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| "Overcome by ardent rage..." |
It was a dull, if not utilitarian structure: its tall and imposing physique allowed the guard to survey the vast span of desert than surrounded the Augmentation installation.
For them, the job was as dreary as always - nothing to be seen for miles round, save for grey, desolate stretches of land and clouds of silver that loomed over their heads like the guillotine of old.
Ash rained down in sporadic bursts from the sky - sometimes a mild shower, other times, a perpetual tempest, akin to the sandstorms of Egypt, powered by the wind, buffeting buildings and people alike.
It was not a nice place to be, but someone had to do the job.
"Just wish it wasn't me..." said Guard 1.
"What do you mean?" inquired Guard 2.
"Well, to be honest, neither of us likes this job, do we?
I'd rather be doing something helpful, like guarding those Birthing Vats or standing by when a patient is about to get upgraded - not here gazing out over the land." Guard 1 replied.
"True - but without a lookout, who's to say that someone could sneak in and report the location of this facility to the enemy?"
"Perhaps you're right." Guard 1 said, his mood now lightening a little bit since the beginning of his shift.
"Now let's - wait a moment, what is that?"
Both guards were now looking at a distant silhouette on the horizon, clearly humanoid in form, yet remaining inert; almost as if it was looking for a way into the compound.
The silhouette transfixed both men, shifting on its feet before slowly ambling towards the tower, fists clenched.
"Should we notify our superiors?" asked Guard 1, his mood now tinged with slivers of fear.
"Not yet, let's - Good God, it's coming towards us!"
The last sight both men saw was a Cyclopean beast of enviable proportions brings its claws-that-should-not-be down onto their watchtower in a wide downwards arc, shattering stone & flesh and announcing its presence to the facility.
The watchtower now a ruin, I ambled towards the sturdy doors I had been led into all those years ago.
It felt good to be finally fighting back - that little vestige of humanity that Augmentation has tried to stub out still remained, and now only one thought clouded by mind like the cloying ash of the landscape:
Vengeance.
I was going to slash and cut and rip and crush everyone and everything involved with this damnable project - this tainting of the human conscious. Nothing - and no-one, would be spared my wrath today.
Approaching the doors, I tapped them with the tips of claws, and lo, the metal did not part as easily as previous opponents. Finding the fissure where both doors meet, I grabbed at both doors and pulled outwards, my muscles stretching and straining with the effort, arteries thick with blood bulging and becoming ever-so-visible to the naked eye. Pulling and pulling, I at last open a minute fissure into the facility. Within, I can see the same men in white coats who monitored me, who stood by my side with stern expressions and clipboards at the ready; now the scenario was much different. The tables were turned, and all they could do was run in horror.
Good.
Emboldened by this development, I strain further, prying the doors apart, until at last, I form an opening big enough for myself to fit in. Now I get to work immediately, flicking men and women alike across the room with but a move of my limbs. The men in black who guarded me with blank expressions fire away, their bullets impacting onto hard muscle, but failing to make any impact - regeneration rendered their efforts fruitless. With firearms now dry, I stride towards them with striking alacrity, sweeping my limbs like one would a broom, clearing out the rubbish and dirt and displacing it to one side. Their flesh splits like clay under my claws as I slash their fragile bodies apart. One does experience a sort of sadistic pleasure when fighting enemies that are weaker than oneself; if there is a comparison to be made, it is that they are the ants and I am the boot, ready to crush any who dare stand up to my rancor. It frightens, yet fascinates me at the same time - harnessing this could prove beneficial to the destruction of this Plutonian project, this defiling of the body of Man.
Striding through corridors, knocking aside any obstacle to the realization of my goals, I enter a large room and at last see those execrable structures - the Birthing Vats.
Reserved solely for the mass production of Augmentation-addled citizens, these vats churned out super soldiers by the day - at least, when the researchers simply could not be bothered with safety procedures.
The Augmentation Project was so much more dilapidated than I, or any outsider, had ever realized.
Early interactions between man and technology proved to be abject failures, resulting in either immense pain to the subject involved or the creation of monstrosities foul - pitiful beasts that belonged in the darkest corners of the imagination.
Overcome by ardent rage, I lash out at the thick glass of the Vats, sending cracks spiraling and dancing in all directions. Nevertheless, despite the dull pain emanating from me, I strike with my aching fists, gouging deeper and deeper until I am swept by a fluid indescribable. The foul concoction exuded a most profane stench, and resisting the urge to gag, I repeated the due process with several of the other Vats.
I knew there were people still inside, still undergoing Assimilation - leading me to drive a claw straight through their skulls, ending their misery and ensuring that they are not doomed to lose whatever little was left of their humanity. My carnage was interrupted by ever-persistent gunfire, only dwarfed by the alarms ringing out all across the installation. Soldiers spread out across the room, firing and firing and firing at me, hoping to at least make a dent in my progress. Charging at the present platoon of soldiers, I sent them into all manner of garish positions as they flew through the air like rag-dolls. One soldier threw himself to my feet and began foolishly carving away with a hunting knife, of all things. I tentatively picked him up, watching him struggle for a few short seconds, but not before reducing him to pulp underneath my feet.
Disgusted, I turned and ran into the heart of the operation, ready to bring an end to this madhouse of terror.
Or at least I was, right up until one titanic figure crashed into my side, sending me reeling into a Vat.
As I got up, clutching my wounded side, I looked at this new opponent.
He - or she, possessed many of the same attributes as I; strong arms, considerable muscle on the abdomen and chest, with legs capable of outrunning the fastest of men.
The only difference between me and this Frankenstein's creation was the addition of two jagged, metallic arm blades atop the creature's lower arms. As my eyes moved to inspect these closer, the beast struck my side, and it was only through a combination of instinct and luck that I managed to avoid the worst of the blow, suffering only a shallow wound to my side.
Now my turn to attack, I grabbed a shard of glass from the floor; ignoring its effects on my hand, I slashed at my opponent, inflicting all manner of injuries upon the chest and face, before embedding the shard within the beast's thigh.
Roaring in vain, the beast charged forwards, plunging one arm blade straight into my chest.
I stopped, took a moment to evaluate my position, and struck the extended arm with all my force. I repeated this process several times before the inflamed arm that had struck me separated from its master in a shower of crimson glory. My opponent fell backwards, slipping on the ever-growing pool of blood beneath its feet, scrambling for shelter. Wresting the arm from my chest, I grab the creature by its ankle, and bring my foot down upon it; I feel the cracking of bone and the severing of vital sinew as flesh gives way beneath my feet.
Immobilized, the creatures makes what appears to be a plea for help - a cry of submission.
"It's too late now. I'm... sorry." I said, bringing down my fist onto the creature's disheveled face.
Over and over and over I continue, turning its head into a bloody stump, and only when the creature ceases to be do I stop.
I am not overcome with the ecstasy I experienced earlier - rather, a shadow of regret looms over my conscience. This person, this thing had a life before. Most likely, they had family they held dear, friends to laugh and joke with... maybe even a partner to call their own.
I shake such morbid thoughts from my head. Whatever this person's past life was, there was no hope of attaining normality; not for me and not for anyone here.
With heavy heart and lowered mood, I head back to where it all began.
I do not remember much of what happened next.
A flash on gunfire, the footfall of foolish men beneath me, the thud of my fists as I killed, eviscerated or downright maligned those in my way.
Barring the doors, I rest myself upon a wall, inspecting the gurney I was once one with.
It has remained the same as always - stained with tinges of blood, leather straps still in place. No longer.
Bringing down my fury onto that malign object, I crush its nimble frame and throw it to the side, watching it crash onto a wall and fall with little grace onto the floor.
For a damnable instant, I ponder what will become of me?
Will I truly succeed in my objective?
Have I secured my freedom?
Or just hastened the end?
No time to think - the power source for this entire bunker lay in front of me, thrumming and humming with incalculable power.
One wayward blow - enough damage caused, and the entire compound would surely crumble inwards, collapsing into cleansing fire below. I would not survive, yes - a small price to pay for the betterment of mankind.
As I stood to deliver the final blow, three men entered the room.
I turned, ready to crush them beneath my wake, but there was something about their leader that rung in my mind, an alarm ringing through all the ages and all the memories I had still managed to keep intact.
"Don't do this, Jones!" shouted the Agent, his gun pointing at me.
Yes, I remember now - the man standing before me was the very Agent who visited me all those years ago, back when I was still in control of my faculties.
My hand lay extended, hanging over the power source, ready to deliver the killing blow if needed.
Before I could do so, though, the Agent spoke once more.
"Listen to me, Jones!
I know there's a part of you that can still understand what I'm saying, so listen carefully; I am offering you the choice to have your Augmentation implants removed.
You no longer have to murder anyone - your humanity can be retained, I can assure you!" he pleaded, his voice no longer permeated with authority, but with fear instead.
Silent, I remained for further innumerable seconds as I weighed up the options in front of me.
His offer of prying away the Augmentation implants was indeed alluring... but whatever humanity I once held, I lost a very long time ago.
I am a shell; a broken facsimile of my former self, and it would be folly to begin to repair the damage done to both body and mind.
Inhaling fresh air into my lungs for the last time, I swung my claws - and the world turned black.
The Agent and his team now stood over the dying behemoth, securing the area and ensuring the safety of everyone within.
"Jones, you made the wrong choice." the Agent muttered, his words heard by no-one but himself.
As he strode over to the fallen giant, something peculiar happened.
The once calming blue screens of the computer monitors that regulated the reactor's condition now flashed crimson red, and the whole installation shook and trembled with the sound of distant explosions.
"What is the meaning of this?" shouted the Agent, only for him to be interrupted by a most impossible event, as an eldritch voice rang out across the entire facility.
"Agent, did you really think that my plan would die with me?" sneered the voice.
"You have but only postponed the inevitable - your doom is imminent!"
As if on cue, further explosions wracked the installation, bringing chunks of mortar and rock down with them. Fire alarms ran out in vain, and the entire building shivered, as if fearful of what was to happen next.
"Who are you?" said the Agent, but before he could get an answer, he was buried under a mound of falling rock as the installation fell apart, the last sound he heard before hastening to his death the final words of Subject Epsilon-202.
Source of fire image: http://www.news.com.au/world/pakistan-base-under-attck/story-fn6sb9br-1226060786116
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