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To bring hope to humanity. That was his purpose. At least, that’s what Maria said. And so that was what he tried to tell himself, tried to convince himself. The professor’s answer aligned with that. That, as the ultimate life form, he was meant to usher in a new age for humanity. An age where disease could be cured. Where Maria would be cured.
So far, that endeavor proved fruitless. She was still trapped up here, her illness in remission but not cured, never well enough to return to Earth. But he still clung onto the hope there would be a breakthrough as a lifeline. That there was something better he could be. Something better than what the other scientists thought of him as.
Shadow was not immune to the whispers. To the way others viewed him. The way they talked around him when hooking him up for tests, almost like he wasn’t even there. They’d talk about his potential to revolutionize energy production. Or about how he could single-handedly turn the tide in a war effort, the perfect soldier. Like that was his purpose: to destroy.
Like he wasn’t a living being. Just a thing. Just a weapon to point at their enemies.
Some, the innermost circle, with the highest clearance and most knowledge, would whisper behind his back about his origins. About the danger he could present, should he ever side with the Black Arms and turn against humanity. The danger he presented. The danger the project presented. Like he wasn’t a person but a thing.
He was careful not to let his emotions show. Not around them. Emotions were his enemy. Something the researchers didn’t want to see. It reminded them too much of what he was: a living, breathing, being.
But that was fine. He didn’t want them to know who he really was anyway. The few, the two whose opinions he valued, saw him as more than a weapon. As more than a thing. And that was what was important.