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Hurt.
Everything hurts.
He can hardly remember a time when it didn't hurt. Only times when the pain was more or less tolerable. His right arm is killing him, along with his right eye and left hand. Recently his spine had been aching as well, only for large, black spikes to break through his skin a few days ago. The pain was unbearable, but had dulled since then.
Sometimes he wonders if he was always like this. In pain, acting off of base instinct, chasing down robloxians to satisfy his hunger, satisfy his desire to feel squirming flesh between his claws. His memories before this were muddled, as if they were underwater. The only reason he even remembered his own name was when the Spectre would select him for the murder spree.
“They're all yours Mr. Doe.”
For a while he refused to answer the Spectres' calls. No matter how much his claws and teeth ached for action, he didn't want to hurt anyone. For whatever reason, he felt as if something or someone wouldn't want him to do that. However the more he denied the call, the more corrupted he became until he listened like an obedient hound.
Today was no different. He trudged around the grassy fields, sometimes knocking himself against one of the many white walls that littered the area. He hadn't gotten a kill yet, only injuring a blue haired man who had struck him head on. It didn't matter, he still had time. Only one machine out of five was finished, and he had made sure to entrap the rest.
Suddenly, like clockwork, John felt someone step onto a trap. He felt his spine tingle in anticipation as he picked up the pace towards the source, his clawed feet kicking up clumps of dirt and grass. Rounding the corner, he saw a small robloxian with a blue hoodie and green pants clutching his side, his face grimaced in pain as lines of ones and zeros littered his body.
John growled in satisfaction, pleased to see someone else feel a fraction of the pain he felt, but it wasn't enough. He sprinted closer, the robloxian yelping in surprise and attempting to run away.
One slash, his back was now covered in oozing blood.
Another slash, his calf had been sliced through as though it was made of butter.
John felt a smile tug at his lips, one more and this boy was a goner. But just before he could deal the killing blow, he felt a knock against his head, and a searing pain. His vision doubled, and he snarled as he saw a brown haired man ushering the younger away. His prey had escaped once more.
John huffed in disappointment, turning back towards the generator. As long as he could delay the completion of these wretched machines, he'd have all the time in the world to satisfy his hunger. Someone else was already on it, no doubt seizing the opportunity of the blue clothed boy's distraction. He had seen this man before, he’d often hide in the background of the confrontation, occasionally tossing pizza slices to whoever was standing up to John that day.
The red clothed man wasted no time getting off the machine. A look of fear flashed across his face as he ran in the opposing direction. John made no move to follow, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch up with the swift-footed robloxian. His attention turned instead to the generator, it had not been completed yet. Perfect.
With a few stomps of his foot, a swirling black mass oozed its way from the ground, surrounding the machine once more. Grumbling in satisfaction, John trudged away from the machine, before leaning against one of the many white pillars.
The back of his neck was still stinging, along with the pain from the strike caused by the blue haired man from earlier. His eyes weighed with exhaustion, and his corrupted right arm didn't make things any better. Some days he wondered if cutting it off would make things easier, would he bleed out and finally rest? Would his corruption recede? Could he finally be freed from this forsaken hell?
His thoughts spiralling out of his control, John shakily brought up his lesser corrupted hand to grasp at something around his neck. While he barely had any reminders of who he was before, he did have one thing. A silver heart shaped locket was the only thing he had left. He can't for the life of him remember who gave it to him, or what it stands for, but it was a gentle reminder to quell his dark thoughts. A reminder that he did have a life before, that he most likely wasn't always in pain, that he was loved.
A low grumble reverberated from his throat, turning into content purring as he rubbed the locket with his thumb. He closed his eyes, as he attempted to imagine some kind of normal life, before all this happened. A warm home, no pain, and someone there to hold and comfort him.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of crunching grass just to his side. John snapped his eyes open, whipping his head around to see a man in a black suit and tie attempting to side step his trap to reach the generator.
The hunt was back on.
John sprinted towards him, by now the black suited man had noticed his presence and began sprinting away. However John had ample time to rest and recover, his prey would tire out, and he would catch up to him.
He could hear the telltale sounds of a coin being flipped, no doubt from the man in front of him. The black suited man ceased his sprint and turned to face his adversary, a silver gun in his hand, aimed directly towards his neck.
John stopped in his tracks, preparing to grit through the pain that would arrive soon. While he had never been successfully struck by this man before, he had heard stories from the red demon and greenish-black ghoul of the black suited man who yielded a gun. John shut his eyes and prepared for the oncoming strike.
He prepared himself for the loud bang that came from the silver weapon; he didn't even flinch when the bullet grazed his fingers in an ill-fated attempt to protect himself. He gritted his teeth as he felt the bullet dig into his flesh, pain blossoming from within.
What John wasn't prepared for, however, was the sound of a metal chain breaking, and a cruel cold emptiness surrounding his neck.
John opened his eyes, what was that? What was that sound?
Feeling himself begin to panic, he instinctively grasped for the locket, only for his hand to meet cold air in its place. Looking down, John found its remains in the grass. The chain was completely broken, bits of metal poking out from the dirt. The heart locket was completely cracked, ruined, broken like he was.
With a shaking hand, John's claws grazed the heart locket, turning it over, only for his shock to turn into confusion. Could it always be opened like this?
The heart had opened into two, with a photo nestled inside. On one half was… him, before the corruption at least. A genuine smile decorated his face, his skin a healthy color, and his eyes filled with hope and light. John's gaze flickered to the other side of the locket, heart pounding, hoping to be met with a familiar face, only to find nothing.
The photo was ruined, completely darkened and burnt, whoever was pictured there was now unrecognizable. Now he would never know who gifted this locket, never would he know if there was someone out there still thinking about him. His only comfort in this world, gone forever.
John's confusion and despair now had morphed into rage and hatred, his hand curled tight into a fist as he looked up from his shattered memento, eyes locking with the black suited man. He watched as the man's once gloating expression from landing the successful shot turned to confusion and then to fear. He immediately turned and attempted to flee, but running was of no use now against John Doe's newfound resolution.
John raced toward the man, with a speed he didn't even know he possessed, his mouth curved into a snarl, unsure if the slick from his face was sweat or tears. The man was slowing down, John could hear his raspy breaths, indicative of fatigue. Right as he was catching up, John buried his fists into the earth, using his strength to summon spikes as dark as the night sky, their goal to target the black suited man.
While he had been able to evade most of the spikes, one had gotten lucky, slicing right through the black suited man's calf. The resulting scream of agony was like music to John Doe's ears.
He slowed his pursuit, watching in amusement as the man attempted to stand up and continue to flee, only for the pain to ground him once more. The man turned to view his attacker, his glasses now askew, allowing John to see the look of fear in his eyes. Perfect. He needed to make sure he suffered.
The man's face was covered in tears and snot as he gave up on running, now attempting to drag himself away. A futile effort, as John effortlessly caught up to him, sinking his leg onto the mans injured one, shuddering in satisfaction as he heard the drawn out whine of pain from beneath him. As John turned the man over on his back, and raised his large spiked arm, one thought crossed his mind.
He was going to savor this.