They tortured me. They hurt me. They never apologized. They never fed me. They wanted to kill me. They threw me away like a lost dog. I was just an animal to them, and they knew once they broadcasted my torture, I had no use, but they couldn't kill me. They always kept me alive. I would drift off to the golden gates, and right before knocking, they'd drag me back to the highway of hell.
I remember the first day they caught me. I was terrified, blindfolded, and panicking. They tied me to a chair and exposed me for who I am. Amid my torture, K'Layah activated the lights that showed who I was. I failed. I only had one job, which was not to be seen by the world. Once they broke me, I had nothing to do. As the video kept recording, I drifted in and out of consciousness; the last thing I witnessed was the scientist walking in and speaking to K'Layah. My soldiers charged the island, trying their best to penetrate the defense and save me. To think that my name would be big enough to start an uprising surprised even me. My popularity had grown massive enough that I could control the world. They couldn't kill me, and they knew it. As the building sprawled into chaos, I looked up into the camera. The sweat dripping from my body hits the ground as my body pulsates. I twitch and say one phrase.
"Bring Peace, My fallen Angels."
The camera cuts off after I'm done speaking. Sirens blare, and lights flash. I'm left there in the dark with occasional lights activating. I lean over and drift out of my mind. The soldiers run past my room down the hall, yelling orders at each other. I count ten. If I could escape, I could hide with the confusion of the attack as a blanket. This attack was exactly what I needed. I rock my chair left and right, swinging in motion until I fall over. I wince in pain and inch myself towards the door. I crawl past the grates and rub the rope binding my hands on the metal bars. There is a sharp cut sticking out that I noticed when I entered. I create enough friction to cut the rope, and I'm loose. I walk towards the door and open it slowly. I can hear shouting down the hallways as I sneak around. I take a left down the hall and continue sneaking. I hear the noise of boots running past the corner I'm hiding behind. As soon as they are close enough, I attack; the soldier is caught by surprise and tries to throw me off of him. We wrestle left and right, slamming each other into walls, floors, and doors. I throw his gun away, and we take our fighting stances. He throws a left, and I duck. I follow up with an uppercut to his chin. I used all my strength, but he barely nudged. I fall to the ground as he tackles and pushes me down onto the floor. I use my last ounce of power to kick him off and send him flying. I roll on my stomach and leap towards the gun. He chases behind me and grabs my feet, but he's too late. I turn on my back and aim at his head. I can sense through the helmet his emotions. He feels fear in his eyes. They burn a dark color, and I look away as I pull the trigger. I've never felt guilt about the one hundred people I've killed. Why do I think it's wrong to kill this soldier I've never known? I open my eyes and see his eyes are still open. A small hole gaps his forehead with blood leaking out. His lifeless body falls backward as his grip loosens. My body feels exhausted as I lie on my back, breathing heavily. I take a minute to catch my breath and get back on my feet—blood pools from his leaking wound. I take off his helmet and put it on. I don't take anything else. Every time I touch him, I feel a sense of dread. I can't defile that corpse. I begin to take a light jog down the corridor. My gun has 14 bullets left in the mag, or somewhere around that number, I couldn't tell. I run down twists and turns as I chase the sound of fighting. If I could get closer to them, I'd be saved. I run until I reach two side doors. This has to be one of the entrances. I barge through them and immediately take cover. Bullets fly past my head and nearly take off my helmet. I try to peek past my cover to survey my surroundings. They haven't been able to penetrate fully into the compound. There is a large bridge they have yet to cross, and the defenders have arched their defenses. The entrance stands three stories high, with guns all over aimed at that bridge. The attackers haven't begun their march this way which means they either aren't prepared or are too afraid to attack. I wait for some signal. If they strike, then they give me, at the very least, a chance to escape. I look over to the front gate. The main entrance is guarded by K'Layah herself, yelling orders to defend the door. I aim my gun toward her. I close one eye and angle my gun at her face. I hope to take her head off and end her for what she did to me. The betrayal of childish lovers is the worst kind, and I gave my entire heart to her. She did that to me, but I'm hit with guilt again. I'm hit with that cloud of hurting an innocent person even if she isn't. I once again close my eyes. I think to myself.
"Think of all the wrong she did to you. She took your heart and stomped on it. She deserves to die. She deserves to be killed by your hands. You loved her even if it was a short time compared to what could've been. You lost your heart in her hands, and she threw it back at you. You'll never find love. The deadman will never find love."
I open my eyes and use one hand to bring the gun closer to her. I take the shot and watch as her body swings backward. I hear a scream come from her, and I fall in love with the sight of her blood sprouting out towards the sun. I take a second to imagine the corpse falling to the ground and smile. A bullet feels my encouragement and kisses my left shoulder. I fly backward and fall, clinging to my wound. I hear a distant shout and the attackers push onto the bridge. I get on my hands and knees and crawl toward the bridge. If I could meet them halfway, I'd be in bliss. This sweet dream clouds my mind. I only need to get there then I'm freed. No matter how tired I am, no matter how hurt I am, I can be released from this pain. They might know who I am, but I can always wear a mask. I peek over the wall and see the defenders aren't shooting back. They are letting the group push forward. I ponder on why they would want that maybe they have some grand plan. I'm taken aback by this, and someone grabs me from behind. A soldier yells and tries to grab my arm. I react and shoot him twice in the stomach. He falls on me, and I use my strength to remove him. I stand on my feet and run towards the bridge. I'm in the center of the fight, and the attackers start to cheer. I'm desperate and crying as I run to meet my army. One soldier dressed in armor is the closest to me. Then it happens.
A plane comes flying over the bridge, and it takes 2.7 seconds for my entire army force to be wiped clean. The plane sends bombs from its cargo hold and slams into the bridge. It ripples through the air with machine guns bullets cutting the barrier called their skulls. I hear the scream of hundreds of people before explosions. Body parts flew past my face, and the bridge came crumbling down; they took the bridge with them. Having killed maybe thirty soldiers in total, they didn't even come close to saving me. One man crossed the bridge, and as it blew up behind him, he ran to meet me. We are face to face now, and he takes off his mask. It is an older man with a full beard and detailed physic. He speaks.
"I have waited for so long, Deadman. You don't know who I am but understand I've been following you for years. Now to finally greet you, I want you to understand I may not have caught you, but I made sure you won't escape."
He points toward the building entrance where K'Layah lies still. I look with him and witness an astonishing sight. K'Layah rises to her feet and holds her wound. It's leaking blood at an alarming rate, but no one is panicking. She lifts her left arm from her eye as the blood slowly drips less and less. Her wound is healing. Her eye begins shifting as her right eye remains on me. It takes a while, but the blood stops, and she looks directly at me with both eyes. It's like she never got injured at all. She smiles at me as my jaw drops to the floor. She laughs and points back to the old man.
I turn around slowly, but I am grabbed by a giant hand. The old man takes his left arm back and puts his full force into a punch directed at my face. It collides as I lose all hope.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓶.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓹𝓸𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓽𝔂.
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓪𝓷.
I wake up in prison. The prison is a basic four-walled cell, but it's been refurbished with new furniture and lighting. I notice that the table looks similar to mine and the couch is my couch. Wait a minute; this looks just like my apartment. I rifle through the couch cushions and find old lint and dryer sheets. They didn't even bother to clean it up. I sit on my couch and turn on the tv. I flip through the channels as my cell door is open. In steps, a suited man in all dark colors. From head to toe, he hides all of his skin, only showing his hair past the mask. He claps his hands together and waves toward me. I hop up from the couch and open the kitchen drawer and grab a snack. As I return to the sofa, the suited individual sits next to me.
"Hey, how are you doing names, Micheal. I'm the head of this cooperation, and I wanted to meet a kind-hearted fellow like yourself. Tell me, Mr. Deadman, how did a lucky guy like you hack the police database in one day. On top of that, you got access to undiscoverable files linking to the Lady Killer. It only took you about a week to penetrate and locate criminals that not even top detectives couldn't find. You must be incredibly lucky. Or perhaps you hold some power you don't understand. Well, we figured out the truth. It's neither. You don't know, but that power you hold is more than just something you found at a young age. That power has a history. That history is so long and convoluted that it would take years to understand. But understand this you aren't the only one with powers anymore; Deadman, you never have been. The ability you have is ancient and obsolete. It's outdated. Some old folk tales that won't die, and you know the others who inherited your power didn't go on a killing rampage. They managed to control the demon and ignore it. You are one of the few to actually use it to its full potential. So congrats, you will be the first of the Deadmen to be seen as a criminal."
He takes the remote from me and changes the channel to an animal documentary.
"I didn't wanna watch what's on there anyway," I say.
"You don't get it, do you? Once upon a time, you were the alpha male. You were the original, the first ever to appear in our world. But the user only felt anger and pain, so it transformed you. Not you, kid, but the power you wield. The Deadman trait is uncommon. Exactly two people have it in the entire world, but the Deadman power is even rarer. It's just you, kid, and I'm the other with the trait. I know more about that power than you can ever understand. I've read every book there is to know how your power works. It eats at its wearer until you fall into delusion. I can change you and make you normal. Tell me, what will you choose between losing that power and becoming normal or becoming a monster more than you already are. Don't answer now. I hope to know your answer later. Right now, I have other business to attend to. Goodbye, Deadman."
He looks at the corner of the room after that last sentence. As if speaking to me and through me. He stands up and leaves my cage. He leaves me here trapped after asking me what I will choose. He has to understand that I don't have control over this power at all. It has control over me altogether, and it knows this. I look at the corner he looked at. I feel a stare. Not the gaze of a person but a ghostly eye. Then a chill runs down my spine, and I look away. I can't fight that thing, whatever it is; I'm too afraid.