As the kids insert the second tape to begin the second half of Vaughn's biography. The room has a tense air surrounding everyone as from the looks of it everyone is uncomfortable sitting through just the first tape. What more to come when they inserted the second tape now.
"Well then we saw that the Professor killed people then... Let's continue on." Said Winston as he plays the next tape.
Well then let's move on after that. I had another year grown into me and I was now considered a full-time field agent. I grew taller now thanks to the development of performance medicine injected to us kids lacking a bit of mass. I felt faster, nimbler, quicker, and as well as stronger.
It was an unusual feeling especially for a kid to get this much strength at this age bracket. But since I was in the SCD I was only brought to the field when things get hairy or if the mission requires specialists. So most of the time I was 8 I'm just doing more training. Began doing some 1-on-1 boxing matches with the younger batches.
Training them into becoming stronger kids. Though most of the fight is one sided with me beating them without even noticing. But those kids did become stronger and more aggressive as I trained them during my down time at the factory. I was the only one that knows this place is a factory.
No one knows that except me. Most of them see this as a secret haven for them. Most of the kids are fully manipulated into thinking they only live for this base of ours during that time. Anything or anyone from the outside world is dead meat to them.
I was a surprised amongst the staff there in the base for being the only matured child there. Despite that I have to be ruthless like everybody else. But when mission calls for a specialist usually they assign me to those missions usually targeting high profile and famous people in their private time. But what has become common occurrence to me is that I was often dispatched to desert warfare.
War on the deserts of Africa and the middle east. With nothing with a blade and a rifle. I usually stay in those deserts for more than months. The longest I've been on the desert is 3 months. I was living in fumes, I was barely living but I lived. And I managed to lose some of my sanity during that time too.
I learnt that my motivation is war. I have to go to war to survive and to live, because of this I managed to love war. And I become a common sight to any modern war that occurred when I was a kid. I reached 9 years old during a operation in the snowy tundra when I was targeting a arms dealer.
The pain and trauma of each kill I did is starting to wear me down as I get more smarter the more I take in lessons from them. Because of this I started to become hungry, hungry to fulfill this lost happiness of mine. I remember that old man said to me that kids should be smiling.
I still remember those words. I have to find some way to make me happy. What surprised me is the thing that keeps me happy is that I need to kill. Having to learn about a lot of lessons and subjects then a heavy dose of violence each session...
It made my cognitive function go askew, becoming twisted the more I learn. Until I started laughing for the first time. I remember the Agent that partnered with me during an operation killing government members with me laughing after I decapitated one of the bodyguards.
"Kid you get joy from killing?" Said the Agent.
I just nodded as I look at him.
"You kill for joy? What a Killjoy you are kid." Said the same agent a few hours later.
Then that nicknamed stayed with me. When I found my way to find happiness, in the form of war. That was what I was looking for all this time. I became a warmonger by the time I reached 10 years old.
I didn't realize time was going by real quick. Evenings feels like just a few minutes now. After a few tours under my belt my Instructor pulled me out of the selection because I'm getting too used to war. Or else my value drops from what he told me.
I know I will be sold off as a Private Contractor to some government secret group, a terrorist organization, or a random mafia/gang to make use me as their expendable soldier.
"Vaughn you have to pull off from being out there. You might become a tampered product if you're not careful." Said the Instructor.
"But why should I stop killing people then?" I replied.
"Don't worry you can still kill people. But its not the time for that right now. It's best for you to continue training, trust me Vaughn you'll need it." Said the Instructor as he left me alone in the training room.
Of course I didn't know what he was talking about during that time. So the best thing I could was follow his words and keep on training. Nonstop day and night, doing skirmish battles with the other kids and staff. Beating everyone of them in the process was becoming the norm for me as I get more used to it.
The suppression of me killing people just grew and grew more to the point I hunger murder. I was basically losing myself at that point. I trained so hard my knuckles always end up bloodied and bruised despite of me wearing gloves. Since the sandbags were keep breaking I instead used the wall as an alternative.
For now this where I stop I need you guys to discuss this matter among yourselves and I have a question for you. Do still think I'm in the wrong here? Or that I was unfortunate to be born in this factory of killing machines. Or that if I didn't do that attack to that school all of you would have become mindless like me when I was a kid.
Think about it for a minute before you continue on to my next part. When I got auctioned off...