"What do you think it is?"
It's a trap! A trick to control you. He paced back and forth, a vial gripped in his fist. He would momentarily pause, opening and examining the glass flask in his palm before enclosing it again. "Or the real formula." You think he'd tell you the truth? He'd say anything to save his worthless ass. In his other hand was an injecting contraption resembling a gun. The hall was pulsating white and red, emergency lighting accompanying the siren he had all but blocked out. The synchronized flashes reflected off the red splattered walls and tiled flooring. Go back and take care of the problem.
There was a muffled groan and he turned towards its direction. A security guard was feebly attempting to drag himself down the hall, the limbs on the left side of his body limp and unresponsive. The gimp leg was twisted wrong at the knee. The man's blue outfit had darkened stains along most of his torso. An empty holster was attached to their belt, the guard's hand reaching out to the original item occupying the space.
Sam leisurely walked over and loomed above the man. "Now, why would you go and try something so stupid?" He placed a bare foot on the guard's neck, pressing down on it gently. "You didn't learn your friend's lesson?" He knew the man couldn't see, but he pointed anyways, to where another security guard's body was curled up against the wall, red pools surrounding it.
"P... please..." The collapsed man pleaded through sharp breaths that sprinkled the floor with blood.
He didn't have time to play anymore games. Sam closed his eyes and took a steady breath. There wasn't a struggle in determining his course of actions as there had been earlier. He was dedicated now. But he found he enjoyed savoring certain moments.
A quick, sudden application of pressure, a sickening — yet joyous — snapping of bone filled his ears. He stepped back, looking down as his gory masterpiece.
Just like that. Now go back and take care of the dynamic duo. Sam looked down the chamber, contemplating. Something in the exchange with the doctor made him believe he was being told the truth. He assumed there were only moments before more security units arrived. Not that the thought of continued stress tests on his newfound abilities bothered him.
"Why would he lie?" Because he was about to have his throat ripped out? "Why would he lie...?"
If he was going to get out of the facility he knew it had to be soon. It was only a matter of time before it was locked down and given the military presence, backup would be sporting more than handguns. The power coursing through his veins welcomed the challenge, but he wasn't sure how long he could maintain it for. He needed a preemptive boost. Fuck it. Sam inserted the vial into its loading chamber, pressing down and twisting it snugly into place. Fuck it? What are you doing? You can't trust these people.
Before he was able to talk himself out of it, he slammed the end of the injection gun against his skin and pulled the trigger. At first nothing happened. Sam let the device slide out of his hands, clattering below. His eyes narrowed, gaze shifting back down to where the mad scientists behind the entire freak show were residing. They fucked you.
"Those sons-of..." Sam was engorged with a rush of what felt to be pure adrenaline. The pounding in his head subsided, the hairs on his body stood on end, and the boisterous sirens faded. His vision began to tunnel until there were only pinpricks in the distance. Then what felt like a complete detachment from his body.
Once again Sam felt like he wasn't in control, yet completely so. Everything was in acute focus, his mind clear and serene, a vibrant energy encapsulating him. He was firing on all cylinders and wanted, or rather needed, to exert his bloodlust. And with that simple thought, his body was in motion. Moving at speeds he never thought possible, his surroundings flying by in strung out blurs. Even though he knew he was engaging inhuman velocity, it was as though he was watching a movie in slow motion.
Events unfolded before his eyes. Blinks in memory. More security showed up to engage him. Military squads attempting to at first restrict, and then to eliminate him, before he managed to escape the grounds of the compound. He remembered bullets and blood, a blurred dance between countless combatants. There were shouts and scream of panic and horror, most silenced in a gurgling symphony.
He was aware of entering into the sunlight, sweat glistening, his skin absorbing and heating up from its offered rays, simultaneously cooling from his dance of death in the soft breeze. Sam recalled random faces, complete strangers on the streets, brief glimpses before their lives were snuffed from existence.
When the world finally began to slow down, he found himself in the middle of a park, hunched over and heaving heavily. Skin, and what little clothing remained, drenched in blood. He brought up his hands and ran them through his hair, it slicking back and kept in place by sticky gore. He had no idea how much time had passed, or all that had transpired. Just those brief flashes of memory. His mind was still hyper-focused, the hunger still present, but at least he had regained some semblance of control.
What a rush! Sam stumbled forward a few steps, bringing his hands in front of his eyes — blood and hair and flesh — and began to laugh. Deep and body-quaking. What little control he had recovered had no bearing over his guttural, stark raving mad howls of ecstasy.
"You know," a feminine voice began, soft and direct, snapping his gaze towards it, "I spent a long time, and I mean a long time, keeping my nose down, flying under the radar. Here I was, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I had finally ran far enough away to where I could start living a normal life." He watched as the woman pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves from the back pocket of her jeans. Her cascading blonde hair shifting in the cooling air.
"Who the hell are you?" The question escaped Sam's snarled lips. Who cares? Kill her.
The woman smiled, keeping her eyes locked with his, just a short distance away. "I'm just someone who's beginning to understand that in this life you are who you are. Or in our case, we are what we are." She slowly slid one glove on. "And that if you can't find peace in this world, you may as well try to do some good." The second glove went on. "I know a wild, rabid animal when I see one. You know what happens to rabid animals?" A brief moment of silence passed and the lady shrugged nonchalantly at him. "They get put down."
Kill this bitch! Sam lunged towards the stranger, closing the gap, with the intent of literally wiping the smile off her face.
Thanks for reading! What did you think of the piece? Constructive criticism welcomed!