The Memory Spill

The sounds of metal clashing with stone had made for an excellent alarm clock. It was just irritating enough to awaken me from my slumber. My eyes were still slammed shut, refusing to acknowledge the day, but my mind was very much awake and now stirring with questions. How long have I actually been out? Who are the good guys here, the people in black or the people in white? Why do I hear the sounds of mining around me? But there was one question that stood out from the rest, it was the kind of realization that makes one shoot out of their beds in fear. Where the hell am I?!

My head shot upwards as I spawned a revolver in hand. Analyzing my surroundings, it wasn't hard to guess that I was in a mine. The room I resided in was just a mines out hole with a few wooden boards and load bearing posts on the walls. There were a few lanterns residing on these posts, but the mine was still hard to see in. The entrance to this room was a tunnel with the floor of it lined with tracks and a mining cart at the bottom of those tracks. The opposite wall of the room had several chips and scratches on the wall, my most logical guess was that whoever is in charge here wants me to mine. There was a note by my leg. Dismissing the fire arm from my presence, my hand reached down to examine the mysterious letter. I could've sworn that the drugs were still affecting my vision, because the text was written using the alphabet I was familiar with, but it was all scrunched together. It almost looked like the western alphabet and the acrylic alphabet had a deformed love child. I summoned my HUD to see if I could support my theory that I have contracted drug induced dyslexia. My suits menu had opened up, reading out:

Menu: suit options:
Vital signs)
Map)
Inventory)
Targeting assistance)
Communication)
Entertainment)
System)

It was a relief to know that my eyes were still fully functional, but even more worrying that I have one less way of communicating with the inhabitants here. It was always a deep frustration of mine to attempt to try to understand someone of another language. I do remember the inhabitants speaking English from my arrival, so I'm saved the inconvenience of learning a new language, but that still means it would take a great deal of effort to understand any novel by them or even understand a street sign. My hand fell to the rock below me, only to make a metal on metal clink followed by a rattle. There was a chain sitting in the pebbles on the ground. My hands grabbed on and began pulling to find that the chain had been connected to the post I was resting on and my own ankle. Someone doesn't want me leaving, but it also means that someone is grossly underestimating my abilities. My inventory has(among the array of guns, explosives, and bad ass "intimidation" melee weapons) a saw capable of breaking this chain. I could break this chain easily and shoot my way out. Perhaps even escaping this mine and finding refuge in a forest somewhere. But there was something keeping me from doing this. I felt like my submissive nature came from the desire to be accepted. Maybe if I played along, I would be able to eventually be welcomed into this society. I know that most people wouldn't be able to trust a metal man with an armory of guns at his disposal, but there's more to me than that.

I figured that if humanity has gone back to believing that witchcraft exists, I could use my hologram entertainment system. It was initially installed in this suit to make tribal warriors in third world countries believe that we were magic, by creating images by using hologram programs directly linked to our mind. Thankfully, we were never deployed there, so these tricks were never used. It was still entertaining to use the projection system from time to time. To ensure it still worked, I focused on the ground next to my leg, and imagined a squirrel. Sure as the sky was blue, a squirrel appeared next to me, happily twitching its tail and investigating me. Hmm. Let's give him armor, and a sword. A shiny metal coat covered the squirrel as he equipped a sword in hand. I gave a light chuckle towards the ridiculousness of my new friend as I dismissed him.

I decided that it would be a while before any one noticed that I was awake, so it was time to just sit back and rest my exhausted muscles. My body sank lower into the ground, feeling of a steam operated machine releasing its pressure valves. Nothing felt better than relaxing after working hard. My mind was further cleared, but a new question appeared. Why am I even doing this? I have an armory at my disposal! I could just as easily fired a warning round in the air and been declared King of the Mines. So why wasn't this my current goal? I searched for an answer, thinking desperately for a reason I wasn't holding my captives in captivity. The best answer I could muster was that using my guns would create a Cold War KGB stealing nuke secrets from the US situation. I wouldn't want this new race learning of a more effective way of ending each other. My eyes began to close, signaling the rest of me that I was successfully drained of energy. However, my mind was still aflutter with the actual reason behind me cowardly attitude. It was the fear of being a monster in there eyes permanently.
***

I had finally ridden the anxious thought and began to drift of into slumber, when I received a sharp jab to my shoulder. I could here a voice, demanding something of me over the illusion of rest. My thoughts of slumber were dismissed as my senses began to perceive the world around me again. The darkness of the mine shaft mixed with the yelling had caught me off guard. The voice came from behind me. "What are ya, nuts? What in the name of Harmonia are ya doing?" Damn. I had a feeling it was expected of me to dig. Looks like I'll have to lie my way out of this one.

"I'm sorry, I was taking a break."

"A break? Trolls don't need breaks!"

"Well I'm not a troll, so I don't know where this leaves us,"

"You're not here to rest, freak. You're here to work."

I began to turn my body to respond to the voice as I asked,"You know, I was beginning to wonder, why am...I...." There wasn't anyone there. Only a small horse in body armor. It was nice body armor, too! Solid gold color, several patterns etched into the metal, and a treble clef carved into his gold helmet. The helmet itself appeared to have Spartan influence, but instead of the traditional red flair, had a purple one to replace it. On the side of the guard was series of clips, grasping a sharpened spear. I suppose it acted as a sheath of some sorts.

"Err, where'd you go?"

The pony opened its mouth and replied," Are you serious?!"

I jumped to feet and backed away from him."Oh Christ! I was not expecting that!"

It appeared that he took offense to that. His face snarled as he replied,"What? You've never seen a pony before?"

"I have! Just not one that talks!"

"Oh, and where did you meet them?"

"The past, I guess."

"You can't honestly be from the past. You're a troll in armor, and you're going to work for us."

"Can I ask why?"

"You know why, troll. And while we're on the topic, don't try any of thing stupid while you're here."

"Do elaborate on what counts as 'stupid'."

"That little trick that spawns flintlocks. We saw what you did when we found you. If you try to pull that off again, we will end you!"
I know it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out I that could do that. Damn. They already think I'm a war machine. But I only used my revolver that night, they have no clue on what else I'm capable of.

"What if I promised to not use my guns? I'm a nice guy, really. You have my word"

"You're joking right? Trolls only promise when they're trying to trick somepony into being eaten!" It's starting to become evident that they wont believe I'm not a troll. But what can I do to convince them? I dont want to kill anymore, so force is out of the question. I'll have to think of something later.

"Besides, even if we did trust you, we'd just keep you here. You're in prison for a reason!"

"And that reason is?"

"Like I said, you know what you did." I have a feeling that his commanding officer just didn't tell him. "Now is there anything else you wanna ask? I doubt it would matter, seeing how your insignificant brain isn't capable of having memories for more that two weeks." Harsh. Maybe if I could prove that I was more intelligent than a troll, they'd hear me out.

" I assure you, my dearest acquaintance, that I am not some unruly monster."

"Nice vocabulary, must've overheard someone intelligent say those words." I guess trolls learn vocabulary the same way parrots do.

"Fine, I'll wrap up my questions, then I'll get back to work. Is that fine with you?"

"If it'll get you to shut up, then of course!"

"Sigh, how do you know you can stop one of my bullets?"

"We have specialized guards that are trained to halt a bullet or arrow mid air. You're completly powerless when it comes to long range. And if you have any sort of melee weapon, you're even more doomed. Each and every one of the guards is trained in Trot Maga-" Oh god, seriously?! The name puns are unbearable."- and we can and will disarm you and take you to the ground! Understood?!"

"Yes! Jeez. One more question."

"Make it count, troll."

"Do I at least get a trial of some sorts?"

"Ponies get trials, monsters don't!"

"But I'm not a troll, I'm a human!"

"Ha! Humans are just a myth! Now get to work, troll!" The guard ordered as he left me to my work. Odd how trolls are real but humans were just fiction. I tried figuring out how nuclear war would lead to talking cartoon ponies and other fairy tale creatures coming to life. It would've had to be hundreds of thousands of years for that type of evolution to take effect. Maybe the clock in my suit was correct all along. My mind was filled with questions, but I needed to start working if I didn't want him to come back and yell at me again. The pick ax was on the other side of the post, my hand reached down and gripped it firmly. I then made my way over to the wall of the shaft and began striking it with the pick. The clinking noise was apparent, and annoying, so I figured I'd play some music for my self. My menu scrolled down and selected Ms Jackson by Outkast. I started picking at the wall to the beat of the song. My mind was still trying to piece this puzzle together. My current guess was that humans had all died in the bunkers underground, but the garden of Eden animal sanctuaries had prospered. I guess, after several years of mutation and radiation, horses had become sentient and managed to bring the rest of the plants and animals out into the world. I'm also assuming that the cartoonish land scape has something to due with radiation affecting what light is reflected, making it hard to differ details on anything. Or maybe some entity had decided that the world was ugly, and needed to look more like a Nickelodeon fever dream. What then struck my mind was the thought of a world with trolls! I can only imagine that they have the stereotypical troll: blue or green skin, large teeth, disgusting habits, and habits of eating young children.

The pick continued to strike the rocky cave wall for several more hours. My biceps were aching, and starting to give out. Thank god almighty that the cooling system in my suit still was functional. Like a refrigerator, the suit had multiple chemicals circulating through vein like compartments throughout the suit, creating chemical reactions that take away heat and vent through the suits metal. However, it wasn't enough to keep my muscles from shutting down. While my body would be more toned by the end of this, the pain would last for much longer than that. My pick ax dropped to ground, my body followed in suit. My lungs were on fire, and my skin began to rash from the sweat. One of the worst qualities of this armored exoskeleton was the inability to scratch any itches, like a full body cast. I was submissive before, but if they won't give me any chance of redemption or any sort of trial, then I might as well fight for my freedom. A plan began to shape in my head.

It would have to be non lethal, but show that I am capable of some damage. I still believe that there is a civilized world somewhere out there, but being labeled as a murderer won't help me get accepted anywhere. Maybe I can use the hologram entertainment system to trick them into thinking I'm some sort of powerful wizard, or maybe trolls are into voodoo, and I can fake a curse on them. Perhaps I could find a song to play with my "magic". I don't think that they'd believe me at first, causing certain guards to attempt to bum rush me while I perform my magic show. I'd need a room with a railing, somewhere I can project from a safe distance. I could hologram myself several times over to confuse the guards. I don't know every detail of my suit. I'd need a mirror to study the details before I created an exact replica of myself. I know that my holograph system can generate clouds of smoke, but what of darkness all together? Can I blot out all light sources in said room? I'd need to check to see if there was a room like that in the shaft. When would be a good time to scout the mines for ambush locations? I couldn't just stroll out there willy nilly and just get a good look at my surroundings.

Or could I? As far as I could tell, they only use medieval weaponry, and my suits armor is made of liquid metal, or at least several pads of liquid metal are attached around the suit, which contracts on impact and makes penetration impossible. So that means their weapons are useless, unless they hit a spot without a pad. Plus, they are ponies. Small horses. I may not be the strongest but I bet that I'm stronger than most of them.

No, what am I thinking? That's a terrible idea. They'd probably put me in a solitary confinement or worse yet. My exhaustion is getting the better of my mind, I needed a new plan.

"Troll! Why do I not hear digging?!" The guard shouted from down the shaft. Maybe if I could feign illness, they'll move me to a different room. That'll give me a better chance to view my surroundings and get a better idea of the schematics of this place. The white coated guard entered with an a disappointed look in his eyes.

"How can you possibly be exhausted? You're a troll! You can't get tired!" My anatomy of fictional beings wasn't exactly up to par, but I used to lie all the time to get what I want before the war. Maybe this fib can fool him for the moment. My hands reached for my stomach as I curled up in the fetal position on the gravel.

"Guard!...my organs....they're on fire!" I fibbed to the annoyed guard.

"Oh, boohoo! Does the widdle baby need a nappy? You disgust me with your lies," Okay, maybe I've lost my touch with bluffing. But maybe this can lead to better things for me. I sat up from the hard gravel and turned to him. "Alright, you caught me. But I refuse to dig until I've had a fair trial."

The guard chuckled with disbelief, "Ha! Why would we let an ally of the Vampire ponies have a fair trial!? You were probably on your way to Symphonia to kill more innocents! Am I right? Or am I right?"

Wait, there are vampires now? Seriously? I know that a lot has changed in half a million years, but what sort of evolutionary benefit can one get from vampirism? What's next, dragons? I'll let the obscurity of that thought pass for now.

"No, I was not. I keep telling you that I'm not a troll. Why would you assume that I was if you haven't seen my face?"

"You're too small for a giant, too large for a goblin or a nymph dragon. So, that must mean you're a troll!"

"Well you know what they say about assuming." I responded jokingly," You make an ass out of you and me!"

"My best friend is a mule! How dare you use such a slur!" I have a feeling that further negotiations would be near impossible at this point. I need to start thinking before I say things.

"I wasn't aware that that was a slur! I am sorry!"

"How could you not know? Have you been living under a rock"

"I keep telling you the answer, but you won't listen! I am not a troll!"

"If you're not a troll, then prove it. Take of your mask. Show me your face!"

"I can't!"

"Why?!"

"Because the people who put me in in this suit didn't want it to be removed until they managed to kill everyone on the eastern hemisphere. And since everyone who could possibly remove this has been vaporized, my suit will detonate if an amature tries to remove it!" That was a lie. The real reason was the suits faux spine attached to my real one. It appeared to just detailed armor to make it harder to injure my spine, but it actually latched on to every vertebrae and hooked itself into every nerve possible. This allowed for faster communications between the brain and the body, making my quick time reactions even faster. But, without the assistance of a master surgeon or a cybernetic engineer, it would destroy my spine, killing me almost instantly. And even if I did get it removed, I would be unable to spawn any weapons, and I'm more vulnerable to deaths icy grip without the armor. On top of that, I can't trust these ponies. They locked me up and forced me to work, based on a guess for my appearance. I don't think I'll be making friends with any of them anytime soon. Maybe, on the slightest chance of luck, I'll meet a kind hearted pony who i can trust, but until then I refuse to let go of my armor.

The guard stepped back, cautiously trying to figure out how to handle the situation. He began to ponder the possibilities of what this could mean. I hoped that this also meant that he would believe me and take me away from this unjust punishment. The white pony eyes locked with mine,"Yeah, like you expect me to believe such a lie?" He then turned to the tunnel entrance and shouted,"Hey, Powder Keg! Get over here! We got ourselves a troublemaker!" With his body turned away, I noticed something on his behind. It appeared to be one of those tattoos that really slutty girls would get. What are they called? Skank Flanks? The mark on his rump appeared to be a kite shield with a rose in the center. The top half on my body shifted over to check the other side. As sure as mining was torture, there was an exact identical shield with rose on the other side of his behind. I suppose it was a rank system. Maybe the trainee guards have to wear it, the rose representing they're innocence. I suppose the warden had a tattoo that was a kite shield with a skull on it or maybe multiple spears across it.

After a moment, another pony had arrived to assist. The other guard appeared almost identical to the guard who called for him. It could be the severe lack of detail that made it harder to differentiate. The major differences were that the tattoo on the new pony was of a black powder cannon. His eyes were also a different shade of green than the first guard. And is that a horn sticking out of the guards head? I suppose that means unicorns exist too, I can expect weirder sub genres of ponies to exist as well.

"This guy giving you trouble?" The unicorn guard asked mischievously. The first guard nodded. "Good! It was getting boring around here." The unicorn turned to me.

"You know why my cutie mark is a cannon?"

"Err...why?" I asked.

"Because, my spells are powerful. Like a cannon shot!" His front hoof pushed off the ground, before stamping back into the gravel. His head lowered, horn aimed directly at me. The horn began to conjure energy at the tip, creating a ball of light.

Wait, did he say spells? As in, magic spells?! So, to recap what I have learned from my recent imprisonment, I have traveled from a world of science and logic into a world filled with dragons, talking cartoon ponies, magical unicorns, and a severe lack of understanding. I’m beginning to think that this land was purely fiction. I may still be able to feel the pain from the day of mining, and I can definitely feel the sting of sweat dripping into my eyes, but that does not prove that these creatures are not purely hallucinations. For all I know, I could’ve been hitting a tree with a nearby branch for the past eight hours then proceed to have a light conversation with a raccoon's corpse. If that was the case, then the “spell” would do nothing to harm me.

The unicorn quickly wrapped up charging the spell, and then proceeded to launch his projectile orb directly towards my center of gravity. My arms opened wide, to embrace the ball as nothing. Unfortunately, the ball of energy was very real. Much like Houdini's death, the spell was reminiscent of a strong punch to the gut. The wind was not only knocked, but completely ripped from my lungs. My entire body scrunched over in response, and failed to do anything else. I was unable to breath! Any attempts of inhaling came out as bloody coughs. I lurched over, and fell to the ground. Tiny gasps of oxygen finally made its way into my body, enough to make a response between coughs. “Ugh….Fuck...you…”

“Hey! The use of Draconian words will get you locked in solitary confinement.” The guard shot a glance over to his partner in crime and gave him a smirk.” Or better yet, a beating in the ring of death! Is that what you want, troll?” Draconian words? You mean saying “Fuck” is against the law? If that was the case, I might be considered for the death penalty! However, the ring of death sounded like a good place to start my escape. If it was amongst other prisoners, I could show my dominance as a super soldier, while only using a handgun and a few clever holograms. Even if they forbade weapons, there would be no way for them to take my guns and melee away from my storage unit. And if I had to play fair, my liquid metal gauntlets will still strike my opponent like a Louisville slugger. My body shifted onto my stomach as I began to rise.

“Cough...Hey guard.” The cannon pony looked to me with a lack of patience. “Go fuck yourself, now take me to the ring.” I ordered with mischievous intent. The cannon guard barked back,”Oh, is that what you really want? Well, no skin off my haunch! Bag ‘em up, and take him to the ring! Make sure he goes up against Itch first!”

A burlap sack was placed over my visor, but I could still hear my surroundings. One of the guards had unhooked my chain from the post, while the other hooked another chain to my ankle. There was some shuffling to follow, but I then found myself being dragged away from the shaft. It was actually kind of soothing, being dragged through each corridor. The suit contracted appropriately for each rock or bump, so the whole feeling of this torturous transportation felt like being dragged on a padded red wagon. The only sound I could hear were of pickaxes, and occasional screaming. A part of me felt horrified for what cruel punishments lie in my future, but the majority of me was thinking ‘Phew! Glad I’m not those guys! That would really suck!’ Which only added to the red wagon feeling. It was reminiscent of the times in middle school when I would get in trouble. Whenever I was placed in In School Suspension, they'd force me to take out the waste cylinders in every class. It was hard, and I still hated it, but every classroom I scrounged for waste had at least thirty other kids who would rather collect garbage than hear about how Canada managed to successfully conquer Eastern Russia in WWIII. And I knew that the ultimate punishment was waiting for me at home when my parents would chew me out and take my Gamesphere for the next month. With that in mind, I had decided to enjoy the little things. Like how I was getting a good workout, or for every classroom that I poked my head into, I felt a little better about my predicament. And for every new torturous mine shaft they dragged me through, I felt a little better for not being them. After around ten minutes of dragging, and a well deserved nap, the guards had finally stopped. “Stand up troll,” the guard barked as the sack was removed from my head. My eyes groggily opened as a yawn escaped my body. I was in the center of a very large mining shaft. It was a round room with closed off tunnels on the north, west, east, and south sides of the room. Each of these tunnel entrances were gated by giant steel gates of no return. The room itself was at least two hundred feet tall. At around the fifty foot mark upwards was a balcony that also circled the room. A guard railing made for a nice touch, and several spotlights shining on the center of the ring made it very hard to tell who was behind them. This balcony was definitely filled with an audience, whether it was guards or other inmates was a mystery. A voice was heard through the steel gate behind me. "You wanted a fight, swamp monster? Fine by us! But know that only one of you will exit this ring alive! And our bits are on the nymph dragon. Bring out Itch!" A guard had shouted from the railings.

The door opposite of me began to shake, and slowly rise, to reveal a long dark mining shaft. Darkness was the only thing viewable from the mining shaft, until the figure of a small bony creature started to manifest. Out from the darkness walked a reptilian creature covered in leather armor, with many pockets and sheaths for various knifes and vials of glowing liquids. He must have had at least ten separate blades on him! The reptilian creature himself had blue scales and a creamy yellow underbelly. He stood on his hind legs, which looked odd for a creature of his build. His arms and legs were lanky, but had well defined muscles. His face was long, like a crocodile, but was hiding away behind a leather gas mask. His claws were holding jagged looking knifes which looked eager to find blood. Once inside the arena, the gate behind him dropped and slammed into the raw earth below. My opponent let out a shrill battle cry, before forming into his battle stance. Like the guard noted before, this was a fight to the death. I was determined to make sure that this did not end in blood. Maybe I could show them that I was not the murderous monster that they thought I was. It's a land of magical ponies for christ's sake, they have to be a naturally peaceful race. Perhaps they just set this up because they were afraid of me.

I took a few steps forward, before announcing to the audience above me,"People of this land! I will not fight this dragon!" a small gasp followed by booing followed my statement. I continued,"Please do not be upset! I am a peaceful creature! I do not wish to fight! I only wish too-," my statement was cut short as a sharp pain entered my gut. My head shot down to view the jagged knife, intruding from my gut. He managed to hit a section of my armor that was not covered with liquid metal. The proud drake turned to the crowd with arms up, attempting to get a more lively cheer from the others. I could hear them cheering on the dragon, wanting him to kill me. My peaceful demeanor was beginning to die away, as a strong and painful anger entered my body. I haven't felt an anger like this since middle school, when I lost a fight to some punk in my gym class. It was the kind of anger where you could feel your face get hot, and feel tears welling in your eyes. The kind of anger where you start making excuses for yourself to be violent, like I was provoked or he had it coming. My good conscious in my mind was absent, the angel on my shoulder had been slain, and all thought processes in my mind had turned from 'Show them you are not a monster' to 'Make that son of a bitch suffer!'

My hand gripped the handle of the blade and began to pull. Blood began to spill down from the wound to the earth. The wound was painful, a fiery burn in my lower body only fueled my anger. The knife was finally free, as my hand yanked it from the hole in my gut. I dropped the blade, and selected the auto med in the suits menu. A message box came over the screen and notified me that cauterizing was to begin. The crowd stood in awe as my wound began glowing bright orange, burning my organs and stopping the blood flow. I tried to scream in agony, but my diaphragm was the current victim of this stabbing, making any vocal expression impossible. A new message box appeared on my screen, notifying me that emergency stem cell gel (ESC gel) was applied to the wound. The gel would replace the damaged tissue that the knife wounded, and restart any organs that happened to fail from such a blow. With my diaphragm beginning to fix itself, I finally had the lung capacity to respond with pain,"...I...will (cough)...fucking END YOU!"

A machete was spawned in my right hand, and a riot shield spawned in my left. I could've spawned a gun and ended him quickly, but I had a crimson red rage burning in my soul, so killing him quickly would bring no satisfaction. I want to kill him with as much pain as possible. Hoisting the shield in front of me, I prepared for battle.

My opponent drew a new, non jagged, knife from on of his various sheaths and sprinted to fight. Just before he got to my shield, the drake side stepped to my right and attempted to stab me. In response, I stepped back and bashed him with my shield, Spartan style. He fell to the ground, before rolling back to his feet. He reached in his bandoleer of knifes to throw his next sharp friend in my general vicinity. My left forearm reached up to block. A loud thunk was heard, the knife had struck my shield instead of myself. It was only a distraction, by the time I looked back to my opponent, he was already two feet away. He jumped, and brought his fist to my mask. The pain swelled around my right cheek as I stepped back in response. He was preparing for the finishing blow. With his other jagged sword in hand, lunged for my body. He thought he caught me off guard. He thought wrong, my foot fired up to my body, aimed itself, and rocketed into Itch's gut. The rest of his body wrapped around my leg, followed by him falling to the ground. His knife was thrown from his hand. He tried to crawl away, but now was my chance. The shield disappeared from my left hand and crumpled up into a fist. I stomped towards my winded foe as he crawled away from me. My left hand reached down and wrapped around his neck. His back arched, his hands reached back up to grab for my arm. His manged to gasp out," You're...worse...than the rest of us!" My blade angrily responded by plunging into his back. The satisfying Schlick noise brought an slight grin to my face, encouraging me to push the blade harder, to hilt into the scales on his back. The blade began to vanish into thin air, allowing Itch to fall to the floor. The crowd began cheering, a few spectators began shouting for me to finish him off. So many years of pain were building up in my head, I wanted him to suffer more. I could still hear the little voice in my head telling me to leave him alone. I ignored this voice, as my boot raised to hover over the dying drakes skull. With a loud grunt, my foot stomped down into my opponents skull, crushing it with one strike. Chunks of gray matter were stuck to the bottom of my boot. A pool of blood soaked the dirt surrounding. The crows went wild in the sight of blood.

I calmed down, and realized what I have done. God damn it. I've been here less than a week, and I've already brutally ended a life. The paranoia section of my body knew that I would fail to make any sort of peace with these creatures. I must've been a fool to think that cruelty would've ended with humanity. I began to lightly sob at my victory, knowing that I could never redeem myself as a peaceful creature. I will forever be labeled as a monster.

Several guards opened the gate behind me, one of them shouting orders. I couldn't make them out, I was too caught up in the moment. Another bag was placed over my head. A rope was tied around my wrists behind my back, and a chain was tied to my feet. The chain yanked my foot from under me, allowing myself to fall from the earth.

I had never killed on my own free will in my entire life. During the End War, I only killed when under the influence of emotion altering drugs, or if it was under direct orders of a commanding officer. I could have spared him, but I killed instead. I always knew that if I acted on my emotions, it would only lead to trouble. If I had own that fight in middle school, I would've been expelled. I would have that on my record for life, and I would've been labeled as a trouble maker. I knew that if I even fought back, I would be the violent kid of the group. The one that no one wants to talk to. The kid they isolate out of fear. I allowed him to beat me for that reason. But now, I am that person. And I fear that I will be feared for the rest of my life....