Bullet Dancer

-Benjamin A.C.

 

 

Very few people understand me, although I cannot recall ever trying to explain myself. Some have labeled me a murderer, a killer who kills for pleasure. Some call me a terrorist, a man bent on destroying society. Others simply call me a soulless, evil monster.

In some respects, I am all that and more.

If one knew the whole story, one would not be so quick to judge me. I still have roughly an hour before Warakov’s plane lands. I am well hidden; he will not see me, of that I am certain. He will not, but the others will… but that shall come later.

Now, I will tell my story.

My name is Trice, and I am four days old. I was born in the Black Room, or rather, I awoke there. Immense, yet finite, the room held no secrets. The floors, walls, and ceiling were pure black marble, cool but not cold. Every angle was perfect, every wall a study in perfect symmetry, yet somehow, it had an air of unknown horrors, of blood and pain and death. I did not fear it. It seemed right, as if the sole purpose of the Black Room was to remind me of these things, to remind me that they belonged with me.

That it was a part of me.

I awoke in a corner, leaning against the wall. My memory was blank; not the blankness of lost memories, but the clearness of things never known. For a long time, I could not move. Weakness held me in place for what seemed like days. Consciousness came and went, strange shapes swam through my mind. Sometimes I slept; always a dreamless, heavy sleep that left me more exhausted upon awakening than I had been before I had rested.

As time moved on, I grew stronger. I learned to crawl in seven minutes, to walk in two hours, and in just under a day I could run, flying the length of the Room as fast as my legs would carry me. I never tired, never became hungry. At least, not at first…

The man appeared four days later. He came while I was sleeping, and in the morning (or what passed for morning) he was lying on the floor. A wrinkled grey suit hung loosely from his body, badly torn. His blond hair had been dyed red with blood, and his pale face was contorted in agony. I walked up to him, curious. At that point, I had never before seen a man.

As I approached, he lifted his head. His eyes were blue, a shocking azure blue, a color I knew nothing of. He spoke to me, the first words I had ever heard.

“Please… help me…”

I knew his words, and what they meant, but I did nothing, still staring.

“Don’t you understand? I’m hurt. I’ve… I’ve been shot…” When I again did not reply, he grew angry. “Hey, listen! I need help! I’m gonna bleed to death! I was kidnapped… I don’t know what they wanted. When I asked questions, they shot me. God, it hurts…”

His eyes met mine, then widened in fear. “You… you’re one of them! That mask… you… you’re…” Blood trickled from his mouth, and he coughed, spraying me with reddened saliva. I ignored it, instead exploring my own face. The word “Mask”, and the idea is conveyed, immediately revealed the true purpose of what I had assumed to be a natural part of my facial structure.

Pulling the mask free, I turned it over, staring into its eye holes. It was red, like the man’s blood, only brighter. I had nothing to compare it to, so I compared it to the man’s face. It seemed more or less the same, only smoother, with no facial hair. It had no straps or bands, but when I replaced it, it seemed to cling to my skin, holding it in place.

I decided to speak. My first attempt to talk came out a high-pitched eeh sound, causing the man to wriggle back in fear and surprise. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“What… name?”

The man was confused. “What is my name? What dos it matter? I’m going to die if you don’t…!”

“What is name?”

“I’m Ren Lehov, I work at Crom Chemical company, and I need medical assistance NOW!”

Falling back on his side with a gasp, he tore at his shirt-front, exposing the wounds covering his chest. It was a wonder he was still alive. Forty bullet-holes stitched lines across Lehov’s torso, sketching out a series of letters in the torn flesh; TARGET.

The word hit me like a physical blow. Lights, pictures, sounds, and intense emotion flashed through my brain like an electric shock. Memories swirled, people, places, items lost long ago… and vanished as fast as they had come.

Lehov winced. “Please, you have to-”

I kicked him. It was almost reflex, like swatting a mosquito buzzing in my ear. His chest imploded in a thunderous cracking of bones, and a geyser of blood sprayed from his mouth. Reaching down, I lifted him off his feet. At this juncture, I realized that my body was no longer under my command. I also realized that I did not care.

With a single punch, I broke his spine.

A second punch caved in his face.

A third decapitated him.

I then stopped. For the first time in my short existence, I was confused. I had not felt any sense of aggression towards Lehrov. His death seemed… unnecessary. Bad. I hadn’t wanted him dead.

It disturbed me greatly.

I placed the body where the head had fallen, retreating to the far corner of the room. The mangled corpse suddenly sickened me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to forget it was there.

“Excellent performance, Trice.”

The voice came from somewhere high above. My eyes snapped open, searching, but there was no one. The room was empty, except for…

The room was empty.

The body was gone.

In an instant, I was at the spot where Lehov had been, running my hands across the floor. They came up sticky with blood, and I quickly shook them off. So he had been there. I had not imagined it. But… where had he gone?

The voice was with me again. “You are fast, and you are strong. Your stamina is unmatched, your fighting abilities limitless. You, the first of four, will aid us in our-”

It cut out abruptly, replaced with a mechanical clicking sound. I stood alert, waiting for it to continue. I must have stood for hours, unmoving, listening to the ticking sound.

Finally, a voice spoke, but it was not the same. It was as cold as the walls it emanated from, over-pronouncing every syllable. “Error. System has encountered a critical… error, core data not error, corruption in, error…”

The words confused me. Some part of me knew the words, but I could not determine their meaning. All I knew for certain was that something, somewhere, had gone terribly wrong.

The wall cracked. I was instantly alert, watching intently as symmetrical lines crawled across the surface. A section collapsed altogether, leaving a perfectly rectangular hole six feet tall and two and a half feet wide. Sunlight streamed in, blinding me. The whiteness was both frightening, and, at the same time, comforting.

It was the first time I felt warmth.

I moved towards it, the computer voice still droning behind me.

 

Part 1. Rate, comment, let me know if you want to see more. 🙂