Chapter Text
"I remember how you held my hand - and how you then held a gun."
Enough time has passed since the Red Room was destroyed. Has something changed? I don't know. I still don’t know who I am, I don’t know what to do in my life, I don’t know who I should be and what should I do. I don’t even know how my voice should sound, I'm still not speaking...More precisely, I do it very rarely. After life with Alexei and Melina, who sheltered me after everything that happened to the red room, I realized that I could not constantly depend on someone, I have to try to live alone....naive. As a result, I was rejected absolutely everywhere. To my regret, by my 22 years, I have not acquired any skills except killing. Of course, with my excellent memory, I could perfectly repeat everything that someone would tell me, but... even this ability did not bring me success in ordinary life. Or maybe the surname of the father "helped." No matter how he is hearing in the most terrible light and, of course, this was reflected in me. I am not making excuses...Or maybe yes, I don’t know...Nevertheless, I returned to
killer's work again. On the extreme in this case, I was already very asked to go to this job, and this fact, of course, surprised me, but...did I have a choice? At that time, I decided not. I left the house where I was accepted, returned to my past life, from which I wanted to escape and...just continued to kill and steal, but only now for another person and to get some services from it. For example, I had my own house, some kind of "illusion of reliability" appeared and if anything bad can happen to me, I'll be covered and protected from... from any attacks and so on. A new old life inspired me that I decided to completely redo my suit with my own hands. I am proud of it. One of the few things, if not the only one that I created myself. It may not look very original, but I did it with my own hands. Hmm...yes, I still wear a mask. I will never accept my face. Melina said that I could try to do something like plastic surgery, but, firstly, I’m scared, and secondly, even if there is no scar on my face, I will still remember it, I will constantly deceive myself, looking in the mirror and still because of these thoughts I will always wear a mask. Yes, now I have no chip in my head, but, as it turned out, the perfect ability of accurate imitation and photographic memory were not the result of the chip, namely the explosion, which a little surprised me. I was always sure that my abilities were coming from it. It turned out that it only strengthened them, well, and controlled me. Now I am free. Yes, I still kill by order, but now I decide how to do it myself, I decide whom to kill and whom to leave alive, I decide when to remove the mask and say something, and when to remain silent. So many small freedoms, but for me it is really very significant. I can’t get used to the outside world, I can never. It’s hard for me to go to the store, it’s hard to order food, it’s hard to even message, and the difficulty is not even in the action itself, but in the fact what thoughts I have in my head at that moment. I do not realize how I do this, for what, what is the meaning of these actions and how I do them. It's easy only with murders. I do it automatically and do not have time to think. I just kill without unnecessary thoughts. With the rest of the actions, everything is different. The Red Room left too much trace on me. All my dreams at night are memories from those days in this hellish place. And it's the same every time. I curse my mind for these memories. I remember every detail, every second, every sound from there, as if I am still there and still feel fear and pain. I am not afraid of death, I am afraid that after it I will not fall into hell, but again I will find myself in this place and can no longer get out. Pain, pain, pain .... This word is equivalent to life for me. I live pain and, if there is no pain, then I'm dead ...
Every day was the same, only the victims and the place of completion of the task changed. Years passed, but I did not notice them, I did not feel how time passes. I just got up, walked, killed, returned and fell asleep. As then and now. There was no time to think about something, and I even didn't want to. I was created as a robot who's performing instructions. This thought was the only one that helped me realize who I am. After all, it is true, I do not know anything about myself. I have no personality. Am I kind, emotional, hot -tempered, indifferent, heartless? I don't know. I am a robot. Cyborg. I am not a human, I am a weapon. A weapon that is always nearby, which is always ready to destroy any goal, is always ready to surrender completely with each use of it and, even if it breaks, there is always a new one. I am used to this thought. This is my meaning, with this thought I continue to do everything that one will tell me and I know that my life will not change until I die at one moment. But this is not scary, I have nothing to lose. I have no one and nobody needs me, so there is no one to mourn me and I have no one to live for. At least I was always sure of this
My next mission was slightly different from those that I usually had. According to my mistress, I had to meet with a person with unusual abilities and take some documents from the laboratory before this person takes them. To be honest, I was glad of such a turn of events. If I handle it - there will be another achievement and better than just to beat some criminal. If I can’t - I will die. Everything is not so scary.
Arriving at the laboratory, I did not notice anyone who could pose a potential danger to me. Strange... and suspicious. It cannot be that everything is so simple. And I still didn't see that person. Ha-ha, irony. At the time of thought about this, I immediately flew out of the air with the foot hitting me in stomach. I certainly could not consider how this "someone" looked, but at the same time I saw that we had very similar costumes. And...I could think even longer if some voice had not interrupted my thoughts
- Who are you? And what the hell are you doing here? ...