The life of a cyborg assassin. A Short.txt
The snow drifted down from the dark heavens, dancing back and forth in the swirling eddies of freezing air. The silver moonlight shone off every facet of the innumerable snowflakes, creating a brilliant field of stars. Each one of these pin points of light were reflected in the eyes of a man, who stood staring into the sky. His breath misting above him, disturbing the gently falling snowflakes. The few that reach his skin are turned away by the rising eddies of heat that spiral off his face. Muted pops can heard, dimly registered filed and stored in his mind. He is unworried, trees tend to explode when the cold reached such extremes as this. He breathes again, feeling the moisture in his nose flash to ice, only to be remelted by his own heat. He is clothed in only a pair of formfitting shorts. He has his objective, but he ignores it, Why? he cant say. he just knows that this is where he wants to be. He breathes deeply once again, smiling at the burning in his lungs. A gentle itch begins in his mind, and he sighs deeply. Objectives can only be ignored for so long, He would have an easier time stopping his own heart then ignore his programming. The itch picks up again, slowly turning into a throb. He knows that if he ignores it any longer, it will become a red-hot coal pressed against his temples. So he turns, his first movement in hours, and hears the symphony of hums and soft whines, inaudible to normal humans, that are the sign of his servo-enhanced joints working in harmony. Upon hearing the noises of his enhanced joints, and the mechanical Thud-thud that belongs to his new heart, which incidentally he Can stop at will. He feels a stab of pain in his chest, automatically, binary code is overlaid in his vision, his programmed mind running diagnostics, trying to find the source of the pain, so it can dispatch nano-bots to begin repair with what it is sure is a mortal wound. He smiles faintly, Happy that he has found one thing at least that computers cant calculate, Emotion.
With another deep sigh, he squashes the pain in his chest, watching as the O's and 1's in his vision fade. only to be replaced by a feminine voice in his ear
"Subject 1 Type (prototype) Error message 001: Anomalous pain detected in chest cavity. Magnitude of 10 on a scale of 10. Vitals normal, Breathing Depressed, Source Unknown, Status Unknown, Danger of recurrence Unknown." and after finishing its check-sheet the voice queried "Would Subject like to add any notes to send with error report to the Controllers?"
"yea" he said "Fuck off."
he cracked a smile as he listened to the report, and even gave a chuckle at the sounds of his own voice being played in his mind. Yea, that would put the controllers panties in a twist.
he sent the message to the HQ with a mental flick, and smiled, waiting for what he knew was to happen, it still took him by surprise. Fire erupted all over his body, coming out of his pores, burning his skin, he began retching, puking gasoline that fueled the conflagration that ate his body to the bone. For minutes he was burned alive. There were no diagnostics this time, his mind knew exactly where it was coming from, the controllers were punishing him for his impudence. And through it all he grinned, heaving with laughter even as he began coughing up his incinerated lungs. And just as quickly, it was gone, he looked uninterestedly at his once again flawless skin, more then used to the hallucinations that they punished him with. Still smiling, but not willing to test the controllers patience farther, they had let him off easy this time, but would not do so again.
So he set off with a purposeful stride, cold no longer touching him thanks to the miniature fusion reactor placed in his gut. He picked up a branch, he would find more deadly weapons as he went, though in his hands the branch was more deadly then most guns. As he turned into the nearby trees, making for the nearby city, the moonlight illuminated his form, he was thin, lithe, but the movements of his enhanced muscles betrayed his true strength, his whole body was corded, the monofiliments in his muscles replaced by carbon fibers and molecular ratchets. Effectively quadrupling his strength. his head was bald, but he would let hair grow there to hide the interface in the back of his skull where updated versions of software could be installed. Branch in hand, and death written on his face, the young man disappeared into the trees. He would next be seen by a young boy, crouched on a rooftop eye to scope, crosshairs centered on a mans head... Boom. It took several seconds for the screams to begin.