The Mask of Destruction
Insivian- One of the many countries reinvented in 2065 and run my robots. Considered perfect by the government. Loved my most...hated by some..
Selenia- A murderer, striving for redemption as the last of the humans. She's what one might call mentally derranged.
Kaaden- A Dawnbreaker, not human enough to feel pain or regret, not robot enough to be brainwashed. Hidden intentions lie beneath his stony exterior.
The Mask of Destruction awaits....
Bearing the Burden
"What is your favorite color?" the psychiatrist asked, probing through the depths of my mind for answers and secrets with clipboard in hand.
"Blue," I lied quickly and easily, letting my tongue slide over the false information. It was really sunset orange, but I wasn't going to give the woman any information about my personal life. She could keep up the queries for hours, and I would never give her the satisfaction of knowing anything about me.
"Favorite food?" she said abbreviating the question.
"Pizza." Chicken noodle soup. Perhaps I could discourage this robot with the most generic answers possible. She would not get a thing out of me if I was still alive and kicking. The "people" said that they were questioning me because I was a murderer, and they needed to know what had pushed me to such extremes. I already knew what had pushed me, and I also knew why they were actually questioning me.
Because I was a human.
Seven." One and a half.
"You aren't being very cooperative," the psychiatrist noted, standing and brushing off her suit, "The Capitol wants me to ensure your health and safety," And they also wanted to ensure that I was another brainwashed citizen that could be changed like they had, "You aren't helping me to do so," she plastered a sickly, 'I like you because my job requires me to but I really want you dead' grin on her metallic face.
I smiled my own queer smirk, "Really?"
"I'm going to give you the evening off. Normally, all human criminals are supposed to be kept inside of the asylum for 14 hours a day and promptly sent back to their cells, but perhaps, giving you the evening off will make you a bit more reasonable," she made the evening off seem a little bit like a punishment or a strange torture device, "Of course, someone will be accompanying you...from a distance." Fantastic. There was nothing that I wanted more than some brain-washed body guard following me everywhere.
But the evening was mine, and I could always "lose" the bodyguard in a dark alley somewhere. The robots would find him with rats gnawing at his bones, and they would just assume that the human rebels had gotten to him.
I picked my guilty self off of the seat and ran out of the prison with my blonde bangs blinding my vision. I collected my rusty kitchen carving knife from the stained glass table (Apparently mismatched home motif was fashionable with these things). Not even caring for my well-being, I shoved it, tip down, into my worn boot. I felt the metal edge pierce my heel and slice into my hardened flesh with a horrifying ease, but the trickle of fresh blood flowing through my socks was nothing that would stop me from seeking the freedom that I had so easily been gifted by the gullible psychiatrist. The consistent pounded of my speedy feet could not have helped the throbbing pain that had erupted by the widening gash, but I would have to deal with it.
There was a call for a guard to watch me, but I didn't stay around long enough to see who it might be.
I hurried through the barren hallways like the madman I was.
Soon, but not soon enough, I had reached the city streets. There was something about the air, polluted or not, that invigorated my lungs, pumping me for the inevitable flight. Pausing to regain my confidence and breath was a mistake, for within seconds, there was a crowd of robots there, surrounding me with their faux bodies. I could handle the specialized, custom-made paralyzing stare of fury from one of these metallic beings, but when they grouped together in a gang, their dastardly crimson gaze became the worst thing that you could encounter. I stood there in a tidal wave of fear, looking from one to the other, willing one of the robots to blink or something, but try as I might, my telepathic abilities were sadly lacking. I fell victim like an innocent doe.
I shrunk to the unforgiving concrete as the robots pressed into me in a tight formation, steam puffing from their vaguely human lips. The government created these, "ideal, unquestioning beings" top scorn people such as I. They may appear human to the ignorant, being created in the likeness of us, but they had all of the imperfections of humanity erased. No blemishes, not disease, not stupidity, not emotions, and not rebellious or murderous spirit.
Except for one flaw, they hated humans.
I could tell the group of robots were in a clan because they all had the same brand of a slashed skull, meaning that they defied death on their forearms. Of course, not even robots could simply avoid death, but this clan, Vitality, seemed to believe that they could.
Dreams die hard.
"Fore shame," one indistinguishable robot muttered, her acrid breath fogging my senses, leaving me even more helpless than her gaze had. I could withstand this...
More joined in
I couldn't...bear...the BURDEN!
I ripped my bloody knife from my boor and stuck it into a nearby imitation chest, twisting it around for maximum discomfort. Using the surprise that I wasn't as helpless as I appeared to my advantage, I shot up and ran, throwing myself into the street and continuing to run long past my average sprint.
I still had my knife.
I still had my insane blood lust.
I still needed vengeance for the abandonment that I had been subjected to.
I still was expected to return to the psychiatrist.
I still was being followed by the body guard who had conveniently decided to disappear when I needed back-up.
I needed to finish this job where I started it.
And you know what that means.
The monster's friends and relatives and allies and clan members have to go.