Warning for violence and murder as well as child soldiers and human experimentation.

According to the person wiping the fluid from the tube off of my face, I am the seventh version of this model. I'm the closest to the third, the closest to their best version of me. This should have given me some pause to learn, but the experiences of early models are carved into my brain, resting in the system that detaches me from the rest of myself. I know it is there. It's a special ability, but they can't identify it. They've never figured it out.

They say the girl my body was based from was gifted with this unusual perception. Teresa doesn't really care; she's just wondering if I'll stay alive.

I just focus on getting air into my lungs. I don't particularly like these people, if I'm going to be honest. The idea of liking or disliking anyone is hard to recognize, but I file the words away. They are probably the most accurate for my state of mind.

Be smart, they say. Be logical, they say. Teresa tells me: be myself.

None of these seem to be the right answer.

I wonder who my original was and what she was like.

I tend to understand the words best on the sixth or seventh try. They prefer the seventh. It's consistent. I speak slowly regardless, pace myself to understand and not overload.

They expect more interest out of me. I can't help that they don't interest me. I want to look more at the pages on their notes. What do they say about me? I mean, I can hear them. They have augmented my ears incredibly well.

Teresa tells me what she says. I wonder if she does that so I will like her more.

I don't, really.

My nails are grimy.

I pick at the grime, trying to understand why. It was red when it got there, but now its brown and speckled.

Teresa tells me it's blood, but I don't have very much myself because my body is mechanical. I don't quite understand what that means, but it must make me less human, because they complain about it.

That bothers me. I don't know why.

Everything is sometimes too hot or too cold because of it too. I wish my body would make up its mind.

I wish I knew what wishing was. The data for it is in my head. It's not the same as learning it.

I wonder what a normal school is like.

Maybe Teresa will tell me.

The training creatures I kill leave blood or unmentionables behind but nothing else. They, the others, tell me I'm putting them down. Teresa is much more blunt. I am committing murder. She says the other adults don't call it that because it's not murdering humans or sentient creatures. I don't understand this, but I keep my mouth shut.

They don't like me much anymore. They don't like any of us much anymore.

Something is going wrong.

One day, our playroom is filled with light. We, our souls, artificial and haphazard, are filled with light. It lands in our hands, warm and gentle.

I look up at red eyes. They're just like mine, I think. Blood-colored, but somehow so warm.

My chest aches. He smiles, like Teresa smiles. There's so much triumph.

"Boy, was it tough to find you," he says, pretending to scold me. "Do you know how many portals I had to open? It drove my teacher crazy!" He held out his blue hand for me and it took me a moment to remember what that meant.A handshake. That was what it meant.

"I'm V.V.," he said, still so bright. "Nice to meetcha partner!"

I couldn't tell him my name at first. It was all too bright.

Whatever the scientists were ecstatic about, it turned to fear within the week. I could have asked why, but I didn't. I want happy with V.V.

(The sponsors are pissed. They want to shut the whole thing down. Are they nuts?)

Happy. Was that my emotion or hers?

Was it my past self's happiness that was echoing into me? Or was I feeling something of my own?

I wondered about that, but at the same time, I wasn't sure it was a big deal. If I thought about it too much, Teresa would worry. Sigma would worry. So I stopped worrying about it

The ability to turn off my concerns has always been kind of convenient.

Run.

She had said to run, to escape, so I did.

Of course, everyone else had to stop me.

Whatever it took to live, I would do. Teresa had told me to, and I've always been good at doing what I was told.

So I jumped up and kicked. My body, tougher than anyone's, threw one into a wall. The wall turned red. Another, she grabbed my arms. I twisted, shoving the back of my foot up, and up, and up.

A third, windpipe smashed.

A fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh.

I won't forget this. I wish V.V. could.

V.V. told me to just keep running. There was no one left to kill in this place after number seven.

A/N: The gameverse...it's EVERYWHERE. Yes I love Decode and this scene thing has been in my head for a few days. Putting this up because of reasons. I hope people enjoy it.

Challenges: Prompts In Steps 3.07 - bloodshed, gameverse boot camp prompt 34 - government, AU Diversity Boot Camp prompt - iron (character facets!AU).Diversity Writing Challenge B63. Write a fic with less than half dialogue, Easter Egg Advent day 9. Write a fic where someone under eight years old is the main character (In this, she is.), Monthly Restrict Challenge 2. Write a fic where at least one of the main characters says nothing.