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Blood and light gore
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Test subjects are created in the most natural way possible here.
Once born, the baby is sorted into the field it would know for its short life. Because of the amount of drugs and gene-manipulation done while still inside the womb; the babies born were made to withstand the tests waiting for them.
Some were lucky and grew to live a few years. Others didn't make it past a month.
It was easy to make more when there were hundreds available.
I was born to outlive death. Things that would kill a person were my expertise. My body could pull itself together after being smeared on the walls, and that's what they loved.
As long as I had some part of me still intact, I could survive.
I was lucky enough to live my life outside the facility until later in life. I became the subject for all sorts of weapons. Bombs, gasses, even ones that blew my eardrums out of my head.
I was the demonstration of how lethal thier toys were. The more glorious the damage, the more excited they got.
I never understood that.
A silent death with my lungs foaming out of my mouth seemed a lot more humane than feeling my brains leaking out my ears while I was still aware of my death the whole time.
I was named Trauma, even before these people got thier hands onto me. They liked the name; it suited thier little guinnea pig waiting in the room for the next test and treat.
I was completely loyal, but not thiers. I had someone I was devoted entirely to; like a buzzing in my brain that only saw someone who needed me to shield them from harm. In exploiting my escape from death, these testers hadn't thought of this weakness I had been born with. The only thing that kept me obediant wasn't thiers to toy with. I was only to borrow; nothing more.
They hated that, and I loved it.
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Today's room was painted white. It had the usual lines of yellow and red painted along the walls to the back where a circle was marked with its numbers. I could see the scrapes from the multiple other tests done here; crashes most likely. I hadn't done one of those in a while.
I recognized the circle as the field of spread. It would be something designed to blow me up today.
I could already feel the pain in my gut forming before the door even opened. I smiled to the man who stepped into the room with a clipboard. I knew him well. He came and went with the tests. Even though I never got a name, his brown hair was always messed and his pale face crinkled into a cheeky smile. He was always late. His appearance told me that.
I called him Scruffles. He took the name with a laugh and never disputed it.
Scruf grinned to me, tapping the board and running a finger down the words when I leant over to read them.
"Got a new bullet to try out. This one splits off when it's fired, so the big guys want to see how much damage it does."
He was taking great pleasure in this. I grinned back, enjoying his lightheartedness.
"You enjoy seeing me die, don't you?" I shoved him.
"Always" he chuckled back and retaliated "now, go stand over by the wall like a good man."
I peered up as I walked, trying to spot my spectators behind the glass above us. Sure enough, a curly-haired woman and her younger short-bobbed companion were there.
Must be paying good money for fancy bullets.
The door opened again to let in a fully armoured person wielding one of the longest weapons I had seen. The thing almost scraped the ground when the person raised it, checked thier footing, and looked to Scruffles quickly dashing out to clear the room.
I tensed up and squeezed my eyes shut so I didn't see the gun when it cracked through the silence.
The bullet tore through my head before I even had time to think about it, splattering my brains onto the circle that smeared with what remained of my face.
My body from my chest downwards just collapsed onto the ground, already calling for the rest of it to return.
That was a good spread. I had nothing even remaining of my neck. My chest even had parts of it peppered on the ground slithering grotesquely. I didn't even feel pain.
Was that part of the bullet? Or from me not having the time to register what had happened to me?
Suddenly, my leg was blown against the circle with such force, it was spread across it. I looked back and was about to comment on the power of the weapon before my head was blown off again.
"Let's not completely destroy our property" I heard Scruf warn over the intercom sternly.
The person with the gun looked up and decided not to take another shot while I was still vulnerable. They lugged thier massive weapon out the door again and left me to continue refroming myself.
Watching the woman wrap up her conversion while I was shaking off the gore, I saw Scruf shake her hand and disappear with her out of the room.
Smiling at a job well done, I headed for the door, but felt it was locked.
This wasn't the first time they had tried to keep me here.
I didn't waste time. I began to smash my body against the concrete to batter it into smaller pieces that could slip under the door.
Reforming on the other side, I smiled at the shouts from down the hall, and ran towards the thundering boots.
I was going to have fun escaping this place, even if it killed me again.
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