If someone were to ask me if there was anything significant about me, I'd simply smile and dismiss the question. There were darker parts of my life that no one should no about. I believe that I am the only one of my kind and that I'm not mistaken in believing that I am the only thing preventing my kind from going completely extinct. Perhaps they have no name, but for now I call myself a Stinger. And why, do you ask? Well, there are six simple words I could use.

I woke up during the operation.

They had decided to make me Special, as I was a crafty ugly of unusual talent. But I had decided to become pretty, knowing not about the lesions and related things. As a pretty, nothing felt right and I started doing things to clear my mind and free me from the haze. I had attempted to escape and start my own city several times, but they caught me. And now they were making me Special like them.

The last thing I remembered before the operation was the color white – so much of it that it made my eyes ache. My pretty eyes… I was brought in against my will, knocked out of consciousness and dragged into their headquarters. I can still remember every detail perfectly with crystal clarity. But no, I didn't want to be like them. They were evil beasts, and I wanted my freedom and a choice.

I was placed in a large, glass container full of fluid. It was like honey, viscous and syrupy. Large metal tools of horrid design sat at the ready, poked through holes in the container. Before I went under, I could hear the razor sharp voices of the doctors and the humming of complex machinery. The fluid was rising, slowly but surely, and I could smell rain and lightning. Then the machines came.

They entered through the open top of the container, descending coolly and evilly. In their metal grasp were wires and tubes and an IV. I thrashed and kicked, but the liquid stuck to my face and made it hard to see. They stuck wires to me and stabbed the IV's needle into my arm. I wished that I could scream, but my mouth was sealed shut. But it wasn't that way for long.

They pried my mouth open with the metallic fingers and snaked a long, white tube through. I was gagging intensely, but they kept threading it down as the fluid filled up to my neck level. And last but not least, they stabbed a needle into the side of my neck. I was shocked, but I had no time to react. Darkness swallowed me up, the razor voices of the doctors echoing in my head.

I don't remember much of the darkness; I just remember finally being able to relax. Finally I could stop thrashing and enjoy this wonderful…wait a minute. This wasn't what I wanted! I wanted my choice! They could never turn me, and I wouldn't let them. But the darkness and the peace was so tempting, its warm embrace threatening to suck me in. But it could never be worth it. I wasn't a monster, and I would never be.

I forced my eyelids to open and immediately complications arose. The top of the container was glass, like the rest of it. Why had they covered it? But more importantly, they made some changes to me. My legs were perfect, strong, beautiful, and made of practically unbreakable ceramic. The pale skin was a stranger's skin, not mine. And they were longer; this couldn't be short little me! My waist was the same, except for a few pink marks. No! I continued to examine. My right arm was perfect, long, white and beautiful. But my left arm wasn't completely done. I looked at where my hand should have been, and in its place was a stub. And it was gushing blood.

I almost screamed. Bubbly thoughts came to my head. Well, at least they didn't get to my brain yet. What…? I could see the muscles and tissue in my waist, now that I looked more carefully. My toenails were special, sharp and beautiful…

Alarms sounded. Red lights flashed, and doctors hurried to put me back to sleep. But I couldn't go to sleep now. I needed to keep the freedom I had. I used my Special legs to kick the sides of the container, pushing myself back and forth…until I had enough momentum to deliver a hard kick to the top of the container. It shattered, and tiny pieces of glass floated lazily down towards me. I stood up, my head finally above the container.

"Put it back to sleep!" the doctors were hissing. Machines flew toward me. I used my legs to jump up, swatting them with my arm and clawing them with my fingernails (of the one hand) and my toenails. I was a newborn Special, and I was stronger than them. I kicked and slapped and punched, and the doctors had no time to react. Soon they were unconscious. I grinned. I had won.

I ran through the surprisingly empty halls and into the elevator, travelling up to the roof. Finally, I was free! I jumped off of the building, seemingly flying through the air.

And that was how I came to call myself a Stinger. My body is half Special, and my mind is mine. I am handless and parts of my memories are missing, but hey, at least I'm one of a kind! So if you ask if there is anything significant about me, I'll just smile and dismiss the question. Like a Stinger should.