"we should make use of it as a government owned assassin, it can't die, and over time will eventually regenerate the damage, not to mention its ability to put itself back together in an instant." one of the scientists chimed in with an, oh so brilliant, idea.

"NO! it needs to be used for testing! imagine the possibilities! we could make so many things safer for humans!" another added, his idea not even remotely fucking relevant since I'm hundreds of times more durable.

I rolled my eyes, scoffed, and then whispered to myself, "dumbass" from inside the vents I was hidden within for the sole purpose of eavesdropping.

which, speaking of, picked right back up as another exclaimed, "we gave it sex organs for a fucking reason dipshit, sell it to a whorehouse or something, just get rid of it, it's disgusting to look at something so shamelessly mocking humans!" with a righteous, God is my lord and savior, yet here I am actively playing God, type of hypocritical, bullshit tone.

I almost laughed, which, forced me to cup my hand over my mouth lest, yes, the word these assholes seem to use a lot to make themselves seem smarter than they actually are, discover me.

I shook my head as I stopped pretending to breathe, something I mimic out of sheer habit to blend in, and inched closer to the grate so I could hear another "scientist" claim, "it has no real feelings, it won't care what we do with it, so just pick something already!" in a frustrated tone that showed how little he knew.

I mean, I had feelings.

kind of?

I had to second guess a little as I silently debated with myself on whether or not disdain counted as a human emotion.

which, I mean, it had to, right?

I wondered as the final man of the group, the last one to arrive, finally walked through the automatic sliding doors and sighed, clearly annoyed with his colleagues.

I noticed instantly, quickly thinking to myself, "and they wonder where I get it from?" as he made his way to the empty seat, pulled it out, plopped down into it, and before even looking at any of the others, saying, "SHE  won't be doing any of that." incredibly firmly.

see, this man right here, this 35-year-old male with black hair spotted with sparse silver streaks, square framed glasses pristine in condition, and sharp, square features, was actually the only human in this entire fucking place I liked.

in fact.

he was the only one I willingly addressed by a title.

the others?

well, I just called them virgin losers.

to their face.

I hmphed internally as I began nodding in agreement to everything my father began saying.

in particular, when he shot, "SHE is a sentient being, and not ours to own or control, it's our fault she looks human, and it's YOUR fault she doesn't act like one, you really think a living thing constantly exposed to torture, you aging fucks, and ungodly levels of death, has the ability to give two solitary shits about things like decency or humanity? you clearly don't, I mean, she even mimics breathing, how do you think children learn?!" point blank at every last member of this panel, this gray haired, beer gut, balding, panel, of losers.

his tone sharp, commanding, and completely blaming, as it goddamn should be!

I agreed a little too hard, and nodded myself right out of the vent.

so fast in fact, that, I didn't even have time to yelp before I hit the floor, I just, well, hit the floor.

and when I did, a multitude of sharp, glass like cracking sounds could be heard as my neck twisted in an unnatural angle, and the rest of my body crumpled lifelessly around it.

only for them to persist even louder when I forced myself to my feet right as my body put itself back together again, washing away all evidence of harm, save for a little pattern of cracks on my left cheek, just below my eye.

I sighed as I put my hands in the air like a criminal caught red handed, then subsequently held at gunpoint, and with a tone of resignation, let out, "you guys have horrible security." while simultaneously putting my hands down and walking over to dad.

my hands already triumphantly, defiantly? on my hips when I turned to face the rest of them so I could tell them something I'd wanted to ever since I woke up in this godforsaken hellhole.

which, to the surprise of no one, was, "do you really think it's a good idea to teach an emotionless, unkillable, thing, how to assassinate people? have any of you thought about the consequences of that? for example, how you'd survive after I was done with training?" in a voice made of ice-cold venom, a monotone so dangerous, it sent shivers down their spines well before the frigidity I unleashed had a chance to reach them.

only for me to confuse them seconds later as I perked up, and in a bubbly, social act, one I'd seen on tv from blonde airheads, smiled at them and said, "but, that would be simply silly! why, lil ol me couldn't hurt a fly!" in a southern belle accent, for no reason in particular.