In the duke's information list, most evidence pointed to Joseph being the mastermind of evil politicians, however, he wasn't the kind of man to take part in a plan that had incalculable factors. For example, his circle consisted solely of other politicians who were either already corrupted by power or newly elected competitors whom he was certain he could manipulate.
The unpredictable factors were often eliminated silently. Left unreported, the police would only find the bodies a week or a few months later when the bodies were thoroughly decomposed. Though this suited his style, his plan would have been more solid, sending more numbers to discreetly silence someone and any eyewitnesses for their crime, cutting off all loose ends.
It's true that he may be somewhat involved as a mastermind, but this was definitely not his work.
"Don't test my patience." He trampled on the gashing wound deeper. "Give me the name of the person who ordered this mission."
"That lord is..." As if he was struggling to recall his appearance or even his name, he groaned, digging his nails into his head. The scent of poison must have released faintly so that the assassin was prevented from blathering details about him.
The twins wanted to step up to hold down the assassin, nonetheless, both Val and the duke had already warned them not to leave the seat before heading out.
Giving up, the duke moved onto a different question. "What is your name?"
"My name is 001."
It was natural that as an experimental subject he didn't have a name. The moment he opened his eyes, all the people in the research center seemed to rejoice in what they call his 'birth' into the world. Though they were genuinely happy, he was uncomfortable staying with them. Why? It was simple. They were his true enemies.
Before his birth, inside the tank filled with an unknown liquid, eavesdropping on the chattering outside, he had learnt that he was an orphan vampire stolen from the streets. From bits and pieces of what he had heard, it seemed their objective in this facility was to produce elixirs and their mission was to create the ultimate being under their control with the use of those panaceas.
There was one trait of those inhumane researchers that he didn't understand. Occasionally, they would brag to their colleagues right in front of his glass tank at how they successfully shoved him in there despite his resistance. His fellow co-partners would all listen in awe how the alive half-blood struggled but his endeavors were rendered futile.
What amusement was there in watching someone struggle to their death? To them, were the lives of others just a toy? Was it the pride in abusing their power or their numbers? Or was it just the thrill of enjoying the pained look on their faces?
No matter how much time had passed, this matter he dwelled on couldn't be solved.
When he finally regained his sensory nerves, it was suffocating. The liquid was wrapping around his body, and he had difficulty breathing as if he contracted asthma. No matter how hard he knocked on the glass tank, nobody came to help. The researchers neglected him, continuing what they had to do on their shifts such as switching the stinky fluid in and out of the tank.
He realized the reality he was living in. As long as he stayed there, nobody would be on his side. Consequently after he came out of that glass tank, he faked his amnesia. Of course, his plan would have fallen apart if the researchers were truly keeping an eye on him, but he wasn't the only one in there that needed help. There were plenty of others kidnapped in the facility, so they didn't have adequate staff to look after each experimental figure thoroughly.
Laying low, he buttered to any adult he passed by with complements and acted like the sweet, cheerful child he wasn't. Thanks to his mental age, he was able to listen to some risky conversations without being discovered. Every now and then, he met up with the other kids, cautiously asking the details of their experiments and any hidden treasure they found.
From their information, the tests were pretty much executed in the same procedure unless the doctors detected some changes in the body from the fluids they injected you with. If there was a reaction, the orphans would immediately be taken away to somewhere unknown.
Leaving aside their mission, the facility was clearly sketchy. There were CCTVs and hidden cameras in the plant pots to watch over the kids strictly. This center was even barricaded with an electric barbed wire fence and strictly guarded by numerous bulky guards at shifts.
It was even more suspicious when all the children aged 11 to 20 here didn't question the fact that they were confined in the laboratory nor permitted to wander outside the facility as if they were brainwashed...
Right.
How could he forget?
This research center existed to create powerful beings from scratch that would obey them under the influence of drugs. It was too late to save the children. They were already familiar with the researchers' faces and regarded them as their real parents. If he were to warn them about it, the hard work he put in to build the friendship between them would break immediately and they would certainly be hostile towards him.
In addition, it would draw suspicion from the researchers that he'd heard too much confidential information and dispose of him. It was better not to do it.
As he was about to head back into his room, a voice kindly advised him.
"I would suggest you don't tell them." A boy with a brown cap, leaning against the window warned him. Coincidentally, it was the only blind spot where the CCTVS or the hidden cameras couldn't reach. That meant the supervisors wouldn't be able to hear their conversation.
"Why not?" He turned his head back, looking straight at the boy.
"I have tried to convince them." The little boy said. "Now, I am an outcast in their group. Those fools wouldn't listen even if you threatened their lives."
"They've become loyal dogs, huh...." He sighed, reassuring him he wasn't planning on doing so. From the next day on, as he passed by the corridor, he saw the boy in the same spot, napping in the afternoon enveloped by a blanket of sunlight. Their interactions started from little greetings to small talks, eventually progressing into long comfortable conversations.
He considered 005 as a friend and a fellow informant. Not meeting up for long, they updated each other on the news in different blind spots so that the researchers wouldn't overhear what they were talking about.
Monthly, they did some tests to check their progress on their objective. This time's final test also yielded the same results. As the doctor shook his head to any of their questions, the researchers were on the edge. It must have been the higher-ups demanding for more orphans in exchange for the funds going into the research project.
The rest of his memories were nothing he'd want to recall. A month later, his test had some potential to grow, therefore, he was taken out of the research center and introduced to the superiors, who jeered upon him like a product. There were 6 people gathered.
None of them was interested in him, who only had the 'potential'. They wanted the results to be certain. Out of them all, the master, who chose him, was his natural enemy. Because he barely spoke nor wore his heart on his sleeve, it was hard to guess what was going on in his mind.
Later, he realized he was the fool for hoping for a better life. In that house, many shackles restricted him from attaining freedom. The recurrent exposure to drugs whether in liquid forms or through vaccinations. While his body went through excruciating changes for better strength, as a price, he could feel his subconsciousness wander around, abiding his master's ruthless orders.
It was always like this. Without warning, his mind would drift off somewhere while his body was still moving about until the duke's orders were accomplished. By the time he was back to his senses, he would be surrounded by dead corpses. His fragrant body that he washed in the morning would always return soaked with blood. Every time he returned like this, he was convinced the master was mocking him that it was no use going against him.
Despite the decent meals, his high income and a comfortable lifestyle being something orphans could only dream of, he couldn't accept these if he gained these rights by killing other innocent people. Even now, although his body was manipulated, he could hear their ear-piercing screams and the burning rage in their eyes.
The sins of killing people were something he couldn't erase just by simply apologizing nor could he atone for them. Until now, he was still under the duke's control because he couldn't steal the antidote nor could he resist his master's commands even once.
Consoling himself that it was inevitable and that he would later atone for this, if not for 005, he wouldn't have been able to hold on and long gone crazy.
As years passed, he had learnt to hide his emotions and conceal any weaknesses for his master hated vampires. Whether passing by him in his study room briefly, or conversing with him, it was all valuable to construct a complete criminal profile for the master in his mind. Though the profile was incomplete, he had a rough grasp of his master's personality.
His master hated weak beings, which included himself, and vampires. Whenever reports about progress on the drug or the experimental figures came in, he was always in a good mood. Ironically, he hated how his friends boasted about their cases of evil deeds mobilizing their power while he used his power to drag innocent half-bloods into the experiment.
When they weren't paying attention to him, he looked at them with contempt as if he was on a higher level than those stupid vermin.
But, to 001, his master wasn't any different from those greedy politicians who were obsessed with power to control the plebeians whereas he was engrossed in strengthening his troops with the drugs and to bring more formidable individuals strictly under his control. 001 couldn't save them because of their long exposure to the drugs, they have all turned into indoctrinated, obedient killing machines.
Furthermore, his list of victims increased, indicating his sins he had to pay for were rising. Unlike the first few times when he murdered families, he no longer freaked out after carrying out missions. Gradually deprived of emotions like joyfulness or sadness, he turned cold-blooded, bearing the guilt of the immense bloodshed he'd caused.
Even after being tamed, when he was introduced to his master's social circle, those looks of disgust often left him wondering why he was detested so much unlike the amiable people at the laboratory. But he had no right to mention them. For he was the one who destroyed the lab.
Despite being annihilated, that 'incident' at the laboratory haunted him from the past to this day. Their words that cursed his existence to not have been created ringing in his mind.
"Hmmm," Callisto shifted his glance towards the twins before eyeing the assassin, his murderous intent directed only at him. "I see. You guys have separate goals. The one who ordered the mission tonight must have acted on his own."
Was it really just to get rid of Val? Or was there another elaborate scheme hidden underneath? Plausible. If Val was dead, who would benefit from it? There were several culprits. The politicians. The werewolves. Who else?
Jolted awake, the assassin snapped out of his thoughts. That must have been the truth serum at work. He wasn't one to fondly recall his past memories. Catching on, the assassin glared at him. Did he blather anything important?
The duke, not paying heed to his furious glare, wondered what he should do with him. His appearance resembled a devil, however his intentions seemed to be quite pure. If he really wanted to pay for his sins, he might be of use to them. Should he...?
The assassin could see he was being appraised by the duke. His gaze was the exact replica of his master's paralyzing judgment. Was he going to be used again? As questions spiraled into his mind, the duke suddenly called someone.
His foot was still on top of his wound, but this time, the pressure on it was lighter. He laughed silently. In the first place, he had no intentions to run. Faintly hearing what the conversation was about, he sighed. It seemed the duke was going to hand him over to an agency he was working for to resolve the drug addiction.
Seeing the drugs' effects with his own eyes, he was sure the command function ingrained into his system couldn't be easily absolved, though he appreciated his attempt. After informing the security guards the exact description of his acquaintances' appearance, his fellow associates waited outside the room to fetch the assassin.
001 voiced his thanks to the duke before obediently following the strangers downstairs into one of the two cars they provided. On the duke's orders, one car was a dummy for the spies while the other car accommodated the assassin.
A few moments later, his confederate, Charles Russel, made a video call to show the duke that he had safely arrived in the agency.
"Feed him the serum quickly. Don't let him outside until you've confirmed he's no longer addicted or controlled."
"Regina and the others just knocked him out." Charles recounted. "He was turning mentally unstable probably because he failed to complete his master's orders. The side effects were kicking in. The anesthesia we developed was quite effective, I say."
Callisto didn't care for his situation. If he was locked in the base securely, then that's that. "Make sure the guards are all the trustees and they are made aware to be alert at all times. Punish anyone who is slacking off. He's an important witness."
"Yes, sir." Charles obeyed.
"You sure no one followed you?"
"None. Our subordinates made sure nobody had their eyes on us." Charles reported. "Are you sure you aren't being paranoid?"
"You know my hunches are always correct." Callisto paused before warning them. "Get ready for any attack on the base. If necessary, move to that place."
"...." His other associates, who were listening to their conversation, took a few seconds thinking it over. "Noted, sir. Stay safe." Charles hung up the call.