cruiser in front of him flipped without warning.
In the darkness, he failed to see the cause.
Tires screeched to a stop.
Detective Tolls ran to their aid.
Their bodies were missing.
It's nothing like the crime scenes he's used to seeing.
There's a sizable dent on the front right side of the vehicle from the impact that flipped it.
He finds the vehicles door several feet away.
Four long slashes in the metal catch his eye.
Moving to inspect it, he nearly trips over one of their bodies.
He pulls his pistol and reaches for his phone.
"My escort was attacked. I need back up immediately, and send an ambulance!"
Before a response can come, something moves in the tree line.
His blood runs cold.
Eyes.
They stare at him.
"What the-"
The eyes begin to rise high into the trees.
It's climbing.
They glow in the darkness, reflecting the light from the vehicles on the road.
They're a deep yellowish amber color.
He can't quite make out the exact color.
But they watch him nonetheless.
He stares back.
Instinct tells him to run, but fear keeps him rooted in place.
He takes a shuddering breath as he steps away carefully.
Testing his boundaries.
The predator still watches him patiently.
High in the trees, it's claws dug into the wood, He waits.
He waits for the detective to run.
The thrill of the hunt.
That is what he wants.
A low guttural hiss emanates from the darkness.
Andrew begins to run back to his vehicle.
The night is still and silent as he runs.
Behind him are ravenous violent footsteps.
Something stomps after him.
Tolls reaches the door of his Buick.
A scream escapes his lips as something hits the front of his vehicle.
The tires skid as it spins from the impact.
He falls back in horror as he cast his eyes upon his stalker for the first and last time.
The monster.
In the back of its head is a burning.
The urge to kill.
An itch that will not go away until his mission is complete.
A hunger that needs to be satisfied.
The detective gets to his feet and runs off into the forest.
Something like a tendril wraps around his throat stopping him instantly.
He grips it, trying to break free as it lifts him into the air.
The squirming only gives the creature a better grip.
He tries to scream.
The creature's burning stops.
It's urge to hunt, gone.
The itch, satisfied.

Asset
A useful or valuable thing, person/ property owned by a person or company, regarded as having value/ military equipment, employed or targeted in military operations.

Creature
An animal, as distinct from a human being.
typically a frightening one.
A lower animal.

Monster
An animal or plant of abnormal form or structure.
A strange or horrible creature, something unusually large

Those are words used to describe him.
Not a name.
Not an identity.
Just terms.
He thinks they call him that because it helps to ease their troubled conscience.
If they give him a name, then he becomes an individual.
And they can't have that.
They need him to view himself as one of a hundred.
A tool they can manipulate for selfish gain.
He never saw the point.
They got themselves into their mess, why should he be punished?
Why should he clean it up for them?
Sometimes they talk to him.
As they work on him in their laboratories, sometimes they speak as if they don't know he can understand them.
Through the pain he can hear words that make no sense to him.
They don't realize he can feel pain, so they don't give him numbing agents before applying their injections or adding their 'reinforcements'.
It's a wonder he hasn't gone insane.
Lacking the ability to speak to his captors, holding in such feelings can drive a man insane.
But he isn't a man.
They remind him of that all the time.
They remind him that he is not like them.
Primate.
Dinosaur.
Animal.
Monster.
They don't let him forget it.
"Good morning G183."
His thoughts are interrupted.
Lifting his head he sees the Doctor.
"Your file looks good today. You've performed well recently."
He says, looking at the screen on his tablet.
The footage of G183 operating in the field, it seems to amuse the Doctor.
"You're invisible."
He says.
"Doc, hows it coming along?"
Asks a familiar voice.
The Director.
"Oh I just got started in here, you can't rush me on this."
The Doctor replies.
He taps on the screen in front of him, and the cage around G183 begins to restrain him.
Every limb is anchored down with mechanical strength.
He learned within his first few months of life that fighting it is futile.
Flesh and blood can't overpower a machine.
And he knows it.
As the mechanical whirring of the restraints comes to a stop, the Doctor prepares to open the cage.
G183 tries to see what the Doctor intends to do to him this time.
Through a reflection on the steel isolation tank in front of him, he sees the Doctor holding a drive.
He knows what that means.
Within G183's Head, sits a series of neural implants, that monitor brain activity and reports it back to his captors.
Some of them connect to the rest of his body, reading vital signs and actions, even pinpointing injuries and irregularities.
And, if he does something they don't like, these implants shut him down until they can retrieve and unlock him.
The second the Doctor inserts the drive, a flash of information is uploaded into G183s brain.
He knows exactly what they want him to do.
He has the layout of the facility he is to infiltrate.
The people he will be working with.
He knows none of them.
Accept one.
They wipe his memory after ever drop so he can't remember the mission.
He can't remember the strategies.
He can't remember faces and names.
He only remembers that one because he holds onto it.
This memory isn't on his implants or the drives, it's in his mind.
You can't erase flesh and blood.
And he knows it.
Once all of the information is uploaded, the Doctor retrieves the drive from the back of G183s head.
G183 gets a flash of memories.
A slip of the drive that allows him to get glimpses of his past.
Of what they don't want him to know.
His heart starts to pump faster as he remembers.
He feels things.
Fear.
Sadness.
Anger.
Rage.
He suddenly jerks against his restraints, violently trying to escape.
He knows.
"Doctor! Get him under control!"
The Director shouts, drawing his pistol and aiming it at G183.
The Doctor rushes out of the cage and slams the door behind him.
With another violent jerk, G183 successfully cracks one of his titanium alloy restraints.
Frantically, the Doctor rushes to his desk.
He knows exactly what to do.
He turns up the speaker and presses play on the system.
A familiar tune comes through the speaker.
Hidden In The Sand.
The three of them fall silent.
The Director glares at the Doctor in disbelief, refusing to lower his gun, instead keeping it trained on G183's head.
The Doctor pays him no mind, instead keeping his eyes locked with G183's.
He smiles nervously as he waits for the song to do its job.
It feels like an eternity, but in reality it's only about 6 seconds before the song takes effect.
G183s heart rate slows.
He calms down.
His muscles visibly relax as the tension on the restraints lessens.
"Music?"
Asks the Director.
"Although a lot of us tend to think of him as a machine, bred specifically for special operations, he is actually a  hyper intelligent creature. Music, specifically of the calm and whimsical type, put the human mind at ease, and they do the same for him."
He looks at G183 in the eyes as he speaks of intelligence.
He knows.
"You see music touches the same part of his brain as the instinct that promotes safety and calmness. As he was growing, I tried different methods to arouse different feelings in him such as-"
He is cut off.
"Doctor I don't care about feelings or emotions.
I need it to do one thing and one thing only.
I know what that Thing is capable of.
But I do not need it having 'feelings', Doctor.
Why do you think we wipe it's memories after every drop?
Those memories will eventually turn into a personality, and personality leads to individualism. And you of all people know exactly how dangerous that is. Just prep it for the drop."
The Doctors demeanor changes as the Director scolds him.
"Sure."
He replies quietly, as if he has something in his throat.
With that, the Director promptly leaves the room.
The Doctor looks at G183 as he grabs his tablet.
Sedatives begin flowing into G183s blood as the Doctor prepares him for the drop.
As his mind begins to drift, G183 begins to hear that song again.
"We were playing in the sand,"